Jack lay back on the table, trying to dampen his misgivings. Get this over with, then get Sydney out of here, he told himself. He didn't flinch as the technician attached the oddly shaped electrodes to his forehead. A low hum emanated from the next room. He had an odd feeling that he had done this before.
"Familiar, Jack?" asked Sloane, correctly interpreting Jack's expression. "When we picked you up with the DiRegno heart, you were hooked up as well, but we needed to keep you sedated. Il Dire needed to be calibrated to your brain waves."
Jack gave Sloane a puzzled look. "Get serious, Arvin. What is this really about?"
"Do you remember what I said to you at the restaurant? That I had thought that Rambaldi's work was the window to the past, but was wrong? Jack, Il Dire's not a window to the past – it's a window to the future."
I've seen things, Jack. Jack looked back at Sloane, alarmed. Was it possible that Sloane had gone mad?
"Thoughts, memories, emotions – they're no more than electric impulses. Il Dire can read these – correction, now that it's calibrated, yours – and amplify them 10 times, 100 times, 1000 times. Can combine them with other data – just additional electrical signals, really – and allow you to project forward at a speed and accuracy you'd never be able to achieve on your own. To anticipate, plan, control the future. Game theory – taken to its logical conclusion."
"You expect me to believe that a 15th century scientist developed the means to see into the future?" Jack asked scornfully. "If that's what this is about," he waved at the wires dismissively, "we can stop right now."
"How do you think I knew Irina would try to double-cross me?" asked Sloane. "I mean," he smiled slightly, "besides the fact that no one in his right mind would trust Irina?"
"She double-crossed you?" Jack asked, momentarily diverted. He schooled his face into a casual expression so that Sloane would not detect his intense interest in the answer.
"She seemed to think that providing the CIA with the location where I was storing the Rambaldi artifacts was a better option than working with me. Why she thought redemption with the CIA was desirable is anyone's guess. Thanks to Il Dire, though, I was able to trade some rusty appliances for the DiRegno heart. Not a bad deal," Sloane finished with satisfaction.
Jack was silent. He was too busy absorbing the fact that Irina had not betrayed them after all. Redemption. Not with the CIA. With Sydney. And perhaps…
"Just trust me, Jack. Lie back and relax. Concentrate on Sydney." Sloane turned to the technician. "Three months," Sloane instructed. The technician adjusted the dial on the control panel.
Jack lay back, faintly irritated. This was ridiculous. He had always suspected that somewhere along the way Sloane had lost his mental balance. Now here he was, as if at a séance, waiting for an apparition to materialize out of thin air.
"What do you see, Jack?"
"Nothing," Jack said with disdain. "You, a technician, and…"
"Open your mind, Jack. Concentrate on Sydney, in the hospital bed…"
Sydney, Jack remembered with a jolt. He must get her to safety. He was worried about her…
Sydney was lying in a hospital bed, one of many patients on the ward. Some were on ventilators, all were hooked up to IV's and monitors; none appeared conscious. A nurse moved tiredly from bed to bed, reacting to monitor alarms, taking vital signs. She looked up at the clock and sighed. Almost on cue, the doors to the ward opened and visitors straggled in. Jack was one of the first through the door. He strode up to Sydney's bed, carrying fresh flowers that he placed in the vase on her nightstand, dumping the wilted flowers in the trash. He talked to her non-responsive form in a conversational tone.
"You're looking better," he said cheerily, swallowing the lump in his throat as he took in her wan face, crumpled nightgown, and unkempt hair. He reached for the hairbrush on the nightstand and lifted her up, tenderly brushing her hair, continuing to chat inconsequentially. He had helped her with her hair when she had been small; he still remembered how. Carefully he lay her back down again.
He looked around for her nurse, who had retreated to the nurses' station at the end of the ward. A small crowd was already gathered around her. Jack strategically maneuvered himself to the front of the group. "I'd like to speak with the doctor," he said coolly.
"I'm sorry, sir, he's away on another ward."
"I'll wait," said Jack uncompromisingly.
"I'll page him," she replied with resignation. She had dealt with Mr. Bristow before, and had little doubt about his willingness to wait.
30 minutes later, a fresh-faced intern approached Jack. "Can I help you, Mr. Bristow?"
"I'd like an update on my daughter's progress."
"Certainly, sir," said the intern, flipping through Sydney's chart. "It looks like the neurologist was here a couple of weeks ago and reported no change."
"A couple of weeks ago?" replied Jack angrily. "That's the last time he was here?"
The intern shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. Bristow, our hospital is allocated 20 hours per week of the neurologist's time. By necessity, he concentrates his efforts where progress is most likely. He did recommend some activities to increase the amount of external stimulation your daughter receives, but to be honest, sir, we're not staffed for that kind of support."
"What are my other options?"
The intern paused, considering. "You could bring in a private nurse, but it's pretty expensive."
Hating himself, Jack asked, "How much?"
"24 hour coverage – about $750 per day."
Jack swallowed, and did the arithmetic. More than $20,000 per month. Three times his salary. He had some savings put away…if he used it all, perhaps 7 or 8 months worth of care…"What does the neurologist say? How long until…how long will she be like this?"
The intern glanced again at Sydney's chart. He looked up at Jack with eyes older than his years. "Mr. Bristow – she could be like this for the rest of her life. I'm sorry."
Sloane's voice intruded. "Skip across, Jack. Skip across – what other futures do you see?" Jack frowned, eyes closed, oblivious to the tear tracks down his face. Other futures? What did he –
Sydney lay in a hospital bed in a brightly lit room, looking almost peaceful as her medical team hovered over her. It was, Jack recognized, the room he had just left in Sloane's hospital. The head physician looked up and smiled as Jack entered. "I have good news for you, Mr. Bristow. We've been trying some experimental approaches with your daughter and we're starting to see progress."
"Has she woken up yet?" asked Jack eagerly.
"Patience, Mr. Bristow. We've started seeing some brain activity in an area that had previously been dormant. It's not conclusive, but it is certainly encouraging."
Sloane stuck his head in the door. "When you're done here, Jack, I need your help planning the next op."
"Any more futures, Jack? You can see them, you know. Open your mind." Jack shifted restlessly. He didn't want to let go of the last one-
Sydney lay still in bed, covered by a flowered duvet, surrounded by pictures of her family and friends. Jack could see that the room was decorated in the style that Sydney's bedroom had been when she was growing up. A nurse sat quietly by her bed.
The nurse looked up, startled, as shots echoed down the hallway, and he watched her flee. Irina ran into the room and moved purposefully, disconnecting Sydney from the various tubes and wires attached to her. She muttered imprecations under her breath. Someone had betrayed her to her enemies, had revealed the spot where she was most vulnerable – by her daughter's side. She would not leave Sydney behind. She just needed a few more minutes to get Sydney ready, then to drag her to safety.
Minutes that she did not have. The door burst open, and gunfire raked both of the room's occupants. Jack watched horrified as Irina slumped dead over Sydney's lifeless body.
"No!" Jack shouted, bolting upright on the table, breathing heavily. With effort he calmed himself, his back towards Sloane.
"Lie back down, Jack," said Sloane soothingly. "Close your eyes again." Reluctantly Jack complied. "Have you seen them all?" came Sloane's voice. Jack cast around in his mind. There was nothing else there. Slowly he nodded.
"Keep all the futures in your mind. Slowly step back in time. You'll find one point in the timeline where they all intersect. Look, Jack."
Suspending disbelief now, Jack did as he was instructed. It was almost like following strings backward until he found the knot that joined them all. He halted. He had found it. He frowned in concentration. Then opened his eyes and looked at Sloane in defeat.
"Now," he said, his throat dry. "It's now. I can take Sydney with me, stay here with you, or ask Irina to help. And that decision leads to three different outcomes."
Sloane nodded. "But it's up to you which future becomes reality, Jack. Stay of your own free will, or not at all."
Jack laughed cynically. "Right. Free will." He closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating what it would cost him to work with Sloane. His honor. His future. And, if Sydney ever woke up, her love. "What's so f*cking important that you need me?" he asked bitterly.
"Il Dire. You just had a glimpse of the future 3 months out. What if I told you that you could do the same for 2, 20, 200 years into the future? I need you to be my radar, Jack."
"You don't need me for that," said Jack flatly. "Surely it works for anyone."
"Oh, but I do need you, Jack. Because you're one of the best game theorists in the world. You can develop, review, and toss out options faster than almost any human. Matched up with Il Dire – you'd be infallible."
"*You* would be infallible," Jack corrected grimly.
"Well, yes, there's a degree of self-interest," Sloane acknowledged.
The thing of it is, you are going to work with me -- sooner than you think. Jack's face contorted in anger as he realized that Sloane had seen this coming. "You b*stard," he whispered. "You knew."
"Knew what, Jack?"
"You knew I would work with you. Knew Sydney would become seriously injured." Jack began to rise from the table, menace again in his eyes.
Sloane raised his hand. Time for a little more pressure, he thought. He almost had him now. "Stop, Jack. For all my crimes, I'm not guilty of this one. Twice I told Sydney that I couldn't protect her if she did not stop pursuing me. It was her decision to stay with the CIA. I knew that she'd be injured, and did everything I could reasonably do to prevent it. You, on the other hand, knew that she ran a real risk of serious injury, but did nothing to stop her."
"She'd be a teacher now if it hadn't been for you," Jack countered through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I don't think so," said Sloane softly, looking at Jack. "Not with the early career counseling you provided."
Jack dropped back down on the table as if he had been physically struck. Dear God, what a father he'd been to the child he'd brought into this world, the one person that had honestly loved him. He remembered when Sydney was small, and believed her father was perfect, that he'd always protect her. How often had he proven her wrong since then? SD-6. Danny. Francie. Would he abandon her again? He rubbed his hand wearily across his eyes. "All right," he muttered.
"All right, what, Jack?" Sloane pressed.
Jack swallowed as the bile rose in his throat. "You win, Arvin. I'm staying."
With difficulty, Sloane suppressed a smile of triumph. "Just so we're clear, Jack. While you're working with me, I'll do everything in my power to help Sydney. But if something happens to me, the funding disappears."
Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement. "I understand," he said in clipped tones.
"And you'd better find a way to call off the hunt for Sydney. If the CIA finds her, the deal's off."
Jack felt the blood drain from his face. There was only one way that the CIA would stop looking for Sydney.