Death of a Spy

lenafan

Cadet
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Speculation is running rife through the Alias sites once it was announced that Lena Olin, whose spectacular performance as Irina Derevko, had signed to do another episode, probably at the end or near the end of the Fourth Season. The word is that she agreed to do it if they killed Irina Derevko. We don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s definitely possible. Still why would anyone whose image and career has been enhanced by the performance want to kill off (pardon the expression) the goose that laid a golden egg? If Alias continues for a fifth season (it could), she would be in line for another guest appearance worth big bucks. They say on the internet she doesn’t like to be away from her family. Seven to ten days would not be a hardship at all. Therefore, we will just have to wait to see what happens.
I wrote two stories earlier, TIME TO SAY GOODBYE and SUMMER OF NO REGRET, which many of you read. They were, of course, a romantic version of what many would like happen. Still in JJ’s Alias world, this would not happen. So based on rumor and truth, I have written another version of Irina’s death. It is a short story without a happy ending.
SUMMARY: At the beginning of the season, Jack reveals he killed Irina Derevko to save Sydney’s life because she had put on contract out on her daughter. He tells Sydney when she asks he doesn’t know why. Then in a recent episode “Echoes” Sydney asks after being told Anna Espinosa was alive, “I thought she was dead.” Then Jack replies, “So are a lot of people.”
RATING: R for sex and violence.

<span style='font-size:14pt;line-height:100%'>DEATH OF A SPY</span>
By Lenafan

MOSCOW – Fourth Day

Jack stood in the street in front of a large apartment complex in Moscow. It was winter and very cold. He wore a heavy warm overcoat and a Russian shapkas, fur hat, on his head as well as gloves. He had flown to Moscow’s international airport four days ago on a diplomatic mission and spent the night at the American Embassy. In the diplomatic pouch was a gun, unregistered and the serial numbers burned off. Now it rested in a holster beneath his right arm.

Irina was here. She owned the building. Democracy at work he thought. According to his contacts, Derevko returned secretly to Moscow. She had not been seen by her family, Katya and Yelena Derevko, who had apartments elsewhere in the city. Jack’s friend at SVR had been surprised when Jack called. He said there had been no reports of Irina Derevko returning to Moscow.

“Yet she could,” said Jack, his voice non-committal.

“Da, but we would hear.”

Jack laughed to himself. The SVR did not know whom they were dealing with when it came to Irina. The woman was amazingly chameleon-like, appearing and disappearing at will. Sydney still talked about her mother’s fall from the building in Mexico, automatic pistol blazing. The bullets knocked out the windows for about fifteen floors. Later the CIA found a steel arrow buried into a wall, a rope hanging from it. She pulled herself up and into the nineteenth floor and disappeared.

He shook his head. The woman had chutzpah and Sydney was just like her. He turned away to walk back to the subway. He did not see the woman at the fifth floor window staring down at him.

***
MOSCOW, First Day

The CIA agent situated in the Embassy as the Cultural Advisor was handed papers Jack brought with him. They were signed by Ben Devlin, Deputy Director of Intelligence, of the CIA. They gave Jack orders to eliminate Irina Derevko.

“Holy s*hit, Jack. You are going to kill her here in Moscow?”

“Yes.” Jack said simply.

“Isn’t she…” Skorsky intimated.

“A fabrication ordered by the KGB. It’s been many years since we lived together.” Jack did not elaborate. It was no one’s business but his and his alone.

“Still…your daughter…isn’t she Derevko’s daughter?” Skorsky was fascinated by the drama.

“In name only…I raised Sydney. Look, do you have a room for me? I need to locate her.”

“I can help you with that and yes, we’ve got a room for you here.”

“Just for tonight...I’m going to go to a hotel tomorrow. I don’t want any repercussions falling on the Embassy.” Jack put the papers back into his inside coat pocket. “And I will do the locating of the target. No one must suspect anyone here knows anything.”

“Very well, I’ll show you to the room we have.”

**

MOSCOW – Second Day

Jack left the Embassy the next morning. He took a taxi to the Arbat Hotel on Protnikov Pereulok. He took a room for one night, picking up newspapers on his way up to the room. It wasn’t fancy, didn’t have a view, but Jack didn’t mind. He had to go through the phone book and the newspapers and make some calls with his cell phone. He wanted no one to connect him to a random killing.

He called Room Service and ordered a bottle of scotch. A bottle of Chivas was a hundred Euros. He paid it. He had work to do and calls to make and the scotch would help. Jack spoke perfect Russian and made the waiter at ease. He handed him a large tip and asked him about apartments for short stays. Did he know one?

“Da,” he answered with a smile. He told Jack there was one who a friend wanted to rent out by the day.

“How about a week?”

The waiter gave him a phone number to call. His friend’s name was Paul Votinsky, Pasha to his friends. Jack tipped him again and locked the door after he left. He sat down at the small desk provided the small room. He opened the cell and punched in the number provided by the waiter.

A half hour later, Jack made a reservation for a week at the studio apartment. He wasn’t sure how long he would be here, but that depended on information he could obtain through his contacts. He knew Irina had returned to Moscow after her stay in London. His mention of the Passenger had ended their computer communication, which started when Sydney supposedly was killed.

Of course, when Nadia appeared reportedly the result of an affair between Irina and Sloane, he understood the reluctance of her wishing to continue their alliance. At least he thought he did.

**

MOSCOW – Third Day

He moved to the studio apartment a day ago. It was close to the Kremlin and St. Basil’s Cathedral as well as the most expensive luxurious hotel in Moscow, Balebug-Kepminsky that was only 200 yards distant from the apartment house. He met Pascha in the rather unpretentious and slightly dirty entrance hall. He wondered just how nice the apartment was, but he was not disappointed. Pascha was not gracious, but Jack sensed he just was careful and prudent. Jack understood the feeling. His host would take time to know, but then he would no doubt be gone before that happened.

The studio had a bedroom, bath, and a kitchen nook. Near the kitchen was table to eat on along with three chairs. There was also a loft with a view and it slept two. Jack would probably not need it. Still Pascha told him where linens and blankets were kept. He explained about the bathroom in which resided a small washing machine. There was no bidet, but instead a western toilet, which had some problems.

“You need to fiddle the bulb gently,” said Pascha. Jack laughed. He had his share of toilet problems during a lifetime of travel. “One thing more, there is a resident rat here. His name is Lunch. He won’t bite, but if you’d rather not share, you can pay to have him put outside the rooms.”

Jack was a trifle startled. “A rat?”

“Yes, I rescued him. He’s friendly now that he has a home.”

Jack laughed. “No problem.”

“Good.” Pascha gave him a much warmer smile than when they first met.

Jack had gone out after unpacking his laptop. The gun rested in a holster under his right arm. He walked toward the main part of the city, catching a cab when he had gone only a half mile. The cab left him at G.U.M. the largest department store in Moscow. He walked to the men’s attire department and in less than a half hour came away with two Western shirts, underwear, a heavy sweater, socks and the Russian fur hat, which he wore out of the store. It was late February and winter held Moscow in its grasp. Fortunately, there were no storms due for a few days. However, there was snow everywhere and he needed a few more clothes than he brought.

Jack took a taxi back to the apartment. Pascha told him about a place nearby where he could eat reasonably, called Shesh-Besh. Trouble was, according to Pascha, although you could have all you could eat you could take only one ‘approach’ to the food table. It tended to make you take as much as you could balance on a plate. Eating all of it was sometimes too much. Pascha rubbed his stomach and Jack nodded.

He ate at the restaurant, but only took what he needed. He had work to do this evening…find where Irina was living.

**

MOSCOW – Fourth Day

Irina Derevko stood at the window of her fifth floor apartment. She owned it as well as the entire building. There was no elevator so she had to walk up. Still it kept her in good condition, especially with a sack or two of groceries. She returned to Moscow six months ago. She had left London quickly after Jack had asked her about The Passenger. She took a sip of the hot tea in the cup thinking.

Glancing out the window toward the city, she could just barely make out St. Basil’s Cathedral in the distance. The Kremlin was to her right and more visible than she would like. She was raised in the shadow of the government buildings. Her father worked at KGB headquarters. She was a former KGB agent and one of only a few ‘illegals’ who had returned to the Rodina…the motherland. She paid the price for doing so. They debriefed her. Then she was sent to Kashmir in handcuffs to be re-educated. She was pregnant with Nadia at the time. There were no pleasant memories of the place.

Irina smiled remembering her last visit with Jack and their daughter, Sydney. A tear formed in her right eye and a tear trickled down her cheek. In spite of being a prisoner of the CIA, she maneuvered the CIA into letting her go along on a mission with her family. It was not without its dangers. First, the rebel group ambushed them. They escaped and made it to the prison.

Gerard Cuvee was there and took her prisoner. She had talked her way out of that and helped Jack and Sydney escape and return with Rambaldi’s everlasting flower. Sydney told her later it was over five hundred years old. Self-sustaining regeneration of cells, Cuvee said when he told her why they were using the nukes, a chance to live forever. She and Sloane had been hunting for the secret so many years.

She glanced away from the Kremlin and looked down on the street. Someone, a man, was standing in front of the building. Irina felt a sudden chill. Irina could not see his face or anything but the top of his shapkas. He turned and walked out of sight. She wondered who he might be; still he could have paused just to look at the apartment house, perhaps even wondering if there was one available.

She was having too many bad thoughts. She had not slept for a week ever since putting out the contract. She was meeting Tomasaki in three days to pay him. She turned her back to the window, walked to the sofa and sat down. She couldn’t rest and tears came readily to her eyes.

Irina didn’t think anyone would understand, unless he was a believer of Rambaldi. Jack would not. Now that Nadia had been found…she gripped her cup so hard it rattled…the prophecy was moving forward. Two parts of the Rambaldi symbol and the object they would fight over had yet to be discovered.

Irina stood, walking to the kitchen. She looked down into the cup, her eyes captivated by the swirl of tealeaves. Some psychics used tealeaves to read fortunes. There was nothing new here for the fortunes of her daughters had been cast hundreds of years ago by a man long dead. Tears returned and ran unchecked down her cheeks. She never felt such agony as she did now. Her heart ached. Her body was cold then hot as though feverish.

She screamed, her body shook, and she threw the cup, saucers and tealeaves against the wall. She turned to the sink and vomited.

**

MOSCOW – That evening

Jack ate at the Shesh-Besh again. He did not enjoy or dislike the food. It was something to do while he decided what his next step was. He entered the apartment an hour later. On the kitchen sink rested the partially consumed bottle of Chivas. He poured himself a drink and sat in the dark apartment. How could he keep Irina from being spooked? She might leave. The hours passed as he ran scenarios through his mind and those were interspersed with thoughts of the years they were married.

“What a mess we’ve made of our lives,” he muttered, “but you, dear Irina, have made yours a hell on Earth.”

**

MOSCOW - Next morning

Irina was awakened by the telephone. She had finally slept for the first time in a week. She drank a half bottle of Absolut Vodka and fell fully clothed onto the bed. The phone must have been ringing for several minutes before she opened one eye. Fortunately, there was no sunlight or else she would have experienced immense pain in that eye. She drank too much these days.

She pulled herself up to the bed table and to the phone. The back of her head felt as though it would explode. She could not fathom who would be calling. “Hello!”

“Irina?”

She gripped the phone hard. Her heart seemed to beat faster. “Where are you?”

“Close by.”

She grew wide-eyed. “How did you find me?”

“Sweetheart, you know I have my ways.”

She closed her eyes and shook a little. “What do you want?”

“To take you out to dinner.”

“What?” Irina was confused. “Why?”

“To thank you for sending Sydney to Mexico City. I’m not sure what Sloane was planning, but I was in no condition to object.” He paused. “Come to dinner. I won’t bite.”

She hesitated, “Where?”

“Matreshka’s. I’ll send a taxi for you at eight tonight.”

“Wait…Jack?” It was too late he had hung up.

Moscow -That Evening

Fifteen minutes after the taxi picked Irina up, it stopped before the colorful Matresha Restaurant. Irina was dressed in a bright red dress over which she was wearing a heavy warm coat. She took off the coat and handed it to the coatroom girl. She glanced at herself in a nearby mirror. Red lipstick matched the dress. She used mascara and eyeliner to highlight her dark eyes. She had washed her hair and it now hung long and thick down her back. There was more than one pair of eyes who watched her follow the Maitre’d across the room to the table where Jack waited.

Seeing her, he stood, his eyes sweeping her from head to foot. She was stunning…as always. Too bad, he added silently, she was so deadly. He allowed the thought to disappear, at least for tonight. She looked a trifle gaunt and thinner than he remembered. He guessed she wasn’t anorexic. It was something else.

“Irina,” he kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I’m glad you could join me.”

“I’m taking a chance.” She sat down. “No one knows I’m in Moscow.”

“Why is that?” He said.

“The government is not happy with me.”

Jack sipped the drink he had in front of him. The waiter appeared and put a glass of iced vodka down in front of Irina. She eyed it. She had barely rid herself of the headache she had from last night’s orgy with the Absolut bottle, before coming here. She picked it up, rolling the shot glass in her hand.

“Drink up,” said Jack grinning. “You don’t want it to get warm.”

“Cheers,” she answered, downing it in a swallow.

“Now then…” Jack held his glass between his left third finger and thumb. He swirled the golden liquid in it. He took a sip and then set it down. “How have you been? I believe I last saw you in…Panama.”

Irina held his gaze, “Yes. I had a wonderful night.”

“In spite of our—er—agendas?” He smiled.

The waiter appeared with another drink for Irina. This time it was vodka over the rocks. She thanked him and waited as Jack ordered for the both of them. He remembered every dish she liked.

Irina’s hair fell forward. She brushed it back of her ear. Jack watched with an unfathomable stare. “What?” She said not liking the way he looked.

“Reminds me of Sydney.” He answered; he dropped his eyes and reached for her right hand. “Dixon always told Sydney it was her thing. He didn’t know you.”

Irina turned a cold in spite of the vodka. She drank the second drink hoping the warmth of the alcohol would make her feel warm again. “Yes, I noticed we both did the same thing.”

“She picked it up watching you when she was little.” He squeezed her hand. “I wonder if you know how much you’re leaving affected her.”

“Jack…I…I—don’t want to talk about it. Please. Dinner without rehashing my past actions.” Irina made up her mind she would leave if he continued.

“Sorry,” he smiled. “I’ve missed you, even if it was only a computer voice.”

She bent her head, staring at his strong hand holding hers. She remembered how many times long ago he had done the same thing with love and desire in his voice. Irina looked at him. “I did too!”

“Irina, I realize now that The Passenger was Nadia, yours and Arvin’s…daughter. Did you think I was going to kill her?”

“I wasn’t sure…” She stared into his eyes. “Did you know then?”

“No, not then.” He did not let go of her hand, but using his thumb, stroked her hand in a caressing movement.

Irina felt her heart give a little lurch. “Jack, what does she look like? I haven’t seen her since she was born.”

He was prepared for the question. He dropped her hand, reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out a print, and handed it to her. “This is Nadia.”

Irina pulled her glasses from her purse and put them on, her hands shaking. Her heart soared with joy. Her second daughter was as beautiful as Sydney was.

“You may keep it,” said Jack. “I brought for you.”

Her face registered such joy that Jack was glad the waiter began serving them their food. Irina could hardly eat as she stared at Nadia’s picture. She propped it against her glass. Jack said nothing. What more could he say unless she asked a specific question. They ate dinner in silence. He kept looking at the woman he was still married to, at least, in the States they were. He’d received no word that Irina received a Russian divorce. Neither one wanted dessert. He ordered two coffees.

“After dinner drink,” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, but I have some Chivas in my apartment.”

“I may take you up on that.”

“I’d like that. Are you staying long?”

“No, I have an errand to do…then I’ll be leaving.” Jack stood. “Shall we?” He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly ten. He turned and left cash for the check the waiter brought minutes ago.

They walked toward the door. Jack put his arm around her waist just to remind those watching whose woman she was. He helped her on with her coat. There was a taxi waiting outside. He had arranged with the waiter to order one when they were almost ready to go. It was freezing outside and he didn’t want to wait. He helped Irina into the taxi and gave the address.

As they rode through Red Square, he stroked her leg and the inside of her thigh. She caught her breath. She wondered if he was proposing what she thought she would never have again. His actions were anything but that of a husband who was taking his wife home.

She opened the door to her apartment. She pulled Jack in, who was feigning oxygen deprivation. “My God, Irina, why up here. No elevator.”

She laughed, “It keeps me in good condition, and I have a good view. Sit down. I’ll pour you a drink.”

He sat down, crossing his legs, and watching her. She reached up in the top shelf of the cupboard over the refrigerator and brought out the Chivas. He knew she didn’t drink scotch. He wondered who did. She then poured herself a vodka on the rocks. She walked back and he knew they were going to have sex. She was swinging her hips as provocatively as she did when they were living together and she wanted him to make love to her.

She stood in front of him with the drinks in her hands. He stared at front of the dress. He leaned forward, his head touching the area where he wanted to be. He took both drinks from her and set them down on the floor, slowly standing so he faced her. Without saying a word, he began kissing her. His hand gripped the back of her head as his lips and mouth demanded she give herself to him. It seemed they were standing there a long time, almost mauling each other with desire.

Jack lifted her and carried her into her bedroom. Fortunately, he thought she had a queen size bed. He wondered fleetingly how much it had cost her. He turned his attention back to his wife.

“You never divorced me, did you?” Irina said softly.

“No. You?”

“No…Jack, take off your clothes.” She began unbuttoning the side placket to her dress. She was watching him as she stepped out of the fallen dress. She wore a bra and just a thong over which was a garter belt. She pulled the bra off over her head, leaving her breasts staring at him as he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on top of his jacket. He pulled the zipper down his slacks letting them drop. She stripped the belt and her hose off, leaving just the red thong.

She moved close enough to feel his erection. The thong was wet. It had been a long time since she had sex. In fact, it was in Panama. Jack seemed to bring out the best in her and he had done it again.

“Jack, I told Sydney,” she kissed him on the neck, “that my love for you was not a contrivance.” She kissed him on the mouth. Her hands were busy below slowly pulling his boxer shorts over his hips. He stopped her, unbuttoning them and letting them drop to the floor. She pulled the thong down, and then stepped out of them. Each one stared at the other as if it would have to last a lifetime.

Irina moved the comforter off, pulled down the sheet, and slid inside. She opened her legs. “Come,” she whispered.

Jack climbed in between her legs. His erection lay hard against her lower abdomen as he kissed her under the jaw. He moved down and covered her breasts with soft wet kisses. He wanted her now, but he also wanted her to wait until he had her at her peak. He moved down to the patch of dark hair between her legs. He kissed her there and on either side of her thighs. His tongue flicked the wet lips of her labia.

“Jack?” Her voice was more of a moan than anything else was.

He moved up and thrust himself inside. His head was swimming with lust and the thought he had power over her. She moaned again. He thrust hard shoving himself with all his strength. His testicles even slipped inside. He did it again and again willing himself not to give into the increasing demand of his body to let go. She moved with him pulling back when he did and thrusting herself to meet his penis when he jammed it in as hard as he could the fourth time.

“Jack” she screamed, bucking as her orgasm had reached its peak and exploded.

He ejaculated and the fluid drenched her. Irina wrapped her long legs around him, locking her ankles. She held him to her like a vise as she heaved. Her nipples swelled and her breasts floated. She gasped. It had been a long time and she was making good use of a man she had a long history with…a history of lovemaking.

As Irina held him, she had flashes of lust and need. Jack was the only man she felt gave her as much as he took. She still had the feeling of need. She wanted more. Did he have it in him to give it to her? She opened her eyes and stared into his.

“My God, what was that,” she panted. It had been the most exhilarating sex she had since…since Panama. They were both older, but still there was the same magic between them.

“I know,” he whispered.

He leaned to the left kissing her on the jaw, moving to her cheek, and then took her mouth, his tongue forging its way around hers, into the cavity of her cheeks, along the gums, and then pulsing back and forth deep. He was promising more. Irina wanted more. He could feel his erection growing again even though she had him locked into her vagina.
He looked into her face. She felt the erection growing also.

Suddenly Jack found himself on his back. Irina unlocked her ankles and rolled him over. Now she was looking down into his face. It was sweaty. She leaned down and kissed him hard, passionately. She leaned back sitting on the erection. He read the desire in her face. Jack was thankful for the visit he paid to his doctor. The blue pill enhanced his ability to stay with this sexual tigress. Irina never disappointed him in bed and she wasn’t doing it now.

She moved slowly up and down his shaft. Her eyes never left his. There was a huge smile on her face. She was breathing heavily. Up she went. Then slowly down until every bit of him was inside her jamming her as far as she took him. Up and slowly down…up and down. She increased the speed a little. He sensed deep inside him he was going to have another ejaculation…another orgasm, although not as spectacular as before, but would be satisfying.

“Do you like this f*uck,” she whispered, riding the shaft harder. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could feel the orgasm building, bubbling over a brook, rushing faster and faster toward the huge waterfall that pounded all sound from her mind. She slid up once more and knew it would be only a matter of…

“Oh God,” she screamed again as the orgasm peaked.

He experienced an immediate rush of fluid spurting out. He had a matching orgasm to her and he reached up with both hands, pulling her down and kissing her as their lower bodies responded to demands of a million nerve endings.

Jack pushed her off and lay face up breathing hard. She lay beside him equally spent. He was aware he was not going to be able to do it again and hoped she was satisfied.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She held his hand in hers. “I have never had sex like I do with you. I wish…” she looked at him.

He did not respond. He had fallen asleep almost at the moment she kissed his hand. Irina closed her eyes after covering their bodies with the heavy comforter.


When she awoke in the morning, Irina found the bed empty next to her. Jack was gone. She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten. She had to get to the bank. Tomasaki wanted cash and she was meeting him early the next morning. Everything came back with a rush. The contract would be made tomorrow. Reality was back and with it, the realization that if Jack knew, he would kill her. She was the mother, but he raised Sydney and he had more emotion invested in her than she did.

To say Irina didn’t love her daughters would be wrong. She did. Yet she was faced with a dilemma she shared with no one. The prophecy said the daughters would do battle and would die. She had to pick one to die in order the other might live.

Throwing a robe over her body, she wanted some tea before showering and going to the bank. In the kitchen, she found the note from Jack saying he would call her. She smiled for a brief moment. Jack wouldn’t forget. He never forgot…anything. As the water boiled, she folded her arms across her body, remembering the sex. He never forgot what pleased her and she, Irina smiled, never forgot about his needs. She poured herself a cup of tea and took it to the bathroom.

It was almost noon before he called. “Irina, I have a meeting with a contact and I’d like your input as the information he’s supposed to have for me. He is not as reliable as I would like, but it has to do with the Covenant. After the meet, you could have dinner with me. I have to leave on the ten o’clock flight to Washington D.C.”

“Yes, where.”

“Meet me at the south entrance to Gorky Park. Take a taxi.”

“What time? It begins to get dark a little after three.”

“Don’t worry. It’s only a short walk to where he’s supposed to meet me.” He voice was soft, but insistent.

“Very well, three.” She hung up humming.

At three, the taxi drove up to the entrance to the park. Jack stepped out of the gloom, helped her out of the taxi, and paid the driver. He took her arm and they started walking toward the park’s entrance. Neither said anything for a few minutes. Irina felt comfortable on Jack’s arm. It reminded her of the days when they lived together as man and wife. He was always a gentleman. She was always amazed by his manners. They were married at a young age yet he was as courtly then as he was now. Irina was sorry she never met his parents.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

“What for?” He answered.

“Last night. It was…was the best we have ever had together.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Sometimes I—I wish…” Irina couldn’t finish. Instead, she sighed, looking at nothing in particular.

“Wish things were different?” He tried to finish her thought.

“Yes!” She started to tear up. She pulled away from him and searched for a handkerchief in her purse.

“Over here,” Jack pulled her to a park bench. Although there was no snow on it, he swept it clear. He sat her down. She was still fishing. He pulled his handkerchief from his inside breast pocket. “Here…take your time.” He sat quietly as she attempted to wipe the tears away before they froze.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled.

“No matter,” he pulled her up to face him. He kissed her gently, holding her close. “I had a wonderful time last night also.” This time he held the back of her head as he kissed her thoroughly. He reached inside his jacket with his left hand.

Irina’s eyes closed as she enjoyed his kiss.

“I have a gift for you,” he said quietly, lifting his head from her face.

“What for…” Then she gasped. She felt the barrel of the gun in her chest. “Jack?”

He held her, kissing her as he pumped two bullets into her heart. He saw her stare at him in surprise, followed by realization, and then, strangely, acceptance. She slumped forward and he caught her. He turned and sat her down on the bench. Blood slowly seeped out of the two small holes in her chest.

Jack looked around. There was no one in the park and the bench he selected when he was here in the morning was somewhat secluded. She wouldn’t be found until the next day and by then she would be frozen. He took her purse and stuffed it into his pocket. He did not want her to be identified right away. He would be suspect, of course, since he did enter the country and was her husband. If he was not here, they could do little about it. The CIA would arrange for an alibi.

He walked quickly back in the direction they had come and hailed a taxi. He now had a small bag and the diplomatic pouch into which he had put the gun. He had put them deep into nearby bushes where no one could see them.

He left the taxi and walked into the airport and to the desk where he would confirm his return ticket to Washington, D.C.

Sydney was safe. Irina Derevko was dead.


EPILOGUE

Jack flew to Washington D.C. arriving in the morning. He drove to Langley and admitted to see Ben Devlin. He handed him the pouch and its contents. Ben would see that the gun was cleaned and placed with the other ‘sanction’ weapons that he oversaw.

“I completed the job,” said Jack. His face was stone and his voice, cold.

“Where is she?”

“In Moscow’s Gorky Park.”

“I’ll make inquiries. Are you going to tell Sydney?”

Jack sagged a little, “Perhaps, but not today or tomorrow.”

Ben looked at his friend, “Did you find out why?”

“I—I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but I believe it had to do with Rambaldi.”

“But you don’t really know…”

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” Jack answered. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Keep me posted.” Ben shook his hand.

Jack turned and left his friend. He caught a flight to Los Angeles and picked up his car that he left in valet parking a little more than a week ago. It took him only forty minutes to get home, in spite of the traffic.

He tossed the keys in their usual place. There was a pile of mail by the door. He would take care of that tomorrow. Now he wanted a drink. He pulled the bottle of Scotch from his place in the cupboard and poured a double shot. He took a swallow, pausing a moment as the fiery liquid went down his throat into an empty stomach.

Taking the glass with him, he walked to the bedroom. He put the glass on the bed table and walked to the dresser. He opened the second drawer where he kept some shirts and neatly folded underwear. Rummaging around in the back of the drawer, he pulled out a picture. He looked at it: he and Irina—no it was Laura then—they were young, mid-twenties and she was pregnant. Sydney. She held her stomach with such love that he had never torn the picture up. He could not. He still could not.

Jack Bristow began to cry.
***
 
I loved it, aithough it was too sad not to cry:( I was wondering why JAck didn't give Irina any chance to explain herself, and well, those are men, they never ask, just do:( Not fair enough that Jack ectually used Irina, and hhhh... killed, sad, but nice:smiley:
 
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