Chapter Six: Slipping Through
The airplane rolled to a stop on the tarmac at the small airstrip in Nepal. A staircase was rolled into place with a bump just as the door to the private aircraft slid open to reveal a stunning woman dressed head to toe in black, her bare shoulders shimmering under the midday sun.
A short, homely man scrambled up the stairs, his left hand outstretched to greet the passengers. With his other hand, he pulled an aging straw fedora from his balding head and revealed his sweat-beaded brow and a dozen or so wispy strands of gray hair flailing in the mild breeze.
Just as he reached the top of the staircase, the young woman stepped aside and a distinguished older gentleman appeared behind her, his dark suit a perfect match to his hair and moustache. He squinted in the bright sunlight and stepped forward as the man on the stairs came to his side.
The woman descended the steps, leaving the men behind as introductions began.
"Mr. Dimitri, I presume," The sweaty, red-faced bald man ventured, his British accent proper and polite. "I'm Nigel, from the hotel. I'm to be your driver for the duration of your visit."
"Pleasure to meet you, Nigel," Dimitri intoned, his Russian accent thick, his voice deep.
Nigel started back down the steps, Dimitri close behind as a steward from the airplane followed with the luggage.
"Mr. Khata wanted to be here to welcome you," Nigel said, huffing from the exertion of exercise in the midday heat. "It's not everyday his hotel is graced with such distinguished guests." Nigel reached the ground and stepped aside, allowing Dimitri and the steward to pass. "Mr. Khata had a previous engagement, but he asked that I see to your needs. I am delighted to be at your service."
Nigel turned to the lovely woman at his side, his expression expectant. She was beautiful, her ginger-colored hair a sleek bob outdone only by her smoky bedroom eyes which were now hidden by a pair of black sunglasses. Only a few elegant gold bangles at her wrist and an opulent pair of black onyx earrings accented her sexy halter dress and high heels.
"Hello, miss," Nigel cautiously introduced himself, nervous to extend his sweaty palm. "I'm Nigel. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
"Natalya," Her voice, also heavily accented, was a deep and sultry rumble.
"Oh, well, then," Nigel cleared his throat, glancing from Natalya to Dimitri and back again. "As your driver, I'm instructed to take you wherever you'd like. Does anyone have any particular-"
"Take me to a bar," Natalya commanded, interrupting Nigel as she began to walk toward the waiting Mercedes. "I want to drink."
Mildly stunned, Nigel watched her walk away for a moment before turning back to Dimitri, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide a small, satisfied smile.
"I trust the hotel casino has a lounge?"
Nigel smiled brightly. "Only the absolute best in Katmandu."
Dimitri nodded. "Fine, then," He said dismissively. "To the hotel."
"Right away, sir," Nigel hurried to the Mercedes, stuffing his hat back onto his head before opening the back door for his prestigious passengers.
Natalya and Dimitri slid into the back seat and casually waited for transport as Nigel closed the door and walked back to the trunk to be sure their luggage was secure. At that point, Jack turned to Sydney, the quiet grin returning to his lips.
"Nice."
Sydney smiled appreciatively. "Thank you," She said, her accent suddenly returning as Nigel opened the car door and slid in behind the wheel. "It's too hot," She hissed. "Turn on the damn cold air."
"Yes, miss. Right away, miss," Nigel nervously started the car and engaged the air conditioning. As the interior began to cool down, he expertly steered the Mercedes off of the airstrip and onto the main road leading to Katmandu.
Bearing stoic faces, Jack and Sydney remained silent for the twenty-minute trip to the hotel.
After assisting them at check-in and struggling to carry their bags, Nigel left Sydney and Jack alone in their hotel suite with directions to the casino and an assurance he would be willing and able to assist them if ever they should need it.
After thanking Nigel and walking him to the door, Jack closed and locked it securely, pausing to gaze out the peephole for several quiet moments. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Sydney and nodded. This was her cue to sweep the room for bugs; she did so with quiet efficiency and then smiled at her father as she returned the detection device to her suitcase.
"Room's clean."
Jack drew in a deep breath and glanced at his watch. "We've got an hour until the meeting," He said. "Let's freshen up and get down to the casino."
The cacophony of tinny music, coins plinking into jackpot slots and excited shouts from fortunate gamblers assaulted Sydney's ears as she bellied up the casino bar. Taming her wind-blown wig and expertly retouching her make- up had done nothing to freshen her mood; she was bothered by the heat and the nagging suspicion that her mother, ever elusive and mysterious, would not make her scheduled appearance.
The bartender slapped a white cocktail napkin on the ebony bar and was quick to fetch Sydney's drink order. She plucked the olive from her Stoli martini and popped it into her mouth while taking a surreptitious glance over her right shoulder.
Her father's voice was in her ear, transmitted from his diamond lapel pin to one of her lush onyx earrings.
"I'm heading for the poker tables. To your left, seven o'clock."
Sydney lifted a hand to her mouth, lazily brushing her ruby red lips as she spoke into her gold bracelets.
"Check," She glanced back in his direction and spotted him out of the corner of her eye as he slid into a seat at the card table and was quickly dealt into the game.
The vodka warmed Sydney's throat as she took a sip. Wary of her empty stomach, save for the lone olive, she took the alcohol slowly. The last thing she needed was to be anywhere close to blotto if and when Irina Derevko entered the casino.
"She's late," Sydney murmured into her wrist nearly two hours later, nursing yet another martini, the olive her lone distraction.
"Be patient," Jack said in reply.
Sydney exhaled deeply, reaching for her purse. Opening it, she pulled out her mirrored compact and quickly inspected her face. Her lipstick had transferred to the rim of her martini glass; she was about to grab the tube and reapply when she spotted something in the small mirror. Over her right shoulder, a Middle Eastern man was entering the casino with a large companion, a meaty fellow with eyes that darted about the room in a way that struck Sydney as more than simple curiosity.
"Dad," Sydney slid off the stool after quickly scattering a few dollars on the bar. "I've just spotted Mujari and his bodyguard."
"I saw them, too. Meet me at the fountain."
Across the casino, behind a bank of slot machines, Sydney and Jack pretended to be enjoying the small marble fountain as they quietly discussed strategy.
"He's taken a seat at a table in the bar," Jack observed, peering through a thin space between two of the obnoxious machines. Sydney slid into the seat in front of one of them and dropped in a few coins.
She pulled the lever and sent the wheels spinning. "It's too risky to sit anywhere close by him," She stated, feigning dismay when her bet yielded nothing. "If Mom sees us, it'll be game over."
Jack suddenly stiffened. "No time to debate that," He said. "She's here."
Sydney fought the urge to spring up from the stool. She inserted a few more coins and pulled the lever again, casually shifting to her left as her father moved an inch or two aside. Between the machines and through the sparse branches of a palm tree, Sydney laid her eyes on Irina Derevko.
Irina sashayed into the casino, a gauzy azure dress hugging her curves, the hem lapping at her bronzed thighs as she strolled into the bar and took a seat at the table directly behind Mujari and his hired man. Sydney marveled at her confidence; she was without disguise and seemingly without worry.
Swallowing an emotion too close to envy, Sydney glanced up at her father to find him carefully watching her, his slate gray eyes trained on her face as if he expected to observe some odd or ungainly transformation.
"If you're thinking that the sight of her sparked some sort of recognition or recovery of lost memory, you're mistaken," Sydney's voice was low but full of intent. "All I feel right now is how wrong it would be to have her this close and then let her get away."
Sydney stood, opening her purse to put her hand on her gun. Her father was not surprised to find her expression cold, her eyes like hardened steel.
"Take a position near enough to the bar to keep an eye on her, but not so close that she can spot you. I'll go back to the poker table; I can watch her and the door from there." Jack quickly reached inside his suit coat and checked his weapon. Reassured, he met Sydney's eyes. "We're not letting her go."
"I know," She answered, pausing only briefly to nod at him before disappearing around the corner of the slot machines.
Striding purposefully into the bar, Sydney was careful to avoid her mother's table as she moved to the opposite side, taking a seat at a table that afforded her as clear a view as she could confidently get. She steadied herself, breathing deeply, scooting her seat a little to the right to allow her gaze to be partially hidden by an overgrown potted plant. Just as she was setting her purse in her lap, her fingers reaching for the butt of her pistol, she caught a glimpse of a figure approaching her from the left.
"Dad," Sydney swept strands of her hair from her cheek as she whispered into the gilded bangles. "Nigel is coming to my table."
"Get rid of him."
"My thoughts exactly," Sydney quickly lowered her hand to her lap as Nigel reached her side, clutching his ratty fedora, his tobacco stained teeth revealed to her in full as his thin lips stretched into a smile.
"Miss Natalya," He boomed, his voice far louder than was necessary. "How are you finding the casino?"
Sydney glared at him, her dark eyes smoldering. "It's much too loud," She spat out, intending to make him instantly uncomfortable.
No such luck.
"Well, then," He glanced around, the grin never leaving his pallid face. "It is a casino-"
"The drinks are watered down," Sydney continued venomously. "You should do something about this." Her Russian accent thickened as her agitation grew. "It is displeasing me."
Nigel was finally caught off-guard, the wattage of his smile dimming somewhat. "I shall, of course, mention that," He nodded quickly. "How was your room? Are the accommodations suitable?"
"Why ask me stupid questions?" Sydney demanded. "You are making me unhappy."
"I'm sorry," Nigel stammered, his brow furrowed. "I didn't mean-"
Jack's urgent voice was in Sydney's ear. "Get rid of him, Sydney."
"Go away!" Sydney hissed.
"Miss Natalya-"
"Now, Sydney. Derevko seems to be wrapping up-"
"I simply wish to make sure your stay here is-"
"She's suspicious, looking around the bar. Shut him up or she will see you!"
"Get the hell away from me, you insipid beast!" Sydney seethed as she rose from her seat, her face inches from Nigel's as his eyes grew wide. "I will not say it again!"
Nigel spun on his heel and bumped into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks. Clattering to the floor, the glasses breaking, the tray slammed against the tile with a loud bang.
Sydney whirled just as Mujari and his bodyguard sprang to their feet, guns drawn in her direction. She pulled her own weapon and paused long enough to make eye contact with her mother. Irina's eyes were saucers, her mouth open in surprise. She turned to her companions just as Mujari raised his weapon to fire, his eyes locked on Sydney's face.
"No!" Irina shouted, shoving Mujari to the side. His bodyguard roared and turned to Irina. Before he could fire a single shot, her elbow clipped his jaw and sent him spinning. He fired wildly into the air, his errant bullets striking the stunned waiter and Nigel as they both tried to make sense of what they were witnessing.
The gunfire spat across the room as Sydney dove for cover, hurling her body over the bar. She hit the gritty floor with a thud, forcing the air from her lungs. Gasping, she pushed herself up, the image of Derevko making a getaway propelling her to her feet.
"Are you all right?" Jack's anxious voice boomed.
"Fine!" Sydney shouted. "I'm not letting her get away!"
Poking her head above the bar, Sydney witnessed Mujari and his man scrambling, overturning tables in their attempt to escape the bar. Irina was pushing past them, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes met Sydney's briefly, long enough to compel Sydney to leap over the bar and give chase.
"Derevko!" She shouted, raising her weapon. Irina stopped only long enough to change direction and darted behind a bank of slots. Sydney followed, her heels clacking angrily on the tile as she upped her speed, her breath in rapid bursts. She thought of nothing but stopping her mother's escape, unaware as blood dripped down her shin, the skin of her knee split and oozing crimson.
Irina plowed through the silver swinging door leading into the kitchen. Dodging waiters and cooks, she darted around prep tables and sped past the grill, passing through a cloud of smoke and Eastern spices. Sydney was only a few steps behind, shoving a bus boy to the side as she rounded the corner of a steam table, her weapon before her and trained on the back of her mother's head.
Irina burst into a storage room, finding herself suddenly blocked in. One wall was floor to ceiling coolers and a freezer, the other wall a row of shelves stocked with canned goods. She paused by what appeared to be a heating duct, the square opening tempting to her. It looked large enough to accommodate her, and she was about to consider diving in when she heard her daughter's voice.
"Mom," Sydney commanded, stopping in the doorway. "Don't move."
Irina raised her hands slightly, her mouth curling into a smile as she tried to catch her breath.
"It's good to see you, Sydney."
"Get on the floor," Sydney gripped her weapon with both hands, her heart racing, her breathing heavy. Sweat trickled down her neck, her every nerve on alert.
Irina started to slowly step backward, watching her daughter's eyes carefully as she backed into the stainless steel freezer doors.
"You look good. How are you feeling?"
"Get on the floor!" Sydney repeated, troubled by the silence in her earpiece. She had expected to see her father by now, or at the very least, hear his voice. "I won't hesitate to shoot you, Mom," Sydney told her, her eyes flashing. "Don't tempt me."
"You don't remember a thing, do you?" Irina narrowed her eyes, her smile lessening. "About Hong Kong, or Madagascar-"
"Madagascar?" Sydney couldn't help the word that slipped from her mouth, her brow furrowing. "What about Madagascar?"
"I'll tell you all about it," Irina nodded at her daughter, her eyes imploring. "But not right now. I need you to trust me. I need more time-"
"More time? You've had all the time you have coming," Sydney's eyes were hard again. "Get on the floor! Don't make me say it again!"
Irina lowered her eyes to the floor, the grubby linoleum scuffed and unappealing. She raised her eyes again and immediately sprang forward, her hands outstretched.
"Sydney!" She cried just as the first shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past Sydney's left ear. Sydney spun to see Mujari approaching through the kitchen, his weapon raised, the muzzle flashing as he squeezed the trigger again and again.
Sydney tried to return fire but her weapon jammed, clicking repeatedly as she tugged at the trigger. With nowhere to run and Mujari closing in, the bitter taste of panic rose in Sydney's throat.
Irina rushed forward, attempting to shield her daughter with her own body. She was foiled as a bullet ripped through the flesh of her upper arm, driving her back. She sprawled across the dirty tile, a guttural cry of pain rushing from her throat.
Out of options, Sydney frantically searched for an escape, a place she could go, any way to survive. Spying the open duct, she gave no further thought to the possibility before diving forward, forcing her body through the hole and instantly finding herself plunging into icy water.
Sydney gasped, drawing the frigid liquid into her mouth. It wasn't a heating duct at all but a holding tank of sorts, a well from which to draw cold water. Her mind spun in endless directions as she sank, the inertia of her escape propelling her deeper into the freezing water. Shock was replaced by fear and that, again, by panic. The shaft was only as wide as her body, the space too small for her to turn around.
Sydney opened her eyes for a moment, but the cold forced her to shut them again. She clutched her gun with one hand while feeling around with the other, her fingers beginning to stiffen. She groped for something, anything she could use to release herself: a drain plug, a pipe she could push against to raise herself up, anything to offer assistance. Finding none, she pushed against her panic, willing her lungs not to give up as they burned and ached for precious oxygen.
Sydney ran her hand up the smooth surface before her, the metal side of the tank. It was relatively thin, giving slightly when she pushed against it. Raising her gun, she crowded her body back against the opposite side of the shaft and pressed the muzzle of the gun against the metal. If she could shoot a hole in it and let the water out, she might have a fighting chance.
Sydney instinctively turned her face away and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing. The damn gun was still jammed.
With nothing left to keep her from panicking, Sydney began to beat on the metal, her fists striking determinedly even though her fingers were completely numb. She let out a frustrated cry, the sound dispersing into the water, traveling no further than her own ears.
Her lungs unable to hold out any longer, Sydney slowly opened her eyes and exhaled deeply. Just as she was about to let go, the memory of her mother trying to shield her flashed in her mind, followed by a sharp recollection of years ago, an image of Vaughn, his lips pressed to her neck as he cradled her in his protective arms. It was a nice thought to have and Sydney gave herself over to it, the bittersweet memory of his affection a lovely way to usher her into unconsciousness, her mind fading to black.
Resigned to her fate, Sydney didn't notice the two strong hands that suddenly gripped her ankles and yanked her upwards. She was limp, her body offering no resistance as she was pulled from the icy depth, her clothing saturated, her fingers blue and locked around the butt of her pistol.
Jack struggled to quickly extract Sydney from the frigid water, holding her against his body as he lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were closed, her lips purple, water cascading down her cheeks as it poured from her sodden hair.
"Sydney!" Jack called her name loudly, laying her down on the grimy linoleum, prying the useless weapon from her hand. He patted her cheeks, shocked at how cold they were. "Sydney, wake up," He demanded just before he pressed his ear to her chest. He heard her heart beating faintly, but she didn't appear to be breathing. Jack immediately closed his lips around hers, breathing hard into her mouth.
A few short rounds of rescue breathing was all it took for Sydney to violently gasp, coughing out water, gagging on the liquid as it forced its way from her throat. Jack rolled her to her side, allowing her to clear her mouth. She breathed in deeply, gulping in air as her eyes sprang open. She was groggy, her mind cloudy.
"C'mon, sweetheart, let's go," Jack yanked off his suit jacket and draped it around Sydney's shoulders as he held her upright, her limp arms hanging at her sides.
"Mom," Sydney moaned as Jack stood up slowly, his daughter in his strong arms.
"She's gone," Jack said, not without a degree of disdain. He stepped over the lifeless body of Kudar Mujari and carried his daughter back through the kitchen and out a side door that led them into an alley behind the hotel.
In a matter of minutes, Jack pushed through the door to their room, careful to lock it behind them. He knew they couldn't stay there for long; undoubtedly the hotel management and local authorities would be quick to investigate. The CIA frowned on such attention and Jack knew they had to make a hasty escape. First and foremost, however, his concern was for his daughter.
Jack carried Sydney into the bathroom and set her gingerly in the bathtub. Ignoring the ache in his arms, he removed his suit coat from her shoulders and turned on the shower, turning the faucet as far toward the "H" as it would go. The hot water poured over Sydney and she involuntarily gasped, seeming to come around as the heat spread from her head down to her feet.
Jack grabbed Sydney's luggage and pulled out clean, dry clothes.
"Sydney, you need to change your clothes," Jack coaxed. "I'm going to do the same and then we have to get out of here."
"What about Mom?" Sydney asked, her voice small, her eyes searching her father's face.
Jack frowned. "I have an idea of where she might be heading. We'll talk about it on the plane," He directed. "Right now - change your clothes." Jack left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Jack went to his suitcase, starting to unbutton his damp dress shirt. Just as he was pulling it off, his satellite com-link began to chirp. He grabbed it from the bag, slipping it over his ear, adjusting the small microphone before activating the device.
"Jack Bristow."
"Jack, this is Kendall. You need to return to LA immediately."
Jack looked at his watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning in LA. He was more than a little perplexed to be hearing from Kendall at this hour.
"Derevko evaded us," Jack replied. He continued to root through his suitcase as he spoke. "We're catching a flight to Moscow. I have a feeling- "
"You're catching a flight to LA," Kendall interrupted. "They're waiting for you at the airstrip."
"Time is of the essence here, Kendall. Derevko is-"
"Jack," Something in Kendall's voice roughly grabbed Jack's attention. "You must return immediately."
Jack was almost afraid to ask. "Why?"
"It's about Sydney," Kendall said, his tone softening. "Dr. Wick alerted me. Something slipped through her original blood work that they just now discovered."
Jack forgot about his suitcase and glanced back over his shoulder at the bathroom door. He heard the shower shut off, a groan as Sydney pulled herself to her feet. "What is it?" He queried, his pulse quickening.
"Jack," Kendall sighed. Static on the line crackled and popped as he waited what seemed an eternity to continue. "Sydney needs to report to medical services right away."
******
A/N: That sound you hear is me heaving a huge sigh of relief to finally be posting this chapter after five weeks of intense writer's block brought on by pressures at work and the sometimes-wonderful-sometimes-not daily existence we call life. Please review me - let me know if all the money I spent on stress relief aroma therapy candles was worth it.
The airplane rolled to a stop on the tarmac at the small airstrip in Nepal. A staircase was rolled into place with a bump just as the door to the private aircraft slid open to reveal a stunning woman dressed head to toe in black, her bare shoulders shimmering under the midday sun.
A short, homely man scrambled up the stairs, his left hand outstretched to greet the passengers. With his other hand, he pulled an aging straw fedora from his balding head and revealed his sweat-beaded brow and a dozen or so wispy strands of gray hair flailing in the mild breeze.
Just as he reached the top of the staircase, the young woman stepped aside and a distinguished older gentleman appeared behind her, his dark suit a perfect match to his hair and moustache. He squinted in the bright sunlight and stepped forward as the man on the stairs came to his side.
The woman descended the steps, leaving the men behind as introductions began.
"Mr. Dimitri, I presume," The sweaty, red-faced bald man ventured, his British accent proper and polite. "I'm Nigel, from the hotel. I'm to be your driver for the duration of your visit."
"Pleasure to meet you, Nigel," Dimitri intoned, his Russian accent thick, his voice deep.
Nigel started back down the steps, Dimitri close behind as a steward from the airplane followed with the luggage.
"Mr. Khata wanted to be here to welcome you," Nigel said, huffing from the exertion of exercise in the midday heat. "It's not everyday his hotel is graced with such distinguished guests." Nigel reached the ground and stepped aside, allowing Dimitri and the steward to pass. "Mr. Khata had a previous engagement, but he asked that I see to your needs. I am delighted to be at your service."
Nigel turned to the lovely woman at his side, his expression expectant. She was beautiful, her ginger-colored hair a sleek bob outdone only by her smoky bedroom eyes which were now hidden by a pair of black sunglasses. Only a few elegant gold bangles at her wrist and an opulent pair of black onyx earrings accented her sexy halter dress and high heels.
"Hello, miss," Nigel cautiously introduced himself, nervous to extend his sweaty palm. "I'm Nigel. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
"Natalya," Her voice, also heavily accented, was a deep and sultry rumble.
"Oh, well, then," Nigel cleared his throat, glancing from Natalya to Dimitri and back again. "As your driver, I'm instructed to take you wherever you'd like. Does anyone have any particular-"
"Take me to a bar," Natalya commanded, interrupting Nigel as she began to walk toward the waiting Mercedes. "I want to drink."
Mildly stunned, Nigel watched her walk away for a moment before turning back to Dimitri, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide a small, satisfied smile.
"I trust the hotel casino has a lounge?"
Nigel smiled brightly. "Only the absolute best in Katmandu."
Dimitri nodded. "Fine, then," He said dismissively. "To the hotel."
"Right away, sir," Nigel hurried to the Mercedes, stuffing his hat back onto his head before opening the back door for his prestigious passengers.
Natalya and Dimitri slid into the back seat and casually waited for transport as Nigel closed the door and walked back to the trunk to be sure their luggage was secure. At that point, Jack turned to Sydney, the quiet grin returning to his lips.
"Nice."
Sydney smiled appreciatively. "Thank you," She said, her accent suddenly returning as Nigel opened the car door and slid in behind the wheel. "It's too hot," She hissed. "Turn on the damn cold air."
"Yes, miss. Right away, miss," Nigel nervously started the car and engaged the air conditioning. As the interior began to cool down, he expertly steered the Mercedes off of the airstrip and onto the main road leading to Katmandu.
Bearing stoic faces, Jack and Sydney remained silent for the twenty-minute trip to the hotel.
After assisting them at check-in and struggling to carry their bags, Nigel left Sydney and Jack alone in their hotel suite with directions to the casino and an assurance he would be willing and able to assist them if ever they should need it.
After thanking Nigel and walking him to the door, Jack closed and locked it securely, pausing to gaze out the peephole for several quiet moments. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Sydney and nodded. This was her cue to sweep the room for bugs; she did so with quiet efficiency and then smiled at her father as she returned the detection device to her suitcase.
"Room's clean."
Jack drew in a deep breath and glanced at his watch. "We've got an hour until the meeting," He said. "Let's freshen up and get down to the casino."
The cacophony of tinny music, coins plinking into jackpot slots and excited shouts from fortunate gamblers assaulted Sydney's ears as she bellied up the casino bar. Taming her wind-blown wig and expertly retouching her make- up had done nothing to freshen her mood; she was bothered by the heat and the nagging suspicion that her mother, ever elusive and mysterious, would not make her scheduled appearance.
The bartender slapped a white cocktail napkin on the ebony bar and was quick to fetch Sydney's drink order. She plucked the olive from her Stoli martini and popped it into her mouth while taking a surreptitious glance over her right shoulder.
Her father's voice was in her ear, transmitted from his diamond lapel pin to one of her lush onyx earrings.
"I'm heading for the poker tables. To your left, seven o'clock."
Sydney lifted a hand to her mouth, lazily brushing her ruby red lips as she spoke into her gold bracelets.
"Check," She glanced back in his direction and spotted him out of the corner of her eye as he slid into a seat at the card table and was quickly dealt into the game.
The vodka warmed Sydney's throat as she took a sip. Wary of her empty stomach, save for the lone olive, she took the alcohol slowly. The last thing she needed was to be anywhere close to blotto if and when Irina Derevko entered the casino.
"She's late," Sydney murmured into her wrist nearly two hours later, nursing yet another martini, the olive her lone distraction.
"Be patient," Jack said in reply.
Sydney exhaled deeply, reaching for her purse. Opening it, she pulled out her mirrored compact and quickly inspected her face. Her lipstick had transferred to the rim of her martini glass; she was about to grab the tube and reapply when she spotted something in the small mirror. Over her right shoulder, a Middle Eastern man was entering the casino with a large companion, a meaty fellow with eyes that darted about the room in a way that struck Sydney as more than simple curiosity.
"Dad," Sydney slid off the stool after quickly scattering a few dollars on the bar. "I've just spotted Mujari and his bodyguard."
"I saw them, too. Meet me at the fountain."
Across the casino, behind a bank of slot machines, Sydney and Jack pretended to be enjoying the small marble fountain as they quietly discussed strategy.
"He's taken a seat at a table in the bar," Jack observed, peering through a thin space between two of the obnoxious machines. Sydney slid into the seat in front of one of them and dropped in a few coins.
She pulled the lever and sent the wheels spinning. "It's too risky to sit anywhere close by him," She stated, feigning dismay when her bet yielded nothing. "If Mom sees us, it'll be game over."
Jack suddenly stiffened. "No time to debate that," He said. "She's here."
Sydney fought the urge to spring up from the stool. She inserted a few more coins and pulled the lever again, casually shifting to her left as her father moved an inch or two aside. Between the machines and through the sparse branches of a palm tree, Sydney laid her eyes on Irina Derevko.
Irina sashayed into the casino, a gauzy azure dress hugging her curves, the hem lapping at her bronzed thighs as she strolled into the bar and took a seat at the table directly behind Mujari and his hired man. Sydney marveled at her confidence; she was without disguise and seemingly without worry.
Swallowing an emotion too close to envy, Sydney glanced up at her father to find him carefully watching her, his slate gray eyes trained on her face as if he expected to observe some odd or ungainly transformation.
"If you're thinking that the sight of her sparked some sort of recognition or recovery of lost memory, you're mistaken," Sydney's voice was low but full of intent. "All I feel right now is how wrong it would be to have her this close and then let her get away."
Sydney stood, opening her purse to put her hand on her gun. Her father was not surprised to find her expression cold, her eyes like hardened steel.
"Take a position near enough to the bar to keep an eye on her, but not so close that she can spot you. I'll go back to the poker table; I can watch her and the door from there." Jack quickly reached inside his suit coat and checked his weapon. Reassured, he met Sydney's eyes. "We're not letting her go."
"I know," She answered, pausing only briefly to nod at him before disappearing around the corner of the slot machines.
Striding purposefully into the bar, Sydney was careful to avoid her mother's table as she moved to the opposite side, taking a seat at a table that afforded her as clear a view as she could confidently get. She steadied herself, breathing deeply, scooting her seat a little to the right to allow her gaze to be partially hidden by an overgrown potted plant. Just as she was setting her purse in her lap, her fingers reaching for the butt of her pistol, she caught a glimpse of a figure approaching her from the left.
"Dad," Sydney swept strands of her hair from her cheek as she whispered into the gilded bangles. "Nigel is coming to my table."
"Get rid of him."
"My thoughts exactly," Sydney quickly lowered her hand to her lap as Nigel reached her side, clutching his ratty fedora, his tobacco stained teeth revealed to her in full as his thin lips stretched into a smile.
"Miss Natalya," He boomed, his voice far louder than was necessary. "How are you finding the casino?"
Sydney glared at him, her dark eyes smoldering. "It's much too loud," She spat out, intending to make him instantly uncomfortable.
No such luck.
"Well, then," He glanced around, the grin never leaving his pallid face. "It is a casino-"
"The drinks are watered down," Sydney continued venomously. "You should do something about this." Her Russian accent thickened as her agitation grew. "It is displeasing me."
Nigel was finally caught off-guard, the wattage of his smile dimming somewhat. "I shall, of course, mention that," He nodded quickly. "How was your room? Are the accommodations suitable?"
"Why ask me stupid questions?" Sydney demanded. "You are making me unhappy."
"I'm sorry," Nigel stammered, his brow furrowed. "I didn't mean-"
Jack's urgent voice was in Sydney's ear. "Get rid of him, Sydney."
"Go away!" Sydney hissed.
"Miss Natalya-"
"Now, Sydney. Derevko seems to be wrapping up-"
"I simply wish to make sure your stay here is-"
"She's suspicious, looking around the bar. Shut him up or she will see you!"
"Get the hell away from me, you insipid beast!" Sydney seethed as she rose from her seat, her face inches from Nigel's as his eyes grew wide. "I will not say it again!"
Nigel spun on his heel and bumped into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks. Clattering to the floor, the glasses breaking, the tray slammed against the tile with a loud bang.
Sydney whirled just as Mujari and his bodyguard sprang to their feet, guns drawn in her direction. She pulled her own weapon and paused long enough to make eye contact with her mother. Irina's eyes were saucers, her mouth open in surprise. She turned to her companions just as Mujari raised his weapon to fire, his eyes locked on Sydney's face.
"No!" Irina shouted, shoving Mujari to the side. His bodyguard roared and turned to Irina. Before he could fire a single shot, her elbow clipped his jaw and sent him spinning. He fired wildly into the air, his errant bullets striking the stunned waiter and Nigel as they both tried to make sense of what they were witnessing.
The gunfire spat across the room as Sydney dove for cover, hurling her body over the bar. She hit the gritty floor with a thud, forcing the air from her lungs. Gasping, she pushed herself up, the image of Derevko making a getaway propelling her to her feet.
"Are you all right?" Jack's anxious voice boomed.
"Fine!" Sydney shouted. "I'm not letting her get away!"
Poking her head above the bar, Sydney witnessed Mujari and his man scrambling, overturning tables in their attempt to escape the bar. Irina was pushing past them, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes met Sydney's briefly, long enough to compel Sydney to leap over the bar and give chase.
"Derevko!" She shouted, raising her weapon. Irina stopped only long enough to change direction and darted behind a bank of slots. Sydney followed, her heels clacking angrily on the tile as she upped her speed, her breath in rapid bursts. She thought of nothing but stopping her mother's escape, unaware as blood dripped down her shin, the skin of her knee split and oozing crimson.
Irina plowed through the silver swinging door leading into the kitchen. Dodging waiters and cooks, she darted around prep tables and sped past the grill, passing through a cloud of smoke and Eastern spices. Sydney was only a few steps behind, shoving a bus boy to the side as she rounded the corner of a steam table, her weapon before her and trained on the back of her mother's head.
Irina burst into a storage room, finding herself suddenly blocked in. One wall was floor to ceiling coolers and a freezer, the other wall a row of shelves stocked with canned goods. She paused by what appeared to be a heating duct, the square opening tempting to her. It looked large enough to accommodate her, and she was about to consider diving in when she heard her daughter's voice.
"Mom," Sydney commanded, stopping in the doorway. "Don't move."
Irina raised her hands slightly, her mouth curling into a smile as she tried to catch her breath.
"It's good to see you, Sydney."
"Get on the floor," Sydney gripped her weapon with both hands, her heart racing, her breathing heavy. Sweat trickled down her neck, her every nerve on alert.
Irina started to slowly step backward, watching her daughter's eyes carefully as she backed into the stainless steel freezer doors.
"You look good. How are you feeling?"
"Get on the floor!" Sydney repeated, troubled by the silence in her earpiece. She had expected to see her father by now, or at the very least, hear his voice. "I won't hesitate to shoot you, Mom," Sydney told her, her eyes flashing. "Don't tempt me."
"You don't remember a thing, do you?" Irina narrowed her eyes, her smile lessening. "About Hong Kong, or Madagascar-"
"Madagascar?" Sydney couldn't help the word that slipped from her mouth, her brow furrowing. "What about Madagascar?"
"I'll tell you all about it," Irina nodded at her daughter, her eyes imploring. "But not right now. I need you to trust me. I need more time-"
"More time? You've had all the time you have coming," Sydney's eyes were hard again. "Get on the floor! Don't make me say it again!"
Irina lowered her eyes to the floor, the grubby linoleum scuffed and unappealing. She raised her eyes again and immediately sprang forward, her hands outstretched.
"Sydney!" She cried just as the first shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past Sydney's left ear. Sydney spun to see Mujari approaching through the kitchen, his weapon raised, the muzzle flashing as he squeezed the trigger again and again.
Sydney tried to return fire but her weapon jammed, clicking repeatedly as she tugged at the trigger. With nowhere to run and Mujari closing in, the bitter taste of panic rose in Sydney's throat.
Irina rushed forward, attempting to shield her daughter with her own body. She was foiled as a bullet ripped through the flesh of her upper arm, driving her back. She sprawled across the dirty tile, a guttural cry of pain rushing from her throat.
Out of options, Sydney frantically searched for an escape, a place she could go, any way to survive. Spying the open duct, she gave no further thought to the possibility before diving forward, forcing her body through the hole and instantly finding herself plunging into icy water.
Sydney gasped, drawing the frigid liquid into her mouth. It wasn't a heating duct at all but a holding tank of sorts, a well from which to draw cold water. Her mind spun in endless directions as she sank, the inertia of her escape propelling her deeper into the freezing water. Shock was replaced by fear and that, again, by panic. The shaft was only as wide as her body, the space too small for her to turn around.
Sydney opened her eyes for a moment, but the cold forced her to shut them again. She clutched her gun with one hand while feeling around with the other, her fingers beginning to stiffen. She groped for something, anything she could use to release herself: a drain plug, a pipe she could push against to raise herself up, anything to offer assistance. Finding none, she pushed against her panic, willing her lungs not to give up as they burned and ached for precious oxygen.
Sydney ran her hand up the smooth surface before her, the metal side of the tank. It was relatively thin, giving slightly when she pushed against it. Raising her gun, she crowded her body back against the opposite side of the shaft and pressed the muzzle of the gun against the metal. If she could shoot a hole in it and let the water out, she might have a fighting chance.
Sydney instinctively turned her face away and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing. The damn gun was still jammed.
With nothing left to keep her from panicking, Sydney began to beat on the metal, her fists striking determinedly even though her fingers were completely numb. She let out a frustrated cry, the sound dispersing into the water, traveling no further than her own ears.
Her lungs unable to hold out any longer, Sydney slowly opened her eyes and exhaled deeply. Just as she was about to let go, the memory of her mother trying to shield her flashed in her mind, followed by a sharp recollection of years ago, an image of Vaughn, his lips pressed to her neck as he cradled her in his protective arms. It was a nice thought to have and Sydney gave herself over to it, the bittersweet memory of his affection a lovely way to usher her into unconsciousness, her mind fading to black.
Resigned to her fate, Sydney didn't notice the two strong hands that suddenly gripped her ankles and yanked her upwards. She was limp, her body offering no resistance as she was pulled from the icy depth, her clothing saturated, her fingers blue and locked around the butt of her pistol.
Jack struggled to quickly extract Sydney from the frigid water, holding her against his body as he lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were closed, her lips purple, water cascading down her cheeks as it poured from her sodden hair.
"Sydney!" Jack called her name loudly, laying her down on the grimy linoleum, prying the useless weapon from her hand. He patted her cheeks, shocked at how cold they were. "Sydney, wake up," He demanded just before he pressed his ear to her chest. He heard her heart beating faintly, but she didn't appear to be breathing. Jack immediately closed his lips around hers, breathing hard into her mouth.
A few short rounds of rescue breathing was all it took for Sydney to violently gasp, coughing out water, gagging on the liquid as it forced its way from her throat. Jack rolled her to her side, allowing her to clear her mouth. She breathed in deeply, gulping in air as her eyes sprang open. She was groggy, her mind cloudy.
"C'mon, sweetheart, let's go," Jack yanked off his suit jacket and draped it around Sydney's shoulders as he held her upright, her limp arms hanging at her sides.
"Mom," Sydney moaned as Jack stood up slowly, his daughter in his strong arms.
"She's gone," Jack said, not without a degree of disdain. He stepped over the lifeless body of Kudar Mujari and carried his daughter back through the kitchen and out a side door that led them into an alley behind the hotel.
In a matter of minutes, Jack pushed through the door to their room, careful to lock it behind them. He knew they couldn't stay there for long; undoubtedly the hotel management and local authorities would be quick to investigate. The CIA frowned on such attention and Jack knew they had to make a hasty escape. First and foremost, however, his concern was for his daughter.
Jack carried Sydney into the bathroom and set her gingerly in the bathtub. Ignoring the ache in his arms, he removed his suit coat from her shoulders and turned on the shower, turning the faucet as far toward the "H" as it would go. The hot water poured over Sydney and she involuntarily gasped, seeming to come around as the heat spread from her head down to her feet.
Jack grabbed Sydney's luggage and pulled out clean, dry clothes.
"Sydney, you need to change your clothes," Jack coaxed. "I'm going to do the same and then we have to get out of here."
"What about Mom?" Sydney asked, her voice small, her eyes searching her father's face.
Jack frowned. "I have an idea of where she might be heading. We'll talk about it on the plane," He directed. "Right now - change your clothes." Jack left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Jack went to his suitcase, starting to unbutton his damp dress shirt. Just as he was pulling it off, his satellite com-link began to chirp. He grabbed it from the bag, slipping it over his ear, adjusting the small microphone before activating the device.
"Jack Bristow."
"Jack, this is Kendall. You need to return to LA immediately."
Jack looked at his watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning in LA. He was more than a little perplexed to be hearing from Kendall at this hour.
"Derevko evaded us," Jack replied. He continued to root through his suitcase as he spoke. "We're catching a flight to Moscow. I have a feeling- "
"You're catching a flight to LA," Kendall interrupted. "They're waiting for you at the airstrip."
"Time is of the essence here, Kendall. Derevko is-"
"Jack," Something in Kendall's voice roughly grabbed Jack's attention. "You must return immediately."
Jack was almost afraid to ask. "Why?"
"It's about Sydney," Kendall said, his tone softening. "Dr. Wick alerted me. Something slipped through her original blood work that they just now discovered."
Jack forgot about his suitcase and glanced back over his shoulder at the bathroom door. He heard the shower shut off, a groan as Sydney pulled herself to her feet. "What is it?" He queried, his pulse quickening.
"Jack," Kendall sighed. Static on the line crackled and popped as he waited what seemed an eternity to continue. "Sydney needs to report to medical services right away."
******
A/N: That sound you hear is me heaving a huge sigh of relief to finally be posting this chapter after five weeks of intense writer's block brought on by pressures at work and the sometimes-wonderful-sometimes-not daily existence we call life. Please review me - let me know if all the money I spent on stress relief aroma therapy candles was worth it.
