For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Years ago, Crystal and Ian blow up an Embassy in Germany, but before the building goes, Ian retrieves a Rambaldi artifact. Ian tries to get her to join the "more advanced" branch of the CIA in California, but that only erupts into an argument. In more recent times, Sydney gets frustrated over e-mails sent from Sloane to "Iggy" and Vaughn seems to have found areas where CIA and SD-6 operations overlap. Josh gets suckered into an assignment he turned down from Amy but Leo makes him take-finding out what Congressman Wick wants with money for "National Security."
And you still have a rage inside you That you carry with a certain pride In the only part of a broken heart That you could ever save
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
Sydney watched as Dixon poured through files. She, Dixon and Vaughn had taken over a conference room in the CIA headquarters, allowing Vaughn to have his flowcharts flat on the table. Dixon frowned slightly, finally finding a file and tossing it onto the table. "What's next?"
"Case number D-9873NH," Vaughn read, marking through another circle with his dry-erase marker.
While Dixon got to work sifting through the file boxes, Sydney poured through the case file he'd just removed. She'd glanced through the other fifteen quickly, to see what jumped out at her. She sighed slightly. "Same agent number, same informational stats blacked out."
"Are we still backtracking the agent number?" Vaughn asked, glancing at her.
Sydney nodded. "Weiss is in there with Marshall as we speak."
Dixon tossed another file onto the table. "Next?"
As Vaughn read off another number, Sydney closed the one she'd been looking at and grabbed the newest one. As Dixon sifted, Vaughn picked up the one she'd just tossed away and started casually flipping through its contents. "Uh... Sydney?"
"Hm?" she asked, not looking up.
"They missed a spot..."
"What?" she asked, glancing up at him.
"I think this is Iggy."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He showed her the document in the file. "He initialed it... And they didn't mark it out."
Initials were clearly visible in the upper left hand corner of one of the pages. The initials were IG.
Sydney stood. "Can I have that file please?"
Vaughn handed it over. "Where are you going?" he asked as she started for the door.
"Keep looking!" she said, exiting the conference room and making a beeline for her father's office. "Dad?"
"Sydney?" he asked.
"You have a minute?"
He nodded, and she sat across from his desk.
"In the early days of SD-6, with you and Sloane... Do you remember anyone by the name of Iggy?"
Jack Bristow arched an eyebrow. "Iggy?"
"Yes."
"I don't recall any Iggy's off the top of my head, no."
"What about someone with the initials IG?" she asked.
"IG?"
She opened the file, showing him the initials that were not blackened.
"I'm not sure, Sydney, but I think maybe... Why don't you leave me this file, and let me call Langley. I should be able to get you an answer by the end of the day."
She nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
Washington D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Night
Ian sat alone, in total darkness, on the couch in his apartment, staring off into nothingness. He pondered his choices, his decisions that had brought him to his current state.
What was he thinking, trying to get her involved? What was he thinking, extolling her virtues to Arvin Sloane?
Those decisions, however, were made, and there was no way to undo the damage they'd caused.
A more pressing question was who was scratching at his apartment door. Quietly easing off the couch, he stood, grabbing his gun from the side table; he stealthily crossed to the door. Silently, he worked the chain lock back from its locked position, ready for whoever wanted entry. When the door started to open, Ian grabbed the intruder, slamming them against the wall, his hand at their throat, his gun to their head.
"Ian, please!" Crystal whispered hoarsely. He could see fear in her wide eyes, total panic.
This was not the girl he knew, the girl who barely flinched. "Crystal?" he asked, still restraining her.
"Please," she begged, a pair of tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
He backed off. "What the hell are you--you weren't supposed to be home for two more days!"
"I couldn't stay over there," she said, trying to calm her breathing. She put a hand over her eyes, hoping to get rid of all the tears in a hurry.
Ian reached out into the hallway and grabbed her luggage, bringing it inside and locking the door behind him before turning on the faint hallway light. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I was thinking, the whole drive over here, I... I didn't figure you'd try to kill me when I came in!"
"You should know better than to sneak up on me!"
"Christ, Ian!"
"I'm sorry!"
She nodded, slowly pushing herself off the wall and into his arms for a hug. "I've been thinking..."
"Yeah?" he asked, his arms around her.
"I'm not that far from graduation, I'll try to finish up the classes in the second summer term. We'll go in August..."
He gently stroked her hair, sighing a little. "Okay."
Washington D.C.
Yesterday
Morning
Josh stopped at Donna's desk en route to his office after his meeting with Leo. "Can you get me Congressman Wick on the phone please?"
She looked up, and nodded. "Sure."
He entered his office, flopping down on his chair with a sigh. His ex-girlfriend's errant boy? He was not happy with this turn of events. He drummed his fingers, waiting for Donna to come in and say that his old college buddy was on the phone. After a few minutes, Donna did appear at his door, but it wasn't to tell him his call was waiting.
"He's not in."
"Not in?" asked Josh.
She shook her head. "And his staff is unsure of when he'll be in."
"He's avoiding us," Josh said, shaking his head. "Okay, thanks." He started flipping through his Rolodex, finding Wick's cellular phone number and dialing it.
He glanced up as Donna slipped out, closing all doors to his office. She could tell her boss was not a happy camper.
He listened to the rings, and then the answer: "Wick."
"Chris, it's Josh."
There was silence on the other end.
"Yeah, you've stepped in it buddy, and this time I'm there with you."
"What is it?" he asked.
"National Security money."
"I can't talk about it," said the Congressman, quickly deflecting his old college pal.
"Sure you can."
"Over a cell phone?"
"Tell me where you are and I'll call you back on a landline."
"I'll call you--"
"Yeah, never. Not falling for it, Chris. Tell me."
"Look, I can't. Take it up with the DCI."
"Conrad?" asked Josh.
"Josh, I gotta run."
He sighed. "Fine." With that, he pushed the plunger, ending the call before thinking for a moment. He dialed another number, listening to the rings.
"Seaborn's office," answered a harried voice.
"Hey, Melissa, it's Josh."
Crystal's assistant smiled slightly. "Hey. She's not in yet..."
"Yeah, I know, I just... I have a question or two for you."
"Okay..." she said. "What can I do for you?"
"Is there any Company scuttlebutt about an increase in budget?"
"Rumors, y'mean? None that I've heard. But I'm sort of removed from the administrative levels. I pull records, make airline reservations..."
"She's still set to arrive on time tomorrow?"
She smiled. "Should be. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you."
"I hope so. Listen, can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?"
"Patch me through to Conrad's office?"
"You bet."
He listened as the hold message stated someone would be with him shortly, tapping an ink pen on his desk. Exchanging appropriate pleasantries with CIA Director Rob Conrad's assistant, he was soon put through to the Director of Central Intelligence himself. "Director, it's Josh Lyman."
"What'cha need, Josh, we're kinda busy over here."
"Congressman Wick's holding up appropriations measures, saying something about national security measures and he's rather... silent about the whole thing."
"You're calling me about appropriations? Josh, let me refer you to our accounting office and I gotta go."
With that, the call ended and Josh looked at the handset. Shaking his head, he hung up.
Washington, D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Afternoon
Crystal arrived at the apartment earlier than usual, one of her afternoon classes cancelled, much to her delight. Checking the mail, she was alarmed to see a padded envelope with no return address, marked to Ian. Chewing on her lower lip slightly, she carefully carried the package into the apartment. She dropped the bills and junk mail onto the kitchen cabinet, letting her backpack slide off her shoulder.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the postage had been cancelled in California. Knowing Ian wouldn't be home for a few more hours, she set the package on the kitchen table, sitting down in front of it. It worried her, the lack of return address. She licked her lips slightly, leaning in to listen to the package--just in case. Hearing nothing, she weighed the package and tried to ascertain what could possibly be inside. It weighed very little...
Deathly curious, and knowing full well curiosity may kill the cat, she steamed the envelope open.
To her surprise, inside was only a black audiotape with three characters written on the label: "SD-6."
Frowning slightly, she thought about popping it in the tape player and listening. She figured, however, that she'd chanced it enough and, knowing her luck, it'd be like Mission: Impossible and disintegrate before her very eyes once she listened to the message.
With a sigh, she returned the tape to the envelope and resealed it. Gathering up all the mail, she took it back out to the mailbox, to leave it for Ian to find.
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
Marshall looked up as Sydney approached. "Hey," he said. "I got the list."
She smiled, pulling a chair up to sit beside him. "Yeah? And the verdict?"
"I sorted the names by initials and hit a list of about thirty five active agents with the initials IG, with the I either in the first or middle position who've been working since the Company since the eighties."
"That's manageable."
"Considering how many there are otherwise." Marshall let out a breath. "We have quite the employee listing."
She smiled slightly. "I'm sure. What can you tell me about the e- mails to Iggy?"
"The thing about the address with the numbers... this was before domains where it's like 'Sydney@CIA.gov' or whatever. Instead, it was a list of numbers, ranging from zero to two-fifty-five separated by periods. It's... It's really hard to trace. All those numbers were registered and you have to run a reverse DNS. All numbers had to be registered, now whether or not they register with their actual name, y'know, that's another story. That information can easily be falsified. Even with the tracings... you can fake the IP address. It's totally do-able. I've done it myself." He smiled proudly for a moment. "But if you physically look at the path the e-mail took, you wouldn't be able to tell where the information came from. The whole tracing thing was quite difficult because there was an encapsulation process."
"Encapsulation?" Sydney asked, frowning slightly.
"It's like putting the e-mail in an envelope... and putting that envelope in another envelope... until the message is hidden in seven different envelopes. The message starts at the home server and jumps to another server, where it loses the top few envelopes and gains a few more. To trace it... you simply run it backwards from the receiver to the hop before and pick up the envelopes it lost."
"How long will it take to trace?" she asked, eager to get the process started.
"That's just it." He watched as Sydney's shoulders drooped slightly. "The servers dump garbage data just like you throw out used, empty envelopes. Given that it's been twenty years since these e-mails were sent... those envelopes are long since gone."
"There's no way to trace it?"
Marshall shook his head.
"Great," Sydney said quietly.
Jack approached the table. "Did you get the agent listing?" he asked.
Marshall looked up and nodded. "Thirty five agents might be our mysterious IG."
"Any names jump out at you?" Jack asked, scanning the list himself.
Sydney looked at the screen on Marshall's computer. "Not really."
Jack nodded slightly. "Run the list to see if any of these agents have red flags, disciplinary actions against them."
Sydney looked up at him. "You sure?"
"No. But I'd start with them."
Washington D.C.
Yesterday
Morning
Josh ushered the representative from the NSA out of his office. The National Security Agency agent had no idea what was going on with the money Chris Wick was trying to earmark for security purposes. With a sigh, he looked at Donna. "I still have time, right?"
Checking his schedule, she nodded.
"I'm going to make a call. Unless there's a major and I mean major crisis... No interruptions."
"All right..." she said, watching as he retreated to his office and closed the door.
Josh sat at his desk and picked up the phone, dialing a number he'd memorized. "Helen, it's Josh Lyman; I need to speak to him again."
The Director of Central Intelligence's secretary seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Sir--"
"Is he still busy?"
"Not exactly."
"I'm on your side here. I just need to know what's going on to keep the First Lady from cracking down on your boss and mine."
"Please hold."
"Thanks, Helen," he said, again listening to the automated voice that said someone would be on the line shortly to talk to him.
The next voice he heard was that of Director Conrad. "Josh."
"Director. I trust things are calmer?"
"More or less. What can I do for you?"
"What's up with appropriations? I've talked to the NSA; I've talked to Military Intelligence. They know nothing about budgetary increases, although they'd certainly like them. What's going on? Why wasn't the White House notified of the needs?"
"It's really not that much money that we're requesting, but it is necessary."
"For what?"
"For matters pertaining to national security."
"That much I've got, sir. As I was telling your assistant, help me help you. Or else the First Lady's going to have all our heads."
"It's... pertinent that this stays in the governmental realm. If this leaks... We can't stand another intelligence failure. With the whole Kundu thing reaching the boiling point, two media happenings within weeks of each other... We're the CIA. We work best with cloak and dagger and I'm doing my best to keep us in the dark."
Josh smiled slightly. "You mean cloak rooms. You brought in Wick."
"We didn't want to rumble with the First Lady."
"Too late."
"Josh..."
"I'm serious, man, the First Lady is furious. I've had her Chief of Staff calling my office three to four times an hour. I'm starting to get really frustrated with this whole thing myself. You should've come to us first, because we would've been able to settle the First Lady's ruffled feathers. As it is now... you bypassed the executive branch entirely. That's not reflecting well on you, cloak, dagger or neither."
"I'll forward the proposal we gave Wick by courier to the White House."
"Okay."
"And I'll make the First Lady a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"With the bill, I'll send a personal letter if you wouldn't mind making sure the letter gets to Mrs. Bartlet personally?"
"All right. Hey, listen, before I let you go..."
"Yeah?"
"That morning crisis... It didn't have anything to do with Crys, did it?"
"I have to go, Josh."
The Deputy Chief of Staff sighed when he heard the line go dead. That probably wasn't good.
Washington D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Afternoon
Ian sat on the couch in the apartment he shared with Crystal, working on the latest mission from home while Crystal was in the middle of summer school classes when his telephone rang. When he answered, a gruff voice ran over his greeting.
"Where are you with Ms. Seaborn?"
"Sloane..."
"Well?"
"I'm working on it."
"Which means... there's been no progress."
"Yes, there has been. She's trying to finish her degree here before moving to California. She wants to finish and she was going to wait until the fall semester but is working her tail off to get it done by August."
"You're stalling."
"I'm not going to drug her, fly her to L.A., set her up in SD-6 and say, here y'go, sweetie, your new job when she's weeks away from commencement."
"We have schools in L.A."
"She doesn't want her diploma from any of them."
"Ian--"
"She thinks George Washington will give her a better education than UCLA. Plus the fact... she's still a staunch loyalist. Loyal to the CIA, to her country, her school... This is not going to be an easy get."
"I want her latest CIA stats."
"Hack them."
"No, I want you to get them for me. From Langley."
"Sloane..."
"By Monday."
Ian sighed slightly. "I'll get them before the end of the week."
"Good."
Ian slammed the phone down.
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
"Sydney!"
She looked up as Marshall came scurrying towards her desk. "I ran into my friend from Cryptology and they broke the code from the e-mails."
She stood from her desk as he handed her the information he'd picked up. Scanning quickly, she exhaled. "This guy's a mole. For SD-6 in the CIA."
"They're still working on the others, but there's his first name," he said, pointing to the three letter combination at the bottom. "Ian."
"I don't remember having an Ian on our list..." She looked up at him. "What about the other e-mails?"
"They're finishing them up and they'll get them to you as soon as possible."
She smiled. "Thank you." Sitting back down at her desk, she consulted the list of thirty-five she had and, again, came up empty with an Ian. Carrying the e-mail and the list, she headed towards her father's desk. "Dad?"
He was typing on his computer and didn't look up. "Yes?"
"Do you remember an SD-6 mole named Ian?"
"A mole in SD-6? I believe that was only the two of us."
"No, for SD-6 in the CIA."
"There were no SD-6 moles in the CIA."
She presented him with the e-mail. "I just got this decrypted. This message was from Sloane to someone named Ian, whose e-mail prefix was Iggy. Sloane says, and I quote, 'you promised me the employee file by Friday. It's now Monday and I still don't have it. Is Langley too hard to break into from the inside?' Dad, who was on the inside?"
He scanned the e-mail, then looked up at her. "I don't know. I don't ever remember there being a mole in the CIA for us."
"Dad..."
"No mole. Move on. I know for a fact there are more e-mails Sloane sent to people with other names than Iggy."
"Right," she said, fighting a sigh. Taking the e-mail, she returned to her desk. She drummed her fingers on her desk, waiting for the file from Cryptology.
Ian.
Iggy.
He had to be someone.
When the file arrived, she quickly tore through the information, coming up with a last name.
Guthrie.
She picked up the phone, dialing the Langley office, and the extension of her only real contact in D.C.
"Seaborn's office."
"Melissa? This is Sydney Bristow, is Crystal in?"
"I'm sorry, Agent Bristow, she's currently unavailable."
"She's overseas?"
"Yeah."
Sydney sighed. "When will she be back?"
"Actually, she's set to fly in tomorrow, with a layover at LAX."
"How long's the layover?"
"Several hours."
"Melissa, can you give me her flight information? She shouldn't stay at the airport that whole time... I'd like to take her out for coffee or lunch or something..."
"Sure, let me forward the information to you encrypted."
She smiled. "Wonderful."
But you've been through it once, you know how it ends You don't see the point of going through it again And this ain't the time, and this ain't the place And neither's any other day
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
Crystal looked at the building with a frown. "A bank?"
"C'mon," said Ian. "Hazard pay. Gotta invest somewhere."
"I've never heard of Credit Dauphine. First American, sure, but..."
"They're the best," he said, leading her in. "An off-shoot from a Swiss bank."
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Years ago, Crystal and Ian blow up an Embassy in Germany, but before the building goes, Ian retrieves a Rambaldi artifact. Ian tries to get her to join the "more advanced" branch of the CIA in California, but that only erupts into an argument. In more recent times, Sydney gets frustrated over e-mails sent from Sloane to "Iggy" and Vaughn seems to have found areas where CIA and SD-6 operations overlap. Josh gets suckered into an assignment he turned down from Amy but Leo makes him take-finding out what Congressman Wick wants with money for "National Security."
And you still have a rage inside you That you carry with a certain pride In the only part of a broken heart That you could ever save
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
Sydney watched as Dixon poured through files. She, Dixon and Vaughn had taken over a conference room in the CIA headquarters, allowing Vaughn to have his flowcharts flat on the table. Dixon frowned slightly, finally finding a file and tossing it onto the table. "What's next?"
"Case number D-9873NH," Vaughn read, marking through another circle with his dry-erase marker.
While Dixon got to work sifting through the file boxes, Sydney poured through the case file he'd just removed. She'd glanced through the other fifteen quickly, to see what jumped out at her. She sighed slightly. "Same agent number, same informational stats blacked out."
"Are we still backtracking the agent number?" Vaughn asked, glancing at her.
Sydney nodded. "Weiss is in there with Marshall as we speak."
Dixon tossed another file onto the table. "Next?"
As Vaughn read off another number, Sydney closed the one she'd been looking at and grabbed the newest one. As Dixon sifted, Vaughn picked up the one she'd just tossed away and started casually flipping through its contents. "Uh... Sydney?"
"Hm?" she asked, not looking up.
"They missed a spot..."
"What?" she asked, glancing up at him.
"I think this is Iggy."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He showed her the document in the file. "He initialed it... And they didn't mark it out."
Initials were clearly visible in the upper left hand corner of one of the pages. The initials were IG.
Sydney stood. "Can I have that file please?"
Vaughn handed it over. "Where are you going?" he asked as she started for the door.
"Keep looking!" she said, exiting the conference room and making a beeline for her father's office. "Dad?"
"Sydney?" he asked.
"You have a minute?"
He nodded, and she sat across from his desk.
"In the early days of SD-6, with you and Sloane... Do you remember anyone by the name of Iggy?"
Jack Bristow arched an eyebrow. "Iggy?"
"Yes."
"I don't recall any Iggy's off the top of my head, no."
"What about someone with the initials IG?" she asked.
"IG?"
She opened the file, showing him the initials that were not blackened.
"I'm not sure, Sydney, but I think maybe... Why don't you leave me this file, and let me call Langley. I should be able to get you an answer by the end of the day."
She nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
Washington D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Night
Ian sat alone, in total darkness, on the couch in his apartment, staring off into nothingness. He pondered his choices, his decisions that had brought him to his current state.
What was he thinking, trying to get her involved? What was he thinking, extolling her virtues to Arvin Sloane?
Those decisions, however, were made, and there was no way to undo the damage they'd caused.
A more pressing question was who was scratching at his apartment door. Quietly easing off the couch, he stood, grabbing his gun from the side table; he stealthily crossed to the door. Silently, he worked the chain lock back from its locked position, ready for whoever wanted entry. When the door started to open, Ian grabbed the intruder, slamming them against the wall, his hand at their throat, his gun to their head.
"Ian, please!" Crystal whispered hoarsely. He could see fear in her wide eyes, total panic.
This was not the girl he knew, the girl who barely flinched. "Crystal?" he asked, still restraining her.
"Please," she begged, a pair of tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
He backed off. "What the hell are you--you weren't supposed to be home for two more days!"
"I couldn't stay over there," she said, trying to calm her breathing. She put a hand over her eyes, hoping to get rid of all the tears in a hurry.
Ian reached out into the hallway and grabbed her luggage, bringing it inside and locking the door behind him before turning on the faint hallway light. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I was thinking, the whole drive over here, I... I didn't figure you'd try to kill me when I came in!"
"You should know better than to sneak up on me!"
"Christ, Ian!"
"I'm sorry!"
She nodded, slowly pushing herself off the wall and into his arms for a hug. "I've been thinking..."
"Yeah?" he asked, his arms around her.
"I'm not that far from graduation, I'll try to finish up the classes in the second summer term. We'll go in August..."
He gently stroked her hair, sighing a little. "Okay."
Washington D.C.
Yesterday
Morning
Josh stopped at Donna's desk en route to his office after his meeting with Leo. "Can you get me Congressman Wick on the phone please?"
She looked up, and nodded. "Sure."
He entered his office, flopping down on his chair with a sigh. His ex-girlfriend's errant boy? He was not happy with this turn of events. He drummed his fingers, waiting for Donna to come in and say that his old college buddy was on the phone. After a few minutes, Donna did appear at his door, but it wasn't to tell him his call was waiting.
"He's not in."
"Not in?" asked Josh.
She shook her head. "And his staff is unsure of when he'll be in."
"He's avoiding us," Josh said, shaking his head. "Okay, thanks." He started flipping through his Rolodex, finding Wick's cellular phone number and dialing it.
He glanced up as Donna slipped out, closing all doors to his office. She could tell her boss was not a happy camper.
He listened to the rings, and then the answer: "Wick."
"Chris, it's Josh."
There was silence on the other end.
"Yeah, you've stepped in it buddy, and this time I'm there with you."
"What is it?" he asked.
"National Security money."
"I can't talk about it," said the Congressman, quickly deflecting his old college pal.
"Sure you can."
"Over a cell phone?"
"Tell me where you are and I'll call you back on a landline."
"I'll call you--"
"Yeah, never. Not falling for it, Chris. Tell me."
"Look, I can't. Take it up with the DCI."
"Conrad?" asked Josh.
"Josh, I gotta run."
He sighed. "Fine." With that, he pushed the plunger, ending the call before thinking for a moment. He dialed another number, listening to the rings.
"Seaborn's office," answered a harried voice.
"Hey, Melissa, it's Josh."
Crystal's assistant smiled slightly. "Hey. She's not in yet..."
"Yeah, I know, I just... I have a question or two for you."
"Okay..." she said. "What can I do for you?"
"Is there any Company scuttlebutt about an increase in budget?"
"Rumors, y'mean? None that I've heard. But I'm sort of removed from the administrative levels. I pull records, make airline reservations..."
"She's still set to arrive on time tomorrow?"
She smiled. "Should be. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you."
"I hope so. Listen, can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?"
"Patch me through to Conrad's office?"
"You bet."
He listened as the hold message stated someone would be with him shortly, tapping an ink pen on his desk. Exchanging appropriate pleasantries with CIA Director Rob Conrad's assistant, he was soon put through to the Director of Central Intelligence himself. "Director, it's Josh Lyman."
"What'cha need, Josh, we're kinda busy over here."
"Congressman Wick's holding up appropriations measures, saying something about national security measures and he's rather... silent about the whole thing."
"You're calling me about appropriations? Josh, let me refer you to our accounting office and I gotta go."
With that, the call ended and Josh looked at the handset. Shaking his head, he hung up.
Washington, D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Afternoon
Crystal arrived at the apartment earlier than usual, one of her afternoon classes cancelled, much to her delight. Checking the mail, she was alarmed to see a padded envelope with no return address, marked to Ian. Chewing on her lower lip slightly, she carefully carried the package into the apartment. She dropped the bills and junk mail onto the kitchen cabinet, letting her backpack slide off her shoulder.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the postage had been cancelled in California. Knowing Ian wouldn't be home for a few more hours, she set the package on the kitchen table, sitting down in front of it. It worried her, the lack of return address. She licked her lips slightly, leaning in to listen to the package--just in case. Hearing nothing, she weighed the package and tried to ascertain what could possibly be inside. It weighed very little...
Deathly curious, and knowing full well curiosity may kill the cat, she steamed the envelope open.
To her surprise, inside was only a black audiotape with three characters written on the label: "SD-6."
Frowning slightly, she thought about popping it in the tape player and listening. She figured, however, that she'd chanced it enough and, knowing her luck, it'd be like Mission: Impossible and disintegrate before her very eyes once she listened to the message.
With a sigh, she returned the tape to the envelope and resealed it. Gathering up all the mail, she took it back out to the mailbox, to leave it for Ian to find.
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
Marshall looked up as Sydney approached. "Hey," he said. "I got the list."
She smiled, pulling a chair up to sit beside him. "Yeah? And the verdict?"
"I sorted the names by initials and hit a list of about thirty five active agents with the initials IG, with the I either in the first or middle position who've been working since the Company since the eighties."
"That's manageable."
"Considering how many there are otherwise." Marshall let out a breath. "We have quite the employee listing."
She smiled slightly. "I'm sure. What can you tell me about the e- mails to Iggy?"
"The thing about the address with the numbers... this was before domains where it's like 'Sydney@CIA.gov' or whatever. Instead, it was a list of numbers, ranging from zero to two-fifty-five separated by periods. It's... It's really hard to trace. All those numbers were registered and you have to run a reverse DNS. All numbers had to be registered, now whether or not they register with their actual name, y'know, that's another story. That information can easily be falsified. Even with the tracings... you can fake the IP address. It's totally do-able. I've done it myself." He smiled proudly for a moment. "But if you physically look at the path the e-mail took, you wouldn't be able to tell where the information came from. The whole tracing thing was quite difficult because there was an encapsulation process."
"Encapsulation?" Sydney asked, frowning slightly.
"It's like putting the e-mail in an envelope... and putting that envelope in another envelope... until the message is hidden in seven different envelopes. The message starts at the home server and jumps to another server, where it loses the top few envelopes and gains a few more. To trace it... you simply run it backwards from the receiver to the hop before and pick up the envelopes it lost."
"How long will it take to trace?" she asked, eager to get the process started.
"That's just it." He watched as Sydney's shoulders drooped slightly. "The servers dump garbage data just like you throw out used, empty envelopes. Given that it's been twenty years since these e-mails were sent... those envelopes are long since gone."
"There's no way to trace it?"
Marshall shook his head.
"Great," Sydney said quietly.
Jack approached the table. "Did you get the agent listing?" he asked.
Marshall looked up and nodded. "Thirty five agents might be our mysterious IG."
"Any names jump out at you?" Jack asked, scanning the list himself.
Sydney looked at the screen on Marshall's computer. "Not really."
Jack nodded slightly. "Run the list to see if any of these agents have red flags, disciplinary actions against them."
Sydney looked up at him. "You sure?"
"No. But I'd start with them."
Washington D.C.
Yesterday
Morning
Josh ushered the representative from the NSA out of his office. The National Security Agency agent had no idea what was going on with the money Chris Wick was trying to earmark for security purposes. With a sigh, he looked at Donna. "I still have time, right?"
Checking his schedule, she nodded.
"I'm going to make a call. Unless there's a major and I mean major crisis... No interruptions."
"All right..." she said, watching as he retreated to his office and closed the door.
Josh sat at his desk and picked up the phone, dialing a number he'd memorized. "Helen, it's Josh Lyman; I need to speak to him again."
The Director of Central Intelligence's secretary seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Sir--"
"Is he still busy?"
"Not exactly."
"I'm on your side here. I just need to know what's going on to keep the First Lady from cracking down on your boss and mine."
"Please hold."
"Thanks, Helen," he said, again listening to the automated voice that said someone would be on the line shortly to talk to him.
The next voice he heard was that of Director Conrad. "Josh."
"Director. I trust things are calmer?"
"More or less. What can I do for you?"
"What's up with appropriations? I've talked to the NSA; I've talked to Military Intelligence. They know nothing about budgetary increases, although they'd certainly like them. What's going on? Why wasn't the White House notified of the needs?"
"It's really not that much money that we're requesting, but it is necessary."
"For what?"
"For matters pertaining to national security."
"That much I've got, sir. As I was telling your assistant, help me help you. Or else the First Lady's going to have all our heads."
"It's... pertinent that this stays in the governmental realm. If this leaks... We can't stand another intelligence failure. With the whole Kundu thing reaching the boiling point, two media happenings within weeks of each other... We're the CIA. We work best with cloak and dagger and I'm doing my best to keep us in the dark."
Josh smiled slightly. "You mean cloak rooms. You brought in Wick."
"We didn't want to rumble with the First Lady."
"Too late."
"Josh..."
"I'm serious, man, the First Lady is furious. I've had her Chief of Staff calling my office three to four times an hour. I'm starting to get really frustrated with this whole thing myself. You should've come to us first, because we would've been able to settle the First Lady's ruffled feathers. As it is now... you bypassed the executive branch entirely. That's not reflecting well on you, cloak, dagger or neither."
"I'll forward the proposal we gave Wick by courier to the White House."
"Okay."
"And I'll make the First Lady a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"With the bill, I'll send a personal letter if you wouldn't mind making sure the letter gets to Mrs. Bartlet personally?"
"All right. Hey, listen, before I let you go..."
"Yeah?"
"That morning crisis... It didn't have anything to do with Crys, did it?"
"I have to go, Josh."
The Deputy Chief of Staff sighed when he heard the line go dead. That probably wasn't good.
Washington D.C.
Sixteen years, ten months ago
Afternoon
Ian sat on the couch in the apartment he shared with Crystal, working on the latest mission from home while Crystal was in the middle of summer school classes when his telephone rang. When he answered, a gruff voice ran over his greeting.
"Where are you with Ms. Seaborn?"
"Sloane..."
"Well?"
"I'm working on it."
"Which means... there's been no progress."
"Yes, there has been. She's trying to finish her degree here before moving to California. She wants to finish and she was going to wait until the fall semester but is working her tail off to get it done by August."
"You're stalling."
"I'm not going to drug her, fly her to L.A., set her up in SD-6 and say, here y'go, sweetie, your new job when she's weeks away from commencement."
"We have schools in L.A."
"She doesn't want her diploma from any of them."
"Ian--"
"She thinks George Washington will give her a better education than UCLA. Plus the fact... she's still a staunch loyalist. Loyal to the CIA, to her country, her school... This is not going to be an easy get."
"I want her latest CIA stats."
"Hack them."
"No, I want you to get them for me. From Langley."
"Sloane..."
"By Monday."
Ian sighed slightly. "I'll get them before the end of the week."
"Good."
Ian slammed the phone down.
Los Angeles, California
Yesterday
Afternoon
"Sydney!"
She looked up as Marshall came scurrying towards her desk. "I ran into my friend from Cryptology and they broke the code from the e-mails."
She stood from her desk as he handed her the information he'd picked up. Scanning quickly, she exhaled. "This guy's a mole. For SD-6 in the CIA."
"They're still working on the others, but there's his first name," he said, pointing to the three letter combination at the bottom. "Ian."
"I don't remember having an Ian on our list..." She looked up at him. "What about the other e-mails?"
"They're finishing them up and they'll get them to you as soon as possible."
She smiled. "Thank you." Sitting back down at her desk, she consulted the list of thirty-five she had and, again, came up empty with an Ian. Carrying the e-mail and the list, she headed towards her father's desk. "Dad?"
He was typing on his computer and didn't look up. "Yes?"
"Do you remember an SD-6 mole named Ian?"
"A mole in SD-6? I believe that was only the two of us."
"No, for SD-6 in the CIA."
"There were no SD-6 moles in the CIA."
She presented him with the e-mail. "I just got this decrypted. This message was from Sloane to someone named Ian, whose e-mail prefix was Iggy. Sloane says, and I quote, 'you promised me the employee file by Friday. It's now Monday and I still don't have it. Is Langley too hard to break into from the inside?' Dad, who was on the inside?"
He scanned the e-mail, then looked up at her. "I don't know. I don't ever remember there being a mole in the CIA for us."
"Dad..."
"No mole. Move on. I know for a fact there are more e-mails Sloane sent to people with other names than Iggy."
"Right," she said, fighting a sigh. Taking the e-mail, she returned to her desk. She drummed her fingers on her desk, waiting for the file from Cryptology.
Ian.
Iggy.
He had to be someone.
When the file arrived, she quickly tore through the information, coming up with a last name.
Guthrie.
She picked up the phone, dialing the Langley office, and the extension of her only real contact in D.C.
"Seaborn's office."
"Melissa? This is Sydney Bristow, is Crystal in?"
"I'm sorry, Agent Bristow, she's currently unavailable."
"She's overseas?"
"Yeah."
Sydney sighed. "When will she be back?"
"Actually, she's set to fly in tomorrow, with a layover at LAX."
"How long's the layover?"
"Several hours."
"Melissa, can you give me her flight information? She shouldn't stay at the airport that whole time... I'd like to take her out for coffee or lunch or something..."
"Sure, let me forward the information to you encrypted."
She smiled. "Wonderful."
But you've been through it once, you know how it ends You don't see the point of going through it again And this ain't the time, and this ain't the place And neither's any other day
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
Crystal looked at the building with a frown. "A bank?"
"C'mon," said Ian. "Hazard pay. Gotta invest somewhere."
"I've never heard of Credit Dauphine. First American, sure, but..."
"They're the best," he said, leading her in. "An off-shoot from a Swiss bank."
