The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2006: Part 1 Section 1 of 2
Chapter 2006: Part 1 Section 1 of 2
Yasmina hissed in a breath as she uncovered the bloody bandage on Daoud’s knee. Tossing it aside with a grunt of disgust, she reached for the water skin and a cloth and shared a look of worry with her daughter over Daoud’s unconscious form. She gently wiped away the dirt and oozing blood and no, no... The pus on it. The wound reeked. No, no. Hissing a silent swift prayer that Allah would save this nonbeliever, she called to her husband.
“Yes, wife? What do you need?” The guard bent forward, shining his precious and hoarded flashlight on her scornful face. He pulled back. He would pay for something, he knew it.
“I need you to use your head for brains instead of that gun you carry so proudly, you fool. You should have called me earlier. We will need to cauterize this wound. Heat a knife.”
Sark gasped and put both hands to his head as he felt a pain like a white hot poker lance through his head at Jack’s words. He closed his eyes as the world spun around him and he heard a deep whisper spiral upward from deep within.
Weasel Protocol
Trust
Don’t trust weasel
Jack
Kill
Don’t kill
Princess
QuestionHome
Promise, promise....
“Mom,” Sydney asked as her father reached out and took Sark’s hands away from his head and once again held them in his own. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know...” Irina whispered watching as Jack urged Sark to take deep breaths and rest for a moment. Then her head snapped to attention. “You and Dave - was this your just in case?”
“No....” Sark whispered his eyes intent upon Jack’s, then he looked away frantically, feeling trapped.
“Yes. And this is a very powerful protocol, one that until recently I thought only Dave and I knew about,” Jack said softly. “Are you ready to try again, Sark? The Weasel Protocol... The Weasel Protocol.... The Weasel Protocol....”
“No....” Sark shook his head. Was he safe? Was he in danger? It was... He looked up. Jack. It was Jack. A voice, a deep one, or was it just deep inside? That voice, that one, he sometimes thought he could hear in an echo of thunder, told him that he was safe, but... Could he trust the voice? Should he trust Jack’s voice? Jack’s voice was lighter, more melodic. Like the song... He closed his eyes as Jack spoke. It would be so easy to.... He wanted the song...
“There will be no refusals this time. I will find my way in. It is inevitable now. I’ll keep you safe. Just give in....and I’ll give you the song.” Jack’s soft voice made Sydney shiver. Irina clenched her fists. Jack ignored them both and stroked Sark’s hands. “Project Christmas Weasel Protocol Initiated. Prepare for song.”
Before Jack could continue, Sark gasped and then gasped again. Jack steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Protocol...” Sark began, then stopped. As if the words were wrenched from him, Sark said in a strangled whisper, his eyes wide, “Warning: Protocol amended. Agent identification required.”
Jack froze. Who had amended the protocol? He looked at Sark, debating what words to use next. Then he shrugged mentally. When in doubt, make the obvious choice. Occasionally, it was the right one. Jack heaved out a deep breath. He nodded at Irina, who was staring at Sark as if she’d never seen him before. “ I am seeking Agent David Caro."
“Agent David Caro’s Agency Number is required.”
Jack swore under his breath. This was a dangerous game Dave was playing, but it was all about the odds. If Jack didn’t remember Dave’s number, Sloane certainly would not have. Access to that information was only through the Agency Archives with appropriate clearance. Anyone without proper access would have delays in acquiring the information and Sark had no doubt been programmed to shut down if... “Sark, how long do I have to answer the question?”
“One hundred twenty seconds.” Sark began to shiver.
Holy shit, Jack whispered silently as aloud he said, “Marshall, get me Dave’s agent number, I sure as hell don’t remember---”
“We’re on it, Jack,” Kendall responded immediately. “Just a sec---”
Jack gestured toward a blanket and Irina brought it over. Jack pulled Sark forward and Irina put it around his shoulders and then stepped backward. “Jack...” Irina asked, reaching a hand out to touch Sark’s shoulder and then pulling it back. “What is this?”
“This is a protocol Dave and I developed, we thought, for the children’s safety. Marshall?” Jack called out, looking at his watch, trying to ignore the sick clenching of his stomach. “Time is running out.”
“NO!” Dave screamed as the searing heat of the knife cut through his torpor. “My fing... Arvin...Boy...No, no....”
“Shh...” Yasmina whispered, gesturing to her daughter to keep wiping down Dave’s sweating face. “It will not last much longer. We must hurt to heal you.” Sadly, she looked down at the wound, so large, too large for just one pass. She handed the knife back to her husband. “Heat it again. And hurry.”
“Here it is,” Marshall called out breathlessly as he pulled up an Archives’ file. “Two. Five. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty-two. Five. Four. Repeat: 2512152254.”
“Copy,” Irina and Sydney replied in unison.
“Sark.” Jack ordered in his own version of a monotone, as he forced down his emotions and concentrated on the task before him. “I have the identification information for David Caro.”
“Proceed.”
“David Caro. Agent number 2512152254"
“Confirm. Step two can now be employed. Proceed with personal identification.”
“Jonathan Donahue Bristow. Agent number 2300682."
“Amended protocol requires personal identification, not professional. Proceed?”
“He’s freakin’ me out,” Weiss said, shivering. “He’s like...a robot.”
“Which is an improvement upon his real personality, if you ask me,” Kendall noted.
“He’s still annoying,” Vaughn argued.
Judy shook her head. "Are we taping this, Kendall?" she asked quietly.
"You bet your ass we're taping this," Kendall snapped. “I don’t have a goddamn clue what he’s doing, but even I can tell that it’s important.”
“Sark is a double sleeper,” Judy said, shaking her head. “Don’t you see? This is fascinating.”
“I’m sure Sark will be gratified to learn that you find his status as a lab rat edifying, Barnett, but--” Kendall bit off, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That’s Dr. Barnett to you,” Judy snapped back. “Sark was set up to be a double sleeper.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kendall argued. “I don’t even believe that it’s possible.”
“It’s implausible,” Vaughn said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Judy agreed. “It depends upon the receptivity of the subject, the skill of the practitioner and the trust the subject places in the practitioner.”
“Sark isn’t a lab rat, though,” Carrie said thoughtfully. “He’s a carrier pigeon.”
"First Irina, now Dave, now this?” Vaughn asked, taking a long sip from his coffee cup.
“I think that this is not how Jack expected this day to go when he woke up this morning," Dixon noted quietly.
"Like that's news," Vaughn agreed. "His whole life hasn't gone the way he expected it to go." He could empathize with Jack. He sighed and reached for another cup of coffee. What the hell was he supposed to do now that Irina Derevko was back? And free? Introduce her to his mother as his future mother in law and by the way, also Dad’s killer? Might put a damper on wedding plans, to say the least. He drained the cup and reached for another. This was going to be a looong day.
“Husband...” Yasmina said in a wheedling tone. “We must move Daoud to our tent. He will need constant care today. And he cannot recover in this dark, fetid--”
“We may not move him, wife!” The guard bellowed. “He must stay in the cave. Live or die he must stay in the cave.” Glaring at Daoud, he missed the looks his wife and daughter exchanged.
“Mom...” Sydney whispered. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No.” Irina shook her head. “This protocol is foreign to me. I don’t know this piece of the story.” She opened her mouth to tell Sydney the truth she and Jack suspected, but then she bit back her words. Jack needed to focus.
“Proceed,” Jack barked at Sark and then sighed and counseled himself to patience. They were so close, giving into the urge to shake Sark would net him nothing. And, of course, there was further identification. If Sark had never seen a photo of him, then anyone - that is, Arvin Sloane - could have told Sark that he was Jack. This should be interesting, Jack thought wryly. “What further identification is required?”
“Answer question only you and he would know the answer to.”
“Proceed.” Ask me the damn question already! Jack wanted to scream. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this endless vague questioning. A moment later, he regretted that assertion as Sark asked the next question.
“When and where and with whom did you lose your virginity? Be specific in answering all three questions.” Sark stopped and then looked amused for a fleeting second before slipping back into a bland mask.
Jack felt his mouth drop open and his face flush red. “I....” I fucking can’t believe this, he wanted to yell.
“Oh, this is good,” Irina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is one answer I’m dying to hear.”
“Not me!” Sydney exclaimed, setting back down on the cot with a plop. Picking up the pillow, she contemplated smothering herself with it. Then realizing that Sark had laid his head on it all night long, she irritably flung it away from herself. Eww. Sark cooties.
Weiss corralled his laughter to elbow Vaughn. “Judging by the red in Jack’s face, this is one answer we don’t want to miss. How did Jack Bristow lose his virginity? I bet this is a good story.”
“I bet it’s a great story,” Vaughn smiled. And Irina looked very upset. That was a good thing.
Marshall frowned. “Jack was a virgin once too?” he asked hopefully.
Carrie looked startled, then patted Marshall’s arm. Dixon covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter, as Judy gave into hers.
“I don’t believe this,” Sydney whispered, dropping her face into her hands. “Tell me when it’s over!”
Kendall spoke, “Do go ahead, Jack. Sark is waiting. And so are we, I might add.”
“I don’t believe this,” Jack muttered. “I just don’t... I’m going to kill Dave, I swear and---”
“Can you answer the question?” Sark asked. “If not, I must shut down within one hundred and twenty seconds and---”
“I can answer the damn question,” Jack snapped. Then he muttered under his breath, “I just don’t want to. Of all the things only he and I know, he asks that question...”
“He’s whispering. Turn up the volume, Marshall,” Kendall ordered.
Jack looked over to where Irina was waiting, impatiently, hands on hips, foot tapping. Leaning forward he said to Sark in a low tone, “Her name was Malida. It was in Cairo. I do not know the date.”
Sark seemed to sigh. “Information is accepted.”
“Why not?” Sydney asked quietly. “Why don’t you know the date?”
“It wasn’t important!” Jack hissed. Why had he bothered to whisper anyway? Kendall had probably just turned up the volume on the monitors anyway. He looked carefully over at his wife and then looked away again. That look on her face wasn’t...a good thing.
“It wasn’t important? It wasn’t important! That’s not what you told me that night you came home and I was on the couch with...” Sydney trailed off and looked skyward.
“Cairo?” Irina fumed. “I knew it. Ha. I’m glad she’s dead--”
“How do you know she’s dead?” Sydney asked curiously. “Mom?”
“Yes, Irina, why don’t you answer that question?” Jack asked snidely.
Irina opened and then closed her mouth. Perhaps she might not want to pursue that particular discussion point given that she’d had the woman killed even before she knew that Malida - and what kind of name was that? It sounded like a coffee filter! “Just finish the questions, Jack. You’re getting distracted. I expect better interrogation techniques from you.”
“After Panama, I bet you do,” Jack tossed back at her. Irina began to glare, then smiled slowly. Sydney turned red as she recognized the look that passed between her parents. Maybe smothering herself with Sark’s pillow was the lesser of two evils.
“Is he talking about the passive transmitter?” Marshall asked.
“Yes,” everyone responded in unison.
“Sark, are you still on point?” Jack asked in a near growl as he glared at his wife and daughter. Honestly, couldn’t they shut up? They could bond over his male misdeeds later! Although, Sark was actually fairly fluid in this interaction. What the hell had Dave learned and how in order to create this near-normal conversational mode while still in protocol?
“I am on point. I was drilled to expect interruptions in the protocol if Irina Derevko or Sydney Bristow were present while protocol was engaged.”
“You were?” Jack asked, wondering what else Dave had implanted in Sark’s head.
“Yes.” Sark nodded, then said in a sing-song voice of a child, but with a certain American accent. “Laura and Sydney Bristow were demanding and may interrupt protocol.”
Jack bit back a smile at the identical miffed looks on his daughter and wife’s faces.
Sark continued in that same sing-song voice in which children memorized prayers or required reading, “ Jack Bristow will always keep his promises. Trust him. Unless you've already screwed him once. Irina Derevko often fails to ask the most important questions. Sydney Bristow is our princess. You may not kill Sydney Bristow or Jack Bristow. You may kill Arvin Sloane under certain conditions. The end. For now. Which means it’s also a beginning. Another circle for Jack. Done!”
“Where did his British accent go?” Vaughn asked as Sark finished.
“Apparently that isn’t his childhood accent, I would think...” Judy said slowly. “There’s a clue there. What accent was that?”
“New Joisey,” a disdainful voice came from behind Judy.
“Susan!” Judy exclaimed as she turned around.
“I came down to see what was taking you so long and I discover that Sark’s from New Jersey?” Susan’s lip curled. “How...appropriate.”
Carrie grinned. “Spoken with the disdain that can only be uttered by someone with a New York accent?”
“I don’t have an accent,” Susan laughed. “This is the way normal human beings speak.”
“Yeah, if they’re from da Bronx,” Kendall added.
“He may not be from New Jersey,” Vaughn pointed out. “He may have been given that accent as well as the protocol by whomever implanted it.”
“You mean, Dave?” Judy asked. “Hmm. Dave may have given Sark that accent to hide his origins.”
“Or not,” Susan suggested.
“The world is full of options,” Weiss offered, staring at Susan. Who was this? He didn’t care where she was from, he wanted to know where she was going. Like say, tonight? He straightened his tie.
“Where is Daoud from?” Yasmina’s daughter asked as she rearranged the folds of her own skirt and prepared to stand up.
“He taught you that song about it,” Yasmina replied as she shifted the knife in her hand, hidden by the folds of her robe. “I-oh-way.”
The daughter nodded and said in slow English, set to a tune she heard in her head, “The people are so...” She hesitated then finished. “Gosh-darn stubborn.”
“Music Man...” The guard said in English. Reverting back to Afghani, he added, “The plot of the movie is about a man who finds out that he is who he pretends to be.”
“No.” Yasmina said it firmly, drawing her husband’s attention to her. “He finds out that he is more than he thought he was.” She held the knife carefully as she reversed it so that the blade was near her wrist as her palm grasped the hilt. “With a little help.”
Sark asked, returning to his British accent “Are you ready to proceed?”
Jack looked at his wife, who looked as incredulous as he felt. He said, swallowing hard, “I could only answer two of the three questions. What is the protocol now?”
“Two out of three is acceptable,” Sark said. “If you can answer an alternate question. Option D.”
“Option D....” Irina choked. That was so Dave, so very much like the smartass man she had known. She looked at Jack’s face, seeing the incredulity and hope mixing with determination.
“He said that you probably wouldn’t remember the date, but his diary would. What did Dave title that page in his diary?” Sark asked.
Jack smiled and shook his head. “It was quite a night - Ow!” He rubbed his arm where Irina had hit him. “That was a little hard!”
“Not a state in which you’re going to find yourself if you keep remembering that night with that look on your face,” Irina hissed, leaning close.
“Mom! I’m in the room!” Sydney said plaintively. “Can I die? Now? Please? Someone?”
“Sorry, I cannot oblige. Princess,” Sark commented.
“What the hell happened that night?” Weiss whistled.
Judy shrugged. “It was the Sixties. I’m surprised Jack can remember any of it.”
“Me too,” Kendall shrugged as well. “It’s a wonder I remember any of 1969.”
The younger people looked at each other. “Um, what...” Marshall began, then stopped, not knowing what question to ask.
“I had this pair of paisley bell bottoms,” Kendall said reminiscently. “I thought they were ---”
“Groovy?” Judy laughed. “I had a pair of lime green---” She stopped. “What?” she asked as the three younger men stared at her. “Listen, your girlfriends probably all dressed like Madonna and--”
“Nah, it was the Spice Girls,” Weiss corrected her.
“Do you know who that is?” Kendall whispered to Judy. “Was there a condiment theme going on the Eighties or something?”
It was like Dave was here in the room, Jack thought. They were so close he could feel it. And when they got to Dave, he would kill him. But first steps first. “Dave said he would title it, ‘Dave’s Night of Debauchery.’”
“Correct. Jonathan Donahue Bristow is granted preliminary access. Proceed with protocol. No time limits imposed at this juncture.”
Taking a deep breath and ignoring Irina’s tense figure near him, Jack began to sing, "All around the cobbler's bench---" He stopped.
Sark closed his eyes and sang in response, "The monkey chased the weasel."
"The monkey thought it was all in fun."
"But POP goes the weasel." Sark took a breath and wrapped his arms around himself, shaking.
“Protocol engaged,” Jack said quietly, although his heart was pounding. This was it. “You must now follow my instructions.”
“Enough!” The guard bellowed. “We are done talking about movies and helping and moving Dave. Leave him here.”
Yasmina nodded and looked down submissively while catching her daughter’s eye. Her daughter pretended to stumble as she stood up. As her father bent to help her, Yasmina slammed the butt of the knife into his temple. He looked at her, shocked, then slumped to the floor.
“I do not intend to miss my reward for the sake of his stubborn...stupidity!” Yasmina growled as she and her daughter pulled her husband to the side. “Our children, my children will reap the benefits. And you...” She stared down at her husband. “Will have an apparently much needed nap. You had begun to hallucinate. You needed some help and as your wife it is my job to provide it.”
“Just in....” Dave moaned and Yasmina leaned over him. His eyes flickered open but he saw nothing before him. “Just in case?” he moaned again.
“Weasel Protocol is now engaged,” Sark repeated. “Full access is now granted. Proceed as desired. All questions will be answered to the best of my ability. Julian Sark will now transmit a message from--”
“What was your Project Christmas name?” Jack asked suddenly.
Sark blinked. “Justin. Justin Case.”
TBC at Chapter 2006: Part 1 Section 2 of 2