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Disclaimer: With a few exceptions, the characters contained herein are not my own, although I wish like the dickens they were. I am not earning a penny here and no infringement is intended.

Devotion, Part 1

by Ginger

Cafe L'ange, Blue Cove Delaware, May 1996

"Please try to understand. I just don't want to... no, it's more than that... I just CAN'T live this life any longer."

"Damn it, Angel, do you think a Parker can write a letter of resignation, pick up a 401(k) rollover kit, and simply stroll out of the Centre? You don't work at IBM for Christ's sake!" Realizing he'd raised his voice, Mr. Parker warily scanned the room. Fortunately, it was a Tuesday night and the exclusive French restaurant was nearly empty.

"No, I don't, which is why I am asking for your help. I've met someone, Daddy, and he's very nice - so nice that I'd rather not have to lie to him about who I am, what I do. It's just casual right now but I think there's potential. Plus, he makes such a welcome change from the pool of Centre stiffs I'm typically forced to draw from."

"So, this is about some guy. Figures," he remarked with disdain.

Stung, Parker struggled to explain, "Not entirely. I've devoted virtually all of my adult life to the place and I'm not getting any younger. Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to live a normal life? My life hasn't been normal since Momma..." She caught herself.

"We're not going to get into that now, are we." It was a command, not a question.

"No," she answered meekly, casting her eyes down. She was dying for a cigarette but Daddy had insisted on being seated in the "No Smoking" section. Looking around, she located and motioned to the waiter. Fortunately, alcohol consumption was allowed everywhere.

"As it turns out, my dear, an opportunity may have just presented itself. I don't think you're going to like it - I sure as hell don't - but the choice is yours. It's an assignment requiring the utmost delicacy and skill and involves the protection of very rare and valuable Centre assets. They want the best and brightest on this, which, of course, means my little girl. I'd rather you stay the hell out of it but, given your present wishes, well, let's just say if you were to handle this properly, it would certainly earn you one hell of a pass."

So that's it...

She knew there had to be a reason that he'd called her out of the blue to ask her to dinner. She'd hoped that it was because he missed her and just wanted to see her but she knew better. Never mind, if this were a ticket out it didn't matter.

"So, what sordid little chore is it this time?"

"I wish you wouldn't talk about our work that way. You make us sound like a bunch of criminals. You know there is a damn good reason for everything we do."

"I know, Daddy, I'm sorry." She smiled, wishing to improve his mood and, hopefully, her own. "So, what's the assignment?"

"We can't discuss it here. Let's enjoy the rest of our dinner before we head back."

"Back?"

"To the office, of course."

She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was nearly 9:00 p.m., she was tired, and the last place she wanted to go after dinner was... back there.

Where the hell is that waiter with my drink!

* * * *


Haven of the Rest Motel, Michigan City, Indiana, September 2000

Wincing at the shrill sound of traffic speeding down the highway behind him, Jarod wearily unlocked the door to the seedy motel room and pushed it open. It seemed to require more effort than usual. He was tired. His last pretend had taken a nasty and dangerous turn near the end - surprising since it was a situation similar to one he'd handled with relative ease years earlier. Maybe that was it. Lately he couldn't shake that feeling of "been there - done that." Day after day, he'd see to it that some evildoer was punished and prevented from doing further harm. Yet for each injustice put right, another one popped up to replace it. Like weeds in a garden. It was probably inevitable - the longer he was at it. In the early days, there was the thrill of discovery as he solved each puzzle, gaining new insight into the darker side of human nature. But there are probably a finite number of scenarios that fall under the rubric of the "evil that men do" and, lately, the liars, cheaters, thieves and murderers just seemed to be repeating themselves. And so was he. The banality of evil... His way of life: it had never been easy but at least it had been a challenge. Now it was becoming... boring.

"The super-intelligent are easily bored. When bored, they tend to lose interest, stop concentrating. They must be constantly challenged, stimulated, to perform at their maximum potential."

The words of his mentor echoed in his head. Laughing bitterly as he sank onto the lumpy, musty smelling bed he muttered, "What you failed to mention, Sydney, is that, when bored - having lost interest and stopped concentrating - the super-intelligent run the risk getting their heads blown off!"

It was only then that he noticed the item on the floor by the door: a padded envelope.

* * * *


The Centre, Blue Cove, Delaware, July 1996

"Clearly you must grasp the seriousness of our predicament. Several weeks have elapsed since Jarod's escape; Sydney is wandering aimlessly around the building like King Lear and Miss Parker has yet to make the commitment required of her. I'm worried, Parker, these are dangerous times... dangerous for us all. I repeat, it is vital for you to comprehend the gravity of the situation and I suggest - strongly suggest - that you make her understand... for her own good."

"I'm not an idiot, Raines, I haven't survived this long by UNDERESTIMATING the gravity of situations! My little girl will come around and do what's required. She always does. Still, I don't like it; I don't like it one bit."

"Given her perceived 'role' in this mess, whether or not YOU like it is beside the point."

"It's just ridiculous, holding her responsible for someone else's mistakes. She wasn't even here! She was away, out of the country in fact, during the entire fiasco. It's that moron Damon's fault if it's anybody's. Or Sydney... he was supposed to be in charge of the damn thing. He's the one who lost control of the situation in the first place."

"What's important here is 'perception," which, as you know, happens to be that this disaster was hers to prevent. She chose not to."

"She considered an offer which, I might add, was presented to her as strictly voluntary. She chose not to accept it and, personally, I'm glad she did! She's been running Centre security three years, for pity's sake! The assignment was beneath her and she knew it. Imagine, someone possessing her brains and talent utilizing them in such a way. She's a professional, my Angel, and she made a professional decision."

"Are you absolutely certain it was a 'professional' decision? Given her present reluctance, I'm beginning to wonder. And, if I'm beginning to wonder, you know that others are as well."

"What are you getting at, Raines?"

"Perhaps what makes your daughter singularly qualified for both the previous and present assignments... Let's just say that, under a certain set of circumstances, one might be inclined to wonder if it's the very same thing that poses an obstacle to her achieving the stated objective. I don't think I need remind you that a Parker taking action based on some misguided sense of justice - or misplaced sense of loyalty - is hardly unprecedented. Catherine did it and we're all... painfully... aware of the consequences."

"Kindly leave her out of this! This situation is entirely different and Miss Parker is not Catherine!" Mr. Parker's voice quivered with anger as he spoke. "I have every confidence that my daughter will succeed in cleaning up a mess that was most definitely not of her making! Then it will be established, once and for all, that Parkers are key not only to the success, but to the very survival, of the Centre."

"I hope you're right... for her sake... for all our sakes."

"Hey Raines, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't leave your trash behind. Your newspaper..."

"I was working on a crossword puzzle but I've lost interest. I thought you might like to take a crack at it. I don't think you'll have any trouble figuring it out."

Now alone, Mr. Parker picked up the paper and looked at it then growled, "Damn it, Angel! Damn it to hell! I can't protect you if you won't help me!"

* * * *


Hands folded under his chin, Jarod stared at the micro-cassette recorder lying on the desk in front of him, as if visual inspection might shed some light on the meaning of the baffling and vexing conversation. His mind firing off questions faster than he could process them, his head was swimming.

Perceived ROLE... Disaster HERS to prevent... She didn't play a role in my escape. I was there - I would have REMEMBERED something like that! Mr. Parker was TRULY afraid for her. Why? Did my escaping somehow place her in danger? How? PRESENT reluctance... Did she initially REFUSE the assignment to bring me back? THANK GOD she reconsidered! The THING that qualifies her for the previous and present assignments... posing an OBSTACLE... PREVIOUS assignment... What THING... What OBSTACLE... WHAT ASSIGNMENT!

"I don't think you'll have any trouble figuring it out."

Raines's words resonating in his head, Jarod picked up the envelope and carefully inspected it a second time. It bore no address, no postmark and no clue to its origin. But he did find it contained something else, something he'd missed initially - intrigued as he was by the discovery of the cassette player - a scrap of paper with a couple of lines scribbled on it:

NP 7/16/96
NINE ACROSS

* * * *


"What!"

"What's an eight letter antonym for betrayal?"

"How the hell should I know!" Parker sat up angrily in bed and barked into the phone, "One would think that a genius could complete a crossword without assistance!"

"One would think and, yet, I'm finding this little puzzle to be particularly... puzzling."

Asshole...

"Are you calling for a reason, besides, that is, to ANNOY me? If you are, I suggest you spill it because I'm about 10 seconds from hanging up."

"What was your assignment before I was?"

Sighing with exasperation she replied, "You know damn well that I was head of Centre security for three years before joining the lab rat roundup."

"I'm referring to the job opportunity you DECLINED."

Parker stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Though delivered in an even tone, there was something in her reply, barely detectable. In fact, most people wouldn't have detected it. Jarod wasn't most people.

"Yes, you do. What was it, Parker? What carrot did they dangle in front of you? Must've been one hell of a proposition for Daddy to have been so dead set against it."

She could feel her anger and anxiety rise with every word he spoke. All the moisture drained from her mouth causing her to swallow hard. Her heart pounded, almost painfully, in her chest.

"I don't know WHAT it is you THINK you know and, frankly, I don't care. It's the middle of the night and I've got a splitting headache so, if it's all the same to you..."

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Parker."

"Dare? What gives you the right! Fuck you, Jarod!"

"This isn't over..."

"Like hell it isn't!"

"Parker, please..."

She slammed the receiver down hard and, leaping from bed, immediately yanked the cord from the jack. Moving briskly through the large house, she repeated the process. By the time she reached the phone on the small table in the foyer, her fingers were shaking so badly that it impeded her progress. Grunting in frustration, she clumsily achieved her goal. The ceaseless ringing was silenced; she collapsed in a heap on the floor still clutching the liberated wire in her hand.

Tbc...









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