Sydney walked into the club in her short ugly new whore dress that had been picked out for her by Arvin Sloane, although he was the head of a CIA black opps division he obviously had no dress sense. Smiling and forcing herself to flirt with a couple of the people at the bar she sat down to observe and pick some different routes of escape if something went wrong. She didn't notice him for about five minutes probably because of the horrible dreadlock wig but it was the same person. She would of recognised those eyes anywhere, it was Michael Vaughn the man on the plane and he was in disguised. That meant one thing- he was an agent.

Pushing her way through the crowd she managed to make it across the room in 5 minutes tops. She tapped on the back. He spun around.

"Hi remember me- off the plane?" His eyes flickered with recognition but he hid it well. She knew he was thinking about whether he should remember, he decided to risk it.

"Oh Hi Sydney of course I remember you, care to dance." He stuck out his hand she took it.

"I'd love to," he led her across the room away from his old date as the new song began.

"So who do you really work for," she wasn't going to dance around the subject.

"The question is who do you really work for?" he was dancing around the subject but she didn't understand why.

"Oh I remember the black opps division of the CIA, SD6," Sydney almost gasped how did he know?

"They ain't going to be happy cause the Rambaldi piece is gone, my partner took it a hour ago, but Miss Bristow SD6 is not part of the CIA, You aren't working for you beloved country"

"And how would you know?" she smirked.

"Because I do,"

He turned on his heel and walked out the door and she did nothing to stop him.

****** Authors note********** This has been a really long time but I have been overseas and I couldn't get the Internet.