Chapter 13

Jack lay motionless on the cot. He estimated that it was the middle of the night, but it was hard to tell without windows.

Nights were the hardest. When regrets and fears robbed him of the oblivion of sleep. 20 years ago, he had been tormented by worry about Sydney, grieving alone without her parents. By his memories of Laura, and their shared love together. By her betrayal.

Tonight, and in all likelihood for many nights to come, the actors were the same but their lines were different. He regretted all the years he had missed as Sydney grew from a young girl to a young woman, unable to reach out to her. Now, after a few short months, he would be leaving again. He would not be able to help her bring down Sloane. He would not dance with her at her wedding, or hold his grandchildren.

He also, he reflected, would not see Irina again. Several months ago that would have been a bonus, but now - now he wasn't sure. Even after 20 years, the chemistry was still there between them. He'd never find out how far that would have taken them.

But overriding all his regrets tonight was one thing - his fear for Sydney. She was a superb agent. But he knew that the CIA regarded her as an asset. And assets were, in the end, expendable to achieve the higher goal. There would be no one who could watch her back. He wasn't James Bond, but Barnett had gotten one thing right - there was no line that he would not have crossed to keep her safe.

Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet hissing sound. He looked around quickly and saw white mist coming through the vents. It was the last thing he remembered.