Chapter Two


"I'd thought it would be far longer before you and I saw one another again, Jack." Sloane poured himself a glass of the Beaujolais, then held up the bottle. "Would you like a glass? I assure you, it would be far more pleasant than the last occasion you and I drank together."

"Not for me." Jack's mouth bent into something that could almost have been a smile, but his eyes were hard. The streetlamps illuminated his stony face in bars of light as the limousine rushed through the dark Los Angeles streets. "And there's no need to extend this interview past its absolute necessity."

Sloane felt that he and Jack had issues to discuss - already long overdue -- but he knew it would be fruitless to raise them now. With Marcus Dixon sitting beside Jack, glowering and murderous, they could never have any true conversation. So he contended himself with saying, "On the phone, you mentioned the Waning Moon. Are you so sure that I know where it is?"

"Yes. I also know that you don't have the resources to get in and out easily. The Covenant's secretive nature means that only a very few of your operatives have the skills and the clearance for such an assignment, and you'll need more than a few." Jack raised his eyebrows, daring Sloane to contradict him. Sloane had no such plans; when armed with full, accurate information, Jack Bristow could be a dangerous man. "I also know that you have the key that unlocks the Waning Moon. It's a classic no-win scenario, unless we work together."

"We don't have to like it," Dixon added in his low, rumbling voice. "Which is fortunate, or else this wouldn't get done."

Sloane considered this for a few moments, rolling the wine from the back of his tongue to the front, then back again. "You're suggesting that I join the CIA on this mission. That I share the key, and we share the message."

"Exactly." Jack's face gave away nothing as he spoke, but the sudden tension in Dixon's shoulders told Sloane all: The CIA had been unaware that the Waning Moon contained a message. No matter. The release of this particular information could work to Sloane's purposes as well.

"I see the benefits, but I'm unconvinced," Sloane said. "Forgive my reticence. The last time I worked with the CIA, I was nearly executed for crimes I hadn't committed."

"Instead of the ones you had," Jack said. "However, I foresaw your caution. There is room in our entry scenario for two other Covenant agents, each of whom will play a specific role - needless to say, a highly monitored one. But they'll serve as your insurance."

Excellent, Sloane thought. Two agents were more than enough for his purposes. "I accept your terms. I'll be assisted by Julian Sark and Lauren Reed."

Jack's chin rose sharply, as though he'd been struck. "You can find someone else besides - that woman."

"And yet you consider Julian Sark an acceptable working companion?" Sloane smiled over the rim of his wineglass. "How times change."

"You know what Lauren Reed did to Michael Vaughn," Jack said. "And, by extension, to my daughter."

"I know what we've done to each other, Jack," Sloane replied. "And we work together, don't we? Sydney would do well to acquire the same thick skin." He didn't bother discussing Vaughn; he couldn't imagine that Jack's interest in the man's emotional state far outstripped his own, which was negligible. "If I understand your scenario correctly, the Covenant operatives are mine to choose, not yours."

It was Dixon who answered him. "You'll be given full details of the plan tomorrow, via computer transmission, at the same time the CIA team is briefed. You'll accept or decline. No negotiation, no alterations. Do you understand?"

Sloane kept his face impassive as he nodded. "Perfectly."

**

Marshall drummed his fingers on the briefing table, grinning at everyone and no one in particular. He shouldn't be so excited, he told himself - after all, he'd been on missions before. Two of them, which wasn't that many, but still, you couldn't really call him a rookie anymore. Could you?

"What's your definition of rookie?" he blurted out to Jack Bristow, who was setting up next to him.

"Everyone else," Jack replied.

Marshall wasn't really sure if that was a joke or not, but he laughed just in case.

As everyone got settled, Jack stood up and activated the detailed diagram of the Xanadu Casino that Marshall had helped put together last night. He hadn't quite been able to get the color just right - no time. But otherwise, it was photographic in its perfection. Marshall felt a moment's nostalgia for the post-college job interviews he'd had at Industrial Light & Magic; Lucasfilm would've killed for backdrops this good. Of course, they just would've put Jar Jar Binks in them.

"One word of warning," Jack said. "Everything we're now discussing, all the plans we're breaking down - they have been given to Arvin Sloane and two other Covenant operatives. Specifically, Julian Sark and Lauren Reed."

Man, Marshall thought, as he watched Vaughn's face go pale. Can't those guys afford any more agents?

"They're reviewing these plans at the same time we are," Jack continued. "I regret their necessity for this mission, but that's what we have here - necessity."

Weiss protested, "Okay, maybe we need eleven people for this. But I can go right out in the hall and grab a few more."

Jack shook his head. "It's not manpower we need. It's insurance."

"Oh, oh, right," Marshall said, fitting together the puzzle pieces one step ahead of the explanation. "We know the Covenant will try to get the Waning Moon. Better to have them working with us on our plan instead of, you know, trying to screw it up. Plus we can get the key from them this way, and any other way we'd have to go steal that too, and there's only so much stealing you want to do in any given week."

"Exactly," Jack said, though he didn't look as if he entirely agreed with Marshall's explanation. "I realize that working with these individuals is - problematic, for many of us. But it's our best option."

For a few moments, there was an awkward hush; Marshall realized he was expecting Vaughn to say something, but he didn't have any idea what.

It was Sydney who spoke instead. "We have to do what we have to do," she said. "So, give it to us."

**

"What we're looking at is the Xanadu Casino," Sloane said, as though Lauren didn't know that perfectly well already. The computer screen was the only illumination in the dark room he now called his office; she squinted and leaned in closer. "It's famous for several features. The Abora restaurant on the top floor of the 40-story hotel tower serves very fine Kobe beef - it's been written up in Gourmet. The Abyssinian Theatre features one of the last classic showgirl revues of Las Vegas.  A nightclub called The Pleasure Dome that takes up the fourth and fifth floors had more of a heyday a few decades ago, but still exists in a certain kind of overstuffed grandeur. But our interests will be focused on the gaming floor on ground level, and on the vaults beneath."

Julian's eyes met hers, glittering with an emotion that might have been contempt for Sloane's travelogue, anticipation of the impending mission or pure, simple lust. He moved between those emotions too quickly for her, too easily - as though they were cards he could shuffle with a sharp's accuracy, always falling into whatever order he chose.

But he was what she had now, and Lauren knew well that she could have ended up with far less.

"When our late colleague decided to stake his life on a game of cards, he simply offered the Waning Moon up as a valuable, the same way some men use their watches or jewelry. Although it is reasonable to assume that the Xanadu's management little understands what it has on its hands, they have identified the Waning Moon as an object of antiquity and worth." Sloane tapped his stylus once, and the computer simulation changed, revealing the vaults in detail. "Which means they've stored it here."

Lauren could see the walls veined with sensors, red and green lines as thick as cobwebs. "That looks complicated."

**

"This vault is as hardwired as any installation we've ever attempted to infiltrate." Jack motioned to the side of the screen, where a few numbers hovered in a catalog. "These numbers are the Xanadu's inventory of their vaults. Of course, most of what they keep down there is cash, which doesn't interest us."

"Speak for yourself," Weiss muttered. Jack didn't react, which was probably a good thing, but Sydney gave him a smile. That made the comment worthwhile, in Weiss' opinion.

Jack continued, "Although all the vaults are kept under high security, there are two of them that are the most guarded, the most secure. Those are the two that concern us. Marshall came up with a decryption program for the inventory, which I was able to use last night. That informed me that the Waning Moon is being kept here -" He tapped a vault near the north side of the casino, where a small yellow panel no doubt stood in for the Rambaldi device, then dragged his stylus all the way to the other side. "-and that several million dollars' worth of colored diamonds are being stored here."

"Colored diamonds?" Weiss glanced around the room and was relieved to see that everyone else looked as confused as he did. "Is this just sort of an interesting Fun Fact about the casino?"

To his astonishment, Jack smiled. "No, Mr. Weiss. We're reviewing their location because we're going to steal them."

**

"I always rather fancied the idea of being a jewel thief," Sark said, folding his arms. "Perhaps in the mold of Cary Grant. But why will I be making my debut in the profession for this?"

Sloane's withered face creased in a smile - one that genuinely looked fond, of either the plan or the planner. Briefly, Sark hoped that he would never be so soft about his sworn enemies. "It's only a diversion. We're going to commit two robberies instead of one. The colored diamonds will be stolen with the understanding that, in the process, certain alarms will be deliberately tripped. If the designated thief - that would be you, Julian - gets away with the diamonds, then they are yours as a token of the CIA's gratitude."

They're paying us to do this, Sark thought. Every time I think their idiocy has reached its nadir, I learn I'm wrong.

"If, on the other hand, you have to dispose of the diamonds as part of your escape, that is essentially irrelevant," Sloane continued. "The point is that you will distract the casino's security resources, and while most of them are diverted, another member of the team will steal the Waning Moon."

**

"Okay, I'm not worried about getting into the safe, once I'm in the vault," Sydney said, looking at the glowing yellow panel that represented her goal. "I am worried about getting into the vault. How am I supposed to deactivate all of those sensors?"

"You aren't," her father answered. "You're going to meet up with a security guard - who will be Agent Vaughn - on his way to transport chips into the vault. They make such transfers on the half-hour, every half-hour. When Vaughn makes his delivery, he will have one additional drum, supposedly containing chips; you'll be hiding inside. You wait there until the security alarms signal that the first robbery is underway; that should give you your chance to act."

Sydney knew exactly where her father had gotten that idea, and when their eyes met, she smiled. For one second, her father's eyes reflected her own happiness - but then they dimmed, and he looked down quickly at the plans again.

She could have kicked herself. He had, of course, gotten the idea from the mission to India they'd undertaken four years ago, when they'd hidden her mother in a barrel meant for grain. Despite the mission's many drawbacks - capture, torture, land mines, just to name a few - Sydney cherished it as one of her few memories of being with her entire family.  Well, her entire family except Nadia.

But remembering Mom meant remembering that she'd left them all again, a few months later. And remembering that she'd betrayed them both (and it felt as though it was both of them, not just her father) by having an affair with Sloane.

When her dad brought up a new schematic, Sydney decided to follow his lead and concentrate on the task at hand. Thinking about her mother and Sloane could only be a distraction. And make her want a shower really, really badly.

**

Sloane watched Sark's face shift from curiosity to a kind of imperious disdain. "And has the CIA offered any assistance for my theft of the diamonds? Or is that left to my own ingenuity?"

Such pride, Sloane thought. Were it matched with any less skill, he would have had Sark eliminated long ago. "Marcus Dixon and Marshall Flinkman will create a scenario that should allow you to get into the control room. Circumstances permitting, you may create the illusion that you've overpowered them."

"Illusion?" One of Sark's eyebrows rose.

Remembering an old satellite image of Marcus Dixon with a rifle in his hands, Sloane smiled mirthlessly. "I leave that to your own discretion."

Lauren Reed opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it again. Had she developed a fondness for those men, during her months of work in the CIA? Sloane could understand that - as long as it did not affect her work. "What about the key to the Waning Moon?"

"We'll have to show it to them at the beginning of the evening and allow Marshall Flinkman to verify its authenticity. At that time, Lauren, you will take possession of the key and remain in the company of Agent Weiss throughout the rest of the operation. Your team will have a series of small tasks to perform, but primarily, your job is to hold the key and remain with him until we're done."

Her wide eyes glittered with understanding. She had these moments - intuitive leaps - when hints of her true promise showed through. "You say 'we' as though you meant us. Just us."

"Perhaps we have to begin playing this game by the CIA's rules, Miss Reed," Sloane replied. "That doesn't mean we have to end that way."

**

Jack paused, studying the faces of those around him before continuing. "It would, of course, be foolhardy to assume that Arvin Sloane will keep his word. That's why we have an operation within the operation. Another member of the team has been chosen for monitoring purposes - someone neither Covenant nor CIA. That member's identity is known only to me. Primarily, this operative's task will be to make sure that nobody deviates from the plan. However, one more function will be performed - the theft from Lauren Reed of the key to the Waning Moon."

"Sounds a little more like it," Weiss said. "But won't she notice?"

"Not if this operative performs correctly - and you do as well, Mr. Weiss." Jack felt more uncertain discussing this than any other aspect of the mission. Not because he doubted the truth of what he was saying, or the strength of his plan - but because it touched on subjects that were, well, delicate. And not at all the kind of thing he preferred to discuss in CIA headquarters. "Marshall will duplicate the key or at least come up with the means of doing so during the next hour."

"More than enough time," Marshall chimed in.

"I don't doubt it. The key will be returned to Ms. Reed before the end of the night, so that if - by some unlikely chance - Sloane keeps his word, we won't be caught in the double-cross."

"And if we don't get the Waning Moon, we'll at least have the key," Sydney said. Jack resisted the urge to smile as he saw his daughter drawing the right conclusions, making the leap ahead. "Which means that if we need to go back in, we can do it without them."

"Exactly," Jack said. He felt an emotion not dissimilar to the one he'd known years ago, when she was in dance recitals and softball games: pride.

"This other operative -" Vaughn began. "You're not going to give us any clues about who this is?"

Jack felt that glimmer of uncertainty again, but stepped down on it, hard. "No, Mr. Vaughn. Although Sloane doesn't care for it - or, I suspect, Mr. Dixon -" Dixon's glower confirmed this. "-it's best for everyone concerned if that information belongs only to me."

**

"I'm rather possessive by nature," Katya said, studying Jack's face as they strolled through the Botanical Gardens. "But honestly. Asking me to help with CIA missions? It feels as though we're rushing things."

"This doesn't relate to - us," Jack said, weighing that last word carefully, but saying it all the same. His black trenchcoat and business suit gave him a formal air, altogether out of place as they strolled past a tree rich in multicolored blooms, past a fountain that splashed while children laughed nearby. "This is business, Katya."

"You talk like a brand-new agent." She breathed in the fresh air, in an effort to still her racing mind and concentrate. "In our business, personal commitment is professional commitment, and you know it. Admit that you trust someone, and it's a little like going to bed with them. Depending on the circumstances, it can be a far more intimate gesture."

The corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "You'd probably make me regret it if I suggested this inference was wishful thinking on your part."

"I probably would," she agreed. "Also, you'll notice that I haven't accepted your offer."

"Leaving me at the altar?"

"And now the metaphors are about marriage! Your ardor has left me quite breathless." Katya tried to keep from smiling, though she suspected she was doing a poor job. "Let's sit for a moment, shall we? I need to think, and I think best either sitting down or running like hell."

Jack laughed at that, just once, and looked surprised to have done so. But he took his place beside her on the bench - sitting closer than any stranger would have, but not as close as the lover he was.

Their one night together had been borne of a thousand emotions - some good, some bad, some too primal to categorize. Katya had been trying to sort through her feelings for her sister's ex-husband since the night they'd met, but once their lovemaking had begun, all her confusion had gone up in flame, burned away by the simple need to be near him. Her hunger for Jack surprised her and, on some levels, frightened her. It was not a part of anyone's plans - it could not serve her, and Katya had long since learned to fear emotions she couldn't use.

Was it like that for Jack? Katya understood that the passion she'd felt that night was something they had shared completely; of that she had no doubts. But she suspected - no, knew - that he was still in love with Irina.

That was his misfortune, but Katya was determined that it should not be hers. Either Jack Bristow would need to find a way to fall for two women, or she would need to make very, very certain that she didn't fall for him.

But Katya had already realized that this would be easier said than done.

A teenaged boy threw a brilliant blue Frisbee through the air; an Alsatian ran across the lawn and leapt for it, its body twisting in the morning sunshine. The boy laughed and clapped for his dog. "So carefree," she murmured. "I can't even remember what that was like."

Jack breathed out, not quite a sigh. "I can remember when Sydney was like that. I wish I could have saved that much for her, at least."

"You did your best." Katya wanted to touch his arm, but resisted the urge. "If I conduct this errand for you, what will I receive in return?"

"My gratitude," Jack replied.

She tilted her head, studying him. "I might ask for something you don't want to give."

"I doubt that." He had not meant it as an entendre, Katya thought, but as soon as he had spoken, their eyes met. The heat of their night together flashed between them, just for a moment.

Jack Bristow's gratitude. Her own weakness. The endgame. The sheer, simple delight of possibly being able to rub Arvin Sloane's nose in the dirt.

Katya said, "I'm in, just as long as --"

"What?"

She decided against setting any real conditions. No need to try and turn Jack's need to her advantage - not today. Not yet. With an impish smile, she joked, "As long as I don't have to blow anything up."

To her surprise, Jack's face was completely straight as he replied, "That's Mr. Sark's job."

**

"Explosives?" Sark pursed his lips, slightly impressed despite himself. "I must say, Bristow doesn't do things small, does he?"

"It's purely a diversionary tactic," Sloane said. For all his own transparent, contrarian fondness for Jack Bristow, he looked displeased to hear Sark praising him. "The Tsunami Casino across the street has a structure known s the Pagoda of Light that's already earmarked for demolition in two weeks. The premises should be deserted. You'll merely be anticipating its deconstruction."

Sark considered making a joke about Derrida, decided against it. He turned a lock of Lauren's hair between his fingers as he said, "This, I presume, is to increase the chaos outside and facilitate our final escape from the facility."

"Naturally. Of course, that chaos will work to our purposes as well as to theirs." Sloane smiled mirthlessly. "We'll need to comply to Bristow's plan as closely as possible until such time as Sydney has emerged from the vault with the Waning Moon."

"But we can't make the escape we have planned without deviating from the plan," Lauren protested, then hesitated. "Unless -"

Sark finished the thought for her. "Unless we bring in an asset of our own."

**

Jack said, "Almost every possible double-cross the Covenant operatives could attempt would involve a fourth party. Therefore, it is highly likely they'll try to bring someone in. At this point, we cannot guess who this player is or what steps in our process would be disrupted. All of you should be on the lookout for that individual throughout the heist; alert me and anyone else you can if you have a suspect. Card imagery should be easy to work into a conversation in the casino, so refer to the Covenant operative as 'the Ace of Diamonds.'"

Vaughn resisted the urge to take notes. He'd heard plans more complicated - granted, not often, but occasionally - and executed them without difficulty; now, he felt as though it was all too complicated to be trusted.

No - that it was too complicated for him to be trusted to handle it.

Why had Dixon allowed him to do this? Even now, Dixon was leaning forward, maybe to suggest that Vaughn do something else - and Vaughn couldn't decide if that would be the final insult or a blessing.

Instead, Dixon said, "You're sure the mayhem from the destruction of the Pagoda of Light will provide sufficient cover for our exit? They're going to be looking for the jewelry thieves, at the very least - which concerns me, since I'm one of them."

"On its own, it might not," Jack admitted. Vaughn did not find this reassuring. "However, if we have VIP passes, we'll be able to commandeer private transportation away. Casino security won't be looking for the thieves in that crowd, and they'll be under strict orders to cause us no trouble."

Marshall said, "Am I forging up some VIP passes, then? Got the ol' laminator heated up and ready to go."

"No need," Jack said. "Several dozen of them will be stored in a locker that a security guard should be able to access easily." Vaughn froze as Jack nodded in his direction. "Normally, it would be difficult for a guard to exit with them, but if you wait until after the theft alarms go off, Mr. Vaughn, you should have no trouble in the confusion."

Confusion is a big part of this plan, Vaughn thought. Just as well - that's about all I have going for me right now. He was grateful that he had nothing more critical to do, and hated himself for the feeling.

Jack turned back to the diagram and pointed to the glass-walled stories that comprised the Pleasure Dome nightclub. "My role in this, besides serving as coordinator, will be to meet the Xanadu's owner, gain his trust and make certain that no changes to the present security arrangements have been made. Also, however unlikely it may be, we must ensure that this man has no connection to Rambaldi's followers. After I do that, I'll set up a central base of operations in the Pleasure Dome. Luckily for us, that club has been closed since a gas-line problem last week. Its location is ideal for our purposes."

"Gas lines?" Weiss frowned. "What's up with that?"

Vaughn could see the disdain in Jack's expression; disdain was the emotion of Jack's that Vaughn was most familiar with. "Apparently the club features some sort of fire-and-ice theme," he said. "I'm not sure it's been redecorated since the 1960s."

Sydney leaned forward, her hair falling across her shoulders. Vaughn imagined brushing it back, then forced himself not to think about that any more. "I've been counting. With Sloane, Lauren, Sark, me, Vaughn, Marshall, Dixon, Weiss and you, plus this mystery operative of yours - that only makes ten people. I thought you said we'd need eleven."

"We do," Jack said. "In order to coordinate a number of functions, we'll need to establish someone as a guest in the Xanadu. This guest should appear to be extremely wealthy, extremely eccentric, extremely temperamental. Someone who will make extraordinary demands, and have them fulfilled."

After a moment, Vaughn said, "Sloane could do that, right?"

"No, he couldn't. Nor could our silent operative." Jack hesitated, then added, "High-roller guests undergo more scrutiny than anyone else in a casino's operations. Not for security reasons - for financial ones. This person has to be the most carefully chosen of us all."

**

Sydney explained, "They want to know if high rollers can really bankroll the bets they're making. And so they run the names and photos through every database - I mean, everything, domestic, international, you name it. Anyone with more than the most minor criminal record will show up on face-recognition software. According to Dad, pretty much the only way to be absolutely sure that the Xanadu won't catch our high-roller as a fake is to find somebody who has no previous identity. In other words - someone whose previous identity was wiped out in the Witness Protection Program."

Will stared at her. "Seriously?"

**

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