Title: Interrogations
Author: Jennifer N (jennifer_n97@hotmail.com)
Summary: "You don't have to support the mission. Just talk to her." Irina fic.
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst/Drama
Spoilers: post-"Phase One," pre-"A Dark Turn." AU after that.
Distribution: CM, AliasFanfiction, AU, SD-1
Feedback—pretty please?
Disclaimer: Alias doesn't belong to me. Just Madison.
A/N: Thanks to Becky and Steph for reading and listening to my many, many rants. *grin*
While this is an Irina fic, she's not actually in this part. But don't worry—she's coming very soon.
One—Brush Pass
"This morning's brush pass that you requested went off without a hitch, according to Agent Bentley. He asked that this be delivered to you," the secretary said as she handed Devlin a bulky envelope.
"Excellent. Hold my calls, Kaye," he instructed, walking into his office.
Settling himself into his chair, he opened the envelope and began to read its contents. Many minutes later he leaned back and whistled. This request . . . it wasn't going to be well received. In fact, he should probably deny it. He could come up with at least a dozen reasons to say no, and even if he couldn't, he was certain Jack Bristow could.
But the nature of this op—the kind of inside information being requested could determine the success of this mission. And this was one that everyone, from L.A. all the way to the Oval Office, wanted, needed, to go well.
Sighing, Devlin braced himself for the onslaught that he knew was coming and dialed a number he knew all too well. Several minutes later, that authorization taken care of, he opened up the word processing program on his computer. "Memorandum," he muttered to himself, "to Agent Kendall." He quickly typed the memo and waited for it to print, then held it in his hands for one final moment before quickly stuffing it into an envelope.
"Kaye," he called as he walked out of his office, "I need this delivered by courier to Agent Kendall immediately."
"Certainly," she said as she took the envelope from his hand. "Should I still hold your calls?"
Devlin grimaced. "Hold all calls except from Agents Kendall and Bristow."
"When are you expecting calls from them, sir?"
"About five minutes after that is delivered to the Joint Ops Center."
*****
Madison walked out of the department store and into the mall, slouching under the weight of her morning's excursion. Slowly making her way to the food court, she kept her eyes pealed for any sign of trouble. There was none. She set the bags on the ground and sank into the nearest chair as a small sigh escaped her lips.
Crash.
She turned around to see a boy, perhaps five or six, picking himself up off the floor beside her.
"Tommy, get back here this instant!" a woman called. Breathless, she approached the table and grabbed her son's hand. She turned to speak to the woman who remained seated at her table. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry about this. I do hope my son didn't damage anything . . ." she trailed off.
"No damage done," Madison replied a bit too cheerfully, glancing surreptitiously at her watch before turning to examine the fair-headed mother and son in front of her. It's almost time. Two apologies later, including one from the wayward boy, and they had disappeared into the mass of shoppers out and about on this late afternoon in February.
My hair used to be as blonde as that . . . Pushing memories of the past aside, she checked the time again. She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and dialed a number from memory.
"Hello, I was calling to see if you had a mystery book in stock . . ."
*****
"Bookworm requests pickup," a technician announced over a com link at Joint Ops. "Location seven."
"Location seven, copy that. ETA ten minutes," a voice answered back over the wires.
"Ten minutes, copy." The technician released the "hold" button on his phone. "Miss, we can have that book ready for you in ten minutes."
*****
"Ten minutes? Excellent," Madison enthused. "I've been looking for a copy of this book for so long," she rattled on, keeping up the appearance of a conversation for a few more minutes. Satisfied, she wrapped up her conversation and ended the call. She brushed off her jeans as she stood and grabbed the multitude of bags on the ground.
It was finally time.
*****
"What could Ben possibly be thinking in allowing this?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you, Jack. All I know is that I received a memo ordering me to allow Agent Thompson to interview—"
"Interview? What is this, job shadowing day at the CIA?" Jack interrupted.
"Enough already," Kendall said as he rummaged through the stacks of papers on his desk. "Here. Read it for yourself." He shoved a paper marked "Confidential" into Jack's waiting hand.
He quickly read the paper, then crumpled it and tossed it in the trash. "Surely Ben must have been delusional or under some sort of medication when he wrote that. Doesn't he realize the security risk involved?"
"For whom?" Kendall asked pointedly. Jack glared at him.
"Believe it or not, Jack, I'm on your side on this one," he said as he picked up the phone. "Mr. Devlin," he said into the receiver. "This is Agent Kendall . . . yes, I just read your memo about Thompson. I've discussed this with Jack Bristow and we both feel that—you what?" He covered the receiver with his hand. "She's already been given clearance into Joint Ops," he muttered. "She's on her way now."
Jack grabbed the phone out of Kendall's hand. "Ben, have you lost your mind?" he erupted. "What could possibly possess you to bring her into this situation? How could this help anything . . . I don't care what op she's working on, it's still a ludicrous proposition. And besides, she'll never go for it—no, not Thompson, Ben—can you try to stay with me here?"
He listened intently for a minute, then sighed wearily. "You're going to regret this, Ben. I just hope others aren't hurt in the process." Jack hung up the phone and turned to face Kendall.
"Devlin's calling the security team right now to add Thompson to the list of people she can see," Kendall told Jack.
"There's one small comfort in this," Jack replied.
"What?"
"She'll never talk to her."
*****