Los Angeles, Monday, May 5th, 2002
Well, it happened. I was activated and arrested on the very same day, and now I'm in prison potentially for the rest of my life, although I do have a few options that I will certainly take if I can get the chance to. Jack was furious at me when he found out, and he was already wanting me dead minutes before he knew that I had killed his wife. I think that if things had been different, and he had known of her death before he caught me, I would be in a grave by now, but I'm not. Circumstances have thrown me a silver lining yet again, and although I should always remember that one day I won't get away with it, I don't and I know it's going to be the death of me.
Prison ain't so bad, I suppose. Sure, I could do with actually having some control over my life, and the food could be at least edible, but here I can rest, knowing that once I get out of this building alive, I'll have plenty of options open to me. Undercover work will be impossible, but I was doing that for seven years, and now I want to try something different, something a little less complicated and that involves a lower risk of getting in too deep. If I go back and work for my employer, he's sure to send me on boring journeys to negotiate deals, so I think I'll be looking for new bosses. You might wonder why someone who wants to be in total control could be so willing to work for someone else – well, that's because I'm still far too low down the ladder. Maybe in twenty years I'll be the boss, so long as I don't get killed before then.
This may sound surprising, but Jack has visited me in jail, but of course it's only to try and get answers. Why did I kill Teri? Why did I betray him? I see the look in his eyes changing as they react to my voice, my face as I listen to him almost beg for the words that he's looking for. It almost makes me sad that he is so hopeful that one day I might break down and confess all, tell him everything he could ever want to know about me and my motives. That, I promise you, will never happen. Tony visited once, and like the emotional mess he can be at times, he cried. Tears came down his cheeks, and although I did like the guy, it's weird just how much love he seemed to have for me, this passion that he had for the woman who betrayed them all. I sometimes wonder if he thinks that the Nina he loved was real, but I won't tell him the truth, just like I won't tell Jack.
I was lucky in court when they sentenced me. A guilty plea and a good act were all that I could do to convince the judge and jury that I was sorry, and it worked. Life without parole is always more preferable to sitting on Death Row for a couple of decades until they drag me down to the execution chamber and send a cocktail of drugs into me, as if that was punishment enough for multiple murders, espionage and treason. I often imagine my execution, and I know that Jack would be there, staring at me. Maybe I would tease him in my final moments by mouthing silently to him, as if I mean to tell him something, then I realise that even that would be cruel for me, and I tell myself that I don't have to see myself stuck in this place for too long.
To tell you the truth, after what happened in New York last September, I'm lucky I'm not in Guantanamo right now, wearing orange and being waterboarded for information that I probably don't have. I may be a terrorist, and I may be less attached to other people, but I was shocked and saddened by those events, although my sympathy for the victims was diminished when the guards treated me to numerous beatings after 9/11 for being a terrorist and a traitor, as if they saw me as an extension of the terrorist monster that attacked America.
