Chapter 7
Part 2
Just as he promised, Jack returned to Los Angles on Thursday night. He entered his darkened apartment and made a phone call to the CIA Chaplain, Reverend Craft. The Chaplain assured him that everything had been taken care of, just as Jack had instructed.
After the phone call, Jack went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He stared at the unopened bottle and then returned it to the cabinet. Even though he had an overpowering desire to get drunk, he knew that he had to be in complete control of all his senses, in order to do what he needed to do.
"Tomorrow," he thought. Tomorrow, after his daughter's memorial service. Maybe then he would allow himself to get so drunk that his mind would go numb. Maybe then he would be able to close his eyes and not see the flames that stole her away from him.
He returned to his couch and started to review the information his New York contacts had given to him. After a few minutes of staring at the intel, he found that he could not concentrate. His mind kept drifting to Irina.
He tried to tell himself that he could find Sydney's killers without her help. He tried to tell himself that he did not need her to tell him everything would be ok. He did not need for her to tell him that all of this was just a bad nightmare for which he would wake up from.
As he sat back and closed his eyes, his private phone rang. He knew who was calling. He answered the phone anyway. "Yes?" he said.
"Don't hang up, please." she pleaded.
"What do you want, Irina?"
She was relieved to hear that she had his attention for at least a few minutes. "I want you to tell me what happened. Please," she begged him.
"I don't know," he said as leaned forward and massaged his head. "There was fire."
"Oh, god," she gasped.
"Her skull was cracked, she was probably unconscious when the room was set on fire," he told her, trying to easy the trauma.
"You have no idea who did this?" she questioned him.
"Not yet," he told her.
"Arvin? Do you think he did this to pay us back for betraying him?" she asked.
"I haven't eliminated him."
Irina was getting frustrated with Jack. There had to be more. She knew that he was not ready to share with her, but she pleaded with him, "Jack, let me help you. Let me help you find out who did this."
"I'll think about it. How can I get contract you?"
"Run an ad in the Personals, in the London Globe. Have it say, 'Distinguish composure looking for music lover.'
He grunted at her suggestion.
"I just figured no one knew that side of you," she told him.
"Do you ever do that anymore?" she asked, as she reminisced to herself about their time together and how he would write music and dedicated to her.
"Sometimes, it helps me to relax," he told her.
"Maybe someday you can play something for me?"
"Irina, I'm tired. I have to go. I'm burying our daughter tomorrow," he said, changing the subject.
"Jack," she asked casually, "are you having a religious service for her?"
"The CIA Chaplain will be there."
"He's not Orthodox, by any chance, is he?"
"No Irina, he's not Orthodox."
"Well as long as someone is there."
"Irina, don't tell me that you believed that same religious hocus pocus that Laura did?" he said with a sarcastic laugh, recalling their many conversation on the benefits verse the damage that was caused by religious beliefs.
"Jack, don't say things like that, please. My feelings about that were real. I know that my soul is damned, but my baby..., our baby..., her soul..., she had a good soul, Jack." Irina said as she started to cry.
"Yes, she did," he said, trying to comfort her.
Irina dried her tears and asked, "What time will the service start?"
"Why?" he asked suspiciously.
She let out a small laugh and said, "Don't worry, I don't plan on crashing it. I was planning on going to a church and lighting a candle for her. I wanted to do it when your service was taking place."
He shook his head. Irina was always a work-of-contrast to him. Who is this woman who wouldn't hesitate to kill, but finds comfort in the rituals of religion?
He told her that the service was expected to start at ten o'clock.
She thanked him for telling her. "I'll light a candle for you too," she added.
"Don't bother," he said as he hung up the phone.
tbc
Part 2
Just as he promised, Jack returned to Los Angles on Thursday night. He entered his darkened apartment and made a phone call to the CIA Chaplain, Reverend Craft. The Chaplain assured him that everything had been taken care of, just as Jack had instructed.
After the phone call, Jack went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He stared at the unopened bottle and then returned it to the cabinet. Even though he had an overpowering desire to get drunk, he knew that he had to be in complete control of all his senses, in order to do what he needed to do.
"Tomorrow," he thought. Tomorrow, after his daughter's memorial service. Maybe then he would allow himself to get so drunk that his mind would go numb. Maybe then he would be able to close his eyes and not see the flames that stole her away from him.
He returned to his couch and started to review the information his New York contacts had given to him. After a few minutes of staring at the intel, he found that he could not concentrate. His mind kept drifting to Irina.
He tried to tell himself that he could find Sydney's killers without her help. He tried to tell himself that he did not need her to tell him everything would be ok. He did not need for her to tell him that all of this was just a bad nightmare for which he would wake up from.
As he sat back and closed his eyes, his private phone rang. He knew who was calling. He answered the phone anyway. "Yes?" he said.
"Don't hang up, please." she pleaded.
"What do you want, Irina?"
She was relieved to hear that she had his attention for at least a few minutes. "I want you to tell me what happened. Please," she begged him.
"I don't know," he said as leaned forward and massaged his head. "There was fire."
"Oh, god," she gasped.
"Her skull was cracked, she was probably unconscious when the room was set on fire," he told her, trying to easy the trauma.
"You have no idea who did this?" she questioned him.
"Not yet," he told her.
"Arvin? Do you think he did this to pay us back for betraying him?" she asked.
"I haven't eliminated him."
Irina was getting frustrated with Jack. There had to be more. She knew that he was not ready to share with her, but she pleaded with him, "Jack, let me help you. Let me help you find out who did this."
"I'll think about it. How can I get contract you?"
"Run an ad in the Personals, in the London Globe. Have it say, 'Distinguish composure looking for music lover.'
He grunted at her suggestion.
"I just figured no one knew that side of you," she told him.
"Do you ever do that anymore?" she asked, as she reminisced to herself about their time together and how he would write music and dedicated to her.
"Sometimes, it helps me to relax," he told her.
"Maybe someday you can play something for me?"
"Irina, I'm tired. I have to go. I'm burying our daughter tomorrow," he said, changing the subject.
"Jack," she asked casually, "are you having a religious service for her?"
"The CIA Chaplain will be there."
"He's not Orthodox, by any chance, is he?"
"No Irina, he's not Orthodox."
"Well as long as someone is there."
"Irina, don't tell me that you believed that same religious hocus pocus that Laura did?" he said with a sarcastic laugh, recalling their many conversation on the benefits verse the damage that was caused by religious beliefs.
"Jack, don't say things like that, please. My feelings about that were real. I know that my soul is damned, but my baby..., our baby..., her soul..., she had a good soul, Jack." Irina said as she started to cry.
"Yes, she did," he said, trying to comfort her.
Irina dried her tears and asked, "What time will the service start?"
"Why?" he asked suspiciously.
She let out a small laugh and said, "Don't worry, I don't plan on crashing it. I was planning on going to a church and lighting a candle for her. I wanted to do it when your service was taking place."
He shook his head. Irina was always a work-of-contrast to him. Who is this woman who wouldn't hesitate to kill, but finds comfort in the rituals of religion?
He told her that the service was expected to start at ten o'clock.
She thanked him for telling her. "I'll light a candle for you too," she added.
"Don't bother," he said as he hung up the phone.
tbc
