Jack stared at the jumble of letters, trying to make some sense out of them. Obviously, Irina had encoded her message, but how complicated was it? He continued to stare, then rearranged the letters in reverse. Some words started to take shape but the message was still jumbled. Ripping the paper in two spots, he put the three pieces in the correct sequence:
TAKE UNITED FLIGHT FORTY SEVEN OUT OF LAX WILL LAND AT RENDEZVOUS LOCATION SEE YOU SOON
He quickly looked up when the flight was leaving and then hacked into LAX's database, adding his alias of Liam Reagan to the passenger manifest. He had three hours before he had to be at the airport and he needed to create a bogus passport without the help of the CIA or Marshall. Jack made a quick run to the drug store to get a washout hair dye. While the dye was setting, he went to work on the computer again. Satisfied that the information on his phony passport was foolproof, he rinsed his hair (now a muted red) and used a digital camera to add the final touch.
He was Liam Reagan, Irish businessman on his way home from a conference to see his wife. Jack checked the time and sent off an email to Irina with his cover story and then drove himself to the airport.
Day 3Fourteen hours and seven time zones later, Jack was finally disembarking in the Dublin airport; it was 7:45 am, local time. He grabbed his luggage and scanned the area for Irina.
He felt a hand on his back and whirled about to find her standing there in a short, black pageboy wig. She was wearing a peasant blouse and skirt that resembled a kilt. He had donned jeans and a green fisherman's sweater to be comfortable on the long flight.
"Your Irish accent up to snuff?" she whispered in his ear on the pretense of kissing his cheek. At his nod, she spoke, her own words colored by a lilting Irish accent. "I'm so glad you're home my darling. I've missed you while we've been separated."
Something in her tone made Jack stare at her momentarily. "Don't take your role too far, Irina," he whispered. Aloud, he returned the sentiment, "I've missed you too, sweetheart. Shall we be going?"
The car ride was silent except for Jack's inquiry as to their destination.
"I told you in the email, Jack."
"Actually, you didn't."
"'The perfect honeymoon location?' Does this ring a bell? I didn't just mean the city."
"You mean?" She nodded. "Christ, Irina! Not The Rose and Globe Inn! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"No one will look for either one of us there. Besides, it's only for a night or two. Tomorrow we head for Belfast."
Jack's stony silence was the only response she got. She was well aware that her choice of accommodations would not go over well, but Jack was more upset than she had expected. Irina could only hope that his attitude was due more to his being on a plane for fourteen hours than real rancor.
Several minutes later, she glanced over at him and was surprised to find his eyes shut, he breathing deep and even. Irina had always enjoyed watching Jack sleep. All his worries seemed to drain from his face, leaving his features almost boyish in nature.
Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the inn. Though she was loath to do it, Irina reached over to shake him awake. Jack's hand shot out and twisted hers backwards.
He looked wild-eyed for a moment and she lay a hand on his chest as he realized where he was. Irina could feel his heart pounding, yet even as they sat there, his mask of calm settled over his face. It was almost eerie to see the change.
"Jack?"
"Are we there?"
"Yes. I checked in last night, so we can go right up to our suite." She didn't ask about his reaction, since she knew he wouldn't explain.
Once settled in the room, Irina asked, "Do you want to rest for awhile or should we discuss plans for infiltration now?"
"I'm fine. Let's figure out how to get the intel on Sydney."
The next six hours were spent going over schematics of the building, security systems, guard shift changes, and intricate computer systems. By three o'clock, Jack's head was pounding. Irina noticed his discomfort and got up to stand behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"Just relax. Let me make you feel better." She began rubbing his shoulders and the base of his neck. Jack's eyes rolled back in his head at the pleasurable sensations her hands were evoking. And it was all he could do not to groan aloud. He was fairly lost in the rhythm of her hands when he felt her breath next to his ear.
"I like you hair, by the way."
He started forward; his pleasant reverie was destroyed by reality. Irina had continued her massage but Jack couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop!"
She was startled; she thought he'd been enjoying her ministrations. "What?"
"This! Just stop!" Jack pulled away then. "I can't do this."
"Do what?"
Jack was silent as he stood with his back to her. She marched over to him and forced him to turn and face her.
"What can't you do Jack?"
He wouldn't meet her gaze as he responded, "I won't, I can't, let my guard down. Not again. I will not allow you to manipulate me or this situation."
"I'm not trying to manipulate anything. You're exhausted and I was trying to make you more comfortable. You used to like that." Irina would not let him see how much his accusations hurt.
"I . . ."
"Why don't you go lay down and take a nap. I'll have dinner ready when you get up."
He wanted to refuse, but the truth was he was practically asleep on his feet. He nodded and made his way to the bedroom.