Shades of SD-6, Sydney noted after her first survey of the new environment. Ubiquitously grey and harshly lit, it supported the allegation that all espionage agencies, CIA included, shared an interior decorator. The room was long and featured a long conference table; it was made more spartan by virtue of holding only one chair.
The guards moved Sydney and Sark to the approximate center of the room, putting the table between them and the door.
Guess we're standing then, Sydney thought. She didn't really mind since she'd been sitting for hours. The guards stationed themselves before the door and she tried to surreptitiously stretch her muscles.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Ana swept into the room, still flawless but now dressed in a neat black business suit with her hair pulled back. She seated herself across from them and crossed her legs beneath the table.
Sydney experienced flashbacks of visits to the principal's office and her mouth twitched up with amusement.
"Is something funny?" Ana glowered at Sydney. Sydney's first thought was that Ana really was channeling her high school principal. Her second thought was to wonder why Ana had given her captives the height advantage.
Oh, wait, Ana is keeping us captive deep in the underground headquarters of a Russian terrorist organization. She has all the advantages, she can afford to give us one little thing.
Then she noticed that Sark was standing awkwardly. His leg...
His face was decidedly stoic so she wouldn't say anything. Not that she would have offered sympathy, in the first place. Yeah, right. He deserves whatever she did to his leg.
"I asked," Ana said, "if you found anything amusing."
Because Ana's question -well, demand, really- was emphasized by the two guards raising their pistols, Sydney quelled the urge to answer back smartly.
Internally, she justified the decision by admitting that Just your face wasn't even a very good comeback.
Satisfied by Sydney's silence, Ana turned her attention to Sark.
"Mr. Sark."
It only took the two words to warn Sydney. Ana's face and voice may have presented an almost perfectly uniform facade of detachment, but her eyes betrayed cruelty.
"Mr. Sark, I hope you've reconsidered the offer of my services into The Man's organization."
To his credit, Sark replied evenly, "It is with utmost regret that I report I am not authorized to hire employees."
Sydney was sure he was lying, but not about to say anything about it.
"Furthermore, my employer is currently unavailable. I was not provided with contact protocol-"
"It appears, however, that you were provided with lies," Ana interrupted, "Am I supposed to believe these feeble excuses? Is your employer out to lunch, perhaps? Oh, my darling, your act was more convincing post orgasm."
"Ana-"
"Ms. Espinosa," she corrected him. "This is business."
"Now, Ana, you were the one who brought up our bed." He smiled charmingly, showing long eyelashes to best effect.
"Was that not business as well?"
Sark raised a hand to his chest, making the most absurd avowal of sincerity Sydney had ever witnessed. "Surely, you don't believe that I would-"
"Yes. I believe you would, Mr. Sark."
"Only moments ago, you called me your darling. Now I'm Mr. Sark. Must you be so cold?"
The increasingly coy turn of the conversation alarmed Sydney. Ana had stood up during the course of the exchange and her voice achieved a softer sound that could only be described as a pillow talk voice. Not only were they ignoring her completely but it looked increasingly feasible that Ana might just ravish Sark on the conference room table instead of kill him.
Sydney broke into their flirtation, "Ana, my darling, go ahead and kill Sark now. He's no use to you anymore. Sark can't get you a job because he's working for Sloane at SD-6 now."
The satisfaction of watching Sark's face fall was immense. His eyebrows stood and then crumpled together in irritation. His cheeks sunk in and his mouth crooked a little to the left creating the loveliest picture of angry disappointment. It was almost cute. Sark had never looked better.
Ana's expression was only slightly less gratifying. It was murderous.
But then, something unexpected occurred, the blistering homicidal glare was turned on Sydney. Full blast.
"Oh, he's working at SD-6. With you? You're colleagues?"
"Get off it, we are not together."
"You were together at Gould's office."
"We were not! We were fighting over the disc; I was this far," Sydney indicated a span of nearly a hundredth of an inch with her fingers, "from taking him out. I almost did you a favor."
Sark looked at Sydney for the first time, insulted out of all proportion.
"Oh?" Ana arched a brow. "Then why weren't either of you using your firearms?"
Sydney protested, "I pulled my gun on him. He disarmed me. If I hadn't disabled the security system, you could check the video..."
"Of course. He disarmed you," Ana smiled and Sydney felt her stomach sinking.
"But what about his SIG Sauer? It's still fully loaded. And what of the several knives we found on both of you? Or the garotte on your bracelet? The poison tip of his ring? The grenade in your heel? The blow darts on his belt? You expect me to believe that you were engaged in mortal hand-to-hand combat, truly trying to murder other, yet neglecting to utilize the considerable arsenal amassed between the two of you?"
Hmm. Good points, all. Sydney pondered, Why didn't we...
Ana persisted, "That was foreplay, Sydney. I've done the same myself. Sark, you remember Copenhagen, don't you?"
Please, please, shoot me now, Sydney prayed. I do not want to be privy to the Sark and Ana Sex Nostalgia Hour.
"How could I forget?" Sark smiled winningly but said, "But let's not talk about this in front of Sydney."
"Sydney." Ana's expression switched from reminiscing to sharp in an Olympic display of facial contortion. "How familiar of you. Don't you mean Agent Bristow?"
"Yes, Mr. Sark," Sydney ground out. "It's Agent Bristow to you."
Sark didn't even have the grace to look like a trapped man. Standing equidistant from the two women, he chose to look at Sydney.
Her stomach sunk for the second time that day, this time down to her knees. Sark was looking at her tenderly.
Uh oh.
Then he spoke, and his voice was affectionate. "It's okay, Sydney. I'm not ashamed of our love."
Sydney launched herself at him. It was strictly involuntary.
"Our love? Our love?" She shrieked as she dove at him, fully intending to crack her shackles against his head.
Before she could get a good hit in, the guards separated them. Ana was sitting again and looking at them speculatively.
Scared beyond belief, Sydney retreated into her own thoughts.
If the CIA extracts me, they'll only take Sark into custody and cage him. If I'm lucky they'll shave off his sweet little curls. But if Sloane gets his hands on Sark and I tattle about sabotaging the Gould mission...there will be thumbscrews. And whips and chains. I bet Sloane even has a rack down there somewhere.
Sydney looked up into Ana's eyes. Yeah. Ana looks like the kind of girl that might have her own set of thumbscrews. And whips and chains.
Oh, I hope Sloane gets here first.
It's official, Sydney decided. Sark has driven me crazy.