Chapter Thirteen: Irina Derevko, Puppet Master

Irina hadn't known that Michael was alive when she'd busted Sydney out of custody. Her concern for her daughter and the grief for the man her daughter had loved had been very real.

When she'd learned that the man was alive, however, she'd seen it as an exquisite opportunity.

Michael's escape and her plan thereafter had been carefully crafted. She could easily have returned him to her grieving daughter-- he had only been gone four months, at that point-- but the truth was, she quite approved of the way Sydney was behaving in his absence. Losing the person she loved most had made Sydney rather cold, desperate. Finally, after an entire decade, she was putting the Organization first. Irina was quite interested to see how Michael would behave under the same circumstances.

So Michael was told that his beloved was dead. And together, Michael, Irina, and a few select employees had gone about setting up new Organization headquarters in a new location.

"I have Sark and most of the others still working at our original headquarters," she'd told Michael, brow knitted in concern. "We'll start moving our operations base to the new location, little by little, and when we're sure it's safe, that the CIA knows nothing of our whereabouts, we'll run our operation strictly from here."

Michael had agreed. He had been so grateful to her for busting him out of prison that he would have agreed to just about anything.

Of course, there was the matter of the children. Michael had been desperate to know of their location, their safety. Irina had assured him that they were being taken care of.

"Michael," she'd told him, careful to go for the right tone. "Most of my employees know nothing of our new location. They don't even know that you're still alive. For security reasons, for now, it's really best if it stays that way."

"But my children?" he'd asked, tears coming to those gorgeous green eyes of his. "They can't even know that their father is still alive?"

"I'm sorry, Michael," she'd soothed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's best this way. You wouldn't want to do anything to risk their safety, would you? Or your own?"

And Michael's face had taken on an expression of quiet acceptance and understanding. "Of course I wouldn't, Irina," he had said, the hurt in his eyes almost a tangible thing. Irina's heart had ached for him, though not enough to make her want to ease his suffering. "Just promise me you'll take good care of them."

"Of course I will, darling."

And of course, just as she had given Sydney Sark, she had given Michael a little help in running his half of the Organization, as well. It wouldn't have been fair to let Sydney have all the fun. Besides, Sydney was constantly complaining about Brooke Banning, wanting to relegate her to some lesser duty. So Irina had told Sydney that she had found a long-term job for Brooke, and she had sent her to Michael. Irina wasn't sure if the two of them were sharing a bed yet-- after all, Sydney had been dead to Michael for only eight months, and knowing him, he probably would see sleeping with someone his late wife had hated as disrespectful of her memory. But the man wasn't a saint. He wouldn't hold out forever. And if it looked like he might, Irina had a little lie and a couple of pieces of truth she could tell him to speed things along.

It wasn't that she cared so much about the man's sex life. But as with everything else, his union with Banning was part of some larger orchestration.

She had never much cared whether Sydney and Michael were in love, though she had grown quite fond of Michael over time. But it had been important to her that their first loyalty, their first allegiance, lie with her. Now, after more than ten long years, she finally had the opportunity to make that happen.

She would be damned if she let it go to waste.