Three Bricks Shy-Alias, PG-13 (A touch of the occult and some humor)
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
*****
Chapter 12
Trish was waiting at her front gate, quiet and dignified in her navy blue suit and black pumps. Before she got in the car, she handed me a package.
"What's this for?" I asked, feeling yesterday's dread return in full force.
"His name was Jean Michel LaFleur. I met him at the Olympics in Grenoble, France."
1968. The year of my birth. If I counted backward to February, 1968, the dates all fit. "I see."
"No, you don't see, but we don't have time for this now." She was right; we had to go help Sydney.
"Will there ever be time?" I asked carefully.
"I cannot say, but the answers lie in your hands." She nodded at the package and ended the conversation by getting into the front seat and greeting Eric. With a grimace, I squished into the seat behind her and spent the rest of ride stewing over my parentage and worrying about Sydney.
*****
Jack Bristow greeted us at the front entrance and handed an ID badge to Trish. "Devlin briefed me on our….guest," he said, pulling me to one side for a moment. "Do you really think she can help us?"
"We have no other options." I saw his skepticism, and I didn't blame him. Calling on my aunt was certainly not my first choice, but I was desperate to help Syd and prove that this prophecy was a sham.
He nodded. "We better get moving. They've already convened in Room 363A and we don't have much time to waste."
"What, we're not on the guest list?" Weiss quipped as he played with his yo- yo.
Jack actually smiled and started walking through the metal detectors, expecting us to follow. Eric and Trish had their heads together and they meandered slowly up the stairs. I couldn't make out their words, but they seemed to be conspiring about something. Maybe it was better if I didn't know what they were planning. We passed a coffee cart and Weiss held up his hand. "Hey, do you guys mind if we bring some coffee? I had a really rough night last night."
We waited while Trish and Eric loaded up a cardboard flat with half a dozen coffees and then returned to our regularly scheduled prowl down the corridor. I saw Trish fidgeting with her necklace and wondered what was so important about those damned beads. There was nothing even remotely remarkable about them and for someone who had such good taste, it seemed kind of strange that she'd latched onto them.
After endless hallways and several trips on various banks of elevators, we arrived at our destination. Jack said, "The element of surprise is on our side, so we have to act quickly. I expect the journal to be displayed on the table, so one of you has to find page 47 and get it to Trish."
I stepped in front of Jack and cautioned, "I have reason to believe that someone may try to harm my aunt."
His eyes flashed. "I understand. Don't worry about it."
How could I not worry about it after that dream? A number of replies came to mind, but I decided to save my ire for someone who deserved it. "Let's do it."
"I'll go in first," Jack said, his tone brooking no argument.
****
Two no-neck security types guarded the door and glared at us through their piggy little eyes. They grunted when Jack flashed his badge and one of them demanded to see his authorization. That was the point where Haladki decided to show his ugly mug and that was also the point where I had to restrain my fist from punching his lights out. God, how I hated him. I didn't care about his FBI connections. That didn't excuse his behavior toward me or Syd. What had happened to loyalty among colleagues? I wouldn't want him at my back in any fight, because I didn't trust the slimy little weasel.
Haladki looked annoyed at seeing me, but his eyes bugged out when he saw Trish. "Civilians aren't allowed in here. This is a closed meeting."
"Devlin signed the paperwork." I thrust it under his nose and he backed off a little when he saw the signature.
"Well, you're too late," Haladki said smugly. "They've decided to put her away for life."
The security dudes crossed their arms and one of them spoke quietly into his headset. I was sure they were calling for backup and I remembered Jack's warning. "We've got to hurry."
"Maybe this will convince them." Jack performed a sleight of hand and a gun appeared in his hand. How he had gotten it past the metal detectors was a mystery, because guns weren't allowed on this level. He grabbed Haladki by the collar and wrapped his arm around his neck. With the gun pointed at Haladki's temple, he said ominously, "Now you let us in, or I'll blow his head off."
Haladki's teeth were chattering and I saw the sweat beading on his brow. I couldn't muster any sympathy for the little toad, because he'd caused me nothing but misery. Haladki ordered, "Do what he says."
The guards' beefy arms parted like the Red Sea and they stepped aside. I saw Eric and Trish exchange smiles before disappearing into the conference room ahead of us.
************
There were about twelve people huddled around a long square conference table. I saw Carson Evans and her cigarette smoking minion, Dr. Waterson at the far end. Several other faceless DSR goons and FBI suits took up the remaining seats, and Haladki was the sole representative from the Agency. Sydney was nowhere in sight and was not even allowed to hear her own fate or offer her own defense. What kind of justice was that? I let my eyes scan further and I saw Rambaldi's journal scattered across the table.
"You have no business in here. And what is that woman…..?" Carson Evan's strident voice faltered as she recognized Trish and I saw her gulp with real fear.
Trish smiled as the other woman quaked in her boots, and she moved forward confidently with the tray of coffee still balanced precariously in her tiny hands. Right at that moment, Eric's yo-yo snaked out and hit the tray with deadly precision. The coffees went flying and Trish staggered against the conference table with one hand against her throat. As she got her bearings, she inadvertently pulled on her beads and the string broke, shooting the tiny spheres across the table like billiard balls. It all happened in a fraction of a second, and as coffee spread its murky fingers across the table, I heard someone shriek in agony. Haladki had been hit by flying java and he jumped to his feet and started pogoing to some imaginary tune. To add insult to injury, one of the beads bounced off the back of his chair and launched itself at his eye like a deadly missile. He was totally ignored in the rush to save Rambaldi's journal from the clutches of coffee death and I saw Weiss move at top speed to the end of the table and with a gracefully executed maneuver, he scooped up Page 47 and delivered it to Trish before anyone could move against them.
Trish's reaction was almost immediate. She swayed and I caught her arm in mine and set her down in one of the empty chairs. Her fingers skated across the page and she seemed to memorize every detail. I saw her eyes glaze over and her mouth move, whispering the words to some secret script. Then the motion of her hands stopped and she looked at me, clear-eyed and ready to offer her opinion. With a small smile, she said softly, "The page is a fake."
Those were the last words I expected to hear. "That's not possible. I mean, the journal has been carbon-dated and we've verified that it's five centuries old."
Carson Evans had managed to overcome her fear and I saw her standing nearby, catching every word out of Trish's mouth. She would have moved closer if Jack hadn't warned her off with his gun. I nudged Trish, warning her that she was being monitored. She looked at Dr. Evans and her smile widened. Speaking louder for the benefit of her audience, she exclaimed, "I don't care what your tests say. Someone is pulling your strings and making you all dance to his tune."
"He?" I questioned.
Her eyes closed in reflection. "I get the impressions of many people. The girl…Sydney, taking it off the boat. Other people planting this page among the other journal pages….a woman with dark hair…..older, maybe my age…..and then this man. There is something about the Alliance….and SD-4. Does that mean anything to you?"
Those words electrified me and a name came to mind. "Did you pick up any names?"
"There is Laura…." Her eyes lifted to Jack Bristow and I saw the sympathy on her face. "She is alive."
I felt the cold dread returning. It had been bad enough finding out that Sydney's mom killed my dad, but that news paled by comparison to this new information. I watched Jack closely and saw that he didn't seem at all surprised by this revelation. He asked, "Anyone else?"
"There are two. Emile Toscana…" That was the name I had been waiting for, but when she continued, I was stunned by what I heard. "The other name is…..H-Hlad…key."
Although she stammered, the words came out clearly enough. Everyone came to attention and stared at Haladki. He was still cleaning himself off and hadn't been following the discussion. I shoved back my chair and advanced on him threateningly. "Care to explain this?"
"Explain what?" Haladki looked up at me miserably and seemed to shrink when he saw the look in my eyes. I was this close to stomping him into the ground and only Weiss's restraining arm held me back.
"Explain your association with Toscana and Laura Bristow," I growled with my hands balled into fists.
He looked at me like I had lost my mind and then glanced around the table for support. When none was forthcoming, he stammered, "You're c-crazy. How can you possibly believe what this….flaky woman has to say? She's making it up."
"Oh, really? Then explain how she knows this information. How could she possibly know about Laura Bristow or the Alliance? And how could she know your name when she's never met you," I questioned flatly, reining in my temper and seeing that my words were having an effect.
"Because you're trying to set me up. Everyone knows you have a grudge against me….." His eyes pleaded with Dr. Evans but even she was turning away from him, not caring to be associated with a traitor.
Dr. Evans ordered, "Take him away."
The two security grunts grabbed Haladki's arms and hauled him away with his heels dragging. He screeched, "Wait, you can't do this to me. Vaughn is a lunatic….."
His screams faded away and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Trish touched some other pages and her features shifted. "Interesting. These other pages are genuine. I do not sense any unusual vibrations. Only….the face of an old man as he writes and draws."
"So you think that one of Toscana's people planted this page, knowing that it would fall into Sydney's possession?" Jack asked Trish, apparently accepting that her abilities were the real deal.
"Yes," she answered simply. "And I get the sense that your Laura and Haladki are working with him to take down the Alliance."
Jack chewed on that information for a bit. "It makes sense. Most of that information could have been added as the events happened. Haladki would have access to all this information and he could have fed it to them."
Dr. Evans interjected, "That's true, but how do you explain the physical matches?"
"They're probably based on Laura's profile. Sydney is like her in every way….and resembles her closely. I believe that the sketch is Laura, not Sydney."
"Why do this?" I asked, not understanding the extent of Laura's treachery. Wasn't it enough that she was a murderer? Why did she have to discredit her own daughter?
"She's KGB," Weiss commented as he tucked his lethal yo-yo into his pocket. "And she hasn't changed her stripes. K-Directorate would love to take down the Alliance, and what better way than weakening its assets? Starting with Sydney and SD-6."
I suddenly noticed that Trish wasn't looking so well. Her head was in her hands and she was physically disconnected from the conversation. "Are you OK?"
"Please take me out of here. I need to rest for awhile." Weiss helped her to her feet and led her out of the room. I made him promise to let me know when Trish was up to receiving visitors because I wanted her to meet Sydney.
One of the faceless dorks from the FBI Tribunal decided to butt in. "Well, Agent Vaughn, this certainly changes things for Agent Bristow. Of course, we need to investigate this new information, but it should only be a formality."
"How long?" I had to know when they'd release her and planned on being first in line when she walked through the door as a free woman.
The DSR people looked between themselves and Evans finally said, "We have no reason to hold her. Our business is done here."
I felt enormous relief and a sense of vindication that Haladki was out of business. My only regret was that I hadn't gotten the chance to kick his ass and vent my anger on him. There was one other outlet for all this pent up emotion, and maybe I'd get a chance to use it when I saw Sydney. As for Carson Evans, if I ever crossed paths with her again, I'd be sure to sic Trish the pit bull on her. My mind went on to wonder about Laura Bristow's motives. Why would she do this to her own daughter? Was she really that evil?
Jack seemed to read my mind. "I'd like to be the one to tell Sydney about her mother."
I nodded. He deserved that much at least, especially after the part I'd played in forcing him to tell Syd the truth about Laura's affiliation with the KGB. "Sure."
"I'm going to see her now. I'll let you know when you can visit."
*****
An hour ticked by and I sat alone in the conference room with my thoughts whirling in my head. Sydney was only a few rooms away and I could almost see her standing before me with the wind in her hair, her eyes shining from some indefinable emotion. Then I imagined us looking at a Malibu sunset with our hands interlocked, sitting on a beach blanket with a bottle of wine and a picnic basket. Then I started leaning toward her and her breath stirred the hair that flopped on my forehead as my mouth hovered over hers. So lightly did the vision touch me that I didn't realize what it was until it left me. A voice intruded on my thoughts and I looked up to see Eric.
"How's Trish doing?" I asked, slightly pissed that he had interrupted my fantasy.
"She's tired, but she's ready to see you."
I followed him to a small anteroom off the main corridor and saw Trish half reclined on an uncomfortable looking couch. Her shoes were off and her feet were propped up on a pillow and she flashed me a wan smile. "Are you OK?" I asked.
"I'll live." I hoped that was true. She noticed my expression and commented, "Maybe I should be asking how you're doing."
"I'm fine," I answered too quickly and knew I wasn't fooling her.
"What's troubling you?" I saw her grimace in pain and helped her to a sitting position.
I wasn't used to baring my soul and I guessed it wasn't one of her high points either. "I had a dream last night. Someone shot you."
"Now why would they want to do that?" Trish tried making a joke but the smile never reached her eyes.
"Because maybe they see you as a threat."
She considered my answer for a moment. "You had a vision, didn't you?"
"If you want to call it that."
"Visions are seldom what they seem. Perhaps you have an unconscious desire to shoot me yourself for abandoning you," Trish said with a small smile.
My nightmare came back to me and I remembered her beads breaking in the conference room instead of outside. I hope she was right about this, because I had lost enough people in my life. "Don't be ridiculous." I tried to keep my tone even and neutral, but a slight tremor betrayed my feelings.
"Michael, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you. For seeing what happened to Sharon all those years ago…." I reared back from her in surprise and got to my feet. Her voice trailed after me. "I never forget my visions and I'll never forgive myself for hurting you the way I did."
I sensed her sincerity and stopped my pacing. "I never got over her until…"
"You met Sydney," she finished. "And now I want to meet this girl that means so much to you."
I smiled tentatively and it felt good on my face. "Let me have a few minutes with her and then I'll come get you."
Trish nodded wearily, her head falling to her chest in exhaustion. I watched her for a few seconds before making my way out of the room. Before the door clicked to a close, I was thrown against a wall by someone tearing down the hall. A terrified face with bulbous eyes and a scrap of steel wool hair. Haladki. The bastard had escaped from confinement. He threw a glance over his shoulder and squealed when he saw me coming after him. I was bigger and faster than him and as he rounded the corner to the stairwell, I grabbed his belt and slammed him against the wall.
His head smacked against the cement and he screamed in agony, but that was nothing compared to the damage I was about to do to him. "You fucking traitor. How could you do it? How could you betray our country?"
All my anger against Laura Bristow came pouring out of me and telegraphed itself into my fists as I slammed his head repeatedly against the wall. Then my fists started in on his face, breaking his nose and cutting his lip. Blood gushed from his nostrils and splattered on my shirt. I was so enraged that I didn't notice him reach into his pocket. He suddenly zapped me with a taser and I felt every muscle in my body freeze up. I fell to my knees and Haladki started kicking me. Nothing like fighting against a defenseless man. Ribs were cracking and breaking as he erupted in fury and cursed at me in some Eastern European language. He would have continued if Weiss hadn't chosen that moment to appear in the doorway.
The two of them scuffled and it didn't take long for Eric to completely overtake Haladki and send him flying down the stairs. Bones crunched as he collapsed in an unconscious heap on the lower landing. "Vaughn, are you OK?"
I laughed through rubbery lips. "I've had better days."
"C'mon, let me help you up." Weiss put one arm under my armpit and hoisted me tomy feet. "What did he hit you with?"
"A t-taser." My tongue was still numb and I wondered if it was some kind of advanced weapon.
The security goons showed up as we struggled through the doorway and Weiss pointed down the stairs. "You can pick up your trash down there."
We made it to the men's room and Weiss wet some paper towels and handed them to me. "You look like shit."
Another painful laugh made its way out of me. "I feel even better."
Eric snickered. "Great way to impress her."
"Is she ready to see me?" I didn't care how bad I looked. All I wanted was to see Sydney and make sure she was OK.
"Yeah, but Jack said she's pretty shaken up over her mother."
"I'll keep it brief."
As I started shambling across the tiled floor, he caught my arm and said, "You love her, don't you?"
I opened my mouth to lie like I always did, but my lips weren't working. "Yeah."
"Don't wait too long to tell her." He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder before disappearing out the door with a cheerful whistle, leaving me to my own devices. Sydney's face swam before me and drew me like a beacon. Forgetting my pain, I burst through the bathroom door and walked stiffly to where she waited at the far end of the corridor.
******
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
*****
Chapter 12
Trish was waiting at her front gate, quiet and dignified in her navy blue suit and black pumps. Before she got in the car, she handed me a package.
"What's this for?" I asked, feeling yesterday's dread return in full force.
"His name was Jean Michel LaFleur. I met him at the Olympics in Grenoble, France."
1968. The year of my birth. If I counted backward to February, 1968, the dates all fit. "I see."
"No, you don't see, but we don't have time for this now." She was right; we had to go help Sydney.
"Will there ever be time?" I asked carefully.
"I cannot say, but the answers lie in your hands." She nodded at the package and ended the conversation by getting into the front seat and greeting Eric. With a grimace, I squished into the seat behind her and spent the rest of ride stewing over my parentage and worrying about Sydney.
*****
Jack Bristow greeted us at the front entrance and handed an ID badge to Trish. "Devlin briefed me on our….guest," he said, pulling me to one side for a moment. "Do you really think she can help us?"
"We have no other options." I saw his skepticism, and I didn't blame him. Calling on my aunt was certainly not my first choice, but I was desperate to help Syd and prove that this prophecy was a sham.
He nodded. "We better get moving. They've already convened in Room 363A and we don't have much time to waste."
"What, we're not on the guest list?" Weiss quipped as he played with his yo- yo.
Jack actually smiled and started walking through the metal detectors, expecting us to follow. Eric and Trish had their heads together and they meandered slowly up the stairs. I couldn't make out their words, but they seemed to be conspiring about something. Maybe it was better if I didn't know what they were planning. We passed a coffee cart and Weiss held up his hand. "Hey, do you guys mind if we bring some coffee? I had a really rough night last night."
We waited while Trish and Eric loaded up a cardboard flat with half a dozen coffees and then returned to our regularly scheduled prowl down the corridor. I saw Trish fidgeting with her necklace and wondered what was so important about those damned beads. There was nothing even remotely remarkable about them and for someone who had such good taste, it seemed kind of strange that she'd latched onto them.
After endless hallways and several trips on various banks of elevators, we arrived at our destination. Jack said, "The element of surprise is on our side, so we have to act quickly. I expect the journal to be displayed on the table, so one of you has to find page 47 and get it to Trish."
I stepped in front of Jack and cautioned, "I have reason to believe that someone may try to harm my aunt."
His eyes flashed. "I understand. Don't worry about it."
How could I not worry about it after that dream? A number of replies came to mind, but I decided to save my ire for someone who deserved it. "Let's do it."
"I'll go in first," Jack said, his tone brooking no argument.
****
Two no-neck security types guarded the door and glared at us through their piggy little eyes. They grunted when Jack flashed his badge and one of them demanded to see his authorization. That was the point where Haladki decided to show his ugly mug and that was also the point where I had to restrain my fist from punching his lights out. God, how I hated him. I didn't care about his FBI connections. That didn't excuse his behavior toward me or Syd. What had happened to loyalty among colleagues? I wouldn't want him at my back in any fight, because I didn't trust the slimy little weasel.
Haladki looked annoyed at seeing me, but his eyes bugged out when he saw Trish. "Civilians aren't allowed in here. This is a closed meeting."
"Devlin signed the paperwork." I thrust it under his nose and he backed off a little when he saw the signature.
"Well, you're too late," Haladki said smugly. "They've decided to put her away for life."
The security dudes crossed their arms and one of them spoke quietly into his headset. I was sure they were calling for backup and I remembered Jack's warning. "We've got to hurry."
"Maybe this will convince them." Jack performed a sleight of hand and a gun appeared in his hand. How he had gotten it past the metal detectors was a mystery, because guns weren't allowed on this level. He grabbed Haladki by the collar and wrapped his arm around his neck. With the gun pointed at Haladki's temple, he said ominously, "Now you let us in, or I'll blow his head off."
Haladki's teeth were chattering and I saw the sweat beading on his brow. I couldn't muster any sympathy for the little toad, because he'd caused me nothing but misery. Haladki ordered, "Do what he says."
The guards' beefy arms parted like the Red Sea and they stepped aside. I saw Eric and Trish exchange smiles before disappearing into the conference room ahead of us.
************
There were about twelve people huddled around a long square conference table. I saw Carson Evans and her cigarette smoking minion, Dr. Waterson at the far end. Several other faceless DSR goons and FBI suits took up the remaining seats, and Haladki was the sole representative from the Agency. Sydney was nowhere in sight and was not even allowed to hear her own fate or offer her own defense. What kind of justice was that? I let my eyes scan further and I saw Rambaldi's journal scattered across the table.
"You have no business in here. And what is that woman…..?" Carson Evan's strident voice faltered as she recognized Trish and I saw her gulp with real fear.
Trish smiled as the other woman quaked in her boots, and she moved forward confidently with the tray of coffee still balanced precariously in her tiny hands. Right at that moment, Eric's yo-yo snaked out and hit the tray with deadly precision. The coffees went flying and Trish staggered against the conference table with one hand against her throat. As she got her bearings, she inadvertently pulled on her beads and the string broke, shooting the tiny spheres across the table like billiard balls. It all happened in a fraction of a second, and as coffee spread its murky fingers across the table, I heard someone shriek in agony. Haladki had been hit by flying java and he jumped to his feet and started pogoing to some imaginary tune. To add insult to injury, one of the beads bounced off the back of his chair and launched itself at his eye like a deadly missile. He was totally ignored in the rush to save Rambaldi's journal from the clutches of coffee death and I saw Weiss move at top speed to the end of the table and with a gracefully executed maneuver, he scooped up Page 47 and delivered it to Trish before anyone could move against them.
Trish's reaction was almost immediate. She swayed and I caught her arm in mine and set her down in one of the empty chairs. Her fingers skated across the page and she seemed to memorize every detail. I saw her eyes glaze over and her mouth move, whispering the words to some secret script. Then the motion of her hands stopped and she looked at me, clear-eyed and ready to offer her opinion. With a small smile, she said softly, "The page is a fake."
Those were the last words I expected to hear. "That's not possible. I mean, the journal has been carbon-dated and we've verified that it's five centuries old."
Carson Evans had managed to overcome her fear and I saw her standing nearby, catching every word out of Trish's mouth. She would have moved closer if Jack hadn't warned her off with his gun. I nudged Trish, warning her that she was being monitored. She looked at Dr. Evans and her smile widened. Speaking louder for the benefit of her audience, she exclaimed, "I don't care what your tests say. Someone is pulling your strings and making you all dance to his tune."
"He?" I questioned.
Her eyes closed in reflection. "I get the impressions of many people. The girl…Sydney, taking it off the boat. Other people planting this page among the other journal pages….a woman with dark hair…..older, maybe my age…..and then this man. There is something about the Alliance….and SD-4. Does that mean anything to you?"
Those words electrified me and a name came to mind. "Did you pick up any names?"
"There is Laura…." Her eyes lifted to Jack Bristow and I saw the sympathy on her face. "She is alive."
I felt the cold dread returning. It had been bad enough finding out that Sydney's mom killed my dad, but that news paled by comparison to this new information. I watched Jack closely and saw that he didn't seem at all surprised by this revelation. He asked, "Anyone else?"
"There are two. Emile Toscana…" That was the name I had been waiting for, but when she continued, I was stunned by what I heard. "The other name is…..H-Hlad…key."
Although she stammered, the words came out clearly enough. Everyone came to attention and stared at Haladki. He was still cleaning himself off and hadn't been following the discussion. I shoved back my chair and advanced on him threateningly. "Care to explain this?"
"Explain what?" Haladki looked up at me miserably and seemed to shrink when he saw the look in my eyes. I was this close to stomping him into the ground and only Weiss's restraining arm held me back.
"Explain your association with Toscana and Laura Bristow," I growled with my hands balled into fists.
He looked at me like I had lost my mind and then glanced around the table for support. When none was forthcoming, he stammered, "You're c-crazy. How can you possibly believe what this….flaky woman has to say? She's making it up."
"Oh, really? Then explain how she knows this information. How could she possibly know about Laura Bristow or the Alliance? And how could she know your name when she's never met you," I questioned flatly, reining in my temper and seeing that my words were having an effect.
"Because you're trying to set me up. Everyone knows you have a grudge against me….." His eyes pleaded with Dr. Evans but even she was turning away from him, not caring to be associated with a traitor.
Dr. Evans ordered, "Take him away."
The two security grunts grabbed Haladki's arms and hauled him away with his heels dragging. He screeched, "Wait, you can't do this to me. Vaughn is a lunatic….."
His screams faded away and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Trish touched some other pages and her features shifted. "Interesting. These other pages are genuine. I do not sense any unusual vibrations. Only….the face of an old man as he writes and draws."
"So you think that one of Toscana's people planted this page, knowing that it would fall into Sydney's possession?" Jack asked Trish, apparently accepting that her abilities were the real deal.
"Yes," she answered simply. "And I get the sense that your Laura and Haladki are working with him to take down the Alliance."
Jack chewed on that information for a bit. "It makes sense. Most of that information could have been added as the events happened. Haladki would have access to all this information and he could have fed it to them."
Dr. Evans interjected, "That's true, but how do you explain the physical matches?"
"They're probably based on Laura's profile. Sydney is like her in every way….and resembles her closely. I believe that the sketch is Laura, not Sydney."
"Why do this?" I asked, not understanding the extent of Laura's treachery. Wasn't it enough that she was a murderer? Why did she have to discredit her own daughter?
"She's KGB," Weiss commented as he tucked his lethal yo-yo into his pocket. "And she hasn't changed her stripes. K-Directorate would love to take down the Alliance, and what better way than weakening its assets? Starting with Sydney and SD-6."
I suddenly noticed that Trish wasn't looking so well. Her head was in her hands and she was physically disconnected from the conversation. "Are you OK?"
"Please take me out of here. I need to rest for awhile." Weiss helped her to her feet and led her out of the room. I made him promise to let me know when Trish was up to receiving visitors because I wanted her to meet Sydney.
One of the faceless dorks from the FBI Tribunal decided to butt in. "Well, Agent Vaughn, this certainly changes things for Agent Bristow. Of course, we need to investigate this new information, but it should only be a formality."
"How long?" I had to know when they'd release her and planned on being first in line when she walked through the door as a free woman.
The DSR people looked between themselves and Evans finally said, "We have no reason to hold her. Our business is done here."
I felt enormous relief and a sense of vindication that Haladki was out of business. My only regret was that I hadn't gotten the chance to kick his ass and vent my anger on him. There was one other outlet for all this pent up emotion, and maybe I'd get a chance to use it when I saw Sydney. As for Carson Evans, if I ever crossed paths with her again, I'd be sure to sic Trish the pit bull on her. My mind went on to wonder about Laura Bristow's motives. Why would she do this to her own daughter? Was she really that evil?
Jack seemed to read my mind. "I'd like to be the one to tell Sydney about her mother."
I nodded. He deserved that much at least, especially after the part I'd played in forcing him to tell Syd the truth about Laura's affiliation with the KGB. "Sure."
"I'm going to see her now. I'll let you know when you can visit."
*****
An hour ticked by and I sat alone in the conference room with my thoughts whirling in my head. Sydney was only a few rooms away and I could almost see her standing before me with the wind in her hair, her eyes shining from some indefinable emotion. Then I imagined us looking at a Malibu sunset with our hands interlocked, sitting on a beach blanket with a bottle of wine and a picnic basket. Then I started leaning toward her and her breath stirred the hair that flopped on my forehead as my mouth hovered over hers. So lightly did the vision touch me that I didn't realize what it was until it left me. A voice intruded on my thoughts and I looked up to see Eric.
"How's Trish doing?" I asked, slightly pissed that he had interrupted my fantasy.
"She's tired, but she's ready to see you."
I followed him to a small anteroom off the main corridor and saw Trish half reclined on an uncomfortable looking couch. Her shoes were off and her feet were propped up on a pillow and she flashed me a wan smile. "Are you OK?" I asked.
"I'll live." I hoped that was true. She noticed my expression and commented, "Maybe I should be asking how you're doing."
"I'm fine," I answered too quickly and knew I wasn't fooling her.
"What's troubling you?" I saw her grimace in pain and helped her to a sitting position.
I wasn't used to baring my soul and I guessed it wasn't one of her high points either. "I had a dream last night. Someone shot you."
"Now why would they want to do that?" Trish tried making a joke but the smile never reached her eyes.
"Because maybe they see you as a threat."
She considered my answer for a moment. "You had a vision, didn't you?"
"If you want to call it that."
"Visions are seldom what they seem. Perhaps you have an unconscious desire to shoot me yourself for abandoning you," Trish said with a small smile.
My nightmare came back to me and I remembered her beads breaking in the conference room instead of outside. I hope she was right about this, because I had lost enough people in my life. "Don't be ridiculous." I tried to keep my tone even and neutral, but a slight tremor betrayed my feelings.
"Michael, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you. For seeing what happened to Sharon all those years ago…." I reared back from her in surprise and got to my feet. Her voice trailed after me. "I never forget my visions and I'll never forgive myself for hurting you the way I did."
I sensed her sincerity and stopped my pacing. "I never got over her until…"
"You met Sydney," she finished. "And now I want to meet this girl that means so much to you."
I smiled tentatively and it felt good on my face. "Let me have a few minutes with her and then I'll come get you."
Trish nodded wearily, her head falling to her chest in exhaustion. I watched her for a few seconds before making my way out of the room. Before the door clicked to a close, I was thrown against a wall by someone tearing down the hall. A terrified face with bulbous eyes and a scrap of steel wool hair. Haladki. The bastard had escaped from confinement. He threw a glance over his shoulder and squealed when he saw me coming after him. I was bigger and faster than him and as he rounded the corner to the stairwell, I grabbed his belt and slammed him against the wall.
His head smacked against the cement and he screamed in agony, but that was nothing compared to the damage I was about to do to him. "You fucking traitor. How could you do it? How could you betray our country?"
All my anger against Laura Bristow came pouring out of me and telegraphed itself into my fists as I slammed his head repeatedly against the wall. Then my fists started in on his face, breaking his nose and cutting his lip. Blood gushed from his nostrils and splattered on my shirt. I was so enraged that I didn't notice him reach into his pocket. He suddenly zapped me with a taser and I felt every muscle in my body freeze up. I fell to my knees and Haladki started kicking me. Nothing like fighting against a defenseless man. Ribs were cracking and breaking as he erupted in fury and cursed at me in some Eastern European language. He would have continued if Weiss hadn't chosen that moment to appear in the doorway.
The two of them scuffled and it didn't take long for Eric to completely overtake Haladki and send him flying down the stairs. Bones crunched as he collapsed in an unconscious heap on the lower landing. "Vaughn, are you OK?"
I laughed through rubbery lips. "I've had better days."
"C'mon, let me help you up." Weiss put one arm under my armpit and hoisted me tomy feet. "What did he hit you with?"
"A t-taser." My tongue was still numb and I wondered if it was some kind of advanced weapon.
The security goons showed up as we struggled through the doorway and Weiss pointed down the stairs. "You can pick up your trash down there."
We made it to the men's room and Weiss wet some paper towels and handed them to me. "You look like shit."
Another painful laugh made its way out of me. "I feel even better."
Eric snickered. "Great way to impress her."
"Is she ready to see me?" I didn't care how bad I looked. All I wanted was to see Sydney and make sure she was OK.
"Yeah, but Jack said she's pretty shaken up over her mother."
"I'll keep it brief."
As I started shambling across the tiled floor, he caught my arm and said, "You love her, don't you?"
I opened my mouth to lie like I always did, but my lips weren't working. "Yeah."
"Don't wait too long to tell her." He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder before disappearing out the door with a cheerful whistle, leaving me to my own devices. Sydney's face swam before me and drew me like a beacon. Forgetting my pain, I burst through the bathroom door and walked stiffly to where she waited at the far end of the corridor.
******