Chapter Six
Sydney entered the CIA headquarters and saw Kendall, Jack, Vaughn and Irina talking.
Vaughn's eyes lit up once he say Sydney. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." She desperately fought off the urge to kiss him.
"You freed her, Sydney?" asked Kendall.
"Yeah, Sloane was starving her."
"All right. Take her back to her cell."
"Wait," said Sydney. She gave Irina a quick hug. Vaughn put his arm around her and Kendall began explaining her latest counter-mission.
"Sydney, your father has informed me that you will be going on a mission with Sark to obtain the maps for the next location of a Rambaldi Artifact."
"A mission with Sark?" she shuddered.
Jack took over. "Vaughn, as usual, will be your contact. You will rendezvous with the map carrier in Zurich."
"And that is where?" asked Vaughn.
Jack and Sydney looked at each other. "Switzerland," they both replied.
"Oh."
"Anyhow," continued Jack, "You will meet the carrier in Zurich, in a little pub on the edge of town. Your alias is Marie Crane, and you live in Besancon, France. Sark is your husband, Miles, if anyone asks. You have to meet Sloane and Sark in a half hour and your flight leaves in two hours."
"Did Sloane tell you to brief me?"
"Yeah. I told him you were busy with your friends today."
She turned and headed for the door. Vaughn caught up to her as she stepped out into the cold December air.
"The game's on Friday," he said, kissing her. "You can come, right?"
"The mission should be a short one- I'll make sure of it," she smiled and got into the car. "I love you," she said.
"Love you too," he smiled as she drove away.
She quickly packed and headed for SD-6.
"Agent Bristow," Sark met her at the door. "Your father briefed you, I assume?"
She nodded. "My suitcase is in the car."
"Good. Sloane is looking for you."
She followed Sark to Sloane's office.
"Sydney, your father briefed you, I take it?" She sighed and replied in an annoyed tone, "Yes, he did."
"Do you have the earrings that Sark gave you?"
Sydney gave Sark and odd look, but remembered the earrings that he had given her, the com-link and video ones.
"Yes."
"Use those to communicate with me when you get to Switzerland and meet the carrier."
Sydney fought to keep from cringing. Communicating with Sloane?
Sark chuckled as he saw the expression on Sydney's face, but regained his composure as he said, "We've got to go catch our flight," and he ducked out, laughing.
***
Sydney sat on the plane with her arms folded, next to Sark.
"You could at least look a little happier," he said.
She ignored him and put on her portable CD player, turning it up to full blast.
She got off the plane and Sark graciously said, "I'll go and get the luggage." She nodded and sat down to wait.
What's up with him, she asked herself. He's actually acting.normal or nice, I can't decide which one. She shook her head to clear it.
She looked up and saw Sark standing with the bags. She took hers and he silently led her to a cab.
They checked into a hotel and to Sydney's horror, she saw only one bed.
"What.the." she stuttered. He smiled; catching her off-guard was his favorite pastime.
She got nervous. Had this been a mission with Vaughn, she wouldn't have minded.much.
"There's a couch in the corner with a sofa bed. We're married, remember?"
She faintly nodded, her mind in another world.
"My source says that the carrier will be in position at 7:15 tonight with a group of friends, gamblers, mind you. We will not be going as husband and wife."
"Thank God," muttered Sydney.
"Agent Bristow-"
"Sydney, Sark."
"Sydney. You don't like this any more than I do, but we have to work together."
"Until I get the artifact."
"No doubt you have a counter-mission, am I right?"
"Yes."
"You can keep the map."
"What?"
"Keep the map. Sloane has a list of other possible locations."
"What's the catch?"
"There isn't one."
"Sark, I know you. There's always a catch."
"Anyhow, you are going to come in about fifteen minutes after me. Use your alias. One of my friends is hosting this. The one thing that you'll have to know is that this is a high-stakes poker game."
Sydney burst out laughing. "A poker game? We're going to a poker game?"
Sark gave her a look. "Yes, a poker game. The map is a part of the pot. If neither of us gets it, we will hunt down and kill the winner."
Sydney nodded. She fell onto the bed and flipped through channels.
She laughed as Sark finally came out of the bathroom, fully dressed an hour later. He was wearing an all-black suit and sunglasses."
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Okay, one, it's dark. You don't need sunglasses. Two, you're going to a pub, in a suit. People are going to notice you. And three, you look like a 'Men In Black' wannabe."
He gave her a nasty look over his sunglasses. "There's a list of your clothing options on the counter. Look it over and if you have any questions, call me."
He turned to leave. "Sydney?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't order room service. Sloane told me that I'd have to pay for it."
He shut the door, leaving Sydney to her very confused thoughts.
She decided to get ready and went into the bathroom, where as promised, lay the note.
"Agent Bristow," she read aloud. "Either wear one of your *cough* blah suits that you wear to work, or (my personal favorite) that wonderful little black dress that you wore when we had dinner-well, almost- with Sloane. -Sark."
There was something crossed out before he had signed his name. It resembled an.A, she thought. Did he actually almost sign a first name?
She shrugged it off and grabbed, as Sark described it, a "blah" suit.
She paired a short black skirt with a hot pink blouse and a black jacket. She added the earrings and activated them.
"Agent Bristow?" the voice that came over the com-link wasn't Sloane's or her father's.
"Who is this?"
"Marshall."
"Hey! Listen; tell Sloane that I'm sorry that I'm a bit late. I'm leaving to join Sark in a minute."
She finished her hair and added Sark's touch- the sunglasses.
"Sydney?" asked Sloane.
"Hi. I'm going to join Sark now."
"And your alias is?"
"Marie Crane. J'a vingt-sept ans, j'habite en Besancon, la France, et je travaille pour Mr. Sark," she responded.
"Run that by me again," said Marshall.
Sydney sighed. "I'm Marie Crane, I'm twenty-seven, I live in France and I work for Sark."
"Parfait!" said Sloane.
"Perfect, Marshall," Sydney translated.
"I knew that much."
"I'm leaving now."
"Good, Sydney," said Sloane.
She entered the pub.
"Three, two, one," counted Sloane.
"What was."
A whistle was shot at Sydney by one of the men sitting at the bar.
"Perfect timing," said Sloane. "We have visual contact. Turn toward Sark."
"You're so funny," she muttered as she walked toward Sark and sat down.
"Gentlemen, this is Sy-I mean Marie Crane," said Sark in perfect French.
"Pleased to meet you," she replied, knowing full well that all eyes were on her.
"You've got a great audience," Sloane said.
Sydney threw in her share of the pot and watched as the map was brought out.
"That's it," said Sloane.
Sark leaned over and whispered, "And you laughed at my sunglasses."
"I loved the note," she sarcastically replied.
"Too bad you didn't listen to me." It was his turn. "Raise," he said, tossing in a hundred-dollar bill.
"Tell Sark that he's stupid to raise-and swap your nine, five, and seven for three of his cards."
She leaned over. "Sloane says you're stupid to raise and to trade me three of your cards for my hearts."
Sark slipped her the cards and she gave him the others.
They revealed cards-
Sark with a flush,
Sydney with a straight,
And a mix of pairs and two pairs.
Sloane continued to tell them to switch until the heavyset man sitting across from Sydney yelled, "Cheater!"
Sark grabbed the map while Sydney dodged a punch.
"¡Sydney! ¡Run!" yelled Sark in Spanish.
She threw a punch and knocked a guy unconscious.
"Are you going to really fight?" asked Sloane.
"I'm wearing a skirt, and a short one at that," she snapped, punching another one.
She pulled her gun from her purse and hit the man attacking Sark in the back of the head with it. He slumped to the ground.
"Let's go," she grabbed Sark and ran for the rental car, dodging bullets.
"Bulletproof cars are great, don't you agree?" asked Sark.
"Oh yes, I agree," said Sloane.
"Sloane agrees," she said.
They quickly checked out of the hotel and went to the airport, "Just in case they try to follow you," said Sloane.
*Fifteen Hours Later*
Sydney got off the plane tired, grumpy and worst of all, jetlagged.
"You don't look so good," said Sark.
"I've spent 30 hours on a plane, run from a bunch of poker-playing thugs and you expect me to look good?"
He drove her back to her house and helped her to the door, afraid that if he helped her any more, she'd shoot him.
"Where's the key?" he asked.
"Under the doormat," she slowly replied. She had fallen asleep on the ride home. He had tried to wake her up, but she was still half asleep. He gently carried her inside.
"Syd? Is that you?" Francie asked, coming out of the kitchen. She screamed when she saw Sark, and Will came running. His eyes narrowed when he saw Sark.
"Francie, it's one of Syd's friends from the bank, Mr. Sark."
"Sydney and I went to the same conference and we've flown for thirty hours in the last two days. She was tired and jetlagged, so I brought her home. She fell asleep in the car, but woke up long enough to tell me where the key was."
Will led Sark to Sydney's bedroom.
"What are you really doing here, Sark?"
"Bringing Sydney home."
Sydney stirred and sleepily sat up.
"Syd, are you okay?" asked Will.
"Tired and jetlagged, but fine."
"You're sure, Agent Bristow?"
Her eyes flew open at the sound of Sark's voice.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought you home. I'm getting ready to leave. The map is in the front pocket of your suitcase, which is on the couch. You have the day off tomorrow."
"Thank you," why was she thanking the cold-hearted monster?
"You're welcome, Sydney," he said, gently placing a kiss on her lips before once again leaving her to her very confused thoughts.
Sydney entered the CIA headquarters and saw Kendall, Jack, Vaughn and Irina talking.
Vaughn's eyes lit up once he say Sydney. "I missed you."
"I missed you too." She desperately fought off the urge to kiss him.
"You freed her, Sydney?" asked Kendall.
"Yeah, Sloane was starving her."
"All right. Take her back to her cell."
"Wait," said Sydney. She gave Irina a quick hug. Vaughn put his arm around her and Kendall began explaining her latest counter-mission.
"Sydney, your father has informed me that you will be going on a mission with Sark to obtain the maps for the next location of a Rambaldi Artifact."
"A mission with Sark?" she shuddered.
Jack took over. "Vaughn, as usual, will be your contact. You will rendezvous with the map carrier in Zurich."
"And that is where?" asked Vaughn.
Jack and Sydney looked at each other. "Switzerland," they both replied.
"Oh."
"Anyhow," continued Jack, "You will meet the carrier in Zurich, in a little pub on the edge of town. Your alias is Marie Crane, and you live in Besancon, France. Sark is your husband, Miles, if anyone asks. You have to meet Sloane and Sark in a half hour and your flight leaves in two hours."
"Did Sloane tell you to brief me?"
"Yeah. I told him you were busy with your friends today."
She turned and headed for the door. Vaughn caught up to her as she stepped out into the cold December air.
"The game's on Friday," he said, kissing her. "You can come, right?"
"The mission should be a short one- I'll make sure of it," she smiled and got into the car. "I love you," she said.
"Love you too," he smiled as she drove away.
She quickly packed and headed for SD-6.
"Agent Bristow," Sark met her at the door. "Your father briefed you, I assume?"
She nodded. "My suitcase is in the car."
"Good. Sloane is looking for you."
She followed Sark to Sloane's office.
"Sydney, your father briefed you, I take it?" She sighed and replied in an annoyed tone, "Yes, he did."
"Do you have the earrings that Sark gave you?"
Sydney gave Sark and odd look, but remembered the earrings that he had given her, the com-link and video ones.
"Yes."
"Use those to communicate with me when you get to Switzerland and meet the carrier."
Sydney fought to keep from cringing. Communicating with Sloane?
Sark chuckled as he saw the expression on Sydney's face, but regained his composure as he said, "We've got to go catch our flight," and he ducked out, laughing.
***
Sydney sat on the plane with her arms folded, next to Sark.
"You could at least look a little happier," he said.
She ignored him and put on her portable CD player, turning it up to full blast.
She got off the plane and Sark graciously said, "I'll go and get the luggage." She nodded and sat down to wait.
What's up with him, she asked herself. He's actually acting.normal or nice, I can't decide which one. She shook her head to clear it.
She looked up and saw Sark standing with the bags. She took hers and he silently led her to a cab.
They checked into a hotel and to Sydney's horror, she saw only one bed.
"What.the." she stuttered. He smiled; catching her off-guard was his favorite pastime.
She got nervous. Had this been a mission with Vaughn, she wouldn't have minded.much.
"There's a couch in the corner with a sofa bed. We're married, remember?"
She faintly nodded, her mind in another world.
"My source says that the carrier will be in position at 7:15 tonight with a group of friends, gamblers, mind you. We will not be going as husband and wife."
"Thank God," muttered Sydney.
"Agent Bristow-"
"Sydney, Sark."
"Sydney. You don't like this any more than I do, but we have to work together."
"Until I get the artifact."
"No doubt you have a counter-mission, am I right?"
"Yes."
"You can keep the map."
"What?"
"Keep the map. Sloane has a list of other possible locations."
"What's the catch?"
"There isn't one."
"Sark, I know you. There's always a catch."
"Anyhow, you are going to come in about fifteen minutes after me. Use your alias. One of my friends is hosting this. The one thing that you'll have to know is that this is a high-stakes poker game."
Sydney burst out laughing. "A poker game? We're going to a poker game?"
Sark gave her a look. "Yes, a poker game. The map is a part of the pot. If neither of us gets it, we will hunt down and kill the winner."
Sydney nodded. She fell onto the bed and flipped through channels.
She laughed as Sark finally came out of the bathroom, fully dressed an hour later. He was wearing an all-black suit and sunglasses."
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Okay, one, it's dark. You don't need sunglasses. Two, you're going to a pub, in a suit. People are going to notice you. And three, you look like a 'Men In Black' wannabe."
He gave her a nasty look over his sunglasses. "There's a list of your clothing options on the counter. Look it over and if you have any questions, call me."
He turned to leave. "Sydney?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't order room service. Sloane told me that I'd have to pay for it."
He shut the door, leaving Sydney to her very confused thoughts.
She decided to get ready and went into the bathroom, where as promised, lay the note.
"Agent Bristow," she read aloud. "Either wear one of your *cough* blah suits that you wear to work, or (my personal favorite) that wonderful little black dress that you wore when we had dinner-well, almost- with Sloane. -Sark."
There was something crossed out before he had signed his name. It resembled an.A, she thought. Did he actually almost sign a first name?
She shrugged it off and grabbed, as Sark described it, a "blah" suit.
She paired a short black skirt with a hot pink blouse and a black jacket. She added the earrings and activated them.
"Agent Bristow?" the voice that came over the com-link wasn't Sloane's or her father's.
"Who is this?"
"Marshall."
"Hey! Listen; tell Sloane that I'm sorry that I'm a bit late. I'm leaving to join Sark in a minute."
She finished her hair and added Sark's touch- the sunglasses.
"Sydney?" asked Sloane.
"Hi. I'm going to join Sark now."
"And your alias is?"
"Marie Crane. J'a vingt-sept ans, j'habite en Besancon, la France, et je travaille pour Mr. Sark," she responded.
"Run that by me again," said Marshall.
Sydney sighed. "I'm Marie Crane, I'm twenty-seven, I live in France and I work for Sark."
"Parfait!" said Sloane.
"Perfect, Marshall," Sydney translated.
"I knew that much."
"I'm leaving now."
"Good, Sydney," said Sloane.
She entered the pub.
"Three, two, one," counted Sloane.
"What was."
A whistle was shot at Sydney by one of the men sitting at the bar.
"Perfect timing," said Sloane. "We have visual contact. Turn toward Sark."
"You're so funny," she muttered as she walked toward Sark and sat down.
"Gentlemen, this is Sy-I mean Marie Crane," said Sark in perfect French.
"Pleased to meet you," she replied, knowing full well that all eyes were on her.
"You've got a great audience," Sloane said.
Sydney threw in her share of the pot and watched as the map was brought out.
"That's it," said Sloane.
Sark leaned over and whispered, "And you laughed at my sunglasses."
"I loved the note," she sarcastically replied.
"Too bad you didn't listen to me." It was his turn. "Raise," he said, tossing in a hundred-dollar bill.
"Tell Sark that he's stupid to raise-and swap your nine, five, and seven for three of his cards."
She leaned over. "Sloane says you're stupid to raise and to trade me three of your cards for my hearts."
Sark slipped her the cards and she gave him the others.
They revealed cards-
Sark with a flush,
Sydney with a straight,
And a mix of pairs and two pairs.
Sloane continued to tell them to switch until the heavyset man sitting across from Sydney yelled, "Cheater!"
Sark grabbed the map while Sydney dodged a punch.
"¡Sydney! ¡Run!" yelled Sark in Spanish.
She threw a punch and knocked a guy unconscious.
"Are you going to really fight?" asked Sloane.
"I'm wearing a skirt, and a short one at that," she snapped, punching another one.
She pulled her gun from her purse and hit the man attacking Sark in the back of the head with it. He slumped to the ground.
"Let's go," she grabbed Sark and ran for the rental car, dodging bullets.
"Bulletproof cars are great, don't you agree?" asked Sark.
"Oh yes, I agree," said Sloane.
"Sloane agrees," she said.
They quickly checked out of the hotel and went to the airport, "Just in case they try to follow you," said Sloane.
*Fifteen Hours Later*
Sydney got off the plane tired, grumpy and worst of all, jetlagged.
"You don't look so good," said Sark.
"I've spent 30 hours on a plane, run from a bunch of poker-playing thugs and you expect me to look good?"
He drove her back to her house and helped her to the door, afraid that if he helped her any more, she'd shoot him.
"Where's the key?" he asked.
"Under the doormat," she slowly replied. She had fallen asleep on the ride home. He had tried to wake her up, but she was still half asleep. He gently carried her inside.
"Syd? Is that you?" Francie asked, coming out of the kitchen. She screamed when she saw Sark, and Will came running. His eyes narrowed when he saw Sark.
"Francie, it's one of Syd's friends from the bank, Mr. Sark."
"Sydney and I went to the same conference and we've flown for thirty hours in the last two days. She was tired and jetlagged, so I brought her home. She fell asleep in the car, but woke up long enough to tell me where the key was."
Will led Sark to Sydney's bedroom.
"What are you really doing here, Sark?"
"Bringing Sydney home."
Sydney stirred and sleepily sat up.
"Syd, are you okay?" asked Will.
"Tired and jetlagged, but fine."
"You're sure, Agent Bristow?"
Her eyes flew open at the sound of Sark's voice.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought you home. I'm getting ready to leave. The map is in the front pocket of your suitcase, which is on the couch. You have the day off tomorrow."
"Thank you," why was she thanking the cold-hearted monster?
"You're welcome, Sydney," he said, gently placing a kiss on her lips before once again leaving her to her very confused thoughts.