Sydney peered cautiously into the shadows as she approached the Souq al-Hamadiyyeg, the old city's main covered market. Her phone call to her mother had been an easy choice; her instincts told her what her father denied. Irina Derevko could be trusted; Sloane could not.
Sydney frowned in consternation as she considered her parents. For a while there she had been so sure that…she sighed. You needed a watch with a second hand to keep track of what was going on with her parents.
**
Irina scrutinized her daughter as she approached, scanning for a tail. With Sloane's five million dollar bounty on her head, the risk she was taking by meeting a second time with Sydney was incalculable.
But then, so was her love for Sydney. Every step in their relationship – from conception onwards – had been fraught with danger. It gave her, she admitted, something to live for.
**
Jack adjusted his night vision goggles and lay flat on the roof. He had a clear view of the market. Carefully he tracked Sydney, her head wrapped in the traditional hijab, as she approached the almost-deserted stalls. He scanned the area, but as yet had seen no sign of Irina.
Jack's mood was bleak as he watched his daughter pick her way through the day's debris. How easily they'd fallen back into old habits – Sydney not trusting him, his manipulating her to lead him to her mother. There had never been a more sure-fire way to get Sydney to do something than to order her not to. A stab of loneliness pierced him and his hands tightened around his binoculars as he contemplated how he'd gotten to this point. *Who* had gotten him to this point. He'd follow Sydney to Irina. And then they'd finish this.
**
Sloane listened carefully as the team trailing Jack reported in by sat phone. Jack was in Syria, and appeared to be tracking Sydney. Sloane cursed. He should have thought of that; of course Irina would be in touch with Sydney as well.
He leaned over and opened his top desk drawer, gazing longingly at the picture inside. A much younger version of himself. A smiling Emily. And a laughing, 8 year old Julia. She had not laughed much back then. Cursed with dysfunctional parents – a mother who had abandoned her, a father who ignored her – she had seemed happiest when staying with the Sloanes. He missed her.
And those same, dysfunctional parents were attempting to interfere again, he thought savagely to himself. Julia had understood the importance of what he was doing, the importance of Rambaldi's work. Irina had somehow managed to reverse the effect before Julia had completed her assignment; she needed to be stopped permanently.
**
"Mom?" Sydney whispered.
Irina detached herself from the shadows. "Here," came the response. "Were you followed?"
"No, I'm sure I wasn't followed," said Sydney positively. "I need your help."
"Anything."
"I received a third letter. One that Julia mailed to Dad."
"Don't tell me," said Irina wryly. "In a code that only Sloane and I can read?"
"Yes. You were right. Julia didn't trust any of you completely, did she?"
"No," said her mother. "With good reason, I think." Irina took the page that Sydney offered and swiftly decoded it, handing it back without a second glance. She had, of course, memorized it as she was decoding. "How's your father?"
Sydney was silent for a moment. "Something's wrong. More than getting out of solitary. If it was someone else, I'd say he was upset, but with Dad you never know."
"He's visited Sloane, hasn't he?"
"Sloane? If I didn't know better, I'd say he and Dad were frat brothers," Sydney said with disgust. "I think Dad's given up trusting his instincts. He just looks at the data in front of him." She shot a glance at her mother. "He doesn't trust you anymore," she blurted out.
"No," Irina murmured. "He wouldn't."
"Irina?"
"Arvin," hissed Irina into her phone. "You b*stard."
"I gather you met my daughter, Julia, the other day."
"*Your* daughter? You perverted -,"
"Save the pleasantries, Irina. Neither of you have earned the right to be her parent."
Irina took a deep breath. "Jack will rip your heart out. If I don't get to you first."
"Ah," said Sloane. "A bit of a problem, there, I'm afraid."
Irina was silent. Of course Sloane hadn't called just to gloat.
"You'd have to agree that Julia is pretty talented at what she does. The Russian Project Christmas was so much more focused than ours. World class assassin."
"Where is she now, Arvin?" asked Irina with foreboding.
"Well, it's odd that you ask. She's on a flight to LA, actually. It touches down in 30 minutes. You see, she has a new assignment."
"Who?" Irina managed to choke out.
"Jack."
Irina's hand tightened on the phone. "Jack can take care of himself."
"Yes," said Sloane thoughtfully, "he can. Of course, Jack's usual solution to taking care of himself is to take care of his assailant."
"You wouldn't risk Sydney like that," Irina snapped.
"Julia, Irina, Julia. And I'm not, really. Jack won't pull the trigger if he thinks it's Sydney."
"But she won't recognize him! She won't stop!"
"Correct," he said flatly.
Irina closed her eyes. Could she call Jack in time and warn him? Would he believe her? Why hadn't she told him right away? 'Trying to fix it yourself,' said a snide voice inside her head. 'Afraid he'd just add this to the list of your sins.' She cursed herself for trying to protect their fragile relationship. It had always been doomed.
"You could call Jack," said Sloane, echoing her thoughts. "But then you'd have to explain that Sydney was alive, that you'd known and hadn't told him, that her Christmas conditioning had been modified based on the intel you stole from him, and that he needed to go into deep hiding to avoid seeing his daughter. How far do you think you'd get through the conversation before he hung up?"
"You're wrong. I've already told him," she lied.
"Please, Irina. Give me some credit. Jack," Sloane pointed out condescendingly, "is in LA. If you'd told him, he'd be with *you* now. Looking for his precious daughter that he could never be bothered with when she was growing up."
"What. do. you. want?" Irina snarled.
"Julia's scheduled to check in with me when she lands. If, before that time, I have on my desk incontrovertible proof that Jack was meeting with you covertly, I'll tell her to come back home. Otherwise," Irina could sense Sloane's mental shrug over the phone, "I won't."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I need Jack out of the way for a while. He's a good friend, if sometimes misguided; I'd prefer to do it temporarily." Sloane's voice grew cold. "But don't confuse my sentimentalism with weakness, Irina. If I have to choose between Jack and Julia, it will be Julia. In the next 3 hours, Jack *will* be taken care of, one way or another."
"You're afraid he can reverse it, aren't you?" she challenged, fighting the coldness that was growing inside her. "His research would-,"
"Julia has already eliminated the one person that could have reversed her activation." Irina's eyebrows shot up as she glanced across the room to where Lazarey sat, calmly finishing lunch. She made a note to find out if anything had happened to Lazarey's body double. "Perhaps Jack could also do it, eventually. I don't plan to give him the chance."
"So your plan is to just lock him up in prison? After what happened the last time? You heartless sonova-,"
"25 minutes, Irina. Your choice. And the evidence, by the way, should highlight the, er, depth of your current relationship."
"Looking for tips?" Irina responded nastily.
"Good bye, Irina."
Sydney read the ache in her mother's eyes. "Is there a reason why he shouldn't trust you?"
"No, but he thinks there is."
"Why don't you just explain it to him?" demanded Sydney, exasperated. Honestly.
Irina rolled her eyes. "It's a little more complicated than that, Sydney. Trust is…easily lost in our relationship. And very hard to gain back. And truth -,"
"Yeah, yeah. Truth takes time," finished Sydney with asperity.
"Correct," said her mother with a pained smile. "Enough about your father and I. How are you?"
"Not great," Sydney admitted. "I… I've been having dreams. Awful dreams."
"Julia had dreams as well," Irina observed. "Describe yours."
Sydney grimaced. "Dreams in which Sloane is my father. I'm," her face twisted in revulsion," *hugging* him. Dreams in which I'm just a child, but I'm killing animals with a knife."
"It sounds like you're starting to see glimpses of Julia's life."
"But that's insane! Are you saying Julia thought Sloane was her *father*?" She paused for a moment, her face ashen in the darkness. "He's…not, is he Mom?" she asked in a small voice.
Irina's eyes snapped together in irritation. "Wash your mouth out with soap, Sydney. Of course not."
Sighing with relief, Sydney relaxed slightly. "Sorry. But how could I see Julia when she was a child?"
Irina shook her head decisively. "I don't know. I do know that Julia started having dreams about you towards the end. They…disturbed her. She saw another side of herself that she hadn't suspected existed."
Sydney exhaled in frustration. "You know more than you're saying, don't you? You just won't tell me." Try as she might, it still sounded faintly like a whine.
Irina's eyes glimmered in the darkness. "All of us know parts of the truth, Sydney. Me. Your father. Sloane. Lazarey. Julia wanted you to discover the whole truth. Your truth."
"But how -,"
"Start with Lazarey. I was able to contact him; he'll be in touch with you in the next week. He was not…enthusiastic, but he'll comply."
Sydney nodded miserably. "I need to go." Impulsively she stepped forward and hugged her mother. "Be careful," she whispered.
"You too," Irina murmured, holding her tight. Sydney turned and walked away, head down. Irina's eyes followed her longingly before she turned to make her escape.
**
Irina moved swiftly through the darkened alley, changing her clothing as she moved, transforming herself from a middle-aged Syrian housewife hoping to glean the final bargains at the market to a stylish Egyptian tourist. Lipstick…earrings….silk scarf… she slapped her neck in annoyance at a mosquito, then pulled her hand back in horror.
A tranq dart. "I'm sure I wasn't followed." Really, she thought hazily, slumping to the ground. She loved her daughter, but at times she was the worst. spy. ever.