"It was Sloane," Jack said simply. There was an anxious, tension filled silence until he ultimately continued. "He somehow knows the truth about Sydney and I being double agents- has known for a while, even before her disappearance. But more importantly, he believes he may have some information regarding her captors…" he paused briefly, seemingly debating whether or not he should finish the sentence. Finally, he did. "…and perhaps may even have knowledge of her present whereabouts."
Chapter 41
A heavy silence permeated the room, no one daring to speak or seemingly even breathe. Finally, I took the first step.
"So what next? What does he want? What are we doing?"
"Are you sure we can trust him? How do you know he doesn't have some other purpose behind calling?" Sark threw.
"One at a time," Jack growled. He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I don't know… I don't know how he knows, nor what he wants, nor what ulterior motives he may have. All I know is that he has some information, and we need it. Therefore, we're going to do as he requested." He then turned to Dixon.
"Marcus, you've been tagged and tracked." Dixon's eyes widened, and he looked down in shock.
"What? Impossible! I've double and triple checked everything I'm wearing, everything I brought with me… there's nothing there." Jack nodded slowly.
"What did you eat before you left SD-6?" A look of realization dawned.
"I drank some coffee that Sloane offered me."
"How does that factor in?" Irina, who had been frighteningly silent, finally spoke up.
"He knows where we are, and he wants to meet us in half an hour."
"Why would they put a tracker on Dixon?" I questioned. "He was on an SD-6 mission, wasn't he?"
"That's right," Sark added. "Sloane wouldn't need to take such measures, he should know where Mr. Dixon would be anyway."
"The plane was rerouted," Irina supplied. Jack nodded to her.
"Correct. Arvin claims he didn't know that was going to happen; whatever he was sending Dixon to Austria for, it was something he truly wanted. And Sark is right, this isn't the kind of thing Sloane would normally do, which leads me to believe that whatever's in Austria, it's important. I don't know that it means anything to us, so unless we find out otherwise, I'm not concerned with what's there, nor with the tracker."
"Which brings us back to my first question: what next?" Jack faced me as I asked this.
"We wait. Again." I gave him a look. "I know, Michael. Believe me, I know. But right now, the ball is in his court, and it's up to him to decide whether or not he lets us play. He's in the air as we speak, on his way to Munich. I don't know when, precisely, he'll be here, but since he does know where Marcus is, he won't have a problem getting to us."
"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" I questioned. Jack laughed dryly.
"Generally not."
"So what do we do until he gets here?" Sark asked.
"Whatever you wish to do to pass the time," Irina said. Jack headed for the room we had been in earlier, and I fell in step beside him.
"Time for more solitaire?" I asked jokingly. He gave me a small half-smile.
"Naturally."
"Tell me, Jack, do you ever lose? Ever?" He raised an eyebrow and I had to laugh. "Of course not."
As we re-entered the room, I looked back to see Dixon trailing not far behind us, looking thoughtful. Well behind him, Irina and Sark were engaged in deep conversation. After a moment, Sark's cold eyes met mine. He maintained eye contact for just a moment before turning back to give Irina his complete attention. I frowned in confusion and walked into the room, where Jack was already back on the computer. Dixon was standing near one of the closed windows, still looking to be lost in thought.
After a brief survey of the room, I shrugged off my jacket and headed for the opposite wall. I balled the jacket up and placed it on the floor before making myself as comfortable as possible, prepared to take a nap. I had just shut my eyes and felt myself drifting off when a voice penetrated my consciousness.
"That can't be terribly comfortable." I opened my eyes and rolled over, finding Sark seated not far from me.
"I like the floor," I grumbled, turning my back on him and once again shutting my eyes.
"I see. But yet I seem to recall, you're not much fond of sleeping," he noted curiously.
"Point?" I questioned.
"For one who doesn't care for the activity, you do seem to sleep quite a bit." Sitting up again, I sighed in annoyance.
"Not that it's really any of your business, but I find sleep to be good for getting away from the things I don't want to deal with. Therefore, when life sucks, I sleep a lot. Besides, there's not much better to do at the moment, now is there? So, if you'll excuse me…" I settled back down, almost smiling as I heard Sark get up and move a few seats away. I shook my head just slightly, feeling vaguely amused at this strange kind of friendship that seemed to be forming between us. I still didn't trust him, and I knew that feeling was mutual, but at the same time, we were in the same boat in terms of being left out of most everything Jack and Irina seemed to know. Shifting my shoulders, I got as comfortable as I could and soon felt myself slipping into the darkness of dreams. As usual, my subconscious focused itself on Sydney. That days dream wasn't the horror it usually was; rather, it was almost pleasant.
Sydney was standing on the porch, watching the sun set ahead of us. I was seated on the steps, eyes locked on her. She evidently felt it, as she soon looked to me and then flashed one of her shy smiles before dropping her eyes. I stood up and moved in front of her, causing her to look up at me.
"Syd…" before I could say anything else, the cell phone in her pocket rang. She looked at me apologetically. "Ignore it," I urged.
"I can't… it could be important." The phone rang again, and I sighed.
I sat straight up, realizing that the sound was actually that of a phone in the room. I rubbed my eyes quickly, looking towards Jack, who was studying the small cell phone in his hand intently.
"Sloane," he finally said, before flipping it open and answering. I took a brief glance around to see Irina, Sark, and Dixon all watching him as attentively as I was, then turned back to Jack to keep an ear on the one-sided conversation.
"When? That's fine, where? Yes, we're still here. Fine. We'll be here, we're not going anywhere. And Arvin? Do not waste our time here, or I promise you, you will live to regret it." Jack snapped the phone shut and looked up at us. "He's on his way."
"He's coming here?" I asked. Jack nodded.
"He'll be here within the next half hour."
"What's the plan from there?" Sark questioned.
"I don't know. It depends on what he knows, what he can tell us. We can't plan anything until we have some clear idea of what we have to work with."
"I assume we'll verify what we can to some extent before we do anything?" Sark pressed. Jack gave him a look.
"Of course we will."
"Unfortunately, at this point, Sloane is our best lead," Irina put in.
"Meaning we may have to take him at face value," I concluded. Jack nodded.
"I don't like it," Dixon stated flatly.
"None of us do," Jack pointed out. "But if it's the only way, then it's the only way." With a sigh, I stood up and walked over to the desk.
"So it's back to the waiting game," I noted.
"Isn't it always?" Sark muttered before turning and taking a seat again. Another heavy silence fell upon the room, until about ten minutes later, when a voice echoed in the hallway outside.
"Is it him?" Sark asked of no one in particular.
"I'm not psychic," Jack snapped.
"Pity," Sark shot back.
"Stop it. Now," Irina said warningly. Jack and Sark exchanged hostile looks, but no more words. Moments later, our collective suspicions were confirmed, as the door opened to reveal Arvin Sloane. He smiled at all of us warmly, causing a shiver to slide up my spine. I saw someone that I presumed to be a bodyguard standing near him. Sloane gave the big man a nod before stepping in and shutting the door.
"Good to see you all again," he said pleasantly, obviously ignoring the unfriendly looks being directed to him by everyone in the room.
"Drop the act, Sloane. What do you know?" Irina demanded harshly.
"Before I say anything, I'd just like to make sure we're all clear on this: I had nothing to do with Sydney's disappearance. Believe it or not, it upset me too. That's why I'm here; I've been doing my own investigations into this, and as soon as I found enough information to potentially be useful, I set out to contact you."
"Why should we believe you?" Sark demanded.
"For the same reason anyone should believe you: I'd have nothing to gain by lying."
"Aside from the deranged pleasure you seem to derive from hurting my family," Irina spat. Sloane smiled, looking at her almost tenderly.
"Ah, Irina… how I've missed you." She looked at him with disgust.
"For what it's worth," I interjected, "we need to at least hear him out. We've gotten nowhere in all this time; if he has something new, a different angle to work from, it's worth a try."
"Michael's right," Jack agreed, turning his eyes to Sloane. "And everyone here knows it." Sloane gave him a slight nod before glancing to me.
"Good to know at least some of you have clear heads here," he said with a pointed look at Irina and Sark. He then smirked slightly, facing us again. "Jack… and Mr. Vaughn. Two rogue CIA agents, working hand in hand with two internationally wanted terrorists…" he paused, turning his gaze towards Dixon. "And one highly respectable SD-6 agent." Dixon leveled him with a glare.
"Don't," he said warningly. "I will never believe another word you say. Ever." Sloane nodded, almost regretfully.
"I know, Marcus."
"Details, Arvin," Jack said tightly. Sloane sighed lightly and made his way to the computer chair, where he seated himself and got comfortable, leaning back and looking at all of us.
"As you know, Dixon was given a tracker before he left SD-6 for Austria." He turned to face Dixon, and continued talking. "You knew who you were going to meet, but you didn't know what type of information was going to be traded, correct?" Dixon nodded. "That man was an informant from a relatively unknown organization. They've been very minor players on the international stage the last five years, and have kept in shadows so well that not even the CIA has heard of them."
"Well who are they?" I asked curiously.
"No one has a name for them yet. The interesting twist here is that the man Marcus was going to meet in Austria? He's a man very familiar to the four of you," indicating everyone but Dixon, "one known to most as nothing more than Suit and Glasses." With this, Sloane leaned back in the chair, seemingly enjoying the stunned silence that had filled the room.
"He was our contact back in Greece," I noted, looking from Jack to Irina.
"And now he was to be Mr. Dixon's contact in Austria," Sark said thoughtfully. "He was involved with this mysterious group?" He glanced to Sloane, who nodded.
"They acquired his services late last year. I made contact with him perhaps four months ago and offered generous compensation for him to pass along intel to me."
"And?" Irina pressed.
"That was what Dixon's meeting was to be. He was going to give information regarding payment, and in return, he would receive everything that had been gathered over the last few months on this organization."
"So why was the plane rerouted?" I asked.
"Because it seems someone learned of our friends' intentions; an hour before the meeting was scheduled to begin, an associate in Innsbruck received a special delivery." I winced at the words and Sloane, noticing my reaction, nodded slightly. "His body, minus the head."
"So 'Suit and Glasses' is dead?" Sark repeated, seemingly astonished.
"Yeah, that's generally a consequence of having your head removed," I said dryly. He glared at me briefly. "Admittedly, I'm not following the connection between him being our contact in Greece, and Dixon's meeting in Austria. He was already working for them when we met in Greece, right? Did they send him to us?"
"That seems most likely," Irina put in quietly.
"It's not your fault, Irina."
"He was my contact, Jack."
"He was the one who got in touch with us, remember?"
"Yes, and I didn't even think to question his motives. Because of that, we played right into whatever game they're playing."
"I hate to interrupt, but we need to move. Now," Sloane said.
"Where are we going?" Sark asked, looking at him suspiciously.
"Out to a private airfield. A plane is waiting there to take us to Paris."
"Why Paris?" Sark demanded. Sloane stared at him intently.
"Like it or not, we follow my lead right now, Mr. Sark. For now, we move. When we're on the plane, I'll tell you more." Sark didn't take his eyes off Sloane, who merely shook his head. "I have two cars waiting outside. Sark, Dixon, and I will take one; Jack, Irina, and Vaughn will take the other. It's right outside of the city, should take us about twenty minutes to get there." He handed a set of keys over to Jack, and then stood and walked to the door. "Follow me." Sark and I exchanged uncomfortable glances before going out after Sloane. Jack hurriedly shut down the computer and turned off all the lights before locking the door and coming behind us. As we got to the cars, Sloane handed his keys over to Dixon.
"You'll drive." Dixon shot him an aggravated look before heading to the drivers seat. Sark shook his head and got into the back. Jack took the wheel of our car, while Irina was in the passenger seat and I sat in the back. I thought for a moment, wondering where Sloane's bodyguard had disappeared to. Then I saw him standing outside the building, hidden in shadows, keeping a cautious eye on everything around us. I briefly wondered why he was staying behind, but brushed the concern aside as Jack started the car.
"Are we trusting him so far?" I asked after a moment. There was a short silence before Jack answered.
"Thus far, yes. As much as we can ever trust him, at least."
"Which really doesn't say much," I sighed. Jack's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and he nodded. Ten minutes later, Dixon's car, just ahead of us, suddenly slammed on the brakes. I looked ahead curiously when they didn't begin to move again.
"We're not here, are we?" Irina shook her head.
"No. Why aren't they going anywhere?" She and Jack exchanged curious looks. The next moment, a sharp noise caught my attention.
"You heard that, right?" I whispered, unsure of why I was talking so quietly, but feeling the need to do so anyway. Jack nodded.
"Sounded like glass breaking?" he asked, in the same quiet tone.
"Yeah… what was that?" Jack looked at me over his shoulder, then abruptly shifted the car into park. I took the cue and opened my door, hopping out and moving over to Dixon's window.
"Jack!" I yelled, catching sight of the front of the car. He and Irina both ran to my side, and I pointed out the bullet holes in the windshield. They both began looking around nervously, before something occurred to Irina.
"Sark…" she quickly ran to the other side of the car and pulled open the back door, sticking her head in. Meanwhile, Jack opened the driver's side and checked on Dixon.
"Is he ok?" My question was met with silence. "Jack? Is Dixon ok? Jack, answer me!"
"Sark's ok," Irina said from the other side. "Just unconscious." She then moved up to check on Sloane.
"Jack," I repeated forcefully.
"Sloane's been hit, but he'll live… they must have been using silencers on sniper rifles. But…" he paused, pulling himself out of the car and looking straight at me. "I don't know that Dixon's going to make it."