The opening episode of the third season gave me another story to write. Jack had been jailed for collaborating with Irina Derevko. The fact that she is Sydney’s mother didn’t matter. As Jack told Sydney, he asked her to help find Sydney’s killers. He knew he could trust her in this matter. Sydney says, “You were working with Mom?” Like that should have been a big surprise! Wow, hardly! Therefore, a storyline popped into my head. How did he know where and how to contact her? What happened then?
See, how easy it is to come up with an idea. This is not a long story. Hope you enjoy Jack and Irina together again. Lenafan
Thanks again to JJ Abrams for such great characters to work with. He owns them but the fans love them.
SYDNEY IS DEAD
Jack Bristow sat in his sterile, silent apartment drinking from a bottle of Glenlivet Scotch. He hadn’t left the kitchen for twelve hours. Earlier, he nearly committed suicide. His daughter, his beautiful gorgeous wonderful and intelligent Sydney was dead. She had been burned to death in her apartment only a few short hours after returning from Mexico. Sloane had taken him there; for what reason, he still had no idea. He couldn’t tell his wife because Irina had jumped from the roof of the building and escaped the CIA. He had heard the story from Dixon an hour after returning to Los Angeles.
Irina’s escape meant nothing to him. She had a talent for leaving the scene, suddenly and almost miraculously. She – she was incredible, he thought. Sydney was so much like her – in looks, temperament and intelligence. Now Sydney was dead. He wiped a tear from his eye before it escaped down his unshaven cheek. He would have to get word to Irina. However, that could wait. He poured another drink and downed it in one gulp.
He had even let Vaughn take care of the body. He couldn’t bear to look at what was left. Vaughn asked him if it would be all right to cremate the remains and drop her ashes as sea.
“Do anything you want,” had been his answer. At this point, he only wanted to go home.
He sat looking at the half-empty bottle. This was not doing him any good. He had to find out about the fire. Jack pulled out his cell phone and dialed the CIA. He asked to be put through to Kendall.
“It’s Jack!” He listened. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be in to work on Monday, okay? Listen, Kendall, what was the result of the fire inspector’s investigation?” Jack’s face went cold and he was sober. “What is the CIA doing about it?” He stood up. “I want to see everything you have. Right. I’m coming down now.”
Jack ended the conversation. He jammed the stopper back in the Glenlivet and put it away. He walked into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and swished some mouthwash around. He didn’t want to smell like a bottle of scotch when he arrived. Kendall had just told him the fire was deliberately set. Sydney had been murdered. He was going to find that person and kill him.
Jack appeared in the op center an hour later. Everyone stopped talking. One look at his angry face told them he had heard the news. He stalked toward Kendall’s office without glancing right or left. The door shut quietly behind him as he approached Kendall’s desk. The director handed Jack a folder without saying a word. Jack took it back outside to his own desk.
He read the file six times until he had it memorized top to bottom, all three pages of the fire inspector’s report. He had difficulty focusing on the pages but he kept at it until he had every detail emblazoned in his head.
During the next month, he followed every lead. All of his contacts everywhere were asked to be on the lookout for anything indicating who murdered his daughter. Jack talked to a hundred people, both men and women. Any hint of a lead sent him off to question and investigate. Nothing was forthcoming. He was running out of leads and contacts. There was only one other person he could trust and who could lead him to different contacts, Irina. He wasn’t sure if she knew about Sydney. It was time he got in touch. Of course, the CIA and the intrusive National Security Council were not to be trusted when it came to his wife. Irina Derevko was an anathema to both organizations. Still he could trust her when it came to her daughter’s welfare. That was a fact he had come to believe while she was in the CIA’s custody. Sydney had told him about their last meeting before she left for Panama. He had told Sydney that her mother probably did love her. She just hadn’t been around to show it until she gave herself up to the CIA.
He was in his apartment, thinking about the best way to get word to her. He had no idea whether she was still alive or not. Where would he start? He could use the newspapers, his contacts in Europe and the Internet. Both he and Irina loved music, classical music. He sat down at his laptop and began to compose a message that he could use on the Internet and in the newspapers.
DISTINGUISHED MUSIC COMPOSER FROM L.A. IS LOOKING FOR
HANDEL MUSIC LOVER FROM RUSSIA. OBJECT-DAUGHTER.
He might get someone else, but they could easily be disposed of with a few questions. The problem – would Irina see it? He placed ads in all major newspapers in all European cities. Then he went into the chat rooms and advertised there. Same message. He called some of his contacts in Eastern Europe leaving word with the right ones that he needed to contact Irina Derevko. They were to tell her that Jack had an urgent matter to discuss. It took him three days to place the ads and the calls. He returned to CIA headquarters to help plan a mission to Istanbul. He knew he’d rather be at home, but Jack had to keep his mind busy until contact was made with Irina.
It took nearly three weeks before Jack received anything from her. She would be happy to meet him somewhere in Europe, Prague, Vienna, or Warsaw.
“You guarantee my safety?” The words came over the Internet in an obscure chat room.
“Absolutely. It’s about Sydney.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to talk to you in person.”
A minute went by, “I don’t like the sound of this. How soon?”
“I’ll be on the next plane I can get to Vienna.” He paused. “That should be in less than sixteen, maybe eighteen hours if all goes well.”
“Hotel Oberhaus on Austraplatz.”
“See you.” He shut the computer down, called Lufthansa, and found they could book him to Vienna on a flight leaving in four hours. He didn’t have much time, but quickly packed his suitcase and his laptop. Copies of all reports on Sydney’s murder were also packed in his briefcase.
He arrived in Vienna almost sixteen hours after leaving Los Angeles. It was late morning, when the taxi pulled up to a rather unpretentious hotel. There didn’t seem to be a doorman. Jack looked around him. Not much in the way of outstanding scenery. He decided it was a family hotel and not one recommended in any travel book. That was fine with him. Anonymous would have been a good one-word description. Jack entered and registered at the front desk. There was a bellboy, but he didn’t need one since he had only a small overnight bag and the brief case with his laptop and files. He wasn’t planning on staying more than one night. He figured he only needed a couple of hours to bring Irina up-to-date.
In the room, which was functionally plain, there was a large queen sized bed with a down-comforter folded at the bottom, an armoire and a small writing table with an over-stuffed chair covered with a dark blue fabric that had seen better days. He unpacked his overnighter, putting his shaving kit in the bathroom and his overcoat in the armoire. Jack glanced at his watch, noontime. He could use a bite to eat. He had no idea when Irina would show up.
In the small café connected to the hotel, he ordered weiner schnitzel with a cup of rich, Viennese coffee and a Napoleon pastry. He hoped the food was better than what he had eaten on the plane. When Jack finished, he checked at the desk for messages. There was none. Somehow, he had not expected to get one. She would simply knock at the door.
He unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone was in the room.
“Irina?” He put his hand into his inside jacket pocket.
“Jack!”
He saw her then, standing in the doorway to the small bathroom. She was dressed in a beautiful black pinstriped suit with a red blouse. Her chestnut brown hair was still as beautiful as he remembered. The long streak of gray in it made her look even more exotic. Irina’s dark eyes were giving him the once over. Her lips parted in as warm a smile as he had ever seen. Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
As she smiled, Irina stared at her husband, slightly shocked by his appearance. He seemed older than when she last saw him, just three months ago in Panama. His hair was whiter. Black circles beneath them made his eyes darker and the deep lines around his mouth had increased. In two strides she was standing in front of him, searching his face with more than just interest, there was genuine concern.
“Jack, you look terrible! What’s wrong?”
He took both her arms and held them. “Irina, there is no easy way to say this; Sydney is dead. She was murdered.” He felt her shock. There was disbelief on her face and then tears welled up and slowly spilled over, slipping silently down her wide cheekbones. She was feeling the same thing he had when Kendall had told him about Sydney’s death. He enfolded her in his arms. It had been years since he had heard her cry. He even remembered when—the day they had been hiking and Sydney fell, breaking her leg. Jack had carried their daughter with Laura at his side, tears running down her face. Sydney had been crying too with the pain.
They stood together in the small room. Jack finally took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. “Dearest, please!” She was no longer Irina Derevko, an assassin, spy and terrorist. She was Sydney’s mom, who had just connected with her daughter after a twenty-year absence. She loved her daughter and was proud of her accomplishments. She had even found ways to keep track of her – after Panama.
“Look, I haven’t much time and I need to go over these files with you.” Jack took out the laptop and the files and looked at her. “Before I give you this information, I want you to know I think Sydney would approve of us working together. However” he smiled wryly, “she’s the only one. If the CIA or NSC learns of our collaboration, I’m not sure what will happen to me.”
“They won’t learn it from me, Jack.” She took his hand. “Tell me what happened.” She took his handkerchief and continued dabbing the tears away. Irina was fighting to remain calm, when all she wanted was for him to hold her again.
“Someone set fire to her house. No one knows if she was already dead. The body was completely burned. There were traces of the igniting substance in the bones and ashes. They think she was soaked in it as well as the room.”
Irina’s eyes became cold as anger replaced the sorrow she had been feeling. “Do you have a list of the people you contacted?”
“Yes, but, he looked at her, I think I’d better not tell you and I don’t want to know yours. We have to assume that almost all of our contacts will not be the same.”
She nodded. ”How shall we contact each other?”
“Let’s use a chat room I’ll set up. Look for the same message in capitol cities newspapers. Are there any particular cities I should concentrate on?”
“London, Paris, Moscow, Warsaw and Prague. Shall I use the same method to contact you?”
“Yes! I’ll subscribe to the Los Angeles and New York Times and the Washington Post. Put the ad in the personals.”
“Very well. Can I have the files?”
“Yes, I made a copy for you. Illegal, but I knew you had to have one. I want to go over them with you now to save you having to contact me later with any questions. Ready?”
For the next three hours, he went over every detail gleaned from the crime scene investigation, including the fire inspector’s report and data that had been gathered on men and women Sydney had contact with through her job. Irina had asked questions and Jack had answered the best he could. As he detailed everything he had done and was planning to do, Irina watched him. He had been thorough but there were other avenues she could pursue.
They finally finished talking, having exhausted the topic. Jack looked at his wife and mentally sighed. Now it would be up to her. He hated to end what had been a pleasant afternoon. “How about some dinner before you go?”
“I would love some.” She stood. “Where do you suggest?”
“Let’s eat here. Neither of us can risk being spotted. I had lunch here and the food is okay.” He stood up. “My treat.”
Irina laughed in the voice he’d loved to hear. “Thanks. May I take these with me?” She indicated the files.
“No, I’ll pack them in my briefcase. I don’t want to take a chance. I suggest you do the same when you leave.”
They had a pleasant dinner in the small café. He ordered a bottle of Riesling, which they drank with their meal. They talked about Sydney, remembering the times when she was little. Irina’s eyes were tearful and she sighed a lot. Jack never once brought up her betrayal. What good would it do now, especially since they would be working together with one goal: finding Sydney’s killer.
They returned to his room. They had taken nearly two hours to eat and talk. He took the files out of his briefcase and handed them to her. “Be careful,” he intoned. “We know little about who did this.”
“Of course, Jack, I will.” She was still tearful.
On a sudden impulse, he pulled her into his arms, tilted her tear-stained face and gently kissed her. Every nerve in his body came alive and a moment later, he felt her respond with an animal hunger. Jack was savoring the taste of her lips, feeling the hunger surging through his body and mind. His heart was racing with such desire he was unable to define the moment he knew that he wanted her.
Irina felt his lips on hers. She couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or not. She had thought he would be forever lost to her after Panama. She kissed this man she had been married too for over thirty years and she kissed him with a fervor she had never known before, except for the night Sydney was conceived. She needed him now more than at anytime they had been man and wife. She wanted release from the agony in her chest and in her mind.
“Jack, please,” she whispered, “take off my clothes.”
He looked into her eyes and saw only desire in them. He took back the handkerchief and gently wiped away the few remaining tears. Then, gently, he took off her jacket and unbuttoned the blouse. He kissed her on the neck just beneath her jaw. He pulled off the blouse and dropped it on the floor with the jacket. Turning her around, he kissed the nape of her neck as he unsnapped the bra. Dropping it at his feet, he reached around her waist and unzipped the skirt. It dropped of its own accord from her still slim hips. He put his hands on her waist, hooking his thumbs at the waistband of her slip. He kissed her on her back, slowly drawing down the slip until it too dropped on top of the other clothing.
Now she was clothed only in her briefs and panty hose. Christ, he thought, she’s as beautiful as ever. He turned her around, staring into eyes that he had loved and often hated. There was no deceit, no hint of betrayal, only desire. He took her in his arms again and kissed her with emotion born from his own agony at losing the only thing that made any sense of their marriage—the job, the mission—Sydney. He could feel her heart beating. He could feel her breasts as though they were next to his skin. He kissed each nipple while putting both hands at the top of the panty hose. He kissed her down the center of her body, pulling the hose down. He stopped and finished removing them.
Irina was breathing heavy. Her body was afire as every nerve screamed in raw pleasure with his every touch. “Hurry, sweetheart.” She had never wanted him as much as she did now. Jack was her only connection left and she did not intend to lose him again, ever. She felt the briefs being drawn down her legs. She stood naked before him.
Jack took his jacket off, his eyes never leaving hers. She reached up and undid his tie, then the buttons of his shirt. He took it off, as she undid the buckle of his belt and unzipped his pants. They fell to the floor. He’d already kicked off his shoes. As he took off his undershirt, boxers and socks, she slid between the sheets and he followed.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I’ve always loved you.” He kissed her, his hands scanning her body with delicate touches that were driving her wild.
Their lovemaking was intense, wild and immensely satisfying. They finally went to sleep in each other’s arms. Jack awakened to find Irina’s head lying on his right shoulder with her left arm across his chest. He felt a déjà vu come over him. How many times had he found her this way in the morning after they had sex? Even in Panama, he’d awakened to find her there.
“Irina,” he said quietly, “wake up! I’ve got a plane to catch at noon.”
She was awake instantly. She rolled out of bed. “Can I use the shower first?”
He nodded and getting out of bed, began sorting their clothes, which were still on the floor. Good thing I brought an extra shirt, he thought. He went to the phone and ordered a breakfast for two, including tea and coffee. He remembered Irina enjoyed tea more than coffee.
A half hour later, both were dressed and eating breakfast, which had been spread on the writing desk. When they finished, Jack looked at her. “I want you to know I think Sydney would approve.” He kissed her.
She took his hand in both of hers. “Can we get together again?”
“If you learn anything, let me know. I’ll come to you. It would be too dangerous for you to fly to the States.”
She sighed, “Of course. She stood. Thank you.”
“For what?” He asked surprised.
“Last night.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “I’ll be in touch.” She turned and left the room.
They did see each other again, three times. Jack met her in Warsaw, London and Paris. Their London meeting had almost ended in disaster. Irina was spotted by an MI-5 agent while she was waiting for Jack at a hotel. He had arrested her on the spot, not even calling for backup. He handcuffed her and took her down a stairway leading to the underground garage where his car was parked. Irina was frantic. He would haul her off to the MI-5 offices and there was no telling where she would end up.
The agent removed the left cuff, preparing to handcuff her to the door handle of his car. Irina took the opportunity to use her elbow to slam a blow to his midsection. He dropped the right wrist trying to catch his breath. She grabbed the right arm and slammed it behind his back. She was going to ram him into the body of the car. However, before she could do that, the agent kicked back with his left leg, catching her in the mid shin. Irina gasped, dropping to the cement floor, her left leg on fire with pain. He turned and shoved her to the ground, his knee in her back.
“You are not going anywhere, Derevko!” He snapped the cuffs on her wrists. He turned her and threw a hard right hook to her jaw, knocking her out. He unlocked his car and opened the passenger side door. He bent down to pick her up, when he heard the distinct click of a hammer being pulled back on a revolver.
“Sorry, old chap!” Jack muttered quietly and he pushed the muzzle of the gun into the back of the other man’s neck. “Keys!” They were dropped into his hand and Jack hit the agent on the back of the head. He fell forward, unconscious. “Sorry, old chap! This is my woman.”
Five minutes later, Jack was driving himself and Irina into the heart of London. He found a hotel and going inside, registered Mr. and Mrs. Michael Vaughn. He laughed silently. He told the clerk that his wife had fallen asleep and he’d carry her up to their room if the bellboy would help with the bags.
“Is she all right?”
“Of course. We’ve had a tiring day.” Jack smiled his warmest smile.
Irina awoke with a splitting headache. She didn’t want to sit up just yet. She turned her head to the right and saw that Jack was next to her. He was snoring softly. Staggering out of bed, she went into the bathroom and removed her clothes that were soiled by the cement floor. How the hell did Jack know where she was and with whom? My God, her head hurt. She saw his kit on the sink. She opened it and found the Tylenol he kept. Taking two capsules and a glass of water, she walked back to the bed. She took the capsules with all of the water, lay back down, and was comforted by the snores of her husband.
“Irina” a voice spoke softly in her ear. “Irina, sweetheart, wake up!”
Her eyes flew open. Jack was leaning over her. “Yes, Jack!”
“It’s early morning. I want to leave here before the day crew comes to work. I’ve taken the MI-5 agent’s car and deposited it in a garage half way across London. Are you all right?” Looking at her face, he could see a purple bruise beginning to form on her jaw.
She sat up. Her head didn’t spin. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the bathroom. I sponged off what I could and they are wearable.”
She stood up facing him. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, turned and went into the bathroom to shower and dress.
An hour later, they had finished discussing the contacts Irina had made regarding Sydney. “I have nothing concrete, but there is a rumor of a new organization that has started called The Covenant.”
“Who’s behind it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I don’t even know if they had anything to do with Sydney’s murder and if they did, why? I wanted you to know about it and,” she paused, “I wanted to see you again.”
“Irina, we need to be careful. You know that.”
She nodded, chagrined at his admonition. “Yes. I’ll be more careful. This time was an aberration. I don’t think it will happen again. It was a fluke that he was there.”
Jack kissed her. “We’ve got to go. Stay in contact.”
It was the meeting in Paris that cost him his freedom for a year. A CIA agent had seen them at Irina’s hotel. It had been a chance glimpse, he knew, but it had been enough. He had spent the night with her and then left the next morning for his meeting with a contact he had in Helsinki. Two weeks later, he learned Sydney was alive. He had not told Irina yet. He had to be sure no one else knew what he had seen. The tape was destroyed and the only copy was on his personal hard drive, which he mailed to a secret mailbox. It was as safe as it would be at home or in a bank vault. The CIA and National Security Council agents picked him up at LAX when he arrived He wasn’t surprised. It had been in the back of his mind that his meetings with Irina might be compromised at any moment. They took him to the Op Center. Robert Lindsey, a NSC director, was waiting.
“What did you think you were doing consorting with a known terrorist? Derevko is Number Six on the most wanted list.”
“She is Sydney’s mother.” Jack said quietly. “She’s been helping me find Sydney’s murderer.”
“I don’t care a damn about your dead daughter. You should have brought her in!”
“I gave her my word.” Jack stiffened at the cavalier way Lindsey talked about Sydney.
Lindsey’s face reddened. “After the history you two had together, you trusted her?”
“Yes, as far as Sydney was concerned, she was the only one I could trust to keep searching.”
“And did you give her secrets?”
“Don’t be a fool!” Jack snapped. His eyes were cold, his voice bitter as he listened to Lindsey rant.
“A fool, am I? Well, we’ll see about that! You’re going to prison and into solitary confinement. No one, not one visitor will be allowed.”
Jack was stunned. Solitary again? He’d gone through that once when Irina had fled in 1982. Now he had no way of contacting her. He would have no way of being there, if Sydney showed up. They wouldn’t even give him a phone call. They were jailing him under the Patriot Act, Lindsey told Kendall. Jack Bristow was a rogue agent who consorted with a known terrorist and assassin. It was time to teach him a lesson.
Irina didn’t hear from him and wondered if something had happened to her husband.
FINI
