Chapter 15

Escape/Control

I

2009

"She pretended to go AWOL?" Beckman scoffed. She had just made John Casey a Colonel, and on his first mission debrief, he lies right to her face.

Deception to your superiors is the gravest sin an agent can make. It's an attack on your superiors, your agency, and your Country. If a leader cannot trust the people they lead, the team as a whole is compromised. This is the number one rule of covert intelligence. That's what General Beckman learned at the Academy. That's what Langston Graham taught her.

Yet, in the moment, she just accepted Casey's bald-faced lie without so much as a raised eyebrow.

Why?

Beckman spent hours at her desk contemplating this.

By overlooking Colonel Casey's deception, she herself was deceiving her superiors. In fact, this was the first time she had deceived anyone above her since her decision in East Berlin all those years ago. All those years, all that loyalty, and she just threw it away without a care.

Was it because it would look bad for her if her newly-promoted Colonel was dishonorably discharged at the end of his first mission? No, Beckman cared little for office politics – besides, the prior success of the Intersect mission was more than enough to establish her credentials, even with the new administration overhead.

Did she just think Casey and Walker's presence would make Intersect 2.0 more likely a success? Perhaps, but that wouldn't have been nearly enough to make her break her oath, especially when she had a real spy, Agent Larkin, at the center of the new mission.

Was she starting to grow an affinity for the team, the same way Casey's affinity for Walker led to his decision to lie?

No! Of course not. That's absurd. The General had no such vulnerabilities toward her inferiors. They were nothing more than tools in the Country's pursuit of global hegemony. They could all be killed in action tomorrow and… and she wouldn't… she…

Beckman sighed, put her hands to her stress-wrinkled face, and massaged her temples slowly. She looked to her left where, on her desk, a portrait of Langston Graham stared back at her.

This was all so much easier when you were here, she thought.

Though only seven years older than her, Graham had taken Beckman as his mentee at the CIA Academy, up until her promotion after Berlin. And even after she moved out of the CIA, he remained close, and his teachings and his guidance stuck tight to her. She was cold, she was black-and-white, she was unrelentingly loyal to the orders she was given no matter the circumstance or consequence. From the time he gave her that passport, until the day he died.

Almost like there was an element of unconscious, covert control.

But of course that's preposterous.

Nevertheless, after he was killed by that sabotaged Cipher, she started to notice herself slipping. Imperceptibly from the outside, but within her, those questions of right and wrong started coming back. Questions she hadn't considered since she tried to quit the agency.

And then today. The deception.

What was happening to her? She reached for a drink – a flask of whiskey in the bottom right drawer of her desk. Perhaps she could just forget and move beyond all of this.

Or maybe it was time to start considering that deal she had made with Roan twenty years ago.

II

The flight from the cabin was her opening. With everyone else focused on the steps in front of them, it was easy for Julia to duck away into the woods to her left.

Moronic, too: she was much closer to the source of the blast, and she didn't even know where the underground tunnel was – she could easily have been standing right above it when it blew. But she wanted to be free. Not just from some CIA prison cell guarded by the most deranged people she'd ever met – free from everything. From every spy, every former spy, every crazy eighty-year-old technological genius…

Truly, she just wanted to go back to before everything. Before that DNA test. Before all the secrets. Before everything.

Fortunately, to do that, all that was left to do was to win the footrace.

WHOOOOOOOOOOSH!

CRACK!

Only about half as far from the cabin as the rest of the group, Julia took the explosion much harder. She fell hard to the snow, nearly passing out from the shockwave alone – which was, fortunately, somewhat shielded by trees and shrubs between her and the explosion. Those same trees miraculously kept debris from impaling her as remnants of the structure rained down all around.

With the initial blast momentarily deafening her, Julia relied on vibrations through the earth to inform her of the subsequent explosions carrying further and further away.

But she had no time to recover: the instant the rest of the group came to, they'd realize she was gone. As she rose from the icy snow, she saw the trail of fiery broken earth as her path back to the vehicles the squad had left. So she sprinted, leaping over debris, ducking over (or weathering the smacks of) low branches, using the dying flames to counter the searing chill of the wintry Minnesota mor—

Whizz!

POW!

The delayed sound of the gunshot indicated she was being targeted from afar. The accuracy – the bullet whizzed just about a foot past Julia's face – suggested she was being targeted by a well-trained sniper.

The jolt of surprise launched her backwards into the snow, shielding her body with a thick, low berm at the edge of the wood.

Here she laid for what felt like forever, for she was trapped: she had no weapon and no way to get to one of the cars without exposing herself to her attacker.

Zing!

POP!

Another shot – this one soared just over the berm, zipping deep into the woods behind her.

I thought they wanted me alive?

But she didn't have time to think. She had to do something get out of here.

Tilting her head back to look behind herself, she observed a tree only feet away. She managed to turn herself over without (hopefully) exposing her cover, and crawled – the snow stinging and biting at every inch of exposed skin along the way – until finally making it to more solid cover.

Thwack!

BOOM!

Just in time: this one had hit the berm at the far edge, collapsing it with its powerful impact.

Why didn't they just shoot at the center, Julia thought as she struggled to stand, where the bullet could have killed me if it had made it through? Maybe they're not—

Psst!

Julia shook (for once not from cold) and whipped around to find the source of the new sound. "GET DOWN!" she yelled as she recognized the woman trudging toward her. For there was no time to complain that her escape plan had been thwarted.

"What?"

"COVER!"

Vrrr!

POP!

Just in time: Robin managed to conceal herself behind a stout, dying oak as a bullet whizzed through the air from of which her head barely escaped.

Are they really that precise? Julia pondered, thinking about the first shot especially.

Now two were stuck in those frozen woods. Behind two trees, no more than twenty feet apart. At least until hypothermia set in.

Surely there was something they could do?

"I heard those shots!" Robin explained. "The first three were pretty evenly spaced, the fourth was delayed."

"I think they might be trying to send me a message."

"What?"

"The accuracy – it's too good. They keep barely missing me. I think they want me stuck here."

"Guess I'm not so lucky," Robin quipped, reflecting on her near-death a moment ago (about which she was struggling to suppress her nerves).

But if they want me alive, then there must be… Julia thought to herself. "I need one of your guns."

"Wh – what?" Robin asked in between reps of her calming breathing technique.

"C'mon!" Julia beckoned, dominant arm gesturing close so as not to be exposed. "I know you have two."

Robin pulled the second combat pistol from behind her back without hesitation. "Promise not to shoot me," she added, tossing it to Julia.

POW!

A shot cleared the air between the two as the gun went through the air, further startling Robin.

"And get that super-spy on my ass? No way," Julia quipped back with a calming smile as she caught the gun effortlessly. Then, she surprised Robin by whipping herself out from cover away from her handler, aiming the gun at the space in front of her, looking for a shot while making sure she didn't extend the weapon out so far that it could be shot away non-lethally.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Robin yelled.

But Julia didn't respond. She seemed focused on something.

In the time before the sniper's next shot, Julia had thoroughly studied the expanse in front of her: Past the edge of the wood, the smoldering wreckage of the underground tunnel, and the scattered remains of a building (which it took her way too long to realize was the first cabin the group had entered earlier), a small clearing was nestled amongst the heavy wood. A narrow outlet extended far to Julia's right, down which the pair of vehicles were parked. Unfortunately yet predictably, the sniper must have been nestled deep within the cover of wood beyond Julia's sight, for she saw nothing human.

But that wasn't her goal. When the sniper fired, she dove to the tree to the right. Then, calling out, yelled to Robin, "ON MY MARK, RUN TO THIS TREE," emerged from cover, shot into the woods so as not to give up the game, waited for the next shot, then yelled "MARK!"

Robin understood what Julia was doing. Highly impressed with both her analytical skills and her guts (though also upset with her for the latter), she didn't hesitate to follow her asset's orders.

Thus the pair managed to advance to another set of trees a few meters closer to the getaway cars.

"Reload time," Robin confirmed, panting.

"Seven seconds or so," Julia responded. "Five, to be safe."

The pair continued with this strategy, inching ever closer to their escape with each shot.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the opponent to realize the strategy. Or maybe they had other things in mind, because after the women cleared about half the distance to the vehicles, the sniper quit firing.

After about ten seconds of baiting the shot that wouldn't fire, Julia grew nervous. Robin even more so.

"That's fifteen," the handler pointed out, chattering in the cold. "You think they're after us?"

"Don't move."

Julia's whisper froze Robin. Suddenly, she was staring right at her handler, piercing her with a cold, wide, glassy gaze. With her gun tucked toward her chest, Julia aimed to Robin's head.

Robin couldn't believe such a betrayal as her asset pulled back for cover. She didn't understand. Why would Julia turn on her like this? Why now? Maybe stranding her for a chance at freedom made some sense, but after they had gone so far together? Even before giving her the gun, Julia could have just run the moment she realized only Robin's life was at risk.

But Julia had no intention of running.

The next two seconds seemed to Robin to run in slow-motion:

Julia pushed her arm forward and fired.

AAUGH!

Robin whipped around to see an armed figure lying dead in a pool of blood.

VING!

POP!

She whipped back and joined Julia in a mad dash to the car.

It took her a moment to comprehend everything that happened: Julia had deduced that the sniper must have had a partner waiting to take her in. Once again, she was impressed with her asset.

This time, however, the only person Robin was upset with was herself. When she was assigned this mission (a period that felt so long ago despite being only a little over a week), she had thought she was a good agent. A good candidate to be a handler. Sharp in the face of dangerous situations like these. But in only that week the two were together, Robin's ability to lead had basically evaporated, replaced by ever more intense anxiety. She thought she had conquered her issues long ago, yet here they were, clouding her judgment, compromising her performance… compromising Julia's safety.

All of this she reflected in her mad dash to the vehicles. All of this, perhaps paradoxically, clouded her memory of the threat right behind her….

AAAAAAAGH!

CRACK!

They were at the cars. Julia was rounding the front of Stark's SUV when it happened. There she fell, backwards into the snow.

But the pain from the impact was nothing. She immediately hoisted herself back up, whipping around to see Robin laying face-down, blood spewing from her right shoulder.

III

Eyes closed, face shoved into bitter ice, surrounded on all sides by a cruel chill save for the warmth pouring out of her side, Robin waited for her life to flash before her.

The volume of blood escaping her made it clear enough: she was dead. There was no one to help her, no special catalyst to save her life, no hospital nearby to helicopter her in.

But honestly? It really didn't matter. There's no use reflecting on such a short, meaningless life, nor sorrowing over a future lost.

The only thing she could think in that moment was, at least her asset didn't take that bullet. Her asset was still alive. And while she had no idea where her asset was going next or how she would stay ahead of Shaw, Robin had to believe that Julia could take care of herself.

IV

But Julia wasn't going anywhere without her handler.

Was it that she had forgotten all the pain Robin had brought upon her? Was it no more than instinct? Or was there something else? Who knows. Julia had no time to stop and analyze the deeper meaning behind her instincts.

In a flash, she scrambled back into the line of fire, threw open the passenger door, hoisted Robin in, and avoided what sounded like yet another sniper shot by throwing herself into the driver's seat, turning the keys Agent Hernandez left in the ignition and speeding off.

She turned to the wounded handler while haphazardly trying to navigate the icy gravel path out of the woods, all the while praying the sniper was no longer in range. Unfortunately, Robin looked very bad. She was breathing slowly and heavily, most of her body caked in ice and snow, her left arm struggling to grip at her wound, which was bleeding much faster than Julia had realized.

No thanks to that bulletproof vest, eh?

"Jesus," she muttered, then skidded the car to the stop near a highway on-ramp.

She tried to act fast. "Lean this way," she instructed, pulling Robin toward her. "Keep the wound above the heart and press down harder into your seat. It might have hit the brachial," Julia continued, rummaging through the glovebox and yanking out the first thing she could find that resembled a blade. "Sorry, sorry," she reacted every time Robin winced. Eventually, she had cut out Robin's shirt (thank god for that bulletproof vest, eh?) and started wadding it. "Use this." She pressed it into Robin's left hand, "and whatever you do," she warned as she sped onto the highway, "don't tie a tourniquet, unless you wanna lose the arm entirely." As if that wasn't a worthwhile last resort – but mass shooting training since third grade taught her never to tie a tourniquet around a wounded limb.

"Why… why are you… doing this?" Robin's voice was slow and quiet as Julia sped back out onto the road.

Julia glanced over after wrestling to keep the car under control. "HEY! Stay awake!"

"Why… didn't you…"

Julia kept her voice raised, mostly in an attempt to keep Robin alert. "What, leave you to die?"

Robin just blinked slowly.

"I'm not like – I'm not like that!" In spite of the urgency of the situation, she barely stopped herself from saying "I'm not like you."

"I'm not a robot," she continued matter-of-factly. "I can't just let someone die to save my own ass."

No response, but Robin's eyes remained open and semi-alert, so Julia kept talking, loudly and frantically, barely pausing to breathe. "If spy school or whatever it was you went to taught you any differently maybe you should consider a new line of work because let's face it you are not cut out for that life. I mean no offense but ever since that plot to destroy the Guardian base…" she stopped, realizing what she was saying, what she hadn't figured out before. "After that plot," she continued, more slowly, "the tactical maneuver was to get me killed. I'm the only Intersect candidate Shaw knows about. You… you could have left me to die in that airstrike.

"So why did you come back for me?"

No response, but Robin appeared to remain conscious as Julia sped along, looking every which way for any type of sign or other indication that a functional hospital was near.

"A-and then," she kept talking, perhaps more to distract herself from the perilous fate of the woman next to her. "And then, any time afterward, you still could have just killed me. No matter how insane the President's new plan is, killing me would have permanently stopped him. Tactically speaking, that was the play. But you didn't.

"You're not cut out to be a spy, Robin. Whether y-you meant what you said about leaving the agency or w-were just trying to appease me…

"When they get you patched up a-and your super-spy mom gets you up to Canada, seriously consider keeping that new identity. Don't go back to Beckman. Or whoever they replace her with after all this is over."

Robin, proving she was still somewhat alive, managed to speak again. Sort-of. "Why…

"You…

"So… nice…

"Back… then… you said…"

Julia managed to piece together what Robin was saying. "Yeah, I…."

She sighed. She suddenly didn't like to think about how she acted back then. Even if it was completely reasonable for a person in her position. "I was pretty damn pissed at you. I still am pissed at a lot of people, but…"

"Hell, I don't know!" she added with an exasperated sigh. "Maybe… maybe watching you take a bullet for me back there kinda made me rethink how much of a manipulative bitch you actually are."

Julia couldn't tell if the joke landed… or if Robin was even able to hear her anymore. Panicked, she added, "Come on, when I met you, you stomached a shattered arm through half the U.S. without even a wince of pain. You're not gonna let this one beat you, okay? Just, just stay awake. Keep the pressure on your—

"LOOK!" She screamed, eyeing an exit sign. "La Crosse Center for Advanced Medicine, next exit! Just stay awake, okay?!" Without a response, Julia tore across the highway to the exit, ratcheting down at triple the speed limit. She barely slowed as she haphazardly navigated the city streets, miraculously not hitting anything (or running into any cops).

"S… sorry…

"Every… everything…"

"I'll forgive you if you stay alive, I promise." Julia turned into the emergency loading zone of the hospital and started honking the horn. A nurse sprinted out before Julia could get out of the car. Nearly leaping over the front, she yelled "SHE'S BEEN SHOT" and yanked opened Robin's door while the nurse scrambled for help.

As Julia hoisted Robin out of her seat, not knowing whether the latter could hear her, she whispered: "I have to go. You'll be fine here, but I… I'm sorry, I just…" and then in an act of trust (and maybe in part because she didn't really think her handler could hear her), she told her the truth: "I've got to go back to my mother."

V

That last shot Julia thought she dodged when she hurried into the car did not, in fact, echo from the sniper's gun.

"Not bad for a spy with one good eye," Stark taunted at the corpse below her feet. Then, hearing tires squeal in the distance, she whipped around. As the spy slipped stealthily toward the direction of the sound, she remembered the communication system in the watch. "Betelgeuse, do you copy?"

After a brief moment, Stephen Bartowski's gravelly voice echoed through: "I'm here."

"I killed a sniper. There might be more enemies in these woods. Any sign of Robin or Julia?"

"Negative."

"I think one of them has my SUV," she continued as she semi-covertly sprinted through the forest. "I can track it, but the receiver is offsite, and we need to find the other girl fir—"

Then she saw, in the road, next to the skid marks from the SUV: the pool of blood.

It took the super-spy nary a moment to piece together everything that mattered to her in this instant.

"Stark?" Betelgeuse called back.

With a quiver in her voice, she answered: "they're together, and one of them's been shot."