A/N: Sorry this one took so long. I had a hard time writing it because it's
a little more action-y. Hope you guys liked it. I've already started
working on the next one!
Much to her surprise, Anna felt him retie the robe around her body. Sark cleared his throat and stepped back from her, straightening the collar of his dark shirt.
"So, are you alright?"
"Yeah, fine. That always seems to happen on our flights. What was that?" Anna asked, stepping back into formality.
Sark shrugged. "No clue. I'm assuming just turbulence. Not the best way to start a mission, I suppose. Maybe it's a sign—the fact that it keeps happening everytime we work together."
Anna tilted her head, grinning. "Look at you--all superstitious! Should we knock on wood or wear little charms?" she teased. Her eyes searched the plane expectantly. "Where are the leprechauns and little people? Harry Potter?" she called out innocently.
Sark shook his head in response, hiding a small smile as he sat back down in his seat. "Hysterical. Really. We're all jolly, now, thanks. Come on, sit down now, we're about to land."
Anna plopped down in the chair, her legs wound themselves into a cross- legged position. She began to unravel the plastic wrapper from what looked like a lollipop and popped it into her mouth.
"Surely, you realize that you look like a small child?"
"Eat me. It's a sucker. I'm sure even you, in your white-collar, pristine English childhood, managed to lower yourself to having a lollipop at some point," she answered, licking the sides of the green candy.
Sark laughed, surprised that someone could have so many different sides to them. "Sometimes...I just wonder how you're a CIA agent. Here you are, eating a child's candy, and in half-an-hour, you'll be obtaining codes, incognito no less, for the government of the United States."
Anna lifted her eyes to the ceiling, her hands digging around in the pockets of her robe. "Ah, here we go. You want one? It's watermelon. Watermelon is definitely one of my top three flavours!"
He took it reluctantly from her hands and awkwardly took off the wrapper, daintily putting it in his mouth for a moment, before he took it out again. "You're right. Watermelon is nice."
It was Anna's turn to laugh. "See? You really need to live a little. And a sucker is just one baby step on the path to an enlightened life..."
Sark arched one eyebrow. "Enlightened life?"
"Yeah. There's sugar sticks and sour keys and suckers with gum. Dude, it's a whole new world."
"Did you just call me 'dude'?"
"I'm American. I have exclusive rights to the word 'dude'!" Anna exclaimed, biting loudly down on her lollipop. "So tell me, how dangerous is this Kirsch?"
"Former KGB, second rung in the old Alliance of 12, free-lance assassin...Dangerous. You have to be careful...if he realizes who you are, he will not hesitate to eliminate you," Sark explained seriously, twirling around the lollipop.
Anna waved her hand dismissively, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Saying 'yes, Anna, he's dangerous' would've been enough. Honestly, why is it that you think I can't handle my job. Haven't I proven to you already that I'm capable?"
Sark put on his black leather jacket, running a hand threw his short hair. "Yes, you are capable. I don't doubt nor disagree with that statement. However, I've read your file and--,"
"You've read my file. No. The CIA would not give you that kind of access," Anna interjected loudly, leaning forward.
"You're right. They wouldn't and didn't. I read it before I 'came' to the CIA. Once I realized I'd been tricked in Marseilles, I set up a team to discover the culprit. You. I've read it all. Your training. Your time at SD- 6 and the CIA. The missions and assignments."
Anna nodded quietly, indicating that Sark should continue. "Well, your record is fairly spotless but there's just one thing I noticed. On every referral, every evaluation, the same assessment is always made: lack of self-concern, reckless behaviour, takes personal risks, etc. You will do anything to get what you need, with little concern to your own personal well-being--,"
"So? What, you, of all people, are criticizing me for this? I do what I need to. End of story," Anna jumped up, changing from her robe into a long coat behind his seat.
Sark continued to stare straight ahead. "I wasn't criticizing. I was stating a fact. And for the record, I do understand. Some things are just worth it. Especially when there's little else to stay around for."
Anna stopped dead in her tracks. He did know. "It's..," she hesitated, "...hard to get attached to something that has such little value. I guess when there's nothing to come back to, there's not much incentive for safety."
Sark rose from his chair, grabbing his briefcase and putting on a pair of dark sunglasses that shielded his eyes from hers. Anna went down the stairs and out into the warm, light air, the knot of worry inside of her growing tighter.
"Come back," Sark called simply from the top of the stairs, watching her.
Anna tossed her long hair and smiled up at him, her head slightly cocked. "Oh, I will. You owe me candy." She strode off, the wind ruffling her hair, and prepared to see for herself just how dangerous this Mr. Kirsch really was.
"Anna, cough if you can hear me. I'm about to go to the lounge to meet Esperanto," Sark said, barely moving his lips as he entered into the small Irish pub, not a mile from the airport where he had just dropped her off.
"It's fine. I'm in the changeroom, I have a few minutes. Jerk didn't like the red. Get the codes ASAP, ok? At this rate, I should have handled Kirsch within the next few minutes," Anna said quietly over the intercom.
Sark hid a small smile, feeling some of his earlier, inexplicable concern ebb away. "Just be careful. He's been instructed by Sloane to be extremely vigilant."
Anna sighed loudly. "Again with the lack of confidence in me! I am going to bring back the cores of those weapons on a silver platter for you. Then we can talk. I'm out."
Sark listened carefully to what was going on the other end of his earpiece as he drummed his fingers on the table, awaiting the arrival of Esperanto, who was already 15 minutes late. He heard Kirsch's loud groan of approval when Anna must have reappeared and then sounds of movement and clothing rustling. Sark felt his body tense and his mind strain as he listened intently to Kirsch's low moans, visually imagining his hard, calloused hands hungrily touching Anna's soft, silky skin.
"Ah, Mr. Sark," Damon Esperanto stood infront of the table, holding out his hand.
Sark stood up, giving the man a firm handshake. "Short notice, I know. Thank you for taking the time to meet me. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine."
"It's been awhile," Esperanto commented dryly as he nestled back into the plush leather chair. "I'd heard...rumours...that you'd bowed out."
Sark acknowledged the young waitress as she set out two glasses and a bottle of deep red wine. "Thank you." He took a small sip, savouring the sensation of the cool liquid skimming down his throat. "You've heard wrong. I'm still in. There's something I want."
"Naturally. Children like you always want for something," Esperanto replied nastily, folding his hands.
Sark shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Well, if what you say of me is true, then you should have no problem indulging me. After all, look no further than to your other children." He whipped out a small folder from the inside of his coat and casually slid it across the table. "Open it. I'm sure you remember that little girl. Fourteen years old. Oh, and then there's her too--," Sark said, pointing discreetly towards the pictures Esperanto held in his shaking hands. "But she was thirteen, I think. Right, and let's not forget your own son and daughter. Tut tut tut." He leaned across the table and lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes narrowed on the other man's worried expression. "Do you know what they do in prison to men—to sick bastards—like you? Not to mention, crimes of this magnitude...and this level of disgust...you're looking at decades here, mate."
Esperanto began to visibly shake, his face red and beginning to form beads of sweat. "I—I..." He broke off, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and scrambled to light one.
Sark ripped the cigarette from his hand, tearing it in two. "Don't you know those things will kill you. I repeat: There's something I want."
Anna tried not to grimace as Kirsch massaged her shoulders roughly, his hands digging into her skin. She could feel his hunger for her body and forced herself to hide her repulsion as he lowered her down on the bed. All she needed to do was prick him with a drop of the sedative at a pressure point and he would be out but Kirsch refused to stay still, constantly slithering up and down her. Anna bit her lip as he licked her face lustily, attempting to look serene. She took the initiative to slide out from under his bulk and straddle his body, her lips nearly touching his ear as she grabbed his wrists, restraining them seductively. "Ooh, naughty, naughty," Kirsch breathed out, surrendering to her. Anna coaxed the pin from her heavy bracelet, jamming it into his left wrist. "I liked the red one," Anna said severely, getting off the bed. He cried out in pain as he lunged for her, his face contorting unattractively, "Bitch...you little--," His voice fizzled out as he lost consciousness.
"Sark—he's out. I'm going after the other guard and then the weapons. Get me the codes," she said into her earpiece, covering herself with a khaki jumpsuit. Anna knocked on the door of the bedroom, peeking out the door. "Excuse me." The dark-haired guard looked up at her from his chair just outside the room. "There's something wrong with him. He just fell asleep while we were...well, you know," she said sweetly. As the guard entered the room and bent over Kirsch, Anna jumped behind him and stabbed him in the neck with the other pin, watching as he fell to the floor. She bent down, grabbing the key card for the cargo-hold and exhaled deeply. It was now or never.
Anna ran down the steps to the first cargo-hold, unlocking the door hastily. Her eyes ran the length of the relatively empty room. Nothing, the nuclear weapons were not there. Checking her watch, she hurried to the second storage room, silently praying to find what she was looking for. She scanned the room quickly, which was full of wooden boxes. Anna cracked open one of the larger boxes, finding only an old blender and toaster. She ran to the next one, wiping her forehead as she pulled out more useless items. "Shit." Tossing them aside, she tried one final box, throwing off the lid aggressively. It was empty, except for hoards of packing materials. She panicked and removed the Styrofoam bits, her hands latching onto a small glass vile. Realizing it was a blood sample, she looked at the tag, her eyes widening. Anna Parker, it read. Her breath caught in her throat as she fumbled to place the vile protectively in her inside pocket, her body immobilized with shock. "S---Sark, Oh my God. Oh my God," she repeated in a soft whisper. Suddenly her vision was skewed by a blinding white flash of pain and she crumpled to the ground.
Sark maintained his outward calm, though inwardly he was concerned about what he had overheard. Anna had expressed her shock at something and there'd been a tone of fear to her voice. His split his focus, listening for any sound from Anna's end but hearing nothing but a slight buzz. Her link was dead.
"So, Mr. Sark...let me get this straight: you want me to tell you the codes to a set of nuclear weapons that you assume are in the custody of my boss?" Esperanto said quietly, having relaxed once Sark had replaced the incriminating photos back in his jacket.
Sark shook the various scenarios about what was happening on that plane from his head, pursing his lips. "I'd hate to believe that you're feeling...confident...about our situation. Because you have no reason to be." He paused, running a finger across his mouth. "There are two ways to do this. You can willingly cede the information I require or you can do it...involuntarily. Have no fear, Mr. Esperanto, I will release these photographs once I have 'extracted', and I mean that quite literally, the codes and then you'll become someone's after-dinner mint just like that!"
"I—I...just—," Esperanto responded weakly, his eyes exposing fear.
"Let's go for a drive, shall we?" Sark flicked his wrist at the waitress and slammed a few bills on the table, opening his pocket knife visibly to his scared enemy. "Try anything and you're dead."
Once they were in the black, CIA issued car, with Esperanto at the wheel, Sark gave directions back to the airfield.
Esperanto's sweaty face looked surprise as they pulled into the dark, vacant airport. "I don't understand. Why are we back here?"
Sark glanced at him casually as he stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood; Esperanto followed, standing humbly before him. "We're waiting," Sark said, glancing into the deep night sky, attentive to any movements Esperanto might try to make. "When the plane lands, my partner will have the weapons, no doubt. But the plan was for her to disengage them in the air. Unfortunately, you've been less than forthcoming with the codes." With that, he launched a hard elbow-punch into Esperanto's ribs, watching as his body crumbled to the cold cement. "If you give them to me now, I could save myself the effort and you the pain."
Esperanto fought for some semblance of dignity and spat, narrowly missing Sark's shoes. "Apparently, you have some sort of a death-wish."
"No, but it doesn't matter. You'll kill me whether or not I tell you the codes. Either way, I lose. But I won't let you win, you evil little bastard," Esperanto heaved. "That tart you put on the plane—,"
Sark kicked him squarely in the jaw. "Don't speak of her."
Esperanto coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. "He knows. Kirsch knows. He will have his way with her and then kill her. Pretty thing, I'm sure. Young, fresh, well—,"
Sark bent down, gripping the man by his collar violently. "Shut up. What does he know?! Tell me now!"
Esperanto laughed cruelly, finally having found a weapon against Sark. "He knows what she is after. This meeting was a set up. We were informed that the CIA would be trying to infiltrate the plane to get their filthy hands on those weapons. But I didn't expect you to be CIA. Nor did I expect such unfriendliness from you.Honestly."
Sark shook his head, trying to process all this information. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't. She sedated him—,"
"You should know...," Esperanto stopped, catching his breath, "...that our informant was very helpful. We were able to anticipate the sedative—God forbid the CIA kill someone—and Kirsch took measures to insure he would be able to avoid the effects of the drug...an anti-sedative, I think it was. So right about now, I'd be thinking that he's holding a gun to your little girlfriend's head."
Anna woke up to the sensation of feeling the cool steel of the barrel of a gun pressed to her forehead. Struggling to open her eyes, she fingered the bump on head lightly, feeling a sticky substance bind to her skin. Blood.
"And the sleeping beauty awakens," a male voice commented.
Anna tried to focus her vision but all the images she saw were blurred. "Ahhh," she sighed painfully, realizing her hands were binded.
"You're a beautiful girl. We could have had fun...but sadly, you decided to be naughty and try to sedate me."
The blurriness became clearer as she realized who stood before her, toting a gun threateningly. "Kirsch."
Kirsch laughed loudly. "And she gets it in one...You must have questions. First, where are those damned weapons, am I right? And second, how am I not sleeping soundly, huh? Huh? We knew you would come. The weapons are not here. All of this was intended as a distraction for the CIA. You didn't really think it would be this easy, did you? And as for the second question? Want to guess at that? Answer me, girl!"
Anna lifted her head, her fearless eyes meeting his, dead-on. "I figured that with your age and all, you must get tired...unable to perform. Don't worry. It happens to all old men."
Kirsch whipped his hand across her face, leaving a bright red welt. "I can show you what I can do." His hand grabbed her chin, roughly smashing his lips on hers. He started to unzip her suit, her body struggling to stop him, before a cell-phone ring made him drop him harshly to the ground.
"I have to do it now?" Kirsch said into the phone.
Anna was able to reach for the small knife in her back pocket and remove the protective covering behind her back. She pointed it at such an angle that it would saw her ties apart, watching Kirsch carefully.
"Fine. Now it is."
She cut faster, while keeping her expression blank. Faster. Faster. Faster.
"Yes. You're the boss. Alright, see you in an hour." Kirsch slipped his cell phone back in his pocket and bent down to her ear. "Looks like I won't get to show you after all. Time does not permit." There, her bonds were free! He leaned in again to slide his tongue across her cheek. Anna jumped up, knocking Kirsch off-balance, as he fell backwards into several wooden crates. She whipped the knife forcefully into his left shoulderblade and scrambled out of the storage room, realizing she'd have to find parachute gear in order to get off the plane.
Anna ran to the emergency closet and grabbed an emergency vest with a parachute before heading up to the pilot's control room. She picked up the gun from the guard she'd sedated and carefully made her way to the head of the plane, hoping to find something that she could use to get a communications link to Sark. His meeting with Esperanto was probably part of the set-up. His life could be in danger. Anna pushed open the door, expecting to be aiming at two pilots but finding none, only a red-button flashing auto-pilot. Anna pulled apart the control board, searching for wires and finding a spare headset. She was able to use the satellite connection already available on the plane to connect to the CIA. "This is Agent Parker. Can you read me?"
Kendall's voice answered. "Parker, what the hell is going on?"
"No time. Get me Marshall. This was all a set up," Anna explained hurriedly, waiting for Marshall's nervous voice to sound in her hear.
"Uh, yes, Anna? How can I be of—," There he was.
"Marshall, I need you to establish a link to Sark's comm. Now."
"Sark—they're not here. It was a trap! This whole thing was a God-damned set-up! Kirsch parachuted out, already! The plane is going explode...Do you hear me...there's a bomb!" Her voice broke over the communications system. "Track Kirsch...I put a motion tracker on that son-of-a-bitch! He knows where the Rambaldi artifact is—,"
"Wait...I know! Esperanto—...it was all a set-up. They knew we would come. You need to get off that plane!" Sark yelled, training his gun on Esperanto threateningly.
"There's...no....time...get...Kirsch." Static overtook her voice. Sark could hear Sydney Bristow's voice as the CIA tapped into their link. She was telling Anna to land the plane, her tone frantic and upset.
"Sark...get him...Syd....don't worry, I—," the link went dead and both Sark and the CIA heard nothing but silence from Anna's end. Sark shot Esperanto squarely in the leg, tearing open his satchel of gear as the man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Sark looked quickly to the starry sky with his binoculars, feeling himself grow cold as his eyes focused on a small but bright orange fireball glowing in the sky. Something inside of him knew that the plane that Anna was on had exploded. "It's gone," he said bluntly, adding quietly. "The plane exploded." He waited for a response from Sydney, hearing only a few muffled cries as he stood dully on the tarmac of the airport runway.
"You don't know that. You don't know that," Sydney repeated softly over the network.
"Her link went dead."
"That—that could have been...from anything...dead airspace...interference--," Sydney whispered.
Sark shook his head in disbelief, even though she could not see him. "Sydney— I saw it. I saw it explode. There is no way—just....no way. But now, I have business to attend to." Sark looked steely down at a whimpering Esperanto.
"Sark, what are you going to do?" Sydney asked desperately. He heard people arguing and then Kendall's voice rang in his ear.
"You do nothing. You will wait until a team comes to pick you up."
"I'm sorry, sir. That is just not feasible at this point."
Kendall grew angrier. "Sark, damnit, you don't move a bloody inch--,"
"Again, this is unfortunate. But I have two things to do. Send a team after me. I'll be gone before they get here. However, I can assure you, I am not about to betray the CIA."
"Your promises are nothing—,"
Sark removed his earpiece, effectively cutting off Kendall's voice. He bent to the ground, taking two small, but impeccable sharp knives from his ankle. He glanced over at Esperanto's sweaty face as he spoke, "You know, one of these knives is a special weapon first made by the ancient Chinese. When the blade hits your flesh, it literally causes your skin to burn as though it had been touched by acid. Naturally, the pairing of this...painful sensation...with the fact that you've just been impaled with a knife, can kill a man. You and Kirsch set the CIA up. You set me up. And you set the woman on that plane up. I should kill you." Sark's expression grew more deadly as he thought about Anna. He opened his jacket, undoing his shirt. "But first, I need to know what you know. Where the hell is the Rambaldi artifact?"
Esperanto leaned away from Sark, his entire body convulsing in fear. "I—I...don't know. I have...no idea. I swear. Only Kirsch knows. But Kirsch...he told me that the only person who can decipher the Rambaldi codes is a man named Alvin Dresden. Once they have the artifact, they need to take it to this man...he has the key, unknowingly, somehow. I don't know anymore than that...I promise!" Esperanto said hurriedly, looking wearily at the two knives in Sark's hands.
"Where is Dresden?" Sark demanded.
"I—I honestly don't know. Neither does Sloane. He is searching for Dresden and doesn't know where he is. Kirsch hasn't told him—he's waiting for incentive. Only Kirsch knows, I swear!"
Sark took one of the blades to his right shoulder, making a small incision. He grimaced, needling out a small, square object as blood drizzled from the wound. It was the tracker the CIA had placed in him. Sark looked squarely at Esperanto's quivering body. "I guess we know which knife is which, considering I'm not dead. Oh...and by the way, wrong answer." Sark plunged the other knife into Esperanto's stomach, twisting it violently in his flesh. He stood up, leaving the man to die on the hard concrete, and placed his tracker delicately next to Esperanto's bloody, shaking form. Now, there was one more person...
Much to her surprise, Anna felt him retie the robe around her body. Sark cleared his throat and stepped back from her, straightening the collar of his dark shirt.
"So, are you alright?"
"Yeah, fine. That always seems to happen on our flights. What was that?" Anna asked, stepping back into formality.
Sark shrugged. "No clue. I'm assuming just turbulence. Not the best way to start a mission, I suppose. Maybe it's a sign—the fact that it keeps happening everytime we work together."
Anna tilted her head, grinning. "Look at you--all superstitious! Should we knock on wood or wear little charms?" she teased. Her eyes searched the plane expectantly. "Where are the leprechauns and little people? Harry Potter?" she called out innocently.
Sark shook his head in response, hiding a small smile as he sat back down in his seat. "Hysterical. Really. We're all jolly, now, thanks. Come on, sit down now, we're about to land."
Anna plopped down in the chair, her legs wound themselves into a cross- legged position. She began to unravel the plastic wrapper from what looked like a lollipop and popped it into her mouth.
"Surely, you realize that you look like a small child?"
"Eat me. It's a sucker. I'm sure even you, in your white-collar, pristine English childhood, managed to lower yourself to having a lollipop at some point," she answered, licking the sides of the green candy.
Sark laughed, surprised that someone could have so many different sides to them. "Sometimes...I just wonder how you're a CIA agent. Here you are, eating a child's candy, and in half-an-hour, you'll be obtaining codes, incognito no less, for the government of the United States."
Anna lifted her eyes to the ceiling, her hands digging around in the pockets of her robe. "Ah, here we go. You want one? It's watermelon. Watermelon is definitely one of my top three flavours!"
He took it reluctantly from her hands and awkwardly took off the wrapper, daintily putting it in his mouth for a moment, before he took it out again. "You're right. Watermelon is nice."
It was Anna's turn to laugh. "See? You really need to live a little. And a sucker is just one baby step on the path to an enlightened life..."
Sark arched one eyebrow. "Enlightened life?"
"Yeah. There's sugar sticks and sour keys and suckers with gum. Dude, it's a whole new world."
"Did you just call me 'dude'?"
"I'm American. I have exclusive rights to the word 'dude'!" Anna exclaimed, biting loudly down on her lollipop. "So tell me, how dangerous is this Kirsch?"
"Former KGB, second rung in the old Alliance of 12, free-lance assassin...Dangerous. You have to be careful...if he realizes who you are, he will not hesitate to eliminate you," Sark explained seriously, twirling around the lollipop.
Anna waved her hand dismissively, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Saying 'yes, Anna, he's dangerous' would've been enough. Honestly, why is it that you think I can't handle my job. Haven't I proven to you already that I'm capable?"
Sark put on his black leather jacket, running a hand threw his short hair. "Yes, you are capable. I don't doubt nor disagree with that statement. However, I've read your file and--,"
"You've read my file. No. The CIA would not give you that kind of access," Anna interjected loudly, leaning forward.
"You're right. They wouldn't and didn't. I read it before I 'came' to the CIA. Once I realized I'd been tricked in Marseilles, I set up a team to discover the culprit. You. I've read it all. Your training. Your time at SD- 6 and the CIA. The missions and assignments."
Anna nodded quietly, indicating that Sark should continue. "Well, your record is fairly spotless but there's just one thing I noticed. On every referral, every evaluation, the same assessment is always made: lack of self-concern, reckless behaviour, takes personal risks, etc. You will do anything to get what you need, with little concern to your own personal well-being--,"
"So? What, you, of all people, are criticizing me for this? I do what I need to. End of story," Anna jumped up, changing from her robe into a long coat behind his seat.
Sark continued to stare straight ahead. "I wasn't criticizing. I was stating a fact. And for the record, I do understand. Some things are just worth it. Especially when there's little else to stay around for."
Anna stopped dead in her tracks. He did know. "It's..," she hesitated, "...hard to get attached to something that has such little value. I guess when there's nothing to come back to, there's not much incentive for safety."
Sark rose from his chair, grabbing his briefcase and putting on a pair of dark sunglasses that shielded his eyes from hers. Anna went down the stairs and out into the warm, light air, the knot of worry inside of her growing tighter.
"Come back," Sark called simply from the top of the stairs, watching her.
Anna tossed her long hair and smiled up at him, her head slightly cocked. "Oh, I will. You owe me candy." She strode off, the wind ruffling her hair, and prepared to see for herself just how dangerous this Mr. Kirsch really was.
"Anna, cough if you can hear me. I'm about to go to the lounge to meet Esperanto," Sark said, barely moving his lips as he entered into the small Irish pub, not a mile from the airport where he had just dropped her off.
"It's fine. I'm in the changeroom, I have a few minutes. Jerk didn't like the red. Get the codes ASAP, ok? At this rate, I should have handled Kirsch within the next few minutes," Anna said quietly over the intercom.
Sark hid a small smile, feeling some of his earlier, inexplicable concern ebb away. "Just be careful. He's been instructed by Sloane to be extremely vigilant."
Anna sighed loudly. "Again with the lack of confidence in me! I am going to bring back the cores of those weapons on a silver platter for you. Then we can talk. I'm out."
Sark listened carefully to what was going on the other end of his earpiece as he drummed his fingers on the table, awaiting the arrival of Esperanto, who was already 15 minutes late. He heard Kirsch's loud groan of approval when Anna must have reappeared and then sounds of movement and clothing rustling. Sark felt his body tense and his mind strain as he listened intently to Kirsch's low moans, visually imagining his hard, calloused hands hungrily touching Anna's soft, silky skin.
"Ah, Mr. Sark," Damon Esperanto stood infront of the table, holding out his hand.
Sark stood up, giving the man a firm handshake. "Short notice, I know. Thank you for taking the time to meet me. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine."
"It's been awhile," Esperanto commented dryly as he nestled back into the plush leather chair. "I'd heard...rumours...that you'd bowed out."
Sark acknowledged the young waitress as she set out two glasses and a bottle of deep red wine. "Thank you." He took a small sip, savouring the sensation of the cool liquid skimming down his throat. "You've heard wrong. I'm still in. There's something I want."
"Naturally. Children like you always want for something," Esperanto replied nastily, folding his hands.
Sark shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Well, if what you say of me is true, then you should have no problem indulging me. After all, look no further than to your other children." He whipped out a small folder from the inside of his coat and casually slid it across the table. "Open it. I'm sure you remember that little girl. Fourteen years old. Oh, and then there's her too--," Sark said, pointing discreetly towards the pictures Esperanto held in his shaking hands. "But she was thirteen, I think. Right, and let's not forget your own son and daughter. Tut tut tut." He leaned across the table and lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes narrowed on the other man's worried expression. "Do you know what they do in prison to men—to sick bastards—like you? Not to mention, crimes of this magnitude...and this level of disgust...you're looking at decades here, mate."
Esperanto began to visibly shake, his face red and beginning to form beads of sweat. "I—I..." He broke off, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and scrambled to light one.
Sark ripped the cigarette from his hand, tearing it in two. "Don't you know those things will kill you. I repeat: There's something I want."
Anna tried not to grimace as Kirsch massaged her shoulders roughly, his hands digging into her skin. She could feel his hunger for her body and forced herself to hide her repulsion as he lowered her down on the bed. All she needed to do was prick him with a drop of the sedative at a pressure point and he would be out but Kirsch refused to stay still, constantly slithering up and down her. Anna bit her lip as he licked her face lustily, attempting to look serene. She took the initiative to slide out from under his bulk and straddle his body, her lips nearly touching his ear as she grabbed his wrists, restraining them seductively. "Ooh, naughty, naughty," Kirsch breathed out, surrendering to her. Anna coaxed the pin from her heavy bracelet, jamming it into his left wrist. "I liked the red one," Anna said severely, getting off the bed. He cried out in pain as he lunged for her, his face contorting unattractively, "Bitch...you little--," His voice fizzled out as he lost consciousness.
"Sark—he's out. I'm going after the other guard and then the weapons. Get me the codes," she said into her earpiece, covering herself with a khaki jumpsuit. Anna knocked on the door of the bedroom, peeking out the door. "Excuse me." The dark-haired guard looked up at her from his chair just outside the room. "There's something wrong with him. He just fell asleep while we were...well, you know," she said sweetly. As the guard entered the room and bent over Kirsch, Anna jumped behind him and stabbed him in the neck with the other pin, watching as he fell to the floor. She bent down, grabbing the key card for the cargo-hold and exhaled deeply. It was now or never.
Anna ran down the steps to the first cargo-hold, unlocking the door hastily. Her eyes ran the length of the relatively empty room. Nothing, the nuclear weapons were not there. Checking her watch, she hurried to the second storage room, silently praying to find what she was looking for. She scanned the room quickly, which was full of wooden boxes. Anna cracked open one of the larger boxes, finding only an old blender and toaster. She ran to the next one, wiping her forehead as she pulled out more useless items. "Shit." Tossing them aside, she tried one final box, throwing off the lid aggressively. It was empty, except for hoards of packing materials. She panicked and removed the Styrofoam bits, her hands latching onto a small glass vile. Realizing it was a blood sample, she looked at the tag, her eyes widening. Anna Parker, it read. Her breath caught in her throat as she fumbled to place the vile protectively in her inside pocket, her body immobilized with shock. "S---Sark, Oh my God. Oh my God," she repeated in a soft whisper. Suddenly her vision was skewed by a blinding white flash of pain and she crumpled to the ground.
Sark maintained his outward calm, though inwardly he was concerned about what he had overheard. Anna had expressed her shock at something and there'd been a tone of fear to her voice. His split his focus, listening for any sound from Anna's end but hearing nothing but a slight buzz. Her link was dead.
"So, Mr. Sark...let me get this straight: you want me to tell you the codes to a set of nuclear weapons that you assume are in the custody of my boss?" Esperanto said quietly, having relaxed once Sark had replaced the incriminating photos back in his jacket.
Sark shook the various scenarios about what was happening on that plane from his head, pursing his lips. "I'd hate to believe that you're feeling...confident...about our situation. Because you have no reason to be." He paused, running a finger across his mouth. "There are two ways to do this. You can willingly cede the information I require or you can do it...involuntarily. Have no fear, Mr. Esperanto, I will release these photographs once I have 'extracted', and I mean that quite literally, the codes and then you'll become someone's after-dinner mint just like that!"
"I—I...just—," Esperanto responded weakly, his eyes exposing fear.
"Let's go for a drive, shall we?" Sark flicked his wrist at the waitress and slammed a few bills on the table, opening his pocket knife visibly to his scared enemy. "Try anything and you're dead."
Once they were in the black, CIA issued car, with Esperanto at the wheel, Sark gave directions back to the airfield.
Esperanto's sweaty face looked surprise as they pulled into the dark, vacant airport. "I don't understand. Why are we back here?"
Sark glanced at him casually as he stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood; Esperanto followed, standing humbly before him. "We're waiting," Sark said, glancing into the deep night sky, attentive to any movements Esperanto might try to make. "When the plane lands, my partner will have the weapons, no doubt. But the plan was for her to disengage them in the air. Unfortunately, you've been less than forthcoming with the codes." With that, he launched a hard elbow-punch into Esperanto's ribs, watching as his body crumbled to the cold cement. "If you give them to me now, I could save myself the effort and you the pain."
Esperanto fought for some semblance of dignity and spat, narrowly missing Sark's shoes. "Apparently, you have some sort of a death-wish."
"No, but it doesn't matter. You'll kill me whether or not I tell you the codes. Either way, I lose. But I won't let you win, you evil little bastard," Esperanto heaved. "That tart you put on the plane—,"
Sark kicked him squarely in the jaw. "Don't speak of her."
Esperanto coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. "He knows. Kirsch knows. He will have his way with her and then kill her. Pretty thing, I'm sure. Young, fresh, well—,"
Sark bent down, gripping the man by his collar violently. "Shut up. What does he know?! Tell me now!"
Esperanto laughed cruelly, finally having found a weapon against Sark. "He knows what she is after. This meeting was a set up. We were informed that the CIA would be trying to infiltrate the plane to get their filthy hands on those weapons. But I didn't expect you to be CIA. Nor did I expect such unfriendliness from you.Honestly."
Sark shook his head, trying to process all this information. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't. She sedated him—,"
"You should know...," Esperanto stopped, catching his breath, "...that our informant was very helpful. We were able to anticipate the sedative—God forbid the CIA kill someone—and Kirsch took measures to insure he would be able to avoid the effects of the drug...an anti-sedative, I think it was. So right about now, I'd be thinking that he's holding a gun to your little girlfriend's head."
Anna woke up to the sensation of feeling the cool steel of the barrel of a gun pressed to her forehead. Struggling to open her eyes, she fingered the bump on head lightly, feeling a sticky substance bind to her skin. Blood.
"And the sleeping beauty awakens," a male voice commented.
Anna tried to focus her vision but all the images she saw were blurred. "Ahhh," she sighed painfully, realizing her hands were binded.
"You're a beautiful girl. We could have had fun...but sadly, you decided to be naughty and try to sedate me."
The blurriness became clearer as she realized who stood before her, toting a gun threateningly. "Kirsch."
Kirsch laughed loudly. "And she gets it in one...You must have questions. First, where are those damned weapons, am I right? And second, how am I not sleeping soundly, huh? Huh? We knew you would come. The weapons are not here. All of this was intended as a distraction for the CIA. You didn't really think it would be this easy, did you? And as for the second question? Want to guess at that? Answer me, girl!"
Anna lifted her head, her fearless eyes meeting his, dead-on. "I figured that with your age and all, you must get tired...unable to perform. Don't worry. It happens to all old men."
Kirsch whipped his hand across her face, leaving a bright red welt. "I can show you what I can do." His hand grabbed her chin, roughly smashing his lips on hers. He started to unzip her suit, her body struggling to stop him, before a cell-phone ring made him drop him harshly to the ground.
"I have to do it now?" Kirsch said into the phone.
Anna was able to reach for the small knife in her back pocket and remove the protective covering behind her back. She pointed it at such an angle that it would saw her ties apart, watching Kirsch carefully.
"Fine. Now it is."
She cut faster, while keeping her expression blank. Faster. Faster. Faster.
"Yes. You're the boss. Alright, see you in an hour." Kirsch slipped his cell phone back in his pocket and bent down to her ear. "Looks like I won't get to show you after all. Time does not permit." There, her bonds were free! He leaned in again to slide his tongue across her cheek. Anna jumped up, knocking Kirsch off-balance, as he fell backwards into several wooden crates. She whipped the knife forcefully into his left shoulderblade and scrambled out of the storage room, realizing she'd have to find parachute gear in order to get off the plane.
Anna ran to the emergency closet and grabbed an emergency vest with a parachute before heading up to the pilot's control room. She picked up the gun from the guard she'd sedated and carefully made her way to the head of the plane, hoping to find something that she could use to get a communications link to Sark. His meeting with Esperanto was probably part of the set-up. His life could be in danger. Anna pushed open the door, expecting to be aiming at two pilots but finding none, only a red-button flashing auto-pilot. Anna pulled apart the control board, searching for wires and finding a spare headset. She was able to use the satellite connection already available on the plane to connect to the CIA. "This is Agent Parker. Can you read me?"
Kendall's voice answered. "Parker, what the hell is going on?"
"No time. Get me Marshall. This was all a set up," Anna explained hurriedly, waiting for Marshall's nervous voice to sound in her hear.
"Uh, yes, Anna? How can I be of—," There he was.
"Marshall, I need you to establish a link to Sark's comm. Now."
"Sark—they're not here. It was a trap! This whole thing was a God-damned set-up! Kirsch parachuted out, already! The plane is going explode...Do you hear me...there's a bomb!" Her voice broke over the communications system. "Track Kirsch...I put a motion tracker on that son-of-a-bitch! He knows where the Rambaldi artifact is—,"
"Wait...I know! Esperanto—...it was all a set-up. They knew we would come. You need to get off that plane!" Sark yelled, training his gun on Esperanto threateningly.
"There's...no....time...get...Kirsch." Static overtook her voice. Sark could hear Sydney Bristow's voice as the CIA tapped into their link. She was telling Anna to land the plane, her tone frantic and upset.
"Sark...get him...Syd....don't worry, I—," the link went dead and both Sark and the CIA heard nothing but silence from Anna's end. Sark shot Esperanto squarely in the leg, tearing open his satchel of gear as the man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Sark looked quickly to the starry sky with his binoculars, feeling himself grow cold as his eyes focused on a small but bright orange fireball glowing in the sky. Something inside of him knew that the plane that Anna was on had exploded. "It's gone," he said bluntly, adding quietly. "The plane exploded." He waited for a response from Sydney, hearing only a few muffled cries as he stood dully on the tarmac of the airport runway.
"You don't know that. You don't know that," Sydney repeated softly over the network.
"Her link went dead."
"That—that could have been...from anything...dead airspace...interference--," Sydney whispered.
Sark shook his head in disbelief, even though she could not see him. "Sydney— I saw it. I saw it explode. There is no way—just....no way. But now, I have business to attend to." Sark looked steely down at a whimpering Esperanto.
"Sark, what are you going to do?" Sydney asked desperately. He heard people arguing and then Kendall's voice rang in his ear.
"You do nothing. You will wait until a team comes to pick you up."
"I'm sorry, sir. That is just not feasible at this point."
Kendall grew angrier. "Sark, damnit, you don't move a bloody inch--,"
"Again, this is unfortunate. But I have two things to do. Send a team after me. I'll be gone before they get here. However, I can assure you, I am not about to betray the CIA."
"Your promises are nothing—,"
Sark removed his earpiece, effectively cutting off Kendall's voice. He bent to the ground, taking two small, but impeccable sharp knives from his ankle. He glanced over at Esperanto's sweaty face as he spoke, "You know, one of these knives is a special weapon first made by the ancient Chinese. When the blade hits your flesh, it literally causes your skin to burn as though it had been touched by acid. Naturally, the pairing of this...painful sensation...with the fact that you've just been impaled with a knife, can kill a man. You and Kirsch set the CIA up. You set me up. And you set the woman on that plane up. I should kill you." Sark's expression grew more deadly as he thought about Anna. He opened his jacket, undoing his shirt. "But first, I need to know what you know. Where the hell is the Rambaldi artifact?"
Esperanto leaned away from Sark, his entire body convulsing in fear. "I—I...don't know. I have...no idea. I swear. Only Kirsch knows. But Kirsch...he told me that the only person who can decipher the Rambaldi codes is a man named Alvin Dresden. Once they have the artifact, they need to take it to this man...he has the key, unknowingly, somehow. I don't know anymore than that...I promise!" Esperanto said hurriedly, looking wearily at the two knives in Sark's hands.
"Where is Dresden?" Sark demanded.
"I—I honestly don't know. Neither does Sloane. He is searching for Dresden and doesn't know where he is. Kirsch hasn't told him—he's waiting for incentive. Only Kirsch knows, I swear!"
Sark took one of the blades to his right shoulder, making a small incision. He grimaced, needling out a small, square object as blood drizzled from the wound. It was the tracker the CIA had placed in him. Sark looked squarely at Esperanto's quivering body. "I guess we know which knife is which, considering I'm not dead. Oh...and by the way, wrong answer." Sark plunged the other knife into Esperanto's stomach, twisting it violently in his flesh. He stood up, leaving the man to die on the hard concrete, and placed his tracker delicately next to Esperanto's bloody, shaking form. Now, there was one more person...