MADRID
The next morning, Sark steps into Irina's office and is instantly met with the unexpected.
Allison is there.
He feels a rush – of not knowing what to say – what to think – he has tried to prepare himself for this, planned out the scenarios in his mind.
Gone blank.
Luckily, Allison speaks first. "It's been a long time."
"So it has." Her hair is a little longer – it could be because it wasn't styled in the likeness of Franc – someone else. She's also a little thinner, and has abandoned the bright makeup her alias had required her to wear. For the first time in months, she looks - almost like herself.
But not quite.
Irina rises and quietly leaves the room.
As soon as the door clicks, Sark breaks in. "What happened to you?"
Her whole face is one of pure fury. "What happened to me? You really want to know? You care enough now to ask me that?"
"I could be asking you the same thing-"
"-I was nearly killed-"
"-If you really cared about me or your loyalties to Irina-"
"-I have no loyalties! And you should have pulled me out before Stockholm instead of-"
"-You should have killed Tippin-"
"-abandoning me and leaving when the CIA-"
"-You had the opportunity and you didn't take it, you should have called-"
Allison's ice-cold stare ends it. "There wasn't time," she hisses. "You weren't there, you don't know how – conflicted I was, and I just . . ." She looks away from him.
It takes a few seconds for Sark to realize she's staring at the door. He whips around. It's Sydney.
How much did she hear? Sark wonders.
But she's wearing an expression to rival Allison's. And the two women won't take their eyes off each other.
"I was looking for the Kenan Patrel file," Sydney says to Sark, still looking steadily at Allison. "I was wondering if you knew where to find it."
"Top drawer on the left," Sark answers automatically. He's awed by the sheer intensity between the two. It's like a force field.
Allison turns to Sark. "I'll be downstairs." She whips past Sydney and disappears into the corridor.
Sydney immediately turns her attention to Sark, and he waits resignedly for the outburst.
"What," she asks very pointedly, "is that woman . . . doing here. I was under the impression that the CIA had her."
"Sydney, this was news to me, too, a couple of days ago. I had no idea about the plan-"
"But you knew she was going to get out, didn't you?"
"I didn't know it would be so soon. I was given the impression that it would be months before she was extracted."
Her expression is so full of confusion and incredulity. "How? What was the plan?"
"I don't know. I've been wondering that myself."
Silence. Then it hits them together. It's the only possible way.
"Oh, God," murmurs Sydney. "He wouldn't . . ."
"He would." He watches her closely.
Sydney shakes her head, over and over, and then looks up at Sark, with tears in her eyes. She doesn't say anything.
She seems about to leave, but remembers the file and retrieves it first. "I'll see you," she says.
Sark hesitates. "See you," he says. The casual expression feels strange to him, foreign. A little too American for his British tongue.
He could swear he sees Sydney smile a little.
Irina's back. Sark prepares himself for the third female-led dispute of the hour.
Luckily, she isn't in the mood. "How is Sydney taking things?"
"As well as can be expected, I would say."
"I want to know. She won't talk to me," and Sark sees the hurt in those brown eyes, "and she sees the most of you."
Sark sighs. "Obviously seeing Bristow was reassuring to her. But I really don't think that having Allison so close . . ."
Irina
nods. "I'm sending her to Germany. They're going to try to alter the
procedure, and after that, I think," she nods again, "I think she'll go deep
cover. But it's not confirmed."
Sark changes the subject. "Any word on Sloane?"
"Jack has a couple of new leads; other than that, he's doing an excellent job of staying hidden. But I'm not saying he's given up."
* * *
Allison feels the arm around her neck, choking her. She strains for air.
"Nobody told me you were coming to join us." Sydney's voice cuts into her ears.
Allison gathers her strength and thrusts her elbow into Sydney's stomach, whips around and twists Sydney's arms into a painful position. "I didn't know I was myself. You, of all people," with a harder twist, "should know how it feels to be used."
Sydney's leg swings around with a high kick and hits Allison between the shoulder and head, releasing her arms. She ducks from the incoming punch and sends one directly into Allison's stomach. Allison clutches her stomach, barely able to breathe or move.
"If you think that I am just calmly going to accept your presence here," Sydney whispers, her voice leveled, "then you have a lot to learn about me."
She sends one more kick out. Allison sinks to the ground.
"Considering you spent half a year living in my house, I'm a little surprised."
She turns and exits.
