Simon Peter - Cornerstone
William Vaughn was hovering and it was making Jason very nervous. Jason was slowly trying to retrieve the image off of the recovered pieces of film from the warehouse. The twins were manning the darkroom; their recovery rate was legendary. Both human and computer were analyzing the bits of film that they developed. Jason's job was to oversee the retrieval crew.
Word was that Agent Vaughn had been haunting the crew over at audio too. They were trying to get a voiceprint for the woman; but she was eluding them. There was no record of her in the files; it was as if she was a ghost of a woman, there was only a blurry image but she was not corporeal.
He was on a crusade it was being rumored, obsessed after Dar's death. He wanted to find those responsible and make them pay. Mossad had disappeared off the radar and there was still no lead on the mystery woman. The CIA was exhausting their leads to find them all including Alex.
All of the evidence from the warehouse was being sifted through, down to the smallest spec of dust. It was being categorized and analyzed by the best and the brightest. Vaughn even recruited analysts from other divisions to aid in the analysis and reconstruction of the final minutes of the battle at the warehouse. There had to be a lead there somewhere, a lead to Mossad and his female contact. And Agent Vaughn wasn't going to sleep until he found it.
Downstairs another kind of information gathering was taking place. Mossad's man was recovering, injured but alive, unlike his partner. Sharmat Toq was spending quality time in the interrogation room. He was being less than cooperative and his interrogators were getting tired of his evasiveness. The information that had been gathered thus far was sparse, but much could be gleaned from the obtrusive answers.
"Mr. Toq, I think we've been cooperative enough here. You received food and drink and we even allowed you a Turkish cigarette. I suggest you answer more of our questions," the blonde agent leaned across the table into Sharmat's face as the silent black haired interrogator sat back in his chair.
The blond picked up a file and unfolded a map. He placed it on the table in front of the prisoner. "Please indicate where Mossad has strongholds." Sharmat stared at the map intently and slowly leaned back into the chair and stared at the blonde, a smirk sliding across his face. The black- haired agent leaned forward and rested his elbows onto his knees. The blonde sat still on the corner of the table and waited.
Several minutes of silence ticked by and then Sharmat shrugged his shoulders, "I do not know."
"That is not what we were hoping to hear."
The silent agent stood up and closed the blinds on the observation window. He slid the briefcase out from underneath the chair and popped the locks. A smile crept along the corners of his mouth. Sharmat was about to learn that making this man smile was a very bad thing.
***
Irina blended into the back of the crowd at Langley for the ceremony at the wall of the heroes. Her black suit and hat resembled those worn by most of the women in the party nearest to the front.
Silent tears streamed down her face as the chaplain read a passage from the Bible.
"The Lord is my Shepard..." faded into her and she found herself reciting a prayer she had learned in secret as a child.
This star represented a failure on her part to keep someone safe and this touched and troubled her deeply. She wondered if she could keep her family safe. Safe from the KGB, safe from Alex, safe from the pain she would undoubtedly cause them. If she couldn't prevent the death of this boy, how could she prevent her family from the same measure of pain? To cause the kind of grief she registered on the family and friends of this young agent cut her to the quick. She never wished that sort of pain on anyone, and even more so on Jack and Sydney. Until this moment, she hadn't truly known the full ramifications of her job and for that she was sorry. But to quit her job was unthinkable, for it too had painful ramifications. She was stuck and she did not like that, not one bit.
She was looking forward to the plane ride back to LA; she planned to sleep the entire time. Her arms ached for a hug from her favorite little girl and she longed to curl up in the comfort and the consolation of Jack's arms. As the ceremony came to a conclusion, Irina vanished.
***
The photo image of the woman was blurry and most of her face was in shadow. It apparently was the best of the bunch that the technicians were able to recover from Dar's decimated camera and William was beginning to become discouraged. The audiotapes did not supply any usable information; except that the woman could swear in a variety of languages and that she also spoke English without a discernable accent.
Word from downstairs was that the prisoner hadn't divulged any information yet. William continued to flip through the pictures, looking deep and hoping.
Derry Cranston ambled by, carrying a fresh cup of coffee, and leaned over the table where William sat.
"Any leads there, chief?" Derry set the coffee cup down and picked up a few photos and flipped through them.
"Nothing terribly usable at this time. We've still not found any leads on the woman."
"She kinda looks familiar, you know?" Derry set the pictures down and took a sip.
William looked at Derry with thinly veiled disbelief. It was widely known that Derry used to be a good agent before he spent more time with a bottle than with anything else. There was gossip about the office that Derry would soon be forced into rehab in order to keep his job. William had always felt a bit sorry for Derry; he was a troubled man, loosing his partner to a sadistic KGB agent and then loosing his wife to another man. Derry did his best to stay sober at the office and William took pity on the guy, feeding him easy analysis work from time to time. But he also knew that Derry had his limitations, was unpredictable, was a liar and really needed help.
"If you squint a bit, she could be the sister to Bristow's wife." Derry shrugged and turned away leaving William to pick up the photograph once more.
He had never met Bristow's wife and was only a passing acquaintance to Bristow. The man was a legend already, though he was about the same age as William. He wondered if Derry had something there. Wouldn't that take the cake? The CIA's best and brightest unknowingly married to a KGB agent. William chuckled to himself and dismissed the thought.
Sweat rolled down Sharmat's face, mixing with the pinpricks of blood on his jaw line. Blood was drying in small lines on his arms and chest in contrast to the paleness of his skin. This time the blonde sat in the chair and the black-haired agent leaned against the table, admiring his handiwork.
"Back to the original question, where are Mossad's hideouts?"
Sharmat stayed quiet, but appeared to pale with the question and the thought of the consequences. He leaned in slightly and again looked at the map. His hands began to shake and sweat poured down his face. He looked at the men, eyes wide with fear, and shook his head.
"Still not cooperating, huh? How about starting with something a bit easier? Could you get in touch with him and arrange a meet?"
Sharmat contemplated the question for a few moments and ever so slightly nodded his head.
"Good, good. Now we're getting somewhere."
***
Alex picked up the coffee cup and sipped the steaming liquid. Putting the cup down again, he added a bit more cream to it and stirred.
"You really must have made an impression on Mossad because he's requested you specifically for another exchange."
Irina leaned back in the chair, relishing the breeze coming off the ocean. She smelled the salt in the air and picked at the croissant on the saucer in front of her. She slipped her foot out of the sandal and drew lazy designs in the sand with her toes.
"I'm not sure it was a good impression, Alex."
She stopped her desecration of the croissant and picked up her teacup. She took several sips, looking out to the water and wished again for something more.
"Whatever the circumstance, you are to meet him next week in Tirana, Albania in three days. He indicated that he has updated information on CIA assets inside the Soviet Union."
"Wonderful."
***
Derry's comment kept niggling at William's brain even after a few days. He knew for certain that this woman couldn't be Bristow's wife. But what if they could use her features as a starting point for reconstructing the image? William checked with the secretary up in Bristow's division and found out that Jack was away on a mission. Maybe there was a photo in Jack's office that could be borrowed without him finding out? William sure as hell didn't want to commit resources to get a photo of Mrs. Bristow, it just wouldn't go over good with anyone and he would be seripticiouly pointing a finger at Jack.
William was certain that he didn't want to say to Jack Bristow "Someone said your wife looks like this KGB agent we're trying to identify. Mind if I borrow a photo of her?" He couldn't imagine a positive outcome from that conversation.
William caught the elevator up to the 4th floor and headed toward Jack's office.
"Well, hello, Agent Vaughn. We don't see you up here that often." It was the secretary for the division that he had just called.
"Hello Mrs. Calaveri. I don't get up here much, your right."
"Can I help you?" she asked, looking at the manila folder in his hand.
"No, no, but thank you. I'm leaving this information on Jack's desk. We talked about it a while back and I just got the results from deciphering. I'll just put it on his desk so that he sees it when he returns."
"Okay. If you need my help, just ask." She scooted off down the hallway, looking as hurried as the rest of the secretaries around.
Jack's office was spotless, like he never spent any time in there at all. There were two folders on the right side of his desk and a small tasteful picture of his wife and daughter in a frame. William took the back off the picture frame and took out the photograph to get copied. He couldn't help but notice that Derry may have been right. The fuzzy picture of the woman on his desk was quite similar to the woman in the picture he was holding.
William turned and put the picture in his manila folder, placing the frame back in its original location. Hopefully no one would notice the picture was gone before he had the chance to return it. He left Jack's office, waved to Mrs. Calaveri and headed down to op tech for a camera. Later that night, when the secretaries had all left, he retuned the photo to its rightful place.
As William studied the two pictures side by side, his stomach dropped like a runaway elevator. The similarities in the shape of the face were striking. Sure, the KGB agent appeared to have short blonde hair, whereas Mrs. Laura Bristow had longer brown hair, but wigs were easily available in LA and elsewhere. After careful consideration, he decided to not reveal the finding to anyone without further proof.
***
Irina snuggled closer to Jack under the covers and kissed him on the neck. "Are you sure that it will be fine if I go to the seminar in Katharine's place?"
"Honey, I already agreed. Sydney and I will have some special father- daughter time while your gone. I'll take a few days off and we'll go to the zoo, the carousel and the beach. You go to Houston and have a good time." Jack's hand trailed from her hair downward, coming to rest in the small of her back.
"Its just that Katharine broke her leg and can't attend the national conference for Post-Renaissance European Literature professors. This is not my favorite era of literature, but besides, Katharine and I have the most work in the post-renaissance."
"Yes, yes Laura. Go. Have a good time and buy me a present. Sydney might like one too." He kissed her on the forehead and reached over her to turn off the lamp, pulling her closer.
***
The director of the LA office looked at William for his reaction and was not disappointed. His face registered both surprise and disbelief.
"I really think I would be of better use running the ops here."
"I disagree. I want you in the field for this one William. I need a cool head for this operation and you are that man. Take Simons and Heller with you. The mission scenario will be ready within the hour."
The mission was fairly straightforward; Mossad was convinced to set up another meeting with the mystery woman. The meeting would be taking place in a shipping warehouse in Tirana, Albania. Simons and Heller would be providing the secondary surveillance while William would be the point guy inside the building. His job was to detain the woman following the meeting and Simons and Heller were to apprehend Mossad. The general would be sent back to Somalia for trial for the failed coup attempt, which was likely to be swift and the punishment was public hanging.
***
"So nice to see you again, darling." Mossad kissed Irina's hand and she resisted pulling away and wiping her hand off.
"Yes, yes. Good to see you too. Alex says you have some information for us?" Irina was starting to get a bad feeling about this meeting. Something just wasn't right.
"Ah. How is Alex? Is he out of the hospital yet?" Mossad was being awfully chatty and Irina didn't like it.
"Yes, he is recovering nicely. Were is the intel?" Mossad's men were milling about, apparently apprehensive about something. Everything about this meet was making Irina nervous and she was eager to get the exchange done and home. Irina brought out her file folder containing the photographs and documents Mossad had requested. She hoped this action would light a fire under Mossad.
He got the hint and motioned for his bodyguard to turn over the briefcase he was holding. Mossad opened the case and pulled out several files and opened them up, spreading the documents across the table in front of him.
"This is for you. I hope you appreciate it." Mossad smiled and waved his hand backward to his men. They did a quick survey of the room and headed quickly out the door.
Mossad leaned in and whispered, "I would suggest you be quick about it, my dear." He flashed his palm at her and swept out of the room.
A few slow moments passed, as Irina comprehended what Mossad had told her and shown her. He was warning her that they had been under surveillance and that he had rigged the building to blow up. Irina set about getting the papers together all the while questioning why she just didn't give them to whoever was watching. She wasn't certain she'd be able to get out without being apprehended.
She turned at the clicking of someone walking in behind her; an agent, most likely American, was walking toward her raising his gun. She pulled her gun and raised it, matching his. William was startled to realize that this was Jack Bristow's wife standing in front of him. His mind was rebelling at the thought of this woman being a KGB agent and she had been compromising Jack for years. He regretted learning the truth and his heart ached for the betrayal that Jack would soon realize.
Staring down the barrel of her gun into the barrel of his, she knew instantly that this was a "kill or be killed" situation. And she really hated being in that position. Jack knows this man and his family. Irina was already regretting the necessity of her actions and grieving for the life she must take and the lives she would affect.
"I am here to take you into custody for suspected treason against the United States. Throw down your weapon."
"I'm sorry, I can not do that."
"Cooperate and I'll do what I can to get you the best possible treatment."
"I'm sorry Agent Vaughn, but you must know I can not and will not surrender."
"Then I'm sorry too." He paused. "What is your real name?"
"I cannot divulge my name for your safety and my own."
William looked at this woman, Laura or whoever she really was, and recognized the resolve in her eyes. He came to the realization that his wife would soon be a widow and his son would finish growing up without a father. His heart ached and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He steadied his gun with his other hand.
"You have a daughter, don't you Laura? She's almost 6 right?"
Irina nodded.
"I have an eight year old son. His name is Michael and he is going to be one hell of a hockey player. I would do any thing for him; I would die for him if need be. Can you say the same? Would you die for your family? Your country asks that you sacrifice yourself for it, but can you do the same for your husband and daughter?"
"To protect my family, I would kill. To protect my country, I would do the same." She hesitated at the thought of dying for anyone.
"But could you die? Could you sacrifice yourself, could you leave them in order that they might live? If given the choice between them and the loyalty to your country, whom would you pick?"
Irina was conflicted. No one had ever asked her to sacrifice her family so pointedly. She knew one day that she would give them up, when the KGB decided. But to give them up voluntarily so that they could survive; she was unsure.
"Agent Vaughn, I am glad that you area so certain that you would sacrifice yourself for your family and perhaps your country. I am sorry that I may facilitate your sacrifice."
"You could always cooperate. If you provide intelligence to the CIA, they may be able to offer contact with your family in exchange. Arrangements can be made."
"I'm sorry Agent Vaughn, but I do not have that luxury."
"But you could." Seconds ticked by and tension cut through the air.
There was no discernable flinch or movement to preclude the action, but both guns went off and for a moment there was silence and stillness. The sound of the gunshots rolled through the air. Then it seemed as though a giant vacuum had been instantly turned on and all of the air was sucked from the building. Irina gasped like a fish out of water and slowly began to move toward the door. Her feet were cemented to the spot. Neither she nor William have moved and inch and she starts to wonder if the guns actually went off or if it was just a figment of her imagination.
Time caught up with her as the repercussion of the explosion hit her. Heat seared through her body and her lungs filled with hot suffocating smoke. Her feet became unglued and headed to the door, pulling the rest of her body along. She sped out of the building as William's body was slumping toward the floor as the wave of fire filled the warehouse.
William felt the bullet hit his chest with the force of a lightening bolt and his legs became gelatinous and gave way. He wished that he could kiss his beautiful wife goodbye; he would miss her sweet smile. He regretted that he would never see the amazing man Michael would become. He smelled the metallic sweetness of his blood pouring out of his chest and mixed with the smoke of burning plaster. Concrete dust preceded the heat wave of the fire and for a moment he was afraid. William pictured his family one last time as he lost consciousness.
Irina's feet stopped at the asphalt road and she turned around, feeling the heat sear her cheeks. Black, menacing smoke billowed out of the door and high windows of the warehouse and the aluminum siding curled like baby's hair. A figure ran out of the side door of the building, flames attached to its clothes, consuming with deadly accuracy. She knew that this was not William for she had seen him in a pool of blood before the ball of fire had pushed her out the door. The man dropped to the ground and rolled like a fish thrown ashore, flopping back and forth in an attempt to put out the flames. In the distance sirens wailed and she was certain that an ambulance would arrive soon enough for this agent. She also knew with absolute certainty that a pair of black- suited CIA agents would soon be visiting Mrs. Vaughn and she felt heartbreak.
She smelled the acrid taste of burnt hair and noticed that a chunk of her hair was missing, the remaining ends singed. Irina sighed with the thought of cutting her hair and having to explain that to Jack. She suddenly was longing to be in his arms, safe and warm and her memory of this incident tucked back into the corner of her mind. She walked away, blending into the crowd of onlookers that had begun to gather.
William Vaughn was hovering and it was making Jason very nervous. Jason was slowly trying to retrieve the image off of the recovered pieces of film from the warehouse. The twins were manning the darkroom; their recovery rate was legendary. Both human and computer were analyzing the bits of film that they developed. Jason's job was to oversee the retrieval crew.
Word was that Agent Vaughn had been haunting the crew over at audio too. They were trying to get a voiceprint for the woman; but she was eluding them. There was no record of her in the files; it was as if she was a ghost of a woman, there was only a blurry image but she was not corporeal.
He was on a crusade it was being rumored, obsessed after Dar's death. He wanted to find those responsible and make them pay. Mossad had disappeared off the radar and there was still no lead on the mystery woman. The CIA was exhausting their leads to find them all including Alex.
All of the evidence from the warehouse was being sifted through, down to the smallest spec of dust. It was being categorized and analyzed by the best and the brightest. Vaughn even recruited analysts from other divisions to aid in the analysis and reconstruction of the final minutes of the battle at the warehouse. There had to be a lead there somewhere, a lead to Mossad and his female contact. And Agent Vaughn wasn't going to sleep until he found it.
Downstairs another kind of information gathering was taking place. Mossad's man was recovering, injured but alive, unlike his partner. Sharmat Toq was spending quality time in the interrogation room. He was being less than cooperative and his interrogators were getting tired of his evasiveness. The information that had been gathered thus far was sparse, but much could be gleaned from the obtrusive answers.
"Mr. Toq, I think we've been cooperative enough here. You received food and drink and we even allowed you a Turkish cigarette. I suggest you answer more of our questions," the blonde agent leaned across the table into Sharmat's face as the silent black haired interrogator sat back in his chair.
The blond picked up a file and unfolded a map. He placed it on the table in front of the prisoner. "Please indicate where Mossad has strongholds." Sharmat stared at the map intently and slowly leaned back into the chair and stared at the blonde, a smirk sliding across his face. The black- haired agent leaned forward and rested his elbows onto his knees. The blonde sat still on the corner of the table and waited.
Several minutes of silence ticked by and then Sharmat shrugged his shoulders, "I do not know."
"That is not what we were hoping to hear."
The silent agent stood up and closed the blinds on the observation window. He slid the briefcase out from underneath the chair and popped the locks. A smile crept along the corners of his mouth. Sharmat was about to learn that making this man smile was a very bad thing.
***
Irina blended into the back of the crowd at Langley for the ceremony at the wall of the heroes. Her black suit and hat resembled those worn by most of the women in the party nearest to the front.
Silent tears streamed down her face as the chaplain read a passage from the Bible.
"The Lord is my Shepard..." faded into her and she found herself reciting a prayer she had learned in secret as a child.
This star represented a failure on her part to keep someone safe and this touched and troubled her deeply. She wondered if she could keep her family safe. Safe from the KGB, safe from Alex, safe from the pain she would undoubtedly cause them. If she couldn't prevent the death of this boy, how could she prevent her family from the same measure of pain? To cause the kind of grief she registered on the family and friends of this young agent cut her to the quick. She never wished that sort of pain on anyone, and even more so on Jack and Sydney. Until this moment, she hadn't truly known the full ramifications of her job and for that she was sorry. But to quit her job was unthinkable, for it too had painful ramifications. She was stuck and she did not like that, not one bit.
She was looking forward to the plane ride back to LA; she planned to sleep the entire time. Her arms ached for a hug from her favorite little girl and she longed to curl up in the comfort and the consolation of Jack's arms. As the ceremony came to a conclusion, Irina vanished.
***
The photo image of the woman was blurry and most of her face was in shadow. It apparently was the best of the bunch that the technicians were able to recover from Dar's decimated camera and William was beginning to become discouraged. The audiotapes did not supply any usable information; except that the woman could swear in a variety of languages and that she also spoke English without a discernable accent.
Word from downstairs was that the prisoner hadn't divulged any information yet. William continued to flip through the pictures, looking deep and hoping.
Derry Cranston ambled by, carrying a fresh cup of coffee, and leaned over the table where William sat.
"Any leads there, chief?" Derry set the coffee cup down and picked up a few photos and flipped through them.
"Nothing terribly usable at this time. We've still not found any leads on the woman."
"She kinda looks familiar, you know?" Derry set the pictures down and took a sip.
William looked at Derry with thinly veiled disbelief. It was widely known that Derry used to be a good agent before he spent more time with a bottle than with anything else. There was gossip about the office that Derry would soon be forced into rehab in order to keep his job. William had always felt a bit sorry for Derry; he was a troubled man, loosing his partner to a sadistic KGB agent and then loosing his wife to another man. Derry did his best to stay sober at the office and William took pity on the guy, feeding him easy analysis work from time to time. But he also knew that Derry had his limitations, was unpredictable, was a liar and really needed help.
"If you squint a bit, she could be the sister to Bristow's wife." Derry shrugged and turned away leaving William to pick up the photograph once more.
He had never met Bristow's wife and was only a passing acquaintance to Bristow. The man was a legend already, though he was about the same age as William. He wondered if Derry had something there. Wouldn't that take the cake? The CIA's best and brightest unknowingly married to a KGB agent. William chuckled to himself and dismissed the thought.
Sweat rolled down Sharmat's face, mixing with the pinpricks of blood on his jaw line. Blood was drying in small lines on his arms and chest in contrast to the paleness of his skin. This time the blonde sat in the chair and the black-haired agent leaned against the table, admiring his handiwork.
"Back to the original question, where are Mossad's hideouts?"
Sharmat stayed quiet, but appeared to pale with the question and the thought of the consequences. He leaned in slightly and again looked at the map. His hands began to shake and sweat poured down his face. He looked at the men, eyes wide with fear, and shook his head.
"Still not cooperating, huh? How about starting with something a bit easier? Could you get in touch with him and arrange a meet?"
Sharmat contemplated the question for a few moments and ever so slightly nodded his head.
"Good, good. Now we're getting somewhere."
***
Alex picked up the coffee cup and sipped the steaming liquid. Putting the cup down again, he added a bit more cream to it and stirred.
"You really must have made an impression on Mossad because he's requested you specifically for another exchange."
Irina leaned back in the chair, relishing the breeze coming off the ocean. She smelled the salt in the air and picked at the croissant on the saucer in front of her. She slipped her foot out of the sandal and drew lazy designs in the sand with her toes.
"I'm not sure it was a good impression, Alex."
She stopped her desecration of the croissant and picked up her teacup. She took several sips, looking out to the water and wished again for something more.
"Whatever the circumstance, you are to meet him next week in Tirana, Albania in three days. He indicated that he has updated information on CIA assets inside the Soviet Union."
"Wonderful."
***
Derry's comment kept niggling at William's brain even after a few days. He knew for certain that this woman couldn't be Bristow's wife. But what if they could use her features as a starting point for reconstructing the image? William checked with the secretary up in Bristow's division and found out that Jack was away on a mission. Maybe there was a photo in Jack's office that could be borrowed without him finding out? William sure as hell didn't want to commit resources to get a photo of Mrs. Bristow, it just wouldn't go over good with anyone and he would be seripticiouly pointing a finger at Jack.
William was certain that he didn't want to say to Jack Bristow "Someone said your wife looks like this KGB agent we're trying to identify. Mind if I borrow a photo of her?" He couldn't imagine a positive outcome from that conversation.
William caught the elevator up to the 4th floor and headed toward Jack's office.
"Well, hello, Agent Vaughn. We don't see you up here that often." It was the secretary for the division that he had just called.
"Hello Mrs. Calaveri. I don't get up here much, your right."
"Can I help you?" she asked, looking at the manila folder in his hand.
"No, no, but thank you. I'm leaving this information on Jack's desk. We talked about it a while back and I just got the results from deciphering. I'll just put it on his desk so that he sees it when he returns."
"Okay. If you need my help, just ask." She scooted off down the hallway, looking as hurried as the rest of the secretaries around.
Jack's office was spotless, like he never spent any time in there at all. There were two folders on the right side of his desk and a small tasteful picture of his wife and daughter in a frame. William took the back off the picture frame and took out the photograph to get copied. He couldn't help but notice that Derry may have been right. The fuzzy picture of the woman on his desk was quite similar to the woman in the picture he was holding.
William turned and put the picture in his manila folder, placing the frame back in its original location. Hopefully no one would notice the picture was gone before he had the chance to return it. He left Jack's office, waved to Mrs. Calaveri and headed down to op tech for a camera. Later that night, when the secretaries had all left, he retuned the photo to its rightful place.
As William studied the two pictures side by side, his stomach dropped like a runaway elevator. The similarities in the shape of the face were striking. Sure, the KGB agent appeared to have short blonde hair, whereas Mrs. Laura Bristow had longer brown hair, but wigs were easily available in LA and elsewhere. After careful consideration, he decided to not reveal the finding to anyone without further proof.
***
Irina snuggled closer to Jack under the covers and kissed him on the neck. "Are you sure that it will be fine if I go to the seminar in Katharine's place?"
"Honey, I already agreed. Sydney and I will have some special father- daughter time while your gone. I'll take a few days off and we'll go to the zoo, the carousel and the beach. You go to Houston and have a good time." Jack's hand trailed from her hair downward, coming to rest in the small of her back.
"Its just that Katharine broke her leg and can't attend the national conference for Post-Renaissance European Literature professors. This is not my favorite era of literature, but besides, Katharine and I have the most work in the post-renaissance."
"Yes, yes Laura. Go. Have a good time and buy me a present. Sydney might like one too." He kissed her on the forehead and reached over her to turn off the lamp, pulling her closer.
***
The director of the LA office looked at William for his reaction and was not disappointed. His face registered both surprise and disbelief.
"I really think I would be of better use running the ops here."
"I disagree. I want you in the field for this one William. I need a cool head for this operation and you are that man. Take Simons and Heller with you. The mission scenario will be ready within the hour."
The mission was fairly straightforward; Mossad was convinced to set up another meeting with the mystery woman. The meeting would be taking place in a shipping warehouse in Tirana, Albania. Simons and Heller would be providing the secondary surveillance while William would be the point guy inside the building. His job was to detain the woman following the meeting and Simons and Heller were to apprehend Mossad. The general would be sent back to Somalia for trial for the failed coup attempt, which was likely to be swift and the punishment was public hanging.
***
"So nice to see you again, darling." Mossad kissed Irina's hand and she resisted pulling away and wiping her hand off.
"Yes, yes. Good to see you too. Alex says you have some information for us?" Irina was starting to get a bad feeling about this meeting. Something just wasn't right.
"Ah. How is Alex? Is he out of the hospital yet?" Mossad was being awfully chatty and Irina didn't like it.
"Yes, he is recovering nicely. Were is the intel?" Mossad's men were milling about, apparently apprehensive about something. Everything about this meet was making Irina nervous and she was eager to get the exchange done and home. Irina brought out her file folder containing the photographs and documents Mossad had requested. She hoped this action would light a fire under Mossad.
He got the hint and motioned for his bodyguard to turn over the briefcase he was holding. Mossad opened the case and pulled out several files and opened them up, spreading the documents across the table in front of him.
"This is for you. I hope you appreciate it." Mossad smiled and waved his hand backward to his men. They did a quick survey of the room and headed quickly out the door.
Mossad leaned in and whispered, "I would suggest you be quick about it, my dear." He flashed his palm at her and swept out of the room.
A few slow moments passed, as Irina comprehended what Mossad had told her and shown her. He was warning her that they had been under surveillance and that he had rigged the building to blow up. Irina set about getting the papers together all the while questioning why she just didn't give them to whoever was watching. She wasn't certain she'd be able to get out without being apprehended.
She turned at the clicking of someone walking in behind her; an agent, most likely American, was walking toward her raising his gun. She pulled her gun and raised it, matching his. William was startled to realize that this was Jack Bristow's wife standing in front of him. His mind was rebelling at the thought of this woman being a KGB agent and she had been compromising Jack for years. He regretted learning the truth and his heart ached for the betrayal that Jack would soon realize.
Staring down the barrel of her gun into the barrel of his, she knew instantly that this was a "kill or be killed" situation. And she really hated being in that position. Jack knows this man and his family. Irina was already regretting the necessity of her actions and grieving for the life she must take and the lives she would affect.
"I am here to take you into custody for suspected treason against the United States. Throw down your weapon."
"I'm sorry, I can not do that."
"Cooperate and I'll do what I can to get you the best possible treatment."
"I'm sorry Agent Vaughn, but you must know I can not and will not surrender."
"Then I'm sorry too." He paused. "What is your real name?"
"I cannot divulge my name for your safety and my own."
William looked at this woman, Laura or whoever she really was, and recognized the resolve in her eyes. He came to the realization that his wife would soon be a widow and his son would finish growing up without a father. His heart ached and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He steadied his gun with his other hand.
"You have a daughter, don't you Laura? She's almost 6 right?"
Irina nodded.
"I have an eight year old son. His name is Michael and he is going to be one hell of a hockey player. I would do any thing for him; I would die for him if need be. Can you say the same? Would you die for your family? Your country asks that you sacrifice yourself for it, but can you do the same for your husband and daughter?"
"To protect my family, I would kill. To protect my country, I would do the same." She hesitated at the thought of dying for anyone.
"But could you die? Could you sacrifice yourself, could you leave them in order that they might live? If given the choice between them and the loyalty to your country, whom would you pick?"
Irina was conflicted. No one had ever asked her to sacrifice her family so pointedly. She knew one day that she would give them up, when the KGB decided. But to give them up voluntarily so that they could survive; she was unsure.
"Agent Vaughn, I am glad that you area so certain that you would sacrifice yourself for your family and perhaps your country. I am sorry that I may facilitate your sacrifice."
"You could always cooperate. If you provide intelligence to the CIA, they may be able to offer contact with your family in exchange. Arrangements can be made."
"I'm sorry Agent Vaughn, but I do not have that luxury."
"But you could." Seconds ticked by and tension cut through the air.
There was no discernable flinch or movement to preclude the action, but both guns went off and for a moment there was silence and stillness. The sound of the gunshots rolled through the air. Then it seemed as though a giant vacuum had been instantly turned on and all of the air was sucked from the building. Irina gasped like a fish out of water and slowly began to move toward the door. Her feet were cemented to the spot. Neither she nor William have moved and inch and she starts to wonder if the guns actually went off or if it was just a figment of her imagination.
Time caught up with her as the repercussion of the explosion hit her. Heat seared through her body and her lungs filled with hot suffocating smoke. Her feet became unglued and headed to the door, pulling the rest of her body along. She sped out of the building as William's body was slumping toward the floor as the wave of fire filled the warehouse.
William felt the bullet hit his chest with the force of a lightening bolt and his legs became gelatinous and gave way. He wished that he could kiss his beautiful wife goodbye; he would miss her sweet smile. He regretted that he would never see the amazing man Michael would become. He smelled the metallic sweetness of his blood pouring out of his chest and mixed with the smoke of burning plaster. Concrete dust preceded the heat wave of the fire and for a moment he was afraid. William pictured his family one last time as he lost consciousness.
Irina's feet stopped at the asphalt road and she turned around, feeling the heat sear her cheeks. Black, menacing smoke billowed out of the door and high windows of the warehouse and the aluminum siding curled like baby's hair. A figure ran out of the side door of the building, flames attached to its clothes, consuming with deadly accuracy. She knew that this was not William for she had seen him in a pool of blood before the ball of fire had pushed her out the door. The man dropped to the ground and rolled like a fish thrown ashore, flopping back and forth in an attempt to put out the flames. In the distance sirens wailed and she was certain that an ambulance would arrive soon enough for this agent. She also knew with absolute certainty that a pair of black- suited CIA agents would soon be visiting Mrs. Vaughn and she felt heartbreak.
She smelled the acrid taste of burnt hair and noticed that a chunk of her hair was missing, the remaining ends singed. Irina sighed with the thought of cutting her hair and having to explain that to Jack. She suddenly was longing to be in his arms, safe and warm and her memory of this incident tucked back into the corner of her mind. She walked away, blending into the crowd of onlookers that had begun to gather.