***
Chapter 8
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 4:51 AM EST
Josh sat clutching the phone in his right hand. There had been no one on the other end when it rang moments ago, or at least no one answered, but Josh was sure he heard some kind of conversation happening in the background. And he was sure the voice he heard was Donna's. But why hadn't she said anything, he wondered. There must be a reason, but what was it?
Not even thinking about the time, due to the fact that he had slept a total of a ninety minutes in the last twenty-four hours, Josh pulled out a scrap of paper with Mike Casper's number jotted down on it and dialed his cell phone.
"Mike, this is Josh Lyman. We need to talk."
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:03 AM EST
"Can I ask you a question?" Donna said, breaking the silence between herself and Michael Vaughn as they drove through the early morning.
"Sure," he replied.
"Where exactly are we going?"
"I'm taking you home."
"But," Donna began, "Sydney said I couldn't go home. What's changed?"
"The reason you couldn't go home before was because we were afraid the Triad would kill you for escaping."
"But they don't want to do that anymore?" Donna questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Probably not."
"No offense, but 'probably not' isn't exactly the kind of reassurance I was hoping to hear from the CIA."
"Sorry. If everything goes according to plan, this should all work out fine for you," Vaughn said as he glanced over to Donna in the passenger seat.
"Should I try calling Sydney's father again?"
"You know you really don't have to do that, Donna. I'm perfectly capable of dialing my phone."
"Oh, I know. It's just this whole time I've felt basically useless. I've been either chained to a cot or driven around the back roads of West Virginia for the last day and a half. I'm not usually this...I don't know...inactive," she said with a shrug.
"Go right ahead," Vaughn responded handing her the phone that lay on the middle seat.
***
Los Angeles, California
Sunday, 2:05 PST
As the elevator doors parted, Jack Bristow emerged into the white room and stood still while the room momentarily flashed red. He was down the corridor and in SD-6's server room without a single person seeing him, which wasn't surprising considering it was so late at night.
He approached one of the monitors mounted onto a shelf and accessed the file he was looking for with relative ease. Overriding the encryption code was almost as easy, but getting around the other security features proved to be somewhat of a challenge for him.
After five minutes, Jack stood facing a blinking screen, waiting for his prompt. Ejecting a thin disc that popped out of the side panel, he placed it inside the inside pocket of his suit jacket and quickly typed in the appropriate command on the keyboard. The words 'file deleted' appeared before vanishing. Jack adjusted his tie and made his way out of the room.
As he walked through the bullpen of desks, he saw a single light coming from the direction of Arvin Sloane's office. Slightly startled, but in no way revealing as much, Jack headed toward the open door.
"Jack, come in," said the cool and controlling voice coming from behind the desk.
"You're here late," Jack declared stepping forward.
"I could say the same for you," Sloane said as a small smile escaped his lips.
"I was checking on a source's cover story. Something he said about the current political state of Micronesia didn't seat right with me."
"I see," Sloane replied slowly. "Have you heard from Sydney lately?"
"She's not due back until Monday afternoon."
"Yes, but have you heard from her?"
"No." Jack wasn't sure what Sloane was up to.
Sloane exhaled deeply. "I was just wondering. It's such a dangerous business we're in, Jack. So unpredictable. I'd hate to see anything...unfortunate happen to Sydney."
Jack nodded. "Well, I guess I'll see you Monday morning."
"Yes. Good night, Jack."
"Night." Before he turned to leave, Jack's eyes fell to a detailed map of West Virginia half hidden under some folders on the edge of Sloane's desk.
"Is something wrong?" Sloane asked as Jack instantly averted his gaze.
"No, nothing. Just my pager," he said, thinking fast. "Good night then." Jack was out the door in the next instant. On his way up the elevator, his phone began to ring. "Jack Bristow."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:24 AM EST
Josh pushed open the glass door and entered the diner, scanning the other patrons. He quickly spotted Mike Casper sitting at a table by the window. Sliding into the booth, Josh didn't wait for any kind of greeting before launching into what he came there to say. "I want answers."
"I understand that, Josh. You do realize I could lose my job just for agreeing to meet with you," Agent Casper replied.
"But you're here," Josh said slowly.
"Yes."
"And you're going to answer my questions?"
"Yes."
"Okay then." Josh took a deep breath. "Where's Donna?"
"I don't know."
"Who has her?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you're just a wealth of information," Josh said, throwing up his arms.
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:31 AM EST
"So Sydney's dad's taken care of it?" Donna asked.
"I guess so. He sounded kind of strange on the phone though. Though with Jack I never really can tell," Vaughn said with a shrug.
"Is Sydney going to be okay? I mean, she just drove off with those guys following her."
"I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to situations like this, Sydney knows how to take care of herself. She's going to be fine. Roadblocks were set up in the direction Sydney was heading so by now the men who were chasing you should be in custody. Sydney'll change cars and meet up with us in D.C. It's almost over for you."
"Thanks, Vaughn."
Vaughn laughed. "You know, you can call me Michael. Sydney won't, but you can."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:36 AM EST
"So you don't know where Donna is and you don't know who has her. What do you know?"
"We're pretty sure she's not an enemy of the United States," Agent Casper said.
"Well, that's something."
"Three years ago, you met with a man named Jeff Breckenridge. The thing is you didn't meet with Jeff Breckenridge and during the time in which you weren't meeting with him, his accomplice was busy stealing classified information." Agent Casper lowered his voice as a young family took over the booth behind them. "The accomplice, whoever she was, was able to gain access through the use of Donna's key card. The security footage shows a woman matching Donna's description entering the room."
"It wasn't her, Mike. I swear to god, it wasn't her."
"I'm inclined to believe you. We've got some reports through our CIA contacts as to who it might have been that day. Excuse me," he added as his cell phone began to ring.
Josh let his gaze wander out to the street as the early morning traffic went by.
Agent Casper's phone conversation came to an end quicker than Josh was expecting. "I've got good news."
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:41 AM EST
Donna sat tapping her knees. It was the only thing she could think to relieve her nervous energy. She had been stuck in cars, vans, and motel rooms for too long. Suddenly she noticed they were driving over a bridge. "Hey!"
"Yeah?" Vaughn asked, turning toward her.
"This is the Potomac," she exclaimed looking down at the water.
"Yeah."
"I'm almost home."
"Yeah."
"This...I can't believe I'm almost there," Donna sighed.
"I'd take you straight home, but I want to be sure everything worked out as planned. We're just going to wait until Sydney checks in. You hungry?"
"Oh my god, yes. Since Friday night I've had three sips of coffee and a bag of pretzels."
"I know a place on M. They make good omelets," Vaughn said smiling.
"I think I know the one you're talking about. My boss and I order from there a lot."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:51 AM EST
"Okay, the FBI's just received an email from an unknown sender with the file that was stolen from the White House computers attached," Agent Casper revealed.
"So then Donna's off the hook?" Josh asked expectantly.
"Almost. Take a look at this picture." Casper reached into his jacket and pulled out a black and white surveillance photo of what was obviously a West Wing corridor.
Josh studied the blurry image in front of him of a woman with light hair, her face turned toward the camera about to enter a room. Josh wanted to shout with relief. "It's not her! That's not Donna!"
"Okay, then. That's good enough for me."
"So?"
"So, I will make it very clear to my superiors that Donna Moss is not the woman in this picture and is in no way affiliated with hostile nations."
"And they'll believe you?"
"Uh-huh." Casper returned the photo to his jacket.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. I'll be in touch." They shook hands and Josh watched as Casper held open the door for a man and a brunette woman who were entering the diner before leaving himself. Josh was momentarily distracted at the sight of the woman who was watching Casper leave as well. Shaking off the bizarre thought he was having as exhaustion, he turned his attention to the menu in front of him. He might as well eat if he was there.
"Josh."
He froze. He could've sworn...he was almost sure...
"Josh?"
The voice was Donna's.
o
***
tbc...
Chapter 8
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 4:51 AM EST
Josh sat clutching the phone in his right hand. There had been no one on the other end when it rang moments ago, or at least no one answered, but Josh was sure he heard some kind of conversation happening in the background. And he was sure the voice he heard was Donna's. But why hadn't she said anything, he wondered. There must be a reason, but what was it?
Not even thinking about the time, due to the fact that he had slept a total of a ninety minutes in the last twenty-four hours, Josh pulled out a scrap of paper with Mike Casper's number jotted down on it and dialed his cell phone.
"Mike, this is Josh Lyman. We need to talk."
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:03 AM EST
"Can I ask you a question?" Donna said, breaking the silence between herself and Michael Vaughn as they drove through the early morning.
"Sure," he replied.
"Where exactly are we going?"
"I'm taking you home."
"But," Donna began, "Sydney said I couldn't go home. What's changed?"
"The reason you couldn't go home before was because we were afraid the Triad would kill you for escaping."
"But they don't want to do that anymore?" Donna questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Probably not."
"No offense, but 'probably not' isn't exactly the kind of reassurance I was hoping to hear from the CIA."
"Sorry. If everything goes according to plan, this should all work out fine for you," Vaughn said as he glanced over to Donna in the passenger seat.
"Should I try calling Sydney's father again?"
"You know you really don't have to do that, Donna. I'm perfectly capable of dialing my phone."
"Oh, I know. It's just this whole time I've felt basically useless. I've been either chained to a cot or driven around the back roads of West Virginia for the last day and a half. I'm not usually this...I don't know...inactive," she said with a shrug.
"Go right ahead," Vaughn responded handing her the phone that lay on the middle seat.
***
Los Angeles, California
Sunday, 2:05 PST
As the elevator doors parted, Jack Bristow emerged into the white room and stood still while the room momentarily flashed red. He was down the corridor and in SD-6's server room without a single person seeing him, which wasn't surprising considering it was so late at night.
He approached one of the monitors mounted onto a shelf and accessed the file he was looking for with relative ease. Overriding the encryption code was almost as easy, but getting around the other security features proved to be somewhat of a challenge for him.
After five minutes, Jack stood facing a blinking screen, waiting for his prompt. Ejecting a thin disc that popped out of the side panel, he placed it inside the inside pocket of his suit jacket and quickly typed in the appropriate command on the keyboard. The words 'file deleted' appeared before vanishing. Jack adjusted his tie and made his way out of the room.
As he walked through the bullpen of desks, he saw a single light coming from the direction of Arvin Sloane's office. Slightly startled, but in no way revealing as much, Jack headed toward the open door.
"Jack, come in," said the cool and controlling voice coming from behind the desk.
"You're here late," Jack declared stepping forward.
"I could say the same for you," Sloane said as a small smile escaped his lips.
"I was checking on a source's cover story. Something he said about the current political state of Micronesia didn't seat right with me."
"I see," Sloane replied slowly. "Have you heard from Sydney lately?"
"She's not due back until Monday afternoon."
"Yes, but have you heard from her?"
"No." Jack wasn't sure what Sloane was up to.
Sloane exhaled deeply. "I was just wondering. It's such a dangerous business we're in, Jack. So unpredictable. I'd hate to see anything...unfortunate happen to Sydney."
Jack nodded. "Well, I guess I'll see you Monday morning."
"Yes. Good night, Jack."
"Night." Before he turned to leave, Jack's eyes fell to a detailed map of West Virginia half hidden under some folders on the edge of Sloane's desk.
"Is something wrong?" Sloane asked as Jack instantly averted his gaze.
"No, nothing. Just my pager," he said, thinking fast. "Good night then." Jack was out the door in the next instant. On his way up the elevator, his phone began to ring. "Jack Bristow."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:24 AM EST
Josh pushed open the glass door and entered the diner, scanning the other patrons. He quickly spotted Mike Casper sitting at a table by the window. Sliding into the booth, Josh didn't wait for any kind of greeting before launching into what he came there to say. "I want answers."
"I understand that, Josh. You do realize I could lose my job just for agreeing to meet with you," Agent Casper replied.
"But you're here," Josh said slowly.
"Yes."
"And you're going to answer my questions?"
"Yes."
"Okay then." Josh took a deep breath. "Where's Donna?"
"I don't know."
"Who has her?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you're just a wealth of information," Josh said, throwing up his arms.
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:31 AM EST
"So Sydney's dad's taken care of it?" Donna asked.
"I guess so. He sounded kind of strange on the phone though. Though with Jack I never really can tell," Vaughn said with a shrug.
"Is Sydney going to be okay? I mean, she just drove off with those guys following her."
"I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to situations like this, Sydney knows how to take care of herself. She's going to be fine. Roadblocks were set up in the direction Sydney was heading so by now the men who were chasing you should be in custody. Sydney'll change cars and meet up with us in D.C. It's almost over for you."
"Thanks, Vaughn."
Vaughn laughed. "You know, you can call me Michael. Sydney won't, but you can."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:36 AM EST
"So you don't know where Donna is and you don't know who has her. What do you know?"
"We're pretty sure she's not an enemy of the United States," Agent Casper said.
"Well, that's something."
"Three years ago, you met with a man named Jeff Breckenridge. The thing is you didn't meet with Jeff Breckenridge and during the time in which you weren't meeting with him, his accomplice was busy stealing classified information." Agent Casper lowered his voice as a young family took over the booth behind them. "The accomplice, whoever she was, was able to gain access through the use of Donna's key card. The security footage shows a woman matching Donna's description entering the room."
"It wasn't her, Mike. I swear to god, it wasn't her."
"I'm inclined to believe you. We've got some reports through our CIA contacts as to who it might have been that day. Excuse me," he added as his cell phone began to ring.
Josh let his gaze wander out to the street as the early morning traffic went by.
Agent Casper's phone conversation came to an end quicker than Josh was expecting. "I've got good news."
***
Highway 66
Sunday, 5:41 AM EST
Donna sat tapping her knees. It was the only thing she could think to relieve her nervous energy. She had been stuck in cars, vans, and motel rooms for too long. Suddenly she noticed they were driving over a bridge. "Hey!"
"Yeah?" Vaughn asked, turning toward her.
"This is the Potomac," she exclaimed looking down at the water.
"Yeah."
"I'm almost home."
"Yeah."
"This...I can't believe I'm almost there," Donna sighed.
"I'd take you straight home, but I want to be sure everything worked out as planned. We're just going to wait until Sydney checks in. You hungry?"
"Oh my god, yes. Since Friday night I've had three sips of coffee and a bag of pretzels."
"I know a place on M. They make good omelets," Vaughn said smiling.
"I think I know the one you're talking about. My boss and I order from there a lot."
***
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:51 AM EST
"Okay, the FBI's just received an email from an unknown sender with the file that was stolen from the White House computers attached," Agent Casper revealed.
"So then Donna's off the hook?" Josh asked expectantly.
"Almost. Take a look at this picture." Casper reached into his jacket and pulled out a black and white surveillance photo of what was obviously a West Wing corridor.
Josh studied the blurry image in front of him of a woman with light hair, her face turned toward the camera about to enter a room. Josh wanted to shout with relief. "It's not her! That's not Donna!"
"Okay, then. That's good enough for me."
"So?"
"So, I will make it very clear to my superiors that Donna Moss is not the woman in this picture and is in no way affiliated with hostile nations."
"And they'll believe you?"
"Uh-huh." Casper returned the photo to his jacket.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. I'll be in touch." They shook hands and Josh watched as Casper held open the door for a man and a brunette woman who were entering the diner before leaving himself. Josh was momentarily distracted at the sight of the woman who was watching Casper leave as well. Shaking off the bizarre thought he was having as exhaustion, he turned his attention to the menu in front of him. He might as well eat if he was there.
"Josh."
He froze. He could've sworn...he was almost sure...
"Josh?"
The voice was Donna's.
o
***
tbc...