Author's Note: Quick question. How obvious is it how I got Olim Idlabmar's name? And thanks to everyone reading, especially those who have left nice reviews. It's really encouraging and I appreciate it!

Also, before this entry gets started, I've never been in a helicopter, I've never worked at the CIA, I've never touched a gun and I've never fought anyone. That said.... -Ashni

* * *

Olim Idlabmar nodded, eyes sparkling. "It is inside. Do you have the money?"

Sydney laid a hand to her suitcase and Idlabmar turned with a gesture to follow him. "Good. Come, I will show you what you are here for."
Before he could leave, Sydney cleared her throat. He turned back with a raised eyebrow. "My colleague is here as well," she said. Ana moved forward out of the shadows where she had concealed herself, and fixed Idlabmar with a challenging gaze. Idlabmar moved back a step, his smile weak.

"Of course," he said, directing his words at Sydney. "She may wait here. She cannot come inside, though. Forgive me, but I do not trust SD-6 not to accost me in my own home."

"I understand. Ana will remain here," Sydney replied. Idlabmar's face relaxed in relief and he went into the house with renewed vigor. She followed him quickly, but not before she saw Ana watching her. The K-Directorate agent gave her a slow wink and leaned against a tree to wait. Her folded arms warned Sydney not to try any tricks. Sydney's face turned grim and she closed the door firmly behind her.

Inside the house, Idlabmar headed straight for a back room with a large safe along one wall. Sydney waited in the hall as he unlocked it, fiddling with her bracelet nervously. K-Directorate had returned all her jewelry and equipment for the meeting, apparently in order to not rouse suspicion, much to Sydney's relief. A charm on her bracelet twisted open to reveal a tiny CIA-issue transmitter. If a rescue team had been sent out after her, she could contact them from within a half-mile radius. At the same time, though, she would warn K-Directorate that she was communicating to another party, so she couldn't use it just yet. Also, it was only one-way. She could send out a dozen transmissions and never know if the CIA had heard her.

She twisted a ring around her finger. That was new; another transmitter, but from K-Directorate. The earpiece to that was hidden in her hair by her right ear. Every so often, one of Ana's taunts drifted to her ear. She had to stifle her instinctive reaction to turn around.

Idlabmar came out into the hall, holding a large silver key. "Now, we must go out to the woods behind my house. That is where I have hidden the journal."

Sydney heard Ana's sharp intake of breath and covered it by demanding, "The forest? You told me it was here!" Inside, her heart soared. She had more of a chance to escape in the dense woods than in here, surrounded by K-Directorate forces.

"It was necessary. I did not know if you would try to steal the Rambaldi journal without delivering the money." He looked at her apologetically. "I promise you, though, that it is out there."

Sydney held up a hand and he fell silent. She spoke into the K-Directorate ring, "We are moving out to the forest." Idlabmar seemed to become nervous at this message, but Sydney pulled him outside. "The sooner we get there, the sooner I get the Rambaldi journal, the sooner you get your money, the sooner we go our separate ways." He could not argue with this and by the time they reached the forest, they were moving at a fast walk.

The sky was already darkening to deep hues of royal blue and purple. Sydney pulled her jacket closer around her as she followed Idlabmar to the trees. She heard a faint whirring sound and looked up to see a helicopter on the horizon, no more than an oddly-shaped black splotch half-hidden by tree branches. She hoped it was the CIA, but she couldn't be sure. Her heart raced.

She urged Idlabmar to move faster, and soon they stood at the base of a tree marked with a large "X." Idlabmar crouched down and began to clear away the leaves and twigs on a two-square-foot patch of ground. Sydney watched as he drew out a heavy metal box. He laid it before Sydney and held out the key. "If you would like to open the box-"

A shot rang out and Idlabmar fell back against the tree, limp as a rag doll. Sydney cried out as something warm splattered her face and hands and she dove for the box, letting go of the suitcase she held. Even if K-Directorate found it, all they'd discover inside would be padding and fake money. Her scrabbling fingers encountered cold metal on the ground and she grabbed the key, taking off through the trees. She didn't even check Idlabmar. He hadn't made a sound as he collapsed, and she'd seen the expert work of K-Directorate snipers before. She couldn't waste time on the dead. Right now, she needed to concentrate on keeping the Rambaldi journal out of K-Directorate hands.

Her fingers, clenched around the handle of the box, were beginning to cramp, sending lightning pain shooting up her arm. The box itself seemed to become heavier by the step. As bullets sent leaves billowing up around her, she raised her arms to cover her head and darted behind a tree. She worked frantically at the lock, trying to twist the key around the dirt encrusted there. It got stuck four times, and four times she strained silently in the dark, expecting a K-Directorate agent to come upon her at any moment and end it all . . . four times the key came free and she breathed a sigh of relief as she listened to the helicopter come closer.

The box popped open with a snap. Sydney bolted to her feet and grabbed the papers inside, jamming them into her coat. The ends of her fingers were near numb with cold and pain, but she wouldn't let herself stop now. She took off again into the woods, picking at her bracelet. She tore the charm off in desperation and yelled into it, "This is Agent Bristow! I have the Rambaldi journal, I repeat, I have the Rambaldi journal! Now get me out of here!" She kept talking, hoping that the helicopter was, in fact, CIA, and hoping that they could track her signal. If not, she was as good as dead.

As if in answer to her unvoiced prayers, the helicopter began to circle closer and closer. At the same time, though, the K-Directorate squad was slowly surrounding her. She ducked under a low branch and did a hairpin turn. A man tackled her from behind and she twisted out of his grip, catching him in the guy with a kick. As he stumbled back, she lunged at his face and drove him to the ground with a snap of her hand. She stooped to grab his gun and then the other men were on her.

She saw one man fall to her gunshot and drove three others back with her vicious kicks. Adrenaline pumped through her and swept her up until all she knew was lunge, punch, defend, kick, stay alive. Suddenly she could not move fast enough to satisfy her fighting hunger. She became a whirlwind, a blur, a battle machine, incapable of feeling pain or fear.

Despite this, Sydney was still hopelessly outnumbered, and gradually K-Directorate began to overwhelm her. Her fluid movements began to tire, and slowly her skin turned to a bleeding inferno of agony. She faltered, almost going down as a man tried to clout her over the head. Her attacks lost the deadly edge they had held and became the frenzied throes of a doomed animal. Hope had turned to bleak expectation of the blow that would bring her down.