Red Stilettos

L

lenafan

Cadet
AN: There I was minding my own business when a thought popped into my head—the title of this story. Therefore, in this case, the title dictated this particular story about love, hate, murder, and romance.
RATED: RC-17 for violence, sex, and language.
SUMMARY: Sydney Bristow was savagely beaten and then shot twice. Near death, Sydney fights for her life as Jack stays with her. A phone rings in Moscow.
DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned these characters, but I do not—JJ does and ABC. Of course, some I do and they are mine.


RED STILETTOS
BY LENAFAN

The First Day

They found her lying in a crumpled bloody heap. She was on the floor just inside doors to the Federal Building in West Los Angeles and barely alive. Sydney Bristow, top agent for the CIA, was savagely beaten and shot twice. One shot missed her heart by a scant inch, but punctured her lung. The other had been in the back, missing the spine, ricocheting off a rib and into the scapula.

Rushed to UCLA Medical Center, she was in surgery for eight hours. They repaired the rib and wired the scapula. A thoracic surgeon worked on the lung and saved it. A MRI scan checked for other broken bones, injuries and especially, head injury. According to the doctors and the MRI report, she had two bullet wounds, a broken nose, multiple bruises, and cuts. Although she had no fractures of the skull, the attending physician felt there was some head trauma.

They put her in a private room on the fourth floor and her condition listed as critical. She was catheterized, oxygenated, and hooked up to heart and lung monitors. Ten minutes after they brought her into the room, her father, Jack Bristow took up residence. The doctors protested, but one look at him made them back off. Black fury raged in his face and eyes. They did not want to cross him.

Jack pulled up a chair next to Sydney. He took her right hand, it did not seem to have a needle stuck into it, and held it with both of his. He bit his lips, but it did not stop the tears from forming in his eyes and trickling down his cheeks. There were not many times in his life that Jack Bristow cried. The last time had been when Laura ‘died’.


“Mommy, Daddy! I hurt my leg. Mommy, Daddy!” Sydney looked down. Her leg looked funny. Tears began to run down her face. “Mommy!”

Suddenly, her mother was there. She broke out into a full-blown scream and she stared up into her mother’s terror-stricken face.

“What happened, Sydney?” Her mother began to cry also.

“I fell off the rock,” Sydney sniffled, pointing offhandedly toward a rock close by.

“Laura,” Jack joined them, “what…” Then he saw the leg. “Damn!” Jack looked at Laura. “It’s broken.”

Sydney was looking from one parent to the other. “Mommy, why don’t you have any clothes on?”

“Get some on now” Jack waved to the tent. “We have to take her to the hospital.”

Laura had raced out to her daughter when she heard her screaming. She had not stopped to put on anything. Laura always slept naked. She and Jack had made love last night, falling asleep almost instantly in their sleeping bag. She stood and ran back up the hill, unashamed or embarrassed. In less than a minute, she was back out of the tent in khakis and flannel shirt. Underwear was not a priority.

Jack had his four-year old daughter in his arms. He walked to the car, carefully trying not to hurt Sydney. She was sniffling and trying to be brave. Laura joined them. She sat in the back seat as Jack put Sydney into her arms.

“Careful of the leg,” he said and looked at Sydney. “Don’t move. Your mother will hold you.”

“But it hurts,” cried Sydney. “It hurts Mommy, it hurts.”


Jack stood up, leaning over Sydney. She had made a sound. “Sydney, sweetheart, can you hear me? Sydney?”

There was no response.


It was daytime in Moscow. The woman was walking down Dzerzhinskaya when her cell phone rang. “Da?” She listened, eyes widening in horror. “Moya bog!” She swore. Shutting the cell off, she looked for a taxi.


Second Day

Jack was on his third cup of coffee. He had not been to sleep. He glanced at his watch. It was seven in the morning. He stood and looked down at Sydney. She was not moving and the only way he knew she was alive were the monitors behind her.

“Oh Sydney,” he said. “I am so sorry, sweetheart.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Daddy’s so sorry.”

“Come on, Sydney!” Jack picked up his daughter in her blanket. She didn’t stir. His four year old was sound asleep. God, he thought, to be young and so innocent. He turned. Laura was behind him packing a small bag of Sydney’s things. He was trying not to stumble. He and Laura had drank a bit too much of the schnapps Harry at the office gave him. Neither had eaten dinner when Jack put the bread in the toaster. Damn machine caught fire and nearly burned up the kitchen. Fortunately, he was able to put out the fire.

Tomorrow he would have to see about getting the kitchen cleaned up and repaired. Right now, he and Laura were taking the sleeping Sydney to the Summit Hotel for the next few nights.

Carrying his daughter to the car, Jack stumbled. “Damn it,” he swore.

“Daddy,” Sydney mumbled. “What you do?”

“Sydney,” it was Laura, who was beside him and had steadied him. “It’s ‘what are you doing’. And we’re going to have a vacation.” She glared at Jack. “Be careful, Jack.”

“Sorry,” he said and hiccupped. “Can you drive?”

“I hope so,” she answered.

Thirty minutes later, they were in a room at the Summit. The bellhop brought in a cot for Sydney. Laura made it up and Jack put Sydney down. Jack sat down on the edge of the bed watching Laura tuck Sydney in, although it wasn’t necessary. Their little girl had been half-asleep anyway.

“I love you, Mommy,” said Sydney. Laura smiled, leaned over, and kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek.

“I love you too!”

The next night was their first out. Jack called in sick and went back to the house to meet with the contractor he knew. It wouldn’t take too long to remedy the smoke stained kitchen and make sure the fire did not compromise the wiring. Laura and Sydney came with him. Sydney’s eyes had grown large when she saw their kitchen and she coughed. The smell of smoke filled her lungs.

“What happened, Daddy?” She coughed again.

“We had a little accident after you went to bed. Don’t worry, sweetheart, we will have a brand new kitchen soon.”

That night at the hotel restaurant, Sydney ate all of her food and as a reward, Laura let her have a dessert. She wanted a sundae. She had a sundae every night they were at the hotel.

She remembered that…


Vladivostok was a bustling city on the east coast of Russia. The plane landed late at night. The passengers hurried off to the baggage room. The woman, dressed in a black pants suit, handed her credentials to the Security man who was watching. He nodded, saluted, and turned, leading her through the crowds to the Security Office. All personnel left on his orders. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number.

“Yeah,” the voice answered on the other end.

The woman spoke quickly and forcibly, outlining what she wanted and when she wanted it. She closed the cell phone and left the room, thanking the Security man who was standing guard.

Jack’s phone rang. He opened it hurriedly. “Bristow?” He listened to the voice on the other end. “Tell everyone there is no change. However, she is no worse. They won’t let any visitors yet. Yes, but I’m her father and I’m not leaving until she wakes up.” He snapped the cell shut.

The door opened behind him and one of the doctors entered with Sydney’s chart. A nurse followed him and walked to the monitors.

“Anything wrong,” asked Jack.

“No, but I’m sure you want us to keep checking.” The doctor did not tell Jack there had been some increased brain activity. They were sure the patient was dreaming.

“Yes, of course, but—I…”

“Look Jack, I’m sure you’ll be the first to know if she wakes up.”

“IF…” Jack stared at him blankly.

“Don’t worry so much. She’s young.” He smiled confidently. “By the way, where is her mother?”

“Dead,” Jack said and did not explain.

Unseen, Sydney’s right hand clutched at the sheet.


Her father was sitting in his chair, but the television wasn’t on and he was crying. Sydney stared at him. What happened? ‘Daddy, why are you crying?” Sydney was in her jammers and holding onto the blond-haired doll, her mother gave her for her sixth birthday. She came closer.

Jack stared at her as if she were a stranger. He didn’t see her at all. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face wet with tears that still fell. Sydney climbed up on his lap and he held her in his strong arms. It was midnight and she was gone!

“Where’s Mommy?” Sydney looked around.

Jack swallowed. How was he going to explain it to her? The police called to say there had been an accident. It looked as if her car had gone off the bridge. It was raining hard and the river was swollen. They were searching, but didn’t have any hope until morning. Laura! Jack tried to hold back his sobs, at least for Sydney’s sake.

“Ouch! Daddy, that hurts.” Sydney looked up into her father’s face.

Jack realized he was squeezing Sydney tight. She looked like she was going to cry. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He put his head down next to hers and kissed her cheek.

“You’re scratchy,” said his daughter, moving away from his face. “Where’s Mommy?”

The next day Jack sat her down. “Sydney, a terrible accident happened last night. Your Mommy,” he was almost holding his breath as he realized he didn’t want to say the words. “…Mommy isn’t coming home. She—she’s gone away—to heaven.” Jack had no idea if Sydney understood the concept of heaven—or hell.

“Mommy went to heaven? Why didn’t she say ‘goodbye’?”

“She, she didn’t know she was going.” Jack’s heart was about to burst. It hurt to talk to Sydney.

Sydney stared up into her father’s face and then she too began to cry.

Her mother was dead.

Sydney’s hand clutched again at the sheet.


Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy, popularly known as PetroKam, was located on the Bering Sea north of Vladivostok. It was from here, a nuclear submarine left with the tide, heading for the Aleutian Islands. The woman came aboard before the crew and before the Captain. The XO showed her to the room reserved for guests. An hour later the submarine was on its way to a destination only the XO knew and was about to show the Captain.

The Captain knocked on the guest’s door.

“Enter.”

“My second in command has given me this,” he handed her a piece of paper. “Is this correct?” She nodded. “Then we shall be there in seven hours.” He saluted and shut the door.
 
Third Day

Jack stood, arching his back. It had been forty-eight hours and Sydney wasn’t awake yet. The doctors had been in numerous times to check on her and to change the dressings on her wounds. The bruises on her face and arms were distinct and ugly. They had set her nose, but there were bruises around her eyes, as though someone hit her. Her eyes were not affected. An ophthalmologist examined her and assured Jack there were no injuries to either eye.

He was getting ready to go to the waiting room. The nurse in charge of the day shift told him there were several people who wanted to talk to him about Miss Bristow. Jack went to the bathroom and threw water on his face. He left the room, having been assured she was still unconscious. There was no sign of activity indicating she’d be awake soon.

Jack walked into the room to find Marshall, Vaughn, and Nadia waiting. They were astonished to see how old he looked. He had aged overnight. Vaughn went up first, followed by the others.

“Jack, please, can I see her?”

“I don’t think Sydney would want you to see her now.”

“Damn it, Jack, I love her.”

Jack turned weary eyes on him. “Michael, she’s very, very sick. She’s on the edge. Has there been anything done to locate her attackers.”

Marshall stepped forward. “We know it was not SVR. I hacked into their files. It’s strange but her name isn’t even mentioned anywhere.”

“Sloane?” He asked. He ignored Marshall’s observation.

Marshall shook his head. “I doubt it, Sir. He was fond of Sydney.”

Vaughn nodded numbly. “She was on a simple assignment, Jack, you know that! She just had to pick up some documents in Romania and return to the States. She had no back up because Langley said she did not need it.”

“Well someone had it in for her. I want a name or names. All of you get on it immediately. Whoever did this will pay and pay hard.”

Nadia stepped forward, threw her arms around Jack, kissing him on the cheek. “I will pray for her.” Tears stained her face.

Jack gave her a light hug. “Everything will help.” He looked at Vaughn. “You find out whoever did this…it had to be here in L.A. because we know she flew into Burbank right on schedule.”

Vaughn’s eyes met those of Jack’s. “I’m going to kill them.” He promised.

“Find them first.” Jack didn’t object to Vaughn’s promise.


The tall woman walked along the dock toward land. She had just come off the fishing boat behind her. She had her cell phone to her ear, listening. “Who was it?” She asked. She nodded. “Find them. Let me know. Yes, I know they are. I would expect it. I want them first—all of them.” She snapped the cell shut and saw the car waiting beside the cannery. “Anchorage International,” she said, sliding into the seat next to the driver. “And don’t hit any deer or moose on the way.”

Jack returned to Sydney’s bedside. A quick glance at the monitors told him nothing had changed. He leaned over the bed, looking at her bruised, battered face. “Sydney, sweetheart, can you hear me? It’s Dad. Wake up. Please…” He took her hand in his, patting it gently. “I’m not mad, please wake up for me.” God, when was the last time he said that to her? His mind drifted through the years, back to when she was a teen-ager.

Sydney stood in her father’s room with her friend, Mary Alice. They were there because Sydney wanted to explore the closet. She had stealthily examined drawers and closets in the other rooms, but this one was the last—the one she never saw her father use. She pulled it open.

“Gee!” She exclaimed.

“What?” Mary Alice joined her. “There doesn’t seem to be anything.” She lost interest.

“Wait!” Sydney stepped inside and tugged at a cloth bag. “Here’s something.” She carried the bag to the bed and unzipped it. “Gee whiz!”

Mary Alice’s eyes got very big. It was a dress—a red dress made of some kind of gauzy light material. “It’s beautiful. Do you suppose it was your Mom’s?” She knew Sydney’s mother had died in a car accident when Sydney was six.

“I’ll bet it is.” Sydney looked around at the closet again. She looked up and saw the shoebox. She looked around the room, saw the stool by the dressing table, and pulled it over. She climbed up and took the box. Jumping down, she opened it. There was a pair of red shoes or sandals. “Wow,” Sydney said, showing them to Mary Alice.

“Try them on,” urged Mary Alice.

Sydney all of thirteen and five-foot five, kicked off her loafers and slipped her feet into the heels. She felt awkward. It was hard to walk in them.

“Sydney, there’s a picture.” Mary Alice took it out. She held the photograph so Sydney could see. “Your Mom was beautiful.”

Sydney took the picture from Mary Alice and stared down. She gasped. Her mother was posing for the camera, wearing the red dress and the shoes. She was smiling with what Sydney guessed was a wicked smile. She had her right leg up on the—Sydney looked at the piece of furniture carefully. It was the stool and…”

“Sydney!”

The two girls gasped, turning to the doorway to see Jack Bristow staring at them angrily. Mary Alice tore past him and down the stairs without saying goodbye. Sydney knew she was in trouble.

“Is this Mom?” She started to sniffle. She could push her father’s buttons just right and somehow she knew this would work.

He strode to where she stood, teetering on the stiletto heels. “Yes,” he took the picture and looked at it.

“Oh Dad—Daddy was no longer his name now that she was in her teens—she is so beautiful.” She sobbed now. “I—I miss her so much.”

Jack was totally at a loss. He’d planned to punish her, but now he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. She said exactly what he felt about Laura. He pulled her to him and they sat on the bed together staring at the smiling woman in the red dress and the red stiletto heels.

Jack shook himself and looked at Sydney. He was glad he did not punish her. She missed Laura so much and he realized that day how much she resembled the woman he loved so passionately. He thought Laura loved him as much…that is until she died and the FBI came to the house. It very nearly killed him.

Sydney stirred only slightly.

Sydney walked into Danny’s apartment. It was a mess. Frightened she saw that the entire apartment has been ransacked. She dropped her keys, moving to the bathroom. The door was closed, but she opened it and saw Danny in the bathtub. Blood was splattered over the porcelain tiles. She gasped, running to the bathtub and leaned in. She screamed and screamed repeatedly, each time getting louder.

“What did you do?” She barged into Sloane’s office. He muttered the excuse that Danny knowing about the agency was a virus and it, the virus, had to be contained.

“You killed the man I love,” she cried.

“No, Agent Bristow, you did.” His voice was sharp, accusatory, and angry.

Sydney stirred a frown on her face and moaned. Jack gripped her hand. The door opened behind him and the doctor with a nurse entered. He walked to the bed to check everything. The nurse looked at the monitors. There was some activity on the heart monitor. The blood pressure reading was a bit higher and Sydney’s pulse rate had jumped.

“What’s happened,” said Jack concerned.

“She’s dreaming I think. That’s fine, because her brain is becoming more active.”

“She moaned,” said Jack.

“She’s sustained some terrible injuries, Mr. Bristow. I think her verbalizing even a moan is good.” He patted Jack on the back and left.

Jack leaned back down over his daughter. “Sydney, Sydney, it’s your father!”

“Mom?” The voice was weak, barely audible. “Mom?”

Jack was stunned. He couldn’t believe it. Why was she calling for Laura, no Irina? What was she dreaming about that would cause her to call for her mother.


Sydney sat in the chair, chained to it. She had been drugged. She looked around. It was a storeroom somewhere. A man sat in front of her with a tray. There was food on it.

“You should eat.”

Sydney shook her head. He got up to leave. “No, wait. You’re Alexander Khasinau! I—I have questions.”

“You can ask my boss.”

“I—I thought you were The Man.”

He shook his head and left the room. Sydney stared down the short hallway. Someone was coming, Khasinau’s boss. A woman entered and Sydney’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Mom?” She saw the gun her mother held against her thigh.

“Tell me, Sydney, who sent you here. You must tell me.”

“What? I’m grounded?” Sydney was angry and hurt. Her mother raised the gun and fired, hitting Sydney in the shoulder. “Ugh!” Sydney fell still handcuffed to the chair. She gasped and looked up at her mother stunned.

“Tell you what—think about it. I’ll come back and ask you again.”

Mists swirled and Sydney was fighting Khasinau in the warehouse on the Barcelona waterfront. She had him down at last, her gun in her hand.

“Drop it!”

Sydney froze, recognizing her mother’s voice. She dropped the gun as Khasinau raised up to face The Man. Sydney watched her mother smile and fire the gun. Sydney checked her body. She was still standing. She turned to see Khasinau, a bullet in his chest, slowly fall to the ground dead.

“On your knees… hands on head… head to ground.” Sydney complied to each order. She turned to watch as her mother picked up the briefcase. “Truth takes time,” she said softly and disappeared, where Sydney did not know.
 
Black fury raged in his face and eyes. They did not want to cross him.
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If they'd tried to cross him he probably woulda done some damage...

She stood and ran back up the hill, unashamed or embarrassed
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How Irina! erm...Laura?

Neither had eaten dinner when Jack put the bread in the toaster. Damn machine caught fire and nearly burned up the kitchen. Fortunately, he was able to put out the fire.
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This seems familiar...is it from one of your stories or something which we already know?

Beautiful! I really love the integration of the chapter...it's broken up into small scenes and yet it flows together so nicely! On to the next section...

“Damn it, Jack, I love her.”
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Hehe! Vaughn has a spine! I love how you write him with a spine! :lol:

Sydney stood in her father’s room with her friend, Mary Alice.
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Mary Alice? Inspired by DHW or coincidence?

Why was she calling for Laura, no Irina?
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nice touch!

MORE MORE!!! oooh! I love love LOVE this story! the integration of the storylines is something! Brilliant and full of much promise!

K :P
 
The Fourth Day

One of the doctors finally told Jack to get some sleep. He gave him a cot in a storeroom nearby notifying the nurses not to disturb him. Jack slept fitfully his mind filled with thoughts of Sydney and…Irina. He had no idea what Sydney was dreaming or thinking about, causing her to call out for her mother. They had not heard from Irina for almost two years. She disappeared again after the fracas with Yelena. She removed her sister from their lives and everything had been relatively peaceful, if there was such a thing in the CIA’s world.

He tossed on the cot and then it wasn’t the cot, it was his bed at home. He sighed. Maybe everything was a dream…a bad dream. Deep down, he knew this not to be true. He sighed again.

“Hello, Jack.” He looked up. Laura was standing at the foot of the bed. She was dressed in that stunning red cocktail dress he’d bought her for her birthday…her thirtieth, at least that’s what she told him. Her hair hung loose down past her shoulders. She wore a bright red lipstick that matched the color of the dress. She had those damned red stiletto heels on also.

“My God,” he whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

She laughed and came to the side of the bed. “Shame on you getting into bed so fast.” She leaned over and kissed him.

Jack moaned. To his astonishment, she climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He caught his breath as she took off the earrings, leaning over to put them on the bedside table. His eyes went to her breasts. She looked down at him and chuckled. “Like them?”

“You know I do,” he whispered watching her take off the diamond necklace he’d given her at Christmas. She leaned over again and put it on the table.

“I’d rather you take off my clothes, but I don’t think you’re capable at the moment.” She wiggled and slowly drew the red dress off over her head. She tossed it on the rug. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it dry cleaned tomorrow.” She leaned down and kissed him, this time, pushing inside his mouth hungrily, eagerly.

He pulled a hand loose from under the covers and caressed the back of her head and neck. She was in control, but he didn’t care. Sex was sex and sometimes having Laura lead was exhilarating. It made the act twice as exciting. She was good too. He wanted her more than ever now. “Hurry,” he whispered. He knew his erection was complete. She grinned, slowly removing her bra and tossing it on top of the dress. She was naked except for the garter belt. She undid the hose, pulling the belt over her head and tossing it too.

Now she stood up on the bed over him, wearing hose and the stiletto heels that added another four inches to her six feet. Jack moaned. He wanted her and could see where he wanted to be. She kicked the heels off, pulling off each hose and dropping it. She was completely naked, all six feet of her.

“Hurry,” he cried, he wanted her so bad it hurt.

“Mr. Bristow!” The voice was loud, insistent.

Jack struggled back to reality. My God, he thought, realizing the situation and his deep feelings. “What do you want?”

“Dr. Brennan needs to see you.”

"Ummm, I'll be there in a minute or two."


The woman stood curbside listening to her cell. “You’re sure?” She glanced up the street. There didn’t seem to be a taxi close by. “Pick me up at Burbank. Thirty minutes.” She snapped the cell shut and moved back, taking a seat on a bench to wait.


Jack hurried to Sydney’s room. Dr. Brennan was working over her. He was changing the bandage on her chest and the nurse was helping. “You wanted to see me,” Jack said rushing to Sydney’s bedside.

“I think she’s going to make it, Jack.” Brennan stood up and looked at him smiling. “Her heart rate and blood pressure are getting better. There’s a bit more color in her face too, I mean aside from the bruises. She’s going to be a sick woman for a few more days. We will have to wait to see when she can go home.”

“Is she awake?”

“Not yet. Her vitals are getting better, so I think she’ll come out of it in the next twelve hours, possibly sooner.”

“Thank goodness.” Jack sat down.


The car pulled up in a strip mall. The two men in the front walked to the door of a Judo school. They opened the door and looked inside, then one turned and waved. The woman stepped out of the car walking inside. The two men followed. The large room was dark, but there was enough light from the street that she could see two other men standing with two more seated on the cement floor.

“Release one,” said the woman. She nodded her head toward the center.

One man’s hands were untied. They pushed him to the center of the room. He stood knowing he was in trouble, serious trouble, but didn’t know why. He stared as the woman removed her coat, handing it to one of the silent men flanking her. She reached in her pant’s pocket and brought out some leather gloves, which she drew on over her hands.

“Name,” she asked.

“Bruno Akers!” He suddenly had no wish to anger her.

“Who gave the orders to kill Sydney Bristow?”

Bruno stared at her stupidly. How did she know? “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about?” His response was expected.

The boot caught him in the balls and dropped him as though a truck had hit him. His hands went to his crotch. The right fist drove down into his face, breaking his nose. Blood spurted. He grabbed at his nose and another kick struck him in the crotch. He screamed and screamed again as the fists rained a series of calculated blows on his face. Paralyzed by the inability to strike back, he writhed in agony on the floor. He didn’t see the gun. Two bullets entered his body. He twitched, cried out, and died. The other prisoner knew he was a dead man if he didn’t talk.


Sydney stood on the rooftop. She and her parents returned from Kashmir, their mission a success. She looked around. My God there’s five, no six guards. She looked ahead at the woman, her mother, walking back and forth. Irina looked up and smiled at her. Sydney went forward.

“Hello Sydney. Kendall has allowed me fifteen minutes twice a week outside. You did that…you asked him, didn’t you?”

“OH Mom, you helped us in Kashmir. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Irina smiled at her, appreciating the thanks. She spoke about how she didn’t realize that ideology could come between them. She spoke the simple words quickly about how she was recruited at eighteen. Sydney nodded and knew their stories were similar for Arvin had recruited her at nineteen. At least, he hadn’t ordered her to go to a different country and marry a man. Sydney nodded and started to turn…

“Sydney!” Her mother called almost in anguish.

Sydney turned back and in an instant, they were hugging each other.

“Stand back!” The shouts came from around them. The two women broke apart as other marshals shouted. Sydney saw the tears in her mother’s eyes. She had some in her own.


Jack saw a tear running down Sydney’s cheek. He picked up her hand in his and rubbed it. “There, there, sweetheart, it’s all right, everything will be fine.” He had no idea what she was dreaming or about who, but it obviously was a sad moment. He looked at the monitors and saw they were steady.


The woman stood in front of the man who was still alive. He was frightened and tried not to look at the body on the floor behind her. She killed him coldly and without remorse. It was sudden and without warning.

“Who gave orders to kill Sydney Bristow?” The woman’s voice was low and harsh.

“Hassan. Akmed Hassan.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He said it was a matter of honor.”

“Honor? To beat and shoot someone…to toss her in the street like a crumpled piece of paper?” She was definitely angry. She pulled her gun again and without warning shot him twice. She looked around, saw a small desk, and pulled a Post-It and wrote the name. She tucked it into the pocket of the first dead man.

Jack heard his cell ring. He pulled it from his pocket and snapped it open. “Bristow.”

He listened. “Are you sure? Bring it here to her room. I want to see it.” He snapped it shut. “Looks like we’ve got a lead on the men who did this to you, Sydney.”

“Mom,” mumbled Sydney again.

“She’s not here…” Jack answered. What else could he say?

The door opened and Vaughn entered. He had a small colored piece of paper in his hand. He could barely look at Jack. His eyes were for the body lying in the bed. He had loved Sydney from almost the minute she entered CIA headquarters that day years ago. She had been injured before in the line of duty while on assignment, but this time there was no assignment. Silently, he handed the piece of paper to Jack, who took it and read the two words.

“Akmed Hassan.” He looked at Vaughn. “Has the CIA got him on file?”

“No. However, there is an Akmed Hassan registered here in Los Angeles. He is a Professor of Islamic Culture and Religion at USC. He is about sixty and lives quietly with a wife of forty years in Hancock Park. Evidently he has money.”

“Start surveillance on him.”

“It has been done.” Vaughn assured him, his eyes still on Sydney. “God, Jack, has she awakened? She—she,” he bit his lip.

“Vaughn, leave. I’ll keep all of you informed when she regains consciousness.” Jack stood and put his arm around the young man Sydney loved and pushed him toward the door. “Please go…”


Irina opened the door and stepped inside before any neighbor noticed. She stood a moment letting her eyes get used to the dim light. She was waiting for Boris, her manager, to arrive with the items she needed. Irina stared as furniture and other items came into focus. She knew the house well. She and Jack lived together here for nine years after moving out from Virginia.

Memory clicked in and she moved confidently to the kitchen. She was hungry. She had not eaten for a full day. She opened the refrigerator door. Inside, she saw some cheese, apples, and a couple of pieces of chicken with some sort of plastic wrap around them. She took one and began eating ravenously. Finished, she devoured the other piece, throwing the bones in the basket under the sink.

Gradually her eyes used what little light there was to notice he had a new sofa and chairs, a large screen TV, new coffee table and end tables. She glanced over at the dining room and saw it was the same set. They did pay a heavy price for it—solid oak and it seemed to have weathered the years.

She walked out of the kitchen and went up the stairs. She glanced at the room Sydney once occupied. It looked different, but then Sydney had lived here until she went to UCLA. She had followed her daughter’s life and was well aware of her developmental years. There were pictures in her apartment and one in her purse, that is, when she carried one, which was not often. Irina went to the bedroom she once shared with Jack.

“He bought a king-size!” She raised an eyebrow, but approved. There was an armoire and chest of drawers, but no dressing table or stool. The set was made from a dark wood. She walked to the closet that once was hers, opening the door. Glancing out into the room, she noticed the blinds were closed. She switched on the light to get a better look.

One clothes bag and a shoebox on the shelf. Well, what could she expect…he would have given her clothes away. She wondered what he did keep. She slowly unzipped the bag, her eyes widening as she stared at the red dress. Irina reached for the box, her hands shaking a little. She took the lid off…the red stilettos.

It was her birthday, March 22, just a few days after Jack’s own celebration. She purchased him a Rolex Chronometer. Stunned, he was almost unable to say anything. Laura had saved up for months; taking money from her salary to set aside. Jack had been very appreciative that night.

Sydney stared at her parents…excited. She went shopping with her father to find the perfect gift. She gave her father a dollar she saved from her allowance. She told him they had to find something as pretty as ‘Mommy’ for her present. Jack drove them to Beverly Hills and to Rodeo Drive. Sydney was so excited she could hardly keep still. Her father told her to be still and not cause any disturbance. An hour later, they walked out of a big dress shop with a large box that held a special dress. Sydney carried the smaller shoebox, wrapped in gold paper, and excited because she had bought the shoes.

Now Jack and Sydney watched as Laura opened the big box first. Her eyes were wide with excitement as she pulled the bright red Oscar de la Renta dress out and held it up for them to see.

“Oh Jack, it’s beautiful…the most beautiful dress in the world.” She reached over and kissed him.

“…and the most sexy,” he added grinning.

“Mommy, open this…” Sydney pushed the other gold wrapped package. “This is from me. I bought it for you.”

Laura gently laid the dress down and then leaned down to kiss her daughter. She opened the card and laughed. With Jack’s help, Sydney made the card, signing it in her childish scrawl. Laura pulled the bow off the package, removed the paper, and looked at the box. “I think they must be shoes,” she guessed.

Sydney jumped up and down. “Hurry, open it!”

Jack watched Laura lift the lid. She reached in under the tissue paper and brought out the shoes.

“Sydney! Did you pick these out?” Laura held the red stilettos by their straps. She could barely hold back a smile.

“Yes, yes, didn’t I, Daddy?”

Jack pulled Sydney to him and they both faced Laura whose eyes were dancing with excitement and something else. “Of course, Sydney.”

Laura took a step to face him. She reached for his head, pulled it to her, and kissed him. It was not a peck on the cheek. As they kissed, Jack felt heat rising in him and he knew he would be thanked again later. They broke apart as Sydney pushed at them. She was being squeezed.


Irina smiled, putting the lid back on it. Jack was surprising her more and more. She heard a knock. Boris was here with the items she asked him to bring.
 
Fifth Day

Jack spent the night again in the storeroom on the cot. If Sydney awakened, they were to let him know immediately. The office kept him apprised of the investigation into Akmed Hassan’s possible motive and accessory to beating and shooting of Sydney Bristow. The two dead men were processed and then taken to the county morgue for autopsy. The CIA was using all of its resources to learn about them and Hassan. They were also curious about the person behind their deaths. There was only one person Jack knew, however, who had the resources to access that he did not.

“Sydney!” The voice was soft, melodic, and low. “Sydney, sweetheart, wake up!” Irina sat in the chair by her daughter’s bed. She was dressed as a nurse in scrubs and made her way into Sydney’s room without fear. She waited until Jack walked with tired steps into the storeroom

Sydney frowned and moved a little. Irina looked up at the monitors. There didn’t seem to be any abrupt increase in her vitals. They looked good. Sydney needed to wake up. She took Sydney’s right hand in hers. “I want you to wake up, young lady. You don’t fool me. You don’t want to go to school today. Sydney, wake up!” Her voice was a little stronger.

“Mommy…” Sydney’s voice was weak. She didn’t think she was playing hooky.

“Wake up, Sydney Anne Bristow, right this minute.”

The voice penetrated the half-drugged mind of the young woman. The voice was so familiar and she had not heard it for some time. It was her mother’s voice. She wasn’t pretending…she wasn’t. Sydney moved her head. A hand touched her forehead, smoothed her hair, and then moved to her cheek. It was a soft and loving touch.

“Mom?” Sydney’s eyes opened wide and looked directly into her mother’s worried face.

“Sydney,” Irina leaned over and this time she kissed her lightly on her cheek. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Me too!” Sydney whispered. “Where am I?”

“UCLA Med Center. You’re going to be fine. Your father has been very worried.”

Sydney’s eyes widened as realization hit her. “Mom, you can’t be here…you can’t…they’ll…”

“Shh, shh, don’t worry about me. I just wanted to be sure you were going to be all right.”

Irina glanced at her watch. Six o’clock…a new shift would be coming on in an hour. She should leave. Jack would be coming in soon. She didn’t want to meet him here. “Your attackers have been eliminated and the CIA is tracking down the man who ordered the hit. All that is left for you to do, is get well, sweetheart.”

“Wait…do you have to leave?” Her voice cracked. Her mouth was dry.

Irina poured some water into a plastic glass, put a straw into it, and held it to Sydney’s lips. Tears formed in her eyes as she gazed into the battered face of her daughter. She knew within weeks there would be no sign of the bruises, but now they were terrible reminders of what Sydney had gone through. She put the glass back down.

“Sydney, I must. Don’t worry. I’ll keep in touch with your father. He’ll let me know your progress.” She squeezed Sydney’s hand. “When he comes in, don’t tell him I was here. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mom,” Sydney answered sleepily. Her eyes closed. When she opened them again, Irina was gone.

Jack came awake instantly when someone knocked on the door. “Yes?”

“She’s awake,” said a nurse.

Jack jumped off the cot and hurried out. He was nearly running when he burst into Sydney’s room. Two doctors were bending over his daughter. One was changing the bandage on her chest; the other was waiting to do the same on her back. She smiled when she saw her father.

“Dad!” She was weak, but managed to say that.

”Sydney, sweetheart, I’ve been so worried.” The doctor working on the chest wound was finished. He moved out of the way, writing something in her chart. Jack took her hand in his. He noticed she wasn’t wearing the oxygen mask. Both doctors smiled and gave him the thumbs-up sign. She was going to make it. They left the room.

“I had a dream that Mom was here.” Sydney actually thought she had been dreaming the entire time. “Yeah, I was asleep and didn’t want to go to school…she told me to wake up. Guess I was dreaming.”

“Yes, I guess so, Sydney,” he grimaced, “I don’t know where she is or I would tell her about this.”

“I wish I could see her,” Sydney said. “In spite of everything, I do miss her.”

“Me too,” he whispered.

“Could I have some more water?” She looked at the cup sitting on the patient table.

Jack reached for it and froze. More water. He had not given her any and he was halfway sure the doctors had not either. He carefully gave Sydney some of the liquid. When she was finished, he smiled and told her he had to tell the CIA rep out in the waiting room the good news. The Agency was keeping a watch on her progress and sent one man or woman each day to wait.

There he found the designated CIA representative waiting. It was Marshall. He gave him the good news and handed him the cup which was in a plastic bag he’d found in Sydney’s bedside table. “Check it for fingerprints. Call my cell phone and give me the report. Tell no one.”


Irina returned to the house. She knew Jack would not be home for several hours. He would stay with Sydney. She needed a few hours of sleep. Irina went up the stairs to Sydney’s room and took off the nurses scrubs she’d worn at the hospital. She put her gun on the table next to the bed, slipped between the sheets, and fell asleep.


Jack watched Sydney sleep. To him at least it seemed she was resting more comfortably than she had the previous day. She didn’t seem to be dreaming much either. Jack sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep, but was considering what happened the past two days. He was almost positive that Irina was close by. The fact the two dead men ended up on the street in front of the Federal Building and then Sydney’s thinking she dreamed her mother woke her up so she could go to school seemed to indicate neither was a coincidence. Add to that the paper in the pocket with the name ‘Akmed Hassan’ on it. He was positive Irina wrote it.

If she was in L.A., she was taking a terrible risk. If captured, she was as good as dead. The government would execute her.

His cell phone rang. “Bristow.”

“It’s me, Marshall.”

“Yes?” Jack didn’t breathe.

“Umm, Jack, I—I got a partial print, but I—I,” Marshall was hesitating as though he did not want to say any name.

“Hers?” Jack said.

“Yes.” Marshall confirmed. “Any instructions?”

“Burn the report.”

“Done.” He hung up. Marshall was smart; he adored Sydney, and respected Jack enormously. He also admired the entire family, although interacting with Irina only once while she was in CIA custody.

Jack turned to look at Sydney. It was obvious Irina visited Sydney while he was in the storeroom asleep. It would seem she had extracted their daughter from her semi-comatose state with a few well-chosen words as a mother to her daughter. He smiled thinking about Irina. He had not seen her for two years and there was an instant aching around his heart and in his mind. He stood and walked to the window on the other side of Sydney’s bed.

Ever since she returned, Irina had inserted herself back into his everyday thoughts. He wanted her to be next to him every morning; he wanted her to be home when he drove into the driveway, waiting for him. He had, one day, realized he supplanted Laura with Irina. He did not tell Dr. Barnett this at all. She might still think he thought of Irina Derevko as Laura…so let her. If he told her what he really thought, the Agency might consider him a risk.

Jack wondered where she was. He hoped she was not on her way back to Russia. He knew she was there and had been the past two years. She was working as a high-ranking SVR official. He did not know how high up she was, but he knew she had power. He also knew if she thought he was keeping tabs on her, she might cut off his source of information—severely. He would not like to think how. His wife, he never divorced her, could be brutal when acting on behalf of her country. She also had a soft heart for her family. He realized that when she saved Sydney several times and him when Sloane took him to Mexico City.

He walked back to the chair, glancing at his watch. He saw Sydney’s eyes were open and they were watching him. He sat down, smiled, and took her hand in his. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone beat me up!” She wasn’t smiling. She said nothing for a moment. “She was here, wasn’t she…Mom, I mean…she was really here!”

“I—I think so, Sydney.” Jack’s face softened and he felt a lurch in his stomach. He rubbed his face with his other hand. “She—she didn’t come to see me, sweetheart. It was you.”

“Dad, she does love you still,” Sydney said. She coughed, and then squeezed her eyes shut as pain scrambled around in her chest. It lessened and she opened her eyes.

“Are you alright, do you want me to call the doctor or nurse?”

“I think I’ll get some sleep,” she murmured. “She does, you know, she really does…”

Jack sat back. How the hell did Sydney know that…? Women seemed to pick up on stuff that men didn’t. He shook his head and sighed. He wondered what she looked like or what she was wearing.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at Sydney. She didn’t seem to be awake. “Bristow!”

“Hello, Jack!”

An electric shock jolted his body. He forgot she could do that to him. Jack glanced at Sydney again. “Where are you?”

“Someplace safe. How is Sydney?”

“She’s fine. She remembers you were here.”

Silence at the other end. “She was more awake than I thought.”

“Mothers tend to make you sit up and take notice when spoken to as you did her.” He was smiling. “Thank you.”

“A favor,” she said.

“What?”

“Take me to dinner and dancing…”

Jack blinked and his mouth opened in surprise. “My God, you are a brazen woman,” and he laughed.

“Brazen and lonely…” she paused. “The Balalaika, Ocean Boulevard in Santa Monica. Remember?”

“Of course. Eight o’clock?” He answered. “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause at the other end, then she answered, “Me too.”


Jack found a seat at the small bar. There were a few patrons and some Russian music of some kind was playing in the background. He had a Chivas on the rocks in front of him. He glanced over at the diners, none of whom seemed a bit familiar. The bartender was a grizzled, dark man. Jack almost wanted to place him as Arabic rather than Russian although he spoke it well. He himself had ordered and spoken to him in Russian and had been surprised with the response in the same language. Obviously, there were many Russian patrons, who frequented it from time to time.

“I’ve missed you, Jack.”

He turned in the stool and she was there, a bare two inches from his face. He wanted to pull back, but she had him by the neck, pulling him to her. She kissed him with such desire he wondered why they even were here. He caught his breath when she lifted her head to look into his eyes.

“Love you,” she said softly with tenderness that belied who she was and where she came from. She caressed him, running her hand across the back of his neck. Then she stepped back so he could step down.

He gasped as he got a good look at her. “My God, you were at the house!” She was wearing the red cocktail dress…and the red stilettos.

The bartender stared at her in some surprise. She was new. He’d never seen her before. She evidently knew the man. The dress was spectacular and she was spectacular herself. The chestnut brown hair cascaded in ripples down her back. It was thick, luxuriant and there was a streak of gray just off center on the left side. Her lips were the color of the dress, bright and sensuous. Her dark eyes sparkled in the dim light. The skin was smooth with a few lines around the eyes. She was slim and taller than most women were. Her hands were long and the nails cut short. The polish on them was red also. He smiled at her.

“What would you like to order, Miss?”

Jack looked at her and she lifted her eyebrows. “Give the lady iced vodka…two shots.”

The bartender grinned, “Preference?”

Irina smiled back, “Stoly.”

“Bring it to the table,” said Jack. He took her by the arm and led her to a secluded booth.

“Sit here,” she said. “I need to feel you next to me.” The bartender brought the drinks. Irina downed one quickly. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

“Irina, this is almost ludicrous.” Jack sipped his drink. “If you are seen you could die!”

“Then we probably should eat quickly and return home.” She touched the inside of his thigh. “However, I seriously doubt if any of your coworkers or friends would come here. I do want to dance. These shoes are for dancing.” She rubbed her leg against his.

“Stop it,” his voice cracked. He felt a wave of heat run from his leg to his face. “Let’s order. I don’t want to risk your life.”

However, when the band appeared at nine, they were still in the booth with coffee in front of Jack and tea for her. The music began and Irina nudged Jack. He sighed, but gave her his hand, pulling her out of the booth. They walked to the dance floor and began. Jack felt rusty. It had been twenty some odd years since he and Irina danced…only she was Laura then and it was 1981 New Years Eve.

The music was soft and the band played the old tunes. He held her in his arms. Her cheek was next to his. She kept up a humming in tune with the band. Humming did not come with an accent, he thought. It was pleasant and as the music played, Jack became once more the man who could dance. Laura and he had gone dancing several times while they were married. He held her close to him as they moved in rhythm. Jack suddenly realized they were making love to each other.

The bartender watched them when he could. He was not the only one. There were others on the dance floor, but three men at the bar and a few of those still dining, were watching, mesmerized by the woman in red. The two danced only with eyes for each other. It was clear they were lovers.

He stopped pushed her back a few inches looking at her with desire. He kissed her. My God, he thought, she tasted good. "Let’s go home,” he whispered.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She turned, placing her hand in his. They stopped at the booth and Jack paid the bill, leaving a generous tip.

The night swallowed them up when the door to The Balalaika shut behind them.

***
 
:blush: That was the best chapter so far. I'm so glad Irina went to visit Sydney and Sydney remembered. It's too bad you cant' continue this story into Sydney's recovery and have Irina there. I loved Jack taking Irina out dancing. I'm kind of surprised she didn't disguise herself though. Amazing chapter.
 
Sixth Day

They entered the house. Jack shut the door and threw the bolt. Irina was on him almost before he turned around. Her mouth and lips devoured his. It had been too long and she needed him. He growled with his own urgent hunger for her. His hands raked her with surging desire as tension demanded release. He pushed her against the wall. His roving hands were inside her dress and at her breasts, cupping, massaging, and pulling at the nipples. Their mouths met again as they circled one another.

Irina moaned. She had both hands in his hair, pulling it and rubbing his scalp. She led him on the dance of intimacy, feeling the warmth rising in her, using her teeth, lips, and hands to arouse his body. She thrust her leg between his and raked his back with her nails. She wanted all of him. Her breath came in small gasps as she took off his jacket, throwing it to the floor. The tie came off next.

Jack felt the music, a kind of rising unremitting pulse inside him, as he tasted the flesh of her neck. What beat inside him, beat for her, always had, and probably always would. Her fingers were busy at his shirt as he tugged at the straps of her dress. He wore no undershirt and in the dim light, the silver and black hairs on his chest glistened in the moonlight. She ran her hand over his chest, as if to caress each hair. He growled.

She knew she had him at her mercy, pulling him over the top of the sofa. She landed on top and the breath was knocked out of him. She straddled him, pulling his shirt down over his arms, leaning over to nibble at his shoulder with small bites.

“You’re going too fast,” he said.

“Am I?” She grinned in the half-light and he saw the glee in her eyes. “Then you’d better catch up.” She reached back, unzipped his trousers, and closed her hand over him.

He grunted in pleasure that ripped through him. He was about to be ravaged by a woman he had secretly loved for so many years, so many missing years. The thought excited him and his blood surged. He used both hands to pull the straps off her shoulders and the dress down to her waist. Jack could feel nothing but heat and total desire for her. He needed to be inside. He grabbed at the bra, unhooking it.

As she leaned against him, she felt his heart raging against hers, just as she knew he was trying to take control. However, this time she’d make him lose control…until all he wanted would be her. She had him and wanted him to think of nothing but her, feel nothing but the fires raging in their blood.


Suddenly she was on the floor. He sent her sprawling. Then she felt herself lifted up into his arms. He carried her up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Moonlight beat through one window, but it was not enough. He tossed her onto the bed, reaching for the light switch on the lamp. Half-naked, Irina rolled to the other side, getting to her feet, facing him, her eyes dancing with erotic anticipation. They both needed the other with such desperation. She stood looking at him for the moment trying to decide her next move. He made it for her.

“Get the dress off,” he ordered his voice cracking. He thought he might be panting, because his heart thundered in his chest. He kicked his shoes off. He began taking off his pants. She was on him in an instant stopping him.

“You take it off.’ She whispered, putting his hands at her waist.

He pulled it to the floor. She stood facing him, eyes dancing. Damn it, he thought, she’s not wearing any underwear. He tugged at his pants, his eyes on the dark patch between her legs. It was his destiny tonight. It had been too long. Before he could finish, she pulled his boxers off, releasing him.

Jack pushed her back on the bed, pinning her wrists. “Keep those stilettos on,” he ordered almost growling. She threw her legs across his hips as he entered his ultimate destination. He felt the stilettos slice across his buttocks. She caressed him, held him, and squeezed him. He gasped as she wrapped her legs around and pulled him into her. It was heaven. He pulled back to thrust and suddenly found himself on his back, his own wrists pinned. She rode.

He lost his senses, lost his mind as she drove him. She tucked the stilettos next to his thighs, using them as stirrups as a jockey would. Sensations pounded, too hard and too fast for any defense. As his vision dimmed he could see her face, and those dark eyes focused so intently on him, until they swallowed him up.

Then he went blind as pleasure shot through him, a hot, searing bullet, and he emptied himself into her.

They both were quivering as she rolled down beside him, collapsing in a heap. He could hear, as the roaring subsided in his ears, her wheezing gasps for air.

“My God, Irina,” he panted. “You’ve ‘killed’ me!” He pulled her head onto his shoulder. He felt her heart pounding. “What a f*uck!”

“Da,” she whispered. “Want some more?”

“Irina, we are not twenty anymore! You are going to wait for my engine to get revved up and it won’t be tonight.” He kissed her, chuckling. He reached down for the covers. She reached down for the shoes, pulling them off, tossing them in the direction of the closet. Turning back to her husband and lover, she discovered he was asleep. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

It was after midnight when Irina awakened every nerve on alert. She slipped her hand under her pillow and pulled out her gun. Someone was downstairs. She looked quickly at Jack. He was sound asleep, drugged by the sex they had earlier. On top of that was the very little sleep he’d had while waiting for Sydney to return to consciousness.
It was dark. The moon was further to the west and the light that had been present earlier was dimmer. She stood next to the wall. The door covered her presence. She held the gun at waist level waiting. She glanced toward the bed and saw Jack had not moved. She stiffened slightly as the floor boards gave off soft pops, miniscule creaks, all indicating an old house. She was glad Jack had kept the house.

The floorboard creaked at the doorway. Irina’s eyes had adjusted themselves to the dim light and she could see the difference in blackness and softening grey. A figure stood in the doorway. He had a gun and was about to shoot Jack.

“Drop it!” Irina said coldly and with deadly intent. Her gun was in his ear. “The trigger will go off at the slightest pressure.”

The man hesitated as though weighing his chances. Irina said nothing, but kicked him hard in the knee, dislocating his kneecap, sending him sprawling, and screaming. She struck him with the butt of her gun. His gun went skittering across the floor toward the bedside table.

Jack was on his feet and the light went on. He gaped at the sight of his naked wife bending over an unconscious figure. “Christ, Irina…what…?”

“I thought you locked the door.”

“I did,” he reached in his closet and tossed her a robe. “Put that on!”

She shrugged it on over her shoulders. He found the pajamas he usually wore and put on the bottoms. She was kneeling and searching the pockets of the killer. Jack joined her. “Who is he?”

She handed him a wallet from the unconscious man’s back pocket. “All other pockets are empty.”

Jack looked at a driver’s license and the picture matched the man. “Jamal Rasheed.” He looked at her. “I think we’d better ask Mr. Rasheed a few questions.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jack had Jamal tied to a chair in the living room. Irina was dressing in the clothes she’d left in the closet. He heard her come down the stairs. “He awake?”

“No!”

She went to the kitchen, opened the freezer, and removed some ice cubes. She returned with them in a glass with water. “You don’t mind a little water on the rugs do you?”

“Go ahead.”

“With pleasure.”

Jamal jerked awake, sputtering. His head hurt and he was in terrible pain. He groaned, remembered what happened, and focused his eyes on the two people bending over him. Neither looked at all friendly. “You b*itch,” he snarled, knowing it was she who had hit him and kicked him viciously.

Irina gripped his knee and twisted. Jamal howled, cursing.

“Young man,” said Jack coldly, “you are just minutes away from dying a particularly interesting death. I want to know who sent you here.”

“F*uck you,” he said.

Irina took her gun and fired it point blank into the knee. She crippled him for life. “I don’t mind shooting the other knee either.” She pressed the gun to it, staring coldly into his agonized face.

Jamal screamed again. No one told him he would die. Jack Bristow was supposed to die. “You b*itch. Where…did you…come from…”

Jack grabbed his face, pulling it toward him. “I told you, you will die…we want to know who sent you! If you don’t tell us, I’ll also let her shoot you in each ankle, as well as your elbows…one by one.”

Irina waved her gun over the other knee. She laughed wickedly, licking her lips in anticipation.

He cried out, “Hassan, Akmed Hassan!” Jack looked at Irina. She shrugged which told him she had no idea who he was.

Jack pulled out his cell and made a call. “This is Jack…Agent 3700109. There has been a shooting here at my home. An assassination attempt on my life. I need a med-tech and a sweeper squad.”

Irina disappeared up the stairs.

“I’m in pain,” sobbed Jamal.

Jack bent down. “Let me explain what is going to happen to you if you do not confirm that I shot you…the woman will find you, even in the hospital, and she will most certainly slit your throat. Say nothing. Do you understand? And…” Jack whispered into his ear slowly, “if you refer to her again as b*itch, I will do it myself. Say nothing!”


:smash:
 
Seventh Day

Dr. Bennett walked into Sydney’s room to find a woman sitting by her bedside. “Hello, who are you?”

She smiled. “Jack Bristow told me I would find Sydney here. He’s my brother. He had to go to the office and catch up, he said, and wanted someone to be here with his daughter. He’ll be back late this afternoon.” She flashed him the most dazzling smile he’d ever received.

“Well…” He glanced at Sydney, who looked pleadingly at him. “Very well, but she will probably sleep most of the time.”

“I don’t mind. I brought some knitting with me.” She waved some needles at him with what looked like a partially done scarf.

“Okay, I’ll leave word at the desk you’re a preferred visitor.” He checked the bandages, the monitors and gave Sydney a smile.

He left.

Irina put the knitting down and stood over Sydney, who had a grin on her face. “What?”

“I dunno,” whispered Sydney, “I just never thought of you as…um…the knitting type.”

Irina saw the laughter in her daughter’s face and thought it was a very good sign. She leaned down. “There are many things you do not know about me, sweetheart. We’ve not had much time together.” She tucked a loose hair behind her ear that was persistently trying to fall across her face.

“Have you seen Dad?”

Irina’s face lighted up in a warmer smile than she had had for her daughter. “Of course, we had a pleasant evening together.”

Sydney’s eyes rolled. She blushed. “I didn’t need that much information.”

“What?” Irina was puzzled. She didn’t think she’d given any information to Sydney. She noticed the blushing. Irina broke out into a loud chuckle. “You didn’t think we would miss the opportunity to get to know each other again, did you?” She sat down shaking her head. “Sydney, I know you think our relationship is complicated…and it is, but between your father and I, there is…an understanding.”

Sydney’s head turned toward her and she regarded her mother carefully, wondering if she would tell her more. “He loves you, more than he will admit.”

“I know that, sweetheart. I told you once my love for you and your father were not contrived.” Irina’s eyes held those of her daughter. “I worked for my country. Your father was my job, but something happened that the KGB and I did not expect…I fell in love with a man…a real man who was not afraid to show emotion. He cared for and loved both of us deeply. It was beyond anything I knew. My father,” she glanced away, “your grandfather was not the best example, and no one in the KGB ever came close to your father.”

“He changed,” said Sydney quietly. Her eyes never left her mother’s face, “when you left.”

Irina felt a wave of guilt wash over her and she gave a small nod, “I know,” she whispered. “Sydney, if I hadn’t left when I was recalled, we would not have this conversation…both of us would be dead.”

“Oh Mom,” Sydney felt tears falling down her cheeks.

“Shh, shh, I know.” Irina found a Kleenex on the bed table and wiped away the tears from Sydney’s face. There were tears in her eyes too. “Sydney, let’s not talk of what might have been. Your father and I—were together last night and someone broke into the house. We caught him. However, he told us with persuasion,” she did not explain what kind, “who tried to kill you. Akmed Hassan. Does the name ring a bell?”

Sydney frowned. “Hassan? Akmed Hassan?” The name meant something to her. She wasn’t sure. Her head hurt. She gave a small shake of her head. “I—I don’t know…my head hurts.”

“Should I call the doctor?” Irina was concerned.

“Wait,” Sydney’s eyes widened. “Ineni Hassan was a gun dealer. Both Dad and I had dealings with him. We finally got him to cooperate with the CIA and he’s in the witness protection program. We have not a clue where he is!” She closed her eyes.

Irina said nothing. She sat back in the chair, pulled out the cell phone Jack gave her that morning. She punched in the number and waited. “Jack! Does Ineni Hassan mean anything?” She listened. “I’d run a background check on both men. Yes…of course. She’s fine.” She looked at Sydney who was sleeping. “She looks better. Yes, I’ll tell her. Ummm, Jack, is Nadia there?”


Nadia walked into the hospital. Jack had asked her to check on Sydney and tell her he would be there by four o’clock. Nadia had wanted to see Sydney, but this was the first opportunity in the six days since they brought her to the hospital nearly dead. In a way, she was glad she had not seen her sister that first night. From what Jack told her, it was awful. She checked in with the nursing station and they told her to go right in as the doctors were both checking the gunshot wounds.

She entered as one doctor was leaving. The other on the far side of the bed was bending over the patient. She approached the bed, her eyes only on her sister. She could see greenish, yellow bruising on Syd’s face, the large bandage on her chest as the doctor finished and drew up the sheet. “Oh, Sydney!” She leaned over the bed.

“Hey,” said Sydney weakly. She gave Nadia a weak smile.

Nadia couldn’t believe Sydney had taken such a beating. She could hand it out as well as any hand-to-hand fighter.

“Hello, sweetheart!”

Nadia gasped, looking up and into the face of Irina. “Mother,” she cried, running around the bed.

The two women hugged, holding on to each other for a minute. Irina pushed back a little, staring at her younger daughter. “You are so beautiful. How am I so lucky to have two beautiful daughters?”

“What are you doing here?” Nadia finally said, tears running down her cheeks.

“What mother wouldn’t come when her daughter needed her?” Irina’s arm slipped around Nadia’s waist as she turned to look at Sydney, who was smiling.

“But—but you’re in danger every minute you are in the States.”

“Ummm, well, I’ve been in plenty of danger during my lifetime,” she answered. “Why, aren’t you glad to see me?” She glanced at Nadia.

“Oh yes, but—but,” there was a frightened look on her face. “I don’t want to lose you, neither of us wants that.”

Irina smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I have to return to—well, to work.”

Sydney sighed, not wanting her to go either, but she, more than Nadia, knew her mother could not stay as much as they wanted her. “Mom, why don’t you and Dad retire to a neutral country and be happy?”

“Ummm,” Irina’s right eyebrow arched a little, “well that might be difficult.” She put her arm around Nadia’s waist, turning more to Sydney. “There’s something your father and I have to do.”

Both girls looked at her and neither one wanted to ask. Sydney had a suspicion it had to do with Akmed Hassan. Nadia was not aware of that name yet, but she knew it had something to do with those responsible for her sister’s injuries. She did not want to know any details. She knew though her mother would not tell her. It was on a need to know basis.

The door opened and a woman with a mop and pail walked in. She was there to clean the floor of the room. Irina turned releasing her hold on Nadia’s waist. The janitress was surprised to see the two women near the bed. She seemed puzzled. She put the bucket she was carrying on the floor and her hand reached down inside. It held a gun when she rose up. Irina shoved Nadia away with her left hand, reached behind her neck and in a flick of an instant, a knife sliced into the woman’s heart. The gun went off on reflex and the bullet hit the floor, ricocheting near the window, striking metal. It hit Irina in the back just above the waist and she jerked. Neither girl saw it, as they both had ducked when the shot was fired.

“Are you alright, Nadia?” Irina hoped she hadn’t shoved her daughter too hard.

“I’m fine. My God, were they after you?”

“No, I think they are still after Sydney. No one but you two and your father know I’m even here.” She looked at Nadia. “I have to go. I cannot be seen. You have to take this,” she pulled off the necklace and the knife sheath, placing it on Nadia’s neck, “but call Jack and tell him what happened. Don’t touch the body.” She leaned over the bed and kissed Sydney on the cheek. “Get well, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” Sydney cried. “I—I love you.”

“Me, too.” Irina turned to her youngest. “You can do this, right?”

“Definitely. I won’t let you down.” Nadia had her cell phone out as Irina stepped over the body and left the room.

Jack was at the hospital in less than thirty minutes. He brought with him a CIA sweeper team who would process the room, take care of the body, and disappear leaving no one the wiser. Their first duty was to put the body in a laundry basket. They cleaned the floor. The chip in the floor where the bullet first struck was doctored to make it look like a deep scratch. They hunted for the bullet, but could not locate it.

“Where…?” Jack whispered, knowing full well, Irina had thrown the knife.

“Dad, all she wanted was to be sure no one knew she was here.” Sydney said quietly

“I understand.” He smiled. “You’re sure you are not hurt, either of you?”

“We’re fine,” assured Nadia.

He left with something else on his mind. As he entered his car, he phoned the office to tell them he would not be returning until tomorrow. He also told them Sydney was doing well and Nadia was keeping her company for a while.

Arriving home, Jack dropped his keys on the counter and ran up the stairs with a bag he had retrieved from his storage unit in Los Angeles. He had a hunch. The door to the bedroom was partially closed. Jack shoved it back. Irina was lying face down on the bed.

“Let me see it,” he said, holding back the concern he felt.

“Just a flesh wound. The bullet hit the floor, then the windowsill, and then my back. It’s only in an inch or so, but I can’t get it out. You’ll have to do it.”

“Irina, they could have…”

“At the hospital?” She was naked from the waist up. There was a towel under her. A small trickle of blood seeped out of the wound about three inches above her waistline. Jack kneeled beside the bed, took out the black surgical kit, and opened it. He knew better than to expect a known terrorist to drop into the ER and ask for help for a bullet wound.

“Sorry, but somehow seeing my wife with a bullet in her is unsettling.”

He took some cotton balls out with antiseptic and cleaned the wound. He could almost see the spot where the bullet resided. Taking a pair of tweezers and a small scalpel, he widened the entry wound a half inch, reached inside, and dislodged the bullet. He took a small packet with sutures and began to sew the wound.

“Does it hurt,” he was trying to be gentle.

“Slightly, but I can live with it.” She said quietly.

He finished and knotted the suture. It was self-absorbing, so that when the wound healed the suture would be gone. He put a small self-adhesive two by two over the area, pressing down to make sure it would not come off.

“There, it’s done.” He looked at the bullet. It was mashed and one could barely make out that it was a bullet at all. “That must have hurt when it entered.”

She turned over and looked at him. “A little. Looks like a .32 caliber.”

“Ummm,” he answered, and dropped it into his pocket.

“We need to think about Akmed Hassan. He’s in need of information and a lesson or two. I don’t want to leave until I’m sure Sydney will be safe.”

“She will be. I’m going to have someone stationed out her door.”

“Let’s take care of it tonight.” She explained and he nodded.

“I think you’d better rest. I’ll order some food in for dinner. What would you like?”

“Chinese!” She remembered the last take-out she shared with him. That was when they were at CIA and he needed help with Ariana Kane.

He looked at her, grinned, and left.

:smiley:
 
Seventh Day, 10:00 p.m.

Irina stood in front of the door and pushed the doorbell. She wore the red dress and the stilettos. Her other clothes would not gain her access to the house—black pants, shirt and black leather jacket. Jack was in a car just down the street and out of sight of whoever opened the door. He had no doubts that Irina would get that accomplished. The light was already on. Jack learned that Hassan had a faculty meeting on this night and probably wouldn’t be home this early.

There was a voice at the door, but it did not open. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, but my husband and I have run out of gas. We don’t have a cell phone, so could I please call our triple A.” Jack had given her the correct number as well as his card. Irina stood back so whoever was on the other side of the door could see her and held up the triple A card in her hand.

She heard the lock turn. Irina wore a pleasant smile as the door opened and she saw a slight, short dark woman. “Of course, please come in,” she said, stepping to one side.

Irina entered and the door closed behind them.

Five minutes later, Jack walked quickly up the steps. The door was unlocked and he stepped inside. “Irina?”

“In here, sweetheart, Mrs. Hassan and I are having a conversation.”

Jack walked into the living room. Mrs. Hassan was now in a chair and Irina was tying a knot in the rope she was using to render her harmless. The woman was scared. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Did she say when her husband would be home?”

“Anytime now,” Irina answered, giving a final pull on the rope to make sure the wife could not get loose. She took the handkerchief she brought with her and gagged the woman. Finished, she turned out the lights.

Ten minutes passed then a car drove into the driveway and stopped at the door. Two doors slammed and two voices, muffled, gave Jack a moment’s pause. He pulled out his Glock Nine. He didn’t have another gun for Irina, but also knew she had a knife which would be a deadly weapon in her hands. The front door opened. The two men were speaking Arabic, but Jack understood them perfectly well.

“I’m telling you, Ali, I haven’t heard from him.”

“Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to get into the room?” The other man’s voice was younger, stronger.

The first man walked into the living room and turned on the light. What he saw caused him to cry out in shock. “Miryam, what…” He saw the knife held at her throat by a beautiful woman wearing a red dress.

“Akmed…” the younger man shouted his hand in his inside jacket. He was about to pull out his gun, when he was struck from behind. He tumbled forward, knocking Dr. Hassan off balance and into the coffee table.

Stunned, Akmed Hassan, fell to the floor.

“Don’t move.” The woman spoke with an accent. “Stay perfectly still.”

Akmed was more frightened than he had been when Ali knocked on his door ten days ago. He wanted to know where Ineni was, but Akmed did not know. He had not heard from his brother for over twenty-five years—not that that wasn’t unusual. They had been estranged for years, ever since Ineni became a criminal, dealing in guns and other items of death. Akmed immigrated to the United States and obtained a degree in his preferred studies: religion and Arab culture. He married and his wife gave birth to three girls. They were now all grown and married. He was a grandfather many times.

Then terror arrived in the form of Ali.

Two days later, Akmed was told he had a duty to perform for the Jihad. He had to take care of Sydney Bristow, a CIA agent who had killed his brother Ineni. “It is a matter of honor,” Ali told him. “Bin Laden has ordered this to be done.”

Akmed was horrified. He had been a man of peace ever since he came to the States and became a citizen. He wasn’t living in the Arab world anymore. He did not want to be involved. Now he was told to kill a woman because she killed his brother. He resisted. He had not heard from Ineni for twenty-five years. Ineni had chosen his own path and in Akmed’s mind, it was the wrong one.

"Why can't you order it done. Why do I have to be involved?" Akmed was trying to understand why they even needed him.

"I do not have a bank account. I am in the country legally and brought no money with me. We want you to hire men here and pay them with their currency. The money has been deposited electronically in your account as we speak." Ali's voice was menacing.

However, to further convince Akmed, Ali told him Miryam would be killed as well as two of his grandchildren, who were even now being stalked. To prove it, Ali handed Akmed the pictures of them leaving their school in Pittsburgh. There was one taken in their bedroom while they were sleeping. He was so sick to his stomach after viewing the pictures that he almost vomited. Ali handed him the phone number of a man who would do the job for fifty thousand dollars. Akmed said he didn’t have that much money.

“You do now. That amount was deposited into your bank account today.” Ali shoved the paper at Akmed. “Call them.”

Akmed told Jack everything. “My-my grandchildren…I—I had to save them…”

“It was our daughter, you almost killed.” Jack reminded him.

“Sweetheart…” the woman spoke quietly. “I think the culprit here is not Akmed, but Ali.”

“Yes,” Jack said. Ali was unconscious still and wasn’t moving. “I think we should leave with him.”

“What—what…” Akmed tried to ask for more information.

Jack moved to the inert body. “We won’t do anything more here.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, turned Ali over, and cuffed his wrists behind him. “I think we can say that Ali will not bother you again.”

He stood up and removed a cell phone from his pocket. “However, there is someone you need to hear.” He punched in the number he had memorized after hacking into the US Marshal’s computer in Washington D.C. “Hello, Ineni, do you recognize my voice?” Jack paused. “Yes, well, your brother Akmed has gotten himself into trouble. He needs to hear that you are alive. Be careful.”

Jack handed the cell to Akmed. “Your brother.”

“Ineni?” The older man listened, his face lighting up.

Jack looked at Irina. “Can you handle them? I’ll get the car.”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I’ll let her go.”


With Akmed’s help, they put Ali in the trunk of the car. They drove, saying very little, into the Santa Monica Mountains. Jack had been here before and drove with unerring accuracy up a road leading to a home, now vacant, overlooking the western end of Mulholland Drive and the ocean. The driveway was cracked and filled with weeds. It was windy—and very dark.

“Where?” Irina was curious as to Ali’s final resting spot.

“There’s a well…” he opened the trunk. Ali seemed to be regaining consciousness. Jack pulled him out. Irina took his other arm, following Jack’s lead.

No one heard the three shots. No one heard the body fall a hundred feet into the well. No one saw the car with two people drive down to Mulholland again and disappear.

Ali disappeared without a trace.

The Hassans were free. Akmed knew his brother was alive and well.

Sydney slept fitfully, but feeling less pain than she had a week before.

:asleep:
 
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