Chapter 26 (Damascus, Syria)
"Sir, Bristow's moving in on Derevko. Should we take her out now?"
Sloane pondered his team leader's request for a moment. He'd ordered the sniper to hold off while Irina was talking to Sydney. It would be traumatic for her to see her mother killed in front of her eyes and he was not, after all, a monster. So Bristow and Derevko would be together? He had a better idea. One that solved all of his problems.
"No. Stand down the sniper. Track the two of them and update me with their location. Stay well away; I don't want them alerted. As long as you keep an eye on those photos, you won't lose either one of them."
He hung up, then placed a second call. "Director Lindsey, please. Arvin Sloane. Yes, I'll wait."
"Arvin. What can I do for you today?" came Lindsey's voice over the phone several moments later.
"It's what I can do for you, Robert," replied Sloane smugly. "I'm sure you've been concentrating on other matters, but I wondered how your surveillance of Bristow was progressing?"
"The reports I've received suggest he's staying pretty close to home. No contact yet with Derevko, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time," replied Lindsey, puzzled. "Why?"
"It's come to my attention that Jack Bristow is meeting with Irina Derevko in Damascus as we speak."
"He's WHAT?" spluttered Lindsey in fury.
"I'm always anxious to help the NSC, as you know. My guess is that they'll be together about an hour. Would you, by chance, like the coordinates?"
**
Irina's first waking emotion was surprise. Why couldn't she hold her head still? This was quickly followed by awareness - that she was being roughly slapped into consciousness. Her third and dominant emotion, though, was alarm. For the person slapping her was. . . Jack.
Gun in hand, the look in his eyes chilled her to the bone. "Hello, Irina," he said stepping back. "Missed me?" he added savagely. "Sorry I didn't send you a postcard. From prison," he spat. Irina jerked her hands, only to find them tied to the chair.
"Jack -,"
He pistol-whipped her across the mouth. "Shut. up." he said through clenched teeth. "No. more. lies." A thin trickle of blood ran down her chin. The sight of it appeared to sober him, and his body shook as he attempted to regain control. "Tonight you're answering questions. Not asking them. Understand?" he said in a quieter tone.
Irina nodded, watching him carefully. This wasn't exactly the way she would have chosen to tell him what happened, but she'd make the best of it. She prayed Jack had not been followed.
Jack pulled the two photos of out of his jacket. "Did you give these to Sloane?"
"Yes, but -,"
Jack slapped her across the face, hard. "Yes or no only. No excuses. Did you give these photos to Sloane?" he repeated.
"Yes."
"Knowing that I would go to prison?"
"Yes." Jack closed his eyes and shuddered. When he opened them, his expression was empty, drained of all emotion.
"Did you know that Sydney was alive before you received my message?"
"Yes."
"Did you stop her from coming to see me in LA?"
Irina paused.
"I said, -"
"Yes."
Jack took a step back, breathing heavily. Irina watched as the rage mounted within him until he could no longer contain it. "What the hell have you done to Sydney?" he finally roared.
"Is that a yes or no question?"
Jack's hand rose to strike her again, but stopped in mid-air. "F*ck it," he said, turning around and reaching into his bag. He pulled out a syringe and a bottle of a clear solution. Methodically he filled the syringe and tapped out the air bubbles.
"What's that?"
"Pentothal. Three strikes, Irina. You're out. Let's see what's really on your mind."
"No, Jack. Please."
"Please?" he mimicked, rooting around in his bag for a tourniquet. "Scared of the truth, Irina?"
"Jack, goddammit, no!" hissed Irina, trying to curl away from him as he tightened it on her arm.
Jack reached for the syringe.
"Are you sure you're ready for the truth? How about Sydney? Have you told her the truth lately?" Irina's eyes blazed with anger. Surreptitiously her right foot loosened the heel on her left shoe.
Jack's lips tightened. "Enough."
"Have you told her she was activated, Jack? That her loving father created a tool for anyone with the right trigger phrase? That she's a f*cking robot in disguise?" Irina spit out. The heel was off now.
"I said, 'Enough,'" yelled Jack. "Everything I've done I did because I loved her."
"What a comfort that will be to her," said Irina with a curl to her lip, goading him onwards. With a shout Jack came at her again, arm raised. Shoving herself backwards, Irina twisted upwards and stabbed him in the thigh with the needle protruding from her left shoe.
Jack staggered back, hand clasped over his leg. "You b*tch," he swore, starting to stagger drunkenly. Irina watched as he slowly and unceremoniously collapsed to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Jack," said Irina, beginning to work herself free. "Truth takes time. Not sodium pentothal."
**
Irina scanned the building where Jack had interrogated her utilizing the night vision goggles that he had so kindly donated. She swept the surrounding area, pausing thoughtfully at the van parked one block away. She zoomed in and watched as the driver lifted a sat phone to his ear. As she had suspected. Arvin was tracking Jack to find her. She exhaled in relief. That had been close.
She cursed softly under her breath. She didn't enjoy cat-and-mouse games. Particularly when she was the mouse. But much as she would have liked to reverse the game and pursue Sloane, she couldn't take the risk. The information she carried in her head was too important. The release phrase for Julia, if Sloane activated her again.
She stood up, preparing to depart, when a movement caught her eye. She snapped the goggles to her eyes again and chuckled. Oh, very funny. The police were arriving. Someone must have complained about the noise. That would spike Sloane's guns. She turned towards the van and watched as it gunned its engine and departed. She smiled as she imagined Jack's reaction.
"Sir, Bristow's moving in on Derevko. Should we take her out now?"
Sloane pondered his team leader's request for a moment. He'd ordered the sniper to hold off while Irina was talking to Sydney. It would be traumatic for her to see her mother killed in front of her eyes and he was not, after all, a monster. So Bristow and Derevko would be together? He had a better idea. One that solved all of his problems.
"No. Stand down the sniper. Track the two of them and update me with their location. Stay well away; I don't want them alerted. As long as you keep an eye on those photos, you won't lose either one of them."
He hung up, then placed a second call. "Director Lindsey, please. Arvin Sloane. Yes, I'll wait."
"Arvin. What can I do for you today?" came Lindsey's voice over the phone several moments later.
"It's what I can do for you, Robert," replied Sloane smugly. "I'm sure you've been concentrating on other matters, but I wondered how your surveillance of Bristow was progressing?"
"The reports I've received suggest he's staying pretty close to home. No contact yet with Derevko, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time," replied Lindsey, puzzled. "Why?"
"It's come to my attention that Jack Bristow is meeting with Irina Derevko in Damascus as we speak."
"He's WHAT?" spluttered Lindsey in fury.
"I'm always anxious to help the NSC, as you know. My guess is that they'll be together about an hour. Would you, by chance, like the coordinates?"
**
Irina's first waking emotion was surprise. Why couldn't she hold her head still? This was quickly followed by awareness - that she was being roughly slapped into consciousness. Her third and dominant emotion, though, was alarm. For the person slapping her was. . . Jack.
Gun in hand, the look in his eyes chilled her to the bone. "Hello, Irina," he said stepping back. "Missed me?" he added savagely. "Sorry I didn't send you a postcard. From prison," he spat. Irina jerked her hands, only to find them tied to the chair.
"Jack -,"
He pistol-whipped her across the mouth. "Shut. up." he said through clenched teeth. "No. more. lies." A thin trickle of blood ran down her chin. The sight of it appeared to sober him, and his body shook as he attempted to regain control. "Tonight you're answering questions. Not asking them. Understand?" he said in a quieter tone.
Irina nodded, watching him carefully. This wasn't exactly the way she would have chosen to tell him what happened, but she'd make the best of it. She prayed Jack had not been followed.
Jack pulled the two photos of out of his jacket. "Did you give these to Sloane?"
"Yes, but -,"
Jack slapped her across the face, hard. "Yes or no only. No excuses. Did you give these photos to Sloane?" he repeated.
"Yes."
"Knowing that I would go to prison?"
"Yes." Jack closed his eyes and shuddered. When he opened them, his expression was empty, drained of all emotion.
"Did you know that Sydney was alive before you received my message?"
"Yes."
"Did you stop her from coming to see me in LA?"
Irina paused.
"I said, -"
"Yes."
Jack took a step back, breathing heavily. Irina watched as the rage mounted within him until he could no longer contain it. "What the hell have you done to Sydney?" he finally roared.
"Is that a yes or no question?"
Jack's hand rose to strike her again, but stopped in mid-air. "F*ck it," he said, turning around and reaching into his bag. He pulled out a syringe and a bottle of a clear solution. Methodically he filled the syringe and tapped out the air bubbles.
"What's that?"
"Pentothal. Three strikes, Irina. You're out. Let's see what's really on your mind."
"No, Jack. Please."
"Please?" he mimicked, rooting around in his bag for a tourniquet. "Scared of the truth, Irina?"
"Jack, goddammit, no!" hissed Irina, trying to curl away from him as he tightened it on her arm.
Jack reached for the syringe.
"Are you sure you're ready for the truth? How about Sydney? Have you told her the truth lately?" Irina's eyes blazed with anger. Surreptitiously her right foot loosened the heel on her left shoe.
Jack's lips tightened. "Enough."
"Have you told her she was activated, Jack? That her loving father created a tool for anyone with the right trigger phrase? That she's a f*cking robot in disguise?" Irina spit out. The heel was off now.
"I said, 'Enough,'" yelled Jack. "Everything I've done I did because I loved her."
"What a comfort that will be to her," said Irina with a curl to her lip, goading him onwards. With a shout Jack came at her again, arm raised. Shoving herself backwards, Irina twisted upwards and stabbed him in the thigh with the needle protruding from her left shoe.
Jack staggered back, hand clasped over his leg. "You b*tch," he swore, starting to stagger drunkenly. Irina watched as he slowly and unceremoniously collapsed to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Jack," said Irina, beginning to work herself free. "Truth takes time. Not sodium pentothal."
**
Irina scanned the building where Jack had interrogated her utilizing the night vision goggles that he had so kindly donated. She swept the surrounding area, pausing thoughtfully at the van parked one block away. She zoomed in and watched as the driver lifted a sat phone to his ear. As she had suspected. Arvin was tracking Jack to find her. She exhaled in relief. That had been close.
She cursed softly under her breath. She didn't enjoy cat-and-mouse games. Particularly when she was the mouse. But much as she would have liked to reverse the game and pursue Sloane, she couldn't take the risk. The information she carried in her head was too important. The release phrase for Julia, if Sloane activated her again.
She stood up, preparing to depart, when a movement caught her eye. She snapped the goggles to her eyes again and chuckled. Oh, very funny. The police were arriving. Someone must have complained about the noise. That would spike Sloane's guns. She turned towards the van and watched as it gunned its engine and departed. She smiled as she imagined Jack's reaction.