AFGHANISTAN
Tehrzan's headquarters are located in one of the many caves of the Hindu Kush. Sark, equipped in his usual black, makes his way silently to the entrance- a nondescript gap between the rocks. He turns numerous corners until he finally sees a black box on the wall. Opening it, he presses five numbers, and a wall immediately slides back to reveal a much more elaborately designed steel hallway.
"I've reached the interior," he says softly. "Now heading for the server room."
"Copy that."
He spots two guards at the end of the hallway about to turn his way. He swiftly picks up his gun and shoots twice. Right on target. Picking through one of their pockets, he discovers a key card.
He sets off at a light jog, remembering that the server room is the fourth room on the right in the second hallway. He's glad his memory is photographic.
Sark doesn't meet anyone else along the way, and immediately takes down the lone man at the security cameras. "I'm in. . . Looking for any sign of Sloane or Sydney . . ."
There. On the last screen. Sydney, strapped down to a chair . . . next to Il Dire. "I see Sydney. And the device."
"Sloane?"
He looks closer. "No . . . no, I don't see him." He whips his head over his shoulder, making sure no one's come in.
"Does the room have a pass code? Can you get in?"
"I took a key card off a guard. It should be enough. Their system's slightly out-of-date."
"Copy."
He takes off back down the hall. At the very end, he thrusts the key card into the handle. The door slides open.
He rushes in and sees Sydney- only she looks considerably different up close. Bruises are all over her forehead, and there are cuts everywhere.
Sark hesitates, then shakes her, gently, then harder. "Sydney . . . Sydney, get up . . . Sydney."
Always prepared, he takes out a syringe of anti-anesthetic and inserts it into her skin.
After a few seconds, her eyelids flutter and struggle to open.
"Sydney, get up, we have to go." He begins unstrapping her from the seat.
She groans.
"Sydney."
She sees him, bent over her. "Sark?" Suddenly she becomes alert. "What the hell is going on? Where am I?"
"You're in Afghanistan. Sloane's here. He wants to use Il Dire on you, so he had you captured. Where is he now?"
Her breathing comes fast and hard. "You work for him."
"I work for your mother, only her, and I never wanted to work with Sloane in the first place. Sydney, I need to know, where is he?"
"I don't know, I don't remember anything"- Sark works on the last strap- "and the last thing I remember is shooting Francie." Her voice is a low hiss now. "You killed my best friends, you son of a bitch. Why should I trust a word you say?"
"I don't blame you for not trusting me. I've never given you a reason to. But now's the time to start. Help me with the device. We have to go!"
"How did you escape?!"
"There's no time, Sydney!" The last strap comes loose.
At that moment, an alarm sounds, shrill and pulsing. Sark seizes Sydney's wrist and pulls her up. He reaches to his side and pulls out another gun, thrusting it at her and hoping that she won't suddenly turn and pull the trigger on him.
Sark sees the guard in the doorway, but it is Sydney who shoots. The man falls to the ground.
"Follow me!" Sark calls to her, and they sprint down the hallway together, bullets flying everywhere, shooting and dodging, and barely make it through the door that closes behind them. They continue running down through the tunnels, and soon Sark sees the aircraft, barely brushing the earth below. He hears Sydney behind him, and as soon as he clambers in, he holds out his hand to help her. She ignores it and climbs up herself.
They stand, looking at each other.
Sark breaks the silence. "I would appreciate it if you gave me the gun. It won't do you much good anyway, seeing as you're out of ammunition."
She almost throws the gun into his hand.
"Thank you."
"What is going on?" she asks irritably. "How did you-" She seems at a loss for words.
Déjà vu, Sark thinks . . . just like when I showed up at SD-6. "I suggest you sit down, and we'll talk." He leads her into the interior of the plane. She takes a seat at the table, and he does the same.
"So the last thing you remember is-"
"Shooting someone who for three months I thought was my best friend, but turned out to be a genetic double of her." She glares at him. "That you recruited."
"I don't deny it." Sark, who has been feeling very much alive, suddenly feels cold again. "But I'm here to help you now, Sydney. We can help each other."
She is still glaring at him. "How did you escape?"
His face takes on his usual smirk. "There are a thousand things wrong with your government's 'safe transport' system that I could point out to you, Miss Bristow."
Sydney looks as though she might be sick on the nicely tiled floor of the plane. Sark resists the urge to comment. Insults won't help him win her over. So he continues, "Sloane abducted you and brought you here for the purpose of using Il Dire on you. Obviously that would be disastrous. I had a suspicion that this is where he would go, so your mother arranged for me to fly here and extract you."
Sydney breaks in. "Just what exactly *is* Il Dire- or the Telling?"
He looks away, not wanting to see the soon-to-be horrified expression on her face, and takes a deep breath. "It allows you to alter or relive the past. And Sloane . . . wants to use it on you. To alter your life back so that you were never recruited into SD-6, never became a spy . . . Back to when he and your father worked together, as allies.
"Il Dire won't break apart after it's been used, it must be voluntarily taken apart. Sloane and only Sloane will know what he's altered, and changed. But Sydney, if you are truly the one in that Prophecy, you're the only one who can stop him, and if he alters your life . . ."
"I don't believe it," she whispers. "I saw Mount Sebacio . . ."
It is silent for a full minute before Sark speaks again. "When I was in custody, I made the CIA an offer. We would assist them in the search for you, in addition to giving them information about Il Dire. They didn't accept it. Instead, I was ordered to Camp Harris.
"Between what you do, and what I do, Sydney, there is no difference. Every organization has the same goals, strives for the same things . . . We have a common goal: to bring down Arvin Sloane. Sydney, if we work together- Sydney."
She's fighting back tears.
"I meant it when I said we were destined to work together."
Sydney swallows, and some of her dignity returns. "If that's really me . . . explain how-"
"You saw Mount Sebacio." He begins to quote softly, "'This woman will have had her effect, having never seen the beauty of my sky behind Mount Sebacio. Perhaps a single glance might quell her fire.' Something of that nature? Personally, Sydney, I believe you had your effect the moment you walked into the real CIA."
It is silent again. Finally Sydney says, "I just- I need time. To think, and just- I just need time."
Sark indicates the leather divan with a tilt of his head, and Sydney rises.
He reaches over, takes out his briefcase, and retrieves his laptop. He has work to do.
