Chapter Six: Circe [Part C]
Author: Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]
Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: We all know the drill. I don't own Alias, so please don't sue me. I'm already in debt. And even if you did sue me, it would come off my credit card and I'd still be in debt. So, right. You're better off leaving me be.
Author's Note: Feedback = updates. I swear, that's a real math equation. As always, thanks to Carmen_Sandiego and Jen for their awesome beta'ing.
Chronic Vertigo
CHAPTER SIX\\ Circe [c]
"The plan," Apple Cho had told them in the car, "is to make you appear as tourists."
It wasn't a hard feat; Hong Kong was crawling with tourists looking for someplace exotic and different for their summer vacations. Miami was overdone, California crowded, and the majesty of New England yawn-worthy. With a healthier world economy and cheaper airline tickets, a ploy made by the quickly hemorrhaging airline industry, the Orient was drawing in more and more bored Americans looking for a new experience. And while that only stretched so far as to things they saw out the window from an air conditioned charter bus or from the streets of a shopping street, they still were indistinguishable from one another.
A perfect cover.
As she expertly slid the car into a lucky parking spot within sight of the stairs and elevator, Vaughn had furrowed his brow; a part of the plan as it was thus far bothering him.
"How does that get us to the club?" he'd asked, finally looking her way as he exited the small vehicle.
"He's got a point, ya know. We can't just waltz in there with cameras slung around our necks and say 'Hey boys, we kinda got lost,'" Weiss backed him up, hands shoved in his pockets.
"C'mon, boys, I thought you were more creative than that," Apple quickly retorted. "We've rented a few suits here for the time being."
"Covert ops from a 5-star hotel? Things have changed around here since we've been gone," Vaughn quipped. Their shined shoes echoed softly on the concrete below their feet, the rustle of their duffels slung over their shoulders sounding in almost a musical pattern. It was always cold and void in parking garages, just as it was in the back room of the Micro Self-Storage halfway around the world. Vaughn raised his head to the ceiling for a moment, wondering where Sydney was; how she was doing. Weren't they supposed to have more time together now that SD-6 was gone?
As soon as this is over, he attempted to reassure himself. When this ancient piece of machinery was recovered, they would return to their daily charade of joint missions and longing looks over styrofoam cups of old coffee and stacks of mission reports.
The door to the stairs swung open on creaking hinges, becoming a dull sound by the time it reached the edges of the concrete castle of cars. Apple held the door open for a moment, her hand sliding across the glass as she moved inside the stairwell. Elevators, apparently, were for wimps.
"Being tourists will get you to Kowloon. So many people go over there for the shopping that no one will take notice of your entry," she explained as they climbed the stairs to the connected level. It ended up being only one floor above them, a long hallway carpeted in a deep royal blue with clear glass walls on either side giving a view of downtown Hong Kong. Here, their shoes made no sound, the hall containing it all between glass panes. Apple didn't speak again, an action that quelled any apprehension Vaughn had held in the staircase and her blatant disregard for discussing covert missions in the middle of an echoing stairwell.
The elevator was much of the same, Weiss whistling to himself, wishing he hadn't buried his yo-yo in the bottom of his bag. While it was always a good idea to place those objects you didn't want to forget in your suitcase or the like first, it didn't make for a quick and easy retrieval – and those objects would be the ones you'd need the most!
They exited on floor 41, the carpets here a shade lighter than that in the glass hall, outlined in deep gold with shining flowers adorning the ends of each section. Apple's hand moved to her back pocket, Vaughn finding his eyes following it as she extracted a key card from it, finally able to tear them away as she opened the door to a room.
"Wow! You guys really know how to treat a guy nice!" Weiss exclaimed, eyes wandering over every surface of the room. Apple laughed and started pulling computer equipment from the dresser, her laughter blanketing the warmly lit room with a sort of lightness Vaughn found himself uncomfortable with.
"Tai Sin is located two blocks west of the main fare through that connects the shops to the ferry harbor." The table, a round wooden carved table surrounded by three padded chairs, was cluttered with files both in English and Chinese, photographs interspersed.
"The computer is stored in the basement," Vaughn supplemented, leaning forward. "What can you tell us about security in that area?" Apple scrutinized the information, her face scrunching up as she thought.
"Give me a moment – I can find out for you," she said, and promptly stood, leaving the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Weiss rose and paced.
"I don't trust her," he said.
"Neither do I," Vaughn admitted.
"I mean, I've worked with these guys before, when we came for you; this isn't normal operating procedure. Not even close," Weiss continued. Vaughn nodded.
"I know," he retorted. Weiss paused, turning to face his best friend.
"Then why," he started, his hands moving up as if he were squeezing a large ball between them, "are we still here listening to her?"
"Aren't you curious as to who she's working for?" Vaughn asked, leaning forward and sideways in his chair.
"She's already double crossed us once…"
"I know, Weiss! But she has information we can use," he crossly finished up. He was well aware of her past transgressions. Very aware. And yet he wasn't completely convinced they should leave her and her plush suit for a smaller hotel their CIA budget account would cover. Young and curious, he wanted to know who her loyalties were for, and why they would be here, working with them – helping them.
"False information?"
"Could be."
"C'mon, Michael! What are we doing here?"
Vaughn took a moment to reply, listening to make sure Apple was still conversing on her phone before he spoke up.
"Listening to her. She'll leave before the op – she has to. That's when we'll form our plan."
"This is dangerous, Mike."
He smiled. "So? We are spies, you know."
"We'll leave tomorrow at 0800. Be at the ferry docks; I'll meet you there." And she left.
Ten minutes after she left the room, Vaughn and Weiss gathered up only what they desperately needed and left the hotel, items tucked in drawstring laundry bags lifted from a vacated housekeeping cart. A light drizzle had started in the nighttime hours, a sprits really, cleaning off the city as late parties were just getting started.
The pair of men preferred walking through the shadows, avoiding prying eyes and bright lights as they crossed town. The eyes of their enemies could be anywhere, especially when those enemies who had no identity, no shape or form. A child crossing the street could be relaying their position, or an aging man out for a stroll. The shadows were the best place to hide.
The small hotel, located before departing, sat just over a half-mile from where Apple had brought them under the guise of working for the Chinese government. It wasn't as beautiful as the latter, but it would do for their purpose. Men who stayed in places such as these knew not to repeat that which they heard. The pair jogged under a flickering and yellowed streetlamp to the dilapidated entrance and quickly fell in, thankful to be out from the damp air on the other side of the walls.
Weiss procured them a room, a small, double bed affair on the second floor with a warning to 'not mind the strange noises from above' attached. Whatever that meant, they wanted no part of it, and simply locked the old fashioned bolt behind them to give some sense of security.
"What's wrong with your ankle?" Weiss asked, unpacking what little he had. Vaughn sat at the end of the far bed, rubbing said ankle as he removed his shoes.
"Sprained it in Colombia," he replied shortly. He groaned and fell onto the bed. When was the last time he'd slept? A short nap after coming back from Mitchell's large estate? A little bit of sleep on the plane? His longest duration without sleep was three days, and he was rapidly approaching his limit, eyelids descending over his eyes involuntarily. Vaughn sighed and ran a hand over his face, almost slapping it to wake himself up. Mission. Plan. No sleep.
"I almost want to let you sleep," Weiss commented, plopping down on his own bed.
"But?"
"It was your idea to listen to Apple for so long. Consider it your punishment," he joked.
"10 minutes?"
"You'll never wake up. C'mon."
Vaughn managed to drag himself into a sitting position across from Weiss and pull out the files they'd taken from the room. The ferry was to leave at 0800, giving them 8 hours to plan this and sleep.
"The best way to enter," Apple started once returning to the room, "is to enter through a service entrance in the back of the club. No doubt they have a regular delivery of alcohol for the bar, which is situated on the east side of the building. There's a passageway that connects them for easy and invisible restocking. The stairs to the basement, however, are on the west side of the club."
"So we'll have to cross the floor," Vaughn had surmised.
"And there's no passage connecting the two sides?" Weiss asked.
"There's a window in the women's bathroom on the west side that can be accessed. That's your best bet. Once you exit the restroom, you turn to your right – there's the door to the basement sublevel.
"It's mostly storage, but there are two rooms. One for meetings of a more sensitive nature, the other, the locked vault room. The lock is simple, a standard keypad that can be cracked with any descrambler."
"And once we get the door open, how are we supposed to get out of there with a huge piece of machinery?" Vaughn cynically asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's actually not that large, according to our specs. That's where Eric comes in. You," she smiled, pointing to the slightly distracted Weiss, "get to be a delivery man new on the job. You've messed up your route or something. The cart used to roll in the crates can be used to conceal and extract the computer."
"Use the cart, get in the van, and we're out. Doesn't seem too complicated. And there are no guards?"
"I didn't think they posed a problem," she replied simply. Weiss gave a fake smile – not a field agent by any means; he was sure Kendall fully expected him to sit in the van and monitor security feeds and communications. This duty, the one he was good at, had been taken over by Apple, who proclaimed Weiss would be a more convincing delivery boy than her. When he argued she actually appeared Chinese while he did not in the least, she replied that women did not do those jobs and he would have to do his best acting.
He wasn't feeling all that comfortable with her plan.
With her announcement of the ferry's departure, she had excused herself, giving them some speech about having to make sure all was in order for the op. There was no way, after already doubting Apple's honesty, they would trust her equipment.
A call to The Point was in order.
And finally, at 1:30 in the morning, Vaughn finally settled down for his first night of rest in a long time.
//
"An hour late," was all Irina commented when Sark stumbled into the airport terminal, a bandage over his eye covering a cut caused by a glass shard, bruises adorning his normally perfect yet pale face. His suit, albeit a bit wrinkled, still seemed to lay on him impeccably, giving no real reason to believe he had just cleverly escaped a pair of handcuffs after a fight with a CIA agent.
He even had his plane ticket tucked in his back pocket, buttoned in place, of course.
Irina sat in a plastic molded chair, her long tanned legs crossed as she read a magazine, the files obtained from Zhuravlev tucked just inside lest any prying eyes watched. She looked as beautiful as ever, dressed in a tight, short dress, her mocha hair pulled into a ponytail. It appeared as if, when he had been fighting against Sydney and interrogated, she had gotten off without a scratch.
Sark approached and sat in the chair next to her.
"I had a little run in with your charming daughter," he reported. Irina smiled.
"And what did you tell her?"
"Exactly what you told me to say," he replied, leaning forward. "I don't understand your motives nor your execution, but you know I do trust your judgment. I just wonder – are you going too far?"
"I warned her," Irina said, her voice growing dark. "These are events that were put into motion over 20 years ago. I am simply doing my part. If it wasn't me doing this, someone else would take my place." She turned to Sark, closing the magazine.
"I see," he breathed. "Well, then, I will leave you too it."
Irina simply widened her grin. Instead of creating a larger, warming smile, it was simply chilling, causing Sark to thank his stars that Irina and him were, at the moment, on the same side.
//
"You know what I love about this country?"
"Stop talking with your mouth full," Vaughn chastised him, keeping his eyes on the crowd as he scanned it for Apple. Weiss swallowed and tried again.
"I love that I can have Chinese food any time of the day," he said, scooping another helping of egg foo yung from the container he held in his hand. As he stood eating his warm and authentic Chinese food, Vaughn donned his sunglasses and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt better, now with a night of sleep behind him, his mind clear, a preverbal bounce to his step.
"You know, that's because we're in China," he quipped back to Weiss.
"I'm not 4. I know what country I'm in."
"Just checking," Vaughn shrugged.
Apple smiled as she approached. Great.
They had to play this carefully. With Apple believing they were still following her plan, every movement to the contrary, each and every deviation done in secret, were duplicated to the specifications of the original plan. This involved distracting Apple when a deviation occurred without arousing her suspicion. Weiss, as he told Vaughn the night before, was very good at this last part.
"I've gotta use the bathroom, I'll be back in a sec," Weiss said quickly. The bathrooms were located on the opposite side of the ferry, near the entrance to the lower decks. As Weiss crossed the worn, wooden deck, Vaughn gave him a thumbs up behind his back outside Apple's field of vision. He smiled a small, sad smile, and quickly disappeared into the vehicle deck.
A call to The Point made the previous night quickly got them the equipment they needed. This deviation, discovered by a bug planted on the inside of Apple's cell phone while she used the washroom during their planning session the night before, proved to be simple – she was using a standard white utility van. However, it was the interior than needed to be altered.
"This the van?" Weiss looked to his left, coming face to face with a plain clothed man, a CIA badge clutched in his left hand. "Don't worry, you called, here I am."
"What's up?" he asked, shoving a hand in his left pocket. His yo-yo, stored there, doubled as a worry stone, his thumb rubbing against it as he listened to the agent speak.
"Basic switch. The duplicate van has the same interior, only with our codes in the feeds. I'll be taking the original off with me; don't worry, the interior has been covered to be a convincing antiques transport between the island and the mainland. She won't know the difference, but we'll be the ones manipulating the data stream. Don't worry – you're covered."
"The keys?" Weiss asked.
"Make a drop switch." The agent dropped the new key ring in Weiss' hand and disappeared behind the tall vans dotting landscape of automobiles. Weiss looked down at the key and sighed. Drop switch. Right. Weiss sighed and jogged up the stairs.
Apple was waiting for him.
