Happy Easter! Here's an update for you!
Chapter 4 – Double Dilemma
Sark stared out the window at the fluffy white clouds whizzing by as the plane sped back to Irina's headquarters. I'm sick and tired of flying. I've spent most of the last f*****g days on this damn plane. Finally, I'm out of that damn cell and I can't even enjoy it. All I want is a comfortable bed to sleep in and a couple days of solitude. Maybe I can get Irina to give me some time off since the op went so well tonight.
~ Chicago, earlier that evening ~
Miles Rhenquist, the owner of the Chicago Tribune and other assorted Chicago media outlets, was in possession of a small scrap of parchment that was part of one of Rambaldi's manuscripts. Alone, the manuscript piece had little value because it was impossible to decipher without the rest of the page, which nobody had seen in over a hundred years. However, Irina had recently discovered and subsequently acquired the rest of that particular page, making this scrap extremely valuable to her.
The operation had been a fairly simple one. He and Allison attended a ball at the Rhenquist estate and stole the artifact while they were there. Since the gala was extremely exclusive, Sark and Allison were unable to get themselves added to the guest list. After researching the invitees, they selected a pair of guests, business associates planning to put in a bid for the Chicago Tribune, which Rhenquist was selling. At lunch that day, Allison had gained entry to their suite by posing as part of the hotel's room service staff. She reported that the pair was so shocked to see Allison pointing a gun at them, that they had been incapable of speech. She had quickly killed the pair, both with a single shot to the forehead and stolen their invitations for the gala. After disposing of the uniform she had borrowed, Allison had returned to their room, invitations in hand, and a triumphant smile on her face.
She and Sark had used the pair's invitations and had attended the gala posing as Edward Cummings & Katherine Davis, aspiring newspaper moguls from Los Angeles. They arrived at the ball fashionably late ensuring that Rhenquist's mansion would be filled with guests and their presence or absence would easily go unnoticed. Sark was dressed in a black tuxedo and Allison in a form-fitting black-sequined dress with a slit to her knee on the right side. The dress showed just enough leg and cleavage to tantalize but was still conservative enough that Allison could play the role of the proper businesswoman that Rhenquist preferred to deal with.
Edward and Katy walked into the black tie gala arm-in-arm and were soon lost amongst the crowd. It took them almost no time to find Rhenquist, at which point Katy excused herself to go to the ladies room while Edward chatted Rhenquist up. Sark thought he might go crazy as he listened to Rhenquist blabber on about the Cubs chances of winning the World Series this year. How long is he going to go on about that blasted baseball team of his? I don't give a f**k about baseball. I don't understand how Americans can be so fascinated by it. Now, football, or soccer as these morons call it, is a real sport.
After what seemed like an eternity to Sark, but was in reality only fifteen minutes, Allison returned with the manuscript fragment securely tucked into her purse. After assuring Rhenquist that they would be in touch, Edward & Katy politely excused themselves and left the gala. Rhenquist continued rattling on about his baseball team, unaware that he had even been robbed.
~ Back to present day in the plane ~
People are so damn predictable. Why does everyone keep everything important in a safe behind a painting in their study? Can't people think of a more original place to hide their valuables? Sark shook his head in amusement.
"Hey baby, a penny for your thoughts?" Sark's reverie was interrupted by Allison's sultry voice as she slid into the plush seat next to his. She had changed out of her evening gown into a black leather mini-skirt and a sleeveless red V-neck top with a plunging neckline. Sark had also changed out of his tuxedo, into one of his trademark Armani suits. It wasn't his preferred attire, but he always wore the Sark persona when away from his residences and the expensive suits were a part of that.
Sark replied dismissively, "There's just a lot to think about is all."
"You think too much, Sark." Allison mumbled as she slowly traced patterns along his leg.
I wish you would just leave me alone. Still staring silently out the window, Sark grabbed Allison's wrist and dropped her hand back in her lap. Allison's eyes flashed angrily at his rejection. She roughly seized Sark's chin and forced him to make eye contact with her. Before she could say anything, Sark sprang up from his seat. Tightly gripping Allison's shoulders, he pinned her against the couch.
"Do not touch me unless I give you permission to do so," Sark sneered.
"Why are you being this way? Don't you remember how great we were together?" Allison screamed at him, her eyes shooting daggers at her former lover.
She looks so much like Allie after she was doubled, but yet I'm not sure it's really her. If Allie had been alive, she would've gotten word to me somehow or tried to rescue me at some point during those two years. Whoever this is, I don't think it's my Allie. "You're not my Allie. She's dead," Sark responded quietly.
"Nearly dead, yes. I was in a coma for months from the injuries Bristow inflicted upon me. After that, I had to undergo a rather extensive rehabilitation to get my skills back up to where they were before. I've only recently started going on ops again."
Sark continued to stare blankly at Allison, but she could see the internal war he was fighting by the slight twitching of his right eye. I want to believe her, but I just can't right now. Lost in his thoughts, his grip on her shoulders loosened slightly. Allison took the opportunity to grab Sark's head and press her lips to his in a rough kiss. When he tried to pull away, Allison held on tighter, refusing to let the kiss be broken. When he tried to say something in protest, Allison slid her tongue into his mouth, refusing to let him speak. When he still continued to resist her advances, Allison snaked her other arm around Sark's back and pulled him closer to her, pressing his body tightly against hers. His mind protested, but after two years of forced abstinence during his incarceration, carnal desire overrode rational thought. Sark pushed Allison onto her back and lay down on top of her, molding her body to his. He passionately returned her kiss as he lost himself in her body.
