Chapter 11
A/N: Irina's POV, in italics, is overlaid on Jack's POV from the previous chapter.
Jack ran hard and fast. Dawn had broken and he could now see where he was going. No longer constrained by trying to be stealthy, he was able to maintain his distance from those that chased him. He dodged and wove, knowing that it would confuse them and make it harder to be outflanked. At one point, he stopped and carefully picked off the two lead pursuers. They were much more careful after that.
Weeping, Irina made her way soundlessly uphill. She could hear the sounds of the chase veering away from her, becoming more distant. She crept out onto a bluff to get her bearings. She would need to plan carefully to return to the city undetected. She could not bear to think beyond that point.
Jack heard a crackle of static to his left, then a crackle to his right. His heart sank. The pursuit was becoming more coordinated. He could see the outskirts of the city in the gaps of the foliage ahead of him, but it seemed impossibly far. The pursuers now followed and flanked him, but were not attempting to close the gap. Almost as if…
He crashed through the underbrush, into a clearing, then skidded to a halt as he saw the guns.
…he was being herded into a trap. He was surrounded. Chest heaving painfully, he felt a grim satisfaction. He had bought Irina another hour. He had foiled Sloane again. It was enough. Slowly, for the second time in 24 hours, he raised his hands.
Irina found that she had an unimpeded view of Jack's pursuit down below. She knew she should be putting as much distance between herself and them as possible, but was riveted to the spot. Her heart in her mouth, she watched as groups moved in on either side of him, pacing him, blocking his avenues of escape. Looking ahead, she could see what Jack could not – a road, with vehicles parked and gunmen waiting. A sob rose in her throat. It would not be long before they surrounded him. Before Sloane realized that he was alone, and started searching for her. Before Sloane…killed him. For doublecrossing him, one more time. For playing him for a fool.
Jack scanned the faces of the gunmen surrounding him, but couldn't pick out Sloane. Jack wasn't surprised. Sloane was a cautious man, and caution dictated that he shouldn't be in the same area as Jack while Jack was carrying a loaded gun. With regret, he allowed himself to be frisked and cuffed. The gunmen looked confused and angry that only one person had been caught. One of them approached and snapped with menace, "Where's the woman?" Jack shrugged noncommittally. The longer he could draw this out, the more time he could give her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of metal the second before it crashed into his jaw. He staggered, but remained upright. He didn't see the second hit, a rifle butt to his kidney, and crumpled to the ground in pain.
Despair washed over her. Dark, bottomless, unending. Was this what Jack had felt when he thought she had died? When he thought she was gone forever?
Dully, Irina contemplated her future. Alone. Jack dead. Sydney estranged. No chance of redemption. Operating in a shadowy underworld, with no one to trust, no one she could turn to. And always knowing that she had allowed Jack to be just another casualty of her journey, buying her time to escape. Knowing that there had been another option, one which never would have occurred to him.
Could she betray him again?
And suddenly she knew. Knew that to betray Jack, now, was to betray herself forever. And that she could not bear the cost. She leapt to her feet and flew down the hill.
As he lay there gasping, readying himself for the next blow, he heard another set of footsteps approach. "Don't waste your time," he heard Arvin Sloane say drily. "By the time you get any information out of him, she'll be halfway around the world."
Sloane stepped away briefly to confer with his men. "Form a perimeter around this area and seal it off so that she won't escape," Jack heard him snap. "She can't have gone more than a few miles. Use whatever resources you need."
Jack tensed. How many resources did Sloane have in this god-forsaken country?
As the gunmen scrambled into their vehicles and roared off, Sloane turned back to Jack. Jack's vision was slowly clearing and he could see Sloane leaning down in front of him, his face framed by the sun, so that all he could see of Sloane's face was a black shadow.
"Well, Jack, has she left you again?" Sloane taunted. "You gullible fool. Do you have any idea how many men she's used as dupes? Of course, most of them don't fall for it a second time," he sneered. Sloane paused, to let his words sink in. To let the poison slowly eat away at him. Laura/Irina had always been Jack's Achilles heel.
Jack's hands flexed convulsively against his restraints. He wished, more than anything else, for a chance to strangle this man with his bare hands.
Faster and faster Irina came. Her feet barely touched the ground. She prayed she would be in time.
"Of course, Jack, the irony is that she'll eventually join me anyway. The power she'll gain will be too great for her to pass up. And then this pathetic sacrifice of yours will be meaningless." Sloane cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "However," he hissed softly, "I'm sure we could come to an arrangement if you'd be willing to reconsider and tell us where we might find her now."
Sloane thought he knew him so well.
"F*ck you," Jack said, slowly and precisely. What a pleasure it was to thwart him one last time.
Sloane's face momentarily contorted with rage, then smoothed back out. "Fine Jack, have it your way," he said coldly. Jack tensed as he saw the pistol rise, aimed at his head. He closed his eyes, saw Irina's face, felt her touch, heard her voice. Take care of Sydney, he thought.
"Sloane." One word, quiet but carrying. Sloane whipped around as Irina walked towards him, hands raised. He turned back, sneering triumphantly at Jack, whose eyes had snapped open in disbelief.
"Irina Derevko." Sloane's voice did not have quite the level of warmth as it had had on their previous meeting. Not surprising given the way their last meeting had ended. "Stay where you are," he commanded. He motioned to one of the gunmen, who handcuffed Irina as well. He looked at her greedily. "Thank you for saving me the effort of hunting you down."
Jack stared at Irina, dumbstruck. She should be 5 miles from here, he thought to himself. What was she doing? Unless she had hidden an Army Ranger unit in the trees, she was unlikely to be able to blast them out. And she wasn't going to be able to talk them out. Or buy them out. In fact, he couldn't see any options which would have led her to appear in the clearing. He resisted the thought that Sloane might be right. He must be missing something.
"I have a business proposition for you, Arvin" said Irina coolly, glancing at Jack, then back at Sloane. He wasn't seriously hurt, she thought with relief.
Jack concentrated again, trying to examine the options from her perspective. "Whatever happens, remember I love you," she had whispered. Suddenly, appalled realization swept him as he deduced what she was about to do. "Good God, Irina, NO!" he shouted.
Sloane waved his hand in Jack's direction and a rifle butt hit his mid-section, effectively cutting off anything else he had planned to say.
"You are in no position to negotiate, Irina" Sloane responded reflexively.
Irina waited patiently for him to reconsider. Sloane was not a fool. Her position was unassailable. She ignored the pleading in Jack's eyes.
"What is your proposal?" Sloane ground out eventually.
"Full cooperation. Access to my network. Two Rambaldi artifacts that you are not aware of."
"And in return?" Sloane had difficulty keeping the eagerness out of his voice.
"Jack."
