Chapter Sixteen

The team of eight crept silently into the building under the cloak of darkness. They had been briefed three times that day and had run through the scenario a dozen times before finally going to fulfill their mission. Their leader, an experienced field agent, led the way, a map of their targets stored in his head. His automatic rifle tucked under his arm, he signaled for one of the more technically inclined members of his team to go in front of him to open the keycard entrance. It was done within seconds and they went through the double metal doors into the parking lot. There were no cars to be seen and the security cameras had been tapped into by the people in the white unmarked van parked a block away. Right now, the low level SD-6 agents were watching a video of the parking lot from the day before.

Taking the elevator was out of the question, but it was the only way into the building. The sensor on the doors was disabled by the same agent who had opened the entrance. When the doors slid open, two agents ran in, the larger one supporting the smaller one as she opened up the access hatch above their heads. One by one, they disappeared through the hole and stood on top of the elevator. Once the leader was satisfied that everyone was ready, he put metal grips on his hands and one single spike on the tip of each of his boots, perfect for scaling concrete walls. He started up the wall, keeping his eyes on the basement door-their destination. The rest of the team scraped their way behind him, a couple sharp intakes of breath puncturing the air as some almost lost their grips.

The tech wizard climbed up past the leader, sliding a metal card between the elevator doors leading to the basement. It disabled the single laser beam running across the bottom of the doors and when he pushed a button on the surface of the card, it separated into two, thus opening the doors. He and the leader pulled the doors open. The leader was just about to put his boot on the floor when the tech's eyes widened. He reached out to stop the movement, but was too late.

When the explosion happened there were no cars on the road. There were no apartment buildings nearby and no people loitering in the office buildings next to Credit Dauphine to call the fire department. The white van sat as silently as it had been before the team had entered, but inside it, three CIA officers were slumped in their chairs, blood dripping down their faces from a single gunshot wound to the forehead. Their murderer had stared them in the face as they were shot.

A block away from the white van, two men jumped out of their unmarked car and ran full-speed to the van. Jack had his gun in his hand already as Weiss started to reach for his. In his free hand, he held a radio and he yelled for the operators in the van to answer, but he already knew what had happened to them. Jack threw the van doors open and Weiss grimaced when he saw the dead officers.

"Shit," he muttered.

"We need to get in contact with Sydney and Vaughn," Jack said, shutting the doors again and turning back to the car they had just left. "This operation has been infiltrated and they'll be the next targets."

Weiss choked back his grief at losing friends as he pocketed the radio to take out his cell phone.

"Patch me through to Monty," he told the operator.

* * *

The phone next to the bed rang loudly. Waking up in the time it took for her to reach over and pick the phone up, Sydney was prepared to hear Weiss' voice on the other end. In their line of work, getting late night phone calls was never a good thing. She already knew what he was going to tell her before he said it.

"Run."

Slamming the phone back in its cradle, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and started to shake Vaughn awake, but he was already sitting up, pulling his clothes on.

"Just grab what you can," she ordered, pulling a sweater over her head and grabbing the gun she'd put in the drawer by the bed. "I'm going to get your mother."

She yanked open the bedroom door and ran across the hallway. Geneviève was standing when she rushed through her door. What Sydney didn't notice was that she held a cell phone in her hand which she quickly slid underneath her covers.

"Get dressed. We have to leave."

"No."

Sydney was already started to turn to go back to Vaughn, and her sudden stop made her trip. She caught herself and threw a look at the older woman.

"I don't have time to argue with you, Geneviève," she said in French, her hand cutting an angry line in the air. "Please get up and get ready to go."

With an equally stubborn expression on her face, Geneviève pushed her covers back and went to stand toe-to-toe with Sydney.

"I will do nothing but slow you and Michel down," she said. "I will stay here."

"No," Sydney said, putting her hands on Geneviève's shoulders. "I can't leave you here. Michael can't leave you here. We won't do that. We do this together."

Geneviève smiled sadly and her eyes moved to focus on a spot behind Sydney. "Not this time, Chèrie. Désolée."

Before she could ask, Sydney's world went black and she didn't even feel the impact as her face hit the shiny hardwood floor.

* * *

The floor was shaking.

Sydney opened her eyes a crack before moving a muscle. Surprise was always something good to have on your side and she didn't want whoever had her to know she was conscious before she could get her bearings.

She was on a cargo plane and there was no one else nearby. There were no voices, no sounds of movement. With some difficulty, she managed to sit up, wincing as she felt a dull ache on her cheek. She blinked her eyes to get used to the dim lighting and she saw that Vaughn was lying at her feet. Moving as fast her stiff limbs would allow, she went to his side, gently cupping his face in her hands.

"Vaughn," she whispered. "Wake up."

His eyes twitched and in a moment, he was groaning as he squinted up at her.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know. I just woke up a few minutes ago."

He sat up and leaned against the bulkhead. The confusion on his face changed to dismay when he saw that it was just the two of them there.

"Where's my mother?" he demanded.

"She had something to do with us being here," Sydney replied. "When I went to get her from her room, she said that we should go on without her because we'd slow her down. Then, I blacked out."

"What if Sloane's behind this?"

"Then we'd be dead, not sitting here."

"Do you have a weapon on you?"

"No," she answered, and stood. "But we can see if we can use anything around here."

They searched the crates, not worried that the pilots would hear them because the noise of the airplane would prevent that from happening. He was on his third box, when Vaughn found their clothes.

"Why would someone who kidnaps us pack our things?" he asked, pulling out his duffel bag. He stuck his hand in it, feeling for something, and when he found it, he frowned. "And why would they let us keep our weapons."

Sydney found her gun in her bag and flicked the safety off. "Let's find out, shall we?"

With Vaughn covering her, she moved to the door to the cockpit. Neither of them were surprised to find it locked. It was foolhardy to shoot at the lock so Sydney knocked on the door.

"Sit back down, Sydney," a painfully familiar voice told her. "Everything will be explained in time."

Watching Sydney's face closely, Vaughn saw the blood drain from her face.

"What is it?" he asked, putting a hand on her arm.

"That's my mother," she said flatly.