Irina clicked off the cell phone and quickly wiped the memory clean. Easing back into the crowded restaurant, she deftly returned the unit, owner none the wiser. A swift, but practiced look around gave no indication of a tail, but it paid to be careful. The dining area was crowded with tourists, taking an early lunch break before heading out on their afternoon expeditions. It was a good place to make the call, since the restaurant still provided the old fashioned telephone booths in the lobby. It afforded her a degree of privacy, in case she was being watched. She slipped away from the restaurant and headed to a news stand, still watching for a tail. Seeing none, she selected her favorite fashion magazine.
She smiled, remembering how grumpy Jack sounded when he answered the phone. He accused her of deliberately waking him at three in the morning. What else had he expected? It was their hour. Mentally, she replayed their conversation.
The day before, she eavesdropped on Sloane and Sark as they reviewed their plans. She couldn't fully trust Sark's loyalty and she needed to know if they were conspiring together. The revelation of Francie's true identity had shaken her. Jack had been right not to tell Sydney about their plan. The real Francie was Sydney's best friend. While their daughter could be trusted not to say anything, there was a greater chance of her guard being down at home, especially around someone who supposedly knows nothing about her real job.
The information about the mole had to be passed on to Jack, but not directly. It was entirely possible Jack's phone was bugged. Misdirection was her best weapon. As far as anyone knew, she had duped Jack once again. She would use that to their advantage. A little malicious phone call from his 'beloved' wife would not be out of Irina's character. Especially if said wife called in the early hours of the morning. How much more cruel could she be? Wording the message would be a little harder.
Irina thought about their time together. She would have to use something from their shared past. Jack's pride in their yard was well known to Sloane and the CIA. It had been such a mess when they bought the house. They worked long hours together on weekends getting it in shape. She had planted a garden that first year and the squirrels got to most of it. Their neighbor had a similar problem with gophers. Gophers were like moles. It might work. Anyone intercepting the call would think she was taunting him, reminding him of what a fool he'd been.
Jack had responded perfectly to everything. He sounded grumpy, angry, bitter. Even the accusation about Gerard Cuvee could be used to her advantage, should anyone question the call. She only hoped he'd understood her message.
Cuvee. She knew Jack wasn't trying to send his own message. He had been genuinely upset. She knew immediately that he'd been watching their old videos. When they were married ... no she corrected herself mentally, they were still married ... when they were living together, she always knew which of his missions were dangerous and which were routine. She understood now that watching the videos was a coping mechanism for him. For her, though, they symbolized the beginning of weeks, sometimes months of anxiety. He never talked about those missions, either before or after. The not knowing was almost unbearable, but she was thankful that by not knowing, she had nothing to pass on to the KGB. They drugged her a few times, just to be sure she wasn't holding back on them. It was difficult enough, knowing that she was the cause of so many other deaths. To be responsible for Jack's ... it didn't bear thinking.
Jack must really be worried if he was pulling out their old videos. Obviously he was watching the early ones. His proposal, Kings Dominion, their wedding, the honeymoon. She knew them all by heart, each moment, each image, indelibly etched in her memory. They had been her constant companions on those lonely, anxious nights awaiting Jack's safe return.
She closed her eyes, capturing the images from the recesses of her mind. Her wedding day. The forecast had promised rain, but sunshine held sway instead. All the countless hours of preparation came to seamless fruition thanks, for the most part, to Jack's mother. It had been almost perfect with only a few sour notes to the day. Her mother-in-law had been wonderful, filling the void of her own mother's absence. Jane, Jack's older sister, had agreed to be her maid of honor. She knew Jane didn't like her. How much was not fully apparent until she watched the video.
Her father-in-law was a rigid disciplinarian, who rarely showed emotion. She doubted he'd ever bestowed affection on either of his children. Jack and Jane had learned early to cover their feelings with a mask of indifference. Then she entered the picture. Jack's father had treated her like royalty. She could do no wrong. He insisted she wear his wife's wedding dress. She had accepted, unaware of the strong emotions it sparked. The dress had originally been kept for Jane's wedding, but once Laura had worn it, that was no longer a possibility. For so many years Jane worked to win her father's approval and affection, never succeeding. The dress became a symbol of all that she had never had. All that should have been hers was now Laura's.
Many years later, in those quiet hours of solitary confinement, Irina realized the dress had become a symbol for her mother-in-law, too. She understood then, what Irina had not; that her husband showered so much attention on Laura not because he approved his son's choice in wife, but because he'd fallen in love with her himself. Thankfully, Jack's mother never held it against her, always treating her with love and kindness.
Irina was glad she knew none of this on her wedding day. On that day, her entire focus was on Jack. She cleared her mind of everything. There was no KGB, no CIA. Only the two of them. Until she saw Khasinau. He gave her a thumbs up, congratulating her on being so successful in her mission. She wanted to cry. Instead, she whispered to Jack the words she wanted him to hold on to forever. "Always remember I love you".
Not content with her wedding day reminder, the KGB followed her on her honeymoon. She was horrified when saw Gerard Cuvee heading toward her. What possessed her to make sure Jack caught him in the camera, she didn't know. There were many times she could have erased that portion of the video. Instead it served as a reminder of who and what she really was.
They had gone back to their room almost immediately after Cuvee bumped into her. Jack in eager anticipation, ready to begin their wedding night. She wanted, needed, a shower. Jack's disappointment had been obvious and she hated turning him away. As the water rained over her, she tried to clear away all thought of the KGB, but it was useless. Standing in the shower, allowing the hot sharp spray to bite in to her skin, she finally accepted her fate. Duty had given her the one man she truly loved and who loved her in return, but that same duty required her to betray him every day for the rest of their married life. Life was cruel sometimes.
She had flirted with Jack all through dinner. Touching him with her hands, then her eyes. They were both ready by the time they returned to the room. Jack had been surprised to find a bottle of champagne waiting. She had not. It was drugged, of course. Cuvee wanted to set up a meeting. She weighed her options and realized she would have to follow through with Cuvee's plans or suffer the consequences.
Jack poured the champagne and she shamefully used it in foreplay. It wasn't long before the combination of jet lag, sex, and the drugged wine overcame Jack and he was sound asleep. She held him close for a while, then reluctantly set out to meet Cuvee.
"What do you want, Gerard?" She hadn't meant to sound so belligerent. It wouldn't do for the KGB to know how she really felt about Jack.
"Irochka," he said smoothly. "I thought you'd be relieved to see me, to spare you from the American's lovemaking." His beady eyes watched her closely and she schooled her features to avoid any appearance of emotion.
"How can I do my job when the KGB keeps interrupting me? A man expects his wife to stay with him on their wedding night. What if the drug wasn't strong enough and he finds me gone?"
"This won't take long, Ira. There is a bookstore by the University. They sell rare and collectible books. You will stop there tomorrow. I have written the address and your passcode here. Memorize it and destroy it. You will arrange to have books shipped to your home. Further orders will be given to you through code on the front leaf of each book."
Jack was still asleep when she returned to the room. Cuvee had given her a clean bottle of champagne to replace the drugged one. Once all the evidence was removed, she sat and watched Jack. It was almost three am. Her emotions were in a turmoil. She had to do something to keep her sanity. Then an idea hit her. From now on, this would be their time. No one, no thing, would interfere. There would be no KGB, no CIA. Only the two of them. And she would make it special. She shed her clothes and donned the lacy robe Jack had bought her.
The camera was sitting on the dresser, she grabbed it and moved to Jack's side, shaking him gently to bring him out of his sleep.
"Good morning, Sunshine." He was still groggy from the drugged champagne.
"For gods sake, Laura, It's three in the morning. Come back to bed." She zoomed the camera in closer. Her fingers lightly along the lobe of his ear and along his chin. She saw him become more alert. "I can't do that," she responded. "This is our hour. Our special hour."
"Our special hour? Why can't three in the afternoon be our 'special' hour?" He almost went back to sleep on her. Carefully, she placed the camera in full view of the bed. She wanted to capture this moment on tape. She slipped back in bed. Her hands began the process of seduction. Lightly she brushed her hand across his chest, her mouth followed her hand. She felt his breathing quicken ...
"Laura?" Startled, she looked up. Jane. Of all the times and places they could have met again, fate chose this one. She looked around, hoping no one was watching her. "My god, it is you. Does Jack know you're alive?"
