They had arrived at the hotel without incident, Jack as an international
arms dealer, Irina as his female companion. Irina had dressed the part,
and he knew the admiring glances they were receiving were not aimed at him.
He had braced himself for a display in the lobby, expecting her to flirt
outrageously with him in public, but she had been subdued. He had been
relieved. He would have had to respond consistent with his cover, and he
didn't need the added stress. Perhaps things would go smoothly after all.
Irina sighed with pleasure as her gaze took in the ornate lobby. It felt wonderful to be out of her CIA cell, and she was pleased to see that their cover was going to entitle them to a first-class hotel. Under the guise of admiring her surroundings, she carefully examined the other guests and staff, then relaxed slightly. It did not appear that they were being watched. Possibly she was being overcautious. Perhaps things would go smoothly after all.
Their temporary feelings of well-being were shattered as they entered their hotel room. The door slammed behind them and they heard the familiar clicks of AK-47's, cocked and aimed in their direction. They had been ambushed.
Simultaneously, they both rapidly calculated odds and distances. Six men, heavily armed, standing 15 feet away from them. Jack and Irina, their hands filled with luggage. Irina's shoulders slumped and she looked over at Jack, reading his agreement in his eyes. Together they dropped their bags and raised their hands. Without speaking, one of the gunmen gestured for them to go down on their knees with their hands behind their heads. He stepped forward and thoroughly frisked them, tossing their guns to the other side of the room. He stepped back, still not saying anything, and knocked on the door to the adjoining room.
Jack's mind continued to race, wondering how they were going to talk their way out. If this was a local crime boss, they had enough money to offer a substantial bribe. His calculations came to an abrupt halt when he saw who walked through the door. Arvin Sloane. His stomach knotted. He glanced over at Irina. He saw with a sinking heart that she was looking triumphant, and felt sick. He had been waiting for her betrayal - and now the wait was over.
Irina was totally unsurprised when Sloane walked in. "Arvin," Irina purred, gracefully getting to her feet. Ignoring the looks from Jack and Sloane's henchmen she glided over to him, supremely confident in her reception.
"Irina, my dear," responded Arvin, holding out an arm to her. "Good of you to join us."
Irina gave him a lazy smile and kissed him on the cheek. She flicked a glance at Jack, still kneeling on the floor and choked with fury. "Generous of the CIA to drop me off."
Arvin followed her gaze. "And you brought Jack, my dear friend, who I've trusted these many years." He paused, then continued in an altered tone, "You underestimated me, Jack. How many missions did you think you and Sydney could botch before I would catch on? A shame Geiger didn't finish you off." He gestured to one of the gunmen to pass him his pistol. "I'm afraid our friendship has reached the end of its usefulness. Good-bye, Jack," he said, raising the gun.
Jack stared back unflinchingly, not revealing his internal turmoil. He berated himself for being a fool, walking into Sloane's trap, letting Irina set him up again. It could not get worse than this, executed at Arvin's hands in an anonymous hotel room in a foreign land.
Casually, Irina placed her hand on Arvin's. "My privilege, I think. He is, after all," she mocked, looking at Jack, "my husband."
Numbly, Jack realized it could get worse, after all. He watched in despair as Irina took the gun and pointed it at him.
Irina sighed with pleasure as her gaze took in the ornate lobby. It felt wonderful to be out of her CIA cell, and she was pleased to see that their cover was going to entitle them to a first-class hotel. Under the guise of admiring her surroundings, she carefully examined the other guests and staff, then relaxed slightly. It did not appear that they were being watched. Possibly she was being overcautious. Perhaps things would go smoothly after all.
Their temporary feelings of well-being were shattered as they entered their hotel room. The door slammed behind them and they heard the familiar clicks of AK-47's, cocked and aimed in their direction. They had been ambushed.
Simultaneously, they both rapidly calculated odds and distances. Six men, heavily armed, standing 15 feet away from them. Jack and Irina, their hands filled with luggage. Irina's shoulders slumped and she looked over at Jack, reading his agreement in his eyes. Together they dropped their bags and raised their hands. Without speaking, one of the gunmen gestured for them to go down on their knees with their hands behind their heads. He stepped forward and thoroughly frisked them, tossing their guns to the other side of the room. He stepped back, still not saying anything, and knocked on the door to the adjoining room.
Jack's mind continued to race, wondering how they were going to talk their way out. If this was a local crime boss, they had enough money to offer a substantial bribe. His calculations came to an abrupt halt when he saw who walked through the door. Arvin Sloane. His stomach knotted. He glanced over at Irina. He saw with a sinking heart that she was looking triumphant, and felt sick. He had been waiting for her betrayal - and now the wait was over.
Irina was totally unsurprised when Sloane walked in. "Arvin," Irina purred, gracefully getting to her feet. Ignoring the looks from Jack and Sloane's henchmen she glided over to him, supremely confident in her reception.
"Irina, my dear," responded Arvin, holding out an arm to her. "Good of you to join us."
Irina gave him a lazy smile and kissed him on the cheek. She flicked a glance at Jack, still kneeling on the floor and choked with fury. "Generous of the CIA to drop me off."
Arvin followed her gaze. "And you brought Jack, my dear friend, who I've trusted these many years." He paused, then continued in an altered tone, "You underestimated me, Jack. How many missions did you think you and Sydney could botch before I would catch on? A shame Geiger didn't finish you off." He gestured to one of the gunmen to pass him his pistol. "I'm afraid our friendship has reached the end of its usefulness. Good-bye, Jack," he said, raising the gun.
Jack stared back unflinchingly, not revealing his internal turmoil. He berated himself for being a fool, walking into Sloane's trap, letting Irina set him up again. It could not get worse than this, executed at Arvin's hands in an anonymous hotel room in a foreign land.
Casually, Irina placed her hand on Arvin's. "My privilege, I think. He is, after all," she mocked, looking at Jack, "my husband."
Numbly, Jack realized it could get worse, after all. He watched in despair as Irina took the gun and pointed it at him.
