"What do you mean you are Petra Derevko?" Sydney asked. She one was the only one who said anything. No one else had the courage to. She seemed to have dealt with these types of situations many times before.
"Exactly that. I am Irina's younger sister, by five years," Petra said plainly. It was fact and it felt a relief to Petra to actually say those words aloud.
Harry had taken a seat, next to Jack. Sydney gazed at the two of them. They looked so much alike. Not in looks, but in their general lives. Harry was obviously in the same position as Jack was over twenty years. Still Harry didn't know what the Derevko name meant to everyone else in that room. He still couldn't get over that she wasn't who she said she was. Their twenty-three year marriage had been a lie.
Dixon cleared his throat. "Now we obviously know why the Covenant wants your daughter. The only question that seems to be pressing, even though I have many, is what does her parentage have to with your daughter's kidnapping?"
"April is not that woman's daughter!" Harry screamed, standing up out of his chair. "She is my daughter and my daughter alone! Your motherhood is a lie. Our marriage is a lie." He sank back down into his chair and put his face in his hands, sobbing.
Sympathy overcame Jack and in a short matter of seconds he was giving Harry reassuring words. Somehow he had managed to pry Harry from his seat and lead him to a more private area where he could let everything out. Jack put a call into Dr. Barnett to have her evaluate the state of Mr. Winthers.
Meanwhile back in the conference room, everyone was still in shock. Sydney and Dixon were the only two able to say anything: Sydney because she had known this situation all too well, and Dixon because he was the Director and had to have some sort of composure over this whole dilemma.
"Are you KGB?" Sydney demanded with no pretext.
"Formerly yes," Petra answered calmly.
"Did they forget about you?" No way was Sydney going to give this woman any of her so-called "niceness."
"Yes." The spy appeared un-flinched.
"You are familiar with my mother's assignment are you not?" Sydney interrogated. She got up out of her chair and started to pace across the floor. She wanted to make Derevko more intimated.
"Yes."
"Was yours similar to hers?"
"Yes."
Sydney was getting sick of the one-word answers. They were starting to rattle her projection of a cool, un-afraid exterior. "Describe," she demanded simply.
Her niece reminded her so much of her sister at that moment. To Petra they had a similar walk when they wanted questions answered. It had happened many a times before when Petra would sneak in late after her nights out with her ex-boyfriend and Irina would be waiting for her, in her bedroom demanding to know where she was. Petra knew that Irina knew perfectly well where she had been, but for some reason Irina got enjoyment out of knowing every detail that you didn't want her to. If she didn't know any better, Petra would have thought that it was Irina interrogating her, not her daughter.
"The KGB wanted some information. At the time I didn't know exactly what it was, but they gave me the assignment. They had seen your mother's work and they figured I had the same talents she has. My mission was to befriend and pursue a relationship with a newly wealthy 28-year-old male by the name of Harry Winthers. I went to New York City, under the alias of Patricia Keating, a student at New York University studying history. Initiating the relationship was easy. I had tips from your mother." Petra was seductive. She managed to suck everyone into her every word.
Sydney had tried not to show her anger. Her story had too many parallels to her mother's. She hated knowing that other people had been through the same thing she had. Currently in the espionage world, everything seemed to surround the relations of the Derevko sisters.
Displacing her anger, Sydney continued, "What information did you acquire?"
Petra could tell that this exchange was going to be fun. It was exactly like old times. "My target was the president of an up and coming company that installed state-of-the-art security systems. Some of his clients included people of the likes of Arvin Sloane, Alexander Khasinau, and Andrian Lazarey. Certain security systems that the KGB wanted to get their hands on."
"If I take off these handcuffs, you promise not to run away?" Sark asked April in a half empty parking lot right outside the main shopping district of Madrid.
"I can't promise anything," April retorted to spite her captor.
He stared her down. After a second looking in his blue eyes and knowing that he did not want to exchange banter with her. "Okay, I promise I won't run away," April said giving into his command.
Sark unlocked the handcuffs. He stepped out of the convertible and after looking at April she did the same. Between them it seemed that looks could give away everything. Conversation wasn't needed. April had never had that type of connection before, explaining why she always felt the need to talk.
Once he started walking down the street and was a few yards in front of her, Sark looked back at April, who still standing next to the car. By her hesitation, he could sense that she needed some type of explanation for where they were going.
He walked back over to where she was standing. "April, you can no longer be April Winthers. In order for the Covenant not to find us we need to get aliases, be different people. I don't want another incident like the one that happened a little over an hour ago to happen again."
"What do you suggest?"
"We are a newly married couple on their honeymoon in Spain, on a shopping excursion before we are to go home later tonight to England. You obviously need a change of clothes. The store right here on the corner will be where you buy your first outfit. We can ask for you to change in there."
"Don't you think that it will be a little suspicious if I am in a t-shirt and sweatpants walking into a fancy boutique?" She was right it would be suspicious, but if they asked he knew that he could come up with some excuse.
"Yes, but I am sure that dropping few thousand dollars will put the sales people's inquisitions to rest," he reassured.
"Do I need a British accent or anything?" she asked, afraid that she might not be able to put up this charade if she had to change her voice.
He gave a light laugh at her concern. "No. You won't have to change to your accent. Be American. Be yourself. Like you said previously, American girls have a thing for men with accents. It will make this more believable," he paused waiting for a remark from April. He didn't get one. She knew that this had to be serious.
"Now for names," he continued. "I will be Andrew Marquette. You will be Annie Marquette."