Believe

Chapter Ten

Gear

Sydney entered the room cautiously, her eyes scanning every detail of the room. She couldn't contain the smile when she saw the toy cars decorating the shelves on the wall and the little books of the Berenstein Bears and Hardy Boys lined neatly. This room was almost a shrine to a child's life, a happy time before life became messy. But this room wasn't just any child's room. This was Julian Lazarey's room.

Sydney ran her hand gently over the twin-size bedspread - dark blue with embroidered stars around the edge. The room was remarkably simple, so airy and innocent, that she could barely connect it to Sark. She couldn't imagine Sark in the room, even a child Sark. The next thing she saw on a cheap wooden bureau to help her imagine a child Sark was a picture frame holding a photograph of a little boy with an impish smile, blond curls, and glittering blue eyes, held by a woman with the same blue eyes. This was Sark's family - his mother. The woman who had been best friends with a young, idealistic Irina, brought her to the Rambaldi quest. This was the woman who had known Irina's true identity; known Irina was the woman Rambaldi had prophesied about. She was the reason Sydney, Sark, and Rogan had been drawn into this whole mess that they couldn't dig themselves out of. Why had Rambaldi insisted on predicting her and her son's lives? If he had kept the thoughts to himself all those centuries ago, the cultists wouldn't have discovered the prophecies about herself and Rogan.

Then again, Sydney reminded herself, if Rambaldi had never written about her, she wouldn't have her son. Rogan was, after all, Rambaldi's child, no matter how hard she tried to forget it. She didn't regret having her child. There was something about having someone be your own flesh and blood that made the life priceless, despite who the father was and the tribulations she faced because of the birth. Rambaldi was simply an unfortunate byproduct that came with having her child. She wouldn't give up any of the trouble she'd been through if it meant she lost Rogan. Rogan, as trite as it sounded, was her everything. The minute she'd remembered him, he had consumed her. All things good were wrapped up in this tiny boy and she refused to let that change.

Sydney placed the frame back on the bureau. She couldn't let herself get lost in her thoughts. She would be letting her guard down and that wasn't at all acceptable. At any building belonging to the formidable Mr. Sark, it wasn't possible for her to let her guard down. She'd learned that years ago. She'd relearned that lesson when he'd taken her son from her. Sydney sighed and sunk down into the bed, picking up one of the feather pillows. The softness that she felt from the pillow as she crushed it underneath her grip defied everything she thought of Sark. She could never associate Sark with softness and truly, she didn't want to. She was glad Sark had pushed himself back into the box of bad guy again. When he had jumped in between her unshakably formed boxes of good and evil, she'd found him hovering in the middle, and her entire universe had been thrown into chaos. But Sark had stolen her child and he had jumped right back into the bad box. There was no excuse for kidnapping her son, no forgiving it. Sark had proven that there would be no middle ground and her sense of truth was restored, even though she still wondered what had made Sark turn back the clock. Rambaldi was the only excuse she could think of. It was always Rambaldi.

Sark cocked his gun with a steady hand as he prepared for any kind of firefight he might encounter. Rogan watched with wide eyes, his chubby arms wrapped tightly around his new backpack that he'd purchased for the child. Sark realized that the kid must be terrified. But what could he really do about it? It was time for the child to grow up, even if he was only three. Rogan was not the typical three-year-old. Sark was only protecting him.

"Put the bag on your back and stay quiet."

Rogan nodded dutifully, his chest puffing out in childish pride. He moved the bag around his shoulders and Sark almost smiled. He recognized the action of pride, but he remained frostily stoic. He began to leave the hotel room, gun hidden under his jacket, but well within reach. Sark ensured Rogan was following behind him. The child's stubby legs could barely keep up with Sark's sure stride, but Sark could not carry him. Not when he needed to break into Irina's office without her or Cole noticing. He didn't want a confrontation with Rogan around. He couldn't afford to leave Rogan behind unguarded though. It simply was not an option. So his biggest hope was to make it through the hotel and then the office building not a block from the hotel without anyone noticing him or Rogan.

He made it out of the hotel easily enough. Rogan waited next to him as Sark punched in a code on the keypad that blocked Sark from entering Irina's office in the building not far from the hotel. He had been surprised that he'd been able to see Irina use the code. She wasn't usually that careless about her security system. Irina was if nothing but cautious. He tried not to overanalyze that fact he understood well enough from spending years with the woman. Irina simply hadn't known he was in the shadows. She would have had something scathing to say about being so obvious if she had known. Irina didn't tolerate mistakes. She had made no comment about it, so she must not have known. He opened the door gingerly in case the room was trapped. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared, not that it meant the room was safe. A lone lamp remained lit, enough to fill the room with a warm glow so he could see. He pulled Rogan inside carefully and put both hands on his shoulders. He squeezed Rogan's shoulders as if to impress on him the importance of the situation.

"Stand here and say nothing."

Rogan lowered his eyes, nodded shyly at Sark's command. Sark stared at the boy for a moment, wondering if Rogan understood anything that was happening. He didn't even reach Sark's hips, as he was only three and a half, but Rogan was extremely intelligent, a direct result of being the child of Rambaldi and Sydney. Rogan had been cursed from birth, just as he and Sydney had been.

Sark walked away from Rogan and went straight to the desk. He pulled out the middle drawer and found the false bottom he expected. He removed it and discovered the combination lock staring at him, just as he had predicted. He pulled the proper materials from his suit jacket and placed them around the lock. He began twisting the lock around until he found the correct numbers. In the back of his mind, he could hear his devils warning him that this whole operation was going much too smoothly to be real. Irina would do much more to protect Rambaldi than a combination lock. He ignored them, though, and opened the safe door. He saw the document immediately, but he scanned over them to ensure they were the ones he wanted. The true prophecy lay before him, written in Rambaldi's own hand. All Sark had to do was translate it and he would know the truth. He slid them into a tube, slammed the drawer shut with a hint of smug satisfaction on his face, and turned to walk to Rogan. He unzipped the backpack and placed the tube inside. The bag of a child would be the least suspicious place he could put it. Rogan's eyes were wide in a curious gaze. Sark took Rogan's hand and pulled him out of the office.

As soon as the door was safely shut, Sark pushed Rogan in front of him to creep out of the building. No amount of creeping, however, would be able to stop the predestined. Cole stood at the end of the hallway. His stance was relaxed and cocky and his face was filled with smugness. Even from the down the hall, Sark could sense it. He remembered ignoring the voices about how the job had been too easy. Now he knew they had been right. Cole hadn't been guarding the documents. Irina didn't trust McKenas Cole anymore than she trusted him. No, Cole had just known Sark would betray them. After all, betrayal was in a spy's blood.

"I hope you're out for a pleasant walk to show Rogan the sights, Julian. I mean, it looks like you're trying to make a clean getaway in a very movie-like fashion, but you wouldn't do that, right? The Big Bad Evil Man running to save the young child hero from certain trouble is far too predictable for you."

"I'm pleased you find me unpredictable, Cole. I wouldn't want to think my actions have become routine. I wouldn't dream of escaping with the child."

He called Rogan the child to cut all personal ties from Rogan. A nameless victim was easier to detach from than a three-year-old child of Sydney's that he needed to protect.

"That wasn't you I saw ushering him out of Irina's broken into office?"

Sark stared coldly at Cole, showing that he had no fear. Sark was rarely frightened or even shaken. He prided himself for lacking weaker emotions. He enjoyed the coolness he felt inside, the toughness that had been bred into him at a young age. Cole, however, lacked the fear as well. He stepped towards Sark, a steady, sure gait that showed no thought to what might happen. Only another indication of just how brilliant Irina Derevko truly was. Cole took his time, in no apparent hurry. He obviously wasn't afraid Sark would try to kill him or even escape at that time. Sark, on the other hand, knew what was about to happen, though he lacked the information that it was destined. Sark pushed Rogan behind him slightly, not an obvious motion, but it was enough to show he cared for Rogan. He didn't want any stray bullets hitting him, although the exact reason for that was up in the air; it could be because he was Sydney's child…or Rambaldi's. Cole rolled his eyes.

"Now, come on, my man, you know I'm not going to do anything to the kid. You know better than that. I just wanna check out the kid's supercool gear he's got."

Cole put on his widest, most fake smile to put Rogan at ease, but despite his naivety, Rogan knew all about wolves in sheep's clothing. He had thought Mr. Sark was good because he was Mommy's friend and he had been wrong about that, even though Mr. Sark hadn't hurt him. But he had taken him to see the bad people. And he knew Mr. Cole was a bad person.

"Why do you wish to see some childish books and toys, Cole? How will they interest you?"

Cole continued to take his stalking steps to the point that he was almost nose-to-nose with Sark to shake him. Sark now stood rigid, not letting Cole's deliberate attempt to discomfit him. Sark wasn't one to be intimidated. He'd been trained to be the one who did the intimidating.

"I'm truly a kid at heart. Aren't we all?"

Sark kept his hand steady as he began to snake up to the gun held in its holster. Cole would notice the action, of course, but hopefully he wouldn't notice it until it was too late to do anything about it. He wasn't afraid of confrontation with Cole. No doubt he would win. He just wanted to avoid scarring a three-year-old with a violent death he didn't need to see. Sark had witnessed one just like it when he was a child. No need to repeat it with the next generation.

When Sark didn't respond, Cole plowed on with his taunting act.

"Irina is not going to be happy when she finds out you've been betraying us, buddy. Irina does not take betrayal well. Look at how she set Sloane up and he was on the Council."

Sark's fist tightened at the mention of being a pawn in Irina's game, but it did not distract him from what he intended to do.

"Being on the Council does not mean you're safe," Cole continued, "from threats, especially threats by Irina. The Council does not give you protection. I will have to talk with Irina about this, you stealing Rambaldi documents. You know, maybe she'll let me use the box on you. I haven't used it in a while and I do like using needles. Then we'll kill you and Rogan will be under our tender, loving care. You'll like that, won't ya, kid?"

Rogan shook his head stubbornly and tried to reach up for Sark's hand, which unfortunately brought Cole's attention to Sark's movement towards his gun.

"Ah, now, that's hardly reasonable! How is it fair for you to sneak a shot at me?"

Cole went for his own gun, ready to take quick aim. Sark was much faster, of course, and he fired straight into Cole's heart, blood splattering on his suit and for the second time in Rogan's life, he was flecked with blood. Cole fell back, his eyes rolled up into his head as his lungs deflated for the last time. Rogan's eyes were unsure and frightened and for a moment, Sark softened understandably towards Rogan's fear. Rogan's pudgy hands reached up and brushed his face, smearing the blood across his cheeks into some sort of odd war paint.

"Mr. Sark, what is dis?"

Sark ruffled Rogan's hair gently before leaning down to make sure Cole was dead.

"It's nothing for you to worry yourself with, Rogan, nothing."

Rogan cast a forlorn look at Cole's body, not quite comprehending what he had seen, but on some level knowing something dangerous and bad had just happened. Sark placed the gun into its place under his jacket and he hurried Rogan out. No reason to let Rogan dwell on what he'd just seen. Besides, if someone had heard the shot, they would be on their way, and Sark would have to fight his way out of the building.

She smiled from the corner she'd hidden herself to watch the scene to play out like a movie. She stepped from the shadows to examine Cole's body. Everything was going just as it was supposed. Alecksandria wanted it this way. How proud she would be of her child if she were still alive, a pride that Irina herself felt with Sydney. It was a pity that Cole had had to die because of the prophecies. He was a good agent. But it was for the completion. Cole would be happy to die for such a noble cause, she was sure. Or not, but she was glad for him to die for a noble cause. She smiled again as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

"Yes, I need a body disposal."