Chapter Nine
January, Kandahar
If there was one thing Irina had learned in her lifetime, it was that things rarely went according to plan. Usually, the higher the stakes, the more likely it was that something would go wrong. Katya had argued with her about the wisdom of going on this mission.
"You can't trust the source," she'd said. "You haven't even verified if these are the people you're looking for."
Irina had paused in her packing. "These people killed Sydney."
"So you've been told."
And Irina had left without giving her sister a proper response. Now, sitting outside a compound in the middle of nowhere, she wondered if Katya was right. Maybe she was too caught up in her thirst for revenge.
"You okay?"
"Yes." She managed to smile at Jack, glad that he was here with her. If the intel was right, she thought, they could end their search tonight. Maybe then she could finally tell him about Nadia.
"Okay. Let's go." He used wire cutters to break through the chain link fence, then the two of them slipped into the compound. Following the plan they'd agreed to earlier, they split up, Irina heading north, Jack south.
Light shone from one of the buildings and Irina made her way there first. Looking through the window, she saw four people sitting around a table. Three men and a woman. One of the men was former KGB – Vasily Karkadan. Katya had told her he was part of the Covenant. The other two men were unfamiliar, and the woman was wearing a head covering and had her back to Irina, making identification difficult.
These people killed Sydney, she thought, and her grip on her rifle tightened. She raised the weapon, peering at Karkadan through the scope.
There was the crack of a weapon being fired, and Irina felt the warmth of her own blood before she realized she was the one who'd been shot. The people inside sprang into action, diving for shelter as they reached for their own weapons.
Irina's rifle slipped from her grasp, and she turned to see who had shot her. A kid, younger than Sydney, his expression cold. He reminded her of Sark.
She fell to her knees, even as he raised his gun to fire again.
There was another shot; his head exploded, and his body crumpled to the ground.
Irina glanced in the direction the shot had come from. Jack was running towards her. He knelt next to her, and she was surprised to realize that at some point she had collapsed as well.
"Oh, God, Irina." He sounded worried.
"Go," she whispered, touching his cheek with bloody fingers, as if in benediction. "Find them."
He pressed his hands on her shoulder and pain overtook her. Her eyes fluttered closed; she welcomed the darkness. And thought, I'm sorry, Sydney.
She woke hours later, every nerve ending on her body feeling as if it was on fire. Jack held her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze when he saw she was conscious.
"Did you – get them?" Her mouth was dry, her tongue felt thick, and it was difficult to form the words.
Jack shook his head. "Sydney would never have forgiven me," he said slowly, "if I left her mother to die."
Hot tears burned Irina's cheeks as she realized what he'd sacrificed to save her. "They were there. Right there."
"Maybe it was them. Maybe not." He paused, breaking eye contact with her. "But you needed me."
"Jack—"
"Shh." He brushed strands of hair out of her face. "You need to rest."
"Where are we?"
"A safe house." He was still touching her face, his thumb absently skimming her cheek. "It wasn't safe to stay at the hospital too long."
"Was it bad?"
He didn't answer immediately, but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know. Adopting a clinical tone, he said, "The bullet went straight through, fortunately missing anything vital. You lost a lot of blood, though."
"Didn't hear him." Irina was drowsy again. "Should have paid more attention."
"I should have had your back."
"You did. Not your fault." She wanted to say more, but it was too much effort, and she drifted to sleep again.
The next time she woke up, Jack was lying on the bed as well. She wondered how long he'd been asleep, and though she didn't want to wake him, she was in too much pain to wait.
"Jack."
He was instantly alert. "Yes?"
"Hurts."
He sat up, filling a syringe with a clear liquid from a bottle on the bedside table. Irina closed her eyes as he injected her, and waited for the drug to take effect.
"I'm tired," she said, and it was the truth. Tired of lies and betrayal and pain. She wanted to explain to Jack, to apologize, but it was already too hard to think clearly.
"I know." Jack kissed her forehead. "It's okay. Just rest."
"Love you," she managed to say, and as she lost consciousness, she thought she heard Jack say, "I love you, too."
Jack was gone the next time she woke up. A young girl sat next to the bed instead, dressed head to toe in white.
"Good morning," she said in Arabic. "I'm Aisha. Your nurse."
Irina just stared at her.
"Your husband had to leave. But he said he'd call you later." Aisha gestured to the cell phone on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
Aisha's expression was one of amusement. "Really. Let's change your dressing then."
Aisha was efficient and gentle enough that Irina didn't feel too much pain. She was also firm, despite her youth, and when Irina tried to sit up, calmly pushed her back down against the pillows.
"No. You're not going anywhere. Now, stay put, otherwise I'll just keep you drugged."
Irina frowned, but didn't argue. The effort of trying to sit had exhausted her, but she was too proud to admit it. "I see why Jack picked you," she said.
Aisha just smiled.
