I started Death in Kashmir with an ending in mind, but as the story grew, I found myself doing the what-if game. I saw more possibilities and more cliffhangers and great peril for our spy family, as well as a chance for Jack and Irina to face challenges to their renewed love and respect for each other. That’s the romantic in me, of course, and I make no apologies. The story features Sydney and her Mother early on and Jack later. Vaughn is married, so I can be realistic too; what happened might not really happen in JJs parallel universe, but I don’t care.
As you all know, these characters belong to JJ. Abrams (BTW, his first name is Jeffrey) except for the ones I make up.
If you didn’t read DEATH IN KASHMIR, you might want to read it first. What happens here is a continuation of the spy family’s story? Are they ever going to live happily ever after? I don’t think it’s going to happen either in my world or J. J.’s.
A brief prelude: In “Kashmir” Jack disappears with Sloane; Irina takes a seriously injured Sydney and disappears. They are gone for two years—déjà vu.

THE DI REGNO EFFECT

CHAPTER ONE
TREASON

The plane pulled up to the terminal. The Shermetyevo International Airport was busy and there was only one parking spot left. The stairway was rolled up to the door, which was pulled open by the mechanic assigned to that duty. Tired passengers were gathered behind the weary steward at the top of the steps who led the way down. The last passenger was a tall, lean woman who carried herself with self-assuredness born of someone used to command. She wore a simple black suit and red blouse. Around her neck was a pearl necklace and matching earrings on her ears. Her feet were clad in high-heeled black boots. Over her shoulder was a hanging carry-on and in her hand, a small suitcase. At the bottom of the steps, she glanced around and saw no one waiting behind the gates. She walked toward the terminal itself. Inside, she walked purposefully down the center of the wide corridor, constantly checking to the left and right with her eyes. The escalator in front of her led to the street.

Suddenly Irina thought she was seeing someone she did not expect to see. The person was blurred, not quite in focus. She hesitated, slowing her pace. He was just to her right and she could only make out peripherally his shape.

“Byty Vnimatelynyi!” The words appeared in her head without warning. She almost hesitated in her stride, but years of training of not to appear surprised kept her on her pace.

“BE CAREFUL OF WHAT? WHY?” She responded without thinking. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

There was no answer. What the devil? She frowned. It had been Jack’s voice. How did that happen? Her mind churned with possible scenarios and answers. Where was he? Moreover, why should she be careful? She stepped almost unconsciously onto the crowded escalator. It took her down a floor. She glanced to her left and her heart, no, Di Regno’s heart, thumped so hard she thought everyone could hear. Below her, coming up, was a squad of SVR men, led by a stern-mouthed man in a typical SVR costume all in black. She casually moved the hanging carry-on over her left shoulder so it partially hid her face. They passed Irina without giving her a second look.

She was a full colonel and Director of Operations at SVR. She knew that when her father, General Mikhail Probukov, retired as the Director of Foreign Intelligence, she was in line to replace him. Why then had she been so careful not to be seen? Her rank and position gave her a certain amount of power within the Russian government. She had acted on Jack’s warning almost instinctively.

Irina stepped off the escalator and strode toward the doors that opened out into the darkening day and busy street. She had called Grigor to meet her. She paused just outside the doors to look for her car. She walked to the curb. A black Mercedes, which did not belong to her, darted out from a dozen or so waiting cars. The passenger door opened almost before it came to a stop.

“Get in, hurry!” Grigor cried.

Irina didn’t hesitate. She sat down on her hanging carry-on, and put the suitcase between her feet. She barely had time to shut the door before Grigor stepped on the accelerator and charged out into the heavy traffic leading out of the airport.

“Grigor,” Irina cried, “what’s wrong?”

“They are looking for you.”

“Who is?”

“The police and SVR…”

Irina felt a chill descend over her. “Byty Vnimatelynyi,” said the voice repeated in her head. “Do you know why?”

He shook his massive head. “No, the General called and asked if I was going to pick you up. He told me to be early in case you were. I was not to take you to your apartment.”

Irina grunted in assent. It would be stupid to go there. She looked at her big friend and bodyguard and said, “Take me to this address.”

“Yes, Irina.” He turned to watch the street, occasionally looking back in the direction they had come.

They arrived at a house on the outskirts of Moscow in an hour. Irina knew, when they did not get her at the airport, the SVR and police would be hunting for her. Why? She thought. What’s happened? Grigor pulled up quickly. Irina got out with her luggage. She slammed the door.

“Is this a safe place?” He looked dubious.

“Grigor, ask nothing. Go home.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I am not even here. Now. Go!”

He drove off. Irina walked down the street until she came to the fifth house. She entered the house by tripping a button at the top of the doorframe. Inside, there was nothing to indicate anyone inhabited the rooms. There was only one long room with a short hallway and simple bathroom. No one lived here and no one would. She walked to the far side of the room and tilted a picture of Putin on the wall. She pushed a button and the wall silently slid back. Irina replaced the picture and disappeared behind the wall, which closed behind her.

Irina walked down some stairs until she was inside a cellar. She reached behind a board and another wall slid open. She picked up the flashlight on the shelf to her right and entered. She started down a narrow tunnel, using the flashlight. The wall slid shut. The light was focused on the ground. She didn’t expect to find anything in her way, but one never knew. She had been in the game far too long to not be careful.

Finally, the light showed a stairway ahead. She went up, pushed another button and a door opened. Standing in the doorway, she pushed a button and shut the door quickly. A minute or so later, she heard the rumbling that told her the tunnel had been closed off. When the diggers shored up the tunnel, they deposited the dirt behind the boards, which reached to the top. More boards were placed across the top; further increasing space as well as protection. Using the domino theory, Irina had installed very small charges of C-4 at three points. The button triggered the charges. The tunnel was no more.

She walked in an underground parking garage. Above her were seven floors with fourteen apartments inhabited by ordinary Moscow citizens. When she ran the crime syndicate, she had designed this place to use as a safe house. There was a hidden apartment in the building. Irina walked quickly to the elevator.

When the doors closed, she tripped a small switch hidden at the top of the panel, which then fell toward her. She reached in and pushed a button, which would take her to the top floor. Irina had never used the apartment, but now was as good a time as ever. The elevator stopped. She snapped the panel back. The doors opened and she stepped out.

She turned on the lights. She stood in a small foyer. The apartment itself had no windows only a large skylight. There was a cover over it now and Irina let it stay there so the lights would not be visible from outside. There was a black metal desk to her left. On it sat the best computer her money could buy. Three untraceable cell phones also rested on the top. There was a comfortable office chair facing it. A black leather sofa faced her with a coffee table in front of it. The table was bare. To her right was a kitchen, tiny but serviceable as she put every necessary convenience in it including small refrigerator, stove and microwave.

Irina walked to the cupboards and opened them, removing a canister of tea that she placed on the counter. Turning she went down a short hallway to the right of the kitchen area. Behind the first door on the right was a small bathroom with a shower. Across from it was a bedroom with closet, armoire, and chest. The bed was ready to be slept in when she was ready.

Changing her mind about the tea, she decided to shower and get some rest. A few hours would make all the difference in the world. It had been a long flight north from Hong Kong after she left Sydney and made sure she was picked up. She undressed and entered the shower, turning on the cold, then the hot followed by the cold again. She smiled remembering what Jack had told her that special day two years ago. Drying her long, chestnut brown hair, she stared at herself in the mirror. She had not lost her leanness. She was muscular, but not in a bulky way. She thought of how much Sydney was like her. Finished, she crawled into bed and slept soundly.

When Irina wakened five hours later, she felt refreshed. Fixing tea in the kitchen, she worried that all of this would spill over into the rest of the family. Jack, who had disappeared with Sloane, didn’t know his son was married or that his wife, Sophie, was expecting a new addition to the family. Irina walked back into the living room and sat at her desk. She picked up the cell phone and dialed a number.

“Elizaveta, why do the police and SVR want me?” She listened in astonishment. “Who’s the informant?” She was stunned! “When did this all start?” Again, she was surprised by the response. “Very well. No, you do not need to know where I am. I need you only for information. Do not get involved. It’s too dangerous.” She hung up.

“They want me for treason.” She shook her head in astonishment. “And Jack Bristow is my accuser?”

***
Uh oh!

Irina is wanted for treason ... and Jack's her accuser?

I love this story lenafan.

Everybody look. My names in the story. Yaaa! Great job Bev. Keep going.

I'm liking this story already, big cliffhanger so early on, very well done. Let's see where you take this, treason huh? interesting, but why would Jack accuse her.(porbably forced by Sloane) anyways nice beginning and thanks for the pm, continue to do so.

Hey
Thanks! This is only the first chapter. Expect one every week!
Aliasmaster47< I'm glad you enjoy your entry as a character in fan fic.
B)

Wow!! :reallyexcited: How intrigueing!! :lol: I'm slightly lost, but I'll be caught up soon!! :rolleyes:
Great ending!! :) Thanx for the PM!! :innocent:
Colly E. :bunny:

I'm happy you decide to continue "Death in Kashmir". Can't wait the next part.

Great start. I can't wait to read more.

Thanks for the pm.

What a great beginning to another creative story! Thanks for the pm, lenafan. I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
EspionageFan :ph43r:

interesting and detailed start

looking forward to more

brenda

great first chapter, lenafan. love your fics

CHAPTER TWO
TRAITOR

They brought Sydney to the Joint Task Force Center. She was not chained like her Mother had been three years ago, but she was handcuffed. Will was with her as well as the agents assigned to bring her back. She understood why it was necessary and didn’t object, but was still stunned by all that had happened while she was “away.”

At the safe house in Hong Kong, she had been horrified when Will told her she had been missing for two years. All she could remember was standing at the door, hearing the rumbling and her mother screaming her father’s name. She could not remember anything else. It was a total blank. She was frightened as she struggled to tell Will what she could remember of that awful night in Kashmir.

“Will,” she whispered, “where’s Vaughn? I – thought they would send him.”

Now it was Will’s turn to look stricken. “Syd! He—he couldn’t come.”

“Oh, is he on an assignment?”

He shook his head, “No, he—he’s married and working at Langley,” he stopped, seeing the bewildered look on her face. “Syd, I’m sorry.” He pulled her up and held her as Sydney began to sob.

They stood together for nearly three minutes. Finally, Syd pulled away, wiping her eyes. “When?”

“A year ago. Her name is Lauren. She is a nice woman. Look, he thought you were dead, we all did. We found your blood on the floor and on that platform. We hunted for you and your parents for over a year, everywhere. Vaughn was totally wasted by your death. He almost fell off the face of the earth. Look, Syd, you were dead. He just moved on with his life. Sloane disappeared too until recently.”

“Sloane is alive?” She wiped her cheeks, which were still wet.

“Yes,” he looked grim, “something’s happening and we’re not sure what yet. There’s turmoil, little wars breaking out – neighbor against neighbor nations. It’s crazy. I’ve been assigned to see if I can get a fix on the reason.”

“Why do you think Sloane’s behind it?”

“He was seen in Afghanistan, in Kabul, a month ago. Our agent swears it was he. He said Jack was not with him.” Will stared at her. “Are you ready to go? They expect us back on the plane in an hour.”

She nodded.

“Something else. They are going to handcuff you.”

“Why?” She shivered.

“They need to run tests to be sure you are who you say you are. We had all that trouble with the second double.” For the moment, Will closed his eyes, remembering Francie who was really Allison and working for Sloane. “Syd, it’s crazy, I know, but…”

“It’s okay, Will.”

The small group moved through the outer rim of the central office. Sydney couldn’t look in that direction. She was still confused by her loss of memory. She had tried to remember, but couldn’t. Both parents were still missing and Sloane had come back. Now at the JTF center, the agents sent to bring her back accompanied her down the hall to the elevator. Her wrists were handcuffed. Was Dixon there? Marshall? She bit her lips to keep from looking. Will had his arm around her shoulders. That was a comfort. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if he hadn’t been there.

The cell doors opened slowly before her as they took her into the cell formerly occupied by her mother. They stopped at the door. One agent stepped forward punching in some numbers. The door swung open. Another agent unlocked the handcuffs and she was gently pushed inside. Will stood back as the door shut and locked.

“I’ve got to go, Syd.” He tried to smile confidently. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

She didn’t look at him. She stood, staring around a room that was all too familiar. Her heart beat harder than ever. She was breathing fast, almost hyperventilating. The bunk to the left had a mattress, sheets, and a blanket. They had given her two pillows. The desk was not empty. There were three books lying on it. The stainless steel toilet and washbasin were to her right. The windows, which were not windows at all, still had the same background of plants and trees. There was no way out, but through the door behind her. A pile of fresh clothes lay on the bed, Government Issue, no doubt.

She walked over and sat on the bunk, thinking. Sloane reappeared in Afghanistan? Where was her father? Where was Mom? She rubbed her forehead. What was happening? Was the chaos Will alluded too because of Sloane? And Vaughn? She felt a sickening pain in her stomach, which moved to her heart. She felt she was going to break out sobbing again and that wasn’t Sydney Bristow’s modis operandi.

Sydney sighed, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. She had seen someone peripherally for a brief instant. She sensed a presence. Who? She was afraid to look, but did and saw no one. She frowned. Glancing up toward the door, she saw the camera. It was on. The red light showed. If there had been someone, agents would be coming. She heard nothing. Was it her imagination? It must be. Then she saw it again. Just outside her identifiable vision. Who?

“BE CAREFUL.” The words and the voice appeared inside her head. Sydney gasped; it was her father’s voice. He had said those words many times before, but now the words seemed to flash through her mind.

Sydney said nothing, but she was scared. How did it happen—his voice inside her head and the words? She closed her eyes, listening and hoping for more. She felt her body get tense and her heart beat faster. She had to think. She had to calm down. Meditate. She frowned trying to remember something, but it danced out of the reach of her memory. Meditate. She drew her legs up, crossed them, and dismissed all thoughts from her mind.

Upstairs, Will was watching the monitor. He saw Sydney take a yoga position on the bunk and watched her body relax as she slipped into a meditative state. He was surprised. She had never meditated as long as he had known her. That was new and it meant she had acquired the ability since disappearing. He was happy to see Sydney finally relax. Will left the monitor and went to his desk.

“Sydney!” The voice was quiet. It belonged to her mother. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but something’s happened. Dad contacted me and told me to be careful.
Why, I don’t know.”

“Be sure no one knows you and I are in contact. I’ll be back.”

Sydney made no move. She stayed quietly in the meditative state. She was asleep.

The next morning Director Kendall came down to see her. She had changed clothes, putting hers in a bag, which one of the marshals had taken away for cleaning. Her brown hair was plaited in a single pigtail. She heard the doors open and walked to the window to meet him.

“Sydney.” He wasn’t smiling.

“Kendall!” She responded with coolness.

“Glad you’re back. We’re going to run some DNA tests, ocular imprint and, of course, fingerprints. I wouldn’t be surprised that if you are Sydney Bristow, you’ll be out of this room within twenty-four hours.”

Now she gave him a half smile. “Thanks.”

“I was told, you can’t remember where you’ve been for the past two years.”

She nodded her head, “No, I can’t.”

He took a deep breath as if making up his mind about what to do next. “I want you to see Dr. Barnett and to be hypnotized for regression intervention. You and the CIA need to know where you were. Will you agree to this?”

“Yes.” She was relieved. Sydney had had time to relax and think about the situation, including the mysterious message from her father. If Will was right and Sloane had surfaced, it meant he was going to try to fulfill the Rambaldi prophecy. Her mother told her she was the one who had been chosen to overturn the evil that was to force its way onto the world. She could not perform that task unless she was free to operate as an agent.

“Thank you.” He smiled for the first time. “They’ll run the tests this morning. I’ll set-up the session with Dr. Barnett for this afternoon. If all goes well, you’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

Sydney nodded and walked over to the desk as Kendal left the cellblock. It probably wouldn’t be long before the med techs arrived to begin their work. She glanced at the titles of the books lying on the desk. Classics. She laughed silently as she read: Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song and Tolstoy’s War and Peace. She hoped she would not be here that long. She opened War and Peace and began to read.

An hour later, the cellblock’s doors began opening. She looked up. Instead of the medical techs she expected, three marshals entered the room.

“Stand up!” One of them ordered.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Sydney slowly stood.

“Turn her around,” said the first marshal. They turned her around. One marshal took a three-foot long pole, one inch in diameter, put it behind her waist high while another pulled her arms back and around the pole. The other brought her wrists up and cuffed her in front, effectively locking her arms from moving. The first marshal led the way out. Sydney was stunned. Director Kendall stood grim-faced at the first cellblock door.

“I don’t understand…” she stared at him.

“Sydney Bristow. You have been accused of being a traitor to your country and government. You are being sent to Camp Harris for questioning.” He turned to leave.

“Wait! Who said I was traitor?”

“Your father, Jack Bristow.”

***
Uh oh!

okay, all I can say really is whoa! it can't be jack doing this to both of them!

Sydney too? Something is definately afoot. Did something happen to Jack?!?!?

Agent Gill posted Nov. 13, 2003

Ummm, did you forget the machine that Jack threw Sloane and the first guard onto in Death In Kashmir? As for what? Wait and see. B)

Celtic Jedi Posted on Nov 13 2003, 09:08 PM

Hey, my story and everything will be explained... B)

HOLY HELL!!!! :shock:
What are you DOING to me woman!! :blink: Her too!?? :unsure:
I'm getting it now!! :huh: Totally on the same page, caught up, with ya' now....but, NOT her too!! :blink: What in blazes is Jack DOING!!!??? :wacko:
I can't wait for the update, please hurry! :( Thanx for the PM!! :lol:
Colly E. :bunny:

:huh: Hmmm...something fishy goin' on.
Great chapter, lenafan! I'm glad the next chapter will be posted soon.
Thanks for the PM
EspionageFan :ph43r:

In shock, what the hell. Jack wouldn't really be the doing this would he?. I'm sticking to Sloane being behind it and of course still evil. Let's see this mystery unfold, next chapter please.

Holy Hell?
What the hell?
Oh My God...
Well, my purpose is to snare you. Serials are supposed to do that! So keep on reading. It's gonna get better. I've mapped out 18 chapters so far.
I love being evil cliffhanger writer. (She laughs :reallyexcited: :reallyexcited: )
B)

CHAPTER THREE
DISAPPEARING ACT

Irina sat in front of her desk. She had not left it since Elizaveta informed her that she was being charged with treason. She had to get out of the country. It would be impossible to go west into Europe. SVR would have its agents stationed at the border and, whenever possible, in countries they thought she would try to enter. She trained her operatives well and had no illusions of being able to slip out through the West without being caught. She would contact the nine loyal members of her syndicate who were still alive. Klaus Richter had been killed on Arvin Sloane’s orders. They retired at her insistence when she went to the U.S. Now she needed them. Fortunately, she was the only one who knew who they were. Their identities had been kept in her operations manual, but in an encrypted code, and it had been destroyed in Madagascar. Not even her father had been privy to their identities. As Director of SVR Operations, Irina had pulled their files and destroyed them.

She was sure SVR did not know about this hidden apartment. She had the building built with its secret while she was The Man. No one ever knew who The Man’s real identity was, not even General Probukov, her father. Irina knew he was in danger now, so she would not contact him. Grigor had picked her up from the airport. They would question him. She had told him to tell them that he left her at her apartment near the Kremlin, but he had not seen her enter the building. She had flown into Moscow’s Shermetyevo International supposedly unaware of the charge against her. She was positive the SVR men had not seen her as she passed them on the escalator. However, there were video cameras trained on the entry and exit doors. Every passenger was filmed as they left or entered the terminal. They would have her pin-pointed as soon as they reviewed the films. Still, she thought that might take time. She must leave as soon as everything was in place.

Irina took one untraceable cell phone and punched in some numbers. One hour later, her plans were complete to get out of Russia. As the Director of Operations, she knew where agents had been placed prior to her being accused. She also knew Jack was not behind the accusation. It must be Sloane. He knew she had been in CIA custody and that she helped them. She knew now what Jack’s message meant to convey. She was in danger, grave danger, of losing everything including her family: Aleksey, her father, Jack and Sydney.

She walked into the small bedroom. Near the top of the armoire, there was a small button, which she pushed. A panel slid open next to the armoire, revealing a small closet with two shelves. Irina stood for a moment looking at the clothes; she pulled open a drawer and looked inside. Moments later, she had everything packed in a backpack that also was inside the closet. She removed the clothes she was wearing and hung them up in the hidden closet. Then she changed into those she had selected to help her escape. The other drawer contained several passports and identity papers. Irina glanced at her watch. There was time. She wanted to contact the Master to tell him of this new development. She hoped he wouldn’t tell her it was ordained.

She walked to the sofa and sat crossed legged on it, closing her eyes. She felt herself slipping into a deep state. As she did, she realized there was someone else close by. It was Sydney.

“Are you all right?” Irina asked.

“Yes, but something’s happened. Dad contacted me and told me to be careful.
Why, I don’t know.”

“Be sure no one knows you and I are in contact.”

She stayed quiet, her mind moving into a deep sleep. It always energized her even if it was only for a few minutes. Sydney now knew how to do the same. The technique would be extremely beneficial if they decided to question her at length. Her eyes flew open as the meaning of Be Careful to Sydney might mean. She felt a chill. Sydney had spent several months with her in Moscow. What if__? No, she had to wait. Her first job was to get out of Moscow to some place she wouldn’t be found.


It was night when a woman walked slowly, with the help of a cane, into the dark warehouse. She wore dirty, oil stained pants of undetermined color, a gray work shirt whose collar and cuffs were frayed, and an old jacket that was too big for her. There was the truck, ready to go. It was loaded with sealed boxes of canned goods, boxes of tools and bags of clothing, all of which were to go to a church at the truck’s destination. With effort, she climbed up into the cab. Settling in behind the wheel, she lit-up a Donskoi cigarette and then turned on the ignition. The 20 year-old truck’s engine coughed and smoke came out the muffler and then it stopped. She tried it again and this time, it started. Irina smiled, her teeth showing yellow tobacco stain, and she shifted into first gear. She tripped a switch under the dashboard and the truck sputtered forward. It certainly was going to be a long trip. She had given orders to get a truck that looked the part, at least for the first half of the journey.

She wondered how many roadblocks she would have to go through. She thought a moment as the smoke from the cigarette curled up into her face. There would be two, possibly three since it was what the Americans called a capital offense. In Russia, which was in the early throes of a shaky Democracy, it might mean death without a trial. No doubt, a military tribunal would try her. She had to find someway to clear herself. She had to find Jack and learn what happened.

She wheeled the truck out of the warehouse and slowly made her way south toward the place she thought they would set up a roadblock. Irina glanced at herself in the rear view mirror. She grunted. She had done a good job. No one in her family would guess who she was. Her once beautiful chestnut brown hair was dirty, stringy, and oily and her face was grimy with dirt.

As she drove toward the motorway, she saw two cars stopped ahead. She pulled up and looked beyond the cars. There were two police cars blocking the road, leaving only a small area to drive through. One car was leaving and the other pulled up to the officer in charge. Irina couldn’t see if he was SVR or police. The car ahead left. She sighed. She’d soon find out if she was going to get out of Moscow and on her way south.

She shifted, driving slowly up to the man holding up his hand. “Hey, what’s the hold-up? I got to get my load to Voronezh by tomorrow,” smoke curled from her lips as she spoke with a rasping voice.

“Bumagal!” It was a Sergeant from the state police, the FSB. Irina grunted, turned in her seat, and found the papers he demanded. She handed them out of the window.

“Chtu vy nesete!” He asked what she was carrying without looking at the papers.

Irina took another drag on her Danskoi, then answered gruffly, “Odezhda, pishcha instrument!”

The sergeant ordered her out of the truck.

Irina climbed slowly down from the cab leaning heavily on her cane, making sure her height was not discernible. There was probably a good description of her at each roadblock. She was glad SVR men were not present. She surmised they were located at all the roads leading west. She pulled the pack of Danskoi’s out of her pocket and offered one to the Sergeant. He took it.

She had told them exactly what was in the truck: clothes, food, and tools. She had to be careful. The sergeant motioned to one of the other men to search the truck.

“So, you been here long?” Irina took a drag on the cigarette and leaned against the truck body.

“Nyet!” The sergeant watched his men inside the truck. They turned and shook their heads. He handed the papers back to her. “Pokidaty!” He wanted her to leave.

Irina limped back to the cab, tossed the cane up, and pulled herself into the seat. She leaned out of the truck, waved, saying “Spasibo!” and after thanking him, disappeared into the darkness.

She put out the cigarette. God, they were awful. And strong too! She was glad she had never taken up the habit. She turned her attention to the road. It was going to be another mile or so she guessed before she hit the second roadblock. It was three miles, however before she was stopped again.

Complaining loudly, she pulled out her papers, handed them to a lieutenant and went through the same routine. This time she stayed in the cab while two men searched the back of the truck. They found nothing, of course, so she was told to leave. Glancing out at the side-view mirror, she saw three more trucks now waiting behind her. Grinning, she shifted and pulled away. Two down and possibly only one more to go, she thought.

She was more or less in the country now, but there could still be a roadblock. She kept the truck rolling along. Other trucks passed her, but she was not concerned with speed. She had to be sure, before she flipped the switch under the dashboard, which turned the truck’s stuttering off completely, allowing her to pick up speed. It was important to get to Voronezh by tomorrow. She had a ticket to Sevastopol by plane and she had to clean up. She knew, though, there was plenty of time. The flight did not leave until early evening.

Irina pulled over at a truck stop. She had to contact Sydney. To anyone passing by, she looked to be sleeping which was often the practice of drivers during a long distance haul. She didn’t think she’d be disturbed. She closed her eyes and drifted into a deep meditative state.

“Sydney?” She felt with her mind the cell at CIA headquarters in Los Angeles. There was no answer. The Di Regno heart beat loudly inside her head as she searched for her daughter. Then she remembered Sydney’s telling her that she heard Jack. If Sydney had been accused, the CIA would send her to Camp Harris.

Her mind drifted eastward of Los Angeles, to the place she knew only too well. The Agency sent uncooperative prisoners there for interrogation. She herself had ended up there three times. It had not been a pleasant experience.

“Sydney!”

“Mom! How did you find me?”

Irina wanted to touch Sydney. She sensed her daughter was both angry and confused by her circumstances. “Listen, sweetheart, and do exactly as I say. I will be there in two days. Can you hold out?”

“You can’t come! It’s too dangerous. If you’re caught, they’ll throw you into prison or worse.”

“They won’t catch me. They won’t even know I’ve been there. Now pay attention.” When she was finished and Sydney had agreed, Irina brought herself back to the present. She had to get going.

Two miles outside of Tupa, she saw a line of cars stopped ahead. A third roadblock, as she expected, had been set up. There were more cars blocking the highway than at the first two. Now, she frowned, what had changed? Did they know about the truck? She reviewed everything in her mind. No one knew where she was headed. It could be just a coincidence. Cars moved slowly. She followed and shortly, was at the roadblock itself. She saw SVR men waving her to their position. She recognized the officer in charge. It was Ivan Tabruk, whom she had once reamed out for failing a simple mission. He might be trouble.

Uh oh! Great chapter lenafan. I guess we'll see if Irina can make it out of there.

I just caught up. Great chapters. Please post more soon.

Thanks for the pm.

gosh yes

more di regno!

Iam :wub: it!!!!

meditation conversations. irina as a truck driver

it is good good good

brenda

Wowsie!!! :rolleyes02:
I'm sooo hooked on this fic!! :reallyexcited: I can't wait till Irina gets Sydney out :redhair: ,...but I have to say, I'm really likin' the meditation conversations the Spymoma and SpyBabe are having!! :wub:
Thanx for the PM and I can't wait for more!! :whistle:
Colly E. :bunny:

doesn't sound too good, let's hope she makes it out of the country. awesome job as usual and thanks for the pm.

CHAPTER FOUR
SYDNEY’S TEST

The sun had been up for two hours and it was hot. Sydney had arrived at Camp Harris the previous afternoon and like her mother before her, they tied her against the pole in the quadrangle. The marshals had pulled her roughly out of the van. They removed the three-foot pole, freed her wrists, loosened the belt, then pulled it tight around the pole, and put her wrists into handcuffs again. They said nothing to her. One man headed for the office, the other two climbed back into the van. It was useless to ask them anything. She just could not understand why her Dad would do this. She tried to work it out on the trip out, but all she could think of was that Sloane was behind it.

Sydney looked around. She saw no one. One marshal had gone into the office and then came back out. She watched him climb up into the van, which immediately drove off. She moved, trying to go left and then right. She had very little leeway, as the belt held her tightly against the pole. However, she discovered she could move downward. Slowly, using her legs to brace herself, Sydney sat down. She was thirsty, but she knew she wouldn’t get any food or drink right away. She decided the best way to keep herself quiet was to slip into a meditative sleep.

“Sydney!”

“Mom! How did you find me?”

“Listen, Sweetheart, and do exactly as I say. I will be there in two days. Can you hold out?”

“You can’t come! It’s too dangerous. If you’re caught, they’ll throw you into prison or worse!”

“They won’t catch me. They won’t even know I’m there. Now pay attention!”

The next morning dawned even hotter than the previous day. She was wearing a light blue jacket, part of the standard issue from the CIA. Feeling the heat, she was glad she had been wearing it when they came for her. She heard a sound. It was a door opening and closing. She swung her head to the left and watched a man she knew walk toward her. He had a bottle of water in his hand.

Mark Hanson approached the prisoner with mixed emotions. He had seen her twice before almost three years ago. Sydney Bristow had delivered her mother to the Camp, then again had come to visit her a week or so later. Now she was a prisoner and according to the papers sent with her, accused of being a traitor. She reportedly had worked for her mother in Russia. Orders were to do his best to get her to talk. As one of the best CIA operatives, she had been privy to many secrets. They wanted to know what she had told the SVR.

Mark stood with his back to the sun. “Good morning!”

Sydney squinted up at him as the bright sun outlined his figure. “Yeah, maybe!”

“Water?” He bent down and took the leather belt, pulling her up to stand on her feet. He uncapped the plastic bottle, tipped it, and put it to her lips. She gulped at the water.

As she drank, she watched him. She was almost through drinking when she pushed herself down to the ground. At the same moment, Hanson aimed a punch at her solar plexus. Instead of her stomach, he missed when she dropped to the dirt.

“Hey, that wasn’t nice” she said.

Hanson stood looking at her surprised and angered. “Get up!” He ordered. She didn’t move. He reached down to pull her back up. She sat solidly. Hanson took hold of her wrists, yanked her to a standing position, and before she said anything, threw a hard right hook into her belly.

She gasped, but had known he was going to do this. She had pulled in her abs. They were hard and tight. She kept the water down. “You son of a bitch” She leaned forward as though hurt and sank down to the ground.

“Have a nice day, Ms. Bristow.” He turned and walked back to the office.

Sydney did not move for a few minutes, taking occasional deep breaths to stabilize her breathing. Mom had warned her to take time to recuperate from those punches he was liable to give. Finally, she was able to breathe comfortably and slowly began to relax as well as she could under the circumstances. She had no idea what time it was other than guessing by the shadows she could see. It must be about nine. From the tone of Hanson’s voice, it sounded as though he planned to leave her all day and night at the post. She yawned, relaxed, and let her mind carry her into darkness and peace.

The hours passed. Hanson watched from the office window. The prisoner was obviously asleep. He felt a chill. Something flitted through his mind. As he stared at Sydney Bristow, he was seeing her mother, Irina Derevko, when she was at the post. That had been an experience. He had never had a prisoner like her before or after until now. She had taken everything he and Johnson had dished out. Removed at Dr. Barnett’s insistence, he grudgingly gave Irina Derevko a minute of respect. He wondered if agents from the CIA or any other country could have done the same. He guessed they could if they had the will and courage.

The sun went down, leaving a softening twilight. Johnson had come into the office after Captain Hanson summoned him.

“It’s time to take her to the cell.” Hanson said. “You have the items?”

“Yes sir.”

Hanson walked out the door, with Johnson behind him. In seconds, they stood next to Sydney who was slumped against the pole. Hanson nudged her with the toe of his boot. There was no response. He looked at Johnson who was holding a bucket.

“Douse her!”

Johnson took the bucket in both hands and poured cold water over the prisoner’s head. Hanson stood back as the water splattered. The prisoner snapped her head back and tried to duck away, but it was too late. The bucket was empty.

“Shit!” was all she said.

“Good evening, Ms. Bristow. We’re going to take you to your cell.” Hanson pulled her up. Water dripped from her body. Johnson stood behind, unfastening the belt. Sydney felt the release and slumped to her knees in relief.

“No, no, Ms. Bristow.” Hanson pulled her to her feet. “Shackles, Johnson.”

Sydney watched, water dripping from her hair down her face, as Johnson snapped chains around her ankles. They were making sure she didn’t do anything rash or unexpected.

“Now, let’s go.” Hanson took one arm and Johnson, the other. They half carried her toward the building that housed the interrogation rooms and cells. This time, Hanson had a key. Sydney staggered in short steps down the hall, hindered by the shackles. Hanson stopped before an empty cell, opened the door, and led her inside. He took out a key and unlocked the handcuffs while Johnson unfastened the belt. The two left her standing in the center of the cell and as the door closed with a snap an electronic lock was set. They kept the shackles on her ankles.

It was especially chilly in the cell after having spent the day outside in the sun. She shivered as the door to the building closed, both men disappearing to the outside. The bunk had a blanket on it and a pillow. She moved slowly towards it, turned, and sat down for a moment before she moved her arms. She did a few isometrics, then some arm circles, followed by shoulder pulls and pushes. Her muscles were stiff due to the length of time she had worn the handcuffs. Sydney glanced around her. Standard cold, dismal cell was her assessment. She swung her legs up onto the bunk. She reached down, unfolded the blanket, and wrapping herself into its warmth, turned to face the wall and fell asleep.

The next morning, Hanson strode to his office. He made a few notes in Sydney’s file. Then picked up a pair of manacles resting on the corner of his desktop and left the room, striding quickly toward the building that held their prisoner. Johnson opened the door. He had arrived a minute or so before Hanson. He shut the door and followed the Captain to Sydney Bristow’s cell.

Johnson pushed a button outside the cellblock and the cell door clicked open. Hanson walked in, manacles in hand. He shook her shoulder. Still wrapped in her blanket, she did not move. He pulled the blanket, unrolling it threw her to the floor.

“Unnhh!” She grunted rolling over onto her knees. She shook her head.

“Get up!” Hanson ordered. She glared up at him defiantly.

He nodded to Johnson, who entered and yanked her to her feet. Hanson put the manacles on her wrists. “Playtime” He grinned!

Ohmyga!! Poor Sydney!! :(
They better not hurt her! :angry:
Come on moms, hurry it up!! :huh:
Great chapter....I really don't like this Hanson guy...he needs to be taught to play nice! :ph43r:
Thanx for the PM, can't wait for more! :D :innocent:
Colly E. :bunny:

Ahh!! This cant be good. Poor syd.
Nice job

Hey, he can't play nice. It's his job as the CIA's interrogator!
B)

poor syd! :( I hope she's okay.

I'm sure Sydney will get through this one ... I'm sure Sloane is *really* behind the accusations.

Poor Syd. Great chapter. Please post more soon.

Thanks for the pm.

lenafan

kep me posted as you update

i love this story and where you could be headed is a delight for the reader


brenda

I'm counting on SpyMom rescuing Sydney just in the nick of time, but, then again, you just might pull a fast one on your readers, lenafan. I can't wait until the next chapter!
Thanks for the entertainment.
EspionageFan
:ph43r:

phew!!!

sorr,y it's taken me a while to get around and read this, but i had to read death in kashmir first and i had a whole bunch of stuff due in at uni, but hey, this story's worth the wait. (although i get the feeeling that "what the?" will feature in my vocabulary whenever i read a nw chap (in a good way))

cheers,

froggy

that doesn't sound too good. hope she'll be okay but then again she did learn to meditate with Irina which we can only hope comes to an advantage in this case. Brilliant job as always and I look foward to the next installment. thanks for the pm too.

Ok I am all caught up and I have ony two words

MORE PLEASE

Brenda

CHAPTER FIVE
THE MESSAGE

Will Tippin arrived at the center almost an hour after Sydney had been removed. He walked toward the stairway, only to be stopped by Marshall Flinkman, who looked as though he had been crying.

“She—she’s not there anymore.” He said.

“What?”

“She-she’s been taken to Camp Harris for questioning. I-I heard they were charging her with treason.” Marshall tried to keep his composure.

Will stared at him. “Are you hallucinating?”

Weiss walked up. “No, Will, it’s true. Sydney’s is at Camp Harris for unrestricted interrogation and you know what that means.”

“Is the CIA crazy? Sydney Bristow is not a traitor to her country. Who said she was?”

Weiss grimaced, “Langley got a voice mail from Jack Bristow. He told them Sydney had been working for her mother, Irina Derevko.”

Will stared uncomprehendingly. “Jack, her father?”

“Listen, we know Sydney and we know Jack. Something’s not right, but Langley wants to know if it’s true. They’ll use truth serum.”

“Like that will work,” muttered Marshall.

Weiss cocked his head and then nodded slowly. “It will if they soften her up first.”

Disbelieving it still sent Will to Kendall’s office. He knocked on the door and then walked in. “Sir, I just heard about Sydney!”

Kendall looked grim. “I know. I can’t believe it either. But orders are orders. She’s been there since yesterday about noon. I think we may hear something by tomorrow.”

“Sir, please let me find out more. I’ve got a lot of places to look. I have a contact in Russia. Maybe I can find out if Sydney did work for the SVR. Where did the message from Jack come from? Weiss said it was a voice mail from her father. Did anyone check to be sure it was Jack?”
“Yes, it was his voice. Langley confirmed it with the voice prints they have of all their operatives.”

“Can I pursue this?” Will asked.

“Yes.” Kendall had come to like Sydney, as volatile as she was, but she had been such a valuable asset that he too was having a problem with the charges. “However, only you are to pursue any leads. I don’t want too many people taken away from their work. You will report to me if you find anything and to no one else.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.” Will turned and left the office.

Will went to his desk. Thirty minutes later, he had news that Kendall should know. His contact in Russia told him Irina Derevko was wanted for treason also and she had disappeared. No one knew where she was although it had been confirmed she had flown into Shermetyevo International. An unregistered car with fake license plates had picked her up and she disappeared. No one had seen her or heard from her since.

He knocked and walked into see Kendall. He shut the door behind him. “Sir, I just got word that Irina Derevko has also been charged with treason and has disappeared.”

Kendall looked at him sharply. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. In fact, my contact says the police and the SVR are looking for her everywhere. Jack Bristow told the Russians that Irina worked for the CIA for three months.” Will glared at him. “Something’s very wrong, sir. This is not the Jack Bristow I know.”

“I agree.” Kendall smiled. “I’m going to call Langley. In the meantime, you keep working to find out if Sydney is a victim of fiction—or fact.”

Will went back to his desk, thinking. No one had seen Jack for two years, as long as Sydney had been missing. The CIA was aware Irina Derevko had returned to Russia, but she had not told anyone where she had been or what had happened to her. She almost resigned from SVR, until her father prevailed upon her to stay. Will’s contact, Elizaveta, did not know what line of reason he’d used, but Colonel Derevko returned to her desk at the Kremlin. Periodically, she disappeared, only to return without telling anyone, including her father where she had been.

Chewing on his pencil, Will tried to set up a time line so he could see all the facts regarding the three Bristows. He had known, but never told anyone else, that Jack and Irina were still married, but as Jack and Laura Bristow. He had dug the information out of the state’s bureau of records files in Sacramento. Sydney had let drop that her parents were still married some time ago. So he had verified it.

Then in Paris, when he’d gone to see Vaughn and Sydney get married, Sydney told him Jack and Irina had re-married, this time using her real name, in Moscow. He had stared at Sydney in disbelief given the violent history of her parents.

She had grinned at him, a little bit sappy, “Yeah, I know, but Mom proposed to Dad and he said yes!”

“I’ll be damned, if that isn’t one for the CIA books! Do you think the Agency knows?”

She shrugged, “I won’t tell them and you won’t either if you want to be my friend forever.” She looked at him seriously. “It’s none of anyone’s business, but my parents.”

He’d agreed, never releasing the information.

Will studied his computer screen. He was waiting for a response to his inquiry abroad. He wasn’t sure he’d get it soon, but he was hoping for a little more about Irina Derevko. He’d never met her. She had been kidnapped in Paris before he was ever introduced to her. He wondered if she knew what had happened to Sydney.

Marshall came up to his desk. “Will, I’d like you to come to op tech. I have something to show you.”

They hurried back to Marshall’s op tech room. Inside, Marshall opened the screen. Will saw a message that was in a code he did not recognize. “What about it?”

“I think it’s from Jack Bristow.”

Will whistled, “What makes you think so?”

“When we were in SD-6, Jack and I worked out a way to communicate which wouldn’t be detected by anyone else. I want you to verify this.” He typed a few things into the computer and hit a button. A message, now readable, appeared on the screen.

“My God, I don’t believe it!” He looked at Marshall. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet!”

***
Hummm?

AHHHHH!!!! :wacko: :blink:
What does that message say!???? :blink:
You're killing me here lenafan!!! :wacko:
Dude....great chapter...it was short, but a good one!! :reallyexcited:
Do you have a 'lenafan followers' list or something?? :unsure: I've seen some other people with your name in their siggy's as a follower of you fics....I'd LOVE to be one of those too!!! :wub: I love reading your awesome fics!! :lol:
Thanx for the PM...can't wait for more!! :innocent:
Colly E. :bunny:

Great chapter. This story just gets better and better. I can't wait to read the next chapter. Please post more soon.

Thanks for the pm.