AN: This story comes from the last episode of BEFORE THE FLOOD. It is POST-BTF and PRE-Search and Rescue. The story is a series of scenes as Irina Derevko leaves her family behind making her way to safety and flashbacks of what happened after her last computer contact with Jack when he asked about The Passenger.
It was interesting to note that in SAR, Irina never once mentions Sloane as Nadia’s father. Perhaps she believes that Jack knows he’s the father, therefore doesn’t mention it at all except in that passing remark: “I wonder who she gets that from?”
I have written many stories about Irina and Jack. Therefore, once in awhile you may see a remark or scene from a previous activity, interaction, or place, which relates to a familiar storyline (mine). If you are a new reader and haven’t read any of my stories, it is alright. If you want to know more about them, PM me.
A good part of the story is written in ITALICS, meaning they are her thoughts and dreams.
ALL CHARACTERS except those I develop, belong toe JJ Abrams and ABC TV.
RATING: NC-17 for violence, sex, and language.
SUMMARY: Irina Derevko killed her sister who had set in motion a plan that would ‘cleanse’ the world. She was with the team of APO members, which included her husband, two daughters, and Michael Vaughn. Jack does not detain her and gives her a chance to get away.
<span style='font-size:14pt;line-height:100%'>THE SOUL OF IRINA DEREVKO</span>
By LENAFAN
Part One – Walking Out
Irina stood hidden by the trees. She looked back on Sovogda. There were fires burning everywhere. In the distance, she could hear the faint beat of a helicopter. That must be the one to pick up Sydney, Jack and the others including Nadia, whom she had known only a few days.
She would find a way someday and soon, to see her daughters again. She hoped the American doctors would find a cure for Nadia’s affliction. She felt as though she might cry, but stiffened. She had to live and that meant leaving the area without any of the Russian military seeing or hearing her.
Her countrymen would shoot first and then ask questions. She had to locate the lines controlling the city’s entrances and exits, then hide. Hitching the automatic rifle over her shoulder, she made her way into the brush and then further into the trees. She did not think it would be long before she would hear military vehicles heading down the road into the city. She sat down, her back to a tree. Heavy brush was tall and thick. It kept her completely hidden. Irina pulled a flask from her inside jacket pocket and drank. It was good water not the polluted water of the city behind her. She wished she had some vodka; it would make the time pass pleasantly.
She dozed. The sound of many engines awakened her. Irina stayed perfectly still not wanting to look for fear someone would see her. She knew what was going to happen. Based on the interaction between their strike force team and the CIA at home, Russia was not about to admit to anything, but a chemical explosion. That they had already told the world, although in retrospect, Irina doubted that story would fly in the face of satellite pictures.
She heard voices, but they were far enough away for her not to worry about being found. She would have to wait. Cradling the automatic rifle in her arms, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and slept. It had been a rough three days. Sydney found her in the hellhole Yelena ordered her kept in; then she was taken prisoner and put into a cell at the CIA. They brought her to APO where she signed some paper agreeing to return to the US after they destroyed the Mueller device, and then the jump and subsequent confrontation with her sister.
Irina was exhausted. She’d had little food and no one really was interested in her, only in getting the Mueller device destroyed before the world came apart in Yelena’s planned apocalypse and then Jack’s releasing her from the promise to return to the U.S. That was a surprise, but she thought she saw something in his face and eyes…love or something so close that she had to kiss him.
“How will you explain this to the CIA?” She had asked softly.
“That no one can ever hold Irina Derevko for long,” he smiled at her.
Irina kissed him and she felt his warmth as he held her lips to his. She had stepped back, her heart racing as she remembered their years together. It was almost worth going to prison, if she would be able to see him and the girls…still she would not be able to touch or feel him. Doors, windows, or wire would separate them and that she could not stand. To see him and not have him completely was not Irina’s way.
She jerked awake. It was late afternoon. She had slept for five or six hours. Boye, she thought, I’m f*ucking hungry.
Pushing herself up slowly, she looked around cautiously. There were no sounds other than the songs of birds in the trees. A slight rustling told her there was a breeze blowing through the forest. She slung the automatic rifle over her shoulder and stuffed the Glock 9 into her waistband.
Irina moved swiftly up the road away from Sovogda. She wanted several miles put between her and those military idiots. IF any of them caught her walking away from the doomed city, they would think she was one of them. They’d kill her without asking any questions.
The team had not brought any food with them and it wasn’t safe to either drink or eat anything from the city. All she had was her flask of water. Irina plodded on at a good pace, hoping she would find someone or some place with food.
As she walked, her thoughts turned to the events of the past three days. Everything started with Sydney’s death or supposed death and snowballed from there. That had been very nearly the worst moment of her life…the death of her first born, Sydney, her lovely beautiful daughter.
“Irina, I need to see you.” It was Jack. “It’s important.”
“Why?” She responded, a little wary. Communicating with Jack was suspect in her mind. She had betrayed him again in Panama after they’d spent the night together. Her endgame was not as he supposed or what anyone thought. It had been what drove her to do some of things she did…terrible things in conjunction with Sloane.
She came close to shooting Sydney in Tuscany, but, instead, took a bullet from Sydney in the arm. Still Emily’s death tore her up the most. Emily, sweet Emily, the nicest woman she had ever met in her life as Laura Bristow. When the KGB instructed her to have an affair with Sloane, she balked, or at least made excuses. Then, the week Jack was gone; it was Sloane, who approached her. Sydney was nearing her sixth birthday, when he told her he was interested in having sex with her as the price for not telling Jack or the CIA she was a spy…
Irina stopped, bent down, and picked up a stone. She hurled it at the nearest tree.
Three times that week, he’d wanted sex. Three times, she had given herself to him, once while Sydney was asleep in her bedroom, which angered her. Each time, she wanted to kill him. He left her unsatisfied, but that was fine with her. Only Jack gave her what she wanted and needed.
She thought Sloane wanted something more. He was always talking about a child, but Emily couldn’t give him one…some sort of female problem. Irina was not about to deliver on that wish. She took her pills religiously.
Then she had an idea and hoped it would work. When Jack came back, she would go off the pill. If she got pregnant, she knew Sloane would believe it was his and she’d just let him think that. However, she also would tell him she would not sleep with him anymore or she’d abort. He would believe her and leave her alone. Then she had to leave Jack and Sydney. She hadn’t even thought she was pregnant. However, it played out differently and Nadia was born.
Then, Emily’s death was the final straw. That had been a turning point in her mind. Somehow she realised the terrible price other people she loved and cared about were paying to support the quest that she and Sloane were on and knew it was not worth it.
She decided to double cross Sloane somewhere down the line when she could contact Sydney again. That day at the ice rink, when she told her daughter what her endgame had been, took everything she could muster to tell her the truth, at least a portion of it. She loved Sydney and she wanted her to believe her. Still she hit her daughter…hard enough to stun Sydney so she could escape. She was crying when she ran to the car a colleague was driving. He’d wanted to know what was wrong, but she just shook her head, unable to tell him anything.
Everything started to pull together when Sloane captured Jack and she told Sydney where to find him. She was in the building when the CIA strike force arrived to capture Sloane and find Jack Bristow. She had everything set up on the roof, just in case. She was right, because Sydney came after her and Vaughn went after Sloane. The roof was the last time she had seen Sydney for almost three years.
What was it she’d told her? “You are the Chosen One, not I.” There had been confusion on Sydney’s face as Irina said, “Good luck, Sweetheart, I love you,” and dropped off the rooftop. She thought she heard Sydney screaming.
Irina came to the top of long incline and stopped. She was tired. She looked around. In the distance, perhaps a mile, she saw a cabin and a small barn. People, food, and maybe a telephone, she thought. There was always the possibility that Katya was in Moscow. She might be able to get in touch through contacts and or friends.
She picked up her pace a little and in fifteen minutes, walked onto the dirt road leading to the house. Glancing about she saw tire tracks. The military had passed by here. She pulled the Glock from her waistband. She was not going to knock until she scouted the area outside the cabin. It was getting dark again and she wanted to be out of sight.
Irina turned the corner of the house and stopped. A man lay flat on his back, several bullet holes in him. He was already beginning to stink.
“S*hit!” she said aloud.
Opening the old door leading to the inside, Irina had her Glock 9 in her right hand, ready for anything. She suspected she might find more bodies inside than not. She was not disappointed. A woman, she took to be the man’s wife, was lying crumpled in the kitchen. She too, was shot—just once—in the head.
Irina did not want to stay in there. She looked around and found raw beets, carrots, and, what looked to be, cheese. There was no bread, but then she was not surprised. She wondered why they were killed. Surely, they were far enough away from Sovogda not to be caught by the poisoned water. She glanced out the window and noticed a water pump. There was a fresh-water well on the property.
Irina gathered up the meager food and hurried outside. After filling her flask with fresh water, she went to the barn and found a spot out of sight where she could eat. It was dark before she lay back on the wooden floor. She found a spot with a small broken board, which allowed her to see the spot where the farmer was. The automatic rifle was by her side on the left and the Glock in her right hand.
“Can’t you tell me now,” she asked Jack when he contacted her.
“No, I have to see you.”
“No tricks,” she still was hesitant.
“None. Irina, this is about Sydney and I want to see you.”
She arranged to see him in Vienna at a small hotel, which had a good café in it. She had used it many times in the past, although she had not been there for two years. Jack told her he was leaving immediately on the first plane he could get and would be there tomorrow.
Irina closed the computer, staring at it with a terrible feeling that something was very wrong. It was a big risk for both of them to be seen together. She wasn’t at all sure if Jack was being truthful. Still she was in hiding from Sloane who had not taken her double-cross well. She had once been his paramour and now a co-conspirator in the hunt for the Rambaldi artifacts. What was going on? She made a phone call and got a reservation to Vienna.
She entered the room Jack reserved. His small overnight bag was on the bed. She glanced at her watch. Lunchtime. He was probably downstairs. She decided to wait here rather than see him there. In the distance, she heard the elevator doors down the hall. Irina walked into the small bathroom and waited. She heard the key in the door. He was back. She stepped out to face him.
“Jack!”
Irina woke with a start. She flipped off the safety on the Glock and tightened her hand over the rifle. She turned to look out the small peephole at the yard. Something was out there. Silently she stood up, careful not to make any sound. Scavengers, she thought. Were they from Sovogda? Were they tainted with the water and the device? She stuffed the Glock in her waistband and stepped closer to the door to get a better view.
Three figures were edging toward the door of the tiny farmhouse. Looters, she thought. They were probably soldiers who had been among the military here earlier. She was tempted to shoot them, but her instinct for survival said not to bother. There could be others close by. It would be wise to stay silent.
She did nothing, watching them enter the house. As soon as they did, she moved swiftly out of the barn’s rear entrance, heading for the forest. She did not want to be seen, nor did she want to involve herself with what might be a dangerous encounter. She was not up to her full strength. It had been months since she’d been free to move about on her own without guards or Yelena around.
She circled around until she came to the road again. She stayed in the forest, but hiked parallel to the road in order to stay on course. Irina had the rifle slung around her shoulders, keeping her hands on the stock and barrel. She was still tired, but wanted to put ground between her and the looters.
She had gone about two miles she figured when her legs began to ache and her heart pounded. The torture her sister put her through had been rough and she needed to rest again. Casting about she finally saw a tree with heavy brush around it. It afforded her a view of the road and she could see in both directions if trouble came.
This time there was room to curl up. She made herself as comfortable as possible and fell asleep.
“Jack!”
“Irina!” He was carrying his briefcase. He put it on the bed and turned toward her.
She was standing in the bathroom’s doorway, tall, elegantly dressed in a black traveling suit with a red blouse. Her hair was hanging down below her shoulders. She took a step toward him.
“How are…” She stopped. He looked terrible. His eyes were sunken and there were black circles around them. His hair was whiter than she remembered. He’d lost enough weight that his clothes didn’t fit him properly. “You look awful.”
He didn’t disagree. “Irina, there’s no other way to tell you except in person.” He closed the distance between them. “Sydney is dead, but…”
For a minute she thought she was going to faint; instead she gave a dreadful crying scream. Irina stared at Jack in horror. She could only think Sydney was killed doing her job…a job Irina had tried to have her give up.
“Irina,” Jack pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his shoulder as she wept.
She felt comfort being there and yet…she pulled away. “You idiot, you trained her to be a spy. Jack, if I had my knife I think I might kill you.” She glared at him with such anger, as he’d never seen even when they were married.
“Irina, listen to me. I don’t think she’s really dead. I think everyone was to believe she was dead.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I contacted you because I need you to work with me. I—I feel she is alive…not dead.”
She stared at him and saw he was being truthful. “Alright, what information do you have?”
They spent the afternoon going over the files he had brought with him. He had made her a copy of everything. She promised she would keep them safe. They had gone to dinner in the café downstairs and returned to his room by ten.
They stood talking setting up the parameters of the next meeting and the method by which they would connect. Suddenly, without warning, Jack stopped talking and looked at her. A moment later, he had her in his embrace kissing her hard, passionately. She was stunned, but was quick to respond. She wanted him desperately. Panama had taught her one thing; no matter how many lovers she’d had, Jack was at the top of the list and if she could, she would be his wife again in a heartbeat.
They stood as Jack kissed her hard, exploring her mouth with his tongue, teasingly. He moved to her neck, beneath her ear and under her jaw. Irina could feel the heat building inside her as his hands moved down to cup one of her breasts, kneading and caressing it and then playing with her nipple, which hardened. She moaned.
“Take off my clothes, darling,” she breathed in his ear.
He stripped her as he always had when they were married. First, her jacket, then the red blouse and all the while, he made his hands commit magic all over her body. The bra fell to the floor and his mouth was instantly busy with nipples and breasts. He heard her moan. Her hands reached for him, removing the coat. He unzipped her skirt and it dropped at her feet, leaving her standing with a garter belt, hose, and a pair of red bikini panties.
“Irina,” he whispered.
She felt wonderful. Laura was gone and he had admitted Irina Derevko into his life. “Jack, sweetheart, please hurry…”
He pulled down her belt, hose, and panties together and she stepped out of their constraints, leaving herself naked. He pulled her into his arms. She could feel his erection straining against his pants. She reached for him with one hand, while working at the buttons of his shirt. He pulled her hand away and pulled the shirt over his head and onto the floor.
Irina fell back onto the bed. He slid in beside her pulling her to him. She lifted her left leg up over his right hip and he thrust himself deep into the welcoming chasm. He grunted with exertion as she held him with her leg. She gasped, whimpered, and moaned with growing need.
“Jack, I…” she groaned as they pounded the headboard with each thrust. Irina could feel the orgasm growing inside taking her into a realm of intense pleasure. She kept going higher and higher until with another thrust, he took her over the edge. He managed to thrust repeatedly as she cried out again and again.
“Boye, boye, God, God!” He pitched her over the edge again, but this time he filled her with his fluid.
Irina shot out of her sleep with a whimper of a love lost. She heard something—someone close by, coming her way. There were voices from out on the road. She heard something else, the sound of a motor chugging, a car, or some vehicle to take her to further safety, maybe even to Moscow.
“I got to take a pee.” She heard a drunken and rough voice from almost next to her.
Irina’s hand tightened on the automatic. With her thumb, she pushed off the safety. She stood up. The man, who was not more than two feet away emptying his bladder, gasped in complete shock. He blinked. Irina gave him the butt end of the rifle, smashing his skull. He fell like a tree to the ground without uttering a sound.
Irina moved quickly through the brush. She saw the lighted ends of two cigarettes. The man’s companions were smoking. They were leaning up against some sort of truck that looked as if it had been put together with bailing wire and tape. As she moved closer, she recognized one of the men. They were the three at the farmhouse. Looters. She pulled the trigger as she came close, cutting both down without warning.
The truck was loaded with the few meager belongings of the couple, who had been killed. She did not want to be caught with stolen goods…looted at that…it would mean death. She pulled everything from the truck bed and piled it by the two dead bodies. Using their blood, she wrote ‘looter’ across each one’s forehead. She checked but neither was carrying a weapon, but they had money; so taking the money she jumped into the truck and pulled away, heading for Moscow.
***
It was interesting to note that in SAR, Irina never once mentions Sloane as Nadia’s father. Perhaps she believes that Jack knows he’s the father, therefore doesn’t mention it at all except in that passing remark: “I wonder who she gets that from?”
I have written many stories about Irina and Jack. Therefore, once in awhile you may see a remark or scene from a previous activity, interaction, or place, which relates to a familiar storyline (mine). If you are a new reader and haven’t read any of my stories, it is alright. If you want to know more about them, PM me.
A good part of the story is written in ITALICS, meaning they are her thoughts and dreams.
ALL CHARACTERS except those I develop, belong toe JJ Abrams and ABC TV.
RATING: NC-17 for violence, sex, and language.
SUMMARY: Irina Derevko killed her sister who had set in motion a plan that would ‘cleanse’ the world. She was with the team of APO members, which included her husband, two daughters, and Michael Vaughn. Jack does not detain her and gives her a chance to get away.
<span style='font-size:14pt;line-height:100%'>THE SOUL OF IRINA DEREVKO</span>
By LENAFAN
Part One – Walking Out
Irina stood hidden by the trees. She looked back on Sovogda. There were fires burning everywhere. In the distance, she could hear the faint beat of a helicopter. That must be the one to pick up Sydney, Jack and the others including Nadia, whom she had known only a few days.
She would find a way someday and soon, to see her daughters again. She hoped the American doctors would find a cure for Nadia’s affliction. She felt as though she might cry, but stiffened. She had to live and that meant leaving the area without any of the Russian military seeing or hearing her.
Her countrymen would shoot first and then ask questions. She had to locate the lines controlling the city’s entrances and exits, then hide. Hitching the automatic rifle over her shoulder, she made her way into the brush and then further into the trees. She did not think it would be long before she would hear military vehicles heading down the road into the city. She sat down, her back to a tree. Heavy brush was tall and thick. It kept her completely hidden. Irina pulled a flask from her inside jacket pocket and drank. It was good water not the polluted water of the city behind her. She wished she had some vodka; it would make the time pass pleasantly.
She dozed. The sound of many engines awakened her. Irina stayed perfectly still not wanting to look for fear someone would see her. She knew what was going to happen. Based on the interaction between their strike force team and the CIA at home, Russia was not about to admit to anything, but a chemical explosion. That they had already told the world, although in retrospect, Irina doubted that story would fly in the face of satellite pictures.
She heard voices, but they were far enough away for her not to worry about being found. She would have to wait. Cradling the automatic rifle in her arms, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and slept. It had been a rough three days. Sydney found her in the hellhole Yelena ordered her kept in; then she was taken prisoner and put into a cell at the CIA. They brought her to APO where she signed some paper agreeing to return to the US after they destroyed the Mueller device, and then the jump and subsequent confrontation with her sister.
Irina was exhausted. She’d had little food and no one really was interested in her, only in getting the Mueller device destroyed before the world came apart in Yelena’s planned apocalypse and then Jack’s releasing her from the promise to return to the U.S. That was a surprise, but she thought she saw something in his face and eyes…love or something so close that she had to kiss him.
“How will you explain this to the CIA?” She had asked softly.
“That no one can ever hold Irina Derevko for long,” he smiled at her.
Irina kissed him and she felt his warmth as he held her lips to his. She had stepped back, her heart racing as she remembered their years together. It was almost worth going to prison, if she would be able to see him and the girls…still she would not be able to touch or feel him. Doors, windows, or wire would separate them and that she could not stand. To see him and not have him completely was not Irina’s way.
She jerked awake. It was late afternoon. She had slept for five or six hours. Boye, she thought, I’m f*ucking hungry.
Pushing herself up slowly, she looked around cautiously. There were no sounds other than the songs of birds in the trees. A slight rustling told her there was a breeze blowing through the forest. She slung the automatic rifle over her shoulder and stuffed the Glock 9 into her waistband.
Irina moved swiftly up the road away from Sovogda. She wanted several miles put between her and those military idiots. IF any of them caught her walking away from the doomed city, they would think she was one of them. They’d kill her without asking any questions.
The team had not brought any food with them and it wasn’t safe to either drink or eat anything from the city. All she had was her flask of water. Irina plodded on at a good pace, hoping she would find someone or some place with food.
As she walked, her thoughts turned to the events of the past three days. Everything started with Sydney’s death or supposed death and snowballed from there. That had been very nearly the worst moment of her life…the death of her first born, Sydney, her lovely beautiful daughter.
“Irina, I need to see you.” It was Jack. “It’s important.”
“Why?” She responded, a little wary. Communicating with Jack was suspect in her mind. She had betrayed him again in Panama after they’d spent the night together. Her endgame was not as he supposed or what anyone thought. It had been what drove her to do some of things she did…terrible things in conjunction with Sloane.
She came close to shooting Sydney in Tuscany, but, instead, took a bullet from Sydney in the arm. Still Emily’s death tore her up the most. Emily, sweet Emily, the nicest woman she had ever met in her life as Laura Bristow. When the KGB instructed her to have an affair with Sloane, she balked, or at least made excuses. Then, the week Jack was gone; it was Sloane, who approached her. Sydney was nearing her sixth birthday, when he told her he was interested in having sex with her as the price for not telling Jack or the CIA she was a spy…
Irina stopped, bent down, and picked up a stone. She hurled it at the nearest tree.
Three times that week, he’d wanted sex. Three times, she had given herself to him, once while Sydney was asleep in her bedroom, which angered her. Each time, she wanted to kill him. He left her unsatisfied, but that was fine with her. Only Jack gave her what she wanted and needed.
She thought Sloane wanted something more. He was always talking about a child, but Emily couldn’t give him one…some sort of female problem. Irina was not about to deliver on that wish. She took her pills religiously.
Then she had an idea and hoped it would work. When Jack came back, she would go off the pill. If she got pregnant, she knew Sloane would believe it was his and she’d just let him think that. However, she also would tell him she would not sleep with him anymore or she’d abort. He would believe her and leave her alone. Then she had to leave Jack and Sydney. She hadn’t even thought she was pregnant. However, it played out differently and Nadia was born.
Then, Emily’s death was the final straw. That had been a turning point in her mind. Somehow she realised the terrible price other people she loved and cared about were paying to support the quest that she and Sloane were on and knew it was not worth it.
She decided to double cross Sloane somewhere down the line when she could contact Sydney again. That day at the ice rink, when she told her daughter what her endgame had been, took everything she could muster to tell her the truth, at least a portion of it. She loved Sydney and she wanted her to believe her. Still she hit her daughter…hard enough to stun Sydney so she could escape. She was crying when she ran to the car a colleague was driving. He’d wanted to know what was wrong, but she just shook her head, unable to tell him anything.
Everything started to pull together when Sloane captured Jack and she told Sydney where to find him. She was in the building when the CIA strike force arrived to capture Sloane and find Jack Bristow. She had everything set up on the roof, just in case. She was right, because Sydney came after her and Vaughn went after Sloane. The roof was the last time she had seen Sydney for almost three years.
What was it she’d told her? “You are the Chosen One, not I.” There had been confusion on Sydney’s face as Irina said, “Good luck, Sweetheart, I love you,” and dropped off the rooftop. She thought she heard Sydney screaming.
Irina came to the top of long incline and stopped. She was tired. She looked around. In the distance, perhaps a mile, she saw a cabin and a small barn. People, food, and maybe a telephone, she thought. There was always the possibility that Katya was in Moscow. She might be able to get in touch through contacts and or friends.
She picked up her pace a little and in fifteen minutes, walked onto the dirt road leading to the house. Glancing about she saw tire tracks. The military had passed by here. She pulled the Glock from her waistband. She was not going to knock until she scouted the area outside the cabin. It was getting dark again and she wanted to be out of sight.
Irina turned the corner of the house and stopped. A man lay flat on his back, several bullet holes in him. He was already beginning to stink.
“S*hit!” she said aloud.
Opening the old door leading to the inside, Irina had her Glock 9 in her right hand, ready for anything. She suspected she might find more bodies inside than not. She was not disappointed. A woman, she took to be the man’s wife, was lying crumpled in the kitchen. She too, was shot—just once—in the head.
Irina did not want to stay in there. She looked around and found raw beets, carrots, and, what looked to be, cheese. There was no bread, but then she was not surprised. She wondered why they were killed. Surely, they were far enough away from Sovogda not to be caught by the poisoned water. She glanced out the window and noticed a water pump. There was a fresh-water well on the property.
Irina gathered up the meager food and hurried outside. After filling her flask with fresh water, she went to the barn and found a spot out of sight where she could eat. It was dark before she lay back on the wooden floor. She found a spot with a small broken board, which allowed her to see the spot where the farmer was. The automatic rifle was by her side on the left and the Glock in her right hand.
“Can’t you tell me now,” she asked Jack when he contacted her.
“No, I have to see you.”
“No tricks,” she still was hesitant.
“None. Irina, this is about Sydney and I want to see you.”
She arranged to see him in Vienna at a small hotel, which had a good café in it. She had used it many times in the past, although she had not been there for two years. Jack told her he was leaving immediately on the first plane he could get and would be there tomorrow.
Irina closed the computer, staring at it with a terrible feeling that something was very wrong. It was a big risk for both of them to be seen together. She wasn’t at all sure if Jack was being truthful. Still she was in hiding from Sloane who had not taken her double-cross well. She had once been his paramour and now a co-conspirator in the hunt for the Rambaldi artifacts. What was going on? She made a phone call and got a reservation to Vienna.
She entered the room Jack reserved. His small overnight bag was on the bed. She glanced at her watch. Lunchtime. He was probably downstairs. She decided to wait here rather than see him there. In the distance, she heard the elevator doors down the hall. Irina walked into the small bathroom and waited. She heard the key in the door. He was back. She stepped out to face him.
“Jack!”
Irina woke with a start. She flipped off the safety on the Glock and tightened her hand over the rifle. She turned to look out the small peephole at the yard. Something was out there. Silently she stood up, careful not to make any sound. Scavengers, she thought. Were they from Sovogda? Were they tainted with the water and the device? She stuffed the Glock in her waistband and stepped closer to the door to get a better view.
Three figures were edging toward the door of the tiny farmhouse. Looters, she thought. They were probably soldiers who had been among the military here earlier. She was tempted to shoot them, but her instinct for survival said not to bother. There could be others close by. It would be wise to stay silent.
She did nothing, watching them enter the house. As soon as they did, she moved swiftly out of the barn’s rear entrance, heading for the forest. She did not want to be seen, nor did she want to involve herself with what might be a dangerous encounter. She was not up to her full strength. It had been months since she’d been free to move about on her own without guards or Yelena around.
She circled around until she came to the road again. She stayed in the forest, but hiked parallel to the road in order to stay on course. Irina had the rifle slung around her shoulders, keeping her hands on the stock and barrel. She was still tired, but wanted to put ground between her and the looters.
She had gone about two miles she figured when her legs began to ache and her heart pounded. The torture her sister put her through had been rough and she needed to rest again. Casting about she finally saw a tree with heavy brush around it. It afforded her a view of the road and she could see in both directions if trouble came.
This time there was room to curl up. She made herself as comfortable as possible and fell asleep.
“Jack!”
“Irina!” He was carrying his briefcase. He put it on the bed and turned toward her.
She was standing in the bathroom’s doorway, tall, elegantly dressed in a black traveling suit with a red blouse. Her hair was hanging down below her shoulders. She took a step toward him.
“How are…” She stopped. He looked terrible. His eyes were sunken and there were black circles around them. His hair was whiter than she remembered. He’d lost enough weight that his clothes didn’t fit him properly. “You look awful.”
He didn’t disagree. “Irina, there’s no other way to tell you except in person.” He closed the distance between them. “Sydney is dead, but…”
For a minute she thought she was going to faint; instead she gave a dreadful crying scream. Irina stared at Jack in horror. She could only think Sydney was killed doing her job…a job Irina had tried to have her give up.
“Irina,” Jack pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his shoulder as she wept.
She felt comfort being there and yet…she pulled away. “You idiot, you trained her to be a spy. Jack, if I had my knife I think I might kill you.” She glared at him with such anger, as he’d never seen even when they were married.
“Irina, listen to me. I don’t think she’s really dead. I think everyone was to believe she was dead.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I contacted you because I need you to work with me. I—I feel she is alive…not dead.”
She stared at him and saw he was being truthful. “Alright, what information do you have?”
They spent the afternoon going over the files he had brought with him. He had made her a copy of everything. She promised she would keep them safe. They had gone to dinner in the café downstairs and returned to his room by ten.
They stood talking setting up the parameters of the next meeting and the method by which they would connect. Suddenly, without warning, Jack stopped talking and looked at her. A moment later, he had her in his embrace kissing her hard, passionately. She was stunned, but was quick to respond. She wanted him desperately. Panama had taught her one thing; no matter how many lovers she’d had, Jack was at the top of the list and if she could, she would be his wife again in a heartbeat.
They stood as Jack kissed her hard, exploring her mouth with his tongue, teasingly. He moved to her neck, beneath her ear and under her jaw. Irina could feel the heat building inside her as his hands moved down to cup one of her breasts, kneading and caressing it and then playing with her nipple, which hardened. She moaned.
“Take off my clothes, darling,” she breathed in his ear.
He stripped her as he always had when they were married. First, her jacket, then the red blouse and all the while, he made his hands commit magic all over her body. The bra fell to the floor and his mouth was instantly busy with nipples and breasts. He heard her moan. Her hands reached for him, removing the coat. He unzipped her skirt and it dropped at her feet, leaving her standing with a garter belt, hose, and a pair of red bikini panties.
“Irina,” he whispered.
She felt wonderful. Laura was gone and he had admitted Irina Derevko into his life. “Jack, sweetheart, please hurry…”
He pulled down her belt, hose, and panties together and she stepped out of their constraints, leaving herself naked. He pulled her into his arms. She could feel his erection straining against his pants. She reached for him with one hand, while working at the buttons of his shirt. He pulled her hand away and pulled the shirt over his head and onto the floor.
Irina fell back onto the bed. He slid in beside her pulling her to him. She lifted her left leg up over his right hip and he thrust himself deep into the welcoming chasm. He grunted with exertion as she held him with her leg. She gasped, whimpered, and moaned with growing need.
“Jack, I…” she groaned as they pounded the headboard with each thrust. Irina could feel the orgasm growing inside taking her into a realm of intense pleasure. She kept going higher and higher until with another thrust, he took her over the edge. He managed to thrust repeatedly as she cried out again and again.
“Boye, boye, God, God!” He pitched her over the edge again, but this time he filled her with his fluid.
Irina shot out of her sleep with a whimper of a love lost. She heard something—someone close by, coming her way. There were voices from out on the road. She heard something else, the sound of a motor chugging, a car, or some vehicle to take her to further safety, maybe even to Moscow.
“I got to take a pee.” She heard a drunken and rough voice from almost next to her.
Irina’s hand tightened on the automatic. With her thumb, she pushed off the safety. She stood up. The man, who was not more than two feet away emptying his bladder, gasped in complete shock. He blinked. Irina gave him the butt end of the rifle, smashing his skull. He fell like a tree to the ground without uttering a sound.
Irina moved quickly through the brush. She saw the lighted ends of two cigarettes. The man’s companions were smoking. They were leaning up against some sort of truck that looked as if it had been put together with bailing wire and tape. As she moved closer, she recognized one of the men. They were the three at the farmhouse. Looters. She pulled the trigger as she came close, cutting both down without warning.
The truck was loaded with the few meager belongings of the couple, who had been killed. She did not want to be caught with stolen goods…looted at that…it would mean death. She pulled everything from the truck bed and piled it by the two dead bodies. Using their blood, she wrote ‘looter’ across each one’s forehead. She checked but neither was carrying a weapon, but they had money; so taking the money she jumped into the truck and pulled away, heading for Moscow.
***
