Part Six
Sark touched his head gingerly. A nice butterfly band-aid held together the skin around the gash in his head.
Marshall, who Sark learned was the CIA's tech recruit from SD-6, was bouncing around in front of him, running traces on the psycho doctor's phone calls.
Sydney sat across from Sark, analyzing the latest intel on Sloane and Rambaldi. It wasn't much, and what they really needed was any break from Marshall.
Jack joined the party. Sark sat up a bit straighter.
"You both have been cleared by Medical Services. No signs of the virus," he said. Sark tried not to seem obviously overjoyed at the news.
"What have they learned about the virus?" Sark asked.
"It's similar to Ebola, but faster and more severe. There's no record of it in the CDC's database," Jack answered expressionless. "There's a possibility that the DNA has been altered, but they're still analyzing that."
Something about that jump-started Sark's thinking, but Marshall's babbling interrupted.
"Yes!!" The short man reminded Sark of a racquet ball. He stopped when he realized his audience's impatient stares. "Oh, okay. I, uh, well, this is really cool. I cross referenced the—"
"Marshall, the short version," Jack prompted, his face starting to turn red. Sark smirked.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. One caller to this cell phone made calls from Egypt, Nairobi, and most recently, Spain."
"Egypt and Nairobi would indicate Sloane," Sark said. Marshall snapped his fingers and pointed at Sark.
"Bingo!"
Suddenly, Vaughn and Weiss came in, newly returned from Egypt.
Sark rolled his eyes, but held his tongue.
"What'd we miss?" Vaughn asked. Sark opened his mouth for a smart remark, but closed it after a warning look from both Bristows. He frowned at them both, but stayed quiet.
"We're not infected, the virus is Ebola-like, and Marshall traced Sloane's phone calls," Sydney summed up quickly.
"How'd you guys even get that virus?" Weiss asked, his curiosity peaked.
Sydney took a deep breath. "It was in a syringe that one of Sloane's men was planning on injecting into Sark."
Weiss' jaw dropped, which Sark had to admit amused him.
"And you're not infected?" Weiss asked, turning toward Sark.
"Sydney managed to disarm the man before he had a chance to inject the virus," Sark admitted, somewhat reluctantly.
"That's a shame," Vaughn mumbled. Sark glared at him.
"Just for that, Agent Vaughn, if you ever have the opportunity to be infected with some disease, I'll be sure to hold hostage the antidote." Sark's smirk was the fullest it'd been in awhile.
"Yes!!" It was Marshall again. Sark surveyed the man. He was positively odd, and it was almost baffling.
"What, Marshall?" Jack prompted.
"Sloane's definitely in Spain. The trace is to a coastal residence," he answered excitedly.
Sark cleared his throat, taking the floor for the moment. "We best hurry after him before he moves again."
The agents started filing out of Marshall's hole, but Sark stopped and turned to the nervous man.
"Marshall." He stopped his erratic scurrying and looked at Sark. "Could you keep analyzing the virus? I'd appreciate any updates on it."
Marshall looked flattered at Sark's acknowledgment of his existence. Sark hid a smile, and turned to leave.
Sydney, Agent Vaughn, Weiss and Sark were four hours into the journey to Spain when Sark whipped out his cell phone. He stood and paced to the back of the plane.
He knew the three agents took notice of his movements. Sark could even detect a bit of distrust in their eyes. Even Sydney's.
She'd hardly spoken to him since the hotel in Bangkok. Sark tried to approach her and finish the conversation she was so carefully avoiding. But he hadn't succeeded.
For now, he ignored her by calling her mother.
"I expected you to call sooner," she said, answering. Sark smiled as he turned his back on the agents behind him.
"I apologize. We ran into some trouble in Kenya, but have picked up a trail again."
"Where is Sloane?" Irina asked.
"The coast of Spain. We're en route now," Sark answered. "The weapon Rambaldi mentioned, I think it is biological."
"Did you find something in Kenya?"
"A virus. The CIA is analyzing it still. But it makes me wonder how everything else fits into the prophecy."
He heard Irina breathe, thinking in relative silence. "I'm not sure. I've had little come up on my end."
"There is one thing. Jack Bristow said the virus might have been altered," Sark said. "Could Rambaldi have altered the virus? Would he even have wanted to?"
"Rambaldi's virus, I imagine, would be ready to go, with maybe only some foreseen adjustments."
"So Sloane is modifying it now for his purposes?" Sark asked.
"Possibly," Irina said. There was a pause, and for a moment, Sark thought she hung up. "Right before Sydney . . . left, she stole DNA-related research for me."
"The human genome and DNA database," Sark filled in.
"Yes. It may have some role in the prophecy. Maybe its use is to target someone specific."
Sark started to see the pieces in his mind. "Thank you."
He hung up, and as he turned back around, noticed how the others were still staring at him.
"Eavesdropping, anyone?" he said to them.
"Who were you talking to?" Vaughn demanded. Sark sighed.
"Derevko."
"You're still working for her," Vaughn stated. Sark sighed again and shook his head.
"No, but we have similar interests here," he said as he glanced at Sydney. Thick-headed Vaughn missed it altogether.
"What did she say?" Sydney asked. Sark noticed her brown hair, which looked so soft and rich. It was distracting.
"She had a suggestion for us to pursue. I'll relay it to Marshall." He turned from her again for the call.
Vaughn was quietly talking to Sydney when he hung up. By the look on Weiss' face, it was cheesy talk. As much as it pained him to witness it, Sark let the Twit continue. He felt resigned to his fate as failed suitor—as long as Vaughn kept talking her toward him and the CIA, Sark was fighting an uphill batle.
Sark sat next to Weiss.
"How can you stand this?" Weiss asked. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. Sark ran a hand through his blond hair.
"Stand what?" he asked, though he suspected he knew what Weiss meant.
"Sark," he started, "I'm not blind. I know how you feel about her. And yet you sit and watch her with the competition."
"I thought you and Vaughn were friends, Agent Weiss," Sark said with a smirk.
"We are, but he feels something that she'll never return." Weiss had his attention with that. "I know how my government feels about you. I know how Vaughn feels about you. But Sydney is figuring it all out still."
Sark leaned forward, elbows on knees like Weiss. He stared at the floor, contemplating Weiss' words.
"It's hard for her to decide objectively when she obviously has such strong, and negative, views about me," Sark said slowly.
Weiss snorted at that, making Sark look at him to see what amused him.
"There are a lot of people with very strong views about you. She's just trying to balance them out with her own view."
He was completely serious, which threw Sark off. To think he was having a bonding moment with Agent Twit's sidekick, and about Sydney no less.
"I appreciate your honesty on the matter, Agent Weiss." Sark held out a hand to him. Weiss smiled, shaking it.
"Call me Eric." Weiss stopped, with some thought suddenly crossing his mind. "Hey, what's your name, man?"
Sark laughed, drawing a look from Sydney.
"We're not that close, Eric." With that, he stood and went over to the bar.
Sark fell asleep, something he only realized when he woke up. It took him a moment to gather his bearings. Weiss and Vaughn had crashed as well, but Sydney was awake.
Sark could feel her eyes on him. He sat up, glancing her way. Ha!! She was looking at him.
He tried to play it cool, forcing himself to calmly run a hand through his hair. As he did that though, he realized it was spikier than usual.
Great, bed-head, Sark thought. He smirked at himself. So much for playing it cool.
"Nice hair," Sydney said. She flashed him a grin, and that made Sark light up.
"Thank you. You didn't sleep?" he asked. She shrugged.
"I woke up an hour ago. I've been reviewing the intel." She looked back down at the file in hand.
Oh no you don't, Sark thought. Don't go shutting down on me now.
"That's the first seemingly normal exchange we've had in awhile, Sydney," he said. He knew that may rile her up, but at least if she were agitated, she would act somewhat normal.
Her eyes snapped up to glare at him, but his face had some pressing sincerity that made her soften.
"I'd feel more comfortable reviewing the mission right now."
"You know the mission inside and out. Relax a little," Sark said. She sighed and closed the folder.
"Fine." Her stubborn streak was evident on her face, but after a moment, she gave in. "So what were you and Weiss talking about?"
Sark leaned back in his seat, drawing in a deep breath as he did so.
"You, actually."
She was speechless at that, and Sark had to crack a smile at her expression.
"You can't be terribly surprised. You must know that you're all I think about." He thought about that, and quickly amended: "Well, 85% of my thoughts are about you. I have to admit 15% went to that virus."
She laughed at that, and Sark felt himself relax.
"That was the first time I have ever seen you unnerved," she said.
"That's not true," Sark immediately said. "I'm unnerved whenever I'm around you."
She stopped smiling, and Sark mentally slapped himself for that dramatic comment.
"Sark," Sydney began, "I ... I don't know that we could ever be more than what we are."
"What are we?" Sark asked. She didn't answer. "Friends? Spy-accomplices?"
"I don't know if we would work beyond that," she said carefully. Sark stood up, and he noticed his sudden movement made her recoil.
He froze. "Sydney, I would never hurt you. And I won't let you push me away because you're not willing to risk taking another step."
Weiss snorted in his sleep, drawing distracted glances from both him and Sydney. She spoke lowly but forcefully.
"I have much more to risk than you do, Sark. I don't expect you to understand what, but believe me, I have more to risk." Her eyes were narrow but vibrant with her energy.
Sark knew exactly what she was referring to.
"I'm not the emotionless wall you assume I am, Sydney. I know you have friends and family. I know you have a life that'd be hard to leave." He ran another hand through his hair. "Is that really what's bothering you, or do you still not trust me?"
"How can I trust you? You're unpredictably cold. I never know when you'll be Mr. Sensitive or when you'll be Mr. Assassin!" She huffed out a frustrated sigh. Sark pursed his lips together.
"I have my life and my ways, just like you," he said, his voice low and rumbling. "And I'm not wild about the idea of giving it up, especially to be under the constant, watchful eye of the CIA! But at least I'd consider it, for you."
She looked stunned at that, then stumped. Sark felt his heart race as he waited for her next words.
Vaughn started to stir. Sydney glanced quickly at him, then back at Sark. She sighed.
"This is complicated, Sark. Just . . ." She was hesitating, and Sark saw indecision and felt himself hope. "Just forget it. Don't do me any favors." His heart twisted like a heart attack as she sighed again and went to the front of the plane.
Sark leaned forward on his knees again, studying the floor as he thought and tried to compose himself.
When he looked up, he saw Weiss give him a thumbs-up and a wide, encouraging grin. Sark shook his head.
Weiss clamped down on his lip, giving Sark a stubborn glare. Behind Vaughn's back, Weiss motioned toward Sydney. Sark shook his head almost imperceptibly. Weiss pointed at Sydney again, and mouthed 'go after her.'
Sark glared at his new comrade, but complied. He could feel Vaughn staring at him as he approached Sydney, but ignored him.
She didn't turn to face him. "Sark, leave me alone."
"Look, I know you don't want to discuss this anymore, but I need you to do something for me," Sark said quickly before she could object. She nodded for him to continue. "This line of work requires both of us to do some morally-questionable things. Don't judge me when we're working. Especially when I'm working to help you."
Sydney glared at him, but nodded. Sark turned away from her.
"Sark." He didn't look back, but stopped to listen. "Thank you. For helping me." He nodded, still facing away from her.
The mission was simple, but dangerous: infiltrate Sloane's location, take out any hostiles, apprehend or kill Sloane, and retrieve the virus and delivery system. If necessary, destroy the virus.
Simple. They landed and were en route to the coast.
His cell phone rang.
"Yes," he said calmly while the others watched him.
"Sark." It was Irina. "Did you negotiate immunity with the CIA?"
Random thought. "I—" Hmmm. "No." Never on paper—How did I miss that?
"I know you were probably busy getting Sydney out of jail when you went to them, but really, Sark. I taught you better than that," Irina said. Sark smirked into the phone.
"What do you suspect?"
"It may not come directly from the CIA—maybe NSC instead—but they'll try to trap you, after you've helped them. You have to negotiate immunity for your past actions."
Sark could easily picture Agent Vaughn jumping out of a corner after the mission, saying something like, "Aha!!" and then cuffing him. Sark shook that from his mind.
"I understand. Thank you."
Vaughn shot him a suspicious glare, complete with wrinkled forehead. Sark smiled sweetly.
"Just some advice from my alma mater."
Sloane's location was remote, but very Fort Knox-like. The building was a very classic-looking estate, built right into the cliff above the sea. Access from the road was limited. The heaviest concentration of guards were at the front gate and road access.
Weiss stopped a mile up the road. "I'll monitor from here. It'll take me ten minutes to tap into their feed. If you follow the cliff, you can come from behind the estate."
"Let's mount up," Vaughn said. Sark couldn't hold back a smirk and a laugh at that. Mount up? Who says that!! Even Sydney couldn't hide a smile.
All three had changed into their black tactical gear. Vaughn had a secure container for the virus. Each was armed. Sark had his usual knife, two handguns and several clips of ammunition. He looked around to the others.
"Shall we?"
They started out. The Spanish sun was disappearing into the sea, and Sark appreciated what little light there was. The footing ahead of them was loose and unstable.
Sark had never really climbed free-style. There was always a rappeling rope securing him. Granted, they were climbing across, closer to Sloane's estate. But it still was slightly bothersome that the crashing waves below were mixed with jagged rocks.
Enough! Sark shook doubts and fear away, surprised that it had even surfaced in the first place. He took the lead, ignoring the steep drop below. His hands deftly held on to any crevice in the rocks. He moved quickly but steadily. His feet found holes in the rocks while he pulled himself along.
The sharp edges were tiring his hands, but the gloves helped. Sark felt his foot slip at one point, but caught himself with his hand grips. He checked behind him, and saw Sydney and Vaughn moving pretty steadily.
Suddenly, something made Sark freeze. He melded into the rocks, looking above him. Someone was there. Sark grabbed a pebble and chucked it at Vaughn, getting his and Sydney's attention. He motioned for them to stop.
Whoever it was moved away. Sark climbed up, trying to get a look. He moved inch by inch, silently to not give away their position.
He hadn't realized it but they were already at the edge of the estate. Four guards were in back, circling around. Sark could see several surveillance cameras. He ducked back down behind the rocks and tapped his ear piece.
"Weiss."
"Go ahead."
"Need to know when we're clear to move," Sark said softly.
"Where are you?"
"Northwest corner."
"The cameras do not see that far by the cliffs, but I'll tell you when you have an opening with the guards," Weiss answered. Sark looked to Sydney and Vaughn and they got in position to ascend quickly.
"Okay, five seconds, and you're clear to move into the trees directly east of you." The three agents started climbing. Sark made it to firm ground first. He double checked the area, then quickly moved for the trees.
"Now what," Vaughn whispered. Sark shot him a look.
"I'm open to suggestions. But we're covered best in these trees."
Vaughn looked around, glancing for solutions.
"Let's move closer to the building through the trees. We can even climb up and get to the second floor," Vaughn said. Sark looked to Sydney. She nodded.
"I'll go first." With that, she took off.
The guards were still close, and Sark was uneasy about how loud Sydney and Vaughn seemed to be. But the guards didn't even flinch.
Until 20 seconds later.
"Guys, I have company," Weiss suddenly said over the comm. "Shoot, we've been made!"
As if on cue, the guards in front of them suddenly got very paranoid. Five more stormed out of the estate.
Sark and Sydney shared a tense look. Sark raised his gun and started taking aim at the guards, who were headed to the trees and shaded areas.
Not much registered after that. It was all automatic. Sark brought down two guards with his first two shots. When the return fire came, he dodged and took cover behind a tree trunk. He didn't know what Sydney and Vaughn were doing, but judging by the gunfire, he wasn't the only one firing back.
The pressure was on—more guards were headed into the trees. Sark realized that he was being pushed back, towards the cliffs.
Something moved to his left, and Sark quickly fired. Guard. Where had he come from? Then he saw it. Sydney and Vaughn were disarmed but still fighting several men. Sark raised his gun, determined to even the odds.
Someone dove into him, and in the turmoil Sark lost his first gun. He rolled with the figure, trying to disarm him. He saw a flash of a blade but caught it before the guard plunged the blade into him. Sark was on his back. He slammed his knee into the guard's back, and shoved him and the knife away. The guard fell back, but quickly got to his feet. Sark was ready.
The guard was bold, he'd give him that. His attack was immediate, kicks and punches. It hardly let up. Sark was on the defensive. He blocked and managed a few hits in between, but he was nervous.
He could hear the ocean behind him, and he knew he was very close to the cliffs. The guard threw another punch. Sark dodged and tried to move to the side, but slipped on loose dirt. He went down on one knee. Sark saw the guard smile and swing his leg at him. The impact was hard, but minimal to what was coming.
Sark felt himself falling back, dropping down quickly as air rushed by him. The roar of the waves grew closer, and he noticed the ocean spray on his body before it hit the water.