Irina's visit galvanized Jack into action. Even with his hands tied behind his back, he thought grimly, he should be able to handle Sloane. He was a strategist, one of the best in the world. Looking back over the past few months with disgust, he realized that he had not even attempted to critically assess his own situation. Sloane had been pulling all the strings; Jack was tired of being a puppet. Fight back.
Sloane had Sydney. But Jack had Il Dire.
Jack applied himself tirelessly to every task that Sloane assigned him. His recommended strategies were creative; his tactics brilliant; his results demonstrable. It was just too bad, he thought to himself with one of his first flashes of humor in months, that he couldn't be everywhere.
Because Sloane was starting to run into trouble. Unforeseen problems began to pop up in unexpected places. Jack would be assigned to work a strategy concentrated on arms traffic through the Ukraine, and Sloane's Central American operation would founder. Sloane would assign Jack to fix the Central American operation and a critical negotiation with an Asian drug lord would fail. It was amazing, Jack thought to himself, how undetectable actions on his part could trigger major problems for Sloane. With the help of Il Dire he had released a few butterflies.
After several months, Sloane concluded the obvious.
"Come in, Jack, come in," instructed Sloane, waving Jack into his office.
Jack casually took a seat and looked at Sloane, cocking an eyebrow. It was Arvin's meeting; he'd let him take the lead.
"Nice job in Poland," Sloane began.
"Thanks," said Jack briefly. He waited for Sloane to move to the real purpose of the meeting. Positive feedback had never been one of Sloane's management skills.
"Jack, I'm beginning to find that the breadth of my current operation is such that I can no longer manage it alone. I'm spending all my time fighting fires."
Jack made half-hearted noises of sympathy.
"I think it's time," said Sloane, "for you to take a bigger role."
**
Finally, Jack thought. Sloane had given him access to his global operations. Jack's strategy was a deceptively simple one – protect Sloane until Sydney recovered, and then ensure that Sloane's entire operation came crashing down from within. Understanding the full scope of Sloane's operations let Jack, with the assistance of Il Dire, create plans that would be enormously successful in the short term for Sloane while creating a long-term weakness he would never suspect.
He spent the following several weeks developing alternate strategies, but always came up against the same roadblock. Any strategy for the future was predicated on the timing of Sydney's recovery. It not only marked Jack's escape, but also signaled the date when he could begin moving against Sloane with impunity.
He needed some help.
Il Dire.
The more experienced Jack became with Il Dire, the more electrical stimulation
his brain could tolerate and the
farther out he could look into the future. The further out he went, of
course, the more scenarios there were to evaluate, the more variables to
assess, and the longer the sessions. He was now stretching up to a year
out, working on some of Sloane's more long-range plans. He could do the
same with his own.
He lay exhausted one day on the table, at the end of a
session, rubbing his eyes in despair. Every option he had looked at, 1
year out, still had Sydney in a coma.
"Crank it up," he said to the technician. "I want to go to
18 months out."
"I don't know, Mr. Bristow," said the technician uneasily.
"The doctors haven't cleared you for that yet." Jack was
beginning to experience physical limits to the amount of time he could spend
merged with Il Dire; too much time and he would end up the session weak and
disoriented. The doctors had told him that his body needed time to build
up its tolerance. Jack was tired of waiting.
"Do it," Jack ordered.
"10 minutes only, Mr. Bristow," replied the technician, looking
nervously at Jack's vital signs.
Jack lay back again, trying to clear his mind. Dear God, let him find an
option. He would do anything. His
frustration mounted as once more he began to run through futures with Sydney
lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
Then -
Sydney lay on the pavement, struggling to stand. Weakly she got to her
feet and looked around confused. She staggered to a phone booth and
placed a call. "This is officer 2300844, calling for connection.
Confirmation: looking glass."
"Stand by," said a woman's voice at the other end of the line.
"This is Kendall."
"I just woke up in Hong Kong. I don't know how long I've been here or how I got here."
Pause. "Hello?" Sydney repeated.
"Get to our safe house at Tsimshatsui as quickly as possible. You remember how to get there?" asked Kendall.
"Of course I do," said Sydney, puzzled.
"I'll make sure they're expecting you."
Jack almost leapt off the table in astonished joy. He had found it.