Jack Bristow was scanning the transcript of the debrief Vaughn and Sydney had given in Paris when his daughter stalked into the warehouse. Jack watched his daughter approach, his eyes flicking momentarily to Vaughn, who entered the warehouse behind her, saying nothing but looking troubled, his brow deeply furrowed.
"How could you let them take her body?" Sydney demanded, going to straight to her father, her voice trembling with anger. "How could you deny my mother the simple decency of a funeral?"
"She had one--twenty-two years ago," her father stated coldly. "Perhaps you remember it. You were there."
He put down the manila folder and turned towards her. "The NSA took immediate possession of Derevko's body in order to ascertain whether she possessed the platelet levels, DNA sequence, and enlarged heart Rambaldi foretold. Devlin and I simply acquiesced to their demands."
Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Since when have you acquiesced to anything the NSA has requested?" she asked hotly.
"You may think her a martyr, but it is clear from your report that she is as adept at emotional and psychological manipulation as she ever was," Jack said, his voice low and guttural with suppressed fury. "You should NOT have deviated from the mission. You put yourself and others at grave risk."
"Risk? Risk?" Sydney's eyes widened, and her face paled in fury. "Who are you to talk of risk? You set me up to be a triple agent and Vaughn to take Haladki's place as a mole! You were the one who put us at risk!"
Jack's face hardened. "Shall we review the sequence of events? While you were sequestered on Île Mariette, Sark shot and almost killed Agent Weiss for refusing to become the new CIA mole. He financed Francie's restaurant, which, at the very least, makes her acutely vulnerable to blackmail and extortion. The only way to secure the situation--a situation, I might add, forced on us by your mother--was to make you a triple."
He fixed his daughter's face with a stare that cut like a surgical laser and concluded, "An option your ill-considered actions have eliminated, making these strategic and personal sacrifices futile."
"Jack, that's enough," Vaughn interjected firmly, stepping between them.
Jack scowled at him, but a stab of remorse pierced him as he saw Sydney's face crumple and her eyes fill with tears.
"Sark threatened Francie?" she whispered, her pale face turning ashen.
"No," he relented, "but she is now a pawn to be used as he wishes--to control you."
"We have to get her into witness protection. If we bring Francie in, perhaps Will will agree to go, too. We can place them together--" Sydney shot back, her mind racing.
"I already have a team staked out at your apartment, but, frankly, Francie's safety is not our major concern at the moment," Jack stated. "If Sark is indeed working with Arvin Sloane, Sloane already knows that we are both double agents, and our entire operation to take down SD-6 is in peril."
Jack's face contorted when he mentioned Sark. He held onto the initial sibilant and came down hard on the fricative as if the name left an acrid taste in his mouth. The bile did indeed rise in his throat as he thought of Irina Derevko's unholy union with Arvin Sloane. Demon begetting demon. It explained a great deal.
Sydney glanced at her father and then at Vaughn. She licked her lips. It was now or never.
"I know how to bring down Sloane and the Alliance--how to destroy every single SD cell--all of it," she stated, "but we can't do it without Dixon's help."
Taking a deep breath, she continued on, despite the looks of utter astonishment on the faces of both men.
"Mom gave me a series of codes before she died: codes that unlock a database disclosing the identity and location of every SD-6 agent and Alliance member. If we give the codes to Dixon, he can access the files and upload them to the CIA server."
Both men were stunned, but the revelation winded Jack like a blow to the solar plexus. Vaughn was the first to recover from the shock.
"She spoke to you before she died? What did she say? Did she discuss the second prophecy?" he asked.
"Start from the beginning," Jack interrupted impatiently. "Tell us exactly what Derevko said."
Sydney wiped away the tears. "It happened so quickly..." she choked out. "When I came to, I thought I was alone in the cottage." She gulped. "I sat up and looked around. She was propped against the bed..."
Sydney saw her mother's form in the moonlight, her white blouse spotted with ever-darkening rosettes of blood.
She put her hand to her mouth in horror, a sob escaping her throat. "Mom?"
"Sydney," Irina said softly.
"You're bleeding!" Sydney cried.
Still unsteady from her blow, she scrambled across the floor on all fours to her mother's side. The fabric around the wounds was singed and perforated, revealing torn and mutilated flesh in her left breast and abdomen. Blood seeped out of the wounds, and a dark pool was forming on the floor, its surface glistening in the moonlight as Irina's blood soaked into the cracks of the burnished floorboards. Snatching the sheet from the bed, Sydney ripped it down the middle, using a piece to staunch the flow.
"Vaughn and I struggled for the gun. Julian fired, and I turned my body to shield Vaughn." Irina said, swallowing with difficulty. "He did not realize I was hit. He checked on you, then went after Julian."
Willing herself to remain calm, while fighting down the panic that threatened to engulf her, Sydney rifled through Vaughn's dufflebag until she found the SAT phone.
"I'll get them to send a chopper from the mainland...we'll take you to the nearest hospital," she said, her trembling fingers frantically punching the keypad. But her fingers were slippery with blood and none of the combinations she tried were working. It was Aconcagua all over again.
"Sweetheart, put down the phone," her mother murmured, closing her eyes. "I won't make it to the mainland."
Tiny droplets of perspiration were beginning to form on her forehead. Sydney gently wiped them away with the palm of her quivering hand and gazed into her mother's eyes.
"Mom--"the name came out in a low moan, and she could feel her face contort with the grief she could no longer hold back.
"Sydney, you must listen to me," her mother said, her roughcast voice urgent. "If Julian gives Sloane the ring, he will have everything he needs to construct "Il Dire."
"'The Telling?' " Sydney asked, translating mechanically.
Nodding faintly, Irina continued, "Rambaldi's crowning achievement--a time machine, perhaps; no one is quite certain what it is or how it works, only that it is more dangerous than any weapon ever created."
Her breathing came in labored gasps. When she resumed, her voice had lost much of its strength. "I cannot prevent Arvin Sloane from possessing Il Dire, but you can prevent him from using it."
Sydney's full attention was fixed on Irina's pale but determined face, memorizing every detail as faithfully as a digital camera.
"There is a computer within SD-6 that can access the Alliance mainframe when the right codes are in place," Irina explained. "I obtained them so that we could bring down SD-6--together. The first code is hardwired into the device each member of the Alliance has implanted upon his induction. The second is the code designated for SD-6. The third is Sloane's personal code. Ready?"
Sydney brushed away her tears, staining her cheeks with livid streaks of Irina's blood and nodded.
Irina coughed, and her voice grew hoarse. "899-67057-47-75076-998 is the first, 3111-3452-47-2543-1113, the second, 4387-474-7843, the third." Nearly every number was punctuated by a cough, or sharp intake of breath.
Sydney repeated the numbers back to her mother, and some portion of her brain automatically recorded the fact that there were 47 digits in all, each arranged in the form of a palindrome.
"The database will give you the identity and whereabouts of every Alliance member," Irina continued, choking out the words. "Once you destroy the Alliance, you will cut off Sloane's access to the resources he needs to operate the machine. Do what I could not. Use Rambaldi's invention for good, not ill. Look beyond selfish national interest. Remember your grandfather. Become a citizen--of the world."
Irina's eyes lost their focus. She was no longer looking at Sydney, but at some point in the middle distance.
"Mom?!" Sydney whimpered, caressing her cheek.
"I had hoped my work would one day reunite me with you and your father." Irina said, her voice now so weak that Sydney had to bend down to hear her. "Tell him--you must tell him--love--"
Tears streamed down Sydney's cheeks as she cradled her mother's head in her arms. Her voice was thin and as plaintive as the voice of a small, bereft child.
"Mom?!"
Irina smiled faintly, and her heavy-lidded eyes closed. Her words came out almost in the form of a sigh.
"Good luck, Sweetheart--moya zhizn', moya serdtza."
Her hand loosened its grip on her daughter's arm, falling to the floor. Her body grew limp, and her head fell against Sydney's shoulder.
Tenderly, Sydney brushed the hair away from her mother's cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Clasping Irina to her chest, she rocked back and forth soundlessly, as huge, heaving sobs racked her body.
She was still holding her when Vaughn returned, her cheek pressed to her mother's blood-matted hair.
Jack Bristow was profoundly shaken by his daughter's words. He came back, as if from a reverie, to find Sydney and Vaughn in fervent discussion.
"Once we obtain authorization from Devlin, we can contact Dixon and give him the codes," Sydney was saying urgently. "We can move--perhaps in a matter of hours--against each and every one of the SD cells and dismantle them."
"The strike force to carry out such a mission is more than the CIA could put together in just a few hours," Vaughn said slowly, "but, if we're going to act, we must act quickly."
Jack interrupted, his voice sharp and decisive, betraying only the slightest hint of a tremor. "If it is intel at all, it is highly suspect considering the source. Derevko cannot to be trusted."
Sydney and Vaughn both turned to him.
"Jack, we can't just ignore--"
"Dad, think about---"
"Irina Derevko was an enemy of the United States. No matter which side she purported to work for, you can be assured that she was pursuing her own agenda."
"Her agenda is the same as ours: to take down Sloane and prevent his use of Il Dire!" Sydney cried, losing patience. "If you're too blind to see that, perhaps Devlin will."
"Sydney!" Jack shouted.
But his daughter was half way out of the warehouse. The wire door to the cage slammed against the wall, the metal clip ricocheting against it with a sonorous clang, and Sydney was gone.
"How could you let them take her body?" Sydney demanded, going to straight to her father, her voice trembling with anger. "How could you deny my mother the simple decency of a funeral?"
"She had one--twenty-two years ago," her father stated coldly. "Perhaps you remember it. You were there."
He put down the manila folder and turned towards her. "The NSA took immediate possession of Derevko's body in order to ascertain whether she possessed the platelet levels, DNA sequence, and enlarged heart Rambaldi foretold. Devlin and I simply acquiesced to their demands."
Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Since when have you acquiesced to anything the NSA has requested?" she asked hotly.
"You may think her a martyr, but it is clear from your report that she is as adept at emotional and psychological manipulation as she ever was," Jack said, his voice low and guttural with suppressed fury. "You should NOT have deviated from the mission. You put yourself and others at grave risk."
"Risk? Risk?" Sydney's eyes widened, and her face paled in fury. "Who are you to talk of risk? You set me up to be a triple agent and Vaughn to take Haladki's place as a mole! You were the one who put us at risk!"
Jack's face hardened. "Shall we review the sequence of events? While you were sequestered on Île Mariette, Sark shot and almost killed Agent Weiss for refusing to become the new CIA mole. He financed Francie's restaurant, which, at the very least, makes her acutely vulnerable to blackmail and extortion. The only way to secure the situation--a situation, I might add, forced on us by your mother--was to make you a triple."
He fixed his daughter's face with a stare that cut like a surgical laser and concluded, "An option your ill-considered actions have eliminated, making these strategic and personal sacrifices futile."
"Jack, that's enough," Vaughn interjected firmly, stepping between them.
Jack scowled at him, but a stab of remorse pierced him as he saw Sydney's face crumple and her eyes fill with tears.
"Sark threatened Francie?" she whispered, her pale face turning ashen.
"No," he relented, "but she is now a pawn to be used as he wishes--to control you."
"We have to get her into witness protection. If we bring Francie in, perhaps Will will agree to go, too. We can place them together--" Sydney shot back, her mind racing.
"I already have a team staked out at your apartment, but, frankly, Francie's safety is not our major concern at the moment," Jack stated. "If Sark is indeed working with Arvin Sloane, Sloane already knows that we are both double agents, and our entire operation to take down SD-6 is in peril."
Jack's face contorted when he mentioned Sark. He held onto the initial sibilant and came down hard on the fricative as if the name left an acrid taste in his mouth. The bile did indeed rise in his throat as he thought of Irina Derevko's unholy union with Arvin Sloane. Demon begetting demon. It explained a great deal.
Sydney glanced at her father and then at Vaughn. She licked her lips. It was now or never.
"I know how to bring down Sloane and the Alliance--how to destroy every single SD cell--all of it," she stated, "but we can't do it without Dixon's help."
Taking a deep breath, she continued on, despite the looks of utter astonishment on the faces of both men.
"Mom gave me a series of codes before she died: codes that unlock a database disclosing the identity and location of every SD-6 agent and Alliance member. If we give the codes to Dixon, he can access the files and upload them to the CIA server."
Both men were stunned, but the revelation winded Jack like a blow to the solar plexus. Vaughn was the first to recover from the shock.
"She spoke to you before she died? What did she say? Did she discuss the second prophecy?" he asked.
"Start from the beginning," Jack interrupted impatiently. "Tell us exactly what Derevko said."
Sydney wiped away the tears. "It happened so quickly..." she choked out. "When I came to, I thought I was alone in the cottage." She gulped. "I sat up and looked around. She was propped against the bed..."
Sydney saw her mother's form in the moonlight, her white blouse spotted with ever-darkening rosettes of blood.
She put her hand to her mouth in horror, a sob escaping her throat. "Mom?"
"Sydney," Irina said softly.
"You're bleeding!" Sydney cried.
Still unsteady from her blow, she scrambled across the floor on all fours to her mother's side. The fabric around the wounds was singed and perforated, revealing torn and mutilated flesh in her left breast and abdomen. Blood seeped out of the wounds, and a dark pool was forming on the floor, its surface glistening in the moonlight as Irina's blood soaked into the cracks of the burnished floorboards. Snatching the sheet from the bed, Sydney ripped it down the middle, using a piece to staunch the flow.
"Vaughn and I struggled for the gun. Julian fired, and I turned my body to shield Vaughn." Irina said, swallowing with difficulty. "He did not realize I was hit. He checked on you, then went after Julian."
Willing herself to remain calm, while fighting down the panic that threatened to engulf her, Sydney rifled through Vaughn's dufflebag until she found the SAT phone.
"I'll get them to send a chopper from the mainland...we'll take you to the nearest hospital," she said, her trembling fingers frantically punching the keypad. But her fingers were slippery with blood and none of the combinations she tried were working. It was Aconcagua all over again.
"Sweetheart, put down the phone," her mother murmured, closing her eyes. "I won't make it to the mainland."
Tiny droplets of perspiration were beginning to form on her forehead. Sydney gently wiped them away with the palm of her quivering hand and gazed into her mother's eyes.
"Mom--"the name came out in a low moan, and she could feel her face contort with the grief she could no longer hold back.
"Sydney, you must listen to me," her mother said, her roughcast voice urgent. "If Julian gives Sloane the ring, he will have everything he needs to construct "Il Dire."
"'The Telling?' " Sydney asked, translating mechanically.
Nodding faintly, Irina continued, "Rambaldi's crowning achievement--a time machine, perhaps; no one is quite certain what it is or how it works, only that it is more dangerous than any weapon ever created."
Her breathing came in labored gasps. When she resumed, her voice had lost much of its strength. "I cannot prevent Arvin Sloane from possessing Il Dire, but you can prevent him from using it."
Sydney's full attention was fixed on Irina's pale but determined face, memorizing every detail as faithfully as a digital camera.
"There is a computer within SD-6 that can access the Alliance mainframe when the right codes are in place," Irina explained. "I obtained them so that we could bring down SD-6--together. The first code is hardwired into the device each member of the Alliance has implanted upon his induction. The second is the code designated for SD-6. The third is Sloane's personal code. Ready?"
Sydney brushed away her tears, staining her cheeks with livid streaks of Irina's blood and nodded.
Irina coughed, and her voice grew hoarse. "899-67057-47-75076-998 is the first, 3111-3452-47-2543-1113, the second, 4387-474-7843, the third." Nearly every number was punctuated by a cough, or sharp intake of breath.
Sydney repeated the numbers back to her mother, and some portion of her brain automatically recorded the fact that there were 47 digits in all, each arranged in the form of a palindrome.
"The database will give you the identity and whereabouts of every Alliance member," Irina continued, choking out the words. "Once you destroy the Alliance, you will cut off Sloane's access to the resources he needs to operate the machine. Do what I could not. Use Rambaldi's invention for good, not ill. Look beyond selfish national interest. Remember your grandfather. Become a citizen--of the world."
Irina's eyes lost their focus. She was no longer looking at Sydney, but at some point in the middle distance.
"Mom?!" Sydney whimpered, caressing her cheek.
"I had hoped my work would one day reunite me with you and your father." Irina said, her voice now so weak that Sydney had to bend down to hear her. "Tell him--you must tell him--love--"
Tears streamed down Sydney's cheeks as she cradled her mother's head in her arms. Her voice was thin and as plaintive as the voice of a small, bereft child.
"Mom?!"
Irina smiled faintly, and her heavy-lidded eyes closed. Her words came out almost in the form of a sigh.
"Good luck, Sweetheart--moya zhizn', moya serdtza."
Her hand loosened its grip on her daughter's arm, falling to the floor. Her body grew limp, and her head fell against Sydney's shoulder.
Tenderly, Sydney brushed the hair away from her mother's cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Clasping Irina to her chest, she rocked back and forth soundlessly, as huge, heaving sobs racked her body.
She was still holding her when Vaughn returned, her cheek pressed to her mother's blood-matted hair.
Jack Bristow was profoundly shaken by his daughter's words. He came back, as if from a reverie, to find Sydney and Vaughn in fervent discussion.
"Once we obtain authorization from Devlin, we can contact Dixon and give him the codes," Sydney was saying urgently. "We can move--perhaps in a matter of hours--against each and every one of the SD cells and dismantle them."
"The strike force to carry out such a mission is more than the CIA could put together in just a few hours," Vaughn said slowly, "but, if we're going to act, we must act quickly."
Jack interrupted, his voice sharp and decisive, betraying only the slightest hint of a tremor. "If it is intel at all, it is highly suspect considering the source. Derevko cannot to be trusted."
Sydney and Vaughn both turned to him.
"Jack, we can't just ignore--"
"Dad, think about---"
"Irina Derevko was an enemy of the United States. No matter which side she purported to work for, you can be assured that she was pursuing her own agenda."
"Her agenda is the same as ours: to take down Sloane and prevent his use of Il Dire!" Sydney cried, losing patience. "If you're too blind to see that, perhaps Devlin will."
"Sydney!" Jack shouted.
But his daughter was half way out of the warehouse. The wire door to the cage slammed against the wall, the metal clip ricocheting against it with a sonorous clang, and Sydney was gone.