Chapter fifteen

September
Cape Town

"The seasons are all backwards here." Irina absently trailed her finger along the rim of her wineglass as she stared at the setting sun. She and Andrei were sitting out on the verandah before dinner, as had become their habit. "Everything's backwards here. They drive on the wrong side of the road and—"

"How much have you had to drink today?"

Irina glanced at her cousin for a brief moment, then shrugged. "I haven't been counting."

Andrei picked up the wine bottle. "This is almost empty."

Irina gestured in the direction of the vineyards. "We live on a winery. There's no shortage of wine." She reached for the bottle to top up her glass, but Andrei refused to release it.

"I can't remember when I last saw you without a wineglass in your hand."

Irina smiled. "Take it as a compliment, cousin. It's good wine."

"You're turning into an alcoholic."

"I am not."

Andrei was wrong, she thought. She didn't drink too much, just enough to dull the ache that was constantly present. Just enough to be able to sleep at night.

"You never talk about what happened." Andrei put the bottle in front of her. She recognized the test for what it was, and didn't reach for it.

"I don't like to dwell on the past."

"Ira, was it that bad?" Andrei's tone was gentler than she'd ever heard it. "Life in America, life with that man?"

She looked up sharply, her eyes narrowed. Andrei wasn't KGB; how could he know about her assignment?

"Katya told me a little of what they made you do," he continued. "I couldn't believe it."

"They didn't make me do anything." Irina stood. "And Jack is a good man. He didn't deserve—"

She tried so hard not to think about Jack and Sydney these days. Despite the season, there was a chill in the air and Irina shivered. "I'm not very hungry tonight," she said as she disappeared inside.

"Irina, wait!" Andrei followed, his tone apologetic. "I know you don't like to talk about it. I just hate seeing you like this."

She stopped, then slowly turned to face him. "Like what?"

"You're—" He faltered under her glare. "You're different."

"People change, Andrei."

"The Irina I knew would never cry over a man. Over an American."

"It's so easy for you to judge me, isn't it? You ran away from Russia when life got too difficult for you—"

"And what is it you're doing here?"

Irina said nothing for a long time. When she did finally speak, her voice was deceptively calm. "If I had any choice in the matter, I would have stayed."

Unbidden, an image of Sydney sprang to mind. The ache in her chest was sharper than before, and she pressed a hand to the wall to steady herself.

"You did have a choice. You could have turned down the assignment."

Irina reacted without thinking. Blood rushed in her ears and she knew nothing except the feel of skin beneath her palms.

"Irina! Aheuyet!"

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, her back sore from where it had hit the wall. Andrei sat opposite her, rubbing his neck as he warily watched her. She closed her eyes, the desire to fight completely gone. All she wanted now was to curl up and go to sleep.

"Why'd you do that, Andrei?"

"You attacked me!" His voice rose in disbelief. "Yobany stos, Ira! They trained you to do that?"

"No, I meant, why did you provoke me?" She drew her knees to her chest and lowered her head. She felt Andrei's hand on her shoulder a second before he spoke.

"You walk around pretending that nothing is wrong. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

He chuckled. "Speaking as someone you almost just murdered, I don't agree."

She looked up, horrified. Andrei's neck was red where she'd grabbed him. She released a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"Come on, Prudence has been slaving away in the kitchen all afternoon. If you don't eat her food, she'll be offended and probably get her witchdoctor to put a curse on you or something."

Irina thought of the ill-tempered Xhosa house helper, and decided she wouldn't put it past her to curse them. She took Andrei's outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "How do you know she hasn't cursed us already?"

Los Angeles

In his time as an agent, Jack had learned how to assemble an assault rifle in the dark, how to disable a bomb and how to hotwire a car, amongst other useful skills. Braiding the hair of a seven-year-old who was practically bouncing in her chair was not one of them.

"Honey, I need you to sit still."

"Okay, Daddy." Sydney stopped bouncing. A moment later, she started swinging her feet, so energetically her whole body bobbed.

Jack's fingers were cramping from trying to manipulate the hair. He let go. Sydney's hair was so fine it slipped out of the half-assembled braid. Jack held back a sigh of irritation. He could do this.

If only Sydney would just sit still.

He thought of how effortless Irina had made it seem. Maybe it was just a skill all women learned as girls, braiding each other's hair while the boys played with cars. Who would teach Sydney, he wondered, now that Irina was gone?

"Sweetheart, let's play a game," he said.

Sydney looked up, her eyes wide, and nodded. "What kind of game?"

"Statues. You can go first, okay?"

"Okay."

He smiled. "Good. I want you to think of that statue in the park—"

"I want to be the Statue of Liberty."

"Okay. The Statue of Liberty, then. Now, you have to sit very, very still, just like a statue. Can you do that?"

"Yep."

"Great." Jack reattempted the braid, carefully separating Sydney's hair into three sections. When he found he was still struggling, he stepped back and considered the situation. Maybe if he thought of it in terms of a mission, he'd have better luck.

He could almost hear Irina laughing at him.

When it finally occurred to him what to do, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. He went into the bathroom and wet his hands, then returned and dampened Sydney's hair. A few minutes later, he finished the braid.

"Daddy, this game's boring."

"It's okay. I'm finished now."

Sydney hopped off the chair. "Daddy, I don't want to go to school."

"It's going to be fun, sweetheart. Your friends are going to be there and—"

"But won't you be bored if you stay home without me?" Sydney gazed up at him, and he knew what she was really trying to say. Every day since Jack had returned from India, he had been with Sydney from the moment she woke up until the moment she went to bed. They were closer than they'd ever been, but now the school year was starting, and their days would be spent differently.

Jack knelt in front of his daughter and put his arms around her. "I'll miss you, but I won't be bored. I'm going back to work today."

Sydney wrapped her arms around Jack's neck. "I miss Mommy."

Jack said nothing, but held her tighter.

An hour later, after he'd dropped Sydney at school, he walked into CIA headquarters. Though he felt the curious stares of his colleagues, he didn't look at them.

Arvin met him in the bullpen. "Jack, welcome back."

Jack gave a thin-lipped smile.

"The Director is waiting for you."

Together, the two men walked to the Director's office. Arvin asked after Sydney, and reminded Jack that Emily's dinner invitation still stood.

"Jack! How are you?" The Director stood to greet Jack. He gave a brief nod to Arvin, and a moment later the door shut, leaving Jack and the Director alone. "You doing okay, Jack?"

"Fine."

"Good. Good. Have a seat."

The last time Jack had been in the Director's office, he'd been apologized to regarding his treatment. Despite the apology, there had been an undercurrent to the Director's words that suggested Jack was still under suspicion, though there was no proof of wrongdoing. Jack had that same feeling today, and wondered if the other agents were still suspicious of him.

"I wanted to talk to you about Project Christmas," the Director said. "Thanks to Derevko, the Soviets have most of our information."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"It's prudent to assume they'll be starting testing in the near future, if they haven't already done so. With that in mind, we've decided to move up our project timetable. While you were, uh, away, we isolated a few promising subjects." The Director slid a folder across the desk. "We're keeping you on the project, Jack. In spite of your lack of judgment regarding Derevko, you're still the most qualified to run the project."

Jack thought of how easy it had been to talk to Irina, how genuinely interested she'd seemed, how relieved he was to have an objective opinion. He should hate her for her betrayal, but every time he closed his eyes he saw her as she'd been in India, injured and afraid, and he couldn't grasp the hate.

But he had always been good at pretending, and he would show the CIA what they wanted to see.

"I won't let you down," he said, and reached for the file. He carefully read the information on the first child, then the second, then the third. When he saw the photograph of the fourth child, he froze. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"

"I'm not a joking man, Agent Bristow." The familiarity was gone; Jack could see how serious the Director was.

"Sydney is not going to be part of this project."

"Read her file. She fits the profile perfectly. I can easily say she seems to be the most promising of the lot. It's as if she was born to it." The Director paused. "What if Derevko started Project Christmas on her already? It's not as if she lacked the opportunity."

Jack shook his head. "She wouldn't."

"I know you loved your wife, but you have to face facts. She wasn't who you thought she was."

"I'm not testing Project Christmas on Sydney."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my child."

The Director smiled. "They're all somebody's children, Jack. This project is your baby. You will put Sydney in it."

"If I refuse?"

"There are still people in this Agency who don't believe you weren't working with Derevko. People who believe you shouldn't have been released."

Jack looked at Sydney's smiling face, and felt sick to his stomach.

Aheuyet - Russian: What the fuck!
Yobany stos – Russian: Fuck/shit!