It takes patience, to sit here day after day, to lie in wait while plans spun years ago finally take shape, and form, and turn to action.
It takes discipline, too. Discipline to hide my emotions. To keep secret what I would rather scream out. To smile at insipid conversations and parcel out what I know, piece by tiny piece. Discipline, to pretend to love a man I don't, and pretend not to love the one I do.
But patience and discipline are rewarded. They think I don't know. I'm sure there will be a breathless agent down here, sooner or later, to tell me in insulting generalities of the great victory they won today. As if by locking me behind glass I cannot see outside.
The evidence is everywhere. The contingent of guards is scant, the smallest since I've been here. The muffled sounds of footsteps above have come and gone in pounding waves. They even forgot my allotted half-hour of exercise today.
Inexperienced people think the world is black and white. They see right, they see wrong, they believe I must be either a penitent or a villain. Agent Vaughn sees it that way, I can tell. He has that eager, boy-scout intensity and the fire in his eyes. He reminds me of Jack in that way. They weren't so different, thirty years ago.
But thirty years have come and gone, and through all the reversals and betrayals Jack has come to see the world as I see it, not as a place populated by white knights and black hats, but as a place of opportunity. It's simple, really. You love those you can, and you do the things that will ensure them a better life. If you're good at it, you'll win a few victories for yourself along the way.
That's how you come to understand a man like Arvin Sloane. I knew what he was thirty years ago, moments after I met him. Others have found him deceptive, multifaceted, but I could read him from the start. It takes one to know one, I suppose.
One thing Sloane isn't is unpredictable. In any situation, he's guaranteed to act in pure, unadulterated self-interest. And heaven help the person who tries to put him between a rock and a hard place. He'll just blow up the whole situation (often literally) and start over with his own rules. That's what makes him an ideal associate. He is brilliant, resourceful, and easily manipulated.
Sark is a different creature. I've sensed in him qualities of loyalty and originality, the things that make him a trusted friend and associate. Time will tell whether he sticks to the plan I've given him or attempts to branch out on his own.
My organization, far from flopping aimlessly with its leader gone, has grown and spread, and, with the Alliance out of the way, will soon become as profitable, and as powerful, as we've hoped.
But only a fool would think I'm motivated by simple money or influence. Jack would paint it that way, ignoring his own misgivings to pretend I'm as one-dimensional as he'd like me to be. Vaughn would, too, and who could blame the little boy who lost his father?
What frightens me, truly keeps me awake at night, is the fear Sydney might believe the same. That after the time we've spent together, she would think I would treat all of it, all the progress we've made, so lightly.
How could I ever do that? Trade in my own daughter? I meant it when I said I'd waited almost thirty years for a single moment. To see her, the beautiful, strong woman she's become, has been worth every deception, every lie, every disgusting alliance I've had to make.
She wants to be free. I see it in her proud eyes, the way her shoulders slump at the end of the day, the way she tenses when I mention Vaughn's name. She dreams of a normal life, of a home, of a family, of a cluttered office in the Humanities Department piled high with the great works of literature. She dreams of being with the man she loves. She dreams of being a woman, not a spy, not an agent, not a boss or an underling, but a woman, and of being with people who can see her that way. I know. I dreamed it myself once. You could say I am selfish in that regard – I want to give Sydney the life I never had.
I want it so badly I was willing to cut a deal with Arvin Sloane for it. Our one term, the one condition of our deal, was that Sydney would go untouched. My greatest fear is that he will not honor it. But such deals must be made; such chances must be taken.
I did it for Sydney. To give her victory, to set her free. What hurts the most is that I have given my daughter everything she's ever wanted.
And she can never know.