[MGW] 093 - Did you aim too high?
May. 26th, 2008 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elementof_riskThe guards were easily enough to take out. It really was sad how little attention people paid to service professionals. They had to be there, of course, but as easy as they were to impersonate, you'd think people would start to at least give them more than a cursory glance. But the statistics were on his side, and by the time the men noticed the gun in his hand, he'd already fired a shot into each of their heads. They fell with almost no sound and he grabbed one of their keycards to let himself in to the hotel room, gun at the ready.
"I said I wasn't to be disturbed," the man at the desk said in Russian, his back to Sark, holding up one hand.
"I don't think they'll be following anyone's directions again," Sark said quietly.
Dimitri Aisenyev froze. "Sark?"
"Show me your hands and turn around slowly," he instructed Aisenyev in a gentle voice.
Aisenyev did as he was told, eyes flicking to the gun before he met Sark's eyes. "Where have you been, my friend? You disappeared after Hong Kong."
"No, I didn't," Sark corrected him. "The protocols were all the same. I just evaded the CIA."
"You didn't contact me..."
"That wasn't the protocol," Sark said smoothly. "You were supposed to make contact in Kiev, only you never showed up, and when I went to Galway, well. I have a feeling you know what I found in Galway."
"Julian...I was concerned, that was all. With Cole having been in custody, Galway was compromised." Aisenyev gave Sark a look of entreaty.
"If Galway was compromised, they would have been there five years ago," Sark snapped. "You took valuable intel, pillaged the servers, corrupted countless databases."
"Don't sound so shocked, Sark," Aisenyev said, lips twisting. "You would have done the same. At least I let you live. That's more than you and Ms. Reed did when you staged your coup."
"That," Sark said with a lift of his eyebrow. "Was your first mistake." Aisenyev's eyes darted toward the bedside table where Sark saw his gun. "You know I can kill you before you get to it. That was yet another mistake. Shall I tell you what the biggest one was, though?"
"What?"
"Thinking Irina Derevko would ever trust you with knowing where she kept her most valuable information, including that exchanged in her partnership with Sloane."
Aisenyev's eyes narrowed as he glared at Sark. " Chush' sobach'ya."
Sark smirked, but his eyes were ice cold. "I'll grant you, you did well covering your tracks. It's taken me a while to find you. But here I am. And here you are. And you have no protection. You should have stayed in your place, rather than thinking you could ever fill her shoes. Na kaleni, koshka."
"Poshyol ty'. You won't do it. You need what I have."
Sark shook his head. "You mean what you had. In Yemen? No, I have that back in my control, as Irina intended."
Aisenyev finally paled a little, and he dropped to his knees. "Julian...we've worked together a long time. There is no reason we cannot keep doing so."
Sark tilted his head, studying the man, as if giving it proper consideration. He even started to lower the gun, watching as the man before him relaxed a little. He smiled at Aisenyev. "Oh, there is one reason. A very important one You make far too many mistakes." His arm straightened, gun snapping back up as he fired a bullet into Aisenyev's brain. "I simply cannot keep someone so sloppy on staff."
He lowered the gun, surveying his handiwork for a moment, then moved to the laptop Aisenyev had been working on. It included several projects he'd been working on, half of which Julian dismissed at a glance as pointless endeavors. The others showed promise, however, and weren't quite so far down toward petty criminality as Aisenyev had allowed Irina's enterprise to sink. But what he'd recovered in Yemen, mixed with what he'd procured from Sloane's databases before the CIA could get to them, gave him the foundation he'd been looking for.
Freelance was all well and good. It had gotten him through the past year. But ambition was stirring again, as it always did. It was time to remind the world he was still a major player. With Irina and Sloane's resources combined at his fingertips, mingled with his own reputation in the underworld, he'd just firmly reestablished himself in the big leagues.
Now it was time to find a shape for the game.
"I said I wasn't to be disturbed," the man at the desk said in Russian, his back to Sark, holding up one hand.
"I don't think they'll be following anyone's directions again," Sark said quietly.
Dimitri Aisenyev froze. "Sark?"
"Show me your hands and turn around slowly," he instructed Aisenyev in a gentle voice.
Aisenyev did as he was told, eyes flicking to the gun before he met Sark's eyes. "Where have you been, my friend? You disappeared after Hong Kong."
"No, I didn't," Sark corrected him. "The protocols were all the same. I just evaded the CIA."
"You didn't contact me..."
"That wasn't the protocol," Sark said smoothly. "You were supposed to make contact in Kiev, only you never showed up, and when I went to Galway, well. I have a feeling you know what I found in Galway."
"Julian...I was concerned, that was all. With Cole having been in custody, Galway was compromised." Aisenyev gave Sark a look of entreaty.
"If Galway was compromised, they would have been there five years ago," Sark snapped. "You took valuable intel, pillaged the servers, corrupted countless databases."
"Don't sound so shocked, Sark," Aisenyev said, lips twisting. "You would have done the same. At least I let you live. That's more than you and Ms. Reed did when you staged your coup."
"That," Sark said with a lift of his eyebrow. "Was your first mistake." Aisenyev's eyes darted toward the bedside table where Sark saw his gun. "You know I can kill you before you get to it. That was yet another mistake. Shall I tell you what the biggest one was, though?"
"What?"
"Thinking Irina Derevko would ever trust you with knowing where she kept her most valuable information, including that exchanged in her partnership with Sloane."
Aisenyev's eyes narrowed as he glared at Sark. " Chush' sobach'ya."
Sark smirked, but his eyes were ice cold. "I'll grant you, you did well covering your tracks. It's taken me a while to find you. But here I am. And here you are. And you have no protection. You should have stayed in your place, rather than thinking you could ever fill her shoes. Na kaleni, koshka."
"Poshyol ty'. You won't do it. You need what I have."
Sark shook his head. "You mean what you had. In Yemen? No, I have that back in my control, as Irina intended."
Aisenyev finally paled a little, and he dropped to his knees. "Julian...we've worked together a long time. There is no reason we cannot keep doing so."
Sark tilted his head, studying the man, as if giving it proper consideration. He even started to lower the gun, watching as the man before him relaxed a little. He smiled at Aisenyev. "Oh, there is one reason. A very important one You make far too many mistakes." His arm straightened, gun snapping back up as he fired a bullet into Aisenyev's brain. "I simply cannot keep someone so sloppy on staff."
He lowered the gun, surveying his handiwork for a moment, then moved to the laptop Aisenyev had been working on. It included several projects he'd been working on, half of which Julian dismissed at a glance as pointless endeavors. The others showed promise, however, and weren't quite so far down toward petty criminality as Aisenyev had allowed Irina's enterprise to sink. But what he'd recovered in Yemen, mixed with what he'd procured from Sloane's databases before the CIA could get to them, gave him the foundation he'd been looking for.
Freelance was all well and good. It had gotten him through the past year. But ambition was stirring again, as it always did. It was time to remind the world he was still a major player. With Irina and Sloane's resources combined at his fingertips, mingled with his own reputation in the underworld, he'd just firmly reestablished himself in the big leagues.
Now it was time to find a shape for the game.
