Chapter 2
When Sydney woke up, after a night of tortured dreams and nightmares, the first thing she realized was that she wasn't alone. Khasinau was sitting in front of her, silently observing.
"You thought I was "The Man," didn't you."
Sydney didn't answer. This man was a mystery. She had assumed that he was an evil monster, but the man that sat before her, seemed as gentle as a Teddy bear. Something about the way that he was looking at her piqued her interest. "Why are you just starring at me? Shouldn't you be ripping out my finger nails or something?"
"That's not my job." That one, bored, comment was all he gave her. He didn't get up to leave, or move at all, for that matter. He just continued to sit and stare.
"You were very good in Paris. I enjoyed it very much."
"Yeah, so much that you tried to have me killed."
Khasinau didn't reply to that, instead he glanced down at his watch and said, "We'll have to continue this conversation later. Your mother wants to talk to you."
Her mother. Sydney was still getting used to the fact that her evil captor wasn't Alexander Khasinau, it was her mother, a women she had once loved and admired. A woman who had lied to and deceived her. A woman who had murdered twelve CIA officers, thirteen including Vaughn. Her eyes fill with tears, like they did every time she thought of him, every time she pictured him trapped in his watery grave.
She didn't lift her head when she heard the door open; there was no need. She already know who would be standing there, and she didn't want to see her.
"How did you sleep Sydney?" She paused, waiting for a reply, but when she didn't receive one she continued, "As good as can as possible, when one is tied to a chair, I'm sure." She sat in the seat that Khasinau had previously vacated. "Enough pleasantries. As you know, I am awaiting your decision. I do not want to kill you, so I am willing to try persuasion.
When Sydney refused to look at her, Irina became furious. "Sydney, are you stupid enough to die, when I am clearly willing to let you live? Obviously, Jack rubbed off on you more than I would've thought. You're as stubborn and stupid as he ever was."
Bringing Jack into the conversation was the worst thing that Irina could have done. "How dare you?" Sydney's voice was a furious whisper. "My father is one of the best men I've ever known."
"I'm surprised you feel that way, considering--"
He was good to me and loyal to his country. If I remind you of him...then I've finally done something worth while."
"I see my efforts here were wasted." She stood up and pulled a gun from its holster, hidden beneath her jacket. "I told you that if you refused me you would die. It seems like such a waste to kill you." She aimed the gun at Sydney. "We could have been great."
She closed her eyes and waited for the shot. After, what seemed like hours, it came. Instead of the expected explosion of pain, she felt something fall on top of her, toppling her chair over and smashing her head against the concrete floor. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she heard a man whisper, "You may have been willing to kill my daughter, but I wasn't."
When Sydney woke up, after a night of tortured dreams and nightmares, the first thing she realized was that she wasn't alone. Khasinau was sitting in front of her, silently observing.
"You thought I was "The Man," didn't you."
Sydney didn't answer. This man was a mystery. She had assumed that he was an evil monster, but the man that sat before her, seemed as gentle as a Teddy bear. Something about the way that he was looking at her piqued her interest. "Why are you just starring at me? Shouldn't you be ripping out my finger nails or something?"
"That's not my job." That one, bored, comment was all he gave her. He didn't get up to leave, or move at all, for that matter. He just continued to sit and stare.
"You were very good in Paris. I enjoyed it very much."
"Yeah, so much that you tried to have me killed."
Khasinau didn't reply to that, instead he glanced down at his watch and said, "We'll have to continue this conversation later. Your mother wants to talk to you."
Her mother. Sydney was still getting used to the fact that her evil captor wasn't Alexander Khasinau, it was her mother, a women she had once loved and admired. A woman who had lied to and deceived her. A woman who had murdered twelve CIA officers, thirteen including Vaughn. Her eyes fill with tears, like they did every time she thought of him, every time she pictured him trapped in his watery grave.
She didn't lift her head when she heard the door open; there was no need. She already know who would be standing there, and she didn't want to see her.
"How did you sleep Sydney?" She paused, waiting for a reply, but when she didn't receive one she continued, "As good as can as possible, when one is tied to a chair, I'm sure." She sat in the seat that Khasinau had previously vacated. "Enough pleasantries. As you know, I am awaiting your decision. I do not want to kill you, so I am willing to try persuasion.
When Sydney refused to look at her, Irina became furious. "Sydney, are you stupid enough to die, when I am clearly willing to let you live? Obviously, Jack rubbed off on you more than I would've thought. You're as stubborn and stupid as he ever was."
Bringing Jack into the conversation was the worst thing that Irina could have done. "How dare you?" Sydney's voice was a furious whisper. "My father is one of the best men I've ever known."
"I'm surprised you feel that way, considering--"
He was good to me and loyal to his country. If I remind you of him...then I've finally done something worth while."
"I see my efforts here were wasted." She stood up and pulled a gun from its holster, hidden beneath her jacket. "I told you that if you refused me you would die. It seems like such a waste to kill you." She aimed the gun at Sydney. "We could have been great."
She closed her eyes and waited for the shot. After, what seemed like hours, it came. Instead of the expected explosion of pain, she felt something fall on top of her, toppling her chair over and smashing her head against the concrete floor. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she heard a man whisper, "You may have been willing to kill my daughter, but I wasn't."