Sydney paced nervously. Weiss, Dixon, and Nadia had left on their way to the small town of Anteca, New Mexico. Jack and Sloane were monitoring their progress in the general conference room, and Marshall and Finch were keeping a vigil over Julia's tracer, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything but pace and turn, pace and turn.
Someone entered the room as she was mid-pace. Turning, she saw it was Finch.
"Brought you some coffee," Finch said in the kind of voice that left no room for argument. She put the white ceramic mug on the table and both she and Sydney stared at it for what seemed like a very long time. Then Sydney picked it up and drank the warm brew slowly.
"They'll get her back," Finch said optimistically. "If there's one thing I know about Julia, it's that she's a fighter. She won't give up. They'll find her."
Sydney smiled gratefully at the younger woman, who leaned back in her wheelchair. "I know they will."
"The wait's hard," Finch said knowingly. "I remember once, a hostage situation in France. It seemed like hours before anyone came for me, but it was maybe an hour at most."
Sydney took another sip of coffee.
Marshall came in. "They've landed in Anteca," he reported. "They'll be to Julia's location within twenty minutes."
Finch turned to look at him. "Great. That's great news."
Sydney tried to smile at Marshall, but she couldn't. She was far too upset. Despite her faith in Nadia, Dixon, and Weiss, she knew as well as anyone that they hard their weaknesses. And they weren't dealing with ordinary folks, either. The Society of the Closed Fist's members were all ex-military, ex-black ops, or trained in espionage. They were all highly skilled professionals.
But then again, she thought, so was Julia.