Chapter Twenty-One
Jack stepped out of the small two-seater plane, his heart still beating fast from the dangerous landing he'd just made. Although the plane had runners instead of wheels to make it easier to land on snow, it was still a dangerous maneuver and he'd slid farther than he intended to. For a couple tense seconds, he thought he would lose control of the plane as it didn't seem to want to slow down, but it finally did, though he'd overshot his landing by a few meters.
Pushing the incident from his mind, Jack pulled his hood around his face and took out a small, flat handheld computer that included an infrared detector. He turned it on, praying that the cold didn't affect it, despite Weiss' reassurances that the man who'd built it was a genius. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when it beeped at him. It warmed up for a moment, and he waited impatiently, barely feeling the cold air on his face and hands. Then.he spotted what he was looking for.
Not more than ten yards away, he was getting a heat signature from two bodies. Boots crunching on the snow, he rushed to that direction, only to find himself on top of it. He knelt and dug around the snow, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms as the snow froze his hands quickly. Finally, he touched the top of what was a trapdoor. There was a keycard access, but he bypassed that easily. The door popped open and took out his weapon. He grimaced when he couldn't get a proper grip at it, not sure if he could shoot it at all, but he kept it in his hand. Slowly, he made his way down the dark stairs and into a warm room lit by a single fire in the middle of it.
"Sydney?" he called out.
His sharp hearing caught the movement in one of the room and he ran to it just as the door opened, revealing a panic-stricken Vaughn with only a pair of boxer shorts on.
"Where is she?" Jack demanded, and his voice had an edge of desperation to it.
Vaughn put a hand to his chest in relief as Sydney pushed past him to throw herself in her father's arms. Jack held her tightly, his lips pressed tightly together as he fought back a wave of emotion at seeing her again.
"I'm so glad to see you," she said tearfully. "Oh, Dad.what have I done?"
Jack held her at arm's length to look into her face. "This isn't your fault, Sydney."
"Everyone seems to feel the need to say that to me. That tells me that it is."
He sighed. She was right, but he couldn't say that to her. He looked to her companion, annoyed that he'd caught them in bed together-but he wasn't surprised. He was relieved that Sydney had regular pajamas on.
"Getting dressed would be a good idea, Mr. Vaughn," he said, one thin, gray eyebrow arched.
A red stain appeared on Vaughn's cheeks and he turned around to go into the room, closing the door behind him. Sydney tucked away a smile at his sheepish expression and turned to her father.
"How did you find us?" she asked.
"Once I knew your mother had you, it wasn't hard to figure out where she would keep you. After all, you are half-Russian."
The idea hadn't occurred to Sydney. She usually tried not to think about her mother that much, even now. "I see." She sat down on the couch, her hands clasped tightly together. "What's going on, Dad?"
Jack stayed standing, but he pulled his winter garments off. "SD-6 is gone. At this point, its employees are suspended with pay, including myself, while the Alliance tries to reorganize itself. Sloane is missing and there is a manhunt for him.and for the two of you."
He paused when they heard movement near the opened trapdoor and Jack cursed himself for forgetting to close it. Irina came barreling through the doorway, a wicked looking rifle in her hands. She threw Jack an exasperated look as she lowered the weapon.
"Would a phone call have been too much to ask?" she said.
He merely snorted. Vaughn emerged from the room, his hands shoved into his jeans pocket. He looked around the room and with a resigned look, sat down next to Sydney.
"So what do we do now?" he asked.
Jack tore his eyes away from Irina and turned to them. "We need to get you back to the states."
"Why?" Vaughn demanded. "I'm not going anywhere without Sydney."
"Use your common sense, Mr. Vaughn," Jack said roughly. "They know the two of you are traveling together so they'll be on the lookout for couples on planes. No matter how much you alter your appearance, you'll always be under the microscope simply because there are two of you."
"There are precautions we can take."
"They're unnecessary risks," Irina put in.
"We want to stay together," Vaughn said tersely.
He noticed then that Sydney had remained silent during the discussion and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He looked at her and saw the worried expression on her face.
"Or do we?" he added.
"We can't just leave here in disguises and dyed hair," she said anxiously. "I do want to stay with you, Vaughn, but we can't just hop on a plane just yet. I think.I think maybe we should fake your death." She smiled humorlessly at her mother. "You've inspired me."
"Fake my death?" Vaughn echoed.
Jack looked closely at Sydney, trying to read her expression but she stayed studiously blank. He hadn't expected her to come up with that and had been prepared to fight with them both on this subject. Instinctively, he knew something was going on, but didn't question her right then. He would corner her later.if he could.
"Yes," Sydney said. "We'll take you back to the states, make sure people see you, and then you jump off a bridge or something. A suicide attempt because of all the things that you learned. Then, we find a corpse, doctor it up, and bury him while you'll be on a plane to where I'll be."
"You can do that?" Vaughn said to Jack.
Jack didn't answer, but threw him a withering look.
"They won't be easily fooled by that," Irina warned.
"Not if the body is done well," Sydney said. "I've seen it done before. They can do it. I think it's our best bet. The one downside would be not telling your mother or Weiss. We need their real reactions to make things go smoothly."
"I agree," Jack said.
"If you think it's best," Vaughn said, looking at Sydney.
She smiled tightly at him and put a hand over his. "It'll give us our chance."
He nodded and looked to Jack. "How soon can we arrange it?"
Jack pulled out a satellite phone. "Now. We will need Weiss for this, but Mrs. Vaughn will be kept in the dark."
Vaughn grimaced. "Jesus. This might kill her."
"I'll be with her," Irina said. "Not at the funeral, but when she gets the call. Make sure of that."
"Fine," Jack said, dialing a number.
* * *
Weiss listened to the plan, his face going through various stages of disbelief. He agreed with Sydney; it would give them their best chance at getting away and not getting caught, but he still believed that separating them would give them the highest chance at survival. Not that he expected that to happen. After all the pains they had gone through to stay together, separating now would be too little too late.
He didn't say a word until Jack finished speaking, concentrating on writing down all that he had to do. It was midnight and he had gotten a mere three hours of sleep, but as usual, time was not on their side.
"Did you get all that?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Call me when it's set."
He hung up without a goodbye, not that Weiss was expecting it. He got out of bed and was faintly amused to find that he hadn't changed into his pajamas-he was still in a dress shirt, wrinkled beyond repair, and gray slacks. He changed the shirt, grabbed a tie and his jacket, and ran out of his apartment. Cell phone up against his ear, he began to arrange Vaughn's death.
* * *
It would have been kind to call the situation tense. Jack had stayed obstinately silent since hanging up with Weiss and Irina sat like a coiled spring in one of the armchairs. Sydney was battling an intense feeling of depression while Vaughn didn't bother hiding his unease with not telling his mother. If it wasn't for that, he would have begun to worry about being separated from Sydney.
"Are you hungry?" Sydney asked her father.
"No," he answered.
"I am," Irina said. "I ran over here when your father set off the alarm."
"Where were you?" Sydney asked. "You got here very quickly."
"This isn't the only bunker I built."
"Oh."
"I need a drink," Vaughn said, jumping up and going to the bar.
"I would have thought the smell of alcohol would make you stay away from there for a while," Sydney pointed out.
"Some things supercede nausea. Speaking of which, Sydney's come down with some kind of stomach flu."
"Do you have a fever?" Jack inquired, frowning.
"No. I think it was a passing bug."
"We should have you looked over before you leave," Irina said.
"Fine. Whatever."
"Some family reunion," Jack snorted.
The two women he'd once considered the most precious in his life, well one still was, stared at him.
"Very sensitive, Dad," Sydney snorted.
"Really, Jack," Irina said.
"Drink, Jack?"
"No. I need to keep a clear head."
"Since when did one glass of brandy topple you over?" Irina questioned.
"I should have known you were Russian with the way you tossed back your liquor," Jack said.
It was almost a joke if not for the sour expression on his face and the venom in his tone. Sydney felt like throwing up, but she took slow breaths. Irina glared at Jack, but didn't respond to his comment. At the bar, Vaughn tossed back his own liquor.
Jack stepped out of the small two-seater plane, his heart still beating fast from the dangerous landing he'd just made. Although the plane had runners instead of wheels to make it easier to land on snow, it was still a dangerous maneuver and he'd slid farther than he intended to. For a couple tense seconds, he thought he would lose control of the plane as it didn't seem to want to slow down, but it finally did, though he'd overshot his landing by a few meters.
Pushing the incident from his mind, Jack pulled his hood around his face and took out a small, flat handheld computer that included an infrared detector. He turned it on, praying that the cold didn't affect it, despite Weiss' reassurances that the man who'd built it was a genius. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when it beeped at him. It warmed up for a moment, and he waited impatiently, barely feeling the cold air on his face and hands. Then.he spotted what he was looking for.
Not more than ten yards away, he was getting a heat signature from two bodies. Boots crunching on the snow, he rushed to that direction, only to find himself on top of it. He knelt and dug around the snow, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms as the snow froze his hands quickly. Finally, he touched the top of what was a trapdoor. There was a keycard access, but he bypassed that easily. The door popped open and took out his weapon. He grimaced when he couldn't get a proper grip at it, not sure if he could shoot it at all, but he kept it in his hand. Slowly, he made his way down the dark stairs and into a warm room lit by a single fire in the middle of it.
"Sydney?" he called out.
His sharp hearing caught the movement in one of the room and he ran to it just as the door opened, revealing a panic-stricken Vaughn with only a pair of boxer shorts on.
"Where is she?" Jack demanded, and his voice had an edge of desperation to it.
Vaughn put a hand to his chest in relief as Sydney pushed past him to throw herself in her father's arms. Jack held her tightly, his lips pressed tightly together as he fought back a wave of emotion at seeing her again.
"I'm so glad to see you," she said tearfully. "Oh, Dad.what have I done?"
Jack held her at arm's length to look into her face. "This isn't your fault, Sydney."
"Everyone seems to feel the need to say that to me. That tells me that it is."
He sighed. She was right, but he couldn't say that to her. He looked to her companion, annoyed that he'd caught them in bed together-but he wasn't surprised. He was relieved that Sydney had regular pajamas on.
"Getting dressed would be a good idea, Mr. Vaughn," he said, one thin, gray eyebrow arched.
A red stain appeared on Vaughn's cheeks and he turned around to go into the room, closing the door behind him. Sydney tucked away a smile at his sheepish expression and turned to her father.
"How did you find us?" she asked.
"Once I knew your mother had you, it wasn't hard to figure out where she would keep you. After all, you are half-Russian."
The idea hadn't occurred to Sydney. She usually tried not to think about her mother that much, even now. "I see." She sat down on the couch, her hands clasped tightly together. "What's going on, Dad?"
Jack stayed standing, but he pulled his winter garments off. "SD-6 is gone. At this point, its employees are suspended with pay, including myself, while the Alliance tries to reorganize itself. Sloane is missing and there is a manhunt for him.and for the two of you."
He paused when they heard movement near the opened trapdoor and Jack cursed himself for forgetting to close it. Irina came barreling through the doorway, a wicked looking rifle in her hands. She threw Jack an exasperated look as she lowered the weapon.
"Would a phone call have been too much to ask?" she said.
He merely snorted. Vaughn emerged from the room, his hands shoved into his jeans pocket. He looked around the room and with a resigned look, sat down next to Sydney.
"So what do we do now?" he asked.
Jack tore his eyes away from Irina and turned to them. "We need to get you back to the states."
"Why?" Vaughn demanded. "I'm not going anywhere without Sydney."
"Use your common sense, Mr. Vaughn," Jack said roughly. "They know the two of you are traveling together so they'll be on the lookout for couples on planes. No matter how much you alter your appearance, you'll always be under the microscope simply because there are two of you."
"There are precautions we can take."
"They're unnecessary risks," Irina put in.
"We want to stay together," Vaughn said tersely.
He noticed then that Sydney had remained silent during the discussion and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He looked at her and saw the worried expression on her face.
"Or do we?" he added.
"We can't just leave here in disguises and dyed hair," she said anxiously. "I do want to stay with you, Vaughn, but we can't just hop on a plane just yet. I think.I think maybe we should fake your death." She smiled humorlessly at her mother. "You've inspired me."
"Fake my death?" Vaughn echoed.
Jack looked closely at Sydney, trying to read her expression but she stayed studiously blank. He hadn't expected her to come up with that and had been prepared to fight with them both on this subject. Instinctively, he knew something was going on, but didn't question her right then. He would corner her later.if he could.
"Yes," Sydney said. "We'll take you back to the states, make sure people see you, and then you jump off a bridge or something. A suicide attempt because of all the things that you learned. Then, we find a corpse, doctor it up, and bury him while you'll be on a plane to where I'll be."
"You can do that?" Vaughn said to Jack.
Jack didn't answer, but threw him a withering look.
"They won't be easily fooled by that," Irina warned.
"Not if the body is done well," Sydney said. "I've seen it done before. They can do it. I think it's our best bet. The one downside would be not telling your mother or Weiss. We need their real reactions to make things go smoothly."
"I agree," Jack said.
"If you think it's best," Vaughn said, looking at Sydney.
She smiled tightly at him and put a hand over his. "It'll give us our chance."
He nodded and looked to Jack. "How soon can we arrange it?"
Jack pulled out a satellite phone. "Now. We will need Weiss for this, but Mrs. Vaughn will be kept in the dark."
Vaughn grimaced. "Jesus. This might kill her."
"I'll be with her," Irina said. "Not at the funeral, but when she gets the call. Make sure of that."
"Fine," Jack said, dialing a number.
* * *
Weiss listened to the plan, his face going through various stages of disbelief. He agreed with Sydney; it would give them their best chance at getting away and not getting caught, but he still believed that separating them would give them the highest chance at survival. Not that he expected that to happen. After all the pains they had gone through to stay together, separating now would be too little too late.
He didn't say a word until Jack finished speaking, concentrating on writing down all that he had to do. It was midnight and he had gotten a mere three hours of sleep, but as usual, time was not on their side.
"Did you get all that?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Call me when it's set."
He hung up without a goodbye, not that Weiss was expecting it. He got out of bed and was faintly amused to find that he hadn't changed into his pajamas-he was still in a dress shirt, wrinkled beyond repair, and gray slacks. He changed the shirt, grabbed a tie and his jacket, and ran out of his apartment. Cell phone up against his ear, he began to arrange Vaughn's death.
* * *
It would have been kind to call the situation tense. Jack had stayed obstinately silent since hanging up with Weiss and Irina sat like a coiled spring in one of the armchairs. Sydney was battling an intense feeling of depression while Vaughn didn't bother hiding his unease with not telling his mother. If it wasn't for that, he would have begun to worry about being separated from Sydney.
"Are you hungry?" Sydney asked her father.
"No," he answered.
"I am," Irina said. "I ran over here when your father set off the alarm."
"Where were you?" Sydney asked. "You got here very quickly."
"This isn't the only bunker I built."
"Oh."
"I need a drink," Vaughn said, jumping up and going to the bar.
"I would have thought the smell of alcohol would make you stay away from there for a while," Sydney pointed out.
"Some things supercede nausea. Speaking of which, Sydney's come down with some kind of stomach flu."
"Do you have a fever?" Jack inquired, frowning.
"No. I think it was a passing bug."
"We should have you looked over before you leave," Irina said.
"Fine. Whatever."
"Some family reunion," Jack snorted.
The two women he'd once considered the most precious in his life, well one still was, stared at him.
"Very sensitive, Dad," Sydney snorted.
"Really, Jack," Irina said.
"Drink, Jack?"
"No. I need to keep a clear head."
"Since when did one glass of brandy topple you over?" Irina questioned.
"I should have known you were Russian with the way you tossed back your liquor," Jack said.
It was almost a joke if not for the sour expression on his face and the venom in his tone. Sydney felt like throwing up, but she took slow breaths. Irina glared at Jack, but didn't respond to his comment. At the bar, Vaughn tossed back his own liquor.
