Chapter 21:

Sark was sitting in the corner when he saw a small group of people headed towards him. The bald-headed man, who he had learned was named Kendall was with another bald-headed man, who he was quickly introduced himself. Robert Lindsey, Sark thought to himself. I've got the head of the NSC in my cell. This must be something important. He saw Marshall whom he had met when he had temporarily worked at SD-6. "Hi. Welcome. Don't kill me." The thought of this simple, yet honest opinion of his character made Sark laugh.

"Put it in his neck," the man named Lindsey said. Marshall took the gun-type contraption, and placed it on the side of Sark's neck. He heard a slight hiss, and felt a small area of skin part as the little device was implanted into his neck.

"Good job," Lindsey said, as Marshall was ushered out of the cell. "We just implanted you with a miniature tracking chip. It has two other functions, however. The first one is that it is a listening device capable of detecting even the faintest noise. The second function is that it holds enough cyanide in it that should you stray from your given parameters, it will release a lethal dose, that will kill you. Do you understand?"

Sark nodded. He had gotten around devices like this before.

"If you attempt to remove it, it'll release the cyanide. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Sark said. That'll make this a little more difficult.

"Good. You're going to be taken to a location. You will meet with a contact, and distract him long enough that we can apprehend him. Is that clear?"

"Who am I meeting? Where? What for?"

"In order to give you no upper hand, that information will not be given to you until it is necessary. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." Lindsey turned and walked away.

Two hours later…

The plane took off, leaving Dixon and Sark on the plane. Sark was restrained, but he had enough give in his shackles to enjoy the glass of wine that he had been provided. "You know, there's nothing better than a bottle of 1982 Chateau Petreuse."

"I wouldn't know," Dixon said annoyed.

"Why the droopy demeanour. The CIA is about to score a victory. You should be happy."

"Why? You're asking me why I'm angry? I'll tell you why. I have to go on a mission with a man who conspired to kill my wife, and worst of all, I'm here to protect you."

"I should have you know that I had nothing to do with the decision to orchestrate your wife's death. All my role included was transporting the message from Allison to Sloane. Then I communicated the message from Sloane to Allison. I had nothing to do with your wife's demise."

Dixon tensed up. The rest of the flight was spent in silence until Dixon informed Sark of the parameters of the mission.

Sark and Dixon were sitting at the table that had been agreed upon. The visual cue that had been ordered was to have a place set at the table with a briefcase at the side that made it look like someone had been sitting there.

Earlier…

"Jim will approach and ask if the seat is taken. When he does, you'll respond…" Dixon explained

"Yes, I'm meeting a friend."

"Perhaps I'm your friend," Jim replied.

"Do you come bearing gifts?"

"Yes," Jim said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small cloth bag. Tossing it over, Sark opened it and dumped the diamonds inside of it out. Examining one closely, and then another, he nodded in affirmation.

"We have a deal."

Jim picked up the briefcase. "The code is 2-2-7," Sark told Jim.

Putting in the code, Jim opened the briefcase, examined the papers, and nodded in agreement. "The other half of your payment is in the van. Come with me and I'll give it to you."

Dixon and Sark both got up and headed over to the van. Jim helped Sark in first. Dixon had just gotten in the van when Sark yelled out, "He's CIA." Jim turned to Dixon, pushing him out. Slamming the door shut, he yelled at the driver, "Go! Go!" The tires barked on the ground leaving thick patches of rubber as the van moved forward.

"They put an implant in my neck. We need to get it out before we leave the boundaries."

"He betrayed us. Quick, activate the cyanide," Kendall yelled to the officer monitoring the situation.

"Delay that order!" Lindsey yelled. "We can use this to track him." Kendall looked infuriated.

"He know's about the implant. They're not going to take him anywhere until they know they can't be tracked."

"Sir, should I activate the implant?" the officer called out.

Looking absolutely ticked off, Lindsey nodded. "Activate it."

…TBC…