Author's notes: Chapter rated I-don't-know-what for violence, hope you'll like it though. To help you in the chronology (there are a few events that I wanted to put before or after other so it wouldn't be too linear and boring), the LA or the Moscow time are indicated with the GMT time. This chapter was mainly thought of out of boredom during a course of 'French administrative law'. I won't set foot ever again in this class, but don't worry, I don't need to take a shitty class to keep writing.
Chapter 6: Phone callLos Angeles, 22h00 (6h00 GMT)
Agent Jack Bristow was well known and respected by all in the Los Angeles offices of the CIA. He was a very successful agent, thus causing him to be targeted by other organisations wanting to see him dead. He had landed many blows on many terrorists or governmental agencies over the years. That's the reason why a surveillance team was assigned to his daughter.
Agent Williamson was the head of said team, and was running surveillance himself on dayshift. Agent Clark, a rookie whom he was charged to train, accompanied him. Both were responsible for the young woman's security, if something was to happen to her, heads would roll. And with Jack Bristow as a father, it might just happen, literally.
One of them had to inform him. He was on assignment overseas now, but it was official business so he was reachable by phone. Both agents had finished their reports for their superiors and it was concluded that they were in fault for not following their target inside of the mall. Now the harder part was to come.
Bristow answered at the first ring, Williamson cleared his throat and introduced himself as the agent responsible of his daughter security detail.
"What is it Agent Williamson?" Questioned the man, seemingly not the least worried.
"Sir, there is a problem with your daughter." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Sir, she's missing." The cat was out of the bag. He was expecting a torrent of injures or at least yelling, but there was just plain silence. "Sir?"
"What do you mean 'she's missing', could you be more specific Agent Williamson?" Still speaking in a professional tone.
"Well, she went to the mall with her friend and we waited for her outside the parking garage…"
"You didn't follow inside?" Interrupted Jack.
"No Sir, we estimated that there was no need to…"
"We will discuss your incompetence later, what happened after that?"
"She didn't come out. I mean, last week, she stayed there a couple of hours and we resumed the tailing as soon as we saw her car come out… but this week, it didn't."
"Did you find it, the car?"
"Yes, it was still parked inside, your daughter's friend was there. She was unconscious. Someone put her in the car's trunk. There was no sign of your daughter, Sir. I am sorry."
"What did the girl tell you?"
"We didn't get a chance to interrogate her yet, she's in the hospital, and she had a mild concussion…"
"Is she conscious?"
"Yes but…"
"Then go to the hospital, I want to know exactly what happened. Understood?"
"Yes Sir."
"Anything from the security cameras in the mall?"
"We recovered the bands but the feed had been cut as soon as her car entered the parking. The cameras inside and outside the garage were affected but not those of the mall itself. She never made it inside."
"At what time did she enter the parking?"
"Around 14h00, we checked the garage at 20h00."
"So whoever took her are 6 hours ahead of us. What else can you tell me?"
"Huh… nothing further I'm afraid, Sir."
"Go interrogate the witness as soon as you can. I want to see you and your colleague as soon as I come back." He hung up.
Los Angeles, 12h00 the day after the abduction (20h00 GMT)
Irina, Nikolai and their prisoner had arrived in Russia a couple of hours ago. It was time for Probulov to fulfil his duties consisting in letting Jack Bristow know that his daughter was alive and would remain so under a few conditions.
Of course, telling him that the SVR was responsible was suicide. First, it would be harder for him to track the kidnappers down if he didn't know who they worked for. Second, he would be less reluctant to hand over precious information on the SVR and the CIA to an agency that had no ties to the Russians than to the SVR itself.
Agent Jack Bristow was apparently a busy man, as it took Probulov some time to reach him at his agency. Despite its numerous connections, the SVR couldn't get a hold of any of his numbers, and there wasn't anything on his daughter's cell phone either.
Mikhail had to bring himself to phone the Los Angeles CIA offices, like anyone would do, and asked to speak to Agent Jack Bristow. He was told there was no one of this name but he expected it. He told the secretary that he had important information about the agent's current investigation. That did the trick, he was put on hold for a few minutes and transferred to another line, probably Bristow's cell phone. Finally, a male voice boomed into the receiver.
"Bristow."
"You are quite the legend Agent Bristow, I am flattered you took my call," started Probulov in a perfect American accent.
"I value my time very much. I was told you have information for me." Replied the man in a clipped tone.
"It is about a personal matter, I wouldn't want to involve your agency more than it already is."
"I am on a secured line, we are alone. Go ahead."
"I suppose your daughter's surveillance team informed you that they misplaced their target."
No reaction on the other side of the line.
"From now on, you will obey any orders I might give you, even if it goes against your government, your agency or your principles."
"I am not interested in working for you." With that, he hung up.
Probulov was not pleased. The Americans were so predictable and arrogant! Bristow thought Probulov would call back, begging for attention, but he wouldn't. Mikhail was as good as Bristow at these mind games. Probulov would give him a lesson, he had to strike and strike hard.
Meanwhile, Jack's plane was approaching LAX. He would be at the CIA headquarters before 13h00.
When Williamson and Clark had visited Francie Calfo at Mercy Hospital earlier this day, she could only tell them that someone coming from behind had hit her over the head. She knew nothing about their height, their number, their sex, and let alone give a description to a sketch artist. Sydney was walking beside her towards the elevator and then… nothing. She didn't even hear steps behind her nor did she notice anything unusual.
The agents left, disappointed, and apprehensive about the meeting with Agent Bristow that was to take place at their return.
Los Angeles, 13h00 (21h00 GMT)
One hour after his conversation with Agent Bristow, Probulov's plan was all set. Still in the safety of his rented apartment in LA, he reached for his second cell phone and dialed Valenkov's number.
"Yes?"
"Bristow is not cooperating, he needs a little incentive."
"I see. What do you suggest?"
Probulov could tell the young man was smiling, he didn't like the Bristow girl, that's for sure! When he had called earlier, to tell him that it was okay to go to Bristow Senior, he had made it clear that he was not happy to baby-sit.
"We can't afford to let to much time pass, I want to impress that arrogant man, so he won't think twice before carrying out my orders."
"I have an idea. I'll get started right away, Sir."
"Good, surprise me Agent Valenkov, and do not involve your partner just yet."
Peterhof, two days after the abduction, 9h00 (6h00 GMT)
Nikolai had spent the night arranging the basement so it wouldn't be recognizable as such. He had cleared the wall facing the garage door, now it just looked like any warehouse wall, grey and dirty. He had moved the gas cylinders used in the kitchen and the bottles of mineral water away.
He had climbed on a ladder and made a hole on the ceiling. Some dust fell on his Armani shirt but it was worth it. He was going to make that American btch pay for humiliating him in front of his older superior, Irina Derevko, who had no trouble overpowering her. He could still feel the sting from the teargas in his right eye. He screwed a hook in the hole and, ensured that it would hold, he came back down. He set up his laptop on the stool and hooked it up to the camcorder he had found in the living room's cupboard.
When everything was ready, he found Irina and told her that she was to report to Chevchenko in person, in Moscow. She was a little surprised at first, and reluctant, but Nikolai was convincing enough. Plus, he had Fyodor's support, who had been the one to suggest that Irina was not present when the "demonstration" was to take place.
"Why does he want to see me? I thought we agreed on not moving around unless absolutely necessary."
"There is no risk, the CIA has no clues as to what happened, least of all our involvement. I believe Chevchenko wants to discuss several issues with you, not necessarily related to this mission."
"Alright, I'll leave right away." Agreed Irina. It was not unusual for a Russian agent to be pulled out of the field to attend a meeting. There could be new orders about the mission or new development about the disk that were too sensitive to talk about on the phone or on the Internet. The bloody CIA had access to everything, but they never managed to bug the SVR main offices in Moscow. It was the safest place on Earth to talk.
Irina glanced at Sydney who was still out, she hoped she could trust Nikolai not to do anything foolish. She knew of his taste for young women and Sydney had really irritated him… but usually he was very professional so she shouldn't have any reason to worry. And yet, she couldn't help but ask:
"Will you be okay by yourself?"
"Yes Agent Derevko." Nikolai was grinning inside, but he was not forgetting that the woman, even if under Chevchenko's orders, was his superior. And he wouldn't want to arise her suspicions now, would he? He had noticed that his partner seemed to have a strange attachment to their hostage. Yes, they had been ordered not to leave the girl alone, they couldn't take any chance, so it was normal that Irina had spent the night by her side. It's the band aid gave her away. Usually, she couldn't care less about a prisoner's health, but with the girl, she was… human.
Irina took the 10h10 flight from Pulkovo Airport in Saint Petersburg and arrived in Moscow at the Sheremetyevo Airport at 11h20. The cities were 800 kilometres apart, only 1h10 away by plane. Hopefully she would be able to catch the 13h00 flight in Moscow and make it back to Peterhof by 15h00.
When she came back around 15h00, the house was eerily quiet, not the quiet "nobody talks", just… quiet. She checked Sydney's room but it was empty, and so was the whole house actually. She first thought that her partner had double-crossed her and that Chevchenko desire to see her had been a decoy to take her daughter away from her. Rationalising, she decided to check the basement. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that was awaiting her when she walked in.
Moscow, earlier, 12h00 (9h00 GMT)Her meeting with Chevchenko had been rather uneventful and there were actually no good reason for it to take place. The CIA was still not getting anywhere with the disk, they had no clue of the SVR's involvement in Agent Bristow's daughter… nothing that justified a meeting, thus reinforcing her feeling that she was missing something, something big. When her superior insisted on her staying near by for the day in case new intel came in, she knew for sure that something was amiss. She told him that she needed to exercise and that he could find her in the gym area. He let it go without a second thought. This man took his agents trust and loyalty for granted when he shouldn't. He was so sure that no one would ever dare to disobey him. The Americans and the Russians had a lot more in common than what they acknowledged.
She left the offices building with a bunch of other employees and went directly to the airport where she booked a return flight with one of the many aliases that her agency didn't know about.
Peterhof, 15h00 (12h00 GMT)
Sydney was hanging by the wrists to a steel hook embedded in the ceiling. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her face bloody. There was a puddle of mingled pee, vomit, blood and other liquids at her feet.
Nikolai was seated a few meters away, typing on his computer. He turned around when he heard her approach. She couldn't hide the shocked look on her face, the closer she was getting to Sydney, the more cuts and bruises she could see on her tear-stained face.
She brushed a strand of hair off of her daughter's face, trying to assess the damages. The girl whimpered in pain and opened her eyes; Irina looked away, half in shame, half to make sure that Nikolai wasn't paying attention to them.
"What happened?" Irina managed to utter, while stepping away from Sydney, as if disinterested by her. She took a sit beside Nikolai, who was apparently editing the video of what had happened during her absence.
"Probulov initiated contact when I called him but Bristow didn't take the bait."
"What do you mean?" Irina couldn't believe he would refuse the deal and knowingly endanger his daughter's life. His patriotism couldn't be stronger than his love for his daughter!
"He didn't give me details, he just said we needed to give the man a lesson, that it was the only way to get to him. The bastard knew what we would do if he refused to cooperate, and yet he still refused to listen."
"Did Mikhail try to call back?" Irina couldn't believe that Jack had passed on the opportunity to negotiate the release of his daughter. She never doubted, not one second, that his patriotism would be stronger than his love for his daughter. She screwed up. Since the beginning, she made assumptions. Her whole plan was based on suppositions and now those mistakes were come back to bite her in the ass.
She had just been proven wrong, but at what price? She glanced once more at the screen and felt sick. She had assumed that her team wouldn't do anything rash behind her back. She could have prevented that, she was a good agent and a good strategist. She should have planned harder longer… She should have considered the possibility of a backstabbing from the SVR. After all, it was legitimate, she was emotionally involved, she couldn't deny it, the agency knew it, and her boss and her partner knew it. Yes, her superior and her own partner tricked her. She saw it coming, but chose to ignore her suspicions.
"No. Bristow wanted to play hard to get, we couldn't, and still can't, afford to play cat and mouse, we're in a tight schedule here."
"I know of our situation Nikolai." Replied sharply Irina, irritated by the disrespect pouring from Valenkov's words.
"Yes, my apologies. Let's just hope that this video will be enough incentive for Bristow to move his fat ass." Concluded Nikolai, resuming his activity.
"Was it necessary to go to such lengths? She is of no use to us if she is dead." She was not happy with his actions but couldn't really say so. She was trying to cover herself but they both knew what were her true feelings.
"The man is an agent, so Probulov wanted to give him a real show, not just the classical call where the hostage screams in the phone for help. It wouldn't have been enough with him, and it's so old fashioned. No, I suggested to Probulov that we take the whole thing on camera so that Bristow can see it."
She had felt like it has been a lesson directed at her more than at Jack. Her impression was confirmed when Nikolai leaned over her and murmured:
"Stop thinking like a mother and start acting as an agent, Agent Derevko."
Irina knew she had to act cold, like she didn't care. She should just walk away like she would do with any other prisoner, because after all, that's what Sydney was, nothing more, nothing less. Not a clueless innocent girl, not her daughter… But seeing her like that, bloody, battered, barely conscious, Irina felt nauseous. Guilty. She was guilty, it was her fault that her baby girl was in this hellhole of a country in the first place. She had brought up the idea in the first place. What would have happened had she not talked to her superior that day in Moscow? Would Jack really be dead? Not for the first time, she doubted of the validity of her plan. She couldn't ignore her daughter's pain any longer, she had to do something. Her "cover" seemed blown anyway. Her partners and superior had seen right through her. What more did she have to lose? Still, she'd better be prudent.
She got up and approached Sydney, whose state seemed to have worsened. Carefully, she freed Sydney from her standing position and helped her to stand by holding her up against her. She felt like a dead weight, she was shivering, sweaty and very pale.
"I'd better take care of her, she's in some sort of shock." She clinically observed as if bored, when she actually not care anymore if Nikolai believed her intentions to be motherly or purely professional. Her baby was not going well, she needed her, now.
She must have been hanging there for hours. The loss of blood, the infected wounds, the fever… any of these symptoms could cause her to go into shock any minute. The SVR agents had given her only the strict minimum required by the human body to survive: water. The girl had had no solid food for around 48 hours.
Sydney didn't feel good. She felt numb and he couldn't focus on anything. The pain was the worst, it was unbearable, her body was on fire and yet she felt so cold.
She missed her Dad. She thought about the last time she had seen him, with the bat incident. He had forgotten her birthday but he was still her father. Not the same as in her childhood's memories but still her father. Maybe she would never see him again, could never apologize or let him explain why he had forgotten about her birthday.
When she had came home after staying two days at Francie's, he was gone. The house was clean, a couple of hundred bucks were sitting on the kitchen counter for her grocery shopping, as usual. There were no note on the fridge, no message on the answering machine. He was just gone, most likely on another trip on the other side of the planet.
She started to feel her arms again, she was being carried in someone's arms. The person was holding her tightly, whispering to her in a soothing voice but she couldn't make out the words. She felt warmer now, she was in hot water. It felt good, so good…
Her wounds hurt from the soapy water but it was not as bad as when the man had poured his beer on her, earlier this day… or was it yesterday? She was so exhausted, she wished Francie could be here, she always knew how to comfort her. But Francie was in Los Angeles, and she was somewhere in Russia. She hoped her friend was alright.
Irina was doing something that she hadn't done in twelve years: she was taking care of her daughter. She had undressed her and was now bathing her and cleaning her wounds as best as she could. There was no foam and no yellow plastic duck in the tub with her anymore, no laughter could be heard in the room. Sydney was not a child anymore, she was a woman. A woman who had just gone through hell because of her, her own mother that she still thought deceased; and also because of a father who was too stubborn to quit a job that had already caused him so much pain.
Sydney didn't flinch once, she still seemed dazed. Irina was getting seriously worried, she was starting to think that Nikolai might have done more than beat up her daughter. The thought of his filthy hands on her little girl made her sick but she had to force herself to examine every possibility… She had been away for a long time, and if he had ran upstairs to get her as soon as she was out of the door… He had spent a total of 6 hours alone with her. He was angry with her for gassing him in the parking. When Irina had seen him clutch his puffy eyes, she had felt so proud of her daughter… Now she felt pain for her, because she had left her alone with a monster, without much of a second thought.
Peterhof, earlier today, 10h00 (7h00 GMT)Irina's plane was about to take off, it was safe to move on with his plan. Nikolai put his black ski mask on and started to slap Sydney until she opened her eyes.
"Come on you bitch, we are going to make a little home movie for your daddy!" Mocked the man while cuffing her hands in front of her.
She was on her feet before she knew it, the agent took hold of her arms and dragged her down the stairs. They entered what appeared to be the garage and he hooked her cuffed hands to the ceiling. Her feet barely touched the ground, it was rather painful to be stretched in this fashion.
She took in her surroundings. A camcorder was facing her, it was on. She reconsidered her earlier theory about porn movies.
"What is it? What are we doing here?"
"I told you, we are going to make a little film for your daddy dearest."
He was standing inches away from her, she could see the amusement in his eyes. He struck her, hard. Her head reeled back and she gasped, scared and in pain. He hit her again, and again, and again. She felt his fists pound on her face, on her ribs, on her stomach… but never hard enough to knock her out. The bastard knew what he was doing.
"What do you want from me!" She screamed, crying after the first few blows. He had stopped his assault to rub his bloody knuckles. At least he was hurting himself a little in the process, but that was no consolation.
"Do you know what your father does for a living?" He taunted, smiling sickingly.
"He sells freaking airplane parts, what, you think it makes him rich!"
"We are not after his money, but we want information from him."
"Information! That's what it's all about? Industrial espionage! Can't you do it like everybody else does, like spying or stealing things!"
"It is not about industrial espionage, little girl."
The woman in the plane had mentioned something about people watching over her, she said they would find Francie. She was so relieved to know that her friend would be find that she didn't insist more about those people. She needed to know, she needed to know why there were people "watching over" her. It must have something to do with her father because the man hitting her had asked her if she knew what he did for a living. Maybe he was some kind of mafia guy, he had upset the wrong guys, and now they were taking their revenge on her. Jack Bristow, a Mafioso? That sounded so ridiculous!
She couldn't ponder the question much longer or ask the man about it because he resumed his beating. She remembered that he had talked a lot while beating her, but she had been too busy screaming and puking to understand what he was saying. She couldn't evade him, hanging like a punching ball. He took out his rage on her, she could see a glimmer of joy in his eyes each time she screamed. By the end her throat was so raw that she could only moan in agony. The bastard was enjoying it. She vaguely wondered where the woman was, if she was watching somewhere from the darkness. Sometime during the beating, her torturer had gotten tired of bruising his hands on her skin and had switched to his belt.
Los Angeles, 6h00 (14h00 GMT)
Eighteen hours after the phone call conversation he had with the mysterious man, Jack received a fax in his office, displaying a simple IP address with the name "Sydney" above it. Feeling a cold sweat running through him, he opened his browser and typed in the address. A window popped open, asking for a password. He typed 'Sydney'. A video started playing…
Jack was trying to analyse what he had seen on the video. He had watched it without blinking an eye. He had a long experience in the torture domain, he had both been tormenter and victim, countless times. The fact that it was his 18 years old daughter displayed on the screen didn't affect him much. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could have done... But he knew that whoever had called him was responsible for that.
Now he just had to wait for the man to call him back, and set the terms of their arrangement. Surely, he wouldn't go to such lengths if he didn't want something in return for Sydney, something that apparently, he couldn't obtain any other way.
His cell phone rang several hours later. It was the same man as before.
"Did you enjoy the movie, Agent Bristow?"
"What do you want?" answered curtly Jack.
"Don't you have an idea?"
"No." That was the truth.
"Almost two weeks ago in Taipei, you acquired a disk from the SVR. I want it."
"I don't know what your are talking about."
"Do you want to see another production starring your precious child Agent Bristow?" threatened the man in a sweet voice. He was probably around Jack's age.
"Why would this disk be of any use to you?"
"That is none of your concern Agent Bristow. All you need to know is that I want it and everything your agency have on it, and I mean everything. Paperwork, copies, everything related to this disk must be in my possession within the next 48 hours."
"That is not going to happen."
"And why is that Agent Bristow?"
"I can not hand over such crucial information, it's treason."
"And what do you call letting your daughter to die? Negligence? I call that murder."
"Even if I wanted to help you, this disk contains very sensitive information, it's protected, there is no way I can get to it…"
"You managed to steal it from another Agency in Taipei, it should be easy to steal it now from your own agency. You have 48 hours. If you need motivation, I can keep the 'home movies' coming." Probulov hang up, satisfied.
Jack was seething, the CIA had nothing to trace the abductors, no prints, no footage, not a clue to act on. They had left no trail to follow, they probably weren't in the US anymore, they were out of reach. He was powerless and at their mercy. Or so they thought. He could not tell the CIA what the man had asked him to do, the disk would be completely unreachable. At least for now he knew were it was. He hadn't decided yet what to do. If the disk were to fall in enemy hands, whoever had it could cause a severe blow to the CIA. It was unthinkable to just hand it over, to anyone.
TBC