Part Eight:

I woke up more tired than I had been before I had finally managed to go to sleep. I finally managed to drag myself out of bed at about 10am – very thankful it was a Saturday and I didn't have to face anyone from work. Even the CIA let's you have the weekend off if there's no international crisis.

I spent the weekend going over the information Sark had given me about Julia Thorne. I'd already given Dixon the information on the Covenant. There wasn't much he had given me...but enough for me to gather that they...we had worked together. I still had problems thinking of myself as her. I had no memories, but more than that, Julia Thorne seemed to be everything I wasn't. Which actually made a strange amount of sense? Why pick a cover for someone, when the whole point was for that person to forget who they were?

Because that was the disturbing thing. It seemed that I had spent the last two years of my life as Julia Thorne...after the Covenant 'brainwashed' me into believing that's who I was. I knew from my father that it was impossible for me to be brainwashed. So that left only one conclusion. I had known exactly who I was and what I was doing. Which didn't make it any easier to accept.

I sighed and got up from my laptop, on which I was reading the disk. I began to pace the room. Okay, let's deal with the facts. Fact One: the Covenant had kidnapped me after my fight with Allison Doren and faked my death. Fact Two: Nine months later I appear – according to Sark's information anyway – as a Covenant operative under the name Julia Thorne. Fact Three: A few weeks ago all traces of Julia Thorne disappeared.

Aside from that all I had was lists of tasks I had done on behalf of the Covenant and places I was known to have been. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a whole lot more than I had had before. And I was a little closer to discovering where I had been. At least I knew who was responsible. But I still had a million questions. What had happened during the nine months after I had supposedly died and Julia Thorne had come to life? Did the Covenant spend the whole time brainwashing me? And why the hell was I working for the Covenant?

I sighed and stopped pacing. This was getting me nowhere. I read the rest of the information, hoping for another clue. And I got one. I actually sent a whisper of thanks to Sark – not that I'd ever admit it. Highlighted towards the bottom of the page was a small note. Apparently, Sark knew of a safety deposit box I used in Rome, which contained something that I thought was very important.

So there it was. A clue. Now all I had to do was figure out a way to get to Rome. I couldn't exactly ask the CIA to go, because they would want to know why. And I wasn't going to tell them. And I couldn't ask anyone else to retrieve them for me, either. They wouldn't be able to get it. I certainly would make sure that all safety deposit boxes I had could only be opened by me.

As it was, my luck held and the perfect opportunity came on Monday. Thanks to the information Sark had given us, not that Dixon said it was from him, we now had the location of one of the Rambaldi artefacts the Covenant had in their possession. And it just so happened to be in Rome.

My father met me as I walked into the debriefing room. "Sydney, how are you feeling?"

Oh, if only he knew. "Better." I said, giving him a smile. I wasn't really...I was more confused than anything else at the moment.

"Good." He smiled.

Unfortunately we were interrupted at that moment, but Dixon entering the room. Everyone quickly took their seats and fell quiet. "Thanks to some new information, we have been able to locate one of the Rambaldi artefacts that the Covenant have in their possession." He said. "It's being held as part of a private collection in Rome."

"The owner of the collection is this man, Gianni Bianchi." Dixon continued, as a photo flashed up on the screen behind him.

The man was a handsome man with iron grey hair and intelligent eyes. "Sydney." Dixon said, grabbing my attention. "Your mission is to break into the vault where the artefact is kept and switch the artefact with a decoy. Weiss and Vaughn will be your back up."

So once again I was going on a mission. I spent the afternoon in Marshall's office going over the optech and the plan, until it was time to leave. I couldn't help but feel slightly happier as the plane lifted off the ground – I might just find out some more information on where I had been for my missing two years. It was enough to make any girl happy.

I knew that I would have no opportunity to check out the safety deposit box after the mission, so as soon as Vaughn and Weiss began to set up the surveillance equipment, I excused myself to go for a walk.

The streets of Rome were busy for this time in the morning, the many church bells still singing out their morning song. I made my way through the crowd and was suddenly struck by the familiarity of the scene. Like I had spent a long time in this city.

My musings were interrupted by my arrival at the Hotel Gracia. I walked into the elegant lobby and up to the reception desk. "Ciao." I greeted in Italian.

The dark haired receptionist looked up, before giving me a dazzling smile. "Signorina Thorne!" she said, obviously pleased to see me. "How are you?"

"Good." I replied in Italian – surprised at the way the language came so easily to me. It never used to.

"And how is that sexy man of yours?" she continued brightly. "Away on business?"

"My sexy man?" I echoed, confused.

The woman shot me a glance, as if to say, don't be stupid. "You know, the one with tousled blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes, who's always dressed in Armani..." she said. "...and the one you can keep your hands off?"

I was surprised at her description of a man who could only be Sark – and I didn't even want to think about my hands on him! This was Sark, for God's sake! The man I hated!

I pasted a knowing smile on my face. "Oh, that one." I said. "Yes, he is." That I could be pretty sure of, because Sark was always doing 'business' of some sort.

"That one, she says." The receptionist said, laughing. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see my safety deposit box." I said.

"Ah." She said, as if knowing exactly what I meant. "Marco!"

"Si, Luciana?" A tall man answered, coming over to the reception desk.

"Take Signorina Thorne to her box."

"Si." Marco said, before turning to me. "Bella!" he greeted, before bending and kissing the back of my hand.

"Marco." I said warmly, wondering how the hell I knew him!

"Come, Signorina." He said.

I followed the man down a series of narrow corridors and stairs and through a metal door. Beyond the door was room covered with deposit boxes. Marco walked over to box 1063 and opened it for me. "Thank you." I said.

Marco smiled. "Anything for you, Bella." He replied.

I opened the box, while Marco hung back, giving me privacy. I was grateful for that, not knowing what to expect. Carefully, I peered inside – and didn't find anything that I had expected. I shot a glance at Marco, but he had retreated to the doorway, so he couldn't see what I was doing.

Carefully, I drew out the gun that was inside. Somehow, I didn't think the modified Glock would be traceable. I slipped the gun into the waistband of my jeans, at the small of my back, and it immediately felt comforting and familiar. I covered it with my shirt and looked at the three remaining items – a key, an envelope and a small jewellery box.

The key was unmarked, so I shoved it into my pocket. The envelope only had one word on it: Sydney. I took it out and noticed it had already been opened. Maybe I had read it before. I pulled out the letter written in the same practical hand as my name on the envelope. It said:

Sydney,

I hope my gift will help you remember the times we shared – and still share. Just know that, no matter what, I will always love you, because it was you who taught me how to love again.

Love always,

J.

I smiled, touched by the feeling in the words. Who was this mysterious 'J'? And what had happened to him? Where was he?

I drew out the small jewellery box and opened it. I gasped softly what I saw what was inside. Nestled in the black velvet of the inside was a beautiful ruby ring. The ruby was so dark it was almost black and glinted like blood when it caught the light. It was set in a delicate gold wire atop a thin gold band.

It was beautiful. I loved it – and I got the feeling the mysterious 'J' – whoever he was – had known that. I shut the jewellery box and turned to Marco. He nodded, locked the security box, and escorted me back to the lobby.

"Good luck, Bella." He said.

I looked at him in confusion. Good luck for what?

"You said if you ever came back for these, you were going after him."

"Him?" I echoed.

"You never said his name, but you did say he had betrayed you and your father for many years." Marco said. "A man you once trusted like family."

There was only one man that could be. Arvin Sloane.

Marco's words confirmed my growing suspicions. Sloane was behind my disappearance – which meant he was part of the Covenant...and in violation of his pardon agreement. I can't say I was either surprised of regretful. Sloane deserved to die for all he had done.

"You're right." I said. "I am." Now that I knew who was responsible, I would make sure he faced justice – one way or another.

"Then be careful, Bella." He said, softly.

"I will." I smiled at Marco – a genuine smile for his concern. "And thank you."

He shrugged as I left, waving goodbye to Luciana on the way out.

Gianni Bianchi's museum was located near central Rome and the vault I was supposed to gain access to, was beneath it. It wasn't hard to get in – I just followed the crowd. I was dressed as what I could only guess was meant to be an art student. I wore a black turtleneck, my hair in pigtails and a pair of black rimmed glasses. I wandered around the gallery, looking at the paintings and trying to find a way into the vault.

"Okay, Syd." Vaughn's voice came through my earpiece. "The door leading the vault should be on your right."

I glanced to my right where I saw a door marked 'Privatio' – 'Private' in Italian. That must be it. I strolled to the sculpture near it, pretending to study the artwork. "Are the cameras down?" I asked.

"In five seconds." Vaughn answered. "Now. You have seven minutes."

"Copy that." I replied. "Going radio silent until exiting the vault."

"Copy that." Vaughn answered.

I glanced carefully around me, but noticed no one close enough to see what I was doing. I walked casually forward, before slipping quietly through the door on my right. In front of me was a narrow flight of concrete stairs and beyond that a long concrete corridor. I crept down the stairs, not really expecting to meet anyone, but wary anyway.

Carefully, I slipped out my tranquilizer gun and held it in front of me. It wouldn't be much help in a gunfight, but it was perfect for taking out a guard or two, quietly. Which was just what I needed. A minute later I found myself outside a small metal door, with a keypad lock beside it.

I reached into my bag and drew out my makeup compact – the same one I had used on the mission to Germany. I hooked it up quickly and watched the red numbers decode. When I had the code, I quickly unhooked the compact and typed in the code. The door swished open almost silently, and I crept to the side, gun at the ready.

Knowing I would only get one chance at this, I spun around the corner quickly, aimed and shot the security guard in the neck. The dart knocked him out in an instant. I ran quickly to the inner door of the vault. I hoped those cameras were offline as I spotted the security camera inside the antechamber.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at my watch – 5 minutes left – I hooked up the compact again, and watched it decode the number I needed. Unfortunately, that was not the only thing I needed to open this lock. I needed a fingerprint as well. It was just as well I had one. Grunting slightly, I dragged the guard's unconscious form to the vault door and used his fingerprint, with the right code, to open the inner door.

As the door opened, I couldn't help thinking this had almost been too easy...I mean nothing in my life seemed to be easy at the moment, so why should this be any different? Knowing I couldn't do anything about it, but be careful and keep and eye out, I stepped into the vault. Glancing over all the objects, I dismissed almost everything – I didn't want or need any of the paintings or sculptures in the vault – just the Rambaldi artefact.

When I spotted it, I checked it over carefully; making sure no alarms would be triggered when I removed it from the shelf. I couldn't see any, so I grabbed it quickly. Opening my bag, I drew out the decoy, which was carefully hidden within a present box. Slipping the real artefact into the box, I placed the decoy on the shelf and walked back out of the vault.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and relaxed the grip on my gun when I saw the antechamber was still empty, except for the still unconscious body of the guard. I shut the door to the vault and it locked automatically. I slipped back out through the outer door and locked that too.

"Mountaineer to Boy Scout." I said.

"Come in Mountaineer." Vaughn's voice said over my earpiece.

"I have the artefact and am about to make my way out." I replied.

"Copy that." He said.

Now for the tricky part. Slipping back out into the museum. It had been easy enough on the way in, but I couldn't see who was near the door this time. I paused at the door, listening carefully. I could feel my pulse start to race, as I became aware of just how little time I had left before the cameras would come back online. 15 seconds.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door carefully and slipped out, hoping no one would see me. It seemed luck was on my side today, because no one was. Adjusting my bag slightly, I began to stroll carefully towards the exit. This was the most nerve wracking part of the mission – as I knew from past experience. I had to force myself to pause and contemplate some of the other artworks.

About five minutes later, I walked out the entrance, and past the security officer at the admissions desk. My heart was beating so loudly with a combination of fear and anticipation; I could almost swear the guard could hear it. So you can imagine my shock when he called out to me.

"Scusa, Signorina?" The guard called.

I tensed; convinced I had been found out. I tensed automatically, getting ready to run or fight. I was close enough to the door and the crowds outside to escape if I needed to. "Signorina?" the guard called.

I turned, a polite smile on my face and praying it wasn't what I thought it was. "You dropped your pen." The guard told me in Italian.

I fought not to grin in relief at the news. I wasn't caught at all! "Grazie, Signor." I replied, and gave the guard a smile.

Taking my offered pen, I turned and walked out of the museum and into the Italian crowd, breathing a large sigh of relief and willing my nerves to calm down.

By the time I had returned to the JTF office and typed up my mission report, I was feeling exhausted and drained. The adrenaline had long since worn off and my thoughts and emotions had been chasing themselves around my head for hours.

I had typed my report mostly on the plane flight home – hoping in part, not to have to talk to Vaughn – and was just about to hand it into Dixon. I had yet to tell Dixon what I had learnt about the last two years, but I wanted to find out more before I did. I sighed, and knocked on Dixon's door, before opening it and poking my head in.

"Sydney." Dixon greeted warmly. "Come in."

I smiled at him. "I just wanted to hand in my mission report." I said, handing him a disk.

"You could have sent it to me." Dixon said.

"I know, I..." I trailed off.

"Syd, are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes...no...I don't know!" I sat down in front of Dixon's desk. "I'm so confused and frustrated." I admitted.

Dixon smiled wryly at me. "You always seem so collected and capable, that it's sometimes so hard to remember you're still reeling from everything that happened to you." He mused.

"Really?" I asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes." Dixon said.

I sighed. "Well, if you want to know the truth," I said, "it feels like my life is still falling apart."

Dixon nodded thoughtfully. "My suggestion would be to take a few days off, sort some of this out."

"Dixon...thank you, but I'm not sure that would really help."

"Sure it will." Dixon said. "Go on a proper holiday, Syd. Fly somewhere exotic. Go sightseeing. You'll feel better, I promise."

I smiled gratefully at him, the idea sounding good. "Are you sure?" I asked.

Dixon looked at me. "Of course." He smiled at me. "I just want you to be happy, Syd."

"Thanks, Dixon."

"Good. Now get out of here. I don't want to see your face until Monday!"

Smiling, I got up and left. To tell you the truth, a holiday did sound good – particularly with Dixon's subtle approval of my search for the truth. I don't think he knew anything about it as of yet, but he knew I was doing something. We had been partners for too long at SD-6 for it to be otherwise.

Since, by now, it was late evening, I managed to avoid the few remaining agents in the office, which was a relief. I just wanted to get out of there. I sighed and took a deep breath of the cool evening air when I got into my car. I was outta here! And I knew just where to go...

I cursed loudly when I heard my cell phone ring. I swore again when I realised who it was. "Hello." I said coolly, answering the phone.

"Meet me at the lookout." Sark's clipped voice told me before the line went dead.

Sighing, I hung up and started the car. I wondered what he wanted now.

The cool sea breeze whipped at my hair and I watched the waves pounding the base of the cliff below me. Right now I felt like those waves – hitting the same problem over and over again...not knowing what had happened during my missing two years. But, just like the waves, I knew I would eventually succeed – all I needed was time.

I turned when I heard a car pull up behind me and saw a black Jag. I smiled slightly. It was Sark – he was the only person I knew who drove expensive black cars. He opened his tinted window. "Get in." he said.

I felt a small feeling of apprehension at getting into the same car as Sark, but ruthlessly suppressed it. I wouldn't let him see my fear. I walked around to the passenger side and got in, enjoying the feel of the comfortable leather seats. "So," I said as Sark pulled away form the lookout. "What's up?"

"The Covenant has given me a new mission." Sark said, his tone serious. "You'll find he relevant information in the glove box."

"It's nice to see you too, Sark." I said, opening the glove box and pulling out a manila folder. "Well, maybe nice isn't the word..."

"Do you have a counter mission?" he interrupted.

I turned to him, taking in his serious expression and the tense way he was gripping the steering wheel. It was so not like Sark to pass up an opportunity to try and get under my skin. "Okay, what's wrong?" I asked, all teasing aside.

"Nothing." He said, tersely.

"Bull shit." I told him.

Sark shot me a cold glance. "I wasn't aware your role as my handler included counselling services."

"It doesn't."

"Then you don't need to know. What's my counter mission?"

"Oh, cut the crap, Sark." I snapped, angry now. "I need to know what's up in case you mess up!"

"I never mess up." Sark said icily.

"There's always a first time." I shot back sweetly.

Sark concentrated on driving and didn't reply. I wondered what was wrong. He still hadn't answered me, and somehow I got the feeling that he wasn't going to. He seemed so, well, tense. It was really weird.

Silently, I opened the folder, pushing thoughts of Sark's behaviour out of my head. I began to read, ignoring the now tense atmosphere in the car. Clearly written by Sark, the information was concise and to the point. It seemed the Covenant wanted Sark to check out one of the leaders of the Western European cell and verify his loyalty.

Suddenly a thought struck me. "This would bring you into contact with the cell's mainframe computer, which would have access to all Covenant information?" I asked, all anger forgotten.

"Yes." Sark agreed. "Although, most likely, it would all be encoded."

"And that's the least of our problems." I mused. "There are bound to be other security fail safes."

Sark smirked at me, before turning back to the road. "You're forgetting the Covenant want me to access those files." He said. "They've given me a bypass code."

"Then you can make a copy of the information." I grinned. There was bound to be information on Julia Thorne amongst all those files!

"No, actually, I can't."

He couldn't? Sure, he could. Easily. I felt my temper flare. I wanted, no needed that information! And if he was refusing just because he didn't want to risk it...

As if sensing my thoughts, Sark explained. "The mainframe is designed so no one can download information directly from it." He said. "You have to read it on the computer."

"Oh." I said, my anger deflating.

"Is the information really that important to the CIA?" Sark asked, shooting me a glance. "Or is it maybe because the information is so important to you?"

I hated the way Sark always seemed to be able to read my mind. Before I could answer him though, not that I really needed to, he continued. "You could always come with me, you know." He said.

I stared at him in shock. "What?" I asked, completely surprised.

"You could always come with me." Sark repeated. "I've always said we'd work well together, Sydney. Besides, no one knows I'm coming."

I thought about it, still surprised at the offer and slightly fearful it would be a trap of some sort. But when I thought about the information I could gain from it...I confess it wasn't hard. "I'll go." I said.

"And the countermission?" Sark asked, a faint smirk on his face.

"Just make sure you find out that this guy is disloyal." I said.

"This guy?" Sark repeated, sounding affronted by my vague description.

"Raphael Bennetti." I said. "The leader of the Western European cell."

I looked at him and noticed the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at his teasing, but didn't reply. I didn't think it would be too wise to piss him off at this moment. "So," I asked instead. "Where are we going?"

"Switzerland." Sark told me. "Bennetti is holding a party tomorrow night."

It didn't take long for me to pack a bag or book a flight to Italy – where, according to all reports, I would be spending the next few days lazing in the sun. But in reality I would be flying to Switzerland tonight on Sark's private plane. Unfortunately, I was still a little apprehensive about the whole thing. I had spent years running after Sark...and I wasn't quite sure I could trust him now, either.

I knew thinking about it would only make me feel tense and frustrated; I pushed those thoughts from my head and decided to take a quick nap before meeting Sark. I needed to be alert and ready when I met him – not only in case it was a trap, but also for any games of his own he might be playing. I wasn't going to get involved in that.

I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to relax. Thankfully, it didn't take me that long to drift off into a doze. I had set the alarm for two hours later, and I hoped I felt better when I awoke.

Once again, I got a vague sensation of running. Doors flashed by my gaze, but somehow I got the feeling everything was being fast forwarded or something. Suddenly I was back outside the same door. 210. I flung open the door and felt my grip tighten on my gun.

Suddenly a figure in black leapt out at me, and I recognised the features. Francie...or rather Allison Doren. Francie was dead. I felt the same anger I had felt when we had fought the last time bubble in my veins. The bitch had killed one of my best friends and tried to kill the other. And I was going to kill her.

Unfortunately, before I could fire a shot, Allison struck. I caught the blur of motion as she drove her fist towards my stomach. I caught the glint of light reflecting off metal as she moved. Then there was a sudden pain near my belly button, and I looked down in morbid fascination. A large knife stood out from my skin and I could feel blood welling wetly around the blade.

The gun dropped from my hand as I gasped in pain. I pressed my hands to my abdomen and the came away red. By now the pain was running like red hot agony around my body. I swayed and dropped to my knees, gritting my teeth in order to hold onto consciousness. You wouldn't think something like this would hurt so much.

"Die, bitch." Allison said, as she watched me.

"Sydney!" A familiar voice roared, fearful.

I watched Allison's eyes widen in surprise and fear. Suddenly the sound of three gunshots sounded, echoing loudly in my ears. The shots all caught Allison in the chest and she staggered backward with the force. The fourth shot hit her right between the eyes, and she fell backward, dead.

I was feeling faint as I watched the shooter walk forward. My partner, I remembered. The man who had been following me. The man stood over Allison's body and let off another two shots, as if to make sure she stayed dead.

The world began to fade around me as I began to sway more widely. My eyes slipped shut, and I fell, only to feel strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. I felt those same arms cradle me, as his voice surrounded me, soothing me. Everything would be all right.

"Hold on, Sydney." He said. "Please, love. Hold on."

For a moment I let his soothing voice surround me and I began to drift into unconsciousness, but suddenly I felt an urge to open my eyes and look at the man who was cradling me so tenderly in his arms. I struggled but finally managed to do it. And when I opened my eyes I found myself staring into a pair of very familiar blue eyes. Blue eyes that were looking at me in concern and fear.

My strength gave out then and my eyes fell shut again. Unconciousness surrounded me. My last thought was simply a name. Then name of the man with the blue eyes.

Julian Sark.

I sat bolt upright in bed, the blankets a mass of twisted material beneath me. Oh, hell no. No way. This could not be happening to me. This was some sort of weird dream, it had to be...

And yet, when I thought about it, the dream had a ring of absolute truth to it. A feeling that was just so...right. Something I couldn't dispute, no matter how much I wanted to. I took a deep but shaky breath and let it out slowly. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was time to get up.

I felt a shiver of fear at the thought of facing Sark, now that I knew he had known me during my missing two years...and had seemingly known that I had not been brainwashed into thinking I was Julia Thorne. That was the thought that scared me the most.

But I needed that information. I had to figure out what exactly had happened to me. And Sark wouldn't have to know I remembered anything. Because I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him. I sighed again and got up off my bed. Could my life get any more messed up?

On second thought, don't answer that. I don't want to know.

Because I was going on 'holiday' I dressed in a loose sundress and sandals with a light sweater on top. I made my way to the airport before putting my car in long term storage. The airport was relatively crowded and I carefully weaved my way through, wheeling a small suitcase behind me.

I smiled faintly when I heard the boarding call for the flight from LA to Rome – the one I was supposed to be on. I ducked into a nearby toilet and then into one of the cubicles. Once inside and hidden from view, I slipped off the sandals and sundress, revealing the short black skirt and top I was wearing underneath. Next, I slipped on a pair of knee high boots and a bright red wig. A pair of sunglasses completed my disguise.

I slipped out of the cubicle and smiled politely at the woman by the sink, before making a show of fixing my hair and makeup. I left the toilet and slid back into the crowd. Ten minutes later, I stood outside a private gate towards the back of the airport. Sark was waiting.

"Sydney." He greeted.

I nodded. "Let's go." I said.

He smiled. "Of course." He replied.

Together, we made our way onto the plane. I raised my eyebrows at the luxurious decor. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?" I asked.

"No." Sark said. "Why settle for less when you can afford more?"

I smiled, but even to me it felt fake. I reached up and removed my wig and sunglasses, not needing them anymore. Absently, I ran a hand through my hair as I leaned back in my chair. "So, what's the plan?" I asked.

Sark tossed me a passport. "Your name is Kitty St. James." He said, as he smirked at me. "My date."

I raised an eyebrow at him and opened the passport. To say I still felt weird after my dream was an understatement. I narrowed my eyes when I saw my photo – complete with platinum blonde hair and plenty of cleavage. "I'm supposed to be a blonde ditz?" I asked.

"You need to be the type of woman who would hang off a wealthy businessman's arm." Sark said. "We need to fit in, Sydney."

I bet he had a great time thinking that up. "Sure." I said, somewhat sarcastically – although he did have a point. "But blonde?"

"Do you have a problem with blondes?"

"Only you." I retorted.

Sark smiled. "I'll be Marcus Trent." He continued. "Wealthy businessman and son of Daniel Trent, CEO of Trent Industries. I'll be attending on behalf of my father."

"Won't that be risky?" I asked.

"I have enough of a resemblance to Marcus Trent to pass for him, for an evening." He replied.

He gave me a level look. "Once we're inside the party, it's a simple matter of avoiding the guards."

"Fine." I said. "How long until we get there?"

Sark smirked at me. "Ah, come now, Sydney. You're not bored of our conversation already?"

"No, Sark." I said. "But I'd quit while you're still ahead."

And so began our flight to Switzerland.