It's dark and dangerous like a secret,
(Don't tell a soul.)
Fourteen days. Fifteen dreams. Twenty-two drinks, nine briefings, twelve dead-drops and one earring. One damn earring.
It rests in the cheap box on his kitchen table, a strange mixture of insurance and extortion. On the days he stops to look at it, it serves as the focus of more anger than he cares to admit he possesses. So he places yesterday's newspaper on top of it, and he does not stop to look.
He does not jump when the transmission starts, but crosses calmly to the table and picks up the pen and scratch pad he keeps nearby. His hand moves in even strokes as he decodes the message: Tomorrow. Waltham Park. Swingset. 2115.
He sets down the pen with a decisive click, jaw clenching, trying to recall the exact spot in his mind just as he tries to forget the memories associated with it. He fails.
********
A light breeze cools his neck as the gravel crunches loudly beneath his feet. The narrow trail winds and widens, opening on a large clearing centered around a small playground. Wooden beams bound an octagonal play area filled with the same gravel, and the sound reminds him of a hundred afternoons with a hundred identical sounds; children yelling and swingsets creaking and gravel scattering beneath running feet. He remembers skinned knees and blowing on cuts and cotton swabs dipped in hydrogen peroxide. Somehow, he always had the job of prying the gravel pieces out of her tiny shoes, sitting on the balcony with a butter knife as he picked them out, one by one. This place was their backyard, at least until they could afford to move out of the tiny apartment across the street.
"Daddy, Daddy! Look, I found an Easter egg!"
"Let me see that -- well, you certainly did. And a purple one. It matches your dress."
"It does match my dress. And my panties! See?"
Running footsteps crunch through the gravel behind them.
"Sydney! Put down your dress! Jack, stop laughing! How am I supposed to teach her manners if you encourage this?"
"I was hoping you might learn from her."
"Jack!"
His smile fades as he hears the sound of gravel crunching, far down the path. He crosses to the other side of the play area and takes a seat on a bench, positioned so that he can see the spot where the gravel path emerges from the trees. He sees her come in silhouette, the amber-toned lamps lighting the path behind her. The playground is empty now, silent, the children gone with the sunlight. It is not as safe here as it once was.
She approaches him slowly, head still, eyes sweeping from side to side, taking in the area. He performed the same action when he first reached the clearing. She must see nothing to disturb her, because she walks to him and takes a seat at the far end of the same bench. She sits straight, head high, eyes ostensibly studying the playground before them.
"What does Sloane hope to accomplish with the DNA?"
"We've discussed this. I don't know."
"I'm having difficulty believing that."
"Jack, I'm not here to argue with you."
"And I am not here to take your orders. If you don't have any information to give, I have no reason to be here." He rises from the bench, but makes it only two steps.
"Why so bitter, Jack?"
"I am here on a business arrangement. I see no reason to stay."
"I wasn't referring to our arrangement. My sources tell me you've had some trouble at the CIA. Some of it was related to your drinking...again."
His back stiffens, and he turns to face her. "Even if that were true, with such well-placed sources, I'm surprised you would see any point in meeting with me at all."
"You're in a unique position to know about our daughter's life; you're certainly aware of that."
"Are you here to argue with me or to provide information?"
"What information do you want?"
"I've told you."
She sighs, closing her eyes as her head rocks back in frustration. "Jack, there are some things I cannot discuss with you. I'm willing to provide information; are you going to take advantage of that or snip at me for my career path?"
He snorts, but lets the 'career path' slide. "Very well. I would like to know who this well-placed source is."
"I can't reveal that."
"Irina, our arrangement is pointless if you refuse to disclose any worthwhile information."
"Sark will be returning to Germany next week. They've traced the DNA there. The vehicle he's driving will be equipped with a kill switch and a detonator. If any agents attempt to investigate it after he leaves, it will explode. Is that enough for you?"
"If this information proves to be false--"
"It won't. Trust me, don't trust me, that's your choice. It always has been." She rises, prepared to go.
"Irina."
"Yes?"
"Your choice of meeting locations is rather questionable."
The corners of her mouth twitch. "You always loved this park."
"Sydney always loved this park. I was happier when she had an actual backyard. But that wasn't what I was referring to."
"Then what?"
"This is indiscreet, to say the least. And cheaply manipulative. I would have expected more subtlety."
"Perhaps you give me too much credit."
He tilts his head to one side, meeting her gaze in the dim light. It is his only response. She shakes her head slowly after a moment, eyes darting off to the side. One hand reaches up for her neck, absently rubbing a taut muscle. She does not speak, but draws in a slow breath and turns to go.
"Irina."
She freezes, surprised, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
He holds out the cheap cardboard box. "Quid pro quo."
She arches an eyebrow, stepping forward to accept it. Her hand brushes across his as she accepts the box, but he does not react.
"How will I contact you?"
"You won't." For a moment, it looks as if he's about to say something else, he opens his mouth and immediately shuts it again. He holds her gaze, face unflinching. He turns abruptly and strides across the clearing, disappearing into the trees. He doesn't say another word.
She stands for a moment in the clearing, holding the cheap box.
"Mommy, you like my dress, too?"
"Of course I do, Sydney. It's lovely."
"Daddy says I'm lovely."
"Daddy's right."
"Mommy, where did you go?"
"What do you mean, dear?"
"When I was swinging. You went away in the trees. Where did you go?"
"Nowhere, Sydney. I've been right here."
"Were you talking to the bad man?"
"What bad man?"
"The mean one. He came up to us on the swing. He asked where my mommy was. I didn't say anything. You told me never to talk to strangers."
"Good girl, Sydney, good girl."
*******
The van rounds the block slowly, pulling into position in a narrow Sttuttgart alleyway, prepared for a quick exit. Jack maneuvers himself into the only corner of the van not jammed with surveillance equipment, crouching where he still has a view of the nearest satellite feed. Agent Weiss has control of the communications, barking orders from his swivel chair set in the middle of all four consoles. One of Kendall's less subtle reminders of who retains control.
"Boyscout, any activity?"
"Negative."
"Do you have a visual on Mountaineer?"
"Nega -- wait. I can see two people approaching -- it's Sark. I'm following."
Jack and Weiss strain to see the closest sat feed, monitoring the near-empty streets surrounding a small apartment building. Nothing. A steady thud-thud over the comm link reveals Vaughn's hurried footsteps, but little else. Sydney has been radio silent for nearly three minutes.
"Damn."
"Boyscout, is that you?"
"Yes -- I lost the visual; Sark entered a green Volkswagen bus, license LP2111, and pulled out of the parking lot."
"Got it." Jack taps the nearest monitor with his pen, indicating a dark rectangle pulling onto the deserted street.
"Boyscout, we have a visual on the car. Do you have a visual on Mountaineer?"
"Negative."
Weiss sighs. "We're activating her tracker." He flicks several switches, and Jack leans forward imperceptibly, straining to see the tiny green dot go active.
"Oh, man," Weiss breathes. Jack can feel every muscle go taut.
"What, what is it? Do you have contact?" Vaughn's voice grows louder over the comm.
Weiss shakes his head. "Boyscout, return to rendezvous point. I repeat, return to rendezvous point."
"Weiss, what is it? Where's Sydney?"
"She's in Sark's car."