Turning Point

home
tradecraft
operations


SAN FRANCISCO

It was too much for anyone to handle, she thought, trying not to white-knuckle the steering wheel any more than she already was. It had been too much before, in her formerly sane life, when her friends were reasonably normal. It had been too much before Francie perfected her lying skills well enough to fool someone who did it for a living. It had been too much before Will had died — or had he? She had been unable to shake the idea that he might be alive and missing, a possibility that had been ringing quietly in her head since her first glance at the Rambaldi document.

And then this — a terse note from Vaughn telling her to meet him at a hotel just outside of San Francisco. No explanation, just an address, and a room number. She pulled into a parking space, her fight with Francie and her grief over Will still spiraling through her thoughts. She felt as though she could hardly hold herself together as she scanned the parking lot for observers.

The place was a run-of-the-mill Holiday Inn clone, as far as she could tell. Thousands like it across the country, and she had spent time in more than her fair share. Thousands of hotels, hundreds of rooms each, and she wondered just how many were used for meetings like this. She walked casually — a pace that belied the blood pounding through her — up one flight of stairs.

The shades to room 207 were drawn. About to knock, she caught herself when she noticed a keycard sitting on the windowsill, and she darted a hand out to grab it. She found that hand was shaking slightly as she fed it through the lock and let herself in.

He was sitting, quietly, on the edge of the bed, lit only by the dim lamp next to the bed. Looking much the same as he had earlier in the day, but more rumpled — more exhausted. More like he had something horrible to tell her.

Sydney made sure she included the deadbolt when she locked the door behind her.

"Vaughn?" Her voice wavered — part nerves, part leftover emotion from the rest of the day. "What's going on? Why couldn't we meet in LA?"

"Sydney, I think you should sit down before I tell you this."

She considered protesting — telling him that she could handle whatever he had to say just as well standing — but something in his eyes made her walk over to the bed. She sat, heart pounding, next to him, and he turned to face her.

"What I'm about to tell you, Sydney, I'm not even supposed to know. It's all Omega-17 — that's why we had to meet here," he paused. "The CIA has records of Will making repeated contact with a source inside Khasinau's organization."

This was not the giant shock she had been bracing herself against. "I know that, Vaughn. He was working on a story."

"That's not all. We recovered the security feed from what's left of the safehouse. Will engineered his own escape, Syd. It looks like he's been working with The Man all along."

"That's impossible!" she exclaimed, finding that she could not remotely reconcile the idea that her friend — sweet, kind Will, who bluffed so badly at poker, who let her cry on his couch — could also be a spy. "Vaughn, he's one of my best friends. There is absolutely no way that Will could — he was just…he was just my friend, Vaughn. Not a spy. He couldn’t — wait. Escape? Will ESCAPED? Are you sure? Do you know where he is?"

"No, I don’t know where he is," Vaughn replied, watching Sydney. "But…it looks like at least two people walked away from that fire. And there is some intermittent audio — Will discussing the escape with another man. The CIA is still looking into who could have helped him."

"No. No! Vaughn, I’ve known him for three years! I would have picked up on something, some clue, some hint that he was not what he seemed!"

He took a moment to consider this. "How did you meet Will?"

"He was working on an article for the school newspaper. He walked up to me in the student union and asked if I had time for an interview. It was completely random."

"Sydney, it wasn't random at all."

She recalled the SD-6 recruiter standing in front of her, holding a simple business card — a phone number only — and felt the urge to burst into tears. Sydney found herself able to fight that, but her voice wobbled as she spoke next. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you meeting him, becoming friends. It wasn't random at all. I think they wanted him to use his relationship with you as a means of getting intel on SD-6."

Sydney shook her head, and her trembling hand came up to cover her mouth. "Vaughn. Why does everyone I care about lie to me? Why…why isn’t anything in my life real?"

"Sydney, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Vaughn's voice was soft as he tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into the warm comfort of him, let the tears come freely. He rubbed her back gently, hands making slow, warm circles up and down her spine. "It's not your fault. You trusted him. You wanted to believe the best."

"No, it is my fault. I — I brought this on myself. I never should have — I shouldn’t," Sydney sobbed, her words muffled by her tears.

"No, no, Sydney, listen," Vaughn’s voice became urgent, and he took her wet face in his hands. "Listen to me. This was not your fault. I believe in you, you know that. There was nothing you could have done differently. Some people just can’t be trusted." His words sent shivers through her.

"And some people can be," she whispered. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, let her lips brush his, lightly. He responded instantly, lips warm under hers, like he had been waiting for this kiss for years. His thumb stroked her damp cheek as she slid onto his lap. She wanted him. She wanted to drown herself in his comfort and his hands, all over her, all through her. She wanted Vaughn to tell her that she could always trust him, that he would never do anything to hurt her. He was the only person she would ever believe that from again.

But he was silent at first. Maybe, she thought, he felt comforting words were too obvious — not needed — clear from his actions and voiced already a thousand times since she had known him. Clear from his touch now, fingers tracing delicately down her jaw, neck, shoulder. And then his hands, both on her back, pulling her deeper into the heat of his body. He drew his head back — just slightly — and whispered something around her mouth. "Sydney. You can always trust me," she thought, his words too soft to be completely clear. She realized she did not need the words, only the sentiment, and that had been apparent all along. And then she could only moan in response as his lips started on the same path his fingers had just taken — jaw, neck, and just as light and tender.

His lips returned to hers, then — this kiss more fierce, more passionate — his mouth even more reassuring with this new insistence. His hands were firm on her body as they slipped from her back, down her sides. Over her stomach, now, pushing to increase the scant space between them, enough to move up, up, up, and they were hot on her breasts, and his mouth was even hotter on hers. She leaned into the touch, but it was gone quickly, his fingers working carefully on the first button of her blouse, and yes, she thought, he would give her everything she wanted, and she would forget all the lies and betrayal. Remember only him, as his fingers slipped down to the second button, everything she needed, and —

"Sydney, we can't do this."

She didn’t understand his words for a second, but as he pulled back from her, it became clear. The tears he has kissed away sprang to her eyes again, and she tried to wipe them from her face before he saw. She should have known this was too good to be true.

"Sydney?" Vaughn sounded worried, but she refused to look at him, pulling her shirt back together as she twisted away. "Sydney — this isn't right. You're — you have too much on your mind right now. You just found out that your best friend lied to you for years, and we can't — you shouldn't do… this when you are so upset."

Sydney sniffled, and swept her tears away with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. "OK. You’re right. I need to find Will, I need to …not think about things that — " her voice hitched. "Things that shouldn’t happen."

She could feel more tears coming, and didn't want him to see them. He had seen enough already, made her feel like he could do something about them, and in the end only caused more. Vaughn — just another part of the everything wrong with her life. Sydney stood and strode to the door, yanked at the knob and was surprised to find that it went nowhere. Right, deadbolt.

"Sydney, don't leave like this." She could hear him stand behind her, take a few steps forward as she fumbled with the lock. Finally successful, she flung the door open and rushed outside, just as the tears began again in earnest. Vaughn called her name once again, but she knew he would not follow — couldn't risk them being seen together, even this far from Los Angeles.

 

>> Next Chapter o Chapter 1 o Chapter 2 o Chapter 3 o Chapter 4 o Chapter 5 o Chapter 6 o Chapter 7 o Chapter 8 o Chapter 9

home
tradecraft
operations

1