Sydney gingerly opened the door of her apartment, hoping against hope that
Francie wouldn't be home.
It was just her luck. Francie was sitting with a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter, doing the crossword in the Sunday edition of the L.A. Times.
"Syd!" Francie cried, as soon as she saw her. She threw down her ball point pen and ran to give her a hug. "How was Puerto Vallarta?"
Sydney hugged her roommate. Puerto Vallarta? "It was great--really great!" she enthused, hoping Francie didn't detect how clueless she was. Who told Francie she had gone to Puerto Vallarta?
"I was so happy for you when I found out!" Francie said leading her over to the couch. "I told your Dad when he called that it was about time the bank did something to acknowledge all those extra hours you put in!"
Then Francie took a good look at her roommate. "Hey, you sure don't look like someone who just got back from all-expense-paid weekend in Puerto Vallarta. What happened?"
Sydney sighed. "Well, actually, the weather was awful. And it really wasn't much fun without you and Will."
"Didn't anyone else go with you? That's kind of lame. It sure was sudden, the way they whisked you off like that, but I wouldn't have been able to go because of all the preparations for opening the restaurant, and I don't know where Will's gone off to, but you could have at least invited someone from work. What about the guy who gave you that picture frame at Christmas?"
"Francie!"
"I'm just saying, why go to Puerto Vallarta alone when there's a cute guy at the office who was sweet enough to get you a Christmas present!"
Sydney sighed. She wished with all her heart that she had been in Puerto Vallarta with Vaughn, instead of in Taipei extracting Will and confronting her mother. The image of them together, sunning themselves on the beach, contrasted jarringly with her memory of keeping watch through the night to see if a feverish and delirious Vaughn would survive the plane trip back to L.A.
"Actually, I thought about it, but he's been out sick the last week or so. Pneumonia, I think," she replied, rather distantly.
Francie frowned. "That reminds me." She looked apprehensively at Sydney and took her hand. "I have some--some bad news for you. I don't know how to tell you this, but Emily Sloane died over the weekend. I'm sorry, Syd. I really am."
Sydney was stunned. Emily had appeared so strong when she had last seen her. Sloane had even said that the cancer was in complete remission. Surely it wasn't because of the security breach. My God, had someone at SD-6 terminated Emily, knowing full well she was Sloane's wife? Or was Sloane himself so merciless, so without pity that he could take the life of the woman who had loved him for thirty-six years?
"Oh, Syd, I know it's a shock!" Francie exclaimed in dismay. "I shouldn't have told you right when you got in the door. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I'm all right," Sydney said, giving her friend a small smile. It was the same brave, everything's-all-right-even-if-it's-not-smile that her roommate had come to know well. "But, if you don't mind, I think I'll just go to my room and rest for awhile."
Francie nodded, and Sydney went to her room and shut the door. Her head was pounding, and she felt as if someone had stuck cotton underneath her eyelids. She was so unbelievably exhausted. She hadn't slept for 48 hours-- or was it more? She'd lost track having crossed the international dateline twice.
She awoke to the sound of the phone. It had grown dark, and when she rolled over to check the digital clock at her bedside she discovered was 9:30 in the evening. She had been so tired, she didn't even remember falling into bed.
"Yes?" she said, picking up the receiver, her heart pounding. The last time her bedroom phone rang it had been Sark detailing his demands for Will's safe return.
"It's Weiss. The line's secure. We have exactly two minutes."
"Weiss, Thank God! How's Vaughn?"
"He's hospitalized. His fever's gone down a little, but they're still monitoring him. He's on about a dozen antibiotics. Are you sure the stuff he took a dunk in was just water?"
"I don't know. Has he been lucid?"
"In and out. The first coherent thing he said was 'Where's Sydney?' "
"What hospital is he at?"
"C'mon Syd," Weiss chided. "You know I can't tell you that. And don't pull any strings to try to find out. I said I'd keep you posted, and I will. Gotta go. Time's up."
Sydney hung up the phone. She considered disregarding Weiss and combing every hospital in the greater L.A. area until she found Vaughn, but she needed Weiss's goodwill and support to get through the subsequent weeks of Vaughn's recovery--and an ally in the CIA to get him reinstated. The only thing she could now was sit and wait for his next update.
It was just her luck. Francie was sitting with a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter, doing the crossword in the Sunday edition of the L.A. Times.
"Syd!" Francie cried, as soon as she saw her. She threw down her ball point pen and ran to give her a hug. "How was Puerto Vallarta?"
Sydney hugged her roommate. Puerto Vallarta? "It was great--really great!" she enthused, hoping Francie didn't detect how clueless she was. Who told Francie she had gone to Puerto Vallarta?
"I was so happy for you when I found out!" Francie said leading her over to the couch. "I told your Dad when he called that it was about time the bank did something to acknowledge all those extra hours you put in!"
Then Francie took a good look at her roommate. "Hey, you sure don't look like someone who just got back from all-expense-paid weekend in Puerto Vallarta. What happened?"
Sydney sighed. "Well, actually, the weather was awful. And it really wasn't much fun without you and Will."
"Didn't anyone else go with you? That's kind of lame. It sure was sudden, the way they whisked you off like that, but I wouldn't have been able to go because of all the preparations for opening the restaurant, and I don't know where Will's gone off to, but you could have at least invited someone from work. What about the guy who gave you that picture frame at Christmas?"
"Francie!"
"I'm just saying, why go to Puerto Vallarta alone when there's a cute guy at the office who was sweet enough to get you a Christmas present!"
Sydney sighed. She wished with all her heart that she had been in Puerto Vallarta with Vaughn, instead of in Taipei extracting Will and confronting her mother. The image of them together, sunning themselves on the beach, contrasted jarringly with her memory of keeping watch through the night to see if a feverish and delirious Vaughn would survive the plane trip back to L.A.
"Actually, I thought about it, but he's been out sick the last week or so. Pneumonia, I think," she replied, rather distantly.
Francie frowned. "That reminds me." She looked apprehensively at Sydney and took her hand. "I have some--some bad news for you. I don't know how to tell you this, but Emily Sloane died over the weekend. I'm sorry, Syd. I really am."
Sydney was stunned. Emily had appeared so strong when she had last seen her. Sloane had even said that the cancer was in complete remission. Surely it wasn't because of the security breach. My God, had someone at SD-6 terminated Emily, knowing full well she was Sloane's wife? Or was Sloane himself so merciless, so without pity that he could take the life of the woman who had loved him for thirty-six years?
"Oh, Syd, I know it's a shock!" Francie exclaimed in dismay. "I shouldn't have told you right when you got in the door. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I'm all right," Sydney said, giving her friend a small smile. It was the same brave, everything's-all-right-even-if-it's-not-smile that her roommate had come to know well. "But, if you don't mind, I think I'll just go to my room and rest for awhile."
Francie nodded, and Sydney went to her room and shut the door. Her head was pounding, and she felt as if someone had stuck cotton underneath her eyelids. She was so unbelievably exhausted. She hadn't slept for 48 hours-- or was it more? She'd lost track having crossed the international dateline twice.
She awoke to the sound of the phone. It had grown dark, and when she rolled over to check the digital clock at her bedside she discovered was 9:30 in the evening. She had been so tired, she didn't even remember falling into bed.
"Yes?" she said, picking up the receiver, her heart pounding. The last time her bedroom phone rang it had been Sark detailing his demands for Will's safe return.
"It's Weiss. The line's secure. We have exactly two minutes."
"Weiss, Thank God! How's Vaughn?"
"He's hospitalized. His fever's gone down a little, but they're still monitoring him. He's on about a dozen antibiotics. Are you sure the stuff he took a dunk in was just water?"
"I don't know. Has he been lucid?"
"In and out. The first coherent thing he said was 'Where's Sydney?' "
"What hospital is he at?"
"C'mon Syd," Weiss chided. "You know I can't tell you that. And don't pull any strings to try to find out. I said I'd keep you posted, and I will. Gotta go. Time's up."
Sydney hung up the phone. She considered disregarding Weiss and combing every hospital in the greater L.A. area until she found Vaughn, but she needed Weiss's goodwill and support to get through the subsequent weeks of Vaughn's recovery--and an ally in the CIA to get him reinstated. The only thing she could now was sit and wait for his next update.