Chapter 35

"Ah, symmetry," murmured Sloane, his eyes alight.

"Drop your gun," Julia ordered.  "Now.  I won't ask again."

Jack head swiveled in shock from Julia to the red stain blooming on his left shoulder.  Instinctively his muscles tensed and adrenaline surged through his veins, shouting for him to drop and roll, to shoot his assailant with his right hand.  Slowly his gaze shifted back to his daughter. Finger by finger his grip loosened, and his gun clattered to the floor.

"On your knees.  Right hand on your head."

Wordlessly Jack complied, sinking to his knees, his left arm hanging limp at his side.  His shoulder screamed in agony, but the pain was nothing compared to the bitter despair that washed over him.  He did not, could not, look at Irina.

"I don't think you've been properly introduced, Jack.  Meet my daughter, Julia Thorne.  Julia, Jack Bristow."  Sloane jerked his head and one of the guards stepped forward, patting Jack down and binding his wrists with duct tape.

Jack stifled a cry of pain as his arm was wrenched, but his eyes never left Julia's.  He searched for some sign of Sydney; he found only a stranger, remote and remorseless.  "It's your choice, Julia," he repeated dully, turning to Sloane.  "That was it, wasn't it?  Your trigger phrase."

Sloane nodded, triumphant.  "You have no idea how many years I've longed to ask her that question when you were present, and have her choose me, Jack."

Jack's lip curled with contempt.  "And that's the best you could do?  Program her response?"

Irina hunched over, trying to ease the pressure on her arm.  The tableau in front of her was only of moderate interest; while her heart ached for Jack, this was all just a prelude, she knew, to Sloane's real objective.  Her eyes swept the walls, pausing at the portrait of her daughter.  The woman here depicted. . .   They had all had a hand in making her what she was; she fervently hoped it would be enough.  And, she thought mirthlessly, that they would get out of this alive.  But first Jack had to swallow his damn pride and look at her.

"How did you do it?" asked Jack wearily.  "Get the trigger phrase from me."

Sloane waved his hand dismissively.  "Pharmaceuticals.  When we kidnapped you with the DiRegno heart ."  His eyes glimmered.  "An arcane passage from War and Peace, Jack?  How. . . touching.  I've always found these things are best kept short and easy to remember. . . "

Sloane paused in irritation as Irina thrashed violently, then smiled mockingly as he watched her struggle impotently against her bonds.  "Ah.  I see you agree, Irina," he jeered.  "What's that?  Can't answer?  Too bad."

Jack looked over then, at Irina, bracing himself for an assault of recrimination.  He was startled to find her gaze fixed on him, her eyes insistent.  He had missed something.  What?  Something about the trigger phrase?

At that moment Julia shifted, and Jack snapped his attention back, eying her warily.  Her eyes clouded for a moment then cleared.  She stepped forward, a knife sliding into her hand as she advanced towards Jack.  His eyes widened but he didn't flinch as she laid the knife against his throat.  Casually Julia increased the pressure, forcing him to tilt his head upwards.  "You're Sydney's father, aren't you?" she asked curiously.

"Yes."

Sloane's eyebrows rose.  "How do you know that, Julia?"

She shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I've been having dreams.  He was in some of them."

"I'm. . . your. . . father. . . also," added Jack hoarsely, struggling to speak against the pressure of the blade.

Julia hissed in anger and the blade jumped slightly in her hand.  Jack could feel a warm trickle of blood down his neck. 

"I'd be careful there, Jack.  Julia is quite protective of me, as Irina found out last year."  Sloane turned to Julia and smiled broadly.  "Ignore him, my love.  Come over here – I've missed you." 

Julia stepped back and wiped her knife on Jack's shirt before resheathing it.  Lithely she made her way over to Sloane, flinging her arms around his neck.  Bile rose in Jack's throat as he watched her hug Sloane tightly. 

Julia stepped back and flicked a glance in Irina's direction.  "What's she doing here, anyway?"

"Ah, I thought you'd recognize her," replied Sloane easily.  "Tell me when you saw her last."

Julia's brow furrowed in thought.  "I was in a warehouse.  I'd been dreaming.  Vivid dreams, about Sydney.  She asked me questions about what I'd seen.  She claimed that she was my mother."  Her eyes clouded over again briefly.  "But she's Sydney's mother, isn't she?"

"That's right, Julia.  Not yours.  Yours died when you were six." A tiny frown was forming on Sloane's face.  "Perhaps we should finish here, and then I can answer all your questions at another time.  Do you remember this place?"

"Yes, I was here once before," said Julia.  "But I didn't stay.  I was. . . confused."

"I know," said Sloane reassuringly.  "Don't worry – it wasn't your fault.  Derevko was using hypnosis to set you against me.  We'll take care of her later."  Sloane shot a vengeful look at Irina.  "It's time now, Julia.  Are you ready?"

Julia nodded.  "Yes.  I think so."  She looked up and studied the inscription intently. 

A key, a legacy, and a choice.

All three must there be

To bring forth the piece which will complete

My greatest work

Without the key there can be no entry

Without the legacy there can be no promise

And without the choice my work will be consumed in burning anger

She took a deep breath.  "First, the key."  Reaching into her pack she removed the key that she had mailed to Jack, inserting it into the keyhole and turning.  An audible clunking and grinding followed, concluding with a loud thunk.  A small door opened to the right; a shallow basin was visible.

"Then the legacy," prompted Sloane.  Julia removed the vial of Rambaldi's fluid from Jack's pack and carefully poured a small amount into the basin and waited.  The basin smoothly receded into the wall with a soft whoosh.  Julia waited for a moment; another basin took its place.

"And now the choice," whispered Julia.  She hesitated.

"Julia?  You remember?  *You* are the chosen one," reminded Sloane.

"She's not the woman of the prophecy," snarled Jack.  "She's seen the sky of Mount Sebasio, remember?"

"Wrong.  Sydney did.  Julia didn't."  Sloane replied complacently.  "Look at Irina's face.  She's figured it out."  And indeed, when Jack looked over at her, all he saw was resignation.

Julia nodded.  "I am the chosen one," she said softly.  She pulled out her knife and, slicing her finger, allowed 3 drops of blood to fall into the basin and drain unseen into the wall behind.

The room crackled with tension as the 7 sets of eyes stared at the opening in the wall.  A faint rumble could be heard, and then an oddly shaped ovoid, studded with teeth of varying heights, deposited itself anticlimactically onto the basin where Julia's blood had been.  She reached out and carefully removed it, holding it to her lantern to get a better look.

Jack stared, then gazed at Sloane in bewilderment.  "It was all for that?"

Sloane coughed apologetically.  "Perhaps I have allowed a small misrepresentation to occur," he said, his overwhelming sense of triumph briefly making him positively jovial.  "Il Dire's message?  It wasn't 'peace'. It was 'piece'.  The final piece – a gear, really – required to activate Il Dire.  The rest of Il Dire's components could be assembled by the diligent, the dedicated, the -,"

"-obsessed? the criminally insane?" interjected Jack.

"But," continued Sloane, ignoring him, "final activation required a piece that Rambaldi himself guarded, in life and in death, which could only be accessed by the chosen one.  By Julia," he said in a caressing tone, as he stepped forward to take the artifact from her.  "Well done, my love." 

I wanted something that belonged to me.  Jack stomach churned as Sloane's strategy became clear.   "You're done with Sydney now, Arvin.  You've gotten what you came for.  For God's sake, deactivate her."  He swallowed.  "Please."  He was on his knees already, thought Jack.  He wouldn't plead for his own life. But he'd plead for Sydney's.

Sloane raised an eyebrow in astonishment.  "Give up Julia?  You think I activated her just for this?  Just to use her to complete this quest?  All our wedded life Emily and I wanted a child.  Sydney was the closest we ever had.  With Emily gone, Julia is all I have left."

"You sonovab*tch.  She's not your daughter."

Sloane waved his hand dismissively.  "We're talking about a biological accident, Jack.  From the time she was six she might as well have been a piece of furniture to you."

"I will never, *never*, let you do this to her."

Sloane shook his had sorrowfully.  "You won't get the choice, Jack.  Sadly, you're about to kill the only person that knows her release phrase."  Sloane's eyes gestured to Irina.

"Like hell," replied Jack, appalled.

Sloane smiled mirthlessly.  "Oh, yes, Jack.  Julia will do the honors, of course, but with your gun."

"You'd have her kill her own mother?!"

"The CIA will find you here unconscious," Sloane continued, unmoved.  "Surrounded by your dead wife, your gun, the key, and the Rambaldi cube.  A falling out among thieves.  I suppose you neglected to mention to the CIA that you were *borrowing* the Rambaldi fluid?" 

Jack's silence was Sloane's confirmation.

"Tch, tch.  Theft of government property.  Conspiracy.  Murder.  It will be a while before Julia and I see you again."

"Why," ground out Jack, "are you letting me live?"

"Because Irina didn't tell you the release phrase," said Sloane simply.  "She knew that telling anyone the release phrase was tantamount to signing a death warrant.  And that once I had it, I could disable it with time."  Sloane looked at him in amazement.  "Did you *never* wonder why she remained in hiding?"

"I thought -," Jack stopped. 

"You thought she was hiding because she was afraid of *you*?  Because of the pictures?" Sloane taunted.  "You fool.  She only gave me those pictures to keep you safe.  Once Julia told me she'd met Irina, I needed to take the people who could possibly deactivate her out of action.  You, and -,"

"Lazarey," breathed Jack.  Julia had tried to murder Lazarey.  "Julia was coming to see me right after. . . ," his voice trailed off, looking at the stranger that was his daughter, knife up her sleeve, and closed his eyes momentarily in defeat.  He would never have believed it possible. 

"Yes," said Sloane smugly.  "I told you the truth, Jack.  Irina *did* choose to send you to prison."

"Because the alternative was…"  Truth takes time, indeed, thought Jack.

"Death.  A brilliant strategy, if I do say so myself..."

Zugzwang, thought Jack.  No way out.

". . . but enough chatter.  Julia and I have places to go.  People to see.  Julia, if you'd like to just pick up Jack's gun over there and dispose of Derevko. . . "

Jack blocked out the sound of Sloane and Julia discussing the exact distance and angle at which the shot should be taken to be most convincing.  Instead he swung his gaze over to Irina, his heart heavy with regret.  He had not trusted her; she had not trusted him.  She would die; he would go to prison; they would both lose their daughter.

Irina was not watching Julia either, he saw.  Her entire focus was on him.  Unwavering.  Intent.  What was she trying to tell him?  His breath caught in his chest.  What had Sloane said earlier when she had caught his attention?  The trigger phrase had been short.  Easy to remember.  Like the release phrase.

A pet's name?  A quotation?  Blood pounded in his ears.  Why hadn't she taken the risk and told him everything?  The truth?

Julia raised the gun to Irina's head.  Irina looked at him steadily.

"Truth. . . takes time," he said, understanding at last.

Irina slumped in relief