"Dad, we need to talk." Jack's face didn't change as Sydney's whispered words registered. She continued to walk past him to another terminal in the bullpen, having just flown in from St. Petersburg. Ten minutes later he stood up and casually strolled away, making his way down the corridor in the direction of the men's room.
Sydney's phone rang 2 minutes later. "Interview room 4."
"Oh, that's so sweet!" she cooed into the phone. "But I already have plans for Friday. Thanks for asking." She waited a moment. "You too. Bye." She put down the phone and continued to work on her mission summary. Five minutes later she had joined her father.
She raised her eyebrows at him and he nodded. Surveillance protection in place. "Dad!" she burst out, no longer able to contain herself. "I met Mom."
"You WHAT?"
"I. met. Mom."
"How?" The word flew out of Jack's mouth like a bullet.
"She found me," replied Sydney, looking curiously at her father. He didn't appear to be sharing her enthusiasm. "When I was collecting intel on Lazarey."
"Do you have another meeting set up with her? Or a way to contact her?"
Sydney paused, remembering her mother's warning. "No."
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, but he let it pass. "What did she want?"
"She had another letter for me. And she told me about Julia."
Jack paled. "Sydney, whatever she told you - ,"
"She didn't tell me much we didn't already know," interrupted Sydney, oblivious, too focused on her mother's words. "Except that she confirmed that she'd known me during the two years I was missing. And," she added in a small voice, "that I'd been an assassin. Some of my missions were for Sloane."
"Sloane?" her father repeated numbly. Of course. Irina and Sloane had been working together. Since Panama. He'd been played all the way through.
"Yes," replied Sydney unhappily.
"What else?"
"Lazarey's alive. She's going to try to set up a meeting."
"Alive?" asked Jack, puzzled. "But that means…,"
"Yeah. The hand. Ew," replied Sydney, wrinkling her nose. "But she said that Lazarey was important. That Julia had probably left that hand because she would have wanted me to meet him."
"Is that all the information your mother gave you?" he asked cautiously. Nothing about Project Christmas. Nothing about activation. Why? he wondered. And then he realized. Because she couldn't tell Sydney about his part in her missing two years without telling her about hers. Something they shared, he thought bitterly.
"Yes. Except for the letter. Mom thought it was an old SD-1 code, but I don't recognize it."
She pulled out the letter and handed it to her father. He scanned the note and nodded. "Yes. It's a version used during the early days of the Alliance. Only a handful of people would know it."
"But it's in my handwriting again."
"Yes," said Jack reluctantly. "It confirms that you worked with Sloane sometime during those two years."
"Oh," replied Sydney, swallowing hard. "Can you translate it?"
"And if I do? And it's another set of coordinates?"
"Then I'll go find what's there," said Sydney determinedly.
"Sydney -," Jack began.
"Enough, Dad. I appreciate your concern, but you're either with me or against me on this. I have to find out what happened. And I think Julia was trying to tell me."
"It's just that -,"
". . . or I'll ask Sloane to translate it."
Jack grimaced. "Promise me that you'll let me help you."
"Of course. Who else would I trust?"
**
He'd always hated Graz. Sydney's second note had been the address of a hotel in Graz, where Julia had stored a vial in a safe deposit box. He winced as he recalled their opening the box together, only to see Sark and Allison on the other side. The subsequent chase, and fight to the death with Allison, had been devastating to Sydney. Jack had had his hands full with Sark; thank god that Sydney had been so quick with that knife. Stabbing her best friend's clone to death – Jack shuddered. Sydney had sobbed most of the way home on the plane.
And now that they had the vial? And knew it was Rambaldi's bodily fluid? Absolutely no further in solving Julia's puzzle. Jack glanced at his safe. The 3rd letter was fine just where it was.
His priority was to find Irina.
**
"Yes, Mr. Bristow, that's what I said," Jack heard over his cell phone. "The codes were 'Bd6' and 'Qf3'." The tone of Jack's contact was as baffled as ever. "Should I wait to hear from you?"
"Yes," said Jack testily, and hung up, running his hand through his hair as he scanned the desk in front of him. It was piled high with research on Irina. Every known location and alias she had used for the past 24 years. He didn't really have time to play chess with the Abbe. He was engaged in a real-life battle of wits with Irina. On the other hand, it was comforting to maintain at least one relationship in which he didn't have to watch every step.
Well, that wasn't quite true, he chuckled to himself. The Abbe would ruthlessly exploit any mistake he made. He took a deep breath and focused on the chessboards in his head. The queen sacrifice in the last game had been a brilliant move, if he did say so himself. He'd checkmated the Abbe; they were now even. He reflected with scorn on his unwillingness to use that tactic previously. Live and learn.
He quickly reviewed the Abbe's move in the second game. The board was still developing, but the Abbe was putting a lot of pressure on the center. 'c6' thought Jack to himself. That should slow him down.
The first game was more troubling. Jack mulled it over as he unconsciously straightened the maps on his desk. He sensed a noose starting to close, and suspected the Abbe was trying to trap him into zugzwang – where any move he took would be disastrous. It was a beloved strategy of the Abbe's, and Jack had lost at least four games over the past year when he'd stumbled into one of the Abbe's traps. 'e4', he decided. He'd try to gain time by attacking the knight.
He called back his contact. " 'e4' and 'c6'," he calmly instructed.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Bristow." Jack leaned back in his chair, momentarily at peace.
**
"So, you and your Dad seem to be doing well."
"Yeah," said Sydney. "Weird, isn't it? I spent so much of my life resenting him, and now he's the one person that I know I can count on. All I can think of is the time I missed – we missed together."
Eric Weiss took a long pull on the beer in his hand. He leaned against Sydney's kitchen counter, watching her fix a late lunch. "Could be wrong," said Weiss diffidently, "but I suspect your father feels the same way. Like he's got a second chance." He rubbed the side of his neck reflectively. "I can identify with him," he added ruefully.
Sydney took a knife in her hand to cut the sandwiches then paused, bewildered, as she watched herself unconsciously checking its balance. She knew without thinking that she'd need to lower her grip ¼ of an inch for the knife to fly true. She shivered.
"You okay, Syd?"
Her dreams. . . "Fine," she said brightly. "Lunch is ready. What were you saying?" she added, changing the subject swiftly.
"Do you pay attention to anything I say?" asked Weiss in a pained voice as he helped carry the food to the table. "I was talking about your dad. Who, by the way, still scares the sh*t out of me."
"Oh, come on, Weiss, he's just a big teddy bear," teased Sydney.
"Some teddy bear.
Look at what he's done in the last 3 months alone. First there was Simon -,"
"Simon? What about Simon?"
Weiss's face colored. "Oh, crap, Syd, don't tell me he didn't tell you about that."
"No," said Sydney firmly. "But you will." She pulled his lunch away from him.
"Syd, you don't need to be like that," said Weiss hastily, reaching out for the plate. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. You knew that Jack was going to try to contact Simon to get some more background on those two years?"
Sydney nodded. "But I thought he hadn't been able to make contact."
"Well, he did. Because he was freelancing, he needed some help. I helped him simulate the wire transfers for the payment."
"*You*?"
Weiss looked affronted. "Thanks a lot. Do you want to hear about this or not?" Sydney nodded apologetically. "I'm not sure exactly what happened. All I know is, two people walked into that building, and only one walked out. Your father. And he was pretty damn angry."
"Did he say anything?"
"Only that his cover had been blown in some way. I guess he didn't have a chance to get any information, so he didn't bother mentioning it to you."
"I'm sure you're right, Weiss," said Sydney thoughtfully. "But there's more, isn't there?
"Well, there's the rescue, of course. Before the NSC could extract your memories." Weiss was looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"And?"
"And what?" asked Weiss nervously.
"You're a terrible liar, Weiss. Just tell me." Sydney smiled sweetly, but Weiss had the distinct feeling she was baring her teeth.
"B-but Syd, we're not even *sure* it was your father," stammered Weiss. "He denied it, and his story was perfectly logical. . . ,"
"Oh, for heaven's sake Weiss, just spit it out," said Sydney in exasperation.
"Perez," admitted Weiss.
"Perez?" asked Sydney. "Simon's gang?"
"Yeah," said Weiss miserably. "He was captured in Mexico City, and offered information on you in exchange for his freedom. Vaughn and Lauren went down to interview him." Weiss licked his lips. "He was dead before they got there."
"And why do they think it was my father?"
Weiss just looked her.
"I see," said Sydney slowly.
**
"Dad?"
"Hello, Sydney."
"Yes. Got a second? Can I come over?"
Jack paused only for a moment. "Of course, sweetheart. When do you think you'll be here?"
"I'm sitting in my car in front of your apartment."
**
"How long have you been there?" asked Jack, opening the door.
"A while."
Jack studied her profile, noticing the rigid set of her face. He sighed. "Will you tell me, or should I guess?"
"Is there anything that you're hiding from me, Dad?" Sydney blurted out.
"Yes. Of course," said Jack steadily. His heart froze.
Sydney shook her head with annoyance. "Don't treat me like a child. I don't mean things that I'm not cleared to know about missions you ran 15 years ago. I mean are you hiding information that would be useful to me in finding out what happened over the past two years?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Goddammit, Dad!" said Sydney heatedly. "Don't answer my question with another question. I know about Simon. I know about Perez. You've been intentionally keeping information from me. Now answer the question."
Jack opened his mouth and closed it again, not knowing where to start. "Sydney," he finally began, voice strangled, "I -,"
"Because I've figured out for myself that there's a third letter," she interjected furiously.
Jack looked at her in stunned relief. "You have?" he croaked.
"A letter to Sloane. Written in a code that only you and Mom knew. A letter to Mom. Written in a code that only you and Sloane knew."
"Oh."
"Yeah. 'Oh'. Begs the question, doesn't it? Where's the third letter? To you, in a code that only Sloane and Mom would know?" Sydney gave her father a hard stare.
Jack began to breathe again. "I have it," he admitted. This he could deal with. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. The last two letters almost got you killed. And we've learned nothing. I was reluctant to put you through that again."
"Read my lips. I. Am. Not. A. Child. Don't you think I should have had the chance to decide that on my own?"
Jack looked shame-faced. "Come with me."
Sydney followed Jack into his study, waiting impatiently as he pulled the letter from his safe. She looked at the key envelope critically, noting the sealed flap. "What's inside?" she asked shortly.
"A note," he confessed. "In a code I don't recognize. But that Neil Caplan says resembles something your mother and Sloane used."
Sydney gave him a disgusted look. "And to think that I wondered why Julia didn't trust any of you. She sent three notes so that no two of you could ally yourselves and solve the puzzle without me. It's curious that the one person that couldn't be trusted to deliver his was you."
"Sydney, it's just –,"
"Forget it, Dad. I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm not sure I'd believe what you said anyway."
"What are you going to do?" Jack asked, subdued. If she had reacted this angrily to the letter, how would she feel when she learned what he had done to her?
"I need to get this deciphered, don't I? Narrows down my options considerably – it's either Sloane or Mom."
Jack stared at her for a moment, mind racing. "Sloane," he said decisively. "I forbid you to see your mother for this. We know we can trust Sloane."
"You WHAT? You *forbid* me to get Mom's help on this?" repeated Sydney in fury, eyes sparking. "Have you been listening to me *at all*? If I need your advice, I'll ask." Sydney turned on her heel and stormed out the door.
Jack watched her go, his expression hooded.
**
*Zugzwang:
A German term, meaning a compulsion to move, or making a move even though it hurts you…like strangling yourself.
--from A Dictionary of Modern Chess, by Horton