Sydney walked into the meeting room at the Ops Center, a couple of minutes
late. All conversation ceased, then gradually picked up again uneasily.
She sighed to herself. It had been like this for weeks. They had
undoubtedly been discussing her parents again. Intel was reporting that
her mother's network was fully operational. There were some unconfirmed
suspicions that she might have been involved in the Vatican museum robbery.
Security tapes were being reviewed now to see if they could pick up her
image.
Her father had warned her that his actions would not be interpreted in a very favorable light within the Joint Task Force. That, Sydney thought, was putting it mildly. Walking through the hall one day, she had overheard him referred to as "Brisd'oh" by a new analyst. Gritting her teeth, she had walked on, resisting the impulse to snap the analyst's neck in half. She had promised her father that she'd ignore the comments; he'd pointed out that, if anything, his reputation was going to get worse before it got better. It was going to be a long couple of months.
***
Sloane looked up as Irina came into the room. Her face was composed as always. She did not, of course, have any weapons with her. No one entered Sloane's presence armed. Particularly Irina. He decided it was time to help her understand where her true interests lay.
"Congratulations are in order, my dear."
Irina just lifted a brow at Arvin.
"You've just been admitted to a very exclusive club. I've received word that the CIA has issued a termination order for you." He watched her closely and was rewarded by a slight paling.
"You're lying."
Sloane understood. He had been gratified when he had first appreciated that Irina might have a weakness, and that it was Jack. It was always helpful to know which buttons to push. "You know, Jack may have had time to reflect. You betrayed him before. Maybe he believes you've done it again?"
Irina said nothing.
"You'll mostly find it an inconvenience. You may want to increase your security," he finished maliciously.
Gritting her teeth, Irina responded, "I appreciate your concern." How dare he suggest that Jack had anything to do with this? She turned to leave, but couldn't resist a parting shot.
"Love to Emily." The expression on Sloane's face cheered her up as she left.
***
Jack was assigned to the Algerian embassy staff as a cultural attaché. This was, of course, a cover for the CIA. Not one that particularly fit Jack Bristow. But it suited his purposes.
The CIA station chief had not been overly welcoming. He had been thoroughly briefed and his orders were clear. Bristow would reach early retirement in 2 years; in the meantime he was to be kept out of trouble.
Her father had warned her that his actions would not be interpreted in a very favorable light within the Joint Task Force. That, Sydney thought, was putting it mildly. Walking through the hall one day, she had overheard him referred to as "Brisd'oh" by a new analyst. Gritting her teeth, she had walked on, resisting the impulse to snap the analyst's neck in half. She had promised her father that she'd ignore the comments; he'd pointed out that, if anything, his reputation was going to get worse before it got better. It was going to be a long couple of months.
***
Sloane looked up as Irina came into the room. Her face was composed as always. She did not, of course, have any weapons with her. No one entered Sloane's presence armed. Particularly Irina. He decided it was time to help her understand where her true interests lay.
"Congratulations are in order, my dear."
Irina just lifted a brow at Arvin.
"You've just been admitted to a very exclusive club. I've received word that the CIA has issued a termination order for you." He watched her closely and was rewarded by a slight paling.
"You're lying."
Sloane understood. He had been gratified when he had first appreciated that Irina might have a weakness, and that it was Jack. It was always helpful to know which buttons to push. "You know, Jack may have had time to reflect. You betrayed him before. Maybe he believes you've done it again?"
Irina said nothing.
"You'll mostly find it an inconvenience. You may want to increase your security," he finished maliciously.
Gritting her teeth, Irina responded, "I appreciate your concern." How dare he suggest that Jack had anything to do with this? She turned to leave, but couldn't resist a parting shot.
"Love to Emily." The expression on Sloane's face cheered her up as she left.
***
Jack was assigned to the Algerian embassy staff as a cultural attaché. This was, of course, a cover for the CIA. Not one that particularly fit Jack Bristow. But it suited his purposes.
The CIA station chief had not been overly welcoming. He had been thoroughly briefed and his orders were clear. Bristow would reach early retirement in 2 years; in the meantime he was to be kept out of trouble.
