Chapter 2 -

Finding peace in an airport was no easy task, especially if you were waiting in one, right before lunch rush. Old habits didn't die and "people watching" was one of hers. All the businessmen walking about in their expensive suits, following their own routine of winding through the line to get to the ticket counter. Cell phones in hand, on occasion they would speak a little too loudly, as if the large numbers they threw out over the line were a form of phallic symbol.

One glance at her reflection in the window brought Sydney back to reality. Most times she hardly recognized herself when in disguise, and this morning was no different. The shoulder length brown wig with gold flecks, styled in a perfect wave had become one of her favorites. Along with a new cream-colored deep v-neck tank that matched perfectly with her tan dress pant and Gucci print boots. Her ensemble, which included a matching tan pea coat, cost more than one-weeks pay, she assumed. Not really her style either, but then she was no longer herself.

Being someone else always rejuvenated her. Some would say it was due to an underlying awkwardness in her skin. Of course she'd debate that, everyone needed an escape from true life, whether it be some sort of healthy addiction or in her case, work and a temporary change of being.

Waiting for her companion, she reached into her Jackie O style Gucci bag to retrieve her traveling papers, just to familiarize herself further.

"Claudette," Sydney heard from behind, "you ready?"

His voice was a bit hoarse, yet she felt her heart rate quicken at the sound. Only when she stood did she allow herself to meet his eye – casual yes, with his pressed denim jeans, combined with a thin taupe crewneck sweater, but very appropriate considering the circumstance.

Now Sydney felt the reality of this, she would be alone with this man, relying solely on his talent and vice versa for the duration. All this surfaced with one look in his eyes, eyes that shifted away when her gaze lingered too long. Before she took her carryon, he tossed it over his shoulder. The sort of gesture a husband would normally make for his wife.

"Mr. and Mrs. Binoche," the hotel desk clerk announced, as he read their reservation. "Welcome to the Park Tower Buenos Aires. We hope you enjoy your honeymoon in Argentina."

The clerk slipped Sark an access card, and he replied, "We plan to do just that, thank you."

Sydney smiled at the clerk before following Sark to the elevator. She watched as her faux husband took long confident strides through the sumptuous lobby. Her thoughts momentarily wandered to what he was thinking.

Less than twenty words were said between them in the last thirty hours of reaching their destination. Nothing much too say, just the minimal, 'Do you need help with that' or the occasional question of her comfort. He would have to bring much more to the table if he wanted to make this believable, stating this raised her concern. We only have five days to befriend the targets and it would not be easy with a cold fish.

Upon entering the suite, Sydney was taken aback at its scheme. Reds, gold and uniquely shaped wooden furniture, complimented the detailed ceiling trim. Running her hand along the red, crushed velvet sofa and feeling the friction generate on her hand, she was more than satisfied with their accommodations. Walking a bit farther, she came across what she correctly assumed to be the bedroom door.

Plush and immaculate, she remarked while walking around the capacious room and neared the king size bed, encased in dark wood. The red velvet blanket, accented with large gold throw pillows appeared welcoming, after such a long trip.

Too engrossed to notice, she was startled at the sound of Sark's voice, coming from just inside the bedroom door. "Would you like something to eat?"

While hanging up her jacket, she responded, "Sure, there should be a room service menu by the phone."

"Actually, the surveillance we're linked to shows that Marcus and Consuela Espinoza were just seated downstairs. I rang to reserve the table next to theirs," he informed her, while casually leaning against the frame of the door.

Sydney unzipped the front pocket of her bag and pulled out her makeup case. "Fine just give me about five minutes."

Makeup perfected, Sydney met Sark, who was waiting just outside the suite. Must of made a quick change, she noted, he was now dressed in a tan single breasted suit, with crisp white dress shirt and complimenting tie.

"Everything is set downstairs," he started. "You're going to be up to this?"

Sydney glanced at him as they rode down the elevator. "I've got my game face on, I'm more concerned about you." She watched as he smiled, seemingly amused.

Silent for the last few seconds of the elevator ride, he responded once they had reached the lobby, "I've been ready for this since Los Angeles."

As the elevator door opened, Sydney looked at Sark, almost feeling his last statement was more complex than it seemed. Momentarily she hesitated, but then stepped behind him, following his lead into the hotel restaurant.

"Binoche," Sark informed the maitre de of their reservation.

Sydney scanned inside to see if she could spot the newlywed couple they were here to contact. "Right this way sir," the maitre de answered.

She felt Sark's hand as it slid around her waist, and then came to rest on her hip. Sydney allowed him to guide her to their table. "Come on dear," he softly spoke in her ear, sending a chill down her back.