A/N: Thank you everyone who's reading, and for the review from Guest. I don't know if it's the same Guest or multiple people, but if you reviewed Thank You! Here's part 2.
A/N2:. The song used in the chapter is "Politik" by Coldplay. No copyright intended. To clarify, "=lyrics=".
Part Two: A Spy in London
Chapter 15: A Most Wanted Man
August 2003
Paris, France
He was being followed by men with spook suits and earpieces in their ears; five of them altogether. He hurried down the steps of the Gare du Nord, the busiest métro station in Paris, and pushed through the crowd as he made his way to a train going to Châtelet–Les Halles. Once on the train, he searched around as the doors started to close. Two of the agents made it on the train and he stared at the other two who were standing outside, talking into their mic's.
He had to keep moving. Moving from one train car to the other, he didn't sit down or slow down until he got to the last one and had to stop. Turning around, the two agents who had made it onto the train were right behind him. As his lungs worked to catch his breath, his eyes skimmed them over. The taller one had a gun under his left arm, a shoulder holster. The shorter one had his gun on his right hip. He would take the shorter one first.
Slinging his bag off his shoulder, he waited until they got close enough before tossing his bag at the tall agent as he darted for the short one. He hooked his right arm with his, preventing him from reaching his gun, and jabbed his left arm into the back of his right shoulder, pushing him down and forward as he tossed him at the taller agent. As they collided, he reached down, yanked the gun off the short agent's belt, and raised it in time to shoot the tall agent. Then he lowered it to the shorter one and shot him.
Exiting the train at the Seine Sector, he headed across the platform and up the stairs as the people filed out, some running and crying over the dead agents, as he removed his hoodie and tossed it and the gun both into the trash bin. Running up the steps, he headed toward the Pont Neuf Bridge. Checking over his shoulder, he didn't see anyone else following him but he knew they were coming.
Getting to the bridge, he started crossing over it. Off to his far right, in the distance, he could see the Eiffel Tower. He passed the Statue Equestre d'Henri IV on the right, shops, restaurants, and Place Dauphine on the left, and kept walking. As he neared the intersection at Quai de Conti, he looked to his right and saw the Sapeurs Pompiers de Paris (Paris Fire Brigade) boats moored along the river Seine. Standing on the cobblestones, waiting for him, was Jack.
Will hurried around the corner and down the sidewalk until he saw the steps that took him down to the river. Jack was waiting for him at the bottom and grabbed him the moment he stepped off the last step.
"Status?"
"They're coming."
They started down the walk, and passing the fire brigade, they followed the port of Saints-Pères path along the river. It wasn't until they were entering the tunnel under the Pont du Carrousel bridge that they spotted the two spooks in suits who'd missed the train behind them. And they had company.
The river path ended before the Pont Royal Bridge and coming down the stairs in front of them were two more men. Six in total. They were surrounded.
Will stopped and turned and looked between the men. One of the two men who cut them off at the stairs was Julian Sark. He was with another man who was taller, brown hair, and square chin. Jack seemed to recognize him but didn't say anything as he got in front of him. There really wasn't anywhere for them to go except for into the river, and that was where Jack was backing him up to; the edge of the path before it met the Seine.
"Your stooge botched the drop, Bristow," the mystery man said next to Sark. "You really should keep better company."
"I still got two of your guys," Will shot back as he felt the gun in the back of Jack's waistband knock against his right side. Moving his hand up and under his Jack's suit jacket, he grabbed the gun as Jack rushed one of the four men to the left.
It was all pointless, but necessary as he held the gun pointed at the ground instead of raising it to aim at Sark or the mystery man. His eyes were on Sark's the entire time as he listened as Jack put up a good fight; it wasn't enough. Four against one wasn't good odds, not even for a badass like Jack Bristow.
The mystery man didn't make a move either as he just watched with an amused smirk on his face.
Jack hit the ground but didn't let the pain show on his face as he looked over at him. He was on his knees, blood on his face from being punched in his mouth and nose. Staring up at him in confusion, Jack was breathing heavily, deeply, with pain written on his face.
Sark looked at Jack saying, "You don't know who this man is, do you Mr. Bristow?" as he gestured towards him.
Jack spat out the blood in his mouth as he continued to glare at Sark.
"Why don't you show Mr. Bristow who you are? Show him why you were able to take out two highly-trained operatives on a subway train."
Will hesitated, gun in hand, and then shook his head. "I don't know-"
"Stop with this innocent act," Sark said in aspiration. Looking down at Jack, he told him, "He's been lying to you-"
"I haven't been lying! I don't know what you're talking about!" he argued back. "Jack, please, don't listen to him."
Sark turned to him and stepped up into his face as he said, "Why are you hesitating with that gun? Have you lost your nerve?"
Staring into Sark's eyes, he told him, "You don't know me."
"Oh, I know you," Sark said as he walked back over to Jack. "Do you?" he asked as he looked down at him. "How'd you think we found you? I don't think the botched drop was an accident."
Jack shook his head slightly and he could see the thoughts running through his head.
"Jack," Will said, "it was a mistake. Don't listen-"
Through the look of confusion, and anger, he saw the moment Jack made his decision as he grabbed the gun out of the holster of the man next to him, brought the gun up, and fired.
Will felt the impact of the bullet hit his chest as he flew backwards, losing his footing on the ground, and fell into the Seine River.
Four Months Later
December 2003
London, UK
He felt hands on his hips, and his chest, followed by a kiss as he opened his eyes. He heard the rain outside, smelt the ocean air drift through the open forward hatch. They had the canopy rigged to keep the rain out but allowed the breeze in. It felt nice. Will's kisses over his body made it better. Then a bite into his skin and he groaned as he closed his eyes again.
He heard music playing in the background. A band that Will had suddenly fallen in love with and insisted on playing their CD over-and-over again. The drums were pounding a steady beat until it broke off and a piano started playing. A man with a British accent started singing.
"=Look at earth from outer space
Everyone must find a place="
Will licked where he'd bitten him, making his body shiver. In retaliation, he grabbed him and flipped over onto his back.
"=Give me time and give me space="
He sank his teeth into Will's chest and heard him gasp before sucking and licking his skin.
"=Give me real, don't give me fake
Give me strength, reserve control="
He continued his assault as he kissed, licked, and bit at Will's chest and neck.
Will's voice broke as he said, "Please, Jack-"
"=Give me heart and give me soul
Give me time, give us a kiss="
He kissed him on the lips as he grabbed his right leg behind the knee and lifted it up over his hip. He slipped his right arm under Will's neck, putting his weight on his arm. Will's breath caught in his throat as he moved up inside him.
"=Tell me your own politik="
He closed his eyes as he listened to Will's pleas, panting, and moans against his fast breathing. He loved hearing the sounds of their love making. It drowned out everything else.
"=And open up your eyes
Open up your eyes="
He opened his eyes to watch as Will lost himself in pleasure; watched the way he couldn't control himself but tried as he bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming too loud. He felt Will's fingernails scratch down his back as his other hand tangled in his hair.
"=Open up your eyes
Open up your eyes="
Then Will's laughter that broke through the sounds of his breathing and the deafness in filled his head.
"=Give me one, 'cause one is best="
Will wrapped his arms around his body and rolled them back over until he was on top of him. Staring down at him, he told him, "I love you."
"=In confusion, confidence="
He continued to stare down at him as he asked, "How come you never say-"
"I love you? It's not enough," he answered.
"=Give me peace of mind and trust="
"It is for me," Will told him as he ran his hand through his hair.
Staring up at him, he smiled slightly as he told him, "You know I love you."
"=Don't forget the rest of us="
Will drew back and he heard him say, "This is a dream, isn't it?"
He shook his head as he reached up, grabbed him behind his neck, and pulled him down for another kiss.
"=Give me strength, reserve control="
Will broke the kiss and said, "It's raining. I know we're in your head."
"=Give me heart and give me soul="
He ran his hands over Will's chest as he breathed out a sigh of relief. "I've missed you."
"=Wounds that heal and cracks that fix="
Will shook his head as he looked up at the open hatch. "This is a dream, Jack."
"=Tell me all your politik="
"It's not a dream," he told him as fear and desperation gripped his heart and mind. He leaned up and kissed his chest.
"=And open up your eyes="
Will pushed him down into the bed as he said, "Jack, you have to wake up. This isn't real."
"=Open up your eyes
Open up your eyes="
He stared up at him as he felt the truth start to settle in. This was a memory turned into a dream. It wasn't real. Everything started to fade away. The rain, the boat, and the bed under him.
"=Open up your eyes="
"Don't let them convince you I'm gone. I'm not gone. You have to remember. You have to wake up," Will demanded of him.
"=Just open up your eyes="
He pulled Will down into a hug and held onto him as tightly as he could. He didn't want to let go. Not again. "I don't know how. Will, I lost you."
"You didn't. I'm here. You've just forgotten. Please," Will said as he touched his face and stared into his eyes as tears welled, "wake up and remember," he said as tears broke.
He felt his own tears slipped down his face as he felt Will starting to slip away.
"=And give me love over, love over, love over this, ahhhhh="
He didn't want to forget Will. He loved him. He loved him so much. He wanted to remember the way he smiled and how it lit up his eyes. His laugh and how infectious it was. The way he kissed him. The taste of his skin in his mouth. The smell of him. How he felt in his arms. He remembered all the times they held each other. All the times he made him feel truly alive.
"=But give me love over, love over, love over this, ahhhhhhhh=="
He didn't want to forget who he was. Who they were together. The times they talked and laughed. The way Will looked at him when he didn't know he was watching. How he loved him. How he saved him every day.
Will had become his entire life. His reason to keep going. His reason to keep fighting. He was his hope; his light in the darkness. He didn't want to go on if he didn't have him. He couldn't.
"I don't know how." Jack tried to hold onto Will as tightly as he could but it seemed like the tighter he held him, the faster Will was slipping away.
"Remember London. The Thames River...Remember the prophecy...They did something to your head so you would forget me, forget everything, but you have to keep fighting."
He shook his head as he fought back his anguish.
"Don't forget," Will said as he faded away.
Jack's eyes opened and he started up at the ceiling of the hospital. There was a beeping in his ear and he looked over and saw the heart rate monitor. It was a steady beating. Strong. He wasn't dead.
He barely remembered how or why he was there, but he knew he had to get up. He had to leave. His wrists were strapped down by restraints and he couldn't reach the call button. How long had he been there?
"Scissors."
Looking over, he saw Will standing there by the window. He was staring at him.
"Scissors," Will told him. "In your left pocket."
Jack stared at Will and he knew he wasn't really there. He was a figment of his mind. He was hallucinating.
"If you stay here, you'll die. You know that."
"Maybe I should die." The moment he said it, he regretted it. He didn't want to die. He had a reason to get up.
He had to find Will.
Feeling at his left pocket, he felt the scissors and worked them up and out of his pocket until he could grab it with his hand. It took some time and a lot of concentration to use the scissors to work the restraint on his left wrist open and get it loose enough until he could yank his hand out. By the time he was done, he was sweating. It could have also been from the detox.
He undid the restraint on his right wrist and got out of the bed. There were many different cabinets in the room and he checked every single one of them for his clothes. He found them folded at the bottom of one of the cabinets and went to the bathroom. As he dressed, he stared at the man he saw in the mirror.
He knew a name. Jack. He knew the man that was in his head, and who he saw standing behind him in the reflection; that was Will.
Everything else was lost in his head. It felt as if someone had taken who he was and locked it away. The clothes were dirty, worn, and he had no shoes or socks. No money or identification.
He was nobody.
"You're not nobody. You're Jack."
He looked at the ghost behind him and said, "How come you can't tell me anything else?"
Will smirked and said, "Because...I'm a ghost."
Jack stared at him and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, Will was gone and he was alone in the bathroom. Looking back at his reflection, he searched his eyes as he tried to find the answers in his mind. After several very long minutes of nothing, he used the scissors to trim down the beard that had grown over his face. He had no razor to shave it completely off but that was fine. He would leave the rest; he just wanted to make it look decent.
After washing up, he left the bathroom and stepped out into the hallway. Looking around, it was empty. He peered into the next room, and then the next, until he came across a room with a man asleep in a bed. He looked about the same height as him. Looking around, he found the man's belongings in a closet. He pulled on the socks, shoes, coat, and took the money he had in the wallet and left the room.
As he neared the elevator, he saw a man get off it and for some reason, call it instinct, he knew he was a threat. Turning around, he headed back the way he came as his mind raced over all the possible uses of everything he passed. Some items he saw he knew he could use to kill the man. He didn't know if he should've been troubled with those thoughts or not; he realized he didn't care.
Stopping at a room he'd looked in earlier, and knowing it was empty, he opened the door and slipped inside. He waited behind the door and when he saw the man walk by the room, he slipped out behind him. Keeping in step with the man in front of him, he followed him all the way back to the room he'd woken up in. He could tell from the bulge under the right side of the suit jacket that he had a gun.
He continued past him as the man opened the door to his hospital room and stepped inside. Quickly turning back around he reached out and stopped the door before it could shut completely. The door didn't make a sound as he opened it and the man didn't hear him walk in behind him. He shut the door the moment the man was turning back around and he charged towards him, pinning him down onto the bed.
His right hand grabbed the gun and yanked it out and he shoved it under the man's chin as he asked, "Who are you?"
When he didn't receive an answer, he jabbed him in the throat, grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his shoulder. As he placed the gun against it, he asked again, "Tell me who you are?"
"It's Will. Will Tippin."
Jack stared down at the man under him as he remembered Will. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of him; the love he felt was nearly overpowering. He stared into the blue eyes of the man under him, took in his short dark-blond hair and clean-shaven face that did not belong to Will Tippin. Whoever this man was, he was trying to pass himself off as the love of his life. His mistake.
Leaning down closer to his face, Jack told him, "I remember Will. You're not him." When the man's eyes went wide with realization, he fired. "Why are you lying to me? Who are you?!"
The man sputtered and gasped for air and groaning in agony as he tried to squirm out from under his weight. Shoving the pillow against his abdomen, Jack placed the gun against it.
"Don't! My name's Haladki. Please don't shoot! I was sent by a friend. I'm here to help you. You're a wanted fugitive!"
"Why did you try to pass yourself off as Will Tippin?" When Haladki didn't answer him, he fired.
Haladki stared up at him, gasping in pain, as he told him, "They told me to!"
"What am I accused of?" he asked.
"You were a high ranking officer within the Alliance, an international criminal organization. You are a known terrorist who, among many things, is responsible for the assassinations of over a dozen CIA agents going back to the late seventies. You're a traitor to the United States."
Jack shook his head at the absurdity of that information. That didn't sound right. But it felt right. He felt like a killer. He thought like a killer. He also knew that he was a traitor. How…? How was this possible? "What's my name? Who am I?"
Haladki looked up at him and answered, "Bristow. Ex-CIA agent Jonathan Bristow. You go by Jack."
He saw it out of the corner of his eye. A movement of Haladki's right hand and sharp object. A knife. It caught him in the left shoulder and he grunted in pain as he jerked away, causing the knife to slip from Haladki's hand. A left hook skimmed across his face but that was all Haladki managed to do before Jack pressed his knee against the pillow, over his abdomen, causing Haladki to scream out in pain.
Even in agony, Haladki held a look of defiance in his eyes. He shook his head and used the butt of the gun to knock Haladki unconscious. He turned and headed out of the room. He grabbed the map of the floor off the back of the door and left the room. He headed toward the furthest stairwell that was down the hall and to the left. He pushed open the door to the stairwell and listened before heading down.
He took off running as quickly as he could and tried not to shake too badly as he stumbled out of the stairwell; he rolled his ankle at the bottom floor and had to catch himself from falling. Damn, that hurt. He pushed open the door and followed the halls until he spotted an exit and headed for it.
It was night and it was snowing.
He started down the walkway as he shoved Haladki's gun into the coat pocket. He flipped up the collar to the overcoat and shoved his hands into his pockets. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew the streets. He'd been there before. It was like he knew what he knew and that was everything except for who he was and why he was there.
As he hobbled across the London Bridge, over the Thames River, exhaling cold air and painful gasps with each step, he glanced over to the Tower of London off to the right and then over to the Dome and pillars of the St. Paul's Cathedral protruding up from behind the buildings off to the left and wondered again why he was in London. In his memory he remembered Will telling him about the river he was walking over, but that was it. The Thames stretched the entire length of London and continued on in both directions. It was impossible to know the building or landmark or whatever it was he was supposed to be looking for.
He heard an air horn blow and looked to the right. Cruise ships were coming down the river. The HMS Belfast, which had been a WW2 warship not turned into a museum, was moored and a cruise ship was being moored right alongside it.
Looking forward, he stared around him at all the buildings and felt so lost suddenly. He didn't remember his past or his present. What he had was the memory he'd dreamt of before waking up. He had Will. He had his name and the reason why he was a most wanted man in London.
Undisclosed Location
Arvin rubbed at the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Is Haladki going to live?...Did he say anything?... That was to be expected. However, Bristow remembering what Mr. Tippin looks like is a complication." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Have they located him yet?...Hey," he yelled into the phone. "I had him under control. Your people botched the transfer...He will be found and dealt with by me-...Stand down those orders," he said into the phone as he stood. "You better hope my people get to him first, because if Jack Bristow ends up dead, our agreement will be voided. I need him alive." He slammed the phone down and looked up to see Doctor Oleg Madrczyk standing at the door to his office. "What is it, Doctor Madrczyk?"
"Mr. Sloane, she's ready to be deployed."
"Are you certain?" he asked. "She had a major malfunction the last time she was in the field."
"I assure you, sir," Madrczyk told him, "that will not happen again. I have corrected the defect."
"Very well. Deploy the asset," Sloane ordered.
Once Doctor Madrczyk left his office, he went over to the window and looked out over the snowy cityscape of London. Somewhere out there Jack Bristow was wandering aimlessly around the streets, lost and confused, full of anger and a desire to score more heroin.
He knew that because he was the one that ordered it to be done four months ago. Jack had a history of opium use and being able to use that against him had been purely self-indulgent. He wanted to watch Jack suffer. Plus, this was what he'd hoped for if, for any reason, Jack did manage to escape. He wouldn't be worth a damn to any government agency as a delusional junkie. To ensure that Jack Bristow was discredited and for their safety, Madrczyk had been able to scramble enough of Jack's mind to make him not remember a thing.
Everything had been going according to plan until a month ago. He had arranged for Jack to be transferred into CIA custody. He had been on the way to a black site to be held in custody indefinitely when the transport had been ambushed and Jack had been taken.
Who had been a part of the team that ambushed them was unknown. Another unknown was if it had been a planned extraction. If it had been planned, how Jack ended up back on the streets was another uncertainty.
All he knew was that thirty minutes ago, Jack had shot Haladki in a hospital and was now on the run, again.
There was a tap on the door and when he turned, he saw a blond haired woman standing in the doorway. She was Olivia Reed, the wife of Senator George Reed. Her family were invaluable members of Prophet Five. "Yes, Mrs. Reed?"
"Final report from our facility in Russia has been released. We're missing five vials."
He didn't like hearing that at all. Five vials may not have been a lot, but it was enough to cause damage, especially from the person who had stolen them. "Any word on the Horizon?"
"Tuscany was a dead end," she informed him.
"We need to find the Horizon. It's crucial. Everything hinges on its retrieval. Our time is running out."
Olivia Reed stepped further into the room as she told him, "We have everyone working round the clock to locate it, Mr. Sloane."
"They've had nearly two decades. This is unacceptable. Bring me Doctor Michaux, immediately. And get a location on Michael Vaughn."
She gave a nod, turned, and left his office.
Los Angeles, CA
Michael Vaughn & Sydney Sloane's House
"Your dog is killing me, Vaughn!"
"Hey, my dog is your dog too," he called out to her from the kitchen.
"Only when he behaves." Sydney stood in the middle of the backyard, at six in the morning, staring down at the lab, as it refused to go to the bathroom. It was fifty degrees outside.
Finally after ten minutes, he did his business and she could go back inside. She tossed a treat to King Kobe, Vaughn named him, and then kissed Michael on the lips as he handed her a cup of coffee with two spoons full of creamer, no sugar.
"Morning," she told him as he smiled back.
"Francie called. Again."
"It's too early for that," she said as she took a sip of the coffee. "We were up all night talking on the phone. First about her official split from Charlie, and then she started crying about Will. And I'm dying inside listening to her; it pains me to have to lie to her. Then, I think, maybe I'm not meant to have these types of friendships. I feel like I should be like my father and not be close to anyone."
"He's close to Will and James and I'm sure there are others."
"Will and James are exceptions. Jack has "contacts" and "assets" and "colleagues". I bet he's not up until two in the morning listening to a friend cry over life."
"Then why am I imagining James calling your father up to cry over life?" Vaughn asked himself as he stared at her.
She grabbed an apple and threw it at him. He caught it and started laughing. "This isn't funny. I'm tired! I finally just passed out and then felt bad about it. We have to leave for work in..." she looked at the clock and sighed. "Two hours. Why am I even awake again? I could have slept in until seven, jumped up, showered and then out the door. Simple."
"Exercise. That's why you're awake. We're getting in five miles this morning."
She glared at Vaughn, shook her head, and went back to sipping the coffee as he turned around and started blending something. He was always blending something. A protein shake or fruit smoothie or vegetable... something. "This is why we should run in the afternoon."
"You run in the afternoons, I run in the mornings. You said you wanted to start running with me."
"Which means, we run in the afternoon," she said before downing the coffee.
Thirty minutes later, she was running through the streets of Pasadena with Vaughn and King Kobe on each side of her. It was a nice morning, fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit and rising as the sun was coming up over the San Gabriel Mountains. They were passing Grant Park and nearing Caltech when she heard Vaughn ask her.
"Have you heard from Jack or Will? It's been over four months since our last contact."
She shook her head as she told him, "Nothing. They went silent before, remember back in January."
"Yeah, but not this long."
He was worried. She couldn't blame him, so was she. It wasn't Jack she was really worried about, but Will.
She couldn't imagine how it would feel to live as a fugitive. They were out there somewhere, off the grid, trying to clear Jack's name of the charges brought up against him while also tracking down Arvin Sloane. With Irina Derevko dead, there was no one to say that Jack hadn't been the one who'd been the KGB agent who'd murdered the CIA agents, except for the only other person who could clarify Jack's innocence and his status as a covert agent for the CIA, and that was Hayden Chase.
However, Hayden Chase was not one of the good guys. She was affiliated with the Triad and working with Arvin Sloane-who had mysteriously disappeared-and she had denied that Jack was ever under her jurisdiction. She denied that he was ever a CIA officer after his 1982 "escape" from Federal custody. They had all believed him to be dead until his true identity was revealed after the fall of SD-6 and the Alliance.
Jack had erred when he decided to kill her mother, his ex-wife, Laura Bristow, aka Irina Derevko. She had no idea what in the hell Jack was thinking and now he was paying for it. The only one who could clear his name wasn't going to. They had nothing on Hayden Chase except for their own knowledge that she was the real traitor and a possible member of this new terrorist group led by Arvin Sloane.
Truth was, right then, she wanted to find him to make sure he was okay. Jack's status as a fugitive hadn't been made public to any other authorities. The CIA wanted to keep the manhunt as quiet as possible so the only ones in the know were the agents assigned to the task force. She had justified her remaining status in the task force by declaring no allegiance to Jack, especially after he'd killed her mother, along with the fact that he was SD-6 and had been a member of the Alliance. Dixon, who had been promoted to the Director of the Task Force, vouched for her but demanded she remained a member of the team.
The thing was, they all knew that Laura Bristow had been Irina Derevko, and they knew she had been a KGB agent, it just so happened that Jack was never formally dismissed of the charges against him due to the nature of his undercover assignment Operation Rubicon. The operation with the DCS had been his "get out of federal prison" free card. All that was now gone. Jack had nothing to come back to and had everything to run from.
They still had Jack's redacted file safely secured away but at the moment they had no play to use it. Hayden Chase never tried to claim Jack was never CIA, she had actually verified his status as a former CIA agent. What she refused to verify was his assignment for the past twenty years: Operation Rubicon. Since it was classified as Alpha Black, and with the Director of the DCS being the only one who could access that information, Chase could have simply denied the claim-which she had-and destroy all information about the operation altogether. Since they couldn't verify if the information had been destroyed, they could only hope it hadn't been.
They didn't know who else they could trust within the CIA with the information. Her, Vaughn, Weiss, and Marshall had been tasked by Dixon along with a new member of the team from the NSC, Lauren Reed, to locate Jack and bring him in. While they were "working" on finding Jack, they were also working on their own mission of identifying potential allies to Hayden Chase, as well as formulating a plan to expose her.
It hurt her that Will had gotten caught up in all this, and she had been angry at Jack for that, but it was Will's decision to stay with him. Will decided on his own to live the life of a fugitive. He decided on his own to let his sister and his friends, including Francie, believe that he'd died.
In essence, it was all one big cluster fuck.
They got back to the house and got ready for work. Despite only getting four hours of sleep, the morning run had woken her up and as Vaughn joined her in the shower, and she felt his lips on her neck, she suddenly no longer regretted waking up hours earlier than normal.
"See," Vaughn said into her ear, "this is why we run in the mornings." Then he kissed her shoulder.
"I think I will have to reconsider my position," she said as she turned around and kissed him.
U.S. Joint Intelligence Task Force
Sydney checked her email again and frowned. Still nothing. They had devised a code to send each other messages and used encryption software designed specifically by Marshall to ensure no one was able to trace the emails if they were discovered. For the past year and eight months it has been working. Then it stopped working.
"Hey," Dixon said as he walked up beside her and sat on the edge of the desk. "Any word yet?"
Dixon was worried about Jack and Will as well. She shook her head and looked over at Marshall who was seated at his desk across the room and he gave them a small wave. Everyone who knew the truth was worried, as they should have been.
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Briefing in my office in ten minutes. Marshall, you, Vaughn, and Weiss are invited. Pass it along."
"Will do," she told Dixon as he walked away. Looking at Vaughn, who was sitting right next to her, she said, "I think he's still upset with you about what happened on Thanksgiving."
Vaughn was frowning as his eyes were in Dixon. "You think?" he said sarcastically.
Thanksgiving Day, 2003
It had been a wonderful Thanksgiving day, mid-60's, nice crisp breeze in the air, and a lot of red wine. Vaughn had gone off with Mrs. Dixon, Diane, and they were conversing on the back patio as she approached.
Diane looked worried as she talked to Vaughn, glass of wine in her hand, as she gestured around. "...I don't know what to think with all these new phone calls in the middle of the night. He keeps saying it's work related-"
Vaughn nodded as he said, "I'm sure they are given the nature of his promotion. The good thing is with being appointed Director he's no longer a field agent."
Diane looked at Vaughn, Vaughn looked at her, and then she asked, "A what?"
Sydney stared at Vaughn in disbelief as Dixon chose that moment to come up behind her and asked, "What're you two talking about?"
The sudden look on Diane's face had her grabbing Vaughn by the arm as she told Diane, "It's been a wonderful evening. Thank you so much for the dinner and hospitality. We have to go."
Present Time
"I still can't believe you outed him as an agent to his wife."
He shook his head. "I thought she knew. We can "read in" their spouses. From what we were talking about, I thought she knew," he said again.
"Hey you two," Eric Weiss said as he came up beside them, "stop whispering sweet-nothings in each other's ear. We have a briefing."
"We know. It's in eight minutes," Vaughn said.
"Yes, but there's supposed to be bagels and bad coffee along with top secret classified dossiers. I want to eat first. I also heard Marshall is the one doing the presentation so this should be good."
Getting up, they followed Weiss to Dixon's office. Weiss was right, Marshall was already there, setting up bagels and had cups of coffee for everyone and dossiers. A lot of dossiers. Once the door was shut and they were all seated, he activated a machine on the desk while explaining, "TSCM device I developed. I swept for bugs already but this is sensitive material. This is top-tippy top-top level clearance, need-to-know, for our eyes only, self-destruct in two seconds, and burn everything after you read it type of sensitivity. Okay, first off, have a bagel. I got cream cheese, strawberry and plain, they were all out of blueberry."
Weiss had grabbed him a couple bagels along with the strawberry cream cheese. Sydney stuck with a cup of the coffee, which wasn't too bad. Vaughn didn't want anything.
"Marshall," Dixon said as he leaned forward on his desk.
"Oh, okay, sorry. So," he said as he passed over hands full of dossiers to everyone. "Over a year ago, I promised Agent Bristow that I wouldn't say a word to anyone, sorry, Director Dixon, not even you. I was under a lot of stress keeping this, you know, a secret. It kept me up most nights and then, then-the uh, sweating. I would break in bad night sweats-"
"Marshall," Dixon said again, this time with a hint of anger in his voice as he opened up the top file and looked at it. "This is a dossier on Hayden Chase."
"Yes, yes," he said as he looked over at him and then around at everyone. "As I was saying, Agent Bristow wanted to wait until he had enough information and names before bringing this to our attention. Well, not my attention, I already knew, but to yours, Director Dixon. And all of yours. Have any of you heard of Prophet Five? I don't know if it's the spelling, ya know, "five", F-I-V-E, or the numeral "5"...Yes? No? No?"
Sydney felt Vaughn tense slightly next to her and looked over at him. His face had gone stern, jaw was tense, and he stared at Marshall unblinking. She thought he was going to say that he heard of it but instead kept quiet.
"What Agent Bristow told me was that it's the unknown group lead by Arvin Sloane. Well, he either leads it or is very high ranking-"
"You knew about this?" Dixon said with annoyance. "And didn't notify me?"
"I was under strict orders-"
"I'm your supervisor," Dixon said as he glared at Marshall.
"Y-yes, you are, and like I said, I didn't want to but I had to keep it quiet. The sweats...It was bad; soaked through my sheets. I couldn't-He didn't know, we," he looked around at everyone, "didn't know and still don't know who we can trust. Agent Bristow knows that there is another CIA mole besides Director Hayden Chase. He hasn't been able to identify that person as of yet, but he knows there is a second mole. Someone selling inform-...all the secret information."
"So, what about this Prophet Five," she asked Marshall to get him moving along.
"It's, uh, he said it's based on a project from the 1970's by Oskar Mueller. He-There was this cipher that needed decoding and so he got like, you know, the best of the best. Guys that could really figure it out: scientists, mathematicians, linguists, cryptologist, etcetera, etcetera. Turns out it was a section of a 15th-century manuscript known as uh, uh...Pro-fic...No, Pro-feta? Cinque? Profeta Cinque, that's it. Or, uh, Fifth Prophet. I guess I could've started with that...It was a CIA black ops project, but then it was ended, disbanded, ten years later, in 1980. All the dossiers are of known members that Agent Bristow has, uh, you know, properly, uh yea, properly identified."
"There are forty names here," Weiss said.
"Uh, fifty-two, actually," Marshall said. "Some names are of former members, those who were involved in the-the, uh, the CIA black ops project who are now either deceased or missing, or no longer associated. The others are known members active right now, including-uh, there's Arvin Sloane, of course, and Hayden Chase, and that Julian Sark guy, former SD-6, he's in there too. Prophet Five members have ties to North Korea, the British MI6, and possibly MI5, the FSB and SVR, uh…" he started counting on his fingers, "oh, yes, French Intelligence, the CDC, pharmaceutical companies, and of course, as we all know, the CIA, which I already mentioned. The group controls entire sectors of technology, finance, medical, and defense. They are powerful."
"What I want to know is how Bristow learnt about Prophet Five to begin with."
Marshall looked at Dixon as he answered, "Antonio Lafayette. There is also a dossier on him."
Weiss held up the file before opening it, saying, "Turns out, Lafayette was a triple agent. Not only was he a CIA asset, he also worked for the Alliance, as well as Prophet Five."
Sydney read over the information on Lafayette as she said, "Marshall did say that there are members of French Intelligence involved. Lafayette was French Intelligence."
"Agent Bristow was getting close," Marshall said, "and then four months ago, he went dark."
Sydney looked up at Marshall as she said, "We already knew he went silent-"
"No, I mean," he said as he looked at her with pain and guilt. "He may have gone dark on you a few times, but never with me. He went dark on me four months ago. Until, that was, earlier today when I got activity."
"What kind-of activity?" Dixon asked before she could. She looked at him and saw his tensed jaw as well. It was so tense in the room, everyone was feeling it.
"The laptop," Marshall explained. "Remember in France, with-with James? He was the friend, flamboyant friend, Agent Bristow's friendly, really nice, friend...Yeah, anyway, I uh, I added um...software to the laptop and I left it there, giving Agent Bristow access to, well, I committed, uh...technically, by giving him access to our satellite feeds and database to use, I broke policy. By doing that, however, I was able to monitor the activity on the laptop...I have a backdoor into his...Yeah, I know."
Everyone in the room was staring at him in disbelief. Dixon lowered his head to his hands as she wanted to laugh as she leaned back in the chair. "Marshall-"
"I know!" he exclaimed. "I have a problem with breaking the law, I can't...If it's the right thing to do, I do it, regardless if it's a felony or against policy. But, hey, you know, I figured why not? Agent Bristow is, was, and still possibly is, a CIA agent, and he needed help to locate the targets, the people, in the dossiers. What was I supposed to do?!"
"I don't know, Marshall," Dixon said as he leaned back in the chair. "Say 'no'?"
"To Agent Bristow?" he looked at him in disbelief. "Have-have you met him? I mean, I know you've met him, but...have you really?"
Sydney shook her head but was over the fact Marshall was a habitual law breaker, as she asked, "Where was the activity?"
Marshall looked around the room as he answered, "London. And whoever is using his laptop is also searching for Agent Bristow."
They all looked at one another and then she said, "Someone is using Jack's laptop to look for Jack?"
"It-yes, it appears that's what is happening," Marshall answered.
"Then he must be in danger or missing," Sydney said as she looked at Dixon. "I have to get there."
"No," Vaughn suddenly said from beside her. "I'll go." She looked over at him in confusion as he looked at her and then at Dixon. "I've been to London before, I know the city and I have contacts there. I'm the one who should go."
"Why can't we both go," she said as she looked back to Dixon.
"Because," Vaughn said as he looked at her, "we're still trying to catch Director Chase as a traitor. That's been your side mission for over a year now. And, you're a better field operative than me, if something comes up, they'll need you. London is a simple scout job. Marshall can give me the location of the laptop. I tail whoever it is, find out what's going on. I'll be hands off the entire time."
As Dixon sat behind his desk, listening to everything, he gave a look to Vaughn that Sydney had caught. They knew something she didn't. "Vaughn's right," he said. "You're more of an undercover field agent. Vaughn is great at surveillance and he's a Technical Operations Officer. That's what we'll need in London. Vaughn, you'll depart at 1500.
Vaughn nodded. She watched him and saw the reservation on his face in his eyes. He didn't like that one bit. And she didn't like the fact that she knew he was hiding something from the rest of the team.
Once she was seated at her desk, she watched as Vaughn handed off some files to NSC Officer Lauren Reed. She started talking to him, smiling, flirting, but Vaughn didn't respond as he looked away, over at her, and smiled.
"If you want to take her out back and kick her ass, I'll cover for you."
Looking up, she saw Weiss standing there. She smiled and turned back to her computer. She had her own status reports to complete. She hated paperwork. "It's okay. Vaughn can handle her."
"Come on, I got money on you."
She thought about that as she looked around the command center and asked, "Who has money against me?"
"Couple of techs and analysts who've never seen you in the field. I'll split my winnings with you."
"Sorry, but there will be no playground fights today."
"You're telling me you don't want to stick your calm to Vaughn by having a good ol' fashioned cat fight?" he asked.
She shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and looked over at Vaughn who was walking away from Officer Reed. Vaughn didn't look back, but Lauren watched him go. She knew the NSC Officer had a crush on Vaughn. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a little jealous. Mostly, she felt pity.
"I trust him," she told Weiss. "I have to."
Weiss smiled then and put his hand on her shoulder. "That's what I like to hear. Still. If she tries anything-"
"Oh, you'll win your bet."
Weiss gave her a high-five and walked away.
At least Vaughn will be leaving soon to go to London. That could give her some alone time with Officer Reed.
Central Bank of Los Angeles
Vaughn was shown to a room with safety deposit boxes. He stood and waited as the bank manager used a key, to open box number 121. He removed the box and placed it on the table and then left him alone in the room. He waited a couple more minutes before removing his keys from his pocket. He found the safety deposit key and used it to open the box up.
Inside he saw the notebooks and journals that belonged to his father, CIA agent William "Bill" Vaughn. He pulled them all out and sat them on the table. Under the notebooks and journals was a false bottom that he popped open and under that were files, birth certificates, passports, and a couple of family photographs. He'd only looked upon the contents of the box twice before. Once in France before they had to leave, and the other was when he moved out to California and had put them in the safety deposit box for safe keeping.
Not having time to look through all of the items at the bank, he opened the backpack he'd brought with him and threw it all inside. He would go through it all on the plane and in his hotel room. Checking the time, he saw he had a little over an hour before he had to be at LAX. After he emptied the box, he closed it, put it back into the slot in the wall and shut the door. He left out the front and headed to his car.
He didn't notice on the corner the car that sat with the driver watching.
Sydney didn't know what had caused her suspicions, or why she felt like she had to follow Vaughn, but she had and now she didn't know what to think. First, he volunteered for London. Then his first stop once he broke from work was a bank. The backpack had been empty when he entered and now there was weight inside. He'd gotten something. Money? Something from a safety deposit box?
He had been acting weird all day, since Marshall had revealed that the unknown group Arvin was a member of, possibly in charge of, was called Prophet Five. She couldn't help the feeling she had that he knew something and now his actions were collaborating that belief.
It was all circumstantial at best, but she had learned to trust her gut instinct, especially since she'd been blindsided by her own adoptive father. She hoped whatever it was, he was still on the side of the good guys.
She told Eric Weiss that she trusted Vaughn, and she did when it came to their relationship. He was deeply in love with her. That, she knew. As far as whatever this was about, she had to trust that it was for a good reason. And like Jack had told her once to trust but verify. She wondered if that rule developed after his wife, her mother, turned out to be a KGB spy.
She started the car as she pushed down the feelings of uncertainty and fear and headed back to work.
TBC...
