Chapter 14 – Martyrdom
Irina had felt the pull of this place ever since she was told that she would be leaving. Her time was so limited, yet this morning she found herself on an early morning flight from LA to Washington, then in a cab to here. The front entrance to Langley had always impressed her with its solidness and its comforting gray limestone. She stood on the steps one last time and took solace from it. Slowly, she walked up the low risers and into the lobby. Her body immediately turned right and she found herself staring at her muted reflection in the black granite wall.
"She's here again," one guard said to the other.
"What is this, the fourth or fifth time she's been here?"
"Not sure. She must be a widow; they are the only ones that ever come back after the ceremony."
"She could be someone's daughter."
"No, I don't think so."
Of course they would notice her; she was a beautiful woman. She showed up every now and again, here at Langley and stood at the wall. The wall of stars, the wall of heroes, the wall of lives cut too short. She would just stand there, never bringing any mementos or flowers as others had a tendency to do, just counting the stars. Her visits were sporadic, but they had come to rely on her visits.
Irina stood there, dressed in a simple black dress with a red scarf as she had every visit before this. She stood there for about a half hour, listening to the cadence of each breath as she counted and recounted the shiny brass stars. This time there were twelve; twelve that she knew, twelve that were her responsibility. Twelve apostles. Twelve gleaming polished brass stars, each with a name scorched her mind.
Unconsciously she recited the names: Browning, Mercalli, Farrington, Boudreaux, Johnson, Vaughn, Tidwell, Langston, Garcia, Hemphell, Nelson and Cranston. She also thought of the other two, Bash and Solkowski. She had not directly caused their deaths, but still they weighed on her. Each name brought a harsh memory and a mute request for absolution or at least understanding from one intelligence officer to another.
And with one final nod of the head in salute and goodbye, she turned, walked out the glass door and down the foot-worn steps. Her stomach flopped as she got into a waiting taxi and drove away, taking all of her strength not to turn around and look at the building one more time.
The plane ride back was quiet and reflective. When Irina got home in the dark of the night, she headed directly to Sydney's bedroom without taking off her coat. She lay down on the bed, curling up with her sleeping daughter and buried her face in Sydney's hair.
***
"There will only be one chance at this and there is a possibility that you may get hurt. The cars will collide here, just before the bridge." Khasinau pointed to the red mark on the map covering the chipped Formica table over which they hovered. Photographs of the bridge and the embankment surrounded the map, showing the area from various angles.
"Irina's car will travel down this embankment and into the creek here. Igor's car will continue spinning and hit the guardrail approximately here." Khasinau flipped over the map to show the next in the sequence. "Igor, you will actually get out of the car, put the replacement behind the wheel and then trigger the explosion once you are free."
"Will I have the remote with me during the accident?" Calder was puzzling the situation; thinking how to he would protect the detonator during the accident.
"No, a remote detonator will be placed in the tree, here, so that you don't accidentally trigger the explosion before you can exit the car. There will be a body inside, which you will place behind the wheel. The body will be incinerated beyond recognition, and only though dental records will it be identified as Steven Calder." Calder studied the schematics carefully, nodding at the appropriate times.
"Irina, you should be able to exit the car after it has submerged. We will have another vehicle stop to pick both of you up here. They will have first aid capabilities just in case either of you are injured in the accident. Laura's identification and purse will be found in the car and we will plant several pieces of your clothing along the canyon. It will appear that the body was swept down the creek. Laura's body will not be found.
The accident should take place at approximately 11:30 pm on Saturday. We have been monitoring the road for several weeks and found that the traffic along this stretch is very light at this particular time. We will have people poised both north and south of the bridge to monitor and divert traffic, if necessary. Accident response time along this stretch will depend on the amount of traffic that comes upon the accident and calls to the police from the few residents that live along the road. We anticipate that you will have a window of no more than 15 minutes between the initial collision and when the first responders may arrive at the site. Our car is scheduled to arrive within 10 minutes of the accident.
It is up to each of you to make sure that you get free from your respective cars and make it to the pickup point. I don't need to explain that if you are not at the pickup point at the designated time, you will be left behind.
Is everything clear?"
***
Sloane sat in his home office leafing through the papers in front of him. He looked out the window to watch his wife, Emily, working in her garden. She looked up and caught his eye and waved at him. He smiled and raised his glass of wine to her.
His gaze returned to the papers and a slow smile filled his face. He appreciated the work that Agent Cranston had accomplished, exposing serious questions about both Laura and Jack Bristow. Cranston had uncovered many little inconsistencies, when looked at individually would have never aroused suspicion. But put together, the inconsistencies became interesting.
He fought the urge to call his friend and arrange a dinner with the Bristows. He wanted to look Laura in the eye, now that he was certain of her true nature, spy to spy. He also knew that Emily would love to spend time with Laura and Sydney.
He walked out to the patio and leaned against the door watching his wife.
"Darling, I was thinking of inviting the Bristows to dinner."
"Arvin, that sounds wonderful." Emily dropped her pruning shears on the table and rewarded her husband with a hug. "Go call them now and I'll look to see what I can make for dinner."
***
Irina stood at the carousel's rail, watching the interaction between Jack and Sydney. Jack had his hand resting on the hindquarter of the white and gilt horse. Sydney's head was high and her laughter followed the motion of the ride; Irina would get snatches of it as they rode by. A picnic basket rested at Irina's feet, waiting for a trip to the beach; many of their favorite foods were stored within. Today was their day, Laura, Jack and Sydney.
"Mommy, Mommy, can we ride again?" Sydney crashed into Irina's legs, entwining the two bodies into one large one. Jack strolled up and completed the mass of arms and legs and lifted them both off the ground until they squealed.
"Not right now, pumpkin. It's almost time for lunch and I thought we were going to eat at the beach." Sydney looked upward beaming.
"We can't go there, Mommy. I didn't bring my swimsuit." Jack leaned down and scooped up the little girl, her giggles following the body upward.
"But Mom packed it for you."
"She did? Thanks, Mommy."
"So we're off to the beach?"
"Yeah!" The family walked hand in hand to the parking lot and they were soon at the beach. Sydney changed into her bathing suit in the car and Jack scouted a good spot for the blanket. Soon lunch was laid out, apple slices and chicken salad sandwiches, pretzels and lemonade and was enjoyed thoroughly. Sydney waited the mandatory thirty minutes impatiently, only half involved in the game of Go Fish. As soon as she was allowed she was dashing in and out of the waves. Jack built a poor excuse of a sandcastle near the water's edge, only to have Sydney run through it. Irina sat on the blanket absorbing the entire scene, trying to imbed it into her memory.
"Mom, is there any more lemonade?" punctured Irina's reverie.
"Sure, honey." She handed over a cup and watched Jack wander up to the blanket. He sat down next to her and pulled Irina into his arms, his stubbly chin tickling her neck. His arms enveloped her as they watched their daughter draw pictures in the sand. Jack nibbled on her ear and her fingers played with the hair on his arms. Jack's growling stomach hinted at the passing time.
"Hungry?" she asked.
"I'm getting there. Sydney seems to be slowing down too." Irina's gaze followed his gesture to see Sydney sitting at the water's edge letting the tide surf in and around her.
"Syd." Jack yelled and motioned for her to return to the blanket. She got up and trudge to the blanket.
"Dad, I'm hungry," she pouted.
"Ok. Let's go get some dinner. Where would you like to eat?"
"McDonald's, please?" She bounced on her toes, pulling at Jack's arm.
"I guess this is a special occasion, right? How many days in November are this beautiful and that Daddy has the day off? Let's go to McDonald's." Irina reasoned.
***
"Laura, Sydney and I would love to come to dinner sometime. I'm sorry we missed your call yesterday; we spent the day at the beach and then went out to dinner."
"I hope you had an enjoyable day." Arvin paused a moment and looked at Jack intently. "Please check with your wife about a good time for dinner. Emily is looking forward to it."
"I'll let you know." Arvin headed down the hall and to the director's office, files in hand. The Director's secretary motioned for him to sit while she picked up the phone. She motioned him to enter the Director's office and he closed the door behind him.
Ten minutes later the secretary's telephone buzzed.
"Yes, Director?"
"Mrs. Vanneti, can you have FBI Director Marshall join us?
"Yes sir." She disconnected the call and dialed another extension.
"Sylvie? Could you have the Director come down here? Director Anselm would like to discuss something with him."
"Sure. I'll let the Director know."
When Director Marshall arrived, Mrs. Vanneti showed him into the inner office.
"Does anyone need anything?" she asked through the half open door.
"Not right now. Thank you, Mrs. Vanneti. Could you hold all my calls?"
The door closed and the conversation resumed.
"Alfred, the reason I asked you to come down was to talk about this information that Agent Sloane has brought to my attention. Arvin, why don't you give us the short version?"
"Yes sir. As Director Anselm said, I have some interesting evidence that may give us a clue to our mole and murderer. I've been working on the Task Force with the late Agent Cranston and we uncovered some inconsistencies that may point to a suspect."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Phone records, credit card receipts or lack of them. It's all summarized here." Arvin passed both directors several pieces of paper. "Individually, none of these would spark any suspicion, but looking at them as a whole..."
"And who do you think this evidence points toward?" Director Anselm asked.
"Jack Bristow and his wife."
***
Irina hung up the phone and went into Sydney's bedroom and watched the sleeping child for several minutes. She leaned down and brushed a strand of hair away from Sydney's sleepy eyes and placed a long kiss on her forehead. Tucking Mr. Snuggles in under the covers, Irina's hand lingered on the cover a moment longer.
"Remember, my sweet daughter, I have always loved you," she whispered and blew a kiss toward the bed.
Irina went downstairs and stood silently in the door of Jack's office for a moment watching him work. She stepped into the office, alerting Jack of her presence. He pivoted the chair around so that he half faced her.
"Who was on the phone, Laura?" Irina moved around the chair and sat on Jack's lap.
"It was Lucy, her husband again. She needs a shoulder to cry on. Do you mind?"
"No, darling. I'm just going to work a bit more." Irina rested her head on Jack's shoulder.
"I just checked on Sydney and she's fast asleep. I don't know how long I'll be so don't wait up. And don't stay up all night working."
"Yes, Laura," he moaned mockingly.
Irina leaned in and placed a long hard kiss on Jack's lips, his arms pulled her in tighter.
"You know I love you, don't you, Jack?"
"I love you too, Laura. And if you kiss me like that again, I may have to show you." He leaned in for another kiss and she leaned backward, avoiding the kiss.
"I have to go now." Irina stood and headed for the door.
"See you in the morning." Jack muttered as he turned back to his desk.
"Goodbye," she mouthed and headed to the garage.
***
TWO DIE IN ICY COLLISION Postal Worker and Housewife Collide on Wet Bridge
By David Jacobs
Two people died late Saturday in a high-speed crash on an icy bridge over Canyon Creek. Investigators believe that the car driven by postal worker Steven Calder hit a puddle, hydroplaning, and skidded into the northbound car driven by housewife Laura Bristow. The car containing Bristow (33) traveled down the embankment and was submerged in the icy waters of Canyon Creek. Rescue workers scoured the canyon for three days and her body has yet to be recovered. Calder's car remained on the bridge and burst into flames following the collision. Dental records confirmed that Calder was indeed the driver.
Steven Calder (43) is survived by his wife, Maryanne, of 12 years. They had no children. He was a longtime employee of the Postal Service, spending the last 5 years in the Los Mercado branch.
Laura Bristow leaves her husband of 10 years, Jonathan Bristow. They have one daughter Sydney, 6 years old. Mrs. Bristow was a part-time instructor of literature at UCLA.
Irina stopped reading, not able to continue with the article and tried desperately to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. She folded the newspaper and slipped it into the pouch on the back of the seat in front of her. She absently rubbed the cast on her right arm and looked out the window. She studied the reflection of a blonde curly wig and bubblegum pink lipstick staring back at her, not recognizing Laura or Irina in its depths. She sighed and looked past it into the white expanse of cottony clouds and felt, rather than saw, the sun setting behind her.
Irina had felt the pull of this place ever since she was told that she would be leaving. Her time was so limited, yet this morning she found herself on an early morning flight from LA to Washington, then in a cab to here. The front entrance to Langley had always impressed her with its solidness and its comforting gray limestone. She stood on the steps one last time and took solace from it. Slowly, she walked up the low risers and into the lobby. Her body immediately turned right and she found herself staring at her muted reflection in the black granite wall.
"She's here again," one guard said to the other.
"What is this, the fourth or fifth time she's been here?"
"Not sure. She must be a widow; they are the only ones that ever come back after the ceremony."
"She could be someone's daughter."
"No, I don't think so."
Of course they would notice her; she was a beautiful woman. She showed up every now and again, here at Langley and stood at the wall. The wall of stars, the wall of heroes, the wall of lives cut too short. She would just stand there, never bringing any mementos or flowers as others had a tendency to do, just counting the stars. Her visits were sporadic, but they had come to rely on her visits.
Irina stood there, dressed in a simple black dress with a red scarf as she had every visit before this. She stood there for about a half hour, listening to the cadence of each breath as she counted and recounted the shiny brass stars. This time there were twelve; twelve that she knew, twelve that were her responsibility. Twelve apostles. Twelve gleaming polished brass stars, each with a name scorched her mind.
Unconsciously she recited the names: Browning, Mercalli, Farrington, Boudreaux, Johnson, Vaughn, Tidwell, Langston, Garcia, Hemphell, Nelson and Cranston. She also thought of the other two, Bash and Solkowski. She had not directly caused their deaths, but still they weighed on her. Each name brought a harsh memory and a mute request for absolution or at least understanding from one intelligence officer to another.
And with one final nod of the head in salute and goodbye, she turned, walked out the glass door and down the foot-worn steps. Her stomach flopped as she got into a waiting taxi and drove away, taking all of her strength not to turn around and look at the building one more time.
The plane ride back was quiet and reflective. When Irina got home in the dark of the night, she headed directly to Sydney's bedroom without taking off her coat. She lay down on the bed, curling up with her sleeping daughter and buried her face in Sydney's hair.
***
"There will only be one chance at this and there is a possibility that you may get hurt. The cars will collide here, just before the bridge." Khasinau pointed to the red mark on the map covering the chipped Formica table over which they hovered. Photographs of the bridge and the embankment surrounded the map, showing the area from various angles.
"Irina's car will travel down this embankment and into the creek here. Igor's car will continue spinning and hit the guardrail approximately here." Khasinau flipped over the map to show the next in the sequence. "Igor, you will actually get out of the car, put the replacement behind the wheel and then trigger the explosion once you are free."
"Will I have the remote with me during the accident?" Calder was puzzling the situation; thinking how to he would protect the detonator during the accident.
"No, a remote detonator will be placed in the tree, here, so that you don't accidentally trigger the explosion before you can exit the car. There will be a body inside, which you will place behind the wheel. The body will be incinerated beyond recognition, and only though dental records will it be identified as Steven Calder." Calder studied the schematics carefully, nodding at the appropriate times.
"Irina, you should be able to exit the car after it has submerged. We will have another vehicle stop to pick both of you up here. They will have first aid capabilities just in case either of you are injured in the accident. Laura's identification and purse will be found in the car and we will plant several pieces of your clothing along the canyon. It will appear that the body was swept down the creek. Laura's body will not be found.
The accident should take place at approximately 11:30 pm on Saturday. We have been monitoring the road for several weeks and found that the traffic along this stretch is very light at this particular time. We will have people poised both north and south of the bridge to monitor and divert traffic, if necessary. Accident response time along this stretch will depend on the amount of traffic that comes upon the accident and calls to the police from the few residents that live along the road. We anticipate that you will have a window of no more than 15 minutes between the initial collision and when the first responders may arrive at the site. Our car is scheduled to arrive within 10 minutes of the accident.
It is up to each of you to make sure that you get free from your respective cars and make it to the pickup point. I don't need to explain that if you are not at the pickup point at the designated time, you will be left behind.
Is everything clear?"
***
Sloane sat in his home office leafing through the papers in front of him. He looked out the window to watch his wife, Emily, working in her garden. She looked up and caught his eye and waved at him. He smiled and raised his glass of wine to her.
His gaze returned to the papers and a slow smile filled his face. He appreciated the work that Agent Cranston had accomplished, exposing serious questions about both Laura and Jack Bristow. Cranston had uncovered many little inconsistencies, when looked at individually would have never aroused suspicion. But put together, the inconsistencies became interesting.
He fought the urge to call his friend and arrange a dinner with the Bristows. He wanted to look Laura in the eye, now that he was certain of her true nature, spy to spy. He also knew that Emily would love to spend time with Laura and Sydney.
He walked out to the patio and leaned against the door watching his wife.
"Darling, I was thinking of inviting the Bristows to dinner."
"Arvin, that sounds wonderful." Emily dropped her pruning shears on the table and rewarded her husband with a hug. "Go call them now and I'll look to see what I can make for dinner."
***
Irina stood at the carousel's rail, watching the interaction between Jack and Sydney. Jack had his hand resting on the hindquarter of the white and gilt horse. Sydney's head was high and her laughter followed the motion of the ride; Irina would get snatches of it as they rode by. A picnic basket rested at Irina's feet, waiting for a trip to the beach; many of their favorite foods were stored within. Today was their day, Laura, Jack and Sydney.
"Mommy, Mommy, can we ride again?" Sydney crashed into Irina's legs, entwining the two bodies into one large one. Jack strolled up and completed the mass of arms and legs and lifted them both off the ground until they squealed.
"Not right now, pumpkin. It's almost time for lunch and I thought we were going to eat at the beach." Sydney looked upward beaming.
"We can't go there, Mommy. I didn't bring my swimsuit." Jack leaned down and scooped up the little girl, her giggles following the body upward.
"But Mom packed it for you."
"She did? Thanks, Mommy."
"So we're off to the beach?"
"Yeah!" The family walked hand in hand to the parking lot and they were soon at the beach. Sydney changed into her bathing suit in the car and Jack scouted a good spot for the blanket. Soon lunch was laid out, apple slices and chicken salad sandwiches, pretzels and lemonade and was enjoyed thoroughly. Sydney waited the mandatory thirty minutes impatiently, only half involved in the game of Go Fish. As soon as she was allowed she was dashing in and out of the waves. Jack built a poor excuse of a sandcastle near the water's edge, only to have Sydney run through it. Irina sat on the blanket absorbing the entire scene, trying to imbed it into her memory.
"Mom, is there any more lemonade?" punctured Irina's reverie.
"Sure, honey." She handed over a cup and watched Jack wander up to the blanket. He sat down next to her and pulled Irina into his arms, his stubbly chin tickling her neck. His arms enveloped her as they watched their daughter draw pictures in the sand. Jack nibbled on her ear and her fingers played with the hair on his arms. Jack's growling stomach hinted at the passing time.
"Hungry?" she asked.
"I'm getting there. Sydney seems to be slowing down too." Irina's gaze followed his gesture to see Sydney sitting at the water's edge letting the tide surf in and around her.
"Syd." Jack yelled and motioned for her to return to the blanket. She got up and trudge to the blanket.
"Dad, I'm hungry," she pouted.
"Ok. Let's go get some dinner. Where would you like to eat?"
"McDonald's, please?" She bounced on her toes, pulling at Jack's arm.
"I guess this is a special occasion, right? How many days in November are this beautiful and that Daddy has the day off? Let's go to McDonald's." Irina reasoned.
***
"Laura, Sydney and I would love to come to dinner sometime. I'm sorry we missed your call yesterday; we spent the day at the beach and then went out to dinner."
"I hope you had an enjoyable day." Arvin paused a moment and looked at Jack intently. "Please check with your wife about a good time for dinner. Emily is looking forward to it."
"I'll let you know." Arvin headed down the hall and to the director's office, files in hand. The Director's secretary motioned for him to sit while she picked up the phone. She motioned him to enter the Director's office and he closed the door behind him.
Ten minutes later the secretary's telephone buzzed.
"Yes, Director?"
"Mrs. Vanneti, can you have FBI Director Marshall join us?
"Yes sir." She disconnected the call and dialed another extension.
"Sylvie? Could you have the Director come down here? Director Anselm would like to discuss something with him."
"Sure. I'll let the Director know."
When Director Marshall arrived, Mrs. Vanneti showed him into the inner office.
"Does anyone need anything?" she asked through the half open door.
"Not right now. Thank you, Mrs. Vanneti. Could you hold all my calls?"
The door closed and the conversation resumed.
"Alfred, the reason I asked you to come down was to talk about this information that Agent Sloane has brought to my attention. Arvin, why don't you give us the short version?"
"Yes sir. As Director Anselm said, I have some interesting evidence that may give us a clue to our mole and murderer. I've been working on the Task Force with the late Agent Cranston and we uncovered some inconsistencies that may point to a suspect."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Phone records, credit card receipts or lack of them. It's all summarized here." Arvin passed both directors several pieces of paper. "Individually, none of these would spark any suspicion, but looking at them as a whole..."
"And who do you think this evidence points toward?" Director Anselm asked.
"Jack Bristow and his wife."
***
Irina hung up the phone and went into Sydney's bedroom and watched the sleeping child for several minutes. She leaned down and brushed a strand of hair away from Sydney's sleepy eyes and placed a long kiss on her forehead. Tucking Mr. Snuggles in under the covers, Irina's hand lingered on the cover a moment longer.
"Remember, my sweet daughter, I have always loved you," she whispered and blew a kiss toward the bed.
Irina went downstairs and stood silently in the door of Jack's office for a moment watching him work. She stepped into the office, alerting Jack of her presence. He pivoted the chair around so that he half faced her.
"Who was on the phone, Laura?" Irina moved around the chair and sat on Jack's lap.
"It was Lucy, her husband again. She needs a shoulder to cry on. Do you mind?"
"No, darling. I'm just going to work a bit more." Irina rested her head on Jack's shoulder.
"I just checked on Sydney and she's fast asleep. I don't know how long I'll be so don't wait up. And don't stay up all night working."
"Yes, Laura," he moaned mockingly.
Irina leaned in and placed a long hard kiss on Jack's lips, his arms pulled her in tighter.
"You know I love you, don't you, Jack?"
"I love you too, Laura. And if you kiss me like that again, I may have to show you." He leaned in for another kiss and she leaned backward, avoiding the kiss.
"I have to go now." Irina stood and headed for the door.
"See you in the morning." Jack muttered as he turned back to his desk.
"Goodbye," she mouthed and headed to the garage.
***
TWO DIE IN ICY COLLISION Postal Worker and Housewife Collide on Wet Bridge
By David Jacobs
Two people died late Saturday in a high-speed crash on an icy bridge over Canyon Creek. Investigators believe that the car driven by postal worker Steven Calder hit a puddle, hydroplaning, and skidded into the northbound car driven by housewife Laura Bristow. The car containing Bristow (33) traveled down the embankment and was submerged in the icy waters of Canyon Creek. Rescue workers scoured the canyon for three days and her body has yet to be recovered. Calder's car remained on the bridge and burst into flames following the collision. Dental records confirmed that Calder was indeed the driver.
Steven Calder (43) is survived by his wife, Maryanne, of 12 years. They had no children. He was a longtime employee of the Postal Service, spending the last 5 years in the Los Mercado branch.
Laura Bristow leaves her husband of 10 years, Jonathan Bristow. They have one daughter Sydney, 6 years old. Mrs. Bristow was a part-time instructor of literature at UCLA.
Irina stopped reading, not able to continue with the article and tried desperately to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. She folded the newspaper and slipped it into the pouch on the back of the seat in front of her. She absently rubbed the cast on her right arm and looked out the window. She studied the reflection of a blonde curly wig and bubblegum pink lipstick staring back at her, not recognizing Laura or Irina in its depths. She sighed and looked past it into the white expanse of cottony clouds and felt, rather than saw, the sun setting behind her.