The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2005: Part 4
Chapter 2005: Part 4
“I wonder where Dave has been all these years?” Weiss asked as Jack and Irina began walking toward the glass cell. "Has he been in the same place or---"
“Where is he now is the relevant question,” Kendall argued.
“I have a feeling I can’t get to one answer without the other...” Jack said thoughtfully, as he lightly held Dave’s ring in the palm of his hand and looked inward. It couldn’t be, could it? But would the Soviets have wasted such a golden sacrifice from America? He wouldn’t have. He would have used it. And the delicious irony of it would not have been wasted on Arvin, either. He closed his hand over the ring and fought to concentrate on something other than the numerous possibilities for torturing Sloane.
“Jack, do you think you can handle Sark right now?” Irina asked, holding him still. “Do you want to wait?”
“No!” Jack exclaimed. “I think I know what I need to do. But first, I just need.... Tell me everything you know about him.”
Judy nodded. Of course. Jack would fall into an old pattern. A useful one. Acquire background information. Learn of one’s opponent’s strengths and weakness while using comfortable habits to gain control. A good plan. Until she looked into his eyes and saw the nearly-ferocious intensity there. There was nothing comfortable in those eyes. He...felt something.
Jack walked briskly down the hall, Irina at his side. She asked, “What do I know about Sark?”
“Yes. I mean, when you got him? What did you know about him?”
“Why?”
“Just answer the question,” Jack said tightly, rolling Dave’s ring around and around his fingers, hidden inside his pocket.
“Dad...” Sydney called out from behind her parents. “Wait. I want to sit in on this interrogation!” Her parents both paused. “What are we doing? How are we going to do this?” Sydney asked.
“Your father just asked me for background information on Sark,” Irina explained.
“When in doubt, go back to the beginning,” Jack nodded. “Interrogation begins by asking the right questions.”
“Which do not, Vaughn,” Kendall noted, watching on the monitors as the Bristows approached the glass cell. “Include asking the subject if they want a soda. Because I don’t know what they’re teaching you in the Cliff’s Notes version of Interrogation 101 at Langley these days but --”
“Shhh!” Judy hissed. “They’re at the cell.”
“Do you have a plan?” Irina asked, as they looked in the cell.
Jack stared at Sark, who was curled up on the cot, covered by a blanket. Asleep, the little monkey looked so young it was hard to believe he was...what he had been trained to become. Although, was it nature or nurture? Who knew what seeds lay within us all, he wondered as he struggled to control his facial expression and looked from his daughter to Sark.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite flying monkey," Jack said sharply as he opened the door.
"Jack! Thank god! I need to tell you---" Sark leapt to his feet, instantly awaking from his exhaustion-fueled doze as Jack flung the door open so hard Sark was afraid the glass would shatter. He had liked being returned to the familiar glass cell, but now...he looked around. A lot of glass that could make many sharp shards that... He swallowed. Jack Bristow was always dangerous and now... Sydney and... Who else was that in the red? Sark reared back as she walked in. "Irina?"
“Are you terribly surprised?” Irina asked as she followed her husband into the glass cell.
Seeing Irina, Sark changed his mind. “I want to make a deal. I want to negotiate---”
“You are not in a position to negotiate, Sark,” Jack said quietly as he circled behind Sark. .
“There’s always an option---” Sark began feeling trapped as Irina moved to the other side of him and Sydney stood in front of the door.
“True,” Jack said. “I can ensure that you will find death an infinitely preferable option to your continued existence under certain conditions. So do you want to talk or do you want to talk about your limited options? Your choice? It makes no difference to me.”
“Damn, he’s bluffing,” Vaughn said quietly.
“No shit,” Weiss whistled. “You would never know what’s on the line.”
“Or the shock he’s already gone through today,” Judy said, clenching her hands together.
“Two shocks,” Kendall agreed.
“Everything comes in threes,” Weiss said absently, fingering the rabbit’s foot in his pocket.
“What makes you think--” Sark began.
Jack reached out and grabbing Sark by the collar of his shirt, shoved him up against the wall. Not that this would do any real good, but it might make Sark more amenable to what he had to do. “Do you still want to negotiate? Because my time is valuable. So I can choose the most effective form of eliciting information or the one that will cause the least physical damage. Your choice.”
“Well, I’ve always said my loyalties are flexible,” Sark conceded. He was not a fool. He could tell by the look in Jack’s eyes that the man was utterly determined to extract that information. And the truth was, he wanted that truth, whatever it was, out of his head before... He didn’t know what. But something. He sighed silently with relief when Jack let him down.
Jack stood in front of Sark with his arms crossed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sark. Of course your loyalties are not flexible. Your first loyalty is always to yourself, is it not?”
Sark raised his chin. “That’s what I was raised to believe and I’ve found it an effective strategy to ensure my continued existence.”
“Fair enough. Let’s see what else you know. Sit down,” Jack ordered, pointing to a chair.
Sark sat in a chair near the small table, as did Jack and Irina. Sydney sat in the background on the cot. Sark looked from one to the other. This was a nightmare. The two of them wanting intel. Working together. Ha, at least he’d been correct about that.
“What are you thinking?” Jack asked, reaching into his pocket.
Automatically telling himself not to wince as Jack pulled his hand out of his pocket, Sark said lightly, “I’m thinking that I was correct -- that you two were working together. Which is why I acquired this ace in the hole---”
“Is that so?” Irina asked smugly.
"You... manipulated me,” Sark nodded. “Of course. So that I’d have this intel to give to your husband. Can you refresh my memory?” He looked at Jack’s clenched fist. “What anniversary is it that requires that the gifts be a pound of flesh?”
“If a woman is lucky, that’s every anniversary,” Irina quipped with a sidelong look at her husband.
“What did she say?” Carrie laughed.
“Sydney looks like she just swallowed a live fish,” Weiss commented. “Not sure whether she should throw up or flail around.”
Sark looked from Jack to Irina. Jack Bristow’s face had taken on what in another human being would pass for merely a twitch but in his case, constituted deep laughter. While Irina... Who was this woman standing there, looking like Irina Derevko, sounding like her, but...whose face betrayed concern, hope, determination and yes, even love, as she looked at her husband? Sydney looked vaguely nauseous. Ha.
“Ahem,” Jack cleared his throat. Damn Irina, she had punctured his anger, for the moment. And he had so been anticipating planting a fist in Sark’s face. Just for the fun of it. She had better have a plan for allowing him a way to work out his anger when they... He stopped. Back on point. “Do you have intel you wish to trade for your life?”
When Sark did not answer immediately, Jack leaned forward and Irina scowled. Looking at their implacable faces, he blurted out, “Yes! I know what Sloane’s ace in the hole was. Is.”
“Good. Tell me,” Jack ordered, although he had no belief that this interrogation was going to be this easy.
“It’s...” Sark came to a stop. He opened his mouth and tried again, but nothing came out. Finally, gasping, he called out, “I want to tell you. But--”
“Sark. Julian,” Jack said softly, maintaining eye contact. “You must know something, Julian...”
“But I....”
“It’s okay, Julian---” Irina began, taking Jack’s cue even though she had no idea what he was doing.
Sark frowned. “I’ve informed you on innumerable other occasions of my name preference and ---”
“Julian,” Irina spat out. “Must you speak so formally on every occasion? Must you use words of three syllables--”
“I believe the word for which you are searching is polysyllabic,” Sark said smugly, knowing just how to irritate her. If they were going to torture him, he might as well have some enjoyment first.
“Finally, some quality of yours I can appreciate,” Jack said with a small smile.
“And it irritates her, as well,” Sark noted with a shrug. Anything, he had used to think, to get a bloody reaction out of her.
Only through sheer force of will did Irina not strangle him. Then seeing her husband’s bemused face, she slapped his chest with the back of her hand. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t utter a word,” Jack protested, keeping his eyes on Sark’s face. “Not a word of one syllable or a...what is it called, Sark? Oh yes, polysyllabic word, either. Because why...”
“Why use one word when you can use---”
“Three,” Jack finished. Direct hit.
“What’s he doing? Marshall asked, biting his nails, until Carrie gently pried his hand from his mouth. “Why doesn’t he just get on with it? It’s making me a nervous wreck and--”
“That’s why,” Vaughn said, nodding at the screen. “He’s upping Sark’s anxiety level.”
“I don’t know,” Judy demurred. “Jack’s face looks...thoughtful. I think he’s interrogating Sark already without Sark being aware of it.”
Kendall crossed his arms. “I think you’re right. He’s getting something from that nonsensical conversation about polysyllabic words. Look at how tight his jaw is.”
Sark felt his body tense and forced himself to relax. Tensing one’s muscles made one more likely to sustain non-direct injuries.
“Sark...” Jack began. “I want you to look at this.” He opened his palm to display Dave’s ring.
“At that? That’s the ugliest ring I’ve ever seen,” Sark commented, relaxing.
“So it is,” Jack agreed. “But it has served its purpose. And will again.”
“As what?”
“A focus point.”
“You think you’re going to hypnotize me?” Sark shook his head. “Irina, didn’t you tell him what you told me - that I was difficult to---”
“Not for me,” Jack said confidently. “Sooner or later I’ll find a way in.”
“You’re that confident?” Sark asked skeptically.
“Yes. Now I want you to look at this ring and focus on it.”
“I don’t like red,” Sark blurted out.
“Fine.” Jack turned to Irina. “Give me the other ring.” Irina pulled out the sapphire ring and handed it to him. He held it up to Sark. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you,” Sark said politely.
“So polite,” Jack smiled, hoping to relax the boy.
Sark smiled. “When one’s life is in someone else’s hands it never hurt to be polite.”
“It’s nice to see you are as smart as Irina believes you to be. Now, look at the ring. I’m just going to talk to you. Just talk. And I want to start by having you look at this ring and take one, two, three deep breaths. Can you do that?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“Actually, no.”
“Okay, then. I’ll breathe.” Sark looked at the ring and forced himself to focus on it. He took several deep breaths.
"Now, look at me," Jack commanded again. "I think, we all think, you think you have knowledge of Arvin Sloane's ace in the hole. But it's useless to all of us unless we can access that information."
"Correct, but how---"
"The way you’ve reacted to Weiss and to me tells me two things. One. Something happened during the course of that event, when you found out the ace in the hole, that triggered a preset---"
"I was programmed? Like a damn robot?"
Jack grimaced. "Yes and no. Two, we need to find the trigger that will access that memory."
"How would we do that?" Sark asked.
"I think the trigger was set before you came to Irina's, because she could not put you under either," Jack said thoughtfully.
“He could just have that overdeveloped controller brain function, like you, Jack,” Irina noted.
“I’m not...” Sark gulped. “Your son, am I?”
“God no!” Jack exclaimed.
“No, Sark.” Irina shook her head. “You’re not my son or our son or Jack’s son or any permutation thereof.”
“Thank god!” Sydney exclaimed.
“Oh, as if I’d want to be your sibling, Princess?” Sark snapped back at her.
“Obnoxious twit.”
“Spoiled brat.”
“Children!” Irina called out in Russian.
“Can we possibly get back on point?” Jack asked tightly. “I also think standard regression analysis will not work because the person who did this to you knew that someone else might try standard regression analysis."
"Jack, what are you talking about?" Irina asked, holding her middle.
"Sark, I want you to look into my eyes and trust me," Jack said, again in that soothing voice that made Sydney's pulse race. "Can you do that?"
"Do I have a choice?" Sark asked sullenly, as he slumped in his seat. He jumped when Irina poked him from behind.
"Sit up straight and don't whine," Irina told him.
Sark stared at her. "It was you... Last night. Someone brought me an extra blanket. Wearing red. It was you. Feeling...maternal suddenly? Shocking. And far too late."
"Be quiet and listen to Jack," Irina ordered, feeling Sydney's gaze on her.
Sark twisted his mouth and faced forward again. To his shock, Jack reached out and took his hands. He looked down, staring, as Jack began to speak.
"Sark. I need you to pay very close attention. Can you do that?" Sark nodded and looked back up. "Your hands are cold but mine are warm, aren't they?" Sark nodded again. "I want you to concentrate on the warmth of my hands and just relax. Relax your hands in mine....That's good. Now relax your arms. Loosen them up. Yes, like that. Now, ignore what the bossy Irina Derevko told you..." Sark smiled and sighed. "Yes, relax your shoulders and let the chair support your back... Good. Are you relaxed?"
"Yes. Now---"
"You let me worry about what comes next, okay?" Jack asked, his voice soft as he focused on Sark.
"Okay."
Jack paused and then said, "Close your eyes and ignore everything but the sound of my voice. Can you do that?"
"I will try."
"Good. That's all I'm asking is that you try. Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions. None of them will be scary. You can feel my hands, can't you?"
"Yes," Sark agreed, his hands tightening on Jack's. His eyes opened again, but everything seemed a little... “Aren’t you going to count back from one hundred or sing me a song?”
“Sing you a song?” Jack asked, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. An indirect hit, but a hit nonetheless, he felt as a chill crept over him.
“Yes.” Then Sark frowned. “I don’t know why... Irina...”
“No, I never sang songs to you,” Irina told him, her voice as hushed as possible as she watched Jack’s eyes. He was nearly ready to pull out some critical piece of information and leap across some chasm. She could tell.
Jack took a deep breath. "I understand that you tried to tell Weiss about this ace in the hole but you encountered a problem?" Jack reviewed in a soothing tone of voice that made the hair on the back of Sydney's neck stand up.
"Yes..." Sark agreed, watching as Jack’s eyes met his and seemed to.. He closed his eyes and felt himself drift.
"How do you feel when you try to talk about it, Julian?" Jack asked slowly, his voice very soft.
"That's not my name," Sark answered automatically. Then he frowned. Why had he said that?
"Why not? What's wrong with that name?" Jack asked, still circling.
"It's too....feminine. The other kids thought it was too much like Julia..." He stopped. Why had he told him that?
Jack nodded. Scratch an adult and find a needy child. "Is that the only reason?"
"How the bloody hell would I know?” Sark asked, his eyes popping back open. “I have no memory before coming to Irina's---"
"It’s okay, Sark.” Jack swore silently. “This is not a test. I’m here to help you recover your memories. Because you feel panicked without them, don’t you?”
“Quite.” Sark forced himself to relax and subdue the panic that had risen again at Jack’s suggestion.
“Close your eyes,” Jack said softly. “Now I want you to think of a warm, safe place---”
“How did you know?” Sark asked, his eyes popping back open.
Jack bit back an oath. Irina was right. Sark was already proving resistant to the slightest attempt to put him under. Damn him. And Sark too for making this so difficult when he wanted to just get the intel. Now. Patience, he told himself. Win his trust. “I knew you wanted warmth because that’s what I always want. It’s...enervating to feel cold constantly, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Sark firmed his lips as he saw the sympathy in Jack’s eyes. How pathetic was he that Jack Bristow felt sympathy for him?
“Let’s try again. Close your eyes.” Jack waited until Sark closed his wary eyes. “Do you have any memories at all you can access before coming to Irina’s? Just breathe slowly until you’re ready. Take your time.” But hurry the hell UP!
“I remember...” Sark put his hand to his temple. “I remember...this is totally amorphous and no doubt inconsequential, but I do remember warmth.”
“Very good,” Jack said softly. “Now just relax and breathe. When you call up that feeling of warmth, where are you?”
“I....” Sark began to frown, then forced himself to relax. “I feel like I’m being...rocked,” he said in a nearly-silent whisper.
“Is that the feeling you remember when you’re frightened?” Jack asked in a matching near whisper.
“I’m not frightened!” Sark called out suddenly, his eyes opening and his body tensing once again.
“You should be!” Irina said impatiently.
“Irina.” Jack shook his head. “You know better. These types of firewalls are immune to threats or bribery. You could kill him and he still wouldn’t give us the intel. We have to find a way in.”
“The right drill bit?” Sydney asked. “Or would that be a very large screw?”
“Very amusing,” Sark said with a scowl in her direction.
‘I’m confused,” Marshall noted. “Sydney has flashes of memory but Sark has none to speak of?”
“Sydney’s memory loss is due largely to trauma. Sark -- well, actually he may have had some trauma too in being removed from his parents. But what we’re watching now are memories which were systemically removed through suggestion or..fear. Or some combination,” Judy said quietly. “Devastating, really. Studies show that when a subject loses their memory---”
“Fascinating, I’m sure,” Kendall quipped. “But how the hell is Jack going to reverse that?”
“Patience,” Judy said softly. “Knowledge. Determination.”
“Let’s try a different mode of attack,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on the table.
“I do wish you would refrain from utilizing the word ‘attack,’” Sark said, shifting uneasily in his chair.
“I do wish you would refrain from being an annoying little snot,” Sydney commented. “But that hardly seems likely.”
“And I wish you would overcome your delusions that you are a princess, Sydney,” Sark sniped in return. “But that hardly seems likely either.”
“Children,” Irina said absently in Russian as she scoured her brain for an idea to find a way to break the firewall in Sark’s brain. “Stop it. Julian -- must you provoke her and--”
“Irina.” Jack’s voice made Irina look up sharply. He had an idea. It seemed implausible, but with every second that passed it seemed more and more likely. He just needed confirmation. “I asked you before. What did you know about Sark when he came to you?”
“Well, he came with the most irritating combination of...vulnerability and brashness. This very American attitude of questioning, always questioning. Arguing. A habit I had to break him of, one I couldn’t believe the project coordinator for the younger children hadn’t broken him of. A dangerous habit.”
“Go on. What else? What information were you given about his years in the early part of the Project?”
“You mean with my silent partner?” Irina sighed. “We got very little information. Nothing of course on the children’s prior life. And their memories of the circumstances of their training were removed. Just the knowledge remained.”
“But you did get some information?”
“Yes, of course. Paperwork with their test scores, psych evals. In fact, I remember reading Julian’s over and over, trying to understand him. He was so gifted, had so much potential, but was so difficult that ...”
“Go back to the paperwork,” Jack urged slowly. He put his hand on Irina’s arm and looked into her eyes. “Close your eyes and---”
“Don’t practice on me, Jack Bristow!” Irina hissed at him. “Don’t--”
“What?” Sydney asked.
“Hypnotize me!” Irina said, tugging at his hand. “Your father can use his voice to induce a receptive state---”
Jack smirked. “That’s probably more information than our daughter needs.” He made a quick movement away to avoid the inevitable slap.
Sydney blushed. “Um...Sark is waiting.”
“Yes. He is. So Irina, will you please---”
Reluctantly Irina closed her eyes. “I hate this.”
“I know. You’re out of control. But trust me on this.” Putting his hand out to her, Jack said softly, “Tell me what you see when you see the paperwork.”
Irina held onto Jack’s hand, trusting him as she sent her mind back so long ago it seemed. “The paperwork. Well, it was white paper. Typewritten. Black ink. Or often, grey because we ran out of ink or ribbon so often. In Russian, naturally. Short sentences, usually just multiple choice answers really. He scored phenomenally high. Actually Sark scored the highest of any child with whom I’d ever worked. Which is why my silent partner recommended that he be retained in the program rather than being lost---”
“You mean sent to some work camp?” Sydney asked.
“You have a romanticized view of the Soviet system,” Jack noted.
Irina opened her mouth to protest and then shut it. A system that terminated children it had stolen from their families really didn’t deserve a defense. “Your father is right. The children were killed. The program could take no chances on children with these potential abilities being...loose.”
“So the children who didn’t conform were...lost,” Jack confirmed.
“Yes. But in any case, Julian’s paperwork indicated high potential but a high investment to make him conform. Which I spent more time doing than my silent partner did, I always felt. First of all, I had to cut his hair, which was curly and...” Irina frowned. “It reminded me of you. Well, to be honest, he reminded me of you --”
“Sark reminds you of Dad?” Sydney asked. “What?”
“You’re losing your train of thought,” Jack interrupted. “Back to describing the paperwork. Was there anything else on the paperwork besides the typewriting? Anything handwritten or--”
Irina stopped and stared at Jack. “No. No. No. It can’t be.”
“What was on the paperwork, honey?”
“Dots. Dots....” Irina gasped and gripped his arm in nerveless hands. “Dots, Jack.”
“Connect the dots,” Jack said closing his eyes.
Irina stood there, feeling a shock wave course over her. Was this what Jack had felt like just moments before when they’d realized Dave was alive? “The...circle, one of your damn circles! It closes?”
“And...opens.”
“You knew?”
“I had a feeling. Now I have an entry point,” Jack said and turned back to face Sark.
“You know how to access my memory?” Sark asked, staring into Jack’s face. He was giving away nothing.
“Yes. Now, I want you to listen to me. Close your eyes.” As Sark stared at him, then finally closed his eyes, Jack took a deep breath. In a very soft voice, Jack said, “Project Christmas Weasel Protocol Initiated.”
TBC at Chapter 2006: Part 1 Section 1 of