Can you hear it,
A cry to be free?
But I'm forever under lock and key.
************
He can hear Sydney and Vaughn above him, treading quietly through the dark facility. He's on the lab floor, gun drawn, threading his way instinctively through the complex machinery and endless counters. The catwalk above stops creaking, and he knows they have reached the servers on the far side. All he needs now are two minutes. Two minutes of cover, and they can escape safely, the mission successful. Two minutes until he can get what he came for.
Too late. He hears a shuffling sound on the other side of the lab and whips around to face it, willing his arms to hold his weapon steady. A shot makes all three of them jump; it ricochets off the catwalk railing in a shower of sparks.
Jack fires once, twice, peering into the green-tinted darkness and knowing their attacker has already taken cover. He dives behind the nearest counter almost before the second shot is off. The catwalk above is silent. The return shot misses him wildly; their attacker clearly has no idea where he's stationed. He crawls slowly to the opposite end of the counter, peering around the corner. The night-vision goggles reveal objects, but not depth. He wishes he could take them off, searching the shadows, instinctively finding the one spot that's darker than dark. But his eyes would never adjust quickly enough. Instead, he relies on his ears, listening for a shuffle, a step, a breath. He hears nothing.
Thirty seconds go by. Forty-five. And he hears it. A sound, a mere shadow of a footstep, the kind you hear alone at night without knowing whether it was your imagination. It's directly behind him.
His body tenses; he dares not move. Surprise is his only option. He lifts the gun again, pretending to aim it at a target across the room. His left hand slips stealthily down, reaching inside his vest. His fingers close around a long, slender device, disguised as a pen. It contained three darts; he used two to take out the guard at the gate. He slides it out of his pocket and slowly down, until his left hand rests against his leg. He presses the button and it fires, past his leg and directly behind him. The aim was nonexistent, but it's enough. He hears the thunk of a person diving for cover and darts toward the closest machinery, taking cover amongst the multiple mechanical arms. The first attacker fires another shot in his direction; it's closer this time. He takes one shot in front of him and whirls quickly to place two behind him, darting behind the computer bank to his left. In front of him, another shot glances off the catwalk, followed by one that goes high and shatters a light fixture above the server. No sounds come from behind.
Another pause. Fifteen seconds, thirty. The download should almost be complete. He takes another shot in the dark, hoping to flush the attacker out. He sees only a green landscape of lab equipment. Above, he hears the sudden rush of footsteps along the side balcony. Shots fire down to the lab floor, close to the area where he was originally aiming. A return shot comes simultaneously with the crash of one of the eastern windows, and Jack fires four rounds to the far side of the lab, close enough this time that the firing pauses as two black-clad figures disappear through the shattered glass. There's a clatter and more shuffling on the lab floor, and he sees a moving form for just a moment as it dives through the east lab doors. Its heavy footsteps break into a run on the other side.
Jack waits, counting the seconds in his mind. Forty-five, sixty. One hundred and twenty-seven seconds later, he hears it again. The stealthy shadow of a footstep, close to the north lab door. He waits, his muscles beginning to ache, and lets one hundred and twenty more seconds pass before he follows.
He rips off the goggles as he creeps down the hall, his eyes slowly adjusting to the blackness. He strains his ears with every step, so focused now he has forgotten the pounding in his head and the dryness in his throat. He feels, rather than sees, the sharp turn of the corridor and then the small passage branching off to the side. He follows it, his hand trailing along the wall. He counts three, four, and five gaps, and on the sixth comes to a stop. More slowly than possible, with every nerve screaming, he steps into the open doorway. He sees it, a spot blacker than black, a shapeless silhouette he recognizes even in his dreams. Raising his weapon, he announces himself with the click of a semiautomatic slide.
"Raise your arms and don't move." He steps cautiously inside, running one hand along the wall. He feels the gap of the first window and pulls the shade. It snaps up, sending a pale shaft of moonlight across the room. He sees her now, just as he sees her in his dreams, standing half in shadow and half in light. Her arms are stretched out before her, her gun aimed at his head.
"Drop it."
"You first."
Neither moves.
"Your agents have what they came for. Drop the gun, and I'll let you leave."
"Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that."
"Believe what you want. That's my offer."
"I have a better idea."
She does not answer.
"We'll find the schematics in the files we downloaded, one way or another. Give me the names of the specific dummy files we need, and I'll let you leave."
"I'm not going to play games with you, Jack."
"I'm having a difficult time accepting that."
The corner of her mouth twitches. "You know, I enjoyed Panama."
His grip on the gun tightens, but does not waver.
"If you're trying to make me nostalgic, you've miscalculated."
"Too bad, I was hoping for angry."
"If you're wondering whether I'm angry enough to pull the trigger, I suggest you drop your weapon."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Your associate was trying to kill Sydney tonight. We both question your idea of 'fun'."
Her lips press together, thin and tight.
"I would never attempt to harm Sydney."
"Certainly not by shooting her."
"If I go through that door, without dropping my weapon, you can keep yours trained on me until I reach the end of the hall."
"No."
"You have a better idea?"
"Yes. Take off your earring."
"What?"
"Take off your earring. Toss it over to me."
"Why?"
"Insurance."
"That you won't shoot me?"
"That you'll follow my instructions."
"Which are?"
"Meet me Tuesday at 3:15 by the Emerald Bay Marina. I'm sure you'll remember the spot."
"I am not walking into a CIA ambush."
"You'll give me the names of the dummy files, and I'll return your property."
"Why would I agree?"
"Because neither of us is dropping our gun, and I'm your only link to Sydney."
Her eyes flash, but one hand reaches up for her ear. The tiny object slides across the floor, glinting in the moonlight.
"Now the other one."
"One is enough."
"Probably. But I want both."
"I'm leaving now." She walks to the door, slowly, one arm pivoting as she moves, the gun remaining fixed on his head. He allows her out the door, listening as her footsteps fade down the hall. Only then does he bend down, picking up a tiny, glinting object from the floor.
…..
"Dad!"
"Jack!"
"Where have you been?"
"I followed one of Sloane's men out of the lab. I tried to follow him to his rendezvous point, but I lost him in one of the corridors."
Sydney's eyebrows arch, but she doesn't press further.
Vaughn glances back to his computer screen. "Were you able to find anything else?"
"Nothing."