Jan 22, 2003
So. California
4. Uffizi Gallery

Irina Derevko entered the Uffizi at the appointed time. She had credentials identifying her as a Board member who was just appointed and had come to Florence to meet with the Director of the Museum. She was on the fund-raising committee and had an idea, she told the guards, to make the Uffizi the best in the world.

Her blond beauty impressed the guards. She wore clothes befitting a wealthy benefactor: red suit by Armani, black boots up to her calves, blouse whose neckline allowed the swell of her breasts to peek slightly above the suit jacket; a Pidet watch, a diamond pendant, and matching diamond drop earrings were the only jewelry. On her head, she wore a broad brimmed straw hat that hid half her face. Her long hands wore black calfskin gloves. She smelled rich and famous. She was the epitome of someone who knew how to dress with style. Wearing the boots increased her height another three inches and consequently, she towered over the two men at the gate. The briefcase was x-rayed and showed no weapons. Sufficiently impressed, they allowed her through following her progress with appreciative eyes.

Irina moved confidently to the elevator, which the guards indicated she could use. Glancing out the windows she could see tourists lined up to gain access to the gallery and some looked at her with longing, as though they wished they were able to get inside without a wait. Smiling, she turned and entered the elevator. As it moved upward, she glanced at her watch. Grigor was to meet her at noon and it was 11:30. The elevator stopped and she stepped out.

She checked her watch again. She was a bit early and wondered if she would have time to check on some of the Uffizi best works of art. The Gallery itself was built in 1560 and originally was to house some administrative offices (or ‘Uffizi’) of the Government because Palazzo Vecchio, which also overlooks the Piazza della Signoria, had become too small to hold them all. However, it was converted into a museum in 1581 when the second floor was closed off for that purpose.

Irina was well aware of the value of some of the art here as well as elsewhere in the world. She’d taken a few from collectors who had, themselves, arranged to buy stolen art. She knew none would complain to the police, as it would involve their being questioned about how they acquired stolen art. She arranged for some art to be returned to the museums that were robbed, collecting, of course, the reward offered for their return.

However, now she was in the Uffizi for another purpose. As she moved away from the beautiful painting she was enjoying, Irina noted it was nearly time for the meet. She glanced down the long corridors on both sides of the second floor. There were many tourists, some on their own and a few who trailed a docent who lectured them on what they were seeing.

Irina knew that there were probably several CIA operatives or agents melting into the crowds, waiting to see who turned up at the meeting place. She walked to the end of the corridor where it turned. The Uffizi backed up to the river Arno and through its windows, guests and tourists could see across the fabled river to the hills above and, of course, up and down it. One could see the Ponte Vecchio, where gold dealers sold their wares to mostly tourists. She closed her eyes for a moment. She loved the city. Aside from her beloved Moscow and St. Petersburg, she thought Florence was her favorite city outside Russia.

A hand was softly placed on her shoulder, causing her to open them. She smiled, turning around to face him. “Grigor, you’re on time.”

“I have the briefcase as you requested.” His eyes covered her from hat to boots. “You are looking beautiful, my friend.”

“Spasibo,” she said, taking the briefcase. “You had no trouble, I see.”

“No, it’s a book and they would not know what it was about even if they sat down to read it. I opened the briefcase and they gave it only quick look.”

Irina knew that the CIA was probably filming everything. What they did not know was the manual was not the real one…the one she kept in her head. Blessed with an extraordinary memory, Irina Derevko kept everything off paper. She did, however, have everything on a mini-CD. There was only one other person beside herself who knew where and what it was. Alexandra. Sark had only the necessary dates, places and contacts of ongoing events and no more.

She also knew they did not know who she was and that they would assume Grigor was the Man. He was big enough to impress anyone who watched. They would not be able to identify her either. Wearing the large wide-brimmed hat helped to cover half her identifiable features. Her skin prickled. Someone she knew was close by. Her eyes flashed to those walking toward her and Grigor.

Damn! She swore silently. It was Alexandra and she was not alone. It was probably a CIA agent, maybe her handler. They were perusing a booklet put out by the Uffizi, mapping out the various galleries and their contents. She would have to leave now.

“Spasibo, Grigor. Leave and remember what I told you.” She reached up and kissed him lightly on both cheeks.

“Da, Irina. Be careful.”

She nodded and turned away walking quickly by several CIA agents. They were all concentrating on the big Grigor, thinking he was the Man. She was just a delivery person. Irina watched Grigor turn and walk in the direction she’d come while she took the route he had, down the other corridor. Irina walked past Vaughn and Alexandra, as they started after Grigor. She would disappear before they realized he did not have ‘the manual’.

A day earlier, she’d come to the Gallery late. The second shift guards were there and passed her through as a Board Member. She was not searched as the x-ray machine kicked off no alarms. She moved swiftly through the Uffizi making her way around the building to the door marked employees only.

Now she made her way down the corridor to the second set of steps leading to the exit. There was a little used ladies’ room at the bottom of the steps. She placed a sign outside indicating the room was temporarily closed She entered to find it nearly empty. A woman stood at the mirror, checking her lipstick; then left passing Irina as though pressed for time.

Standing in the corner was a janitorial barrel with her clothes, broom, and dustpan. Irina removed her red suit and put them in a plastic bag. She pulled out the standard Uffizi uniform for its janitors: gray dress with a striped blue and white apron, sensible black flat-heeled shoes. She removed her hat and the blond wig, releasing her already braided hair. She cleaned off her lipstick and makeup. The briefcase was in the bottom of the barrel covered by the bag with her clothes and on top of that, the bag for trash that she would pick up during the next four hours. Irina Derevko was not going anywhere just yet.

Removing the sign from the door, Irina pushed her cleaning equipment out into the busy corridor.

The CIA stopped Grigor outside the gallery and drove him to a friendly police station, which meant they paid the Captain in money in order to use an interrogation room. They were surprised that he was so docile until they learned he was not The Man. He’d been the messenger, paid by a woman to bring the briefcase to the Gallery. When asked about the woman, he described her and said she’d paid him to bring the brief case to the blond woman waiting in the Gallery.

“Was the blond woman The Man?” One of the agents questioning him pressed for an answer.

He shrugged, “I do not know. Maybe so. But I am paid only to bring briefcase and take one handed to me.” He spoke with a thick accent.

“Did you look in that briefcase?”

“Nyet, it was locked.” Grigor shrugged.

Angela, Vaughn, and another agent watched from the one-way mirror room. Angela said nothing, but Vaughn and the other agent, Martin Keene, thought Grigor was a probable dupe.

“I think we can let him go.”

“We didn’t finish our objective.” Martin reminded them. “We haven’t got the book and we don’t have the Man.”

Vaughn smiled, “but we learned one thing important, The Man is really a woman…and probably Russian.”

“Why Russian?”

Vaughn nodded at Grigor through the mirror. “He’s Russian.” He looked at Angela, “What do you think?”

She sighed, “Yes, very definitely he is Russian. Probably some low level hooligan from her organization. Let him go. We can send someone to follow him, but I think he’s going to go back to Russia.”

“Then where is the woman?” Martin squinted through the glass at the Russian giant. “We know she did not come out the exit.”

“She did not become the most powerful criminal by being stupid. She is extremely resourceful and intelligent. She probably figured out so many contingencies that she disappeared in front of our eyes.” Angela smiled thinking ‘thumbs up, Mama’.

“Well we have her manual and she won’t be in business much longer.” Martin said almost gleefully.

“I think we should not count our chickens before they’re hatched,” said Vaughn. “You’d better open it.”

Meanwhile back at the Uffizi, Irina was pushing a broom and removing trash. She kept a low profile, minimizing her height as she moved through the various galleries. No one noticed her and no one spoke to her. She had seen Grigor picked up outside, but didn’t worry. Her friend and bodyguard were quite able to follow orders and get out of trouble on his own although she’d given him a few tips.

Irina continued her cleaning through the afternoon and twice she’d seen the guards at the exit and at the entrance being confronted by the police about the women in red. By this time, she knew the CIA had brought in the U.S. Consulate here in Florence to give them credence on the search. Of course, neither set of guards could say they saw the woman leave.

When the museum closed, Irina was back in the women’s restroom changing clothes. The red Armani suit was turned inside out and now was a black suit with stylish buttons. The jewelry was in a secret compartment of her purse. The hat she’d disposed of in the bag of trash filled during the afternoon’s work. She wore old black pumps with a one-inch heel, which she’d carried in the bottom of her large purse. She loosened her hair from the braid, combed and brushed it so it flowed from her head down to between her shoulders. Only a light coloring was on her lips. The briefcase she carried was filled with brochures and books dealing with the contents of the Uffizi. If asked, she would tell them she was going into business as a travel agent and was going to use them for that purpose.

Walking briskly to the exit, she saw that there was only one guard left. Seeing her coming, he glanced at his watch and then at her. She flashed him a big smile as she placed the briefcase in front of the security desk. He opened it and saw the brochures and travel books, and then he closed it and waved her out the door.

“Grazie,” said Irina smiling again. He grinned back.

She walked out and crossed the courtyard toward the bus stop about a half a block away.


TBC :o


Sep 15, 2005
Great chapter! Irina is good what she do,as always.Wonder who called her.Thanks for pm.


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
1. The Glass Cage

It was a gray rainy day. Ominous dark clouds filled the sky sending a drenching rain down to the ground. A dark gray van turned into the rear of the CIA building, preceded and followed by two black SUV’s. Armed men waited at the entrance, four wore Marshal printed on the back of their jackets. Some of the men waiting were CIA strike force members who were there to make sure no one tried to rescue the prisoner.

The van stopped, backing up and two marshals stepped toward the rear door. The guard next to the driver brought the keys and opened the door. He handed another small key to one of the marshals, who stepped up inside. The prisoner waited patiently as the shackles and manacles were removed.

“Stand up.” The guard ordered. He bent down and put new shackles on as well as handcuffs. Then a linked chain was fastened to the wrist down to the ankle’s shackles.

The prisoner shuffled forward to the door and was helped down by both marshals into the rain and then up some steps through a door. There were more steps going down. Now there were four marshals, two in front and two in the rear. They turned down a long hallway where iron bar gates lifted. There were four of them. Stopping before an open door, two marshals led the prisoner inside and removed the restraints. They left without saying a word. The gates slammed down as they walked back up the hall.

Upstairs the phone rang at Kendall’s desk and he answered, learning the prisoner was in the cell. “I’ll be right down.”

Two minutes later, Kendall was facing the prisoner who’d turned around when the gates opened. It was The Man, the head of a criminal organization second only to The Alliance, and it was a woman. Her name…Irina Derevko.

“I understand you want to help us destroy The Alliance.”

“Yes, but I talk only to,” she paused, “Jack Bristow.”


“Call Langley to confirm and send Agent Bristow to see me.”

“But…but he retired.”

She shrugged, “That’s your problem. I talk only to Jack Bristow.” She turned and went to the bunk and lay down.

Frustrated and angry, Kendall went back upstairs to his office. He called Langley and spoke to the new Director of Operations who confirmed that Irina Derevko, aka The Man had turned herself in to help the CIA with their fight against the Alliance and SD-6. Her only caveat, she would interact only with Agent Jack Bristow. She was told he’d retired and they didn’t know where he’d gone. She didn’t back down and told them they’d better find him if they wanted information.

He returned to the cell. “You can be made to talk.” He said ominously.

“I doubt it. The KGB couldn’t make me. Your CIA sent me to Camp Williams and I wouldn’t talk, so find Jack!”

“Why Jack Bristow? Do you know him?”

“He’s my husband.” She smiled at the look of astonishment on his face.

Kendall relayed the conversation with Derevko to the Director, who then called the Deputy Director of Intelligence. He repeated what she’d said. It was met with stunned silence; then he was told to wait. Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang and Kendall picked up.


“It’s true. Jack Bristow was a double agent sent to Russia in 1973 to marry an Irina Derevko, a communications officer with the KGB. They were together ten years and had one child, a daughter, before he was pulled.”

“Ten years?”

“Yes.” There was a pause. “You’re sure she won’t talk to anyone else.”


“Find Bristow. His home was there wasn’t it?”


“Perhaps he went on vacation. Keep phoning and send a J-2 memo to our overseas operatives. Just find him.” He hung up.

Two days after Irina Derevko was brought to the JTF, Kendall called Jack Bristow’s home phone for the fortieth time. This time it was answered.




“Where the hell have you been? I’ve called at least forty times.”

“Í was on vacation…an extended vacation. I retired. Remember?”

“Yes, but we have a situation here…and we need you to help us out.”

“I’m retired!” Jack said again.

Kendall gritted his teeth, “Please let me explain. Your wife,” he paused for effect, “has turned herself in, and wants to talk to you.”

“MY WIFE?” Jack’s voice crackled. “What do you mean?”

“I know all about your marriage to Irina Derevko and the ten years you were in Russia. I do mean it…your wife is here and wants to see you. She will only talk to you. She’s agreed to help us bring down the Alliance and SD-6.”

“How is she going to do that? Is she still in intelligence?”

“No,” Kendall almost grinned, “it seems she’s not SVR…she’s The Man.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jack had known about the Man and the criminal organization he ran for years.

“Not in a thousand years would I be able to come up with that scenario.” Kendall responded. “No. Jack, come down and see her. Evidently you two are still married unless you got it annulled.”

“I’ll be down in a half-hour. Oh, and Kendall, get me a temporary re-instatement with full privileges. I do not want to beg or ask in order to see her.”

A half-hour later, Jack was in Kendall’s office. “Did you call Langley?”

“Yes and you have the re-instatement. There is one thing though…you cannot carry a weapon. Otherwise, we’ve even got you a parking space in the garage as well as a desk with a computer. You may need it. Come with me.”

Jack took the CIA agent card, tucked it into his wallet along with the parking structure’s passkey, and numbered slot. He followed Kendall to a desk near the entrance to the cells below. “Easy access,” he muttered.

They stopped at the Marshals’ office and checked-in. Jack’s picture was taken. He would be given a key card, which he was to use every time he went to see the prisoner. His left hand was pressed into an auto-identity screen and photographed. He could use it to enter the cellblock. He had carte blanche to see Irina any time..

“I’ll leave you here.” Kendall nodded to the guard who would accompany Jack down to the cell Irina was incarcerated. He was going upstairs to the monitor to watch along with Dr. Barrett the JTF’s resident psychologist. He wanted her opinion on the man and woman on the monitor.

Jack slowed his pace as the last gate rose. He glanced upward to the right and saw the red light, cameras’ were on and no doubt a microphone to catch everything said. Jack just knew Barnett was up there to access the situation for Kendall. He stopped at the glass wall. She was standing at the faux window and turned around. They stared at each other as she moved slowly toward him.

He noticed she was wearing government prison issue: blue pants, a black tee, lightweight jacket, also blue, and the same color slip-on shoes barely a step above a slipper. Jewelry, including her watch, had been stripped from her and she wore very little make-up, but she still managed to take his breath away. Twenty years and she was still as beautiful as he remembered her.

“Ivan!” Her voice was low and resonantly rich, strong with just a hint of an accent.

“Irina…I don’t know…” He paused.

“What to say?” She smiled. “Sorry?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, stepping closer to the glass. “Yes!” His answer was soft and low. He meant only for her to hear it. “How is…Alexandra?”

“Fine. She’s working.” She added nothing more. She came closer. “Ivan, you broke my heart.”

“I’ve regretted never telling you.” His voice was a whisper. He leaned forward resting his left hand on the glass.

She was close now, the glass barely separating them. “So here we are at last. You know why I’m here?”

“Yes, but, but how can you help?” He spoke in a normal curiosity-driven voice. “They say that you run The Man’s organization. How…how did you become…” His voice stopped as he tried to find the right words.

“…a crime boss?” She cocked her head at him. “Alexandra and I had to eat.”

“But, but Katya…Yelena…”

“Yelena didn’t believe I was innocent. She wanted nothing to do with me or Sasha. Katya did believe and, with her then lover, Alexander Khasinau, who was a Lt. Colonel, persuaded the higher ups that I was only a fool, not a traitor.” She did not tell him the reason they let her go…the condition.

“They kicked you out of KGB?” Jack asked.

“What do you think?” She smiled. “However, I did not come to talk about my past. I came to help you destroy Alliance.”

Jack studied her face carefully. It gave away nothing. “That’s fine and good, but what do you get out of it? You are in custody with a very good possibility you’ll end up in one of our Federal Prisons.”

She shrugged, “Arvin Sloane will also go to jail…or worse.”

“What have you against Arvin Sloane? Do you know him?”

“Of course. He runs SD-6 and is, how you Americans say, a skunk!”

“How are you going to help us?”

“If you have an agent inside, it will be easy.”

Jack looked surprised, “Really?”

She put her hand on the glass. She gave him the blazing smile he knew all to well. “It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” he whispered, moving his hand to touch the glass where hers was. “You are very beautiful…still.” His heart was pounding.

“No moustache. You look…younger than I imagined you would be.” She stepped up into his space and leaned forward moving her hand up to where his face was. “You betrayed me and I thought we loved one another.”

Jack felt his heart pounding as he shrank inside from her accusation. He loved her still, but there was so much sadness in him…and in her. “I—still do,” he said quietly, his eyes holding hers.

“felgercarb!” Kendall yelped as he watched Jack with Irina. “He’s not supposed…”

“They are husband and wife and,” Barnett said quietly, “they haven’t seen each other for twenty years. I think we can cut him some slack this once. I would say that it’s a normal reaction. They haven’t been contentious nor does she seem angry. I’m not saying it’s a little abnormal not to be mad, but she has had twenty years for it to dissipate and she’s done very well for herself according to what we’ve learned about The Man.”

“I don’t like it. The next thing we know, they’ll get intimate…”

“They are not going to have sex, if that’s what you’re worried about. We need them to trust each other. She is going to help destroy an entity that has a part of the world in its dirty grip. Its not going to be easy, is it? Cut them some slack, but if you’re worried, make sure the monitor is on at all times.” She touched his arm. “Would you like me to interview her?”


“Very well,” she nodded, turning away, “set up a time…maybe tomorrow, before we get too involved.”

TBC :confused:


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
didnt they already see each other?!? they already HAD sex and a talk about Alexandra... did i imagine that or something?
Yes, but the story is told in the past and current time. Everything will work out. Just be patient. Remember Jack told IRina he was going to retire outside the US somehwere yet to be decided just so he and she can be together. :lovely:

Dec 28, 2004
St. Louis, Missouri
So was this meeting before he and Irina slept together???
I am so confused...
Or maybe htis is part of their plan...
It's obvious that jack has retired and now is back... Hmmmm, the possibilities.
Interesting to say the least.
thanks for the pm.


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
2. Interview

They brought Irina up through the rotunda. She thought it funny they shackled her and put her in handcuffs. They must think she was a magician to escape at any time. She was watched by half the employees seated at desks. The guards put her in the elevator and they all disappeared to the upper floor. Most of the employees knew that Agent Bristow and the prisoner were at one time married while he was in deep cover in Russia. Some of the women thought it was romantic that they meet again.

Upstairs the elevator door opened and the small party left. The guards turned the prisoner to the right. They went down the hall two doors and stopped. One guard knocked and opened the door.

“Irina Derevko!”

“Have her come in,” said the voice.

The guard turned and pushed Irina inside. “We’ll be outside waiting,” he said to Dr. Barnett who’d stood and come toward the other woman.

“I’ll call you when we’re ready.” She smiled; then frowned when she saw the shackles and handcuffs. “Can’t these be removed?”

“No Mam’m … protocols.” He shut the door.

Irina shuffled by Barnett and took a seat. “I understand you wish to ask me questions? I did answer many from Langley, but none at your Camp Williams. Umm, sorry sometimes my English is not so good.” She spoke perfect English without an accent, but she’d decided they didn’t need to know that…yet.

“I know, but the Director here wants to be sure…”

“Of what? That offer to help eliminate The Alliance is, how you say, bottom line?” Irina smirked.

“Something like that. Just answer my questions and you will be through soon.”

Irina shrugged.

“What’s your full name?” Judy opened the file in front of her.

“Irina Anna Derevko Brestova …or perhaps, should I say Bristow?”

Judy smiled. “The first three are enough.” She made a notation on the paper before her. “You were born when and where?”

“1951 in Moscow.”

“That would make you fifty-two?”

“And that makes me a year younger than Jack.”

Again Judy smiled. “You have a daughter?”

“Yes, Alexandra Viktoria Brestova.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is she working for the SVR?”

“I don’t know.”

Judy made another notation. “You have told the people in Langley that you are The Man, the head of a world-wide criminal organization.”


“How did you prove it to them?” She looked directly into Irina’s eyes. “They must have wanted proof.”

Irina straightened. She would have liked to cross her legs, but could not. “You can call Langley for information. I won’t go through that again. They were satisfied I told them truth even after Camp Williams.”

“Camp Williams? Where was that?”

Irina studied the other woman. “I don’t know. A black sack was placed over my head. I couldn’t see.”

“Why were you taken there?”

“To be tortured.”

Judy gaped at her for a minute, saying nothing. Then she blinked. “I thought you told them you were The Man. Didn’t they believe you?”

“I guess not.” Irina shrugged. “If you want to know the results, call Langley’s psychologist.”

Judy made a notation on the pad by her phone. “I will. So you are The Man. Why did you go into crime?”

“I liked eating.”

“Have you killed anyone?” Judy didn’t look at her, just studied the file in front of her.


“How many?”

“Ten, maybe more.”

Judy’s head snapped up and her eyes caught those of Irina’s. That piece of information had not been in the file. “Do you like killing?”

“No, but is necessary.”


“To make my position strong; to build my organization.”

“You took over other criminal gangs?”

“Filth!” Irina shrugged. “They were just step above hooligans.”

“How did you kill them?”

“Shot. Knifed.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Knife…much quieter when one is close.”

“Do you love Jack Bristow?”

Irina’s eyes locked onto Judy Barnett’s, as she contemplated the question. It had been unexpected in the middle of their discussion. “I see no relevance to other questions.”

“Just answer.”

Irina smiled, “Da.”

“He betrayed you and your daughter?”


“Yet you love him.” Judy was writing as she spoke. “I find that interesting.”

“Good for you.” Irina smirked.

Judy sensed that there was something going on she couldn’t fathom yet. “So you’re still married?”

“Da, unless he get divorce…or annulment.”

“Did you?”

“No, because I was busy trying to stay alive.”

“What does that mean?”

“In my country, is hard to keep alive when you do not have job. I was in prison for six months. Very bad time.”

“In prison because of your husband?”

“Da.” Irina did not say more.

“How did you get out?”

“My sister arrange.”

“Still, you say you love him.”

“Da! We together ten years. All good ones, until he disappear.”

“You mean extracted.”

She shrugged. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I guess.”

“I saw you downstairs. I must say you are a remarkable woman.”

“We love each other much during…during time together in Russia. The years between,” she shrugged, “it dissipates the anger.”

“That is very—forgiving in lieu of what happened.”

Irina shifted, “I suppose, but then he is father of my child. We have much passion when we are together.”

“Did you kill Director Robert Lindsey?”

Judy had asked the question posed by Kendall. The investigation into his death was stymied, because there was seemingly no evidence. Irina’s appearance during the week following had pricked Kendall’s curiosity. It was an off-the-wall question he had not expected to be answered. Judy watched Irina whose face had become a mask of indifference.

“Who is he?”

“Was. Former Director here at JTF. Did you kill him?”

“Why would I?”

:”I don’t know. I should tell you that this conversation is considered privileged. What you say goes no further.”

Irina laughed. “Why should I believe that?”

“I swear. That is the law here.”

“In CIA?” She snorted in disbelief. “CIA no better than KGB or SVR or any other intelligence group. They lie to get what they want. They all use same tactics to get information. CIA tortures as does SVR and formerly, KGB.”

“I’m a doctor. I cannot divulge anything my clients tell in me confidence.” Judy didn’t give any indication she knew the CIA did use torture on certain recalcitrant prisoners. Obviously, Irina Derevko was one of them.

“But I am not your patient. I am a prisoner of CIA.”

“In a sense though, you are a patient.” Judy leaned forward slightly holding Irina’s attention. “I swear…it goes no further.”

“What was the question?” Irina’s handcuffed hands plucked at her pants as though to pick off an unseen piece of lint.

“Did you kill Robert Lindsey?” She left off the ‘Director’ title. She never liked the man the few times she interacted with him and there were others at JTF who thought the same.

“Was he bad?” There was a sly look on Irina’s face, as she watched the doctor.

“He wasn’t liked.”

“Who killed him?”

Judy was feeling exasperated. “I think I asked you that question: did you kill him?”

Irina stared at her for a moment; then she stood up. “I’m going. I have answered enough questions.” She shuffled to the door.

“Wait! Why won’t you answer?”

“I don’t know that man. Why would I even think about killing him? Why do you ask this question? It is enough. I am tired of stupid questions.” She opened the door. The two guards stepped in front of her. “I go now please.”

Judy watched the other woman head down the hall toward the elevator. Something was a bit off, but what, she could not put her finger on it. Why did Kendall want her to ask that question? Did he know something she didn’t?” She threw her pen down on the desk staring without seeing Irina Derevko enter the elevator and disappear.

Minutes later, Kendall walked into her office and sat down in the same chair Irina Derevko had sat earlier. He stared at Dr. Barnett, “Well?”

“She admitted to loving Jack Bristow. She did not admit to killing Lindsey. In fact it was that question that precipitated her exit. She was upset, I think…or,” Barnett rubbed her cheek thoughtfully, “…or she was playing me. She’s extremely intelligent and very sure of herself. She’s ruthless and has killed several times.”

“How many times?”

“Ten or more and prefers knifing. Says it’s quieter. She has used a gun a few times, or at least that’s the impression I got.”

“Ten!” Kendall rubbed his nose. “Do you think she will help us?”

“At this point, yes. She obviously has a wealth of knowledge regarding the underworld, so she may have some ulterior motive, assume for now she’ll do what she says she will.”

“Trust her?”

Judy shrugged, “As much as you could any informant…or criminal!”

“Very well. I’ll trust her as far as I can throw her.”

Judy laughed. “I’d say that was fair enough at the present.” She made a few notations on her note pad, tore it off, and put it into Irina’s file. She read the file, but found no reference to Camp Williams. She probably wouldn’t find anything if she’d been sent to Camp Harris here in the west.



Jan 22, 2003
So. California
AN: This episode is a flashback to what happened when Irina turned herself into the CIA. I've done this a few times. It's a fill-in for what happened and why.

3. Camp Williams

Irina entered the Langley headquarters of the CIA about noon one Monday morning shortly after leaving LA and seeing Jack. All her Is had been dotted and the Ts crossed so she had no loose ends to worry about. Her business would continue as usual. What no one knew was her thorough knowledge of The Alliance and who its principals were. She and the inner council had done a good job of tracking every member and his or her family.

She walked up to the receptionist. “I would like to speak to your Deputy Director of Operations.”

“Your name, please?” She asked, while giving the woman a careful appraisal, noting the pant suit, heels, blouse and the expensive jewelry. She definitely had money.

“Irina Derevko. Oh, you might tell him I am also known as The Man. I have a proposition for him.”

The receptionist nodded and then something clicked. She glanced over to her right to a list posted on her desk—the Man was on it. She hit a button under the desktop as she punched a button on the console of her phone system. She was ringing the DDO’s secretary, Hollis Jones.

“I have someone at reception…an Irina Derevko, who says she is also The Man. She wants to speak to the DDO. Says she has a proposition for him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, that is what she is telling me.”

“Wait. Did you ring security?”

”Yes.” The receptionist looked up and saw three men hurrying toward her from the central hallway.

“Have them take her over to interrogation, Room A. I’ll tell the boss.”

The three CIA security men came up to the desk. They stared at Irina who stared back at them with a cold stare. “That her?”

The receptionist nodded. “Take her to Room A in Interrogation.”

He nodded and walked to Irina. “Do not move.” He motioned to his two men. “Search her.”

In the reception area where there were several people moving around, Irina was frisked. Her purse was taken from her. “This way.” He led the way off. The other agents walked beside her. They took the elevator up to the sixth floor. Leaving it, they proceeded through a door that was opened by a key card. She was taken to Room A.

“Please sit. The Director will be here shortly.”

Irina nodded, saying nothing. She crossed her legs and leaned back. It was only two or three minutes when the door opened. A man about forty-five entered, followed by two others. Obviously it was the Director and he took a seat across the table. The two men with him, stood with their backs to the wall watching. The other agents who brought her up were spaced behind her, waiting for the next set of orders.

“You claim to be The Man, an international criminal wanted all over Europe as well as the Middle-East.”


“I believe you mentioned a proposition?”

“I believe I can help you destroy SD-6 and The Alliance.”

“You don’t say,” he showed skepticism not only on his face, but also in his voice. We’ve wanted to get them and have been getting closer to that goal. What makes you think you could be more valuable?”

Irina smiled a smirk on her face. “I can help you do it in less than two months. I can guarantee the destruction of SD-6, followed shortly thereafter, by The Alliance.”


“Ahhh that is my secret.”

“What do you want?”

“Take my name off your list.”

The Director stared at her. “What guarantee do I have that you can make this happen?”

“I have my organization poised to start within a week.”

“Doing what?”

“Eliminating them.”

“Kill them?” His eyes widened.

She shrugged. “I’m interested in using some of the CIA’s information and informants to finish putting the icing on the cake. I can do things you cannot because of who you are.”

“So if the CIA takes The Man off the most wanted list, you will eliminate The Alliance.”
He stared at her suspiciously.


“I think we’ll test your resolve in this matter.” He glanced at the agents behind her. “Process the prisoner and remove her to Camp Williams for…interrogation. In the meantime, Derevko, we’ll do some checking with Interpol and other intelligence agencies.”

“You will get no more information from me than what I’ve told you. By the way, when you decide to take me up on my proposition, and you will, I want to be sent to your Los Angeles office. Arvin Sloane will be the first to go down.”

Three hours later, a helicopter landed in a valley somewhere west of Virginia. There were no houses, no villages...nothing to indicate it had any sort of population. In the center of the valley, surrounded by four miles of nothing on all sides, was a group of grey stone buildings, situated in a quadrangle. The helicopter came to a stop outside the main gate and the doors opened quickly to admit three men and a prisoner.

The one in the center wore the blue garb of a federal prisoner. There was a black hood over the head and a steel bar running behind the back. Chains had been placed on the wrists in front which made sure the prisoner could not extricate arms wrapped around the bar. There were shackles on the ankles. Two men held the prisoner at the elbows, propelling her toward steel gates at a fast clip.

It was Irina Derevko, who had not expected this. However, she was always prepared to withstand interrogation and torture if necessary. She’d been trained well when she was a KGB student. She graduated at the top of her class and, for some reason no one quite remembered her veracity and fortitude. She was taught to compartmentalize everything. She would tuck this away in a box somewhere in her mind. They would not learn anything. The KGB learned just how good she was at withstanding its own interrogation of her in Kashmir.

They practically ran her down a hallway of some kind and came to an abrupt stop. The hood was torn away from her head. She stared at a small cell about six by six. The door was bars, but the rest of the cell a steel box with one window located at the rear. She said nothing as one man opened the cell. The other two removed the bar and took off both the chains from her wrists and ankles. The three left as quickly as they had brought her.

Irina sat on the steel bunk wondering what the idiots at the CIA were thinking. They had a perfectly good offer to help them. Sitting with her back to the wall, one foot up on the edge, she hugged her knee, eyes narrowing as she thought about the offer. Why had the DDO decided to put her here, rather than the West Coast? Everything depended on her being there.

“Hey,” a voice sharply interrupted her thoughts.

She glanced to her left and saw that a man was leaning through the bars looking at her. “Yes?”

“What are you here for?”

“I’m not sure.” She decided no one would get any more information out of her and her experience in Kashmir never left her. Snitches were everywhere. She had to find out what was going to happen to her before she ‘chatted’ with anyone.

“I killed a couple of feds.” He sounded proud.

“Not smart,” she said coldly.

“Yeah…that was, but here I have a bed and three meals a day.” He smiled. “What’s your name?”

“The Man.”

He laughed. “Are you kidding me? Hey, you’re not one of those perverts?”


“Yeah, used to be a guy and now you’re a woman.”

Irina stared, blinking as she absorbed what he was saying. She glanced around the cell and then out into the hall. She wasn’t surprised when she saw a red light blinking in her direction. A video camera was photographing everything and probably everything that was said. Fuk! “No, I’m not a pervert.” She turned and sat down, her back to the video camera.

Glancing to her left, she noted daylight was beginning to dim. She guessed it was late afternoon now. They probably would feed her and tomorrow…well she’d just have to wait and see. There was a noise at the far end of the hall. She saw the large doors to the cell block open. Three khaki uniformed men entered pushing a gurney. “Govno,” she said softly to herself. They were not wasting any time. She saw the man in the cell on the left, melt back into its depths where he thought he would be safe...out of sight.

They stopped at the cell door. “Get up,” snapped the sergeant, who was in charge.

“Why?” Irina stayed put for the minute.

“Get up!” He was tougher now and he had a baton in his right hand. He nodded to the other two men, one of whom had a taser in his hand.

Irina knew what a taser could do. She stood. The Sergeant opened the door, a baton in his hand in case she caused trouble. The other two men grabbed her by the wrists and lifted her up onto the gurney. Both ankles were put into leather restraints as well as her wrists. Then one pushed and the other pulled it and her with the Sergeant following.

“Where are we going,” she asked.

“Shut up!” The sergeant laid the baton on her shoulder.

Irina said nothing.

They put her in what looked like a surgical room. There were multiple lights overhead which were on and pointing down. A man in a green surgical cap and gown moved to the side of the gurney. He pulled a machine over to Irina’s left side and began attaching patches to her arms and shoulders. Another pair was placed on her scalp, just at the hairline behind her ears. He added two more on the inside of both ankles. She had no illusions as to what would happen.

Closing her eyes, she began reciting the Tables of Pi: first in English and then in Russian. Every part of her brain was ‘cordoned’ off—blanked so to speak so that nothing could find its way in. She screamed as the first shock hit. Then there was another shock, which caused her to scream and to throw her body in an upward bow. Inside her mind she continued to recite Pi.

“Will you tell us what we want to know?” The doctor leaned in over her. He slapped her gently on the left cheek to get her attention.

Irina mumbled something.

“Say again,” he asked, putting his ear close to her mouth.

She spoke louder this time, practically shouting in his ear. “Nyet, nyet, nyet, you son of a bitch!”

He jumped back, startled. Without saying a word, he threw the switch for the third time. She screamed, bowed her back, pulling up on the restraints, trying to escape the pain.

The doctor removed the patches, noting burn marks on the wrists and ankles. There were some on her shoulders and under the hairline. She received the maximum shock. He could do no more for now. He reached on the tray sitting by the gurney and pulled some fluid into the syringe. Sodium pentothal. He’d shocked her body and mind. Now the ‘truth serum’ would unlock her inhibitions. She would easily answer all the questions Langley wanted him to learn.

“Twenty minutes.” The doctor said without addressing anyone in particular. He checked his watch then set about putting away the electrical gear.

The sergeant in charge of the men asked, “What did she say?”

The doctor shoved the small generator into a box, turned and looked at him. “Nothing. It was gibberish first and then she told me to fuk myself. She’s not a novice at being interrogated.” The last was a grudgingly sort of admiration statement.

The doctor glanced at his watch. He leaned down to look at the prisoner. She seemed out of it. Pulling back her eyelids, he thought he saw a glaze in her eyes. He took the left wrist and checked her pulse. It was slowed as it should be with the Pentothal. He took a blood pressure cuff from the tray with the Pentothal on it, wrapped it around her arm and squeezed the bulb. Seconds later, he listened as it dropped down to whatever level she had.

“Eighty over fifty-two. Good! She should be ready.” He removed the cuff. He leaned back down. “What is your name?”

“Irina Derekova!”

“Where do you live?”


“Are you married?”


“His name?”

“Ivan Brestova.”





“Why did you kill Robert Lindsey?”

There was silence. Irina began to mumble something. It didn’t sound Russian at all. The doctor moved closer and he took her shoulder, shaking it. He repeated the question. She did not respond, just kept mumbling something he could not understand. He looked up at the Sergeant. “Do you understand?”

“No sir, sounds like gibberish.”

“Swedish,” said one of the other soldiers. “She’s talking in Swedish. My parents emigrated from there after they were married. I grew up knowing it.”

“If you understand, translate for me.”

The soldier leaned over to hear. “Sorry, it sounds like…” He repeated it to the doctor.

“I’ll be damned.” He looked at the men. “She’s reciting the tables of Pi.”

Govno - felgercarb
Nyet - No

TBC :o


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
4. Set-up

Jack was walking along the Palazzo Vecchio on his way to dinner in the Piazza della Signoria. His friend, Pietro Armannia, a member of Interpol, had recommended this restaurant as one of the best in the central city. He was musing on what had taken place the past week: his visit had turned into a shopping trip for a home and he’d been able to talk to Pietro before committing to anything.

Pietro found him an apartment home a few blocks from City Hall in one direction and the Duomo in another. It needed some painting and a little fixing of the bathroom and kitchen. However, some of the electrical wiring needed updating as he would have a couple of computers, but his friend told him he would oversee it while Jack returned to the States to close up his home and get his financials in order.

He was feeling good and thinking about her. He’d planned to retire, but not outside the States until…that night in LA. He’d thought he would never see his beautiful Irina again only to have her there…in his home. The thirteen or so hours they’d spent together was extraordinary and he found himself totally in love again or was it ‘still’? He’d mentioned retiring and she’d mentioned not coming to the U.S. to live again. He’d proposed that he retire to Paris or Rome. He had a feeling that Florence would also be acceptable.

A flash of someone approaching caught his eye and he glanced to his left. “Irina!” He gaped at the woman coming toward him from the Uffizi.

She stopped and looked at him with a broad smile on her face. “Jack? What are you doing here?” Irina kissed him on both cheeks.

“Retiring. I just bought an apartment/home here in the city.” She looked stunning, Jack thought, staring.

“Retiring? I thought Rome or Paris?” She fell into step with him taking his arm.

“Come to dinner with me?” He asked. “I’ll tell you everything then. A friend of mine, Pietro Armannia, is meeting me there. He helped me find the apartment.”

She put her hand under his arm. “So you really did it?”

“Yes!” His heart beat a little faster.

They walked in silence as he maneuvered her through the gathering crowds. It was early for some, but Pietro insisted they have an early meeting so he could go home to his family. Jack saw the restaurant and skillfully maneuvered Irina into the outside area. A few patrons sat drinking coffee and some whistled their approval of the slim, tall woman who preceded the man into the restaurant itself.

Pietro stood up from the seat at a table. “Jack!” His eyes swept over the woman with his friend in appreciation. “What a surprise.”

Jack grinned, helping Irina into a chair. “Pietro Armannia, my wife, Irina.”

“No merda!” Pietro’s expletive caught Jack and Irina in surprise. “You never told me about a wife. What a lucky man!”

Irina’s eyes twinkled as she held out her hand. Pietro bent over and kissed it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about the…but you are a beautiful surprise. I didn’t think this old dog had it in him.”

“He definitely has it,” Irina jibed back laughing.

“How long have you been married?”

“Ummm well, we’ve been separated and only just recently got back together. Let’s order dinner and drinks.” Jack hoped his answer wasn’t too lame.

Pietro looked at his watch. “Listen Jack, you don’t want to spend too much time with me. Let me tell you the plan while you are gone.” He fished some cards out of his pocket. “These men will do a good job. They are not the fastest, but they are excellent at what they do.” He listed the items Jack needed fixing in the apartment he bought. “I will see to it that everything is done properly.”

“How long do you think it will take them?”

“A month, at best!”

Irina’s eyebrows shot up. “A month? Surely it could be done in a couple of weeks!”

Jack laughed lightly, “Darling, obviously you haven’t lived in Italy. After dinner, let me show you the place.”

“I’d love to see it.”

Pietro called the waiter over and ordered for Jack. “Something special and wine to go with a beautiful woman. Please be my guest tonight.”


“No buts…” He kissed Irina’s hand again. “Goodbye Signora, I hope to see you again…soon.”

“Absolutely,” she flashed him a brilliant smile. She watched him leave. Turning to Jack she asked, “How did you come to know him?”

“He’s with Interpol.” Jack watched the waiter return with a bottle of wine and a bottle of Pelligrino water. Turning to Irina, he asked, “Tell me, what are you doing in Florence?”

“Why don’t I wait until we are in your apartment.” She put her hand over his. “I’m sure there will be no one listening.” She took a sip of wine.

“As you wish. How is Sasha?” He picked up his wine glass which the waiter had filled moments ago.

“Fine, I think. I haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s busy working.”

“Doing what?”

Irina leaned back in her chair, a smile on her face. “Now Jack, that’s her business, not ours.”

“Is she all right? I mean she’s not in any danger?”

“She’s very good at what she does. I’ll tell you more when we’re in your apartment.”

An hour later, they were at the door to his apartment located over a dry goods store on the Via Anita, a short street between Via Ghibellina and Via Vigna Vecchia. They had to walk up a stone staircase which looked very old. The door was oak and looked massive. Jack had an antique key in his hand that he used to open the door. He stepped aside to allow Irina to enter first.

“Moya boje,” she whispered.

The main room was large, almost thirty-five feet long with a window at the left wall, overlooking the street below. There was a sofa on her left and at that end of the room, a large fireplace. Two leather chairs sat on either side of the fireplace and a companion loveseat faced the wall beyond on which there was a flat plasma television. It was the only modern piece of furniture she saw. Evidently Jack had done very little decorating. The ceilings were at least ten feet high with an old intricate decorative molding placed about a foot from the top.

To her right was a small entryway table with a very old fashioned lamp on it, which he’d turned on as they entered. Beyond it was a large ornate oak desk with a chair. Beyond it, a dining table with five chairs that matched the one in front of the desk. The table was oak also as were the chairs. Behind the table was a long wall filled with books in the middle of which was a door. At one end of the table, behind the chair was another bookcase. Behind the other end of the table was the entry into the kitchen.

Irina glanced inside it and saw that it was filled with cupboards, large stove, refrigerator with a freezer, and several kitchen aides including a toaster and coffee maker. She suspected there was a full compliment of utensils and the cupboards would be filled with food, dishes and glasses. Jack liked his comforts, especially the kitchen to be complete first. She also bet he had his private bar set up on a nearby shelf.

“How long have you owned this?”

“A couple of weeks.”

Her eyes gleamed, “Enough time,” she commented, confirming in her mind what was behind the closed cupboards.

“Come let me show you the bedroom,” he said. He opened the door beside the bookcase, allowing her to precede him inside.

She stopped, astonished by the sight of an old four-posted bed on the right, including canopy. It sat on a raised dais. The posts and headboard were filled with ornate carvings. The bed was made up and a rich tapestry-like coverlet. Matching tapestry covered pillows sat decoratively against the coverlet which was pulled up.

“Jack, it is…krasiveyshe.” She stepped further inside and looked around to see matching armoires, a chest and a door, which looked like it led to a closet. There was an open door which probably was the bathroom. Again the ceilings were the same as in the front part of his home. “This is old, very old, Jack.”

“Heating might be a problem, but a couple of sweaters will make it warm enough.” He put his arm around her narrow waist. “I’m having it re-painted and new fixtures for the bathroom, a new toilet and maybe later on, lowering the ceilings.

“Don’t – they are too beautiful.”

Jack had already decided that he would leave them, but he wanted to see what Irina would say. He turned her to face him. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Um hum, I think I’d like that,” and she leaned up to kiss him.

Their love-making had been done as a slow dance, but ended satisfactorily for both of them. They had fallen asleep for a few hours. Then Irina awakened, laying on her side, and looking at Jack who was also awake, asked “Tell me, are you really retired…full time?”

He opened his eyes, nodded, and yawned. “Yes, sweetheart, completely. I’m not even telling them where I moved to, because, knowing them if something came up involving Italy, they’d want me to look into it. My money will be deposited in a bank in New York and from there travels to several banks, before it ends up here.” He stretched languidly, his eyes taking in all of her.

“So they will know nothing about…us?”

“Not a thing…”

“Jack, I’ve been thinking about helping the CIA get rid of Alliance and SD-6.” Her hand touched him on the cheek.

“You? How could you help?” He turned onto his side, resting his left hand on her hip.

“I have contacts and…people who work for me.” She leaned over and holding his chin, kissed him. “Create dissension among the members, many of whom I know, and cause a creeping distrust among them. I think Arvin Sloane may be the key here to start the beginning of end. Alexandra could help.”

“I’d like to keep her out of it.”

“Jack,” she moved her hand to his right breast and played with his nipple. “You’ve got to be realistic. She’s in a perfect position to help us.” She leaned in and kissed with a deepening desire exploring his mouth, teeth, gums—every part of it. She thrust her tongue down his throat, growling.

Jack felt the desire and emotion rise up in him again. Her tongue danced inside his mouth as a fire started in his loins. He pushed her away slightly. “Damn it, Irina, I can’t think if you keep doing that. I…” He gasped as her hand gathered his balls in its palm, her fingers massaging them at first gently, then with increasing intensity.

“I want you again,” she panted, all thought of the conversation’s purpose disappearing. She pushed him back down, feeling the hardness of his penis growing.

Straddling him, she stared down at him. She felt herself oozing and knew she was almost ready. She touched him and knew he was too. Irina lifted herself and settled down, feeling the stiffening penis slide easily inside. She groaned. Desire to being fulfilled was her only thought as she kneeled forward slowly feeling him come out a couple of inches. She moved back again, sitting slowly down feeling him enter all the way. He was still growing.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned, the desire causing her to shake slightly. “How I’ve missed you, you son of a bitch!”

Jack reached up with his hands, putting them around her waist and thrust upward, his own excitement beginning to peak. “Fuk you, you felgercarb-assed whore, I’ll teach you who is the boss.” He moved her up and down slowly, seeing the glazed look in her eyes growing with their every movement.

“Gad!” She breathed, sitting back and now feeling every inch of him.

“Pizda,” he snarled. He gripped her breasts and squeezed them as she moved up and down, gasping with each downward motion trying to capture more of him.

Their bodies glistened with sweat as their movements went faster. Irina felt the fire inside her explode, hurtling her into a thousand tiny pieces. She gasped, crying, “Zaebat’.”

“My pleasure!” He said. “Ty troop” From somewhere outside his body, Jack kept his hands firmly on her breasts, pumping her as she cried out screaming again and again.

She toppled off him finally, falling beside him, fulfilled and exhausted. Her chest heaved and she could feel herself come again and again each one decreasing in length. She groaned with the pleasurable heat that ran from her toes to her throat. Irina closed her eyes, sighing. “You will never leave me again, Jack, even if I have to shackle you to the bed.”

He laughed and kissed her. He was sated completely. At his age, two mind-blowing fuks in less than five hours was his limit, if he’d ever thought about it. Irina was his woman. He wanted her with him more than anything else in the world. “Ya tebya lyublyu, moya milochka. Ya tebya lyublyu.” Jack took a hand in his and kissed the palm softly.

“Ya nahozhusy v vlyublennosti s vami, Ivan.”

“Jack,” he reminded and then kissed her.

“I know,” she sighed, “but I am used to you as Ivan. Sometimes, like now, after we’ve made love, I remember you as my husband—you know, in Moscow.”

“Irina, I…” He sighed. “That was another lifetime, darling. I’d like to think that we’re just finding each other…as though we’re discovering love for the first time.” He reached down and pulled the sheet over the lower half of their bodies.

“As much as I love you, I still hate what you did—leaving us.” She whispered.

“Irina, I had to or else you and Sasha would have been killed. There was an assassin in place. If I didn’t leave, he had orders to kill us all.” His voice was earnest wanting her to believe him.

She stared at him. “They would sanction that—your country…the one that professes to be so pure?”

“Yes, but that is politics, moya milochka!” He reached out with his right hand and caressed her thigh. “My government is no different than yours, especially during the Cold War and it was a very cold war.”

She turned over on her stomach and nodded. “Da.”

“And,” he paused, “it would have been done as an accident: car crash, fire, or something like that. No bullets or knives since that would have fueled more ‘war’ games between our two nations. It was leave or die here…with you and Sasha. I couldn’t let that happen.”

She turned her head and looked at him. “Da. Spasibo.” She knew that the spies sent to the United States were also under such threats. She’d even received a communication once from an assassin who confirmed the death of an entire family because the mother who was Russian refused to leave.

“Now you mentioned you would tell me why you were in Florence…how about it?”

“I’d like you to un-retire!”

“My God, why?”

“I told you, I plan to help the CIA bring down Arvin Sloane and The Alliance. I will turn myself into the CIA next week. I want you to be the only person I will talk to there.”

“Irina, that’s dangerous. You could be kept in prison. I looked over the data we had on The Man earlier and you’ve been very busy building your reputation over the past…”

“Ten years.”

“Yes and now the CIA is looking into your activities regarding the blackmail of certain high government officials in the U.S. My guess is that they could charge you with all sorts of felonies and more.”

She laughed and played with his nipple. She looked him slyly, “You’re saying you retired early because of me?”

“No sweetheart, I really don’t care at this point what you’re involved in. I’m not a CIA agent any longer. However, I do know the people who are still working for the Company and it might be stickier than you think.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “I will have to take my chances, won’t I?”

He stared at her, “You really aren’t afraid?”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “Sweetheart, I know exactly who and what we are up against and, again, no I have no fear as long as you are there. We must be careful and not let our feelings be revealed.” She laid back against his shoulder, pulling up the sheet over the both of them. “And now…” she continued, “I want to sleep.”

“I may have something that will give us better odds.”

“Later. Let me sleep.”

TBC :love:

Merda - felgercarb


Krasiveyshe – beautiful
Gad – asshole
Pizda – cunt
Zaebat’ – to fuk someone until they are exhausted
Ya tebya lyublyu – I love you
Moya milochka – My darling
Ya nahozhusy v vlyublennosti s vami - - I am in love with you
Ty troop – You are dead!


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
Part IX – Death
1. The Cage

Irina settled into a routine at the JTF’s glass cage. She and Jack maintained their distance after the initial visit. He’d been reprimanded by Kendall and agreed not to be that friendly again.

“She’s an enemy. She has been in charge of a group of blackmailers, killers, some of the worst criminals in Europe. She has unknown contacts in almost every government in Europe, perhaps even further than that. The CIA has no idea how far reaching her organization can reach…NATO, the World Bank…the UN even possibly has been compromised. Irina Derevko may have been your wife at one time, but she is not the housewife you left in Moscow twenty some odd years ago.”

“Yes, I know. I was overcome with emotion—of seeing her again after so long.” Jack tried to maintain a cold impersonal voice as he spoke the words. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Kendall sat behind the desk Jack had had weeks ago. “We’re waiting to hear from Benton as to what Sloane is doing or going to do. Then you can decide if it something Derevko can help us with, but until then…”

“Yes…stay away.” Jack walked to the door. “I’m going home. Call me if there are developments.”


Jack was wearing grey slacks, opened blue polo and a matching grey vest, sipping on his scotch while watching his television. His eyes were focused there, but his mind was elsewhere…at JTF. It’d been two days since he’d seen Irina and, in spite of his relaxed attitude, he wondered if the next step was the right one. They’d discussed it in Florence and Irina insisted he had to tell Alexandra why she was in the cage at JTF.

“I want to see her.” Irina said. “I know it’s silly, but I haven’t really talked to her for so long…” That was a lie as she and Alexandra had spoken recently about the series of events leading to Irina’s being sent to Los Angeles.

Irina really wanted Jack back in her life. She wanted Alexandra to accept her father and get to know him again. She told Jack he had to make the effort too. She’d also told Alexandra that she must work something out with her father no matter what her feelings were. She wanted their daughter to leave the world of spying and intelligence entirely to live a normal life. Jack agreed with that also.

So here he was at home, waiting for Alexandra Derevkova alias Angela Benton to arrive. He’d obtained her cell phone number by hacking into the data base in Langley. It was a relatively easy thing to do. He’d done it many times after learning from the op tech, Rachel Summers, some of the codes and passwords. She, luckily, wasn’t aware of Jack’s capabilities on the computer.

The doorbell rang. Jack got up and went to look thru the peephole. Alexandra stood outside, looking uncomfortable.

He threw open the door saying, “Thanks for coming, Angela.” He used her alias since one never knew who was listening.

She stepped inside as he closed the door behind her. She glanced about the large living area, noting the flat screen television, the records standing on edge in an entertainment center which also included various CD and DVD players as well as acoustic equipment.
“I’m not sure I want to be here.”

“I know,” he said softly. “…but here you are.” He took her coat. “Can I fix you a drink?”

She nodded, “Do you have Anejo tequila?”

“Yes,” he turned to the cupboard where he kept his liquor. “Over ice?”

“No ice.”

He pulled the new bottle down and quickly poured about two fingers of the tequila into a heavy bottom glass. Turning, he handed it to her. “Come, let us sit down.”

“Is the place clean?” She looked around before sitting at the other end of the sofa.

“Yes! I sweep everyday just to be sure and I did it when I came home. We can talk safely.”

She took another sip of the tequila. “Mama says I should be nice.”

Jack laughed softly. “She told me, but we do need to talk about…”

“You’re running away?”

He turned half way in his seat to look at her. “Sasha, “ he said softly, calling her by the nickname he’d used years ago, “I was called home. I had to go. If I had not, we all would have been killed. I told your Mother this and she knew the KGB did the same to those reluctant to leave. Get stubborn and you die. I could not risk your lives.”

“Humph!” She stared at him, then down into the golden liquid in her glass. “You left her vulnerable. She nearly died in Kashmir.”

“I know now, but then I could only hope no one found out.”

She tossed the contents of her glass down in a gulp. “Your CIA utilized the codes she developed to break into highly secret communiqués between it and agents in place. We lost five good men.”

“And now,” he took her glass, “there is no KGB. Look Sasha, your mother and I want you out of whatever service you are working for: SD-6, CIA and/or SVR. We love you and want you safe.”

“Mama is at CIA now, in custody. What are you going to do about that?”

Jack filled her glass and poured another splash of scotch in his own. Handing it to her, he sat down next to her. “She wants to put The Alliance away. She wants to start with Arvin Sloane and his faux CIA black ops SD-6. I can’t talk to her until she can give us information…information that you might bring in on a mission from SD-6.

“I retired a month ago, but they asked me to return in order to be her handler.” He looked at her without guile and hoped the honestly he’d felt was transmitted through his words. “She asked for me to be her handler.”

“And when all of this goes down…what then? Will they turn her loose?”

Jack shook his head, “No, but she’ll be fine. We have a plan to extract her before everything goes down.”

“Yeah just like it did twenty years ago.”

“Sweetheart, I love your mother more than you know and I love you too, very much. I thought I would never see either of you again and now both of you are here in my life. I don’t want to lose either of you again.” He took her left hand in his. “Sasha, please believe me. You both mean the world to me. I…love…you.” His voice was passionate and resonated with his true feelings.

She stared at him. “You promise nothing will happen to Mama?”

“Yes!” He saw a tear creep out of a corner of her eye. He caught it before it trickled down her cheek with his thumb, wiping it away.

She put her drink down and crawled into his arms, crying. “Papa, I…”

“Hush, my beautiful Sasha.” He kissed her on both cheeks. “Oh how I missed holding you.”

They stayed together for several minutes. Jack broke away first. “Let me take you to dinner. The Italian restaurant near by is run by an old friend of mine. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Irina sat cross-legged on the bunk, reading a book. It was Tolstoy’s War and Peace. She found it humorous that she was able to read his book in an American jail. She’d never been able to read it in Russia: first because it was communist country and second she was to busy as The Man to pick it up when communism was no longer the powerful political party. It was a fascinating book.

She glanced up when she heard the gates open. Jack wasn’t supposed to come until the CIA needed information. Besides they’d decided not to evoke suspicions by talking too much. The CIA had to believe their relationship was on shaky ground. She watched as four US Marshals opened the door and stepped inside. All were armed.

Two marshals stepped forward pulling her to her feet. One produced a leather belt to which two handcuffs were attached. He put the belt on her and handcuffed her left wrist to it as the other guard put the right wrist in the other.

”Move.” The guard on the left took her by the elbow, propelling her out of the glass cage and up the hall. The other guard strode beside them and the other two behind.

Irina was both puzzled and stunned. There was a tinge of fear in her mind. What had happened to make the CIA take a step she couldn’t fathom? Instead of going up into the Rotunda, she was led down the corridor she’d come through days ago. They put her into the same type of van, shackling her to the wall and floor as before. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked. Almost immediately the van moved off.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, it stopped. Irina had absolutely no idea where she was. The doors opened. Two marshals entered and took off the chains. They pulled her off the van. Irina glanced around and immediately knew she was in a prison of some type, but not where. She sniffed and was rewarded with a smell she knew…the ocean. Again she was handcuffed and shackled.

The four marshals moved her across a short open yard and through a chain link corridor to a door which led inside. Just inside the door was a guard at a desk behind a bullet-proof glass. One of the marshals handed him a sheaf of papers, saying, “Irina Derevko, Russian national, terrorist and murderer. Transfer from JTF in LA on orders of Justice.”

“I don’t have her.” He looked at the list.

“Look at the papers; she’s to be held for trial…murdered one Robert Lindsey, director of JTF.”

Irina said nothing but she was stunned. What the hell happened? She knew she would not get any details from the marshals, but certainly someone would let her know. She was entitled to a lawyer. She was trying to remember that particular night. She didn’t leave any fingerprints. She couldn’t. She wore gloves. The rifle had been destroyed and parts distributed by some of her men in various parts of the country. What? What had happened to change everything?

The guard behind the glass punched a button which opened gates to their left. “Down there. Third door on the right. They’ll process her there.”

“You sign off that she’s arrived?”

“Yeah.” He scribbled his name and handed the paper back.

The marshals moved down the hall with her in the middle. They stopped at the door. One opened it. “I have a prisoner to be processed. She’s being held on a murder charge. Instructions are to put her in solitary.” While he was speaking, the other marshals removed the chains from Irina’s wrists and ankles.

A female guard took the papers and pressed a buzzer. A door to her right opened and another female guard entered.

“Prisoner for processing. When you are finished, take her to cell block five, cell number six.”

“Yes, Mam’m.” The guard pulled Irina away and into the other room, shutting the door behind them. “Strip.” She ordered.

Irina was not going to cause trouble yet. She did as she was told. The guard searched her…everywhere. When she finished, she handed Irina prison clothing and tossed the rest into a bag. Irina dressed swiftly. Her outer garment was an orange jumpsuit. She was also given shoes and socks unlike those the CIA provided. These were black moccasins, easy to slip into, but with stiffer soles.

When she’d finished, the guard pushed a button at another door which led inside. Irina held onto a towel, washcloth, toilet paper and a paper bag with comb, shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste. She was led out of the building into another. At the entrance they were met by another guard, who took the lead. Irina had her game face on as they passed several prisoners engaged in chatting or watching television. Her dark eyes carefully assessed the women prisoners and they watched her.

The three entered a door at the end of the building, the guard using a card key. When Irina stepped through she saw six single cells with steel doors, no bars. Solitary. Again the guard used his key card to open the end cell on the right.

“In here,” she was told. Irina stepped through the door. It slammed shut behind her. There was a single bulb some ten feet up from the floor. It gave very little light. She put what she was carrying down on a bare shelf located at the end of the bunk, next to the toilet bowl and small sink. She sank down on the bunk.

“Jack, did you hear?”

TBC :confused:
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