Chapter 20
Paris, France
Julia Thorne stepped out of the taxi and onto the plaza. She tucked a wisp of ash blonde hair behind her ear and tossed the driver a bill with cavalier grace. Her tall boots splashed in a puddle and she pulled up the collar on her sleek raincoat. All the while, she surreptitiously evaluated the scene around her.
The area was nearly deserted, save for a few stragglers hurrying toward a late-night train. Julia skirted the edge of the plaza, neatly avoiding the splashes of lamplight that kept the dark at bay.
Not for the first time, unease snaked through her. She felt exposed, isolated. Instinctively, her hand fluttered over the comm link in her ear.
"Is everyone in position?" She asked. Julia's gaze swept the plaza again, noting the utility van that pulled up next to a sputtering street lamp.
"Affirmative," a squeaky voice said in her ear. "Channel is secure. Spectre?"
"In position," a man's heavily accented voice spoke. "Waiting for Athena once again."
Julia fought the urge to snarl at her partner's tone. Just another transaction, she reminded herself. Nothing more, nothing less. Stay safe long enough for the next one. That was the plan. "Copy that. I'm moving into the square."
She walked casually toward the open train depot, fighting the urge to break into a run. Where was the contact? The square was ominously deserted now. The whole thing felt like a set up.
Julia paused a few feet from the train depot and made a show of fishing in her purse for her ticket.
/Here I am,/ she thought. /What are you waiting for?/
Suddenly, there was a sharp /click!/ and the comm link was filled with soft static. After a moment, the line cleared. Her head still bent over her purse, Julia whispered: "Spectre? This is Athena. Do you copy?"
No answer. Julia's instincts kicked in and she positioned herself with her back against the concrete wall of the station. She didn't need more than one sign that the op had disintegrated - the only question was whether she should abort or aggressively pursue the set up.
If she were still with the CIA, she'd be more concerned for the well-being of her partner, of their back-up.
But she wasn't with the CIA anymore, and Julia wasn't expected to go out of her way for mercenaries.
Grimly, she flattened herself against the side of the building and began making her way slowly forward. She could see no one ahead of or behind her-no telltale flap of a coat's edge, or the glint of reflected light off of a watch's face.
Whoever her enemy was, he was taking his time. Was it caution that kept him from revealing himself, or was he playing with her? Julia felt her palms itch as she rounded the corner of the train station. Her right hand reached into her coat, her fingers sliding against the cold metal of her gun.
"Sydney."
Julia ... /No, that's not right./ Sydney froze and her heart raced. She hadn't used that name for over a year, it was her name from another life, a brighter future.
But even more startling was the voice - it was even more familiar than her own. And the tone of her name brought forth an unwanted memory of her father demanding an explanation after she had chased away her third nanny is as many months.
"Dad?" she said, and her voice sounded like a lost little girl's even to her own ears.
The darkness seemed to move, as if making way for him. She gasped.
It /was/ her father. But he seemed thinner, somehow. Drawn in on himself. He wore a dark shirt and slacks, and his pale face was a sharp contrast to the blackness surrounding him.
And his eyes... his expression was as stoic as ever, but his eyes were deep and dark, and spoke of pain and hope.
The spell was broken when he grabbed her wrist, "We need to move. There isn't much time."
"Time for what?" She hissed "Dad, what's going on? What are you doing here?" Sydney went with him, pulled along like a boat in his wake.
She felt a sickening sense of vertigo. Things were changing so fast. How had he found her? What did he know? Unbidden, an image of Francie flashed through her mind-her broken body lying on concrete amidst glass shards. /No, not Francie,/ she thought wildly. /The clone./
She froze. "Stop."
"Sydney," her father repeated with exasperation, but he let go of her. "We're trying to maintain your cover, we have a minimal window of opportunity. I just want to talk to you," he added, his voice dropping low.
Her lips compressed into a thin line. Should she trust him? She had little choice. They couldn't stand out here all night. Finally, Sydney nodded.
Relieved, Jack herded her down the escalator into the train station. He did not grab her arm again, but led her through to a small group of waiting passengers. The roar of the train filled the cylindrical chamber, and it rolled to a stop just as they stepped onto the platform. Leave it to her father to order the subway to run on time, Sydney mused.
The subway doors opened, and Sydney and Jack started forward. To their left, a woman detached herself from a group of late night party goers and fell in behind them. Sydney stiffened. "Dad...?" But her father didn't answer, merely hustled her onto the train. The doors closed just as the woman entered the car.
She turned toward them and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Hello, Sydney." Irina's tone was careful and reserved. Even so, there was a note of expectancy to it.
Sydney gasped, then turned on her father, "Are you insane?"
The train pulled away from the station and they all shifted to maintain balance as it accelerated through the tunnel. Jack appeared flustered for a moment, but quickly recovered. "There's no time for recriminations, Sydney," he said in a clipped voice. "Suffice it to say that your mother and I were originally working together to avenge your death." Even now, his tone wavered on that word. "When we realized that you were alive, we continued to pool resources to find you."
Sydney shook her head. "This is incredible." She turned her attention to her mother, and her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
Irina flinched, but raised her chin. "Only to ensure your safety," she replied.
Sydney scoffed.
"There's no time," Jack insisted. "I sincerely hope that we can all sit down at some point and go over our individual and collective issues. Right now, I'm satisfied with your mother's explanations. And we both consider you to be the priority. We need to know two things: are you all right? And why are you working for Sloane?"
"I'm fine," she said defensively. It was a lie, and they all knew it; but before Sydney could ponder that, she spat out, "And I'm working for the Covenant, not for Sloane."
Jack and Irina shared a troubled glance. "Sydney," her mother said slowly. "Sloane /is/ the Covenant."
The train rattled on for a full minute before Sydney spoke again. She could read the truth on her parents' faces. "If anyone else told me that, I'd ask them to prove it." She rubbed her forehead wearily, "God, what a waste!"
She allowed herself only a moment of despair; then her face grew serious, her jaw set. "I'm going to stop him. I still have my cover - I can take him down."
"Sydney," Jack said. "You never had a cover."
"Dad, he thinks he reprogrammed me, I can make this work."
"Sloane knows you can't be reprogrammed," Jack said firmly. He felt Irina's gaze on him.
"Don't you see, Sydney?" Her mother broke in. "You haven't fooled him. On the contrary, Sloane has exactly what he wants. You. Programmed or not, he has you running all over the world collecting Rambaldi items, and once he has enough..." Irina shook her head.
"I can still take him down," Sydney reiterated. "That's my mission."
Irina shot Jack an exasperated look. "Not at the expense of your own life!" She snapped.
"We need a failsafe," Jack broke in. "We cannot afford to provide Sloane with any advantages. Right now, he thinks he can trust you because he knows that you are a double agent. But he doesn't know about your mother and I. The solution is to turn triple. Let us be your backup."
"What, you don't work for the CIA anymore?" Sydney's tone was bitter.
"I'm on vacation," Jack deadpanned.
Sydney couldn't help but laugh, a foreign sound to her own ears. "Dad," she reached out and put a hand on his arm.
Suddenly, the lights on the train dimmed, and the car jerked to a stop. Irina frowned. "What the-"
"There isn't another stop for two more miles." Jack said tightly.
The three froze. Hands went into jacket pockets, gripping concealed weapons. Sydney backed up so that she was partially shielded by a set of passenger seats.
The doors swished open, letting in a gust of wind and four men. The first two were dressed casually in jeans and polos,looking for all the world like upper class university students. Their dark jackets were slicked with rain. The second pair of men were dressed in business suits, their highly polished shoes muddied.
The businessmen remained standing while the other two separated and slouched into seats further down the aisle.
Jack thought he saw a worried look pass between the two Suits.
The train rattled, jostling Irina into him. "Jack," she hissed. Her gaze slid to the man nearest to them. Jack followed her look, and saw a smudge of ink on the man's wrist, just below the cuff of his shirt.
No, not a smudge. The Eye of Rambaldi.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sydney tense, and knew she'd recognized the mark as well.
The train shuddered to a stop again, and Irina moved toward the door.
"I wouldn't if I were you."
The voice came from further down the aisle, from one of the jean-clad college boys.
The doors remained closed as Irina turned easily toward the sound. "Ah." A small smile played about her lips. The speaker hadn't made a move, yet there was no mistaking the hard look in his eyes. "I thought so," she continued easily. "What do you want?"
The first Suit, a big, burly man who looked out of place in his fine clothing, said, "To propose a business arrangement. You seek what we seek."
"There are any number of things I want." Her tone hardened. "Be specific."
"You are the Guide. And the Chosen One," he nodded in Sydney's direction. "And we are all the keepers of the Prophet's true vision. The Usurper cannot succeed if we ally against him."
Irina stepped forward, blocking the man's view of Sydney. "Wrong answer. While I appreciate the Guild of Orvieto's assistance-yes, I know who you are-I have no interest in becoming a political pawn."
Sydney casually positioned herself to defend against the closest man. She felt her father do the same on the other side of her mother. She took her cues from them; Irina defiant and Jack watchful.
The man continued speaking. "It is ordained, you will join with us. You more than anyone knows the inevitability of the Prophecy."
She shrugged. "Perhaps. If Rambaldi's vision is true, then nothing can stop it, so what any of us does is irrelevant. The Guild has survived for four hundred years. Changing, adapting. I'm sure such a resilient group can achieve their ends without me."
One of the college students grabbed the railing over his head and hauled himself to his feet. "She isn't going for it." To Irina he said, "How about some incentive?" His reflexes were lightning quick. Sydney saw the flash of light against metal as he brought his gun to bear on her father.
Instinctively, Sydney drew her own weapon, just as Irina did the same.
Jack remained stock-still, His eyes swept across the room and rested on Irina.
Sydney's breath caught in her throat. She balanced on the balls of her feet, waiting, hoping for an opening.
Irina aimed her gun at the leader's head. "Call your dog off." Her voice was quiet. The man in the suit hesitated. "Do it," she repeated.
"Pierre, listen to the lady." To Irina, he said, "We are civilized men. As you've said, the Guild has endured for centuries. We can wait a little longer."
The thug re holstered his weapon as the train pulled into the next station. With a shudder, it halted and the doors swished open. The two men in the aisle exited first, the third following. At last, their leader stepped out onto the pavement. "I'll see you again," he said to Irina, as the doors closed behind him.
The train pulled forward, and Sydney felt all three of them breathe a sigh of relief. Irina was the first to speak, "Sydney, Sweetheart, events are moving quickly and we don't have time to argue or debate." She pulled out a single half-sheet of paper and gave it to her daughter. "Take this - it contains a list of safe contacts and a cipher known only to us."
Sydney scanned the sheet, "And encrypted message instructions. "Okay," she nodded, finalizing her decision. "I'm in. We're all in. I'll leave a message for you when I return to the Covenant. Can I assume the goal is to find out Sloane's next move and stop him?"
Jack nodded, "As simple as that."
"Got it," Sydney said. The train rolled to a stop, and Sydney found herself suddenly reluctant to leave her family. But she took a deep breath and stepped out the doors. She stopped for a moment and turned, and saw similar expressions on both of her parents' faces - hope writ over a deep pain. She shrugged slightly and said as the doors closed, "It's good to see you."
Minutes later, she had memorized the information on Irina's note, sacrificing the paper to her lighter as she left the subway station.
To Be Continued...