CROSS-OVER: A Season Opener

lenafan

Cadet
:cool: :Ph34r: A lot has been mentioned on the show and off the show about why Irina Derevko is pursuing Rambaldi artifacts and manuscripts. The previous Season Finale story I posted, Double-cross, gave me the opportunity to get her out of prison. If we allow her to stay in prison, which she deserves given the charges she faces, we can’t continue a spy family adventure. So far, Irina has been an enigma to everyone. So I thought I would take the initiative and give my own spin on her particular quest.
Sometimes I get ideas from just a title that pops into my head. Then I’m off and running, pursuing the idea to its climax. Then too, sometimes the climax gives birth to another story.
If you haven’t read Double-cross, I suggest you do so before reading this story. Be sure to track this, as I am posting it as it is edited.
By the way, there are TWO ENDINGS. Pick the one you like and let me know.
The characters belong to JJ Abrams. :rolleyes:
So on with the story featuring most of them. :woot:


<span style='font-size:14pt;line-height:100%'>CROSS-OVER</span>

CROSS-OVER: Genetics: An interchange of parts between two homologous chromosomes in meiosis: known also as recombination (an offspring exhibiting characteristics caused by such a rearrangement). Britannica World Language Dictionary.

Part I
Tuscany
To the west, the explosion ripped through the sky. The sun was in their eyes, blinding them to the details. Jack and Vaughn were stunned.
“Sydney! Oh my God,” screamed Vaughn.
Jack stared. “Irina,” he thought and his heart gave a lurch. “Sydney!” he said. “Hurry, get in the car.” He jumped in with Vaughn and the two agents and sped off to the west.
At the other end of the field, Sloane laughed gleefully. Mother and daughter killed in one blow. He didn’t care now. At least, he wouldn’t have to worry about Irina turning on him. He climbed into his car and his driver took off to the east.

Minutes before
The rotor blades kicked up dirt and dust, swirling around the helicopters and hiding what was happening. Sark helped Sydney into the closest helo, then Irina. Irina immediately straddled the prone, frightened Sydney and began unbuttoning the jacket. “Sydney, the keys!” Sydney indicated her back left pocket.
The helo lifted off. There was the sound of gunfire as both helicopters scattered shots to keep the two parties on the ground from responding.
Irina pulled the keys out and unlocked the handcuffs.
She leaned down again and shouted in Sydney’s ear. “Raise your arms over your head.”
Sydney did so as Sark grabbed her jacket collar and yanked it off. Irina sat on her daughter’s legs keeping her from moving. The coat came off easily and he tossed it over his head out the open doorway. Within three seconds there was an enormous explosion. Irina looked up at Sark, who was a little shaken by how close they had come to dying.
Then a screeching! Sark whirled in the doorway and stared out at the other helicopter in shock. The pilot was slumped over in his seat. It looked like he had been shot. The rear rotor blade were smoking and not spinning. It must have been damaged by the explosion. The helicopter was plunging sideways and down into a shallow valley where it hit sending a huge fireball and black smoke spiraling up into the air.
He leaned over to the pilot and told him to head north, then looked at Irina, shaking his head. .
Irina looked down at her daughter, who was sobbing. “Get up, Sydney!”
She rolled off her legs and gave her a hand. Sydney took it, still crying, more from relief than anything. Irina guided her to the bench seat and strapped her in safely.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God,” sobbed Sydney, leaning against her mother.
“Yes.” Irina held her daughter. She looked at Sark and motioned him to sit next to her. “Thank you.” He indicated the handcuffs she was still wearing. She turned and told him which pocket Jack had placed the keys in earlier. Sark unlocked and removed them.
He smiled grimly. He handed her a set of headphones with a microphone, which she put on her head. It was easier to communicate over the noise. “We do have some exciting moments, don’t we?”
“Where are we headed?” she asked.
“Venice and the Marco Polo International Airport. Should take us about an hour. We’ll fly under radar.”
She nodded. “Our passports are on the plane?”
“Yes. Anatoliy picked them up from Grigor before leaving.” He looked at Sydney who seemed to be recovering. “She needs to know.”
Irina nodded. “When we get to Venice.”

Tuscany
Jack and Vaughn drove to the crest of a hill. Jack jumped out with the binoculars and swept the area. Then he spotted the billowing smoke beyond the next hill nearby. Indicating the direction, he jumped back inside. Vaughn was still in a state of shock. Jack took a cell phone from the driver and punched in some numbers. He got Rick, the op center’s top computer operator on the phone and asked for Kendall. Then he told the Assistant Director what had happened, about Sloane’s double-cross.
“We’re on our way to the accident site.”
“You mean your ex-wife is on the loose again?” Kendall was incredulous.
“I don’t know. We need to check out which helicopter crashed.”
“Sloane booby-trapped her, Sydney I mean?” Kendall said.
“Looks like it.” He was sweating. “I’ll call you as soon as we check out the site.”
The car swept over the hill and came to a stop. Jack looked around. Vaughn stood beside him. There was a lot of fire still enfolding the broken helo. It was obvious no one had escaped. Jack looked at the burning machine carefully. He could see only one body, the pilot’s, still strapped in his seat. The other one who had been riding shotgun was no where to be seen, but then it was possible he had time to leap out before it exploded. He sent one of the agents to see if he could find the other man.
Then Vaughn started running down the hill. He had spotted something. He bent down, picked up a stick and used it to poke at something. He lifted it with the stick and came back up to where Jack was standing.
“Sir, it’s a piece of cloth!”
Jack looked at it carefully. It was the color of the jacket Sydney had been wearing. He felt a chill. Was this all that was left of his beautiful daughter? He looked at the cloth more carefully. He could see no blood on either side of it. His heart gave a leap, maybe she wasn’t in the jacket when it exploded! If so, that meant Irina had somehow saved their daughter. He closed his eyes thankfully.
“Sir!” The other CIA agent, who had gotten out of the car and was standing nearby, pointed off to the north. He had a pair of binoculars in his hand. “I just spotted a tiny moving speck. It could be a helicopter. You want me to call Langley for a satellite chase?”
“Yes, and give them my authorization code.” He told the agent what it was. “And tell Langley to add any small jet planes leaving any airport north of Florence.” Looking through his binoculars, he wasn’t able to see the helicopter. It had disappeared.

Venice
Twilight had begun by the time they landed. The light was fading slowly in the west to a mellow buttercup color. Irina and Sydney stood near the customs shed for small plane arrival and departures. Sark had gone to get the satchel Anatoliy was bringing. Irina had her arm around Sydney’s waist. It was as if she didn’t want to let her go.
“Where are we going?” asked Sydney.
“Moscow.”
Sydney looked into her mother’s eyes and saw she was not going to change her mind. She said nothing.
Sark appeared carrying a small attaché case, which he handed to Irina. She opened it and took out three passports, giving one to Sark and one to Sydney. The other she put into her pocket. “Let’s go.” A half-hour later the fast little jet left Venice’s International Airport with the three. The passports were back in the attaché case.
Sydney took a deep breath before speaking to Irina. She had a hell of a lot of questions. “Mom, why can’t you let me go home?”
“Because I think I can keep you safer with me.” Irina leaned forward taking Sydney’s hand in hers. “There is something wrong at the CIA. Sloane has an agent inside, a mole. You are not safe until that one is eliminated.” She glanced at Sark. “And there are other considerations…”
Sark now stood behind Irina looking at Sydney with a smile on his face. He winked at her.
“Are you hitting on me?” Sydney said to him, grinning. After what he did on the helo for her, she had forgiven him for everything.
“Never again.” He said.
“Sydney,” Irina said quietly, “you need to know something now, before anything else is said.”
She look at both of them, answering, “He’s my brother, isn’t he?”
Irina nodded.
“I told you she was like a mother to me,” said Sark, grinning.
“When?” She asked Irina.
“I was a month or so pregnant when I ran in 1982. I was eight months along when the KGB released me. I was sent to Central City to teach. He was born there.”
Even though she had guessed, the verification by Irina still shocked Sydney. Implications were immense and questions, innumerable. ”But he has a British accent?”
Irina reached up and took Sark’s right hand in hers. “Your grandfather and I decided it would be best for him, in view of the KGB’s interest. Besides I knew he would get an excellent education if he were raised there. And it was close enough for me to see him as often as I could, which” she looked up him, “sometimes wasn’t enough.”
“And Dad doesn’t know, does he?” Sydney said.
Irina smiled sadly, “No, he doesn’t, at least not yet. But I think he will soon.”

**More tomorrow
 
Second Part of Cross-over
Part 2
Los Angeles
Marshall sat at his desk, a little stupefied. It was hard to not be. He blinked a couple of times. He hit a few keys on the computer’s keyboard. The screen danced, moved and then fell back into its original screen before he had tried to move it.
He looked around. Jack was in his office. He stood up and walked in, knocking first. Jack looked up and gave him a little smile. He too was on the computer. Satellite pictures had been forwarded and he was studying them, along with some faxed material from Langley.
“Yes, Marshall?”
“Sir, I left a disk in an envelope on your desk a couple of days ago. Did you see it?” Somehow he knew he hadn’t because if he had…
“No, sorry, I’ve been busy with other things.”
“Can I have it back?”
Jack nodded toward his in-basket. “Take it.”
“Sir, I seriously believe you should look at it, after I return it.”
He left the room with the disk. He was back shortly and this time, he held the disk out to Jack. “I have not shown this to anyone, only you. I’ve bookmarked three names. If you need to talk, I’m at my desk.”
Jack was now intrigued, looking at Marshall questioningly. The op tech left the room. Jack inserted the disk and opened it. He hit the icon and the name jumped out at him. Sydney! Christ, what was this? For some semblance of reason, he scrolled down a few lines slowly taking in the names he saw. Most of them were well-known scientists, artists, politicians, and others of fame. He sat still, his mind working. Three names? He hit the icon to move the screen. Aleksey S. Bristow! He suddenly felt cold. He wanted to swallow, but found himself frozen. He shook his head a little. Just a coincidence, that’s all, he thought. This Bristow was probably someone special he wasn’t familiar with now. He relaxed. Marshall was over-reacting.
Still, there was the third name. He hit the icon. The name jumped out at him, screaming.
Suddenly the screen went black. He looked around, then stood up to look at the other computers in the central office. They were working. His just stopped….
He looked down.
TRUTH TAKES TIME

He tried sending his own message. “Where are you?” Nothing! The screen came back on and the name was gone. He backed the computer up. Aleksey S. Bristow and Sydney A. Bristow were also deleted.
What the hell was going on here? He looked up to see Marshall watching his office. He stood up and waved to him. “Shut the door,”
Yes sir!” He closed the door behind him.
“You are sure no one else has seen them?” Jack looked at him and Marshall nodded. “Because they’ve been deleted.”
“Impossible. I gave you a copy, not the original.” He stood up. “Let me check.” About two minutes went by, then Marshall returned, his face pale. “The names are gone.”
“How can that happen?” Jack stared at him.
Marshall thought a moment, snapped his fingers. “I think I know. Rick told me your ex-wife helped stop the Echelon break-in by The Alliance. She could have given herself an access code and – “ he looked at Jack helplessly.
Jack sat down slowly. He looked at Marshall. “Speak of this to no one, absolutely no one. It’s too dangerous for the both of us. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir!”

Moscow
The small plane landed at Shermeteyvo International Airport around three in the morning. A black Mercedes was waiting outside the customs office. Irina, leading Sydney and Sark, walked inside. She handed her passport to the customs agent behind the desk. He took it from her, stamped it and handed it back. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you.”
Sydney and Sark handed their passports to him. He looked at them both then, stamped them, this time without comment. They left the building. He picked up the phone and made a call.
A half an hour later, the car, with a happy Grigor at the wheel, pulled up in front of an apartment house. At the top of the steps, Irina, instead of using a key, punched a small keypad located on her left. There was an audible click and the door was open.
“That’s different, isn’t it,” said Sydney.
“Yes. Think of your birth date and you will get inside without a key.” She looked at both of them.
Moments later she did the same at her apartment’s door. They entered. Irina looked at them both. “I know you have a million questions, but I’m not going to answer them all now. Let’s get some sleep; I have had enough excitement to last me for awhile.”
“I’ll see you when?” Sark looked at her.
“About eleven I think.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “See you both then,” He said as he left for his apartment on the same floor.
It was nine when Sydney awakened. Her mother was still asleep. She got out of bed slowly, looking for a robe of some kind. She opened a drawer and found one, putting it on she glanced at the framed pictures on the dresser. She blinked and looked again. Her breath caught in her throat. She was afraid to breathe. The pictures were mostly of her! There was one or two of Jack and one of them together. She turned to look back at the sleeping figure of Irina. Tears formed in her eyes as she studied them a little more closely. Where had they come from? Did her mother take them, or someone else? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact Irina had cared about Sydney. Judging from the number of pictures, she cared a lot.
She walked out of the bedroom and out into the small kitchen she remembered from the night before. She found the tea and put water on to boil. She sat at the table wondering about Vaughn, no, he liked to be called Michael. She smiled, thinking of him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Sark.
She jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in?”
“You were too engrossed,” he said. He was dressed in a gorgeous Armani suit and tie. It was obvious he liked to look good. He smiled then, actually laughed. It was a nice laugh.
“What?”
“I was thinking of all the things we said to each other while I was working at, Ummm, SD-6? ‘Get your head in the game…’ I really loved that one.” He glanced at the bedroom door. “Mother’s up.”
Sydney felt a chill. Mom had said she would answer some of their questions. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know a lot of those answers.
Minutes later, Irina came into the room, drying her long hair. “You can use the shower now. I’ve laid out some fresh clothes for you.”
“Your clothes?”
“Yes, I think they should fit.” Irina saw the teapot and looked at Sark. “Fix me some tea while I get dressed.”
A few minutes later, Sydney had showered and dressed. Her long hair was dried and she had fixed it into a French twist. Irina also had dressed and was fixing some toast for them all. She turned to look at Sydney with obvious mother’s pride. She indicated a plate on the table with hot buttered toast and a jar of jam.
She leaned back against the stove. “I have many things to do today. We are going to the office first.” She looked at her daughter. “I know you have questions, but truth takes time,” she laughed at Sydney’s face. “It does. So, one step at a time. Have you a burning question?”
“Yes,” she looked at Irina slyly. “Now about Panama…” she saw Irina blush…”No, I can guess.”
Irina laughed. “Your father will probably never let me forget, that is, if we ever meet again.” She sighed with regret. “He will never forgive me and I don’t deserve it.”
“If two people were ever destined to be, it’s you and Dad.” Sydney’s face turned serious. “I guess the most important question I have is, why? Why is Rambaldi so important to you that…”
Irina looked at Sark. “Are you interested also?”
He nodded, “I’ve often wondered…”
She stood silent for a moment then began. “Milo Rambaldi was a genius before his time. He lived in the same era as Da Vinci, but because of his personality remained unnoticed and unappreciated. His inventive genius far exceeded that of Da Vinci. He also wrote several manuscripts describing those inventions, but no one paid much attention.
“When he died, they were passed on to his family and an acquaintance or two. Eventually these artifacts, inventions, formulas, everything was spread throughout the world.
“One of his formulas ended up in the hands of one of Russia’s premiere scientists in 1950. He supposedly was a distant relative of Rambaldi’s and inherited a small manuscript. It dealt with genetics and genetic alteration,” she sighed, “and the formula for doing so.’
“Genetic alteration?” Sydney looked at Sark, who was staring at his mother, focusing on every word.
The silence was deafening. Irina was staring out across Sydney’s head, lost in her own thoughts and feelings. “Beria was the head of the NKVD at that time. Stalin was still alive. It was decided to use the formula once as an experiment.”
“How?” Sydney was thinking about her science classes and the things she was taught in her technical training at SD-6. It seemed tremendously far-fetched for 1950.
“Inject the mother before the fetus was more than two months along.”
“With what?” Sark asked.
“No one knows. The scientist died of a heart attack with the formula locked in his memory.” She smiled, looked at her Rolex, “Oh, oh, we’ve got to go.” She walked over to the window and looked down. “Grigor’s here.”

Next part probably tomorrow. :cool:
 
OMG :jawdrop: that was really good but I bet you have hear me say that about your work b4. :D I can't wait till the next part.
 
Lucky you, my editor finished the next two parts so I'm posting both today. Enjoy

Part 3
Majorca
Sloane sat at a table with a laptop computer. He was engaged in talking with his assets still in place, including one in Los Angeles no one knew about. He had been trying to find out exactly what had happened in Tuscany when one of the helicopters exploded and crashed. There was no word in any newspaper or television news that anyone had been killed.
In the meantime, he was gathering forces again. He had lost Irina’s cartel and he dare not get in touch with any of her assets for, if she were alive, it would lead her to him. He was sure she was no longer honoring their agreement. He had seen to that when he put the C-4 jacket on Sydney. At least he still had his Rambaldi collection.
The trouble was, Irina knew where it was kept. He had to get it moved in case she hadn’t been killed. He had phoned from his place in Tuscany but couldn’t reach his man at his Paris headquarters. Then he had fled the villa, afraid of CIA repercussion. Jack was now going to be on his tail, so he needed to be where Jack didn’t know he had a home.
He stood up, closing the lid of the laptop. The loss of Sark was also not good. Evidently he was still loyal to Irina. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn Sark had been aboard one of the helicopters. Damn Irina to hell.
The cell phone rang. He opened it. “Yes? … Good! … Yes, get as many men as you can. I have some items I have to move right away. I’ll leave for Paris tonight.” Smiling, he felt on top of the world again.

Moscow
Irina was on the phone in her private office. Sark and Sydney wandered through the huge business office. There were at least twenty people at work.
“What are they doing?”
“This is a big export-import business. We make a lot of money.” He laughed at the look on her face. “What? You don’t believe mother can run a business.”
“She was in CIA hands for six months. How could she?”
“She has excellent people working for her, including me. Up until two months ago – I think it was in Estonia when a certain young woman entered my life – I was in charge!”
A thought occurred to her, “What was on that damn piece of paper you gave Sloane?”
“It was from mother telling Sloane she would help him if he would extract her from the CIA. She also,” Sark felt for the right words, “said she would give him her Rambaldi artifacts if he agreed not to kill you or Jack.”
“You mean she told him we were double agents?” She remembered Irina telling Sydney she had not revealed her double agent status to Sark.
“She didn’t. We knew months ago. Remember Haladki? He worked for Khasinau!”
Sydney shook her head. It was spinning with a hundred questions. She leaned over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Suddenly she felt herself being pushed to the floor.
“Stay down,” Sark said. They had been standing behind a desk in the rear of the office.
“What’s wrong?”
“Stay down and follow me.” Bent over, he moved quickly to a door behind him, opened it and disappeared. Sydney followed. He closed the door and stood looking through a narrow crack.
“What?” she asked in a whisper.
“Police!”
“What are they doing here?”
Sark looked at her, “Picking up Irina for routine questioning.”
Sydney shook her head, “Routine?”
“This business is a front for our crime cartel! Did you think it was just a story the CIA gave you about her? Whenever she returns to Russia, they pick her up! It’s kind of a game with them. It’s harassment, but she goes along with it.
“Let me see!”
He stood back, so she could look. She saw four men, three in uniform and one in plainclothes, escorting Irina out of the office. She had been handcuffed. The employees kept on working. They had seen it too many times before to worry. She always returned.

Fifteen minutes later Irina was taken to a room on the tenth floor of #2 Dzerzhinskiy Square, Federal’naya Sluzhba Besopasmosti (aka FSB) headquarters. There she was put into an empty office. The handcuffs had been removed. A door opened on her right and a tall, gray-haired man entered. He must have been six feet, four, about 74 years old and seemed quite fit.
Irina jumped up and walked to him, giving him a hug. He bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. “My dearest, Irina.” He held her. “You are looking very well and happy.”
“I am, Papa. I have both my children with me.”
His eyes widened. “I heard you had two young people. How does it happen you have Anna?”
She told him about the kidnapping and murderous intent of Sloane that hadn’t worked. She had brought her daughter with her and wasn’t about to let her go back into a dangerous environment in the U. S.
“Aleksey is o. k. too?”
“Fine, Papa. It was he who helped Sydney and me. He was just in time.”
“When can I see her?”
“At the dacha some evening soon,” she smiled, “I’ll call you.”
He looked at her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Have you told them yet?”
“No,” she answered sadly, “not yet.”
He nodded. “The other? What do you have?”
She gave him some papers. “I transferred three hundred million into the bank this morning.”

Part 4
Los Angeles
Jack stood looking at the large map in the conference room. The CIA had launched a worldwide search for Sloane and Irina Derevko. They knew Sydney, if alive, must be with her mother. Sloane, however, was on the loose without Irina. It had been clear to both Jack and Vaughn that Sloane had double-crossed him and wired Sydney with an explosive device. He had watched her in his binoculars and had seen the tears on her face.
Irina’s sudden intervention meant she had guessed the situation. He closed his eyes thankfully. He knew they were alive, but where? Irina never told whole truths. He assumed she had maintained control of her organization with…with Sark’s help, even while in CIA custody. Nothing she did anymore would surprise him. He was surprised however, by the sudden increase in his heart rate, just thinking about the woman who had captured both it and his soul years ago.
He was letting his mind focus on one thing and his eyes on the map. Why were those names among the prominent, famous and well-known? Aleksey S. Bristow! That was the name he almost couldn’t comprehend. Was the S. for Sark? What was the significant connection with Rambaldi?
Now, where were these missing people? He turned and motioned Vaughn over to join him. The younger man had been extremely distraught when Sydney disappeared.
“I have a hunch Arvin’s going to get his artifacts before Irina can find them.” Jack looked at Vaughn. “I’m sending you to Paris. I’ve enlisted our CIA contingent and am having the city swept by all the intel sources we can muster. Once we’ve located Sloane, Irina, Sydney or Sark, I’ll follow. I want you to coordinate the action from there, but—he stared at Vaughn coldly, “if you do not perform your duties as a professional and get caught up in your emotions, I will take you off the case as quickly as I put you on…so don’t mess up!”
“Sir, don’t you want them caught and rescued?” Vaughn was thinking of Sydney.
Jack’s voice was again cold, stern and even menacing. “NO! Right now it might be safer to have her stay under Irina’s care. We’ve some problems here we need to solve before Sydney can come home safely. I want Sloane first, then maybe Irina will let her come back home.”
Vaughn’s heart gave a lurch as he understood what he meant. Someone had an inside track to information here and was possibly passing it on to Sloane…or Irina. “You are right, sir! Can I have Weiss?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, but make sure you have enough men there to assist you.”

Langley, Virginia
Sydney, dressed as a CIA agent, entered their offices in the late afternoon. She went up to the front desk and using her badge, told the receptionist she was here for training in a special procedure. Aleksey stood behind her, with his own badge. Sydney had told him she would love him as a brother if she could call him by his first name. “Sark,” held many unpleasant memories for her. He had smiled and nodded.
Sydney was passed through security, as was Aleksey. The night before they left Moscow, Irina had hacked into Langley’s computer and entered their names into the daily activities schedule. Both headed for a stairway to their right and started up quickly. Each was carrying a sport bag, which had been searched. They went up ten flights before coming to the rooftop exit. Closing the door carefully, they settled down for a long wait.
At two in the morning, they opened their bags. They quickly donned equipment: speaker mini mikes, black coveralls and soft-helmets with night-vision-goggles. Sydney removed a tranc pistol and Aleksey produced a glock. The guns and goggles had been packed into a false bottom with the other mini electronic gear.
“Be careful,” Sydney warned. “Don’t shoot any agents; just keep them off our backs with trancs. They get nasty about losing agents.” Then she remembered something, feeling a sharp chill run thru her. That was a question she would have to ask Irina. She had to know.
“Let’s go,” whispered Aleksey. “We need fifteen minutes before security makes its rounds.”
Sydney turned on her microphone. “Mom?”
“Yes?” Irina’s voice was as tense as Sydney felt. She looked at Aleksey who was listening also.
“They are kept in a safe on the 9th floor.” Irina proceeded to give them directions as the pair went down the stairs, out into the hall after ascertaining all the offices and doors were closed. Sydney followed her brother down the hallway on their left. Both were intent on what their mother was telling them.
They stopped at a door that wasn’t marked. Sydney reached into her pocket and pulled out a spray that she applied to the lock. They waited five seconds and she turned the knob. The door opened silently. Sydney’s eyes widened in surprise. Wow, this was some kind of magic. It actually was oil with pervasive characteristics. It came from the Rambaldi artifacts Irina controlled. They entered the room. There was a large wall safe at the other end. Aleksey held Sydney back as he waved the electronic detector around. Nothing! He was surprised. “No surveillance gear” he said.
“The CIA evidently doesn’t appreciate the value of the Rambaldi items they have.” Irina was contemptuous of the organization, but then, she had to admit, and neither did the SVR.
The pair knelt in front of the safe. Sydney attached the electronic meter next to the dial. Aleksey stood, then, walked to the door listening for any approaching steps. He glanced at his watch. They had six minutes! He glanced back at his sister. He was glad he didn’t have to face her anymore in any kind of fight. She was really strong and fast! He heard the click of the safe opening. He walked back as Sydney stood and looked inside.
“Safe is open.”
“Tell me what you see?” Irina ordered.
Sydney pulled out a manuscript. It had Rambaldi’s symbol stamped on the leather cover. There was a vial of liquid. She remembered where she had gotten that. She looked up at Aleksey as he recognized it also. He grinned, remembering the fight. He was lucky to get away. She turned quickly as though she heard something. Aleksey turned also, walking to the door. Sydney quickly shoved Page 47 in its plastic shield out of sight.
“Sydney!” Irina brought her back. “Tell me what you have?”
She did so. However, it seemed the only thing that really interested her mother was the manuscript. Sydney put everything into her bag and shut the safe. “How much more time?”
“Two minutes…wait!” He whispered, putting out his hand to motion her to put out the flashlight.
They heard voices. Sydney stood, shutting the safe quickly. She twirled the dial. She stood next to Aleksey, listening. There were two men. She looked at the doorknob. It wasn’t locked! He took a step to the other side of the doorway, motioning her to get ready. Sydney took out her tranc pistol.
“What the devil?” They heard one of the men say.
Then the door opened. Aleksey pulled the first man into the room, and to the floor. Sydney fired. The man was out in a second. The second man had his gun drawn, but Sydney fired another tranc and knocked him out. Sydney glanced at them and followed her brother out of the room with her satchel.

Los Angeles
Rick looked at Jack from the open doorway. “Sir, we have a memo from Langley. I think you’ll want to see it.”
Jack took the paper from his chief computer op. He stood up. “Are they sure?”
“Positive.” He looked grim. “Two people gained entrance to the facility and broke into the safe containing the Rambaldi artifacts. Everything was taken except one item.”
Jack didn’t see it within the memo. “What?”
“Page 47.”
The Director of LA Ops Center was staring and thinking, “Sydney!”
“Do they know who the two people were?”
Rick grimaced. “I patched the video feed into your Eyes Only tract.” He left.
Jack punched keys and watched for the feed. “Sydney and Sark! What the devil are they doing together?” His heart ached, because he knew now for sure who Aleksey S. Bristow was. Damn her! Damn her! Now Sydney was on the CIA’s wanted list.
 
Yeah, I liked it too! The relationship between Irina and Sark was kind of different...you didn't get an idea of why he and she interacted. So I put my spin on it first before JJ did. (Probably wrong, but this is my story.)
 
-_- Here's the fifth part. Sorry the editor didn't get to more of it, but, as promised, some more of Cross-over.... :Ph34r:

Part 5
Paris
Sloane had arrived from Italy just a couple of hours ago, driving from Milan into France. Since both countries were part of the European merger, it was no longer necessary to go through customs and passport controls. It had been easy and no one suspected the mild mannered, small man to be one of the most wanted criminals in Europe. From the border it had taken four hours to Paris.
He was angry at himself for letting his emotions get in the way of hard facts. He had terrorized Sydney and Irina had managed to not only save her daughter, but take her with her, something she had always wanted since being forced to leave those twenty odd years ago. Now, Irina would never forgive and probably would work twice as hard to defeat his quest in every way she could. Still there was nothing he could do about it now, except go from here.
The door opened. Carter Judson, a former member of SD-5 and top security chief there, entered. “I’ve managed to get a half-dozen people from SD-5 and have some feelers out for more from SD-1 and 2. Do you want them all or should I interview them first?”
“Interview them. You know what kind of operative I want. I want them hard-nosed, tough and willing to take risks for big rewards. Those who are loyal will make a lot of money.”
“O. K., I’ll interview.”
“I have a simple moving job to do tonight.”
“How many will you need?”
Sloane thought a moment then said, “Four! Big men, some of the items are heavy.”
“Where do you want them?”
“Here.” He indicated the office. “I’m moving my office tonight.” He outlined the things he wanted done. “We’ll need a truck, a small one.”

Just five miles away, Irina stood looking out the window down into the busy street. She knew where Arvin’s warehouse was located and Aleksey had been sent to see what might be happening. She glanced over her shoulder, Sydney was in the kitchen, cooking, and it smelled good. She sighed. She really did want both her children out of all of this business. Once she found what she was looking for, maybe, just maybe, her wish would come true…maybe both would come true.
The cell phone rang. She picked it up. “Hello!”
“Arvin arrived three hours ago and has been in his office ever since. One man just went up to see him. I recognize him.”
“Who?”
“Carter Judson from SD-5. Not a fool and very tough.”
Irina thought a moment, “I think we should move tonight! I want the manuscripts Arvin has.” She closed her eyes, “Are you watching alone?”
“No, Grigor and Sasha are with me.”
“Come home, leave them and tell Grigor to call if and when there is anything to report.”
A half-hour later, Aleksey arrived. Sydney served the dinner she had prepared. The three of them ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finished, Irina put her napkin down and looked at her two children. “I think I should tell you why I want those manuscripts.”
“Yes,” they both said in unison.
“Remember I told you about the scientist who injected the pregnant woman with a formula he found in the Rambaldi manuscript?” They nodded. ‘I also told you he died of a heart attack, but that wasn’t true. I found out later, he simply disappeared one night, leaving no trace and taking the manuscript with him. The NKVD searched diligently at Beria’s orders, but never found him.”
“Where’d he go?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know, but…” she hesitated, looking at them, “as both of you might have guessed, your grandmother was the one injected with the formula when she was a month pregnant with me.”
There was silence. Irina found it somewhat unnerving. “I told you the formula had to do with genetic alteration and the only information I was able to find in the old NKVD files was that it supposedly enhanced certain genetic characteristics in the child to be born.” She got up and started to pace.
“Your grandfather told me about the experiment when I was sixteen.” She turned to look at them. “I know I was young, but…I graduated from high school early and was accepted into Moscow University. I was considered bright and highly intelligent. My I.Q. tested,” she paused, “at 170. You know the average IQ is 100?”
Both Aleksey and Sydney gasped.
Irina looked at them, “Have you been tested and do you know your IQ level?”
“Yes, but Dad wouldn’t tell me,” answered Sydney.
“Aleksey,” asked Irina.
“Yes, but they wouldn’t tell me because it was for the parents’ information only.”
Irina brought her laptop to the table. “I decided to find out, before I told you this today.” She tapped the keys and in three minutes, she was into school records in London where Aleksey was raised. She looked at him, “170!” She made some adjustments, tapped more keys and brought up the files from Sydney’s high school. “170!”
She looked at them and both were stunned. “Now that is truly crazy, isn’t it? That both my children would have identical IQ results.”
“What are the odds,” asked Aleksey.
“Too high to calculate right now.” Irina closed the laptop. “Now I said the scientist disappeared, leaving no trace. It wasn’t until I met Sloane and found out he was searching for the Rambaldi artifacts and manuscripts that I became equally intrigued by it. Why? Because he believes Rambaldi is still alive.”
“Mom,” gasped Sydney, “that’s crazy!”
“I suppose it does sound that way, but that is his belief. It was his hope he could find the formula so that he and Emily could live forever, together.”
“And you, what do you believe?” asked Aleksey.
“I’m not sure that he is alive,” she said staring at nothing, “However, it has been my quest to find the formula that was injected into my mother. And,” she paused looking at the two, “to know what, if anything, is passed on generation after generation.”

There was an article in the LA TImes 4/8/03 on Watson and Frick who were credited with the discovery of DNA. But biology students/teachers know that it was Rosalind Franklin, a brilliant scientist in her own right, that gave them the key clue, which allowed the two men to crack DNA's structure.
 
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