Chapter Six: Play It Cool
Sydney stood by the side of the deserted road, thinking wildly that if her father left her for dead in this location, no one would ever find her. Michael would go crazy searching for her, never giving up even as the situation became completely hopeless. He'd be so caught up with his search that eventually someone would decide their children were better off with Irina, who would raise them as her perfect little puppets, pushing little Jack toward the throne in record time so that, in Sydney's absence and Michael's hysteria, she could finally retire.
But Sydney told herself that such thoughts were crazy. She had no reason to believe that her father would kill her. Except, of course, for the fact that he'd just forced her to drive nearly fifty miles out of town at gunpoint.
It was only now, now that he had taken her car keys from her and put his gun back in his holster, that she dared to ask what he wanted.
"What I want, Mrs. Vaughn--" She winced. He'd addressed her a few times along the way, and he'd never called her Sydney, always Mrs. Vaughn. Cold. Impersonal. "--is to let you know what your options are."
Sydney took a deep breath. She could do this. She wasn't the emotional wreck she had been ten years ago. She could play this as coolly and emotionlessly as he could. He was not her father right now, she could not let him be her father right now. He was just a man who had dragged her out to the middle of nowhere at gunpoint.
"Fine," she told him, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'm quite curious to hear what you think my options are."
"The CIA knows that you and Mr. Vaughn joined forces with Irina Derevko willingly, as does Arvin Sloane."
"That old bastard's still alive?" Sydney muttered.
"Please don't patronize me," Jack snapped. "I know damned good and well that you're every bit as familiar with the Alliance's activities as the Alliance is with yours."
Sydney couldn't help it. She gasped. She had never thought of Sloane watching her, of the CIA thinking of her as a traitor. She hadn't thought of anyone at all, really, except Michael, herself, and the children.
"Some small part of me has believed, all these years, that you infiltrated Derevko's organization with an agenda, and that somewhere along the line you realized you were in over your head."
Sydney willed herself not to cry, not to scream out, "Yes! That's exactly what happened! We wanted so badly to take them down, but we were so unprepared, and now there's no way we can ever get out!" Of course she said none of that. She just took a deep breath and listened to her father speak.
"The CIA is entertaining that possibility. That's why they've allowed me to make you aware of your options."
Sydney looked at him, a question in her eyes.
"Sydney--"
Sydney's eyes widened at the sound of her first name.
"--we know that over the past few years Irina has gradually increased your responsibility, and that a week from Tuesday, when you and Michael return from your vacation, she will place full control of the Organization in your hands. The question we've asked ourselves is why."
"There are a lot of reasons," Sydney said, struggling to keep her voice even. "She wants to retire, for one."
"Sydney, the CIA has been gathering intel on the Derevko Organization, working to bring it down. We believe your mother knows this, and that after you've been firmly established as leader, she will come to the CIA with a deal. She'll offer us the Organization, offer us you, in exchange for her own freedom."
Sydney closed her eyes. No no no no no. This wasn't happening. Wasn't possible.
"We're prepared to offer you a deal, Mrs. Vaughn."
Sydney looked up at her father. So now she was Mrs. Vaughn again.
"I'd like you and your husband to go ahead and take your vacation. But when you return, the two of you are not to go back to work at Derevko's office. You will turn yourself into the CIA and tell us everything you know about the Organization. If you do so, I'll do my best to see that you don't serve any time."
"You'll do your best? Dad, that's not good enough," Sydney gasped. So much for keeping her emotions out of this.
"Sydney." Jack placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise. "You know how good my best is."
Sydney looked at him. Her eyes were full of tears, but her voice was full of steel. "What if I don't take your deal?"
Jack snatched his hand away as quickly as if he had been burned. "If you take control of the Organization a week from Tuesday, the CIA will officially consider you an enemy of the United States. When we get enough information to bring down the Organization, you will bear the full weight of our punishment, and let me assure you, it will be heavy."
Sydney couldn't help it. She began to cry.
"It may take us months to gather that information, it may take years. You might not even be the leader of the Organization anymore. It might be your son, or your lovely little daughter. It might be a grandchild that doesn't even exist yet. You'll never know. You'll just be waiting, every day, for the other shoe to drop. And that's assuming that our suspicions about your mother are incorrect, and she's not ready to throw you at our mercy."
A black car pulled up as if out of nowhere, and Jack tossed her the keys to her Mercedes. "Think it over, Mrs. Vaughn. Discuss it with your husband." He moved to open the passenger door of the black car. "Your actions a week from Tuesday will tell us your decision."
He climbed into the car and it pulled away, leaving Sydney at the side of the road.