* * * *
"I can't believe that this is the most feasible approach your people were able to come up with," Sark muttered.
"Shut up," Jack replied through clenched teeth and a fake smile as they drew near the receptionist's desk. "Godaften. Jeg hedder Frederick Brenner," he said to the woman as she looked up at them politely. "We're here to see Mr. Kronsberg. We have a two-thirty appointment." Marshall had hacked the Danish firm's intranet to insert their names into the corporate calendar and the woman smiled back at them brightly.
"Yes, Mr. Brenner. If you'll just sign in here." She pointed to the appropriate line on the clipboard then turned her attention toward Sark. "And you...?"
"My personal assistant," Jack said, hoping that the boy at least had the grace to not be smirking right now. He was admittedly relieved to see that Sark had managed to conjure up a suitably mild expression as he signed in as well. They accepted their visitors' passes and walked through the metal detectors. The guard inspected Jack's laptop and both of their cell phones before ushering them on to the elevator.
"I still think this plan is needlessly complicated," Sark said when the doors had closed.
"And how would you have done it differently?"
"Through the garage level and up the service elevator."
"Guards?"
"Trank darts."
"Elevator card?"
"Stolen from one of the aforementioned guards."
"And if an unconscious guard is discovered before you're finished?"
Sark shrugged as he followed Jack off the elevator. "At least they wouldn't know who they're looking for. Unlike those of us on this mission who just stood still for three minutes at the front desk and posed for their security cameras."
"And how would you have handled the rest of the internal security cameras?" Dixon's voice crackled over their earpieces. He was currently monitoring those very cameras from a surveillance post set up in the building next-door. "The hallway is clear for about ninety seconds," he added.
"Short-range EMF disruptor," Sark replied.
"And the electronic locks?" Jack asked, waving one of Marshall's skeleton cards at the boy before sliding it into the panel beside the laboratory's door.
"Presuming that I didn't have Mr. Flinkman on my personal payroll, I suppose it could be done the old-fashioned way - descramblers."
"That would take more than the minute and a half you'd have in this hall," Jack pointed out as they entered the lab.
"Trank darts," Sark said again with another shrug.
"You can't solve all your logistics problems by shooting people."
"It's worked fairly well so far." He sat down at one of the terminals. "Bay three," he called to Jack after a few moments of tapping at the keyboard. "The prototypes should be in bin seventeen."
Another of Marshall's keycards opened the bay's door and Jack quickly located the system components that they'd come to disable. Sark joined him and they began opening the casings of each of the devices.
"You wouldn't have had time to sabotage all of these with a one-man mission," Jack said as they worked to remove and replace the essential chips.
"True," Sark replied. "But I wouldn't be bothering to substitute defective chips. Simply stealing the originals could be done quickly enough."
"Short-sighted," Jack shook his head. "This substitution will gain us a few extra days at the least. A few weeks if we're lucky."
"Wouldn't be an issue. I shot a guard on the way in, remember? They would know someone had been here anyway."
"Doubly short-sighted then."
"Three days wouldn't matter one way or the other. My plan is faster, more efficient, and less risk to fewer people. From a purely economic point of view, it's the cheapest means to the highest yield."
"You'd resell the chips."
"Of course. And a one-man job doesn't require splitting the profits. Done."
"Done."
"Hold your position," Dixon stopped them. "The guard is sweeping your hallway right now... Okay, go."
"For what you intend to accomplish," Jack said as they rode the elevator back to the lobby. "It's a reasonable plan. For what we intend to accomplish, however, it's a little inadequate."
"You're entirely too accustomed to having a governmental budget at your disposal. When you're having to front operational costs on your own account, sometimes the short-term gains are preferable to the mid-term benefits."
"Just out of curiosity," Dixon asked. "How much profit would you estimate that you could make on those chips?"
"Five million apiece if I could sell them fast enough."
"You are keeping an eye on him, aren't you, Jack?"
"Both of them. We'll meet you at the rendezvous point in forty-five minutes."
* * * *
Jack and Sark reached the rendezvous location rather quickly. Dixon hadn't arrived yet and pick-up wasn't scheduled for another twenty-five minutes. Jack continuously scanned the shadows of the dim warehouse, far past second and even third thoughts about the prudence of the imminent unsanctioned assignation. Sark had sensed his unease and stood mutely beside him, hands jammed into his coat pockets, scanning with the same edgy intensity although Jack knew that he had no idea what he was looking for. There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath and Jack realized that the boy had discovered it after all.
"That's not playing fair, athair," Sark said softly as Jack followed his line of sight.
Irina Derevko stood at the edge of the shadows, waiting expressionlessly for a signal to either approach or depart.
* * * *
"I can't believe that this is the most feasible approach your people were able to come up with," Sark muttered.
"Shut up," Jack replied through clenched teeth and a fake smile as they drew near the receptionist's desk. "Godaften. Jeg hedder Frederick Brenner," he said to the woman as she looked up at them politely. "We're here to see Mr. Kronsberg. We have a two-thirty appointment." Marshall had hacked the Danish firm's intranet to insert their names into the corporate calendar and the woman smiled back at them brightly.
"Yes, Mr. Brenner. If you'll just sign in here." She pointed to the appropriate line on the clipboard then turned her attention toward Sark. "And you...?"
"My personal assistant," Jack said, hoping that the boy at least had the grace to not be smirking right now. He was admittedly relieved to see that Sark had managed to conjure up a suitably mild expression as he signed in as well. They accepted their visitors' passes and walked through the metal detectors. The guard inspected Jack's laptop and both of their cell phones before ushering them on to the elevator.
"I still think this plan is needlessly complicated," Sark said when the doors had closed.
"And how would you have done it differently?"
"Through the garage level and up the service elevator."
"Guards?"
"Trank darts."
"Elevator card?"
"Stolen from one of the aforementioned guards."
"And if an unconscious guard is discovered before you're finished?"
Sark shrugged as he followed Jack off the elevator. "At least they wouldn't know who they're looking for. Unlike those of us on this mission who just stood still for three minutes at the front desk and posed for their security cameras."
"And how would you have handled the rest of the internal security cameras?" Dixon's voice crackled over their earpieces. He was currently monitoring those very cameras from a surveillance post set up in the building next-door. "The hallway is clear for about ninety seconds," he added.
"Short-range EMF disruptor," Sark replied.
"And the electronic locks?" Jack asked, waving one of Marshall's skeleton cards at the boy before sliding it into the panel beside the laboratory's door.
"Presuming that I didn't have Mr. Flinkman on my personal payroll, I suppose it could be done the old-fashioned way - descramblers."
"That would take more than the minute and a half you'd have in this hall," Jack pointed out as they entered the lab.
"Trank darts," Sark said again with another shrug.
"You can't solve all your logistics problems by shooting people."
"It's worked fairly well so far." He sat down at one of the terminals. "Bay three," he called to Jack after a few moments of tapping at the keyboard. "The prototypes should be in bin seventeen."
Another of Marshall's keycards opened the bay's door and Jack quickly located the system components that they'd come to disable. Sark joined him and they began opening the casings of each of the devices.
"You wouldn't have had time to sabotage all of these with a one-man mission," Jack said as they worked to remove and replace the essential chips.
"True," Sark replied. "But I wouldn't be bothering to substitute defective chips. Simply stealing the originals could be done quickly enough."
"Short-sighted," Jack shook his head. "This substitution will gain us a few extra days at the least. A few weeks if we're lucky."
"Wouldn't be an issue. I shot a guard on the way in, remember? They would know someone had been here anyway."
"Doubly short-sighted then."
"Three days wouldn't matter one way or the other. My plan is faster, more efficient, and less risk to fewer people. From a purely economic point of view, it's the cheapest means to the highest yield."
"You'd resell the chips."
"Of course. And a one-man job doesn't require splitting the profits. Done."
"Done."
"Hold your position," Dixon stopped them. "The guard is sweeping your hallway right now... Okay, go."
"For what you intend to accomplish," Jack said as they rode the elevator back to the lobby. "It's a reasonable plan. For what we intend to accomplish, however, it's a little inadequate."
"You're entirely too accustomed to having a governmental budget at your disposal. When you're having to front operational costs on your own account, sometimes the short-term gains are preferable to the mid-term benefits."
"Just out of curiosity," Dixon asked. "How much profit would you estimate that you could make on those chips?"
"Five million apiece if I could sell them fast enough."
"You are keeping an eye on him, aren't you, Jack?"
"Both of them. We'll meet you at the rendezvous point in forty-five minutes."
* * * *
Jack and Sark reached the rendezvous location rather quickly. Dixon hadn't arrived yet and pick-up wasn't scheduled for another twenty-five minutes. Jack continuously scanned the shadows of the dim warehouse, far past second and even third thoughts about the prudence of the imminent unsanctioned assignation. Sark had sensed his unease and stood mutely beside him, hands jammed into his coat pockets, scanning with the same edgy intensity although Jack knew that he had no idea what he was looking for. There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath and Jack realized that the boy had discovered it after all.
"That's not playing fair, athair," Sark said softly as Jack followed his line of sight.
Irina Derevko stood at the edge of the shadows, waiting expressionlessly for a signal to either approach or depart.
* * * *