* * * * To all outside observers, Jack seemed to bury himself in his work. If anyone suspected that he was still searching for his daughter, no one remarked upon it, and certainly no one was aware of the unconventional triangular association that spanned the globe for that sole purpose.
After several months, he and Irina met once again - this time in Rome - to compile their latest findings. There were nebulous hints and obscure tips, but the trail remained as insubstantial as ever. They also compared missives received and discovered a handful of contacts that neither could account for - communiqués flawless in their mimicked styles and patently untraceable. They were a subtle assurance of Sark’s continued well-being, if of little else.
The situation remained unchanged until the telephone call.
Jack reached unerringly for the ringing cell phone on the nightstand, going instantly from deep sleep to lucidity in a matter of seconds. This phone had never rung before and now its urgency was unequivocal. Its number was known only to one other.
The connection roared with white noise and a faint voice murmured across the hissing line. He strained to hear it as if willpower alone could make it more distinct.
“…nd her… ong kon… ith her but…”
The voice faded out completely for several heart-stopping seconds then continued its fractured speech.
“…ydney… foun… warehouse on the… hear… daft gi… tually shot… can you……..”
Jack found himself listening fiercely to silence, then to a dial tone.
The voice had been Sark’s, unmistakable even amidst the static. Part of his mind wondered how the boy had obtained the number - whether through his mother or if he’d found the coded message that Jack had set for him months ago. The rest of him struggled to interpret the splintered monologue. He tried not to jump to conclusions too quickly, too desperately. But he felt instinctively what Sark’s call had meant.
Somewhere, somehow - he’d found Sydney.
* * * * Three hours later Jack was on a plane to Hong Kong. It had been the only useful information that had he had been able to glean from the broken transmission. He had risked a direct contact with Irina before leaving and verified only that Sark had not been in touch with her - either to obtain the number or to relay any additional intelligence. Eight hours into the flight, the phone rang for a second time. Jack thumbed the answer key even as he rose, heading for the lavatory several rows back.
“Can you hear me this time?”
“Where have you been?” Jack replied as he locked the door. “Where’s Sydney?”
“I’ll take that as a yes then. I’ve been… It’s complicated. And Sydney… Well, that’s also complicated. I’ve seen her though. She’s definitely still alive and currently, I believe, on her own.”
“What do you mean, ‘on her own’?”
“This would be much simpler if you’d let me start at the beginning,” Sark said. Taking Jack’s silence for acquiescence, he continued. “I’ve been tracking several members of an obscure organization for the past couple of months. The reasons are extensive and since I don’t know how long I’ll be able to maintain this line, the part you need to know is that I’d begun to suspect that Sydney was with them. In what capacity, however, I couldn’t quite determine. I trailed them to Hong Kong two… no, possibly three days ago. And then things got… complicated.”
Jack wondered at the rueful tone and hoped that the boy hadn’t done anything foolish. He was also slightly puzzled by Sark’s uncertain time frame, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I’m afraid that I must admit to some minor miscalculation on my part,” Sark continued apologetically. “It seems that not everyone in my current employ is capable of meeting the standards I had expected of them. I believe that somehow this organization was inadvertently alerted to our surveillance. For all their ostensible precautions though, it appears that they were not as prepared in the event of a breach as perhaps they should have been. Their response to being compromised was rather… chaotic.”
Despite the sanitized vocabulary, Jack had a fairly clear picture of how gruesome the actual circumstances probably were. While Sark was at times capable of remarkable subtlety, Jack knew that he was not reluctant to engage in comprehensive annihilation when he reasoned that it was necessary. He suspected that the boy had reasoned it was necessary.
“In any event,” Sark went on. “Sydney seems to have taken advantage of the situation to make her own break with them. I ran into her shortly thereafter.”
“How is she?”
“I’m not entirely sure how to answer that,” Sark said with obvious reluctance. “It was a rather brief encounter and I don’t think that she fully comprehended my intentions.”
“What happened?”
There was a conspicuous pause.
“She shot me.”
“She…? Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he said dismissively enough to ease Jack’s mind.
“What did you do to her?”
“Why do you automatically assume that I did something?” the boy protested. “I didn’t get a chance. I’m not even completely certain that she recognized me before she shot. It seemed more reflexive than deliberate. She just looked at me and fired - all one move. I’m a little unclear on precisely what happened just after that. I lost her, called you, and then apparently spent an unaccountably large amount of time not doing anything at all… I think.”
“You’re still in Hong Kong?”
“Yes.”
“And Sydney?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I have people looking, but no word yet.”
“Have you contacted your mother?”
“My resources are a little thin at the moment.”
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in seven hours.”
* * * * Jack had been a little surprised that the boy had seemed so willing to give up his present location. In truth, Sark had almost sounded relieved to hear that he was already halfway to Hong Kong. It was mid-afternoon when he followed the directions to a quiet back alley gate and was met by a solemn-faced woman. She looked up at him and he had the distinct impression of being appraised. He guessed that she was near his own age, but couldn’t be certain. Though her frame seemed slight, Jack suspected that she would be a formidable opponent; she would not be guarding the threshold otherwise.
“Who are you?” she asked at last.
“My name is Jack.”
The woman shook her head. “I did not ask your name,” she said. “Who are you?” This time he heard the emphasis. It was a test, he realized, in more ways than one. The woman watched him carefully, preparing to shut the door if his next answer was not satisfactory either.
“Athair.” And so it begins, he thought. The first thread.
“Welcome then, Jack. I am called Meigui.”
Her demeanor softened and she gave him a gracious smile as she unlocked the gate. She didn’t speak again as she led him through a courtyard and up a narrow flight of stairs. Jack could see few other signs of security beyond the cameras that covered every possible angle of access. The key defense here was not in personnel intended to fend off potential attacks, but in early warning to enable a timely evacuation. Interesting strategy, he thought. And ideal for someone who trusted no one to protect him but himself.
Meigui unlatched the door and ushered Jack in first. The furnishings were rather more utilitarian than he had expected. A few straight-backed chairs sat around a table to his right, in front of a partition that he surmised hid a small kitchen. Two more comfortable-looking chairs, a divan, and another low table were to his left. He assumed that the security monitors were set up elsewhere. There was no sign of Sark. A corridor split the rest of the floor in half and the woman led Jack to the last room on the right.
Sark’s injuries were more serious than he’d led Jack to believe over the phone. The fair-haired boy with his fairer skin looked almost ghostly against the dark sheets. He lay on his side and Jack could see the neat white squares of gauze and tape that were plastered on his left shoulder, front and back and unaligned. The wound was high enough that it didn’t appear threatening to any major organs, but judging by Sark’s pallor there had been enormous blood loss. His sleep seemed a little too deep to be entirely natural.
“We argued a great deal about that,” Meigui said softly. “He wished to remain awake until you arrived, but I am the doctor. He needed to rest. If I had not sedated him, he would have done himself real harm with his continued activities.”
He needed to be in a hospital, not this private fortress, Jack thought immediately. He just as quickly acknowledged, however, that in the stark difference between Sark’s world and his own it had never really been an option. He wondered how the boy had managed to remain coherent enough for the second call, never mind the first. Sheer stubbornness probably. It seemed to be one of their family’s inheritable characteristics.
“He said that his jye-jye did this.”
The second thread, Jack mused as he nodded. Another tie to the Bristows. He wondered how long it was going to take before this information began to filter out. Especially with the call he was about to make.
Meigui brought him a steady stream of tea and information as he sat vigil at the boy’s bedside. As Sark continued to sleep, Jack occupied himself by stepping in to fill the void, organizing the reports as they came in and directing new avenues of pursuit. It occurred to him that Sark must have anticipated this and left instructions in the event of his incapacitation. The men accepted the father’s command as they would have the son’s. When the phone rang again, Jack moved across the small room to keep his voice from disturbing the boy.
“The Agency seems to have some sort of lead,” Irina said without preamble. “I’ve just learned that they’ve recalled Michael Vaughn and sent him to Hong Kong on a military transport. They know Sydney is there.”
“If Vaughn is the only person they’re sending, it’s possible that they know exactly where she is. How long ago did they dispatch him?”
“I’m not certain. Between twelve and eighteen hours ago is the nearest I could determine. How is he doing?” she asked then.
“Still unconscious. His color is improving, but his strength still doesn’t seem to be returning.”
“Should I come?” she asked.
“It’s not a life-threatening injury,” Jack assured her just as he had when he’d called her shortly after his arrival. “I’m not sure how loyal his employees are though,” he added this time. “Meigui seems genuinely fond of him, but I don’t know how much protection she would be if he comes to need it after I’ve gone.”
“I understand.”
After she hung up, Jack made another call.
“Where the hell have you been, Jack?” Kendall demanded. “We’ve been trying to reach you all day. Your daughter’s been found! Sydney turned up in a Hong Kong safe-house late last night, local time. We recalled Michael Vaughn to go bring her in when we couldn’t find you this morning.”
“How is she?”
“Based on the superficial examination they did at the safe-house, she appears to be in good health. We’ll know more when they get back.”
“Where is she now?”
“They’re already in the air. She’ll be in L.A. in twelve hours. Jack…” Kendall’s voice became more somber. “She doesn’t remember.”
“Doesn’t remember what?”
“Anything at all about the last two years. When she got to the safe-house she thought it was the day after she disappeared. Doesn’t have a damned idea how she got to Hong Kong or where she’s been all this time.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Where are you now?”
“It’s complicated,” he said before hanging up.
The irony was not lost on him as he realized that he could have seen Sydney hours ago if he had gone through proper channels with a feigned lead instead of taking over Sark’s operation with its thugs and thieves. It was only now that he realized as well how easy that decision had been at the time.
He looked in on Sark once more before taking his leave of Meigui.
“His mother will be here soon. Until she arrives, I’m holding you personally responsible for his safety.” It occurred to him that Sark was probably going to be less than thrilled at the damage he and Irina were doing to his reputation. Criminal masterminds were generally not known for having their parents rush to their aid very often, he thought wryly.
“I will protect him as if he were my own son,” Meigui promised him.
“He’s my son. You’ll protect him better.”
* * * *
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