Chapter 6- Escape from Paris
Location- Paris, France
"Lynx! I'm going out, do you want to come?" Sark called as he went for the hotel room door.
"Sure! Where're we going?" Lynx came out of her bedroom fitting in a hoop earring into her pierced lobe.
"A place called "The Fix", its frequented by our kind very often. . . what on earth did you do to your hair?" Sark had turned around quickly and now stared at Lynx. She was dressed head to toe in some hue of green. She had on a short, spiked black wig with acid green tips. Her faux snakeskin halter dress glittered, and her green wrap-around laced heels clacked on the marble floor of the suite. The Rembaldi amulet shone under her collar necklace. "That is not to be worn as a common adornment!" he told her.
"Oh liven up," She told him, fluffing the wig to make it livelier. "I'm the Chosen and I'll wear my amulet how I want to. And just so you know, I was going out anyway. And you need to loosen up too," She took a long strip of electric blue cloth from her bustier, and threw it at him.
Sark held up the satin tie, "You cannot be serious," Lynx only smiled.
* * *
Sydney walked with purpose through the Parisian club. If Sark and his associate weren't here, they probably were no longer in France. "The Fix" was just the place that underworld terrorists like them thrived for. "Boot Camp, this is Mountaineer, I'm in position," She said, dodging a couple doing a form of what looked like interpretive dance.
"Rodger that, Mountaineer. Stand by," Dixon's voice crackled from thousands of miles away.
Sydney pulled at the tight purple leather top of her dress. How they expected her to successfully defend herself in this get-up, Sydney didn't know. She glanced around the club, blending into the crowd. From her position, Sydney could see the front and rear exits of The Fix as well as the entire first floor. Sark and his woman had better show up soon, or else Sydney would start to get fed up with waiting. As calm as her exterior appeared to be, Sydney was not very patient tonight.
"Boot camp to Mountaineer, come in Mountaineer," Marshall's voice called loudly in her ear.
"Go ahead Boot camp," Sydney smiled as a waiter handed her a drink.
"Sark and our mysterious lady are coming in right now," Marshall said just as Sark and Lynx walked in arm in arm flanked by four beefy bodyguards.
"That's a whole lot of security for just Sark and a minor associate," Sydney commented.
"If you ask me they look a little cozy," Marshall said.
"I'm going in," Sydney said, leaving her drink on the nearby bar.
"Mountaineer, wait!" Dixon called into her communicator, only to be ignored.
Sydney watched as Sark and his girl took a booth by the karaoke stage. Their bodyguards spread out, and eventually melted into the crowd. Some were even only a few people away from Sydney's own team of hidden operatives. They both sat down and immediately engaged in a deep conversation. Sydney moved even closer, eventually she was almost able to see the whites of their eyes. Almost there!
* * *
"You didn't tell me they have karaoke here!" Lynx said gleefully when she saw a poor French man make a fool out of himself.
"Well, I didn't know if you would like it," Sark took a sip from his drink.
"You mean you didn't want me to have you sing," Lynx smiled.
Sark shrugged, and then looked at her, "I dare you,"
Lynx laughed, then looked puzzled, "You dare me to do what?"
"I dare you to get up there and sing,"
Lynx considered, and then nodded once, "Okay," She scooted out of the booth and made her way towards the empty stage.
"I wasn't really serious," Sark called after her.
Lynx stood to the side of the stage as she made her selection of song. She paged through the book, reading the French with ease. Then, she saw a song she recognized, one she had sung in the pub that the men had actually liked. She waited after a trio of drunken German girls finished a horrid rendition of 'Lady Marmalade'. She reached the center of the stage and removed the microphone from the stand. "And now, Monsieurs and Mademoiselles, the talented stylings of the great Mademoiselle Greenshire!" the announcer shouted into his own microphone as he loaded the song from the saved disks on his computer.
Lynx nodded her head to the beat as a fast paced punk rock melody flooded the club. She took a deep breath and sang:
I thought this night would never come,
Never thought it could be,
Never dared to believe you'd be sitting there,
Watching and adoring me.
Because circumstances are not ours,
Our lives are not our own.
I only wish I had more nights,
With you and I alone.
Lynx nodded her head hard as she prepared to remember the chorus. She never looked at the lyric monitor.
I'll be yours forever,
But we can't ever be
Together can't you see?
We'd be done.
I'll be yours forever,
Just spend this night with me,
Only us: you and me,
We'll be one.
The crowd went wild as she started to dance (and rather well too) during the drum and guitar duet. Lynx was full of energy; she'd never had more fun. She smiled and even shouted in exhilaration before starting the second verse.
Sydney watched the girl on stage. She was a great performer, she had to give her that. If she had chosen that song for herself and Sark . . .well, she'd done a good job. But, Sydney wouldn't even give them the one night. A few minutes after the girl got off that stage, Sydney would surround their table with her crew, and take them without an incident. Sydney even clapped as the girl finished on a dramatic high note, though not as loud as the stomping, shouting crowd. Then, she moved in.
* * *
"You were great," Sark told her as she sat back down. He gave her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.
"Here," Lynx took off the Rembaldi amulet and placed it in one of his hands. "You have to have this,"
"Lynx, you're the Chosen, this is yours," Sark tried to give it to her, but she only pushed his hand back and gave him a sad look. "Lynx," he asked, his face growing concerned, "what's wrong?"
"You must run. Have the guards come back and have them take you away," She told him, looking around the club.
"What are you talking about? I will do no such thing,"
"You want that amulet to ever connect with Ildire? Go now," Lynx looked at him with frantic eyes. "We have company. It's Bristow; she's here for the amulet and us. I saw her while I was on the stage by the bar. They know nothing about me, and they have evidence against you. You have to run,"
"No, not without you,"
"If you stay right now, you do not care for me," Lynx told him with conviction.
"You're bossy," Sark gave her a hard look, and then seemed to resign himself. He leaned over and kissed her good-bye, "Good luck, kitten," He got out of the booth and was out of sight so quickly Lynx could have sworn he'd disappeared into thin air.
He'll have to teach me that, Lynx thought just as Sydney Bristow and her crew appeared around the table. "Hello Agent Bristow, having fun?" Lynx asked politely.
"You are to come with me," Sydney told her tersely. "Any struggle, and we will be forced to subdue you,"
Lynx got out of the booth and stood before the agent. They were exactly the same height, "No need for that, Agent Bristow. I'll come willingly and quietly,"
"Where's Sark?"
"I think he went to the bathroom, but I'm not sure. He doesn't seem to be the talkative one, does he?" Lynx smiled.
"Take her to the car," Sydney told two of the six-team members. "We'll search for Sark,"
Lynx was grabbed roughly by the arms by her two captures. They led her out of the club as quickly as possible. Lynx turned her head quickly to look back at all of the activity in The Fix. And, for just a split second, she saw Sark watching her from the exit door as the guards hurried him out. He seemed to see her too, and before the door closed shut on him, he blew her a quick kiss.
"Keep moving," The guard to her right told her. At this moment, Lynx really didn't care.
* * *
Location- Wales, England
Date- January 18, 2004
Sark had all but given up hope that Lynx would ever come back to Greenshire Hall. Almost four months had passed since the night at The Fix, and even the best operatives had broken out of CIA holds before now. Sloane occasionally asked about the girl, but only to be polite. He had the amulet, so she didn't matter; until they found out only Lynx could put it in. They had tried to put the amulet in, but it wouldn't go. No matter how many times they tried, it would not start. Sloane ordered Sark to find the girl ASAP. That had been two months ago.
Sark lay in bed that night, his thoughts wandering as thoughts do right before sleep. His thoughts tonight were of not only the pressure from Sloane to find her, or of the security of his household, but of Lynx herself. Just have her be safe. Safe, well fed and warm; she doesn't need to suffer. She doesn't deserve torture. "She doesn't deserve torture," he repeated aloud.
"But I was. Every day they tortured me in one way, shape, or form." A very skinny, tall form appeared at the foot of his bed.
"Great, I'm dreaming of her returning again," Sark rolled onto his side. "This isn't real,"
"But I am real, Sark," Lynx grabbed his right hand and squeezed. "See?"
"Lynx!" Sark rolled to see her, his eyes wide. "Oh, God, it's you!"
"Yeah, it's me. Hey," Lynx exclaimed as Sark pulled her down into bed with him. She, however, quickly sat up to sit in Indian style on top of the sheets.
"You said you were tortured?" Sark said, eyes growing dark. "What did they do to you?"
"It was really nothing," Lynx looked away from him. "For me at least,"
* * *
Her clothes had been taken away and she was given a black outfit that looked like you'd do tai chi in it. She'd been starved and kept awake for almost four weeks straight. It was typical protocol to wear her down and demoralize her. She was strapped into a hard metal chair. A grey haired man and Sydney Bristow interrogated her.
"Who are you?" The grey haired man asked her.
"I am not important," Lynx said, looking at Bristow.
The man grabbed her face painfully, "Don't look at her! What is your name?"
Lynx rolled her jaw as he let go, "He calls me Lynx,"
"Good. How old are you?" He asked.
"I don't know," Lynx sighed heavily.
"Don't give me that you little liar" The man said, yelling right into her ear. "How old are you?"
"I don't know!"
* * *
"Well, I'm glad they didn't torture you physically," Sark said, seeming glad at the idea.
Lynx looked at him through misted eyes, "Who said they didn't?"
* * *
The dial; it all rode on the dial. It started at zero and went up to one hundred. They'd only gone up as far as thirty-five so far, and that was excruciating. Lynx didn't know how it worked, but whenever it was turned she was racked with pain from head to toe. 'Unrestricted interrogation' the black man had told them after Lynx wouldn't crumble under yelling. Even though she was a woman, and they couldn't interrogate her as they would a man, the pain was just as bad.
"How did you meet Mr. Sark?" The brown-haired doctor asked her. Bristow and her father stood off to the side of the room. When Lynx wouldn't answer, his hand went to the dial. He smiled as Lynx's eyes filled with fear, "How did you meet Mr. Sark?" When she didn't answer again, he turned it up to forty.
"Yeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" Lynx screamed as her body twisted and convulsed as much as her restraints would allow. Her breaths came hard as the pain subsided.
"I repeat, how did you meet Mr. Sark?"
* * *
"That's terrible," Sark shook his head. "How did you endure?"
"I knew I had to come back, that I had to activate Rembaldi's device," Lynx said. "The only thought going through my head was that I had to return to Greenshire,"
"But physical torture!"
"When that didn't work, they moved to mental torture.
Sark gave her a confused look, "What do you mean?"
* * *
A smiling, black haired little boy and girl; they were held in the arms of a beautiful woman. A small, newborn baby held in the arms of an exhausted looking Asian woman. A teenager acting in her school play. A wedding picture of a French man and his new bride. An entire family photo of a large group standing in someone's back patio. Lynx stared at the pictures; the grinning faces boring into her head. The happy faces she knew that she had made sad through death and she almost began to cry struck her.
"This is Ngo Shuichiro and his mother, Arika. She's the wife of the Japanese diplomat someone in your organization took care of two days before her son was born," Jack Bristow, she knew his name now after two months, told her stiffly. "And the two smiling twins? They are Jeremy and Julia Latyner. We know either you or your male counterpart killed their father. Now, before I continue, I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Are you employed by Sark?"
"Yes," Lynx answered him without even thinking.
"Good," Jack seemed happy with the answer. "Did you ever meet Irina Derevko or Arven Sloane?"
"Yes," Lynx answered again. "He liked to show me off,"
"Very good. Now, have you ever committed any crimes either by killing or espionage?"
Lynx didn't miss a beat, "No, I did not,"
"Then explain your presence in Cancun," Jack instructed.
"He gave me a vacation. He said I'd been a good girl and I deserved a reward. I spent five days sun tanning. And I've never killed anyone,"
"Did you kill U.S. Army General Watson?"
"No, I did not," Lynx looked at the pictures again.
Jack turned back to his descriptions, "This is Rachel Flechenstein. As you can see, she likes acting, singing, and talking on the phone with her friends. Her mother and father were tortured to death by one of Derevko's associates. Rachel lives with a foster family now because her other family is over seas."
"No more," Lynx mumbled. "Please, no more."
"What is your association with Mr. Sark?" Jack asked her.
"They sent me to him in September. They only told me that he was a private landowner. They never said I'd end up being captured and interrogated by the CIA," Lynx said tearfully.
"Who are 'they'?" Jack asked, intrigued.
"The agency who hires me out to people," Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
"Hires you out?" Jack creased his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not one of Sark's associates," Lynx said. "I'm his whore,"
* * *
Sark laughed out loud, "You told them you were a prostitute? What did they say to that?"
"They believed me after I told a few more fibs," Lynx said. "I told them I had been an orphan raised in a Roman Catholic convent school who ran away three years ago and got swept up in an escort service agency. Just got them to pity me and let me go after a week. The CIA even paid for my plane flight back to England and gave me consolation money in the amount of $5,000 in sympathy pay-off for food and sleep deprivation, and unfounded reasons for torture," Lynx smiled.
"You are brilliant, you know that?" Sark kissed her cheek. "Glad you're back,"
* * *
"Did the truth serum work?" Dixon asked Weiss. It was after hours, but both men agreed to meet in private.
"Yes," Weiss said grimly. "She sang like a bird,"
"Are you sure her memory was completely wiped of the experience?" Dixon looked over the report of the final interrogation.
"Yes, she won't remember a thing," Weiss said. "She was a good little liar, got Sydney teary eyed a bit when she told her story. Yet, there was a bit of truth. She really can't remember anything personal about herself,"
"Were you able to get the location of where she and Sark are living?" Dixon asked.
"Yes. They're located on a large estate in Wales, England called Greenshire Hall. And, we were able to confirm that all the mysterious killings were done by the girl and a man she called Carson Holloway."
"Holloway? Isn't that?"
"Yeah, I was surprised myself," Weiss said, getting up from his chair and making to leave the room.
"I'm sending in Sydney and a recon team to apprehend them in a week," Dixon said. "I'm also sending you,"
"Okay, I'll be ready,"