Chronic Vertigo
Chapter 7: Vinculum [Part A]

Author: Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]
Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: We all know the drill. I don't own Alias, so please don't sue me. I'm already in debt. And even if you did sue me, it would come off my credit card and I'd still be in debt. So, right. You're better off leaving me be.
Author's Note: Feedback = updates. I swear, that's a real math equation. As always, thanks to Carmen_Sandiego and Jen for their awesome beta'ing.
"So, how was your trip?"

Sydney dragged her rolling suitcase across the tiled floor, wincing as it fell in and out of each groove, the rolling poking at her aching head. Relief flooded her head as it hit the carpet and smooth sailing. She smiled up at Francie as she passed her on a bee line to her bedroom and the comforts within; her pillows coupled with the sense of euphoria that was to greet her upon sliding under her warm covers all that kept her pulling the case across thick carpet.

"Great."

"Where were you this time?" Francie asked, almost bouncing as she rounded the couch. Sydney paused, trying to remember what she had said in passing before leaving. Boston again, wasn't it?

"Boston, remember? I told you I was going to help some clients. They've been stranded ever since the bank closed, and since they knew me, I thought it might help in their transition to have someone familiar around as counsel."

"You're so sweet, going out of your way like that," Francie smiled. "But you really need to stay home more."

"I know, I know!" Sydney grinned, tucking her hair behind her ears. "But what I need now is a nap!"

"Didn't sleep on the plane?"

"Naw. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed," she replied, almost to her door. Francie nodded.

"Okay. Well, I'll be at the restaurant when you wake up!"

Sydney closed her bedroom door behind her and made sure to lock it before collapsing onto the bed. It was a luxury she shouldn't be taking, yet she felt comfortable with her decision. Her father knew all Sark had told her, informed through their lengthy telephone call that had ended in Dixon's untimely awakening as her voice elevated, frustrated with the lack of information. The rest of the trip was uneventful down to her departure from Dixon at the airport, the pair of agents clearly ready for some rest before their next assignment. And after two in a row, paired so close to each other, Sydney found herself even more exhausted than she imagined, straining to recall the last instance in which she had two so close together.

And the week wasn't even over yet.

She found no comfort in her empty bed, her thoughts returning to Vaughn. She wondered how things were progressing for him halfway across the world, while she sat recuperating. And as her thoughts dove into that subject of Vaughn and her need for him at the moment (as well as his need for her, a fear she forced herself to forget about for the moment), they took an unexpected turn to the new knowledge she had acquired. Despite her contempt for its source, and the logical side of her mind warning her of the issue of creditability, she found herself mulling over it all the same.

..

Irina sat across from Sark, smirking as she caught sight of his inquiring expression. The pair were seated in a contact of Irina's estate just over the German border, a rock's throw away from France. Extraction from Volgograd had been simple, and Sark once again wondered why the CIA still continued the use of handcuffs despite the ease of releasing one's self from their metal clutches. His forehead was still swollen, yet not as much as he'd had the sense enough to treat it quickly before it became a hindrance. He now sat across from his current employer, attempting to ask her with his eyes what had been so important to get his face smashed with his own drink's glass.

"Was Mr. Zhuravlev useful?" he drawled.

"Very," she replied almost immediately.

"And yet he was unable to provide us with the location of this computer," Sark sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"But he did provide adequate information."

"Such as?"

Irina smiled at her protégé. He led the conversation that way, looking for an easy way to ask her what they had recovered from Russia without sounding childish or demanding to his superior. A snake in a bed of healthy green grass.

"He confirmed what I already knew, what had been rumor more than 20 years ago," she retorted cryptically. Sark held back an annoyed sigh, instead, he pressed his lips together in a pale red line.

"Rumor?" he tersely inquired. Irina leaned forward and subtly licked her lips.

"In the late 1960's, models of computers were beginning to be released in the United States that surpassed those of earlier years. It was at this time that the CIA grew a vested interest in the men designing these new machines, seeing a new world of information transfer opening up to them. But they also saw something far more important, something more valuable to information that was quickly becoming needed and improved in the global environment."

"I assume you're alluding to encryption," Sark interjected. Irina nodded.

"The CIA had always used encryption, a rudimentary form. These codes were only as unbreakable and complex as the human mind allowed," she clarified.

"And thus, could be broken in the same way."

"Exactly. But, if they could harness the power of the computer and its ability to handle millions of mathematical computations, they could produce unbreakable encryption codes."

"Their information would be completely unreadable."

"Yes."

Sark took this in, letting the new information flow through his mind. "And this computer?"

"The computer we are seeking was built by a Russo-American mathematician name Nikolai Gustrobiv in 1974 at CIA headquarters in Langley. Based off earlier designs and coupled with the most recent advances made by CIA scientists, he designed the Corvet computer, named for the encryption code it was to produce."

"I'm sure Gustrobiv was upset about that one."

"His name was deleted from the project files because of his nationality, and he was released from his employment at the CIA as it was completed," Irina continued to explain. "The Corvet computer was the CIA's greatest weapon in the information war – with it, they had the strongest encryption code ever created for that time, unbreakable by the human mind."

"And the rumors?"

"Upset about his new status as unemployed, Gustrobiv, upon returning to empty his workstation, stole the computer from the CIA and returned to his father's homeland. His grandfather, as it seemed, had ties to the KGB, and using this CIA computer as leverage, Gustrobiv found a new line of work," she continued. Sark's mouth hung open just a bit in disbelief.

"He gave this encryption computer to the KGB?" he asked in wonderment.

"The prototype was all he had and the CIA had, naturally, rebuilt the computer. But their program was out in the wild, perhaps in the hands of the enemy."

..

"Why isn't there a more complete file on this CIA task force?" Jack Bristow stood before Kendall in the director's office, his hands stuck at his side.

"I don't know, Jack," he confessed. Jack sighed – despite Kendall's position as the director of the JTF, he had no knowledge and little actually clearance inside the CIA.

"All I have is Sydney's word, which relies heavily on the words of a wanted criminal," Jack replied, his expression showing only a hint of his overall annoyance and frustration. There were things Sydney had said, had presented to him that dragged up their conversation earlier, questioning the loyalty of a dead man.

"Shouldn't we at least hear her out?" Kendall tried. "Sark has been known to provide valuable information before."

"We cannot simply trust a word he says!" Jack retorted.

"Until we get more information," Kendall stated, rounding his desk. He pulled a file from the top of a large stack on the left side of the large wooden desk, across from the computer, and threw it across the empty middle region to Jack, the file sliding easily past neatly organized supplies and papers to rest just before the CIA man.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up and flipping through it as naturally as one walks down the street.

"I requested the FBI's copy of the file," Kendall told him, sitting in his chair. "You might find it more complete than what the CIA gave you. Now, what did Sydney have to say?"

..

"You're going to tell me everything you know, and you're going to tell me now!"

Sark failed to match her seriousness, the humor of it all almost cataclysmic. Irina was a woman to be trusted, he had learned, a woman who, even though the pieces she revealed may seem stupid and ill-planned, the whole picture would slowly slide into place. He had to admit - he wouldn't wish to have her as a mother, not with the way she treated even her own child.

He complied only after she had a bit more fun with him, letting her believe she was in control. She had to believe she was in control.

"The Corvaet computer. Zhuravlev, he's ex-KGB, a holder of things eclectic. Items that seemed to fall through the cracks when the KGB disbanded fell into his care," Sark explained, his breathing hurried to simulate discomfort.

"Does he have it?" Sydney had demanded of him, bunches more of his collared shirt in the palm of her hand.

"No, but he has the KGB's files on it, including transfer receipts."

"A paper trail," she breathed, loosening her hold on him for a second. Sark grinned. He had her! Just as surmised before heading for the elite club in the heart of Volgograd.

"Sydney, I must tell you something," Sark softened his voice, her brown eyes drifting back to his. "You must have suspected it before, I'm sure of it. You're an intelligent woman."

"What are you talking about?" Sydney had asked him the question, but was afraid of the answer.

"William Vaughn. Sydney, he knew ."

"Knew what?"

"He knew the KGB was going to get the computer," Sark said, using all his self-control to suppress a smile. "He knew about it before it happened."

..

"The Rigulski Encryption was the strongest encryption algorithm ever written, at it's time. Utilizing the power of the Corvet computer, Rigulski was able to encrypt CIA files faster than before, pumping the covert world full of intel that no one else could read. Even when we intercepted information, we could not read it." Irina was more relaxed now, as relaxed as Irina Derevko could be, leaning on the back of the chair, her posture still straight.

"And now?" Sark inquired.

"Older files are still encrypted with the Rigulski Encryption while newer files have been moved up to a newer, NSA regulated system. I do not know about that one."

"Newer as in?"

"5, maybe 10 years."

Sark leaned back, fully leaning again the chair's rest, the metal groaning under the new added pressure. "Tell me, Irina, was the Rigulski Encryption on the computer Gustrobiv liberated from the CIA?"

"Yes."

"And they still use the encryption?" he asked, snapping forward in his chair this time.

"The Corvet computer was a prototype, built to see if it could handle the computations needed for the code. The CIA never intended for the code to be implanted on it. But Rigulski was an impatient man and did some tests of his own, including imputing the code-key," Irina smirked. "The KGB has been in posession of the CIA's master encryption for over 20 years and they never even knew it."

"Which is why the CIA tasked a team to its recovery," Sark breathed.

Irina gave a sly smirk. "And I was tasked to eliminate it, one by one."