* * * *
Jack studied the men around the table as Kendall briefed them on their latest assignment. Marshall was fidgeting nervously and Jack cast a quick glance at the seat across from him. Sark gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look as if to say, "I didn't do anything". Jack resisted a sigh. It was probably true. Just being in the same room with the boy was enough to give Marshall hives. As a gesture of goodwill, Sark flashed Marshall a bright reassuring grin that was anything but. The engineer sloshed his coffee in agitation and Jack gave the boy another warning glare. Sark's smile was utterly unrepentant as he made a quiet show of folding his hands carefully on the table and turning his attention dutifully toward Kendall. Jack resisted another sigh and for the moment he was thankful that he had not been responsible for raising this boy after all. He was beginning to suspect that one or the other of them would not have survived.
He turned his focus to the man seated beside Marshall. Tippin was no more comfortable in this situation than Marshall was. Whereas Marshall's fear of Sark was tempered with curiosity though, Tippin's was mixed with anger. Recollecting Will's condition after being abducted and ransomed by Sark a couple of years ago, Jack could hardly blame him. Seeing Will was always a good reminder, he thought regretfully, of just what his son was capable of doing. It was encouraging to know how resilient the one-time reporter was however. He had adapted to a career as a CIA analyst rather quickly and in the past year had become a common fixture at many lower level meetings. Jack doubted the wisdom of having him at this particular briefing, but Kendall had thought that his input would be valuable. Tippin hadn't met Sark's eye throughout his presentation, a tactic that Marshall would have done well to emulate.
Beside Sark sat Dixon, already a veteran of several previous missions with the boy. He had no fear, but harbored a healthy skepticism about Sark and appeared to be resigned to working with him once again. He had merely given Jack a knowing look as Kendall began to outline their mission and shaken his head in unenthusiastic acceptance. As he had predicted several weeks earlier, Sark had found a way around the poison capsule… although the alternative wasn't entirely to his liking either.
"It's not really my style," Sark said, frowning critically at the box and its contents.
"I tried to make it as tasteful as possible," Marshall explained hurriedly. "You know, Harrison Ford has one just like it. Well, not just like it because I'm pretty sure that his doesn't transmit and receive radio waves. It might, but… no, probably not." He took the box back out of Sark's hands. "I based this on the earrings that your… ahem, sorry… The earrings that Derevko, your former employer gave to Sydney, her daughter…" He paused briefly, his gaze darting nervously from Sark's slightly bored expression to Jack's equally impassive one. "Right, anyway… There are a few modifications of my own. This earring is an all-in-one combo of voice transmitter, receiver, and passive tracker. And I wouldn't try to remove it yourself without this handy device," he waved another small piece of electronic equipment at the boy. "Or you'll be doing a very messy Van Gogh impersonation and probably be deaf in that ear… er, the remains of that ear for the rest of your life."
Sark scowled at him. "I thought we'd agreed to no C4 accessories?"
"Um, no… you sort of asked for that, but it was kind of overruled. Don't get me wrong. I mean, you're still intimidating as hell, and believe me, annoying you is one of the last things I want to do. But he…" Marshall pointed over his shoulder at Kendall. "He can fire me, and frankly that's something that I'd rather not have to explain to my mother."
"Marshall, would you just put the damn thing in his ear?" Kendall interrupted.
"Sure, sure." The engineer fumbled with the box for a moment. "Just have to… Here, hold this for a minute while I…" He handed Sark a hypo-gun, much to the chagrin of several of the room's other occupants. "Relax," he told them, still tugging at the earring in the case. "It's not like it's loaded or anything. I just have to… Got it… Just have to put this in there, and then line it up." He had taken the gun back, loaded the C4 stud, and now stood with it aimed straight-armed at Sark's head. "I'm not really a professional at this or anything and I don't want to hurt you…"
"I'll do it," Will volunteered cheerfully. "I don't mind."
Sark mouth twisted into a smirk. "Still a bit resentful about Taipei, Mr. Tippin? How many times do I have to apologize for that unfortunate incident?"
"Once would be a good start."
"Then I do apologize for the inconvenience."
"Inconvenience?" Will said indignantly, rising from his chair even as Jack moved to intervene. "You shot me! I was tortured!"
"No need to take it so personally," Sark replied unperturbed. "I have nothing against you myself. If you'll recall, I never touched you, and I sincerely doubt that tranquilizer dart hurt at all."
Jack was fascinated as well as appalled by the instinctive way that the boy seemed to distance himself from the torment Tippin had endured. Sark seemed to effortlessly shrug off his own responsibility by reasoning that it had not been his decision to abduct Will nor had the actual subsequent torture been his doing. This was the side of his son that disturbed Jack the most - this blithely amoral persona that simply couldn't see anything wrong with what he had done. It troubled Jack to see how easily the jaded operative could overshadow the charming young man and the lonely little boy that also lived behind those clear blue eyes.
"You are not unique, Mr. Tippin," Sark continued. "Every man in this room has had similar disagreeable experiences - and most of us more than you. I suggest that you either get over it or get a new job."
"That's enough!" Kendall said sharply. Jack discovered that he had clamped a hand on Tippin's shoulder to hold him in his seat. Across the table he noted that Dixon had subtly shifted into fighting readiness despite the fact that Sark hadn't twitched a muscle. "I don't care how big a hole you have to put in the side of his head, Marshall. Just do it."
"Yessir, sir," Marshall stammered. "This might sting a little." The hand holding the gun shook unsteadily and Sark raised his own hand to stabilize it.
"Don't worry, Mr. Flinkman. I'll survive this and I promise you will too."
There was a soft pneumatic thump and the snap of the earring's pieces clicking together. The boy's expression never changed.
"There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, it wasn't too…" Marshall's voice trailed off as he realized that Sark was being sarcastic.
"Just remember," Kendall said to Sark as the rest of them rose to leave. "You step one toe out of line and they have authorization to shoot you now- no hearing, no trial. They don't need anything but reasonable cause."
Sark gave him a disingenuous smile. "And here I thought they had always been authorized to shoot me," he said.
Jack put a hand to his back and propelled the boy into the hallway before he could further annoy the director. "One of these days," he hissed at Sark. "Somebody really is going to shoot you out of sheer exasperation and I might just do it myself. That stupid stunt, baiting Tippin…" He regretted the words immediately as Sark choked on strangled laughter.
"I do so enjoy being part of this family," Sark murmured in amusement. "Nothing says love like opening fire on your children. You and Irina really are very well matched."
"And your remarkable sense of self-preservation seems to be fading," Jack said grimly. "You might want to consider revising your tactics."
"Sorry. Point taken. I'll be sitting quietly in the lounge, not baiting anyone, until the mission is ready to depart."
"You'll be sitting silently in my office not doing anything at all until we leave." He frowned at the boy, daring him to make just one more smart remark. Sark seemed to be considering his options before shrugging his capitulation. Jack wondered briefly how Irina had kept his insolent sense of humor in check. It occurred to him that Sark was more afraid of her than he was of him. Considering their current relative positions, Jack wasn't sure whether to be pleased or offended.
* * * *
Jack studied the men around the table as Kendall briefed them on their latest assignment. Marshall was fidgeting nervously and Jack cast a quick glance at the seat across from him. Sark gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look as if to say, "I didn't do anything". Jack resisted a sigh. It was probably true. Just being in the same room with the boy was enough to give Marshall hives. As a gesture of goodwill, Sark flashed Marshall a bright reassuring grin that was anything but. The engineer sloshed his coffee in agitation and Jack gave the boy another warning glare. Sark's smile was utterly unrepentant as he made a quiet show of folding his hands carefully on the table and turning his attention dutifully toward Kendall. Jack resisted another sigh and for the moment he was thankful that he had not been responsible for raising this boy after all. He was beginning to suspect that one or the other of them would not have survived.
He turned his focus to the man seated beside Marshall. Tippin was no more comfortable in this situation than Marshall was. Whereas Marshall's fear of Sark was tempered with curiosity though, Tippin's was mixed with anger. Recollecting Will's condition after being abducted and ransomed by Sark a couple of years ago, Jack could hardly blame him. Seeing Will was always a good reminder, he thought regretfully, of just what his son was capable of doing. It was encouraging to know how resilient the one-time reporter was however. He had adapted to a career as a CIA analyst rather quickly and in the past year had become a common fixture at many lower level meetings. Jack doubted the wisdom of having him at this particular briefing, but Kendall had thought that his input would be valuable. Tippin hadn't met Sark's eye throughout his presentation, a tactic that Marshall would have done well to emulate.
Beside Sark sat Dixon, already a veteran of several previous missions with the boy. He had no fear, but harbored a healthy skepticism about Sark and appeared to be resigned to working with him once again. He had merely given Jack a knowing look as Kendall began to outline their mission and shaken his head in unenthusiastic acceptance. As he had predicted several weeks earlier, Sark had found a way around the poison capsule… although the alternative wasn't entirely to his liking either.
"It's not really my style," Sark said, frowning critically at the box and its contents.
"I tried to make it as tasteful as possible," Marshall explained hurriedly. "You know, Harrison Ford has one just like it. Well, not just like it because I'm pretty sure that his doesn't transmit and receive radio waves. It might, but… no, probably not." He took the box back out of Sark's hands. "I based this on the earrings that your… ahem, sorry… The earrings that Derevko, your former employer gave to Sydney, her daughter…" He paused briefly, his gaze darting nervously from Sark's slightly bored expression to Jack's equally impassive one. "Right, anyway… There are a few modifications of my own. This earring is an all-in-one combo of voice transmitter, receiver, and passive tracker. And I wouldn't try to remove it yourself without this handy device," he waved another small piece of electronic equipment at the boy. "Or you'll be doing a very messy Van Gogh impersonation and probably be deaf in that ear… er, the remains of that ear for the rest of your life."
Sark scowled at him. "I thought we'd agreed to no C4 accessories?"
"Um, no… you sort of asked for that, but it was kind of overruled. Don't get me wrong. I mean, you're still intimidating as hell, and believe me, annoying you is one of the last things I want to do. But he…" Marshall pointed over his shoulder at Kendall. "He can fire me, and frankly that's something that I'd rather not have to explain to my mother."
"Marshall, would you just put the damn thing in his ear?" Kendall interrupted.
"Sure, sure." The engineer fumbled with the box for a moment. "Just have to… Here, hold this for a minute while I…" He handed Sark a hypo-gun, much to the chagrin of several of the room's other occupants. "Relax," he told them, still tugging at the earring in the case. "It's not like it's loaded or anything. I just have to… Got it… Just have to put this in there, and then line it up." He had taken the gun back, loaded the C4 stud, and now stood with it aimed straight-armed at Sark's head. "I'm not really a professional at this or anything and I don't want to hurt you…"
"I'll do it," Will volunteered cheerfully. "I don't mind."
Sark mouth twisted into a smirk. "Still a bit resentful about Taipei, Mr. Tippin? How many times do I have to apologize for that unfortunate incident?"
"Once would be a good start."
"Then I do apologize for the inconvenience."
"Inconvenience?" Will said indignantly, rising from his chair even as Jack moved to intervene. "You shot me! I was tortured!"
"No need to take it so personally," Sark replied unperturbed. "I have nothing against you myself. If you'll recall, I never touched you, and I sincerely doubt that tranquilizer dart hurt at all."
Jack was fascinated as well as appalled by the instinctive way that the boy seemed to distance himself from the torment Tippin had endured. Sark seemed to effortlessly shrug off his own responsibility by reasoning that it had not been his decision to abduct Will nor had the actual subsequent torture been his doing. This was the side of his son that disturbed Jack the most - this blithely amoral persona that simply couldn't see anything wrong with what he had done. It troubled Jack to see how easily the jaded operative could overshadow the charming young man and the lonely little boy that also lived behind those clear blue eyes.
"You are not unique, Mr. Tippin," Sark continued. "Every man in this room has had similar disagreeable experiences - and most of us more than you. I suggest that you either get over it or get a new job."
"That's enough!" Kendall said sharply. Jack discovered that he had clamped a hand on Tippin's shoulder to hold him in his seat. Across the table he noted that Dixon had subtly shifted into fighting readiness despite the fact that Sark hadn't twitched a muscle. "I don't care how big a hole you have to put in the side of his head, Marshall. Just do it."
"Yessir, sir," Marshall stammered. "This might sting a little." The hand holding the gun shook unsteadily and Sark raised his own hand to stabilize it.
"Don't worry, Mr. Flinkman. I'll survive this and I promise you will too."
There was a soft pneumatic thump and the snap of the earring's pieces clicking together. The boy's expression never changed.
"There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, it wasn't too…" Marshall's voice trailed off as he realized that Sark was being sarcastic.
"Just remember," Kendall said to Sark as the rest of them rose to leave. "You step one toe out of line and they have authorization to shoot you now- no hearing, no trial. They don't need anything but reasonable cause."
Sark gave him a disingenuous smile. "And here I thought they had always been authorized to shoot me," he said.
Jack put a hand to his back and propelled the boy into the hallway before he could further annoy the director. "One of these days," he hissed at Sark. "Somebody really is going to shoot you out of sheer exasperation and I might just do it myself. That stupid stunt, baiting Tippin…" He regretted the words immediately as Sark choked on strangled laughter.
"I do so enjoy being part of this family," Sark murmured in amusement. "Nothing says love like opening fire on your children. You and Irina really are very well matched."
"And your remarkable sense of self-preservation seems to be fading," Jack said grimly. "You might want to consider revising your tactics."
"Sorry. Point taken. I'll be sitting quietly in the lounge, not baiting anyone, until the mission is ready to depart."
"You'll be sitting silently in my office not doing anything at all until we leave." He frowned at the boy, daring him to make just one more smart remark. Sark seemed to be considering his options before shrugging his capitulation. Jack wondered briefly how Irina had kept his insolent sense of humor in check. It occurred to him that Sark was more afraid of her than he was of him. Considering their current relative positions, Jack wasn't sure whether to be pleased or offended.
* * * *