Missing scene after Adam leaves Picus and before he confronts Sarif at his apartment. During the Detroit anti-augment riots.
It was late when his holographic vid-phone went off.
Most of the day was gone in a blur of press conferences urging peaceful protests, polite bullshit traded with Taggart via the media hounds, and a scathing interview with Eliza Cassan. Sarif was exhausted, bone weary from that morning's crushing confirmation that the Illuminati had well and truly made his company, his people, a target. It should have been a rousing admission but these last few weeks, months, had left him drained.
The short distinctive tone of the holo-phone startled Sarif in the quite of his office. He had been half-asleep in his chair, staring at, but not seeing, the scores and stats of the most recent Tiger's game. It was telling, he supposed, how out of it he had been recently when he could hardly muster any enthusiasm for baseball. Sarif's gaze cut across the room, to where the chirping holo-phone was waiting for him to accept the call.
He figured it must be Darrow; he knew of no one else who would call him using that tech this late at night. He groaned as he stood from his chair, the flesh around his augmented arm aching in time with steady thrum of his heart. Sarif didn't bother to check the ID before accepting the call.
He was honestly surprised to see the shimmering image of Eliza Cassan materialize before him. She smiled at him in that serene sort of manner she had (even as she delivered the most horrifing of news) and Sarif clicked his mouth shut so he could settle it into a wary frown. He hadn't expected to see her again so soon.
"Hello, David," she greeted, as though they were lifelong friends.
"Miss Cassan," he replied, his wariness matching her warmth. "Little late out for an interview, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes. I apologize for the hour. Hugh Darrow frequently talks about the late hours you keep and I hoped that because this is a personal call, you would be more inclined to speak with me."
There was something about the earnest manner in which she spoke that reminded Sarif, somewhat, of a child. He'd never seen that side of her before, she could be quite ruthless during interviews. He relaxed somewhat.
"To be honest, Miss Cassan, I didn't look at the caller ID. I thought you were Hugh." Sarif flashed a tired grin.
Her smile blossomed into something more real and it made her features (which, while beautiful, Sarif had always found cold) soften into something warm. Then suddenly it was gone, almost like the flickering of an old movie reel, one moment she was smiling, the next her face was neutral.
"I know we have not always gotten along, David-"
Sarif's hands went to his hips and he frowned. "That's an understatement, you fairly crucified me tonight."
Her face took on a look of sorrow. "I know, and I am sorry. I have to say and do the things They want." Sarif's gaze refocused on her sharply, intently interested in what she was saying now. "That does not mean it is a personal reflection, something I have only recently decided I could have. I have always liked you, David, and I do not wish to see you fall."
Sarif stared at Eliza for several silent moments and she allowed it, her gaze betraying nothing. He couldn't decide whether or not he should believe her. Finally he said, "Did you simply call to tell me that? Or do you have some ulterior motive, Miss Cassan?"
"Adam came to see me."
"I know."
"He has questions. Ones which Zhao unearthed and I have re-enforced. He will have questions for you, about Them." She turned away briefly then, pain flashing across her face. "I want to tell him, but I am unable to. You must. Trust him with this, he will listen."
Sarif moved to the window. The view of the downtown should have comforted him, but that night it was marred with riots and offered no succour. "That's a hell of a bomb to drop."
"He already suspects." She paused momentarily, then, "I blocked the satellites over Detroit so that you could not track Megan Reid and her team. I have regretted that action ever since. At the time, I did not truly understand what that action meant. I see now what I was party to. I do not wish to see you harmed."
A scathing retort was on the edge of his tongue when Sarif turned back to face Eliza, but her open expression of grief stayed it. His face shifted into confusion. Since when did Eliza Cassan give a damn about what happened to him or his people or his company?
"Adam is on his way back to Detroit now and will arrive within the next half hour. He will be looking for Isaias Sandoval."
Sarif's brow furrowed. "Taggart's aid?"
"Yes. He was a trauma surgeon-"
Suddenly it clicked. "He removed the implants, didn't he? They weren't supposed to able to do that! Son-of-a-bitch." Sarif growled and looked away from Eliza's image. His gaze landed on his desk where the VIP badge Taggart had given him rested. "I don't know where Sandoval is, but I know who will." Sarif looked back at her in time to see a smile curve her lips.
"I have to go now, I have tarried too long. Be safe. And remember David, everyone lies." Her image died and Sarif was left gazing at where she was. The last statement seemed especially pointed and he wondered exactly who she was speaking of. Sarif filed it away for later, he other things to worry about now.
He was about to placed a call to Malik when a searing pain shot through his head and he let out a pained cry of surprise. The edges of his vision blackened and Sarif sagged against the window, knees nearly buckling. The pain lasted no more than a few seconds, but it left him shaky and out of breath. He took a few slow, deep breaths. The pain did not return. It was unfamiliar, and he wondered if he was pushing the time between his Neuropozyne injections too far.
Sarif stalked over to his desk and collapsed in his chair. He fished out a couple of pain killers from the bottle in his desk drawer and used the last of the scotch he'd poured earlier to wash them down. Then he called Malik. His Infolink buzzing gently in his ear as he waited for her to pick up.
"Faridah," he greeted when the line clicked through.
"Hey, boss. We're on our way back from Picus. Should be there soon."
"Good. Listen, take Adam to his apartment, I'll meet him there."
"Uh, sure. Any particular reason?"
"Riots are choking the area right now, he won't be able to access any of the streets surrounding the building." Sarif sighed. "We're number one on their shit-list at the moment."
Malik swore under breath. "I didn't realize it had gotten so bad. Alright. And boss? Call Weston in, he's the only pilot I trust with your life. Aside from me, of course."
Sarif smiled, it was a tired but genuine thing. "I will."
"Good. Malik out."
He was about to call Athena's name to activate the inter-office comms when he remembered she'd left for the night. Shaking his head in annoyance at his own forgetfulness, Sarif called up Weston's number from his file. As the phone rang his eyes caught sight of the VIP badge again. He scowled at it, that cocky son-of-a-bitch.
Later, as he watched Adam systematically quash every one of Taggart's arguments and made the man look a fool at his own speech, Sarif laughed, feeling better than he had in a long time.