Sark and Dixon were the only ones sitting at their desks as Jack walked out of Sloane's office. Sydney had taken the day off. Nodding good-bye to Dixon, Jack left the office. It was late. Shuffling papers, Sark watched Jack leave. Saying goodbye to no one, missed by no one, Sark grabbed his jacket and left. It would be simple, he assured himself, heading to his car. He was better than Jack. He didn't have a family. He wasn't attached to anything. He wasn't weak. Turning up the radio, Sark started to relax and left the building.
Leaning down to answer his cell phone. Jack instinctively sped up towards the CIA office.
"Hello?" Jack answered.
"Where are you? I talked to you and hour and a half ago and you said you would be right there," Kendall shouted.
"Sloane needed my help on a project. This was the soonest I could leave. I'll be there in 10 minutes."
"Just get here, Jack. I'm sick of waiting." Kendall complained, hanging up.
The late afternoon sun blared into Jack's eyes. He pulled down the visor mirror in an attempt to block the light. Glancing in the mirror, his heart jumped seeing the same black car he noticed earlier was still five cars behind him. He turned right and the black car followed. He reached for his gun. He banked a hard right and entered a narrow abandoned alley. Barely missing the boxes and piles of trash piled against the brick walls, he returned to a side street still leading to the CIA. He was the only car on the road. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and continued on his way.
Drumming the steering wheel, Sark softly sang along to his favorite song but barely just incase anyone saw. It would ruin his reputation. Jack was no longer in front of him. He laughed at how long it took Jack to notice him following him. That explained why Sydney and Dixon all ways went on all of SD-6's missions. Jack would fail everyone of them. Turning into the CIA parking garage, an old man slowly walked up to him.
"May I see you ID, sir?" the man asked kindly.
Reaching under his jacket, Sark drew his gun and fired one shot. Driving around the crumpled body of the man , he caught sight of Jack leaving his car. Grabbing the gun from his seat, he got out and approached Jack.. Hearing the gun click, Jack froze.
"Mr.Bristow," the familiar-British voice greeted, "A person can only be successful at losing a tail if they were in fact actually being followed. Unfortunately for you, I was meeting you. Now I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to."
"And what would that be, Sark?" Jack responded, his hand frozen inches from his gun, a wasted attempt.
"Just get in the car. I don't suppose your Kendall would want blood all over his precious facility."
"Is that a threat?"
"No it was a compliment," he muttered sarcastically. Without a second thought, Sark slammed his gun against the back of Jack's head. Slumping to the ground, Sark dragged his body into the car and drove away.
Jack woke to a throbbing pain in his neck and a dull numbness in he legs. Opening his eyes, he looked around. The room was dark and apparently he was alone. It was eerily silent in and around the room. He was strapped to a table but his legs were strapped higher up causing the blood flow to his legs to be significantly less. That explained the numbness, he frowned. The pain in his head was a dull painful throbbing. His vision blurred. He struggled to stay alert.
"Mr.Bristow," Sark entered, slamming the door. Jack's head throbbed even worse. "I know you have the mirror so this is quite pointless really, just a simple phone call can clear this all up. I'm sure you'd like to leave no worse off then you arrived and all I want is the mirror which serves no purpose to you, so if you would kindly just call those in possession of it and have it dropped off, this could all be cleared up." Jack made no move to respond. Raising his voice, he continue, "Jack, I'm not a big fan of the whole torture thing. It's a waste of time if you ask me. A gun against one's head seems to be much more effective, wouldn't you agree?"
"Why should I help you?" Jack whispered.
"Help me? It's not me you need to help. I'm sure Sloane will be thrilled when he finds out his little Sydney is a double agents for the CIA."
"Leave her out of it, Sark. She means nothing to you."
"True, but that's not the issue," he responded, holding out the cell phone, "What will it be Jack?"
"Never," he glared.
"Don't say I didn't offer," Sark smiled. He was enjoying this way to much. He took his gun, and fired.
Leaning down to answer his cell phone. Jack instinctively sped up towards the CIA office.
"Hello?" Jack answered.
"Where are you? I talked to you and hour and a half ago and you said you would be right there," Kendall shouted.
"Sloane needed my help on a project. This was the soonest I could leave. I'll be there in 10 minutes."
"Just get here, Jack. I'm sick of waiting." Kendall complained, hanging up.
The late afternoon sun blared into Jack's eyes. He pulled down the visor mirror in an attempt to block the light. Glancing in the mirror, his heart jumped seeing the same black car he noticed earlier was still five cars behind him. He turned right and the black car followed. He reached for his gun. He banked a hard right and entered a narrow abandoned alley. Barely missing the boxes and piles of trash piled against the brick walls, he returned to a side street still leading to the CIA. He was the only car on the road. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and continued on his way.
Drumming the steering wheel, Sark softly sang along to his favorite song but barely just incase anyone saw. It would ruin his reputation. Jack was no longer in front of him. He laughed at how long it took Jack to notice him following him. That explained why Sydney and Dixon all ways went on all of SD-6's missions. Jack would fail everyone of them. Turning into the CIA parking garage, an old man slowly walked up to him.
"May I see you ID, sir?" the man asked kindly.
Reaching under his jacket, Sark drew his gun and fired one shot. Driving around the crumpled body of the man , he caught sight of Jack leaving his car. Grabbing the gun from his seat, he got out and approached Jack.. Hearing the gun click, Jack froze.
"Mr.Bristow," the familiar-British voice greeted, "A person can only be successful at losing a tail if they were in fact actually being followed. Unfortunately for you, I was meeting you. Now I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to."
"And what would that be, Sark?" Jack responded, his hand frozen inches from his gun, a wasted attempt.
"Just get in the car. I don't suppose your Kendall would want blood all over his precious facility."
"Is that a threat?"
"No it was a compliment," he muttered sarcastically. Without a second thought, Sark slammed his gun against the back of Jack's head. Slumping to the ground, Sark dragged his body into the car and drove away.
Jack woke to a throbbing pain in his neck and a dull numbness in he legs. Opening his eyes, he looked around. The room was dark and apparently he was alone. It was eerily silent in and around the room. He was strapped to a table but his legs were strapped higher up causing the blood flow to his legs to be significantly less. That explained the numbness, he frowned. The pain in his head was a dull painful throbbing. His vision blurred. He struggled to stay alert.
"Mr.Bristow," Sark entered, slamming the door. Jack's head throbbed even worse. "I know you have the mirror so this is quite pointless really, just a simple phone call can clear this all up. I'm sure you'd like to leave no worse off then you arrived and all I want is the mirror which serves no purpose to you, so if you would kindly just call those in possession of it and have it dropped off, this could all be cleared up." Jack made no move to respond. Raising his voice, he continue, "Jack, I'm not a big fan of the whole torture thing. It's a waste of time if you ask me. A gun against one's head seems to be much more effective, wouldn't you agree?"
"Why should I help you?" Jack whispered.
"Help me? It's not me you need to help. I'm sure Sloane will be thrilled when he finds out his little Sydney is a double agents for the CIA."
"Leave her out of it, Sark. She means nothing to you."
"True, but that's not the issue," he responded, holding out the cell phone, "What will it be Jack?"
"Never," he glared.
"Don't say I didn't offer," Sark smiled. He was enjoying this way to much. He took his gun, and fired.