Chapter 13
"Jack Bristow. I'm here for a routine evaluation," he said shortly to the assistant. He had completed the psych profile that morning; a follow-up interview was all that was standing between him and his security clearance.
"Dr. Barnett will be with you shortly." Jack felt a twinge of apprehension. Why did it have to be Barnett? Why couldn't it have been any one of the other perfectly competent but easy to bullsh*t psychiatrists the CIA employed?
"You can go in now."
Jack walked into the office and looked around. New picture on the wall. Same couch and low chair, for patients. Same high chair for her. He sighed.
"It's good to see you again, Agent Bristow." Dr. Barnett flashed Jack a distracted smile and waved him towards the couch.
"I won't take much of your time, Doctor. I'm just here for a routine - ,"
"Spare me, Agent Bristow," she said sardonically. Barnett remained seated at her desk for a moment longer, studying a printout, then looked up. "Your psych profile," she said, waving her hand at the page as she stood up and made her way to her chair in front of Jack. "Congratulations. It was brilliant. Every answer within acceptable parameters."
Jack watched her carefully. He had underestimated her twice before; he had a sneaking suspicion that he had done it again. He made a neutral sound.
"Useless, of course. This is what happens when you train double agents to fake profiles," she said pointedly. "They can't restrain themselves from doing it to you as well. You've just earned yourself a longer interview."
Jack's heart sank.
"Perhaps we should start by having you tell me about your past year."
"There's not much to tell," said Jack with an air of indifference. "The highlight reel would be less than 5 minutes. Arrested, interrogated, imprisoned, released."
"That's a bit brief for a year of your life."
"When you eliminate the 23-1/2 hours per day staring at the walls, there isn't much left."
"And what did you think about, staring at those walls?"
Jack's lips tightened briefly in annoyance. "Doctor? Is there something in particular you're fishing for? If so, could you just ask?"
Barnett's eyes flashed. "Agent Bristow, your file shows that you're an expert in interrogation, at breaking prisoners down so that they become more cooperative. You must be aware that solitary confinement can have a devastating psychological impact. Many felons don't last a week. You survived for more than a year, then delivered a perfect profile."
"I'm not a felon."
"And I doubt that you're perfect," she snapped back as she peered through her glasses at his psych profile. "No hallucinations, no personality defects, no suppressed anger," she recited, running down the sheet in front of her. "No sleeping disorders, no signs of alienation, no nightmares, not even a hangnail. Remarkable," she finished acidly.
"I-,"
Barnett held up her hand. "Don't," she said wearily.
Jack fell silent as Barnett studied him pensively for several moments. "My experience with you to date, Agent Bristow, suggests that you are capable of seeking help when you need it. And that attempts to provide help when you are resistant to it are fruitless. If, by some miracle, it occurs to you that you need assistance..."
"I'll find help," Jack said, matching her gaze squarely.
"Very well," said Barnett, pulling a form towards her and making a notation. Her eyes narrowed and she studied the form more closely. Jack felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
Barnett looked up, her expression closed. "Were you aware, Agent Bristow, that Director Lindsey himself requested your evaluation?"
Jack nodded, his face impassive.
"Were you also aware that he specifically instructed that you be refused clearance if you failed to demonstrate proper respect for authority?"
A muscle jumped in Jack's jaw. "No."
"I need to tell you, Agent Bristow," said Dr. Barnett, thumbing through Jack's service folder, "that given our previous sessions, and your considerable record, no self-respecting therapist would clear you on that basis."
"I see," said Jack grimly. His mouth was set in an angry line. He should have suspected. The whole process was rigged.
"Fortunately for you, Agent Bristow, the CIA does not take guidance from lay personnel within the NSC on psychological profiles. And in my experience, there is no such thing as an old field agent who respects authority."
"Old?" repeated Jack, wondering whether he had just been insulted.
"Forgive me, Agent Bristow. Highly experienced," she corrected dryly.
Jack looked at Barnett doubtfully. He had not suspected her of a sense of humor.
"The ability to improvise in the field, to adjust to local conditions which have not been anticipated, to find alternative means to achieve a mission objective when the original plan has failed - this ability is central to a field agent's success. An agent too dependent on authority will inevitably fail while waiting for instructions. Or worse yet, follow instructions that are no longer appropriate."
She looked up to see if Jack was following. "Most agents who respect authority too much eventually end up -," she hesitated.
"Dead," supplied Jack helpfully.
"Exactly."
"If you'd like, I can supply you with additional examples of failure to follow direction," suggested Jack in a deadpan tone.
"I hardly think that will be necessary, Agent Bristow," said Barnett, her gaze flicking again to his service record.
"Well, then," said Jack with relief, "it looks as though we're done, then." He made to rise.
"Yes, we've made a good beginning," said Barnett neutrally. "That should be enough for today."
Jack looked at her with dismay. "For today? What else could we possibly have to cover?"
"Your wife."
"My wife?" repeated Jack, his voice suddenly turning arctic. "Did it escape your notice that I just spent more than a year in prison due to my - reluctance - to discuss my wife?"
"Agent Bristow, I can assure you I have no interest in locating your wife."
"Then what, pray tell, do you plan to cover?" Jack said through clenched teeth.
"I want you to tell me about your relationship with Irina Derevko."
"What? Are you doing marriage counseling now?"
"No, Agent Bristow," explained Barnett patiently. "I'm just trying to ascertain whether an agent who attempted to murder his wife and then, less than a year later, was working so closely with her that their relationship constituted a national security breach, has sufficient emotional stability to continue as a field operative with this agency."
"Jack Bristow. I'm here for a routine evaluation," he said shortly to the assistant. He had completed the psych profile that morning; a follow-up interview was all that was standing between him and his security clearance.
"Dr. Barnett will be with you shortly." Jack felt a twinge of apprehension. Why did it have to be Barnett? Why couldn't it have been any one of the other perfectly competent but easy to bullsh*t psychiatrists the CIA employed?
"You can go in now."
Jack walked into the office and looked around. New picture on the wall. Same couch and low chair, for patients. Same high chair for her. He sighed.
"It's good to see you again, Agent Bristow." Dr. Barnett flashed Jack a distracted smile and waved him towards the couch.
"I won't take much of your time, Doctor. I'm just here for a routine - ,"
"Spare me, Agent Bristow," she said sardonically. Barnett remained seated at her desk for a moment longer, studying a printout, then looked up. "Your psych profile," she said, waving her hand at the page as she stood up and made her way to her chair in front of Jack. "Congratulations. It was brilliant. Every answer within acceptable parameters."
Jack watched her carefully. He had underestimated her twice before; he had a sneaking suspicion that he had done it again. He made a neutral sound.
"Useless, of course. This is what happens when you train double agents to fake profiles," she said pointedly. "They can't restrain themselves from doing it to you as well. You've just earned yourself a longer interview."
Jack's heart sank.
"Perhaps we should start by having you tell me about your past year."
"There's not much to tell," said Jack with an air of indifference. "The highlight reel would be less than 5 minutes. Arrested, interrogated, imprisoned, released."
"That's a bit brief for a year of your life."
"When you eliminate the 23-1/2 hours per day staring at the walls, there isn't much left."
"And what did you think about, staring at those walls?"
Jack's lips tightened briefly in annoyance. "Doctor? Is there something in particular you're fishing for? If so, could you just ask?"
Barnett's eyes flashed. "Agent Bristow, your file shows that you're an expert in interrogation, at breaking prisoners down so that they become more cooperative. You must be aware that solitary confinement can have a devastating psychological impact. Many felons don't last a week. You survived for more than a year, then delivered a perfect profile."
"I'm not a felon."
"And I doubt that you're perfect," she snapped back as she peered through her glasses at his psych profile. "No hallucinations, no personality defects, no suppressed anger," she recited, running down the sheet in front of her. "No sleeping disorders, no signs of alienation, no nightmares, not even a hangnail. Remarkable," she finished acidly.
"I-,"
Barnett held up her hand. "Don't," she said wearily.
Jack fell silent as Barnett studied him pensively for several moments. "My experience with you to date, Agent Bristow, suggests that you are capable of seeking help when you need it. And that attempts to provide help when you are resistant to it are fruitless. If, by some miracle, it occurs to you that you need assistance..."
"I'll find help," Jack said, matching her gaze squarely.
"Very well," said Barnett, pulling a form towards her and making a notation. Her eyes narrowed and she studied the form more closely. Jack felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
Barnett looked up, her expression closed. "Were you aware, Agent Bristow, that Director Lindsey himself requested your evaluation?"
Jack nodded, his face impassive.
"Were you also aware that he specifically instructed that you be refused clearance if you failed to demonstrate proper respect for authority?"
A muscle jumped in Jack's jaw. "No."
"I need to tell you, Agent Bristow," said Dr. Barnett, thumbing through Jack's service folder, "that given our previous sessions, and your considerable record, no self-respecting therapist would clear you on that basis."
"I see," said Jack grimly. His mouth was set in an angry line. He should have suspected. The whole process was rigged.
"Fortunately for you, Agent Bristow, the CIA does not take guidance from lay personnel within the NSC on psychological profiles. And in my experience, there is no such thing as an old field agent who respects authority."
"Old?" repeated Jack, wondering whether he had just been insulted.
"Forgive me, Agent Bristow. Highly experienced," she corrected dryly.
Jack looked at Barnett doubtfully. He had not suspected her of a sense of humor.
"The ability to improvise in the field, to adjust to local conditions which have not been anticipated, to find alternative means to achieve a mission objective when the original plan has failed - this ability is central to a field agent's success. An agent too dependent on authority will inevitably fail while waiting for instructions. Or worse yet, follow instructions that are no longer appropriate."
She looked up to see if Jack was following. "Most agents who respect authority too much eventually end up -," she hesitated.
"Dead," supplied Jack helpfully.
"Exactly."
"If you'd like, I can supply you with additional examples of failure to follow direction," suggested Jack in a deadpan tone.
"I hardly think that will be necessary, Agent Bristow," said Barnett, her gaze flicking again to his service record.
"Well, then," said Jack with relief, "it looks as though we're done, then." He made to rise.
"Yes, we've made a good beginning," said Barnett neutrally. "That should be enough for today."
Jack looked at her with dismay. "For today? What else could we possibly have to cover?"
"Your wife."
"My wife?" repeated Jack, his voice suddenly turning arctic. "Did it escape your notice that I just spent more than a year in prison due to my - reluctance - to discuss my wife?"
"Agent Bristow, I can assure you I have no interest in locating your wife."
"Then what, pray tell, do you plan to cover?" Jack said through clenched teeth.
"I want you to tell me about your relationship with Irina Derevko."
"What? Are you doing marriage counseling now?"
"No, Agent Bristow," explained Barnett patiently. "I'm just trying to ascertain whether an agent who attempted to murder his wife and then, less than a year later, was working so closely with her that their relationship constituted a national security breach, has sufficient emotional stability to continue as a field operative with this agency."