Chapter One
Meetings
Los Angles
October 16th 1981, Police are investigating yesterday's car crash, which left three people dead. Whilst details are sketchy at this stage, it appears that the first car, driven by an as yet unidentified man, lost traction, clipped a second car, carrying local woman Laura Bristow and her young daughter Sydney, causing both cars to plough through safety barriers and plunge into the swollen river.
"'Police are yet to recover the bodies of Mrs Bristow or her daughter.'" Eric Weiss read over his friend's shoulder. "Michael, while I know we get a bit out of the loop here, I think you should know that paper's nearly twenty years old."
"Thanks, Eric, I hadn't noticed." Michael Vaughn mock-glowered at Weiss, as the dark-haired agent randomly picked up a thick sheaf of paper before sitting across from him. "It's from those files Devlin send down this morning."
"But what has a fifteen, sixteen-year-old car crash got to do with SD-6? Hang on a minute," Weiss looked up from his folder. "Bristow…as in Jack Bristow?"
"As in Agent Jonathan 'Jack' Bristow; our main asset on the Alliance and only double-agent at SD-6?" Vaughn leaned back in his chair, "Yep."
"He doesn't need another handler?" At Vaughn's weary nod, Weiss continued, "That's what, three this month?"
"And seven since his old handler retired. Apparently he sent back Lambert with the message, 'I don't care who you assign me, so long as they have the understanding God gave a goldfish.'"
"So who's the poor bastard they've assigned this time?"
Vaughn scrubbed his face with his palms. "You're looking at him."
"Oh, you poor bastard. When does the torture start?"
"This afternoon, the details of the meet came with the news."
"So I'll see you right back here tomorrow morning, then?"
Chuckling, Weiss ducked as Vaughn threw a case file at him.
~~~
Helsinki
"Once we retrieved the target, we proceeded to the pick-up zone and, taking the usual precautions, returned here as soon as possible." Standing, feet wide apart, hands clasped at the small of her back, Sydney finished her report. "The amulet is still in analysis, but the tentative conclusion is that it is a genuine Rambaldi artifact."
"So all in all, a completely successful operation, you would say." Irina Derevko, formerly known as Laura Bristow, currently as 'The Man', stated as she perused the mission debrief in front of her on the glass table-top.
"So it would seem, yes."
"Except for the matter of the security guards." Alexander Khasinau ground out from his position behind Irina's left shoulder, glaring at the pair standing before Irina's desk.
"None of whom got a good look at Sydney." Replied Sark coolly in his lightly clipped accent "And who wouldn't have even known she was there if intelligence had informed us of the new mains connections which cut our operational window down to a third of its supposed size."
"You should have aborted as soon as you became aware of the guards," Khasinau growled. "The cost of a second operation is far more prefer-"
"They still would have known someone had penetrated the building, they would have discovered the flaw in their system that enabled us to do so and come up with a way to compensate for it." Sydney shot back. "By the time we set up an alternate plan, the target most likely would have been moved to a more secure location. We were not going to get a second chance."
"It's far too early for the organization to become exposed."
"Alexander, that's enough." Although Irina had barely raised her voice, the effect was comparable to her firing a shotgun. "What's done is done. Sark, how far is the follow up from completion?"
"All of the men we brought in have reported back to their bases. Our man inside has ensured that any security records have been taken care of. Any outside resources have been compensated and convinced that we were part of another organization."
"Excellent work." Neatly organising the papers in the folder, Irina handed the file to Khasinau. "Alexander, Sark, you're dismissed. Stay a while Sydney."
With murmured acknowledgments the gaunt Russian and lithe Brit left the elegant office, leaving the Derevko women alone.
~~~
"It's okay Michael, it's just a first meeting, not like he's gonna do any thing to you." Vaughn murmured to himself as he strode up the granite path. "Who am I kidding, it's in a cemetery, nothing good can come of this. Okaay, its row forty, plot seven, so that would be Bristow there."
Although the younger agent made very little noise as he approached the saturnine figure, Bristow inclined his head slightly as Vaughn passed. Several minutes passed in silence as the pair stood unmoving. It was Bristow who broke the stillness.
"Are the flowers for me, or were you actually planning on blending in?" Came the terse query.
"Oh, they're for my Aunt…" Vaughn glanced at the headstone he stood in front of. "…Greg."
"I see I was doing the goldfish a disservice when I assumed that CIA officers shared their level of intelligence."
"Look, I got this assignment less than three hours ago, I think Devlin was afraid I'd skip the country if I had any longer to consider it. So you'll forgive me if my cover's missing a few small details." Vaughn snapped back.
"You have a bit more backbone than the others, that's good. Jack Bristow."
"Michael Vaughn."
"You're William Vaughn's son, aren't you?" It was a statement not a question. "He was a good man, didn't deserve what happened to him."
"From what I've read neither did you." Vaughn replied softly, nodding at the dual graves before Bristow.
"Their bodies were never found. All those graves hold are memories and empty caskets." Bristow paused momentarily, "I remember, that throughout the service I was wondering whether actually putting my wife and child in the ground and knowing, would have been better than not finding them and always asking 'what if?'."
~~~
"I would have done the same thing."
"Huh."
Irina smiled at her daughter, "Ignoring Sark's abort order. I do actually read mission transcripts occasionally. Now sit down and stop looking like you're going to your mother's funeral."
"I do not." The younger woman muttered as she sat in the leather seat Irina gestured to.
"Yes, you do. Every time I ask you to stay after a debrief you look as if the world's about to end and it's all your fault. Your father had exactly the same look." The smile turned bittersweet. "Sometimes, when I look at you, I see him staring back at me."
Sydney suddenly found her hands to be of great interest.
"Now, as to why I asked you to stay." Reaching into the attaché by her side, Irina retrieved a thick dossier and slid it across the table. "Happy birthday, Sydney."
"A new mission?" Sydney responded dubiously "Interesting present, Mom."
"It's one of the more difficult you'll face, but I think you're up the challenge."
Irina watched with a small grin while Sydney examined the contents of the dossier, her expression going from curious, to puzzled, to incredulous, to delighted.
"Mom, these are university prospectuses, for every school I've been interested in."
"And a few you haven't. You'd have to pass the application process and do the actual work on your own, of course, but anything you need taken care by way of identification, documentation, pointless bureaucracy…"
"But what about the organization? I mean what if you need me for an op."
"Sydney, the organization will not fall apart while you get an education. Now, go, read those and we'll talk more over dinner. Although you're so like your father, you'll probably have your application half finished by then."
Sydney paused in the doorway, "Mom, would Dad, do you think…"
"That he'd have been proud of you? I know, that if could see you he would be, exceedingly so." Irina returned her daughter's radiant smile she left the office.
As she heard Sydney's footsteps echo down the corridor, Irina leant back in her chair and steepled her hands under her chin. "What he'd think of me, however, is an entirely different story."