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(Denpasar. Dixon looks at Sydney. Up on the balcony, Vaughn orders the CIA shooter standing next to him.)
VAUGHN: Take position over there! But cover fire only! I don't want Bristow hurt!
(Vaughn runs toward the meeting room. The guard takes position on a grassy hill behind them, gun aimed. Inside the room, Dixon aims his gun at Sydney who tries to look away. From up above, Vaughn runs up and throws a grenade/explosive down. It explodes. Dixon takes cover behind a chair. Sark and Sydney fall to the ground. The CIA shooter starts shooting. Dixon's man starts shooting back.)
SYDNEY: I couldn't make the switch! Sark's got the real ampule!
(Sark runs out. Vaughn is already on his tail.)
VAUGHN: I'm on him! Head to the extraction point!
(Sydney runs out. Dixon is shooting at the CIA guy in the bushes. He looks at his guard.)
DIXON: Cover me!
(Dixon runs after her. Sark runs through the crowd, pushing people out of his way. Vaughn is running parallel to him from up above in the stands. Sydney runs. Dixon runs after her. She gets to the gate.)
DIXON: Freeze! Turn around! Hands on your head!
(Sark runs and gets to a gate. Vaughn runs and jumps down to ground level. He grabs Sark and smacks his head against the gate, knocking him out. Back at the other exit, Sydney has her hands up.)
DIXON: I don't want to hurt you.
(Sydney kicks his gun away and kicks him in the stomach. At the other exit, Vaughn handcuffs an unconscious Sark to the gate.)
VAUGHN: Freelancer, are you at the extraction point yet?
(Sydney kicks Dixon. He grabs her leg and flips her to the ground. Vaughn goes through Sark's jacket and finds the ampule.)
VAUGHN: Eagle Eye, I got the ampule!
(Back in LA in a field ops office, Weiss watches on a monitor.)
WEISS: I got you five by--
VAUGHN: I need a twenty on Freelancer!
WEISS: You cannot leave Sark until he's secured!
VAUGHN: Dammit, where is she!
(Sydney jumps up and kicks Dixon in the stomach. They exchange punches and then Sydney grabs Dixon's arm and twists it back. With his other hand he takes a knife from his sock and reaches back. He cuts Sydney's right upper arm. He pushes her back against the gate. She falls. He grabs his gun and points it at her. She looks at the blood on her arm. He sees it. Vaughn come up from behind and knocks Dixon on his head. He falls to the ground.)
(Sydney appears to be in shock.)
(She runs in one direction to the extraction point while Vaughn takes off in the other. He runs up to the Sark gate. The handcuffs are dangling from the gate door. Sark's gone.)
(In Los Angeles, a payphone rings. Will picks it up.)
DEEP THROAT: You said you were back on the story. Why haven't you published?
WILL: I need something from you.
(In a garage, Will sits in Jack's car, talking.)
JACK: You're going to tell your contact you want a meeting. A meeting to take place at your contact's discretion.
WILL: Why would he lead me to you knowing that you'd want to flush him out?
JACK: He only told you my name so you would realize that my threat to you was a bluff. That I would never hurt Sydney, even if you continue your investigation. I didn't expect you'd have the guts to contact me.
WILL: Oh, well, I'll assume that's a compliment.
JACK: When you ask for the meeting, your contact will refuse.
WILL: What do I say?
JACK: You'll say...
WILL: I know something you'll be interested in... I know about the circumference.
WILL: Okay, what the hell's the circumference?
JACK: It's not your concern.
WILL: I gotta know what I'm talking about.
JACK: No, you don't. Just tell him if he wants to know more, he'll have to meet.
WILL: Look, just meet with me or find somebody else because I tell ya, I'm just sick of all this cloak and dagger crap.
DEEP THROAT: Very well, Mr. Tippin. You'll be contacted with instructions.
(The line goes dead.)
(In London, the Alliance meets.)
RAMOND: I'm sure I speak for our distinguished friend from Los Angeles when I say how much we appreciate your coming on such short notice. I know it reflects your understanding that the business before us today is as difficult as it is vital to the very survival of our organization. I understand you have some prepared remarks. Please.
SLOANE: Thank you, Ramond. Before I begin, should we wait until all the other members have arrived?
RAMOND: That won't be necessary.
SLOANE: I feel rather awkward sitting here asking you to allow my wife to die of cancer.
CHRISTOPHE: Arvin, the agreement is simple. People with any unauthorized information regarding SD-6, or any SD cell, must be eliminated.
SLOANE: My wife is being eliminated. By cancer. And the pending bone marrow biopsy report will merely inform us as to the number of days she has left. Days she will spend in an SD-6 hospital where information can be contained. Should you choose to intervene, naturally I'll be forced to resign. Something I believe you should factor into your decision. Now... in the past twelve years, SD-6 has made for the Alliance over four hundred million dollars in arms sales alone. Plus another three hundred million from various transactions with Anini Hassan. In addition, we have acquired more Rambaldi artifacts than all the other SD cells combined.
RAMOND: Your service to the Alliance is unquestioned. With one exception. We know you had our colleague Jean Briault assassinated.
SLOANE: You know about Poole, don't you? That's why he's not here. You know that Khasinau had him in his pocket!
RAMOND: Our former colleague has, under duress, acknowledged his connection with Mr. Khasinau and his manipulation of you that led to Briault's unfortunate passing. Faced with a breach of this magnitude, we have reevaulated our position regarding peaceful coexistence with Khasinau.
SLOANE: I am relieved. And gratified. He is an enemy worthy of our combined resources.
CHRISTOPHE: You must have a vision of how all this is supposed to play out. I am assuming that your plan ends in assassination?
SLOANE: Yes, that's right. Assassination of Khasinau.
CHRISTOPHE: Then your plan must change. If we abduct Khasinau or worst yet kill him, most certainly we will never have an opportunity to learn what it is he is after, or how he works, or with whom. Put away your need for revenge. Find out what you can. Bring us substantial intel and we will take your wife's situation under advisement.
(SD-6. Sydney walks in and slowly approaches Dixon who is at his desk.)
SYDNEY: Hey. You miss me?
DIXON: So, how was uh...
SYDNEY: Palm Springs. Perfect.
DIXON: Right, right. The desert.
SYDNEY: I actually read a book.
DIXON: You didn't go with anyone?
SYDNEY: I asked Will and Francie but they both had work. It was good, actually, being alone. I needed time to decompress.
DIXON: Mmm. We've reacquired Khasinau's trail.
SYDNEY: We have?
DIXON: Mm-hmm. We apprehended Sark in Denpasar. Turns out there was a second ampule. We intercepted a communique detailing Sark's plan to buy it from a splinter group of the Raslak jihad.
SYDNEY: Did you get the ampule?
DIXON: No. Sark didn't have it on him.
(Dixon stares at her suspciously.)
SYDNEY: I'm going to read the op tech report. Catch up on what I missed.
(She starts walking away.)
DIXON: For the record, I did miss you.
(Sydney smiles widely. Another agent walks by and bumps into her right side. Because of the cut on her arm, Sydney gasps in pain and keeps walking. Dixon watches her and seems to realize that he was the one who cut her arm in Denpasar.)
(Morning. Francie is about to leave the house. She opens the door and sees Jack standing there.)
FRANCIE: Oh. Mr. Bristow.
JACK: Good morning, Francie. I'm just here to give Sydney a ride to work.
FRANCIE: Sure, come on in. I've got to go. Bye.
SYDNEY: Bye, Francie!
(Francie leaves. In the kitchen...)
JACK: Kretchmer briefed me on Denpasar. It was a sloppy operation. Your pursuit of your mother is clouding your judgement. You can't afford to continue and at the moment, I can't protect you. I haven't regained Sloane's trust. He still hasn't reinstated me to active duty. I'm not even privy to his briefings.
SYDNEY: Then you haven't heard that SD-6 got Sark.
(Interrogation room at SD-6. Sark sits behind a table, handcuffed to a chair. Sloane enters.)
SLOANE: While this might not seem like a particularly good day for you, you'd be surprised. We have people here trained in torture and they are so good at what they do, I sometimes take them for granted. But I'm not in the mood for torture. No. There's been enough torture lately. (sits down) We've been somewhat curious about your employer... Alexander Khasinau.
SARK: Well... you're in good company.
SLOANE: Yes. But we have you.
SLOANE: I need to find your employer.
SARK: You raise an interesting point. Given my current state of affairs, it doesn't seem as if my affiliation with Mr. Khasinau is long for this earth.
SLOANE: We both know you're a very clever young man so we don't need to play games. You're valuable to me. You can help me find Khasinau. I'm valuable to you... obviously.
SARK: I understand I am in no position to demand anything, but for the record, I'm far more comfortable talking over a glass of Chateau Petreuse... '82.
(Sydney, Francie and Will watch a soap opera and eat lunch at Sydney and Francie's. Will is off in his own world while Sydney and Francie face the television.)
SYDNEY: Why does that guy have such a guilty look on his face?
FRANCIE: Yesterday Ginger told Rod that Gavin was Ruby's pimp but Rod didn't even know that Ruby was a prostitute.
SYDNEY: Who's Gavin?
FRANCIE: Ruby's father.
WILL: Huh? Hi. Oh, what's, uh, what happened to Ruby's dad?
FRANCIE: Where are you?
(Will's cell rings.)
WILL: I'm sorry. I just got this work thing... hello?
(He walks away to have some privacy.)
DEEP THROAT: Listen carefully, Mr. Tippin. I'm about to give you instructions on where to meet. They must be followed to the letter.
(Vaughn's office at the CIA. Weiss enters and closes the door behind him.)
WEISS: Guess who just tore me a new one. Devlin. Now ask me why.
WEISS: Because I took a bullet for you today. They want to know why you left Sark when he wasn't secured yet. I said I told you I misread the feed from the satellite. I thought the recovery team was nearby.
VAUGHN: Thank you.
WEISS: I lied to save your ass.
VAUGHN: You didn't have to do that.
WEISS: No, that's what partners do for each other.
VAUGHN: I said thanks.
WEISS: I don't want your thanks. I want it to stop.
VAUGHN: Look, Sydney's my responsibility--
WEISS: Mike, I'm not going to trivialize your relationship with her by calling it a crush--
VAUGHN: A crush?
WEISS: But whatever it is, it's starting to affect me and if that sounds selfish to you, I was hoping to retire fully vested. I know you genuinely care for her. I do, too. But there is a line that we have been sworn not to cross. We're about a mile past that.
VAUGHN: I don't know how to be Sydney's handler without making it personal.
WEISS: Figure out a way.
(In the interrogation room, Sloane still sits across from Sark. An agent pours wine into a second glass and then leaves.)
SARK: I must admit, I was only half-serious when I asked for the Petreuse. I just assumed after what Khasinau has done -- sending men into this facility, murdering some of your men -- that, regardless of what I said, you'd split my belly with a hunting knife.
SLOANE: Do you think that's the kind of activity the CIA engages in?
SARK: Not the CIA.
SLOANE: Khasinau sent you to Moscow to negotiate with K-Directorate. He trusts you. You know things.
SARK: I suppose I better know things. However, to be clear, my employer hardly tells me everything.
(Sloane picks up his wine glass and swirls the liquid around. He brings it up to his face and sniffs it.)
(Then he takes a long drink. Sark watches in envy. Sloane slurps it down.)
SLOANE: We will collaborate, you and I. You will lead me to Khasinau. Understood?
SARK: May I?
(Sloane stands up with the other glass and holds it in front of Sark.)
(Sloane brings it up to Sark's lips and lets him drink all of it.)
(Conference room with Sloane, Sydney, Dixon and Marshall.)
SLOANE: As it turns out, our Mr. Sark is a very cooperative young man. We have received independent confirmation for the intel he's provided thus far. It seems that Mr. Sark's loyalty to Khasinau disappeared the moment he was kidnapped.
DIXON: So, what's the move?
SLOANE: Sark wasn't scheduled to make contact with Khasinau until Thursday night. They've arranged to meet at a dinner club in Paris that Khasinau owns. That's where you're going.
SYDNEY: Is this an abduction?
SLOANE: No. Khasinau is expecting the ampule. According to Sark, Khasinau needs it -- the solution in it -- in order to read a Rambaldi document that they believe contains text written in Rambaldi's now famous invisible ink. This Rambaldi page will be at the Paris location. Sark will be provided with a conterfeit ampule which he will pass on to Khasinau. Your job is to steal this Rambaldi page from his office and replace it with a counterfeit.
SYDNEY: Wait a minute. I don't understand. We've been hunting Khasinau for months--
SLOANE: Sydney, I know you have a personal stake in this--
SYDNEY: We're going to be in the same room as the guy and you want us to go after a document? This is ridiculous. Let's just go after the son of a bitch.
SLOANE: Sydney, no one wants Khasinau more than I do. No one. Sark has provided us with detailed plans of the club -- its operation and location and the vault. Luckily, an employee of the club is about to call in sick. It's been arranged for you to take her place. Marshall will provide you with the op tech.
(Sloane leaves. Marshall stands and looks at Sydney.)
MARSHALL: Um... uh, how's your... your voice?
(Under a bridge, Will drives up where Jack is waiting by his car. Will gets out.)
WILL: I was contacted.
JACK: Were you followed?
JACK: Tell me exactly what precautions you took.
WILL: I did what you told me. I didn't use my blinkers, I avoided the inner lanes, I circled the block every three miles.
JACK: What did your contact say?
WILL: He wants to meet.
JACK: Good. You'll be picked up by men in a van. They'll be armed.
(Will swallows. He looks like he's really not ready for this, and kinda like he might be sick on Jack's shoes.)
JACK: You'll be blindfolded and taken to another location.
WILL: Okay. I know what that feels like.
JACK: But they will not hurt you. They need you.
WILL: And they're going to take me to Deep Throat.
JACK: Or someone who works for him.
(Jack reaches inside his car and gives Will a leather jacket.)
JACK: There's a miniature transmitter sewn in the lining.
WILL: What if they frisk me?
JACK: It's too small to be detected. What are the terms?
JACK: Time, place, oral or visual tell?
WILL: There's a street corner. I'm supposed to be reading the business section of a local paper.
WILL: Tomorrow. Seven o'clock.
(Self-storage. Vaughn waits. Sydney walks in.)
SYDNEY: Please tell me that my countermission is to grab Khasinau.
VAUGHN: It's not.
SYDNEY: Well, it should be. I'm going to be this close to him and nobody wants me to take him into custody.
VAUGHN: SD-6 must not ge the Rambaldi document. Now, in transit to your extraction point, you'll replace what Dixon took from the vault with this.
SYDNEY: That's it? Just switch the pages?
VAUGHN: Yes. These are counterfeit. Do you have any questions about the mission?
(Sydney looks at him, surprised at how serious he's being.)
SYDNEY: No, I do not. Vaughn... what's going on?
VAUGHN: Nothing. Do you have any questions?
SYDNEY: Yes. I want to know what's going on with you. You're acting not like yourself.
VAUGHN: I'm fine. But I should go. Good luck.
(In Emily's hospital room, Sloane wrings out a cloth from a basin.)
EMILY: I couldn't go through this without you...
(Sloane sits on the edge of her bed and dabs her forehead with the cloth.)
SLOANE: Dr. Levin and I discussed your pain management.
(She covers his hand with hers.)
EMILY: Arvin... I don't want to be here in the hospital when--
(Sloane tries to get up, to not talk about it, but she holds him down.)
EMILY: I want to be home. Promise me.
SLOANE: I promise.
(In Paris, at the club, Dixon and Sydney walk up to the guard. Sydney's wearing a shoulder-length red wig while Dixon's in a suit.)
(Dixon talks to the guard in French. He tells the guard that at eight o'clock Sydney's due to give a performance inside and that he's her manager. He raises his arms for the metal detector. It squeals. Dixon takes out a cell from his pocket.)
DIXON: C'est mon telephone.
GUARD: Tres bien. Madame?
(She raises her arms. The detector squeals. Sydney dramatically shows a ring that's on her finger.)
(Flashback to the conference room. Marshall holds up the ring.)
MARSHALL: Or you could say it's a friendship ring. Something to signify platonic intimacy between two girls, or a guy and a girl. Which a lot of people say is impossible, that a guy and a girl can--but we're friends.
(Sydney looks up.)
MARSHALL: Right? Okay, this actually is a cardiac event recorder. Now Khasinau's vault uses biometric access control. No code, no key, nothing. So this will detect heartbeat signatures. In Khasinau's case, a very unique one because this guy suffers from atrial fibrillation. Now what you want to do is kind of put this on or, you know, on top of his thorax or anywhere that you might be a pulse and then it will transfer the ECG data to Dixon's cell phone who will use that to fool the biometric sensor and uh, voila! Open sesame.
(The guard lets Sydney and Dixon through. They thank him.)
(In the club, Sark sits at a table in front of the stage and orders a bottle of wine from the waiter. My knowledge of French numbers is limited but I think it was an 1870 bottle. Or 1970. Or 1860.)
(In Jack's car in Paris, Jack gives Will a bottle of red liquid.)
JACK: Take this.
WILL: What's this?
JACK: A time-release methampethamine to counteract the effect of sodium pentothal.
WILL: Sodium pentothal. Like a truth serum. They're going to give me that?
JACK: I would.
JACK: Don't worry. I'll be monitoring you the whole time.
(Will downs the entire vial.)
JACK: You have your cover story straight?
WILL: They're going to kill me, aren't they?
JACK: If they wanted that, you would have been dead long ago. They need you because you can publish the story and because you know someone who knows about the circumference. I wouldn't let you do this if I thought the odds were in favor of your murder.
JACK: After tonight, I'll have a recording of your interrogator's voice. Possibly even of your contact's. If he's foolish enough to make an appearance. Either way, we have a lead to trace.
(Will gets out of the car.)
(Khasinau walks in the club with a few of his men. He goes to Sark's table.)
KHASINAU: Ah, Mr. Sark.
SARK: Mr. Khasinau.
KHASINAU: Ah. I heard you have some trouble in Denpasar. It's good to have you back safe.
SARK: Thank you.
KHASINAU: Can I see the ampule?
(Sark takes it out of his jacket and puts it on the table.)
KHASINAU: Shall we proceed to my office?
(Flashback to the interrogation room and the wine.)
SLOANE: Make sure you keep Khasinau at his table. And in case you have any thoughts of warning him, I would advise against it. We'll be taking precautions.
(At the table.)
SARK: I took the liberty of ordering.
(The waiter comes with the wine.)
KHASINAU: Yes. Okay, good idea. We celebrate your success first.
(They pour the wine. The piano starts playing. Sark and Khasinau clink glasses and settle in to watch the lounge singer... who is Sydney. She sits on top of the piano and sings.)
SYDNEY: You made me leave my happy home / You took my love and now you're gone /
(Khasinau, pleased with the "scenery" raises his glass to Sydney.)
SYDNEY: Since I fell for you / My life brings such misery and pain /
(She starts walking off the stage, microphone in her hand.)
SYDNEY: I know I'll never be the same / Since I fell for you /
(Sydney walks to their table and runs her hand up Sark's chest and up his neck. He looks down. She moves to Khasinau.)
SYDNEY: It's too bad and it's too sad /
(She runs her ring along his chest where Khasinau's heart is. She smiles at him.)
SYDNEY: But I'm in love with you...
(Dixon's in the club near the office. He watches his cell phone face which reads 60%.)
DIXON: Almost got it, Syd. A couple more seconds.
(On the street corner, Will reads his paper. A man comes up to him from behind with a gun pointed at him. A van pulls up.)
MAN: Get in the van, Mr. Tippin!
(Will gets in.)
DIXON: All right, I got it. I'm heading to the vault, Syd!
(Inside the club, Sydney keeps singing.)
SYDNEY: I / Well I-I-I guess I'll never see the light /
(Khasinau smiles at Sark sheepishly as Sydney walks back to the stage. Sark smiles at him.)
SYDNEY: I get the blues almost every night / Since I fell for you.
(She sits back on the piano. Khasinau raises his glass to her again and everyone claps.)
(Dixon enters the office. The guard protests but Dixon stops him and punches and kicks him. The guard falls. He enters the office.)
(In the club, Sydney bows a little. A man comes up to Khasinau.)
GUY: We have the young man from Los Angeles.
KHASINAU: Mm-hmm. Proceed.
(In the back of the club, Sydney sees Will standing next to a guy who is holding his arm. They yank Will away. Sydney panics.)
(Dixon enters the vault.)
(Sydney talks on the microphone and apologizes, in French, to the audience. She says that there's some technical difficulties and asks for their patience and a couple of a minutes. She thanks them and leaves the stage.)
(Signature confirmed, Dixon opens the vault and switches the pages.)
DIXON: We're good, Syd. I'll meet you out back in two minutes.
(In a room in the club, Will sits in a chair looking nervous. Three men are there with him. The lead guy takes a syringe.)
LEAD: Your arm, please.
WILL: So are you the person I've been talking to?
(He rolls up his sleeve.)
LEAD: He will be along shortly. First, we have questions.
(Will watches as a needle is inserted into his arm.)
WILL: What's that, like, sodium pentothal?
LEAD: Yes. So that our conversation will go smoothly.
(Jack listens from his car.)
LEAD: Tell me, Mr. Tippin, how did you find out about the circumference?
(Will's head sort of lolls a bit. He's reacting from the drugs.)
WILL: I heard about it...
LEAD: From who?
LEAD: A name, Mr. Tippin!
WILL: The name...? Oh-kayy...
(His big eyes rest on the gun that one of the other guys is holding. Sydney then bursts in and takes down one guy. She runs to the other guy and kicks his hand. The gun flies in the air. She catches it and hits him with it. She takes down the third and stops. She looks at Will. He focuses on Sydney for a second and only then does it register.)
WILL: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Oh, my God. What the hell is going on?!
(Sydney runs up to him.)
SYDNEY: How did you get here? Will! Listen to me, how did you get here?!
WILL: What the hell is happening here?
WILL: I was following a story...
(In his car, Jack rips out his earphones angrily and drives off to extract them. In the room, Sydney hears a man yelling outside. She grabs Will.)
SYDNEY: We have to go! Come on, come on!
(In the club, Sydney and Will run up the stairs together.)
SYDNEY: Dixon, I can't get to you! I'll see you at the extraction point!
DIXON: Copy that. I'll meet you in thirty minutes.
(Khasinau and Sark enter his office and see the guard down.)
(Syd and Will walk through the club. One of Khasinau's men see Will and points his gun at them.)
(He starts shooting. Will and Sydney take cover behind the bar. The glass behind them shatters. Khasinau turns. Sydney covers Will's head. She sits up and shoots the goon with her gun. Will's eyes become the size of saucers as he not only sees Sydney shoot a gun with a pink wig no less, but he's being shot at.)
SYDNEY: We're going out the front!
(She stands up, Will at her side. The goon comes closer. She pushes a table at him which hits his knees. She throws a chair at him and kicks him. Another goon comes from behind and points a gun at Will's head.)
GOON2: Get down!
WILL: Okay, okay!
(Will gets down on his knees. Sydney turns and sees this. She starts running. She jumps on the chair seat, then jumps on a table top. She flies in the air, turning and does a spinning kick at the goon's neck. The goon falls. Will just watches in shock.)
SYDNEY: Come on! Let's go!
(She takes Will and runs out. They climb the stairs. Another goon comes down the stairs. Sydney kicks his arm and throws him, head-first, into the railing on the opposite side. Sydney keeps running. Will stands there, staring at the fallen goon, horrified. Sydney runs back and yanks him by the lapels on his jacket.)
(She yanks him out the club. Outside, Jack pulls up in his car.)
JACK: Get in!
WILL: Oh, Jack, thank God!
SYDNEY: HE CAME HERE WITH YOU!?
JACK: Get down!
(He sees a goon behind them. Will and Sydney get down while Jack shoots the goon behind them. Will and Sydney climb in the car and they drive off. In the car, Will sits in the back. Jack talks on his transmitter.)
JACK: It's Bristow. I need a full identity switch and cover escort, ETA, three minutes.
SYDNEY: How could you bring him here!
JACK: For his protection, we should not discuss this.
SYDNEY: You call this PROTECTION?
JACK: There are superceding considerations you do not understand here!
WILL: Who the hell are you people?
(They enter the safehouse. Jack walks up to another agent there.)
JACK: This one has no field experience. He needs a makeover.
(Will looks dazed.)
SYDNEY: Go with him, it's okay!
(The French agent starts taking Will up the stairs.)
WILL: Which part of this is "okay"?
(They get to the upstairs. Sydney stands down below at the foot of the flight, watching Will.)
FRENCH AGENT: Take off your clothes!
(Sydney stares. French agent closes the door.)
FRENCH AGENT: Pay attention!
(The agent turns to the other agents there and tells them, in French, that they don't have a lot of time and must hurry. Will starts stripping.)
FRENCH AGENT: Your name is Patrice Lafont. You were born in Nantes. Where you lived until you were five.
(At the foot of the steps, Sydney and Jack.)
SYDNEY: How could you bring him into this?
JACK: I didn't. He was looking into Danny's death. Sloane found out. I had to step in to keep security section from executing him.
SYDNEY: Why didn't you tell me?
JACK: Someone, possibly in intelligence, contacted him. Very highly placed. They've been steering him toward SD-6. They told him about me. That's why we're here. Pursuing a lead to track his source.
SYDNEY: Well, no one from intelligence was in that club. The people who were interrogating Will, they work for Khasinau!
JACK: (realizing) He wants to bring down SD-6. He tried and failed with Cole... articles in the press would be less painful but equally effective...
SYDNEY: None of this changes the fact that you were using Will!
JACK: He was already being used! It's no coincidence that out of all the reporters in the world, he was chosen.
SYDNEY: What are you saying?
JACK: For some reason, Khasinau is trying to expose us.
(Will comes down the stairs in a black wig and different clothes. Sydney starts crying when seeing that her two worlds are coming together. Will looks at her for a moment. Both of them in ridiculous wigs. Sydney hugs him, crying.)
SYDNEY: You cannot tell anyone about this. Not anyone. Do you promise me?
(The French agents pull him away.)
SYDNEY: I'll see you at home.
(Back in LA, Sloane is getting some work done in his office and talking to Emily on speaker phone from her hospital bed.)
EMILY: The Daniels are planning to fly out to visit next week.
SLOANE: I think that's a very good idea, sweetheart.
EMILY: Bold of me to make plans for next week, don't you think?
SLOANE: Come on, honey.
EMILY: Arvin, you have to keep your sense of humor.
SLOANE: I suppose I do.
(His phone beeps and shows that on the other line he has an incoming call from Alain Christophe.)
EMILY: Honey, are you there?
SLOANE: Yes, I am. Listen, darling, I need to take this phone call, all right?
EMILY: See you soon, my love.
SLOANE: Yes. Yes, I will.
(Sloane hangs up with Emily and picks up the line.)
CHRISTOPHE: Nice work in Paris. You have deprived Khasinau of a very valuable prize.
SLOANE: Yes. Thank you.
CHRISTOPHE: The Alliance has decided, due to your wife's illness, her condition... your request has been approved. Your wife will be spared.
(At night, Dixon is in bed with his wife. She's sleeping, but he's wide awake. He stares at the ceiling and has a flashback to when he was shot in Argentina.)
SYDNEY: Base ops, this is Freelancer!
DIXON: Freelancer...? (Dixon rolls over in bed.)
(The next day in the office, Dixon turns.)
DIXON: I want to ask you something and I need you to give me a straight answer.
SYDNEY: Of course.
DIXON: I know your arm is hurt. How'd it happen?
SYDNEY: I was hiking in the San Jacinto mountains above Palm Springs and I lost my footing on a scree. I suddenly found myself in this rock slide. I gashed it pretty bad.
DIXON: Well, you should have told me. We're supposed to let each other know about our injuries. Full disclosure.
SYDNEY: Full disclosure.
(She smiles and turns. Sydney looks worried.)
(Sloane's office. Sydney and Dixon stand before him.)
SYDNEY: Sark must have tipped off Khasinau. It's the only way to explain why his men came after me.
SLOANE: Well, that complication notwithstanding, the mission was a success.
DIXON: But... we lost Sark.
SLOANE: When Sark arrived at the club and Khasinau's team failed to detect a tracking device, he must have thought I was bluffing. Now, the truth is that I was prepared for such a possibility.
(Flashback when Sloane gave Sark the glass of wine.)
SLOANE: (voice over) When he asked for a bottle of wine, I had security section lace it with a nonlethal dose of a radioactive isotope.
(Sark drinks up. Back in the office.)
SLOANE: We have a geosynchronous satellite in orbit designed to detect particle decay. We have been tracking Sark since he left the club.
DIXON: Where is he?
SLOANE: He's on a transatlantic flight. Hopefully with Khasinau. It's too soon to project his destination but when he lands we'll vector a team to his position. That's all. You can go. Sydney, stay for a minute, would you?
SLOANE: Emily told me that you visited her at the hospital last week and that you had a nice conversation.
SYDNEY: Yes, we did.
SLOANE: I know that some of the things she said indicated her awareness of what we do here and that usually such a breach would proscribe a deliberate course of action. You know that better than anyone. Because she's not likely to last a week...
(His voice breaks. He's close to tears.)
SLOANE: I was able to sustain a reprieve.
SYDNEY: I'm glad.
SLOANE: Yes, I knew you would be, that's why I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Emily... and to me. It was your duty to report Emily to security section. You didn't. And that's more than I did for you.
(Self-storage. Vaughn and Sydney.)
VAUGHN: Please tell me you're not actually feeling sympathy for Arvin Sloane?
SYDNEY: No. No. It's just the first time I've seen him express regret for what he did to Danny.
VAUGHN: He wouldn't hesitate to kill you if he knew we were having this conversation.
SYDNEY: You're right.
VAUGHN: Anyway, I read your debrief. So did Devlin. We'll deal with the loss of the Rambaldi document later but first you should know that, uh, offices of security is drawing up a constigency plan to keep Will Tippin safe.
SYDNEY: What kind of constigencies?
VAUGHN: Witness protection. Worst-case scenario, recruitment.
SYDNEY: Absolutely not!
VAUGHN: Sydney, we have to cover everything--
SYDNEY: I can't believe I'm hearing this!
VAUGHN: Hopefully it won't come to this!
SYDNEY: You're NOT bringing him into this life!
VAUGHN: He is in this life now. Whether you like it or not.
SYDNEY: He is my friend. He is, like, one of my best friends.
VAUGHN: I understand that.
SYDNEY: No, you don't. You get to tell your friends that you work for the CIA while I go home and look desperately for a tiny moment that I can be honest with anyone about anything. Now that Will knows the truth... he's never going to trust me again. You should have seen his face in Paris. It was like he was looking at a stranger.
VAUGHN: But he wasn't. He was looking at you. Maybe for the first time. He was looking at you.
(Will walks around a room, looking bored. Sydney walks in. He looks away.)
WILL: What is this place? We're like in the middle of LA. Do you have a place like this everywhere?
SYDNEY: I told you not to pursue this story.
WILL: I know you did.
SYDNEY: Danny was killed because he knew. Because I told him. They were going to kill me, too.
WILL: (realizing) That's why you asked for my sister's passport.
SYDNEY: (sits) I know that you have questions, and... look, I would like to answer them, but I can't. I am so afraid that you know anything about me at all.
WILL: I only went after this story because of Danny. You didn't have any answers as to who killed the man you loved and I just couldn't stand that. It broke my heart. I wanted to help. But you gotta know this. I'm not going to ask you a thing. I am not going to ask anyone a thing. You never have to worry about that.
SYDNEY: You promise me. Because Danny just left a message on the machine, he didn't--
WILL: Syd, Syd. I promise. Never.
(He sits down next to her.)
WILL: I was thinking on the way back, what your life's like. What you have to go through. What you have to keep from your friends. How hard that must be. Syd... I don't love you because of what you do, or what you don't do. I just love you.
SYDNEY: Thank you.
WILL: Thank you. You saved my life.
(In the hall outside Emily's hospital room, Sloane talks on his phone.)
OPERATIVE: Sir, Mr. Sark has landed in Geneva.
SLOANE: How long before you can have a team in position?
OPERATIVE: One hour. Do we have authorization to apprehend Sark?
SLOANE: Yeah. You have it.
(Will walks up to a mirror and talks to it. We pull back to reveal that he's in the CIA safehouse in LA. A few CIA agents sit behind the mirror, watching Will.)
WILL: Hey, guys. Is there a food situation? Is there any chance I can get something to eat? Like a burger or something? I'm easy. (shrugs)
(Hospital room. Sloane stands by Emily's bed. Dr. Levin enters.)
LEVIN: I am sorry to keep you both waiting.
EMILY: It's okay, Dr.
LEVIN: And I apologize for being underprepared, I just got the tests back. I thought you'd want to know. Hmm. The pain we suspected that might indicate a recurrence of the lymphoma appears to be due to the rapid regrowth of your bone marrow element.
EMILY: That's wonderful... isn't it?
LEVIN: In fact, the lymphoma cells appear to be decreasing significantly. Emily, you're entering remission. Now, these are only preliminary tests. Your blood panels will tell us more, but...
EMILY: Arvin! (laughs)
(She hugs him. Sloane is stunned.)
EMILY: Oh, God! (sobs) Ohhh!
(In Geneva, an SD-6 team shoots down a door and runs in.)
OPERATIVE: Alpha team, position!
(Will sits in the safehouse room, looking bored. The CIA agents sit behind the mirror.)
(The team's about to enter the room where Sark will be.)
OPERATIVE: Sloane wants Sark alive.
(They barrel down the door and enter. They push curtains out of the way. An empty bed sits there.)
OPERATIVE: There's nothing here but medical equipment! Blood bags, pumps... the son of a bitch had a transfusion!
(Will walks around, then sits down on the couch. The CIA agents are no longer keeping watch. They all lay on the ground and slumped over on their desks. A man walks over the bodies and exits. He knocks on Will's door. Will jumps up to answer it.)
WILL: Oh, yeah. Thirty minutes or less.
(He opens the door. Sark is standing there with a gun pointed at him. He shoots Will. Will falls to the ground.)