Chapter Twenty-eight: Suspect

"You wanted to see me, Irina?"

Irina directed a cool smile at Brooke Banning. "Yes, come in, Brooke. Close the door behind me, and know that if you tell anyone-- anyone at all-- about anything we talk about, the consequences will be severe."

Brooke raised her eyebrows. "Of course, Irina," she said, settling herself into the black leather chair opposite her employer. As usual, Irina noted, she was dressed just a trifle more provocatively than the situation warranted, having chosen a black dress so short it bordered on indecent for their meeting. Then again, if there was one thing Irina had told her again and again in the sixteen years since their first meeting, it was that her looks and sexuality were by far her greatest assets. Irina supposed she couldn't blame the girl for highlighting them.

"What do you know about Jack Bristow?" Irina demanded.

Brooke frowned. "I--" she hesitated. "I know that he's being held prisoner at one of our facilities."

Irina studied her carefully. "And that's all you know?"

Brooke regarded her quizzically. "Is there something else?"

Irina sighed. Of course Brooke wouldn't have set Jack free. She was a good girl, loyal, though she had taken her time letting Irina know that she believed Michael was going to go to Sydney and his children. No matter. Irina supposed she couldn't fault the girl for having a soft spot for the glorious Michael Vaughn.

"Brooke, it seems that Jack Bristow has escaped."

Brooke's eyebrows shot practically to the ceiling. "How?"

"That's what I don't know," Irina said with a sigh. "I or someone else checks on him three times a day, and there's a guard near his cell. The only way I can think he would have gotten free is if someone had let him go."

Brooke's pretty features darkened. "And you thought I might have done that," she said, her voice flat. "Irina, I--"

"Oh, spare me the righteous indignation," Irina interrupted. "I know that you wouldn't betray me under normal circumstances, Brooke. But if you thought it might somehow help Michael Vaughn--"

"I told you that Michael was going to go to Sydney!" Brooke cried.

"You gave him a head start before you did so," Irina pointed out.

Brooke didn't say anything, just sat here, arms folded before her sullenly.

"I don't blame you for doing so, Brooke," Irina said, voice soft as she rose from her chair. She circled to Brooke's side of the desk, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "In some ways, I actually admire you."

Brooke stared at her, a question in her eyes.

"After all," Irina said with a cool smile. "Loving a man who will never return your feelings is rather thankless, isn't it?"

"Fuck you."

Irina let out a brittle little laugh as she returned to her seat. "You always were a spirited one, Brooke."

"Fuck you," Brooke repeated. "Michael's a good guy, and I like him, sure. But for you to assume that I love him and would go to any lengths to ensure his safety is both presumptuous and inaccurate."

Irina smirked. "Pretty big words for a runaway with an eighth-grade education."

"Fuck you."

"Now there's the Brooke I know and love."

The two women glared at each other for a long moment before Brooke spoke again. "Besides," she said. "I don't see how freeing Jack Bristow would help Michael in the least. Last I knew, Mr. Bristow believed his daughter to be a traitor. All freeing him would do is increase the chances that the CIA would take Sydney and Michael into custody."

Irina frowned, considering her words. "He might only take Sydney," she said slowly. "Leaving Michael free for you."

"Doubtful," Brooke snapped. "Open your eyes, Irina. The only way anyone would want Jack free is if he or she wanted the CIA to take Syd and Michael into custody. And the only way anyone would want that is if he or she wanted to take full control of the Organization without interference from the two of them."

Irina's eyes widened. "My God," she whispered. Brooke was right. Brooke had never cared much about running the Organization. But there was one person who did, and he would definitely go to the lengths Brooke had described to secure his own seat at the throne.

Sark.