Weiss whistled for Donovan as he unlocked Vaughn's apartment door. He had
been staying there for the last week watching Donovan while Vaughn was
recuperating. With the long hours Weiss worked, it made sense, since he
would have had to come twice a day to feed and walk him anyway. Donovan
seemed glad to have him around. However, every time he heard the key in the
lock, he would race to the door, expecting it to be Vaughn, and then whine
when it turned out only to be Weiss. Today was no exception. The small
white bulldog skidded to a stop at his feet, wagged his tail uncertainly,
and looked up at Weiss, making small, plaintive sounds.
"Yeah, don't give me those eyes," Weiss said in mock sternness, reaching down to scratch Donovan behind the ears. "I've had it up to here with puppy- dog eyes. First Sydney, now you. You want Vaughn, I know. Sorry to disappoint you, bud, but you're stuck with me for the time being, same as Syd."
Weiss set his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't even noon yet. He stretched and then took off his holster, setting it beside the briefcase. He began rummaging around the kitchen, getting fresh water and putting half a can of dog food--per Mike's instructions--in Donovan's bowl. Afterwards, he grabbed a Coke from the fridge, leaving the Sam Adams for later that evening, and sat down to chill a few minutes before he took Donovan for a walk.
He had to admit, he'd liked staying in Mike's apartment the last few days. Unlike Weiss, Vaughn had taken the trouble to furnish his apartment and was no longer subsisting on furniture from his college days. It had always seemed a little too GQ for Eric's taste--what with the dark Mission-style furniture and earth tone color scheme--but, it had been growing on him. He found himself once again studying the series of black and white photographs which lined the wall above the moss-green sofa. The first was of the Champs de Élysée, the second, a thatched-roof cottage set on the top of a hill with a view of the sea, and the third was of the Los Angeles skyline at night. He had known Mike for years before he discovered that he was an amateur photographer and had taken them himself. It occurred to Weiss that this was precisely the type of thing Sydney would want to know about Vaughn, and that he himself now took for granted.
He constantly kidded Mike about how uptight he was, but Eric had to confess that he envied him in every way--his apartment, his Gallic good looks, and his girl. He had to get his mind off Syd and Vaughn. It seemed like it was all he could think about lately. Finishing off his Coke, Weiss went to the kitchen to throw the can away and then returned to the living room to search for Donovan's leash. He could never remember where he laid the damn thing down. He started shuffling through old newspapers and magazines, making a mental note to clean up before Vaughn got back.
He heard Donovan whine behind him. "Just a sec, ol' boy," he said, "I think I found it."
Donovan started to growl, gave one sharp bark, and high-tailed it into the bedroom. "What the heck's gotten into you, Donovan?" Weiss said, finally turning around.
The front door was ajar, and Sark stood within a few feet of him, gun in hand.
"Mr. Weiss, forgive me for the intrusion. I hope you don't mind. I've come to discuss a little business matter with you. I think you know to what I am referring," he said with a tight smile.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Weiss replied, eyeing his handgun, which still lay on the kitchen counter at the far side of the room.
Sark lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Before his rather untimely demise, Agent Haladki lead me to believe you two had reached an understanding. An agreement of sorts. Is that not so?"
"There was no agreement. Haladki made a proposition; I listened. That was all," Weiss stated hotly, perspiration starting to collect on his brow.
It was the truth. All he had done was listen, but that in itself was enough to constitute betrayal. If he hadn't violated Vaughn's trust and told Haladki that Vaughn suspected Sydney would try to rescue Will on her own, he doubted Haladki would have had the guts to approach him later that same day about spying on Vaughn and Sydney for "The Man."
It was obvious to him now that Haladki had detected the growing rift between him and Vaughn, and had tried to exploit it for his own purposes. Weiss knew he should have gone back to Devlin and reported Haladki then and there, but he'd been too afraid of how his actions would be interpreted. It didn't matter that he had turned down Haladki's proposition to spy on Vaughn and Sydney. The CIA would focus on the fact that Haladki had felt justified in approaching him in the first place. He'd be branded as a potential mole, and his career would be over--just like that.
A few hours later, when he had learned that Jack had executed Haladki, he'd felt as if he'd been given a reprieve. As far as he could tell, there was no one else besides Haladki who knew what had occurred. He had felt safe from recrimination, but his guilt over the situation had only grown. Vaughn had almost died in Taipei, and he blamed himself.
He could have chosen to follow Vaughn to Taipei to rescue Will. It wasn't like he hadn't taken risks on Vaughn and Sydney's behalf before. After all, he had helped Jack and Vaughn kidnap Will in order to convince him to drop his investigation of SD-6, and he had even gone so far as to hold two federal agents at gunpoint while Jack and Vaughn freed Sydney from FBI custody. Self-interest had made him draw a line beyond which his friendship for Vaughn would not cross, and that line had been at Taipei. He would have given anything at this point to be able to go back and erase it.
Since Vaughn had returned from Taipei, he had done everything in his power to rectify the damage he had done to their friendship. He thought he had expiated his guilt in the process--had even fooled himself into believing he had been fortunate enough to escape the consequences of his momentary moral weakness--that is up until now.
Weiss glanced at Sark, and he became aware of how much the other man was enjoying watching him squirm.
"What makes you think I am so eager to betray my country?" Weiss said, straightening his back and meeting Sark's gaze head on.
"If you are implying our initial offer was not to your liking, perhaps something else can be arranged. My employer can be very generous, if it helps her get what she wants," Sark said, running a finger along Vaughn's bookcases, and casually picking up a photo of Vaughn as a young boy riding on his father's shoulders.
"You work for Irina Derevko, Sydney's mother," Weiss stated, stalling for time.
"Yes, I thought that was already clear," Sark replied. "Well, Mr. Weiss, may I convey your intentions to my employer?"
"Tell her I gave it some thought, and I'm not interested in dying like Haladki at the hands of her husband," Weiss replied brazenly. "Why don't you approach Agent Vaughn? I think he might give you a different answer."
It was a golden opportunity to establish Vaughn's cover as the new mole, and Weiss seized it.
Sark ceased perusing Vaughn's possessions and replaced the family photo he had taken from the shelf, turning to face Weiss once more. "You've piqued my interest. I believe Agent Vaughn's father was given the same opportunity many years ago and had the arrogance to turn it down. Most unfortunate, don't you think, since it led to his demise. Incidentally, I would be very careful, before you think of doing the same," Sark cautioned, giving Weiss a hard look. "However, I am curious as to why you think Agent Vaughn would accept an offer you, yourself, have refused with such vehemence?"
"How about the fact that he's in love with your employer's daughter?" Weiss shot back.
"With Sydney? I see. Yes, that would change things," Sark remarked thoughtfully. "Sydney, however, has given no indication yet of wanting to work with her mother. In fact, I believe she has fled the country. You wouldn't by any chance know where she has gone or why Agent Vaughn has been discharged from the hospital slightly sooner than was previously expected?"
"Not a clue," Weiss said, an edge creeping into his voice.
"A pity--you could have saved us some time," Sark replied. "Well, I must say I am disappointed that you have chosen not to accept our offer, but it was good of you to suggest a replacement. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"
Weiss swallowed as he saw Sark adjust the silencer on his handgun.
"No?" Sark said, lifting one pale eyebrow. "In that case, do you have any last words, Mr. Weiss?"
Weiss scowled. "F-"
The word never left his mouth. He fell backwards, the bullet hitting him squarely in the chest.
"Yeah, don't give me those eyes," Weiss said in mock sternness, reaching down to scratch Donovan behind the ears. "I've had it up to here with puppy- dog eyes. First Sydney, now you. You want Vaughn, I know. Sorry to disappoint you, bud, but you're stuck with me for the time being, same as Syd."
Weiss set his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't even noon yet. He stretched and then took off his holster, setting it beside the briefcase. He began rummaging around the kitchen, getting fresh water and putting half a can of dog food--per Mike's instructions--in Donovan's bowl. Afterwards, he grabbed a Coke from the fridge, leaving the Sam Adams for later that evening, and sat down to chill a few minutes before he took Donovan for a walk.
He had to admit, he'd liked staying in Mike's apartment the last few days. Unlike Weiss, Vaughn had taken the trouble to furnish his apartment and was no longer subsisting on furniture from his college days. It had always seemed a little too GQ for Eric's taste--what with the dark Mission-style furniture and earth tone color scheme--but, it had been growing on him. He found himself once again studying the series of black and white photographs which lined the wall above the moss-green sofa. The first was of the Champs de Élysée, the second, a thatched-roof cottage set on the top of a hill with a view of the sea, and the third was of the Los Angeles skyline at night. He had known Mike for years before he discovered that he was an amateur photographer and had taken them himself. It occurred to Weiss that this was precisely the type of thing Sydney would want to know about Vaughn, and that he himself now took for granted.
He constantly kidded Mike about how uptight he was, but Eric had to confess that he envied him in every way--his apartment, his Gallic good looks, and his girl. He had to get his mind off Syd and Vaughn. It seemed like it was all he could think about lately. Finishing off his Coke, Weiss went to the kitchen to throw the can away and then returned to the living room to search for Donovan's leash. He could never remember where he laid the damn thing down. He started shuffling through old newspapers and magazines, making a mental note to clean up before Vaughn got back.
He heard Donovan whine behind him. "Just a sec, ol' boy," he said, "I think I found it."
Donovan started to growl, gave one sharp bark, and high-tailed it into the bedroom. "What the heck's gotten into you, Donovan?" Weiss said, finally turning around.
The front door was ajar, and Sark stood within a few feet of him, gun in hand.
"Mr. Weiss, forgive me for the intrusion. I hope you don't mind. I've come to discuss a little business matter with you. I think you know to what I am referring," he said with a tight smile.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Weiss replied, eyeing his handgun, which still lay on the kitchen counter at the far side of the room.
Sark lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Before his rather untimely demise, Agent Haladki lead me to believe you two had reached an understanding. An agreement of sorts. Is that not so?"
"There was no agreement. Haladki made a proposition; I listened. That was all," Weiss stated hotly, perspiration starting to collect on his brow.
It was the truth. All he had done was listen, but that in itself was enough to constitute betrayal. If he hadn't violated Vaughn's trust and told Haladki that Vaughn suspected Sydney would try to rescue Will on her own, he doubted Haladki would have had the guts to approach him later that same day about spying on Vaughn and Sydney for "The Man."
It was obvious to him now that Haladki had detected the growing rift between him and Vaughn, and had tried to exploit it for his own purposes. Weiss knew he should have gone back to Devlin and reported Haladki then and there, but he'd been too afraid of how his actions would be interpreted. It didn't matter that he had turned down Haladki's proposition to spy on Vaughn and Sydney. The CIA would focus on the fact that Haladki had felt justified in approaching him in the first place. He'd be branded as a potential mole, and his career would be over--just like that.
A few hours later, when he had learned that Jack had executed Haladki, he'd felt as if he'd been given a reprieve. As far as he could tell, there was no one else besides Haladki who knew what had occurred. He had felt safe from recrimination, but his guilt over the situation had only grown. Vaughn had almost died in Taipei, and he blamed himself.
He could have chosen to follow Vaughn to Taipei to rescue Will. It wasn't like he hadn't taken risks on Vaughn and Sydney's behalf before. After all, he had helped Jack and Vaughn kidnap Will in order to convince him to drop his investigation of SD-6, and he had even gone so far as to hold two federal agents at gunpoint while Jack and Vaughn freed Sydney from FBI custody. Self-interest had made him draw a line beyond which his friendship for Vaughn would not cross, and that line had been at Taipei. He would have given anything at this point to be able to go back and erase it.
Since Vaughn had returned from Taipei, he had done everything in his power to rectify the damage he had done to their friendship. He thought he had expiated his guilt in the process--had even fooled himself into believing he had been fortunate enough to escape the consequences of his momentary moral weakness--that is up until now.
Weiss glanced at Sark, and he became aware of how much the other man was enjoying watching him squirm.
"What makes you think I am so eager to betray my country?" Weiss said, straightening his back and meeting Sark's gaze head on.
"If you are implying our initial offer was not to your liking, perhaps something else can be arranged. My employer can be very generous, if it helps her get what she wants," Sark said, running a finger along Vaughn's bookcases, and casually picking up a photo of Vaughn as a young boy riding on his father's shoulders.
"You work for Irina Derevko, Sydney's mother," Weiss stated, stalling for time.
"Yes, I thought that was already clear," Sark replied. "Well, Mr. Weiss, may I convey your intentions to my employer?"
"Tell her I gave it some thought, and I'm not interested in dying like Haladki at the hands of her husband," Weiss replied brazenly. "Why don't you approach Agent Vaughn? I think he might give you a different answer."
It was a golden opportunity to establish Vaughn's cover as the new mole, and Weiss seized it.
Sark ceased perusing Vaughn's possessions and replaced the family photo he had taken from the shelf, turning to face Weiss once more. "You've piqued my interest. I believe Agent Vaughn's father was given the same opportunity many years ago and had the arrogance to turn it down. Most unfortunate, don't you think, since it led to his demise. Incidentally, I would be very careful, before you think of doing the same," Sark cautioned, giving Weiss a hard look. "However, I am curious as to why you think Agent Vaughn would accept an offer you, yourself, have refused with such vehemence?"
"How about the fact that he's in love with your employer's daughter?" Weiss shot back.
"With Sydney? I see. Yes, that would change things," Sark remarked thoughtfully. "Sydney, however, has given no indication yet of wanting to work with her mother. In fact, I believe she has fled the country. You wouldn't by any chance know where she has gone or why Agent Vaughn has been discharged from the hospital slightly sooner than was previously expected?"
"Not a clue," Weiss said, an edge creeping into his voice.
"A pity--you could have saved us some time," Sark replied. "Well, I must say I am disappointed that you have chosen not to accept our offer, but it was good of you to suggest a replacement. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"
Weiss swallowed as he saw Sark adjust the silencer on his handgun.
"No?" Sark said, lifting one pale eyebrow. "In that case, do you have any last words, Mr. Weiss?"
Weiss scowled. "F-"
The word never left his mouth. He fell backwards, the bullet hitting him squarely in the chest.