Connection
Unexpected Part Two:
"Brie? Have you been called by anybody… weird in the past few weeks?"
"Uh… I guess so… Every now and then I'll get a call and there seems to be no one on the other line, but I just assumed that it was a wrong number."
"How many times have you been called?"
"Now that I think about it… I've gotten a lot of calls like that, if I remember correctly, and they all seem to have been when I've changed locations, like when I move from one adoptive family to the next. Heck, I just got one today!"
"If it wasn't her, then the only thing I can think of is that Sloane has been calling her to trace her location and keep tabs on her whereabouts. If he called early today, he might be able to figure out that she's in CIA hands."
"Do you have any idea, if this is true, why he would be tracing her?"
"If I may interrupt-"
"Go ahead, Minerva."
"Well, in my humble opinion, it seems like Sloane might be planning an abduction of some sort, why else would he want to know where she was?"
"But WHY?"
"I honestly don't know, but don't worry, Brie, we'll get some agents on this and let you know as soon as a motive comes up. In the meantime, I think I'd like to request 24 hour surveillance of the CIA safe house where she's staying until we have anymore information."
"I agree."
"But!"
"Brie, gather you're stuff, I'll take you home as soon as I finish cleaning up these slides…"
"Why are they tracing me? What do they want?"
"We don't know, Brie, go get your stuff."
****
Sark paced around the room while he waited for Sloane to arrive. The room was beautiful and exquisitely furnished, but Sark paid no attention. Sloane had broken their agreement, and Sark wanted out.
"Ah! Sark, you wanted to tell me something?"
"Yes. While I admit that the things you showed me were indeed wonderful, and that the opportunities were very, well, exquisite, I have decided to terminate our relationship. You did not follow the deal, and naturally, I do not wish to remain business partners."
"But Sark! You cannot assume that a powerful man like me wouldn't occasionally snoop into your previous affiliations? Please reconsider. Please."
"You give me no reason to. I'm out."
"Well. When you hear my proposition, I think that you might reconsider."
"Why? Nothing you could give me would make me reconsider."
"I'm not talking about that. It's what I might take that could cause you to change your mind."
"What?"
"I beg you… change your mind."
"Why?"
"I don't want to have to do this…"
"Have to do what? What can you do to me, hmmm? Try me! I've spent the last few years erasing anything- anything, that could possibly interfere with my work, and if you're intending to blackmail me, I assure you, you will not succeed!"
"Really? Well then… have you made up your mind? I might as well take action."
"Take action? What exactly are you planning? Tell me!"
"Good day, Mr. Sark. I will see you soon."
Sark pounds his fist on the table as Sloane leaves. He spends a few minutes pacing around the room again, trying to remember if there was anything he had overlooked. Indeed, he could not remember any way Sloane could blackmail him, even tracing back through his relatives and past relationships. But then, something came to mind. A face, a mere memory, yet all the same… so vivid… as if he'd seen that face many times before, but he couldn't remember when.
He was suddenly launched into a deep black abyss as he struggled to remember. That face… it danced in front of his subconscious, just out of reach… He tried to grab for it, but could not grasp the memory. A memory appeared out from the back of his mind. Compartmentalization had hidden this vision, but now he was ready for it, and now it was free.
Sark found himself sweating, and on the floor of an old townhouse. Sounds of the highway floated in through the window and tinkly piano tunes came from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, Sark descended the stairs, feeling something oddly familiar about this house. So cheerful and cozy, yet somehow, submissive. He came downstairs, and there she was. That face… she was sitting at the piano with another boy, older and around the age of eleven. Together they were merrily banging away, wailing the tune to some old song. Sark could not help but sing along.
He walked up to the piano, but they did not or could not see him. "Luke! Aubrey!" came a voice from the kitchen. Luke… the name seemed vaguely familiar, but once again, he could not remember anything. "Coming, Mom!" yelled the boy, and both children lept of the piano seat, the boy, Luke, picking up his younger sister as they went.
All of a sudden, there came a knock at the door, and the sound of breaking glass. Sark could hear the mother's scream as she ran from the kitchen, pleading with her children to escape out the front window. She gave them both a kiss and told the boy. "Look out for your sister!" Aubrey's started to wail. Luke's eyes were filled with terror, and so were Sark's. "I will, Mom. I will." He ran with them towards the window. There was another scream as the mother returned to the kitchen to give her children a chance to escape.
"Where is he?!"
"I don't know! I swear I don't know! Please don't hurt me…"
"I know you know where he is! Tell me!"
"I… I… I don't know! Please! Anything!"
"Kill her."
"No! Please!"
"Go get the kids, maybe we can get something out of them…"
"No! Never! Don't harm my children! They've done nothing! Do you hear me?! Nothing!"
Sark paused. Luke had put his sister through the window, but when the gunshot reached his ears, he could not go out the window himself. He knelt by the window. "Run, Aubrey! You understand me? Run! Find someone to help us…" And he ran back towards the kitchen, but not after grabbing a gun from his mother's secret spot behind the bookshelf.
Sark couldn't bring himself to listen anymore, but he looked back at the little girl. Her eyes were filled with tears. It seemed that for a moment, if anything, that she could see him. See him as if he was really there. Sark looked away, but when he turned back to her, she was gone. There were yells from the kitchen as the boy struggled. Sark could not stop the tear, it rolled down his face as he murmered, "I will."
Unexpected Part Two:
"Brie? Have you been called by anybody… weird in the past few weeks?"
"Uh… I guess so… Every now and then I'll get a call and there seems to be no one on the other line, but I just assumed that it was a wrong number."
"How many times have you been called?"
"Now that I think about it… I've gotten a lot of calls like that, if I remember correctly, and they all seem to have been when I've changed locations, like when I move from one adoptive family to the next. Heck, I just got one today!"
"If it wasn't her, then the only thing I can think of is that Sloane has been calling her to trace her location and keep tabs on her whereabouts. If he called early today, he might be able to figure out that she's in CIA hands."
"Do you have any idea, if this is true, why he would be tracing her?"
"If I may interrupt-"
"Go ahead, Minerva."
"Well, in my humble opinion, it seems like Sloane might be planning an abduction of some sort, why else would he want to know where she was?"
"But WHY?"
"I honestly don't know, but don't worry, Brie, we'll get some agents on this and let you know as soon as a motive comes up. In the meantime, I think I'd like to request 24 hour surveillance of the CIA safe house where she's staying until we have anymore information."
"I agree."
"But!"
"Brie, gather you're stuff, I'll take you home as soon as I finish cleaning up these slides…"
"Why are they tracing me? What do they want?"
"We don't know, Brie, go get your stuff."
****
Sark paced around the room while he waited for Sloane to arrive. The room was beautiful and exquisitely furnished, but Sark paid no attention. Sloane had broken their agreement, and Sark wanted out.
"Ah! Sark, you wanted to tell me something?"
"Yes. While I admit that the things you showed me were indeed wonderful, and that the opportunities were very, well, exquisite, I have decided to terminate our relationship. You did not follow the deal, and naturally, I do not wish to remain business partners."
"But Sark! You cannot assume that a powerful man like me wouldn't occasionally snoop into your previous affiliations? Please reconsider. Please."
"You give me no reason to. I'm out."
"Well. When you hear my proposition, I think that you might reconsider."
"Why? Nothing you could give me would make me reconsider."
"I'm not talking about that. It's what I might take that could cause you to change your mind."
"What?"
"I beg you… change your mind."
"Why?"
"I don't want to have to do this…"
"Have to do what? What can you do to me, hmmm? Try me! I've spent the last few years erasing anything- anything, that could possibly interfere with my work, and if you're intending to blackmail me, I assure you, you will not succeed!"
"Really? Well then… have you made up your mind? I might as well take action."
"Take action? What exactly are you planning? Tell me!"
"Good day, Mr. Sark. I will see you soon."
Sark pounds his fist on the table as Sloane leaves. He spends a few minutes pacing around the room again, trying to remember if there was anything he had overlooked. Indeed, he could not remember any way Sloane could blackmail him, even tracing back through his relatives and past relationships. But then, something came to mind. A face, a mere memory, yet all the same… so vivid… as if he'd seen that face many times before, but he couldn't remember when.
He was suddenly launched into a deep black abyss as he struggled to remember. That face… it danced in front of his subconscious, just out of reach… He tried to grab for it, but could not grasp the memory. A memory appeared out from the back of his mind. Compartmentalization had hidden this vision, but now he was ready for it, and now it was free.
Sark found himself sweating, and on the floor of an old townhouse. Sounds of the highway floated in through the window and tinkly piano tunes came from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, Sark descended the stairs, feeling something oddly familiar about this house. So cheerful and cozy, yet somehow, submissive. He came downstairs, and there she was. That face… she was sitting at the piano with another boy, older and around the age of eleven. Together they were merrily banging away, wailing the tune to some old song. Sark could not help but sing along.
He walked up to the piano, but they did not or could not see him. "Luke! Aubrey!" came a voice from the kitchen. Luke… the name seemed vaguely familiar, but once again, he could not remember anything. "Coming, Mom!" yelled the boy, and both children lept of the piano seat, the boy, Luke, picking up his younger sister as they went.
All of a sudden, there came a knock at the door, and the sound of breaking glass. Sark could hear the mother's scream as she ran from the kitchen, pleading with her children to escape out the front window. She gave them both a kiss and told the boy. "Look out for your sister!" Aubrey's started to wail. Luke's eyes were filled with terror, and so were Sark's. "I will, Mom. I will." He ran with them towards the window. There was another scream as the mother returned to the kitchen to give her children a chance to escape.
"Where is he?!"
"I don't know! I swear I don't know! Please don't hurt me…"
"I know you know where he is! Tell me!"
"I… I… I don't know! Please! Anything!"
"Kill her."
"No! Please!"
"Go get the kids, maybe we can get something out of them…"
"No! Never! Don't harm my children! They've done nothing! Do you hear me?! Nothing!"
Sark paused. Luke had put his sister through the window, but when the gunshot reached his ears, he could not go out the window himself. He knelt by the window. "Run, Aubrey! You understand me? Run! Find someone to help us…" And he ran back towards the kitchen, but not after grabbing a gun from his mother's secret spot behind the bookshelf.
Sark couldn't bring himself to listen anymore, but he looked back at the little girl. Her eyes were filled with tears. It seemed that for a moment, if anything, that she could see him. See him as if he was really there. Sark looked away, but when he turned back to her, she was gone. There were yells from the kitchen as the boy struggled. Sark could not stop the tear, it rolled down his face as he murmered, "I will."