Part Four
"I'm not sure if I want to see her," Sydney said aloud later as they headed into the heart of Bangkok. The four of them sat in the back of a limo for hire.
Sark nodded. "I think it'd be best if only Agent Weiss and I met with Irina." Vaughn started to object, predictably, but Sark pressed on. "I'm not thrilled about leaving you with Sydney, Agent Vaughn, but for our intelligence purposes, the meeting will be more effective without emotional issues."
Sydney scowled at him for that.
"No offense," Sark quickly added with a charming smile. He noticed Weiss sat up straighter at the idea of being included in the meeting.
"Where are we meeting her?" Weiss asked.
"At our hotel. She'll contact me and let us know which room."
They checked into an executive suite. Sark thought it was the best alternative to make sure no one was double crossing each other. That, and there was no way he was letting Sydney share a room with Vaughn (and he doubted Vaughn would let her share a room with Sark).
Vaughn finally gave him a moment's peace by taking a shower. Sark jumped on the opportunity.
He sat next to Sydney, who was relaxing on a couch.
"You seem . . . different," Sark said. Sydney cocked her head to the side.
"How?"
Sark drew in a deep breath. "A bit distant. Beautiful as ever though," he added with a grin. She smiled timidly back.
"I guess maybe it's being put in jail by my own government."
"Tough being betrayed by those you trust and work for?"
She grinned at that. "You know what that's like." She sighed. "I guess I'm just . . . hardened by it."
"I'd be happy to hear out anything you want to say," Sark said. "I want to be there for you. Always."
She had been studying her shoes, but suddenly turned to face him. Her expression—it was amazement, and Sark didn't know why.
"There you are," Sydney whispered. "I'm not the only one who seems hardened since we last saw each other. Just now you seemed like you were in New Zealand. But today, yesterday—you were like you were when we first met."
He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't thought about it, but she was right. He thought about Haladki, and that was evidence proving Sydney's point.
"Blame it on the industry," he said lightly at first. He paused. "In reality, when I heard what happened to you, . . . it infuriated me." Sydney watched him closely. Sark ran a hand through his blond hair. "The CIA raided my house. I just reacted to survive. Then I had to know what went wrong. I found out that one of my sources lied to me, and that just infuriated me even more." He hesitated how much to tell her. "He told me what happened to you. I guess I've been doing what's necessary to ensure our survival."
She didn't answer, but instead leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek. Sark stared at her, willing her to see how much she meant to him. He leaned back toward her, moving for her lips.
"Uh, I am here, you know," came Agent Weiss' voice. Sark stopped mid-air and shot him a look that screamed 'die now.'
"Agent Weiss, you just ruined a perfectly romantic moment." His voice was civil but with enough annoyance to make Weiss hold up his hands in surrender.
Sark's cell phone rang, making all of them jump slightly.
"Hello," he said, his purring accent in full force.
"Room 647." It was Irina, and she hung up almost immediately.
Sark sighed, and got to his feet. "Agent Weiss, it's time to go."
No one answered room 647 when Sark knocked. As weird as that was, Sark didn't feel uptight by it. Weiss covered him as Sark picked the lock, and both entered the room.
It was lit only by one lamp, next to which was a reading table. On that table was a thick manilla envelope. Sark picked it up.
"There's a letter too," Weiss said. Sure enough, under the envelope was a letter, addressed to Sark. He held out his hand for it.
"It would seem that Irina Derevko doesn't trust the CIA," Sark said, heading for the door. He opened it, only to find Vaughn standing there, obviously poised to intrude on the meeting.
"I can't imagine why," Weiss said, staring at his friend.
The four spies started pouring over the envelope's contents. Sark started with the letter Irina left.
Sark–
Obviously, I didn't feel comfortable staying for a personal meeting, but I've gathered everything I could on Sloane. There are some good leads in the envelope and I'll keep pursuing things from my end.
I realize you don't fully trust me, and I don't expect you to. But please watch out for Sydney. I know you care for her, and have her welfare at heart. Keep her safe, especially from Sloane. We don't yet know what will happen with the Rambaldi prophecy.
I'll be in touch.
"Look at this," Sydney said suddenly. She pointed to a surveillance photo. "This was taken in Cairo four days ago."
Sark looked over her shoulder. It was Sloane. Sark thought about what Irina had written. "Have we heard from your CIA about Rambaldi?"
"What do you mean?" Weiss asked.
"Sloane is trying to figure out this Rambaldi destiny of his. The sooner we know what it is, exactly, the sooner we'll be able to find and stop Sloane," Sark answered.
"I'll contact Kendall," Vaughn said.
"Sark, what about this?" Weiss said, picking up a sheet of paper. Sark studied it. On the paper were codes that Irina's team had deciphered.
"Latitude and longitude?" Sark asked aloud. "Agent Vaughn, ask your CIA to figure out where this location is."
Vaughn glared at him, probably because of the order, but complied. Sark overheard him ask for someone named Marshall.
"What do the codes lead to?" Sydney asked. Sark read on.
"Some sort of transportation device."
"Transportation?" Weiss repeated.
Sark shrugged.
"Let's follow the trail and see if we can find out more," Sark said. "But to be efficient, I think it best if we split up."
Vaughn narrowed his eyes. "How?" Sydney jumped in, anticipating the debate.
"Sark and I will try to track down Sloane. I doubt he's still in Egypt. You and Weiss go to Cairo and see what it is Sloane got."
"We'll keep in contact and meet up when we have a firm lead," Sark finished for her.
Vaughn was still glaring, but seemed to be agreeing. "We should leave before the trail in Cairo goes cold."
Is Agent Wrinkles actually cooperating? Sark could hardly hide his shock.
Weiss started to raise a timid hand.
"Yes, Agent Weiss?" Sark called on him like a teacher over a third-grader.
"Well," Weiss began, coughing uncomfortably, "this is a really nice hotel. And we're in the executive suite."
"Have you never been in a nice hotel before?" Sark taunted.
"The CIA works on a budget," Weiss replied. "I'm surprised we were able to stay here." Sark smirked.
"I paid for it. But I'll be sure to pick out an even nicer suite in the future, for your benefit," he said. Weiss's mouth spread in a wide grin.
"All right. Let's get going!"
As they left, Vaughn shot Sark a warning glare, and Sydney a concerned, half-hearted smile.
Sark almost groaned when he saw her smile back at the twit, but let it go.
There was almost an awkward moment when they were finally alone. Sydney tucked her hair behind her right ear.
"You seem nervous," Sark said, hoping she wouldn't see his own nervousness. Sydney moved across the room to get a drink, but Sark knew she was really getting space.
"I'm not sure what I want."
Sark felt his heart skip three beats. "You mean me or the CIA." He started to pace. She didn't answer for awhile.
"Let's not focus on us right now," she said. "I'm going to read over the rest of what's in here."
Sark stared at the floor until he could mask himself. "I'll call for some room service." His jaw was set and his eyes glassy.
They ate and studied in silence.
She fell asleep after midnight, but Sark couldn't sleep.
After everything we've been through . . . She wasn't sure if she wanted to be with him. Sark sat in a chair, watching her as she slept on the bed.
Why on earth is she doubting me now? He thought for sure that the CIA's wrong move would have sent her running to him. Instead, Sark figured she was having some attack of conscience.
But it wasn't a matter of conscience. Or was it?
Sark shook his head. What about leaving her life? That made something dawn on him. Of course. Being with him meant Sydney had to leave everyone she knew behind. The CIA was one thing. But her father, her friends, even Agent Vaughn—leaving them was something else.
Could she leave all that for him? Obviously she doubted that. So the question Sark faced was could he let her go for them.
He thought about another option as they got ready for the next day. He could be with her by leaving his life. But he would have to convince the CIA that he wasn't a threat. That didn't appeal to him; he'd worked hard to seem intimidating, threatening, and just to be Sark. Plus, he'd probably have to work with a bunch of pansies like Vaughn.
No way.
He sighed aloud, drawing a glance from a stern-faced Sydney.
"What's wrong?" she asked. Sark tried his best to look innocent.
"What? Nothing."
Yeah right.