Sydney took a bite from her sandwich, using the moment to study her lunch companion.  She figured Juanita to be in her mid to late thirties. Her hands did not have the look of someone who did housework for a living. "How long have you worked for my Dad, Juanita?"

"About five years, I guess.  I took over from my Aunt Rosa." She smiled at Sydney's surprised reaction.

"Tia Rosa..."

"You don't remember me, I guess?" Sydney frowned in concentration, trying to remember the names of and faces of Tia Rosa's family.  "I was a teenager, so that is not surprising." Juanita continued.  "You were so young and sad. I think you cried yourself to sleep every night."

Sydney gave a self-conscious laugh.  "I wouldn't be surprised. I missed my parents. One minute I had a mother and the next she was gone.  Then my father was gone.  I remember being so scared."

"Yes, Tia Rosa told us to be gentle with you."

"All of you were so good to me.  I hated it when the nanny took over. I just wanted my father to come home."

"It must have been very important for him to be away like that Sydney. Your father is not the kind of man who would easily neglect his responsibilities.  And he loves you very much. I imagine it was just as difficult for him to be away."

Sydney felt the tears gathering and took a deep breath, working to keep her emotions in check. "Yes, you're right, of course.  I'm only beginning to understand just how much."

........................................................................

Sydney noticed the pictures scrolling across the monitor as she sat back at the desk.  Her father had created his own personal "This is your life, Sydney Bristow" screensaver.  The photos were in chronological order, starting with her baby pictures to her college graduation. Surprisingly, there were several pictures of her and her mother. She let a few more slides scroll by, then inserted the next disc. 

Jonathan Bristow Weekly Interrogation #8

"Eight?" She exclaimed aloud. Shuffling through the remaining discs, she discovered that several of the interrogation files were missing.  Reaching for her phone, she dialed the Task Force office and was quickly patched through to Marshall.

"Hey, Sydney!  I have a great chicken soup recipe..."

"Marshall," Sydney interrupted him anxiously.  "I don't want anyone to know I called you.  Especially my Dad, okay?"

"Sure Syd, er Sam.  You must be feeling really bad not to come to work.  I don't remember you ever calling in sick at the other place.  An iron constitution, my Mom calls it. Of course, constitutions aren't really made of iron.  I'm not sure they are made of anything since they aren't really ..."

"Listen, Marshall, I'm not sick," she interrupted him again.  Normally, she enjoyed Marshall's convoluted conversations, but she only had a few hours left before her father's return. "It was just an excuse to watch the videos you made for me." She spoke quickly, stifling Marshall's surprised exclamation.  "Did you get all of the videos?  There seems to be several breaks in the sequence."

"There was a note in the file by an Agent Staunton stating that some of the videos were destroyed.  Only the most pertinent ones were kept.  Sy... er Sam, are you okay?  Watching those videos.  Your, um, ...boss... will kill me if he finds out.  Did you know he has this look that can freeze your bones.  Well not literally freeze them, because, well, you know, looks can't do that, but it sure feels like it and ..."

"I'm fine, Marshall. I won't tell my Dad where I got the videos. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The screensaver had popped on again, this time pausing on a photograph taken when she was five.  Her mother was seated with her father standing just behind her, his right hand resting comfortably on her mothers' shoulder while her younger self stood to the left of her mother, leaning slightly against her.  They looked like a typical American family, happily smiling into the camera.  Sydney swallowed back threatening tears, remembering the day the picture had been taken.

"Sydney, quit fidgeting with your dress. You'll have it all wrinkled before the picture is taken and we want you to look nice for your grandparents Christmas present."

"I don't like this dress, Mommy.  I want the other one."

"We have already discussed this, young lady. I already said no and that's final."

"Laura, honey..."

"She doesn't need the other dress, Jack. There is nothing wrong with this one and she can wear it when we go to your parents' house for Christmas dinner."

"Why can't she have both dresses, Laura? It's not like we can't afford it."

Laura sighed.  "That is not the point. The other dress was not practical. I told her no and now she's trying to manipulate you. I will not have my daughter become a spoiled brat. And no Jack, don't give me that look. You spoil her enough already."

Jack ruffled his daughter's hair. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I tried."

"Jack," Laura warned.

"Your mother is right, Sydney. The dress you have on is lovely. It makes your eyes sparkle. Now smile pretty for Daddy."

Sydney moved the mouse and clicked on the file.  Her father was seated in a room similar to the first.  This time, though, they had him strapped down, with several electrical wires running from him to the lie detector on the table next to him.  There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked a lot thinner.  The two agents entered the room, one placing himself next to the lie detector, the other pulling up a chair facing her father.

"So, Jack, I see you've been busy decorating your wall."

Jack focused on Hamilton, but didn't respond.

"Aril.  Strange word. The dictionary says its some kind of outgrowth in seed fertilization."

Jack gave a slight smile, but continued his silence.

"Bob, here, seems to think it's some kind of code, like you're trying to give a message to one of your contacts.  Is that what it is Jack?  A code?" Hamilton got up from his chair and started to pace.  "You can't stay silent forever, Jack. You want to speak to your daughter? Co-operate and I will give you ten minutes on the phone with her."

"It means nothing." Jack said flatly.

"Come on, Jack.  It must mean something.  Why else would you take the time to remove the paint from the wall."

"It meant something once, but it doesn't anymore."  Hamilton looked over to Staunton who nodded. 

"Very well.  Now, let's go back to your trip to the bookstore in Heidelberg. You were sightseeing and your wife found the bookstore ..."

"I've already told you.  I found the bookstore," Jack interrupted harshly.  "We've been over this a dozen times.  Your shrinks have been over this.  It was my idea to go to the bookstore.  It was my idea to get her the books."

"So you admit that you were in collusion with your wife?"

"No. I am not a KGB spy.  My wife was not a KGB spy." 

"You don't sound very convinced of the latter, Jack. We have detailed reports on the information Laura sent to Moscow. Project Christmas has been fully compromised. All your analysis on the Viktor Balenko's defection* in 76 was passed on. Fortunately for us you didn't get involved until after he landed the MIG-25 in Tokyo. You were originally assigned to that team, but your daughter was born right about that time and the director was a family kind of guy. He thought the mission would take you away from your family for too long and gave the assignment to Sloane. A fortuitous turn of events, wouldn't you say? A years worth of negotiations saved because a baby was born. I bet your wife's handler was furious with her for having the kid."

Jack struggled against the bonds holding him to the chair. When he spoke, an underlying fury punctuated his words. "My wife loved our daughter. She would never have done anything to harm her. How can you be sure someone isn't trying to frame her? Several agents were passed over when I was assigned Project Christmas. Jealousy can cause people to do strange things."

"The reports are handwritten drafts.  Your handwritten drafts. The ones you worked on at home. Now let's go over this again.  You and your wife were walking through Heidelberg and she steered you to Lambauer's bookstore.  You had a conversation with Lambauer and he suggested you send your wife the books as a romantic gesture. A remembrance of your honeymoon. Like a fool, you bought his line.  He did it quite easily, too. Isn't that how it happened?"

"You said the notes were handwritten?" Jack looked at Harrison in disbelief.

"Yes, Jack. In your handwriting. The book drop?" he prompted.

Jack looked at Hamilton for a moment. "I suggested the books as a memento of our honeymoon," he said finally.

"You are making this look bad for you, Jack. Why not just tell the truth?"

"I am telling the truth. Sending my wife the books was my idea. Now, may I speak with my daughter?"

Hamilton looked over to Staunton and nodded.  "Very well.  The call will be monitored and recorded, so don't try anything." Hamilton unstrapped one arm and handed the phone to Jack. "We'll be outside while you talk.  Ten minutes, no more."

Jack swallowed and picked up the receiver, hand shaking as he dialed his home number.

"Hello."

"This is Jack Bristow.  My daughter ..." his voice cracked slightly and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.  "I'm sorry to be abrupt. You must be the nanny my sister hired.  Look, I don't have very much time."

"Certainly, Mr. Bristow. Let me get your daughter for you."

"Daddy?"

"Hello, sweetheart. I miss you.  Is Aunty Jane taking good care of you?"

"I miss you too, Daddy.  When are you coming home?"

"I don't know.  I ... they need me here right now.  Soon, I hope. Did you like your Christmas presents?"

"Yes. Santa brought me a doll, but I asked him for a puppy. I told him spificly. Daddy, can I have one of your shirts?"

"My shirts? Of course you can, honey. Why do you want one of my shirts?"

"Daddy said I could have one of his shirts, Mrs. Wilson. I told you it would be okay."

"Sydney?"

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Why do you need one of my shirts?"

"I'm going to sleep in it just like Mommy did when you had to go away. That way you can be close to my heart, too." Tears slid down Jack's face as he worked to bring his emotions under control.

"Daddy?  Are you still there?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I have to go. Be good for the nanny. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy.  Come home soon, please? And bring a puppy."

"I'll be home as soon as I can," he promised.

Agent Staunton pulled the receiver from Jack's hand and placed it back in it's cradle. Jack looked up at him, the intensity of his anger focused directly on his old friend.

"I don't know how you can sleep at night, Bob. Does it make you feel powerful to use a little girl as a bargaining tool?  She's only six.  Six.  Politics mean nothing to her. She just lost her mother and now she's scared she's going to lose her father, too. When I get cleared of this fiasco, I hope I never lay eyes on you again."

"At worst, Agent Bristow, you are a traitor to the US Government," Staunton responded with quiet deliberation. "At best, you blindly aided and abetted a spy for the Soviet Union.  You deserve no consideration." Staunton moved to the door.  "Okay, you can take him back to his cell, now." Staunton turned back. "We can keep you here indefinitely, Bristow. You better hope something turns up or you may never see your daughter again."

.............................................................................

Part 2 - Debriefing

"Well, Bob, that was some parting shot.  So you are still insisting on doing the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine?"

Staunton stared up at the FBI interrogator.  "No.  I told him a few home truths.  Perhaps we'll get a little more co-operation from him."  He raked his fingers through his hair.  "You let him off too easy on that word.  It has to mean something."

"I'm sure it does, but I don't think it's significant to the case. Besides, I don't think he finished writing out all the letters."

"What do you mean?"

"It looks like he started on another letter and then just stopped.  I've had the crypto boys looking at it and they haven't figured it out. They said if he doesn't complete the word, then it will be almost impossible to decipher it."

"He's right about the kid." Staunton changed the subject abruptly.  "She probably is terrified. I have a daughter her age. I would kill anyone who tried to keep me away from her."

"Don't go soft on me, Staunton. She's our only asset. Without her, we get nothing.  Now, tell me the results of the polygraph."

"Inconclusive. As always.  We've trained him too well.  He knows all the counter techniques."

"Well, we have made some progress. He wasn't quite as adamant on his wife's innocence this time and the information about the handwritten drafts shook him. We'll let him mull over that this week.

Sydney stopped the video and took a shaky breath.  Interrogators were trained to be ruthless and to use every weakness to advantage.  Using her as bait was a legitimate tactic, but she found it appalling just the same.  Whatever they thought of her father's loyalties, she had been innocent of any involvement.  She had been emotionally lost and scared and their maneuverings affected her every bit as much as her father.  There had not been many calls from her father during that 'business trip' and she remembered feeling more scared each time he called. 

The screensaver flashed over the monitor, this time showing a photo taken the Christmas following her father's release.  She was sitting near the tree cradling a small puppy she had named Scruffy.  He had come complete with a note from Santa apologizing for being a year late, but it took him that long to find the right puppy.  By that Christmas her father had already been distancing himself from her and yet he had remembered the puppy. 

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at the next picture.  It had always been her favorite.  Her father was asleep in a recliner and she was curled up next to him, asleep in his arms.  Her father was still a puzzle to her, but at least now she was sure of one thing. Whatever his reasons for emotionally pulling away from her, he never stopped loving her.  /url