Two—Requests

"You dropped one," the driver said as she followed Madison through the parking garage.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, taking the shopping bag from the driver's hand.  "I appreciate it."

"Not a problem.  Will you need anything once we get inside?"

"If you wouldn't mind pointing me in the direction of the bathroom?  I'd like to change into something a bit more professional than jeans and a shirt for this meeting," Madison said, looking down at her casual wardrobe.

"Of course.  Your first time here?" the driver asked courteously.

"Yeah," Madison admitted, wondering again what had possessed her to request this.

"Don't worry; you'll learn your way around the place before you know it," she encouraged as she waved her badge to the security guards.

"I hope so."

"So, are you ready?" the driver asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Madison replied, the butterflies in her stomach dancing around rapidly.

The door swung open and the pair stepped inside.

"Welcome, Agent Thompson, to the Joint Ops Center."

*****

"She's here."

Jack quickly scanned the area.  "Where?"

"Changing in the bathroom."

"Thompson managed to get here quickly," he pointed out.

Kendall nodded grimly.  "I suspect that Devlin's known about this for more than a few hours."  He paused.  "Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about that now."

"So much for laying low," he commented as she entered the room, catching the eye of most of the agents in the room.  Jack, too, watched her every move, although he felt a surge of protectiveness and pity for her.  Thompson reminded him of Sydney in a way, and after reading her mission specs, he knew her op was in many ways more challenging than anything his daughter had ever undertaken.

That did not, however, excuse her for making this ludicrous request.

"Agent Kendall?"  Madison held out her hand.

"Grace Thompson, I presume?" he said, shaking her hand.

Madison nodded.  "Actually, it's Madison these days, sir," she corrected.  Although I must admit it's nice to hear my real name again, she silently added.

Kendall ignored her statement and continued.  "Agent Jack Bristow," he said, waving his hand towards Jack.

"Pleased to meet you," Madison said enthusiastically as she shook his hand.  She received a curt nod in response.  "I take it you two are aware of the purpose of my visit?"

"Agent Thompson, are you certain you want to do this?"

Madison stared at them.  "Why wouldn't I be?  I need all the assistance I can get before this op starts—I'm making the first contact next week, in case you weren't aware.  These interviews are viable research to make me more convincing."

"Interviews?  Plural?" Jack questioned between gritted teeth.

"Yes.  Mr. Devlin has granted me permission to interview her as many times as I need to, so long as it does not endanger my cover."

Kendall and Jack exchanged a look.  Obviously, Devlin was willing to play hardball, whether they were interested or not.

"Now, if one of you could kindly point me the direction of the agent I'm interviewing, I would appreciate it."

Another look shared.  "Follow me."  Jack marched away, Madison trailing behind.

The pair continued further and further into the depths of the Joint Task Center, walking through a myriad of hallways that found Madison struggling to keep her bearings.  At last, Jack stopped in front of a uniformed guard.

"Agent Thompson.  She was put on the list today," Jack jerked his head towards Madison.

The guard nodded.  "Authorization came in about thirty minutes ago."

Jack turned to face Madison.  "From here you will be taken to see the prisoner."

"Prisoner?  But I was told—"

"You were told that you would interview an agent.  Devlin conveniently forgot to mention she's not one of ours."  He moved past her and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Madison called.  "Can you at least tell me her name?"

Jack halted at her question.  Slowly, he turned around and stared into her bright blue eyes.

"Derevko.  The prisoner's name is Irina Derevko."

*****

"Are you ready?"

Madison ran a hand through her short hair and closed her eyes.  You can do this, Grace.  You have to.  Collecting herself, she looked at the guard.

"Take me to the prisoner," she commanded.

The guard blinked.  The change in her was apparent.  The woman who now stood in front of him . . . oh, how he wished he ran the audio surveillance with the prisoner.  The agent in charge of that was certain to get an earful in a moment.

Wordlessly he led her further down the hallway to another guard.  Madison ignored their conversation, staring ahead at the series of barriers that awaited her.  This Derevko agent . . . what had she done to merit such protection?

Someday, will this be me, locked up because of my job?

A few minutes later, her reverie was interrupted.  "You're clear.  Good luck, ma'am."

"Thanks," she muttered as she began her slow descent into the darkest corner the CIA had to offer her.

*****

Irina continued to stare at the page she was reading as she heard footsteps.  Short, quick steps, probably made by someone much shorter than Jack or Sydney.  Yet the clickety-clack sounded similar to the sound her daughter's feet would make when she wasn't in running shoes.  She guessed her visitor was a woman, no more than five feet five inches.

"Ms. Derevko?"  A woman's voice.  A strong voice, one without trembling or nervousness.

Nonetheless, Irina could smell her fear.

"Ms. Derevko, I'm Agent Thompson.  I am here to ask you a few questions about an operation you were a part of many years ago."

Irina closed her book and placed it on her bed.  She waited several minutes before looking up at this woman from her place on the floor.  She had been correct when she assessed her height.  Her short, black hair framed her face, and she looked at the world with piercing blue eyes—contacts, Irina presumed.

"I have been given authorization to speak with you by Mr. Devlin, CIA Deputy Director.  I do not wish to waste your time, but I must speak with you regarding one of your missions."

Thompson's approach was different than other agents who tried to speak with her; Irina had to give her credit for that.  She made it sound like Irina was a woman surrounded by mounds of papers and deadlines instead of a prisoner in a cold, bare cell.

Silence.

She swallowed and tried again.  "I have been told that you were an agent sent on a deep cover operation to infiltrate an enemy of your organization."  She focused on Irina's face; she gave nothing away.  "Is that correct?"

The ticking of her watch was the only sound she heard.

"Who sent you here?"

Finally.  "Excuse me?"

"Who. Sent. You. Here."

"I asked Mr. Devlin if there were any agents who had participated in this kind of mission.  You were the only one available.  I requested this meeting myself," Madison truthfully answered.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

"Three months ago I was pulled off an op in Colombia.  My new orders were to move to Los Angeles and assume a new identity."

Irina slowly stood up from her perch on the floor.

"Next week I will make my first contact with a man the CIA believes is involved in biological warfare.  I have been ordered to make his acquaintance, to make him fall in love with me, to earn his trust so that he will tell me his secrets."

She saw that Derevko knew where this was headed, but she continued.  She had to.

"I am under orders to seduce a man for intelligence . . . just like you."

*****