"You *were* the only CIA operative that had spotted her during this period, weren't you?" inquired Barnett.
"We were both pursuing the same information. It would have been surprising if we didn't run into each other occasionally."
"So at what point did the two of you begin working together?"
"I am so very sorry, sahib," came the oily voice over the satellite phone. "But there is another bidder for these pictures. Unless you are prepared to increase your offer, which let me assure you was most generous to begin with, I will have no choice but to sell them to the other party. I must feed my family, you know," he finished virtuously.
"You want *more*?" Jack queried in exasperation, rapidly calculating in his head. The thief. "Give me 4 hours," he said with sudden inspiration. Hanging up, he rapidly dialed a number, one that he had only used once before.
"Irina?"
"Jack?"
"You wouldn't, by chance, be engaged in a bidding war for some photographs, would you?"
Jack heard silence, then a rich chuckle. "You?"
"Yes," Jack said with irritation. "And the only person benefiting is the seller."
"When it became clear that working separately was slowing my progress at identifying Sydney's killers."
"What do you propose?"
"Withdraw your bid."
"And?"
"And what?"
"I want the information, Jack."
Jack was silent for a moment, pondering. "Fine. You pay half the cost, and I'll show you the photos."
This time Irina was silent. "Jack? You have other information about Sydney as well?"
"Perhaps," he said grudgingly.
"So do I. I'll show you mine. . . if you show me yours."
"So, the arrangement was purely for the purpose of identifying Sydney's murderers?"
"Yes. Although Derevko occasionally provided other intelligence beneficial to US interests."
"Why?" asked Barnett curiously. "What did she expect in return?"
"Nothing. She knew she had walked away from her only chance at an immunity deal in Panama. I think that she saw it as a kind of offering. To Sydney's memory."
"And you didn't find it difficult, working with Derevko? With all the history you have between the two of you?"
"I won't say that our discussions were always cordial. But we're both professionals. We compartmentalize well. And whatever – undercurrents – there may have been, as a business relationship it worked well." Jack was starting to relax. The session was going better than he had expected. He looked surreptitiously at the clock on the wall and saw that time was almost up.
"A business relationship." Barnett was silent for several moments, regarding Jack thoughtfully. "Agent Bristow, you should be aware that I have access to both of the surveillance photos that were obtained by the NSC. Is there anything that you would care to add to that statement?"
Not a muscle moved in Jack's face as all illusions of an easy interview evaporated. "You're referring to the fact that I had sex with my wife?"
"I'm referring to the fact that you were having sex with Irina Derevko," replied Barnett pointedly.
Perhaps the NSC should just post that picture on the Internet and get it over with, thought Jack bitterly. He forced himself to swallow his fury and shrug indifferently. "One of the undercurrents that I mentioned. We were, after all, married for 10 years. And consenting adults."
"So it was just – forgive me, Agent Bristow, but I feel I must be frank – casual sex?"
Jack stared at her for a minute, not trusting himself to speak. "*Are* we being frank?" he finally replied, goaded. "If so, then I should tell you that the last adjective in the world I would use to describe sex with Irina Derevko is 'casual'."
Barnett gave him a withering look. "I realize this conversation is difficult for you, Agent Bristow, but my interest is not prurient. She is an enemy agent. You are trying to gain a security clearance predicated on your ability to place the needs of this country above those of foreign powers. Please do not be deliberately obtuse."
Jack ground his teeth. "The answer to your question, Dr. Barnett, is that there was no implied commitment either personally or professionally as a result of our physical intimacy."
"Thank you."
Neither said anything for several moments. Barnett wrote several notes; Jack leaned back in his chair and prayed for lightning to strike.
"So," said Barnett, scanning the page. "What you have told me is that your relationship with Irina Derevko during the year in question was centered around your professional objectives."
"Yes."
"And that, while a personal relationship existed, it was transitory in nature and you had no difficulty in separating the two."
"Yes."
"And, in the absence of those professional objectives, there would have been no personal relationship at all."
"Correct."
"And that the primary objective was to find Sydney's murderers."
"Yes."
"And I'm correct in assuming that that objective, the reason for your relationship, has disappeared with Sydney's return?"
"Yes," said Jack slowly.
"For Irina as well as for you?"
Jack paused. "Yes," he said reluctantly.
"So," said Barnett, leaning forward as if she were a runner hitting the tape, "describe for me now your current relationship with Irina Derevko."
Jack sat in silence. "I don't know," he finally admitted. The first absolutely honest statement he had made that day.