Chapter Fourteen

Los Angeles, Day59

He sits, hands shackled to the arms of the chair, dressed in prison grays, his face a blank mask. His colleagues on the other side of the table ask question after question and still he's silent. He's been through this before, been on both sides of the table, and he knows better than to give them what they want. Especially now, when the stakes are so high.

"Dammit, Bristow. She's not worth it." Kendall, perspiration shining on his bald head.

"We know you're working with Derevko." Lindsay. Sneering. Jack doesn't even acknowledge him.

The men stare at him, waiting for him to talk, waiting for him to break.

The last time he was in solitary, he had nothing to hold onto, no hope whatsoever. This time it's different. Sydney's alive, Irina will find out soon enough; this knowledge will sustain him for as long as he's in here.

He wonders how long it will take before Irina breaks her promise not to come for him.

Lindsay slams his hand on the table. "Tell me, Agent Bristow, how you're possibly benefiting from this? Your daughter's dead, you're in prison, and the woman who destroyed your life is free as a bird."

Jack finally glances at Lindsay, but still doesn't speak. Plotting the many different ways he'd like to kill Lindsay is going to help him pass the time over the next few days. The thought brings a slight smile to his face.

"Take him back to his cell," Lindsay barks to the guards, his face almost red. "Maybe he needs some more time to think."

Kendall sighs and shakes his head. "Stubborn son of a bitch."

June, Zurich

Irina had Arvin Sloane followed for a week before she decided to make contact. She knew exactly how many guards he traveled with, and doubled her own. Not that she expected him to try anything, but it never hurt to take extra precautions.

She thought again of his supposed turnaround, and again felt that there was more to this than was known. Not for the first time, she wondered if he'd had anything to do with Jack's arrest. Though they'd taken care to hide their collaboration, somehow Sloane had ways of discovering things which were better left secret.

If he was involved, Irina thought, it was just another reason to kill him. She should have killed him long before now; his sins against her family were already far too many.

He was at a table by himself, dressed in one of the white suits he seemed to favour.

"Hello, Arvin." Irina sat down at his table, and waved away the approaching waiter.

Sloane looked completely unsurprised to see her. "Irina."

"I've heard some stories going around." Irina looked relaxed, but there was a dangerous glint in her eye and her tone was hard. "There's this sociopath – some people would call him a monster – and all of a sudden he's become the darling of the international community."

Sloane said nothing, though his lips quirked slightly as if he was trying not to smile.

Irina leaned forward. "I don't know what you're up to, Arvin. I don't know how you've convinced the world you're a good person – quite frankly, I don't care. But if I find out that you're the one behind Sydney's murder, I'm going to enjoy making you suffer before I kill you."

Sloane sipped his wine.

"On second thoughts," Irina continued, "I think I'll enjoy torturing you anyway, just for the hell of it."

"I've missed you, Irina." Sloane smiled affectionately. "Really, I have."

"I'm sure." She was about to stand up when Sloane spoke again.

"You still need me."

"Like I need a hole in the head."

"I've forgiven you for your betrayal of me. We can work together again." He motioned for the waiter and ordered a glass brought for Irina. "Think of all we could accomplish; together we can realize Rambaldi's vision."

"I thought you'd left Rambaldi behind."

He smiled in a manner that hinted of a shared secret. "You know as well as I do that's impossible."

"Go to hell."

The waiter brought a glass and set it down in front of Irina. When he'd left, Sloane filled it with red wine and nodded for her to drink it. She didn't even look at it.

"Do you know what Il Dire told me, Irina? 'Peace'. One word." His gaze left her feeling uncomfortable. "You can't escape your destiny."

"Peace? I'm sure that came as a disappointment to you."

He said nothing, but simply smiled that all-knowing smile. Irina's knife was a comforting weight against her thigh, and she resisted the urge to pull it out and stab him.

"I wonder how Jack's doing these days. The first time he was in solitary, it nearly killed him." He leaned back in his chair. "Interesting, isn't it? You were responsible for it last time, too."

Irina stood before she gave into the temptation to shed blood. "The next time we meet, Arvin, will be when I kill you."

She left, not bothering to glance back. She didn't need to; she could feel him watching her as she threaded through the tables and exited the restaurant.