In The Air Tonight, Part 20
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Jack Bristow awoke with a start. Despite his determination to remain awake at Sydney's bedside, the extreme stress and exhaustion of the last few days had taken their toll. Once he had settled into the rather uncomfortable chair by her bed, the steady beeping of monitors became entrancing and the adrenaline coursing through his system for the past few hours finally wore off.
The lighted dial of his watch told him it was 5:23 a.m. Massaging the sore muscles in his neck, Jack slid his body back upright in the chair. Peering blearily out the window, Jack could see the faintest hint of color in the otherwise black sky. Sunrise was coming fast; another day was beginning. Another cursed day in the life of Jonathan Donahue Bristow, Senior Field Agent for the CIA. Not that Jack ever allowed himself more than one moment of self-pity; if he did, the twisted life he led would have made him crazy a long time ago.
It had been less than 48 hours before that he'd been a captive of Arvin Sloane, one of the people responsible for his daughter's life-threatening condition. Now that he had time to reflect on it, he thought back to Mexico City, trying desperately to make sense of his most recent encounter with his former boss and current nemesis. Arvin had displayed an unnerving calm that was completely unlike the person he once knew. This Arvin was completely sure of himself and of his course of action. Jack had never seen him so supremely confident.
The master strategist in him sought answers, but his reason could find none. Jack suppressed a shudder. Arvin had truly seemed mad as he spoke of Rambaldi's work and the fact that he was moments from reaching his goal of bringing them forth. Maybe the answer was as simple as that; maybe Arvin Sloane was mad and simply kept him alive on a whim. Still, he reasoned, bait seemed more logical…
They were the only two logical choices. Jack had suffered nothing other than the removal of a blood sample and the sedation used so he could not escape. Moreover, whatever medication had been used only affected his muscles; his mind had been crystal clear. Sloane obviously wanted Jack in control of all his faculties during his captivity…the question was, why? Whom did Sloane really want? Irina? Sydney?
Neither choice made much sense. Why would Sloane want Sydney? He'd had ample opportunities in the recent past to abduct Sydney, but he never had. Why lure her to Mexico City then?
And while Irina Derevko had apparently given Sydney the information she needed to locate Sark in Sweden, who then led the CIA team to the Mexico City location, there was no way to tell what game she was playing. Her actions could just as easily have been part of Sloane's master plan. The only thing sure about Irina Derevko was that she was never really on any side besides her own. If she was helping the CIA locate Sloane, it could only be because his removal from the Rambaldi race would allow her to procure the device for herself.
He could not understand how his 'wife' could so blatantly use her own child for her benefit: playing 'Deep Throat' to Sydney's friend Will Tippin and then kidnapping him to procure the Rambaldi page describing The Circumference, forcing Sydney's help in delivering her plan to Sloane by holding hostage the serum for Michael Vaughn, having Sydney's best friend killed and replaced with a double in order to steal inside information on the CIA.
Staring down at the unnaturally still body of his only child, a white-hot rage filled him. If Irina dare show herself to me again in our lifetime, I will kill her with my bare hands! he vowed. It was her fault that Sydney was now fighting for her life in a hospital bed. The woman's greed knew no bounds.
A light rap on the open door to Sydney's room interrupted Jack's reflections. Jack looked up at the young agent standing in the doorway. "Sir?" he asked.
"Yes."
"It's Mr. Tippin, Sir. He's in recovery and ready to be moved. The nurses want to know if he should go into the regular ICU ward or here," the agent explained.
"No," Jack answered quickly and forcefully. "His life may still be in danger. I want him brought to this ward immediately. Both Mr. Tippin and Ms. Bristow are to be kept under 24 hour surveillance."
"Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir." The agent turned to walk away but stopped. Hesitantly he asked, "Sir? Any change with your daughter?"
Flatly, he responded. "None."
A long awkward pause ensued. Finally, the man mumbled, "Oh…"
"Any word on the double?" Jack asked the man at last.
"Yes, Sir," he replied, relieved that the tension was broken. Jack Bristow was a legend in the agency. However, after having met him…Truth be told, Jack Bristow sort of scared him… "Her body was brought to the Ops Center. After testing her blood and DNA sample, doctors have confirmed she was A.G. Doren."
"Inform Kendall that I would like an immediate investigation into the possible whereabouts of the real Francine Calfo. I need to know if she is dead or alive and in captivity somewhere. Now that the double is dead, we will have to uncover the truth about Ms. Calfo ourselves," he explained.
"Yes, Sir. Right away."
"Do not contact Ms. Calfo's family, however. There is no reason to notify them of anything until a determination can be made as to their daughter's true status."
"Of course, Sir," the officer replied. "Anything else, Sir?"
"No, that will be all. Thank you." Jack turned his attention back to his daughter, obviously signaling the end to their conversation.
The officer turned and left.
Jack leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his forehead worriedly with his hand. In the several hours Sydney had been lying there, she did not appear to have made any measurable progress. Considering her concussion was severe, it could be explained to a point, but it still made him decidedly uneasy. He didn't want to consider what life would be like without Sydney in it.
Sydney had always been his grounding force. While he had kept an emotional distance from her in the past, it was precisely because of her presence in his life that he was able to continue doing what he did. He wanted the world to be right for his little girl…to make it a world that was devoid of evil men like Arvin Sloane. Dedicated to that cause, he had been able to say and do many decidedly gray things without actually becoming evil himself. Because of her. Whenever he felt he had lost his way in the darkness that had become his life, all it would take was a few minutes of watching her peacefully slumbering to right himself again. If not for Sydney, he could have ended up like Irina…or even Sloane, fallen prey to the alluring mystery of Milo Rambaldi, or perhaps some other tantalizing evil…twisted and turned into a caricature of his former self.
Jack stood abruptly, nervous energy causing him to pace. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped, stooping over the bed, placing a soft kiss on Sydney's pale forehead. "Get well, soon, sweetheart," he whispered. "I love you." He watched her closely, seeing if there was any response. Logically, he figured there wouldn't be, but the more sentimental side of him had hoped. Seeing there was no response, he resumed his pacing.
The telephone in his coat pocket began to ring, the sound muffled and muted. Jack pulled it out, pressing the talk button mid-ring. "Bristow," he intoned stiffly.
"Hello, Jack," came the drawling reply.
Jack Bristow froze, inside and out. "Arvin," he choked out at last.
"Yes," Arvin Sloane chuckled, as if amused by Jack's reaction to his voice. "So nice to speak to you again. It's a pity our last visit was cut so short. I was looking forward to sharing my discovery with you."
"And why would you do that?" Jack asked, full of sarcasm.
"Because, Jack…We're friends. I said that before. Who better to share my discoveries with?" Sloane asked pleasantly.
"Who indeed?" Jack cracked.
"Now, now, Jack…sarcasm does not become you," Sloane remanded gently. "Where is that trademark Jack Bristow aloofness I know and love?"
"Apparently gone to wherever your mental faculties now reside…" snarled Jack.
"Jack," Sloane began gently, as if he were humoring a child, "I know you don't trust me. And I know you don't understand my fascination with Rambaldi…his works. But you will soon enough. Soon Il Dire will tell me its secrets. Soon I will know what Rambaldi knew."
For a long moment, neither one spoke. Then Sloane continued, "Come with me, Jack; take the final steps with me. I guarantee you will be handsomely rewarded…more than you could ever imagine."
"Arvin, you…you're insane. I thought I had made myself sufficiently clear that day at the restaurant: I will never work with you."
"As did I when I told you we would join forces again soon. And which one of us turned out to be right?" Sloane sighed. "Jack, you cannot escape your destiny. Our collaboration is fated."
"I don't believe in fate…" Jack spit out each word as if it was poisonous.
At this, Arvin Sloane laughed boisterously, as if Jack had just said something incredibly funny. "We'll speak again soon, Jack. You'll see…there's no escape," he promised ominously.
Before Jack had a chance to reply, the line went dead. Jack fought the urge to hurl the electronic device across the room, but then suddenly it began to ring again.
Jack pressed the talk button, expecting another parting shot from Sloane. "If you ever contact me again, I will kill you!" he vowed, irate.
"Well, that wasn't exactly the reception I was expecting…" came Michael Vaughn's groggy reply.