Chapter 2 - Unexpected

Sydney checked herself one more time in the rearview mirror before exiting the rental car. Myra, SD-6's eccentric wardrobe woman, had outdone herself this time, she thought. She was wearing a short leather skirt, a skin-tight spangled top and a pair of knee-length leather boots — not stilettos this time, a concession that had stemmed from extensive begging. A purple-streaked close-cropped blond wig was crushing her already sweat-soaked natural hair, although a slight breeze gave her hope that the night might bring marginally cooler temperatures.

She tapped a spot on her ear next to a large hoop earring. "You better not be sitting in air conditioning right now."

A chuckle, but no retort, which made her think he probably was.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"Not too bad," she responded. "And climate-controlled, always a bonus."

Another chuckle as she walked through the front door. Sydney still couldn't understand the fascination so many of the world's filthy-rich crime masters had with these massive parties. She suspected it had to do a lot with drugs and young women dressed like herself. At least it provided an easy way to infiltrate them, she thought as she scanned the room.

Sydney wasn't big on dancing, but always found it was easy to blend at raves. She joined the writhing, sweaty mass, bobbing with them for a few head-pounding songs to blend in. The room's security seemed as lax as Sloane had promised — the reason SD-6 had felt they could send her alone. She didn't catch the presence of an equally skimpily attired Anna Espinosa doing the same on the other side of the room.

"I'm going for the vials," she said, then realized that Vaughn probably couldn't hear her. She started down a hallway, visualizing the mansion's blueprints in her mind. When she was far enough from the throbbing bass, she spoke again. "Vaughn, I'm heading for the basement."

"Copy that."

Walking briskly, she turned a corner and opened the door to a small room. This action startled a woman sitting in the corner, a syringe plunged into a vein in her arm. Sydney paused and stared at her for a moment before the woman smiled and pressed the plunger of the syringe. Forcing back a wave of nausea, Sydney smiled back and continued to a door at the back of the room.

As she started down the stairs beyond the doorway, Vaughn spoke. "Everything okay? You stopped there."

"Fine," she whispered. "I walked in on some woman shooting up."

"Is she a threat?"

"No." She had reached the bottom of the stairs. "I get the feeling that in a few minutes she's not even going to know what planet she's on."

Sydney scanned the basement, which was primarily filled with aging furniture and artwork, before running up to a large metal doorway.

"I'm unscrambling the combination." She removed an earring and placed it next to a numeric keypad, waiting a few seconds until a beep and a loud clank signaled to her that the lock was no longer a problem. She tugged on the heavy door, finally prying it open, and stepped inside, immediately sighing in relief.

"You all right?" Vaughn questioned in her ear.

"I'm absolutely fabulous. The vault's refrigerated." Sydney could almost see his grin.

She stepped inside, allowing the coolness to wash over her for a glorious second before getting to work. The vault was about six feet square, certainly large enough for the small rack of vials located on a shelf in the back. Pulling a small purse off of her shoulder, Sydney unzipped the top.

"There are six vials," she said. "I'm taking them all." She reached for the first, but just before her fingers touched it, she felt something hard slam against the back of her head.

"Aiiigh." She fell to the floor as Anna Espinosa dropped an antique chair leg beside her, stepped over her and grabbed the rack. Stunned, Sydney stood, just a bit too late to stop Anna from slamming the vault door in her face.