For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Sydney and Vaughn are in Washington for a day off to be followed by some hobnobbing but are called into work. An international terrorist is targeting one of the West Wing's own because of his cousin, a CIA agent. Worried for his safety, the CIA tries to get the candidate, ten days out from his election, some protection, and attempt to use the White House as a back channel.
The CIA contingent followed Leo into his office. Conrad sat down across from Leo's desk, and tried to coax Crystal into sitting beside him. Sydney and Vaughn stood behind the leather chairs while Josh lingered by the desk as his boss dialed.
"I'm going to call the headquarters first, find out where he is and see if we can catch him on a landline," Leo explained, putting the phone on speaker.
"Seaborn for Congress," answered a perky volunteer.
"Can you tell me where the candidate is right now?" Leo asked.
"Let me check the schedule..." There was silence for a moment, and Crystal removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Sir?"
"I'm here," said Leo.
"He's at the Garden Grove Community Center."
"You don't happen to have the phone number there, do you?"
The campaign worker prattled off the telephone number.
"Thank you very much." He terminated the call, and started to dial again.
"Why didn't we think of that?" Conrad asked.
"Because we wouldn't know the inner workings of a political campaign if they came up and bit us in the ass?" asked Crystal, sliding her glasses back on her face.
"Could be."
The rings of the speakerphone were soon replaced with a deep voice: "Garden Grove Community Center."
"Is the Seaborn campaign there?"
"Yeah, they're just wrapping up."
"I need to speak with someone from the campaign," said Leo.
"Let me see what I can do, sir, hold on."
Elevator music replaced the silence from before.
Josh looked at Crystal. She had green eyes instead of Sam's blues. She sort of looked like him, though. They were roughly the same height and had similar facial features... cheekbones and noses. "You want to sit down?" he asked her.
She looked up at him. "I'm fine, thanks."
"You want something to drink?" he offered. When she didn't tell him no, he continued. "Water? Juice?"
"Water'd be great, thank you."
"Sure," he said, slipping out of the office.
"Scott Holcomb," said Sam's campaign manager.
"Scott, this is Leo McGarry. I need to speak to Sam."
He sighed. "Just a minute, Mr. McGarry." He lowered the phone, but they could hear him mutter: "Damned D.C. people. Somebody get the candidate, please. Tell him it's McGarry."
"Nice to know we're making an impression," commented Conrad.
There was a brief, muffled conversation and then another voice came on the line. "Leo?"
"Sam, I have some people here who want to talk to you."
Conrad looked at Crystal, who took her cue to speak. "Sam, it's Crys."
"Crys? What are you doing at the White House?"
"Trying to get a hold of you. Your guys wouldn't let CIA calls through."
"What? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"You should've received a phone call about two hours ago from state troopers wanting to send you protection."
"Crys, please, the guy before me died, and of natural causes. I'm fine; I don't need guards."
"Actually, you do. Sam, this is DCI Robert Conrad. We have sufficient reason to believe you're in mortal danger."
"Why am I not getting this from the FBI or the Orange County authorities?"
"It's an international threat," answered Leo.
"What did I do to honk off a foreign power?" asked Sam incredulously.
"You were born. More specifically, your cousin was and survived something no one else did. This person knows she survived and that puts you and she in danger," said Conrad.
"Crys... what's going on?" Sam asked, pleading for a familiar voice with words of wisdom and reason.
"It's his pattern. I survived so more have to die and usually it starts with family."
"You have to be joking."
"You're visible, Sam. You're visible and an easy target and we want to keep you safe. Please, let us help you," she implored.
"If I have troopers all over me, the press'll start asking questions. We're a little over a week out and... Crys, I don't know that I like this."
"Well, neither do I!"
A hand softly touched her elbow, almost prompting Crys to come unglued. It was only Josh, with a sympathetic look and her glass of water.
"Sam, I want you to talk to some of my agents here, Vaughn and Bristow. They're based out of LA and have been in contact with their office," said Conrad.
Sydney stepped up to the phone. "Mr. Seaborn, this is Agent Bristow. We can have a team of plain clothed security experts dispatched to your campaign within the half hour. They'll look like volunteers or staffers. The press won't know anything's different."
"Who is this guy?" asked Sam.
"For that information, Sam, we'll send someone out to you for a complete briefing. Just be advised you're in serious danger," said Conrad.
Sam sighed and was silent for a moment. "All right. Have your people come to the campaign headquarters; I can give you the address."
"We have that. We're sending... who are we sending out to the campaign?" Conrad asked, looking at Vaughn and Sydney.
"Among others, Mr. Seaborn, Jack Bristow and Eric Weiss," answered Sydney.
"Any relation, Agent Bristow?" inquired Sam.
"He's my father."
"It's a family affair, isn't it?"
Sydney glanced briefly at Vaughn. "I suppose so."
"I hope this doesn't turn into an episode of the Man from UNCLE," said Sam with a sigh.
"Too late," Crystal muttered.
"If this guy is in D.C., why should I be worried?"
"Sam, please!" Crystal begged.
"I'm just asking how credible of a threat this is, Crys," he said sharply.
Conrad jumped in. "One of his associates could be in Orange County right now. We're not about to take that chance."
"Director--" Sam had barely gotten started when someone else interrupted.
"It's plain-clothed CIA or very visible Secret Service because the President is very willing to deploy a team or six," said Leo.
He sighed. "Fine. Fine. We're going back to the headquarters now."
"We'll send some agents to you," said Conrad.
"Make sure they know that I want to know *exactly* what's going on. I want to know who this guy is, why you think I'm in trouble, what this has to do with Crys. Everything."
"All right," conceded Conrad. "They'll be there soon."
"Hey, Crys..." began Sam.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, lying through her teeth.
"I need this, right?"
"Yes."
"All right."
"Be safe, Sam," Josh said, piping up for the first time.
"Keep an eye on her for me, Josh, please?" asked Sam.
"Sure."
"Thanks," Sam said before ending the call.
Conrad looked at Leo. "Mind if I order the op from here?"
"By all means," said the Chief of Staff, pushing the phone closer to him.
"Now the question becomes," said Conrad as he dialed, "what are we gonna do with you, Crys? You have a ten-foot bulls-eye painted on you."
"You're gonna let me go home," she said simply.
Conrad held up a finger to silence her for a moment. "Tell L.A. that it's a go. Send Jack Bristow with the brief." Hanging up, he looked at Crystal. "You will be very much dead if you go home."
"C'mon, Robby. My name's not on the door; my number isn't listed."
"It's not safe, Crys."
"They would assume I'm not there because of the safety risk, so I stay there and be fine."
"Or, they could assume nothing and go blow the place up for sport no matter what you do," said Vaughn, prompting Crystal to look at the California agent. "He sounds like that type of guy is all I'm saying."
"And I'm saying I want to go home! I've been out of the country six months and for the past three days, I've been at the Farm. I want to sleep in my own bed, look at the view from my own window. This? This is bullshit, Robby. Let me go home."
"I've always been easy on you. Always. Yes, you saved my ass in Egypt several years ago. Yes, I appreciate that. And I'm going to return the favor, but I will do so to the extent of putting you under Farm arrest if I must!" insisted Conrad.
She sighed heavily before taking a sip of her water.
"I'm looking out for you as one of my top agents, Crystal. I also want to watch your back because we're former partners."
Sydney glanced at Vaughn, who was watching the scene play out between the Director and a fellow agent.
"I want to go *home*, Robby. Not a hotel. Not the Farm. Somewhere *comfortable*."
When Conrad didn't respond to her right away, Leo spoke up: "Do you two want the room?"
Conrad shook his head. "We've spent too much time here as it is. We'll get going."
"Can I do anything?" asked Josh. "I mean, Sam asked me to look out for her and I'd like to keep my word to my best friend."
"I don't think you can be of much good to me, honestly. Unless you're, I dunno, Superman under that Clark Kent suit," Crystal said.
"Pardon me while I find the nearest phone booth," Josh shot back.
"We'll let you know, Josh," Conrad assured him. "In the meantime... thank you for the use of your phone and the South Lawn."
"Are you still having the CIA dinner tonight?" asked Leo.
Conrad smiled. "I'd actually forgotten, but yeah. Senate and House Intelligence are both going to be there. The White House offer still stands."
Josh glanced at Leo. "I think we should accept, don't you?"
"Probably a good idea. I'll see what's on the President's plate, but you and I'll go, definitely."
Josh looked at Crystal. "Guess I'll see you tonight?"
"We'll see," she said, still hoping she could talk her way home.
~~~
"Mr. Seaborn?"
Sam looked up at the young aide. "Yeah?"
"There are some people here to see you. They say they have an appointment, but it's not on the schedule."
"What's the name?"
"Bristow," she answered.
"Send him in," Sam said, standing up and straightening his tie. "And pull Scott out of whatever he's doing. He probably needs to be here for this, too."
The aide nodded and disappeared as a gray-haired gentleman entered. He had dark--were they black?--eyes and a serious, deadly expression and demeanor. Another man entered, in a similar suit. He was younger, with dark hair and eyes, but he seemed so much more approachable. Friendly even.
Jack Bristow waited to speak until the door was closed. "Mr. Seaborn, my name is Jack Bristow, this is Agent Eric Weiss."
Sam extended his hand to them, shaking Jack's then Eric's hands. "Hello. Before you get into too much detail, I want my campaign manager in to hear everything."
"I don't think so, Mr. Seaborn," said Jack. "The fewer who know about this the better. If it weren't for a direct order from the DCI, I wouldn't be relaying this information to you right now."
The door to the office opened, and Weiss and Jack turned towards the door to see Scott Holcomb standing there. "Sam? What's up?"
"I can't make the three o'clock. Think you could find somebody to send in my place?" asked Sam.
Scott sighed. "You couldn't have told me earlier?"
"Something came up."
"Like what?"
"Something. Would you please fix the schedule?"
"You can't be doing this, Sam. We're ten days out. One cancelled event means one hundred voters aren't going to bother to show up for you because you wouldn't bother to show up for them."
"You're going to have to clear it. And I need my office, so, if you'll excuse us?"
Scott glanced at Weiss and Jack, then left, closing the door behind him.
Sam sighed slightly. "Can I get you two anything? Coffee?" After both declined, he gestured towards the seats across from his desk. "At least sit, please."
Weiss did but before Jack did, he handed Sam a file folder. "Inside is a biographical compilation of the threat, as well as what has brought him to our attention in regards to you."
Sam flipped through the information, skimming through it, when he froze for a moment.
"I'm assuming the picture you've found is that of the hotel suite in Borneo," said Jack.
"Couldn't tell for all the blood," he said quietly.
"Jordan leaves no survivors. He's discovered, however, that he left one in that room."
Sam looked up. "Oh, my God... Crys was here?"
Jack nodded. "She survived. They ran into each other in London and now he's back to finish the job."
"Is she okay?"
"She's in good hands, Mr. Seaborn," Weiss said.
"And now so are you. You're a target. If he can't get to her, he could kill you to draw her out," explained Jack. "Which is why we're here... joining your campaign."
Sam nodded. "All right."
Weiss started going through a laundry list of things they needed access to so he could be safe. Jack stopped him when he saw that Sam wasn't really paying attention, too focused on the image of the Borneo hotel suite. "Mr. Seaborn?"
"Hm?"
"She's fine."
"Your daughter's in this business, Agent Bristow. How can you stand it?"
Weiss glanced from Sam to Jack, wanting to see how he answered it as well.
"It is, at times, rather difficult..."
"At least you know," Sam said.
"Know what?" asked Jack.
"Where she is. What she's doing. I don't know until three years later that she could've died like this," he said, holding up the picture, a sober expression on his face.
"It's her job."
"The job sucks."
"I dunno, there is, occasionally, something to be said for this line of work," piped in Weiss.
"Like what?" asked Sam.
"Like protecting the people you care about," Weiss answered.
Sam shook his head. "Your job sucks."
"Mr. Seaborn, if she didn't want to be in the CIA, she wouldn't be," said Jack, jumping back into the conversation.
"No. She was taken. She was vulnerable and some guy came in and offered her the world and she took it. She was seventeen years old. She couldn't vote. She couldn't drink. She'd barely had her license a year. Don't try to console me. You're part of the organization that has her and won't give her back."
"She's had the opportunity to get out, Mr. Seaborn. The door is open to any of us who want out."
Sam shook his head. "No, it's not."
"I met her when she was first recruited." Sam's eyes flew to Jack's. "She told me that she wanted to be there. She wanted to learn. She wanted to become the best of the best. There were times I saw her pushing herself so much harder than the rest of the cadets in training that I finally had to stop and ask her why. She said it was for her family. Not her parents necessarily, but one family member in particular. She's willing to give the ultimate sacrifice... for you."
"I don't want her to!"
"You don't have the authority to tell her that. It's her decision to make. And if your personal protection was her decision, don't doubt for a moment she'd be here. She is not because of the risks to you and she understands that. And she's putting up with the agents guarding her, albeit begrudgingly, just as you'll be putting up with us. As soon as this is over, I'm sure there will be a brief reunion of sorts before her next mission."
"Have you seen her recently?" asked Sam.
Jack sighed slightly. "Just on a video conference this morning."
"Did you see her in Borneo?"
"I've spent the past few years on another mission, Mr. Seaborn. If you'll allow us access to the areas we require, you'll be secure and we'll have more time to... chat... later."
"The only problem you're going to run into is my campaign manager who wants to be in on everything," said Sam.
"He won't be a problem," Jack said confidently.
"Then, I'll let you deal with him. Something else... You do know that the President is coming this weekend for a pre-Get Out the Vote initiative, right?"
"We'll take that up with Director Conrad and see what he wants to do," said Jack.
Sam nodded. "I'll get you guys credentials printed up. Whatever you need, just... go for it."
~~~
The CIA Headquarters was abuzz with activity but the most spirited debate was going on in the DCI's conference room just off his office. Conrad, Sydney, Vaughn, and Crystal were in the windowless room, discussing potential operations to take Jordan down.
"We still have to find him first," said Crystal.
"And we're looking," Conrad began. "I just want us to have some options for when we find him because I want him down as quickly as possible."
"You think I don't?" asked Crystal, arching an eyebrow.
"Crys... you haven't slept in three days. I think you're getting a little agitated."
"Agitated?"
"What about getting him in California?" asked Sydney, not wanting the meeting to descend into another bickering contest between the Director and Crystal.
Conrad looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"What about forcing him to California? He's on our timetable, we're not waiting for him to strike..."
"How do we force him to California, though?" asked Crystal.
"Well, there are a few potential avenues..." started Sydney.
"Such as?" prompted Conrad.
"Well, we could make an obvious showing of Crystal flying to California to be with her cousin. Have her going out and about in town, commenting about it, wearing a campaign button, all of this... We make up a campaign stop somewhere out of the way, where he's not, build our own crowd with CIA agents, have someone up to introduce him, maybe even Crystal. He can take potshots at her and with the crowd being made entirely of our operatives, we can get him that way."
"That's one idea," said Crystal, leaning back in her chair. "But, if we're all in a group, how is Jordan going to get close? What if he decides that, instead of taking potshots, he wants to blow us up? Plants some C-4 the day before we get there somewhere we can't find and boom. That's four hundred agents dead. I just don't like putting all of our eggs in one basket."
"What's another avenue?" asked Conrad.
Sydney looked at her. "Faking your death."
"So, I'm dead. What does that do?"
"It moves the target to California."
"You're suggesting we intentionally target Sam?" Crystal asked incredulously.
Sydney nodded.
"You're suggesting we intentionally target a civilian? A high profile one at that..."
Sydney nodded again.
"He's my *cousin*. He's my only real family and you want to..." Crystal couldn't even finish the sentence.
Conrad looked at Sydney. "Tell me more."
"Well, even here we can do it one of two ways. We can either fake her death on our own. Fake some medical documentation, include a picture and a newspaper write-up... Or we could have her out in a kevlar vest and rig it the way Hollywood rigs its actors," said Sydney.
"But, that would only work if he shot at her chest. If he aims high, her head is completely vulnerable, other parts of her body..." Vaughn said, drifting off.
"It's also going to have to be realistic," said Sydney. "Sam's going to have to play along and I think it might be better if he didn't know ahead of time that it was a ruse."
Crystal opened her mouth to protest but Conrad beat her to the punch. "The California team is going to have to know not to let it slip. Plus, we're going to need to get the FBI in on this. It'll be on their turf. I don't think they'll have too much of a problem with it, though."
"He is ten days from the election! If it comes out between now and then that his cousin 'died', he goes to a funeral, and two days later, she's magically walking around back from the dead, it's going to *ruin* him!" said Crystal, finding her voice again and jumping out of her seat.
"Who says the public has to know?" asked Vaughn.
"She just did! And Robby did. Sam's going to have to play along. It's going to have to be on the news. He's got to have a public display of mourning. You want my picture on TV and in the papers. That ends my career. His career as a Congressman gets off to a lying start. Does anybody else see a problem with this?"
Conrad sighed, and glanced at his watch before standing up. "Okay, tell you what. We won't put any plan into motion tonight. Agents Vaughn, Bristow, why you go back to your hotel, change, and come back for dinner. Crys... You need to get some sleep."
"Do I get to go home?"
"No."
"Then, forget it."
"I can get the infirmary to *sedate* you, y'know," he said.
She sighed heavily.
"It's just a nap, Crys. You haven't slept since London."
"How do you know?"
"You didn't slam Josh into a wall when he touched you in Leo's office. You jumped. You were scared. You only get scared when you haven't slept."
She looked up at him, with her tired eyes. "He's all I've got, Robby. He's it," she said softly.
He wrapped a gentle arm around her. "C'mon. Naptime."
Sydney slipped her jacket on as Conrad led Crystal from the room. "So, there are a few flaws..."
"The entire CIA is on this. We'll get an answer, we'll get a plan, and we'll get this over with and go back to L.A."
She smiled. "Does sound nice."
"In the meantime... we've got to find a way back to the hotel." He smiled.
"You did bring your tux, right?"
He nodded. "It's going to be an interesting night, I think."
"Why do you think that?"
"Members of the Senate and House Intelligence Committees are going to be here. Do they know about what's going on? Are we going to be tiptoeing around the subject the whole night?"
"They probably want to know about the Alliance," she said as they started for the door themselves.
"What's there to know? It's gone."
"Except for Sloane..."
"We'll get him," he assured her. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"What if it's like... like that movie? Face/Off?" suggested Weiss.
"He could've surgically altered my campaign manager in the past three days? He arrived in Washington this morning. That's a little extreme, don't you think?" asked Sam.
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Sydney and Vaughn are in Washington for a day off to be followed by some hobnobbing but are called into work. An international terrorist is targeting one of the West Wing's own because of his cousin, a CIA agent. Worried for his safety, the CIA tries to get the candidate, ten days out from his election, some protection, and attempt to use the White House as a back channel.
The CIA contingent followed Leo into his office. Conrad sat down across from Leo's desk, and tried to coax Crystal into sitting beside him. Sydney and Vaughn stood behind the leather chairs while Josh lingered by the desk as his boss dialed.
"I'm going to call the headquarters first, find out where he is and see if we can catch him on a landline," Leo explained, putting the phone on speaker.
"Seaborn for Congress," answered a perky volunteer.
"Can you tell me where the candidate is right now?" Leo asked.
"Let me check the schedule..." There was silence for a moment, and Crystal removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Sir?"
"I'm here," said Leo.
"He's at the Garden Grove Community Center."
"You don't happen to have the phone number there, do you?"
The campaign worker prattled off the telephone number.
"Thank you very much." He terminated the call, and started to dial again.
"Why didn't we think of that?" Conrad asked.
"Because we wouldn't know the inner workings of a political campaign if they came up and bit us in the ass?" asked Crystal, sliding her glasses back on her face.
"Could be."
The rings of the speakerphone were soon replaced with a deep voice: "Garden Grove Community Center."
"Is the Seaborn campaign there?"
"Yeah, they're just wrapping up."
"I need to speak with someone from the campaign," said Leo.
"Let me see what I can do, sir, hold on."
Elevator music replaced the silence from before.
Josh looked at Crystal. She had green eyes instead of Sam's blues. She sort of looked like him, though. They were roughly the same height and had similar facial features... cheekbones and noses. "You want to sit down?" he asked her.
She looked up at him. "I'm fine, thanks."
"You want something to drink?" he offered. When she didn't tell him no, he continued. "Water? Juice?"
"Water'd be great, thank you."
"Sure," he said, slipping out of the office.
"Scott Holcomb," said Sam's campaign manager.
"Scott, this is Leo McGarry. I need to speak to Sam."
He sighed. "Just a minute, Mr. McGarry." He lowered the phone, but they could hear him mutter: "Damned D.C. people. Somebody get the candidate, please. Tell him it's McGarry."
"Nice to know we're making an impression," commented Conrad.
There was a brief, muffled conversation and then another voice came on the line. "Leo?"
"Sam, I have some people here who want to talk to you."
Conrad looked at Crystal, who took her cue to speak. "Sam, it's Crys."
"Crys? What are you doing at the White House?"
"Trying to get a hold of you. Your guys wouldn't let CIA calls through."
"What? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"You should've received a phone call about two hours ago from state troopers wanting to send you protection."
"Crys, please, the guy before me died, and of natural causes. I'm fine; I don't need guards."
"Actually, you do. Sam, this is DCI Robert Conrad. We have sufficient reason to believe you're in mortal danger."
"Why am I not getting this from the FBI or the Orange County authorities?"
"It's an international threat," answered Leo.
"What did I do to honk off a foreign power?" asked Sam incredulously.
"You were born. More specifically, your cousin was and survived something no one else did. This person knows she survived and that puts you and she in danger," said Conrad.
"Crys... what's going on?" Sam asked, pleading for a familiar voice with words of wisdom and reason.
"It's his pattern. I survived so more have to die and usually it starts with family."
"You have to be joking."
"You're visible, Sam. You're visible and an easy target and we want to keep you safe. Please, let us help you," she implored.
"If I have troopers all over me, the press'll start asking questions. We're a little over a week out and... Crys, I don't know that I like this."
"Well, neither do I!"
A hand softly touched her elbow, almost prompting Crys to come unglued. It was only Josh, with a sympathetic look and her glass of water.
"Sam, I want you to talk to some of my agents here, Vaughn and Bristow. They're based out of LA and have been in contact with their office," said Conrad.
Sydney stepped up to the phone. "Mr. Seaborn, this is Agent Bristow. We can have a team of plain clothed security experts dispatched to your campaign within the half hour. They'll look like volunteers or staffers. The press won't know anything's different."
"Who is this guy?" asked Sam.
"For that information, Sam, we'll send someone out to you for a complete briefing. Just be advised you're in serious danger," said Conrad.
Sam sighed and was silent for a moment. "All right. Have your people come to the campaign headquarters; I can give you the address."
"We have that. We're sending... who are we sending out to the campaign?" Conrad asked, looking at Vaughn and Sydney.
"Among others, Mr. Seaborn, Jack Bristow and Eric Weiss," answered Sydney.
"Any relation, Agent Bristow?" inquired Sam.
"He's my father."
"It's a family affair, isn't it?"
Sydney glanced briefly at Vaughn. "I suppose so."
"I hope this doesn't turn into an episode of the Man from UNCLE," said Sam with a sigh.
"Too late," Crystal muttered.
"If this guy is in D.C., why should I be worried?"
"Sam, please!" Crystal begged.
"I'm just asking how credible of a threat this is, Crys," he said sharply.
Conrad jumped in. "One of his associates could be in Orange County right now. We're not about to take that chance."
"Director--" Sam had barely gotten started when someone else interrupted.
"It's plain-clothed CIA or very visible Secret Service because the President is very willing to deploy a team or six," said Leo.
He sighed. "Fine. Fine. We're going back to the headquarters now."
"We'll send some agents to you," said Conrad.
"Make sure they know that I want to know *exactly* what's going on. I want to know who this guy is, why you think I'm in trouble, what this has to do with Crys. Everything."
"All right," conceded Conrad. "They'll be there soon."
"Hey, Crys..." began Sam.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, lying through her teeth.
"I need this, right?"
"Yes."
"All right."
"Be safe, Sam," Josh said, piping up for the first time.
"Keep an eye on her for me, Josh, please?" asked Sam.
"Sure."
"Thanks," Sam said before ending the call.
Conrad looked at Leo. "Mind if I order the op from here?"
"By all means," said the Chief of Staff, pushing the phone closer to him.
"Now the question becomes," said Conrad as he dialed, "what are we gonna do with you, Crys? You have a ten-foot bulls-eye painted on you."
"You're gonna let me go home," she said simply.
Conrad held up a finger to silence her for a moment. "Tell L.A. that it's a go. Send Jack Bristow with the brief." Hanging up, he looked at Crystal. "You will be very much dead if you go home."
"C'mon, Robby. My name's not on the door; my number isn't listed."
"It's not safe, Crys."
"They would assume I'm not there because of the safety risk, so I stay there and be fine."
"Or, they could assume nothing and go blow the place up for sport no matter what you do," said Vaughn, prompting Crystal to look at the California agent. "He sounds like that type of guy is all I'm saying."
"And I'm saying I want to go home! I've been out of the country six months and for the past three days, I've been at the Farm. I want to sleep in my own bed, look at the view from my own window. This? This is bullshit, Robby. Let me go home."
"I've always been easy on you. Always. Yes, you saved my ass in Egypt several years ago. Yes, I appreciate that. And I'm going to return the favor, but I will do so to the extent of putting you under Farm arrest if I must!" insisted Conrad.
She sighed heavily before taking a sip of her water.
"I'm looking out for you as one of my top agents, Crystal. I also want to watch your back because we're former partners."
Sydney glanced at Vaughn, who was watching the scene play out between the Director and a fellow agent.
"I want to go *home*, Robby. Not a hotel. Not the Farm. Somewhere *comfortable*."
When Conrad didn't respond to her right away, Leo spoke up: "Do you two want the room?"
Conrad shook his head. "We've spent too much time here as it is. We'll get going."
"Can I do anything?" asked Josh. "I mean, Sam asked me to look out for her and I'd like to keep my word to my best friend."
"I don't think you can be of much good to me, honestly. Unless you're, I dunno, Superman under that Clark Kent suit," Crystal said.
"Pardon me while I find the nearest phone booth," Josh shot back.
"We'll let you know, Josh," Conrad assured him. "In the meantime... thank you for the use of your phone and the South Lawn."
"Are you still having the CIA dinner tonight?" asked Leo.
Conrad smiled. "I'd actually forgotten, but yeah. Senate and House Intelligence are both going to be there. The White House offer still stands."
Josh glanced at Leo. "I think we should accept, don't you?"
"Probably a good idea. I'll see what's on the President's plate, but you and I'll go, definitely."
Josh looked at Crystal. "Guess I'll see you tonight?"
"We'll see," she said, still hoping she could talk her way home.
~~~
"Mr. Seaborn?"
Sam looked up at the young aide. "Yeah?"
"There are some people here to see you. They say they have an appointment, but it's not on the schedule."
"What's the name?"
"Bristow," she answered.
"Send him in," Sam said, standing up and straightening his tie. "And pull Scott out of whatever he's doing. He probably needs to be here for this, too."
The aide nodded and disappeared as a gray-haired gentleman entered. He had dark--were they black?--eyes and a serious, deadly expression and demeanor. Another man entered, in a similar suit. He was younger, with dark hair and eyes, but he seemed so much more approachable. Friendly even.
Jack Bristow waited to speak until the door was closed. "Mr. Seaborn, my name is Jack Bristow, this is Agent Eric Weiss."
Sam extended his hand to them, shaking Jack's then Eric's hands. "Hello. Before you get into too much detail, I want my campaign manager in to hear everything."
"I don't think so, Mr. Seaborn," said Jack. "The fewer who know about this the better. If it weren't for a direct order from the DCI, I wouldn't be relaying this information to you right now."
The door to the office opened, and Weiss and Jack turned towards the door to see Scott Holcomb standing there. "Sam? What's up?"
"I can't make the three o'clock. Think you could find somebody to send in my place?" asked Sam.
Scott sighed. "You couldn't have told me earlier?"
"Something came up."
"Like what?"
"Something. Would you please fix the schedule?"
"You can't be doing this, Sam. We're ten days out. One cancelled event means one hundred voters aren't going to bother to show up for you because you wouldn't bother to show up for them."
"You're going to have to clear it. And I need my office, so, if you'll excuse us?"
Scott glanced at Weiss and Jack, then left, closing the door behind him.
Sam sighed slightly. "Can I get you two anything? Coffee?" After both declined, he gestured towards the seats across from his desk. "At least sit, please."
Weiss did but before Jack did, he handed Sam a file folder. "Inside is a biographical compilation of the threat, as well as what has brought him to our attention in regards to you."
Sam flipped through the information, skimming through it, when he froze for a moment.
"I'm assuming the picture you've found is that of the hotel suite in Borneo," said Jack.
"Couldn't tell for all the blood," he said quietly.
"Jordan leaves no survivors. He's discovered, however, that he left one in that room."
Sam looked up. "Oh, my God... Crys was here?"
Jack nodded. "She survived. They ran into each other in London and now he's back to finish the job."
"Is she okay?"
"She's in good hands, Mr. Seaborn," Weiss said.
"And now so are you. You're a target. If he can't get to her, he could kill you to draw her out," explained Jack. "Which is why we're here... joining your campaign."
Sam nodded. "All right."
Weiss started going through a laundry list of things they needed access to so he could be safe. Jack stopped him when he saw that Sam wasn't really paying attention, too focused on the image of the Borneo hotel suite. "Mr. Seaborn?"
"Hm?"
"She's fine."
"Your daughter's in this business, Agent Bristow. How can you stand it?"
Weiss glanced from Sam to Jack, wanting to see how he answered it as well.
"It is, at times, rather difficult..."
"At least you know," Sam said.
"Know what?" asked Jack.
"Where she is. What she's doing. I don't know until three years later that she could've died like this," he said, holding up the picture, a sober expression on his face.
"It's her job."
"The job sucks."
"I dunno, there is, occasionally, something to be said for this line of work," piped in Weiss.
"Like what?" asked Sam.
"Like protecting the people you care about," Weiss answered.
Sam shook his head. "Your job sucks."
"Mr. Seaborn, if she didn't want to be in the CIA, she wouldn't be," said Jack, jumping back into the conversation.
"No. She was taken. She was vulnerable and some guy came in and offered her the world and she took it. She was seventeen years old. She couldn't vote. She couldn't drink. She'd barely had her license a year. Don't try to console me. You're part of the organization that has her and won't give her back."
"She's had the opportunity to get out, Mr. Seaborn. The door is open to any of us who want out."
Sam shook his head. "No, it's not."
"I met her when she was first recruited." Sam's eyes flew to Jack's. "She told me that she wanted to be there. She wanted to learn. She wanted to become the best of the best. There were times I saw her pushing herself so much harder than the rest of the cadets in training that I finally had to stop and ask her why. She said it was for her family. Not her parents necessarily, but one family member in particular. She's willing to give the ultimate sacrifice... for you."
"I don't want her to!"
"You don't have the authority to tell her that. It's her decision to make. And if your personal protection was her decision, don't doubt for a moment she'd be here. She is not because of the risks to you and she understands that. And she's putting up with the agents guarding her, albeit begrudgingly, just as you'll be putting up with us. As soon as this is over, I'm sure there will be a brief reunion of sorts before her next mission."
"Have you seen her recently?" asked Sam.
Jack sighed slightly. "Just on a video conference this morning."
"Did you see her in Borneo?"
"I've spent the past few years on another mission, Mr. Seaborn. If you'll allow us access to the areas we require, you'll be secure and we'll have more time to... chat... later."
"The only problem you're going to run into is my campaign manager who wants to be in on everything," said Sam.
"He won't be a problem," Jack said confidently.
"Then, I'll let you deal with him. Something else... You do know that the President is coming this weekend for a pre-Get Out the Vote initiative, right?"
"We'll take that up with Director Conrad and see what he wants to do," said Jack.
Sam nodded. "I'll get you guys credentials printed up. Whatever you need, just... go for it."
~~~
The CIA Headquarters was abuzz with activity but the most spirited debate was going on in the DCI's conference room just off his office. Conrad, Sydney, Vaughn, and Crystal were in the windowless room, discussing potential operations to take Jordan down.
"We still have to find him first," said Crystal.
"And we're looking," Conrad began. "I just want us to have some options for when we find him because I want him down as quickly as possible."
"You think I don't?" asked Crystal, arching an eyebrow.
"Crys... you haven't slept in three days. I think you're getting a little agitated."
"Agitated?"
"What about getting him in California?" asked Sydney, not wanting the meeting to descend into another bickering contest between the Director and Crystal.
Conrad looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"What about forcing him to California? He's on our timetable, we're not waiting for him to strike..."
"How do we force him to California, though?" asked Crystal.
"Well, there are a few potential avenues..." started Sydney.
"Such as?" prompted Conrad.
"Well, we could make an obvious showing of Crystal flying to California to be with her cousin. Have her going out and about in town, commenting about it, wearing a campaign button, all of this... We make up a campaign stop somewhere out of the way, where he's not, build our own crowd with CIA agents, have someone up to introduce him, maybe even Crystal. He can take potshots at her and with the crowd being made entirely of our operatives, we can get him that way."
"That's one idea," said Crystal, leaning back in her chair. "But, if we're all in a group, how is Jordan going to get close? What if he decides that, instead of taking potshots, he wants to blow us up? Plants some C-4 the day before we get there somewhere we can't find and boom. That's four hundred agents dead. I just don't like putting all of our eggs in one basket."
"What's another avenue?" asked Conrad.
Sydney looked at her. "Faking your death."
"So, I'm dead. What does that do?"
"It moves the target to California."
"You're suggesting we intentionally target Sam?" Crystal asked incredulously.
Sydney nodded.
"You're suggesting we intentionally target a civilian? A high profile one at that..."
Sydney nodded again.
"He's my *cousin*. He's my only real family and you want to..." Crystal couldn't even finish the sentence.
Conrad looked at Sydney. "Tell me more."
"Well, even here we can do it one of two ways. We can either fake her death on our own. Fake some medical documentation, include a picture and a newspaper write-up... Or we could have her out in a kevlar vest and rig it the way Hollywood rigs its actors," said Sydney.
"But, that would only work if he shot at her chest. If he aims high, her head is completely vulnerable, other parts of her body..." Vaughn said, drifting off.
"It's also going to have to be realistic," said Sydney. "Sam's going to have to play along and I think it might be better if he didn't know ahead of time that it was a ruse."
Crystal opened her mouth to protest but Conrad beat her to the punch. "The California team is going to have to know not to let it slip. Plus, we're going to need to get the FBI in on this. It'll be on their turf. I don't think they'll have too much of a problem with it, though."
"He is ten days from the election! If it comes out between now and then that his cousin 'died', he goes to a funeral, and two days later, she's magically walking around back from the dead, it's going to *ruin* him!" said Crystal, finding her voice again and jumping out of her seat.
"Who says the public has to know?" asked Vaughn.
"She just did! And Robby did. Sam's going to have to play along. It's going to have to be on the news. He's got to have a public display of mourning. You want my picture on TV and in the papers. That ends my career. His career as a Congressman gets off to a lying start. Does anybody else see a problem with this?"
Conrad sighed, and glanced at his watch before standing up. "Okay, tell you what. We won't put any plan into motion tonight. Agents Vaughn, Bristow, why you go back to your hotel, change, and come back for dinner. Crys... You need to get some sleep."
"Do I get to go home?"
"No."
"Then, forget it."
"I can get the infirmary to *sedate* you, y'know," he said.
She sighed heavily.
"It's just a nap, Crys. You haven't slept since London."
"How do you know?"
"You didn't slam Josh into a wall when he touched you in Leo's office. You jumped. You were scared. You only get scared when you haven't slept."
She looked up at him, with her tired eyes. "He's all I've got, Robby. He's it," she said softly.
He wrapped a gentle arm around her. "C'mon. Naptime."
Sydney slipped her jacket on as Conrad led Crystal from the room. "So, there are a few flaws..."
"The entire CIA is on this. We'll get an answer, we'll get a plan, and we'll get this over with and go back to L.A."
She smiled. "Does sound nice."
"In the meantime... we've got to find a way back to the hotel." He smiled.
"You did bring your tux, right?"
He nodded. "It's going to be an interesting night, I think."
"Why do you think that?"
"Members of the Senate and House Intelligence Committees are going to be here. Do they know about what's going on? Are we going to be tiptoeing around the subject the whole night?"
"They probably want to know about the Alliance," she said as they started for the door themselves.
"What's there to know? It's gone."
"Except for Sloane..."
"We'll get him," he assured her. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"What if it's like... like that movie? Face/Off?" suggested Weiss.
"He could've surgically altered my campaign manager in the past three days? He arrived in Washington this morning. That's a little extreme, don't you think?" asked Sam.