Peter Fenwick looked anxiously through the cleverly concealed hole. He had
to stand on tiptoe to see through, but he still had a good enough view to
see that Sydney was still alive. She looked to be hurt, but that was the
least of his worries.
She was playing with a scrap of fabric from her shirt, wrapping and unwrapping around her uninjured thumb. They'd never met , but he knew Vaughn, and had heard of her through different agents. He'd heard enough stories of Sydney to know that she was a good agent. In fact, she was one of the best.
She was one of the best because she wanted to live. She had more things in her life to live for than he had, and yet, he'd still sold her out at the mention of pain. At the mention of death. He had been forced to take a group of Belgian rebels to the building where they where going to meet. They had threatened him with death. They had also threatened Sydney's friends and father.
When Sydney had shown up at the meeting point, he had knocked her out and carried her to the waiting van, where he'd received both a large sum of money and a veiled death threat. On the way back to the van, he'd managed to phone Vaughn. He hadn't mentioned his part in her capture. He begged with the rebels to go with them, knowing that if she died, it would be all his fault. He was here to try and keep her alive.
He noticed that she hadn't touched the glass of water he'd left for her. It was clean, but her training would prevent her from drinking it. There was nothing harmful in it, and wouldn't be as long as he could get it to her. He was going to try and slip her some food when the others where out of the way. He watched as she broke down in to sobs that wracked her body.
Guilt consumed him as he watched her cry. The group's leader, a man known only to him as Artis, entered the room. He was carrying a gun. He forced Sydney to her feet by putting the gun under her chin. She straitened her shoulders and faced him with as much dignity as she could.
Fenwick watched as they left the room. He didn't realise that someone was with him in the tiny room until they spoke.
"What are you doing?" the question was harshly asked, by a tall man.
"I'm waiting for Artis." Fenwick said, just managing not to stutter.
"He's with the Girl. You'll have to wait for him in there." The taller man pointed to a small room, which had once been an office.
Fenwick nodded and walked in, knowing that there was nothing else he could do. He sat down on one of the ripped, dusty chairs and prepared for a long wait.
She was playing with a scrap of fabric from her shirt, wrapping and unwrapping around her uninjured thumb. They'd never met , but he knew Vaughn, and had heard of her through different agents. He'd heard enough stories of Sydney to know that she was a good agent. In fact, she was one of the best.
She was one of the best because she wanted to live. She had more things in her life to live for than he had, and yet, he'd still sold her out at the mention of pain. At the mention of death. He had been forced to take a group of Belgian rebels to the building where they where going to meet. They had threatened him with death. They had also threatened Sydney's friends and father.
When Sydney had shown up at the meeting point, he had knocked her out and carried her to the waiting van, where he'd received both a large sum of money and a veiled death threat. On the way back to the van, he'd managed to phone Vaughn. He hadn't mentioned his part in her capture. He begged with the rebels to go with them, knowing that if she died, it would be all his fault. He was here to try and keep her alive.
He noticed that she hadn't touched the glass of water he'd left for her. It was clean, but her training would prevent her from drinking it. There was nothing harmful in it, and wouldn't be as long as he could get it to her. He was going to try and slip her some food when the others where out of the way. He watched as she broke down in to sobs that wracked her body.
Guilt consumed him as he watched her cry. The group's leader, a man known only to him as Artis, entered the room. He was carrying a gun. He forced Sydney to her feet by putting the gun under her chin. She straitened her shoulders and faced him with as much dignity as she could.
Fenwick watched as they left the room. He didn't realise that someone was with him in the tiny room until they spoke.
"What are you doing?" the question was harshly asked, by a tall man.
"I'm waiting for Artis." Fenwick said, just managing not to stutter.
"He's with the Girl. You'll have to wait for him in there." The taller man pointed to a small room, which had once been an office.
Fenwick nodded and walked in, knowing that there was nothing else he could do. He sat down on one of the ripped, dusty chairs and prepared for a long wait.