(27 months post-The Telling)
"Kendall," came the bark through the phone.
"Good morning, Director Kendall."
"Ms. Derevko." Kendall's voice, while not exactly cordial, contained a modest degree of warmth. Given that her team was the only CIA unit in the world even moderately containing Sloane, not entirely unexpected, thought Irina.
"I have something that you want."
"What?" came the reply. Wary, but not dismissive.
"The location of Sloane's ops base and his medical research facility. I'm confident that Sloane and Bristow can be found at one of these two sites."
"How did you get that intel?" asked Kendall, incredulous.
"Irrelevant to the discussion. I am, however, prepared to share the information."
"But I have one or two conditions," mimicked Kendall in a high sarcastic voice. God, why did this woman always have conditions?
Irina smiled. They were finally starting to understand each other.
**
Irina checked her team at the staging point near the hospital. The team had been fully briefed on its mission: secure the facility; isolate and protect the patients; capture Sloane or Bristow if they were present. She had not told them about Sydney – speed had been of the essence in planning the raid, and she did not want the distraction of explaining 2 years of history.
She sent up a brief prayer for Jack, who would be netted in the Operations base raid. Praying that he wouldn't do anything stupid, like last time. Praying that the CIA team wouldn't do anything stupid either. At least she had Dixon with her, where she could keep an eye on him. He had been a little too trigger-happy last time.
The assaults on the two facilities had to be simultaneous - attack the Ops base first and Sydney would be at risk; rescue Sydney first and Jack would be at risk. She had had to choose which to lead. It had not been a choice; their daughter was, as always, the priority.
She looked them over one last time. This raid was the real thing; she couldn't afford any slipups. Satisfied, she whispered into her mike.
"Move out!" At last.
**
This time, no silent alarms were tripped. This time Irina herself found and secured the escape route. She waited in the shadows, on edge, listening through her earpiece as reports came in. Basement – secure. First floor – secure. Second floor –
"We've found Agent Bristow!" came the jubilant report. Multiple other voices crowded onto the channel, questioning, congratulating.
"Radio silence!" snapped Irina. "I'm on my way there." Hastily she made her way to the second floor, overwhelmed with joy. It had been two years since she had last seen her daughter.
Irina observed with irritation as she made her way there that the entire team was converging on her daughter's room. Poor discipline, she thought to herself. She'd address it later. She jogged through the doorway expectantly, then skidded to a halt, startled.
"Jack?"
He was backed up against a wall, hands in the air. Four MI-6 rifles were leveled at him. Jack, who had been apparently working out, was clad only in gym shorts. An ugly red scar ran down the right side of his chest. Irina sucked in her breath. It had been even worse than she had thought if he was still here recovering in the hospital.
"I surrender," said Jack in a loud and carrying voice, his eyes locked with the agent in front, his expression wary. His eyes flicked to Irina's and back. Dixon, thought Irina to herself. Sh*t. Dixon walked slowly up to Jack until his gun barrel touched Jack's chest.
"Agent Dixon!" ordered Irina warningly.
"You set up Marshall?" asked Dixon.
"Yes," said Jack simply.
"Agent Dixon! Lower your weapon. He's surrendered."
"You've been working for Sloane this whole time?" continued Dixon, as if he had not heard.
"Yes."
Dixon stared for a moment at Jack's impassive face, his jaw working.
Surreptitiously Irina raised her gun, her eyes focused on Dixon's trigger finger. With a sigh of relief, she watched him relax his grip on the gun. Only to wince as Dixon kicked his leg out and knocked Jack's legs out from underneath him. With a crash Jack fell heavily to the floor, grunting in pain as he landed on his chest.
"He killed your daughter," said Dixon with loathing, as he handcuffed Jack. "Enjoy prison."
"No!" said Jack. Painfully he craned his head toward Irina. "You don't have her?" he demanded.
Oh god, thought Irina. There were two Agent Bristows. "Where is she?" she asked urgently.
"Third floor!"
Irina looked around the room. "Who secured the 3rd floor?" Silence was her only response. Panic welled up inside her. "Dixon – take 4 men and secure the perimeter. Robinson – take 2 men and sweep the 3rd floor. Williams – shut down the escape route. You are all looking for Agent Sydney Bristow. She's alive, and you'd better find her," she said fiercely.
Irina watched as the room cleared rapidly, leaving behind two agents and Jack. "Jack, I've got to go," she said regretfully. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he said with resignation, grimacing as the agents hauled him roughly to his feet. "Just find her."
Irina nodded, and turned to the agents. "Escort him to the helicopter," she snapped, and then ran out the door.
**
Sydney lay on the pavement, struggling to stand. Weakly she got to her feet and looked around confused. She staggered to a phone booth and placed a call. "This is officer 2300844, calling for connection. Confirmation: looking glass."
"Stand by," said a woman's voice at the other end of the line.
"This is Kendall."
"I just woke up in Hong Kong. I don't know how long I've been here or how I got here."
Pause. "Hello?" Sydney repeated.
"Get to our safe house at Tsimshatsui as quickly as possible. You remember how to get there?" asked Kendall.
"Of course I do," said Sydney, puzzled.
"I'll make sure they're expecting you."