Here’s the first part of a story about Irina and Jack. It certainly will make sense if you have read The Legacy first. If not, then know that Irina as Laura has been living with Jack happily in Hawaii.
Thanks to JJ for some wonderful characters and all his writers for giving all Alias fans the fits!
Enjoy your feedback.
GHOSTS
THE CAPTURE
PARIS
Vaughn had come to Paris in response to Sydney’s request to see him. Grigor had driven him to the hotel and gone with him up to the room. Sydney had run into his arms as soon as he entered. The bodyguard had quickly and quietly shut the door.
After the first long hungry kiss, they stood together holding each other tightly, afraid to let go. Sydney rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth. His hands were on her back, pressing her against him. Then he released her a little so he could look into her face.
“Syd, I’ve missed you so much! When your mother took you that day in Tuscany…”
“She saved my life, Vaughn!”
He swallowed, “Yes, I know. We figured out Sloane had done something to you.” He kissed her lightly. “Anyway, we thought you would be sent home…” He hesitated. “Sydney, I’ve missed you so much I haven’t been of any use at the office. I thought about resigning.” He picked her up and put her on the bed.
She kissed him, “I need you, Michael."
He grinned, looking down at her. “You called me Michael?”
“Ummm, so I did.”
The next morning Vaughn stood looking in the mirror as he shaved. He was reliving the night before. It had been an incredible night of loving. She was amazing. If he hadn’t missed her so much, he’d almost wait six months before seeing her again. No, he loved her and wanted her with him all the time.
He frowned. There was something different about her now. Something he was trying to put a finger on, but wasn’t quite able to yet. He stood with the razor in his hand, staring, trying to figure her out. What was it? There was a new toughness about her. She seemed so much more assured, so much more focused on what? He tried to remember what she had told him between their love making. And she spoke with a slight accent too! She did say she had spent most of 00000000the last six months in Russia.
He put the razor to his beard, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to remember what she told him. Money? Lots of it? He had been sleepy when she talked to him about Irina’s death. He really could have cared less. Let her be dead and out of his life. Then he stopped and he shivered. Sydney had told him he had to talk to her about her mother and his feelings about her. She had been so positive that he knew he could not stall anymore.
Minutes later he was dressed and walking out to the sitting room of her suite. He could see the sun was shining. “What a beautiful day,” he said, coming up to her and kissing her lightly. “You were amazing last night!”
She grinned that great Sydney smile. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“What say we go out for a brioche and café au lait?”
“All right, but Grigor will be close by!”
He was surprised. “That big oaf!” Oh, oh he thought wrong word. “Why do you need a bodyguard when you have me.”
She laughed. “He is kind of big, but I promise you he won’t bother us, because we’ll converse in French!”
So a half-hour later, the two young lovers walked hand in hand toward an outdoor restaurant. They sat down and Grigor took a seat behind them. Sydney looked at the big man fondly. “Whatever you want, Grigor!” she said in Russian. He told her. When the waiter came, she ordered for him. Vaughn ordered for the two of them.
Sydney stared at her lover over the rim of her cup. She was trying to decide what his mood was. Vaughn was looking at her with a man’s appreciation. She was more beautiful than her mother, he thought. She was dressed in a much more subdued fashion than he was used to seeing. She was, he thought, wearing power clothes.
“You wanted to talk about your mother,” he started in his perfect French.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “More specifically, I would think that after Tuscany your attitude would have softened. I also want to know specifically what you know about your father’s death…”
“Assassination,” he said abruptly.
“Tell me!” She demanded.
“First of all, about Tuscany…I probably would give her a hug for saving your life, but I still harbor a hatred for what she did to my father and my family.”
“And how did he die?”
“He took a bullet to the back of his head. It blew off most of his face.” He swallowed. “Before that happened, he had been tortured. Almost every bone in his arms, hands, feet, legs, and ribs were broken. His body was a mass of bruises where he had been kicked. When they did an autopsy on him, there was massive internal bleeding from a ruptured spleen and liver. He did not die easy.”
“How do you and the CIA know mother did this?”
He pulled out his wallet. “I’ve kept this ever since the Agency gave it to me.” He handed her a photo. “They found it on his body.”
Sydney froze. It was a grainy picture, but it was her mother firing into the back of Bill Vaughn’s head. “Still, why do you think she had anything to do with the torture?”
He sighed, “it stands to reason she would…"
Suddenly a very large hand reached in and took the photo from Sydney. “Where this come from?” said Grigor, his voice angry.
Vaughn was going to grab it back, but Sydney put her hand on his. “Wait,” she warned. Then in Russian, “I believe Mr. Vaughn was given this by the CIA when they recovered his father’s body.”
Grigor stared at it. “Not good for Irina. Bad time then, very bad.” He gave the picture back to Vaughn.
“What does he know about it,” asked Vaughn?
“I think he was a guard.”
Vaughn turned to look at the big man, but Grigor was gone. “Maybe he knows something.”
“He’s in love, no, was in love with mother. He’s been devoted to her since she was released from that prison.” Sydney looked at the picture, trying to visualize the moment of Bill Vaughn’s death.
“So,” she continued, “based on the picture, you believe mother was behind the torture, that she participated in doing this to your father?”
“Pictures don’t lie,” he said stubbornly.
“And sometimes,” she said thoughtfully, “they don’t tell the complete story.”
HAWAII
Jack and Laura were on the patio. He was reading and she was gardening on her knees, hands deep into the rich volcanic soil. The area around the patio had benefited from her constant puttering. It was filled with lush flowers and plants. The air was filled with scents of gardenia, ginger and many others associated with Hawaii. Jack enjoyed the patio more than ever.
She stood up. “I’m going in to fix dinner. Want something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
A few minutes later she called to him. “Jack, I need something from the store. Would you get it for me?”
He got up. “What do you want?”
“A pound of butter.” She called.
“Okay, be back in fifteen minutes.” He picked up the keys to his Hummer and left the comfort of the cottage.
It took him a little longer because of a traffic accident at the bottom of the hill. When he pulled into the driveway, it had been a half-hour. He entered the kitchen and stopped. Laura was no where to be seen. The food was cooking and there was a smell to suggest something was burning. The table was set, candles even lighted.
Turning off the stove, he called, “Laura!”
No one answered.
He moved quickly through the house. It was empty. He walked to the patio. It was as he had left it. His paper was on the table. Her gardening tools were still lying where she had left them. He ran outside. Her Mercedes SL was still parked in the small garage they had built to house it. He ran back to his car, jumped in and drove down the hill to the highway. Traffic was moving steadily. The cars involved in the accident were gone, so were the police.
Where had she gone? His had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had she left him again? He was undecided. She couldn’t have gone. Laura was so happy to have left everything behind to be with him. They had talked about it many times the past six months, but with always the same ending. She wanted to be with him. She had loved him but her job, in those Cold War days, made things so difficult. Laura had been under scrutiny by the KGB, both at work and at home. They watched her and she knew it. She was afraid for his life and then later, for Sydney’s. So she ran when the FBI began closing in on her. After prison and Aleksey’s birth, she had been re-assigned to a teaching job within the KGB. Then came the break-up of the U.S.S.R. and she was without job.
Rambaldi had always held a fascination for her. She finally told him why and he’d been astonished. She told him she had sustained so many injuries, including the bullet wound in her arm, yet she had no scars. The night she told him that, Jack had done a complete check and she was right. No scars anywhere.
“So,” she said, “I had to find out what that formula was that was injected into my mother0 and what it would do to Sydney and Aleksey.”
Jack now sat in the darkened room, wondering. What was he going to do? Should he call the kids? They would be shocked to hear she was alive and then they would worry. But they certainly had more contacts now than he did. She had been gone – three hours, now. He had a feeling she was no longer on the island.
PACIFIC OCEAN
The plane hurtled on into the darkness, heading for Los Angeles carrying Laura Bristow, a CIA strike force, the pilot and co-pilot. Laura was handcuffed to the arms of the seat. She was barefoot and shackled. After sitting her down, they had left her alone in the middle of the plane. The five man strike team sat near the front, chatting. No one paid any attention to her. Laura felt like crying, but wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
What was Jack going to think? Oh, God, will he think I’ve left him again? She looked at her wrists, held tight to the seat arms. Damn, damn it! She should have been more careful. How did they find me? How did they know I was even alive? She concentrated on her first thought. He will think I’ve left him again. She looked without seeing out the window at the dark blue ocean below. Still, he couldn’t think that, not after all they had planned.
Jack knew she was going to leave everything behind when he heard about the accident. It had been at the debriefing she had with him before Sydney’s graduation. What was it she said? “Remember Jack, with me nothing is as it seems.” He’d looked at her without emotion, but when she was “killed” he had come to Hawaii and found her waiting.
How did they find her? She had covered her tracks perfectly she thought. Now she had doubts. She closed her eyes, letting her mind backtrack the past two weeks. What was different in their living routine? Then she froze, her thoughts straying to the day she had gone to the bank. It had been robbed while she was inside. No one gave the robbers any trouble and they did no harm, just took the money and left. What happened to make the CIA or FBI aware of her presence on the island?
Then it came to her. She had filled out a deposit slip, leaving her fingerprints on the writing desk and on the pen. She had stood next to one of the robbers as he was filling out a slip to use as a ruse to get the attention of the clerk. He had been in line in front of her.
“Damn,” she thought, “my fingerprints.” She and Jack had talked about having some plastic surgery done on her hands, but it had only been talk. They had begun to feel safe in their small part of the world. Now it was too late.
MOJAVE DESERT
The van pulled up in front of the gate. Two U. S. Marshals got out of the air-conditioned cab and walked to the back, opening the double doors. Moments later, they reappeared with a tall, blond woman wearing handcuffs and tether chain with shackles. She was barefoot, looking hot and tired. It was two in the morning. A hot wind blew through the camp. The two men marched her into the office where a man waited. When he saw them, he took a key from his desk and led the way to the cellblock. There he opened one of the cells and stepped back as they led her inside. She stood, swaying slightly, as they took off the chains. Then, without saying anything, she dropped onto the bunk, turned to the wall, and fell asleep. She wondered as she fell asleep if maybe she didn’t have some sort of permanent reservation for a cell at the CIA’s interrogation headquarters.
It was hot and sticky. She was on board a ship. She looked around. It must be the Libertad, a small insignificant freighter under a Liberian registry plying its ugly trade along the ports of the Mediterranean. She had been a passenger until moments ago when she and Khasinau, along with her men, had taken over the ship. The Captain stood in front of her. She held her gun on him.
“Where is the heroin?” She said menacingly.
“I-I don’t know what you mean?”
“Fool!” She fired. The bullet struck him in the shoulder. He fell backward into the bulkhead. There was fear in his eyes. She meant business. “Do you think I came on board as a simple tourist? Who in their right mind would travel on this filthy bucket of bolts. I know exactly what you do and —“ she paused significantly, “— I know where you are going.”
“My—my shoulder,” he cried, tears running down his face.
She took two steps to him and punched him in the shoulder wound with her gloved fist. He howled in agony. “Tell me!” She hissed.
He closed his eyes, trying to think if she was any worse than his bosses. They would surely kill him if he disclosed anything. Then he opened his eyes and saw the gun held with unwavering determination.
“In the hole, the forward one.”
She looked at the tall man standing to one side. “Take a look!”
The man disappeared. She said nothing. Five minutes later the man was back.
“It’s there! Packed in air tight plastic bags. There must be two hundred million dollars worth—uncut!” His eyes were wide with anticipation of the money he would get as his share.
She looked at him in disgust. “Idiot!” She turned to the Captain. “Who is your contact in Russia?”
He did not like what he was hearing. “I don’t know. I just unload the cargo in a port on the Black Sea.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. They were to radio me the information when I signaled from Cyprus!”
She shook her head sadly, “Too bad you won’t be making that call.” She pulled the trigger. The Captain slumped to the floor, his eyes never leaving her face, then keeled over.
Irina sat up. The cell was hot and sticky. This was the desert, not the sea, but still she shivered, remembering the eyes of the doomed Captain.
MOSCOW
Sydney looked up from her desk. She looked around to see if there was a window open. She felt chilled to the bone. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. The hair on her arms moved as though a wind was blowing, but it wasn’t. She swallowed hard. Something was wrong somewhere and it had to do with…Jack? She hadn’t talked to him, really, for the past six months, she realized guiltily.
“Syd, are you all right?” Aleksey stood in the doorway.
“Not really, why?”
“I just had the strangest feeling that something wasn’t right.”
“I know.” She studied him. Then looked at her hands, they felt cold. “There’s something wrong somewhere, but I don’t know…”
“Syd,” Aleksey said, “Do you think its Father?"
“No!” She stood up, intuition on full throttle, “its…Mom’s alive! I know it!”
Aleksey stared, and then smiled, “Thank goodness. I thought I was going crazy when that popped into my head.”
“I’m calling Dad,” she said, dashing back to her desk and the satellite cell phone, which was the only link they had with Jack. Punching in the number, she waited for him to pick up.
“Yes, Sydney?” He answered.
“Mom’s alive, isn’t she?” She didn’t waste time coming to the point.
There was silence from the other end, then he sighed, “Yes!”
He waited a moment, then, “Sorry, but we had an agreement months ago, that if I heard she was dead by an accident…I was to assume,” he stopped his voice tailing off lamely.
“Dad,” laughed Sydney. “We think it’s wonderful. You and she have been living together in Hawaii?”
“Yes!” He was relieved. “We have a home near Princeville on Kauai.”
“Sir,” interrupted Aleksey, “what’s happened? Mother’s someplace else, isn’t she?”
“I think the CIA grabbed her about 20 hours ago.”
“How did they find her?” Sydney asked.
“How did they even know she was alive?” Aleksey said.
“Dad, you’ve got to find her.”
“I’m leaving for California in a couple of hours. I’ll keep you posted. I think I know where they have her, at least for the present.”
CAMP HARRIS
The big black Hummer drove up to the gates late at night. The guard was handed a piece of paper. He looked at it, then up at the man driving. He saluted and waved him through the gates. The Hummer proceeded to the parking lot at the rear of the building. Jack left the rented vehicle and walked into the office. He handed a paper to the man sitting at the front desk.
The man spoke into the intercom. Moments later, Mark Hanson, commandant and chief interrogator for the CIA entered, motioning Jack to follow him.
They went down a hall to a small room. It had two chairs facing each other. A wall divided the room. There was a window and beside it a telephone handset. Jack sat down to wait. Hanson told him he would send for the prisoner. When she entered, Irina was wearing the same type of clothing she had at the op center months before. The guard put her into the chair then walked back to the doorway and stood there watching.
Jack picked up the handset as did Irina. “Are you all right?” He said.
“Yes!” She smiled wanly. “I love you, Jack. You know I didn’t leave you?”
He smiled, “I know, but it gave me a chill. Do you need anything?”
She shook her head. “Your government provides everything.” She smiled. “How did you find me?”
“Actually, Sydney and Aleksey thought you were alive, but not in Hawaii.” He smiled. “I had a hunch they would bring you here first.”
“Oh!” She looked sad. “I hope they don’t think too badly of me for deceiving them?”
“No!’ He exclaimed. “They guessed. Sydney said both of them knew quite suddenly that you were with me. It must have been enhanced genetic intuition.” He leaned forward. “We have to make some plans. The government is going to put you on trial in Federal Court for murder and espionage.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him resignedly. “Jack, you know I did spy for the KGB and I did kill Bill Vaughn. But the other eleven, I didn’t, but I have no proof! None whatsoever!”
He stared at her. This was the first time she had confessed to him. “You killed Bill?” He had known Vaughn’s father briefly when he was at Langley. It had been before he married Laura.
“Jack!” She sighed. “I was in prison and seven months pregnant. The KGB officers told me if I – executed him, they would let me go. Bill was in the cell next to me. He was in terrible pain from the torture he went through every day.” She wasn’t sure Jack believed what she was saying yet. “They broke all the bones in his hands and feet; dislocated his shoulders, and evidently caused internal bleeding from blows to his abdomen.
“The day it happened, he was taken away for more…more heavy interrogation. When I was taken to the room, he was bleeding from both ears and his mouth. His jaw had been broken. They told me I could go home if I executed him.” She put her head between her hands, took a deep breath, and looked up into Jack’s stare. “He begged me to shoot him. Twice, he begged. So I took the gun and fired into the back of his head. And they took a picture!” She was angry. “They wanted to make sure I never returned here.”
Jack looked at her. Was she telling him the truth or was it more deception? He smiled. “Did you ever tell Vaughn?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he believed me,” she said wryly. “And I’m not sure I’d blame you either if you didn’t. It’s a-a story that no one would believe.”
“We’re hiring a lawyer,” he said. “You are going to tell your side of the story. Sydney and Aleksey can’t be there, but I will.” He put his hand to the window. “Touch my hand, darling, and then I’ll go.”
She put hers up to the glass. It was what she had done before Panama when Sydney had come to see her. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”
Back in her cell, she stretched out, thinking about Jack and for a moment, Bill Vaughn. She finally closed her eyes.
It was hot and sticky. The air was fetid from smells of unwashed bodies, feces and urine. Irina felt a little sick. She was trying to sleep a little. The afternoon session in the interrogation room had not been pleasant. Now she was fighting nausea and being quiet in order to keep the rotten food they fed her in her stomach. She was sure she was pregnant now, almost three months along. That was a complication she had not planned. She thought of Jack and Sydney. He had wanted another child and Sydney was always begging for a little sister. Now she was twelve thousand miles away in a hellhole. There were no doctors here and no medicine. She wondered if she would carry to term or perhaps lose it. She wondered if they would make her abort the baby. She hoped not. It was strange, this feeling she had when she knew she was carrying Jack’s child. She wanted it in spite of her circumstances.
The cell doors were opening into the cellblock. She could hear footsteps, keys and voices. The empty cell next to her opened.
“Get in, American spy!” The sound of a body crashing to the floor interrupted her thoughts.
The cell door clanged shut . Irina waited a moment, then she stood up walking to the bars that separated the two cells. There was not much privacy in this prison. There was a man lying on the floor. He was bleeding from the mouth.
“You’re American?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah!” He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his back to the bed, and looked up at her. “You, too?”
She smiled, “No, Russian. I lived in your country for awhile.”
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t tell me anything to identify yourself and I’ll do the same. Let’s be, Russkie, you, and Gringo, that’s me! Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Irina opened her eyes. Russkie and Gringo two people from different countries, but the same given where they were — in prison. She smiled, remembering the tough American, the hell he had to face and the strength he showed during the weeks ahead. They had never broken him.
LANGLEY, Next Day
Jack walked up to the reception desk and asked for Vaughn. Fifteen minutes later, his daughter’s lover walked through security gate and up to Jack.
“Sir, I’m glad to see you.”
“If it hadn’t been for the CIA, I wouldn’t be here.” He glared at Vaughn, who immediately felt the discomfort of being blamed for everything that had happened.
“Look, I didn’t—“
“I want to see Devlin. Get me an appointment, now.” Jack’s voice made it clear that he would not take no for an answer. “Sydney is waiting to hear from me.”
Vaughn understood the veiled threat. If he didn’t act promptly he would no doubt hear from Sydney. “Then, she knows?”
Jack didn’t answer. He just stared.
Thirty minutes later, Vaughn took Jack up stairs.
DCI Devlin was behind his desk when Jack entered the room. “Jack! Nice to see you.” He got up and went to shake Jack’s hand.
“You son of a b---h,” snarled Jack. “How dare you invade my home and take my wife?”
Devlin’s smile disappeared. “You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve coming here after what you and she did.”
“What did we do that was wrong? We just lived quietly, bothering no one.”
“She owes this country a debt and she’s going to pay.” Devlin sat down behind his desk.
Jack leaned forward, both hands on desk, “Irina Derevko is dead to both her country and this one. To bring her back alive is to make both countries look ridiculous. Not only that, but the CIA is going to have to explain why it gave her access to Echlon and why she saved its butt in Kashmir when we nearly failed to get the nukes. Furthermore, Russia won’t be at all happy with you hanging its dirty laundry out for the world to see.”
“They sent her here to spy on you as well as kill our agents.” Devlin was angry now. “The CIA has 12 stars downstairs that want an answer and revenge. The families of those men want their day in court. They are the victims here, not your wife.”
“Then put her on trial, but take her out of Camp Harris and put her into the Federal Prison. Further harassment of my wife will get you nothing, but a big headache when I tell her lawyer what you are doing.” Jack turned on his heel and walked to the door. He opened it and turned back to Devlin. “I mean it.” He slammed the door and stalked out past the secretaries who had heard everything through the door.
CAMP HARRIS
Mark Hanson studied Irina Derevko. She was in the interrogation room, locked down in the chair. She had not said one word the entire time she was there. He had seen the look on her face and in her eyes. She had gone somewhere else again. He was at a loss to understand it. She was, he thought, incredible. He really had to admire her strength of will. He and another man had been questioning her steadily through the morning. She had said nothing. It was as if she had left the room and gone somewhere he was not privy to.
Irina was hot. The air was heavy. The blouse she wore was wet with her sweat. It stuck to her like glue. She had rolled the sleeves up, but it gave her little respite from the heat. The road she and Khasinau had traveled was shimmering. She looked back at the buildings. The man getting out of the car was heavy and sweating even more than she was. Morris Carson was the contact man for The Alliance and in his brief case, she knew, was one hundred fifty million dollars in bearer bonds, which he was going to use to buy precious diamonds.
She glanced to the left of the building and saw Khasinau waiting. She pulled the rifle up to her shoulder, sighted, then fired. Morris Carson died instantly. Then she swung the rifle to the three men who had been standing near him and dropped all three in ten seconds, even though they had tried to scatter. She ran forward as Khasinau knifed the man who had come out of the building. He was the owner of the diamond mine and the seller of the diamonds.
She was through the door almost before Khasinau could take his knife out of the owner. Inside, sitting on his desk, was a brief case. Flipping it open she saw raw diamonds, hundreds of them. She closed and locked it. Khasinau glanced at her as she left the office. She swooped up the briefcase Carson had had with him.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, running for their car. As she jumped into the rear seat, she thought of Sydney. Maybe she would like a diamond ring.
Hanson glanced at his watch. It was time for her exercise period. He heard the door open behind him. “Sir, this just came from Langley.”
Mark looked at it and was relieved. “Okay, let’s get the prisoner ready for transfer.”
“Where?”
“Federal prison in San Pedro.”
Irina opened her eyes.
BOSTON
Eleanor Frutt was in the office alone. Everyone else was out to lunch and it had been her turn to answer the phones while Lucy was gone for an hour. The door opened at the end of the room. She looked up to see a tall man with steel gray hair, dark eyes, and impeccably dressed walk toward her. She smiled, “can I help you.”
“I’m looking for Eleanor Frutt or Lindsey Dole.”
“I’m Eleanor.”
“Good! I want to hire you as a defense attorney for my wife.”
“Is she in jail?”
“She’s been taken to Federal prison in San Pedro, California.”
Eleanor was surprised. “California?”
“Yes. I should tell you that she will be tried for 86 counts of espionage and 12 counts of murder.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “When did this happen?”
“Between the years of 1972 and 1982.” He took a checkbook out of his pocket and picked up a pen from her desk. He looked at her. “Are you interested in defending her?”
“There are some excellent lawyers on the West Coast. Why me or this firm?”
“The firm’s reputation for handling some of the toughest criminal cases. A friend of mine, David Kelly, told me you were the best.”
She smiled. “It does intrigue me! I’d like to hear more before I say yes or no.”
He scribbled something on the check and handed it to her. “This is your retainer fee. You free my wife and we’ll double that!”
Eleanor glanced at the check and did a double take. “Five hundred thousand!” She looked at him and saw he was serious. “It’s good?”
“Call the bank!” He answered.
An hour later, Jack, Eleanor and Bobby Donnell, senior partner, were in the conference room talking. Jack gave them the entire story, at least as much of it as he knew.
“She staged an accident six months ago in order to be with me. I had resigned from the CIA and was going to live in Hawaii. We had spent a week honeymooning there in ’74. She was waiting for me when I returned from the funeral.”
Bobby looked at Eleanor. It was one of the most bizarre and romantic stories he had ever encountered. “What do you think, Eleanor?”
“I want to see her and talk, but,” she looked at Jack, “I have to know there is some kind of legitimate defense, because you can believe the federal prosecutors will have every nail in her coffin ready to hammer down.”
“Who do you want as second chair?” asked Bobby. “I’d like to help, but I’ve two murder trials to prepare for.”
“How about Jamie?”
“She’s not as experienced,” said Bobby.
“But if I’m not mistaken, she’s licensed in California as well as Massachusetts.”
“Then take her with you. You’ll need to assess the amount time and work it will take, as well as prepare any motions. Mr. Bristow, I know you’ll give them all the assistance they need.”
“When do you want to meet my wife?” He asked Eleanor.
“As soon as possible!”
Thanks to JJ for some wonderful characters and all his writers for giving all Alias fans the fits!
Enjoy your feedback.
GHOSTS
THE CAPTURE
PARIS
Vaughn had come to Paris in response to Sydney’s request to see him. Grigor had driven him to the hotel and gone with him up to the room. Sydney had run into his arms as soon as he entered. The bodyguard had quickly and quietly shut the door.
After the first long hungry kiss, they stood together holding each other tightly, afraid to let go. Sydney rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth. His hands were on her back, pressing her against him. Then he released her a little so he could look into her face.
“Syd, I’ve missed you so much! When your mother took you that day in Tuscany…”
“She saved my life, Vaughn!”
He swallowed, “Yes, I know. We figured out Sloane had done something to you.” He kissed her lightly. “Anyway, we thought you would be sent home…” He hesitated. “Sydney, I’ve missed you so much I haven’t been of any use at the office. I thought about resigning.” He picked her up and put her on the bed.
She kissed him, “I need you, Michael."
He grinned, looking down at her. “You called me Michael?”
“Ummm, so I did.”
The next morning Vaughn stood looking in the mirror as he shaved. He was reliving the night before. It had been an incredible night of loving. She was amazing. If he hadn’t missed her so much, he’d almost wait six months before seeing her again. No, he loved her and wanted her with him all the time.
He frowned. There was something different about her now. Something he was trying to put a finger on, but wasn’t quite able to yet. He stood with the razor in his hand, staring, trying to figure her out. What was it? There was a new toughness about her. She seemed so much more assured, so much more focused on what? He tried to remember what she had told him between their love making. And she spoke with a slight accent too! She did say she had spent most of 00000000the last six months in Russia.
He put the razor to his beard, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to remember what she told him. Money? Lots of it? He had been sleepy when she talked to him about Irina’s death. He really could have cared less. Let her be dead and out of his life. Then he stopped and he shivered. Sydney had told him he had to talk to her about her mother and his feelings about her. She had been so positive that he knew he could not stall anymore.
Minutes later he was dressed and walking out to the sitting room of her suite. He could see the sun was shining. “What a beautiful day,” he said, coming up to her and kissing her lightly. “You were amazing last night!”
She grinned that great Sydney smile. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“What say we go out for a brioche and café au lait?”
“All right, but Grigor will be close by!”
He was surprised. “That big oaf!” Oh, oh he thought wrong word. “Why do you need a bodyguard when you have me.”
She laughed. “He is kind of big, but I promise you he won’t bother us, because we’ll converse in French!”
So a half-hour later, the two young lovers walked hand in hand toward an outdoor restaurant. They sat down and Grigor took a seat behind them. Sydney looked at the big man fondly. “Whatever you want, Grigor!” she said in Russian. He told her. When the waiter came, she ordered for him. Vaughn ordered for the two of them.
Sydney stared at her lover over the rim of her cup. She was trying to decide what his mood was. Vaughn was looking at her with a man’s appreciation. She was more beautiful than her mother, he thought. She was dressed in a much more subdued fashion than he was used to seeing. She was, he thought, wearing power clothes.
“You wanted to talk about your mother,” he started in his perfect French.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “More specifically, I would think that after Tuscany your attitude would have softened. I also want to know specifically what you know about your father’s death…”
“Assassination,” he said abruptly.
“Tell me!” She demanded.
“First of all, about Tuscany…I probably would give her a hug for saving your life, but I still harbor a hatred for what she did to my father and my family.”
“And how did he die?”
“He took a bullet to the back of his head. It blew off most of his face.” He swallowed. “Before that happened, he had been tortured. Almost every bone in his arms, hands, feet, legs, and ribs were broken. His body was a mass of bruises where he had been kicked. When they did an autopsy on him, there was massive internal bleeding from a ruptured spleen and liver. He did not die easy.”
“How do you and the CIA know mother did this?”
He pulled out his wallet. “I’ve kept this ever since the Agency gave it to me.” He handed her a photo. “They found it on his body.”
Sydney froze. It was a grainy picture, but it was her mother firing into the back of Bill Vaughn’s head. “Still, why do you think she had anything to do with the torture?”
He sighed, “it stands to reason she would…"
Suddenly a very large hand reached in and took the photo from Sydney. “Where this come from?” said Grigor, his voice angry.
Vaughn was going to grab it back, but Sydney put her hand on his. “Wait,” she warned. Then in Russian, “I believe Mr. Vaughn was given this by the CIA when they recovered his father’s body.”
Grigor stared at it. “Not good for Irina. Bad time then, very bad.” He gave the picture back to Vaughn.
“What does he know about it,” asked Vaughn?
“I think he was a guard.”
Vaughn turned to look at the big man, but Grigor was gone. “Maybe he knows something.”
“He’s in love, no, was in love with mother. He’s been devoted to her since she was released from that prison.” Sydney looked at the picture, trying to visualize the moment of Bill Vaughn’s death.
“So,” she continued, “based on the picture, you believe mother was behind the torture, that she participated in doing this to your father?”
“Pictures don’t lie,” he said stubbornly.
“And sometimes,” she said thoughtfully, “they don’t tell the complete story.”
HAWAII
Jack and Laura were on the patio. He was reading and she was gardening on her knees, hands deep into the rich volcanic soil. The area around the patio had benefited from her constant puttering. It was filled with lush flowers and plants. The air was filled with scents of gardenia, ginger and many others associated with Hawaii. Jack enjoyed the patio more than ever.
She stood up. “I’m going in to fix dinner. Want something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
A few minutes later she called to him. “Jack, I need something from the store. Would you get it for me?”
He got up. “What do you want?”
“A pound of butter.” She called.
“Okay, be back in fifteen minutes.” He picked up the keys to his Hummer and left the comfort of the cottage.
It took him a little longer because of a traffic accident at the bottom of the hill. When he pulled into the driveway, it had been a half-hour. He entered the kitchen and stopped. Laura was no where to be seen. The food was cooking and there was a smell to suggest something was burning. The table was set, candles even lighted.
Turning off the stove, he called, “Laura!”
No one answered.
He moved quickly through the house. It was empty. He walked to the patio. It was as he had left it. His paper was on the table. Her gardening tools were still lying where she had left them. He ran outside. Her Mercedes SL was still parked in the small garage they had built to house it. He ran back to his car, jumped in and drove down the hill to the highway. Traffic was moving steadily. The cars involved in the accident were gone, so were the police.
Where had she gone? His had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had she left him again? He was undecided. She couldn’t have gone. Laura was so happy to have left everything behind to be with him. They had talked about it many times the past six months, but with always the same ending. She wanted to be with him. She had loved him but her job, in those Cold War days, made things so difficult. Laura had been under scrutiny by the KGB, both at work and at home. They watched her and she knew it. She was afraid for his life and then later, for Sydney’s. So she ran when the FBI began closing in on her. After prison and Aleksey’s birth, she had been re-assigned to a teaching job within the KGB. Then came the break-up of the U.S.S.R. and she was without job.
Rambaldi had always held a fascination for her. She finally told him why and he’d been astonished. She told him she had sustained so many injuries, including the bullet wound in her arm, yet she had no scars. The night she told him that, Jack had done a complete check and she was right. No scars anywhere.
“So,” she said, “I had to find out what that formula was that was injected into my mother0 and what it would do to Sydney and Aleksey.”
Jack now sat in the darkened room, wondering. What was he going to do? Should he call the kids? They would be shocked to hear she was alive and then they would worry. But they certainly had more contacts now than he did. She had been gone – three hours, now. He had a feeling she was no longer on the island.
PACIFIC OCEAN
The plane hurtled on into the darkness, heading for Los Angeles carrying Laura Bristow, a CIA strike force, the pilot and co-pilot. Laura was handcuffed to the arms of the seat. She was barefoot and shackled. After sitting her down, they had left her alone in the middle of the plane. The five man strike team sat near the front, chatting. No one paid any attention to her. Laura felt like crying, but wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
What was Jack going to think? Oh, God, will he think I’ve left him again? She looked at her wrists, held tight to the seat arms. Damn, damn it! She should have been more careful. How did they find me? How did they know I was even alive? She concentrated on her first thought. He will think I’ve left him again. She looked without seeing out the window at the dark blue ocean below. Still, he couldn’t think that, not after all they had planned.
Jack knew she was going to leave everything behind when he heard about the accident. It had been at the debriefing she had with him before Sydney’s graduation. What was it she said? “Remember Jack, with me nothing is as it seems.” He’d looked at her without emotion, but when she was “killed” he had come to Hawaii and found her waiting.
How did they find her? She had covered her tracks perfectly she thought. Now she had doubts. She closed her eyes, letting her mind backtrack the past two weeks. What was different in their living routine? Then she froze, her thoughts straying to the day she had gone to the bank. It had been robbed while she was inside. No one gave the robbers any trouble and they did no harm, just took the money and left. What happened to make the CIA or FBI aware of her presence on the island?
Then it came to her. She had filled out a deposit slip, leaving her fingerprints on the writing desk and on the pen. She had stood next to one of the robbers as he was filling out a slip to use as a ruse to get the attention of the clerk. He had been in line in front of her.
“Damn,” she thought, “my fingerprints.” She and Jack had talked about having some plastic surgery done on her hands, but it had only been talk. They had begun to feel safe in their small part of the world. Now it was too late.
MOJAVE DESERT
The van pulled up in front of the gate. Two U. S. Marshals got out of the air-conditioned cab and walked to the back, opening the double doors. Moments later, they reappeared with a tall, blond woman wearing handcuffs and tether chain with shackles. She was barefoot, looking hot and tired. It was two in the morning. A hot wind blew through the camp. The two men marched her into the office where a man waited. When he saw them, he took a key from his desk and led the way to the cellblock. There he opened one of the cells and stepped back as they led her inside. She stood, swaying slightly, as they took off the chains. Then, without saying anything, she dropped onto the bunk, turned to the wall, and fell asleep. She wondered as she fell asleep if maybe she didn’t have some sort of permanent reservation for a cell at the CIA’s interrogation headquarters.
It was hot and sticky. She was on board a ship. She looked around. It must be the Libertad, a small insignificant freighter under a Liberian registry plying its ugly trade along the ports of the Mediterranean. She had been a passenger until moments ago when she and Khasinau, along with her men, had taken over the ship. The Captain stood in front of her. She held her gun on him.
“Where is the heroin?” She said menacingly.
“I-I don’t know what you mean?”
“Fool!” She fired. The bullet struck him in the shoulder. He fell backward into the bulkhead. There was fear in his eyes. She meant business. “Do you think I came on board as a simple tourist? Who in their right mind would travel on this filthy bucket of bolts. I know exactly what you do and —“ she paused significantly, “— I know where you are going.”
“My—my shoulder,” he cried, tears running down his face.
She took two steps to him and punched him in the shoulder wound with her gloved fist. He howled in agony. “Tell me!” She hissed.
He closed his eyes, trying to think if she was any worse than his bosses. They would surely kill him if he disclosed anything. Then he opened his eyes and saw the gun held with unwavering determination.
“In the hole, the forward one.”
She looked at the tall man standing to one side. “Take a look!”
The man disappeared. She said nothing. Five minutes later the man was back.
“It’s there! Packed in air tight plastic bags. There must be two hundred million dollars worth—uncut!” His eyes were wide with anticipation of the money he would get as his share.
She looked at him in disgust. “Idiot!” She turned to the Captain. “Who is your contact in Russia?”
He did not like what he was hearing. “I don’t know. I just unload the cargo in a port on the Black Sea.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. They were to radio me the information when I signaled from Cyprus!”
She shook her head sadly, “Too bad you won’t be making that call.” She pulled the trigger. The Captain slumped to the floor, his eyes never leaving her face, then keeled over.
Irina sat up. The cell was hot and sticky. This was the desert, not the sea, but still she shivered, remembering the eyes of the doomed Captain.
MOSCOW
Sydney looked up from her desk. She looked around to see if there was a window open. She felt chilled to the bone. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. The hair on her arms moved as though a wind was blowing, but it wasn’t. She swallowed hard. Something was wrong somewhere and it had to do with…Jack? She hadn’t talked to him, really, for the past six months, she realized guiltily.
“Syd, are you all right?” Aleksey stood in the doorway.
“Not really, why?”
“I just had the strangest feeling that something wasn’t right.”
“I know.” She studied him. Then looked at her hands, they felt cold. “There’s something wrong somewhere, but I don’t know…”
“Syd,” Aleksey said, “Do you think its Father?"
“No!” She stood up, intuition on full throttle, “its…Mom’s alive! I know it!”
Aleksey stared, and then smiled, “Thank goodness. I thought I was going crazy when that popped into my head.”
“I’m calling Dad,” she said, dashing back to her desk and the satellite cell phone, which was the only link they had with Jack. Punching in the number, she waited for him to pick up.
“Yes, Sydney?” He answered.
“Mom’s alive, isn’t she?” She didn’t waste time coming to the point.
There was silence from the other end, then he sighed, “Yes!”
He waited a moment, then, “Sorry, but we had an agreement months ago, that if I heard she was dead by an accident…I was to assume,” he stopped his voice tailing off lamely.
“Dad,” laughed Sydney. “We think it’s wonderful. You and she have been living together in Hawaii?”
“Yes!” He was relieved. “We have a home near Princeville on Kauai.”
“Sir,” interrupted Aleksey, “what’s happened? Mother’s someplace else, isn’t she?”
“I think the CIA grabbed her about 20 hours ago.”
“How did they find her?” Sydney asked.
“How did they even know she was alive?” Aleksey said.
“Dad, you’ve got to find her.”
“I’m leaving for California in a couple of hours. I’ll keep you posted. I think I know where they have her, at least for the present.”
CAMP HARRIS
The big black Hummer drove up to the gates late at night. The guard was handed a piece of paper. He looked at it, then up at the man driving. He saluted and waved him through the gates. The Hummer proceeded to the parking lot at the rear of the building. Jack left the rented vehicle and walked into the office. He handed a paper to the man sitting at the front desk.
The man spoke into the intercom. Moments later, Mark Hanson, commandant and chief interrogator for the CIA entered, motioning Jack to follow him.
They went down a hall to a small room. It had two chairs facing each other. A wall divided the room. There was a window and beside it a telephone handset. Jack sat down to wait. Hanson told him he would send for the prisoner. When she entered, Irina was wearing the same type of clothing she had at the op center months before. The guard put her into the chair then walked back to the doorway and stood there watching.
Jack picked up the handset as did Irina. “Are you all right?” He said.
“Yes!” She smiled wanly. “I love you, Jack. You know I didn’t leave you?”
He smiled, “I know, but it gave me a chill. Do you need anything?”
She shook her head. “Your government provides everything.” She smiled. “How did you find me?”
“Actually, Sydney and Aleksey thought you were alive, but not in Hawaii.” He smiled. “I had a hunch they would bring you here first.”
“Oh!” She looked sad. “I hope they don’t think too badly of me for deceiving them?”
“No!’ He exclaimed. “They guessed. Sydney said both of them knew quite suddenly that you were with me. It must have been enhanced genetic intuition.” He leaned forward. “We have to make some plans. The government is going to put you on trial in Federal Court for murder and espionage.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him resignedly. “Jack, you know I did spy for the KGB and I did kill Bill Vaughn. But the other eleven, I didn’t, but I have no proof! None whatsoever!”
He stared at her. This was the first time she had confessed to him. “You killed Bill?” He had known Vaughn’s father briefly when he was at Langley. It had been before he married Laura.
“Jack!” She sighed. “I was in prison and seven months pregnant. The KGB officers told me if I – executed him, they would let me go. Bill was in the cell next to me. He was in terrible pain from the torture he went through every day.” She wasn’t sure Jack believed what she was saying yet. “They broke all the bones in his hands and feet; dislocated his shoulders, and evidently caused internal bleeding from blows to his abdomen.
“The day it happened, he was taken away for more…more heavy interrogation. When I was taken to the room, he was bleeding from both ears and his mouth. His jaw had been broken. They told me I could go home if I executed him.” She put her head between her hands, took a deep breath, and looked up into Jack’s stare. “He begged me to shoot him. Twice, he begged. So I took the gun and fired into the back of his head. And they took a picture!” She was angry. “They wanted to make sure I never returned here.”
Jack looked at her. Was she telling him the truth or was it more deception? He smiled. “Did you ever tell Vaughn?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he believed me,” she said wryly. “And I’m not sure I’d blame you either if you didn’t. It’s a-a story that no one would believe.”
“We’re hiring a lawyer,” he said. “You are going to tell your side of the story. Sydney and Aleksey can’t be there, but I will.” He put his hand to the window. “Touch my hand, darling, and then I’ll go.”
She put hers up to the glass. It was what she had done before Panama when Sydney had come to see her. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”
Back in her cell, she stretched out, thinking about Jack and for a moment, Bill Vaughn. She finally closed her eyes.
It was hot and sticky. The air was fetid from smells of unwashed bodies, feces and urine. Irina felt a little sick. She was trying to sleep a little. The afternoon session in the interrogation room had not been pleasant. Now she was fighting nausea and being quiet in order to keep the rotten food they fed her in her stomach. She was sure she was pregnant now, almost three months along. That was a complication she had not planned. She thought of Jack and Sydney. He had wanted another child and Sydney was always begging for a little sister. Now she was twelve thousand miles away in a hellhole. There were no doctors here and no medicine. She wondered if she would carry to term or perhaps lose it. She wondered if they would make her abort the baby. She hoped not. It was strange, this feeling she had when she knew she was carrying Jack’s child. She wanted it in spite of her circumstances.
The cell doors were opening into the cellblock. She could hear footsteps, keys and voices. The empty cell next to her opened.
“Get in, American spy!” The sound of a body crashing to the floor interrupted her thoughts.
The cell door clanged shut . Irina waited a moment, then she stood up walking to the bars that separated the two cells. There was not much privacy in this prison. There was a man lying on the floor. He was bleeding from the mouth.
“You’re American?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah!” He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his back to the bed, and looked up at her. “You, too?”
She smiled, “No, Russian. I lived in your country for awhile.”
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t tell me anything to identify yourself and I’ll do the same. Let’s be, Russkie, you, and Gringo, that’s me! Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Irina opened her eyes. Russkie and Gringo two people from different countries, but the same given where they were — in prison. She smiled, remembering the tough American, the hell he had to face and the strength he showed during the weeks ahead. They had never broken him.
LANGLEY, Next Day
Jack walked up to the reception desk and asked for Vaughn. Fifteen minutes later, his daughter’s lover walked through security gate and up to Jack.
“Sir, I’m glad to see you.”
“If it hadn’t been for the CIA, I wouldn’t be here.” He glared at Vaughn, who immediately felt the discomfort of being blamed for everything that had happened.
“Look, I didn’t—“
“I want to see Devlin. Get me an appointment, now.” Jack’s voice made it clear that he would not take no for an answer. “Sydney is waiting to hear from me.”
Vaughn understood the veiled threat. If he didn’t act promptly he would no doubt hear from Sydney. “Then, she knows?”
Jack didn’t answer. He just stared.
Thirty minutes later, Vaughn took Jack up stairs.
DCI Devlin was behind his desk when Jack entered the room. “Jack! Nice to see you.” He got up and went to shake Jack’s hand.
“You son of a b---h,” snarled Jack. “How dare you invade my home and take my wife?”
Devlin’s smile disappeared. “You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve coming here after what you and she did.”
“What did we do that was wrong? We just lived quietly, bothering no one.”
“She owes this country a debt and she’s going to pay.” Devlin sat down behind his desk.
Jack leaned forward, both hands on desk, “Irina Derevko is dead to both her country and this one. To bring her back alive is to make both countries look ridiculous. Not only that, but the CIA is going to have to explain why it gave her access to Echlon and why she saved its butt in Kashmir when we nearly failed to get the nukes. Furthermore, Russia won’t be at all happy with you hanging its dirty laundry out for the world to see.”
“They sent her here to spy on you as well as kill our agents.” Devlin was angry now. “The CIA has 12 stars downstairs that want an answer and revenge. The families of those men want their day in court. They are the victims here, not your wife.”
“Then put her on trial, but take her out of Camp Harris and put her into the Federal Prison. Further harassment of my wife will get you nothing, but a big headache when I tell her lawyer what you are doing.” Jack turned on his heel and walked to the door. He opened it and turned back to Devlin. “I mean it.” He slammed the door and stalked out past the secretaries who had heard everything through the door.
CAMP HARRIS
Mark Hanson studied Irina Derevko. She was in the interrogation room, locked down in the chair. She had not said one word the entire time she was there. He had seen the look on her face and in her eyes. She had gone somewhere else again. He was at a loss to understand it. She was, he thought, incredible. He really had to admire her strength of will. He and another man had been questioning her steadily through the morning. She had said nothing. It was as if she had left the room and gone somewhere he was not privy to.
Irina was hot. The air was heavy. The blouse she wore was wet with her sweat. It stuck to her like glue. She had rolled the sleeves up, but it gave her little respite from the heat. The road she and Khasinau had traveled was shimmering. She looked back at the buildings. The man getting out of the car was heavy and sweating even more than she was. Morris Carson was the contact man for The Alliance and in his brief case, she knew, was one hundred fifty million dollars in bearer bonds, which he was going to use to buy precious diamonds.
She glanced to the left of the building and saw Khasinau waiting. She pulled the rifle up to her shoulder, sighted, then fired. Morris Carson died instantly. Then she swung the rifle to the three men who had been standing near him and dropped all three in ten seconds, even though they had tried to scatter. She ran forward as Khasinau knifed the man who had come out of the building. He was the owner of the diamond mine and the seller of the diamonds.
She was through the door almost before Khasinau could take his knife out of the owner. Inside, sitting on his desk, was a brief case. Flipping it open she saw raw diamonds, hundreds of them. She closed and locked it. Khasinau glanced at her as she left the office. She swooped up the briefcase Carson had had with him.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, running for their car. As she jumped into the rear seat, she thought of Sydney. Maybe she would like a diamond ring.
Hanson glanced at his watch. It was time for her exercise period. He heard the door open behind him. “Sir, this just came from Langley.”
Mark looked at it and was relieved. “Okay, let’s get the prisoner ready for transfer.”
“Where?”
“Federal prison in San Pedro.”
Irina opened her eyes.
BOSTON
Eleanor Frutt was in the office alone. Everyone else was out to lunch and it had been her turn to answer the phones while Lucy was gone for an hour. The door opened at the end of the room. She looked up to see a tall man with steel gray hair, dark eyes, and impeccably dressed walk toward her. She smiled, “can I help you.”
“I’m looking for Eleanor Frutt or Lindsey Dole.”
“I’m Eleanor.”
“Good! I want to hire you as a defense attorney for my wife.”
“Is she in jail?”
“She’s been taken to Federal prison in San Pedro, California.”
Eleanor was surprised. “California?”
“Yes. I should tell you that she will be tried for 86 counts of espionage and 12 counts of murder.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “When did this happen?”
“Between the years of 1972 and 1982.” He took a checkbook out of his pocket and picked up a pen from her desk. He looked at her. “Are you interested in defending her?”
“There are some excellent lawyers on the West Coast. Why me or this firm?”
“The firm’s reputation for handling some of the toughest criminal cases. A friend of mine, David Kelly, told me you were the best.”
She smiled. “It does intrigue me! I’d like to hear more before I say yes or no.”
He scribbled something on the check and handed it to her. “This is your retainer fee. You free my wife and we’ll double that!”
Eleanor glanced at the check and did a double take. “Five hundred thousand!” She looked at him and saw he was serious. “It’s good?”
“Call the bank!” He answered.
An hour later, Jack, Eleanor and Bobby Donnell, senior partner, were in the conference room talking. Jack gave them the entire story, at least as much of it as he knew.
“She staged an accident six months ago in order to be with me. I had resigned from the CIA and was going to live in Hawaii. We had spent a week honeymooning there in ’74. She was waiting for me when I returned from the funeral.”
Bobby looked at Eleanor. It was one of the most bizarre and romantic stories he had ever encountered. “What do you think, Eleanor?”
“I want to see her and talk, but,” she looked at Jack, “I have to know there is some kind of legitimate defense, because you can believe the federal prosecutors will have every nail in her coffin ready to hammer down.”
“Who do you want as second chair?” asked Bobby. “I’d like to help, but I’ve two murder trials to prepare for.”
“How about Jamie?”
“She’s not as experienced,” said Bobby.
“But if I’m not mistaken, she’s licensed in California as well as Massachusetts.”
“Then take her with you. You’ll need to assess the amount time and work it will take, as well as prepare any motions. Mr. Bristow, I know you’ll give them all the assistance they need.”
“When do you want to meet my wife?” He asked Eleanor.
“As soon as possible!”
