Chapter Eight

The view that appeared in the helicopter windows seemed infinite. A vast field of icebergs was lazily following the currents of the crisp blue ocean all the way to the horizon. But this seemingly peaceful and serene appearance hid the headquarters of the newest, and some would say the most dangerous, threat to the governments of the world.

This location had been on Arvin Sloane's mind for a long time. In the seas of the Antarctic, few icebergs completely melted. They were never carried into temperatures sufficient for that. He'd had research teams tracking these migration patterns for quite a few years. Finally, a large enough berg had been located and deemed suitable for the type of facility he'd had in mind.

Tunnels and rooms had been carved out of the interior, the workers being extra careful not to disrupt the balance of the berg or drastically alter the distribution of mass. It had taken a long time, but it was finally ready to be inhabited. The blinking on the GPS locator in the cockpit signaled their arrival. The small helicopter landed on a natural occurring ledge about halfway up the east side.

Sloane emerged from the passenger side of the cockpit, bundled in a thick coat, and he strode across the flat to where there was a white box on the wall. He took off one of his gloves and flipped up the lid. Underneath was a simple keypad. The numbers 0-9 were displayed and a rectangle of green was flashing 7 blank spaces.

He pressed numbers and filled the spaces with asterisks. The screen went blank for a few second then it flashed: Approved. There was a faint click, and then a large portion of the wall depressed about 6 inches inward and slid up. Sloane looked behind him to where his pilot was unloading two small crates from cargo hold of the chopper.

The pilot brought the crates over and set them on the floor just inside the large doorway. There were four men waiting inside in a room with dull metal on all the surfaces. Sloane shook his hand before he headed back to the helicopter and lifted off, heading back the way they'd come. Sloane turned to the men waiting in the room and stepped in to join them.

There was another keypad on the inside of the outer wall and again he pressed a series of numbers. The big door dropped and pushed forward, back into place, camouflaging the only entrance to this place very effectively. After a second of total blackness, the place flashed with bright halogen bulbs that slid our from under covers in the ceiling.

A different sequence was pressed by one of the men into yet another keypad on the opposite wall. It split down the middle, the two sides sliding back completely. A long, brightly lit metal tunnel extended out before them and without waiting for instructions, two of the men each grabbed a crate and followed Sloane down the tunnel, another man beside Sloane and the last at the back.

Sloane lead the way through his fortress, a smirk fixed on his features.

Sydney

The sun is starting to set behind the warehouse when we're finally ready to leave. Mom walks me back to my car in silence. My mind is trying to figure out what to tell people about where I've been. No one can know that I am in contact with her.

With a sigh, I turn and give Mom a big hug. She has tears glistening in her eyes.

"I love you, Sydney. Good luck," she says and then quickly walks away, back into the building. I watch her with a heavy heart, trying not to believe the thought that this could be the last time I see her.

Driving away, a lump in my throat, I mentally review everything she told me. Mom said it was necessary for me to re-enter the CIA with no memory of the months I spent with her. If I had gone through the CIA's analysis with my memory intact, I never would have been able to hide anything.

She explained that we had made all the plans together. Therefore, we arranged a way to get my memories back after I had been released and cleared by the CIA. Her phone call was the trigger event. Actually, hearing her voice was. From now on, things like that will bring back memories instantly. Mom called them extra-sensory stimuli. She set them all when she used hypnosis to make me forget in the first place. I guess that some days I will recall three to four things. And some days none at all. It all depends on when these stimuli come.

So I'm finally feeling hope for the future. I may not remember much yet, but I will. I may not understand fully yet, but I will come to. And I realize I finally have something back that was missing since Hong Kong that I've always felt lost without. A purpose.

When I first entered this business, I was driven by patriotism. When I found out the truth, I only wanted to avenge Danny and take Sloane down. When that happened, I worked towards having a real chance at love and a normal life with Vaughn. And now, my goal is to fulfill my prophecy. It feels a little odd, this complete change of view regarding Rambaldi, but my mother and my instincts have convinced me.

I pull into the driveway, turn off the car and sit for a minute. Thing will not get easier from here on out, I'm sure off that. But it's ok. This cause deserves all my effort.