Author's notes: Thanks to Lenafan for the beta reading and to 'WildC' for telling me a long time ago how to put pictures in fics. Speaking of which, I meant to show you what a French suburb looks like sooner, in Chapter 17, but I couldn't find any pictures on the internet (like I did for '14th of July'). Note that a house in or near Paris is often older, bigger, or more closed up than a house in Province (It is what the whole country outside of the capital is called). The information below does not necessarily apply to the whole of France because each region has its specificities (climate, history, administrative requirements, style of houses…)
IMGhttp/i2. IMGhttp/i2. typical French house is surrounded by the garden, and closed up to the outside by bushes all around (#2, the house top left corner) with a gate in the front (#1, opened in the picture). A driveway leads to the house (#1) and in the back there is a concrete yard where you can eat outside from May to September. Flowers hanging from the windows are common occurrence (#1) and French are also big on fruit tree (#2, bottom left corner) like cherry tree, red currant bush, raspberry cane, strawberry plant… and kitchen garden, full of tomatoes, radishes, carrots…
Our mailboxes are quite ugly compared to those in 'Desperate housewives' or 'Gilmore girls' but they are always half hidden in bushes (#1, right). The tiny yellow spot you can see (#1, left) is the equivalent of the big blue 'US mail' mailboxes you can find in the streets.
Chapter 19: Confrontation
Jack was sitting in air-conditioned hotel room, thinking. He needed to figure out how to find Irina and Sydney. One could say he didn't even have an idea of who he was looking for. He had no names, no recent picture, nothing. Without a paper trail, there was no way he could get their address. Maybe in the beginning of the school year, Sydney would enroll in the university, but until then, there was nothing he could do.
Suddenly it clicked. Sydney. Sydney loved to read. She couldn't go anywhere without a book with her. Maybe, just maybe, she had signed herself up in a library near where she lived, and maybe, just maybe, she had given her address. Why wouldn't she? Irina must think herself protected, and she certainly wouldn't stress Sydney by telling her not to give out her home address, under any circumstances. It was worth a shot.
Hanging up, Irina couldn't help but replay the last few days in her head. What had gone wrong? She must have made a mistake somewhere, otherwise the CIA would have never found her and Sydney. It was not her habit to question herself, but she knew there were no other explanations for Jack being here. She had prepared everything on her own and the few people indirectly involved in her moving to France didn't know whom they worked for or why exactly. The contact who had just called her was merely watching the Parisian international airport for a number of known targets she gave him. He had no idea she was in Paris herself.
Obviously, she needed to leave the city immediately, but didn't know what to tell Sydney. Her daughter had finally accepted the idea of living in Paris, away from her other life, her 'American life'. She had finally settled in her room. She left it bare for many weeks before admitting to herself that it would be her room from now on. She had started to refer to the apartment as 'home', and not as 'the apartment' like she did for weeks upon their arrival.
Irina couldn't just yank her out of her life again and tell her that it's because her father was after them. It was an endless circle; Jack had found them once and he would do so again and again until he had them. Irina didn't want a life on the run for her daughter no more than she did for herself. She was happy with the new lifestyle. She missed the action but spending time with Sydney, cooking for her, even their bantering was pleasant to her. She enjoyed it more than she thought she would.
She would talk for hours about herself and her childhood, and enjoyed sharing her experiences with her daughter, but the most thrilling thing was the teaching. One evening Irina had commented on how Sydney had defended herself against Nikolai and then Irina herself. She had shown pride and admiration and Sydney had blushed, explaining she had picked some moves from a boyfriend in high school. He had been taking martial art classes since he was ten and had shown her a few basic moves so she could defend herself. She was athletic and had taken a great interest in the body's capabilities and moves.
Irina had found herself showing off her abilities as a street fighter. Sydney had asked her mother to teach her. Irina had gladly accepted, happy to pass on one of her many talents to her daughter, without any ulterior motives. She was in excellent physical shape despite her life away from business. She had no further interest in training Sydney than to give her daughter the ability to defend against attack. Now, Irina needed to defend herself against Jack.
Eventually, Sydney would leave Irina. That was bound to happen one day or another. Sydney was eighteen going on nineteen; she couldn't live with her mother indefinitely. Someday she would have to leave and make her own life, her own home. Irina wondered what she would do with herself then…maybe go back to business, but she still had time to think about it.
It was only a matter of time before Jack showed up at the apartment. She had left no traces behind indicating their precise location, but he would find a way to them, somehow. He always did. That was his job, among other things, to find people in hiding.
Irina needed time to think, to devise a plan, to decide where to go, what to tell her daughter. For now, she needed Jack Bristow off her back. She knocked on Sydney's bedroom door.
"Sydney?"
"I'm almost done packing; I'll just have to add the last necessities."
"Good! I need to run an errand. I won't be gone long. Do you need anything?"
"Uh…Yeah I could use some pens. But hey, I'll come with you. I meant to get out and get some fresh air anyway."
"Oh, no, sorry, I have other things to do. I don't want to drag you into my boring things. Take your rollers and go out."
"Oh, what do you have to do?"
"I want to drop by the convenience store to pick up a few things for the road and I have business at the post office. You don't want to stand in line with me for one hour on such a beautiful day I'm sure. It's going to take me around two hours. How does that sound?
"Good. I'll just go out for awhile and then fix of dinner with what we have here."
"Later, sweetheart." She kissed Sydney on the cheek and left the apartment, cell phone already on her ear.
From her bedroom window Sydney was observing as students were hurrying up the street to Henry IV high school. Sydney noticed the yellow flashing light of the underground parking garage was on, and soon heard honking, signalling pedestrians to watch out for an incoming vehicle. A grey coupe suddenly appeared, its motor roaring under the effort of climbing the steep alley. Sydney couldn't get a good look at the driver but recognised the licence plate. 4700 FOR 75. It was her mother's car and she would bet it was her mother behind the wheel.
The old lady sitting at the entrance desk of the library was rather uncooperative and quickly getting on Jack's nerve. French were very touchy on confidentiality. He had tried to bribe her with twenty euros and she had been offended. Finally he had to resort to waiting for her to put books in shelves to sneak into her computer.
He opened the inscription file and viewed them by date. There it was, two months before: 'Sydney Stevenson, Appt 12, 19 rue de l'Estrapade, 75005 Paris'. He had the address, now he just needed to devise a plan.
Irina was now a woman with a plan. She called Clément, the man who had told her about Jack arriving in Paris. He had been tailing her husband ever since he had set foot out of the airport. He told her the name of the hotel were Jack was staying and his room number.
Borrowing a maid's key, she let herself in. The room was empty, the bed made. The maid had just left. Irina wouldn't have to worry about hiding before Jack came home. Taking out the gun that never left her, she screwed a silencer on it. She hadn't used it in a while; the magazine was full. She would have plenty of bullets.
Patiently, she waited, hidden in the walk in closet. The bathroom would have been more comfortable but such a logical choice. Jack would feel a presence in his room and would check the bathroom first. That's exactly what happened, thirty minutes later just when Irina was starting to worry she wouldn't make it back home in time. The door clicked shut behind him, masking the noise of a safety being released. He gently eased the bathroom door open and realised it was empty at the same time as he felt a cold object pressed against his neck.
"Hello Jack. Drop your gun in the bowl please."
Catching his breath, he obeyed. It's not as if he had any other choice. He lifted his hand without waiting for her to tell him to do so. He knew the drill. Now she was going to make him kneel and shoot him in the back of the head. Execution style. Professional job. Soon he understood he had misjudged her. Apparently, she wanted to do this 'Derevko style'. Whatever. The ending was the same for him. He felt dejected. He was so close to his goal…he should have known she wouldn't let herself approached so easily.
She cuffed his hands behind his back and made him sit on a chair. He wasn't going anywhere.
"You took my daughter," he spat out, scornful.
"I didn't take her. She came with me on her own free will."
"Yeah, just like when she disappeared from the mall parking garage."
"No. I…That was…It's complicated." Irina should have expected him to bring it up. He had been here no more than ten seconds and had already made her lose her self-confidence. The irony that she was giving him the same answer she had given Sydney all those months ago was not lost on her.
"Then make it easy for me."
"Like I told Sydney…"
"What did you tell Sydney?" He asked brusquely.
Her cell phone rang. She was thankful for the interruption but hesitated when she saw the number. It was Sydney, calling from the apartment. Irina picked up. "Hey sweetheart, what is it? Of course, it's no trouble. See you soon." She hung up and made another call, keeping her gun trained on Jack. "It's me. I need you to pick up a pack of 'Petit Ecolier' for me. It's biscuits, flavour milk chocolate." The phone went back in her pocket.
Jack watched her, mouth agape. "You didn't tell Sydney I was here, did you?"
"No I didn't. She left you, remember?"
"That's your version, and I don't believe a word out of your mouth. What did you tell her about yourself? Did you tell her why you married me? Did you tell her you kill people for a living?"
"She knows who I am. I made sure of that. I wanted her to be certain that she could live with me without regretting her decision of leaving America."
"Well don't you think she would at least want to see me after all those months?"
"No. She doesn't. She never asked about you, not once."
"I don't be…"
"I don't care what you believe or not. Here's what I know. I left her with you twelve years ago, thinking that you would take care of her. Instead, you turned your back on her. You left her to grow up by herself, and I loathe you for that. You only have what you deserve."
"And what about you? You kidnapped her! If she knew it was you she would…"
"She knows Jack, and she accepts me for what I am."
"What lies did you tell her exactly? That your leaving wasn't your fault?" Mocked Jack.
"No. I told her exactly how it happened. I told her I married you on the KGB's orders. I told her I left when they threatened to kill the both of you if I didn't obey their order to come back to Russia."
Jack snorted in disgust. Irina ignored the interruption and went on with her story. "A few months ago I discovered the SVR was planning on eliminating you. I suggested another course of action that would allow us to get our hands on intel dangerous to us and the CIA."
"The disk. So you're the one responsible for all of this. Not only did you play a part in Sydney's kidnapping, but you actually orchestrated it yourself! You're responsible for everything else that happened! Sydney's injuries, the goddamn tape, me being shot…"
"Yes I did plan the operation, but I certainly didn't order Nikolai to torture Sydney. He took it upon himself to punish her for fighting him back. And your little stunt with Probulov didn't help her either. You provoked that. You defied him, you had to play smart-ass and he turned on her to give you a lesson. On my part I didn't know what was happening, they conveniently called me back for a meeting in Moscow! They tricked me and I hate myself for falling into their trap and not being there for her, but it was an accident!"
"It would have never happened if you hadn't kidnapped her in the first place!"
"I did it to save your life you moron! Didn't you listen to anything of what I said!"
"Lies! All lies!"
"I wouldn't kidnap my own daughter for a stupid disk, I was trying to save you…"
"Save me! What do you care about me? You're about to kill me!"
"I'm not! I just wanted to talk to you! And you're right, I don't care about you, but I care about Sydney. I wanted to spare her the pain of losing you!"
"You keep me from seeing her! What's the difference?"
"She knows you're alive and she's happy with it. I'm telling you the truth Jack."
"The truth! Don't you talk to me about truth! You lied to me! You…"
"This is not about you, Jack. This is about our daughter and her happiness."
"And what? You're going to tell me she's happy with you? You took her away from her home, from her friends, from her father, from me!"
"I took nothing from you. You had already lost it years ago, on your own. You lost her by your negligence. I didn't force her to do anything. She came with me willingly as the result of your failures as her father. You don't deserve her. You had her for twelve years and wasted it all in the name of your job!"
"It's not just a job! And what about you? You left because of your job, worse, you came in the first place because of your job! You had Sydney because of your job!"
The accusation stung. Irina replied, furious, "don't you ever say that again. Don't you dare to accuse me of getting pregnant for the KGB! It's the one true thing between us. She was born out of love, not for the sake of our marriage or my job. I wanted her for us. Don't soil her like that."
"Out of love?" He laughed. "There was no love between you and me, Irina! There never was because you lied to me our whole marriage. You soiled her yourself even before she existed. You soiled her the first time you whored yourself to me, Irina." He emphasized her name. It was the first time she heard him pronounce it.
She hit him, hard, again and again. "You bastard!" The chair fell back and broke, but she didn't notice, mad with fury. He wasn't moving anymore. His face was barely visible under the blood. Feeling a slight pang of guilt, she knelt by his side and checked his pulse. It was good. She dialled her contact's number and he knocked at the door ten minutes later.
Irina entered her car, two grocery bags in her arms. Her contact had done well. How surprised he had been when she had called him to give him a list of items to buy at the 'Intermarché' three streets down from her apartment. She couldn't come home empty handed and wouldn't have time to both visit Jack and shop within the time frame she had told Sydney she would be back. Now the same contact was transporting Jack to a warehouse by the western train station. He would keep him there for forty-eight hours and release him. She ordered him to feed his prisoner but to not to talk to him or injure him.
"Mom?"
"Hey sweetheart, I got you your biscuits."
"Great, thanks!"
"Did you have fun?"
"Yeah I was out for like one hour. I ran into other people in roller, they told me there's this big thing tomorrow. It's called 'Paris roller'. During the summer, every Friday night at 22h00 people in roller gather to do some rollerblading in the streets."
"In the streets? Isn't that dangerous?"
Sydney rolled her eyes. "No, it's not. It's organised with the city, there's a path to follow and all the streets on it are closed to cars. I thought I might go."
"That sounds great sweetheart. What time will you be home?"
"Well, I heard it's pretty long so I'll probably won't go all the way because I kind of suck but I think I'll stick around till midnight."
"Okay, well you can go but only if you take my cell phone with you so you can call here if you want me to pick you up."
Sydney chuckled, "okay, thanks, but just so you know, I'm eighteen so it's supposed to mean I don't need your permission to do anything."
"Oh yeah? Who said that?"
"I'm just joking, at least with you I can talk. Dad was always like 'No you will not go' and that was the extent of the discussion."
"Well I can be like that sometimes too. If you had asked me if you could go to a club with some perfect strangers you met today, I would have said no and it would have been the end of the discussion."
"Okay, noted. Will you drive me to the meeting point? It's at Montparnasse."
"Sure."
"Hey, did you carry those all the way from the store on your own?"
"Of course I did. It's not so heavy and I can handle it."
"Oh. Okay." Sydney had wanted to see if her mother would lie about taking the car and she had. Shopping and going to the post office couldn't have taken two hours, even if both places were crowded.
What was her mother hiding?
TBC