Freeze!

lenafan

Cadet
Author’s Note: This is a what-if story that takes place near the end of Truth Takes Time. I like to do these because it gives the reader an option to what did happen in Alias, Season 2. Besides, it’s fun to write.
Sorry for the delay, but a number of factors interfered with an earlier posting.
SUMMARY: The premise here is that when Sydney shoots her mother, she hits her in the shoulder, not the arm. Irina falls, unable to make it over the edge of the hatch. Meantime Sloane and Emily run for the helicopter, but Emily is killed. Sark and Sloane get away.
DISCLAIMER: The characters in Alias belong to JJ Abrams and ABC-TV except those I create.
RATING: PG-13 for language and violence. You’ll be notified if it escalates into something more.


FREEZE!
By Lenafan


Irina fired, as she ducked, she caught a glimpse of her adversary…it was Sydney! “Oh dear God,” she thought. She didn’t know that Sydney had also seen her and was going through the same emotions. Irina fired again knowing her shots wouldn’t hit Sydney, but might keep her pinned as she ran for the ladder out of the tunnel. Sloane and Emily had already made it to the exit and were running toward the field where the helicopter would land.

She leaped for the ladder. Twenty feet up and she’d be safe.

“Freeze! Or I’ll shoot!”

Irina looked up four or five more rungs to go. She glanced down at Sydney, whose weapon did not waver as she pointed it at her. Would her daughter do it? She heard the helicopter. She might make it if Sydney didn’t fire. She reached for the next rung and stepped up. The shot echoed and the bullet struck her in the left shoulder. Severe pain ripped through her. The bullet tore out of her anterior shoulder after snapping the collarbone.

The disc fell from her hand, landing at Sydney’s feet. Irina gasped as waves of pain tore through her body. In the distance, she thought she heard another shot. She forgot it, as she gripped the ladder with her right hand and fought to overcome the pain, but was losing.

“Unnhh!” Irina moaned and began to lose her grip. Blackness crept into her consciousness. If she fell, she might hurt herself even more. She felt nauseated. She closed her eyes, felt her fingers slide slowly down the ladder. “Ohhh,” she cried, falling the last seven feet, landing at Sydney’s feet, unconscious and bleeding.

“Mom?” Sydney cried, tears in her eyes. Irina’s eyes were closed and a large amount of blood appeared on the front of her shoulder above the breast.

“Sydney,” said a voice from the shaft’s opening above them. “What happened?” It was Vaughn.

“Get a medic. I’ve shot my mother.”

Irina lost consciousness.


Irina heard voices. She seemed to be swimming out of deep water. She wasn’t sure how far she had to go.

“Oh Dad, I—I had to do it.” That was Sydney’s voice.

“Sweetheart, of course you did. She’s going to live.” Jack was with her. “She didn’t obey the order, so she got the bullet. Somehow, I think she might forgive you.”

“You think?”

Irina kept swimming. She saw a light. “Ummm,” she moaned and slowly opened her eyes to see Jack at the foot of the bed, Sydney beside him. She couldn’t move her left arm. It was in a sling plastered to her body. She couldn’t move her right arm. It was handcuffed to the bed. She tried to shift her body a little. Her shoulder ached like sin. “Sooksin,” she managed to murmur.

Jack laughed softly. “Yeah, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“You shot me,” Irina murmured, looking at her daughter, who looked somewhat pained.

“You didn’t ‘freeze’ Mom.” Sydney said quietly.

“I guess I didn’t and I underestimated you.” Irina sighed. She turned her head slightly and looked at Jack, “Now what?”

“I suspect you are going to be returned to prison.” Jack said.

“Put to death, you mean,” Irina said.

He shook his head, “In spite of everything, Irina, you provided good Intel on several occasions. I imagine we can get you off with just a life sentence.”

“Chyort!”

“How do you feel,” asked Jack.

“Pain is not too bad,” she answered. Irina closed her eyes. She’d felt worse pain in her lifetime. As it went, this was a piece of cake. She drifted off to sleep.

Jack looked at Sydney, “We’ll come back tomorrow, sweetheart. She’ll be a little more lucid.”

The next day, Jack stood outside Irina’s door with two US Marshals and Kendall. He was talking about when they would be transporting her back to prison.

“The doctor told me she should be moving around. She can’t be handcuffed to the bed.”

“No Jack, she stays as is.” Kendall said stiffly.

“If she gets bed sores, she’ll stay longer in this facility,” Jack retorted. “Let the Marshals stay inside the room. She won’t be going anywhere for a few days.”

Kendall reevaluated Jack’s statement. “Very well. They stay inside as long as she is not handcuffed. Understood?” He looked at the three men. Jack nodded.

Moments later, he was inside with the key in his hand. The two Marshals stood on either side of the door. Both had served as her guards while she was in CIA’s custody. Jack went to the right side of the bed, reached in, and unlocked the cuff holding Irina still. Grateful, Irina turned on her right side, away from the two men standing guard.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She had pain in her shoulder, but turning onto her right side, felt as though she’d experienced a kiss. She closed her eyes, sighing.

Jack leaned in saying, “The guards stay inside as long as you are not cuffed. That’s the only way Kendall would go for it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again and then she stretched both legs. “Raise my bed a little would you?”

“Here, do it yourself.” He handed her a small box attached to an electric cord. “Punch this button to raise it and this one to lower it.” He let her operate the box.

“Jack…I need to tell you something. Bend down,” she said softly.

“What is it,” he leaned closer, knowing she didn’t want the Marshals to hear.

“Maybe you will believe it and maybe not, but that night in Panama…I loved every minute we were together. I know you think I betrayed you, but…” she saw his eyes take on a wary look. “Jack, bring Sydney tonight and handcuff me. I want to talk to you both alone. Please.” She gripped his hand hard.

“Irina.” Now he saw desperation on her face and in her eyes. He sighed. “All right.”

It was after eight before Jack and Sydney arrived at the hospital. Jack had one of the Marshals handcuff Irina; then he asked them to leave.

Sydney was bending over her mother, talking softly when Jack returned. “Emily is going to be buried again tomorrow.”

There were tears in Irina’s eyes. Irina had been her friend earlier while married to Jack. They had just become reacquainted after twenty years. Of all the people in the world, aside from her own family, Emily was the one person she was truly sorry about; Sloane and Sark could take care of themselves, but Emily had no idea about the devil she married.

“Big funeral?”

“No, we’re doing it quietly since the first was a lie.”

Jack stood by the bed. “Irina, we’re both here. What did you want to tell us?”

Irina looked at Sydney, “Let me raise the bed first.”

Sydney watched Irina as the head raised her up. Irina closed her eyes for a minute as she processed her thoughts, then she looked at Jack.

“You wanted to know my endgame. The one that brought me to CIA?”

“Yes, but then we know you just wanted to be a part of Sloane’s team of terrorists.”

Irina bowed her head slightly. She shook it slowly. “No, Jack, that wasn’t the real reason.” Her eyes pinned his. “I was pregnant when I left in 1981. I gave birth to another girl in Moscow a month after I left Kashmir prison. Her name is Nadia and I haven’t seen her for the past twenty years.”

Jack gaped at her. Sydney was stunned.

Irina plunged ahead. “The KGB took her from me the day after she was born. When she was six, a Friend of Rambaldi follower stole her from a KGB laboratory and hid her. He hid her so well that I have not been able to locate her. I do not know if she is alive or dead.”

“Why didn’t you tell us when you were in CIA custody,” growled Jack angrily. He was shaking.

“Because I didn’t know if she was alive or dead. How could I tell you that when you had to deal with my being there. Now, however, I’m going to prison. I can’t hunt for her any longer. You and Sydney have to find her.”

“Of course we will, Mom,” Sydney was positive.

“What does this have to do with your endgame?” Jack rumbled.

“She was my endgame. The disc I dropped contains the DNA of three million people. Sloane was going to use it for a different purpose. I wanted to check it for the possibility she was on it.”

“Three million is not the population of the world. There are five or six billion people on the planet.” Jack said.

“Yes,” she answered, “but she is on this disc. It comes from an area of the world not well explored…South America, most likely Argentina.”

“How did you narrow it down?”

She told him. “I hacked into every DNA file I could find while I was The Man. Nadia has to be twenty if she is still alive. Her birthday is 15 July 1982. When she was born, her eyes were dark like mine, her hair black like Mama’s and skin like hers too. Other than that I have no other description.”

Jack was trying to deal with the fact he had another daughter and couldn’t answer immediately. Sydney took her mother’s right hand. “We’ll do our best. I’ll get Marshall to run the disc immediately against our DNA.”

“Thank you. Let me know if you find her, please.” Irina glanced at Jack, who was trying to get his emotions in order.

“Would the old KGB files have her picture,” he asked.

“I tried to find them. I could not. Even my father could not. Everything was destroyed by the KGB hierarchy when the USSR fell.” Irina studied the wall in front of her, trying to decide if she should tell Jack and Sydney more. She decided not to do it until they found her. “I do want to tell you one more thing: my sister Yelena may be looking for her and may have found her.”

“Why?” Jack and Sydney said at once.

“I have an aunt too!” Sydney gasped.

“You of two of them,” rumbled Jack. “Ekaterina is the youngest.”

“Dad, you knew this and didn’t tell me?”

He stared at Irina, “When you are betrayed, you want to know by who and all about their family.”

Irina said nothing for a moment, and then added, “Yelena was an archivist with the KGB. She became enamored with the information the KGB was collecting on Rambaldi. I understand when she left the organization, she took some Rambaldi manuscripts with her.

“What do they have to do with Nadia,” asked Jack, frowning.

Suddenly Irina realized she better tell them both everything. “She is The Passenger.”

Sydney gasped.

Jack stared. “Our daughters…both of them, are a part of the cursed Rambaldi legend?” His eyes pinned those of Irina’s.

She met his furious gaze without flinching. “Yes!”

“I don’t believe it,” he snapped.

“Sorry, but it’s true, Jack. That’s why the KGB took her. They had come into possession of a manuscript, which said The Chosen One’s sister would be The Passenger and that the Passenger would have the answer to Rambaldi’s most prized artifact. It did not tell what it was.”

“I thought it was Sloane who had a connection with Rambaldi. Now it seems…” He stared at her. “It’s you,” he said, probing her face and locking onto her eyes.

“It could be you,” she said.

“Wait!” Cried Sydney. Her parents looked at her. “I have a sister and I don’t care about this Rambaldi stuff. I just want to find her.”

“Get Marshall to work on the disc.” Said Irina to Jack and Sydney. “I believe you said he could work miracles. She’s on it and you can go from there.”

Sydney leaned down and planted a kiss on Irina’s cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“We will keep you informed,” said Jack, still stunned by the revelation he had another daughter somewhere in the world.


The next evening, Jack was back with the news it would be another few days or so until the encrypted disc was solved and they could start processing the DNAs collected on it. He wanted to talk to Irina. Because he wanted to talk to her alone, he left the marshals outside.

Irina was sitting up slightly, at least as much as the handcuffed wrist would let her. Her face lighted up as he walked into the room. “Hello Jack,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, pulling up the only chair in the room. He shoved down the side rail on the left side.

“Better.” She looked at him. “Have you found her yet?”

“No. Sydney said to tell you she’s working with Marshall to break the encryption code. As soon as they get it, she’ll come over.”

“She’s a wonderful young woman, Jack. I meant it when I said I was grateful for you raising her.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“Irina,” he pulled the chair closer. “It would have been easier if you had told me a long time ago.”

“What would it accomplish?” She answered. “I didn’t know where she was. There was very little DNA science then and my life was not good. I—I was in prison for six months before they released me. It was not pleasant. I spent all my energy getting as much good food as possible in me, still it was not enough. They performed a caesarean on me. I was sent to Central City the following week.”

“Your father…sisters…couldn’t they help?”

She laughed a deep scornful laugh. “Father had to protect himself. He had worked himself to a Lt. Colonel in the Operations Directorate. He wanted to stay out of Andropov’s ire, but he didn’t have to worry. Andropov died a year or two later. Yelena hated me, so she wouldn’t lift a hand. Besides I had not seen her since I left for America. Katya, well, she was busy making herself a name in the KGB and bedding every young man she could entice.”

“Couldn’t you get word to me?”

“By phone, maybe?” She laughed again. “Jack, I know you may not believe this, but at that particular moment in my life, I didn’t think you would take my call.”

He snorted and ended in a laugh, “I guess you’re right. You broke my heart, you know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You might laugh at this, but my heart broke also. I had to leave you…and Sydney. I believed they would kill you and her if I didn’t. I couldn’t risk it.”

Jack let her words sink in and smiled. “Today, what would you do?”

She hesitated, surprised, and then answered, “Today I might do something different. Maybe I would do a walk-in.”

“Well, that’s something.” He said quietly. He stood as if to go.

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Will you kiss me? I’m going to prison and I doubt they will allow you do get this close to me again. I’d like to take the kiss with me, to hold onto, and remember.”

He looked at her, a little surprised. His heart gave a thump. His pulse raced. He took a step forward, leaned down. She raised her face toward his. He took her chin in his left hand and took her mouth in his. Irina’s heart raced and she barely heard the monitor behind her increase the number of beeps, but she didn’t care. He kissed her and he did it well.

TBC

Translation
Sooksin - Son of a bit*ch
Chyort - Damn
 
Part 2
Prison


Irina was wearing a sling to hold her left arm just under her breast. The doctor told her yesterday the x-rays revealed good healing of the clavicle. The bullet wound was filling in on schedule. Her rehabilitation, on time and without a breakdown, would bring her back to normal.

“Doctor,” she reminded him, “I’m going to prison. I don’t believe they have rehabilitation department there. Can you provide me with exercise I can do?”

Early that morning a physical therapist came to see her. She explained every exercise and what it would do to help heal the shoulder and make her strong again. Irina listened and memorized everything she said. She had no illusions as to the size of the cell she would enter at the prison.

It was eleven when two marshals entered the room carrying a leather belt with handcuffs on it. A nurse accompanied them with a wheelchair. Irina had dressed in the clothes she’d worn in Tuscany. They were clean and pressed. She didn’t have her boots, just some slip on shoes Sydney brought her. She stood up as one of the marshals put the belt around her and cuffed her right wrist to it. He pulled the left arm out of the sling and cuffed her wrist. Irina saw the nurse wince when she herself bit her lip. It hurt, but she managed to say nothing.

“She rides out in the wheel chair,” said the nurse. She put it behind Irina, who sat down.

The nurse with Irina in the wheel chair pushed her toward the elevators. One officer led the way and the other followed. They wore jackets that said US Marshal on the back, causing many heads to stare at the foursome. They entered an elevator and disappeared, leaving a few people to wonder who was in the wheel chair.

The four took the elevator to the garage floor underneath the hospital. A van was parked nearby, a driver inside. The nurse halted by the van. Irina managed to stand as one marshal opened the door. The other marshal helped her up into van and sat her down on a bench. He removed the belt and put her wrists into the familiar handcuffs that hung from the wall. He put the shackles on her ankles. It was to prevent her from moving or falling.
Irina had been through this before and was not upset, other than feeling pain in her left shoulder.

One marshal was leaving, when Sydney appeared in the doorway. “I’m coming with the prisoner.” She showed the marshal the paper she held authorizing it. She had begged Kendall to allow her to go. She had been working non-stop very long hours with Marshall to break the code so they could read the disk.

“Mom,” she said as Irina watched her climb into the back. “I’m sorry I didn’t get over to see you.”

“That’s all right Sydney, I understand. Have you broken the code?” She spoke in Russian.

Sydney responded in the same language. “Almost, but I had to see you.”

“Thank you.” Irina smiled. “Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?”

Sydney glanced at the guard who was watching them both with undisguised interest. “Not exactly, but I heard after you first walked in and were at the JTF that you told some agents.”

Irina laughed, “Yes and it was the only thing they ever got from me.”

“You were determined, weren’t you?”

“Of course, I had an endgame, as your father said.” Irina’s eyes darkened. “I had to get to Sloane.”

“Yes, well you did.” Sydney watched her mother who winced when the van went over a bump in the road. “You’re hurting aren’t you?”

“Didn’t you?” Irina said it casually, reminding Sydney of her own shoulder wound.

Sydney nodded, thinking about the plane ride back to L.A. after meeting her mother for the first time in twenty years and then shot by her. “I’m…”

“Don’t say it, Sydney. You were doing your job and I was an escaped prisoner. When do you think the disk will be read?”

“We’re almost there.”

Out of a corner of her eye, Irina saw the guard talking to the guards riding up front. “I think we’d better speak English.”

“Mom!” Sydney nodded. “I want you to know that in spite of everything, I do love you. It’s just that you are,” she paused, “who you are.”

Irina laughed a deep-throated laugh. “I love you too, very much. Please find your sister.”

“No more talking,” said the guard.

Both women glanced at him grimly. They did not want a repeat of what happened the morning after they all returned from Kashmir. They sat in silence looking at each other, knowing it would be some time before they saw one another again. The search for Nadia would take Sydney out of the country between her regular assignments unless the CIA made finding Nadia a priority.
Finally, the van stopped and moments later, the rear door opened. The guard riding with them, unlocked the cuffs and shackles. Sydney helped Irina up. The left shoulder must be hurting as she gave a small gasp. Irina stood quietly as the marshal handcuffed her again. Sydney and he helped Irina down. The driver stood at the gates a few feet away waiting. He was with two prison guards.

“Sydney, you don’t have to come. I’ve been through this before you know.” Irina said quietly.

“I have some papers to give to the Warden.” Sydney responded. She turned to the marshals. “Please wait. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Irina glanced up at the prison. At least it wasn’t Kashmir. She knew what to expect. She wasn’t going to be isolated on death row. She would be put into another part of the prison, possibly with other criminals.

The gates opened and the marshals took her forward. They removed the handcuffs and handed her papers to the guards. Sydney spoke quietly to them and handed them authorization for her to enter with the prisoner. Neither one of the guards, both of whom were female and African-American, knew who she was. They checked her papers and let her through first.

“She was shot ten days ago,” said Sydney. “Left shoulder.”

They nodded, motioning Irina forward toward the processing rooms. There Irina was photographed, weighed, measured, and given a white gown. They took her to a room and told to remove her clothes, put on the gown, and sit on the table. One of the guards stood inside watching. Irina did it without comment.

The door on the other side of the room opened and a man in white jacket entered. He introduced himself as Dr. Mackey Jones or Doc Mac as the prison population knew him.
Irina nodded, making no comment.


Sydney followed a guard to the warden’s office. She produced her ID and handed him the papers sent by the DOJ to the Los Angeles CIA office. “These are from Asst. Director Kendall.”

“Thanks.” He took them from her and indicated a chair. “They want me to put her in solitary? Why?”

“They don’t want her killed or injured. She may be able to provide us with more information in future cases.”

“Yes, well, the population isn’t fussy about who they ‘take care of’, especially someone who is a convicted Russian spy and assassin.”

Sydney winced. “Yes, well, I guess she was doing her job as I do mine.”

“You are a field agent?” He was interested. It sounded like a glamorous job. He was reading the papers.

“Yes…and it’s dangerous.” Sydney saw he had a surprised look on his face.

“I—you—you are her daughter?”

“Yes and that’s a long story.” Sydney stood. “I don’t like to keep the marshals waiting any longer than necessary. Can you provide her isolation?”

“We’ll do the best we can. I’ll check with the Captain of the guards to see what cells we have available.”

Sydney reached over and shook his hand. “Thank you.”


Dr. Mackey Jones finished the physical. He noted the redness of the wound in her left shoulder and told the guard to notify her supervisor that he was putting the prisoner in the hospital ward for three more days. He thought she’d be able to move into her cell following rest and medication. He’d noted that the woman was sensitive to any movement of the shoulder.

“Otherwise, she is in good shape.”

They led Irina to the ‘department’ store where she was fitted with Federal prison blue: jacket, tees, pants, and slip-on shoes. Three sets of white underwear, bras, and socks were piled on top of those, which the guard carried. Toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, shampoo, two bath towels, hand towels, and added two washcloths. They told her that anything else she needed she would have to ‘buy’ with what she earned as a prisoner. She nodded.

“You’re not a talkative one, are you,” said the guard who identified herself as Mae Dickens.

“I’ve been here before,” answered Irina.

“Wouldn’t be surprised. Most inmates have been here before too!” She led Irina to a woman sitting in a small office.

Irina stood before a woman who looked Spanish, probably Latina. “Irina Derevko! You Russian?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Beside the crimes you were convicted of, what else did you do?”

Irina stared and then said quietly, “I was a teacher.”

“Really,” the supervisor was surprised. “What did you teach?”

“English literature. I was professor at UCLA.”

Both the guard and supervisor were surprised. “I think,” said the supervisor, “we have an important job you can do here. You can teach again.”

“Who and what?”

“The prisoners who want to get their GED credentials. Some of the women never finished high school.” The watch supervisor stared. “We don’t get many bona fide teachers in Federal Prison. We’ll check this out and if it’s true, you’ll be our new GED professor.”

“If you do, I worked under the name of Laura Bristow. I taught at UCLA in the 70’s.”
 
Sorry I'm late. I usually post faster but it's Christmas and my computer has been acting up! Anyway I'm writing a Christmas story to be posted on Christmas about the Bristow's.


Part 3 – The Professor

Three days later, Dr. Jones gave Irina permission to enter regular prison population. He felt her shoulder had healed well-enough. The DOJ wanted her in solitary for her own protection, but the warden had none available. She was put a cell by herself until one opened up. She began a routine rehabilitation of her shoulder and arm. She did not join in the regular exercise period and remained in her cell when other women went to various jobs that earned them a dollar a day. Guards took her to meals and to the shower room.

The other prisoners were curious as to who the ‘bit*ch’ was that was so privileged. She didn’t talk to anyone and all anyone knew was she was a lifer. All documents in the record office pertaining to Prisoner 32251 were locked in the warden’s office safe and not even the most trusted guard or trustee could find out anything except that in the 70’s, she had been a teacher named Laura Bristow.

Irina wondered when they would move her into solitary. However, she didn’t worry about it. Alone in the larger cell, she worked hard everyday to regain her strength and suppleness she’d lost recuperating. Solitary was not something she was looking forward too.

The warden, however, was also torn between that and keeping her out where she could be used to teach two dozen or so women enough to get their GED. The watch supervisor, Maria Luz, told him they had a bona fide Professor in Irina Derevko. They researched it and found she told the truth. He needed someone who at one time was credentialed to teach in California. He immediately put in a request to get her to teach in the prison. It was granted. It was a lifetime appointment.

When Irina heard this, she gave a long, deep throaty chuckle. Lifetime…indeed. However, she was pleased to be doing something she was familiar with and able to interact with her fellow inmates. It would make the time go faster. She began to make a list of the things she would need. This was a challenge she knew she could meet. She did wonder where Jack and Sydney were in locating Nadia.


Two weeks later, two dozen women entered the room that would serve as a classroom. The room measured 18 by 20 feet. Instead of desks, long tables eight feet by three feet wide were set up in the room. There was a desk and a chair at one end and on the wall behind it, a large blackboard was attached. The room was painted an innocuous pale green. Each table contained eight chairs, four to a side. There were no windows and no paintings of any kind. There was a tall cabinet near the desk, which would be used for supplies or anything else needed to teach the class. Always locked, only a guard with a key was able to open it.

Three guards accompanied the group. They would wait outside for the hour-long class to be over then return the students to their cells. There were fifteen African-Americans, 8 Latinas and 2 white women. They were all ages and all sizes. Most of them were eager to begin. There were a couple of exceptions. They had joined the group only to get out working. According to the warden, attending school would earn them the same amount of money per day.

Their teacher entered the room. The group stirred. Some had seen her earlier. She was hard to miss being white, six feet tall with a lean and wiry physique. Her eyes were dark and her hair a chestnut brown. She wore it in a single braid. Her hands were large and long. Her shoulders were wide and hips narrow. There was an aura of violence and danger surrounding her as she stood behind her desk looking at them. If she was a lifer, that meant she was probably a murderer.

She looked at them, smiled, turning to the blackboard behind her, wrote Irina Derevko. She had been tempted to write it in Russian, but then that was idiotic since none would know what the words meant.

“What kinda name is that?” One of the dissidents asked arrogantly.

“It’s mine and you are?” Irina knew she had a troublemaker.

“Talliah Smith.”

Irina smiled and wrote something down on a pad on her desk. She then went around the room asking each woman their name. Most of them were eager in their responses. However, she sensed she had another problem student and her name was Brenda Lewis. She was five ten weighing a hundred pounds more than Irina did. Her tone of voice was insolent.

“Today we are going to start by having you read aloud.” She handed each woman a paperback. They were not new, but purchased cheaply by the prison from school supply warehouses.

“I don’t feel like it,” said Talliah.

“Oh, oh,” someone said softly from the back of the room.

“Don’t?” Irina purred and she was not backing off. She knew there were two women who might not belong.

“Reading’s a bunch of bulls*hit.” Brenda Lewis jibed into the conversation.

“How do you expect to learn anything if you don’t read?” Irina asked pleasantly.

“Fu*k it.” Talliah snarled. “I know as much as I need to know to live.”

“Of course and here you are, in prison.”

“Same as you, bi*tch.”

The room became dead silent. Irina put her pencil down. She walked to Talliah’s seat holding the book they were going to read in her right hand. “Get up, stupid.” She hissed.

“What is your puny assed self think she can do,” asked Brenda from two seats away. She stood up and looked as menacing as anyone bent on mayhem. She didn’t like this Irina Derevko.

“I wasn’t addressing you, Miss Lewis.” She turned to Talliah and said quietly, “Get up, stupid, or can’t you understand English either.” The words were delivered scornfully.

Talliah stood and Irina swung at the same moment, striking the side of her head including her ear with the book she held in her hand. Talliah screamed and fell back, holding her head. Irina didn’t even look at her, but pivoted on her left foot, driving her right foot deep into the stomach of Brenda who had taken a step forward.

She dropped to the floor on her butt, the breath driven out of her. She grabbed her stomach and wide-eyed, trying to breathe. This was almost impossible. When Irina put down her right leg, she pivoted again and swung the book, backhanded, into the other side of Talliah’s head, knocking her senseless.

It took only seconds for the entire action. The rest of the women stared stunned at the quickness that the two women were handled so easily. They looked from Irina to Brenda and Talliah and back again, respect on their faces and in their eyes. Their teacher was no pushover and they knew she was to be obeyed.

Irina leaned against the desk. “Everyone open your books to the first page.”

The room quieted. Several eyes glanced at Talliah who was still holding her head and Brenda who rolled over onto her hands and knees, slowly getting her breath back. Then there was a click and the locked door was thrown open.

“Hey, what goes on in here?” It was one of the guards, Mae Dickens.

“Nothing, Mam’m,” said Irina, straightening. She nodded at Brenda who was picking herself up off the floor. “She slipped out of her chair.”

“What about you,” said Dickens to Talliah who was holding her head, still stunned by the two blows?

“Ah’m alright…just having a bad headache.”

Mae studied everyone who looked back at her. “Well…try not to slip out of your chair again, Lewis.” She glanced at Irina, who hadn’t moved. “Get on with the lesson.”

Irina did not have any more trouble and word spread fast that she was tough and fast. Irina saw that Brenda and Talliah were staying in the class. Brenda seemed to have more respect for her than anyone else did. Talliah was impressed enough to stay and really get her GED.

Exercise time gave all the women opportunities. They could exercise in the yard or do aerobics or yoga, which another inmate taught. Irina opted to do the latter as she still hurt from the gunshot wound. Yoga would help her regain the suppleness she had prior to the shot.

Days passed and Irina was beginning to wonder if Sydney and Jack had found Nadia yet.
Two weeks later, two guards came to her cell to tell her she had visitors. They cuffed and shackled her and then led her slowly to a private visitor’s room. The CIA credentials of Jack and Sydney had guaranteed them that.

The two sat in chairs in front of a plate glass window. The door on the other side of the room opened and Irina Derevko shuffled into the room. The guard put her down in a chair a few feet away and handcuffed her to it. The guard looked at the visitors with interest and then left.

“Hello Jack, Sydney.” She waited.

“You look good, Irina,” said Jack.

“Thanks, I feel better.”

“Mom, we think we might have found Nadia.”

Irina’s faced brightened with hope. “Where?”

“Argentina. It seems she’s an agent for Argentinean Intelligence.” Jack continued.

Irina gaped at them. “What?”

“We put in a request into their agency for Nadia’s location. They notified us yesterday that she was on assignment…in Russia.”

“Where is she now?” Irina asked numbly.

“A Russian prison camp for Chechnyan women.”

Irina stared. “Chyort! Do you know how long she’s been there and…why?”

“We understand she’s in hiding there. SVR were after her, so she got herself put there. SVR have no access or information regarding those prisoners. She evidently got out a message prior to disappearing.” Jack said. “Sydney is leaving tonight to…to find her.”

“Sydney, take care. Russian prisons are not like…like these.”

“I will, Mom, promise.” She smiled.

“Sloane?” Irina looked at Jack. “Has he surfaced?”

“No, not that anyone has heard or seen.” Jack smiled. “He’ll be caught. What…what are you doing these days?”

“Teaching prisoners so they can get GEDs.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged, “It makes the days go faster. It has more to offer than working in the laundry.”

“We’ve got to go,” said Sydney standing. She walked to the glass and put her hand on it.

Irina smiled, stood, and shuffled over to the glass wall, dragging the chair with her. “Lower your hand, sweetheart. These cuffs won’t let me go any higher. She looked at Sydney. “I do love you. Take care of yourself and bring your sister home.”

“I will. I love you too, Mom!” Sydney broke contact.

Irina stared at Jack who didn’t flinch as she smiled. “And you, Jack Bristow, I love you also…very much.”

Slowly, Jack placed his hand on the glass opposite hers. “Be careful, Irina.” He wished he could hold her, but that would not be possible again. She smiled, turned, and shuffled over to the door, dragging the chair with her. Jack turned and pushed the button to let the guards know the visit was over and they could take her back.

Jack stood watching as she disappeared into the depths of the prison.

TBC

TRanslation
Chyort - Damn
 
Part 4
The Parting

Irina was sitting on her bed, notepad against her drawn-up knees. She was figuring out the lessons for the next week. The warden received it in advance. He was the one who censored anything that was not proper. So far, he was pleased with everything she was doing. It was now the fifth week of her teaching school and she found it immensely satisfying. She was known as The Professor to everyone she taught and to the general prison population.

Her thoughts turned for a moment to Jack and Sydney, especially Sydney. She heard nothing about the rescue of her daughter Nadia. Her heart jumped for the moment as she attempted to hide her feelings. All she had was the hope her eldest daughter was successful. Still, it was now two weeks since she Sydney and Jack had spoken and two weeks of anxiously waiting for any news.

She glanced at the small clock on the shelf at the head of her bunk. It was eight o’clock and she had only two hours to get the plan done right before it was time for the class. Her hours of teaching were ten to twelve in the morning and one to two-thirty in the afternoon. Irina re-read the course outline, frowning, trying to keep her mind focused on it. She could not think about Sydney or Nadia or anyone else—it was counter-productive to say the least.

She barely heard footsteps coming up the stairs a few feet away as she scribbled down what the lesson plan would be for Friday. Suddenly the noise stopped and she looked up to see two guards standing at the cell door. One of them signaled to the station below to open it.

“What?” She asked, as they stepped inside. One held chains.

“You have personal visitors.” The guard motioned her to stand up.

Irina’s heart began beating faster. Sydney and Jack…they had returned. She barely paid attention as they shackled her ankles and then put handcuffs on her wrists.

“Come on,” said the first guard.

Irina needed help down the stairs. Some of the prisoners were on the first floor, waiting for the work bell. They watched silently as she moved slowly, a guard on either side of her. She wished she could run, but had to be satisfied with the pace they were going. The prison doors opened and closed as the three moved to the prison’s visitor center. This was a private visit, which was brokered by Jack when Irina was returned to Federal Prison. For some reason and he sometimes wondered about it, he wanted private visits with Irina.

The guards opened the final door and put her into the chair facing the glass window. Again, one wrist handcuffed to it. Irina thought they were all paranoid about her ability to escape. Her only visitors were her family.

“Mom,” Sydney moved to the window. Jack stood behind her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Sydney.” Irina took in two people. There was not a third. Her heart sank. Nadia was still in the Russian prison. “You didn’t get her out,” she stated quietly.

Sydney bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze. “Well, we did, but…”

“She’s not hurt is she?” Irina knew Russian prisons all too well. She knew a Chechnyan probably was no better.

“No! She was stolen or…” Sydney couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“…she went voluntarily,” finished Jack. “She is the Passenger, isn’t she? The conduit to Rambaldi’s consciousness or soul or whatever…”

Irina sucked in her breath and stared. “What happened?” She tried to keep Nadia safe from both the SVR and the CIA; now it seemed that plan had been shot to hell.

“Sydney found her and brought her out. Sloane got to her and…she disappeared with him.”

“That son of a bit*ch,” swore Irina. “Find her and get her back before he does any damage. Why are you here?”

“Sorry, Mom, we wanted you to know. Marshall’s on it. We’re going back to the office now.”

Irina struggled to her feet. “Get her back,” she snapped. “Tell the guards this visit is over!”


Irina had a terrible two weeks. She couldn’t concentrate and had difficulty teaching. She could not help thinking about Nadia and what Sloane was doing to her. She managed to fit in heavy workouts in the afternoons when the class was over. She visualized Sloane as the punching bag she used. One day she hit the bag in a series of punches so hard it dropped.

She sparred in the ring with two or three other women and even though they were using protective gear, she managed to drop them. In the gym, she was indefatigable working out for an hour before dinner and then after dinner. By the time it was lights out, she dropped into her bunk exhausted. She was in top physical shape once more. Perhaps, she mused, being in prison had its small advantages. Still she felt so helpless unable to do anything.

It was another week before she had any word at all. This time Jack came by himself. He looked sad and worried, more so than usual.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Irina was handcuffed to the chair and she felt that he was about to tell her something she did not want to hear.

“Sydney’s been” he swallowed hard, “killed.”

Irina blinked. Her mind was trying to process the information…information she never expected to hear. “She’s what?”

Jack repeated himself…but he also took out his watch, pressed a button, and then added, “We have 30 seconds. Listen carefully, Sydney’s supposedly was burned to death in her apartment. I do not…I repeat…do not believe she is dead. Something else happened to her. I need your help.”

“How?” Irina’s mind had absorbed everything.

“I’m pursuing my contacts for any information. I need yours and some code word to let them know you are behind it.”

“I want out of here.”

“I know, but it’s impossible.”

She knew it too. “I’ll write you a letter…encrypted.”

Jack saw the second hand was at 30 seconds. “Irina, speak to me. I—I’m sorry I had to bring this news to you, but the CIA ran DNA tests and it was Sydney.”

Irina rose and dragged the chair to the window. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Jack, I would like you to hold me, but that’s impossible I know.” She leaned against the window, putting up her one free hand. He immediately put his right hand against hers. They stared at each other. She was sobbing. “Will…will they let me go to her funeral?”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”


The day was one of those perfect days in Southern California. No smog and a light ocean breeze moved eastward over the coast and there was a cloudless bright blue sky above them. A group of men and two women waited on the dock next to a fishing vessel. Jack Bristow glanced at his watch, looking out toward the street. The van should be here by now. As if to punctuate his thoughts, a large van pulled up. Two men got out and moved to the back.

Those on the dock watched as Irina Derevko, Sydney Bristow’s mother, stepped out of a van and down to the dock. No one said anything, but Jack walked to her. He spoke quietly to the guards. They nodded and removed the shackles from her ankles. Handcuffs remained on her wrists. Jack took her arm and led her to the boat. Everyone else followed. Two minutes later, the boat got underway, heading out of the harbor to the ocean.

Irina and Jack stood together forward. The rest of the group gathered aft, including Michael Vaughn, the man who loved Sydney. No one spoke. Each was thinking about Sydney and the box of ashes at the foot of Jack’s feet. They could see Sydney’s parents standing together. Jack had his arm around the women who betrayed him so many years ago and then again more recently.

Alone at his request, Jack stood talking softly to Irina. He went over everything and everyone he had seen among his contacts. It had not been very many since Sydney had not been dead for more than a week.

“I’m going to leave tomorrow for overseas contacts. I have your letter. Is there a quick way to decrypt it?”

“Yes.” She told him the key. “I’ve listed my top men in Russia and Eastern Europe. I have more, but I think you should work with the idea that you will get your answer there.”

“Thanks. I know the body in the box at my feet is not Sydney. However, we both should show ‘proper’ respect for it. The others with us must not suspect we believe she is alive.”

“Yes. When will you return?”

“As soon as I get answers from our contacts. I cannot come back soon.”

“I know. A letter, perhaps?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

Irina sighed. She was not happy she could not physically help. She turned her head slightly and kissed him on the cheek. She did not give a damn what the others thought. “Thank you for arranging for me to be here.”

“It wasn’t hard, sweetheart,” he whispered, not realizing for the moment that he’d called her by the endearment he called her many times while they were man and wife. “Every prisoner is given that privilege when a close family member dies. The warden was glad to do it since you’ve been the model prisoner.”

She laughed silently. “Anyway, thank you.”

Among those on the boat was a minister. John Parkington knew Sydney when she was a little girl. He’d known Laura Bristow who had brought her daughter to church when she was four. He was, therefore, stunned to see her alive, having presided over her memorial a week after her death. He knew the body was never found, but he also knew six-year old Sydney needed comforting. Jack Bristow had contacted him and asked him to preside over the scattering of Sydney’s ashes at sea. John agreed.

The boat stopped. They were now about five miles out into the channel. It was far enough. The breeze was blowing eastward, so the Captain turned the boat around and dropped anchor. Jack asked everyone to come forward.

“I’ve asked the minister of the church Sydney attended as a little girl to say a few words and before I scatter her ashes, anything any of you want to say would be welcomed by Irina and me.”

Jack stepped to one side, keeping Irina by his side. The minister said what he always said when presiding over funerals. He did not know Sydney as an adult as she wasn’t a church going young woman, but she was, as he put it, “one of God’s children.” He said a prayer.

They all spoke. Marshall said Sydney was amazing; Carrie, who didn’t know her long, thought she was sweet. Weiss who said he lost a great friend, Kendall who said she was a wonderful young woman with so much potential, and finally, Vaughn, who said unashamedly that Sydney was loved beyond what he’d ever told her and he apologized for not telling her. There were tears on his face as he spoke.

Jack stepped forward and picked up the box. He opened the container inside, took it in both his hands, and threw it out. Sydney’s ashes flew out into the wind, which took them up and away dropping them into the sea. “Goodbye, Sydney, Daddy will miss you.” He said quietly. He put the box and container down, holding Irina.

“Goodbye, sweetheart, I’ll love you forever.” Irina said softly.

TBC
 
Part 5
Lost and Found

Irina returned to Federal Prison after the funeral and resumed her teaching duties. She was becoming a respected member of the prison population. As a teacher, she garnered more respect than most plus the fact that crossing her was dangerous. The story circulated around the prison that The Professor could whip ass.

She proved it during the time she spent in the gym lifting weights and running the treadmill for a good two hours. She left the classroom about two-thirty and went to the gym to work out. She’d already flattened several younger women, who aspired to a life in the ring when they were free. Irina’s decking them was a wake-up call. She always spoke to them afterward reminding each that a degree from high school would help them get a job.

In the three months after Sydney’s death, Irina received three letters from Jack. Each one contained no information about Sydney’s being alive. She was irritated by the no-news. She agreed with Jack after they spoke together on the return to the dock that Sydney was alive and kidnapped for some terrible reason. Irina, when working out, constantly went over what that reason might be.

A year later, Jack disappeared. He wrote no more letters to Irina. His last known whereabouts was in Washington D.C. His letter then said he was returning to Los Angeles and that he would see her as soon as he could with news. He did not come. Irina, who did not show it, was frantic. What happened to him? She had no way of finding it out. She was stuck without one person to tell her what happened to Jack.

Then she remembered…Marshall Flinkman. He adored Sydney and was a bit frightened of Jack. He thought Irina was tough. Maybe she could write him a letter and ask him to come to the prison to see her…privately. She wrote the letter.


Marshall Flinkman showed up. Irina would have to see him in the regular visitors’ room. No private meeting allowed because he wasn’t family. There were a few women present talking to their visitors. Marshall sat nervously in front of the screen. He picked up the telephone when he saw her. Irina sat down, did the same, and smiled.

“Mr. Flinkman, I’m happy you come to see me.” She flashed him one of her famous warm smiles.

“Glad to do it. You sounded…er…disturbed in your let…letter.”

Irina leaned forward slightly indicating it was for an intimate reason. “Marshall, you might be able to help. Where’s my husband?”

“H…h…husband?” He brightened. “Oh…Jack?” He did not look happy.

“Of course. Where is he? What happened to him?”

“G…g…gosh, Ms. Derevko, he’s in prison…solitary I heard.”

Irina froze. “Why?”

“The NSC found out he was talking to known contacts of the SVR without permission.”
Marshall was clearly speaking without a stutter. “I think it was unfair. Robert Lindsey, the head of NSC, is a mean s…son…of…a…bit*ch.” He stuttered. “He’s running the JTF now. He…he…he said Jack was a traitor working for the SVR and Jack said he…he…he was crazy. I d…d…did…not see it, but Weiss said Jack knocked Lindsey down.”

Irina smiled a little, leaning back in the chair. “Thank you, Marshall. I appreciate your taking time to see me. I want to thank you for the things you did for Sydney…to keep her safe when she was on assignment.”

Marshall blushed, “She was amazing.”

“I know.” Irina stood, indicating the interview was over.


Irina knew there was nothing she could do now, but wait. She was glad Jack was alive. She had that to hold onto. Subsequently she threw herself into her teaching. It did take her mind off Jack’s predicament. Why had he acted so rashly? Hitting Lindsey didn’t help his cause. Sydney, where was she? Did Jack find out anything? His last letter told her he was going to find a Russian diplomat, Aidan Lazeray. She wondered what Jack had in mind.

She buried herself in her work, teaching her classes with zeal. She took nothing from the other prisoners. They would get their GEDs. She also took nothing from the few women who still tried to take her down. She was indefatigable in the gym and her muscle strength and quickness returned to its normal capacity that she had before Sydney shot her.


At breakfast that morning, Brenda Lewis who was now a friend of Irina sat beside her. “Hey, Professor.” No one called Irina by her name anymore.

“Good morning, Brenda.” Irina fixed her tea.

“Listen, I got some news for you.” She took a sip of the coffee. “New prisoner and she’s Russian.”

Irina glanced at her, “Name?”

“Olga Andropova.”

Irina’s right eyebrow rose showing interest. “Is she American?”

“Nope. Word is she’s a spy.”

“Really?” Irina took a bite of the pancake she had on her fork. “How do you know that?” She did not look at Brenda, waiting.

Brenda went on to explain one of the trustee’s in the warden’s office had heard the Captain of the guards talking to the warden about where to put her. “What was interesting was your name came up. They put her in Cellblock C instead of here. They did not want you to mix.”

“Well, I don’t know Olga Andropova, so it doesn’t matter. You have your homework done?” Irina sounded neutral, disinterested, and changed the subject.

“Yes’m, I do.” Brenda grinned.


Later that afternoon, Irina went to the gym for her routine workout session. She changed clothes and entered the gym. She was surprised to see another woman there. Usually all the prisoners were at work, either in the kitchen or in the laundry or the hospital. However, most of the prisoners became seamstresses, taught by a couple of their own who once worked as one before committing the crime that imprisoned them. So seeing someone not at work was a surprise.

Irina nodded at her, heading for the treadmill. She usually ran for five miles before working out with weights. Glancing at the other woman, she noted she was in a Bow flex-type machine working on knee strength exercises. Irina did some stretching on the machine. She tossed a towel around her neck. Then she set speed and time. She should be able to do five miles in forty minutes. She did wish they had a track they could run around, but then that was too much to hope for, especially in a prison.

There was a clock on the wall ahead of her and she was watching it as her legs moved smoothly on the treadmill. She was cognizant however of something odd. She did not hear the weight machine used as it had earlier. Irina did not pause nor did she stop. She glanced sideways at the window to her left. In a fluid unannounced move, she did a forward flip off the machine as the other woman in the gym attacked her.

“Son of a bit*ch,” thought Irina as she caught a glimpse of something flashing in the woman’s hand. She took off, heading for the ring, which was on the other end of the room. She knew she had the speed to get there before the other woman could reach her.

At the ring, she vaulted over the ropes. Inside it, she had room to take down her attacker. Irina backed up into the center and watched as the younger woman jumped over the ropes, knife in her right hand. Irina wondered how the hell she managed to get that! The only knives she knew about were in the kitchen and there was no way it could have left there without security bells ringing.

Irina noticed the woman had not thrown the knife at her. For a moment, she wondered why and then she realized she probably didn’t know how. Mentally Irina thanked her lucky stars and she knew from many life experiences she had. She watched the other woman gage her distance. They had about eight feet separating them. Irina did not move from her position, but fell into a semi-crouched stance feet spread slightly and arms hanging loose. She did not want her attacker to know what she was going to do.

“What do you want,” asked Irina, her eyes never leaving those of the other woman.

“Pizda!” The woman spoke perfect Russian, calling Irina by a terrible name.

“Ah, Olga Andropova, I presume.” Irina didn’t move.

“Da.” She leapt forward in a sudden move, knife flashing.

Irina pivoted as the knife passed by her. She grabbed Olga’s knife arm and pulled her around hard, throwing her into the ropes. Olga staggered and rushed again, but this time threw herself feet first into Irina, who once again pivoted, but this time, slammed her elbow into Olga’s knee, she dropped with a grunt of pain and came up instantly, knife at the ready. Irina moved back a little, circling Olga, and staying in the center of the ring. She took only a moment to wonder where the guards were. There was usually one or two nearby to keep an eye on those in the gym.

Olga circled her, now warned that her target was not an easy one. Irina Derevko might be twenty years older than she was, but she was in excellent physical shape and no stranger to knife fights or fights of any kind. For a brief moment, she wanted to kill the man who sent her to the prison to kill Derevko.

“Do you really want to die,” asked Irina? She was not going to lose this fight. “Who sent you?”

“Sookin sin…” Olga managed to swear. She lunged and as Irina again pivoted, lashing out with her leg, Olga dodged and managed to swipe Irina across her back with the knife.

Irina felt the sting and knew Olga wasn’t going to stop for conversation. “Very well,” She thought as she moved to her left on the balls of her feet as a fighter would. She recognized the move Olga had done and knew where she trained and probably where. She danced around Olga who now had the center of the ring. She could see Olga feeling confident, especially since she drew first blood. Irina grinned at the other woman. This might be fun.

Olga attacked. Irina waited a second and then moved to her left, snapping a punch to her face and dancing away. She waited another second and then moved again inside and snapped another punch to her face, as Olga swiped at her with her knife. Irina danced away, now taking possession of the center of the ring.

“You are so pitiful,” growled Irina in Russian.

“I’m not bleeding, you are,” snapped Olga.

“I guess I’d better finish this off and get some help.” Irina said the words as she swept her leg at Olga’s left knee. She buckled, falling to the ground. Irina kicked her right hand, causing the knife to fall to the floor. Irina wasted not a second, jumping on, and straddling Olga. She swept the knife up in her right hand.

“Watch!” Irina flipped the knife, which imbedded itself in the padded post. “You are this far from being dead by my hand.” She moved to her left, flipping Olga over onto her stomach. She slipped her forearm under the woman’s jaw. Her right knee pressed down on her upper spine. She was helpless and Irina could snap her neck in a split second.

“Wait…don’t…I know something.” Olga felt herself going limp as Irina’s arm pressed against her throat and the carotid artery. “Sydney Bristow…”

Irina froze. “What about her!” She moved swiftly, taking her knee off Olga’s back, and flipped her over, but keeping her forearm tight against the other woman’s throat.

“She’s your daughter, right?” She rasped, relieved to have the knee off her back.

“What about her,” Irina bared her teeth and her eyes had turned black with rage.

“She’s alive.”

”Where?” Irina snarled.

“Moscow. The Covenant has her.”

TBC

Part 5
Lost and Found

Irina returned to Federal Prison after the funeral and resumed her teaching duties. She was becoming a respected member of the prison population. As a teacher, she garnered more respect than most plus the fact that crossing her was dangerous. The story circulated around the prison that The Professor could whip ass.

She proved it during the time she spent in the gym lifting weights and running the treadmill for a good two hours. She left the classroom about two-thirty and went to the gym to work out. She’d already flattened several younger women, who aspired to a life in the ring when they were free. Irina’s decking them was a wake-up call. She always spoke to them afterward reminding each that a degree from high school would help them get a job.

In the three months after Sydney’s death, Irina received three letters from Jack. Each one contained no information about Sydney’s being alive. She was irritated by the no-news. She agreed with Jack after they spoke together on the return to the dock that Sydney was alive and kidnapped for some terrible reason. Irina, when working out, constantly went over what that reason might be.

A year later, Jack disappeared. He wrote no more letters to Irina. His last known whereabouts was in Washington D.C. His letter then said he was returning to Los Angeles and that he would see her as soon as he could with news. He did not come. Irina, who did not show it, was frantic. What happened to him? She had no way of finding it out. She was stuck without one person to tell her what happened to Jack.

Then she remembered…Marshall Flinkman. He adored Sydney and was a bit frightened of Jack. He thought Irina was tough. Maybe she could write him a letter and ask him to come to the prison to see her…privately. She wrote the letter.


Marshall Flinkman showed up. Irina would have to see him in the regular visitors’ room. No private meeting allowed because he wasn’t family. There were a few women present talking to their visitors. Marshall sat nervously in front of the screen. He picked up the telephone when he saw her. Irina sat down, did the same, and smiled.

“Mr. Flinkman, I’m happy you come to see me.” She flashed him one of her famous warm smiles.

“Glad to do it. You sounded…er…disturbed in your let…letter.”

Irina leaned forward slightly indicating it was for an intimate reason. “Marshall, you might be able to help. Where’s my husband?”

“H…h…husband?” He brightened. “Oh…Jack?” He did not look happy.

“Of course. Where is he? What happened to him?”

“G…g…gosh, Ms. Derevko, he’s in prison…solitary I heard.”

Irina froze. “Why?”

“The NSC found out he was talking to known contacts of the SVR without permission.”
Marshall was clearly speaking without a stutter. “I think it was unfair. Robert Lindsey, the head of NSC, is a mean s…son…of…a…bit*ch.” He stuttered. “He’s running the JTF now. He…he…he said Jack was a traitor working for the SVR and Jack said he…he…he was crazy. I d…d…did…not see it, but Weiss said Jack knocked Lindsey down.”

Irina smiled a little, leaning back in the chair. “Thank you, Marshall. I appreciate your taking time to see me. I want to thank you for the things you did for Sydney…to keep her safe when she was on assignment.”

Marshall blushed, “She was amazing.”

“I know.” Irina stood, indicating the interview was over.


Irina knew there was nothing she could do now, but wait. She was glad Jack was alive. She had that to hold onto. Subsequently she threw herself into her teaching. It did take her mind off Jack’s predicament. Why had he acted so rashly? Hitting Lindsey didn’t help his cause. Sydney, where was she? Did Jack find out anything? His last letter told her he was going to find a Russian diplomat, Aidan Lazeray. She wondered what Jack had in mind.

She buried herself in her work, teaching her classes with zeal. She took nothing from the other prisoners. They would get their GEDs. She also took nothing from the few women who still tried to take her down. She was indefatigable in the gym and her muscle strength and quickness returned to its normal capacity that she had before Sydney shot her.


At breakfast that morning, Brenda Lewis who was now a friend of Irina sat beside her. “Hey, Professor.” No one called Irina by her name anymore.

“Good morning, Brenda.” Irina fixed her tea.

“Listen, I got some news for you.” She took a sip of the coffee. “New prisoner and she’s Russian.”

Irina glanced at her, “Name?”

“Olga Andropova.”

Irina’s right eyebrow rose showing interest. “Is she American?”

“Nope. Word is she’s a spy.”

“Really?” Irina took a bite of the pancake she had on her fork. “How do you know that?” She did not look at Brenda, waiting.

Brenda went on to explain one of the trustee’s in the warden’s office had heard the Captain of the guards talking to the warden about where to put her. “What was interesting was your name came up. They put her in Cellblock C instead of here. They did not want you to mix.”

“Well, I don’t know Olga Andropova, so it doesn’t matter. You have your homework done?” Irina sounded neutral, disinterested, and changed the subject.

“Yes’m, I do.” Brenda grinned.


Later that afternoon, Irina went to the gym for her routine workout session. She changed clothes and entered the gym. She was surprised to see another woman there. Usually all the prisoners were at work, either in the kitchen or in the laundry or the hospital. However, most of the prisoners became seamstresses, taught by a couple of their own who once worked as one before committing the crime that imprisoned them. So seeing someone not at work was a surprise.

Irina nodded at her, heading for the treadmill. She usually ran for five miles before working out with weights. Glancing at the other woman, she noted she was in a Bow flex-type machine working on knee strength exercises. Irina did some stretching on the machine. She tossed a towel around her neck. Then she set speed and time. She should be able to do five miles in forty minutes. She did wish they had a track they could run around, but then that was too much to hope for, especially in a prison.

There was a clock on the wall ahead of her and she was watching it as her legs moved smoothly on the treadmill. She was cognizant however of something odd. She did not hear the weight machine used as it had earlier. Irina did not pause nor did she stop. She glanced sideways at the window to her left. In a fluid unannounced move, she did a forward flip off the machine as the other woman in the gym attacked her.

“Son of a bit*ch,” thought Irina as she caught a glimpse of something flashing in the woman’s hand. She took off, heading for the ring, which was on the other end of the room. She knew she had the speed to get there before the other woman could reach her.

At the ring, she vaulted over the ropes. Inside it, she had room to take down her attacker. Irina backed up into the center and watched as the younger woman jumped over the ropes, knife in her right hand. Irina wondered how the hell she managed to get that! The only knives she knew about were in the kitchen and there was no way it could have left there without security bells ringing.

Irina noticed the woman had not thrown the knife at her. For a moment, she wondered why and then she realized she probably didn’t know how. Mentally Irina thanked her lucky stars and she knew from many life experiences she had. She watched the other woman gage her distance. They had about eight feet separating them. Irina did not move from her position, but fell into a semi-crouched stance feet spread slightly and arms hanging loose. She did not want her attacker to know what she was going to do.

“What do you want,” asked Irina, her eyes never leaving those of the other woman.

“Pizda!” The woman spoke perfect Russian, calling Irina by a terrible name.

“Ah, Olga Andropova, I presume.” Irina didn’t move.

“Da.” She leapt forward in a sudden move, knife flashing.

Irina pivoted as the knife passed by her. She grabbed Olga’s knife arm and pulled her around hard, throwing her into the ropes. Olga staggered and rushed again, but this time threw herself feet first into Irina, who once again pivoted, but this time, slammed her elbow into Olga’s knee, she dropped with a grunt of pain and came up instantly, knife at the ready. Irina moved back a little, circling Olga, and staying in the center of the ring. She took only a moment to wonder where the guards were. There was usually one or two nearby to keep an eye on those in the gym.

Olga circled her, now warned that her target was not an easy one. Irina Derevko might be twenty years older than she was, but she was in excellent physical shape and no stranger to knife fights or fights of any kind. For a brief moment, she wanted to kill the man who sent her to the prison to kill Derevko.

“Do you really want to die,” asked Irina? She was not going to lose this fight. “Who sent you?”

“Sookin sin…” Olga managed to swear. She lunged and as Irina again pivoted, lashing out with her leg, Olga dodged and managed to swipe Irina across her back with the knife.

Irina felt the sting and knew Olga wasn’t going to stop for conversation. “Very well,” She thought as she moved to her left on the balls of her feet as a fighter would. She recognized the move Olga had done and knew where she trained and probably where. She danced around Olga who now had the center of the ring. She could see Olga feeling confident, especially since she drew first blood. Irina grinned at the other woman. This might be fun.

Olga attacked. Irina waited a second and then moved to her left, snapping a punch to her face and dancing away. She waited another second and then moved again inside and snapped another punch to her face, as Olga swiped at her with her knife. Irina danced away, now taking possession of the center of the ring.

“You are so pitiful,” growled Irina in Russian.

“I’m not bleeding, you are,” snapped Olga.

“I guess I’d better finish this off and get some help.” Irina said the words as she swept her leg at Olga’s left knee. She buckled, falling to the ground. Irina kicked her right hand, causing the knife to fall to the floor. Irina wasted not a second, jumping on, and straddling Olga. She swept the knife up in her right hand.

“Watch!” Irina flipped the knife, which imbedded itself in the padded post. “You are this far from being dead by my hand.” She moved to her left, flipping Olga over onto her stomach. She slipped her forearm under the woman’s jaw. Her right knee pressed down on her upper spine. She was helpless and Irina could snap her neck in a split second.

“Wait…don’t…I know something.” Olga felt herself going limp as Irina’s arm pressed against her throat and the carotid artery. “Sydney Bristow…”

Irina froze. “What about her!” She moved swiftly, taking her knee off Olga’s back, and flipped her over, but keeping her forearm tight against the other woman’s throat.

“She’s your daughter, right?” She rasped, relieved to have the knee off her back.

“What about her,” Irina bared her teeth and her eyes had turned black with rage.

“She’s alive.”

”Where?” Irina snarled.

“Moscow. The Covenant has her.”

TBC
 
Part 6
Escape

Irina lessened the pressure slightly on Olga’s throat. She found out Sydney was alive while she was in prison. How crazy was that? She leaned forward, putting her mouth to Olga’s ear.

“You know who I am?”

“Irina Derevko.”

“Do you know anything about me personally?” Irina’s voice was soft, guttural.

“You were a KGB agent.” No one told Olga anything about this woman. Her employers were shitheads. They paid her a lot of money to kill Derevko.

“Why did you take the job?”

“Money. My family needed it. I have children.”

Irina grimaced. “Where are your children?”

“Home. St. Petersburg.”

“How long were you sentenced for?”

Olga groaned. Her back hurt. Irina kept her knee in place. “Two to five years. Possession to sell. First offense.”

Irina moved her arm. “So with good behavior, you would be out in a few months.”

“Yes. They paid me a hundred thousand Euros for the job.”

“Did you get the money up front?”

“Half.”

“Don’t count on getting the rest of it.” Irina took her knee away and stood quickly. She turned, walking to the post where the knife was. “Do your time, get out, and go home.” She whirled to face Olga who was standing now. “I’m keeping the knife. How did you get the knife through Security?”

“It was here, waiting for me. I was told to look behind the toilet in my cell. It was taped there.”

So someone else here, a guard possibly, had been paid to deliver the knife. Irina knew now she had to be twice as careful, especially since Olga talked. “Who ordered the hit?”

“The Covenant. They are afraid of you.”

“I’m in prison. I pose no threat.”

“They wanted to be sure, I think.”

Irina laughed. “Now, they have reason to be. Go back to your cellblock. Be careful. Whoever arranged for you to get the knife, won’t hesitate to save their own ass. Understand?” Olga nodded. “Don’t come near me again. Do your time. Are they going to deport you?”

“Yes, when I am free.”

Irina tucked her hair behind her ear. “Go.”

“You’re bleeding.” Olga remembered the knife slash.

“It’s only a scratch. Go and don’t talk to me again or come near me.” Irina’s voice was calm and non-threatening, but Olga knew the tone meant Irina Derevko would make her pay if she did.


Irina made it back to her cell without anyone noticing the blood on her shirt or the cut in the cloth. She stripped and put on the robe she bought with her earnings as a teacher. The slash was waist high and she was able to wash away the blood, which congealed. It was just a scratch, she knew, but still there was blood on her shirt and some on the waistband of her pants. She soaked some of it off; then put the pants and shirt into the laundry bag. She sat on her bunk, drew her legs up, and crossed them. She needed to meditate and to plan.


Aaron Tchaikov sat waiting in the Visitors Room for his client, Irina Derevko. He was not going to miss the meeting. He was aware who Irina Derevko was and did not want to be at the wrong end of her anger. Still, he’d been paid well for years to look after her interests in Southern California. He was the lawyer of record when she went on trial in Los Angeles previously last year. She was returned to the custody of the CIA and then she escaped. Sydney, her daughter, recaptured her after just a few days. Now she was back in Federal Prison and had been so for about a year or more.

The door opened and Irina Derevko was escorted to the chair. She sat down and picked up the communication phone.

“Good to see you, Aaron.”

“I came as soon as I got the message.” He smiled. “Is there trouble?”

“No, but I need a favor.”

“Anything legal I shall be happy to accommodate you.” He laughed. As if she would ask him to do anything underhanded.

“Do you have your notebook?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t write this. Remember it. 555-1877…someone will answer. Just tell them that Irina Derevko wants to place a bet on the 11th horse in the third race at Santa Anita.”

“You gamble on the horses?” Aaron was surprised.

“Occasionally, especially when I hear something.” She grinned. “However, I would suggest you don’t bet on that horse since you would be very mad at me if it lost.”

“I don’t bet.”

“Good.” She leaned back in her chair. “Have you been getting your checks?”

“Yes…and thank you.”

“The accounts?”

“Collecting steadily and posted to your bank account. I’ve transferred every three months to the account in Hong Kong.” He wondered what happened to the money after that.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him warmly. “You are a good attorney. Make sure you place the bet today.”

“Yes…and you, Ms Derevko, are an extraordinary client. Probably the best I’ve ever had.” He put the phone down, saluted her with a wink and left.

Irina smiled and left the room.


Irina held the lesson plans in her hand. She was being escorted to the doctor’s office. At his request, Dr. Mac wanted to recheck her once before closing his file. She waited in the examination room, this time alone. He entered minutes later and asked her to remove just her shirt. When she did, he checked the healed shoulder wound, but also noticed the long thin scab across her lower back.

“What happened?”

“I scratched my back on a piece of wire that came loose in my chair.”

“Hummm!” He was quiet for a moment and then went to the cupboard. He took out a small envelope. “Take this pill. It will quell any lingering infection.”

She nodded. Stuffing the envelope in the pocket of her jacket, she said, “Is that all? I’m due in the warden’s office.”

“Go on.” He started writing in her chart.

Irina left with the guard following her. They walked through two sets of doors and to the administration building. In the outer office, Irina stood waiting. She remembered the pill and asked for some water. She had finished the glass of water when the Warden stepped out of his office.

“Morning, sir,” said Irina. She held out a sheaf of papers.

“Good morning, Ms. Derevko. These are for the month?”

“Yes sir, I finished them and…” Without warning, Irina pitched forward on her face.

“Get Dr. Mac,” yelled the warden to his secretary. He kneeled down and turned her over.

She was unconscious.

Thirty minutes later an ambulance pulled through the gates. Two paramedics disembarked and ran inside with their gear to the warden’s office.

Dr Jones ushered them into the room. “This prisoner has suffered some type of seizure. I think it’s a heart attack. We don’t have the facilities here for more than cursory care. I’ve put an oxygen mask on as you can see.” He rattled off her blood pressure, temperature. “Have her be seen by Dr. Franks at San Pedro Memorial. Two guards will be going with you.”

“Get her on the gurney,” said the black man, indicating to his partner to pick her up by the feet while he took her by the shoulders.

Three minutes later two EMTs and one guard were in the back of the ambulance along with the patient, Irina Derevko. Up front, the second guard rode with the driver. The ambulance siren screamed its warning to traffic as it plowed its way through toward the hospital. Suddenly the siren stopped, the vehicle swerved left. As it did so, the driver shot the guard with him and the black EMT did the same to the guard riding in the back.

The ambulance pulled into the warehouse and the doors shut down. The two men in the back pulled Irina out of the truck. The driver disembarked from the vehicle. They stood for a moment not saying anything, looking down at the CIA’s number six most wanted criminal. They just helped her escape a federal prison. If they were found out, they probably would take her place.

“What now,” said the short man?

“She should be coming out of it very soon,” answered the black man.

As if to confirm his statement, Irina Derevko slowly opened her dark eyes, looking up into the worried face of Marshall Flinkman. “What happened to me…” she murmured surprised.

“We need your help.” The black man stooped beside her. “My name is Marcus Dixon. I was Sydney’s partner while she was at SD-6. You know Marshall. The other man here is Eric Weiss. He’s a good friend of Sydney’s and Michael Vaughn. As I said, we need your help. Marshall told us he saw you a few days ago and that you wanted to know about Jack?”

She nodded.

“Then you already know he is in prison…solitary…for insubordination and possible treason. Two days ago, Marshall got a message that Sydney is alive, believed to be somewhere in Europe. He doesn’t know if Jack sent the message via a contact or someone else. We want you to find your daughter.”

Irina sat up. “How the hell did you manage to get me out?”

“Money can do a lot.”

She nodded. She rolled off the gurney, standing. “I need clothes and a car.”

“I g…got some from my…my sister,” answered Marshall and he pointed to a table where some clothes sat neatly folded. “Sh…sh…she’s much taller than I.”

“Eric has a driver’s license for you and money. What can we do to get you to Europe?”

“Nothing,” she said. “The car?”

“That small Ford Focus over there belonged to Sydney. Marshall’s been using it for the last year or so. You can use it now. Just tell me where you leave it.”

Irina smiled and walked to the table with the clothes. She began stripping off the prison blues she’d been wearing. The three men quickly turned around. Irina almost laughed a loud when she saw them, but then shrugged and continued to strip then put on the other clothes. She picked up keys from the table and the wallet with a driver’s license and money. There was even a passport. She looked inside. Not a bad picture she thought. She pulled on the leather jacket and stuffed a pocket with the wallet and passport. There was also a cell phone. She would use it once and then discard it.

“All right, gentlemen, I’m ready to go. I will send you a message via Marshall. It will take me approximately two days to reach Moscow. Don’t ask me how.”

“Evidently you won’t be using a regular airline,” said Dixon.

“Perhaps! Still the less all of you know, the safer you will be. I will keep you posted.” She walked toward the small blue car.

“You have about three hours to get out of town. As soon as they know you’ve escaped, the FBI and CIA will have all ways out blocked.”

“I know. Thank you. I promise I will find her.” Irina waved as she sat in the driver’s seat of the Focus and turned on the engine.

The three men turned to watch her drive out of the garage. “God,” said Dixon, “I hope we did the right thing.”

Eric smiled, “I’d hate to be the guys who took Sydney. I think Mom is pissed.”

Marshall giggled. “She’ll find her. I know sh…sh…she will.”

“Yeah, well let’s get everything out of here. The guards will be waking up in a couple of hours and we don’t want anything inside or out of the truck to identify us.”

Two hours later, Irina sat beside her pilot in the Lear jet she owned. They were flying to Anchorage. She was on her way home to Moscow.

TBC
👍
 
This story is awesome!!! LOVE IT! LOVE IT! LOVE IT!
Then again i love anything to do with Irina!
Keep up the great work!!
more soon please!!!
*begs*
 
Faela Posted Today, 03:51 AM
This story is awesome!!! LOVE IT! LOVE IT! LOVE IT!
Then again i love anything to do with Irina!
Keep up the great work!!
more soon please!!!
*begs*
I aim to please. Soon. ;)
 
Part 7
Moscow

Irina strode along the parkway. She took a bus from the airport to the hotel. She got out and began walking. She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of the leather jacket and strode purposefully down the street. Irina wanted to think about the problem. The Covenant had Sydney—that was the only fact she knew. Now she had to find the bastards. Where to start was easy…within her organization.

She pulled out a new cell phone and made the call. “Grigor, it’s me.”

Fifteen minutes later the black Mercedes sedan pulled up and she entered. Settling herself in the leather seat, she made another call. “Dimitri, its Irina. Stay where you are. I’ll call back in a hour.” She said nothing more and shut the cell off.

“Is good to see you, Irina ,” said the deep voice of Grigor from the driver’s side.

“I’m glad to be back.”

“Where were you? We not hear from you for long time.”

Irina glanced out the window. “In an American prison.”

“Son of a bi*tch,” said Grigor. “How that happen?”

“Doesn’t matter…I’m here because some of Sydney’s friends decided only I could find her if she was alive.”

“Sydney is hurt?”

“I don’t know, but the circumstances of her disappearance are highly suspect by me, by Jack and now, by her friends.” She explained the fire and the findings. “Jack is in solitary confinement. They think he’s been communicating with SVR agents, which was unauthorized, so he was arrested.”

“He know you here?”

Irina shook her head and said, “No, but I must find Sydney. She’s been missing now for over a year.”

Grigor pulled the car up to the apartment building. Irina quickly entered and went up the stairs. She felt the need of a long shower. There had been little privacy in prison and she wanted the luxury of having one without pairs of eyes watching. She ripped off her clothes and turned on the water…cold first, then hot. She sat down letting the water pour down over her head and body. She reveled in the fact she could have more than ten minutes under the hot water.
Finished, she pulled herself out and toweled herself off. She walked quickly to the desk in the corner of the room. Rummaging in the top drawer, she pulled out a cell phone and pushed a number.

“Dimitri, it’s me.” She listened. “I know. I want to see you as soon as possible…a half-hour? Very well, call me when you get to the café. I’ll be there within ten minutes.” She cut off the conversation. She dialed another number.


Grigor and Irina sat in a car that no one knew was Irina Derevko’s as it was made in Russia and not a very good one. It was serviceable and took her to and from destinations when she had a special need to be invisible to the curious. This was such a time. She had to be sure about Dimitri. She had been away too long not to be careful.

They were two blocks up the street from the café where she was going to meet him. She sent Grigor to the alley a block away with the cell Irina gave him. He had a clear view of the rear entrance. He was to make sure of no surprises.

“So far, is good.” He whispered.

“Good.” Irina’s eyes stayed locked onto the block with the café. At the appointed time, a small thin man walked down the street coming from the direction the car was parked. Irina made contact with Grigor and waited. As Dimitri walked by the car, Irina got out, opened the rear door, and pulled him inside with her. In less than three minutes, Grigor got behind the wheel and drove off. Dimitri was surprised.

“What…what’s wrong?” He cried, nervously.

“I’m being cautious. I do not want anyone but you to know I am in town.” She stared at him. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“N…no, Irina, you pay me too well even when you are away.”

She smiled, knowing that he was one of her inner circle and that he was loyal. She was sure he liked being paid for doing nothing, but now it would change. She needed him and his knowledge to fill her in for the time she was in prison, although she would not tell him about that.

“Who runs Moscow now,” she asked.

“Crime bosses?”

“Names, Dimitri?”

“The Covenant at least that is what everyone is talking about these days. Blackmail, gunrunning, prostitution, and drugs are what they make big money from and they have a big organization with lots of muscle. I bet half the goons in Moscow work for them. They also have some big-time muscle on their payroll. I hear they do assassinations also, for seven figures.”

Irina’s eyes narrowed. Assassinations were something KGB agents were trained to do. She was well aware of some KGB personnel turning to crime when they were let go from SVR when it became Russia’s new intelligence agency. It was a job she also trained to do when she was KGB. She did not want to think about it now, but she did have a hunch.

“Do they train their personnel? I mean, the Covenant trains their men or women to do that type of job. It takes someone smart, fearless, and dedicated to be,” she paused, almost wincing, “an assassin.”

“Yeah, they get specialists.” Dimitri answered.

“Can you find out more?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Irina, but I am not Covenant and there is a code with them. They do not give out names of their ‘assassins’.”

“You are moving tomorrow night.” Irina needed Dimitri to work with Grigor and her if she was going to find Sydney.

“Where?” Dimitri was surprised. “We have good apartment.”

“You are moving to my building. Grigor, tomorrow night he must be gone from the old one and into the new own. Number 15, is it available?”

“Yes, Irina.”

“Now tell me Dimitri, one name of one Covenant bully.”

“I can give you two. Boris Staski and Petr Romovsky.”


Three nights later Dimitri and his wife were happily moved into Apartment 15 in Irina Derevko’s building. He was on the third floor rear. His wife could not believe their luck and although she would miss her friends, she would make new ones. She was well aware of who Dimitri’s boss was and knew not to talk. The money he made was too good.

The next afternoon, from a cell, a call was made to a certain bar in the southern part of Moscow. Dimitri relayed the message to Grigor, who would be his contact from this time forward. Irina wanted no calls traced back to her apartment. Grigor gave her the information.

“Ummm, then it will be tonight. We have to have him disappear. There must be no trace of him anywhere.”

That night about one o’clock, Petr Romovsky left the bar he inhabited and disappeared. A half hour later, in an abandoned warehouse nearby, Petr was tied to a chair. A single light bulb shown dim light down on him as he slowly regained consciousness. The first thing he saw was a pair of booted leather-clad legs, standing in front of him. As he raised his head, however, he saw no more than top of the man’s belt.

“What the fu*ck is going on…let me go…I’ll kill you…” His voice gathered strength.

A gloved hand holding a grenade appeared in front of him. “You are the son of a whore. You are going to die.” The other hand appeared and pulled the pin, holding the release by a thumb.

Sweat beaded on Petr’s face. “felgercarb! Don’t…are you crazy?”

“Who is your boss?”

“What? No…I don’t know.”

The voice was low, thick, and resonant. “I do not care about you. You will die most unpleasantly if you do not tell me.” The thumb holding the release slowly moved. “You have seconds to live.”

Petr stared fixedly at the thumb. Seconds seemed like hours. He was struck dumb, his mind numb from the consequences when it happened. He gasped as he saw the hand release the grenade. It fell into his lap, sitting there. The ‘legs’ disappeared. He screamed and screamed…and screamed, his heart racing, his lungs gasping for air…

Grigor was laughing hard when he walked up to the nearly blubbering Romovsky. “You wet your pants and,” he sniffed, “I bet you felgercarb them too!” He picked up the grenade and stuck the pin back into it. “The name…or the next time, it is real…maybe Molotov!” He leaned down, gripping Petr’s shirt. “The name you idiot!”

“Ilyich Stoli.”

“Where does he live?”

“I-I don’t know. When he wants me to do something, he calls.”

“Good.” Grigor looked into the darkness and nodded. “Okay, good boy.” He broke his neck.


With Ilyich Stoli, they hit pay dirt, not only did they learn the name of his boss, but also he volunteered the name of a man who was higher up in the chain of command. It was an accident he found out, but he was one the chiefs of the Covenant, Serge Balcinesky, also known as the Molotov Cocktail in his lesser days stealing guns. Grigor broke his neck and disposed of the body while Irina talked to Dimitri.

“What do you know about Serge?”

“He’s a stinking rat. Before he hooked up with the Covenant, he was a low-life who couldn’t do much but scramble for money.”

“Why is he the head of the Russian division?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Maybe I better check around before we do anything.”

“Definitely.” She smiled, “but be careful.”

“Of course.”

Two nights later Irina was working at her computer when Dimitri called. “I have the information on Serge.”

“Come over.”

She poured Dimitri a shot of Stoli as he entered and sat down. “Thanks.” He swallowed the drink. “Serge masterminded the robbery at the 125th armory a year ago. He was the only man left standing in a gun battle between the army guards and the men sent to rob the armory.

“He supposedly returned to Moscow with a hundred million dollars worth of arms. The Covenant was impressed. He’s been the man put in charge of their gun running operations here in this country.”

“So he’s a weapons man.”

“Yes, Irina.”

“Good work. Where does he live?”

“Here.” He handed her a slip of paper, “I wrote it down.”


Irina needed to know more about Serge and the Covenant. She had Grigor shadow Serge for three days to see what he did and where he went and, most important, how many guards went with him. She in turn was busy with the computer and finally was able to hack into the server that the Covenant used in Russia. There, moving about freely, she came upon the name Oleg Matrijik, behavioral specialist. She frowned. Now why would the Covenant have use for a behavioral scientist? Irina kept looking, but found nothing more about him except where he lived. She also found he had been paid an extraordinary amount of money for something he’d done recently.

Irina sat up knowing exactly what kind of doctor he was. She was going to pay him a visit soon, but first she wanted to take care of Serge Balcinesky. He would know where Sydney was if he was one of the council members of the Covenant.

She already knew exactly how he would end up and where.

TBC :D
 
I have two words...... LOVE IT!!!

I love Grigor, what a guy, heehhehehheheehheehheeh Funny stuff, he's a true Irina fan, breaking necks for his boss, good boy :D

MORE SOON PLEASE!! I love this story.

Irina found the spooky Doctor.. ohhhhh this is going to be good... wonder if she'll revert to nasty irina and make him unrecognisable..... hehehehehehe

I seriously love this story, you write sooo well. please I'm begging here more soon.
 
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