Chapter 21
Irina woke up to someone shaking her shoulder. The room was dark, but the starlight coming in through the window was enough for her to make out the man standing over her bed. "Jack?" she murmured. Then she woke up fully and realized who it really was. She stared at her handler in shock. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?" she whispered.
"Irina, stay calm. I was very careful. I heard about your accident and simply wanted to make sure there were not any problems."
She put a confused expression on her face. "What do you mean?"
"On the news they said it was a hit and run. And now you are in a government hospital. The combination concerned me."
"I'm here because I was driving my husband's car, so the police called the CIA first. They don't suspect anything. It was just an accident."
"I see." He looked at her cast distastefully. "I suppose you will not be able to drive with that thing on your leg."
"That's right. For about a month."
"That will make it difficult for you to meet with me."
She nodded. "Virtually impossible, unless you want me to take a public bus." She knew he wouldn't.
"No. I suppose I will see you in a month, then." He turned and left the room.
Despite the drugs, it took Irina quite a while to fall asleep again.
***
"Good morning, Mrs. Bristow," Dr. Nielson said as he entered, shortly after Irina finished breakfast.
"Doctor Nielson," Irina replied. "Any chance of me getting out of here today?"
"We'll see. How are you feeling this morning? Much pain?"
"Not much," she answered truthfully. Her chest had stopped hurting with every breath yesterday, and the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull ache that she suspected was due more to immobility than to the injury. "I'm getting a little restless, to be honest."
"That's a good sign," the doctor said with a smile. Then his expression grew more serious. "Mrs. Bristow, you're aware of what your husband does for a living, correct?" He had learned after talking to her on Friday that he had been assigned as Laura Bristow's physician because he had clearance- low level, but clearance nonetheless. He had been told only that her husband was a CIA field agent and that he had been authorized to tell his wife about his job.
Irina tilted her head to the side, surprised. "Of course."
"Then you understand why I need to be concerned about our conversation on Friday. Your husband's mental health is very important in light of the difficulties and dangers he faces at work. If he's handling the stress of his job in an unproductive way, then that's a problem that needs to be dealt with."
Irina smiled. "Doctor, it's not necessary to talk around the issue. My husband is not abusing me. He has never hit me or threatened me in any way. He handles his stress quite productively."
"I see," the doctor said. He frowned for a moment. "Mrs. Bristow, since you're a large part of your husband's psychological support, your mental health is important as well. I'll be blunt. I believe from your medical history and our earlier conversation that you were physically abused in the past, and that you've never truly dealt with that trauma. I don't believe it was your husband; your father, perhaps?" She didn't say anything, but broke eye contact with him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Bristow."
After a moment, she spoke, still without looking at him. "Yes, you're right. My father abused me. But he's very far away and no longer a threat. Are you happy now?"
The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Mrs. Bristow, I'm going to recommend that you seek counseling. Because of your husband's job and the likelihood that you are exposed to classified information, I'm going to recommend to the CIA that you see one of their counselors. Is that all right?"
Irina closed her eyes and sighed. Just what she needed, some analyst type poking around in her head. On the other hand, the CIA would probably be thrilled, since this gave them the perfect excuse to get her into CIA headquarters on a regular basis. With any luck, they would use the time to exchange information rather than making her see a counselor. "That's fine," she said.
"Good. Now let's get you down the hall for some X-rays."
Irina woke up to someone shaking her shoulder. The room was dark, but the starlight coming in through the window was enough for her to make out the man standing over her bed. "Jack?" she murmured. Then she woke up fully and realized who it really was. She stared at her handler in shock. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?" she whispered.
"Irina, stay calm. I was very careful. I heard about your accident and simply wanted to make sure there were not any problems."
She put a confused expression on her face. "What do you mean?"
"On the news they said it was a hit and run. And now you are in a government hospital. The combination concerned me."
"I'm here because I was driving my husband's car, so the police called the CIA first. They don't suspect anything. It was just an accident."
"I see." He looked at her cast distastefully. "I suppose you will not be able to drive with that thing on your leg."
"That's right. For about a month."
"That will make it difficult for you to meet with me."
She nodded. "Virtually impossible, unless you want me to take a public bus." She knew he wouldn't.
"No. I suppose I will see you in a month, then." He turned and left the room.
Despite the drugs, it took Irina quite a while to fall asleep again.
***
"Good morning, Mrs. Bristow," Dr. Nielson said as he entered, shortly after Irina finished breakfast.
"Doctor Nielson," Irina replied. "Any chance of me getting out of here today?"
"We'll see. How are you feeling this morning? Much pain?"
"Not much," she answered truthfully. Her chest had stopped hurting with every breath yesterday, and the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull ache that she suspected was due more to immobility than to the injury. "I'm getting a little restless, to be honest."
"That's a good sign," the doctor said with a smile. Then his expression grew more serious. "Mrs. Bristow, you're aware of what your husband does for a living, correct?" He had learned after talking to her on Friday that he had been assigned as Laura Bristow's physician because he had clearance- low level, but clearance nonetheless. He had been told only that her husband was a CIA field agent and that he had been authorized to tell his wife about his job.
Irina tilted her head to the side, surprised. "Of course."
"Then you understand why I need to be concerned about our conversation on Friday. Your husband's mental health is very important in light of the difficulties and dangers he faces at work. If he's handling the stress of his job in an unproductive way, then that's a problem that needs to be dealt with."
Irina smiled. "Doctor, it's not necessary to talk around the issue. My husband is not abusing me. He has never hit me or threatened me in any way. He handles his stress quite productively."
"I see," the doctor said. He frowned for a moment. "Mrs. Bristow, since you're a large part of your husband's psychological support, your mental health is important as well. I'll be blunt. I believe from your medical history and our earlier conversation that you were physically abused in the past, and that you've never truly dealt with that trauma. I don't believe it was your husband; your father, perhaps?" She didn't say anything, but broke eye contact with him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Bristow."
After a moment, she spoke, still without looking at him. "Yes, you're right. My father abused me. But he's very far away and no longer a threat. Are you happy now?"
The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Mrs. Bristow, I'm going to recommend that you seek counseling. Because of your husband's job and the likelihood that you are exposed to classified information, I'm going to recommend to the CIA that you see one of their counselors. Is that all right?"
Irina closed her eyes and sighed. Just what she needed, some analyst type poking around in her head. On the other hand, the CIA would probably be thrilled, since this gave them the perfect excuse to get her into CIA headquarters on a regular basis. With any luck, they would use the time to exchange information rather than making her see a counselor. "That's fine," she said.
"Good. Now let's get you down the hall for some X-rays."
