AN: I love writing this story...I can't help but want to update all the time! Of course, I'm nearing the spot where I don't have things already prepared...hmmm...oh well. Well, thanks Jcal4evr for reviewing so swiftly! Sydney won't be making an appearance for about three more chapters; I think Chapter Ten will have baby Sydney. Anyways, enjoy reading!

Chapter Six:

There were about twelve directors seated around long table, each looking formidable in their dark suits and ties, little emotion showing on their faces. They were the substantial members of the CIA; Dr. Campbell, the director of this division of the CIA, a representative from the President, Kenneth Bristow, Jack's uncle, as well as a number of other high-ranking men, including Paul Lindsay who was prominently seated amongst them, his son, Bob, beside his father's wheel chair. Ben Devlin and Jack were also seated among the directors, calmly assessing the men in the room. Each man had a stack of folders and papers before them, on which they have been reporting, along with individual reports for each of them to review.

I think that's all we'll need you for, Jack. I know you're anxious to make it back to your mother's, said Dr. Campbell.

Arvin's waiting downstairs, Jack said, rising from his seat.

I want the Board to know that Jack gave up field duty to help straighten things out here these past few months. Good luck to you when you return to school and to the field, Jack.

Jack nodded to the board.

Dr. Campbell looked back at the board, Now we come to the real purpose of this meeting--to appoint a successor to our dear friend, Thomas Bristow.

Mr. Chairman, I'd like to get to my real purpose, Paul Lindsay interjected.

Wait just a minute now, the representative from the President interrupted.

Wait for what? I claim this department is not necessary to the agency. Therefore, Mr. Campbell, I make a motion to dissolve this department and turn its assists and liabilities over to the receiver, demanded Lindsay.

Angrily, Kenneth Bristow interjected, Jack, you hear what that bastard... He stopped, choosing instead to shoot the trademark Bristow glare at Paul Lindsay.

Dr. Campbell, it's too soon after Thomas Bristow's death to discuss chloroforming Research and Development, said the President's man.

Thomas Bristow died three moths ago. I second Mr. Lindsay's motion, commented another man.

Very well. In that case I'll ask the two executive officers to withdraw, Dr. Campbell gestured to the door.

As Jack and Ben started to collect their papers and leave the table, Dr. Campbell rose.

But before you go, I'm sure that the whole board wishes to express its deep sorrow at the passing of Thomas Bristow.

Thank you very much, Jack smiled sadly.

It was his faith and devotion that are responsible for this department, added Dr. Campbell.

I'll go further than that. I'll say that to the President, Thomas Bristow was the Department of Research and Development.

The room went silent. Everyone looked at Lindsay in surprise.

Ben, trying to control himself, spluttered, Oh, that's fine, Lindsay, coming from you, considering that you probably drove him to his grave. Jack put his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to prevent him from making a scene.

Thomas Bristow was not a business man. That's what killed him. Oh, I don't mean any disrespect to him, God rest his soul. He was a man of high ideals, so-called, but ideals without common sense can ruin a man in this agency. Lindsay picked up a stack of papers from the table, Now, take this mission here to Leningrad...the one to send an agent to go on a deep cover assignment and join the KGB. You know...I happen to know my department canned this mission, but word of the mission comes here and they send an agent to Russia without a second thought. Why?

Well, I handled that, Mr. Lindsay, Jack spoke up, mildly. You have all the papers there. The research, documentation, reports. And as you can see, the mission has been highly successful thus far. I can personally vouch for the character of our asset.

A friend of yours, Lindsay said, sarcastically.

Yes, sir, Jack nodded.

You see, if you shoot pool with some agent in this department, you can come and do whatever you like. What does that get us? A careless, hasty job instead of a precise and exact performance. There's too much worry about dreams and ideas, and not enough concern about furthering the political objectives of this country. All because a few starry-eyed dreamers like Thomas Bristow stir people up and fill their heads with a lot of impossible ideas. Now, I say... Lindsay lectured.

At that, Jack put down his coat and went around to the table, incensed by what Lindsay was saying about his father.

Just a minute--just a minute. Now, hold on, Mr. Lindsay. You're right when you say my father didn't always follow party line, and that he constantly refused to cater to the politicians. I know that. Why he ever joined this department, I'll never know. But neither you nor anybody else can say anything against his character, because his whole life was...why, in the thirty-five years since he and his brother Kenneth joined the agency, he never once thought of himself. Isn't that right, Uncle Ken? He didn't save enough money to send me to school, and he even went back to field duty the same week he buried my brother. Just to serve his country. He did help a few people escape death and torture, through his projects, Mr. Lindsay. And what's wrong with that? Why...here, you're all intelligent men. You knew my father. How many different people did my father help over the thirty-five years he was with the agency? Jack looked around at the directors. Doesn't that mean anything? Don't we care about the lives we've saved? You...you said...what'd you say just a minute ago? he paused. Oh yes, the Leningrad mission; Gift Horse.' You wanted them to wait and determine all possible problems that could arise. Meanwhile the time window was closing, and you were stringing them along. Wait! Wait for what? Until the KGB sent over their own agents to infiltrate the CIA? Until the country was full of Soviet spies? Do you want to see that happen? Just remember this, Mr. Lindsay, that these missions you've rejected, they've been picked up by this department and others, and have all been successful. Well, is it too much to want to protect the country we all love? To take risks? To prevent the needless loss of human lives? Anyway, my father didn't think the cost was too high. People were human beings to him, but to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well, in my book, he died a much richer man than you'll ever be!

I'm not interested in your book. I'm talking about Research and Development, Lindsay responded.

I know very well what you're talking about. You're talking about something you can't get your fingers on, and it's galling you. That's what you're talking about, I know, Jack said. Turning back to the board, he continued, Well, I've said too much. I...you're the decision-makers here. You do what you want with this thing. Just one thing more, though. This agency needs this measly one-horse department if only to have some place where people can come without crawling to Lindsay. Come on, Ben!

Jack left the room, followed by a jubilant Ben. Approaching Dr. Campbell, Kenneth Bristow also excused himself for a moment. Lindsay's face turned grim with hatred, the "frustrated old man" remark, gall in his veins.

Sentimental hogwash! I want my motion... Lindsay started, but was interrupted by a loud babble of talk, as the directors took up the argument.

Outside in the corridor, Jack, visibly shaken, was busy with his bag, his papers, his worry about the outcome of the meeting showing plaintively on his face. Dissolving the department could alter his plans. As he paced back and forth, Ben followed him around, chattering excitedly.

Boy, oh, boy, that was telling him, Jack, old boy, Ben said gleefully. You shut his big mouth. Wish I could have gotten that on tape to show Arvin.

What's going on? Sounds like a lot of yelling in there, Jack pointed to the conference room, addressing his uncle.

Kenneth explained, Well, looks like after twenty-five years, the agency is dismantling the Research and Development department, he sighed. It's all easy come, easy go to them. And now, Paul will have what he wanted; complete control over the creation of all future plans and projects.

All three men looked at their feet.

You still want me to hang around, Jack? asked Arvin stepping out of the elevator and walking over to the group of men.

Jack looked at his watch, Yeah, I'll be right down.

Hey, you're going to be late. You're a week behind in school already. Go on home, Jack, said Ben.

Jack looked at the conference room again, I wonder what's going on in there?

Oh, never mind. Don't worry about that, Ben shrugged. They're getting rid of the department. So what? I'll be reassigned somewhere. I'm only twenty.

Arvin corrected absently.

Ben glared at Arvin, then looked back at Jack, Go on--go on. Hey, look, you gave up your position as a field agent, now you don't want to screw up college too, do you?

At that moment, Dr. Campbell came walking out of the conference room, smiling calmly at the group in the corridor.

Jack, Arvin, Ben, Kenneth, he nodded at each man. There's good news for you; they voted Lindsay down. The Research and Development department will stay separate from Lindsay's department, he smiled, shaking Jack's hand in congratulations.

But they've got one condition--only one condition, started Dr. Campbell.

What's that? Jack asked.

Well, that's the best part of it, answered Dr. Campbell. They've appointed Jack here as director to take his father's place.

Oh, no! But, Uncle Ken... Jack began.

interrupted Kenneth Bristow, speaking quietly and calmly, I have my own department. I can't very well leave it.

Dr. Campbell, now let's get this thing straight, said Jack firmly. I'm leaving. I'm leaving right now. I'm going to my mother's house. Then I'm going back to field duty, and I'm going to finish college. Why not Ben or Arvin here?

But, Jack, they'll vote with Lindsay otherwise, said Dr. Campbell.

TBC