Detainment
"Why do you idiots keep going after my brother!" Ilene's red hair shined under the low-hanging lights of their basic cell. Her nose twitched as she squinted her eyes in a challenge.
Her parents sat beside her, while a couple of suited men sat across the metal table.
"Your brother is an international fugitive, a terrorist," one man said. He was tall. His knees had banged against the table when he sat down. Ilene had laughed at that, and he seemed to be holding a grudge.
"Oh please," Ilene said, sighing overdramatically. Her father, Henry, crossed his arms in front of his fleshy chest.
"We've known for some time that Julian isn't a saint," he said, his voice deeper than usual. "He's given it all up."
The tall man huffed. "I doubt that, but even so, the rest of the world hasn't given up the consequences. Mr. Sark must pay for what he's done."
"Why are we here?" Ilene's mother, Barbara, asked. "Who are you?"
The man stood. "I'm with British Intelligence. We've wanted Sark for some time. You're here as . . . incentive."
Ilene snorted. "You should talk with the last person who tried that." The man cocked his head to the side.
"You're not prisoners," the man continued. "Consider this a debriefing, so we can learn more about Mr. Sark."
"If we're not prisoners," Barbara began, "why did you kidnap us?"
"Detained," the man corrected. "We detained you, as I said, for a debriefing—for information."
"What information?" Ilene asked. "You already forced us to tell you where he lives."
The man's eyes narrowed and he leaned over the table, glaring into Ilene's blue eyes. She noticed his eyes were green.
"You claim your brother's changed," he said slowly, his accent smoothing out the obvious ripples of hatred for Sark. "But yet he killed several of my government's agents."
Barbara tried to hide a gasp; she'd never really seen Sark act out firsthand, nothing beyond his sparring with Calvin. Henry grunted, but Ilene huffed again.
"If someone was trying to catch you, would you just lie down and wait for a bullet?" she asked. Her bold manner kept catching the agent off-guard. He narrowed his eyes, but a smile crept over his lips. "You would have done the same thing he did."
"I'd like a moment alone with Miss Defiance," the agent announced. The other agent, a short blonde man, shot him a look. "Now," the tall agent reinforced strongly.
"Fine, Alan," the short agent conceded. He motioned for Ilene's parents to stand. They started to protest, but the agent shushed them. "We're just going to another room," he said.
When they were alone, the agent just continued to stare at Ilene.
"What, Agent Alan?" she mocked. A knowing smile crept on his lips.
"Agent Yielding," he corrected. He seemed to like doing that. "Alan is my first name."
Ilene leaned forward, challenging again just inches from his face. "What is it, Agent Yielding?"
"I'd like to tell you a story, Ilene." It was the first time he'd actually used her first name. It caught her attention, which was his point, she guessed.
"Four years ago, a man named Sean infiltrated a dangerous team of thieves and murderers."
"Sounds terrifying," Ilene said, faking a yawn. Suddenly Agent Yielding raised his arm and slammed his fist on the metal table. It shook from the impact.
"Listen," the agent demanded. "The team was responsible for stealing millions-worth of information, in addition to money and irreplaceable items. They killed anyone in their way." He paused, but his emerald eyes never left Ilene's. "They resold what they took, and did jobs for hire.
"Sean gained their trust and was taken along for a job in Geneva," Yielding pressed on. Ilene didn't move. "They stole a formula for a chemical. The chemical, when released properly into the air, could kill any living thing within 100 meters. Sean couldn't just let the team take it and risk all the innocent people out there. So he changed the data, corrupted it."
Ilene didn't want to admit it, but she was interested in what happened. "So?" She tried to be indifferent, but the smirk on Yielding's face seemed to indicate otherwise.
"The team resold the formula. And the buyer figured out it had been altered," Yielding said. His voice dropped suddenly and he paused, as if controlling some primal emotion. "The buyer had worked with this team several times before. He guessed Sean was responsible. So he confronted Sean.
"Sean went to meet the team for another job, but they weren't there. Sean figured he was early, and went inside to wait. Someone shot him from behind in the knees. Sean fell on his face, but must have turned over to face the shooter. It was the buyer. He shot Sean several times. One in each arm, almost at the elbows. Once in the stomach. Once in the chest. And two final shots, each in the head."
Agent Yielding stopped. He sat back as if exhausted. He took a breath. "We found surveillance outside that building. On it, your brother comes out, removes dark gloves and calmly places sunglasses on his face," he said, the venom coming through his words. "As if it were nothing. Just another thing on the to-do list. He was completely without remorse."
Ilene didn't know how to react. It was obvious Yielding's hatred stemmed from this event. She didn't approve, but she yelled to herself that her brother wasn't that man anymore.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly and with a trace of respect. "Who was Sean to you?"
"He was an agent for my government," he whispered. "My friend. We both entered the field at the same time, six years ago."
Ilene nodded and stayed quiet as she thought.
"My brother has done some awful things," she said. Yielding looked fueled by this admission, nodding at her. "I've seen some of them firsthand. And it's scared me." She took a deep breath. "But he's not a cold-blooded killer anymore."
Yielding's whole face seemed to darken.
"He'll get what he deserves."
--------Calvin ate a burger half-heartedly. The fries were cold and soggy, but he obviously wasn't focusing on that.
Sydney watched him munch, staring ahead at the beige wall of the motel room. Sark was in the shower. He hadn't said much since he figured out the connection with MI6.
It had shocked Calvin, and it was an unpleasant reminder of Sark's unconscionable actions. Sydney's heart ached for him. She knew Sark hated himself for what he used to be. She also saw the anger within him for those actions causing him and his family more grief now.
Calvin wadded up the burger's wrapper and chucked it in the general vicinity of the trash can. He sighed as he missed, and pulled himself to his feet. The heavy burdens over him were more than evident.
"Are you all right?" Sydney asked, tilting her head to the side in concern. Calvin nodded automatically, then paused.
"No," he admitted. He picked up the wrapper and dropped it in the garbage. He glanced at the bathroom, as if making sure the door was still shut.
"Want to talk about it?" Sydney offered. Calvin shrugged but meandered to her. They sat opposite each other on the beds.
He shrugged again and ran a hand through his hair. It caught Sydney's eye. Sark does that whenever he's stressed.
"I guess I'm just worried about my parents, and Ilene," Calvin said. Though he said it, his eyes still looked full of worry. Sydney had a feeling his concerns had more to do with the latest development than his family.
"Are you surprised about this agent and your brother's history with him?" she asked. Calvin nodded.
"I just wish people from his old life would see what he's been through. I mean, he wants to leave it behind, but no one will let it go," Calvin said. He swallowed. "Maybe it just makes me upset to think about what Julian used to do."
"Especially after all this time of moving on," Sydney said. She understood Calvin. He had just been thrown into the heat of the intelligence world, and probably had seen Sark in serious action. Calvin had let all that go before, but now the shock and doubt seemed to resurface. Factor in his family's kidnapping, and he's bound to be uneasy.
"Does it bother you, Sydney?" Calvin asked. He looked up at her, and even though they were even in height; his head craned up to look to her, as she was a mentor.
She thought about it. Sure, the crimes and cruelty Sark had dealt out were never pleasant to look back on. However, the resurfacing of the past wasn't washing away her confidence and trust in him.
But this crisis made her question their relationship, again. How could she and Sark ever make it work when enemies from the past kept popping up and throwing him back in the deep-ended evils of the intelligence world? Did she love him enough to stick with him in all of that, and to be dragged with him when he adopted traits that were necessary but also bad?
"It used to," Sydney said finally, for Calvin's benefit. "But Sark has moved beyond that. So should we." Calvin nodded, but still looked puzzled.
"Why do you still call him 'Sark'?"
Sydney muffled a quick laugh. "I call him Julian sometimes," she said. "But I've always known him as Sark. It just sticks with you."
Calvin thought that over, and he smiled sadly.
"You know, when he first came back, we were careful around him," he said. "We knew he wasn't the same Julian. And when he finally told us about Sark, it was all so . . . bad. Mom separated Sark from Julian. And it kind of passed to all of us."
"So when you hear or say Sark, you mean that as the old Sark, the one with the bad past," Sydney said. He nodded, and Sydney sighed. "One thing I figured out, after we got Ilene back . . . Your brother beat himself up trying to push Sark away. But without Sark, he can't survive. And without Julian, Sark loses what matters most. Both sides of him, when together, are good."
She stared pointedly at him. She watched as Calvin began to smile.
"I'm still
calling him Julian, though," he said.
--------
Ilene paced the "debriefing"
room. She thought it was quite odd that it had a cot to sleep on, and yet they
still referred to it as merely for detaining.
Bureaucratic lies. They probably can't legally hold us like this.
But Ilene sensed that they really didn't care. Almost as if the rules don't apply to them. Her parents were in another cell, sitting dejectedly on the cot. Her father spent most of the time just comforting his wife. Ilene couldn't help but smirk.
This is nothing compared to last time.
Agent Yielding reentered the "debriefing" room. He'd asked for her to be separated again. But he held a tray of food. Ilene's eyes grazed over it. Croissant sandwiches, lemonade, salad . . .
"These are much better conditions than my last kidnapping," she said aloud.
Agent Yielding shot her a look.
"We've covered this. You're being debriefed—"
"Call it what you want, Yielding," Ilene said quickly. "I've been held against my will before, and though this cell is nicer, it doesn't make up for your abuses of power."
Yielding just smirked at her.
"I'm not familiar with your 'previous captivity,'" he started. "Why don't we discuss that?"
It wasn't a suggestion. He pulled a chair back from the metal table and waited for Ilene to sit across from him.
He wants information, she realized. I'll give it all to him.
She practically slammed her body in the chair and reached for a croissant.
"Where should I start?" she asked with the first bite. Her attitude was screaming profanities instead of questions, but Yielding just maintained his composure.
"When were you supposedly kidnapped?"
Ilene crossed her arms in front of her. "Last Christmas. By a man named Strachen." She wanted to shock him, and she had plenty of ideas on how. She wanted him to stop treating her like a child, and make him see how right she was. With just those two details, she could see the difference in his face. He knew she wasn't lying.
Yielding actually looked surprised. Ilene rewarded herself with another bite of the croissant.
"What?" she asked after swallowing. "Did you think I was kidding?" Yielding took a deep breath while tapping a finger against his chin.
"Strachen. Older man, gray hair . . . portly build?" He spat out the details and waited for a confirmation. Ilene nodded. "Interesting. Strachen was apprehended by the Americans. And then one day he was found with three bullets in his head."
Ilene almost jumped at that news. She didn't expect that retaliation of information. The croissant was set on the table, suddenly unappetizing.
She had never known what became of the man. Ilene assumed Strachen was rotting in a cell. Instead he's rotting in the ground. It was painful to hear about. Not that she mourned the death, but because she knew it had to have been Julian who pulled the trigger.
Her courage returned. This is the only way for Yielding to understand Julian.
"Good," she said, steeling her jawline. "Strachen was an awful man who thrived on making people suffer, just so he could gain power."
"Sounds familiar," Yielding quipped with a glare. Ilene rolled her eyes.
"Strachen kidnapped me, and used me as leverage to get Julian to steal something the Americans had," she said. "When Julian brought what Strachen wanted, he rescued me. And he almost killed Strachen then."
"Almost," Yielding repeated. Ilene nodded.
"Being kidnapped by such a ruthless man isn't pleasant. Julian was beaten in front of me. He also got shot," she said. "I learned that Strachen was responsible for torturing my brother months before too." Ilene could see the scars on Julian in her mind. It had shocked her as she had just begun to realize what life Julian had led. "But that torture didn't compare to what Strachen caused later."
"Later?" Yielding tried just to parrot her, but Ilene could detect some genuine curiosity.
"Strachen caught Julian. He was gone for . . . too long," Ilene said. She had been so worried. Julian had just left her with Sydney, and both were left to fret about him. "When he finally got free, he could barely move." Ilene was careful not to mention Sydney or the CIA's involvement. Julian had told her about the risks Sydney took to help them.
"Ilene," Yielding started, "am I supposed to feel sorry for Sark?"
Ilene narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes. He had cuts all over his chest, back and arms. The scars are still there. He was beaten, with deep bruises and fractures that he never really identified. We had a doctor on standby for days."
"For days after the CIA rescued Sark and arrested Strachen," Yielding filled in. Ilene didn't say anything. How does he know? She knew Sydney was the one who orchestrated that rescue, and who convinced others to let Julian go.
But how did Yielding know?
"What makes you think the American government let him go?"
He shot her a look that challenged her to insult his intelligence once more. "I have my sources."
Ilene shrugged indifferently. "Don't expect me to confirm anything," she said. The agent smiled at that, and something in it made Ilene double-check the look.
Yielding was starting to soften up. No, Ilene told herself, he's just pleased with himself. He was still too interested in her brother, too intent on catching him. But why? Justice?
Or was it revenge?
"What do you intend to do if you catch my brother?" The cloud that came over Yielding made Ilene lean away from the table.
The agent measured his words carefully. "I won't kill him unless he makes me," he said, eliciting a glare from Ilene.
She held her glare for several moments, but then laughed at the agent.
"You have no idea how good Julian is," she said. "Not just as a person, but as an agent. You yourself have accused him of killing Strachen, while the man was held in an American prison."
Yielding cocked his head to the side and grinned at her favoritism.
"Sure, that must have taken some skill," Yielding said. "I'm counting on that for him to find you and your parents here. But he's also out of shape." His grin mocked her, and Ilene turned her head to look at something else. "I don't anticipate much of a challenge."
Her breathing was speeding up as her anger rose. The arrogance of this man was infuriating, especially as he openly laughed and cheered for Julian's demise. And I'm helpless to do anything about it.
She straightened up. Not completely helpless. Ilene suddenly leaned forward as she stood from her seat. She swung her arm, her hand open and firm as it neared Yielding's face. The slap echoed off the dark, bare walls.
Yielding's eyes were wide with shock as he tried to process what just happened. He seemed stunned, and stayed that way for ten seconds.
"You are the most unfeeling monster I've ever met," Ilene said between clenched teeth. She wanted to hit him again but she seemed to have the man's attention. "You claim Julian's a criminal, but you're the one who's kidnapped me and who's planning to murder." She pushed the metal table away from her, and it slammed into Yielding's lean stomach. "Take me back to my parents, you disgusting maggot."
Her eyes never stopped willing death on the man. Yielding had sense enough to stay quiet, though Ilene could see he was fuming as well. He stood, pushing the table roughly as he went for the door.
Ilene was led back to the other "detainment" area, but before Yielding let her go, he whirled her around to face him.
"Our
differences aside, Ilene, I'd be surprised if your brother makes it here
alive," he said. His green eyes were bright with fury. "I'm not the only one
gunning for Sark's demise."
--------
Something about a woman's
morning hair amused Sark.
Sydney was asleep and contently oblivious to the tangled chestnut mess. Had she
been awake she might have been mortified, but Sark
found it . . . dare I think 'cute'?
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, tugging the edges down over the top of his jeans and belt. He glanced at Calvin, whose own bedhead rivaled Sydney's. But not nearly cute, Sark thought.
He smiled to himself and straightened his messy blonde hair. Five seconds later, he was ready for the day.
But not. Sark had no idea where to start. MI6 had his family, but that didn't really tell him a location or how many were guarding them. Or if they're still alive. He shook his head. The British might have conquered half the world by force, but nowadays they weren't so brutish.
Except for this Yielding character. Sark was severely miffed at that development. He knew he couldn't blame the man for wanting revenge or whatever the agenda, so he blamed himself.
And then he stopped himself. You can only beat yourself up for so long.
He thought about making some calls—to sources, maybe even Irina—but he wasn't sure if he should make it clearly known that he was indeed alive and well. Irina knew that, but coming out of his retirement would certainly make some waves. He couldn't be selfish either, and just stay hidden while his family was in danger.
So where do I draw the line?
His revelry was interrupted by a cell phone.
Sydney stirred at it, recognizing the ring as her own. Sark watched as she quickly sat up and answered. Calvin rolled around on his bed, reluctantly waking up.
"Hello?" she said groggily. Suddenly her eyes shot open. "Mom?" Sark straightened up at that one word. Irina calling out of the blue can't be a good thing. Unless she means to help . . .
He shook that thought away. He'd seen Irina "help" before, and it only led to torture that he'd rather forget.
"Sark." He looked up and saw Sydney offering him the phone. He couldn't mask the confused look that surfaced, but he took the phone.
"Yes," he answered coldly.
"I know you wanted me completely out of your life," Irina began, "but I thought this couldn't wait." Sark held back a sigh.
"What is it?" he asked, the same attitude in place.
"The world's buzzing about you being alive. I wasn't the leak. For some reason everyone wants to know where you are," she said.
"Why?"
"I've gotten wind of several contracts out on your life," she said. The concern was gone from her voice; she might just as well have said that breakfast was ready.
"How many did you commission?" Sark asked. The comment wasn't lost on Irina, but she ignored it.
"None. But consider yourself warned," she said, as if absolving some favor. "People are after your head."
He heard the line click to an end. Sark tossed the phone to a very curious Sydney.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately. He couldn't suppress a smirk.
"It's curious how a call from your mother always means trouble," he commented. "The word is out that I'm alive. And it seems some people would prefer I were still dead."
She got out of bed, her pajamas crumpled. "What?"
"Yeah, what?" Calvin echoed. Sark sighed.
"People are trying to kill me," he said calmly. "Now let's get going." He grabbed his own phone and made some calls to what sources he still had, while Sydney and Calvin frantically got dressed.