Sark stared at Anastasia a few moments longer before looking to Irina. What on earth did his crackpot mother mean, Afraid they'll find out the truth about you?

"Feel free to jump in at any point here," he said coolly.

"She's right," Irina said measuredly, "As your mother, she was due a small percentage of your inheritance."

"I suppose so," Sark replied with an affected shrug, "So what was in it for you, Irina? Why keep me around?"

He saw Sydney open her mouth slightly and then clamp it closed so hard the muscle in her jaw moved, back near her ear. Irina didn't know about his siphoning of funds from the Covenant—how could she, having been in their custody while it was going on? Apparently, Anastasia didn't know about the Covenant's theft, either. Of course—Wells's comment made sense now: What does a dilettante like you need with ops work, with your fortune?

"Julian," Irina's voice had that warning tone that had always given him pause before, but he forged ahead. Irina's hold over him had finally, suddenly run its course.

"No," his voice was firm, "I wouldn't expect anyone to have done a job and not be compensated properly for it. Would you?" He turned to Irina and he could see the astonishment in her brown eyes. "That's all it was, after all—a job. A few years of irritation for God and country in exchange for a nice little tidy payment?"

"Of course not," Irina insisted, "I kept you safe as a favor to Anastasia, and to keep you safe from Elena."

"Bullshit," Sark's laugh was brittle, "You had the same agenda, to bring the Rambaldi prophecy to fruition—you and Sloane both," he stopped short. "You would've killed me after I got the money anyway—you just needed to find Lazarey and kill him so his son could conveniently reappear to claim his rightful inheritance. Clearly, I was your cash cow," he finished in a huff. His sense of betrayal was beginning to glow in his chest, an ember in the ashes of a fire that catches a breath of air and begins to glow incandescent again.

"Say it isn't so," he challenged her, "Say it to my face, Irina. What a fool I was to think that you kept me close to you all those years because you felt some obligation to me, some pathetic misplaced maternal instinct. I should've known that if you'd up and leave your firstborn that something was amiss—"

"How dare you presume to know my motives," Irina finally verbalized, "I kept you because you were useful to me, you were a good operative—"

"Until you needed my money more than my skills!" Sark shouted over her, unwillingly to hear whatever excuse she might offer up. To his surprise, his voice broke a little on his final word. It was all so clear now, how could he not have put it together before? Give him up, keep him "safe" in CIA custody while she tracked down Lazarey, then extract him and kill him for his money. Except Elena had gotten to Lazarey via Sydney first, and captured Irina to keep her out of the way.

"Children!" Anastasia's laugh sang out above the fray, "Let's not let our feelings get in the way of business."

Sark and Irina turned to stare at Anastasia.

"I would be happy to get the money I was entitled to," Anastasia said agreeably. "There's no need to rehash the past here and now."

"Where're we going?" Franklin asked, after they'd been driving for several minutes in silence. Jack had the pedal to the metal, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"Back to the office," Jack said tersely. They were going to see the director of CI. Franklin would no doubt be taken into custody. He would be safer there, anyway. They could re-freeze the account; maybe without funding Sark and subsequently, Sydney, would resurface.

Franklin nodded, wordless, and looked out the passenger window. Finally he said, "I don't think the money's in the account anymore."

Jack scowled momentarily before he barked, "What do you mean, it's not there anymore?"

"I mean—" Franklin looked stricken—"The times I've been paid, it wasn't out of the account from the bank in the Caymans, it was an untraceable account. He probably moved it as soon as it was unfrozen."

Jack took his eyes off the freeway momentarily to stare harshly at Franklin. He could see it in the kid's eyes that he wasn't lying.

Fuck.