JAKARTA
A quiet, inconspicuous car pulls up next to a small building, tucked deep into the city of Jakarta.
A tall figure steps out: Sydney Bristow, dressed in a tight black dress and sporting a short black hairstyle.
Sark, from the car, watches her enter the club. He turns on his comm, and hears the click of Sydney's.
"I'm in," comes her voice.
"I can see that," he replied dryly.
"Remind me again why the Mahala Kej chose a nightclub as their Jakarta front."
"It's not exactly suspect, is it?"
She doesn't reply. She is scanning the crowd for a certain means to access the lower level. Sark smiles to himself, thinking of the unfortunate individual of Sydney's choice.
A few minutes later, Sydney's voice comes back over the comm, only this time in Malay, which Sark does not understand a word of. A man answers her. She answers back in a smooth, silky tone, before switching to Taiwanese.
He has to admit, she is a wonder with languages.
A couple more minutes pass, before Sydney and her companion move on, presumably to find a more private location.
A few more seconds and Sark hears a grunt and the sounds of someone falling. "Man down," comes Sydney's voice. "And . . . I've secured us a key card. Now heading to the server room."
"Copy that," replies Sark, opening his laptop.
He forces his mind not to drift off, not to think of anything but the mission.
Nothing else.
* * *
STARA ZAGORA, BULGARIA
The sun has just begun to set.
Irina waits in silence. She gazes across the park at a little girl, going down the slide. A woman holds her hand and guides her all the way down.
Irina turns to watch the sunset.
She senses a presence sitting beside her on the bench and does not need to turn to know who it is. "I'm glad you contacted me."
"I'm glad you came."
"It was an ingenious way of contacting me." She closes her eyes for a moment, then turns to face him.
Jack gazes at her, impassive as ever. "I suppose it's . . . probably obvious to you why I'm meeting with you."
Barely audible, she whispers, "Sydney."
"The CIA's given up. They found a body. The DNA match was—only 80%. Which means there is a [i]chance[/i], however small, that she may still be alive." Jack looks down, then raises his eyes to look at her again. "And if she isn't . . . I want to know what happened to her."
They both watch the little girl, going down the slide again.
* * *
JAKARTA
"I've hacked the system; you should be receiving the surveillance feed in the next five seconds."
Sark watches the screen, and eighteen different images pop up. He scans them quickly and frowns slightly. "I don't see him."
"Neither do I." He hears her take a shaky breath.
"Sydney, you need to get out of there. It must be a decoy, a setup—the intel was false."
"Copy." The frustration in her tone comes across clearly.
Suddenly the tiny screens change to static. Sark presses several of the keys, but the static doesn't disappear. "Sydney."
No response. He hears the beginnings of a struggle before the comm clicks off.
Discarding his laptop, he exits the car. With a practiced eye, he surveys his surroundings before taking off for the front door.
Sydney could not be lost.
A/N: This chapter is a two-parter, so the next one should be up pretty soon. Thanks for reading, and reviews are much appreciated!!
Also, as my psychotic education system has decided to resume school NEXT WEEK for reasons unknown, updates will probably not be as frequent. However, most of my class time will probably be spent daydreaming about Sark anyway. :D Mmm . . . Sark . . . :lol: Must print out Sark pics for locker.
