Chapter Ten

PARIS, FRANCE

Emily stepped aside to allow her two visitors into her home, she peered for a couple of seconds outside but the road was clear, the car that Irina and Sark had arrived in had already pulled away from the curb. She had learnt to be careful. She moved past them both to lead the way into the living room. Directly ahead of them as they entered the sparsely furnished room was a framed picture of Emily and Sloane outside their old home in the States. She could not completely cut herself off from her old life, a piece of her did not want to; it was that part that looked longingly at the phone and told her to call Arvin. Thus far she had ignored it, it had been long and hard though. Emily missed her husband, her home and friends. As much as she adored Paris she wanted to return to Los Angeles, where she belonged. This apartment she now lived in, as nice as it was, did not yet feel like home. She had been meaning to bring in decorators for a while but had refrained from doing so. Emily was not a person that envied others but none the less she found herself watching others and wishing she had a simple life again like that of other people. She tired of watching over her shoulder.

Irina's visit was a welcome relief; though she knew there was a nefarious reason for her coming without reason. To continue the effect of normalcy for at least a minute longer she broke the silence with, "do either of you want something to eat? I was about to fix myself something," Emily offered pleasantly. She hovered by the kitchen door expectantly, whilst waiting with some curiosity for an explanation for their being in her new home.

Both shook their heads in answer to her question; Irina was more tired than anything and Sark had eaten when monitoring the Bristow's and Vaughn at the hospital. "Please excuse my bluntness Mrs. Sloane, but aren't you supposed to be dead?" he asked.

Emily smiled, somewhat amused, and nodded. This had to be the outspoken, cocky young man that Irina had told her about. "Call me Emily, and yes I am but then so was Laura at one time," she pointed out. And then, "wait, I forgot" she backtracked and corrected herself. "Irina." Sometimes she almost slipped up with her own name; her alias. It would have been stupid to keep her true identity, despite her supposed deceased status. Now she was known as Catherine Shaw. The forename would have been given to a daughter had she had a child and the surname she had picked out of a sea of many choices in a hat.

"Quite true," the Brit agreed. "It does seem to be a habit; people coming back from the dead," Sark was currently making himself at home in the apartment. The times when he would have felt uncomfortable walking unannounced into somebody else's domain were long gone. "I'm sure the two of you need to talk," he mentioned and stood, "why don't I see to refreshments?"

"That's very kind of you," Emily beamed, and moved across the room to take up the chair Sark had previously commandeered. She seemed rather surprised at his manners, as though she did not expect him to be at all charming. Well bad guys came in all types, she supposed.

Sark disappeared from the room; he partially closed the sliding door to allow them privacy.

Emily peered at her friend over her glasses, Irina looked far too pale for her liking. She had a dreaded unnerving feeling that it was something a quick trip to the Doctor would not fix. "What has Arvin done this time?"

VILLE NEUVE, FRANCE

Bourrett's demeanor was that of a very jittery man. He was presently standing as far away from the seated Jack Bristow as possible, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other in front of his face as he bit his nails like a nervous child. "But what if he finds me!" the Frenchman wailed, really quite distraught with the whole situation.

Jack, despite is frustration and rapidly fading patience, remained attentive. He really did not care what happened to the master whiner. He said as much, his annoyance carefully restrained. Kind of. "If you cannot provide me with any relevant information I will hand you over to Sloane myself."

The other man swung around, his eyes wide with panic. "But – but your superior!"

"Is a very good friend of mine," Jack retorted a little smugly. "And will agree with whatever methods I use to procure information," he leant forward in a threatening manner. "What exactly is Sloane working on?"

PARIS, FRANCE

Emily felt sick to the stomach as Irina detailed Arvin's plan. Never would she have imagined her husband could stoop to such deeds; she knew he was not the completely kind and compassionate man she had once thought he was but this was evil, made worse because he was acting this way to people that at one time had been his friends. The watched the ill woman before her with watery eyes; the tears were threatening to spill. She took a shuddering breath, "and he did this to you because you took thus formula from him?" she questioned, trying to understand.

Irina nodded in confirmation. "I am the only person that knows its whereabouts; he had hoped that by administering the poison he could sway me…he thinks I double crossed him because I want it for myself. He had complied a list of people to target; I saw the list, though he doesn't know that."

"Who is on the list?" she tentatively asked.

Irina paused before continuing. Emily knew this much there was no point in holding back now, however much the truth would hurt her. Irina that not knowing was worse. "There are a few people; enemies of his, people that have turned against him, and have power, others that can be blackmailed and used. To be honest I do not care about them. Jack is on the list. If I give Sloane the formula he will release the poison and Jack will be in my position. He doesn't fully understand what Sloane is up to."

Emily took off her glasses and wiped her eyes dry. She looked so sad, a woman in grieving. "Why don't you just tell Jack what you knew?"

"I was going to…circumstances arose and I was unable to tell him anything…" Irina did not go into the debacle at the hospital, that she was unable to remember herself, and the subsequent betrayal. Emily did not need to know the symptoms. "I was going to be turned into the CIA…if I was in their custody I may have been…persuaded…to tell them where the formula is; and I do not trust them enough to do that. They are not all bad," she admitted that much. "It is less complicated this way," she said lightly, "I will die in days and nobody will obtain the information I have --."

Emily shook her head, suddenly angry. "No…you will fight and get help!" she demanded; refusing to let Irina resign herself to this fate. "You will promise me that you are not going to just give up. Some part of me still loves Arvin and always will, but I hate what he's done, what he's doing! But so help me if I need to I'll find a way to contact him and get him to give you an antidote." She stood as if to go immediately and do just that but Irina rose with her and placed a restraining hand on her arm, stopping her.

"You are not going to contact him," Irina all but ordered and glared at her stubborn friend. "Emily," she said kinder, more understanding. "You can't change him. He's different."

It had been difficult in the beginning to renew the old friendship with Emily. For her the familiarity had still been there but with Emily that was not so; she had had to get to know her as Irina instead of Laura, though at times it was hard to differentiate between the two due to similarities. Irina suspected she was only so trusting because she knew, more or less, the whole story. Sometimes honesty was the best policy and it was something that Emily valued. Irina had been mildly surprised at how Emily had welcomed her back so easily; but then her friend was not the type of person to bear grudges. Add to that, she was trusting though definitely no pushover. With the change in her life Emily had needed a friend that she could really speak to, somebody that would understand. Irina had needed some amount of normalcy. Though it was in moments like this that they clashed.

"But if I could just persuade him --," she grasped at straws.

Irina answered her sincerely, truly sorry with how things were for her friend now. She never wanted anything like this for Emily. "It is too dangerous…it's possible that Arvin would see you as another betrayal and lash out; I am not willing to take that chance," she laid it out straight. Whether Emily would listen was another matter.

VILLE NEUVE, FRANCE

"I'm not sure! Not exactly…he – he has many secrets" Bourrett stammered, not at all helpful. Jack stood and the Frenchman shifted his chair back a little to maintain the distance. "Wait! Wait!" he exclaimed, jumping to the conclusion that his life was very near the end. "See, I was not told details but…" he gleamed. "I know scientists," he nodded proudly.

The memory of the small Lab back at the mansion sprung to the forefront of Jack's mind; of course, they had to have gone somewhere. "Very good, Mr. Bourrett. Now, can you tell me where they are?"

Bourrett hesitated. "Eh…yes…but Mr. Sloane monitors his people. What if he sees me talking to them?"

The panicky man actually thought Jack would believe he was competent enough to make first contact? The CIA agent shook his head, "tell me where to find one of these scientists and I will do the rest."

A much-relieved Bourrett relaxed considerably.

"Do not hang up the phone," Sark quickly demanded of the young woman that he had called, before she could do just that. He was presently standing outside a small and mostly empty bistro just off the rue keppler. The light was fading and the area was very nearly deserted. He felt secure in the knowledge that he was safe for now.

Sydney did not answer straight away; she wanted Sark to sweat a little, let him think she had hung up. He obviously had something important to say or he would not have risked calling at all. "Go on," she instructed. Not unexpectedly she had ignored her father's orders, six hours ago, when he had told her to return to Los Angeles, though Vaughn had gone on ahead of her after her insistence. As Sydney waited for Sark to give an explanation for calling she was sat in a rented car, hidden amongst a hedge-covered verge, and staking out the farmhouse where her father and Bourrett were situated. She was not ready to let her dad know she was still in the area. He would probably escort her back to the airstrip.

"Your mother's life hangs in the balance, Sydney. In 18 hours time things will become very…" there was a few seconds of silence on the line as he picked his words carefully. "Difficult."

"What are you talking about?" she question coolly. Over at the farmhouse she noticed the lights had gone out and two figures were emerging.

"What exactly did your mother tell you?" Sark wanted to know, as if the thought that she did not know all the details had only just occurred to him.

Distracted, Sydney answered hurriedly as she continued to spy on her father. He was getting into his own vehicle with the Frenchman. "Not much; Sloane injected her with some poison he was testing," she was still refusing to admit it was anything worse.

Sark changed that for her with his next words. "I truly am sorry to tell you this but, she will die within the next two days."

She swallowed, bile rose in her constricted throat. "You're wrong. It was just causing her pain, she was confused --."

"Being in denial will not help matters," the apparently helpful Brit cut in. "This is why I contacted you; I am in need of your assistance on behalf of your mother," he began cryptically.

PARIS, FRANCE

The scientist had been dozing off when he heard the knock at the door. With a sigh, and grumbling to himself about bad timing, he got up off the couch where he had been so comfortable and headed to the door. He was too out of it to remember that checking who the caller was was usually a good idea. He opened the door. And received the shock of his life when he realised that a gun was being aimed at his face. He back stepped as Jack, with Bourrett edging in behind him, entered the small room.

"Take seat."

Not one to argue with a superior man the scientist did as Jack instructed. "Now, I know you work for Arvin Sloane. I also know what you've been working on; what I want from you is the antidote," he stood tall in front of the scientist, a foreboding presence in the room.

"I do not know where it is…Mr. Sloane keeps it on his person always; and I do not know where he is," the flustered scientist said regretfully. The, tentatively, "this is about the woman?" he withered under the look Jack sent his way and shuddered inwardly.

"What do you know about her?" Jack duly ignored the question.

The scientist rubbed his eyes and shrugged, unsure. "Just that Mr. Sloane thought she was working with him – she stole the bulk of the poison we had created, and hid it. What was left he gave to her to try and make her tell him where the rest was. She did not submit," he appeared lost and utterly clueless after that tidbit. "I know nothing else…except that, if she still lives, in 13 maybe 14 hours, she will get a lot worse than she already will be."

And with that amount of time left and no more leads, Jack could do nothing.