Table of Contents [Report This]
Smoke and Mirrors
by Rebeckah
Jarod froze uneasily in the middle of mixing a “Prairie Fire”, trying to identify the danger his senses were screaming that he was in. Bluish-white cigarette smoke swirled around the customers like low lying clouds in a over the mountains, creating an almost magical place where faces were obscured and revealed with every move made. He was further hampered by the need to keep his search covert. Years of being hunted had trained him not to make any abrupt movements. Then he caught a flash of glossy auburn hair swinging back in a familiar movement.
’Oh, God! It can’t be!’ He thought numbly. ’How the hell did she find me so fast?’
He hadn’t left any but the most cryptic clues at his last lair, deciding that the Centre had gotten a little too close lately. And he’d changed his mind half-way to his next Pretend, anyway. He’d seen an article that caught his attention and switched course in mid-stream, as it were. It was almost enough to make a fugitive lose hope.
He turned slightly, just enough to study the room through the mirror behind the bar. Tabasco sauce was still poised in mid air and saw the unmistakable back of his childhood friend and adulthood nemesis, Miss Parker. Even though his instincts shrilly demanded he flee instantly, if not sooner, Jarod paused for a moment to look her over.
Tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever; legs that were displayed to perfection in one of her customary, barely-preserve-your-modesty mini-skirts and absurdly high heels. Her body was perfectly proportioned, her movements, even on the heels, were as graceful as a dancer’s, and her face was something you would expect to see sculpted into a Grecian statue. Her face---
’Wait a minute! That’s not Parker’s face!’
Jarod blinked slowly, his hand finally setting down the bottle of red sauce while he gazed dumfounded at the woman who was so like Parker. Emerald green eyes glared coldly at him from a face set into lines of disdain that would have done Parker proud before one slender shoulder shrugged and she turned her back on him with a flip of her dark hair that was pure Parker.
“Buddy, you going to finish that drink before Christmas?” His customer demanded harshly, bringing Jarod back to the task at hand.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Jarod looked blankly at the drink and tried to remember if he’d already added the hot red sauce that put the “fire” into it.
’Oh well,’ he decided with a quirk of his lips, ’too much is never enough!’
He cheerfully added a bit more before placing the drink in front of the beefy man. Then, his eyes drawn against his will, he looked back where the woman had been, not even noticing the customer choking and gasping after his first taste of the drink. He found himself battling a surprising wave of disappointment when he realized she was gone.
“What the hell are you trying to do to me?” The man sputtered, his face almost as red as the Tabasco sauce in his drink.
“Hmmm?” Jarod didn’t really register the question. “Jo, can you cover for me for a few?” He asked suddenly, moved by an impulse that he didn’t trust, but couldn’t resist.
“You don’t stand a chance with her.” Jo warned him, her blue eyes alight with interest.
She didn’t care that Jarod was attracted to someone, she had man problems of her own already, but this was the first time since he’d come to work for her that she’d seen him so struck by a woman. Usually he just flirted gently, and left alone at the end of the night, even though he’d received plenty of offers from lonely women. But this was different, and something told her that that woman could end up hurting her best bartender. Jo was tenderhearted enough that she’d spare him that pain if she could.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jarod answered with quiet dignity.
Jo raised a skeptical brow, but relented when she saw the determination on Jarod’s face.
“Go on, get out of here. Get it out of your system.” She grinned ruefully and waved him off with a flip of the dishtowel she’d been using to polish the beer mugs. “But only for a few, it’s coming on the busiest part of the night. I don’t care how lucky you get.”
Jarod smiled, a boyish expression of gratitude and uninhibited joy that drew the admiring gaze of every woman in the smoky bar, attached or not, including Josephine Bartlett, his boss. She might have troubles that kept her from dating, but that didn’t mean she was dead. When Jarod smiled, a woman would have to be in a coma, or completely insane, not to notice, and admire. Several of the other women there, all obviously searching for a partner of their own, gave the petite bartender looks that seemed to ask when she’d been released from the mental institution and why.
Jo grinned more widely, and only someone who knew her well could have told that it didn’t reflect in her sad eyes.
“Sorry, Ladies,” she replied lightly. “I’ve sworn off men for a while.”
“Honey, for a piece of that, a nun would consider leaving her convent.” Another woman called back good naturedly. Her escort raised his brows at that and leaned over to whisper something in her ear which made her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and they slid back into the shadows of their booth table.
“Thanks, Jo, I owe you.” Jarod threw over his shoulder, oblivious to the admiring looks, the suggestive comments, and the predatory gleam in a few female eyes as he maintained his single-minded focus on this new mystery.
Inside the restaurant that the bar was attached to, Jarod looked around the tables until he spotted his quarry, sitting alone. He couldn’t believe his luck, not only was she there, but she was unescorted as well. Jarod made his way towards her table, reasoning that an open approach was the best approach.
“Excuse me.” He told the woman as she glared forbiddingly at him. “May I join you for a minute?”
“Look, buddy, just because a woman is eating alone at a restaurant it doesn’t mean that she’s available to be picked up by every male on the prowl around her.”
Jarod ignored this discouraging answer and sat in the vacant chair, drawing out an exasperated sight from the woman.
“My name’s Jarod, and I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It’s just that you look amazingly like someone I know.” He tried again.
“Let me guess.” The woman replied sarcastically. “She’s your childhood sweetheart, you two lost touch and you miss her so much that you want me to have dinner with you just to ease the pain.”
“Close,” Jarod grinned, unconsciously using his most effective little-boy smile. “We did grow up together, and she gave me my first kiss too, but we aren’t, and never were, sweethearts. Quite the opposite in fact.”
The woman unbent fractionally.
“Fascinating story.” She said neutrally. “So why would my resemblance to this woman you don’t like bring you chasing after me?”
“I don’t know.” Jarod admitted, still asking himself the same thing and not getting an understandable reply. “Maybe I’m a little homesick, and even an enemy can remind one of home.”
“Sometimes an enemy reminds one of home better than a friend.” The strange woman murmured, a glint of loss in her deep green eyes.
“Or maybe I wondered if your similarities were more than skin deep.” Jarod added, filing that odd comment away for further inspection later.
“And is it?” She asked, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“I don’t have enough information to judge that yet.” Jarod replied bluntly. “Superficially you are remarkably alike. You have many of her mannerisms, and you appear to have a touch of her temper as well.” He smiled again, with breathtaking sweetness.
“I have to get back to the bar.” He confessed while she was still trying to catch her breath after the full force of his charm. “But I’d really like a chance to get to know you better; to explore your uncanny---“ He broke off that chain of thought as a dangerous glint smouldered in her beautiful eyes. Even he wasn’t dense enough not to realize that no one wants to be told too often that your interest isn’t in them, but in someone else.
“Ummm, maybe I could interest you in a picnic lunch tomorrow? I’ve always wanted to explore Riverfront Park.”
The woman’s glare abruptly ended in a laugh, a low, throaty sound that brought a smile to Jarod’s mildly anxious face.
“You really are a character. You have no idea how much this childhood friend of yours really means to you, do you?” She asked rhetorically, bringing a puzzled frown to Jarod’s face.
“Never mind,” she shook her head dismissively at the question in his eyes. “My answer is---yes, I’ll have lunch with you tomorrow. I’m a little curious myself.”
“Meet me at the foot of the clock tower?” He asked.
“At 1:00.” She agreed briskly.
Jarod nodded, and pushed his chair back to make his way back to the bar.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The woman’s question stopped him in his tracks, and he looked back over his shoulder at her.
“My name.” Her eyes danced with humor. “It might be a little easier to get to know me if I tell you my name, Jarod.”
Jarod nearly blushed in his embarrassment. How could he have forgotten something so basic?
“I’m Melisande.” Her smile was oddly reassuring then it turned wry and faintly mocking. “Melisande Miller. No, don’t look at me like that---it really is my name. There were times I wanted to kill my parents for that. Do you know how many times someone called me M&M? So do me a favor, okay? Just call me Melisande. Not Mel, not Sandy, and definitely not---“
“M&M” Jarod finished with an understanding chuckle. “Got it---Melisande.”
At the opening between the two establishments he paused for one last glance back. She was smilling brilliantly up at the waiter bringing her a before-dinner salad and Jarod felt the impact of that expression like a fist to his stomach. She was so beautiful, and so much like--- He broke that thought off with the ease of long practice and purposefully made his way back to the bar. He knew better than to think about what might have been; it would only distract him and divide his focus when he needed it the most.
There was a mystery about Melisande, he reflected, as he took drink orders and mixed them on auto-pilot. She was too much like Parker, and the odds of that were far too low for him to ignore. He needed to find out who she was, where she came from, and most of all, what she wanted. At the same time, he felt a surprising amount of tenderness, even protectiveness towards her. He didn’t even really know her, but he was strangely reluctant to do anything that might hurt her.
He filed those thoughts away for further examination later and turned his attention back to his job. He had a mission to accomplish, a family to put back together, and now a new mystery. Sometimes he wondered why he wasn't able to turn away from a challenge---he really didn't need Melisande on his plate when he already had the Centre and his current Pretend, involving Jo and her problems. He knew he wouldn't back away though; Melisande, Jo, and the Centre, somehow he'd manage---he always had before, hadn't he?
*****
“Miss Parker, may I have a word with you?” Raines’ gravely voice stopped Parker short in the marbled foyer of the Centre. A grimace of distaste covered her face before she composed herself and turned to face the man she probably hated most in the world.
“Can I stop you?” She questioned pointedly. “Because I really have nothing to say to you, and I doubt that you have anything to say to me that I care to hear.”
“Not even the truth?” Raines asked, unfazed by her rude response. Parker emitted a brief burst of mirthless laughter.
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the---“ She glanced down at his backside suggestively before finishing the sentence with; “foot.”
She grinned mockingly as he flushed slightly.
“I am not the one of us who cannot see what is right before me.” He grated irritably. “Will you listen?”
“Okay, spit it out.” Parker agreed flatly. “But don’t expect me to believe your garbage.”
“This would be better said in private. Will you walk on the grounds with me?”
“No.” Parker ground out. “It’s here and now, or never. Personally, I prefer never.”
“I know you don’t believe I really found the Lord in Africa.” Raines began, reining in his temper with visible effort, “but He truly did save me then, and I truly have changed.”
“I didn’t even know He was lost.” She returned sarcastically.
“I never dreamed it would be this difficult.” He muttered fretfully to himself. Parker relented slightly.
“Okay, I’ll grant that you believe you’ve become a new man. You were blind and now you see----fine, can I go now?” She offered with a fine blend of conciliation and disdain.
“Meredith, listen to me!” Raines hissed, shocking Parker to her toes with his use of her first name. “You have a sister, and Mr. Parker----“
“Angel!” Mr. Parker’s jovial voice rang across the hustle and bustle of the busy foyer and stopped Raines in mid-sentence. His face smoothed over into an expressionless mask and he slowly moved away from Parker, throwing a strangely pleading look over his shoulder at her as he mouthed;
“Later.”
“Was Raines bothering you, Angel?” Mr. Parker demanded, frowning at the other man’s retreating back.
“No, Daddy.” Parker returned absently, staring thoughtfully after the same man. “It was just his usual: “Have you found God?”, nonsense. Maybe they should have kept him in Africa.”
“Maybe they should have.” Mr. Parker agreed with uncharacteristic grimness. Parker shot him a startled look, and he immediately backpedaled.
“I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner tonight.” He asked with overdone humility. “Your baby brother, though he’s the apple of my eye, just isn’t much companionship for a lonely old man.”
“How’s he doing?” Parker asked, diverted from her focus on Raines. Her eyes took on a warm, soft glow of tenderness that roused a surprising pang of envy in Mr. Parker. It had been a long time since she’d looked at him with that much affection.
“He’s doing great!” He told her after he’d cleared his throat. “Gained another six ounces last week.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Parker answered his earlier question and bestowed a loving look on her father, almost as if she’d known his earlier thoughts. “I’ll have dinner with you tonight. We haven’t had much time together lately, have we?”
“That’s my fault, Angel.” Mr. Parker avowed hastily. “What with Brigitte dying and a new baby and trying to jump back in the saddle here at the Centre, I just haven’t seemed to have a moment to spare. But that’s all going to change as of tonight. Shall we say 8:00?”
“8:00 would be fine, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting with Syd and Broots. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Be sure you do!” Mr. Parker accepted her quick kiss on his cheek and beamed after her until the elevator doors closed on her. The moment she was out of sight his smile vanished and he glared suspiciously down the corridor that had swallowed up Raines. With a shake of his head he strode purposefully down that same corridor
*****
“He took the bait.” A mild expression of distaste covered Melisande’s beautiful face as she spoke over the cell phone. She listened, her disgust obviously growing deeper.
“Yes, Sir.” She managed to keep her revulsion out of her carefully neutral voice as she replied to the instructions from the other end. “We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow. Give me a week and I’ll have him so intrigued that he won’t be able to ignore my---abduction.”
She listened again, nodded, her face set grimly, and then disconnected the call without a word. She stared blindly at the untouched salad in front of her, pushed it around aimlessly on the plate, and then put down her fork with a sigh. In that instant her face was covered with a deep sorrow that enhanced her resemblance to Parker more than any of the carefully choreographed movements she’d been using the entire evening. After heaving another, deep sigh she stood decisively to her feet; signaling the waiter to bring her bill directly to the cashier.
“But you haven’t eaten yet!” The waiter protested anxiously, as he reluctantly surrendered the bill. “I assure you, if the salad was unsatisfactory in some way we---“
“The salad was fine.” Melisande cut him off brusquely. “I---I’m recovering from the flu. I just tried to eat too much too soon.” Her lie was quite convincing, and only a true student of human nature would have seen that her apologetic smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The waiter wasn’t such a student, and was mollified by her explanation. He accepted her credit card, and the sizable tip she wrote in, with gratitude, and allowed her to leave without further protest. Then he returned to his duties, thinking that she was surely the most generous and gracious woman he’d ever met. Melisande, on the other hand, completely forgot the man the instant she left the restaurant. Her thoughts were completely consumed with the man she’d been assigned to captivate. They weren’t happy thoughts.
*****
"Miss Parker! Miss Parker!"
Broots looked even more anxious than he normally did, and Parker paused in front of her office door to look at him quizzically.
"Um, can I speak to you? Alone?"
Parker looked up and down the empty hallway before having pity on the nervous computer technician and motioning him into the office she’d just left.
"Make it quick, Broots." She told him impatiently. "I’m having dinner with my father tonight, and I want to go home and shower before I do."
"Did you hear about Raines?" Broots blurted in response. He’d obviously not even registered her words, so taken was he with his message.
"What now? Has he converted to Islam? Or has he just decided to join a monastery?" Parker questioned acidly. She was still unsettled from her encounter with him earlier that day.
"He’s dead!" Broots squeaked. "They just found him in his office a few minutes ago."
"What!" Parker rose from the chair she’d just settled into, disbelief, anger, and confusion warring across her face. "What do you mean? Are you sure?"
"Yes." Broots gulped, looking faintly ill. "I saw them wheeling his body towards the infirmary. They said he committed suicide."
"No, he didn’t!" Parker snapped, anger apparently winning the battle of the emotions. "He asked me to stop by later today---there’s no way he’d have killed himself. Besides, that bastard never felt remorse a day in his life. Are you positive he’s really dead?"
"Oh, he’s dead all right." Broots confirmed with a shudder of disgust at the memory of Raines’ limp, blue faced body. "He was hanging from a beam in his office. And there was a note on his desk."
"Where’s Sydney?" Parker asked, striding out the door to her office and heading towards Raines’ office. Her long legs covered ground so quickly that Broots was half running just to keep up.
"He’s there---in Raines’ office. Your father called him."
This stopped Parker dead in her tracks, and she glared at the hapless technician until Broots flushed miserably, not sure what he’d done wrong, but sorry for it anyway.
"Daddy called Sydney and not me?" She questioned slowly and dangerously.
"Yes?" Broots answered uncertainly, not wanting Parker to unleash her famous temper on him.
"Broots, I want you to look into this---quietly. Someone murdered Raines, and I want to know who it was."
"But why? You hated him."
"Because I wanted to kill him myself, okay?" Parker answered coldly, and with less than the perfect honesty. The truth was that she was now going over his earlier words, wondering if they were the reason he was now dead---and if they had actually had some fact behind them.
”You have a sister; and Mr. Parker---“
She heard those words again in her mind, turning over the look of trepidation that had crossed his face when his father hailed her from across the foyer.
’Mr. Parker what?’ She wondered to herself. ’Knows about it? Doesn’t want me to know? What?!’
She was furious, even though she’d dismissed Raines’ attempt to speak to her as another attempt at manipulation by the ghoul. But, whether it was an attempt at manipulation or not, it was obvious by his sudden death that he knew something that someone didn’t want her to know. She was getting pretty sick of have answers melt away like snowflakes in her hands! This place was worse than a hall of mirrors at a fair, distorting everything until you weren’t sure what was real and what was a twisted reflection of reality.
"Well, get going!" She snapped at Broots who was watching her uncertainly, rather than springing into action the way she wanted him to.
"Are you going to be okay?" He questioned timidly, but with remarkable boldness when you considered that he was ignoring Parker’s earlier order to do so.
Parker realized this, and her face softened momentarily in gratitude for his concern before she firmed it back up into its customary lines of hauteur.
"I won’t know that until you get some answers for me, now will I?" She asked him harshly. "If you find something, bring it to me at my place---don’t call me and don’t tell me here, got it?"
"Yes, Miss Parker." Broots gulped, suddenly realizing that Parker didn’t want anyone else to know of her interest in Raines’ death.
Then he realized that if Raines had been killed, anyone who showed an interest in it might find life a little short too. He ran a nervous finger around the collar of his brightly colored dress shirt, as if it were cutting off his circulation and gulped again as he turned to follow his instructions.
"Broots!" Parker stopped him halfway down the hall and gave him an intent look. "Be careful." She admonished him when he looked back over his shoulder.
For just a moment her honest concern for him to showed on her face, warming him to the core and laying new layers of cement on the bonds of loyalty that had encased him some time ago. Sydney, he liked, and he appreciated the older man’s unfailing courtesy to him, but Parker had slipped into his heart when he wasn’t paying attention. One day he’d just looked up, seen her sailing into his lab in a high dudgeon over something Jarod had said or done, and realized that he’d do anything to make her happy, to erase the pain and loneliness that peeked out of her eyes. He knew she didn’t care for him the same way, and he accepted it, but it didn’t stop him from longing for her happiness, and it couldn’t erase his concern.
Maybe Parker saw some of that on his face. Certainly, she knew about his feelings, she’d made her own clear enough some time ago. Perhaps that was why she bestowed that smile on him just now. The one that held the same kind of affection your favorite pet inspired, and the tinge of exasperation, the he seemed to inspire everywhere he went. Then she gestured sharply for him to get going and strode briskly off to find her father, undoubtedly already regretting her brief moment of gentleness.
*****
"Jarod, I’ve told you before---I won’t talk about my family!" Jo Bartlett snapped, her blue eyes turning gray with emotion.
The bar was silent, with chairs balanced on top of tables as Jo and Jarod cleaned everything in preparation for the next day. Jarod swept while Jo cleaned and arranged glasses and mugs on the shelves behind the bar. He’d decided to broach the subject of her missing family again, reasoning that it was about the only time he was likely to catch Jo alone so they could have the argument that was bound to ensue in private. She hadn’t disappointed him as far as the argument went.
"Jo, I’m not going to back down this time. You need help and----"
"Damn it, Jarod, you’re fired!" Jo cut him off in mid-sentence. Her cheeks were flushed, lips pressed firmly together, to hide their trembling Jarod suspected, and he was certain he could see the barest hint of tears gathering in her eyes.
"You know I’m not working here for the money." Jarod answered her gently, fixing her with his soft brown eyes and willing her to trust him. "I’m here help you!"
"I don’t need any help!" Jo bit her lip, cursing inwardly at the tremor that was all too evident in her voice.
The man who’d arranged for her release in Seattle had warned her that she’d find herself in hot water again if she tried to track her missing family. Then they’d threatened her husband and child. While the threat at least reassured her that they were still alive, it had also frightened her in a way that threats against her own safety would never have managed. She hadn’t dropped the search, nothing on Earth could have convinced her to do that, but she had become much more circumspect about it. Now this man, as well intentioned as he seemed, threatened to throw everything she’d worked for right into the fire.
"Jo, just listen for 10 minutes. If I haven’t convinced you that I can help by then I’ll go away and never bother you again, okay?" Jarod coaxed.
While he still hadn’t discovered where her family was or why the Centre had taken them both, he knew enough to know that the Centre was involved. He didn’t know the details of what threats they’d used to frighten Jo so badly, but he suspected they were against her missing daughter and husband. He knew she was going to fight his attempt to help, to make her understand that he was probably the only person who could help, but he also knew that he’d prevail in the end. She loved her family too much not to see the truth in his words.
Jo’s glare never faltered, but she pressed her lips tightly together and nodded an ungracious acceptance. Jarod allowed himself a purely internal sigh of relief and launched into his persuasion.
"I know you’ve continued your search for your husband and your daughter, albeit circumspectly." Jo’s blood ran cold and she could barely hear Jarod over the fear roaring in her ears as he continued, "If I know, then the Centre probably does too---"
"Hold on a second!" Jo cut him off again, proud of the fact that she’d managed to keep the quaver out of her voice. "I’ve never heard of any Centre---"
This time Jarod cut her off.
"But you were threatened, weren’t you? Or rather, the safety of your loved ones was threatened."
Jo’s nod was grudging and her eyes still hadn’t lost their wariness.
"The clinic that helped you conceive Midori was funded by an agency I know of as the Centre. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re behind your family’s disappearance. I know the Centre; I’ve been fighting them for years now, and I can help you!" Jarod’s voice was impassioned as he stressed the last four words.
Jo’s composure wavered as she fought to maintain her anger but it crumpled before Jarod’s wide-eyed, earnest look of entreaty. She lowered her head to rest on a hand that trembled uncontrollably and began to speak, never lifting her gaze from the battered bar table where they sat.
"Steve was taking Midori over the mountains to meet her grandparents. They’d insisted that it was past time that they met their first grandchild, but my boss had an emergency, and I couldn’t go with them. Later the Bartletts said that they’d never called, never demanded a visit from Steven, but that’s why Steve left with Midori.”
Jarod inferred from the insistence in her voice that the investigating officers hadn’t believed her explanation for her husband’s departure. He kept his expression encouraging, and nodded his acceptance of her words.
“I never understood Steve’s inability to say "no" to his folks,” she continued more softly, sorrow gaining ascendancy over the initial anger in her voice. “Maybe it had something to do with him being an only child… Anyway, he believed it was them and he and Midi left that Saturday for the interior.
“Steve and I had a major battle over the trip: I didn’t want to be parted from Midi when she was so young, and he didn’t want to deny his parents. They never got there." Her voice broke on a sob, but she fiercely suppressed the others trying to break free.
"I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore." She told Jarod, meeting his gaze for the first time. "It doesn’t do any good, you know. But I can’t bear it that my final words to Steve were angry ones. If he and Midi really are dead, I don’t know what I’ll do."
She steadfastly ignored the trickle of a tear wending down her cheek, as if ignoring it would make it vanish.
"My turn, Jo." Jarod said kindly, giving her a chance to regroup while he let he know just who he was and why she could trust him.
He explained his childhood abduction, horrifying Jo. She undoubtedly saw her daughter in that situation. He explained his life until the day he turned 30 and finally realized what was going on in the Centre. He shared some of his activities that had occupied him in the remaining 4 years, and finished with his findings about the fertility clinic that had helped her and Steve. The only thing he kept to himself was his suspicions that Midori had been manipulated genetically.
"So you believe they’re still alive?" Jo finally broke the silence that had fallen when Jarod finished speaking, her eyes begging for reassurance.
“I haven’t got any doubt that Midori is fine.” Jarod assured her, hoping she’d overlook the fact that he wasn’t saying anything about Steve. He got lucky, and she did miss that part in her relief that her daughter might be safe.
“But where are they? Where have they been taken?” She wanted to know. "And why?"
Jarod winced inwardly at the question he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to answer. Even if he could make Jo understand the scope of the Centre’s plotting, and believe that those plans weren’t just a figment of his paranoid imagination, she would undoubtedly expect to be more involved in the recovery of her child than Jarod could let her be. Once again, his need for absolute control prevented him from even considering teaming up with anyone else. He truly believed that he was the only person who could possibly take on the Centre and win.
"I’m not sure where they are, Jo." He answered her with the same honesty he’d have wanted if he were in her position. "It depends on why they were taken, and by whom. There are factions within the Centre that even I haven’t been able to figure out."
"But you have an idea of why they were taken, don’t you?" Jo demanded bluntly, sensing that Jarod was holding out on her. Jarod sighed heavily, reluctant to express his thoughts out loud.
"Tell me!" Jo insisted.
"I think that they manipulated your daughter genetically before she was implanted in you. I can’t guess at what they’d have done to her, but they undoubtedly tried to enhance her strength, or her intelligence, or something. Did she do anything out of the ordinary before she was taken?"
"She was six months old!" Jo burst out, all of her frustration at the pain and uncertainty of her position pouring out. "What the hell was she supposed to do at six months? Why did they take her? Were they going to get rid of her? Was she a mistake?"
"Jo, calm down!" Jarod was out of his seat and grasping the nearly hysterical woman in a heartbeat.
It was an indication of his progress in convincing Jo he was trustworthy when she relaxed against his grip and began to cry brokenheartedly. He released his grip on her shoulders immediately, and instinctively gathered her into a comforting embrace.
"She’s okay, Jo, I’m sure of that. If they’d thought she was a failure they just would have ignored her or terminated her outright. No, they thought there was at least a chance that they’d gotten what they wanted. I don’t know why they took her so early, unless it was because they didn’t want to have to deal with her questions if she remembered you. They probably took Steve just because he was with her at the time. Now, relax. We’ll find her. We’ll get them both back, I promise."
He winced inside as his words echoed in his ears. Had he made a promise he couldn’t keep? After all, he had no definitive proof that Steve and Midori Bartlett really were alive. The scientist in him knew that his gut level feeling that they were both in the hands of the Centre could be nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.
*****
“But why? Why do I have to leave now, Daddy?” Young Debbie Broots used her most imploring look on her father. It was one that usually accomplished exactly what she wanted, her father’s utter capitulation to her desires, but this time it was strangely ineffective.
“Don’t whine, Debbie. I’m your father, and I’m only doing what I think is best for you.” He responded with unaccustomed severity.
“It’s that damn Center again, isn’t it?” Debbie sulked.
“Debbie!” Broots was scandalized and Debbie blushed, even as she thrust her chin forward defensively.
He looked at his daughter, suddenly seeing her through the filter that usually covered his eyes, the filter that made her closer to three than thirteen. She really was growing up. Her little girl body was starting to fill out, there was a knowing glint in her eye that unnerved him, and her movements suddenly showed the unfinished grace of imminent womanhood. Broots determinedly swallowed back the lump in his throat. She might not be his baby any more, but he was still going to protect her ‘till the day he died.
“Well, they are!” Debbie insisted, missing her father’s sudden inspection, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’re always having to send for the sitter to watch me while you fly off here and there, or you’re sending me to Uncle Frank’s because you’re afraid something bad is going to happen to me. I hate the Centre! I hate it!”
“Debbie, honey…” Broots gathered his sobbing daughter into his arms and tried to soothe her. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He sighed regretfully, wondering when his little girl had suddenly grown up, wondering how much damage his association with the Centre had done to her. She was such a wonderful child, and his only real joy, and if anything happened to her because he’d foolishly accepted a job offer from the cesspool that was the Centre…
“Sweetheart, I wish things could be different. I wish I didn’t have to work for the Centre. But I have to stay with them now, and I have to make sure you aren’t in harm’s way either. Do you understand, Princess?” His voice pleaded with Debbie to say yes, and because she loved him as much as he loved her, she did.
“But I’ll miss you, and I’ll worry about you.” She added plaintively.
“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Broots countered, squeezing her tighter for a moment before releasing her. “Now, come on, or we’ll miss your plane.”
“It’s really bad this time, isn’t it?” Debbie questioned shrewdly. “You’ve never sent me to Uncle Frank this close to school time.”
“I’m not sure.” Broots told her honestly. “But I am really worried, and I’ll feel much better to know you’re with Uncle Frank and Aunt Susan.”
“Okay.” Debbie relented, unwilling to add to her father’s distress with her own unhappiness. “But you be careful too. Remember, if anything happens to you, they’ll probably send me back to Mom.”
Broots smiled at his daughter, recognizing her gesture for the support that it was, and grateful for her understanding.
“I’ll be careful.” He promised her. “I always am.”
*****
"I hear the sound of giants falling, Miss Parker."
"Jarod, go torment someone else for a while, okay? I’ve had a hard day and I’m not in the mood for your games." Parker wished, not for the first time, that she could reach through the phone lines and throttle Jarod.
Her mood had deteriorated drastically after Raines’ body had been found. Her father had flatly refused to answer any of her questions, and had cancelled their dinner date. Sydney proved to be as closed mouthed as her father, and Broots hadn’t dug up anything by the time she’d decided to leave for the day. She was angry, frustrated, and if Jarod tried to foist any of his damn riddles on her now she was pretty sure she would go postal on someone.
"They aren’t my games, Miss Parker." Jarod’s voice was arrogantly smooth as he jabbed at his childhood friend.
A part of him softened in concern for the pain and weariness in her voice, but the larger part of him needed to punish someone for the aggravation of his own day. He knew it wasn’t really her fault that Midori was gone, that Melisande had ventured into his life, or that the rage that he felt towards the Centre, and usually kept under tight control, had flared again as Jo shared her story with him. It was as if another force had taken over his body and he listened with growing dismay as his voice went on…
"Someone else made up this macabre little contest and they keep changing the rules as we go along don’t they?"
"Jarod, what the hell are you after?" Parker sighed, unaccountably weary. "I just don’t have energy to fight with you right now."
"I don’t want us to fight anymore, Parker." Jarod’s voice turned completely somber and there was no mistaking his sincerity as the sympathetic part of his nature wrestled back control. "I actually just wanted to let you know that I might be revisiting the old homestead sometime soon, and hoped that we might get together this time if I do."
Even he wasn’t quite what he meant by that. Did he really hope that she would help him if he ended up in Lyle’s hands again? Or was he tormenting her, as she believed, with a reminder of how little she actually knew about the Centre?
"Jarod, no more puzzles! If you have something to say, just say it!"
"Parker, when was the last time you had your house exterminated?" Jarod asked gravely before hanging up on her.
Parker sighed again as she hung up the phone. Her head was pounding with a ferocity that called for her stronger pain pills. The ones with the wonderful, tension relieving muscle relaxers in them. She stumbled towards her bathroom, a half-full glass of scotch dangling loosely from her hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the headache, she knew she shouldn’t take her medication on top of an empty stomach of booze, but it was a knowledge that didn’t have the energy to fight past the pain and make itself heard. Parker was just washing down two pills when the front door bell sounded.
"Damn!" She cursed half-heartedly before turning to answer the door. The sight of Broots’ permanently anxious visage did nothing to improve her mood.
"C’m in Broots." She reluctantly invited him, turning without waiting for his response to settle onto the couch. Once there she laid her head on her arm, resting on the arm of the couch, and fixed a jaundiced eye on her colleague.
"And just what piece of peace destroying news do you have for me, Brootsie?" She asked, only slurring her words slightly.
"Um, I need you to come with me, Miss Parker." Broots urged timidly.
"No," Parker’s answer was exhaled on a heavy sigh of relief as the powerful drug began to work on her system. "I think I’ll go to bed in a minute. Just spit it out. Be a man, Brootsie."
She giggled silently at her wit, and looked sleepily at Broots. She giggled again, this time out-loud, at the look of worry on his face.
"What’s-a-matter, Brootsie? Did Raines follow you home?"
"Miss Parker, what did you take?" He demanded, seeming to grow a few inches as he drew himself up authoritatively.
"I have a headache." Parker explained with the gravity that only a profoundly drunk or drugged person can manage.
"What did you take?" He demanded again.
"My headache pills." Parker was quite puzzled by Broots’ agitation, but feeling far to comfortable and disconnected by now to really worry about it.
Her head lowered to rest on her arm again, and her eyes slid shut as Broots bustled off into her bathroom to search it.
She wasn’t asleep, just drifting quite contentedly in a placid, peaceful place, when Broots’ insistent shaking of her shoulders pulled her back.
"Wha’?!" She mumbled irritably, opening one eye to glare briefly at her tormentor.
"Are these what you took?" Broots demanded, thrusting her prescription bottle in front of her eyes.
"Of course." She muttered, eyes sliding shut to welcome back the peace but Broots shook her again.
"How many?" He demanded.
"Two!" She grumbled. "Wha’ you think I am? Stupid?"
"How much did you drink before you took them?"
Parker slapped listlessly at his insistent hand on her shoulder and slid bonelessly down to lay entirely on the couch.
"Park! Parker, how many drinks?" Broots shouted urgently.
"Jus’ two." Parker whispered, never opening her eyes. "Now let me sleep."
"Oh, God!" Broots groaned, looking from Parker, to the scotch decanter, to the pills in his hands. Finally he grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number with shaking hands.
"Sydney?" He tried to keep his voice steady as the other person answered. "I think we have a problem…"
*****
She knelt on the grave, her gun heavy in her hand while the other traced the name on the gravestone. Thomas Gates. She was tired of being alone, tired of finding out that what she believed was nothing more than another lie, tired of looking for someone who would love her, who would stay with her…
“Tommy, I’m coming, love. I’m coming to join you and Mama.” She murmured, bringing the gun that had killed him to rest on her temple.
‘No!’ The dreamer protested from his silent vantage point. ‘No, you mustn’t! You can’t!’ The gunshot and a cry of denial rang out simultaneously.
“Noooooo!” Jarod bolted to a sitting position before he was even fully awake, his protest still echoing in his ears.
Gradually it sank in that he had been dreaming. His heartbeat began to slow, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. He drew a deep breath and let it out.
He hadn’t had this particular nightmare in weeks. Not since he’d helped Parker to discover who’d killed the man she loved, even though neither of them had discovered just who’d ordered the murder. He wondered if it was meeting Melisande that triggered it, or if it was his own guilty conscience rearing up to bite him after his hateful call the night before. Whatever the case was, it was clear that he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep that night and so he got up and got to work.
A shower, a change of clothes and a new set of sheets for the bed followed in quick succession. Then he opened his laptop and settled down to work. Beside him was the red notebook that held the few clues to the disappearance of Jo’s husband and infant daughter.
FLIGHT OR FOUL PLAY?
The caption of the newspaper clipping caught his eye as it had when he’d first perused the Seattle Times. The article went on to suggest that Josephine Bartlett was responsible for her husband and child’s disappearance. Later clippings indicated that Jo had actually been held by the police who were also willing to believe she’d managed to kill them and completely dispose of the evidence. It was only the lack of evidence that eventually led to her freedom, although the taint of suspicion had followed her until she moved from Seattle, where the incident had taken place, to Spokane, where she opened a bar with their savings account.
It had been a year since the two had disappeared on their way to visit Stephen Bartlett’s parents in Yakima. The older Bartletts had actually been the first to point the finger at Jo, claiming that Stephen had been on the verge of divorcing her and getting custody of their daughter, and that Jo had murdered them rather than lose them. Jarod had actually examined that accusation, but the evidence the police had used against her was so obviously planted to frame her that Jarod’s curiosity about the mystery had doubled.
There was obviously a great deal of money and power behind this kidnapping, and all of his instincts rebelled against letting that power succeed in tearing apart these three. He’d stared at a grainy newspaper image of Jo, her hair tumbling wildly down her back, her face wet, and her eyes swollen from countless tears, and he’d wondered if this was how his mother had looked after he’d been taken. Even before his heart-to-heart with Jo, he’d known that she couldn’t be behind the disappearance of her husband and infant daughter
He’d tracked down Jo and Steve’s friends on the coast, and their stories had been diametrically opposed to the one told by Steve’s parents.
“Those two were more in love than anyone I’d ever seen.” Steve’s co-worker had claimed, shaking his head sadly.
“Yeah,” Another had agreed. “And all those years they tried to have a baby. A lot of marriages fail when they find out they can’t have kids the good old fashioned way, but they just seemed to get closer.”
“Jo’s sun rose and set with Steve and Midori.” Jo’s best friend had shared later, tears for her friend shining in her eyes. “She’d never hurt them----never!”
Jarod had heard the same sentiments recited over and over and over again. The only opposing testimony was from people who’d obviously had some complaint against the couple. Possibly they’d even been paid to stir up trouble for Jo by Steve’s parents. But no one who’d been close to the younger Bartletts had anything negative to say to him.
Finally Jarod was left with one clue. The center where Steve and Jo had gone for help in conceiving their child, The Reproductive Centre of the Northwest, located in Spokane, Washington. The fact that Jo had moved to Spokane as soon as she was free indicated that she suspected them of the disappearance of her family too. What she hadn’t known was that the Reproductive Centre was linked to the same clinic that Jarod’s parents had gone to so many years ago, NuGenisis. The connection was buried under countless layers of false companies and investors, but it was there. Jarod fought a wave of black depression as he wondered just how many branches and layers of the Centre he would find in his search for his family.
Several hours later, his searching had led him to countless dead ends and a splitting headache. Trying to come up with hard evidence against the Centre was a lot like trying to catch the secret of a magician’s act. You knew that it was an illusion created with the help of smoke and mirrors, but you just couldn’t prove it. Some days it was almost more than he could take. Now, it was time for him to leave to meet with Melisande. In fact, it was past time! If he was going to show up on time for their meeting he’d have to pick up their picnic somewhere along the way.
He showed up ten minutes late with a bag full of Chinese takeout from one of the many downtown stores. Melisande was standing, foot tapping impatiently, and looked ready to breathe fire.
“Sorry, long line.” Jarod held up the bag apologetically. Melisande considered that, and then pointed at the bag.
“If you’ve got sweet-n-sour prawns in there I might forgive you.” She relented.
“Of course I do!” Jarod returned with an enigmatic smile.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Melisande knew that prawns were a favorite of Parker or if the woman had more similarities to his childhood friend than he’d guessed. Could they really be related, as their stunning resemblance seemed to indicate, or was this just another indication of a complex plot against him? “And sweet-n-sour chicken, and, of course, pork with dipping sauce.”
“The red horseradish sauce?” An expression of genuine anticipation crossed her face.
Jarod allowed a hint of satisfaction to enter his smile, and gestured with his head to the expanse of green grass gently sloping uphill north of the clock tower. He led her to a roofed picnic area at the top of the grassy hill and spread out their fare on a wooden picnic table that had been painted robin’s egg blue.
“So,” he began through a mouthful of stir fried vegetables. “Who are you really, Melisande?”
“I beg your pardon?” Melisande choked on a bite of pork.
“Well, I figure we could dance around the truth that you’re somehow connected to the Centre, or I could save some time and just come out and ask you what the game is this time?”
“I don’t know what---“
“I’m talking about?” Jarod finished for her dryly. “Please, Melisande, don’t insult my intelligence. It’s my brains that the Centre wants anyway, so it’s pretty stupid of them to believe I wouldn’t notice your obviously engineered resemblance to Miss Parker. So tell me, which of the idiots running the place came up with this idea? And what are they hoping to accomplish?”
Melisande darted a furtive, panicked look around them. They were alone as far as she could see, and the rushing water of the river behind them would probably mask their conversation, but she was terrified anyway.
“Don’t worry, I picked this spot very carefully. No one can sneak up on us,” he gestured meaningfully towards the open grass around them, “and the noise of the water will cover anything we say from any long distance microphones. Besides, I have an electronic jammer on me.”
“A jammer?” Her tone was sarcastic enough to bring Miss Parker forcefully back into his mind.
“Just a toy I rigged up. It’ll disrupt any attempts at electronic surveillance. Now, are you going to talk? Or do I walk?”
Melisande looked at him assessingly, but with strong undertones of fear. Finally she sighed, and her shoulders slumped briefly before she remembered that she could still be watched, even if she couldn’t be heard.
“My physical resemblance to your friend wasn’t engineered. These are my true features, with no enhancement.” She started hesitantly. “And your Miss Parker doesn’t know about me, but I was told I’m her sister.”
“Told by whom?” Jarod demanded suspiciously.
“I don’t know. I’ve never actually been to the Centre. He called me; the day after---“ Melisande’s voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. She fought to keep them from spilling over.
“The day after?” Jarod prompted.
“I have a daughter.” Melisande whispered, closing her eyes. Two tears slid down her cheeks. “She was taken a few months ago; the night of her fourth birthday.”
“Damn them!” Jarod swore, his hand fisting with a rage that he knew he couldn’t express openly at the moment.
“They said I’d never see her again if I didn’t help them. They sent me videos of Miss Parker, told me to study her, to learn to imitate her movements, and to be ready for my assignment. After I’d done as they wanted for two months a man showed up at my apartment.” Melisande broke off again and shuddered.
“He frightened you?” Jarod guessed, having a suspicion of just who this person was.
“Yes. He didn’t look openly evil or anything; in fact, he looked like your average, clean cut, guy next door, but something about the way he looked at me…”
“Was his left thumb missing?”
“I don’t know.” Melisande seemed startled by the question. “I tried not to look at him.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jarod waved off his question. “What do they expect you to accomplish?”
“They want me to capture your attention. Maybe make you fall in love with me. Then I’ll be “abducted” and you’ll want to come and rescue me. It will be a trap, of course.”
“And, should that fail, they’ve done their best to make sure that your own daughter arouses my sympathies. Did they tell you that they kidnapped me when I was four?” Jarod asked bitterly.
“No.” Melisande’s emerald eyes gleamed with sympathy.
“Was your daughter unusual in any way? Clever, or artistic, or something?”
“Yes!” Once again Melisande was startled. “She’s a genius. But I wouldn’t listen to the psychiatrists who tried to get me to enroll her in special schools. In fact, I’m---I was, home-schooling her.”
“Did she seem especially talented in any particular area?” He wasn’t simply curious, he was also trying to keep Melisande talking while he assessed her story and extended his own special abilities to determine her honesty.
His immediate sympathy towards her frightened him a little, because it was a feeling that was beyond his control, and he needed desperately to be in complete control. And he’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t safe to have any tender feelings towards anyone connected with the Centre. The way they were using Melisande’s resemblance to Parker only proved the point.
He studied the woman carefully as she made her reply, searching for any hint of duplicity, for the tiniest false note in her words.
“She was fascinated by nature, anatomy, how things work together and animals.” Melisande chuckled with the kind of fond amusement that only a mother could manage. “I let her spend part of almost every day with our local vet. He became a friend after Kiara had brought him four or five patients to save. He’s a very sweet man, many vets wouldn’t even consider taking in injured strays, much less the wild creatures Kiara managed to find in the city. And then, to allow a small child to hang around while he worked---I almost loved him for that.”
Jarod inferred from the tinge of regret on her face that the vet had hoped for much more from the mother of the child he’d befriended.
“But he let Kiara keep coming, even after I let him know I wasn’t ready for any kind of a relationship with him. He said she was his most valued assistant, and told me that he saved all of his most puzzling patients for her. She was a whiz at figuring out what was wrong with them. He used to joke that it was almost as if she could speak directly to them.” Melisande smiled through the tears shimmering in her eyes. “I had to find homes for the menagerie of snakes, pigeons, and stray cats that she’d rescued and nursed to health. I’m sure there would have been more, but I drew the line at rats, and mice, and anything larger than a cat.”
“She sounds very special, Melisande.” Jarod covered her hand gently.
“She is, but she’s still just a baby. I just hope she isn’t too scared, wherever she is.” With that Melisande broke down completely, covering her face with her hands in a vain attempt to stem the tears.
Meal forgotten, doubts resolved, and protective instincts in high gear, Jarod moved around the table and gathered Melisande into his arms while she sobbed out months of fear and grief. He wasn’t unaccustomed to comforting distraught people, but between Jo and Melisande he was starting to feel like a character in a Soap Opera---the nice guy who never gets the girl, no less.
“Don’t worry, Melisande.” He promised earnestly as he tried to comfort her. “We’ll get her back. I promise, we’ll get Kiara back where she belong---with you.”
Of course, in the privacy of his own thoughts he had to wonder just how he could keep this promise. Had he finally bitten off more than he could chew? There was no way of knowing, but his apprehension was growing fast.
*****
“Parker? Parker, can you hear me?”
“Don’t shout, Broots.” Parker answered irritably. “Go away and leave me alone.”
“Sydney! Sydney it’s okay! She’s awake!”
“Broots! What are you doing in my bedroom anyway?” Parker finally cracked one sapphire blue eye to glare at the technician. The eye grew wide and the other eye flew open as she stared around her in amazement.
“Where the hell am I?” She demanded, staring at wallpaper covered with cowboys, horses, and longhorn cattle.
“You’re in Broots’ spare bedroom.” Sydney said severely. “We didn’t dare leave you alone last night.”
“Why?” Parker sat up, wincing as her head pounded in response.
“Parker, you know better than to combine painkillers and alcohol. What got into you?”
“Oh Sydney, don’t be ridiculous!” Parker snapped. “I only had two drinks and it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever taken a pain pill.”
“Parker, you were completely out---we couldn’t rouse you at all. And if Broots hadn’t managed to make you throw up before I got there I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Why? I remember taking the pills, and I only took two. I only remember taking two drinks before that too.” Parker half moaned, half whimpered, her hands holding her head as if it would break apart without that help. “And my head hurts worse than ever. What the hell happened?”
“Her pills were switched.” Broots answered from the doorway, cell phone in hand as he flipped it shut. “Bernie in the lab just called me with the results of the chemical breakdown I asked him to run.”
“What do you mean, switched? And somebody bring me some aspirin!”
“Parker, someone tried to kill you, and it almost worked.” Broots said urgently. “You almost died.”
“Broots, I am dying! And if you don’t get me some aspirin I’m taking you with me!” Parker hissed.
Broots scurried to find some painkillers, leaving Sydney with the task of making her drug and pain fogged mind grasp the severity of the situation.
“Parker, what did you do yesterday?” He asked, with the special inflection a person uses when they want you to come up with the answer to something they already see.
“Sydney, what are you blathering about? I didn’t do anything yesterday! It was a singularly wasted day.”
“Parker, try to understand, someone switched your medication---and if they knew of your predilection for ignoring drug/alcohol interactions then it quite probably was meant to kill you. Now, considering where we work, that can only mean that you know something, or are close to something, that could be dangerous to the Powers That Be.”
“Syd, I did the same thing yesterday that I do everyday. I insulted Lyle, insulted Broots, snapped at you, threatened Raines…”
“Raines?” Sydney jumped on the name. “You haven’t talked to him since your father got back to the Centre.”
“I didn’t really talk to him yesterday---he wanted to talk to me, though.” Parker remember slowly, absently accepting and swallowing the pills Broots handed her.
“About what?”
“He said I have a sister…” Parker whispered, looking, Broots thought, much like she had moments before she vomited up the pickle juice he’d convinced her to drink.
“What else?”
“Daddy came up then. He wanted to see me later. Then---“
“Then Raines died.”
“But who?” Parker’s face was whiter than the sheets she clutched. “Who would want to kill me and Raines? Everyone knows we loathe each other.”
“It could have been any number of people, laboring under any number of misconceptions.” Sydney answered dryly. “If they thought Raines had confessed more than he really had, or, maybe we have two people at work here, and their efforts just happened to dovetail on that one day.
“Until we know, you’re staying here.” Broots said with uncharacteristic firmness.
“I can’t stay here! My clothes are at my home. What do you want me to do, show up for work in my pajamas?”
“No work, Parker.” Sydney responded, backing Broots up. “Until we know what’s going on, you’re safer away from the Centre. And no one will ever expect to find you here.” He added with a wry grin.
“I certainly didn’t!” Parker muttered, subsiding in the bed with a wince.
With both Sydney and Broots ganging up on her, she knew she wasn’t going to win this battle of wills. Contrary to what many people believed, Parker respected both of her colleagues. She knew that they truly cared about her, just as she cared about them. Besides, she was in far too much pain to fight them. All she really wanted to do was sleep until her head didn’t hurt so much.
*****
“No, Sir, it didn’t work out the way you thought it would.” Melisande’s voice was low and controlled, allowing none of the trepidation she was feeling to show. “He wanted to know who I was and why I look so much like Miss Parker---of course I didn’t tell him who I was! I told him I didn’t know any Miss Parker.”
Melisande fell silent at a spate of words from the other end of the line and her hand clenched the phone so tightly that the knuckles turned white. Her face paled as the words continued.
“No! Please!” She gasped suddenly. “I swear, he’s still interested in me. I told him about Kiara---that she’d been taken. He promised to help me. You can still get him!”
She paused, chest heaving and tears glittering in her eyes as she tried to maintain control while the person on the other end spoke again.
“I promise.” She said at last, sincerity dripping from each word. “I’ll do exactly what you say, just, please, don’t do anything to Kiara! Okay, okay, I will.” Her voice broke on a sob as her thumb hit the button disconnecting the call.
The tears in her eyes broke free and began sliding down her cheeks as her shoulders slumped with despair. She could manage a facade of Parker’s cool exterior, but she lacked the years of practice that had refined Parker’s control to cast-iron rigidity. The loss of her daughter had devastated her, and the deception she was being forced to practice further broke her spirit. She could have no more stemmed her tears than she could have dammed up Niagara Falls.
But, like Parker, she had a core of solid steel. After a very short, stormy bout of weeping, she collected herself, and began preparing for a very special meeting. She hadn’t had a chance to tell her master that she and Jarod were meeting in the bar tonight, but she was sure that whoever was watching her would pass the information on later. Maybe that would be enough to keep her precious child safe.
’Please, God,’ she thought fervently, ’keep my Kiara safe for me!’
*****
“Little Parker needs you!”
“Angelo, I have no idea what you’re talking about! I called the nursery, and the baby is fine. What are you talking about?”
“Not boy Parker, girl Parker! Girl Parker sad. Misses Mommy.”
Sydney sighed. Angelo was being unusually obstinate, which probably meant that whatever had gotten him excited was important. But he was tired. His disrupted night with his “girl Parker” had left him with a nagging headache and wavering concentration. He didn’t feel up to the task of deciphering Angelo’s cryptic warning, much less dealing with it once he understood.
“Angelo, let’s try this again; where is this little girl Parker?”
Angelo smiled cherubically. Obviously, Sydney had managed to choose the right question.
“Angelo show!”
Tugging insistently on Sydney’s jacket sleeve, Angelo led the psychologist onto the Centre grounds and into a groundskeeper’s shed. Just as Sydney opened his mouth to point out to Angelo that this was a tool shed, not an office, dwelling, or cell, Angelo pushed in one of the few cinder blocks not covered by pegs and shelves, and the entire wall swung out.
“With as many secrets as this place holds, you’d think I’d stop being surprised when a new one showed up, wouldn’t you?” Sydney asked himself ruefully, plunging after Angelo into the inky darkness of the tunnel behind the wall.
Once the wall swung shut, weak lights sprang up, illuminating a narrow passage. Sydney had to repress sensations of claustrophobia as he followed Angelo’s swiftly retreating back. After a few short minutes of travel they emerged into a large, open, underground room. It looked like nothing more than an empty gym, populated by nothing more than 4 treadmills in the far corner from where Sydney and Angelo stood.
’Why would anyone need so much room underground?’ Sydney wondered silently, not liking the suspicions that were rising in his thoughts.
Angelo ignored the equipment on either side of them, and led Sydney through yet another door, this time into a normally sized and lit hallway. The hallway was simply made of rough cinder blocks; unpainted and with an unfinished air about it. Utilitarian metal doors were placed at intervals down the hallway and reinforced, one-way windows were placed next to the doors. Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he realized the place was uncomfortably similar to SL-27.
“Little Parker!” Angelo was kneeling in front of one of the doors, speaking through a narrow slit in the door. A single, brilliantly blue eye appeared at the slot, framed by dark brown hair.
“Angelo!” The child’s smile was evident in her voice and one visible eye. “I missed you! Have you found my mommy yet?”
“No, brought Sydney.”
“Sydney?”
The psychologist was amazed at the amount of expression the child could show with such a tiny portion of her face visible. She’d obviously mastered the frown of disapproval, because even he could feel her unhappiness with Angelo’s answer.
“Who is Sydney?” She asked suspiciously.
“Sydney friend. Help little Parker.”
“My name is Kiara!” Now the girl’s voice held exasperation, with undertones of affection and a resigned understanding that Angelo wasn’t likely to start using her name.
“Hello, Kiara.” Sydney crouched down to bring his face to where the girl could see him. “I’m Sydney. Angelo is my friend, and he brought me here to meet you.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” The child replied, obviously by rote, and not meaning a word of it. “Can you take me back to my mommy?” She added with a wistfulness that indicated her lack of hope.
“I don’t know who your mommy is.” Sydney answered slowly. “But if you tell me more about yourself, perhaps I can try to find her for you.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Lyle’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway, smug, and self satisfied, and somehow, in spite of its pleasant tones, sinister. “Kiara will soon have plenty of company, and, since you seem so concerned for her, I’m sure you won’t mind staying a while to keep her company, will you Sydney?
Sydney pushed himself up, his face carefully arranged into a neutral expression. He knew he’d never been closer to death than he was at that moment, but he also knew that if he showed a hint of fear it would all be over for him.
“So you’re behind all of this?” He asked skeptically, waving a arm to indicate the area in general. Nothing was more likely to make Lyle reveal everything than an attack on his credibility. But Lyle surprised him.
“No, I’m just a---a supervisor, if you will.” He smiled coolly. “But I have enough authority to shoot you right now and never have to answer for it.”
“So why haven’t you?” Sydney challenged in his quietly courageous way. “There’s no love lost between the two of us and we both know it.”
“That’s true.” Lyle agreed, his smile never faltering. “But I have plans that could be implemented more easily with your assistance.”
“I can’t imagine anything you might have planned that I would be willing to assist you in.”
“Perhaps not, but I trust you will at least be clever enough to hear me out.” The smile finally showed signs of fraying around the edges.
“All right. State your case.”
“Not here, I’ve had the room at the end converted into an office.” Lyle gestured down the hall, and Sydney stalked off in the indicated direction, thoughts whirling with both worry and confusion.
Lyle wasn’t behaving true to form, but that didn’t mean Sydney wasn’t in danger. He maintained his air of calm as he walked through the open door and seated himself behind the desk in the center of the room, but he suspected Lyle knew just how fragile his peace really was.
“So, Sydney,” Lyle walked around the psychologist, enjoying the subtle air of threat that his pacing created. “Your tame monkey brought you here. I thought he might.”
Angelo crouched defensively in a corner of the office, warily watching Lyle’s every move, chewing nervously on his fingers, but never allowing Lyle to actually make eye contact with him.
“What are you up to, Lyle?” Sydney demanded, deciding the best defense in this case was a good offense. “What do you want to accomplish that you think I can help you with? And how does that little girl fit into everything?”
Lyle laughed, with good humor and very little of his usual malice.
“I’ve been placed in charge of this project.” He began, unnecessarily, for Sydney had already inferred as much.”
“And this project is…” Sydney questioned, his voice heavy with irony.
“It’s been named Project Phoenix. It combines the best of both the Pretender Project and Project Gemini.”
“You’re resurrecting the Pretender Project?” In spite of the evidence of his own eyes, Sydney found it hard to believe.
“Actually, we never really ended it. Jarod only thwarted one small branch of the project three years ago, he didn’t impact the others. It took some doing, but I managed to have several of the more promising new children assigned to my team. I want you to train them.”
“Children? I only saw the little girl.”
“We have three girls at the moment.” Lyle clarified. “There are more on the way. They should all be here before the evening meal tomorrow. I’ve been given unlimited access to ten all together, but there will be more if we succeed with even one of those ten.”
“Ten?! You expect me to train ten pretenders?!”
“Not necessarily. I realize that some of the children may be unsuitable as Pretenders. You’ll have to assess them first.”
“Where are these children coming from? What makes you think any of them could hold a candle to Jarod?”
“Actually, that’s part of the experiment. We’ve gotten them from a variety of situations. Some had ”normal” families, some were in orphanages or foster homes, and a few have been raised within Centre walls, much like the clone.”
“You’re wondering how much environment had to do with Jarod’s abilities.”
“The boy pretty well proved that Jarod’s so-called family had very little to do with his exceptional performance---it was all in his genes.” Lyle sneered. “And this new generation will prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“What, exactly, are you saying, Lyle?” Sydney recalled the nagging sense he’d had when speaking to Kiara that he’d seen her, and heard her voice, before.
“You’ll know soon enough, although I’m sure you already suspect.” Lyle countered smoothly. “With the correct training we’ll have an entire cadre of Pretenders to work for us. Now, are you going to help?”
“I---“ Sydney hesitated.
He wanted to help Kiara, and he knew that he could easily use Lyle’s ambition to gain at least some concessions for the children. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he could live with any more compromises on his conscience. He had so many regrets about Jarod and the things that had been done to the boy, both with and without his permission.
“It isn’t just you who would benefit from this.” Lyle urged persuasively. “I’ll give you complete control over the training, living conditions, everything. I’ll even let you keep the monkey with you, instead of locking him up where he’ll never get loose.”
Angelo hunched his shoulders at this threat and redoubled his nervous chewing.
“Why? Why allow me free rein? Why me at all?”
“Because, as little as I like you personally, I have to admit that you’re good at what you do. You are the only trainer on the Pretender Project to have produced a Pretender that the Centre could use at all, even if he did run off eventually. I want that kind of a success on my record, and I’ll reward you handsomely if you get it for me.”
Sydney didn’t trust the oily promise, but he believed in Lyle’s determination to accomplish what the Centre had only achieved once before. He could almost see young Kiara, her blue eye pleading with him to rescue her from Lyle’s perversions.
“All right.” Sydney sighed. “I’ll help---but I want to try a few changes in the program this time. I’ve had a few ideas that might keep our Pretenders loyal to us longer.”
“Whatever.” Lyle agreed casually. “You’ll have to remain here for the time being, but I’ll send down some cots and blankets for you and ape-boy.
“I want the children’s rooms to be unlocked at all times.”
“As I said, you can call the shots where the children are concerned, but be warned: If any of you try to leave you will be shot. I’d prefer to have you on the team, but you aren’t the only psychologist on my list.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.” Lyle said briskly as Sydney urged Angelo to his feet and towards the door. “Right now I have a package to arrange transport for.”
Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the satisfaction in Lyle’s voice, and Angelo’s worried expression didn’t make him feel any better. Still, whatever evil Lyle had planned was beyond his control. Right now his responsibility was to meet with the children he’d just accepted responsibility for, and pray for a clever plan to save them all.
*****
"So," Jo said, watching Melisande cautiously from the other side of the table. "You’ve got the same problem I do."
The three sat at Jo’s kitchen table. Melisande had contacted Jarod as soon as she’d gotten off the phone with her Centre contact. He, in turn, had called Jo and convinced her not to open the bar that night. It was obvious to him that they were running out of time and options, and he wanted to make sure both women knew what he needed from them before he made his move.
"Apparently." Melisande agreed with Jo’s assessment with equal caution.
This was her first meeting with the other woman, and she didn’t trust anyone at this point. Jo had also learned the hard way that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. Jarod sighed silently, realizing that he had his work cut out for him if he was going to achieve an alliance between the two.
"Look, ladies, you two are going to have to help each other." He said briskly, looking from one to the other with determination. "I’m going to be out of touch with everyone pretty soon, and you’re going to have to be there for each other, do you understand?"
"No." Both women spoke at the same time, which seemed to break the ice with them. They smiled briefly at each other before turning their attention back to Jarod.
"What, exactly, are you trying to tell us?" Jo asked bluntly.
"You both know that I think the Centre is behind all of this, right?" Jarod clarified. Both women nodded and he went on. "Well, I think there’s a little more to this little scenario than just your daughters being kidnapped. This situation was tailor-made to lure me in. I expect that sooner or later the people pulling the strings will manage to get their hands on me---they know that even if I figure out what’s going on that I won’t walk away from this mess. So, when I’m in their hands, you two will need to depend on each other. Is that clear enough?"
Both women nodded, Melisande wearing a very thoughtful look on her face.
"So what is your plan?" She asked, staring at Jarod as if she could see right through the skin and bone covering his extraordinary brain and see what he was thinking for herself. Jarod gave her a smile, fraught with understanding, and nodded his approval.
"Melisande, they’ve promised to bring you to your daughter if you deliver me to them, haven’t they?" He asked bluntly.
"Yes." She admitted guiltily.
"I don’t think they’ll keep their promise, but they might. If they do, it will be up to you to see if Jo’s husband and daughter are in the same place----if they are, you’ll have to contact Jo and let her know."
“What?” Melisande exclaimed, wondering if she’d really just heard Jarod all but tell her to turn him over to the Centre.
"How is she supposed to manage that?" Jo demanded, wondering if Jarod had lost his mind.
"I’ll explain some options to Melisande in detail later---I want to make sure you two are prepared to work together first."
“You sound like you’re going to give yourself up to these people.”
“I am, Jo.” He affirmed, seeming to have read her mind. “Since I’m going to end up in their hands one way or another, I figure it would be better all around if I did it my way, instead of theirs.”
“But---“ Jo protested, the horrible scenarios Jarod had shared with her earlier flashing through her mind. “But they’ll---“
“I’m tougher, and smarter, than you know, Jo.” He assured her gently. “They can’t break me, but I can find out more from the inside than here. It will be okay, don’t worry.”
Jo nodded, but the worried frown between her eyebrows remained. She and Melisande exchanged another look, their bond growing as each woman silently acknowledged their concerns for Jarod. There was no question that he was the bravest and most selfless man they’d ever known, but they were both wondering if he wasn’t also the craziest.
"Jo, if Melisande and I both vanish you need to be available for us as a contact. Stay here, your bar will be our meeting place and message place if we get separated. In this envelope----" Jarod pushed a manila envelope across the table to her, "is a list of all the people connected to the Centre, their relation to me, how to contact them, and how much I trust them. Memorize the information and then burn it---I don’t know how tight the surveillance is on you yet and I don’t want you or the people in this list compromised, okay?"
Jo nodded her head unhappily.
"Melisande, if your contact doesn’t keep his word to you, I want you to find your sister. You need to tell her everything, but you need to find her and contact her cautiously. You’d both be in serious danger if anyone at the Centre suspected you were about to meet each other---do you understand?"
Melisande nodded somberly.
"This envelope has all the information on your sister that I know of that might help you contact her. If you do get to join Kiara, you are still going to have to try to reach your sister. She works for the Centre---"
Melisande’s indrawn breath of horror cut him off, but he continued firmly before she could say anything.
"She was raised within it, just like me, but I don’t think that the Centre has truly claimed her--- at least, not yet. You have to try and reach her, but once again, be careful. The Centre is ruthless and neither of you will live long if they discover your mission. In the meantime," here Jarod caught her eyes and stared at her intently, as if he could imprint some unspoken message directly into her mind, "do what you have to do to survive and protect your loved ones---both of you."
"I don’t like this plan.” Jo protested.
“Believe me, neither do I.” Jarod assured her. “But it’s the only one I can come up with.”
“But what if---“
“What ifs aren’t worth the breath it takes to speak them.” Jarod cut her off firmly. “This is what we’re going to do. It’s what we have to do. Do you understand?”
“No.” Jo grumbled.
“Yes.” Melisande countered, her eyes troubled. “I don’t like it, but I understand. We’ll do our part, Jarod.”
"Good." Jarod pushed his chair back from the table and grinned, transforming his grim expression into one of boyish cheer in an instant. "In that case, Jo, I think Melisande and I should get going now."
Jo growled wordlessly, and waved the two off. Her expression was angry, but her eyes were concerned as she watched the two depart her bar. For a moment her thoughts veered to what an attractive pair the two made, but her worry soon resurfaced. She wished Jarod hadn’t sprung this on her so precipitously, so that she could have made some counter plans of her own.
Still, it wasn’t too late to do some research on her unexpected savior. She stacked the coffee cups, neglecting to rinse them, into the kitchen sink and turned immediately to make her way into the utility room off of her kitchen that doubled as an office. Her computer was there, and she’d become pretty good at digging things up via the internet. Jarod was going to get backup from her whether he liked it or not!
*****
“Miss Parker! Miss Parker, are you still here?” Broots burst into his house and ran straight through the living room to the hallway leading to the bedrooms in the back.
He didn’t even close the front door in his haste, just raced to where he’d left Parker, calling her name all the way. He almost barreled into her when she suddenly appeared in the doorway to the guest room, looking rumpled and half asleep.
“Where’s the fire?” She asked, stretching slowly as she tried to get her blood moving and wake up. “And what time is it?”
“Is Sydney here?” Broots demanded urgently, ignoring her questions.
“I don’t think so.” Parker looked startled, glancing up and down the short hallway as if she would see Sydney standing there. “I just woke up.” She added unnecessarily.
“He went somewhere with Angelo while I was at the lab and neither of them came back!” Broots panted, mangling the folder-sized manila envelope he was clutching.
“Okay, slow down.” Parker advised, raking her dark hair out of her eyes, and moving decisively down the hallway towards the living room.
It was a good indication of Broots’ anxiety level that he didn’t even glance at Parker’s long legs, perfectly exposed by her skimpy, silk camisole-and-shorts pajamas, as she walked away from him. He sank onto the sofa, seeming to be in shock as Parker checked to see if anyone was watching Broots’ house, and then closed and locked the front door. She noted both the growing darkness outside of the house, and the late hour on the mantel clock before turning her attention back to her coworker.
“Okay, Broots, talk to me. What happened?” Parker’s tone was far gentler than what she usually used with him, but Broots was too far gone in his worry to notice.
“I told you.” He answered, seeming more focused on his dark thoughts than on his words to her. “Sydney went somewhere with Angelo and neither of them came back.”
“When did they leave?” Parker asked softly, her eyes hard and cold as she considered the fact that the older man could be dead or worse. She suddenly realized how much she cared about Sydney and just how far she’d go to ensure his safety.
“It was a little after lunch. I went to the lab to talk to Bernie about his results on your prescription---do you know it wasn’t even the same drug? Bernie still isn’t sure what was in those capsules, but they dissolved like sugar when he dropped them in water, and they were nearly ten times as powerful as your normal prescription. One would have probably killed you, even without the alcohol to help.” He digressed in amazed tones.
“A win/win situation. If I died, it would have been a suicide, if I lived, which they obviously weren’t hoping for, I could be locked up and finished off at their leisure.” Parker responded dryly, seeing her evil twin brother in her mind’s eye.
“You think it was Lyle, don’t you?” Broots asked.
“Broots, use your brain! My brother has already had me locked up once because I was supposedly suicidal---although how the hell he explained away the fact that I was shot in the back still eludes me. Of course it was him, only this time he ensured there would be a drug overdose in my system to back up his claims.”
“Oh, that’s cold.” Broots shuddered sympathetically.
“Now, what’s that in your hands? Bernie’s results?”
“What?” Broots looked down at the crumpled envelope in his hands as if he’d never seen it before. “Oh! This came for you today at the office!”
Parker sighed and held out her hand, saying with resignation; “Another riddle from Jarod?”
“I don’t think so.” Broots answered the rhetorical question. “It doesn’t have his “feel” to it.”
“It’s from Raines!” Parker exclaimed, reading the letter paper-clipped to the folder inside of the envelope.
“What’s it say?” Broots demanded suspiciously.
Parker didn’t answer, already engrossed in the documents enclosed in the folder. Broots recognized the absorption on her face and left to start dinner with a small sigh. He was used to reining in his curiosity, and he knew Parker wasn’t trying to be insulting. He just hoped that whatever Raines had sent her wouldn’t turn out to be another Centre, or Jarod, mind-game that would end up hurting her more.
*****
“So, Melisande, care for stroll down the Bicentennial?” Jarod asked as they walked out of Jo’s house towards the street where Jarod’s latest rental vehicle was parked.
“As long as we’re done before it gets dark.” She agreed cautiously, eyeing the sun which was still well above the western foothills that marked the Spokane Valley.
The Bicentennial is a trail that follows the route taken by the early settlers through Idaho and Eastern Washington on their way to Western Washington. It only goes about ten miles west of Spokane, but it does go east nearly to the Idaho border. Since they were near the downtown area, Melisande assumed Jarod referred to the scenic stretch of trail that ran along the Spokane River through Riverfront Park.
It was beautiful, but the heart of Riverfront Park isn’t a healthy place to be after dark. It tended to be a haven for the homeless, criminal, and suicidal element of the rural metropolis. Jarod, however, laughed and threw an amused look at his companion.
“There’s a nice stretch that runs by Gonzaga University.” He clarified for her. “It’s reasonably safe, even after sunset.”
Melisande studied him, wondering for a tense moment if he wasn’t some sort of a test sent by the man who’d turned her life into a living hell. Jarod met her gaze easily, his expression serious, but in no way threatening.
“I suppose I should.” She agreed reluctantly. “I imagine you have things you’d like to say to me in relative privacy.
“Yes.” Jarod agreed briefly, guiding the Taurus expertly along the congested streets.
Not another word was spoken until they’d reached the University’s small parking lot that opened up directly on the Bicentennial trail. Jarod was fairly confident that Melisande was being monitored, and he didn’t want to risk their words being picked up by a long-distance mike. The trail was perfect for his purposes, because most of it allowed for easy visibility all around, which would prevent their unseen escort from hiding in plain sight, as it were. The area’s that did have hiding places for spies tended to coincide with rapids in the river that would drown out their voices for most listening devices.
“How did you plan to incapacitate me for delivery?” Jarod asked bluntly as soon as he felt it was safe.
“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” Melisande asked sadly.
A full moon illuminated the warm summer night, so it was easy for them to see where they were going. Jarod threw her a sober glance, and then looked back along the trail. Oddly enough, her regret made him think of Parker, who also had orders to return him to captivity, but who had never allowed herself to consider that she might be hurting herself as much as him by following those orders.
“Pretty much.” He affirmed softly. “I almost wish I hadn’t.”
“Jarod, I’m so sorry.“
“I know.” Jarod assured her quietly. “And I know that there really isn’t anything else you could have done but cooperate. That’s why I decided to use your orders to get back inside the Centre. It will take some of the heat off you, and might even get your daughter back to you.”
“But you don’t think it will, do you?”
“No. The Centre isn’t known for its honesty with its victims.”
“I’m supposed to drug your drink.” Mel confessed baldly, here eyes fixed on the blacktop that covered the trail. “Then I dial my contact and they pick you up. But I don’t have to do it for a few more days, if you don’t want.”
“No,” Jarod replied with an unconscious sigh. “The sooner the better, I think.”
He would have been surprised to realize how transparent his dread was to the woman beside him. Usually he was very good at hiding all of his emotions, and he believed he’d convinced both women he was totally confident of his ability to come out on top of an encounter with the Centre. But he wasn’t. Lyle had hurt him badly the last time, and there was a part of him that was deeply frightened to be within Lyle’s power again. The sociopath had come very close to breaking him, closer than Jarod would admit even to himself.
“Jarod, I’m sorry.” Melisande said again. “I’d give anything to have a better idea than this!”
You don’t have to explain anything to me, Melisande.” Jarod reassured her, pulling his self-confidence back to cover his fear like an actor donning a mask. But you can do something for me.”
“What?” Melisande asked, hoping it was within her power to give.
“Miss Parker, your sister…” his voice trailed off uncertainly. He frowned into the growing darkness for several long moments before starting again.
“She’s a very tough woman. She’s had to be to survive.” He explained to the avidly curious woman next to him. “She can be harsh, and she often seems angry, but…”
Once again his voice trailed off and he seemed lost in thought again.
“You really care about her, don’t you?” Melisande prompted gently.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Jarod protested, far to quickly. “It’s just that I remember her as a little girl. Kind, and giving, and vulnerable.”
“And you miss that little girl?”
“Almost as much as I miss my family.” Jarod sighed. “I hope that she’s still there, buried somewhere inside of the woman she’s become.”
“You want me to try to bring that part of her out, don’t you?”
“No, I would never ask anything so impossible of you.” He countered, once again too rapidly to be believable. “I just wanted to ask you to be patient with her if she’s rude at first. She’s terribly lonely, and she needs someone. You have an ability to care that could make all the difference in her life. Please, don’t give up on her, no matter how she behaves towards you.”
“Tell me about her.” Melisande asked earnestly. “Is she really my sister? What’s she like? Why does she work for them?”
“Yes, she’s really your sister. Your mother was allowed to give birth to her and your brother Lyle. You, however, were implanted in a surrogate parent without your mother’s knowledge.”
“But I was adopted!”
“The woman’s husband worked for the Centre. She didn’t know that, nor did she know you weren’t her biological child. He knew that the Centre did some work with infertile couples, so he approached his superior for help when he realized how desperately his wife longed for a child. He hadn’t let her know he was sterile when she married him and he loved her very much---so much that he would do anything to make her happy.
“She went into the hospital for what she believed was an attack of appendicitis, and was implanted with you while she was unconscious. They even removed her appendix before the procedure, just to keep her in the dark.
“Everything would have been just fine, except that your father’s superior, believing he had an unbreakable hold on your father now, began to expect him to do some pretty terrible things. Eventually he asked your father to do something that he simply couldn’t bring himself to do---the Centre does that to you, you know. It brings any person with a shred of decency in him to the point where he has to choose between his ethics and his life. Your father was a good man; he chose his ethics.”
“He was killed?” Melisande was clearly horrified and Jarod knew she was starting to fear the Centre even more than before. He went on with his narrative---the more afraid of the Centre she was, the more likely she was to survive this situation.
“He went to his wife first, and told her everything. He told her what the Centre was, who you were, and what was likely to happen. She agreed with his decision to defy the Centre, even though she knew what that would mean for the two of them. The only thing she insisted on was saving you.”
“But she had just been told that I wasn’t even hers!” Melisande had tears in her eyes at that point.
“You were her daughter.” Jarod corrected. “She carried you, gave birth to you, and loved you for two years. I think that you of all people would understand that the fact that you didn’t carry her DNA made no difference to her.”
Melisande’s thoughts flew to Kiara. She’d never really known how she came to conceive her. The doctors at the hospital had told her she had lost the memory of the events leading up to the accident, but she knew that she hadn’t been seeing someone she was serious about. The mystery of Kiara’s arrival in her life had never affected her love for her precious daughter, though. It wouldn’t matter who Kiara’s parents might turn out to be, Kiara would always be her daughter, and she’d always love her with all of her heart.
“So what happened?” She asked, breaking the silence.
“She arranged to have you adopted through Catholic Family Services. Not even the Centre could penetrate their records. It took them years to find you again.”
“Did the Centre kill them?”
“Yes. Very shortly after you were adopted out.”
“The Millers were wonderful parents.” Melisande said reminiscently. “They never hid the fact that I was adopted, and even though I know that I hurt them with my questions about my “real” parents, they always let me ask them. They didn’t have any answers, but they had enough love to get me through the worst of my adolescent identity crises.”
“Then you were far, far luckier than your sister.”
“Didn’t our parents love her?”
“Your mother did.” Jarod agreed cautiously.
“Our father?”
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
“He doesn’t love Parker?”
“Frankly, I’m not even sure if the man your mother was married to has any part in either of your genetics.” Jarod answered contemptuously. “And even if he does, I don’t think anything can excuse the things he’s put your sister through.”
“I guess I was lucky then. Mom and Dad were fantastic.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as an unpleasant thought struck her. “Just when did the Centre discover my whereabouts?”
“I think you know.”
“They told me it was a drunk driver who collided with our car and killed them.” Melisande’s eyes glittered with tears. “I still don’t remember it, but it probably wasn’t a drunk at all, was it?”
“I honestly don’t know for sure.” Jarod told her truthfully. “What do you remember?”
“Waking up in the hospital. My leg was broken and several ribs were cracked. It was a few weeks before they released me---they said they were worried that I wouldn’t be able to take proper care of myself after losing my parents so abruptly.”
"That was almost 5 years ago, wasn’t it?”
Melisande had been keeping her eyes intently on the black path they followed, but Jarod’s question made her head snap up and her gaze fell sharply on his studiedly casual face.
“Why do you ask?” She whispered, her green eyes glowing in a way that was almost feline as she stared at Jarod.
“You don’t know who Kiara’s father is, do you?” Jarod countered.
“No.” She sighed, knowing what Jarod was leading up to. “Do you suppose her “real” mother wants her back now?”
“It doesn’t matter, Melisande.” He declared gently. “You’re Kiara’s mother, you’ll always be her mother, and you’re going to get her back.”
Melisande sighed, looking over the deceptively calm looking river. Her life had been a lot like that. She’d floated along the peaceful surface, never knowing that the currents beneath could rise up and pull her down in an instant. Several people drowned every year in the Spokane River, she’d learned that since arriving in the area. Could she swim against these currents in her own life?
“Don’t swim against the current.” She heard the voice of the television announcer who’d covered the drowning of a young hiker the week after she’d arrived in Spokane. “If you find yourself in the river, swim with the current and angle towards the shore. That way you don’t use up all of your energy fighting an unbeatable force, and you save it for the important battle of remaining alive.”
She shook her head, but followed Jarod’s lead when he struck out towards the downtown area again. She wanted her daughter back, more than anything, but she hated the price that Jarod was about to pay. Her heart wanted her to fight, to struggle against the logical conclusion of the evening, but her head was assuring her that it would be the same as fighting the current of the river.
Well, she might have to concede to necessity, but the battle wasn’t over yet. The current she was caught in wasn’t going to determine her course any longer! If she couldn’t swim against it, then she would swim with it, just like the announcer suggested, and she’d come out on the bank where she chose!
Normally Melisande was a calm and gentle woman, but at that moment the innermost core of fear in her heart turned to a smoldering anger. In that instant, with that understanding, she’d ceased to be a victim and was well on her way to becoming her own savior. She didn’t know how, but she promised herself that she would somehow make this Centre pay for all the pain they’d caused.
*****
“I want my mom!” Kiara glared at Sydney and remained stubbornly huddled into the corner of her little room.
“I know you do.” Sydney agreed patiently, still amazed at her resemblance to Miss Parker as a child. “But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Please come with me to meet the others, Kiara. I’m sure they’re just as frightened as you are right now, but you could help them to trust me a little more.”
“I’m not afraid!” Kiara protested, her jaw set at a stubborn angle that was all Parker. “I just don’t like it here!”
“Well, I’m sure these other two children don’t like it here either. Won’t you help me to make them feel better?” Sydney coaxed.
“Then could I go home?” Kiara’s maturity dissolved and in an instant she looked exactly like the frightened preschooler that she was.
“No, not yet.” Sydney sighed unhappily, hating that he was already forced to hurt the child he wanted to protect. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to get your mom here for you, though.”
“What if I don’t help you?” Kiara asked shrewdly.
“I’ll still have to go visit the other two, and they’d probably just be afraid of me.” Sydney answered with blunt honesty, knowing that her age didn’t keep her from understanding the big picture. “I need you all to work with me, dear, if I’m going to be able to protect you from Lyle. I want to protect you from Lyle.”
“Sydney good man.” Angelo volunteered suddenly, surprising both of the others. “Trust Sydney, Kiara. Help Sydney.”
“He called me Kiara.” The girl whispered, obviously stunned.
She’d resigned herself to being called “little Parker” by this strange adult who’d become her friend over the past month. It was hard, though, because it made her feel like he was really talking to someone else, not her. But his use of her real name told her that he knew exactly who she was, and that it was the real her, not the memory of some other girl, that he liked and wanted to help. Suddenly Kiara felt less isolated than before and yet, somehow more removed from the life she had known.
“Will you come, Kiara?” Sydney asked gently.
Instead of answering, Kiara propelled herself from her cot and into Sydney’s arms, clinging to him like a drowning swimmer. Sydney fought down his own amazement and awkwardly patted the trembling child on her back. He wasn’t accustomed to soothing frightened children, he realized to his chagrin, but there was something satisfying in offering her comfort. When she loosened her hold and gave him a tremulous smile, he felt as though he had accomplished something far more important than even his work in helping get Apollo 13 safely back to Earth.
*****
“Are you sure he took the drug?” The burly man asked her suspiciously, prodding Jarod’s limp form roughly with one toe.
“Don’t hurt him!” Melisande cried, pushing the man away from Jarod. “Yes, he drank it all. Look,” she peeled up one eyelid gently to show Jarod’s glazed and unseeing eyes. “Drugged, no question about it. So take it easy on him!”
“Lady, you have no idea how sneaky, or dangerous, that man can be.” Sam answered, still suspicious.
“I’m going with you, right?” She asked, changing the subject. “He said you’d take me to Kiara when you picked Jarod up.”
“He changed his mind.” The sweeper responded carelessly. “He’s waiting until Jarod is safely where he belongs, just to be sure that you two aren’t trying to pull a fast one on us.”
Melisande sank onto the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands with a moan of dismay.
“You’re never going to let me see her again are you?” She asked tearfully. “I sold my soul to you people, and you still won’t give me back my baby!”
“I don’t know.” Sam answered stolidly, seeming untouched by her misery. “If you truly belong to the Centre, heart and soul, you might get to see her again----eventually. Now, I’ve got a package to deliver.”
What he didn’t show, and knew better than to even hint at while the other Sweepers were in the room, was that the sight of that tear ravaged face, so like Miss Parker’s, twisted his heartstrings like nothing else could. As two of the men, dressed like EMTs lifted Jarod onto a gurney and strapped him in far more completely than a real paramedic would, Sam eyed Melisande when he thought she wasn’t looking. An expression of honest sympathy and regret crossed his face, surprising the woman who covertly watched his reflection in the dark window before her.
She had no way of knowing that he longed for a few moment alone with her to promise her he’d look for her child. He was worried about Miss Parker, even more concerned over Lyle’s insinuations that she wasn’t returning, and definitely having disloyal thoughts towards the Centre. Of course, he’d been having those for years, and only his attachment to Parker kept him from vanishing as completely as only someone with intimate connections to the underworld of society could. Parker had become the sister he’d never had, and he wasn’t about to leave her to fend for herself in the shark-infested waters that the Centre had become.
He didn’t question his sudden sympathy for this woman either. She and Parker had become inextricably intertwined in his thoughts the day he’d first seen her a month ago. Lyle had dragged him from the Centre the day he’d flown over to meet with Melisande in person and give her his instructions. Sam had seen the same twisted combination of longing and hatred on his face for Melisande as he usually saw turned towards Parker, and he would have realized that Melisande and Parker were sisters sooner or later---even without Lyle’s gloating along those lines on the way back.
He was going to help Melisande, and he was going to find her daughter for her. While he was at it, he was going to track down Parker too. He’d put it off, believing that she was hidden safely away somewhere by Sydney and Broots, but as soon as he returned to Blue Cove, he was going to find her and see that she was all right for himself.
“Do you have any orders about the woman?” He asked Willie in an undertone as they filed into the hotel hallway.
“Just that we’re to continue our surveillance of her.” Willie responded just as quietly.
Sam nodded once. He’d already slipped a Mickey into the coffee thermos that belonged to the guard watching the hotel stairs. If Melisande was as clever as Parker, she’d soon be free to do as she pleased. If she wasn’t, well, there wasn’t much he could do about it, was there?
Melisande watched the ambulance pull away from the hotel from her window. As soon as all sign of the sinister party was gone she went to her bathroom, washed her face and repaired her makeup, and changed into jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt that said, “Just hand over all the chocolate, and no one will get hurt.”
She cracked her door and checked the hallway carefully. Seeing no signs of life, which was only to be expected at 3 am, she slung a soft carryall over her shoulder, and headed to the stairwell. Fortunately for her, the Centre guard had already succumbed to the sedative in his coffee, because she hadn’t even suspected his presence until she was nearly on top of him. It was obvious that his sleep wasn’t natural, and that puzzled her until she remembered the sympathy lurking in Sam’s eyes. She didn’t know why the guy seemed to like her, but it made her feel a little better to know that someone connected with the Centre did. Maybe he could help her get her baby back…
She made her way to an all-night coffee shop near the bus plaza, and doodled on the notepad she’d brought to rough out her plans on. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on what to do next. As soon as the city buses began their daily runs she was back at the Plaza, boarding the bus that would carry her near Jo’s house. In her carry sack were a few changes of clothing, false ID, every dime of her money she could lay her hands on, and her most precious mementos of her daughter. She wouldn’t be returning to her hotel room.
“Where are you going, then?” Jo asked when Melisande had finally brought her up to date on the night’s events.
Both women looked terrible; pale and drawn from a night of lost sleep and too much anxiety. They were seated at Jo’s kitchen table, drinking coffee as they talked.
“I’m going to do what Jarod told me to do.” Melisande answered with a firmness meant to bolster her own resolve. “I’m going to find my sister.”
“Then I’m going with you.” Jo responded, just as firmly.
“Jarod told you to stay! To be our base; our touchstone.”
“I have someone else coming in to cover that.” Jo replied with a hint of smugness.
“Who? I thought you were all alone in the world, like me.”
“I thought I was too. But neither of us are, really. There’s a---a fraternity of sorts in this world. People who’ve been victimized by the Centre, or people who Jarod has helped. I did some digging into his past after he started asking questions about my family, you see, and I found a lot of people who would not only do just about anything for Jarod, but they’d do anything to help him in one of his projects.
“One of the people I found, a woman with a young girl Jarod helped her to adopt, has offered to mind the bar while I’m off searching for my family. Of course, she doesn’t know the first thing about running a bar, so I may have no business left when this is over, but as long as I have my family I don’t care. She knows Jarod, and encountered the Centre after he had moved out of her life. She’s prepared to be our base, and she has contacts of her own that she can call in if we need help. She’ll help us just to help him, and she’ll never talk to the Centre about anything.”
“What if they take her daughter like they did ours?”
“I don’t know that they could. Violet is very shy, very wary, and very, very good at taking care of herself. At least, that’s what her mother said when I brought up that same issue.”
“You know Jarod won’t like this.” Melisande warned ruefully.
“Just because he’s the smartest man I’ve ever met, it doesn’t make him infallible. We need to be actively looking for our loved ones. He may not like it, but he’ll understand, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Melisande gave in, privately grateful to have the company of another bereaved mother. “How soon can you be ready?”
“As soon as I grab my bag from my closet. I packed last night after you two left the bar. I’ve got an RV in my garage that can’t be traced to me too.” Jo grinned at Melisande’s unmistakable look of relief.
“I like my creature comforts.” She said smugly.
*****
“What does it say, Miss Parker?” Broots asked curiously, bringing out a simple dinner and arranging it on the coffee table in front of her.
He was a little worried by the blank look in her eyes, and the way she sat staring into thin air, but she turned towards him as he spoke, which reassured him some.
“I—“ She looked in Broots’ direction, her eyes wide with shock. “I can’t believe it.” She whispered, and dropping the file she fled back to the room Broots had lent her.
Boots looked down the hall and then at the scattered papers on the floor, obviously torn about which was more important. The file won out, as he realized that he couldn’t help Parker if he didn’t know what had upset her. He quickly gathered the papers and sorted them out. Shock overcame him, as well, as he began to read.
Inside Broots’ guest room Parker grabbed her cell phone from the beside table and dialed a number with shaking hands. She’d had this number for over 4 years and never used it. Her expression darkened as the phone rang and rang and no one answered.
“Answer!” She hissed, taking refuge in familiar anger. “Damn it, Jarod, answer!”
She flung the phone against the far wall, shattering it beyond repair, a few moments later when her brother’s unmistakable voice answered, and buried her face in her hands, fighting an overwhelming urge to sob uncontrollably. Her life had been turned upside down in the space of a few days: Raines was dead, Sydney was missing, a new sibling had suddenly been thrust at her, and now Jarod was back in Lyle’s hands. She had never felt so close to cracking, not in all the time and troubles that she’d gone through at the Centre.
But she was a Parker, and she took pride in that fact. Slowly she straightened up and plastered her façade of cool confidence. It was obvious that she couldn’t accomplish anything hiding here at Broots’ house. Tomorrow, whether he liked it or not, she was going in to the Centre.
*****
“Don’t hurt her!”
Sydney sighed, his exasperation growing, even as he tried to keep it in check. The man cowering on the bed had obviously been badly mistreated, and any irritation on Sydney’s part would only exacerbate his fear.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He assured the man for the third time. “I’m supposed to work with her, to help her utilize her intelligence.”
“She’s just a baby.” The man whimpered. “What do you want with her?”
“Right now? Just to meet her and get to know her a little.”
“It’s okay, Mister.” Kiara had silently crept closer to the terrified man, drawn by his obvious pain, and she patted his knee reassuringly with her small hand. “Sydney is a nice man. He won’t hurt us.”
To Sydney’s amazement, the man finally began to calm, fixing Kiara with a pleading look.
“Really? He won’t hurt her? He won’t take her away?”
“No, he can’t.” Kiara answered with the brutal honesty of a young child. “He’s stuck here too.”
“My name is Sydney.” The psychologist offered gently, willing to take advantage of any opening he could get. “I’m going to be taking care of you for a while. What’s your name?”
It was the wrong question to ask. The man hadn’t gone to the Renewal wing, as Sydney suspected, but had been turned over to Lyle instead. He didn’t have Jarod’s training or formidable will to see him through the torture and he’d broken like a dry stick. Lyle had told him he had no name, no past, and no future, and Steven Bartlett didn’t have the confidence anymore to say otherwise.
“Steve!” The dimpled cherubim in his arms cried happily for her father, thrilled to be the center of attention. “Steven Bartlett! Daddy!”
Kiara giggled, Sydney smiled, and the man focused his gaze on the child as if she was his lifeline. And she was his lifeline, the only area that Lyle hadn’t been able to touch, no matter what cruelty he’d resorted to. His daughter was the only reason he was still alive and able to function at all. His need to protect and care for her was the only foundation in his world now.
“Well, little one,” Sydney smiled directly at the little girl, noting absently that her blond curls looked nothing like the wavy brown hair her father boasted. “What is your name, then?”
“Midori.” She grinned widely. She had a mouthful of teeth, but she also had noticeable gaps between them, indicating that she was just beginning to cut them. Sydney guessed that she was somewhere between a year and 18 months in age.
“And what does Midori like to do?” Sydney wisely kept his focus on the child, noting the man’s gradual relaxation as he did so.
“Bounce!” She demonstrated enthusiastically, flexing her tiny knees and bobbing up and down like a buoy on the high sea. Her father instinctively firmed up his hold on her, not preventing the activity, but ensuring that the energetic child wouldn’t go flying out of his arms.
“Kiara and I were just going to meet the other little girl here, would you like to join us?” Sydney included both father and daughter in that question, receiving an excited “yes” from Midori and a frightened “no” from Steve.
“You don’t have to,” Sydney assured the man. “But I’d like you to. I was hoping you’d show me around afterwards.”
“I’ve only been to the kitchen.” The man declared, watching Sydney anxiously. “I didn’t go anywhere else.”
“That’s fine.” Sydney soothed. “From now on you can go anywhere within the complex that you want to, except someone else’s room, of course. You don’t have to go anywhere tonight---we’ll see each other again in the morning, okay?”
“Yes!” The man was nearly trembling with relief as Sydney stood and took Kiara’s hand.
“It’s okay, Mister Bartlett.” Kiara gravely assured him again. “Mr. Sydney doesn’t want to hurt us. He likes us.”
Sydney wondered as he walked to the last child’s room, just what he’d done to earn the little girl’s trust. He wasn’t displeased by it, just curious, and slightly guilty about it. She obviously didn’t know just how little power he truly had, or how misplaced her trust was.
The third child looked up warily from the small wooden desk in her room, her hand going instinctively to cover the picture she was drawing on the sketch pad. She was the oldest of the lot, around 8 or 9 years, and seemed quite comfortable compared to Steve Bartlett and even Kiara.
“Hello, I’m Sydney. I’m going to be taking care of you for a while.” Sydney told her, starting to feel a little like a tape recorder. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Tasida.” She answered softly, her slight accent giving the words a musical sound.
Sydney was reassured by her calm after his encounter with Mr. Bartlett. He studied her for a moment, realizing that she was clearly of Asian/American parentage, and quite pretty with her blue-black hair falling nearly to her waist, and her startling blue eyes that were nearly identical in hue to those of the girl standing by his side. A suspicion as to her possible paternity took root in his mind.
“Where are you from, Tasida?” He asked, maintaining his gentle tone and demeanor.
“I was taken from an orphanage in Japan when I was her age.” Tasida told him calmly, pointing at Kiara. “I stayed at the Centre in Tokyo until a week ago. Then I was brought here.”
“What is that you’re drawing?” He asked, craning his neck for a look.
“The man who brought me here. He took me from the orphanage too.” She didn’t move her hand from covering the picture, but Sydney didn’t need to see the face to have a pretty good idea who it was.
He glanced down at Kiara, wondering what the child’s reaction to the other girl was. The intent look she was giving Tasida held more than a bit of a shock, and he couldn’t interpret the emotion behind the expression. Tasida’s eyes flickered briefly when they met Kiara’s, as if she’d been startled, but she quickly lowered them to hide their expression. Sydney’s puzzled frown deepened as he watched the silent byplay between the two girls.
:You can hear me.: Kiara declared to the other girl’s mind.
:How did you do that?: Tasida’s mental “voice” was hesitant.
:Same way you just did.: Kiara replied, a hint of humor coloring the flavor of her thoughts. :I’ve never met a person I could “talk” to, but I knew I would someday. There are more of us somewhere. I think the baby is one too, but she’s too young yet.:
:Does he know we can do this?:
:Not yet.: Kiara’s uncertainty came clearly through her message. :I think he’s okay, but I’m not all the way sure yet.:
“Will you play with me tomorrow?” Kiara suddenly asked Tasida out loud.
:We can talk more then.: She added silently.
:You know that this is a dangerous place and the people here mean us no good, don’t you?: Tasida cautioned, feeling a kinship that she wasn’t sure she wanted to have with the other child.
:Of course I do! I’m not a baby, you know.: Scorn and indignation colored Kiara’s reply.
:I know that.: Tasida’s response was as serene as her expression. :I just wanted to point out that we probably don’t want them to know we can do this, so we shouldn’t do it very often.:
:Oh. Kiara was chagrined and flushed slightly as she absorbed that subtle rebuke.
“Okay.” Tasida answered Kiara’s question about play only a few seconds after it was asked and the two girls, with eyes that were an identical shade of blue, almost smiled at each other.
“Would you like to explore the area with Kiara and I?” Sydney asked, hoping that she’d say no.
Worry for Miss Parker, concern about his current situation, and outright fear that he couldn’t protect these children suddenly caught up with him, and he was feeling very tired and old. He wanted nothing more than a hot cup of tea and bed.
“No, thank you.” Tasida told him, for all the world as if she was responding to his unspoken wish. “I want to draw some more.”
“I think I want to go back to my room too.” Kiara announced abruptly, as they left Tasida and headed back down the hall.
“Is something wrong?” Sydney asked her, worried that he’d upset her somehow.
There had been a time in his life when he wouldn’t have cared, or would have told himself he didn’t care, if he’d upset a child. Now, however, he felt impelled to make these children as comfortable and happy as possible.
“No.” She assured him cheerfully. “I’m just a little tired. They wouldn’t let me out of my room after I bit the lady who tried to give me a shot.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A long, long time.” Kiara told him. “I ate lots of times and slept a whole bunch too.”
A long time to a child is generally very different than a long time to an adult, but Sydney suspected that she’d been kept to that small room for at least a week, and probably more. The punishment was obviously extreme, particularly given that Kiara’s response to the situation she’d been thrust into was a perfectly natural one for a small child. A headache began to pound at his temples as Sydney finally admitted that he was in way over his head. He didn’t have a clue how to keep himself safe from their captors, much less the children.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Sydney.” Kiara promised him as he tucked her into bed. “Everything will be okay.”
“Oh, it will, will it?” He smiled indulgently down at the little girl, unaware that his attempt to hide his concern failed utterly. “And how do you know that?”
“I just do.” She grinned impishly. “I’m glad you’re taking care of us.” She added seriously. “I’m not a-scared anymore.”
“Good.” Sydney had to swallow down the lump that her simple trust left in his throat. “Sleep well, little one.” He added softly, turning out the light and closing her door behind him.
’I’m getting too old for this.’ He thought tiredly as he made his way to the office/bedroom down the hall. ’I wish Jarod was here.’
*****
“Damn, damn, damn, damn!” Jo kicked the back tire as she concluded her diatribe, and then immediately dropped to the ground to clutch her painful toe.
“Feeling better?” Melisande questioned with restrained amusement. Jo glared at her from under dark, unruly bangs.
“Listen, Sandy, I am hot, tired, hungry and just a little irritable. Now is not the best time to egg me on!” Jo growled.
“My name is Melisande.” She responded firmly. “And who is the one who told you to pull into that last rest stop because the engine sounded bad?”
Melisande went to the front of the small RV and lifted the hood to look at the engine. Jo grumbled and made her way into the vehicle, slamming the door on her way in to vent her frustration. Melisande just grinned and used the bandanna she’d confined her hair with to protect her fingers while she unscrewed the radiator cap. It was clear that she knew something about engines from the way she anticipated, and avoided, the billowing steam that immediately escaped the labored engine.
“So, what’s the prognosis?” Jo demanded sourly when the door opened a few minutes later and Melisande re-entered the RV to wash her greasy hands at the sink.
“I don’t suppose you have any oil in this crate?” Melisande asked without much hope.
“No. Why would I?”
“Because you’ve got an oil leak that makes the Mississippi look like a late summer creek.” She sighed and gave up on the black stains under her fingernails. “You’ve also got a hole in your radiator hose. If we’re going to go anywhere in this we need to carry crates of oil and gallons of water, or find some Percherons to pull it for us.”
“Percheron?”
“Draft horses---big.” Melisande explained succinctly.
“So you’re saying this is a piece of---“
“Yep.” She cut off the rest of her companion’s sentence. “That pretty well sums it up. You could buy a new RV for the money it would cost us to fix it up. On the other hand, we’re halfway through Wyoming. Why don’t we just catch a plane from here? If we pay cash no one will know who we are or where we’re going.”
“And just how do we get from the middle of nowhere to an airport?” Jo looked expressively at the wide, flat terrain surrounding them, with the craggy mountains miles away on either side of them.
“Hitchhike.” Melisande lips thinned as she finally lost control of her temper.
Jo had been treating her like a brainless doll, rather than accepting her as the capable adult she was, and she was sick and tired of it. Jo had ignored her warnings about the vehicle, overridden her suggestion not to take the RV over the mountains, but go around them to save the engine, and even now that she’d been proven correct, Jo continued to treat her like an airhead---Melisande’s blood was starting to boil.
She grabbed her soft carry all and slung it over one shoulder. Her purse was thrown over the other shoulder, and she stopped to look at Jo before she stepped out the door, willing to offer her one last chance to see sense.
“Of course, we’ll have to walk until someone actually comes along---but this part of the country actually has people who might help us out of the goodness of their hearts.”
Jo sighed and grabbed a backpack from an overhead compartment.
“Okay, you’re right and I was wrong.” She gritted out unwillingly as she began to shove clothing haphazardly into the bag. “Just give me a chance to throw a few things into this and I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll make a few sandwiches.” Melisande offered magnanimously, her anger vanishing in an instant.
All she wanted was for Jo to accept her as an equal partner, rather than treating her like a useless burden. She understood that Jo had been forced into a position of relying only on herself and that the other woman was afraid to trust anyone right now, but she also knew they needed to work as allies if they were going to succeed in finding their families and rescuing them from the Centre. They simply couldn’t afford Jo’s superiority complex.
“I’m sorry.” Jo finally said with sincerity, turning to face Melisande as she zipped the backpack closed. “I’ve been treating you like a bimbo, and I had no justification. I guess I was trying to feel more in control, more capable.”
“We’re both scared and feeling overwhelmed.” Melisande agreed softly, knowing that anything but a gracious response would bring back at atmosphere of competition that they didn’t need.
“Are we going to make it?” Jo asked, tears welling as her tough facade crumbled. “Are we going to get our babies back?”
“Yes!” Melisande responded fiercely. “Don’t you know that nothing on earth can compete with a mother defending her young? We’re going to get them back if we have to tear the Centre apart brick by brick! And Jarod is helping us too.”
“But you delivered him to those Centre people!”
“And why do you think he let me do that?” Melisande demanded bracingly. “He’s hoping that he’ll end up with our families. He sacrificed his freedom to help us. It will work out, Jo, you’ll see.”
“It will, won’t it?” Jo repeated slowly, truly optimistic for the first time since she’d been accused of the murder of her husband and daughter.
Melisande smiled, and thrust a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in Jo’s free hand. She put the rest of the sandwiches she’d made into a plastic bag and opened the door for her partner. Around a mouthful of bread Jo asked;
“So, what were the names on your list?”
Melisande answered as they started down the rural highway.
*****
Jarod’s head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and his eyes were gummy and hard to open. Still, he persevered and managed to pry one eye open and look around. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Hello, Jarod.” Lyle smiled wolfishly down at him.
Jarod groaned and closed his eye again. He bolted up gasping a moment later when a bucket of icy water doused him.
“It isn’t polite to sleep when you have company, Jarod.” Lyle baited him, rising to stand just out of casual reach.
“You aren’t my idea of company.” Jarod gritted out grimly, glaring impotently at his captor.
“No one is particularly interested in your ideas, Jarod. Except, of course, when they pertain to a job we have for you to do. Now, Willie will be here in a minute to escort you to the showers. This time you will cooperate, won’t you? After all, you have to know by now that escape is impossible.”
“Why should I cooperate?” Jarod spat the words out bitterly. “What do you think you can do to me that would be worse than last time?”
Lyle’s genial façade vanished and he glared coldly at the Pretender.
“Don’t test me, boy!” He snapped furiously. “You have only tasted the barest hint of what I’m capable of.”
“I won’t work for you.” Jarod returned stubbornly, looking remarkably like a three year old who had been told to clean his room.
“You will.” There wasn’t the faintest hint of doubt in Lyle’s voice, and Jarod felt a shiver of dread go down his spine that had nothing to do with the pretense he was attempt to sell Lyle. He immediately reminded himself that he had chosen to return, that he was in control, but it didn’t help the icy core of fear that had taken residence in his gut the moment he’d conceived of this plan.
“Now, are you going to make yourself presentable for your coming visitor, or do I get to persuade you?” He practically purred the threat.
Jarod’s gaze fell uncertainly before he looked up again and squared his shoulders resolutely.
“I’ll cooperate.” He said with unconvincing bravado. “Simply because I suddenly feel quite dirty.”
Lyle laughed, confident that he’d cowed the other man.
“Whatever.” He allowed with a dismissive wave. “Make sure you look decent, though. I’m bringing someone very important to meet you.”
“Important how?” Though he tried to restrain it, a glimmer of hope shone in his face. Could they have a member of his family?
“Jarod, get this through your head right now. You have no desires, no needs, no wishes, except what we give you. You’ll find out who your visitor is when we want you to, and not before. Resign yourself to your position in life---it’s what you were bred for, after all.” Lyle lectured him with exaggerated patience, believing that he was reinforcing the message that Jarod was nothing but a remarkably dim-witted child.
Jarod’s response was a half-hearted glare that went a long way towards convincing Lyle that he’d accomplished exactly what he’d wanted to with the Pretender. Lyle departed the cell; satisfied with the results of this initial meeting. Jarod sank onto the wet cot, lowering his head into his hands, the very picture of dejection, while he waited for his escort to the showers.
’So,’ he thought grimly, by no means as cowed as he appeared. ’It was Lyle all along. Now, if only this important someone turns out to be the one behind Lyle. It’s past time I closed this place down for good.’
*****
“Miss Parker!” Broots hissed into the empty office.
“Up here, Broots.” Came Parker’s dry voice. Broots looked up and spotted her in the ventilation shaft.
“What are you doing there?” He questioned with amazement.
“Being inconspicuous. It was Angelo’s idea. What have you discovered?”
“Something is definitely going on. Supplies, food, books, all kinds of stuff has been ordered by Mr. Lyle. It’s delivered to our receiving bay, but then it just disappears! I’ve checked every single project going on in the Centre, and none of them sign off on the stuff, not even the secret projects.” Broots answered slowly.
“Well it isn’t going to SL-27. I checked, and it’s still deserted.” Parker informed the frustrated technician. “I’m going to have to come out of hiding and work on this problem with you. I need to show up sooner or later, anyway. Daddy apparently has Sweepers looking for me now.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Miss Parker.” Broots contradicted her gravely. “We still don’t know who tried to kill you. And we don’t know who took Sydney, or why, or if they’re looking for you too.”
“Well,” Parker replied with saccharine sweetness as she dislodged the grate to the vents. “We have to do something. We’re getting nowhere fast.”
She slid out of the shaft, grateful that Broots had brought her a trouser suit from home, rather than one of her mini-skirts.
“Have you at least found where they’re holding Jarod?” Parker asked, sidetracking the protest she saw forming on Broots’ lips.
“No, but---“
“Angelo knows.” Angelo cut him off, rescuing him from Parker’s ready temper in the process. “Same place as before.”
“Why would Lyle do that?” Broots wondered.
“Perhaps because Sydney is gone and I never saw the place?” Parker suggested with a razor sharp smile. “Apparently he doesn’t consider you a threat.”
“Or it’s a trap for us.” Broots bristled at the insult and Parker relented.
“You could be right, Broots, but we have to try to reach Jarod anyway.”
“No.” Once again Broots seemed to grow a few inches as resolution settled over his features. “I’ll go contact Jarod, you stay put. One of us needs to be free to act if this is a trap, and you’re the best candidate. You’ve got more authority than I do.”
“Damn it, Broots! I won’t let you go in by yourself.” Parker exploded quietly, more than making up for her earlier barbs by this show of concern. Broots almost smiled, but restrained himself just in time.
“Yes you will. You and Angelo will be our only hope if Lyle is lying in wait for us.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then I’ll talk to Jarod and see if there’s anything he can suggest to help.”
“I don’t like this, Broots.” Parker sighed. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You don’t.” Broots answered ruefully, still slightly amazed at himself for insisting on playing the hero. “And neither do I.”
*****
“Hello, everyone, I’m Sydney.” The psychologist studied the new faces before him, praying these were the last additions to the project. “I’ll be taking care of you for a while.”
Seven new faces gazed back at him from around the table, while Kiara smiled cheerfully at him and Tasida simply sat impassively. Midori and her father were seated at a separate table while he coaxed her breakfast oatmeal into her.
“While we’re waiting for our breakfast, why don’t we introduce ourselves?” He tried again, his heart sinking at the hostility and fear radiating from the faces of the new children. “Kiara, why don’t you start?”
He hoped with all of his heart that the cheerful preschooler would ease the worries of the other children. She beamed at him, accepting her place in the center of attention as her due.
“I’m Kiara.” She started obediently. “I met Mr. Sydney last night, and he’s really nice---you don’t have to be a-scared of him.”
“You can’t trust any of them!” The oldest boy, a sturdy 10 year old with bright red curls and brown eyes burst out grimly. “They’ll tell you anything just to get what they want from you.”
Sydney flattened his palm against the long, wooden table in amazement as he felt it start to vibrate. His eyes widened, but he maintained his silence, waiting to see what else developed.
“You can too trust Sydney!” Kiara defended stubbornly, her jaw jutting with determination that was pure Parker. “Angelo said so!” She added, as if that settled everything, which in her mind it did.
“And who’s Angelo?” The boy sneered. The vibration grew more noticeable and the next oldest of the children, a girl around 9 years old with long, strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes, looked down at the table with obvious dismay.
“Angelo is my friend.” Kiara informed him firmly, placing two small fists on her hips as she stood up from the table. “And you can trust him too!”
With that, she marched around to where Sydney sat at the end of the table, and crawled into his lap before he knew what she intended. Then she bestowed upon him a smile of such sweetness that he felt another lump form in his throat.
’I won’t let you down this time.’ He thought as he smiled down to her. ’I’ll work something out to save you all.’
He wasn’t sure who he was making that promise to; Jarod, Miss Parker, Kiara, or himself. All he knew for sure was that it wasn’t too late for him to make some real changes in himself, and he wasn’t going to miss this last chance to become the kind of person he’d always wanted to be. The kind of person he’d joined the Centre to be---an innovator, a scientist who improved the lot of all mankind.
Kiara patted his knee consolingly, almost as if she heard him.
“Please, tell us your name, young man.” Sydney asked the red-head gently, noting the fading of the table’s vibration and the other girl’s relief.
“I’m Gannas. I’m 10 years old, and I know your kind.” He replied antagonistically. “You say you’re a friend, and then you turn mean if we don’t do what you want us to.”
Sydney shushed Kiara before she could leap to his defense.
“Every person is different, Gannas.” He told the boy mildly. “You will be a lot happier if you learn to judge them on their own merits, rather than expecting them to fulfill your worst expectations of them.”
“And what do you want from us?” Gannas demanded suspiciously.
“What I want most of all,” Sydney told the boy with unmistakable sincerity, “is to keep you all safe.”
It was obvious that the boy would have like to scoff at that statement, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe he could hear the sincerity in his voice?
“And you, my dear?” Sydney asked the blond girl. “Who are you?”
“My name is Tasida.” She answered, keeping her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. “I’m 9 years old and I want to go home.”
Her voice caught on what could only be a sob, but she managed to hold back tears. A chorus of “Me too!” sounded around the table.
“I wish I could tell you that you could go home,” Sydney told them all. “But I’m not in charge of that decision.”
The attendants came then with breakfast, and Sydney let the introductions drop so the children could eat. He’d try again later; maybe one at a time while the other children played in the gym.
*****
“Look what I found, Mommy!” Kiara held her chubby, three-year-old hands up to her mother to reveal four tiny, hairless baby mice. “Can I keep ‘em?”
Another child would have looked hopeful, but Kiara just looked radiant. She knew that her mother would agree, her mother always agreed with her requests. Melisande sighed ruefully.
“You know how much work it will be to raise them, don’t you?” She asked.
“But I have to, Mommy. A mean ol’ cat killed their Mama. I have to take care of them!”
“Of course you do, my little rescuer.” Melisande relented lovingly, kneeling down to give her daughter a hug before she began rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards.
“Let me see if I remember their needs.” She smiled down at Kiara as she pulled down the supplies. “Goat’s milk, Karo syrup, eye droppers----I’ll get some food warmed up for them, you go prepare them a bed.”
“Can I turn on the heater for them?”
“Of course.”
The heater was a small radiant heater that had a permanent residence in Kiara’s room. It radiated enough heat to warm a small room, but never got hot enough to burn the youngster or any of her frailer patients. Best of all, if it somehow got tipped over, it turned off automatically, eliminating the risk of fire.
“You’re the best Mommy in the whole world!” Kiara exclaimed joyfully, gently cradling the tiny creatures to her chest.
“And you’re the best daughter.” Melisande whispered back, her eyes misting with proud tears.
She woke up abruptly, the sound of her daughter’s giggles in her ears. More tears filled her eyes and the ache in her heart and her arms grew almost unbearable.
“I miss my baby too.” Jo whispered compassionately from the seat next to her.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Melisande whispered back, dashing her tears from her face with a quick swipe of her hand. Better by far to plan the rescue of her child than cry for her absence.
The two women were on a midnight flight to the East Coast, and they were whispering in deference to the sleeping passengers around them. This flight would take them to Baltimore, Maryland, and then they’d board another bus to Blue Cove. But they’d avoided making plans beyond that point, as if it would jinx their mission if they did.
“Do you think we should go directly to your sister’s place?” Jo suggested, but without any real enthusiasm.
“No.” Melisande responded thoughtfully. “I’ve tried both Parker’s and Sydney’s phones several times since we left Washington and gotten a “The person you have called is not answering the phone…” message every time. I think we have to try this Broots fellow next.”
Jo frowned unhappily. “Jarod said to be careful of him---that he’s easily intimidated by the people in the Centre. I don’t like trusting someone who is easily intimidated.”
“Well, we don’t have a number for Angelo, so we’re stuck with Broots. I’ll keep trying Parker and Sydney if you want, but if we don’t get someone soon I might just march right up to the Centre’s front doors and demand my daughter back.”
“Right.” Jo replied dryly. “And then you’ll go directly to jail---no 200 dollars either. Surely the guy who you delivered Jarod to is looking for you by now.”
Melisande sighed, silently admitting the truth in Jo’s words.
“We’re going to have to think of something.” She grumbled quietly. “I’m not giving up now that we’ve gotten so close.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Jo assured her gently.
*****
“Rise and shine, Jarod. Company’s here.” Sam’s voice reached through Jarod’s hazy dreams of a loving family and brought him back to grim reality.
It had been hours since he’d been escorted to the showers, given a new set of “hospital” clothes, and returned to the grim cell. When it became clear that no one was going to come anytime soon, Jarod had removed the damp mattress from the cot and laid down on the lattice frame. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d drifted off to sleep anyway, possibly because of the remains of the drug in his system.
“Why, if it isn’t amiable Sweeper Sam!” Jarod grinned sardonically. “Bought any new jackets lately?”
“Remember which side of the bars you’re on, Lab Rat.” Sam snarled. “And be polite to the big guy.”
“So I finally get to meet him?” Jarod jibed. “Well, step out of the shadows and say hello.”
“Hello, Jarod.” A familiar voice said in response as a man did separate himself from the shadows and move into the light where Jarod could see him. “So good to see you again.”
“You!” The blood drained from Jarod’s head and he felt dizzy as he stared at the last face he’d expected to see. “You’re the brains of this outfit?”
*****
“What the hell is going on?” Parker muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in the roomy lab Sydney and Broots used as a working office, biting on a fingernail, and frowning blackly.
“What are they up to?” She murmured darkly.
“Whatever do you mean, Princess?” Mr. Parker’s jovial voice sounded from the doorway, stopping Parker in her tracks and scaring Broots half to death. “And where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Daddy!” Parker pasted on a rather unconvincing smile for her father. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
She paused to glare at Broots, who was edging for the door, sending him miserably back to his seat.
“I was in town.” She went on, her story becoming more convincing as she exerted herself to seem sincere. “I simply had the worst headache, and knew that no one but Simmons could get rid of it.”
“Simmons?”
“He’s a new chiropractor in Blue Cove, Daddy. I’m sure I mentioned him to you.” Parker widened her eyes, almost overdoing the imitation of innocence, and waited for her father’s reaction. Part of her actually hoped that he’d see through her pretense and give her an excuse to hurl the accusations she was holding down.
“Are you trying to say you’ve been in a chiropractor’s office since the day before yesterday?”
“Of course not.” Parker’s dismissive laugh was only slightly breathless. “I stayed over at the Ridpath when Simmons told me I needed a follow up visit the next day. They have the most marvelous hot tub there.”
“Hmmph! Well, call your father next time. I was worried.” Mr. Parker’s suspicious expression melted into mere annoyance.
Broots held his breath, afraid that Parker was going to fall for his concerned father act. It was very well done, but Parker’s brittle cordiality reassured him that she was still on her guard.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She assured him, with an well hidden undertone of distrust. “I promise to try and keep in touch from now on.”
“So how is the head?” Mr. Parker asked, changing tact abruptly.
“Just fine now.” Parker returned without hesitation. “But I can’t seem to find Sydney anywhere. Broots says he vanished sometime yesterday afternoon.”
Broots cringed as Mr. Parker leveled a stern look on him.
“He’s on a special mission for the Triumvirate.” He told his daughter a moment later.
“I can’t reach him on his cell phone either.” Parker probed again. “It’s been turned off.”
“I’ll try to get a message to him to call you.” Mr. Parker promised easily. “He’s in a delicate situation, and phone calls to him could compromise his position.”
“I see.” Parker packed a wealth of meaning into those two words. “Well, then I’ll just wait to hear from him. It might slow down our hunt for Jarod, though.”
“Jarod’s been captured, Angel.” Mr. Parker replied, watching his daughter’s reaction carefully. “Your brother brought him in late yesterday.”
“Really?”
If he’d expected to surprise a disappointed response from her, he was doomed to disappointment. Parker had been pretty sure Jarod was in Lyle’s hands since the night before, when Lyle answered his cell phone.
“Well, then, that’s fantastic.” She went on, manufacturing a happy smile. “Broots and I aren’t needed at all, are we?”
“Oh, I’ll always need you, Angel.” Mr. Parker assured her, although she had no idea if he was sincere or not. “But since you haven’t been feeling well I think you should take a few days off before we determine where to assign you next.”
“I’d like a little vacation.” Parker agreed slowly. “And I think Broots deserves one too.”
“Of course, Angel. You and Broots and Sydney have worked far too hard to bring Jarod in. We’ll see to it that Sydney gets a break just as soon as he gets back.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a week then, okay?” Broots wondered how Mr. Parker could miss the thinly disguised contempt in his daughters voice, but the man just held his arms out for an embrace. Parker gave him a perfunctory hug and a peck on the cheek, and gestured at Broots to follow her as she strode out of the laboratory.
“That was too close.” Broots shuddered, as he faithfully followed on Parker’s heels.
“Where did you hide the file Raines sent me?” Parker demanded abruptly.
“I re-mailed it to your house. It should get there today.” Broots followed Parker’s erratic changes of conversation with the ease of long practice. “Why? Are you starting to believe it’s true?”
“It fits.” She answered grimly. “It fits all too well.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“First, you’re going to see Jarod. Then, we’re going to figure out where they’ve stashed Sydney.” Parker replied decisively. “And then we’re going to find my sister.”
*****
“Well, Sydney, what’s your preliminary assessment of the children?” Lyle asked, his smile full of anticipation as he studied the older man.
“You realize that it’s way to soon for me to know anything, don’t you?” Sydney answered tiredly, keeping his eyes firmly on his notes.
He’d finally gotten the names and ages of the rest of the children, along with some ideas of which ones had families and which ones didn’t, but it had been a difficult task. Every single one of them regarded him with suspicion at the very least, and most of them were actively afraid.
The three youngest boys, Timmit, Mattais, and Ricard, all about 3 years old, were so frightened of him they’d barely look at him, much less talk to them. It wasn’t until Tilena came and helped him that he could coax anything out of them. The advantage to that was that Tilena seemed to be warming to him---she’d seemed quite surprised by his patience with the timid youngsters.
The other two boys, 6 year old identical twins named Merwan and Geshke, were by far the most outspoken of the lot. Perhaps it was the obvious bond they shared, to the point where one often finished the other’s sentence, or it might just be that unlike the others, they didn’t feel completely isolated from their families. After all, they had each other, didn’t they? As far as they seemed to remember, each other was all they had ever had, anyway. It lead Sydney to believe that they had been one of the children produced and raised in one of the many branches of the Centre.
So far Sydney suspected three of the children were clones. Timmit, with his fine brown hair and deep brown eyes, was the spitting image of Jarod when he’d first arrived at the Centre. Mattais, his hair a fine, straight blond, and his eyes the pale blue that Angelo still sported, looked like young Timmy, and, of course, Kiara, who was the image of young Miss Parker.
“I haven’t had enough time to be sure, but it seemed to me that Tilena was answering questions for the youngest boys that she had no way of knowing the answers to. Until last night, none of them had been together, had they?”
“No.” Lyle’s eyes gleamed avariciously, and Sydney felt compelled to warn him that he was celebrating too soon.
“Lyle, I could be mistaken.”
“I may not trust you, Sydney, but I trust your instincts.” Lyle replied gleefully. “If you think you saw something extraordinary, you probably did.”
“There’s another problem.” Sydney said reluctantly.
“What?”
“If you’re going to be bringing in more children I won’t be able to work with them. These ones are going to take all of my time and attention.”
“We do have more children coming in, but I’ve already arranged for you to have some help.”
“Who?” Sydney tried to repress his alarm, but suspected that Lyle picked up on it anyway.
“You’ll see.” Lyle smiled his most condescending smile and strolled out the door.
“Oh, and Sydney?” He added just before he walked out. “Keep the monkey with you, or I’ll order him shot on sight.”
Sydney just sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, just how his life had come to this pass.
*****
“Hsst! Jarod!”
“Go away.” The shattered man groaned, not even looking up.
“It’s me, Broots!”
“Go away, Broots. I can’t help myself, much less anyone else.” Jarod repeated numbly.
Broots thought quickly. As far as he knew, Jarod had never been so distraught. He couldn’t even remember having seen a DSA where Jarod was so upset he was literally despairing.
“Jarod, what happened?” He asked urgently.
“He was here!” Jarod responded, less than helpfully. “He’s behind everything!”
“He who?”
Jarod just looked at Broots blankly, obviously still in shock.
‘Okay,’ Broots thought to himself, ‘they’ve managed to shake him up good. How can I undo this?’
“Look, I don’t know what happened Jarod,” Broots began slowly, but thinking fast, “but you’ve got to remember, this is the Centre! Whatever----whoever you think you saw, there’s got to be a logical explanation. What if the Centre was threatening him? What if it’s just someone made to look like him? What if---“ Broots faded lamely, running out of “what ifs”.
It was sufficient, though. Color began to creep into Jarod’s face as he realized the Broots had a point. Nothing was what it seemed where the Centre was involved. What he’d seen wasn’t necessarily what he thought he’d seen.
“You’re right, Broots.” He said, amazement in his voice. “I can’t give up yet.”
“Besides, Parker needs you. And so do Sydney and I.” He added with considerable boldness, hoping Jarod would give him some clue as to whether he’d seen Sydney or not.
“Well, I’m not exactly in the position to help anyone.” Jarod replied, with a touch of his normal humor. “So I hope you’ve got a backup plan.”
“As long as we know you’re still here.” Broots muttered softly. “I’d better go tell Parker you’re okay.”
“Not okay,” He contradicted the smaller man, “but better.”
“I’ll be back.” Broots melted into the shadows, leaving Jarod alone once again.
:See?”: Kiara thought triumphantly to the other children. :“I told you he was good!:
:He may be a good man,: the ever practical Tilena pointed out, :but he’s as much a prisoner as we are.:
:He has friends. Friends who know where to look for him.: Tasida countered. :That’s more than the rest of us have.: :They haven’t found him yet, have they?: Gannas rebutted cynically. :Angelo will bring them here.: Kiara avowed with confidence. :Angelo is our friend.:
:He’s leaving the office!: Tasida warned. :Everyone in their beds, no more talk!:
Although the children were each in their solitary rooms, the scrambled as one to get under the covers and present their most innocent faces. The rat that Kiara had been sing to spy on Lyle and Sydney scampered through his private tunnel system to pick up the bread reward Kiara had promised him, placed just inside the hole that led to her room under her bed. Sydney had no idea that the children had been plotting during his absence.
*****
“What now?” Jo asked wearily. They’d been traveling for two days straight, and both women had been living under tremendous stress for months before that. They were both bone tired, but Melisande seemed to be driven by some force outside of herself to find her sister.
“We find my sister. Meredith.” She spoke the name tentatively, trying it on for size. “We find Meredith.”
“How? You’ve gotten no answer at any of your calls to her house.”
“I’m going to call a cab and go to her house to wait. You’re welcome to check into a hotel if you’d like and wait for me in comfort.”
“No,” Jo sighed regretfully. “We’re in this together. But we don’t take a cab to her house---cabs can be traced. We’ll rent something---something small and unobtrusive.”
“Thanks, Jo.” Melisande smiled gratefully, transforming her drawn features into radiant beauty for a few moments. “I’m glad I’m not alone in this.”
“No problem.” Jo smiled back with a hint of her former carefree good humor and pointed her friend to the cabby that had just pulled up in front of the bus depot. “Let’s go get some wheels, then we’ll locate Meredith.”
“Yes.” The word was filled with longing, urgency, and trepidation. “Yes, let’s go.”
*****
“Did it work?” Lyle asked the man, contentedly eyeing the screen that showed Jarod’s huddled body on the hard cot.
“It was quite effective. I think that after you’ve worked with him for a while tonight, along with the drug we’ve added to his water, that he’ll be quite malleable.” The man, seated behind a large desk made of dark walnut swung his leather chair around and smiled fondly at Lyle.
“I get a free hand?” Lyle’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“No!” The man raised his hand commandingly. “I want him able to work with the children as soon as possible. Do not damage him permanently, and don’t mar him in any way that might frighten the children.”
Lyle’s face fell with disappointment.
“Yes, Sir.” He agreed reluctantly.
“There are always the battery and jumper cables.” The man offered soothingly.
Lyle brightened, and left the office with a jaunty step, barely acknowledging his father as he passed him just inside the door.
“So how’d it go?” Mr. Parker asked abruptly, ignoring his son just as thoroughly as the other ignored him.
“See for yourself.” The man Jarod knew of as Major Charles gestured towards the computer screen on his desk, and the shivering man it portrayed.
“Excellent!” Mr. Parker breathed, all but rubbing his hands together with glee. “I think this time we’ve got him!”
*****
“Don’t call me Meredith.” Parker told the strangely familiar woman numbly. “My name’s Parker.”
“Miss Parker?” Broots’ voice sounded from inside the living room. “Who is it?”
“I---I think it’s…” Parker’s voice trailed off dazedly.
She turned abruptly from her guests and stumbled back into her living room, moving straight past Broots and into the studio room that she hardly ever entered. The two women on her doorstep looked at each other in consternation before walking through the open door. Well, Jo walked through it, and dragged the reluctant Melisande with her.
“We don’t want to be seen at her front door, do we?” She hissed in response to Melisande’s inarticulate protest.
She casually kicked the front door shut with her foot and headed into the room, Melisande following slowly. Melisande studied everything, noting the sparse decor, the scotch decanter on the sideboard, the open door on the far end of the room. She didn’t notice Broots, staring at her in fascination, but Jo did.
“Who’re you?” She demanded of him truculently.
“I-I—I’m Broots.” He stuttered miserably, his attention distracted from the other woman who looked so much like Parker.
“Broots.” Jo murmured thoughtfully. “Yes, your name was on the list.”
“What list?” Broots looked longingly at the open door leading to the studio room. He wished he could just walk after Miss Parker, the way that woman who had known, and used, Parker’s first name was, but a gut instinct warned him to leave the two women alone.
For all of her determination to find the sister she’d just learned about, Miss Parker was completely thrown off balance to have her show up on her doorstep before she’d even begun to search for her. The resemblance between them was unmistakable, and now that it was too late for second thoughts, she was wondering if she really wanted to get to know another surprise sibling.
“Never mind.” Jo answered shortly, all too aware of the possibility of bugs.
“Let’s make some tea or something.” Broots suddenly suggested, desperate for something to do. “I think we all could use a nice hot drink.”
“Or a shot.” Jo countered with a longing look at the scotch decanter. But she didn’t move towards it. She knew they were all going to need clear heads to plan out their next move.
“Don’t worry about bugs.” Broots went on with more confidence, now that he was speaking about something he understood. “I’ve planted some jamming devices that will screw up anything they might have snuck in here while Parker was gone. We’re safe as long as we don’t try to use the phone.”
“Okay, we’ll make some tea, or hot cocoa, or something while those two get acquainted.” Jo agreed reluctantly, throwing a faintly worried look towards the studio door. The two women inside the studio could be heard murmuring, but nothing they said was understandable to her.
Inside the studio Parker was handing Melisande a photo album. Both women looked apprehensive and uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should sit down while you show me these?” Melisande asked nervously.
“Okay.” Parker agreed briefly, still struggling to regain her composure.
After having Lyle sprung on her as a twin, she was understandably reluctant to learn of any new siblings, but something about Melisande drew her. Part of it could be the fact that even though she looked more like their mother, Melisande seemed to be the one who had her warmth, her generous heart, her open optimism. Parker wished that she could believe that Melisande wasn’t her sister, just being around her made her far too aware of her personal inadequacies, but something inside of her cried out that Melisande was more her mother’s daughter than she was.
“Let’s sit together on the couch.” Melisande suggested impulsively, reminding Parker even more of their mother as she continued, “You can tell me who everyone is.”
The smile she bestowed upon Parker was tremulous; hope for belonging, willingness to care, and fear of rejection all rolled into it. Parker found her lips curving into a warm, understanding smile in return. She didn’t know it, but at that moment she looked like Catherine Parker at her best.
“Okay.” She agreed, her initial caution dissolving beneath the force of Melisande’s compassionate nature.
Lyle was a cold, self-absorbed, sociopath, the exact opposite of Melisande’s humanity. She didn’t have to fear another warped relationship where this sibling was concerned. A part of Parker that she’d never allowed to show after Faith’s death came out and deepened Parker’s smile and brought a warm glow to her normally cold blue eyes.
“This is Daddy and Mom on their wedding day.” She began, pointing to the smiling couple on the first page.
“She looks just like you!” Melisande gasped. A warm glow of happiness kindled in Parker’s stomach. She wasn’t sure if she liked the unfamiliar sensation, but had to admit that it felt nice.
“This is Mom with me, as a baby.” Next to her Melisande gasped, running a trembling finger along the baby’s face.
“Do you have more pictures of you as a baby?” She whispered fearfully.
Parker was mystified, but willingly turned to more pictures of herself as an infant and toddler. She was astounded to see a tear trickling down Melisande’s face as she devoured the pictures with her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Melisande?” She spoke the name with some difficulty, an unexpected lump of emotion clogging her throat.
In response Melisande pulled a wallet out of her purse and turned to the transparencies holding the pictures. Another tear trickled down her cheek as she pointed to a picture of a smiling, auburn haired tot.
“Where’d you get that picture?” Parker breathed, inexplicably frightened. Melisande flipped the page and Parker saw the next picture, of the child snuggled happily in Melisande’s arms, while Melisande smiled lovingly down at her.
“She’s my daughter.” She choked out. “She was kidnapped several months ago.”
“Where’s her father?” Parker asked, fighting down rising dread. She had an awful feeling about this…
“She doesn’t have one.” Melisande answered steadily. “When I left the hospital, after I recovered from the auto crash that killed my parents, I discovered I was pregnant with her.”
’Dear God, is she…?’ Parker couldn’t bring herself to ask the question burning in her heart, not even to herself. ‘No, not even the Centre could do that.’ She assured herself.
“I’m not sure who Kiara is, except that she’s my daughter and I love her. We’ve got to get her back.” Melisande told her new sister. “Nothing else matters. “
“You think the Centre took her?” Broots asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Jarod did.” Melisande confirmed sadly. “That’s why he let me turn him over to the Sweepers.”
“Sydney!” Broots exclaimed suddenly, the light of enlightenment practically making his face glow. “That’s why he’s gone!”
“If we find Sydney, we find Kiara, is that what you’re saying?” Parker questioned, just to clarify her own thoughts.
“How can we find him, though?” Broots asked.
The two were now completely focused on each other, ignoring Jo and Melisande. It wasn’t intended as an insult, they were just so used to working with each other that they had forgotten about their guests for the moment.
“I think we should sleep on it.” Jo suggested practically, eyeing the wall clock. It was close to midnight, and it had been a very long day already. As much as she wished she could find her daughter and husband right that minute, her practical side said that it was highly unlikely that any of them could be very effective as tired as they all were.
“She’s right.” Melisande seconded wearily. “We’re in no shape to be plotting anything.”
“You don’t know what the Centre’s capable of.” Parker contradicted grimly.
“I think I might know more about that than you do.” She shot back firmly. “They aren’t going to hurt Kiara now if they haven’t already. We won’t do them any good trying to rescue them tired and cranky.”
“Fine!” Parker gave in with ill-grace. “Broots, you can have the guest room. Mel, you can sleep with me, Jo, I guess that leaves the couch for you.”
“No problem, Meredith.” Melisande responded with saccharine sweetness, irritated that Parker had used that hated nickname for her. “Just point me to the linen closet and I’ll help Jo get a bed made up.”
Broots winced in anticipation of Parker’s explosion, but instead she gave her sister a wry grin and mouthed “Touché!” to her. Melisande’s return grin was friendly, but satisfied too. She had a strong feeling that Parker was the sort who responded better to those who stood up for themselves.
“C’mon.” Parker said decisively, leading the way to the linen closet. “I’ll help Broots make up the guest bed while you two make up the couch. My----sister,” Parker said the word wonderingly, but with increasing warmth, “is right, we need to tackle this with clear heads.”
“What about your daughter?” Jo asked Broots suddenly, remembering the notation on the list that Jarod had given her. “Where’s she? Is she okay?”
“Debbie is fine.” Broots replied calmly. “She was visiting her Aunt and Uncle in New York when this all started---I told them she’d have to stay indefinitely when I had to rescue Parker a couple of days ago.”
“What did you have to rescue Parker from?” Jo wondered.
“In the morning.” Parker interrupted firmly, piling sheets and blankets into the arms of the people around her. “We’ll go over everything in the morning and then we’ll make a battle plan. This time the Centre won’t win.”
“Jarod said something to me before he---left.” Melisande said thoughtfully. “Something about Parkers being the Centre. He seemed to think that you and I working together would make the difference. He told me to find you, you know.”
“He did?” Parker asked, touched. “Well, for once I think he was right. Together, Melisande, together we’ll set things right at the Centre.”
“Together, Parker.” Melisande agreed contentedly.
*****
Sydney sat at his desk, making notes of his observations during the day. The children were going to be a challenge, that much he could tell already. He really didn’t know if any of them were Pretender potential, but he knew he had to keep them all under his care somehow. They had extended abilities, of that he was confident. Gannas and Tilena were quite probably telekinetic, as impossible as that still seemed, and all of them had a tendency to stare silently at each other, making him suspect telepathy. The scientist in him tried to insist that his suspicions were impossible, but the realist in him insisted that nothing was impossible where the Centre was concerned.
His concerns for the children, his need to find an excuse to keep them under his care, and his formless fears for the future made the mere thought of sleep an impossibility. He was still seated at his desk, alternately writing and staring into space and thinking, when Willie and another Sweeper dragged Jarod into the office, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.
“Your new assistant, Doc.” Willie explained sarcastically. “He should be helpful, but if he isn’t give us a yell. Mr. Lyle wasn’t too happy when the big guy made him quit---he’d welcome the excuse to resume his persuasion.”
Willie roughly prodded Jarod in the ribs, bringing forth a groan, and prompting the battered man to curl into a defensive ball. He grinned and drew back his foot for another prod when Sydney moved, pushing him back into the hall with a firm hand to the Sweeper’s chest.
“That’s enough!” He exploded quietly, mindful of the children down the hall. “I’ll handle it from here.”
He came to a halt in the doorway, standing protectively in the doorway, interspersing his body between Willie and Jarod.
“See that you do.” Willie threatened smoothly, glaring at Sydney, who he’d never really liked. “Or Mr. Lyle might just get a chance at you too.”
“You’ve done your job, now get out.” Sydney glared back heatedly.
Willie complied, reluctance written in his movements.
“Just make sure he cooperates!” Willie managed one last threat. “Or it will go badly for both of you.” He slammed the sturdy metal door at the end of the hallway firmly behind them, sliding the deadbolt shut with a decisive click.
Sydney ignored them, turning his attention to Jarod’s huddled form.
“Jarod, are you okay? Can you talk to me?” He queried urgently, rolling Jarod gently over onto his back.
“I’ll live.” Jarod whispered hoarsely, not bothering to open his eyes. “I hurt like hell, though, and I’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”
“Let me help you to the cot and see what I can do for you.” Sydney urged, tugging insistently on Jarod’s arm when it seemed like he was going to pass out where he was.
Superficially there didn’t seem to be much wrong with him. He had a cut lip and a purple bruise graced one cheekbone from where Lyle had gotten too excited and backhanded him. He also had some welts and obvious burns on his upper arms and his wrists were chaffed and swollen from the manacles that had restrained him. It wasn’t until Sydney peeled off the navy blue T-shirt Jarod was wearing, though, that the extent of his mistreatment became clear.
Livid, thin, red welts crisscrossed his chest and back while purple-blue bruises dotted a painful counterpoint and seeping burns graced the rest. Very little of his upper torso had been spared and Sydney began to swear like a sailor, not even realizing he did so. Jarod smiled painfully, amused and touched by Sydney’s distress.
“It looks worse than it is.” He managed to tell him, his voice cracking from the strain of his previous yells and screams. “It’s all pretty superficial.”
“Shut up!” Sydney told him fiercely, his heart aching at yet another attack on the man that he’d finally discovered he loved as a son. “This isn’t some trifle. You rest here; I’m going to get something to dress these with.”
He turned and headed for the door, planning----well, he didn’t know what he planned, but he knew he was going to get something to ease Jarod’s pain somehow. Fortunately, Angelo met him at the door with a paper sack full of medical supplies.
“Jarod hurt.” Angelo informed Sydney unnecessarily, holding out the bag to him. “Sydney angry.”
“You’re damn right I’m angry!” Sydney snarled, snatching the bag from Angelo. “There was no reason to do this to Jarod! It served no purpose!”
He busied himself sorting the supplies in the bag, trying to regain his control. He rarely become so emotional, but when he did it usually seemed to involve Jarod.
“Sure there was.” Jarod managed in the hoarse whisper that was all that was left of his voice. “It made Lyle’s whole evening. What did Willie mean when he said I was your assistant? What’s going on?”
“We’ll discuss it in the morning.” Sydney said firmly, beginning to smooth white Silvadine cream onto the burns with a gentle hand. “You need to rest now.”
“No, I need to know what devil’s deal you’ve made for me this time.” Jarod contradicted painfully, wincing from the pain from his abused vocal chords as much as from the pain of Sydney’s ministrations.
“I haven’t made any deal at all, Jarod.” Sydney countered, dark pain lurking in his eyes at Jarod’s accusation. “I’m as much a captive as you are.”
Jarod flushed slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt at hurting Sydney, but also needing to vent his anger somehow.
“Then what is it they want? They’ve got to know by now that I won’t do any more Sims for them.” Jarod argued.
“Help the children, Jarod.” Angelo said gravely, his sad blue eyes fixed on his friend.
“Help what children?” Jarod demanded, wondering if Lyle had actually been stupid enough to put him together with Jo and Melisande’s missing family.
“The children that Lyle apparently intends to use to jump-start the Pretender Program.” Sydney answered heavily, switching to an antibiotic ointment to daub on Jarod’s welts. “There are ten of them so far, ranging in age from approximately 18 months to 10 years old. The toddler has a man with her, her father, I think.”
“Is he all right, and the baby?” Jarod demanded, knowing instantly who they had to be.
“He’s fine physically, but I’m not sure how he is emotionally. The little girl is quite healthy, though. She’s also very bright.”
“Ten children?” Jarod repeated in shock, Sydney’s earlier words just now penetrating. “They have ten?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to assess them for the Pretender ability.” Sydney’s eyes were sad as he admitted that.
“How’d they get ten kids without me noticing?” Jarod wondered dazedly. “And what am I going to do now?”
“You’re going to take these and get some rest.” Sydney told him firmly, handing him two tablets and a paper cup of water.
How Angelo had gotten a hold of such powerful painkillers, Sydney didn’t know, but he was grateful that the quiet man had. Jarod needed to rest, and these would see to it that he did. Jarod took the medication absently, force of habit making him obey Sydney while his mind was so preoccupied with the problem the extra children posed his half-formed plans.
“Tell me about the children.” Jarod demanded suddenly, fixing Sydney with a demanding stare.
“After you lay down.” Sydney countered firmly. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve been through an ordeal; you need to build up your strength.”
“Okay.” Jarod grumbled, but complied, climbing gingerly between the clean sheets of the cot.
“Well, Gannas is the oldest. He’s quite angry, which makes me wonder how long he’s been here and how he’s been treated. Tasida is next, a beautiful young girl and full of compassion. She doesn’t remember any place but the Centre, apparently. Tilena is a newcomer, very protective of the younger children…” Sydney’s voice trailed off as Jarod’s eyes flickered shut and stayed that way.
“Sydney sleep too.” Angelo ordered softly, indicating the second cot that he’d set up along the far wall while Sydney had been busy with Jarod.
“What about you, Angelo?” Sydney protested wearily. He was exhausted by the day, but determined not to ignore Angelo’s needs.
“Angelo watch, Sydney sleep.” The quiet man declared firmly.
“If you’re sure...” Sydney sighed, his eyes closing as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was fast asleep before Angelo finished pulling up the covers over him.
Angelo settled himself into the comfortable leather chair behind the wooden desk and watched the two sleeping men with satisfaction. He had always loved Jarod, much like a brother, and he’d come to care very much for Sydney too. Sydney’s efforts to restore him to normalcy hadn’t gone unnoticed, even though Angelo had no verbal way to thank him. Now, though, Jarod and Sydney were back together and together they would put things right. Angelo had complete faith in the two of them, and knew that Miss Parker and Broots were also working to fix things. He knew, even though he didn’t know how, that soon the Centre would be restored to it’s former purpose---helping people. All he needed to do now was watch and wait.
*****
It was hot, too hot. He couldn’t breathe and fear clogged his throat when he tried to scream. He moaned helplessly, trapped in an invisible bubble.
“Don’t be afraid, mister.” A childish voice reassured him as a small hand slid comfortingly into his own large one. “It’s only a dream.”
“I know.” Jarod replied, realizing suddenly that he’d always known he was dreaming during his nightmares. “But it’s a scary dream.”
“We’ll help you.” Another young voice promised.
Two tow-headed, curly haired boys stepped out of the shadows surrounding him, and climbed into the bubble with him, settling themselves against his chest and throwing their arms around his neck.
“We’ll stay with you.” They promised in one voice.
“Who are you?” Jarod demanded wonderingly, looking at the circle of solemn little faces surrounding him.
He wasn’t afraid, in fact the two boys hugging him so tightly had loosened the bonds of loneliness and fear that had held him and filled him with a reassuring warmth.
“We’re the children, Jarod.” The dark haired, Asian girl with incongruous blue eyes, answered gravely.
“We’re you.” A little dark haired boy asserted seriously.
“We’re your friends.” The blond girl declared quietly.
“I don’t understand.” Jarod protested in confusion.
“It’s okay.” The little girl holding his hand turned her familiar blue eyes on him, her grip tightening comfortingly. “We don’t understand either, but we know it will be okay.”
Jarod’s head fell back slowly, oblivion claiming him again, but this time peacefully.
“Did we do it right?” Kiara asked the dark form in the shadows.
“You did it just right.” Angelo approved, stepping into the dim light. “He’ll sleep better now.”
“We’ll stay with him.” The twins declared in unison. “We like him.”
“We all like him.” Tilena smiled softly. “But you two can stay with him for the first watch.”
“Now, back to your own rest.” Angelo urged. “Tomorrow will be another busy day.”
“You rest too.” The boy who looked so much like Jarod had when he was four declared. “We need you too.”
“Don’t worry about me, children.” Angelo assured them with a gentle smile. “I’m very good at taking care of myself.”
The light in the strange, dream-like place faded slowly away, leaving only Jarod and the twins sleeping peacefully.
*****
“So, is everything in place?” He asked the other two men pleasantly enough.
It didn’t fool them, though. Mr. Parker pulled nervously on his collar and Lyle’s face grew stiff.
“Jarod and Sydney are with the children, if that’s what you mean.” Lyle answered with a semblance of calm. “Angelo is probably with them. I’m sure they’ve already started plotting.”
“And your daughter?” The man asked Mr. Parker pointedly.
“She’s at our----her house.” He replied nervously. “The technician is with her.”
“And what is she doing?” He demanded irritably, feeling like he had to pull every tidbit from the man forcibly.
“I don’t know.” Mr. Parker admitted, trying to hide his growing anxiety. “Our bugs stopped working as soon as she and Broots got there. Broots must have rigged up some sort of jamming device.”
“I thought you told me that your daughter didn’t suspect anything, that she was a loyal tool?”
Of course the man asking this question knew the answer to his own query better than Mr. Parker did. He knew that Mr. Parker, who would cheerfully sell out his own mother if it would profit him, had blinders on where Miss Parker was concerned. Her mother may well have been the only person he’d ever really loved, and she was the spitting image of her mother. He wasn’t willing to see any signs of disloyalty in her, because he didn’t want to take action against her.
The man considered Mr. Lyle, standing seemingly calm and unconcerned before him. Would he be a safer control for the wild card that Miss Parker presented? Could he be trusted to keep her in line, no matter what it took? Could he be trusted, for that matter, not to go too far and kill her? The Centre had a vested interest in keeping her alive, after all. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing was in order. A little attitude adjustment, and then she and the Pretender could get to work on their other function----producing more little Pretenders.
Hmmm, he considered thoughtfully, taken with the idea. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing for both of them would be beneficial to the project in general? No, he corrected, remembering that he needed Jarod’s individuality to train the youngsters in the new bunker. If the man refused to cooperate, then he could go to the renewal wing. They’d strip his mind bare and remake it, even if it did mean losing is valuable ability to become whoever he wanted to be. In the meantime, he needed Sydney and Jarod to work together---to repeat whatever magic Sydney had worked the first time to produce Jarod. No one else in any of the Centre branches around the world had managed to produce a subject nearly as capable as Jarod----not even with the clones of the man they’d produced.
“What is the status on my brother and the boy?” The man demanded coldly of Lyle. “And when are you going to reel in the rest of my---dearest family?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
He hated his twin brother, the goody-two-shoes, the traitor. It had brought him no end of satisfaction to destroy his family and hound him for three decades. But his game had gotten out of hand. Margaret and Emily had been as elusive as a cloud in the desert, and Charles had vanished with the boy as thoroughly as hailstones in July. The boy was the closest they’d come to reproducing Jarod; lacking only a little in originality.
The plan had been to allow him some time with Charles, with a “real” father, to see if they could light that spark within him before bringing them both in. But one of them had realized the boy had a transmitter planted in him and managed somehow to remove it. It had taken them months to track down the goose whose collar Charles had planted the transmitter into and uncover the deception. They hadn’t even suspected the ruse until the damn thing had headed south for the winter!
“We still have no clues as to the whereabouts of Major Charles and the Clone.” Lyle said with a calm that he was far from feeling. He knew this kind of news could cost him his life. “But we’ve managed to locate Margaret---unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to be doing well.”
“What the hell do you mean?” He grated furiously. If that bitch escaped him now, even through the extreme of death, it would be too much!
“She’s been in a mental institution for the past six months---paranoid schizophrenia that is unresponsive to drugs. It would appear that her mind has simply snapped." Lyle told him, holding his breath as he waited for the man’s response. For a moment it appeared that the response would be an eruption, but he finally managed to restrain himself.
“Bring her in!” He finally managed to choke out around his anger. “I want her evaluated by our own men. Even if she’s mad as a hatter, she’ll be leverage to use against Jarod.”
“Very well.” Lyle agreed, keeping his own doubts as to the wisdom of this course of action to himself. “I’ll have her here at the Centre by this time tomorrow.”
“And Emily?” The man asked dangerously. “What’s the word on her apprehension?”
Lyle smiled a genuine smile for the first time that evening. He finally had good news on that front.
“I spoke to my man just before you called me in.” He began happily. “He thinks he’ll have her within the hour.”
“I want a report the instant he contacts you.” He growled, unwilling to show how much he liked that news. “And I don’t want any screw-ups this time, got it?”
“Yes, Sir.” Lyle agreed with submission he was far from feeling. “I’ll notify you the instant I know one way or the other.”
“It had better not be the other.” Their leader told Lyle meaningfully. “I’m out of patience with this whole drawn out mess. I want results, or I’ll start taking heads.”
With that last threat he turned the chair on the two men, ending the interview. He knew they were both seething with barely suppressed rage as they left, and smiled unpleasantly, his mood lifting. Other than tormenting his brother Charles, the only thing that Clayton took pleasure in was tormenting his subordinates. He almost chuckled as he felt the black anger emanating from the two men.
*****
“So,” Parker said grumpily over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “You and Jo just thought I’d be able to solve all of these mysteries the moment you showed up? Well, I’ve got news for you---I’ve been trying to solve mysteries since the day my—our,” she gave Melisande a look that was almost apologetic, “mother was killed and I haven’t come up with much.”
She hadn’t slept well. Strange dreams about little girls who looked like her, and little boys who looked like Jarod, and, for that matter, Jarod himself, had teased her mind all night. She had a splitting headache and a strange anxiety to be doing something. As usual, she was taking out her frustration on the people around her.
Instead of becoming angry in return, though, Melisande gave her a sympathetic smile and refilled her coffee cup. A moment later she placed a plate of breakfast food in front of her sister---eggs and bacon and hash browns that had been cooked to perfection.
“Where did you get this stuff?” Parker asked, taking a bite, even though she rarely ate in the morning.
“I went on a grocery run early this morning.” Her sister told her calmly. “I couldn’t sleep---I kept dreaming about Kiara and Jarod, and a bunch of other children. I had to do something, so I inventoried your cupboards and went shopping. You should take better care of yourself.”
“What are you trying to do?” Parker demanded angrily. “Alert the Centre that you’re here?”
“From a distance I look just like you.” Melisande replied gently, understanding Parker’s concern. “I took your car. I’m sure anyone who saw me thought I was you getting a little shopping in before I started my day.”
“Mel, I don’t shop.” Parker explained wryly, her anger fading in the face of Melisande’s determined cheer.
“So I noticed.” Melisande returned with a grin. “Apparently you don’t cook either.”
“Cooking isn’t one of my strong points.” Parker admitted, trying to repress a smile.
“That’s okay, Meredith,” a raised brow told Parker the use of her hated first name was an intentional retaliation to Parker’s use of the hated nickname. “I’m sure you have other redeemable qualities.”
“I’m a crack shot.” She admitted smugly. “And I speak several languages.”
“Ohhh, which ones?” Melisande demanded eagerly. “Spanish? German? French?”
“Spanish and French.” Parker agreed. “And Japanese, and a couple of others. Not that any of them are going to be of use for this situation.”
“Thank you!” Jo exploded quietly. “I’d like to get my daughter back, if you two have finished playing family reunion!”
“Are you implying that I don’t care about my daughter?” Melisande bristled hotly, plopping plates down in front of the other two.
“Whoa!” Broots intervened, his watchful gaze fixed admiringly on Melisande. “Let’s not start fighting amongst ourselves.”
“I’m sorry.” Jo told her friend contritely, backing down immediately. “It’s just that we’re so close now, I can’t wait to get to Steven and Midori.”
“Then let’s get down to business.” Melisande offered generously, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. “How are we going to find them? It’s obvious that whatever they were taken for it isn’t an open Centre project.”
“Probably in an effort to keep Jarod from ruining things again. They’ve tried to restart the Pretender Project before, you know.” Parker offered knowledgeably. “The question is, where could the Centre be hiding them?”
“Where couldn’t they hide them?” Broots asked disconsolately. “The Center is enormous. We couldn’t possibly search all of it.”
“No,” Parker contradicted him thoughtfully. “They couldn’t keep the project anywhere in the Centre proper, or Angelo would have ferreted it out already. They’ve created another location for this.”
“But Angelo’s been disappearing off and on since Sydney vanished.” Broots pointed out thoughtfully.
“What do you want to bet he’s found the place already?” Parker questioned with growing optimism.
“Of course! He probably took Sydney there!”
“And Sydney got caught!”
Parker and Broots shot ideas off of each other with machine gun rapidity, their excitement mounting.
“So, is Sydney dead or alive then?” Jo’s innocent question was like a bucket of cold water. Parker and Broots both paled dramatically.
“I don’t know.” Parker finally admitted with a sick feeling of dread. “But I’m going to find out.” She added, anger coming to her rescue once again, and bringing the color back into her cheeks.
“Broots, you’re going to find out where every Centre shipment goes to.” She ordered him firmly, ideas solidifying in her head. “Mel, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t take you in to work with me. I think that the shock of your arrival might just distract the Powers That Be long enough for us to crack this.”
“Jarod said that our lives would be in danger if the Centre knew that we knew about each other.” Melisande objected with little conviction. She was almost to the point where she no longer cared about the consequences, she just wanted to hold her daughter again.
“Jarod is not infallible.” Parker declared grimly. “I’m almost positive that Daddy wouldn’t let them really hurt me.”
“I don’t know.” Melisande hedged, weighing the consequences, particularly Parker’s use of the word “almost”. “What good do you think it would do if you took me in?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure Daddy doesn’t know about you.” Parker considered. “So your appearance would certainly throw him off balance. Lyle sounds like the man you described as your contact last night, so he’d know about you, but he’d be busy trying to contain the fallout from your sudden arrival. Other than that, I’m not sure, except that shaking a tree usually brings down something of value.”
“Okay.” Melisande decided suddenly. “I trust your judgment. We’ll go in together----but what about Jo?”
“We can’t let them know she’s here too---it would make it too obvious that we’re on to them. We’ve got to keep her hidden, and I’m not all that sure this house will be safe when I’m not in it.”
“I’d suggest mine, but I’m not sure it would be safe either. The Centre knows where all of us live.” Broots frowned unhappily. He hated to be faced with a problem that didn’t have any apparent solution.
“Then I’ll spend the day in Blue Cove.” Jo suggested, seemingly resigned to the fact that she couldn’t join the small expedition.
Logic forced her to agree that her presence at the Centre wouldn’t accomplish anything, but she didn’t have to like it. She was a woman of action, and she wanted to be right there, ready to rescue her husband and her daughter. She might say she was reconciled to remaining behind, but unhappiness fairly radiated from her.
“Why don’t you contact Anne?” Melisande suggested compassionately. “We might need to have the troops ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”
“What troops?” Parker demanded suspiciously.
“Jarod’s got a lot of friends out there, Miss Parker.” Jo replied smugly. “He’s helped many people, and most of them would be more than happy to repay him in some way. We tracked down a few of them and they jumped at the chance to help. They agreed to contact the others. If it comes down to a fight, the Centre will find that they’ve bitten off a pretty tough mouthful.”
“Wow!” Broots eyes were round, whether with surprise at Jarod’s backup, or admiration of his support base, it wasn’t clear. “I wonder why Jarod never thought of that. He could have gotten lots of help in his ummm….” He coughed and his voice trailed off as Parker glared at him.
“His crusade against the Centre?” Jo asked pointedly. “He’d never do that---he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt on his behalf.”
“He loves that hero garbage.” Parker sniffed disdainfully. “Heroes don’t ask for help.”
“The point is that we’ve asked and they’ve agreed.” Jo countered firmly. “Now, I’ll go into town and find a coffee shop to wait at. You call me as soon as you can and let me know what you’ve discovered. And,” she paused, a deep sadness that only Melisande could truly empathize with filling her eyes.
“Hurry.” She finally managed to say. “After all this time, this last little wait is nearly unbearable.”
She blinked away the tears while she was hurrying out the back door. Since she and Melisande had parked behind Parker’s house and traveled through a short expanse of trees to wait for her, the route back to the car naturally protected her from being seen by anyone watching the front of the house. She listened closely as she hurried away, though, and was rewarded by the sound of Parker’s car engine firing up before she was more than half-way to her own vehicle. She paused and pulled a small device, about the size of a cellular phone, from her purse. After punching a few buttons she smiled, and flipped the object closed, quickening her pace through the trees.
*****
The woman alternated between pacing the sterile room, ceaselessly railing at an unseen adversary, and rocking mindlessly on the narrow bed provided her. The man watching her was revolted, his dreams of subjugating her spirited nature hopelessly shattered by the reality of her vacant eyes. He’d even gone so far as to enter the room, pretending to be his hated brother, but she hadn’t acknowledged his presence by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. She was more completely lost to him than she would have been if she were dead. Her only value now was as a hostage against his nephew’s cooperation and as possible bait to draw in his brother.
“I want her watched constantly.” He told the impassive guard next to him. “If she shows so much as a hint of sanity I want to be notified immediately, regardless of the hour.”
“Yes, sir.” The man answered tonelessly, his eyes flickering briefly over the woman in the room. “You will be notified immediately.”
Clayton paused a moment to glare again at the oblivious woman in the cell. To say he was unhappy would be a bit of an understatement; he was furious and someone was going to pay for his frustration. Margaret should have been located and brought in long ago. She should have been his, and her insanity should have come at his hands.
“I want Mr. Parker and his son in my office in ten minutes.” He finally snarled, choosing his victims with deep satisfaction. It was their fault, after all, that things had gone so badly awry, and only right that they should pay.
*****
“NO! You can’t take her! I won’t let you hurt her!” His eyes were wild as he curled into a ball in the corner, his daughter carefully wrapped in the middle.
“We won’t hurt her.” Sydney responded soothingly. “We just want to see just how smart she is.”
Steven Bartlett allowed one wary eye to fix on the psychiatrist’s face.
“You said you were going to test her.” He accused.
“An intelligence test.” Sydney assured him gently.
“No electric shocks?” He asked, his voice pleading and as plaintive as a toddler’s. “No hitting? No hurting?”
“None at all.” Sydney’s face turned grim for an instant, as the import of Steven’s questions sank in, but he smoothed it back into geniality when Steve immediately flinched back.
“Steve, you need to let Jarod take Midori into the testing room, but you can watch with me while he tests her, okay?” Sydney coaxed again.
“You’ll release the child now, Bartlett, or visit my playroom.” Lyle’s smooth voice interposed.
How he could sound so pleasant and yet sinister at the same time was a puzzle that Sydney still hadn’t figured out.
“Stay out of it, Lyle.” Jarod replied instantly. “We’ll handle it our own way.”
“My way is your way, Jarod.” Lyle returned in the same pleasant voice. “If you’ve forgotten that perhaps you should join Bartlett.”
“Stop it!” Sydney snapped, coming between the two men with a harried expression on his face. “Lyle, you can’t interfere with our work and still expect the results you want. Jarod, quit needling Lyle, he’s our boss in this matter.”
Lyle and Jarod continued to glare at each other while Steven Bartlett held his daughter tightly to him. Any other child her age would have cried out in protest by now, but Midori was no ordinary child, as all in the room were well aware.
“If either of them give you any more trouble, they’ll visit me later.” Lyle told Sydney menacingly, breaking the tableau. “As you pointed out, I am the boss here.”
“A word with you in private, Lyle.” Sydney replied evenly, only the white brackets around his mouth betraying his rage.
He didn’t give Lyle a chance to answer, but pulled him out of the room with a surprisingly firm grip on the younger man’s arm. Jarod started after them, but Sydney stopped him with a pointed glare and he had the grace to look faintly apologetic. He was too clever not to realize that baiting Lyle was a losing proposition.
“You reassure Mr. Bartlett.” Sydney ordered sharply. “I’ll speak to you later.”
Jarod’s eyes widened briefly in shock. He couldn’t remember ever having heard Sydney use that tone of voice on him before. He remained rooted to the spot until the door closed behind the other two men.
“Don’t let him hurt her.” The man on the floor whispered hoarsely. “Please.”
Jarod dropped into a crouch in front of the man, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sydney and I aren’t here to hurt any of you.” He assured the man compassionately. “But I’m afraid that Lyle will hurt you if you obstruct our work. We’re doing our best to protect all of you and we need your help to keep Lyle and his men away from all of the children.”
“Me?” Steve asked incredulously.
“Yes. You know the children, and they accept you as one of them because of Midori.” Jarod explained carefully, his mind racing for a plausible way for Steve to help them.
He knew almost as much about psychology as Sydney, and he knew that protecting Midori was the only reason Steve had been able to retain any independent thought after Lyle’s programming. He also knew that once he believed Midori was safe there was a very good chance that Steve would give up entirely---he might not commit suicide openly, but he’d waste away into nothing without a purpose to give him direction.
“They know that you aren’t going to hurt them, and they trust you.” Jarod went on, his quick mind settling on a plan. “So if you check out our tests ahead of time, and reassure them that they won’t get hurt doing them, then the children will perform better. They know you have no reason to lie to them, not with Midori going through the same tests that they are, and they need the confidence you can give them to do their best work.
“Steve, I grew up here at the Centre.” Jarod confided quietly, noting with approval that Steve’s grip on Midori had loosened and that the man’s trembling had nearly ceased. “I know that every child here is in danger if the Centre doesn’t think they are going to be an asset. Children who don’t make the grade, like Angelo was, have terrible things happen to them. Sydney and I don’t want that to happen to any of the little ones here. Will you help us?”
He finished his plea and waited with bated breath for Steve’s response. As he’d made his argument he realized that he was speaking more truth than he’d known when he began. Steve would be a valuable asset and the children were honestly in danger he and Sydney didn’t come up with some pressing reasons for to be left with their minds intact.
“You’ll show me every test beforehand?” Steve finally asked suspiciously. “Because I won’t lie to them.”
Jarod released the air he’d been holding in a silent sigh of relief.
“Yes.” He promised sincerely. “Why don’t we start with showing you what we are doing with Midori today? I’ll show you to the observation room while Midori stays in the gym with Tilena. We don’t want her to see any of it ahead of time, because it might affect her performance, but you can watch while we test Timmit. He, Mattais, Ricard, and Midori will all have exactly the same tests administered.”
“What if Timmit is frightened?” Steve asked cautiously. “What if he won’t cooperate with you?”
Jarod smiled.
“I think that all of the children will cooperate.” He assured Steve gently, a sparkle of humor lighting his brown eyes. “They’re very bright, and the tests will seem more like games than tests to them. Sydney and I spent half of last night working out the details so they’d be fun and not a chore.”
“Okay.” The man agreed, but his eyes were still shadowed with worry. “But I won’t lie to any of the children. If you do anything to hurt or frighten Timmit, I won’t tell the other children that it’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you. Just watch what happens, you’ll feel better for it. Now, let’s take Midori to join the other children in the gym. We received some play equipment before breakfast this morning that they other children are already enjoying.”
“Swings?” Midori asked, her chubby face lit up with anticipation.
“Actually, yes.” Jarod smiled down at her.
Steve accepted the hand Jarod held out to him and rose to his feet. The two men headed for the hallway, only Jarod’s concern for Sydney marring the perfect accord.
‘He should have been back by now.’ Jarod worried silently to himself. ‘What’s happening?’
*****
Jo climbed the rickety stairs as if she’d been up them a hundred times instead of this being her first visit to the dilapidated building. She looked carefully around, verifying that no one had followed her, before opening the door and entering the building.
“Well?” A quiet female voice asked her as she paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the room.
The room was small, only 10’ x 12’, with a door leading further into the building on the far wall. It was also barren of any furniture other than a camping cot in one corner, and a card table in the center of the room under a dirty skylight. The card table held a laptop computer, a mug that steamed gently with some hot liquid, and behind it was a slender, dark haired woman. Her brown eyes were studying Jo with the same intensity that Jo was studying the room.
“I planted the device on her high heels last night. It took me almost 30 minutes to get here, so I think that they’ll be at the Centre in another 15 minutes or so.” Jo answered breathlessly, her heart pounding surprisingly fast with excitement and trepidation.
“Give me the homer.” The woman demanded impatiently, the fingers of her right hand flying over the keyboard while she held out her left hand demandingly.
Without hesitation, Jo handed over the small device she’d activated just after leaving Miss Parker’s home. The woman behind the computer connected it to her computer, clicked a few more keys, and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of Miss Parker’s voice.
“Now just follow my lead.” She was ordering quietly, the words almost obscured by the sound of two pairs of heels clicking across the marble floor. “This should be quite interesting.”
“You can say that again.” The woman eavesdropping on them murmured, brushing back a strand of glossy brown hair behind one ear.
Jo couldn’t really estimate her height while the woman remained seated, but she suspected that it was closer to Jo’s own 5’ 6” than her brother Jarod’s 6’ plus. Her brown eyes, though, held the same piercing intelligence and keen curiosity as Jarod’s, and there was something in the compassion in her smile that reminded Jo irresistibly of Jarod.
“Everything’s going according to plan?” She asked, not liking the breathless note of worry in her voice.
Emily looked up from her computer screen and gave Jo her full attention, that compassionate smile on her face at full force.
“We’re doing great.” Emily assured her gently. “Lyle’s men picked up Rachel last night and he should be presenting her to my Uncle in moments. If we’re really lucky, he’ll imprison her somewhere near my mother.”
“Isn’t he going to know Rachel isn’t you?” Jo questioned, worry for Rachel, who she’d never actually met, surfacing belatedly.
“It depends on how well he’s studied my dossier.” Emily replied, her face grim. “My guess is that he has studied it well, and he’ll know immediately that they’ve picked up the wrong man. Rachel knows the danger, but she was willing to try. We hope that Clayton will place her somewhere near Mother, and we’ve done our best to hide some tools on her that won’t be discovered when she’s searched.”
“Then what?” Jo demanded. She knew there was more to the plan, but Emily and the others had refused to share it with her while there was a chance she might fall into Centre hands. “How does any of this help Jarod and rescue our families?”
Emily’s attention never wandered from the computer screen as she answered Jo.
“Rachel is supposed to escape, liberate mother, and locate Miss Parker and Melisande, filling them in on the situation. We’re counting on Miss Parker having ferreted out Jarod and the children’s location by then. Once they reveal that, Rachel will break them out of the complex while I lead in reinforcements to rescue Jarod and the others.”
Jo frowned, spotting the flaws in a plan that hinged as much on luck as strategy.
“This sounds awfully risky.” She objected quietly.
“Yes, it is.” Emily agreed readily. “But it’s the best we could come up with. The Centre has simply been too good for too long at covering themselves. We’ve got to take a chance to draw them into a vulnerable position. But Rachel’s involvement is the key. With her connection to the FBI, she’s our ace in the hole. They’ll protect her, so either way the Centre is doomed.”
A feral smile graced Emily’s lips as she shared the last bit. All of her life had been geared towards the downfall of the organization that had destroyed her family. Success was so close she could taste it, and she could hardly wait for it all to be over. She couldn’t conceive of a moment when she wasn’t running from the Centre, didn’t have a clue what she’d do if she didn’t have to worry about outwitting them at every turn, but she longed for the chance to know what “normal” meant.
Freedom. Peace. Security. Those words had been her holy grail for her entire existence. She wouldn’t rest until she achieved them, not just for herself and her family, but for everyone the Centre had damaged in their ruthless quest for power. Soon---soon the Centre would be no more. Soon her mother and brother would be free. Soon it would all be over.
*****
:Is he okay?: Tilena demanded silently of Kiara as she pushed a crowing Midori in the new swing.
:Timmit and Angelo are both fine.: Kiara answered evasively. :But I still haven’t found Sydney. The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle and Mr. Lyle made Sydney go with him. I lost them. I still haven’t found where the Bad Man stays.:
:What about Angelo? He knows almost everything about this place.: Tilena suggested with the calm practicality that attracted the younger children to her.
:He’s been looking too. The Bad Man is hidden awfully well.:
Tilena bit back a sigh of disappointment, relaying their failure to Gannet and Tasida with a sad shake of her head. They tried not to make use of their silent mode of communication too often, knowing that they ran the risk of discovery every time they did, but Kiara used it effortlessly and often. When they discussed their plans for freedom her ease in communicating was a boon, but one day soon Tilena knew one of the younger children was going to let something slip. She was almost beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter anyway. Somehow she doubted that any of them would ever see the outside world again, unless they had been first changed as horribly as Angelo had.
Jarod could find him. Tasida’s slanted blue eyes fixed on Tilena’s.
We’d have to tell him. He couldn’t dismiss it as a dream anymore. Tilena objected worriedly.
We have to tell him sometime. Gannas pointed out practically. He already knows, inside. We all did, didn’t we?
They referred to the mental link that bound all of the Centre’s special children. As soon as they’d come into proximity with each other the ability had manifested, except in Kiara’s case---she’d already been using a form of it with her beloved animals long before the Centre had reclaimed her. That was why she was the bond between them when they conferenced as a group. She linked even the youngest of them into the web of thoughts with unconscious ease. Even Angelo wasn’t on her level when it came to meshing them into a smooth gestalt.
It was Jarod and Angelo’s ability to link with them, even though it was unconscious on Jarod’s part, which let the children know that Jarod and Angelo were one of them, in spite of the fact that they were adults. Sydney’s obvious inability, in that respect, was part of the reason many of the children were still so suspicious of him, although his fierce protectiveness for Jarod was beginning to win even the most wary of them over. The children’s fear was that one of the adults, or one of the younger children, would reveal this ability. Even though they all suspected Gannas’ prediction that none of them would leave the Centre was accurate, they all, Gannas included, continued to cling to the hope that they might one day released. The four older children, however, knew without a doubt that if the knowledge of their link was leaked to Lyle none of them would ever see freedom again. They tried to make the younger children understand the severity of the threat, but for all that they were bright kids, a young child was a young child. The little ones simply couldn’t conceive of unending captivity.
Tilena sighed worriedly. She knew she wasn’t old enough for this responsibility, but there wasn’t anyone else. Gannas was too angry, and the younger children were a little afraid of him. Tasida was too quiet and Tilena could tell that she was terrified of angering the people who held the children in their power. Only she was old enough to consider the future, calm enough to express the dangers to the little ones without frightening them, and courageous enough to reach out to the adults that they hoped they could trust to help them. And only she knew just how frightened she really was.
*****
“Daddy, I want you to meet someone.” Parker’s voice dripped with poisonous satisfaction. “My sister, Melisande.”
The eavesdroppers clearly heard the sound of a man choking, and then Parker’s voice again, sounding almost reluctantly concerned.
“Are you going to be okay, Daddy? Should I call a doctor?”
“Where did she come from?” Mr. Parker’s voice was ragged and sounded like that of a man who’d had the axis of his world tilted savagely to one side.
“She found me.” Miss Parker told him, the bitterness in her voice subdued. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about her.”
“I didn’t, Angel.” Mr. Parker told her anyway, his voice serious. “But I think it’s past time you and I had a long talk.”
“So you can tell me yet another convoluted lie?” She returned, the bitterness surging back to its previous level. “Don’t bother.”
“Mr. Parker, the big guy called for you.” A Centre courier briefly stuck his head in the room to deliver his message and then ducked back out to continue his rounds.
“Damn! Not now!”
“Daddy?” Once again Parker’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Come with me, Angel.” He ordered, with the air of a man who’d decided to finish his course of action no matter what the consequences. “I have to talk to you before I answer that summons.”
“Who is the “big guy”?” Parker asked curiously. “I thought Mutumbo was dead.”
“He is.”
That was all the listeners heard for a few moments, until the clicking of heels on marble gave way to the soft rustling of feet in grass.
“Your mother loved this place.” Mr. Parker murmured, his voice expressing both joy and sorrow.
“Tell me about Mother, Daddy.” Parker demanded, her voice harsh with grief and suspicion. “Tell me about Ethan and Melisande. No more lies, no more evasions.”
“No, no more.” Mr. Parker agreed sadly. It was utterly silent for several long moments, then Mr. Parker began to speak in the detached voice of a man who felt too much to express.
“I can’t tell you about Melisande, Angel, because I don’t know anything about her. I agree that there’s a good chance she’s your sister---the resemblance is simply too uncanny, but I don’t know anything about her conception or birth. As for Ethan.” He sighed heavily. “I let the Triumvirate talk me into it. Into impregnating your mother while she was sedated from her surgery.”
Here he let out a harsh bark of laughter, laughter that held no mirth whatsoever.
“They were tying her tubes.” He confessed bitterly.
“It must have galled you.” Parker jabbed mercilessly. “To have to keep her alive until after the birth.”
“That’s why I agreed to the procedure in the first place!” Mr. Parker roared back. “It was the only way to keep her alive. I was lobbying the Triumvirate to have her sent to the renewal wing instead of killing her. Raines fed her those lies that I was trying to kill her. Raines tricked her into putting herself into his care. Raines killed her!”
“You’re lying to me again.” Parker whispered shakily.
“No.” Mr. Parker’s voice was thick with tears. “No, I loved your mother. You and your mother are the only people I’ve ever been able to love. I would have done anything to keep her alive, even let them remake her mind.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Parker was still suspicious, and sounded it. “Why did you lie to me for all those years?”
“You’re so like your mother.” Mr. Parker declared sadly. “I was so afraid you’d start to annoy the Triumvirate like she did. I couldn’t bear to lose you too, Angel. Without you I can’t go on.”
“Is that why you ordered Tommy’s death?” She demanded, her own tears thickening her voice.
“Yes.” He admitted quietly, self-disgust soaking the word. “Raines had already threatened to eliminate you—you know no one leaves the Centre alive—and…”
“And?” Parker prompted when his voice trailed off into silence.
“And I was jealous of him. I wanted you to look at me with that much love. I’m sorry, Angel. He was a good man. But if I hadn’t sent Brigitte to kill him you would have both died, and probably everyone else on the plane you’d have been taking to Portland with you.”
“I don’t believe you.” But she did. It was clear in the sick acceptance in her voice.
“Listen, Angel, we don’t have much time left---I have to go see him. There’s a reason I told you all of this. Times are bad right now. He’s out of control, his obsession with Charles and his family overtaking every ounce of sense he used to have. I might not come back from this meeting. I might end up at the renewal wing---or dead. You have to keep digging, dear. Find out how to take him out of the equation. It’s the only hope we Parkers have. Remember, Parkers are the Centre. And take care of your little brother if anything happens to me, okay?”
“Daddy?” Parker’s voice sounded little-girl-like in its uncertainty. “Who is he?”
“You’re about to meet him.” Willie the Sweeper’s voice sounded cheerfully in answer. “All of you.” He added a moment later.
“No, my daughter has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t have the clearance.” Mr. Parker protested angrily.
”You should have thought of that before you started leaking secrets to her.” Willie was implacable.
“Move, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
*****
“Well? Just who is that woman and why isn’t Emily in her cell?”
Oh, shit! So great was his dismay, Lyle was afraid for a moment that he’d said those words out loud until Clayton’s annoyed look made it clear that he hadn’t said anything at all.
“No.” He admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know who she is. I take it my man brought her in instead of Emily.”
“You assured me you had her.” Clayton accused poisonously.
“Given the care with which this deception was carried out,” Lyle began carefully, mind racing as he tried to figure out how to come out of this latest setback with a whole skin. “I’d say we do have her.”
“Explain that comment, and make it good.” Clayton’s rage wasn’t appeased in the slightest. He suspected, correctly, that Lyle was simply twisting things to save himself.
“Whoever this woman is, she obviously set herself up as Emily to my men. Therefore, it follows that she knows where Emily is. She has to be working with her in some way.”
Sydney, all of his formidable instincts screaming that he was in danger and far safer if no one noticed him, withheld his immediate contradiction. But Clayton noticed it anyway.
“You disagree, Sydney?” He purred, his bad temper smoothing over as he made both men squirm.
“Not with his assessment that Emily is working with the woman, but Emily isn’t stupid---the woman won’t have any idea where she is, and she probably doesn’t even know what Emily is up to.” Sydney admitted reluctantly. He knew this assessment wasn’t likely to endear him to either of the men, and he was right.
“So now you’re an expert on Emily as well as Jarod?” Lyle snarled viciously. “Just remember, old man, I’m the one who finally brought him in.”
“What do you mean, she won’t know what Emily is up to?” Clayton demanded dangerously. “What makes you think the girl is up to anything?”
“Clayton, I told you years ago that it was in your best interest to give up on Charles and his family. You may consider their compassion for others a weakness, and maybe it is, but it doesn’t make it impossible for them to fight back. You’ve obviously pushed at least one of the family too far, and she’s going to take you out, and anything else that stands in her way.” Sydney sighed. “You’ve persisted in seeing their inability to destroy everything in their path as incompetence, but you have to know, on some level at least, that Charles is far more competent than you give him credit for. And Emily has obviously inherited his stubborn nature. If I were you, I’d turn the woman loose, where she can’t strike out at the Centre.”
Lyle’s immediate response was cut off by Clayton’s upraised hand, while Sydney did his best not to quail under the harsh, cold look of contempt Clayton leveled on him.
“I suppose you’d have me release the boy too? Perhaps he and his sister are working together on all of this?” He asked with sinister calm.
“I doubt they’re working together.” Sydney admitted. “But yes, you know I think you should release him too---we simply trained him too well. He’ll escape again, somehow, and who knows what he’ll do on the way out, or after he’s released? In fact,” Sydney made up his mind in a rush and decided to be completely honest for the first time in years. After all, they needed him for their new project, so they weren’t going to do anything worse to them than they’d already done, and once he’d been a respected member of the leadership of the Centre. Clayton knew that underneath his obsession, maybe he could make him listen.
“In fact, I’d release all of the children, shut down every illegal and immoral project we have going, and return the Centre to what it was originally intended to be---an organization for the advancement of mankind. If we did that, we’d still be profitable beyond the Triumvirate’s wildest dreams, the money we’d save on all those Sweepers and Cleaners alone would make just one of you richer than Gates, and we wouldn’t have to keep looking over our shoulders. I know Jarod, Charles, and the rest of the family would then leave us alone.”
“I see.” Sydney’s heart sank at the loathing in Clayton’s voice, knowing he’d done the unforgivable---he’d attacked the man’s obsession. “I believe that you’ve earned yourself a trip to the renewal wing, Doctor. In fact, I think I’ll have both women join you.”
“Uhh, Sir,” Lyle spoke up reluctantly. “The renewal techniques don’t work on the insane.”
“She’s no more insane than I am.” Clayton bit out. “And where is your father?”
As if his arrival had been timed by a director for maximum impact, Mr. Parker walked through the door with two, very similar looking women following him.
*****
Jarod tried to hide his concern for Sydney as he led Timmit back to the room where the other children waited, seated in a silent circle.
“What are you doing?” He tried to make his voice cheerful and encouraging, but couldn’t force a smile to his worried face.
:Waiting for you.:
Jarod controlled his start of surprise.
“We’re imagining stories.” Tilena, the child who’d just blown his socks off with the first mental message answered seriously. “If you get us some paper and pencils later we can write them down and maybe you can send them to our families.”
“I’d be happy to get some writing materials.” Jarod agreed uneasily.
:We have to help Sydney.: Tilena continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. :Don’t answer out loud, think at us.:
:Think at you? Can you all do this?: Jarod wondered, feeling like he was living through an emotional earthquake.
:All of the Centre children can. Don’t you remember? Angelo does.:
In an instant he had a vivid image of himself, Kyle, and Timmy, each in their own rooms, lying on their own rough cots, but sharing the day’s events with each other. It was the pain of Kyle and Timmy’s mistreatment at the hands of Raines that had made him close down the link and bury the memory.
Not just the pain. They have a drug too---it makes us forget.:
:But you haven’t forgotten. Angelo didn’t forget.:
:Angelo’s mind is different now. He uses parts that even Kiara doesn’t understand, and she’s the best of all of us at this. He helped us to remember after we got here. After a while, we built up a tolerance to the drug, just like you and Kyle did eventually.:
:So what do you need? What’s wrong with Sydney? With an effort Jarod brought his mind back to the present, and whatever was serious enough to make the children blow a cover they had obviously been carefully keeping until then.
The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle, and Mr. Lyle made Sydney come with him. The Bad Man doesn’t like Sydney.:
:The Bad Man doesn’t like anybody. Jarod thought that was contributed by Kiara.
But we can’t find the Bad Man.:
:Who is the Bad Man? Jarod wanted to know.
You know. You saw him.
Jarod pictured Major Charles in his mind, and tried to project that image to the children.
No, not him. The other one.:
:??:
:His brother, dummy. Gannas’ attitude made his sending clearly his own. The Bad Man is that man’s brother. Probably identical twins.:
Of course! Jarod thought to himself, almost dizzy with relief. I should have known that. Dad has a twin!
:So, if we find the Bad Man, then what? What else can you children do? Jarod asked curiously.
We don’t know yet. But we all like Sydney. He wanted to help us, and we want to help him.:
:Okay, give me some time to think about this. We’ll figure out something, but later.
“Well,” he said aloud, stretching obviously, “That’s enough imagining, I think. I’ll get you some paper and things soon to write your ideas down. In the meantime, Mattais, I think it’s your turn to play some games with me. Want to come watch, Steve?”
The man, looking calmer than he had since Jarod had arrived simply shook his head no and cuddled Midori.
“Thank you.” He finally managed to say. “I’m glad you let me watch Timmit but I’ve seen everything I need to see. I’ll stay with the children now.”
Jarod nodded briefly, with a smile to reassure the nervous man that he didn’t mind his decision, and took Mattais by the hand. His heart trembled as the boy put his hand trustingly into Jarod’s, skipping cheerfully along by his side. Jarod hadn’t spent much time with children, and he was dumbfounded by their simple faith in him and Sydney.
:That’s ‘cause we know you’re good. Your mind is kind of warm and fuzzy, like ferret fur, and Sydney’s is all green and glowy, like leaves in the park.
Jarod knew without a doubt that Kiara had contributed that.
Ferret fur? He wondered to himself. Is that good or bad?
:’S good. I like ferrets. They’re funny and smart and nice/I>
No more mind-talk, Kiara! Tilena scolded.
But I have to tell him something important! The little girl protested indignantly. Then, before anyone could stop her, continued. My mommy is here, and she’s with someone who “feels” like her, only not the same.
Melisande? Meredith? Jarod speculated. Things just keep getting better and better, don’t they?
So we have to find them too. Jarod didn’t have the heart to scold Kiara for that last little bit, not when he “felt” the wistful longing that accompanied it.
I’m working on it, I promise. He “sent” to them all. He kept the fear that all the work in the world wouldn’t get them out of this mess to himself.
*****
“Okay, who the hell is this “he” everyone keeps talking about?” Jo demanded dangerously.
“He’s my uncle.” Emily told her absently, her eyes focused on a blueprint of the Centre. “He and my father and Mr. Parker started the Centre long before I was born. Then, somehow, Uncle Clayton began to take more and more authority until he ousted Dad and reduced Mr. Parker to head of the Blue Cove branch. He put in his own yes men, kidnapped my brothers, and it’s been downhill ever since. He’s insane, and jealous of Dad. That’s what all of this is about. He wants revenge on Dad.”
“Revenge for what?”
“For being born.”
“And my husband and daughter? Kiara? What do they have to do with it?”
“They’re simply involved to make money for the Centre. They were genetically engineered to have special abilities. Uncle Clayton doesn’t consider them people, he thinks of them as cattle---even Jarod and me.”
“You were genetically engineered?”
“Yeah. Me and my brothers are IVFs, just like your Midori and Mel’s Kiara. Before we were implanted, we were tampered with. My brothers and I had our intelligence enhanced. Sound’s like Kiara might have been enhanced too. Midori was taken too young for us to know what she might be capable of.”
“IVFs?”
“In Vitro Fertilization. It gave the scientists a window of opportunity to manipulate the zygotes.”
“Damn those people!”
“There’s only my uncle left to damn.” Emily told her matter-of-factly. “Mutumbo’s death took out the last of his replacement Triumvirate. There’s no one to rein him in anymore.”
“We can’t wait any longer, then. My daughter, your brother, your friend, they’re all in the hands of a certifiable madman. We’ve got to get rid of him, rescue them!”
“We have to find him first.” Emily told the distraught woman calmly. “That’s what this is all about. We’ve been trying to find where he hides for years now. This is the closest we’ve gotten.”
*****
Angelo? Angelo can you hear me?
“Angelo? Angelo can you hear me?” The smaller man stood beneath the large ventilation grill in his workroom, wringing his hands nervously. “Please, Angelo, answer me!”
What, Jarod? Angelo, comfortable with this mode of communication, recognized his friend’s mental “aura” immediately.
“Why?” He asked his other supplicant verbally.
The innocent question caught Broots by surprise, making him jump and swirl. Behind him was the very man he was seeking.
“Why Broots scared?” Angelo amplified.
“Because they took Miss Parker away!” He returned frantically. “One by one we’re being whisked away. We’ve got to find out where she is and rescue her.”
Parker and her sister Melisande are around here somewhere, but I don’t know where. I’m worried about her---them. He corrected his slip quickly, but not quickly enough to keep Angelo from noticing it.
“Took her to see him.” Angelo told him, less than helpfully. “Very bad.”
Clayton hides well. Look long time, not find. Broots help now. Angelo informed Jarod. Broots find.
“Right, now there’s a newsflash. I don’t suppose “him” has a name?” Broots questioned with sarcasm worthy of Parker.
“Clayton.” Angelo supplied calmly. “Clayton evil. Miss Parker, sister, great danger. Broots help.”
Clayton? Uncle Clay? Jarod’s thoughts were incredulous as his chancy memory suddenly released a flood of images. The identity of the man he’d seen, the man who looked like his father, but claimed to run the Centre, suddenly became clear.
“Wait a minute…” Broots held out one hand to stem Angelo’s surprising volubility, his formidable brain turning over his brief encounter with Jarod. His suspicion fit, like the end to an if statement in programming.
“Clayton---he’s Major Charles’ brother, isn’t he? And probably an identical twin, to shock Jarod so. And he’s the power behind the throne! That explains so much!” Broots half-asked, half-declared to Angelo.
“Power on throne.” Angelo clarified solemnly. “Much anger, much pain. Must find; stop.”
“Me? You expect me to stop this guy?” Broots squeaked with dismay.
Jarod, watching the exchange through the link Angelo had opened up to him, suddenly spoke up.
No, just find him. Somehow, I’ll take care of the rest.
“Broots find Clayton. Jarod, Emily, Angelo, others take care of Clayton. Broots find.”
“Do you have any idea where to start looking?” Broots asked the other man.
“The Tower.”
“The Tower’s still a lot of ground to cover. Maybe I can narrow it down some.” Broots mused. “I think I still have the blueprints Jarod sent when we were searching for SL-27. If I can compare them to the official Centre blueprints, maybe I can find a room that doesn’t belong.”
“Broots understands.”
“Yes, I think I do.” Broots breathed, almost to himself. “More than I ever thought I would.”
Suddenly the obsession with recapturing Jarod, the cloning of him, the single minded pursuit of every one of Jarod’s family, even the order to kill if the quarry couldn’t be retrieved, it all made sense.
“Angelo go to Jarod now. Jarod scared.” Angelo explained briefly.
“We all are, Angelo.” Broots assured him somberly. “Go on, do what you can.”
Angelo smiled sweetly at the smaller man and wriggled with amazing agility into the ventilation shaft behind him. Broots was already rooting around in the closet he used as storage space for the lab, before Angelo had even replaced the grill behind him. He was worried about Parker, knowing full well that she was more vulnerable than she usually let on, but his worried thoughts quickly slid away from the features of Parker to those of her quieter, and gentler sister.
Somehow he was more worried for her than Parker. He told himself it was simply that Melisande had been thrust, unknowing and unprepared, into the machinations of the Centre, whereas Parker had grown up battling Centre schemes, but it was more than that.
Melisande had all of her sister’s grace, beauty, and determination, but she lacked Parker’s hard veneer. Broots had been more than half in love with Parker, but now he was suddenly confronted with someone who had all of Parker’s good points, with none of the flaws. He didn’t realize it yet, but his infatuation of Parker had shifted suddenly onto her sister.
*****
“Major Charles?” The question slipped from Parker’s lips before she could stop it.
But she corrected herself almost immediately, for unlike Jarod she wasn’t too shocked to see the minute differences between the two men. Clayton was paler than his brother, since he rarely ever left the Tower, and the wrinkles covering his face were those brought from scowling, not smiling. It was clear to her that Clayton wasn’t the same man she’d threatened in a Centre holding cell.
“No, you aren’t. But you’re related to him.” She retracted in the next breath.
“Perceptive.” He growled shortly. “Too bad your intelligence wasn’t available for Centre purposes. Now, I’m afraid, there won’t be much left after your visit to our---specialists.”
Parker’s blood ran cold, but years of practice in containing her reactions kept her face a smooth, emotionless mask.
“No!” Mr. Parker burst out next to her. “Clay, you swore you’d never---“
“Stubble it!” Clayton cut the other man off brusquely. “If you’d kept your family in line I wouldn’t have had to resort to such extreme measures. But your wife was a menace, and your daughter is rapidly following in her footsteps. It’s the Renewal Wing, or the Freezer.”
“No, Daddy.” Parker restrained her father with an unusually gentle hand on his arm when he would have attempted to physically attack the man behind the desk. “It’s useless. He holds the cards for now.”
“Very sensible.” Clayton smirked. “If only you’d chosen to be sensible earlier.”
His need to inflict pain on others temporarily assuaged, Clayton turned his attention to the other people in the room.
“Lyle, return Sydney to his duties. I don’t want to see him here again unless I’ve actually summoned him. And get me Emily, or join my family in the Renewal Wing. Syd, I expect results from the children soon. As for you, Melisande,” he smiled maliciously at her start of surprise. “Yes, I know of you. We’ve been searching for you for some time. I haven’t quite decided what to do with you. While you most likely have talents that the Centre could use, I wonder if you aren’t too much of a wild card to risk?”
“Clayton, I would like to try an experiment, with your permission.” With the quiet courage that typified him, Sydney took a half-step forward. “I believe that there’s a strong possibility that our young Pretenders will perform better and have greater loyalty if we involve their parents in their training wherever feasible. Melisande would be a perfect test case.”
How he knew that Melisande was the mother of one of the children was a puzzle that no one noticed in the tension of the moment. Clayton glared thoughtfully, his eyes moving from Melisande’s painfully hopeful expression to Sydney’s shuttered, but somehow still pleading, face.
“Just what do you hope to accomplish?” He finally asked suspiciously.
“A child’s bond to their parent, especially their mother when they’re young, is all encompassing. They are far more likely to cooperate with our requests when they are backed up by the encouragement of the parent. Failing that, the threat to remove contact with the parent will probably accomplish whatever you want.” Sydney suggested with subdued eagerness.
Clayton considered for a moment, and then nodded his head thoughtfully.
“I’ll let you try.” He said at last, much to Parker, Sydney, and Melisande’s relief. “But mark this well, young woman.” He added warningly. “You will join your sister if you obstruct the project in any way shape or form. Understand?”
Melisande nodded, outwardly thoroughly cowed, but inwardly exultant.
Kiara! I’m coming baby! She thought joyfully.
“Very well, Lyle, remove her with Sydney.” Clayton ordered, quite cheerful now that he’d played God in the lives of so many people. “Willie, escort Mr. and Miss Parker to the Renewal Wing. Their reeducation will begin tomorrow.”
*****
Mommy’s coming!
Kiara’s excited message rang through Jarod’s attempt to administer Mattais’ tests. He was trying, with all the “pretending” ability within him, to maintain a normal atmosphere for the kids. It belatedly dawned on him that all of his attempts to keep the children apart so that none would have an advantage in the tests were worthless. Their mental gifts made his precautions moot. Mattais’ enormous grin revealed clearly that he’d heard Kiara’s mental shout.
But she’s sad. Aunt Meredith is being taken to a bad place. She’s worried. I never knew I had an Aunt Meredith before. Kiara added more soberly.
Jarod started, fear clogging his throat. It was coming apart more quickly than he had expected.
“Th-that’s enough for now, Mattais.” He stammered, opening the door to the small room where Mattais had been attempting to design the floor plan for the Pentagon. “Let’s join the others.”
Mattais knew that Jarod was frightened, and why, so he said nothing as he skipped along beside Jarod’s long strides.
Jarod’s scared. He told the others privately. He loves her, like we love our families.
It’s not quite the same way. Jarod countered, having “overheard” the exchange. Probably more like your daddies love your mommies.
Fortunately, his discipline was strong enough to keep the worst of his fear and regret from the children. For all that they were prodigies, the children were far too young to deal with the negative images and emotions racing through his mind, and Jarod knew it.
“Broots will find Clayton.” Angelo’s quiet voice startled Jarod, even though he was used to his friend appearing and disappearing from thin air.
“But now Parker’s on her way to the Renewal wing!” Jarod exclaimed in a harsh whisper, motioning Mattais to go ahead and join his friends.
“Good.” Angelo replied calmly. “We know where Renewal wing is. We can help.”
“How?” Jarod’s eyes held agony.
He’d been helpless to save his brother, or his friend Kyle, or Miss Parker’s mother, or, for that matter, Miss Parker herself. He hated being helpless in the face of danger to his loved ones. And Parker was in danger, there was no doubt of that.
Angelo shot his friend an assessing look, his empathic abilities exposing his friend’s pain and the love for Parker that he steadfastly refused to admit, even to himself.
i>Jarod hurts. He observed on a private level that none of the children could access. Parker strong. She’ll be okay.
She’s been through enough! Jarod flared. No more! I won’t stand by while the Centre hurts anyone else I love!
Angelo was silent, a sly smile curving his lips as he waited for Jarod to hear his own words. It didn’t take long. Jarod flushed and stammered suddenly.
“Like a sister!” He finally managed to get out. Angelo’s smile didn’t change.
“Oh, what’s the use in arguing with you?” Jarod grumbled. “You’ll believe what you want to believe.”
Admit it, Jarod.: Angelo’s mental voice was firm and solid, as “adult” as Jarod had ever heard his friend. :Admit you love her. For both of your sakes.
“Let’s just get her back.” Jarod temporized. “We’ll worry about feelings later.”
Angelo’s grin widened a fraction, but he didn’t argue with his friend. The seed had been planted, and by Jarod himself. It would bear fruit soon enough.
“How are we going to help her?” Jarod focused on his priority, ignoring Angelo.
“You can’t help anyone.” Lyle’s smooth tones rang down the corridor, raising Jarod’s hackles instantly.
We have to join. It was Tasida who broke in on the animosity between the two men, although it was only Jarod who heard her.
Jarod heard more, though. He heard the wistful desire for approval, acceptance, affection that lurked in those startling, Parker-blue eyes. He knew, with a knowledge that transcended words, that those desires were linked to Lyle. Her paternity was no longer in doubt to any of those in the link.
It’s very important. All of the Centre children must join. We must be one---now. She added urgently, clamping down on those feelings with brutal efficiency.
Instinctively, Jarod responded, throwing open a switch in his mind that he’d never suspected existed. It was almost as though he was linking hands with the children, but on a deeper level. When Kiara joined in the joining became smoother, and deeper, their minds meshing into an gestalt, into one, hyper-aware being.
Then, the children gathered in Angelo, and just beyond him, a beloved presence.
Mommy?:
:Melisande?:
:Kiara? Baby?
One small part of the meld locked onto each other in a flood of welcome and love, but the greater part continued reaching out.
Meredith? The gestalt queried gently, Jarod’s voice taking some precedence over the others.
:??:
Yes. He assured her simply. It’s real. It’s all of us.
In the hallway she simply slipped to the floor, much to the dismay of her father and escort, but mentally she slid into the link as seamlessly as if she’d been practicing with them for years.
Jarod? This mind was a younger, astonished version of his own, and the “Jarod” part of the collective moved forward again.
Yes, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re all here.
Jarod’s approval and encouragement helped, but it was the wordless wave of welcoming from all of them that filled the hole of rejection in the clone. For the first time in his young life he knew he was loved and wanted simply for himself. But even as they enfolded him within their unit, they ranged farther out, meticulously gathering all of the “lost” children to themselves.
Emily? Surprise, longing, and more love flared from the Jarod portion of the link.
Here. Her smile rippled through the link, as she accepted this development with nothing more than a sense of peace and rightness.
Lyle?
Shock swelled through the group as Angelo firmly reached for the angry man’s mind. Lyle was more surprised than any of them, his instinctive defenses lashing out at them all, but Angelo was relentless, engulfing him and holding his ego gently as he smoothed Lyle’s brittle and sharp thoughts into a pattern that could meld with the others.
Lyle struggled mindlessly at first, fear swamping them all in a tidal wave of emotion. Kiara held them fast, however, as Tilena washed away his fears with a flood of understanding and Tasida bathed his battered mind with love. Her innate ability to soothe the damaged mind took on new heights, with the love of a child for a father to back it up. Angelo guided the two girls, bringing in Timmit and Ricard so that they could watch and learn.
:What?!: Lyle’s first instinct to resist, to protect himself at all costs faltered under the weight of Tasida’s concern and hesitant hopes for a father’s love. His shock at the hijacking of his mind slid into astonishment at the truth of Tasida’s existence. :I---I never knew. I was afraid to know.:
His selfishness in taking Tasida from the orphanage and then ignoring her presence loomed sharply in his mind, threatening the timid peace that their ministrations began. Gently, but implacably, Angelo and Tasida forced him to face the self-blame and accusations in his mind. Then Tasida offered her fragile heart to him, an act of vulnerability that Lyle could barely comprehend. Her forgiveness, unforced, unasked for even, breached the final barriers in his mind.
He marveled at the peace, and an acceptance that he’d never even allowed himself to hope for. Years of abuse and rejection and pain melted away in moments. Even more miraculous was the new wave of acceptance coming from Melisande and Meredith. They could forgive the unforgivable in this higher plane, and they let him know that he too had a place in their lives.
Only Jarod’s concern for Sydney marred the perfection of the meld. Sydney, understandably alarmed by the collapse of the other three adults in the underground laboratory, was obviously in great distress. Jarod knew that distress would only grow when the older man realized that the children too were in a state of unconsciousness, but the others insisted that there was nothing they could do for him.
His mind couldn’t handle the shock of our own. Meredith insisted gently, guiding Jarod’s consciousness away. All we can do is finish our business and return to ourselves quickly.
It was an assessment that Jarod couldn’t argue with.
Emily, it’s time to bring in the cavalry. Jarod urged, nudging his sister forward enough to retake control of her body.
“Don’t worry, Jo.” She murmured to the frantic woman beside her in the barren warehouse. She didn’t open her eyes, or return fully to her body. “Just call Bailey and tell him it’s time. He’ll know what you mean. And don’t worry if I’m unresponsive for a while, everything’s okay.”
With that she became utterly limp again, unhappy that it worried Jo, but knowing there was no alternative at the moment.
Clayton. We have to deal with Clayton.
The consensus was reached easily, with everyone sharing memories, ideas, plans. There was no question on anyone’s part that Clayton was the cancer at the heart of the Centre, warping and twisting everything. And the entity that had been created by the meshing of the Centre children had the power to act on that cancer. With the speed of thought, literally, they reached out to the cancer, binding the mind and diving into it without hesitation or remorse.
What they found within it saddened Emily and Jarod the most. The mind was completely wrapped around its obsession with his twin brother. Everything that had ever gone wrong in his life, from the mumps he had in college that made him sterile, to the loss of Margaret’s love, he blamed on his brother Charles. Charles, who’d been born a measly thirty minutes before him, had, in Clayton’s mind, received all the love, attention, and breaks. This conviction had grown and festered and created a lifetime of poison that no one in the group could think how to lance.
Can’t we help him? Like we did Lyle? A part them thought sadly, already knowing the answer.
No, if we tried to bring him in he’d crack. See? See how our brains are put together differently than his?
No one was sadder than Jarod, who wanted desperately to save every member of his family. All of them, even young Midori, didn’t only see the altered neural patterns, they understood the way that pattern made it possible for them to be a whole, and yet retain their individuality. And every one of the gestalt knew that a normal human mind would crack under the strain of their merging.
:So what do we do?:
Simple question for a complex problem.
We can strip his mind bare. We can kill him. We can put in a feedback loop that incapacitates him whenever he tries to hurt someone.: Someone suggested.
:We can’t kill him. It would hurt us too. And we can’t hurt him over and over again. That would make us just like him. But if we remove his memories, maybe he can be retrained.
It took no more than an instant to reach that conclusion. Not one member of the whole liked it, everyone was well aware of how precious a mind was, but it was the best that they could come up with. And they implemented it in the next instant, regretfully leaving Clayton Black a drooling idiot. Then Jarod instigated the unraveling of their whole.
Gently, he removed Melisande and Lyle first, noting Sydney’s overwhelming relief with detached amusement. Then he gave his clone, who called himself Jacob, Emily, and Meredith a feathery nudge. Finally, he, Angelo, and the children released their grip, all of them feeling a twinge of regret as they dwindled into just one person again. The meld had been exhilarating and completed all of them in a way that would be inconceivable to anyone who hadn’t lived through it. They should have been exhausted, every one of them, but they were energized instead.
When the FBI teams arrived to storm the gates they found them open. Files and DSAs were being gathered to make the cases against the remaining Centre employees who had knowingly, and willingly, committed atrocities. Said employees were waiting unhappily in the Centre detention block. Harmful and immoral experiments had been halted and measures were already being instituted to mitigate any damage to any people involved in them.
At first Bailey was highly suspicious and inclined to believe that Emily’s protestations that all was well at the Centre were nothing more than wishful thinking, but Jarod’s freedom, and the sight of Miss Parker working cheerfully by his side pretty much dispelled that suspicion. More astounding was the sight of Lyle working with Sydney and Melisande to reach the parents of the children, who had been moved from the secret laboratory. Tasida had glued herself at his feet. It would have been a matter of some concern, if Lyle hadn’t been transformed, almost literally, by the melding.
Jo had been reunited with Steve and Midori while Emily waited at the warehouse to coordinate with Bailey. She still leaked joyful tears. In short, it was a miracle worthy of a television mini-series. Unfortunately for Bailey’s need to understand this miracle, every Centre child had agreed, without even having to think about it, that the secret of the meld would remain a secret.
They knew that it would breed true, for the alterations had been made to them on a genetic level, and they also knew that the world wasn’t ready for a few individuals to have such power. It didn’t matter that the very nature of that power would prevent them from abusing it, as Lyle’s alteration had proven, there was no doubt that the average human would never understand. Someday, perhaps, they’d be able to reveal themselves, but not now. So all Bailey had to go on was that an unexplainable about face had taken place in the Centre, and he was deeply unhappy with the mystery.
“We’ll have to find the others.” Miss Parker murmured to Jarod as Bailey passed by.
“Yes. We’ll have to see if we can’t convince their families to at least move near here, so they can receive proper training.”
Bailey paused, his curiosity peaked and his instincts telling him he might just find an answer in this conversation.
“First we’ll have to figure out how to train ourselves.” Jarod chuckled wryly. “I’m still not sure what happened. I suspect Kiara knows the most at this point, and how are we going to get a 4 year old to teach what she seems to know instinctively?”
“We’ll work it out.”
Bailey didn’t have the background to realize that the warmth and confidence in Parker’s voice were as much of an about face for her as what he’d seen in the Centre halls. Jarod, however, did, and he was deeply grateful for the change. For years he’d watched the cold façade Parker had put around himself and grieved. He hadn’t had the experience with people to know how to help her, for all of his vast intelligence.
Without thinking about it, he sent a wordless wave of love and happiness at her. Her answering smile nearly blinded him. He’d dreamed of someday seeing such uninhibited joy on her face and in that moment he felt like his life had reached it pinnacle.
“Oh no,” Parker contradicted his thought, not even realizing that it was unspoken. “There’s more and better yet to come.”
Frustrated, Bailey moved off to the room where Mr. Parker waited to be interrogated. He could sense that exchange had answered his questions, but he just couldn’t understand that answer. It was far more important now to simply clean up the mess thirty years of unrestrained Centre damage.
“I don’t think Timmit and Mattais have families to find.” Jarod said suggestively in the quiet that followed Bailey’s departure.
“And what do you think we should do about that?” A smile played around Parker’s lips as she asked.
“I thought it would be nice if we could supply them with a mother and father of their own---and I wondered if…” His words trailed off tantalizingly.
“You wonder if what?” Parker demanded, a flare of her old irritation surfacing under the stress.
“I wondered if you’d be interested in being Mommy to a ready made family.” He finished, a hint of the wary boy worried about rejection lurking in his brown eyes.
“What about my brother?” She asked, startling Jarod.
“You want to adopt him?” He asked, his expression neutral.
“Yes. I know I can talk Daddy into it.”
“Then we’d have to get busy making a few girls to round out our little family, wouldn’t we?” Jarod smiled broadly. “After all, I hate for you to be outnumbered by males forever.”
“Oh, Jarod! I accept!” She wrapped exuberant arms around him and Jarod took advantage of the moment to steal his second kiss from her.
“Accept what?” He asked innocently when they surfaced for air.
“I accepted your proposal of marriage, Jarod. Because I promised Daddy I’d bring you back to the Centre, and I try to keep my promises.” She paused, allowing a deadly gleam to light her blue eyes. “But he did say dead or alive…”
“Oh, my proposal!” Jarod grinned devilishly. “I’d forgotten about that. Of course Mommy and Daddy have to be married. And it will have to be soon if we’re going to do it before your father starts his jail term.”
“Yes.” Parker agreed, to the proposal, to the speed of the marriage, and to the joy Jarod promised her with his eyes and lips.
We’re going to have a real Mom and Dad, Angelo! Mattais exulted.
Just like the others. Timmit agreed.
That’s wonderful, children. Angelo informed them indulgently, happy that young Mattais would be able to do everything Raines had prevented him from accomplishing and more. But it isn’t polite to eavesdrop on people. Especially your parents to be.:
:Sorry!: They chimed in together, and with a remarkable lack of repentance.
:Why don’t you go to the nursery and visit with the baby. His nurse is about to be taken up for questioning, and her replacement hasn’t been allowed into the building by our friends. I’ll be down in a moment to join you.: Angelo suggested, knowing distraction would work better than an appeal to their consciences.
With the two excited boys responsibly engaged, Angelo made his way to Emily, to entice her to follow him and meet her new nephew to be. For once the smile that creased his face wasn’t crafty or tinged with revenge. The victory that had been won this day was real and permanent, not a magician’s illusion of smoke and mirrors that vanished under examination. It was almost a shame that dawn wasn’t tinting the clouds over the sea in brilliant colors, because it was definitely the dawning a new day for them all.
END
by Rebeckah
Jarod froze uneasily in the middle of mixing a “Prairie Fire”, trying to identify the danger his senses were screaming that he was in. Bluish-white cigarette smoke swirled around the customers like low lying clouds in a over the mountains, creating an almost magical place where faces were obscured and revealed with every move made. He was further hampered by the need to keep his search covert. Years of being hunted had trained him not to make any abrupt movements. Then he caught a flash of glossy auburn hair swinging back in a familiar movement.
’Oh, God! It can’t be!’ He thought numbly. ’How the hell did she find me so fast?’
He hadn’t left any but the most cryptic clues at his last lair, deciding that the Centre had gotten a little too close lately. And he’d changed his mind half-way to his next Pretend, anyway. He’d seen an article that caught his attention and switched course in mid-stream, as it were. It was almost enough to make a fugitive lose hope.
He turned slightly, just enough to study the room through the mirror behind the bar. Tabasco sauce was still poised in mid air and saw the unmistakable back of his childhood friend and adulthood nemesis, Miss Parker. Even though his instincts shrilly demanded he flee instantly, if not sooner, Jarod paused for a moment to look her over.
Tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever; legs that were displayed to perfection in one of her customary, barely-preserve-your-modesty mini-skirts and absurdly high heels. Her body was perfectly proportioned, her movements, even on the heels, were as graceful as a dancer’s, and her face was something you would expect to see sculpted into a Grecian statue. Her face---
’Wait a minute! That’s not Parker’s face!’
Jarod blinked slowly, his hand finally setting down the bottle of red sauce while he gazed dumfounded at the woman who was so like Parker. Emerald green eyes glared coldly at him from a face set into lines of disdain that would have done Parker proud before one slender shoulder shrugged and she turned her back on him with a flip of her dark hair that was pure Parker.
“Buddy, you going to finish that drink before Christmas?” His customer demanded harshly, bringing Jarod back to the task at hand.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Jarod looked blankly at the drink and tried to remember if he’d already added the hot red sauce that put the “fire” into it.
’Oh well,’ he decided with a quirk of his lips, ’too much is never enough!’
He cheerfully added a bit more before placing the drink in front of the beefy man. Then, his eyes drawn against his will, he looked back where the woman had been, not even noticing the customer choking and gasping after his first taste of the drink. He found himself battling a surprising wave of disappointment when he realized she was gone.
“What the hell are you trying to do to me?” The man sputtered, his face almost as red as the Tabasco sauce in his drink.
“Hmmm?” Jarod didn’t really register the question. “Jo, can you cover for me for a few?” He asked suddenly, moved by an impulse that he didn’t trust, but couldn’t resist.
“You don’t stand a chance with her.” Jo warned him, her blue eyes alight with interest.
She didn’t care that Jarod was attracted to someone, she had man problems of her own already, but this was the first time since he’d come to work for her that she’d seen him so struck by a woman. Usually he just flirted gently, and left alone at the end of the night, even though he’d received plenty of offers from lonely women. But this was different, and something told her that that woman could end up hurting her best bartender. Jo was tenderhearted enough that she’d spare him that pain if she could.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jarod answered with quiet dignity.
Jo raised a skeptical brow, but relented when she saw the determination on Jarod’s face.
“Go on, get out of here. Get it out of your system.” She grinned ruefully and waved him off with a flip of the dishtowel she’d been using to polish the beer mugs. “But only for a few, it’s coming on the busiest part of the night. I don’t care how lucky you get.”
Jarod smiled, a boyish expression of gratitude and uninhibited joy that drew the admiring gaze of every woman in the smoky bar, attached or not, including Josephine Bartlett, his boss. She might have troubles that kept her from dating, but that didn’t mean she was dead. When Jarod smiled, a woman would have to be in a coma, or completely insane, not to notice, and admire. Several of the other women there, all obviously searching for a partner of their own, gave the petite bartender looks that seemed to ask when she’d been released from the mental institution and why.
Jo grinned more widely, and only someone who knew her well could have told that it didn’t reflect in her sad eyes.
“Sorry, Ladies,” she replied lightly. “I’ve sworn off men for a while.”
“Honey, for a piece of that, a nun would consider leaving her convent.” Another woman called back good naturedly. Her escort raised his brows at that and leaned over to whisper something in her ear which made her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and they slid back into the shadows of their booth table.
“Thanks, Jo, I owe you.” Jarod threw over his shoulder, oblivious to the admiring looks, the suggestive comments, and the predatory gleam in a few female eyes as he maintained his single-minded focus on this new mystery.
Inside the restaurant that the bar was attached to, Jarod looked around the tables until he spotted his quarry, sitting alone. He couldn’t believe his luck, not only was she there, but she was unescorted as well. Jarod made his way towards her table, reasoning that an open approach was the best approach.
“Excuse me.” He told the woman as she glared forbiddingly at him. “May I join you for a minute?”
“Look, buddy, just because a woman is eating alone at a restaurant it doesn’t mean that she’s available to be picked up by every male on the prowl around her.”
Jarod ignored this discouraging answer and sat in the vacant chair, drawing out an exasperated sight from the woman.
“My name’s Jarod, and I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It’s just that you look amazingly like someone I know.” He tried again.
“Let me guess.” The woman replied sarcastically. “She’s your childhood sweetheart, you two lost touch and you miss her so much that you want me to have dinner with you just to ease the pain.”
“Close,” Jarod grinned, unconsciously using his most effective little-boy smile. “We did grow up together, and she gave me my first kiss too, but we aren’t, and never were, sweethearts. Quite the opposite in fact.”
The woman unbent fractionally.
“Fascinating story.” She said neutrally. “So why would my resemblance to this woman you don’t like bring you chasing after me?”
“I don’t know.” Jarod admitted, still asking himself the same thing and not getting an understandable reply. “Maybe I’m a little homesick, and even an enemy can remind one of home.”
“Sometimes an enemy reminds one of home better than a friend.” The strange woman murmured, a glint of loss in her deep green eyes.
“Or maybe I wondered if your similarities were more than skin deep.” Jarod added, filing that odd comment away for further inspection later.
“And is it?” She asked, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“I don’t have enough information to judge that yet.” Jarod replied bluntly. “Superficially you are remarkably alike. You have many of her mannerisms, and you appear to have a touch of her temper as well.” He smiled again, with breathtaking sweetness.
“I have to get back to the bar.” He confessed while she was still trying to catch her breath after the full force of his charm. “But I’d really like a chance to get to know you better; to explore your uncanny---“ He broke off that chain of thought as a dangerous glint smouldered in her beautiful eyes. Even he wasn’t dense enough not to realize that no one wants to be told too often that your interest isn’t in them, but in someone else.
“Ummm, maybe I could interest you in a picnic lunch tomorrow? I’ve always wanted to explore Riverfront Park.”
The woman’s glare abruptly ended in a laugh, a low, throaty sound that brought a smile to Jarod’s mildly anxious face.
“You really are a character. You have no idea how much this childhood friend of yours really means to you, do you?” She asked rhetorically, bringing a puzzled frown to Jarod’s face.
“Never mind,” she shook her head dismissively at the question in his eyes. “My answer is---yes, I’ll have lunch with you tomorrow. I’m a little curious myself.”
“Meet me at the foot of the clock tower?” He asked.
“At 1:00.” She agreed briskly.
Jarod nodded, and pushed his chair back to make his way back to the bar.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” The woman’s question stopped him in his tracks, and he looked back over his shoulder at her.
“My name.” Her eyes danced with humor. “It might be a little easier to get to know me if I tell you my name, Jarod.”
Jarod nearly blushed in his embarrassment. How could he have forgotten something so basic?
“I’m Melisande.” Her smile was oddly reassuring then it turned wry and faintly mocking. “Melisande Miller. No, don’t look at me like that---it really is my name. There were times I wanted to kill my parents for that. Do you know how many times someone called me M&M? So do me a favor, okay? Just call me Melisande. Not Mel, not Sandy, and definitely not---“
“M&M” Jarod finished with an understanding chuckle. “Got it---Melisande.”
At the opening between the two establishments he paused for one last glance back. She was smilling brilliantly up at the waiter bringing her a before-dinner salad and Jarod felt the impact of that expression like a fist to his stomach. She was so beautiful, and so much like--- He broke that thought off with the ease of long practice and purposefully made his way back to the bar. He knew better than to think about what might have been; it would only distract him and divide his focus when he needed it the most.
There was a mystery about Melisande, he reflected, as he took drink orders and mixed them on auto-pilot. She was too much like Parker, and the odds of that were far too low for him to ignore. He needed to find out who she was, where she came from, and most of all, what she wanted. At the same time, he felt a surprising amount of tenderness, even protectiveness towards her. He didn’t even really know her, but he was strangely reluctant to do anything that might hurt her.
He filed those thoughts away for further examination later and turned his attention back to his job. He had a mission to accomplish, a family to put back together, and now a new mystery. Sometimes he wondered why he wasn't able to turn away from a challenge---he really didn't need Melisande on his plate when he already had the Centre and his current Pretend, involving Jo and her problems. He knew he wouldn't back away though; Melisande, Jo, and the Centre, somehow he'd manage---he always had before, hadn't he?
*****
“Miss Parker, may I have a word with you?” Raines’ gravely voice stopped Parker short in the marbled foyer of the Centre. A grimace of distaste covered her face before she composed herself and turned to face the man she probably hated most in the world.
“Can I stop you?” She questioned pointedly. “Because I really have nothing to say to you, and I doubt that you have anything to say to me that I care to hear.”
“Not even the truth?” Raines asked, unfazed by her rude response. Parker emitted a brief burst of mirthless laughter.
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the---“ She glanced down at his backside suggestively before finishing the sentence with; “foot.”
She grinned mockingly as he flushed slightly.
“I am not the one of us who cannot see what is right before me.” He grated irritably. “Will you listen?”
“Okay, spit it out.” Parker agreed flatly. “But don’t expect me to believe your garbage.”
“This would be better said in private. Will you walk on the grounds with me?”
“No.” Parker ground out. “It’s here and now, or never. Personally, I prefer never.”
“I know you don’t believe I really found the Lord in Africa.” Raines began, reining in his temper with visible effort, “but He truly did save me then, and I truly have changed.”
“I didn’t even know He was lost.” She returned sarcastically.
“I never dreamed it would be this difficult.” He muttered fretfully to himself. Parker relented slightly.
“Okay, I’ll grant that you believe you’ve become a new man. You were blind and now you see----fine, can I go now?” She offered with a fine blend of conciliation and disdain.
“Meredith, listen to me!” Raines hissed, shocking Parker to her toes with his use of her first name. “You have a sister, and Mr. Parker----“
“Angel!” Mr. Parker’s jovial voice rang across the hustle and bustle of the busy foyer and stopped Raines in mid-sentence. His face smoothed over into an expressionless mask and he slowly moved away from Parker, throwing a strangely pleading look over his shoulder at her as he mouthed;
“Later.”
“Was Raines bothering you, Angel?” Mr. Parker demanded, frowning at the other man’s retreating back.
“No, Daddy.” Parker returned absently, staring thoughtfully after the same man. “It was just his usual: “Have you found God?”, nonsense. Maybe they should have kept him in Africa.”
“Maybe they should have.” Mr. Parker agreed with uncharacteristic grimness. Parker shot him a startled look, and he immediately backpedaled.
“I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner tonight.” He asked with overdone humility. “Your baby brother, though he’s the apple of my eye, just isn’t much companionship for a lonely old man.”
“How’s he doing?” Parker asked, diverted from her focus on Raines. Her eyes took on a warm, soft glow of tenderness that roused a surprising pang of envy in Mr. Parker. It had been a long time since she’d looked at him with that much affection.
“He’s doing great!” He told her after he’d cleared his throat. “Gained another six ounces last week.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Parker answered his earlier question and bestowed a loving look on her father, almost as if she’d known his earlier thoughts. “I’ll have dinner with you tonight. We haven’t had much time together lately, have we?”
“That’s my fault, Angel.” Mr. Parker avowed hastily. “What with Brigitte dying and a new baby and trying to jump back in the saddle here at the Centre, I just haven’t seemed to have a moment to spare. But that’s all going to change as of tonight. Shall we say 8:00?”
“8:00 would be fine, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting with Syd and Broots. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Be sure you do!” Mr. Parker accepted her quick kiss on his cheek and beamed after her until the elevator doors closed on her. The moment she was out of sight his smile vanished and he glared suspiciously down the corridor that had swallowed up Raines. With a shake of his head he strode purposefully down that same corridor
*****
“He took the bait.” A mild expression of distaste covered Melisande’s beautiful face as she spoke over the cell phone. She listened, her disgust obviously growing deeper.
“Yes, Sir.” She managed to keep her revulsion out of her carefully neutral voice as she replied to the instructions from the other end. “We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow. Give me a week and I’ll have him so intrigued that he won’t be able to ignore my---abduction.”
She listened again, nodded, her face set grimly, and then disconnected the call without a word. She stared blindly at the untouched salad in front of her, pushed it around aimlessly on the plate, and then put down her fork with a sigh. In that instant her face was covered with a deep sorrow that enhanced her resemblance to Parker more than any of the carefully choreographed movements she’d been using the entire evening. After heaving another, deep sigh she stood decisively to her feet; signaling the waiter to bring her bill directly to the cashier.
“But you haven’t eaten yet!” The waiter protested anxiously, as he reluctantly surrendered the bill. “I assure you, if the salad was unsatisfactory in some way we---“
“The salad was fine.” Melisande cut him off brusquely. “I---I’m recovering from the flu. I just tried to eat too much too soon.” Her lie was quite convincing, and only a true student of human nature would have seen that her apologetic smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The waiter wasn’t such a student, and was mollified by her explanation. He accepted her credit card, and the sizable tip she wrote in, with gratitude, and allowed her to leave without further protest. Then he returned to his duties, thinking that she was surely the most generous and gracious woman he’d ever met. Melisande, on the other hand, completely forgot the man the instant she left the restaurant. Her thoughts were completely consumed with the man she’d been assigned to captivate. They weren’t happy thoughts.
*****
"Miss Parker! Miss Parker!"
Broots looked even more anxious than he normally did, and Parker paused in front of her office door to look at him quizzically.
"Um, can I speak to you? Alone?"
Parker looked up and down the empty hallway before having pity on the nervous computer technician and motioning him into the office she’d just left.
"Make it quick, Broots." She told him impatiently. "I’m having dinner with my father tonight, and I want to go home and shower before I do."
"Did you hear about Raines?" Broots blurted in response. He’d obviously not even registered her words, so taken was he with his message.
"What now? Has he converted to Islam? Or has he just decided to join a monastery?" Parker questioned acidly. She was still unsettled from her encounter with him earlier that day.
"He’s dead!" Broots squeaked. "They just found him in his office a few minutes ago."
"What!" Parker rose from the chair she’d just settled into, disbelief, anger, and confusion warring across her face. "What do you mean? Are you sure?"
"Yes." Broots gulped, looking faintly ill. "I saw them wheeling his body towards the infirmary. They said he committed suicide."
"No, he didn’t!" Parker snapped, anger apparently winning the battle of the emotions. "He asked me to stop by later today---there’s no way he’d have killed himself. Besides, that bastard never felt remorse a day in his life. Are you positive he’s really dead?"
"Oh, he’s dead all right." Broots confirmed with a shudder of disgust at the memory of Raines’ limp, blue faced body. "He was hanging from a beam in his office. And there was a note on his desk."
"Where’s Sydney?" Parker asked, striding out the door to her office and heading towards Raines’ office. Her long legs covered ground so quickly that Broots was half running just to keep up.
"He’s there---in Raines’ office. Your father called him."
This stopped Parker dead in her tracks, and she glared at the hapless technician until Broots flushed miserably, not sure what he’d done wrong, but sorry for it anyway.
"Daddy called Sydney and not me?" She questioned slowly and dangerously.
"Yes?" Broots answered uncertainly, not wanting Parker to unleash her famous temper on him.
"Broots, I want you to look into this---quietly. Someone murdered Raines, and I want to know who it was."
"But why? You hated him."
"Because I wanted to kill him myself, okay?" Parker answered coldly, and with less than the perfect honesty. The truth was that she was now going over his earlier words, wondering if they were the reason he was now dead---and if they had actually had some fact behind them.
”You have a sister; and Mr. Parker---“
She heard those words again in her mind, turning over the look of trepidation that had crossed his face when his father hailed her from across the foyer.
’Mr. Parker what?’ She wondered to herself. ’Knows about it? Doesn’t want me to know? What?!’
She was furious, even though she’d dismissed Raines’ attempt to speak to her as another attempt at manipulation by the ghoul. But, whether it was an attempt at manipulation or not, it was obvious by his sudden death that he knew something that someone didn’t want her to know. She was getting pretty sick of have answers melt away like snowflakes in her hands! This place was worse than a hall of mirrors at a fair, distorting everything until you weren’t sure what was real and what was a twisted reflection of reality.
"Well, get going!" She snapped at Broots who was watching her uncertainly, rather than springing into action the way she wanted him to.
"Are you going to be okay?" He questioned timidly, but with remarkable boldness when you considered that he was ignoring Parker’s earlier order to do so.
Parker realized this, and her face softened momentarily in gratitude for his concern before she firmed it back up into its customary lines of hauteur.
"I won’t know that until you get some answers for me, now will I?" She asked him harshly. "If you find something, bring it to me at my place---don’t call me and don’t tell me here, got it?"
"Yes, Miss Parker." Broots gulped, suddenly realizing that Parker didn’t want anyone else to know of her interest in Raines’ death.
Then he realized that if Raines had been killed, anyone who showed an interest in it might find life a little short too. He ran a nervous finger around the collar of his brightly colored dress shirt, as if it were cutting off his circulation and gulped again as he turned to follow his instructions.
"Broots!" Parker stopped him halfway down the hall and gave him an intent look. "Be careful." She admonished him when he looked back over his shoulder.
For just a moment her honest concern for him to showed on her face, warming him to the core and laying new layers of cement on the bonds of loyalty that had encased him some time ago. Sydney, he liked, and he appreciated the older man’s unfailing courtesy to him, but Parker had slipped into his heart when he wasn’t paying attention. One day he’d just looked up, seen her sailing into his lab in a high dudgeon over something Jarod had said or done, and realized that he’d do anything to make her happy, to erase the pain and loneliness that peeked out of her eyes. He knew she didn’t care for him the same way, and he accepted it, but it didn’t stop him from longing for her happiness, and it couldn’t erase his concern.
Maybe Parker saw some of that on his face. Certainly, she knew about his feelings, she’d made her own clear enough some time ago. Perhaps that was why she bestowed that smile on him just now. The one that held the same kind of affection your favorite pet inspired, and the tinge of exasperation, the he seemed to inspire everywhere he went. Then she gestured sharply for him to get going and strode briskly off to find her father, undoubtedly already regretting her brief moment of gentleness.
*****
"Jarod, I’ve told you before---I won’t talk about my family!" Jo Bartlett snapped, her blue eyes turning gray with emotion.
The bar was silent, with chairs balanced on top of tables as Jo and Jarod cleaned everything in preparation for the next day. Jarod swept while Jo cleaned and arranged glasses and mugs on the shelves behind the bar. He’d decided to broach the subject of her missing family again, reasoning that it was about the only time he was likely to catch Jo alone so they could have the argument that was bound to ensue in private. She hadn’t disappointed him as far as the argument went.
"Jo, I’m not going to back down this time. You need help and----"
"Damn it, Jarod, you’re fired!" Jo cut him off in mid-sentence. Her cheeks were flushed, lips pressed firmly together, to hide their trembling Jarod suspected, and he was certain he could see the barest hint of tears gathering in her eyes.
"You know I’m not working here for the money." Jarod answered her gently, fixing her with his soft brown eyes and willing her to trust him. "I’m here help you!"
"I don’t need any help!" Jo bit her lip, cursing inwardly at the tremor that was all too evident in her voice.
The man who’d arranged for her release in Seattle had warned her that she’d find herself in hot water again if she tried to track her missing family. Then they’d threatened her husband and child. While the threat at least reassured her that they were still alive, it had also frightened her in a way that threats against her own safety would never have managed. She hadn’t dropped the search, nothing on Earth could have convinced her to do that, but she had become much more circumspect about it. Now this man, as well intentioned as he seemed, threatened to throw everything she’d worked for right into the fire.
"Jo, just listen for 10 minutes. If I haven’t convinced you that I can help by then I’ll go away and never bother you again, okay?" Jarod coaxed.
While he still hadn’t discovered where her family was or why the Centre had taken them both, he knew enough to know that the Centre was involved. He didn’t know the details of what threats they’d used to frighten Jo so badly, but he suspected they were against her missing daughter and husband. He knew she was going to fight his attempt to help, to make her understand that he was probably the only person who could help, but he also knew that he’d prevail in the end. She loved her family too much not to see the truth in his words.
Jo’s glare never faltered, but she pressed her lips tightly together and nodded an ungracious acceptance. Jarod allowed himself a purely internal sigh of relief and launched into his persuasion.
"I know you’ve continued your search for your husband and your daughter, albeit circumspectly." Jo’s blood ran cold and she could barely hear Jarod over the fear roaring in her ears as he continued, "If I know, then the Centre probably does too---"
"Hold on a second!" Jo cut him off again, proud of the fact that she’d managed to keep the quaver out of her voice. "I’ve never heard of any Centre---"
This time Jarod cut her off.
"But you were threatened, weren’t you? Or rather, the safety of your loved ones was threatened."
Jo’s nod was grudging and her eyes still hadn’t lost their wariness.
"The clinic that helped you conceive Midori was funded by an agency I know of as the Centre. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re behind your family’s disappearance. I know the Centre; I’ve been fighting them for years now, and I can help you!" Jarod’s voice was impassioned as he stressed the last four words.
Jo’s composure wavered as she fought to maintain her anger but it crumpled before Jarod’s wide-eyed, earnest look of entreaty. She lowered her head to rest on a hand that trembled uncontrollably and began to speak, never lifting her gaze from the battered bar table where they sat.
"Steve was taking Midori over the mountains to meet her grandparents. They’d insisted that it was past time that they met their first grandchild, but my boss had an emergency, and I couldn’t go with them. Later the Bartletts said that they’d never called, never demanded a visit from Steven, but that’s why Steve left with Midori.”
Jarod inferred from the insistence in her voice that the investigating officers hadn’t believed her explanation for her husband’s departure. He kept his expression encouraging, and nodded his acceptance of her words.
“I never understood Steve’s inability to say "no" to his folks,” she continued more softly, sorrow gaining ascendancy over the initial anger in her voice. “Maybe it had something to do with him being an only child… Anyway, he believed it was them and he and Midi left that Saturday for the interior.
“Steve and I had a major battle over the trip: I didn’t want to be parted from Midi when she was so young, and he didn’t want to deny his parents. They never got there." Her voice broke on a sob, but she fiercely suppressed the others trying to break free.
"I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore." She told Jarod, meeting his gaze for the first time. "It doesn’t do any good, you know. But I can’t bear it that my final words to Steve were angry ones. If he and Midi really are dead, I don’t know what I’ll do."
She steadfastly ignored the trickle of a tear wending down her cheek, as if ignoring it would make it vanish.
"My turn, Jo." Jarod said kindly, giving her a chance to regroup while he let he know just who he was and why she could trust him.
He explained his childhood abduction, horrifying Jo. She undoubtedly saw her daughter in that situation. He explained his life until the day he turned 30 and finally realized what was going on in the Centre. He shared some of his activities that had occupied him in the remaining 4 years, and finished with his findings about the fertility clinic that had helped her and Steve. The only thing he kept to himself was his suspicions that Midori had been manipulated genetically.
"So you believe they’re still alive?" Jo finally broke the silence that had fallen when Jarod finished speaking, her eyes begging for reassurance.
“I haven’t got any doubt that Midori is fine.” Jarod assured her, hoping she’d overlook the fact that he wasn’t saying anything about Steve. He got lucky, and she did miss that part in her relief that her daughter might be safe.
“But where are they? Where have they been taken?” She wanted to know. "And why?"
Jarod winced inwardly at the question he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to answer. Even if he could make Jo understand the scope of the Centre’s plotting, and believe that those plans weren’t just a figment of his paranoid imagination, she would undoubtedly expect to be more involved in the recovery of her child than Jarod could let her be. Once again, his need for absolute control prevented him from even considering teaming up with anyone else. He truly believed that he was the only person who could possibly take on the Centre and win.
"I’m not sure where they are, Jo." He answered her with the same honesty he’d have wanted if he were in her position. "It depends on why they were taken, and by whom. There are factions within the Centre that even I haven’t been able to figure out."
"But you have an idea of why they were taken, don’t you?" Jo demanded bluntly, sensing that Jarod was holding out on her. Jarod sighed heavily, reluctant to express his thoughts out loud.
"Tell me!" Jo insisted.
"I think that they manipulated your daughter genetically before she was implanted in you. I can’t guess at what they’d have done to her, but they undoubtedly tried to enhance her strength, or her intelligence, or something. Did she do anything out of the ordinary before she was taken?"
"She was six months old!" Jo burst out, all of her frustration at the pain and uncertainty of her position pouring out. "What the hell was she supposed to do at six months? Why did they take her? Were they going to get rid of her? Was she a mistake?"
"Jo, calm down!" Jarod was out of his seat and grasping the nearly hysterical woman in a heartbeat.
It was an indication of his progress in convincing Jo he was trustworthy when she relaxed against his grip and began to cry brokenheartedly. He released his grip on her shoulders immediately, and instinctively gathered her into a comforting embrace.
"She’s okay, Jo, I’m sure of that. If they’d thought she was a failure they just would have ignored her or terminated her outright. No, they thought there was at least a chance that they’d gotten what they wanted. I don’t know why they took her so early, unless it was because they didn’t want to have to deal with her questions if she remembered you. They probably took Steve just because he was with her at the time. Now, relax. We’ll find her. We’ll get them both back, I promise."
He winced inside as his words echoed in his ears. Had he made a promise he couldn’t keep? After all, he had no definitive proof that Steve and Midori Bartlett really were alive. The scientist in him knew that his gut level feeling that they were both in the hands of the Centre could be nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.
*****
“But why? Why do I have to leave now, Daddy?” Young Debbie Broots used her most imploring look on her father. It was one that usually accomplished exactly what she wanted, her father’s utter capitulation to her desires, but this time it was strangely ineffective.
“Don’t whine, Debbie. I’m your father, and I’m only doing what I think is best for you.” He responded with unaccustomed severity.
“It’s that damn Center again, isn’t it?” Debbie sulked.
“Debbie!” Broots was scandalized and Debbie blushed, even as she thrust her chin forward defensively.
He looked at his daughter, suddenly seeing her through the filter that usually covered his eyes, the filter that made her closer to three than thirteen. She really was growing up. Her little girl body was starting to fill out, there was a knowing glint in her eye that unnerved him, and her movements suddenly showed the unfinished grace of imminent womanhood. Broots determinedly swallowed back the lump in his throat. She might not be his baby any more, but he was still going to protect her ‘till the day he died.
“Well, they are!” Debbie insisted, missing her father’s sudden inspection, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’re always having to send for the sitter to watch me while you fly off here and there, or you’re sending me to Uncle Frank’s because you’re afraid something bad is going to happen to me. I hate the Centre! I hate it!”
“Debbie, honey…” Broots gathered his sobbing daughter into his arms and tried to soothe her. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He sighed regretfully, wondering when his little girl had suddenly grown up, wondering how much damage his association with the Centre had done to her. She was such a wonderful child, and his only real joy, and if anything happened to her because he’d foolishly accepted a job offer from the cesspool that was the Centre…
“Sweetheart, I wish things could be different. I wish I didn’t have to work for the Centre. But I have to stay with them now, and I have to make sure you aren’t in harm’s way either. Do you understand, Princess?” His voice pleaded with Debbie to say yes, and because she loved him as much as he loved her, she did.
“But I’ll miss you, and I’ll worry about you.” She added plaintively.
“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Broots countered, squeezing her tighter for a moment before releasing her. “Now, come on, or we’ll miss your plane.”
“It’s really bad this time, isn’t it?” Debbie questioned shrewdly. “You’ve never sent me to Uncle Frank this close to school time.”
“I’m not sure.” Broots told her honestly. “But I am really worried, and I’ll feel much better to know you’re with Uncle Frank and Aunt Susan.”
“Okay.” Debbie relented, unwilling to add to her father’s distress with her own unhappiness. “But you be careful too. Remember, if anything happens to you, they’ll probably send me back to Mom.”
Broots smiled at his daughter, recognizing her gesture for the support that it was, and grateful for her understanding.
“I’ll be careful.” He promised her. “I always am.”
*****
"I hear the sound of giants falling, Miss Parker."
"Jarod, go torment someone else for a while, okay? I’ve had a hard day and I’m not in the mood for your games." Parker wished, not for the first time, that she could reach through the phone lines and throttle Jarod.
Her mood had deteriorated drastically after Raines’ body had been found. Her father had flatly refused to answer any of her questions, and had cancelled their dinner date. Sydney proved to be as closed mouthed as her father, and Broots hadn’t dug up anything by the time she’d decided to leave for the day. She was angry, frustrated, and if Jarod tried to foist any of his damn riddles on her now she was pretty sure she would go postal on someone.
"They aren’t my games, Miss Parker." Jarod’s voice was arrogantly smooth as he jabbed at his childhood friend.
A part of him softened in concern for the pain and weariness in her voice, but the larger part of him needed to punish someone for the aggravation of his own day. He knew it wasn’t really her fault that Midori was gone, that Melisande had ventured into his life, or that the rage that he felt towards the Centre, and usually kept under tight control, had flared again as Jo shared her story with him. It was as if another force had taken over his body and he listened with growing dismay as his voice went on…
"Someone else made up this macabre little contest and they keep changing the rules as we go along don’t they?"
"Jarod, what the hell are you after?" Parker sighed, unaccountably weary. "I just don’t have energy to fight with you right now."
"I don’t want us to fight anymore, Parker." Jarod’s voice turned completely somber and there was no mistaking his sincerity as the sympathetic part of his nature wrestled back control. "I actually just wanted to let you know that I might be revisiting the old homestead sometime soon, and hoped that we might get together this time if I do."
Even he wasn’t quite what he meant by that. Did he really hope that she would help him if he ended up in Lyle’s hands again? Or was he tormenting her, as she believed, with a reminder of how little she actually knew about the Centre?
"Jarod, no more puzzles! If you have something to say, just say it!"
"Parker, when was the last time you had your house exterminated?" Jarod asked gravely before hanging up on her.
Parker sighed again as she hung up the phone. Her head was pounding with a ferocity that called for her stronger pain pills. The ones with the wonderful, tension relieving muscle relaxers in them. She stumbled towards her bathroom, a half-full glass of scotch dangling loosely from her hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the headache, she knew she shouldn’t take her medication on top of an empty stomach of booze, but it was a knowledge that didn’t have the energy to fight past the pain and make itself heard. Parker was just washing down two pills when the front door bell sounded.
"Damn!" She cursed half-heartedly before turning to answer the door. The sight of Broots’ permanently anxious visage did nothing to improve her mood.
"C’m in Broots." She reluctantly invited him, turning without waiting for his response to settle onto the couch. Once there she laid her head on her arm, resting on the arm of the couch, and fixed a jaundiced eye on her colleague.
"And just what piece of peace destroying news do you have for me, Brootsie?" She asked, only slurring her words slightly.
"Um, I need you to come with me, Miss Parker." Broots urged timidly.
"No," Parker’s answer was exhaled on a heavy sigh of relief as the powerful drug began to work on her system. "I think I’ll go to bed in a minute. Just spit it out. Be a man, Brootsie."
She giggled silently at her wit, and looked sleepily at Broots. She giggled again, this time out-loud, at the look of worry on his face.
"What’s-a-matter, Brootsie? Did Raines follow you home?"
"Miss Parker, what did you take?" He demanded, seeming to grow a few inches as he drew himself up authoritatively.
"I have a headache." Parker explained with the gravity that only a profoundly drunk or drugged person can manage.
"What did you take?" He demanded again.
"My headache pills." Parker was quite puzzled by Broots’ agitation, but feeling far to comfortable and disconnected by now to really worry about it.
Her head lowered to rest on her arm again, and her eyes slid shut as Broots bustled off into her bathroom to search it.
She wasn’t asleep, just drifting quite contentedly in a placid, peaceful place, when Broots’ insistent shaking of her shoulders pulled her back.
"Wha’?!" She mumbled irritably, opening one eye to glare briefly at her tormentor.
"Are these what you took?" Broots demanded, thrusting her prescription bottle in front of her eyes.
"Of course." She muttered, eyes sliding shut to welcome back the peace but Broots shook her again.
"How many?" He demanded.
"Two!" She grumbled. "Wha’ you think I am? Stupid?"
"How much did you drink before you took them?"
Parker slapped listlessly at his insistent hand on her shoulder and slid bonelessly down to lay entirely on the couch.
"Park! Parker, how many drinks?" Broots shouted urgently.
"Jus’ two." Parker whispered, never opening her eyes. "Now let me sleep."
"Oh, God!" Broots groaned, looking from Parker, to the scotch decanter, to the pills in his hands. Finally he grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number with shaking hands.
"Sydney?" He tried to keep his voice steady as the other person answered. "I think we have a problem…"
*****
She knelt on the grave, her gun heavy in her hand while the other traced the name on the gravestone. Thomas Gates. She was tired of being alone, tired of finding out that what she believed was nothing more than another lie, tired of looking for someone who would love her, who would stay with her…
“Tommy, I’m coming, love. I’m coming to join you and Mama.” She murmured, bringing the gun that had killed him to rest on her temple.
‘No!’ The dreamer protested from his silent vantage point. ‘No, you mustn’t! You can’t!’ The gunshot and a cry of denial rang out simultaneously.
“Noooooo!” Jarod bolted to a sitting position before he was even fully awake, his protest still echoing in his ears.
Gradually it sank in that he had been dreaming. His heartbeat began to slow, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. He drew a deep breath and let it out.
He hadn’t had this particular nightmare in weeks. Not since he’d helped Parker to discover who’d killed the man she loved, even though neither of them had discovered just who’d ordered the murder. He wondered if it was meeting Melisande that triggered it, or if it was his own guilty conscience rearing up to bite him after his hateful call the night before. Whatever the case was, it was clear that he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep that night and so he got up and got to work.
A shower, a change of clothes and a new set of sheets for the bed followed in quick succession. Then he opened his laptop and settled down to work. Beside him was the red notebook that held the few clues to the disappearance of Jo’s husband and infant daughter.
FLIGHT OR FOUL PLAY?
The caption of the newspaper clipping caught his eye as it had when he’d first perused the Seattle Times. The article went on to suggest that Josephine Bartlett was responsible for her husband and child’s disappearance. Later clippings indicated that Jo had actually been held by the police who were also willing to believe she’d managed to kill them and completely dispose of the evidence. It was only the lack of evidence that eventually led to her freedom, although the taint of suspicion had followed her until she moved from Seattle, where the incident had taken place, to Spokane, where she opened a bar with their savings account.
It had been a year since the two had disappeared on their way to visit Stephen Bartlett’s parents in Yakima. The older Bartletts had actually been the first to point the finger at Jo, claiming that Stephen had been on the verge of divorcing her and getting custody of their daughter, and that Jo had murdered them rather than lose them. Jarod had actually examined that accusation, but the evidence the police had used against her was so obviously planted to frame her that Jarod’s curiosity about the mystery had doubled.
There was obviously a great deal of money and power behind this kidnapping, and all of his instincts rebelled against letting that power succeed in tearing apart these three. He’d stared at a grainy newspaper image of Jo, her hair tumbling wildly down her back, her face wet, and her eyes swollen from countless tears, and he’d wondered if this was how his mother had looked after he’d been taken. Even before his heart-to-heart with Jo, he’d known that she couldn’t be behind the disappearance of her husband and infant daughter
He’d tracked down Jo and Steve’s friends on the coast, and their stories had been diametrically opposed to the one told by Steve’s parents.
“Those two were more in love than anyone I’d ever seen.” Steve’s co-worker had claimed, shaking his head sadly.
“Yeah,” Another had agreed. “And all those years they tried to have a baby. A lot of marriages fail when they find out they can’t have kids the good old fashioned way, but they just seemed to get closer.”
“Jo’s sun rose and set with Steve and Midori.” Jo’s best friend had shared later, tears for her friend shining in her eyes. “She’d never hurt them----never!”
Jarod had heard the same sentiments recited over and over and over again. The only opposing testimony was from people who’d obviously had some complaint against the couple. Possibly they’d even been paid to stir up trouble for Jo by Steve’s parents. But no one who’d been close to the younger Bartletts had anything negative to say to him.
Finally Jarod was left with one clue. The center where Steve and Jo had gone for help in conceiving their child, The Reproductive Centre of the Northwest, located in Spokane, Washington. The fact that Jo had moved to Spokane as soon as she was free indicated that she suspected them of the disappearance of her family too. What she hadn’t known was that the Reproductive Centre was linked to the same clinic that Jarod’s parents had gone to so many years ago, NuGenisis. The connection was buried under countless layers of false companies and investors, but it was there. Jarod fought a wave of black depression as he wondered just how many branches and layers of the Centre he would find in his search for his family.
Several hours later, his searching had led him to countless dead ends and a splitting headache. Trying to come up with hard evidence against the Centre was a lot like trying to catch the secret of a magician’s act. You knew that it was an illusion created with the help of smoke and mirrors, but you just couldn’t prove it. Some days it was almost more than he could take. Now, it was time for him to leave to meet with Melisande. In fact, it was past time! If he was going to show up on time for their meeting he’d have to pick up their picnic somewhere along the way.
He showed up ten minutes late with a bag full of Chinese takeout from one of the many downtown stores. Melisande was standing, foot tapping impatiently, and looked ready to breathe fire.
“Sorry, long line.” Jarod held up the bag apologetically. Melisande considered that, and then pointed at the bag.
“If you’ve got sweet-n-sour prawns in there I might forgive you.” She relented.
“Of course I do!” Jarod returned with an enigmatic smile.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Melisande knew that prawns were a favorite of Parker or if the woman had more similarities to his childhood friend than he’d guessed. Could they really be related, as their stunning resemblance seemed to indicate, or was this just another indication of a complex plot against him? “And sweet-n-sour chicken, and, of course, pork with dipping sauce.”
“The red horseradish sauce?” An expression of genuine anticipation crossed her face.
Jarod allowed a hint of satisfaction to enter his smile, and gestured with his head to the expanse of green grass gently sloping uphill north of the clock tower. He led her to a roofed picnic area at the top of the grassy hill and spread out their fare on a wooden picnic table that had been painted robin’s egg blue.
“So,” he began through a mouthful of stir fried vegetables. “Who are you really, Melisande?”
“I beg your pardon?” Melisande choked on a bite of pork.
“Well, I figure we could dance around the truth that you’re somehow connected to the Centre, or I could save some time and just come out and ask you what the game is this time?”
“I don’t know what---“
“I’m talking about?” Jarod finished for her dryly. “Please, Melisande, don’t insult my intelligence. It’s my brains that the Centre wants anyway, so it’s pretty stupid of them to believe I wouldn’t notice your obviously engineered resemblance to Miss Parker. So tell me, which of the idiots running the place came up with this idea? And what are they hoping to accomplish?”
Melisande darted a furtive, panicked look around them. They were alone as far as she could see, and the rushing water of the river behind them would probably mask their conversation, but she was terrified anyway.
“Don’t worry, I picked this spot very carefully. No one can sneak up on us,” he gestured meaningfully towards the open grass around them, “and the noise of the water will cover anything we say from any long distance microphones. Besides, I have an electronic jammer on me.”
“A jammer?” Her tone was sarcastic enough to bring Miss Parker forcefully back into his mind.
“Just a toy I rigged up. It’ll disrupt any attempts at electronic surveillance. Now, are you going to talk? Or do I walk?”
Melisande looked at him assessingly, but with strong undertones of fear. Finally she sighed, and her shoulders slumped briefly before she remembered that she could still be watched, even if she couldn’t be heard.
“My physical resemblance to your friend wasn’t engineered. These are my true features, with no enhancement.” She started hesitantly. “And your Miss Parker doesn’t know about me, but I was told I’m her sister.”
“Told by whom?” Jarod demanded suspiciously.
“I don’t know. I’ve never actually been to the Centre. He called me; the day after---“ Melisande’s voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. She fought to keep them from spilling over.
“The day after?” Jarod prompted.
“I have a daughter.” Melisande whispered, closing her eyes. Two tears slid down her cheeks. “She was taken a few months ago; the night of her fourth birthday.”
“Damn them!” Jarod swore, his hand fisting with a rage that he knew he couldn’t express openly at the moment.
“They said I’d never see her again if I didn’t help them. They sent me videos of Miss Parker, told me to study her, to learn to imitate her movements, and to be ready for my assignment. After I’d done as they wanted for two months a man showed up at my apartment.” Melisande broke off again and shuddered.
“He frightened you?” Jarod guessed, having a suspicion of just who this person was.
“Yes. He didn’t look openly evil or anything; in fact, he looked like your average, clean cut, guy next door, but something about the way he looked at me…”
“Was his left thumb missing?”
“I don’t know.” Melisande seemed startled by the question. “I tried not to look at him.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jarod waved off his question. “What do they expect you to accomplish?”
“They want me to capture your attention. Maybe make you fall in love with me. Then I’ll be “abducted” and you’ll want to come and rescue me. It will be a trap, of course.”
“And, should that fail, they’ve done their best to make sure that your own daughter arouses my sympathies. Did they tell you that they kidnapped me when I was four?” Jarod asked bitterly.
“No.” Melisande’s emerald eyes gleamed with sympathy.
“Was your daughter unusual in any way? Clever, or artistic, or something?”
“Yes!” Once again Melisande was startled. “She’s a genius. But I wouldn’t listen to the psychiatrists who tried to get me to enroll her in special schools. In fact, I’m---I was, home-schooling her.”
“Did she seem especially talented in any particular area?” He wasn’t simply curious, he was also trying to keep Melisande talking while he assessed her story and extended his own special abilities to determine her honesty.
His immediate sympathy towards her frightened him a little, because it was a feeling that was beyond his control, and he needed desperately to be in complete control. And he’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t safe to have any tender feelings towards anyone connected with the Centre. The way they were using Melisande’s resemblance to Parker only proved the point.
He studied the woman carefully as she made her reply, searching for any hint of duplicity, for the tiniest false note in her words.
“She was fascinated by nature, anatomy, how things work together and animals.” Melisande chuckled with the kind of fond amusement that only a mother could manage. “I let her spend part of almost every day with our local vet. He became a friend after Kiara had brought him four or five patients to save. He’s a very sweet man, many vets wouldn’t even consider taking in injured strays, much less the wild creatures Kiara managed to find in the city. And then, to allow a small child to hang around while he worked---I almost loved him for that.”
Jarod inferred from the tinge of regret on her face that the vet had hoped for much more from the mother of the child he’d befriended.
“But he let Kiara keep coming, even after I let him know I wasn’t ready for any kind of a relationship with him. He said she was his most valued assistant, and told me that he saved all of his most puzzling patients for her. She was a whiz at figuring out what was wrong with them. He used to joke that it was almost as if she could speak directly to them.” Melisande smiled through the tears shimmering in her eyes. “I had to find homes for the menagerie of snakes, pigeons, and stray cats that she’d rescued and nursed to health. I’m sure there would have been more, but I drew the line at rats, and mice, and anything larger than a cat.”
“She sounds very special, Melisande.” Jarod covered her hand gently.
“She is, but she’s still just a baby. I just hope she isn’t too scared, wherever she is.” With that Melisande broke down completely, covering her face with her hands in a vain attempt to stem the tears.
Meal forgotten, doubts resolved, and protective instincts in high gear, Jarod moved around the table and gathered Melisande into his arms while she sobbed out months of fear and grief. He wasn’t unaccustomed to comforting distraught people, but between Jo and Melisande he was starting to feel like a character in a Soap Opera---the nice guy who never gets the girl, no less.
“Don’t worry, Melisande.” He promised earnestly as he tried to comfort her. “We’ll get her back. I promise, we’ll get Kiara back where she belong---with you.”
Of course, in the privacy of his own thoughts he had to wonder just how he could keep this promise. Had he finally bitten off more than he could chew? There was no way of knowing, but his apprehension was growing fast.
*****
“Parker? Parker, can you hear me?”
“Don’t shout, Broots.” Parker answered irritably. “Go away and leave me alone.”
“Sydney! Sydney it’s okay! She’s awake!”
“Broots! What are you doing in my bedroom anyway?” Parker finally cracked one sapphire blue eye to glare at the technician. The eye grew wide and the other eye flew open as she stared around her in amazement.
“Where the hell am I?” She demanded, staring at wallpaper covered with cowboys, horses, and longhorn cattle.
“You’re in Broots’ spare bedroom.” Sydney said severely. “We didn’t dare leave you alone last night.”
“Why?” Parker sat up, wincing as her head pounded in response.
“Parker, you know better than to combine painkillers and alcohol. What got into you?”
“Oh Sydney, don’t be ridiculous!” Parker snapped. “I only had two drinks and it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever taken a pain pill.”
“Parker, you were completely out---we couldn’t rouse you at all. And if Broots hadn’t managed to make you throw up before I got there I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Why? I remember taking the pills, and I only took two. I only remember taking two drinks before that too.” Parker half moaned, half whimpered, her hands holding her head as if it would break apart without that help. “And my head hurts worse than ever. What the hell happened?”
“Her pills were switched.” Broots answered from the doorway, cell phone in hand as he flipped it shut. “Bernie in the lab just called me with the results of the chemical breakdown I asked him to run.”
“What do you mean, switched? And somebody bring me some aspirin!”
“Parker, someone tried to kill you, and it almost worked.” Broots said urgently. “You almost died.”
“Broots, I am dying! And if you don’t get me some aspirin I’m taking you with me!” Parker hissed.
Broots scurried to find some painkillers, leaving Sydney with the task of making her drug and pain fogged mind grasp the severity of the situation.
“Parker, what did you do yesterday?” He asked, with the special inflection a person uses when they want you to come up with the answer to something they already see.
“Sydney, what are you blathering about? I didn’t do anything yesterday! It was a singularly wasted day.”
“Parker, try to understand, someone switched your medication---and if they knew of your predilection for ignoring drug/alcohol interactions then it quite probably was meant to kill you. Now, considering where we work, that can only mean that you know something, or are close to something, that could be dangerous to the Powers That Be.”
“Syd, I did the same thing yesterday that I do everyday. I insulted Lyle, insulted Broots, snapped at you, threatened Raines…”
“Raines?” Sydney jumped on the name. “You haven’t talked to him since your father got back to the Centre.”
“I didn’t really talk to him yesterday---he wanted to talk to me, though.” Parker remember slowly, absently accepting and swallowing the pills Broots handed her.
“About what?”
“He said I have a sister…” Parker whispered, looking, Broots thought, much like she had moments before she vomited up the pickle juice he’d convinced her to drink.
“What else?”
“Daddy came up then. He wanted to see me later. Then---“
“Then Raines died.”
“But who?” Parker’s face was whiter than the sheets she clutched. “Who would want to kill me and Raines? Everyone knows we loathe each other.”
“It could have been any number of people, laboring under any number of misconceptions.” Sydney answered dryly. “If they thought Raines had confessed more than he really had, or, maybe we have two people at work here, and their efforts just happened to dovetail on that one day.
“Until we know, you’re staying here.” Broots said with uncharacteristic firmness.
“I can’t stay here! My clothes are at my home. What do you want me to do, show up for work in my pajamas?”
“No work, Parker.” Sydney responded, backing Broots up. “Until we know what’s going on, you’re safer away from the Centre. And no one will ever expect to find you here.” He added with a wry grin.
“I certainly didn’t!” Parker muttered, subsiding in the bed with a wince.
With both Sydney and Broots ganging up on her, she knew she wasn’t going to win this battle of wills. Contrary to what many people believed, Parker respected both of her colleagues. She knew that they truly cared about her, just as she cared about them. Besides, she was in far too much pain to fight them. All she really wanted to do was sleep until her head didn’t hurt so much.
*****
“No, Sir, it didn’t work out the way you thought it would.” Melisande’s voice was low and controlled, allowing none of the trepidation she was feeling to show. “He wanted to know who I was and why I look so much like Miss Parker---of course I didn’t tell him who I was! I told him I didn’t know any Miss Parker.”
Melisande fell silent at a spate of words from the other end of the line and her hand clenched the phone so tightly that the knuckles turned white. Her face paled as the words continued.
“No! Please!” She gasped suddenly. “I swear, he’s still interested in me. I told him about Kiara---that she’d been taken. He promised to help me. You can still get him!”
She paused, chest heaving and tears glittering in her eyes as she tried to maintain control while the person on the other end spoke again.
“I promise.” She said at last, sincerity dripping from each word. “I’ll do exactly what you say, just, please, don’t do anything to Kiara! Okay, okay, I will.” Her voice broke on a sob as her thumb hit the button disconnecting the call.
The tears in her eyes broke free and began sliding down her cheeks as her shoulders slumped with despair. She could manage a facade of Parker’s cool exterior, but she lacked the years of practice that had refined Parker’s control to cast-iron rigidity. The loss of her daughter had devastated her, and the deception she was being forced to practice further broke her spirit. She could have no more stemmed her tears than she could have dammed up Niagara Falls.
But, like Parker, she had a core of solid steel. After a very short, stormy bout of weeping, she collected herself, and began preparing for a very special meeting. She hadn’t had a chance to tell her master that she and Jarod were meeting in the bar tonight, but she was sure that whoever was watching her would pass the information on later. Maybe that would be enough to keep her precious child safe.
’Please, God,’ she thought fervently, ’keep my Kiara safe for me!’
*****
“Little Parker needs you!”
“Angelo, I have no idea what you’re talking about! I called the nursery, and the baby is fine. What are you talking about?”
“Not boy Parker, girl Parker! Girl Parker sad. Misses Mommy.”
Sydney sighed. Angelo was being unusually obstinate, which probably meant that whatever had gotten him excited was important. But he was tired. His disrupted night with his “girl Parker” had left him with a nagging headache and wavering concentration. He didn’t feel up to the task of deciphering Angelo’s cryptic warning, much less dealing with it once he understood.
“Angelo, let’s try this again; where is this little girl Parker?”
Angelo smiled cherubically. Obviously, Sydney had managed to choose the right question.
“Angelo show!”
Tugging insistently on Sydney’s jacket sleeve, Angelo led the psychologist onto the Centre grounds and into a groundskeeper’s shed. Just as Sydney opened his mouth to point out to Angelo that this was a tool shed, not an office, dwelling, or cell, Angelo pushed in one of the few cinder blocks not covered by pegs and shelves, and the entire wall swung out.
“With as many secrets as this place holds, you’d think I’d stop being surprised when a new one showed up, wouldn’t you?” Sydney asked himself ruefully, plunging after Angelo into the inky darkness of the tunnel behind the wall.
Once the wall swung shut, weak lights sprang up, illuminating a narrow passage. Sydney had to repress sensations of claustrophobia as he followed Angelo’s swiftly retreating back. After a few short minutes of travel they emerged into a large, open, underground room. It looked like nothing more than an empty gym, populated by nothing more than 4 treadmills in the far corner from where Sydney and Angelo stood.
’Why would anyone need so much room underground?’ Sydney wondered silently, not liking the suspicions that were rising in his thoughts.
Angelo ignored the equipment on either side of them, and led Sydney through yet another door, this time into a normally sized and lit hallway. The hallway was simply made of rough cinder blocks; unpainted and with an unfinished air about it. Utilitarian metal doors were placed at intervals down the hallway and reinforced, one-way windows were placed next to the doors. Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he realized the place was uncomfortably similar to SL-27.
“Little Parker!” Angelo was kneeling in front of one of the doors, speaking through a narrow slit in the door. A single, brilliantly blue eye appeared at the slot, framed by dark brown hair.
“Angelo!” The child’s smile was evident in her voice and one visible eye. “I missed you! Have you found my mommy yet?”
“No, brought Sydney.”
“Sydney?”
The psychologist was amazed at the amount of expression the child could show with such a tiny portion of her face visible. She’d obviously mastered the frown of disapproval, because even he could feel her unhappiness with Angelo’s answer.
“Who is Sydney?” She asked suspiciously.
“Sydney friend. Help little Parker.”
“My name is Kiara!” Now the girl’s voice held exasperation, with undertones of affection and a resigned understanding that Angelo wasn’t likely to start using her name.
“Hello, Kiara.” Sydney crouched down to bring his face to where the girl could see him. “I’m Sydney. Angelo is my friend, and he brought me here to meet you.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” The child replied, obviously by rote, and not meaning a word of it. “Can you take me back to my mommy?” She added with a wistfulness that indicated her lack of hope.
“I don’t know who your mommy is.” Sydney answered slowly. “But if you tell me more about yourself, perhaps I can try to find her for you.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Lyle’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway, smug, and self satisfied, and somehow, in spite of its pleasant tones, sinister. “Kiara will soon have plenty of company, and, since you seem so concerned for her, I’m sure you won’t mind staying a while to keep her company, will you Sydney?
Sydney pushed himself up, his face carefully arranged into a neutral expression. He knew he’d never been closer to death than he was at that moment, but he also knew that if he showed a hint of fear it would all be over for him.
“So you’re behind all of this?” He asked skeptically, waving a arm to indicate the area in general. Nothing was more likely to make Lyle reveal everything than an attack on his credibility. But Lyle surprised him.
“No, I’m just a---a supervisor, if you will.” He smiled coolly. “But I have enough authority to shoot you right now and never have to answer for it.”
“So why haven’t you?” Sydney challenged in his quietly courageous way. “There’s no love lost between the two of us and we both know it.”
“That’s true.” Lyle agreed, his smile never faltering. “But I have plans that could be implemented more easily with your assistance.”
“I can’t imagine anything you might have planned that I would be willing to assist you in.”
“Perhaps not, but I trust you will at least be clever enough to hear me out.” The smile finally showed signs of fraying around the edges.
“All right. State your case.”
“Not here, I’ve had the room at the end converted into an office.” Lyle gestured down the hall, and Sydney stalked off in the indicated direction, thoughts whirling with both worry and confusion.
Lyle wasn’t behaving true to form, but that didn’t mean Sydney wasn’t in danger. He maintained his air of calm as he walked through the open door and seated himself behind the desk in the center of the room, but he suspected Lyle knew just how fragile his peace really was.
“So, Sydney,” Lyle walked around the psychologist, enjoying the subtle air of threat that his pacing created. “Your tame monkey brought you here. I thought he might.”
Angelo crouched defensively in a corner of the office, warily watching Lyle’s every move, chewing nervously on his fingers, but never allowing Lyle to actually make eye contact with him.
“What are you up to, Lyle?” Sydney demanded, deciding the best defense in this case was a good offense. “What do you want to accomplish that you think I can help you with? And how does that little girl fit into everything?”
Lyle laughed, with good humor and very little of his usual malice.
“I’ve been placed in charge of this project.” He began, unnecessarily, for Sydney had already inferred as much.”
“And this project is…” Sydney questioned, his voice heavy with irony.
“It’s been named Project Phoenix. It combines the best of both the Pretender Project and Project Gemini.”
“You’re resurrecting the Pretender Project?” In spite of the evidence of his own eyes, Sydney found it hard to believe.
“Actually, we never really ended it. Jarod only thwarted one small branch of the project three years ago, he didn’t impact the others. It took some doing, but I managed to have several of the more promising new children assigned to my team. I want you to train them.”
“Children? I only saw the little girl.”
“We have three girls at the moment.” Lyle clarified. “There are more on the way. They should all be here before the evening meal tomorrow. I’ve been given unlimited access to ten all together, but there will be more if we succeed with even one of those ten.”
“Ten?! You expect me to train ten pretenders?!”
“Not necessarily. I realize that some of the children may be unsuitable as Pretenders. You’ll have to assess them first.”
“Where are these children coming from? What makes you think any of them could hold a candle to Jarod?”
“Actually, that’s part of the experiment. We’ve gotten them from a variety of situations. Some had ”normal” families, some were in orphanages or foster homes, and a few have been raised within Centre walls, much like the clone.”
“You’re wondering how much environment had to do with Jarod’s abilities.”
“The boy pretty well proved that Jarod’s so-called family had very little to do with his exceptional performance---it was all in his genes.” Lyle sneered. “And this new generation will prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“What, exactly, are you saying, Lyle?” Sydney recalled the nagging sense he’d had when speaking to Kiara that he’d seen her, and heard her voice, before.
“You’ll know soon enough, although I’m sure you already suspect.” Lyle countered smoothly. “With the correct training we’ll have an entire cadre of Pretenders to work for us. Now, are you going to help?”
“I---“ Sydney hesitated.
He wanted to help Kiara, and he knew that he could easily use Lyle’s ambition to gain at least some concessions for the children. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he could live with any more compromises on his conscience. He had so many regrets about Jarod and the things that had been done to the boy, both with and without his permission.
“It isn’t just you who would benefit from this.” Lyle urged persuasively. “I’ll give you complete control over the training, living conditions, everything. I’ll even let you keep the monkey with you, instead of locking him up where he’ll never get loose.”
Angelo hunched his shoulders at this threat and redoubled his nervous chewing.
“Why? Why allow me free rein? Why me at all?”
“Because, as little as I like you personally, I have to admit that you’re good at what you do. You are the only trainer on the Pretender Project to have produced a Pretender that the Centre could use at all, even if he did run off eventually. I want that kind of a success on my record, and I’ll reward you handsomely if you get it for me.”
Sydney didn’t trust the oily promise, but he believed in Lyle’s determination to accomplish what the Centre had only achieved once before. He could almost see young Kiara, her blue eye pleading with him to rescue her from Lyle’s perversions.
“All right.” Sydney sighed. “I’ll help---but I want to try a few changes in the program this time. I’ve had a few ideas that might keep our Pretenders loyal to us longer.”
“Whatever.” Lyle agreed casually. “You’ll have to remain here for the time being, but I’ll send down some cots and blankets for you and ape-boy.
“I want the children’s rooms to be unlocked at all times.”
“As I said, you can call the shots where the children are concerned, but be warned: If any of you try to leave you will be shot. I’d prefer to have you on the team, but you aren’t the only psychologist on my list.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.” Lyle said briskly as Sydney urged Angelo to his feet and towards the door. “Right now I have a package to arrange transport for.”
Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the satisfaction in Lyle’s voice, and Angelo’s worried expression didn’t make him feel any better. Still, whatever evil Lyle had planned was beyond his control. Right now his responsibility was to meet with the children he’d just accepted responsibility for, and pray for a clever plan to save them all.
*****
"So," Jo said, watching Melisande cautiously from the other side of the table. "You’ve got the same problem I do."
The three sat at Jo’s kitchen table. Melisande had contacted Jarod as soon as she’d gotten off the phone with her Centre contact. He, in turn, had called Jo and convinced her not to open the bar that night. It was obvious to him that they were running out of time and options, and he wanted to make sure both women knew what he needed from them before he made his move.
"Apparently." Melisande agreed with Jo’s assessment with equal caution.
This was her first meeting with the other woman, and she didn’t trust anyone at this point. Jo had also learned the hard way that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. Jarod sighed silently, realizing that he had his work cut out for him if he was going to achieve an alliance between the two.
"Look, ladies, you two are going to have to help each other." He said briskly, looking from one to the other with determination. "I’m going to be out of touch with everyone pretty soon, and you’re going to have to be there for each other, do you understand?"
"No." Both women spoke at the same time, which seemed to break the ice with them. They smiled briefly at each other before turning their attention back to Jarod.
"What, exactly, are you trying to tell us?" Jo asked bluntly.
"You both know that I think the Centre is behind all of this, right?" Jarod clarified. Both women nodded and he went on. "Well, I think there’s a little more to this little scenario than just your daughters being kidnapped. This situation was tailor-made to lure me in. I expect that sooner or later the people pulling the strings will manage to get their hands on me---they know that even if I figure out what’s going on that I won’t walk away from this mess. So, when I’m in their hands, you two will need to depend on each other. Is that clear enough?"
Both women nodded, Melisande wearing a very thoughtful look on her face.
"So what is your plan?" She asked, staring at Jarod as if she could see right through the skin and bone covering his extraordinary brain and see what he was thinking for herself. Jarod gave her a smile, fraught with understanding, and nodded his approval.
"Melisande, they’ve promised to bring you to your daughter if you deliver me to them, haven’t they?" He asked bluntly.
"Yes." She admitted guiltily.
"I don’t think they’ll keep their promise, but they might. If they do, it will be up to you to see if Jo’s husband and daughter are in the same place----if they are, you’ll have to contact Jo and let her know."
“What?” Melisande exclaimed, wondering if she’d really just heard Jarod all but tell her to turn him over to the Centre.
"How is she supposed to manage that?" Jo demanded, wondering if Jarod had lost his mind.
"I’ll explain some options to Melisande in detail later---I want to make sure you two are prepared to work together first."
“You sound like you’re going to give yourself up to these people.”
“I am, Jo.” He affirmed, seeming to have read her mind. “Since I’m going to end up in their hands one way or another, I figure it would be better all around if I did it my way, instead of theirs.”
“But---“ Jo protested, the horrible scenarios Jarod had shared with her earlier flashing through her mind. “But they’ll---“
“I’m tougher, and smarter, than you know, Jo.” He assured her gently. “They can’t break me, but I can find out more from the inside than here. It will be okay, don’t worry.”
Jo nodded, but the worried frown between her eyebrows remained. She and Melisande exchanged another look, their bond growing as each woman silently acknowledged their concerns for Jarod. There was no question that he was the bravest and most selfless man they’d ever known, but they were both wondering if he wasn’t also the craziest.
"Jo, if Melisande and I both vanish you need to be available for us as a contact. Stay here, your bar will be our meeting place and message place if we get separated. In this envelope----" Jarod pushed a manila envelope across the table to her, "is a list of all the people connected to the Centre, their relation to me, how to contact them, and how much I trust them. Memorize the information and then burn it---I don’t know how tight the surveillance is on you yet and I don’t want you or the people in this list compromised, okay?"
Jo nodded her head unhappily.
"Melisande, if your contact doesn’t keep his word to you, I want you to find your sister. You need to tell her everything, but you need to find her and contact her cautiously. You’d both be in serious danger if anyone at the Centre suspected you were about to meet each other---do you understand?"
Melisande nodded somberly.
"This envelope has all the information on your sister that I know of that might help you contact her. If you do get to join Kiara, you are still going to have to try to reach your sister. She works for the Centre---"
Melisande’s indrawn breath of horror cut him off, but he continued firmly before she could say anything.
"She was raised within it, just like me, but I don’t think that the Centre has truly claimed her--- at least, not yet. You have to try and reach her, but once again, be careful. The Centre is ruthless and neither of you will live long if they discover your mission. In the meantime," here Jarod caught her eyes and stared at her intently, as if he could imprint some unspoken message directly into her mind, "do what you have to do to survive and protect your loved ones---both of you."
"I don’t like this plan.” Jo protested.
“Believe me, neither do I.” Jarod assured her. “But it’s the only one I can come up with.”
“But what if---“
“What ifs aren’t worth the breath it takes to speak them.” Jarod cut her off firmly. “This is what we’re going to do. It’s what we have to do. Do you understand?”
“No.” Jo grumbled.
“Yes.” Melisande countered, her eyes troubled. “I don’t like it, but I understand. We’ll do our part, Jarod.”
"Good." Jarod pushed his chair back from the table and grinned, transforming his grim expression into one of boyish cheer in an instant. "In that case, Jo, I think Melisande and I should get going now."
Jo growled wordlessly, and waved the two off. Her expression was angry, but her eyes were concerned as she watched the two depart her bar. For a moment her thoughts veered to what an attractive pair the two made, but her worry soon resurfaced. She wished Jarod hadn’t sprung this on her so precipitously, so that she could have made some counter plans of her own.
Still, it wasn’t too late to do some research on her unexpected savior. She stacked the coffee cups, neglecting to rinse them, into the kitchen sink and turned immediately to make her way into the utility room off of her kitchen that doubled as an office. Her computer was there, and she’d become pretty good at digging things up via the internet. Jarod was going to get backup from her whether he liked it or not!
*****
“Miss Parker! Miss Parker, are you still here?” Broots burst into his house and ran straight through the living room to the hallway leading to the bedrooms in the back.
He didn’t even close the front door in his haste, just raced to where he’d left Parker, calling her name all the way. He almost barreled into her when she suddenly appeared in the doorway to the guest room, looking rumpled and half asleep.
“Where’s the fire?” She asked, stretching slowly as she tried to get her blood moving and wake up. “And what time is it?”
“Is Sydney here?” Broots demanded urgently, ignoring her questions.
“I don’t think so.” Parker looked startled, glancing up and down the short hallway as if she would see Sydney standing there. “I just woke up.” She added unnecessarily.
“He went somewhere with Angelo while I was at the lab and neither of them came back!” Broots panted, mangling the folder-sized manila envelope he was clutching.
“Okay, slow down.” Parker advised, raking her dark hair out of her eyes, and moving decisively down the hallway towards the living room.
It was a good indication of Broots’ anxiety level that he didn’t even glance at Parker’s long legs, perfectly exposed by her skimpy, silk camisole-and-shorts pajamas, as she walked away from him. He sank onto the sofa, seeming to be in shock as Parker checked to see if anyone was watching Broots’ house, and then closed and locked the front door. She noted both the growing darkness outside of the house, and the late hour on the mantel clock before turning her attention back to her coworker.
“Okay, Broots, talk to me. What happened?” Parker’s tone was far gentler than what she usually used with him, but Broots was too far gone in his worry to notice.
“I told you.” He answered, seeming more focused on his dark thoughts than on his words to her. “Sydney went somewhere with Angelo and neither of them came back.”
“When did they leave?” Parker asked softly, her eyes hard and cold as she considered the fact that the older man could be dead or worse. She suddenly realized how much she cared about Sydney and just how far she’d go to ensure his safety.
“It was a little after lunch. I went to the lab to talk to Bernie about his results on your prescription---do you know it wasn’t even the same drug? Bernie still isn’t sure what was in those capsules, but they dissolved like sugar when he dropped them in water, and they were nearly ten times as powerful as your normal prescription. One would have probably killed you, even without the alcohol to help.” He digressed in amazed tones.
“A win/win situation. If I died, it would have been a suicide, if I lived, which they obviously weren’t hoping for, I could be locked up and finished off at their leisure.” Parker responded dryly, seeing her evil twin brother in her mind’s eye.
“You think it was Lyle, don’t you?” Broots asked.
“Broots, use your brain! My brother has already had me locked up once because I was supposedly suicidal---although how the hell he explained away the fact that I was shot in the back still eludes me. Of course it was him, only this time he ensured there would be a drug overdose in my system to back up his claims.”
“Oh, that’s cold.” Broots shuddered sympathetically.
“Now, what’s that in your hands? Bernie’s results?”
“What?” Broots looked down at the crumpled envelope in his hands as if he’d never seen it before. “Oh! This came for you today at the office!”
Parker sighed and held out her hand, saying with resignation; “Another riddle from Jarod?”
“I don’t think so.” Broots answered the rhetorical question. “It doesn’t have his “feel” to it.”
“It’s from Raines!” Parker exclaimed, reading the letter paper-clipped to the folder inside of the envelope.
“What’s it say?” Broots demanded suspiciously.
Parker didn’t answer, already engrossed in the documents enclosed in the folder. Broots recognized the absorption on her face and left to start dinner with a small sigh. He was used to reining in his curiosity, and he knew Parker wasn’t trying to be insulting. He just hoped that whatever Raines had sent her wouldn’t turn out to be another Centre, or Jarod, mind-game that would end up hurting her more.
*****
“So, Melisande, care for stroll down the Bicentennial?” Jarod asked as they walked out of Jo’s house towards the street where Jarod’s latest rental vehicle was parked.
“As long as we’re done before it gets dark.” She agreed cautiously, eyeing the sun which was still well above the western foothills that marked the Spokane Valley.
The Bicentennial is a trail that follows the route taken by the early settlers through Idaho and Eastern Washington on their way to Western Washington. It only goes about ten miles west of Spokane, but it does go east nearly to the Idaho border. Since they were near the downtown area, Melisande assumed Jarod referred to the scenic stretch of trail that ran along the Spokane River through Riverfront Park.
It was beautiful, but the heart of Riverfront Park isn’t a healthy place to be after dark. It tended to be a haven for the homeless, criminal, and suicidal element of the rural metropolis. Jarod, however, laughed and threw an amused look at his companion.
“There’s a nice stretch that runs by Gonzaga University.” He clarified for her. “It’s reasonably safe, even after sunset.”
Melisande studied him, wondering for a tense moment if he wasn’t some sort of a test sent by the man who’d turned her life into a living hell. Jarod met her gaze easily, his expression serious, but in no way threatening.
“I suppose I should.” She agreed reluctantly. “I imagine you have things you’d like to say to me in relative privacy.
“Yes.” Jarod agreed briefly, guiding the Taurus expertly along the congested streets.
Not another word was spoken until they’d reached the University’s small parking lot that opened up directly on the Bicentennial trail. Jarod was fairly confident that Melisande was being monitored, and he didn’t want to risk their words being picked up by a long-distance mike. The trail was perfect for his purposes, because most of it allowed for easy visibility all around, which would prevent their unseen escort from hiding in plain sight, as it were. The area’s that did have hiding places for spies tended to coincide with rapids in the river that would drown out their voices for most listening devices.
“How did you plan to incapacitate me for delivery?” Jarod asked bluntly as soon as he felt it was safe.
“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” Melisande asked sadly.
A full moon illuminated the warm summer night, so it was easy for them to see where they were going. Jarod threw her a sober glance, and then looked back along the trail. Oddly enough, her regret made him think of Parker, who also had orders to return him to captivity, but who had never allowed herself to consider that she might be hurting herself as much as him by following those orders.
“Pretty much.” He affirmed softly. “I almost wish I hadn’t.”
“Jarod, I’m so sorry.“
“I know.” Jarod assured her quietly. “And I know that there really isn’t anything else you could have done but cooperate. That’s why I decided to use your orders to get back inside the Centre. It will take some of the heat off you, and might even get your daughter back to you.”
“But you don’t think it will, do you?”
“No. The Centre isn’t known for its honesty with its victims.”
“I’m supposed to drug your drink.” Mel confessed baldly, here eyes fixed on the blacktop that covered the trail. “Then I dial my contact and they pick you up. But I don’t have to do it for a few more days, if you don’t want.”
“No,” Jarod replied with an unconscious sigh. “The sooner the better, I think.”
He would have been surprised to realize how transparent his dread was to the woman beside him. Usually he was very good at hiding all of his emotions, and he believed he’d convinced both women he was totally confident of his ability to come out on top of an encounter with the Centre. But he wasn’t. Lyle had hurt him badly the last time, and there was a part of him that was deeply frightened to be within Lyle’s power again. The sociopath had come very close to breaking him, closer than Jarod would admit even to himself.
“Jarod, I’m sorry.” Melisande said again. “I’d give anything to have a better idea than this!”
You don’t have to explain anything to me, Melisande.” Jarod reassured her, pulling his self-confidence back to cover his fear like an actor donning a mask. But you can do something for me.”
“What?” Melisande asked, hoping it was within her power to give.
“Miss Parker, your sister…” his voice trailed off uncertainly. He frowned into the growing darkness for several long moments before starting again.
“She’s a very tough woman. She’s had to be to survive.” He explained to the avidly curious woman next to him. “She can be harsh, and she often seems angry, but…”
Once again his voice trailed off and he seemed lost in thought again.
“You really care about her, don’t you?” Melisande prompted gently.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Jarod protested, far to quickly. “It’s just that I remember her as a little girl. Kind, and giving, and vulnerable.”
“And you miss that little girl?”
“Almost as much as I miss my family.” Jarod sighed. “I hope that she’s still there, buried somewhere inside of the woman she’s become.”
“You want me to try to bring that part of her out, don’t you?”
“No, I would never ask anything so impossible of you.” He countered, once again too rapidly to be believable. “I just wanted to ask you to be patient with her if she’s rude at first. She’s terribly lonely, and she needs someone. You have an ability to care that could make all the difference in her life. Please, don’t give up on her, no matter how she behaves towards you.”
“Tell me about her.” Melisande asked earnestly. “Is she really my sister? What’s she like? Why does she work for them?”
“Yes, she’s really your sister. Your mother was allowed to give birth to her and your brother Lyle. You, however, were implanted in a surrogate parent without your mother’s knowledge.”
“But I was adopted!”
“The woman’s husband worked for the Centre. She didn’t know that, nor did she know you weren’t her biological child. He knew that the Centre did some work with infertile couples, so he approached his superior for help when he realized how desperately his wife longed for a child. He hadn’t let her know he was sterile when she married him and he loved her very much---so much that he would do anything to make her happy.
“She went into the hospital for what she believed was an attack of appendicitis, and was implanted with you while she was unconscious. They even removed her appendix before the procedure, just to keep her in the dark.
“Everything would have been just fine, except that your father’s superior, believing he had an unbreakable hold on your father now, began to expect him to do some pretty terrible things. Eventually he asked your father to do something that he simply couldn’t bring himself to do---the Centre does that to you, you know. It brings any person with a shred of decency in him to the point where he has to choose between his ethics and his life. Your father was a good man; he chose his ethics.”
“He was killed?” Melisande was clearly horrified and Jarod knew she was starting to fear the Centre even more than before. He went on with his narrative---the more afraid of the Centre she was, the more likely she was to survive this situation.
“He went to his wife first, and told her everything. He told her what the Centre was, who you were, and what was likely to happen. She agreed with his decision to defy the Centre, even though she knew what that would mean for the two of them. The only thing she insisted on was saving you.”
“But she had just been told that I wasn’t even hers!” Melisande had tears in her eyes at that point.
“You were her daughter.” Jarod corrected. “She carried you, gave birth to you, and loved you for two years. I think that you of all people would understand that the fact that you didn’t carry her DNA made no difference to her.”
Melisande’s thoughts flew to Kiara. She’d never really known how she came to conceive her. The doctors at the hospital had told her she had lost the memory of the events leading up to the accident, but she knew that she hadn’t been seeing someone she was serious about. The mystery of Kiara’s arrival in her life had never affected her love for her precious daughter, though. It wouldn’t matter who Kiara’s parents might turn out to be, Kiara would always be her daughter, and she’d always love her with all of her heart.
“So what happened?” She asked, breaking the silence.
“She arranged to have you adopted through Catholic Family Services. Not even the Centre could penetrate their records. It took them years to find you again.”
“Did the Centre kill them?”
“Yes. Very shortly after you were adopted out.”
“The Millers were wonderful parents.” Melisande said reminiscently. “They never hid the fact that I was adopted, and even though I know that I hurt them with my questions about my “real” parents, they always let me ask them. They didn’t have any answers, but they had enough love to get me through the worst of my adolescent identity crises.”
“Then you were far, far luckier than your sister.”
“Didn’t our parents love her?”
“Your mother did.” Jarod agreed cautiously.
“Our father?”
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
“He doesn’t love Parker?”
“Frankly, I’m not even sure if the man your mother was married to has any part in either of your genetics.” Jarod answered contemptuously. “And even if he does, I don’t think anything can excuse the things he’s put your sister through.”
“I guess I was lucky then. Mom and Dad were fantastic.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as an unpleasant thought struck her. “Just when did the Centre discover my whereabouts?”
“I think you know.”
“They told me it was a drunk driver who collided with our car and killed them.” Melisande’s eyes glittered with tears. “I still don’t remember it, but it probably wasn’t a drunk at all, was it?”
“I honestly don’t know for sure.” Jarod told her truthfully. “What do you remember?”
“Waking up in the hospital. My leg was broken and several ribs were cracked. It was a few weeks before they released me---they said they were worried that I wouldn’t be able to take proper care of myself after losing my parents so abruptly.”
"That was almost 5 years ago, wasn’t it?”
Melisande had been keeping her eyes intently on the black path they followed, but Jarod’s question made her head snap up and her gaze fell sharply on his studiedly casual face.
“Why do you ask?” She whispered, her green eyes glowing in a way that was almost feline as she stared at Jarod.
“You don’t know who Kiara’s father is, do you?” Jarod countered.
“No.” She sighed, knowing what Jarod was leading up to. “Do you suppose her “real” mother wants her back now?”
“It doesn’t matter, Melisande.” He declared gently. “You’re Kiara’s mother, you’ll always be her mother, and you’re going to get her back.”
Melisande sighed, looking over the deceptively calm looking river. Her life had been a lot like that. She’d floated along the peaceful surface, never knowing that the currents beneath could rise up and pull her down in an instant. Several people drowned every year in the Spokane River, she’d learned that since arriving in the area. Could she swim against these currents in her own life?
“Don’t swim against the current.” She heard the voice of the television announcer who’d covered the drowning of a young hiker the week after she’d arrived in Spokane. “If you find yourself in the river, swim with the current and angle towards the shore. That way you don’t use up all of your energy fighting an unbeatable force, and you save it for the important battle of remaining alive.”
She shook her head, but followed Jarod’s lead when he struck out towards the downtown area again. She wanted her daughter back, more than anything, but she hated the price that Jarod was about to pay. Her heart wanted her to fight, to struggle against the logical conclusion of the evening, but her head was assuring her that it would be the same as fighting the current of the river.
Well, she might have to concede to necessity, but the battle wasn’t over yet. The current she was caught in wasn’t going to determine her course any longer! If she couldn’t swim against it, then she would swim with it, just like the announcer suggested, and she’d come out on the bank where she chose!
Normally Melisande was a calm and gentle woman, but at that moment the innermost core of fear in her heart turned to a smoldering anger. In that instant, with that understanding, she’d ceased to be a victim and was well on her way to becoming her own savior. She didn’t know how, but she promised herself that she would somehow make this Centre pay for all the pain they’d caused.
*****
“I want my mom!” Kiara glared at Sydney and remained stubbornly huddled into the corner of her little room.
“I know you do.” Sydney agreed patiently, still amazed at her resemblance to Miss Parker as a child. “But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Please come with me to meet the others, Kiara. I’m sure they’re just as frightened as you are right now, but you could help them to trust me a little more.”
“I’m not afraid!” Kiara protested, her jaw set at a stubborn angle that was all Parker. “I just don’t like it here!”
“Well, I’m sure these other two children don’t like it here either. Won’t you help me to make them feel better?” Sydney coaxed.
“Then could I go home?” Kiara’s maturity dissolved and in an instant she looked exactly like the frightened preschooler that she was.
“No, not yet.” Sydney sighed unhappily, hating that he was already forced to hurt the child he wanted to protect. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to get your mom here for you, though.”
“What if I don’t help you?” Kiara asked shrewdly.
“I’ll still have to go visit the other two, and they’d probably just be afraid of me.” Sydney answered with blunt honesty, knowing that her age didn’t keep her from understanding the big picture. “I need you all to work with me, dear, if I’m going to be able to protect you from Lyle. I want to protect you from Lyle.”
“Sydney good man.” Angelo volunteered suddenly, surprising both of the others. “Trust Sydney, Kiara. Help Sydney.”
“He called me Kiara.” The girl whispered, obviously stunned.
She’d resigned herself to being called “little Parker” by this strange adult who’d become her friend over the past month. It was hard, though, because it made her feel like he was really talking to someone else, not her. But his use of her real name told her that he knew exactly who she was, and that it was the real her, not the memory of some other girl, that he liked and wanted to help. Suddenly Kiara felt less isolated than before and yet, somehow more removed from the life she had known.
“Will you come, Kiara?” Sydney asked gently.
Instead of answering, Kiara propelled herself from her cot and into Sydney’s arms, clinging to him like a drowning swimmer. Sydney fought down his own amazement and awkwardly patted the trembling child on her back. He wasn’t accustomed to soothing frightened children, he realized to his chagrin, but there was something satisfying in offering her comfort. When she loosened her hold and gave him a tremulous smile, he felt as though he had accomplished something far more important than even his work in helping get Apollo 13 safely back to Earth.
*****
“Are you sure he took the drug?” The burly man asked her suspiciously, prodding Jarod’s limp form roughly with one toe.
“Don’t hurt him!” Melisande cried, pushing the man away from Jarod. “Yes, he drank it all. Look,” she peeled up one eyelid gently to show Jarod’s glazed and unseeing eyes. “Drugged, no question about it. So take it easy on him!”
“Lady, you have no idea how sneaky, or dangerous, that man can be.” Sam answered, still suspicious.
“I’m going with you, right?” She asked, changing the subject. “He said you’d take me to Kiara when you picked Jarod up.”
“He changed his mind.” The sweeper responded carelessly. “He’s waiting until Jarod is safely where he belongs, just to be sure that you two aren’t trying to pull a fast one on us.”
Melisande sank onto the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands with a moan of dismay.
“You’re never going to let me see her again are you?” She asked tearfully. “I sold my soul to you people, and you still won’t give me back my baby!”
“I don’t know.” Sam answered stolidly, seeming untouched by her misery. “If you truly belong to the Centre, heart and soul, you might get to see her again----eventually. Now, I’ve got a package to deliver.”
What he didn’t show, and knew better than to even hint at while the other Sweepers were in the room, was that the sight of that tear ravaged face, so like Miss Parker’s, twisted his heartstrings like nothing else could. As two of the men, dressed like EMTs lifted Jarod onto a gurney and strapped him in far more completely than a real paramedic would, Sam eyed Melisande when he thought she wasn’t looking. An expression of honest sympathy and regret crossed his face, surprising the woman who covertly watched his reflection in the dark window before her.
She had no way of knowing that he longed for a few moment alone with her to promise her he’d look for her child. He was worried about Miss Parker, even more concerned over Lyle’s insinuations that she wasn’t returning, and definitely having disloyal thoughts towards the Centre. Of course, he’d been having those for years, and only his attachment to Parker kept him from vanishing as completely as only someone with intimate connections to the underworld of society could. Parker had become the sister he’d never had, and he wasn’t about to leave her to fend for herself in the shark-infested waters that the Centre had become.
He didn’t question his sudden sympathy for this woman either. She and Parker had become inextricably intertwined in his thoughts the day he’d first seen her a month ago. Lyle had dragged him from the Centre the day he’d flown over to meet with Melisande in person and give her his instructions. Sam had seen the same twisted combination of longing and hatred on his face for Melisande as he usually saw turned towards Parker, and he would have realized that Melisande and Parker were sisters sooner or later---even without Lyle’s gloating along those lines on the way back.
He was going to help Melisande, and he was going to find her daughter for her. While he was at it, he was going to track down Parker too. He’d put it off, believing that she was hidden safely away somewhere by Sydney and Broots, but as soon as he returned to Blue Cove, he was going to find her and see that she was all right for himself.
“Do you have any orders about the woman?” He asked Willie in an undertone as they filed into the hotel hallway.
“Just that we’re to continue our surveillance of her.” Willie responded just as quietly.
Sam nodded once. He’d already slipped a Mickey into the coffee thermos that belonged to the guard watching the hotel stairs. If Melisande was as clever as Parker, she’d soon be free to do as she pleased. If she wasn’t, well, there wasn’t much he could do about it, was there?
Melisande watched the ambulance pull away from the hotel from her window. As soon as all sign of the sinister party was gone she went to her bathroom, washed her face and repaired her makeup, and changed into jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt that said, “Just hand over all the chocolate, and no one will get hurt.”
She cracked her door and checked the hallway carefully. Seeing no signs of life, which was only to be expected at 3 am, she slung a soft carryall over her shoulder, and headed to the stairwell. Fortunately for her, the Centre guard had already succumbed to the sedative in his coffee, because she hadn’t even suspected his presence until she was nearly on top of him. It was obvious that his sleep wasn’t natural, and that puzzled her until she remembered the sympathy lurking in Sam’s eyes. She didn’t know why the guy seemed to like her, but it made her feel a little better to know that someone connected with the Centre did. Maybe he could help her get her baby back…
She made her way to an all-night coffee shop near the bus plaza, and doodled on the notepad she’d brought to rough out her plans on. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on what to do next. As soon as the city buses began their daily runs she was back at the Plaza, boarding the bus that would carry her near Jo’s house. In her carry sack were a few changes of clothing, false ID, every dime of her money she could lay her hands on, and her most precious mementos of her daughter. She wouldn’t be returning to her hotel room.
“Where are you going, then?” Jo asked when Melisande had finally brought her up to date on the night’s events.
Both women looked terrible; pale and drawn from a night of lost sleep and too much anxiety. They were seated at Jo’s kitchen table, drinking coffee as they talked.
“I’m going to do what Jarod told me to do.” Melisande answered with a firmness meant to bolster her own resolve. “I’m going to find my sister.”
“Then I’m going with you.” Jo responded, just as firmly.
“Jarod told you to stay! To be our base; our touchstone.”
“I have someone else coming in to cover that.” Jo replied with a hint of smugness.
“Who? I thought you were all alone in the world, like me.”
“I thought I was too. But neither of us are, really. There’s a---a fraternity of sorts in this world. People who’ve been victimized by the Centre, or people who Jarod has helped. I did some digging into his past after he started asking questions about my family, you see, and I found a lot of people who would not only do just about anything for Jarod, but they’d do anything to help him in one of his projects.
“One of the people I found, a woman with a young girl Jarod helped her to adopt, has offered to mind the bar while I’m off searching for my family. Of course, she doesn’t know the first thing about running a bar, so I may have no business left when this is over, but as long as I have my family I don’t care. She knows Jarod, and encountered the Centre after he had moved out of her life. She’s prepared to be our base, and she has contacts of her own that she can call in if we need help. She’ll help us just to help him, and she’ll never talk to the Centre about anything.”
“What if they take her daughter like they did ours?”
“I don’t know that they could. Violet is very shy, very wary, and very, very good at taking care of herself. At least, that’s what her mother said when I brought up that same issue.”
“You know Jarod won’t like this.” Melisande warned ruefully.
“Just because he’s the smartest man I’ve ever met, it doesn’t make him infallible. We need to be actively looking for our loved ones. He may not like it, but he’ll understand, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Melisande gave in, privately grateful to have the company of another bereaved mother. “How soon can you be ready?”
“As soon as I grab my bag from my closet. I packed last night after you two left the bar. I’ve got an RV in my garage that can’t be traced to me too.” Jo grinned at Melisande’s unmistakable look of relief.
“I like my creature comforts.” She said smugly.
*****
“What does it say, Miss Parker?” Broots asked curiously, bringing out a simple dinner and arranging it on the coffee table in front of her.
He was a little worried by the blank look in her eyes, and the way she sat staring into thin air, but she turned towards him as he spoke, which reassured him some.
“I—“ She looked in Broots’ direction, her eyes wide with shock. “I can’t believe it.” She whispered, and dropping the file she fled back to the room Broots had lent her.
Boots looked down the hall and then at the scattered papers on the floor, obviously torn about which was more important. The file won out, as he realized that he couldn’t help Parker if he didn’t know what had upset her. He quickly gathered the papers and sorted them out. Shock overcame him, as well, as he began to read.
Inside Broots’ guest room Parker grabbed her cell phone from the beside table and dialed a number with shaking hands. She’d had this number for over 4 years and never used it. Her expression darkened as the phone rang and rang and no one answered.
“Answer!” She hissed, taking refuge in familiar anger. “Damn it, Jarod, answer!”
She flung the phone against the far wall, shattering it beyond repair, a few moments later when her brother’s unmistakable voice answered, and buried her face in her hands, fighting an overwhelming urge to sob uncontrollably. Her life had been turned upside down in the space of a few days: Raines was dead, Sydney was missing, a new sibling had suddenly been thrust at her, and now Jarod was back in Lyle’s hands. She had never felt so close to cracking, not in all the time and troubles that she’d gone through at the Centre.
But she was a Parker, and she took pride in that fact. Slowly she straightened up and plastered her façade of cool confidence. It was obvious that she couldn’t accomplish anything hiding here at Broots’ house. Tomorrow, whether he liked it or not, she was going in to the Centre.
*****
“Don’t hurt her!”
Sydney sighed, his exasperation growing, even as he tried to keep it in check. The man cowering on the bed had obviously been badly mistreated, and any irritation on Sydney’s part would only exacerbate his fear.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He assured the man for the third time. “I’m supposed to work with her, to help her utilize her intelligence.”
“She’s just a baby.” The man whimpered. “What do you want with her?”
“Right now? Just to meet her and get to know her a little.”
“It’s okay, Mister.” Kiara had silently crept closer to the terrified man, drawn by his obvious pain, and she patted his knee reassuringly with her small hand. “Sydney is a nice man. He won’t hurt us.”
To Sydney’s amazement, the man finally began to calm, fixing Kiara with a pleading look.
“Really? He won’t hurt her? He won’t take her away?”
“No, he can’t.” Kiara answered with the brutal honesty of a young child. “He’s stuck here too.”
“My name is Sydney.” The psychologist offered gently, willing to take advantage of any opening he could get. “I’m going to be taking care of you for a while. What’s your name?”
It was the wrong question to ask. The man hadn’t gone to the Renewal wing, as Sydney suspected, but had been turned over to Lyle instead. He didn’t have Jarod’s training or formidable will to see him through the torture and he’d broken like a dry stick. Lyle had told him he had no name, no past, and no future, and Steven Bartlett didn’t have the confidence anymore to say otherwise.
“Steve!” The dimpled cherubim in his arms cried happily for her father, thrilled to be the center of attention. “Steven Bartlett! Daddy!”
Kiara giggled, Sydney smiled, and the man focused his gaze on the child as if she was his lifeline. And she was his lifeline, the only area that Lyle hadn’t been able to touch, no matter what cruelty he’d resorted to. His daughter was the only reason he was still alive and able to function at all. His need to protect and care for her was the only foundation in his world now.
“Well, little one,” Sydney smiled directly at the little girl, noting absently that her blond curls looked nothing like the wavy brown hair her father boasted. “What is your name, then?”
“Midori.” She grinned widely. She had a mouthful of teeth, but she also had noticeable gaps between them, indicating that she was just beginning to cut them. Sydney guessed that she was somewhere between a year and 18 months in age.
“And what does Midori like to do?” Sydney wisely kept his focus on the child, noting the man’s gradual relaxation as he did so.
“Bounce!” She demonstrated enthusiastically, flexing her tiny knees and bobbing up and down like a buoy on the high sea. Her father instinctively firmed up his hold on her, not preventing the activity, but ensuring that the energetic child wouldn’t go flying out of his arms.
“Kiara and I were just going to meet the other little girl here, would you like to join us?” Sydney included both father and daughter in that question, receiving an excited “yes” from Midori and a frightened “no” from Steve.
“You don’t have to,” Sydney assured the man. “But I’d like you to. I was hoping you’d show me around afterwards.”
“I’ve only been to the kitchen.” The man declared, watching Sydney anxiously. “I didn’t go anywhere else.”
“That’s fine.” Sydney soothed. “From now on you can go anywhere within the complex that you want to, except someone else’s room, of course. You don’t have to go anywhere tonight---we’ll see each other again in the morning, okay?”
“Yes!” The man was nearly trembling with relief as Sydney stood and took Kiara’s hand.
“It’s okay, Mister Bartlett.” Kiara gravely assured him again. “Mr. Sydney doesn’t want to hurt us. He likes us.”
Sydney wondered as he walked to the last child’s room, just what he’d done to earn the little girl’s trust. He wasn’t displeased by it, just curious, and slightly guilty about it. She obviously didn’t know just how little power he truly had, or how misplaced her trust was.
The third child looked up warily from the small wooden desk in her room, her hand going instinctively to cover the picture she was drawing on the sketch pad. She was the oldest of the lot, around 8 or 9 years, and seemed quite comfortable compared to Steve Bartlett and even Kiara.
“Hello, I’m Sydney. I’m going to be taking care of you for a while.” Sydney told her, starting to feel a little like a tape recorder. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Tasida.” She answered softly, her slight accent giving the words a musical sound.
Sydney was reassured by her calm after his encounter with Mr. Bartlett. He studied her for a moment, realizing that she was clearly of Asian/American parentage, and quite pretty with her blue-black hair falling nearly to her waist, and her startling blue eyes that were nearly identical in hue to those of the girl standing by his side. A suspicion as to her possible paternity took root in his mind.
“Where are you from, Tasida?” He asked, maintaining his gentle tone and demeanor.
“I was taken from an orphanage in Japan when I was her age.” Tasida told him calmly, pointing at Kiara. “I stayed at the Centre in Tokyo until a week ago. Then I was brought here.”
“What is that you’re drawing?” He asked, craning his neck for a look.
“The man who brought me here. He took me from the orphanage too.” She didn’t move her hand from covering the picture, but Sydney didn’t need to see the face to have a pretty good idea who it was.
He glanced down at Kiara, wondering what the child’s reaction to the other girl was. The intent look she was giving Tasida held more than a bit of a shock, and he couldn’t interpret the emotion behind the expression. Tasida’s eyes flickered briefly when they met Kiara’s, as if she’d been startled, but she quickly lowered them to hide their expression. Sydney’s puzzled frown deepened as he watched the silent byplay between the two girls.
:You can hear me.: Kiara declared to the other girl’s mind.
:How did you do that?: Tasida’s mental “voice” was hesitant.
:Same way you just did.: Kiara replied, a hint of humor coloring the flavor of her thoughts. :I’ve never met a person I could “talk” to, but I knew I would someday. There are more of us somewhere. I think the baby is one too, but she’s too young yet.:
:Does he know we can do this?:
:Not yet.: Kiara’s uncertainty came clearly through her message. :I think he’s okay, but I’m not all the way sure yet.:
“Will you play with me tomorrow?” Kiara suddenly asked Tasida out loud.
:We can talk more then.: She added silently.
:You know that this is a dangerous place and the people here mean us no good, don’t you?: Tasida cautioned, feeling a kinship that she wasn’t sure she wanted to have with the other child.
:Of course I do! I’m not a baby, you know.: Scorn and indignation colored Kiara’s reply.
:I know that.: Tasida’s response was as serene as her expression. :I just wanted to point out that we probably don’t want them to know we can do this, so we shouldn’t do it very often.:
:Oh. Kiara was chagrined and flushed slightly as she absorbed that subtle rebuke.
“Okay.” Tasida answered Kiara’s question about play only a few seconds after it was asked and the two girls, with eyes that were an identical shade of blue, almost smiled at each other.
“Would you like to explore the area with Kiara and I?” Sydney asked, hoping that she’d say no.
Worry for Miss Parker, concern about his current situation, and outright fear that he couldn’t protect these children suddenly caught up with him, and he was feeling very tired and old. He wanted nothing more than a hot cup of tea and bed.
“No, thank you.” Tasida told him, for all the world as if she was responding to his unspoken wish. “I want to draw some more.”
“I think I want to go back to my room too.” Kiara announced abruptly, as they left Tasida and headed back down the hall.
“Is something wrong?” Sydney asked her, worried that he’d upset her somehow.
There had been a time in his life when he wouldn’t have cared, or would have told himself he didn’t care, if he’d upset a child. Now, however, he felt impelled to make these children as comfortable and happy as possible.
“No.” She assured him cheerfully. “I’m just a little tired. They wouldn’t let me out of my room after I bit the lady who tried to give me a shot.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A long, long time.” Kiara told him. “I ate lots of times and slept a whole bunch too.”
A long time to a child is generally very different than a long time to an adult, but Sydney suspected that she’d been kept to that small room for at least a week, and probably more. The punishment was obviously extreme, particularly given that Kiara’s response to the situation she’d been thrust into was a perfectly natural one for a small child. A headache began to pound at his temples as Sydney finally admitted that he was in way over his head. He didn’t have a clue how to keep himself safe from their captors, much less the children.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Sydney.” Kiara promised him as he tucked her into bed. “Everything will be okay.”
“Oh, it will, will it?” He smiled indulgently down at the little girl, unaware that his attempt to hide his concern failed utterly. “And how do you know that?”
“I just do.” She grinned impishly. “I’m glad you’re taking care of us.” She added seriously. “I’m not a-scared anymore.”
“Good.” Sydney had to swallow down the lump that her simple trust left in his throat. “Sleep well, little one.” He added softly, turning out the light and closing her door behind him.
’I’m getting too old for this.’ He thought tiredly as he made his way to the office/bedroom down the hall. ’I wish Jarod was here.’
*****
“Damn, damn, damn, damn!” Jo kicked the back tire as she concluded her diatribe, and then immediately dropped to the ground to clutch her painful toe.
“Feeling better?” Melisande questioned with restrained amusement. Jo glared at her from under dark, unruly bangs.
“Listen, Sandy, I am hot, tired, hungry and just a little irritable. Now is not the best time to egg me on!” Jo growled.
“My name is Melisande.” She responded firmly. “And who is the one who told you to pull into that last rest stop because the engine sounded bad?”
Melisande went to the front of the small RV and lifted the hood to look at the engine. Jo grumbled and made her way into the vehicle, slamming the door on her way in to vent her frustration. Melisande just grinned and used the bandanna she’d confined her hair with to protect her fingers while she unscrewed the radiator cap. It was clear that she knew something about engines from the way she anticipated, and avoided, the billowing steam that immediately escaped the labored engine.
“So, what’s the prognosis?” Jo demanded sourly when the door opened a few minutes later and Melisande re-entered the RV to wash her greasy hands at the sink.
“I don’t suppose you have any oil in this crate?” Melisande asked without much hope.
“No. Why would I?”
“Because you’ve got an oil leak that makes the Mississippi look like a late summer creek.” She sighed and gave up on the black stains under her fingernails. “You’ve also got a hole in your radiator hose. If we’re going to go anywhere in this we need to carry crates of oil and gallons of water, or find some Percherons to pull it for us.”
“Percheron?”
“Draft horses---big.” Melisande explained succinctly.
“So you’re saying this is a piece of---“
“Yep.” She cut off the rest of her companion’s sentence. “That pretty well sums it up. You could buy a new RV for the money it would cost us to fix it up. On the other hand, we’re halfway through Wyoming. Why don’t we just catch a plane from here? If we pay cash no one will know who we are or where we’re going.”
“And just how do we get from the middle of nowhere to an airport?” Jo looked expressively at the wide, flat terrain surrounding them, with the craggy mountains miles away on either side of them.
“Hitchhike.” Melisande lips thinned as she finally lost control of her temper.
Jo had been treating her like a brainless doll, rather than accepting her as the capable adult she was, and she was sick and tired of it. Jo had ignored her warnings about the vehicle, overridden her suggestion not to take the RV over the mountains, but go around them to save the engine, and even now that she’d been proven correct, Jo continued to treat her like an airhead---Melisande’s blood was starting to boil.
She grabbed her soft carry all and slung it over one shoulder. Her purse was thrown over the other shoulder, and she stopped to look at Jo before she stepped out the door, willing to offer her one last chance to see sense.
“Of course, we’ll have to walk until someone actually comes along---but this part of the country actually has people who might help us out of the goodness of their hearts.”
Jo sighed and grabbed a backpack from an overhead compartment.
“Okay, you’re right and I was wrong.” She gritted out unwillingly as she began to shove clothing haphazardly into the bag. “Just give me a chance to throw a few things into this and I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll make a few sandwiches.” Melisande offered magnanimously, her anger vanishing in an instant.
All she wanted was for Jo to accept her as an equal partner, rather than treating her like a useless burden. She understood that Jo had been forced into a position of relying only on herself and that the other woman was afraid to trust anyone right now, but she also knew they needed to work as allies if they were going to succeed in finding their families and rescuing them from the Centre. They simply couldn’t afford Jo’s superiority complex.
“I’m sorry.” Jo finally said with sincerity, turning to face Melisande as she zipped the backpack closed. “I’ve been treating you like a bimbo, and I had no justification. I guess I was trying to feel more in control, more capable.”
“We’re both scared and feeling overwhelmed.” Melisande agreed softly, knowing that anything but a gracious response would bring back at atmosphere of competition that they didn’t need.
“Are we going to make it?” Jo asked, tears welling as her tough facade crumbled. “Are we going to get our babies back?”
“Yes!” Melisande responded fiercely. “Don’t you know that nothing on earth can compete with a mother defending her young? We’re going to get them back if we have to tear the Centre apart brick by brick! And Jarod is helping us too.”
“But you delivered him to those Centre people!”
“And why do you think he let me do that?” Melisande demanded bracingly. “He’s hoping that he’ll end up with our families. He sacrificed his freedom to help us. It will work out, Jo, you’ll see.”
“It will, won’t it?” Jo repeated slowly, truly optimistic for the first time since she’d been accused of the murder of her husband and daughter.
Melisande smiled, and thrust a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in Jo’s free hand. She put the rest of the sandwiches she’d made into a plastic bag and opened the door for her partner. Around a mouthful of bread Jo asked;
“So, what were the names on your list?”
Melisande answered as they started down the rural highway.
*****
Jarod’s head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and his eyes were gummy and hard to open. Still, he persevered and managed to pry one eye open and look around. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Hello, Jarod.” Lyle smiled wolfishly down at him.
Jarod groaned and closed his eye again. He bolted up gasping a moment later when a bucket of icy water doused him.
“It isn’t polite to sleep when you have company, Jarod.” Lyle baited him, rising to stand just out of casual reach.
“You aren’t my idea of company.” Jarod gritted out grimly, glaring impotently at his captor.
“No one is particularly interested in your ideas, Jarod. Except, of course, when they pertain to a job we have for you to do. Now, Willie will be here in a minute to escort you to the showers. This time you will cooperate, won’t you? After all, you have to know by now that escape is impossible.”
“Why should I cooperate?” Jarod spat the words out bitterly. “What do you think you can do to me that would be worse than last time?”
Lyle’s genial façade vanished and he glared coldly at the Pretender.
“Don’t test me, boy!” He snapped furiously. “You have only tasted the barest hint of what I’m capable of.”
“I won’t work for you.” Jarod returned stubbornly, looking remarkably like a three year old who had been told to clean his room.
“You will.” There wasn’t the faintest hint of doubt in Lyle’s voice, and Jarod felt a shiver of dread go down his spine that had nothing to do with the pretense he was attempt to sell Lyle. He immediately reminded himself that he had chosen to return, that he was in control, but it didn’t help the icy core of fear that had taken residence in his gut the moment he’d conceived of this plan.
“Now, are you going to make yourself presentable for your coming visitor, or do I get to persuade you?” He practically purred the threat.
Jarod’s gaze fell uncertainly before he looked up again and squared his shoulders resolutely.
“I’ll cooperate.” He said with unconvincing bravado. “Simply because I suddenly feel quite dirty.”
Lyle laughed, confident that he’d cowed the other man.
“Whatever.” He allowed with a dismissive wave. “Make sure you look decent, though. I’m bringing someone very important to meet you.”
“Important how?” Though he tried to restrain it, a glimmer of hope shone in his face. Could they have a member of his family?
“Jarod, get this through your head right now. You have no desires, no needs, no wishes, except what we give you. You’ll find out who your visitor is when we want you to, and not before. Resign yourself to your position in life---it’s what you were bred for, after all.” Lyle lectured him with exaggerated patience, believing that he was reinforcing the message that Jarod was nothing but a remarkably dim-witted child.
Jarod’s response was a half-hearted glare that went a long way towards convincing Lyle that he’d accomplished exactly what he’d wanted to with the Pretender. Lyle departed the cell; satisfied with the results of this initial meeting. Jarod sank onto the wet cot, lowering his head into his hands, the very picture of dejection, while he waited for his escort to the showers.
’So,’ he thought grimly, by no means as cowed as he appeared. ’It was Lyle all along. Now, if only this important someone turns out to be the one behind Lyle. It’s past time I closed this place down for good.’
*****
“Miss Parker!” Broots hissed into the empty office.
“Up here, Broots.” Came Parker’s dry voice. Broots looked up and spotted her in the ventilation shaft.
“What are you doing there?” He questioned with amazement.
“Being inconspicuous. It was Angelo’s idea. What have you discovered?”
“Something is definitely going on. Supplies, food, books, all kinds of stuff has been ordered by Mr. Lyle. It’s delivered to our receiving bay, but then it just disappears! I’ve checked every single project going on in the Centre, and none of them sign off on the stuff, not even the secret projects.” Broots answered slowly.
“Well it isn’t going to SL-27. I checked, and it’s still deserted.” Parker informed the frustrated technician. “I’m going to have to come out of hiding and work on this problem with you. I need to show up sooner or later, anyway. Daddy apparently has Sweepers looking for me now.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Miss Parker.” Broots contradicted her gravely. “We still don’t know who tried to kill you. And we don’t know who took Sydney, or why, or if they’re looking for you too.”
“Well,” Parker replied with saccharine sweetness as she dislodged the grate to the vents. “We have to do something. We’re getting nowhere fast.”
She slid out of the shaft, grateful that Broots had brought her a trouser suit from home, rather than one of her mini-skirts.
“Have you at least found where they’re holding Jarod?” Parker asked, sidetracking the protest she saw forming on Broots’ lips.
“No, but---“
“Angelo knows.” Angelo cut him off, rescuing him from Parker’s ready temper in the process. “Same place as before.”
“Why would Lyle do that?” Broots wondered.
“Perhaps because Sydney is gone and I never saw the place?” Parker suggested with a razor sharp smile. “Apparently he doesn’t consider you a threat.”
“Or it’s a trap for us.” Broots bristled at the insult and Parker relented.
“You could be right, Broots, but we have to try to reach Jarod anyway.”
“No.” Once again Broots seemed to grow a few inches as resolution settled over his features. “I’ll go contact Jarod, you stay put. One of us needs to be free to act if this is a trap, and you’re the best candidate. You’ve got more authority than I do.”
“Damn it, Broots! I won’t let you go in by yourself.” Parker exploded quietly, more than making up for her earlier barbs by this show of concern. Broots almost smiled, but restrained himself just in time.
“Yes you will. You and Angelo will be our only hope if Lyle is lying in wait for us.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then I’ll talk to Jarod and see if there’s anything he can suggest to help.”
“I don’t like this, Broots.” Parker sighed. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You don’t.” Broots answered ruefully, still slightly amazed at himself for insisting on playing the hero. “And neither do I.”
*****
“Hello, everyone, I’m Sydney.” The psychologist studied the new faces before him, praying these were the last additions to the project. “I’ll be taking care of you for a while.”
Seven new faces gazed back at him from around the table, while Kiara smiled cheerfully at him and Tasida simply sat impassively. Midori and her father were seated at a separate table while he coaxed her breakfast oatmeal into her.
“While we’re waiting for our breakfast, why don’t we introduce ourselves?” He tried again, his heart sinking at the hostility and fear radiating from the faces of the new children. “Kiara, why don’t you start?”
He hoped with all of his heart that the cheerful preschooler would ease the worries of the other children. She beamed at him, accepting her place in the center of attention as her due.
“I’m Kiara.” She started obediently. “I met Mr. Sydney last night, and he’s really nice---you don’t have to be a-scared of him.”
“You can’t trust any of them!” The oldest boy, a sturdy 10 year old with bright red curls and brown eyes burst out grimly. “They’ll tell you anything just to get what they want from you.”
Sydney flattened his palm against the long, wooden table in amazement as he felt it start to vibrate. His eyes widened, but he maintained his silence, waiting to see what else developed.
“You can too trust Sydney!” Kiara defended stubbornly, her jaw jutting with determination that was pure Parker. “Angelo said so!” She added, as if that settled everything, which in her mind it did.
“And who’s Angelo?” The boy sneered. The vibration grew more noticeable and the next oldest of the children, a girl around 9 years old with long, strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes, looked down at the table with obvious dismay.
“Angelo is my friend.” Kiara informed him firmly, placing two small fists on her hips as she stood up from the table. “And you can trust him too!”
With that, she marched around to where Sydney sat at the end of the table, and crawled into his lap before he knew what she intended. Then she bestowed upon him a smile of such sweetness that he felt another lump form in his throat.
’I won’t let you down this time.’ He thought as he smiled down to her. ’I’ll work something out to save you all.’
He wasn’t sure who he was making that promise to; Jarod, Miss Parker, Kiara, or himself. All he knew for sure was that it wasn’t too late for him to make some real changes in himself, and he wasn’t going to miss this last chance to become the kind of person he’d always wanted to be. The kind of person he’d joined the Centre to be---an innovator, a scientist who improved the lot of all mankind.
Kiara patted his knee consolingly, almost as if she heard him.
“Please, tell us your name, young man.” Sydney asked the red-head gently, noting the fading of the table’s vibration and the other girl’s relief.
“I’m Gannas. I’m 10 years old, and I know your kind.” He replied antagonistically. “You say you’re a friend, and then you turn mean if we don’t do what you want us to.”
Sydney shushed Kiara before she could leap to his defense.
“Every person is different, Gannas.” He told the boy mildly. “You will be a lot happier if you learn to judge them on their own merits, rather than expecting them to fulfill your worst expectations of them.”
“And what do you want from us?” Gannas demanded suspiciously.
“What I want most of all,” Sydney told the boy with unmistakable sincerity, “is to keep you all safe.”
It was obvious that the boy would have like to scoff at that statement, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe he could hear the sincerity in his voice?
“And you, my dear?” Sydney asked the blond girl. “Who are you?”
“My name is Tasida.” She answered, keeping her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. “I’m 9 years old and I want to go home.”
Her voice caught on what could only be a sob, but she managed to hold back tears. A chorus of “Me too!” sounded around the table.
“I wish I could tell you that you could go home,” Sydney told them all. “But I’m not in charge of that decision.”
The attendants came then with breakfast, and Sydney let the introductions drop so the children could eat. He’d try again later; maybe one at a time while the other children played in the gym.
*****
“Look what I found, Mommy!” Kiara held her chubby, three-year-old hands up to her mother to reveal four tiny, hairless baby mice. “Can I keep ‘em?”
Another child would have looked hopeful, but Kiara just looked radiant. She knew that her mother would agree, her mother always agreed with her requests. Melisande sighed ruefully.
“You know how much work it will be to raise them, don’t you?” She asked.
“But I have to, Mommy. A mean ol’ cat killed their Mama. I have to take care of them!”
“Of course you do, my little rescuer.” Melisande relented lovingly, kneeling down to give her daughter a hug before she began rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards.
“Let me see if I remember their needs.” She smiled down at Kiara as she pulled down the supplies. “Goat’s milk, Karo syrup, eye droppers----I’ll get some food warmed up for them, you go prepare them a bed.”
“Can I turn on the heater for them?”
“Of course.”
The heater was a small radiant heater that had a permanent residence in Kiara’s room. It radiated enough heat to warm a small room, but never got hot enough to burn the youngster or any of her frailer patients. Best of all, if it somehow got tipped over, it turned off automatically, eliminating the risk of fire.
“You’re the best Mommy in the whole world!” Kiara exclaimed joyfully, gently cradling the tiny creatures to her chest.
“And you’re the best daughter.” Melisande whispered back, her eyes misting with proud tears.
She woke up abruptly, the sound of her daughter’s giggles in her ears. More tears filled her eyes and the ache in her heart and her arms grew almost unbearable.
“I miss my baby too.” Jo whispered compassionately from the seat next to her.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Melisande whispered back, dashing her tears from her face with a quick swipe of her hand. Better by far to plan the rescue of her child than cry for her absence.
The two women were on a midnight flight to the East Coast, and they were whispering in deference to the sleeping passengers around them. This flight would take them to Baltimore, Maryland, and then they’d board another bus to Blue Cove. But they’d avoided making plans beyond that point, as if it would jinx their mission if they did.
“Do you think we should go directly to your sister’s place?” Jo suggested, but without any real enthusiasm.
“No.” Melisande responded thoughtfully. “I’ve tried both Parker’s and Sydney’s phones several times since we left Washington and gotten a “The person you have called is not answering the phone…” message every time. I think we have to try this Broots fellow next.”
Jo frowned unhappily. “Jarod said to be careful of him---that he’s easily intimidated by the people in the Centre. I don’t like trusting someone who is easily intimidated.”
“Well, we don’t have a number for Angelo, so we’re stuck with Broots. I’ll keep trying Parker and Sydney if you want, but if we don’t get someone soon I might just march right up to the Centre’s front doors and demand my daughter back.”
“Right.” Jo replied dryly. “And then you’ll go directly to jail---no 200 dollars either. Surely the guy who you delivered Jarod to is looking for you by now.”
Melisande sighed, silently admitting the truth in Jo’s words.
“We’re going to have to think of something.” She grumbled quietly. “I’m not giving up now that we’ve gotten so close.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Jo assured her gently.
*****
“Rise and shine, Jarod. Company’s here.” Sam’s voice reached through Jarod’s hazy dreams of a loving family and brought him back to grim reality.
It had been hours since he’d been escorted to the showers, given a new set of “hospital” clothes, and returned to the grim cell. When it became clear that no one was going to come anytime soon, Jarod had removed the damp mattress from the cot and laid down on the lattice frame. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d drifted off to sleep anyway, possibly because of the remains of the drug in his system.
“Why, if it isn’t amiable Sweeper Sam!” Jarod grinned sardonically. “Bought any new jackets lately?”
“Remember which side of the bars you’re on, Lab Rat.” Sam snarled. “And be polite to the big guy.”
“So I finally get to meet him?” Jarod jibed. “Well, step out of the shadows and say hello.”
“Hello, Jarod.” A familiar voice said in response as a man did separate himself from the shadows and move into the light where Jarod could see him. “So good to see you again.”
“You!” The blood drained from Jarod’s head and he felt dizzy as he stared at the last face he’d expected to see. “You’re the brains of this outfit?”
*****
“What the hell is going on?” Parker muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in the roomy lab Sydney and Broots used as a working office, biting on a fingernail, and frowning blackly.
“What are they up to?” She murmured darkly.
“Whatever do you mean, Princess?” Mr. Parker’s jovial voice sounded from the doorway, stopping Parker in her tracks and scaring Broots half to death. “And where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Daddy!” Parker pasted on a rather unconvincing smile for her father. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
She paused to glare at Broots, who was edging for the door, sending him miserably back to his seat.
“I was in town.” She went on, her story becoming more convincing as she exerted herself to seem sincere. “I simply had the worst headache, and knew that no one but Simmons could get rid of it.”
“Simmons?”
“He’s a new chiropractor in Blue Cove, Daddy. I’m sure I mentioned him to you.” Parker widened her eyes, almost overdoing the imitation of innocence, and waited for her father’s reaction. Part of her actually hoped that he’d see through her pretense and give her an excuse to hurl the accusations she was holding down.
“Are you trying to say you’ve been in a chiropractor’s office since the day before yesterday?”
“Of course not.” Parker’s dismissive laugh was only slightly breathless. “I stayed over at the Ridpath when Simmons told me I needed a follow up visit the next day. They have the most marvelous hot tub there.”
“Hmmph! Well, call your father next time. I was worried.” Mr. Parker’s suspicious expression melted into mere annoyance.
Broots held his breath, afraid that Parker was going to fall for his concerned father act. It was very well done, but Parker’s brittle cordiality reassured him that she was still on her guard.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She assured him, with an well hidden undertone of distrust. “I promise to try and keep in touch from now on.”
“So how is the head?” Mr. Parker asked, changing tact abruptly.
“Just fine now.” Parker returned without hesitation. “But I can’t seem to find Sydney anywhere. Broots says he vanished sometime yesterday afternoon.”
Broots cringed as Mr. Parker leveled a stern look on him.
“He’s on a special mission for the Triumvirate.” He told his daughter a moment later.
“I can’t reach him on his cell phone either.” Parker probed again. “It’s been turned off.”
“I’ll try to get a message to him to call you.” Mr. Parker promised easily. “He’s in a delicate situation, and phone calls to him could compromise his position.”
“I see.” Parker packed a wealth of meaning into those two words. “Well, then I’ll just wait to hear from him. It might slow down our hunt for Jarod, though.”
“Jarod’s been captured, Angel.” Mr. Parker replied, watching his daughter’s reaction carefully. “Your brother brought him in late yesterday.”
“Really?”
If he’d expected to surprise a disappointed response from her, he was doomed to disappointment. Parker had been pretty sure Jarod was in Lyle’s hands since the night before, when Lyle answered his cell phone.
“Well, then, that’s fantastic.” She went on, manufacturing a happy smile. “Broots and I aren’t needed at all, are we?”
“Oh, I’ll always need you, Angel.” Mr. Parker assured her, although she had no idea if he was sincere or not. “But since you haven’t been feeling well I think you should take a few days off before we determine where to assign you next.”
“I’d like a little vacation.” Parker agreed slowly. “And I think Broots deserves one too.”
“Of course, Angel. You and Broots and Sydney have worked far too hard to bring Jarod in. We’ll see to it that Sydney gets a break just as soon as he gets back.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a week then, okay?” Broots wondered how Mr. Parker could miss the thinly disguised contempt in his daughters voice, but the man just held his arms out for an embrace. Parker gave him a perfunctory hug and a peck on the cheek, and gestured at Broots to follow her as she strode out of the laboratory.
“That was too close.” Broots shuddered, as he faithfully followed on Parker’s heels.
“Where did you hide the file Raines sent me?” Parker demanded abruptly.
“I re-mailed it to your house. It should get there today.” Broots followed Parker’s erratic changes of conversation with the ease of long practice. “Why? Are you starting to believe it’s true?”
“It fits.” She answered grimly. “It fits all too well.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“First, you’re going to see Jarod. Then, we’re going to figure out where they’ve stashed Sydney.” Parker replied decisively. “And then we’re going to find my sister.”
*****
“Well, Sydney, what’s your preliminary assessment of the children?” Lyle asked, his smile full of anticipation as he studied the older man.
“You realize that it’s way to soon for me to know anything, don’t you?” Sydney answered tiredly, keeping his eyes firmly on his notes.
He’d finally gotten the names and ages of the rest of the children, along with some ideas of which ones had families and which ones didn’t, but it had been a difficult task. Every single one of them regarded him with suspicion at the very least, and most of them were actively afraid.
The three youngest boys, Timmit, Mattais, and Ricard, all about 3 years old, were so frightened of him they’d barely look at him, much less talk to them. It wasn’t until Tilena came and helped him that he could coax anything out of them. The advantage to that was that Tilena seemed to be warming to him---she’d seemed quite surprised by his patience with the timid youngsters.
The other two boys, 6 year old identical twins named Merwan and Geshke, were by far the most outspoken of the lot. Perhaps it was the obvious bond they shared, to the point where one often finished the other’s sentence, or it might just be that unlike the others, they didn’t feel completely isolated from their families. After all, they had each other, didn’t they? As far as they seemed to remember, each other was all they had ever had, anyway. It lead Sydney to believe that they had been one of the children produced and raised in one of the many branches of the Centre.
So far Sydney suspected three of the children were clones. Timmit, with his fine brown hair and deep brown eyes, was the spitting image of Jarod when he’d first arrived at the Centre. Mattais, his hair a fine, straight blond, and his eyes the pale blue that Angelo still sported, looked like young Timmy, and, of course, Kiara, who was the image of young Miss Parker.
“I haven’t had enough time to be sure, but it seemed to me that Tilena was answering questions for the youngest boys that she had no way of knowing the answers to. Until last night, none of them had been together, had they?”
“No.” Lyle’s eyes gleamed avariciously, and Sydney felt compelled to warn him that he was celebrating too soon.
“Lyle, I could be mistaken.”
“I may not trust you, Sydney, but I trust your instincts.” Lyle replied gleefully. “If you think you saw something extraordinary, you probably did.”
“There’s another problem.” Sydney said reluctantly.
“What?”
“If you’re going to be bringing in more children I won’t be able to work with them. These ones are going to take all of my time and attention.”
“We do have more children coming in, but I’ve already arranged for you to have some help.”
“Who?” Sydney tried to repress his alarm, but suspected that Lyle picked up on it anyway.
“You’ll see.” Lyle smiled his most condescending smile and strolled out the door.
“Oh, and Sydney?” He added just before he walked out. “Keep the monkey with you, or I’ll order him shot on sight.”
Sydney just sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, just how his life had come to this pass.
*****
“Hsst! Jarod!”
“Go away.” The shattered man groaned, not even looking up.
“It’s me, Broots!”
“Go away, Broots. I can’t help myself, much less anyone else.” Jarod repeated numbly.
Broots thought quickly. As far as he knew, Jarod had never been so distraught. He couldn’t even remember having seen a DSA where Jarod was so upset he was literally despairing.
“Jarod, what happened?” He asked urgently.
“He was here!” Jarod responded, less than helpfully. “He’s behind everything!”
“He who?”
Jarod just looked at Broots blankly, obviously still in shock.
‘Okay,’ Broots thought to himself, ‘they’ve managed to shake him up good. How can I undo this?’
“Look, I don’t know what happened Jarod,” Broots began slowly, but thinking fast, “but you’ve got to remember, this is the Centre! Whatever----whoever you think you saw, there’s got to be a logical explanation. What if the Centre was threatening him? What if it’s just someone made to look like him? What if---“ Broots faded lamely, running out of “what ifs”.
It was sufficient, though. Color began to creep into Jarod’s face as he realized the Broots had a point. Nothing was what it seemed where the Centre was involved. What he’d seen wasn’t necessarily what he thought he’d seen.
“You’re right, Broots.” He said, amazement in his voice. “I can’t give up yet.”
“Besides, Parker needs you. And so do Sydney and I.” He added with considerable boldness, hoping Jarod would give him some clue as to whether he’d seen Sydney or not.
“Well, I’m not exactly in the position to help anyone.” Jarod replied, with a touch of his normal humor. “So I hope you’ve got a backup plan.”
“As long as we know you’re still here.” Broots muttered softly. “I’d better go tell Parker you’re okay.”
“Not okay,” He contradicted the smaller man, “but better.”
“I’ll be back.” Broots melted into the shadows, leaving Jarod alone once again.
:See?”: Kiara thought triumphantly to the other children. :“I told you he was good!:
:He may be a good man,: the ever practical Tilena pointed out, :but he’s as much a prisoner as we are.:
:He has friends. Friends who know where to look for him.: Tasida countered. :That’s more than the rest of us have.: :They haven’t found him yet, have they?: Gannas rebutted cynically. :Angelo will bring them here.: Kiara avowed with confidence. :Angelo is our friend.:
:He’s leaving the office!: Tasida warned. :Everyone in their beds, no more talk!:
Although the children were each in their solitary rooms, the scrambled as one to get under the covers and present their most innocent faces. The rat that Kiara had been sing to spy on Lyle and Sydney scampered through his private tunnel system to pick up the bread reward Kiara had promised him, placed just inside the hole that led to her room under her bed. Sydney had no idea that the children had been plotting during his absence.
*****
“What now?” Jo asked wearily. They’d been traveling for two days straight, and both women had been living under tremendous stress for months before that. They were both bone tired, but Melisande seemed to be driven by some force outside of herself to find her sister.
“We find my sister. Meredith.” She spoke the name tentatively, trying it on for size. “We find Meredith.”
“How? You’ve gotten no answer at any of your calls to her house.”
“I’m going to call a cab and go to her house to wait. You’re welcome to check into a hotel if you’d like and wait for me in comfort.”
“No,” Jo sighed regretfully. “We’re in this together. But we don’t take a cab to her house---cabs can be traced. We’ll rent something---something small and unobtrusive.”
“Thanks, Jo.” Melisande smiled gratefully, transforming her drawn features into radiant beauty for a few moments. “I’m glad I’m not alone in this.”
“No problem.” Jo smiled back with a hint of her former carefree good humor and pointed her friend to the cabby that had just pulled up in front of the bus depot. “Let’s go get some wheels, then we’ll locate Meredith.”
“Yes.” The word was filled with longing, urgency, and trepidation. “Yes, let’s go.”
*****
“Did it work?” Lyle asked the man, contentedly eyeing the screen that showed Jarod’s huddled body on the hard cot.
“It was quite effective. I think that after you’ve worked with him for a while tonight, along with the drug we’ve added to his water, that he’ll be quite malleable.” The man, seated behind a large desk made of dark walnut swung his leather chair around and smiled fondly at Lyle.
“I get a free hand?” Lyle’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“No!” The man raised his hand commandingly. “I want him able to work with the children as soon as possible. Do not damage him permanently, and don’t mar him in any way that might frighten the children.”
Lyle’s face fell with disappointment.
“Yes, Sir.” He agreed reluctantly.
“There are always the battery and jumper cables.” The man offered soothingly.
Lyle brightened, and left the office with a jaunty step, barely acknowledging his father as he passed him just inside the door.
“So how’d it go?” Mr. Parker asked abruptly, ignoring his son just as thoroughly as the other ignored him.
“See for yourself.” The man Jarod knew of as Major Charles gestured towards the computer screen on his desk, and the shivering man it portrayed.
“Excellent!” Mr. Parker breathed, all but rubbing his hands together with glee. “I think this time we’ve got him!”
*****
“Don’t call me Meredith.” Parker told the strangely familiar woman numbly. “My name’s Parker.”
“Miss Parker?” Broots’ voice sounded from inside the living room. “Who is it?”
“I---I think it’s…” Parker’s voice trailed off dazedly.
She turned abruptly from her guests and stumbled back into her living room, moving straight past Broots and into the studio room that she hardly ever entered. The two women on her doorstep looked at each other in consternation before walking through the open door. Well, Jo walked through it, and dragged the reluctant Melisande with her.
“We don’t want to be seen at her front door, do we?” She hissed in response to Melisande’s inarticulate protest.
She casually kicked the front door shut with her foot and headed into the room, Melisande following slowly. Melisande studied everything, noting the sparse decor, the scotch decanter on the sideboard, the open door on the far end of the room. She didn’t notice Broots, staring at her in fascination, but Jo did.
“Who’re you?” She demanded of him truculently.
“I-I—I’m Broots.” He stuttered miserably, his attention distracted from the other woman who looked so much like Parker.
“Broots.” Jo murmured thoughtfully. “Yes, your name was on the list.”
“What list?” Broots looked longingly at the open door leading to the studio room. He wished he could just walk after Miss Parker, the way that woman who had known, and used, Parker’s first name was, but a gut instinct warned him to leave the two women alone.
For all of her determination to find the sister she’d just learned about, Miss Parker was completely thrown off balance to have her show up on her doorstep before she’d even begun to search for her. The resemblance between them was unmistakable, and now that it was too late for second thoughts, she was wondering if she really wanted to get to know another surprise sibling.
“Never mind.” Jo answered shortly, all too aware of the possibility of bugs.
“Let’s make some tea or something.” Broots suddenly suggested, desperate for something to do. “I think we all could use a nice hot drink.”
“Or a shot.” Jo countered with a longing look at the scotch decanter. But she didn’t move towards it. She knew they were all going to need clear heads to plan out their next move.
“Don’t worry about bugs.” Broots went on with more confidence, now that he was speaking about something he understood. “I’ve planted some jamming devices that will screw up anything they might have snuck in here while Parker was gone. We’re safe as long as we don’t try to use the phone.”
“Okay, we’ll make some tea, or hot cocoa, or something while those two get acquainted.” Jo agreed reluctantly, throwing a faintly worried look towards the studio door. The two women inside the studio could be heard murmuring, but nothing they said was understandable to her.
Inside the studio Parker was handing Melisande a photo album. Both women looked apprehensive and uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should sit down while you show me these?” Melisande asked nervously.
“Okay.” Parker agreed briefly, still struggling to regain her composure.
After having Lyle sprung on her as a twin, she was understandably reluctant to learn of any new siblings, but something about Melisande drew her. Part of it could be the fact that even though she looked more like their mother, Melisande seemed to be the one who had her warmth, her generous heart, her open optimism. Parker wished that she could believe that Melisande wasn’t her sister, just being around her made her far too aware of her personal inadequacies, but something inside of her cried out that Melisande was more her mother’s daughter than she was.
“Let’s sit together on the couch.” Melisande suggested impulsively, reminding Parker even more of their mother as she continued, “You can tell me who everyone is.”
The smile she bestowed upon Parker was tremulous; hope for belonging, willingness to care, and fear of rejection all rolled into it. Parker found her lips curving into a warm, understanding smile in return. She didn’t know it, but at that moment she looked like Catherine Parker at her best.
“Okay.” She agreed, her initial caution dissolving beneath the force of Melisande’s compassionate nature.
Lyle was a cold, self-absorbed, sociopath, the exact opposite of Melisande’s humanity. She didn’t have to fear another warped relationship where this sibling was concerned. A part of Parker that she’d never allowed to show after Faith’s death came out and deepened Parker’s smile and brought a warm glow to her normally cold blue eyes.
“This is Daddy and Mom on their wedding day.” She began, pointing to the smiling couple on the first page.
“She looks just like you!” Melisande gasped. A warm glow of happiness kindled in Parker’s stomach. She wasn’t sure if she liked the unfamiliar sensation, but had to admit that it felt nice.
“This is Mom with me, as a baby.” Next to her Melisande gasped, running a trembling finger along the baby’s face.
“Do you have more pictures of you as a baby?” She whispered fearfully.
Parker was mystified, but willingly turned to more pictures of herself as an infant and toddler. She was astounded to see a tear trickling down Melisande’s face as she devoured the pictures with her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Melisande?” She spoke the name with some difficulty, an unexpected lump of emotion clogging her throat.
In response Melisande pulled a wallet out of her purse and turned to the transparencies holding the pictures. Another tear trickled down her cheek as she pointed to a picture of a smiling, auburn haired tot.
“Where’d you get that picture?” Parker breathed, inexplicably frightened. Melisande flipped the page and Parker saw the next picture, of the child snuggled happily in Melisande’s arms, while Melisande smiled lovingly down at her.
“She’s my daughter.” She choked out. “She was kidnapped several months ago.”
“Where’s her father?” Parker asked, fighting down rising dread. She had an awful feeling about this…
“She doesn’t have one.” Melisande answered steadily. “When I left the hospital, after I recovered from the auto crash that killed my parents, I discovered I was pregnant with her.”
’Dear God, is she…?’ Parker couldn’t bring herself to ask the question burning in her heart, not even to herself. ‘No, not even the Centre could do that.’ She assured herself.
“I’m not sure who Kiara is, except that she’s my daughter and I love her. We’ve got to get her back.” Melisande told her new sister. “Nothing else matters. “
“You think the Centre took her?” Broots asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Jarod did.” Melisande confirmed sadly. “That’s why he let me turn him over to the Sweepers.”
“Sydney!” Broots exclaimed suddenly, the light of enlightenment practically making his face glow. “That’s why he’s gone!”
“If we find Sydney, we find Kiara, is that what you’re saying?” Parker questioned, just to clarify her own thoughts.
“How can we find him, though?” Broots asked.
The two were now completely focused on each other, ignoring Jo and Melisande. It wasn’t intended as an insult, they were just so used to working with each other that they had forgotten about their guests for the moment.
“I think we should sleep on it.” Jo suggested practically, eyeing the wall clock. It was close to midnight, and it had been a very long day already. As much as she wished she could find her daughter and husband right that minute, her practical side said that it was highly unlikely that any of them could be very effective as tired as they all were.
“She’s right.” Melisande seconded wearily. “We’re in no shape to be plotting anything.”
“You don’t know what the Centre’s capable of.” Parker contradicted grimly.
“I think I might know more about that than you do.” She shot back firmly. “They aren’t going to hurt Kiara now if they haven’t already. We won’t do them any good trying to rescue them tired and cranky.”
“Fine!” Parker gave in with ill-grace. “Broots, you can have the guest room. Mel, you can sleep with me, Jo, I guess that leaves the couch for you.”
“No problem, Meredith.” Melisande responded with saccharine sweetness, irritated that Parker had used that hated nickname for her. “Just point me to the linen closet and I’ll help Jo get a bed made up.”
Broots winced in anticipation of Parker’s explosion, but instead she gave her sister a wry grin and mouthed “Touché!” to her. Melisande’s return grin was friendly, but satisfied too. She had a strong feeling that Parker was the sort who responded better to those who stood up for themselves.
“C’mon.” Parker said decisively, leading the way to the linen closet. “I’ll help Broots make up the guest bed while you two make up the couch. My----sister,” Parker said the word wonderingly, but with increasing warmth, “is right, we need to tackle this with clear heads.”
“What about your daughter?” Jo asked Broots suddenly, remembering the notation on the list that Jarod had given her. “Where’s she? Is she okay?”
“Debbie is fine.” Broots replied calmly. “She was visiting her Aunt and Uncle in New York when this all started---I told them she’d have to stay indefinitely when I had to rescue Parker a couple of days ago.”
“What did you have to rescue Parker from?” Jo wondered.
“In the morning.” Parker interrupted firmly, piling sheets and blankets into the arms of the people around her. “We’ll go over everything in the morning and then we’ll make a battle plan. This time the Centre won’t win.”
“Jarod said something to me before he---left.” Melisande said thoughtfully. “Something about Parkers being the Centre. He seemed to think that you and I working together would make the difference. He told me to find you, you know.”
“He did?” Parker asked, touched. “Well, for once I think he was right. Together, Melisande, together we’ll set things right at the Centre.”
“Together, Parker.” Melisande agreed contentedly.
*****
Sydney sat at his desk, making notes of his observations during the day. The children were going to be a challenge, that much he could tell already. He really didn’t know if any of them were Pretender potential, but he knew he had to keep them all under his care somehow. They had extended abilities, of that he was confident. Gannas and Tilena were quite probably telekinetic, as impossible as that still seemed, and all of them had a tendency to stare silently at each other, making him suspect telepathy. The scientist in him tried to insist that his suspicions were impossible, but the realist in him insisted that nothing was impossible where the Centre was concerned.
His concerns for the children, his need to find an excuse to keep them under his care, and his formless fears for the future made the mere thought of sleep an impossibility. He was still seated at his desk, alternately writing and staring into space and thinking, when Willie and another Sweeper dragged Jarod into the office, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.
“Your new assistant, Doc.” Willie explained sarcastically. “He should be helpful, but if he isn’t give us a yell. Mr. Lyle wasn’t too happy when the big guy made him quit---he’d welcome the excuse to resume his persuasion.”
Willie roughly prodded Jarod in the ribs, bringing forth a groan, and prompting the battered man to curl into a defensive ball. He grinned and drew back his foot for another prod when Sydney moved, pushing him back into the hall with a firm hand to the Sweeper’s chest.
“That’s enough!” He exploded quietly, mindful of the children down the hall. “I’ll handle it from here.”
He came to a halt in the doorway, standing protectively in the doorway, interspersing his body between Willie and Jarod.
“See that you do.” Willie threatened smoothly, glaring at Sydney, who he’d never really liked. “Or Mr. Lyle might just get a chance at you too.”
“You’ve done your job, now get out.” Sydney glared back heatedly.
Willie complied, reluctance written in his movements.
“Just make sure he cooperates!” Willie managed one last threat. “Or it will go badly for both of you.” He slammed the sturdy metal door at the end of the hallway firmly behind them, sliding the deadbolt shut with a decisive click.
Sydney ignored them, turning his attention to Jarod’s huddled form.
“Jarod, are you okay? Can you talk to me?” He queried urgently, rolling Jarod gently over onto his back.
“I’ll live.” Jarod whispered hoarsely, not bothering to open his eyes. “I hurt like hell, though, and I’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”
“Let me help you to the cot and see what I can do for you.” Sydney urged, tugging insistently on Jarod’s arm when it seemed like he was going to pass out where he was.
Superficially there didn’t seem to be much wrong with him. He had a cut lip and a purple bruise graced one cheekbone from where Lyle had gotten too excited and backhanded him. He also had some welts and obvious burns on his upper arms and his wrists were chaffed and swollen from the manacles that had restrained him. It wasn’t until Sydney peeled off the navy blue T-shirt Jarod was wearing, though, that the extent of his mistreatment became clear.
Livid, thin, red welts crisscrossed his chest and back while purple-blue bruises dotted a painful counterpoint and seeping burns graced the rest. Very little of his upper torso had been spared and Sydney began to swear like a sailor, not even realizing he did so. Jarod smiled painfully, amused and touched by Sydney’s distress.
“It looks worse than it is.” He managed to tell him, his voice cracking from the strain of his previous yells and screams. “It’s all pretty superficial.”
“Shut up!” Sydney told him fiercely, his heart aching at yet another attack on the man that he’d finally discovered he loved as a son. “This isn’t some trifle. You rest here; I’m going to get something to dress these with.”
He turned and headed for the door, planning----well, he didn’t know what he planned, but he knew he was going to get something to ease Jarod’s pain somehow. Fortunately, Angelo met him at the door with a paper sack full of medical supplies.
“Jarod hurt.” Angelo informed Sydney unnecessarily, holding out the bag to him. “Sydney angry.”
“You’re damn right I’m angry!” Sydney snarled, snatching the bag from Angelo. “There was no reason to do this to Jarod! It served no purpose!”
He busied himself sorting the supplies in the bag, trying to regain his control. He rarely become so emotional, but when he did it usually seemed to involve Jarod.
“Sure there was.” Jarod managed in the hoarse whisper that was all that was left of his voice. “It made Lyle’s whole evening. What did Willie mean when he said I was your assistant? What’s going on?”
“We’ll discuss it in the morning.” Sydney said firmly, beginning to smooth white Silvadine cream onto the burns with a gentle hand. “You need to rest now.”
“No, I need to know what devil’s deal you’ve made for me this time.” Jarod contradicted painfully, wincing from the pain from his abused vocal chords as much as from the pain of Sydney’s ministrations.
“I haven’t made any deal at all, Jarod.” Sydney countered, dark pain lurking in his eyes at Jarod’s accusation. “I’m as much a captive as you are.”
Jarod flushed slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt at hurting Sydney, but also needing to vent his anger somehow.
“Then what is it they want? They’ve got to know by now that I won’t do any more Sims for them.” Jarod argued.
“Help the children, Jarod.” Angelo said gravely, his sad blue eyes fixed on his friend.
“Help what children?” Jarod demanded, wondering if Lyle had actually been stupid enough to put him together with Jo and Melisande’s missing family.
“The children that Lyle apparently intends to use to jump-start the Pretender Program.” Sydney answered heavily, switching to an antibiotic ointment to daub on Jarod’s welts. “There are ten of them so far, ranging in age from approximately 18 months to 10 years old. The toddler has a man with her, her father, I think.”
“Is he all right, and the baby?” Jarod demanded, knowing instantly who they had to be.
“He’s fine physically, but I’m not sure how he is emotionally. The little girl is quite healthy, though. She’s also very bright.”
“Ten children?” Jarod repeated in shock, Sydney’s earlier words just now penetrating. “They have ten?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to assess them for the Pretender ability.” Sydney’s eyes were sad as he admitted that.
“How’d they get ten kids without me noticing?” Jarod wondered dazedly. “And what am I going to do now?”
“You’re going to take these and get some rest.” Sydney told him firmly, handing him two tablets and a paper cup of water.
How Angelo had gotten a hold of such powerful painkillers, Sydney didn’t know, but he was grateful that the quiet man had. Jarod needed to rest, and these would see to it that he did. Jarod took the medication absently, force of habit making him obey Sydney while his mind was so preoccupied with the problem the extra children posed his half-formed plans.
“Tell me about the children.” Jarod demanded suddenly, fixing Sydney with a demanding stare.
“After you lay down.” Sydney countered firmly. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve been through an ordeal; you need to build up your strength.”
“Okay.” Jarod grumbled, but complied, climbing gingerly between the clean sheets of the cot.
“Well, Gannas is the oldest. He’s quite angry, which makes me wonder how long he’s been here and how he’s been treated. Tasida is next, a beautiful young girl and full of compassion. She doesn’t remember any place but the Centre, apparently. Tilena is a newcomer, very protective of the younger children…” Sydney’s voice trailed off as Jarod’s eyes flickered shut and stayed that way.
“Sydney sleep too.” Angelo ordered softly, indicating the second cot that he’d set up along the far wall while Sydney had been busy with Jarod.
“What about you, Angelo?” Sydney protested wearily. He was exhausted by the day, but determined not to ignore Angelo’s needs.
“Angelo watch, Sydney sleep.” The quiet man declared firmly.
“If you’re sure...” Sydney sighed, his eyes closing as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was fast asleep before Angelo finished pulling up the covers over him.
Angelo settled himself into the comfortable leather chair behind the wooden desk and watched the two sleeping men with satisfaction. He had always loved Jarod, much like a brother, and he’d come to care very much for Sydney too. Sydney’s efforts to restore him to normalcy hadn’t gone unnoticed, even though Angelo had no verbal way to thank him. Now, though, Jarod and Sydney were back together and together they would put things right. Angelo had complete faith in the two of them, and knew that Miss Parker and Broots were also working to fix things. He knew, even though he didn’t know how, that soon the Centre would be restored to it’s former purpose---helping people. All he needed to do now was watch and wait.
*****
It was hot, too hot. He couldn’t breathe and fear clogged his throat when he tried to scream. He moaned helplessly, trapped in an invisible bubble.
“Don’t be afraid, mister.” A childish voice reassured him as a small hand slid comfortingly into his own large one. “It’s only a dream.”
“I know.” Jarod replied, realizing suddenly that he’d always known he was dreaming during his nightmares. “But it’s a scary dream.”
“We’ll help you.” Another young voice promised.
Two tow-headed, curly haired boys stepped out of the shadows surrounding him, and climbed into the bubble with him, settling themselves against his chest and throwing their arms around his neck.
“We’ll stay with you.” They promised in one voice.
“Who are you?” Jarod demanded wonderingly, looking at the circle of solemn little faces surrounding him.
He wasn’t afraid, in fact the two boys hugging him so tightly had loosened the bonds of loneliness and fear that had held him and filled him with a reassuring warmth.
“We’re the children, Jarod.” The dark haired, Asian girl with incongruous blue eyes, answered gravely.
“We’re you.” A little dark haired boy asserted seriously.
“We’re your friends.” The blond girl declared quietly.
“I don’t understand.” Jarod protested in confusion.
“It’s okay.” The little girl holding his hand turned her familiar blue eyes on him, her grip tightening comfortingly. “We don’t understand either, but we know it will be okay.”
Jarod’s head fell back slowly, oblivion claiming him again, but this time peacefully.
“Did we do it right?” Kiara asked the dark form in the shadows.
“You did it just right.” Angelo approved, stepping into the dim light. “He’ll sleep better now.”
“We’ll stay with him.” The twins declared in unison. “We like him.”
“We all like him.” Tilena smiled softly. “But you two can stay with him for the first watch.”
“Now, back to your own rest.” Angelo urged. “Tomorrow will be another busy day.”
“You rest too.” The boy who looked so much like Jarod had when he was four declared. “We need you too.”
“Don’t worry about me, children.” Angelo assured them with a gentle smile. “I’m very good at taking care of myself.”
The light in the strange, dream-like place faded slowly away, leaving only Jarod and the twins sleeping peacefully.
*****
“So, is everything in place?” He asked the other two men pleasantly enough.
It didn’t fool them, though. Mr. Parker pulled nervously on his collar and Lyle’s face grew stiff.
“Jarod and Sydney are with the children, if that’s what you mean.” Lyle answered with a semblance of calm. “Angelo is probably with them. I’m sure they’ve already started plotting.”
“And your daughter?” The man asked Mr. Parker pointedly.
“She’s at our----her house.” He replied nervously. “The technician is with her.”
“And what is she doing?” He demanded irritably, feeling like he had to pull every tidbit from the man forcibly.
“I don’t know.” Mr. Parker admitted, trying to hide his growing anxiety. “Our bugs stopped working as soon as she and Broots got there. Broots must have rigged up some sort of jamming device.”
“I thought you told me that your daughter didn’t suspect anything, that she was a loyal tool?”
Of course the man asking this question knew the answer to his own query better than Mr. Parker did. He knew that Mr. Parker, who would cheerfully sell out his own mother if it would profit him, had blinders on where Miss Parker was concerned. Her mother may well have been the only person he’d ever really loved, and she was the spitting image of her mother. He wasn’t willing to see any signs of disloyalty in her, because he didn’t want to take action against her.
The man considered Mr. Lyle, standing seemingly calm and unconcerned before him. Would he be a safer control for the wild card that Miss Parker presented? Could he be trusted to keep her in line, no matter what it took? Could he be trusted, for that matter, not to go too far and kill her? The Centre had a vested interest in keeping her alive, after all. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing was in order. A little attitude adjustment, and then she and the Pretender could get to work on their other function----producing more little Pretenders.
Hmmm, he considered thoughtfully, taken with the idea. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing for both of them would be beneficial to the project in general? No, he corrected, remembering that he needed Jarod’s individuality to train the youngsters in the new bunker. If the man refused to cooperate, then he could go to the renewal wing. They’d strip his mind bare and remake it, even if it did mean losing is valuable ability to become whoever he wanted to be. In the meantime, he needed Sydney and Jarod to work together---to repeat whatever magic Sydney had worked the first time to produce Jarod. No one else in any of the Centre branches around the world had managed to produce a subject nearly as capable as Jarod----not even with the clones of the man they’d produced.
“What is the status on my brother and the boy?” The man demanded coldly of Lyle. “And when are you going to reel in the rest of my---dearest family?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
He hated his twin brother, the goody-two-shoes, the traitor. It had brought him no end of satisfaction to destroy his family and hound him for three decades. But his game had gotten out of hand. Margaret and Emily had been as elusive as a cloud in the desert, and Charles had vanished with the boy as thoroughly as hailstones in July. The boy was the closest they’d come to reproducing Jarod; lacking only a little in originality.
The plan had been to allow him some time with Charles, with a “real” father, to see if they could light that spark within him before bringing them both in. But one of them had realized the boy had a transmitter planted in him and managed somehow to remove it. It had taken them months to track down the goose whose collar Charles had planted the transmitter into and uncover the deception. They hadn’t even suspected the ruse until the damn thing had headed south for the winter!
“We still have no clues as to the whereabouts of Major Charles and the Clone.” Lyle said with a calm that he was far from feeling. He knew this kind of news could cost him his life. “But we’ve managed to locate Margaret---unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to be doing well.”
“What the hell do you mean?” He grated furiously. If that bitch escaped him now, even through the extreme of death, it would be too much!
“She’s been in a mental institution for the past six months---paranoid schizophrenia that is unresponsive to drugs. It would appear that her mind has simply snapped." Lyle told him, holding his breath as he waited for the man’s response. For a moment it appeared that the response would be an eruption, but he finally managed to restrain himself.
“Bring her in!” He finally managed to choke out around his anger. “I want her evaluated by our own men. Even if she’s mad as a hatter, she’ll be leverage to use against Jarod.”
“Very well.” Lyle agreed, keeping his own doubts as to the wisdom of this course of action to himself. “I’ll have her here at the Centre by this time tomorrow.”
“And Emily?” The man asked dangerously. “What’s the word on her apprehension?”
Lyle smiled a genuine smile for the first time that evening. He finally had good news on that front.
“I spoke to my man just before you called me in.” He began happily. “He thinks he’ll have her within the hour.”
“I want a report the instant he contacts you.” He growled, unwilling to show how much he liked that news. “And I don’t want any screw-ups this time, got it?”
“Yes, Sir.” Lyle agreed with submission he was far from feeling. “I’ll notify you the instant I know one way or the other.”
“It had better not be the other.” Their leader told Lyle meaningfully. “I’m out of patience with this whole drawn out mess. I want results, or I’ll start taking heads.”
With that last threat he turned the chair on the two men, ending the interview. He knew they were both seething with barely suppressed rage as they left, and smiled unpleasantly, his mood lifting. Other than tormenting his brother Charles, the only thing that Clayton took pleasure in was tormenting his subordinates. He almost chuckled as he felt the black anger emanating from the two men.
*****
“So,” Parker said grumpily over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “You and Jo just thought I’d be able to solve all of these mysteries the moment you showed up? Well, I’ve got news for you---I’ve been trying to solve mysteries since the day my—our,” she gave Melisande a look that was almost apologetic, “mother was killed and I haven’t come up with much.”
She hadn’t slept well. Strange dreams about little girls who looked like her, and little boys who looked like Jarod, and, for that matter, Jarod himself, had teased her mind all night. She had a splitting headache and a strange anxiety to be doing something. As usual, she was taking out her frustration on the people around her.
Instead of becoming angry in return, though, Melisande gave her a sympathetic smile and refilled her coffee cup. A moment later she placed a plate of breakfast food in front of her sister---eggs and bacon and hash browns that had been cooked to perfection.
“Where did you get this stuff?” Parker asked, taking a bite, even though she rarely ate in the morning.
“I went on a grocery run early this morning.” Her sister told her calmly. “I couldn’t sleep---I kept dreaming about Kiara and Jarod, and a bunch of other children. I had to do something, so I inventoried your cupboards and went shopping. You should take better care of yourself.”
“What are you trying to do?” Parker demanded angrily. “Alert the Centre that you’re here?”
“From a distance I look just like you.” Melisande replied gently, understanding Parker’s concern. “I took your car. I’m sure anyone who saw me thought I was you getting a little shopping in before I started my day.”
“Mel, I don’t shop.” Parker explained wryly, her anger fading in the face of Melisande’s determined cheer.
“So I noticed.” Melisande returned with a grin. “Apparently you don’t cook either.”
“Cooking isn’t one of my strong points.” Parker admitted, trying to repress a smile.
“That’s okay, Meredith,” a raised brow told Parker the use of her hated first name was an intentional retaliation to Parker’s use of the hated nickname. “I’m sure you have other redeemable qualities.”
“I’m a crack shot.” She admitted smugly. “And I speak several languages.”
“Ohhh, which ones?” Melisande demanded eagerly. “Spanish? German? French?”
“Spanish and French.” Parker agreed. “And Japanese, and a couple of others. Not that any of them are going to be of use for this situation.”
“Thank you!” Jo exploded quietly. “I’d like to get my daughter back, if you two have finished playing family reunion!”
“Are you implying that I don’t care about my daughter?” Melisande bristled hotly, plopping plates down in front of the other two.
“Whoa!” Broots intervened, his watchful gaze fixed admiringly on Melisande. “Let’s not start fighting amongst ourselves.”
“I’m sorry.” Jo told her friend contritely, backing down immediately. “It’s just that we’re so close now, I can’t wait to get to Steven and Midori.”
“Then let’s get down to business.” Melisande offered generously, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. “How are we going to find them? It’s obvious that whatever they were taken for it isn’t an open Centre project.”
“Probably in an effort to keep Jarod from ruining things again. They’ve tried to restart the Pretender Project before, you know.” Parker offered knowledgeably. “The question is, where could the Centre be hiding them?”
“Where couldn’t they hide them?” Broots asked disconsolately. “The Center is enormous. We couldn’t possibly search all of it.”
“No,” Parker contradicted him thoughtfully. “They couldn’t keep the project anywhere in the Centre proper, or Angelo would have ferreted it out already. They’ve created another location for this.”
“But Angelo’s been disappearing off and on since Sydney vanished.” Broots pointed out thoughtfully.
“What do you want to bet he’s found the place already?” Parker questioned with growing optimism.
“Of course! He probably took Sydney there!”
“And Sydney got caught!”
Parker and Broots shot ideas off of each other with machine gun rapidity, their excitement mounting.
“So, is Sydney dead or alive then?” Jo’s innocent question was like a bucket of cold water. Parker and Broots both paled dramatically.
“I don’t know.” Parker finally admitted with a sick feeling of dread. “But I’m going to find out.” She added, anger coming to her rescue once again, and bringing the color back into her cheeks.
“Broots, you’re going to find out where every Centre shipment goes to.” She ordered him firmly, ideas solidifying in her head. “Mel, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t take you in to work with me. I think that the shock of your arrival might just distract the Powers That Be long enough for us to crack this.”
“Jarod said that our lives would be in danger if the Centre knew that we knew about each other.” Melisande objected with little conviction. She was almost to the point where she no longer cared about the consequences, she just wanted to hold her daughter again.
“Jarod is not infallible.” Parker declared grimly. “I’m almost positive that Daddy wouldn’t let them really hurt me.”
“I don’t know.” Melisande hedged, weighing the consequences, particularly Parker’s use of the word “almost”. “What good do you think it would do if you took me in?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure Daddy doesn’t know about you.” Parker considered. “So your appearance would certainly throw him off balance. Lyle sounds like the man you described as your contact last night, so he’d know about you, but he’d be busy trying to contain the fallout from your sudden arrival. Other than that, I’m not sure, except that shaking a tree usually brings down something of value.”
“Okay.” Melisande decided suddenly. “I trust your judgment. We’ll go in together----but what about Jo?”
“We can’t let them know she’s here too---it would make it too obvious that we’re on to them. We’ve got to keep her hidden, and I’m not all that sure this house will be safe when I’m not in it.”
“I’d suggest mine, but I’m not sure it would be safe either. The Centre knows where all of us live.” Broots frowned unhappily. He hated to be faced with a problem that didn’t have any apparent solution.
“Then I’ll spend the day in Blue Cove.” Jo suggested, seemingly resigned to the fact that she couldn’t join the small expedition.
Logic forced her to agree that her presence at the Centre wouldn’t accomplish anything, but she didn’t have to like it. She was a woman of action, and she wanted to be right there, ready to rescue her husband and her daughter. She might say she was reconciled to remaining behind, but unhappiness fairly radiated from her.
“Why don’t you contact Anne?” Melisande suggested compassionately. “We might need to have the troops ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”
“What troops?” Parker demanded suspiciously.
“Jarod’s got a lot of friends out there, Miss Parker.” Jo replied smugly. “He’s helped many people, and most of them would be more than happy to repay him in some way. We tracked down a few of them and they jumped at the chance to help. They agreed to contact the others. If it comes down to a fight, the Centre will find that they’ve bitten off a pretty tough mouthful.”
“Wow!” Broots eyes were round, whether with surprise at Jarod’s backup, or admiration of his support base, it wasn’t clear. “I wonder why Jarod never thought of that. He could have gotten lots of help in his ummm….” He coughed and his voice trailed off as Parker glared at him.
“His crusade against the Centre?” Jo asked pointedly. “He’d never do that---he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt on his behalf.”
“He loves that hero garbage.” Parker sniffed disdainfully. “Heroes don’t ask for help.”
“The point is that we’ve asked and they’ve agreed.” Jo countered firmly. “Now, I’ll go into town and find a coffee shop to wait at. You call me as soon as you can and let me know what you’ve discovered. And,” she paused, a deep sadness that only Melisande could truly empathize with filling her eyes.
“Hurry.” She finally managed to say. “After all this time, this last little wait is nearly unbearable.”
She blinked away the tears while she was hurrying out the back door. Since she and Melisande had parked behind Parker’s house and traveled through a short expanse of trees to wait for her, the route back to the car naturally protected her from being seen by anyone watching the front of the house. She listened closely as she hurried away, though, and was rewarded by the sound of Parker’s car engine firing up before she was more than half-way to her own vehicle. She paused and pulled a small device, about the size of a cellular phone, from her purse. After punching a few buttons she smiled, and flipped the object closed, quickening her pace through the trees.
*****
The woman alternated between pacing the sterile room, ceaselessly railing at an unseen adversary, and rocking mindlessly on the narrow bed provided her. The man watching her was revolted, his dreams of subjugating her spirited nature hopelessly shattered by the reality of her vacant eyes. He’d even gone so far as to enter the room, pretending to be his hated brother, but she hadn’t acknowledged his presence by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. She was more completely lost to him than she would have been if she were dead. Her only value now was as a hostage against his nephew’s cooperation and as possible bait to draw in his brother.
“I want her watched constantly.” He told the impassive guard next to him. “If she shows so much as a hint of sanity I want to be notified immediately, regardless of the hour.”
“Yes, sir.” The man answered tonelessly, his eyes flickering briefly over the woman in the room. “You will be notified immediately.”
Clayton paused a moment to glare again at the oblivious woman in the cell. To say he was unhappy would be a bit of an understatement; he was furious and someone was going to pay for his frustration. Margaret should have been located and brought in long ago. She should have been his, and her insanity should have come at his hands.
“I want Mr. Parker and his son in my office in ten minutes.” He finally snarled, choosing his victims with deep satisfaction. It was their fault, after all, that things had gone so badly awry, and only right that they should pay.
*****
“NO! You can’t take her! I won’t let you hurt her!” His eyes were wild as he curled into a ball in the corner, his daughter carefully wrapped in the middle.
“We won’t hurt her.” Sydney responded soothingly. “We just want to see just how smart she is.”
Steven Bartlett allowed one wary eye to fix on the psychiatrist’s face.
“You said you were going to test her.” He accused.
“An intelligence test.” Sydney assured him gently.
“No electric shocks?” He asked, his voice pleading and as plaintive as a toddler’s. “No hitting? No hurting?”
“None at all.” Sydney’s face turned grim for an instant, as the import of Steven’s questions sank in, but he smoothed it back into geniality when Steve immediately flinched back.
“Steve, you need to let Jarod take Midori into the testing room, but you can watch with me while he tests her, okay?” Sydney coaxed again.
“You’ll release the child now, Bartlett, or visit my playroom.” Lyle’s smooth voice interposed.
How he could sound so pleasant and yet sinister at the same time was a puzzle that Sydney still hadn’t figured out.
“Stay out of it, Lyle.” Jarod replied instantly. “We’ll handle it our own way.”
“My way is your way, Jarod.” Lyle returned in the same pleasant voice. “If you’ve forgotten that perhaps you should join Bartlett.”
“Stop it!” Sydney snapped, coming between the two men with a harried expression on his face. “Lyle, you can’t interfere with our work and still expect the results you want. Jarod, quit needling Lyle, he’s our boss in this matter.”
Lyle and Jarod continued to glare at each other while Steven Bartlett held his daughter tightly to him. Any other child her age would have cried out in protest by now, but Midori was no ordinary child, as all in the room were well aware.
“If either of them give you any more trouble, they’ll visit me later.” Lyle told Sydney menacingly, breaking the tableau. “As you pointed out, I am the boss here.”
“A word with you in private, Lyle.” Sydney replied evenly, only the white brackets around his mouth betraying his rage.
He didn’t give Lyle a chance to answer, but pulled him out of the room with a surprisingly firm grip on the younger man’s arm. Jarod started after them, but Sydney stopped him with a pointed glare and he had the grace to look faintly apologetic. He was too clever not to realize that baiting Lyle was a losing proposition.
“You reassure Mr. Bartlett.” Sydney ordered sharply. “I’ll speak to you later.”
Jarod’s eyes widened briefly in shock. He couldn’t remember ever having heard Sydney use that tone of voice on him before. He remained rooted to the spot until the door closed behind the other two men.
“Don’t let him hurt her.” The man on the floor whispered hoarsely. “Please.”
Jarod dropped into a crouch in front of the man, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sydney and I aren’t here to hurt any of you.” He assured the man compassionately. “But I’m afraid that Lyle will hurt you if you obstruct our work. We’re doing our best to protect all of you and we need your help to keep Lyle and his men away from all of the children.”
“Me?” Steve asked incredulously.
“Yes. You know the children, and they accept you as one of them because of Midori.” Jarod explained carefully, his mind racing for a plausible way for Steve to help them.
He knew almost as much about psychology as Sydney, and he knew that protecting Midori was the only reason Steve had been able to retain any independent thought after Lyle’s programming. He also knew that once he believed Midori was safe there was a very good chance that Steve would give up entirely---he might not commit suicide openly, but he’d waste away into nothing without a purpose to give him direction.
“They know that you aren’t going to hurt them, and they trust you.” Jarod went on, his quick mind settling on a plan. “So if you check out our tests ahead of time, and reassure them that they won’t get hurt doing them, then the children will perform better. They know you have no reason to lie to them, not with Midori going through the same tests that they are, and they need the confidence you can give them to do their best work.
“Steve, I grew up here at the Centre.” Jarod confided quietly, noting with approval that Steve’s grip on Midori had loosened and that the man’s trembling had nearly ceased. “I know that every child here is in danger if the Centre doesn’t think they are going to be an asset. Children who don’t make the grade, like Angelo was, have terrible things happen to them. Sydney and I don’t want that to happen to any of the little ones here. Will you help us?”
He finished his plea and waited with bated breath for Steve’s response. As he’d made his argument he realized that he was speaking more truth than he’d known when he began. Steve would be a valuable asset and the children were honestly in danger he and Sydney didn’t come up with some pressing reasons for to be left with their minds intact.
“You’ll show me every test beforehand?” Steve finally asked suspiciously. “Because I won’t lie to them.”
Jarod released the air he’d been holding in a silent sigh of relief.
“Yes.” He promised sincerely. “Why don’t we start with showing you what we are doing with Midori today? I’ll show you to the observation room while Midori stays in the gym with Tilena. We don’t want her to see any of it ahead of time, because it might affect her performance, but you can watch while we test Timmit. He, Mattais, Ricard, and Midori will all have exactly the same tests administered.”
“What if Timmit is frightened?” Steve asked cautiously. “What if he won’t cooperate with you?”
Jarod smiled.
“I think that all of the children will cooperate.” He assured Steve gently, a sparkle of humor lighting his brown eyes. “They’re very bright, and the tests will seem more like games than tests to them. Sydney and I spent half of last night working out the details so they’d be fun and not a chore.”
“Okay.” The man agreed, but his eyes were still shadowed with worry. “But I won’t lie to any of the children. If you do anything to hurt or frighten Timmit, I won’t tell the other children that it’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you. Just watch what happens, you’ll feel better for it. Now, let’s take Midori to join the other children in the gym. We received some play equipment before breakfast this morning that they other children are already enjoying.”
“Swings?” Midori asked, her chubby face lit up with anticipation.
“Actually, yes.” Jarod smiled down at her.
Steve accepted the hand Jarod held out to him and rose to his feet. The two men headed for the hallway, only Jarod’s concern for Sydney marring the perfect accord.
‘He should have been back by now.’ Jarod worried silently to himself. ‘What’s happening?’
*****
Jo climbed the rickety stairs as if she’d been up them a hundred times instead of this being her first visit to the dilapidated building. She looked carefully around, verifying that no one had followed her, before opening the door and entering the building.
“Well?” A quiet female voice asked her as she paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the room.
The room was small, only 10’ x 12’, with a door leading further into the building on the far wall. It was also barren of any furniture other than a camping cot in one corner, and a card table in the center of the room under a dirty skylight. The card table held a laptop computer, a mug that steamed gently with some hot liquid, and behind it was a slender, dark haired woman. Her brown eyes were studying Jo with the same intensity that Jo was studying the room.
“I planted the device on her high heels last night. It took me almost 30 minutes to get here, so I think that they’ll be at the Centre in another 15 minutes or so.” Jo answered breathlessly, her heart pounding surprisingly fast with excitement and trepidation.
“Give me the homer.” The woman demanded impatiently, the fingers of her right hand flying over the keyboard while she held out her left hand demandingly.
Without hesitation, Jo handed over the small device she’d activated just after leaving Miss Parker’s home. The woman behind the computer connected it to her computer, clicked a few more keys, and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of Miss Parker’s voice.
“Now just follow my lead.” She was ordering quietly, the words almost obscured by the sound of two pairs of heels clicking across the marble floor. “This should be quite interesting.”
“You can say that again.” The woman eavesdropping on them murmured, brushing back a strand of glossy brown hair behind one ear.
Jo couldn’t really estimate her height while the woman remained seated, but she suspected that it was closer to Jo’s own 5’ 6” than her brother Jarod’s 6’ plus. Her brown eyes, though, held the same piercing intelligence and keen curiosity as Jarod’s, and there was something in the compassion in her smile that reminded Jo irresistibly of Jarod.
“Everything’s going according to plan?” She asked, not liking the breathless note of worry in her voice.
Emily looked up from her computer screen and gave Jo her full attention, that compassionate smile on her face at full force.
“We’re doing great.” Emily assured her gently. “Lyle’s men picked up Rachel last night and he should be presenting her to my Uncle in moments. If we’re really lucky, he’ll imprison her somewhere near my mother.”
“Isn’t he going to know Rachel isn’t you?” Jo questioned, worry for Rachel, who she’d never actually met, surfacing belatedly.
“It depends on how well he’s studied my dossier.” Emily replied, her face grim. “My guess is that he has studied it well, and he’ll know immediately that they’ve picked up the wrong man. Rachel knows the danger, but she was willing to try. We hope that Clayton will place her somewhere near Mother, and we’ve done our best to hide some tools on her that won’t be discovered when she’s searched.”
“Then what?” Jo demanded. She knew there was more to the plan, but Emily and the others had refused to share it with her while there was a chance she might fall into Centre hands. “How does any of this help Jarod and rescue our families?”
Emily’s attention never wandered from the computer screen as she answered Jo.
“Rachel is supposed to escape, liberate mother, and locate Miss Parker and Melisande, filling them in on the situation. We’re counting on Miss Parker having ferreted out Jarod and the children’s location by then. Once they reveal that, Rachel will break them out of the complex while I lead in reinforcements to rescue Jarod and the others.”
Jo frowned, spotting the flaws in a plan that hinged as much on luck as strategy.
“This sounds awfully risky.” She objected quietly.
“Yes, it is.” Emily agreed readily. “But it’s the best we could come up with. The Centre has simply been too good for too long at covering themselves. We’ve got to take a chance to draw them into a vulnerable position. But Rachel’s involvement is the key. With her connection to the FBI, she’s our ace in the hole. They’ll protect her, so either way the Centre is doomed.”
A feral smile graced Emily’s lips as she shared the last bit. All of her life had been geared towards the downfall of the organization that had destroyed her family. Success was so close she could taste it, and she could hardly wait for it all to be over. She couldn’t conceive of a moment when she wasn’t running from the Centre, didn’t have a clue what she’d do if she didn’t have to worry about outwitting them at every turn, but she longed for the chance to know what “normal” meant.
Freedom. Peace. Security. Those words had been her holy grail for her entire existence. She wouldn’t rest until she achieved them, not just for herself and her family, but for everyone the Centre had damaged in their ruthless quest for power. Soon---soon the Centre would be no more. Soon her mother and brother would be free. Soon it would all be over.
*****
:Is he okay?: Tilena demanded silently of Kiara as she pushed a crowing Midori in the new swing.
:Timmit and Angelo are both fine.: Kiara answered evasively. :But I still haven’t found Sydney. The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle and Mr. Lyle made Sydney go with him. I lost them. I still haven’t found where the Bad Man stays.:
:What about Angelo? He knows almost everything about this place.: Tilena suggested with the calm practicality that attracted the younger children to her.
:He’s been looking too. The Bad Man is hidden awfully well.:
Tilena bit back a sigh of disappointment, relaying their failure to Gannet and Tasida with a sad shake of her head. They tried not to make use of their silent mode of communication too often, knowing that they ran the risk of discovery every time they did, but Kiara used it effortlessly and often. When they discussed their plans for freedom her ease in communicating was a boon, but one day soon Tilena knew one of the younger children was going to let something slip. She was almost beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter anyway. Somehow she doubted that any of them would ever see the outside world again, unless they had been first changed as horribly as Angelo had.
Jarod could find him. Tasida’s slanted blue eyes fixed on Tilena’s.
We’d have to tell him. He couldn’t dismiss it as a dream anymore. Tilena objected worriedly.
We have to tell him sometime. Gannas pointed out practically. He already knows, inside. We all did, didn’t we?
They referred to the mental link that bound all of the Centre’s special children. As soon as they’d come into proximity with each other the ability had manifested, except in Kiara’s case---she’d already been using a form of it with her beloved animals long before the Centre had reclaimed her. That was why she was the bond between them when they conferenced as a group. She linked even the youngest of them into the web of thoughts with unconscious ease. Even Angelo wasn’t on her level when it came to meshing them into a smooth gestalt.
It was Jarod and Angelo’s ability to link with them, even though it was unconscious on Jarod’s part, which let the children know that Jarod and Angelo were one of them, in spite of the fact that they were adults. Sydney’s obvious inability, in that respect, was part of the reason many of the children were still so suspicious of him, although his fierce protectiveness for Jarod was beginning to win even the most wary of them over. The children’s fear was that one of the adults, or one of the younger children, would reveal this ability. Even though they all suspected Gannas’ prediction that none of them would leave the Centre was accurate, they all, Gannas included, continued to cling to the hope that they might one day released. The four older children, however, knew without a doubt that if the knowledge of their link was leaked to Lyle none of them would ever see freedom again. They tried to make the younger children understand the severity of the threat, but for all that they were bright kids, a young child was a young child. The little ones simply couldn’t conceive of unending captivity.
Tilena sighed worriedly. She knew she wasn’t old enough for this responsibility, but there wasn’t anyone else. Gannas was too angry, and the younger children were a little afraid of him. Tasida was too quiet and Tilena could tell that she was terrified of angering the people who held the children in their power. Only she was old enough to consider the future, calm enough to express the dangers to the little ones without frightening them, and courageous enough to reach out to the adults that they hoped they could trust to help them. And only she knew just how frightened she really was.
*****
“Daddy, I want you to meet someone.” Parker’s voice dripped with poisonous satisfaction. “My sister, Melisande.”
The eavesdroppers clearly heard the sound of a man choking, and then Parker’s voice again, sounding almost reluctantly concerned.
“Are you going to be okay, Daddy? Should I call a doctor?”
“Where did she come from?” Mr. Parker’s voice was ragged and sounded like that of a man who’d had the axis of his world tilted savagely to one side.
“She found me.” Miss Parker told him, the bitterness in her voice subdued. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about her.”
“I didn’t, Angel.” Mr. Parker told her anyway, his voice serious. “But I think it’s past time you and I had a long talk.”
“So you can tell me yet another convoluted lie?” She returned, the bitterness surging back to its previous level. “Don’t bother.”
“Mr. Parker, the big guy called for you.” A Centre courier briefly stuck his head in the room to deliver his message and then ducked back out to continue his rounds.
“Damn! Not now!”
“Daddy?” Once again Parker’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Come with me, Angel.” He ordered, with the air of a man who’d decided to finish his course of action no matter what the consequences. “I have to talk to you before I answer that summons.”
“Who is the “big guy”?” Parker asked curiously. “I thought Mutumbo was dead.”
“He is.”
That was all the listeners heard for a few moments, until the clicking of heels on marble gave way to the soft rustling of feet in grass.
“Your mother loved this place.” Mr. Parker murmured, his voice expressing both joy and sorrow.
“Tell me about Mother, Daddy.” Parker demanded, her voice harsh with grief and suspicion. “Tell me about Ethan and Melisande. No more lies, no more evasions.”
“No, no more.” Mr. Parker agreed sadly. It was utterly silent for several long moments, then Mr. Parker began to speak in the detached voice of a man who felt too much to express.
“I can’t tell you about Melisande, Angel, because I don’t know anything about her. I agree that there’s a good chance she’s your sister---the resemblance is simply too uncanny, but I don’t know anything about her conception or birth. As for Ethan.” He sighed heavily. “I let the Triumvirate talk me into it. Into impregnating your mother while she was sedated from her surgery.”
Here he let out a harsh bark of laughter, laughter that held no mirth whatsoever.
“They were tying her tubes.” He confessed bitterly.
“It must have galled you.” Parker jabbed mercilessly. “To have to keep her alive until after the birth.”
“That’s why I agreed to the procedure in the first place!” Mr. Parker roared back. “It was the only way to keep her alive. I was lobbying the Triumvirate to have her sent to the renewal wing instead of killing her. Raines fed her those lies that I was trying to kill her. Raines tricked her into putting herself into his care. Raines killed her!”
“You’re lying to me again.” Parker whispered shakily.
“No.” Mr. Parker’s voice was thick with tears. “No, I loved your mother. You and your mother are the only people I’ve ever been able to love. I would have done anything to keep her alive, even let them remake her mind.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Parker was still suspicious, and sounded it. “Why did you lie to me for all those years?”
“You’re so like your mother.” Mr. Parker declared sadly. “I was so afraid you’d start to annoy the Triumvirate like she did. I couldn’t bear to lose you too, Angel. Without you I can’t go on.”
“Is that why you ordered Tommy’s death?” She demanded, her own tears thickening her voice.
“Yes.” He admitted quietly, self-disgust soaking the word. “Raines had already threatened to eliminate you—you know no one leaves the Centre alive—and…”
“And?” Parker prompted when his voice trailed off into silence.
“And I was jealous of him. I wanted you to look at me with that much love. I’m sorry, Angel. He was a good man. But if I hadn’t sent Brigitte to kill him you would have both died, and probably everyone else on the plane you’d have been taking to Portland with you.”
“I don’t believe you.” But she did. It was clear in the sick acceptance in her voice.
“Listen, Angel, we don’t have much time left---I have to go see him. There’s a reason I told you all of this. Times are bad right now. He’s out of control, his obsession with Charles and his family overtaking every ounce of sense he used to have. I might not come back from this meeting. I might end up at the renewal wing---or dead. You have to keep digging, dear. Find out how to take him out of the equation. It’s the only hope we Parkers have. Remember, Parkers are the Centre. And take care of your little brother if anything happens to me, okay?”
“Daddy?” Parker’s voice sounded little-girl-like in its uncertainty. “Who is he?”
“You’re about to meet him.” Willie the Sweeper’s voice sounded cheerfully in answer. “All of you.” He added a moment later.
“No, my daughter has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t have the clearance.” Mr. Parker protested angrily.
”You should have thought of that before you started leaking secrets to her.” Willie was implacable.
“Move, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
*****
“Well? Just who is that woman and why isn’t Emily in her cell?”
Oh, shit! So great was his dismay, Lyle was afraid for a moment that he’d said those words out loud until Clayton’s annoyed look made it clear that he hadn’t said anything at all.
“No.” He admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know who she is. I take it my man brought her in instead of Emily.”
“You assured me you had her.” Clayton accused poisonously.
“Given the care with which this deception was carried out,” Lyle began carefully, mind racing as he tried to figure out how to come out of this latest setback with a whole skin. “I’d say we do have her.”
“Explain that comment, and make it good.” Clayton’s rage wasn’t appeased in the slightest. He suspected, correctly, that Lyle was simply twisting things to save himself.
“Whoever this woman is, she obviously set herself up as Emily to my men. Therefore, it follows that she knows where Emily is. She has to be working with her in some way.”
Sydney, all of his formidable instincts screaming that he was in danger and far safer if no one noticed him, withheld his immediate contradiction. But Clayton noticed it anyway.
“You disagree, Sydney?” He purred, his bad temper smoothing over as he made both men squirm.
“Not with his assessment that Emily is working with the woman, but Emily isn’t stupid---the woman won’t have any idea where she is, and she probably doesn’t even know what Emily is up to.” Sydney admitted reluctantly. He knew this assessment wasn’t likely to endear him to either of the men, and he was right.
“So now you’re an expert on Emily as well as Jarod?” Lyle snarled viciously. “Just remember, old man, I’m the one who finally brought him in.”
“What do you mean, she won’t know what Emily is up to?” Clayton demanded dangerously. “What makes you think the girl is up to anything?”
“Clayton, I told you years ago that it was in your best interest to give up on Charles and his family. You may consider their compassion for others a weakness, and maybe it is, but it doesn’t make it impossible for them to fight back. You’ve obviously pushed at least one of the family too far, and she’s going to take you out, and anything else that stands in her way.” Sydney sighed. “You’ve persisted in seeing their inability to destroy everything in their path as incompetence, but you have to know, on some level at least, that Charles is far more competent than you give him credit for. And Emily has obviously inherited his stubborn nature. If I were you, I’d turn the woman loose, where she can’t strike out at the Centre.”
Lyle’s immediate response was cut off by Clayton’s upraised hand, while Sydney did his best not to quail under the harsh, cold look of contempt Clayton leveled on him.
“I suppose you’d have me release the boy too? Perhaps he and his sister are working together on all of this?” He asked with sinister calm.
“I doubt they’re working together.” Sydney admitted. “But yes, you know I think you should release him too---we simply trained him too well. He’ll escape again, somehow, and who knows what he’ll do on the way out, or after he’s released? In fact,” Sydney made up his mind in a rush and decided to be completely honest for the first time in years. After all, they needed him for their new project, so they weren’t going to do anything worse to them than they’d already done, and once he’d been a respected member of the leadership of the Centre. Clayton knew that underneath his obsession, maybe he could make him listen.
“In fact, I’d release all of the children, shut down every illegal and immoral project we have going, and return the Centre to what it was originally intended to be---an organization for the advancement of mankind. If we did that, we’d still be profitable beyond the Triumvirate’s wildest dreams, the money we’d save on all those Sweepers and Cleaners alone would make just one of you richer than Gates, and we wouldn’t have to keep looking over our shoulders. I know Jarod, Charles, and the rest of the family would then leave us alone.”
“I see.” Sydney’s heart sank at the loathing in Clayton’s voice, knowing he’d done the unforgivable---he’d attacked the man’s obsession. “I believe that you’ve earned yourself a trip to the renewal wing, Doctor. In fact, I think I’ll have both women join you.”
“Uhh, Sir,” Lyle spoke up reluctantly. “The renewal techniques don’t work on the insane.”
“She’s no more insane than I am.” Clayton bit out. “And where is your father?”
As if his arrival had been timed by a director for maximum impact, Mr. Parker walked through the door with two, very similar looking women following him.
*****
Jarod tried to hide his concern for Sydney as he led Timmit back to the room where the other children waited, seated in a silent circle.
“What are you doing?” He tried to make his voice cheerful and encouraging, but couldn’t force a smile to his worried face.
:Waiting for you.:
Jarod controlled his start of surprise.
“We’re imagining stories.” Tilena, the child who’d just blown his socks off with the first mental message answered seriously. “If you get us some paper and pencils later we can write them down and maybe you can send them to our families.”
“I’d be happy to get some writing materials.” Jarod agreed uneasily.
:We have to help Sydney.: Tilena continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. :Don’t answer out loud, think at us.:
:Think at you? Can you all do this?: Jarod wondered, feeling like he was living through an emotional earthquake.
:All of the Centre children can. Don’t you remember? Angelo does.:
In an instant he had a vivid image of himself, Kyle, and Timmy, each in their own rooms, lying on their own rough cots, but sharing the day’s events with each other. It was the pain of Kyle and Timmy’s mistreatment at the hands of Raines that had made him close down the link and bury the memory.
Not just the pain. They have a drug too---it makes us forget.:
:But you haven’t forgotten. Angelo didn’t forget.:
:Angelo’s mind is different now. He uses parts that even Kiara doesn’t understand, and she’s the best of all of us at this. He helped us to remember after we got here. After a while, we built up a tolerance to the drug, just like you and Kyle did eventually.:
:So what do you need? What’s wrong with Sydney? With an effort Jarod brought his mind back to the present, and whatever was serious enough to make the children blow a cover they had obviously been carefully keeping until then.
The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle, and Mr. Lyle made Sydney come with him. The Bad Man doesn’t like Sydney.:
:The Bad Man doesn’t like anybody. Jarod thought that was contributed by Kiara.
But we can’t find the Bad Man.:
:Who is the Bad Man? Jarod wanted to know.
You know. You saw him.
Jarod pictured Major Charles in his mind, and tried to project that image to the children.
No, not him. The other one.:
:??:
:His brother, dummy. Gannas’ attitude made his sending clearly his own. The Bad Man is that man’s brother. Probably identical twins.:
Of course! Jarod thought to himself, almost dizzy with relief. I should have known that. Dad has a twin!
:So, if we find the Bad Man, then what? What else can you children do? Jarod asked curiously.
We don’t know yet. But we all like Sydney. He wanted to help us, and we want to help him.:
:Okay, give me some time to think about this. We’ll figure out something, but later.
“Well,” he said aloud, stretching obviously, “That’s enough imagining, I think. I’ll get you some paper and things soon to write your ideas down. In the meantime, Mattais, I think it’s your turn to play some games with me. Want to come watch, Steve?”
The man, looking calmer than he had since Jarod had arrived simply shook his head no and cuddled Midori.
“Thank you.” He finally managed to say. “I’m glad you let me watch Timmit but I’ve seen everything I need to see. I’ll stay with the children now.”
Jarod nodded briefly, with a smile to reassure the nervous man that he didn’t mind his decision, and took Mattais by the hand. His heart trembled as the boy put his hand trustingly into Jarod’s, skipping cheerfully along by his side. Jarod hadn’t spent much time with children, and he was dumbfounded by their simple faith in him and Sydney.
:That’s ‘cause we know you’re good. Your mind is kind of warm and fuzzy, like ferret fur, and Sydney’s is all green and glowy, like leaves in the park.
Jarod knew without a doubt that Kiara had contributed that.
Ferret fur? He wondered to himself. Is that good or bad?
:’S good. I like ferrets. They’re funny and smart and nice/I>
No more mind-talk, Kiara! Tilena scolded.
But I have to tell him something important! The little girl protested indignantly. Then, before anyone could stop her, continued. My mommy is here, and she’s with someone who “feels” like her, only not the same.
Melisande? Meredith? Jarod speculated. Things just keep getting better and better, don’t they?
So we have to find them too. Jarod didn’t have the heart to scold Kiara for that last little bit, not when he “felt” the wistful longing that accompanied it.
I’m working on it, I promise. He “sent” to them all. He kept the fear that all the work in the world wouldn’t get them out of this mess to himself.
*****
“Okay, who the hell is this “he” everyone keeps talking about?” Jo demanded dangerously.
“He’s my uncle.” Emily told her absently, her eyes focused on a blueprint of the Centre. “He and my father and Mr. Parker started the Centre long before I was born. Then, somehow, Uncle Clayton began to take more and more authority until he ousted Dad and reduced Mr. Parker to head of the Blue Cove branch. He put in his own yes men, kidnapped my brothers, and it’s been downhill ever since. He’s insane, and jealous of Dad. That’s what all of this is about. He wants revenge on Dad.”
“Revenge for what?”
“For being born.”
“And my husband and daughter? Kiara? What do they have to do with it?”
“They’re simply involved to make money for the Centre. They were genetically engineered to have special abilities. Uncle Clayton doesn’t consider them people, he thinks of them as cattle---even Jarod and me.”
“You were genetically engineered?”
“Yeah. Me and my brothers are IVFs, just like your Midori and Mel’s Kiara. Before we were implanted, we were tampered with. My brothers and I had our intelligence enhanced. Sound’s like Kiara might have been enhanced too. Midori was taken too young for us to know what she might be capable of.”
“IVFs?”
“In Vitro Fertilization. It gave the scientists a window of opportunity to manipulate the zygotes.”
“Damn those people!”
“There’s only my uncle left to damn.” Emily told her matter-of-factly. “Mutumbo’s death took out the last of his replacement Triumvirate. There’s no one to rein him in anymore.”
“We can’t wait any longer, then. My daughter, your brother, your friend, they’re all in the hands of a certifiable madman. We’ve got to get rid of him, rescue them!”
“We have to find him first.” Emily told the distraught woman calmly. “That’s what this is all about. We’ve been trying to find where he hides for years now. This is the closest we’ve gotten.”
*****
Angelo? Angelo can you hear me?
“Angelo? Angelo can you hear me?” The smaller man stood beneath the large ventilation grill in his workroom, wringing his hands nervously. “Please, Angelo, answer me!”
What, Jarod? Angelo, comfortable with this mode of communication, recognized his friend’s mental “aura” immediately.
“Why?” He asked his other supplicant verbally.
The innocent question caught Broots by surprise, making him jump and swirl. Behind him was the very man he was seeking.
“Why Broots scared?” Angelo amplified.
“Because they took Miss Parker away!” He returned frantically. “One by one we’re being whisked away. We’ve got to find out where she is and rescue her.”
Parker and her sister Melisande are around here somewhere, but I don’t know where. I’m worried about her---them. He corrected his slip quickly, but not quickly enough to keep Angelo from noticing it.
“Took her to see him.” Angelo told him, less than helpfully. “Very bad.”
Clayton hides well. Look long time, not find. Broots help now. Angelo informed Jarod. Broots find.
“Right, now there’s a newsflash. I don’t suppose “him” has a name?” Broots questioned with sarcasm worthy of Parker.
“Clayton.” Angelo supplied calmly. “Clayton evil. Miss Parker, sister, great danger. Broots help.”
Clayton? Uncle Clay? Jarod’s thoughts were incredulous as his chancy memory suddenly released a flood of images. The identity of the man he’d seen, the man who looked like his father, but claimed to run the Centre, suddenly became clear.
“Wait a minute…” Broots held out one hand to stem Angelo’s surprising volubility, his formidable brain turning over his brief encounter with Jarod. His suspicion fit, like the end to an if statement in programming.
“Clayton---he’s Major Charles’ brother, isn’t he? And probably an identical twin, to shock Jarod so. And he’s the power behind the throne! That explains so much!” Broots half-asked, half-declared to Angelo.
“Power on throne.” Angelo clarified solemnly. “Much anger, much pain. Must find; stop.”
“Me? You expect me to stop this guy?” Broots squeaked with dismay.
Jarod, watching the exchange through the link Angelo had opened up to him, suddenly spoke up.
No, just find him. Somehow, I’ll take care of the rest.
“Broots find Clayton. Jarod, Emily, Angelo, others take care of Clayton. Broots find.”
“Do you have any idea where to start looking?” Broots asked the other man.
“The Tower.”
“The Tower’s still a lot of ground to cover. Maybe I can narrow it down some.” Broots mused. “I think I still have the blueprints Jarod sent when we were searching for SL-27. If I can compare them to the official Centre blueprints, maybe I can find a room that doesn’t belong.”
“Broots understands.”
“Yes, I think I do.” Broots breathed, almost to himself. “More than I ever thought I would.”
Suddenly the obsession with recapturing Jarod, the cloning of him, the single minded pursuit of every one of Jarod’s family, even the order to kill if the quarry couldn’t be retrieved, it all made sense.
“Angelo go to Jarod now. Jarod scared.” Angelo explained briefly.
“We all are, Angelo.” Broots assured him somberly. “Go on, do what you can.”
Angelo smiled sweetly at the smaller man and wriggled with amazing agility into the ventilation shaft behind him. Broots was already rooting around in the closet he used as storage space for the lab, before Angelo had even replaced the grill behind him. He was worried about Parker, knowing full well that she was more vulnerable than she usually let on, but his worried thoughts quickly slid away from the features of Parker to those of her quieter, and gentler sister.
Somehow he was more worried for her than Parker. He told himself it was simply that Melisande had been thrust, unknowing and unprepared, into the machinations of the Centre, whereas Parker had grown up battling Centre schemes, but it was more than that.
Melisande had all of her sister’s grace, beauty, and determination, but she lacked Parker’s hard veneer. Broots had been more than half in love with Parker, but now he was suddenly confronted with someone who had all of Parker’s good points, with none of the flaws. He didn’t realize it yet, but his infatuation of Parker had shifted suddenly onto her sister.
*****
“Major Charles?” The question slipped from Parker’s lips before she could stop it.
But she corrected herself almost immediately, for unlike Jarod she wasn’t too shocked to see the minute differences between the two men. Clayton was paler than his brother, since he rarely ever left the Tower, and the wrinkles covering his face were those brought from scowling, not smiling. It was clear to her that Clayton wasn’t the same man she’d threatened in a Centre holding cell.
“No, you aren’t. But you’re related to him.” She retracted in the next breath.
“Perceptive.” He growled shortly. “Too bad your intelligence wasn’t available for Centre purposes. Now, I’m afraid, there won’t be much left after your visit to our---specialists.”
Parker’s blood ran cold, but years of practice in containing her reactions kept her face a smooth, emotionless mask.
“No!” Mr. Parker burst out next to her. “Clay, you swore you’d never---“
“Stubble it!” Clayton cut the other man off brusquely. “If you’d kept your family in line I wouldn’t have had to resort to such extreme measures. But your wife was a menace, and your daughter is rapidly following in her footsteps. It’s the Renewal Wing, or the Freezer.”
“No, Daddy.” Parker restrained her father with an unusually gentle hand on his arm when he would have attempted to physically attack the man behind the desk. “It’s useless. He holds the cards for now.”
“Very sensible.” Clayton smirked. “If only you’d chosen to be sensible earlier.”
His need to inflict pain on others temporarily assuaged, Clayton turned his attention to the other people in the room.
“Lyle, return Sydney to his duties. I don’t want to see him here again unless I’ve actually summoned him. And get me Emily, or join my family in the Renewal Wing. Syd, I expect results from the children soon. As for you, Melisande,” he smiled maliciously at her start of surprise. “Yes, I know of you. We’ve been searching for you for some time. I haven’t quite decided what to do with you. While you most likely have talents that the Centre could use, I wonder if you aren’t too much of a wild card to risk?”
“Clayton, I would like to try an experiment, with your permission.” With the quiet courage that typified him, Sydney took a half-step forward. “I believe that there’s a strong possibility that our young Pretenders will perform better and have greater loyalty if we involve their parents in their training wherever feasible. Melisande would be a perfect test case.”
How he knew that Melisande was the mother of one of the children was a puzzle that no one noticed in the tension of the moment. Clayton glared thoughtfully, his eyes moving from Melisande’s painfully hopeful expression to Sydney’s shuttered, but somehow still pleading, face.
“Just what do you hope to accomplish?” He finally asked suspiciously.
“A child’s bond to their parent, especially their mother when they’re young, is all encompassing. They are far more likely to cooperate with our requests when they are backed up by the encouragement of the parent. Failing that, the threat to remove contact with the parent will probably accomplish whatever you want.” Sydney suggested with subdued eagerness.
Clayton considered for a moment, and then nodded his head thoughtfully.
“I’ll let you try.” He said at last, much to Parker, Sydney, and Melisande’s relief. “But mark this well, young woman.” He added warningly. “You will join your sister if you obstruct the project in any way shape or form. Understand?”
Melisande nodded, outwardly thoroughly cowed, but inwardly exultant.
Kiara! I’m coming baby! She thought joyfully.
“Very well, Lyle, remove her with Sydney.” Clayton ordered, quite cheerful now that he’d played God in the lives of so many people. “Willie, escort Mr. and Miss Parker to the Renewal Wing. Their reeducation will begin tomorrow.”
*****
Mommy’s coming!
Kiara’s excited message rang through Jarod’s attempt to administer Mattais’ tests. He was trying, with all the “pretending” ability within him, to maintain a normal atmosphere for the kids. It belatedly dawned on him that all of his attempts to keep the children apart so that none would have an advantage in the tests were worthless. Their mental gifts made his precautions moot. Mattais’ enormous grin revealed clearly that he’d heard Kiara’s mental shout.
But she’s sad. Aunt Meredith is being taken to a bad place. She’s worried. I never knew I had an Aunt Meredith before. Kiara added more soberly.
Jarod started, fear clogging his throat. It was coming apart more quickly than he had expected.
“Th-that’s enough for now, Mattais.” He stammered, opening the door to the small room where Mattais had been attempting to design the floor plan for the Pentagon. “Let’s join the others.”
Mattais knew that Jarod was frightened, and why, so he said nothing as he skipped along beside Jarod’s long strides.
Jarod’s scared. He told the others privately. He loves her, like we love our families.
It’s not quite the same way. Jarod countered, having “overheard” the exchange. Probably more like your daddies love your mommies.
Fortunately, his discipline was strong enough to keep the worst of his fear and regret from the children. For all that they were prodigies, the children were far too young to deal with the negative images and emotions racing through his mind, and Jarod knew it.
“Broots will find Clayton.” Angelo’s quiet voice startled Jarod, even though he was used to his friend appearing and disappearing from thin air.
“But now Parker’s on her way to the Renewal wing!” Jarod exclaimed in a harsh whisper, motioning Mattais to go ahead and join his friends.
“Good.” Angelo replied calmly. “We know where Renewal wing is. We can help.”
“How?” Jarod’s eyes held agony.
He’d been helpless to save his brother, or his friend Kyle, or Miss Parker’s mother, or, for that matter, Miss Parker herself. He hated being helpless in the face of danger to his loved ones. And Parker was in danger, there was no doubt of that.
Angelo shot his friend an assessing look, his empathic abilities exposing his friend’s pain and the love for Parker that he steadfastly refused to admit, even to himself.
i>Jarod hurts. He observed on a private level that none of the children could access. Parker strong. She’ll be okay.
She’s been through enough! Jarod flared. No more! I won’t stand by while the Centre hurts anyone else I love!
Angelo was silent, a sly smile curving his lips as he waited for Jarod to hear his own words. It didn’t take long. Jarod flushed and stammered suddenly.
“Like a sister!” He finally managed to get out. Angelo’s smile didn’t change.
“Oh, what’s the use in arguing with you?” Jarod grumbled. “You’ll believe what you want to believe.”
Admit it, Jarod.: Angelo’s mental voice was firm and solid, as “adult” as Jarod had ever heard his friend. :Admit you love her. For both of your sakes.
“Let’s just get her back.” Jarod temporized. “We’ll worry about feelings later.”
Angelo’s grin widened a fraction, but he didn’t argue with his friend. The seed had been planted, and by Jarod himself. It would bear fruit soon enough.
“How are we going to help her?” Jarod focused on his priority, ignoring Angelo.
“You can’t help anyone.” Lyle’s smooth tones rang down the corridor, raising Jarod’s hackles instantly.
We have to join. It was Tasida who broke in on the animosity between the two men, although it was only Jarod who heard her.
Jarod heard more, though. He heard the wistful desire for approval, acceptance, affection that lurked in those startling, Parker-blue eyes. He knew, with a knowledge that transcended words, that those desires were linked to Lyle. Her paternity was no longer in doubt to any of those in the link.
It’s very important. All of the Centre children must join. We must be one---now. She added urgently, clamping down on those feelings with brutal efficiency.
Instinctively, Jarod responded, throwing open a switch in his mind that he’d never suspected existed. It was almost as though he was linking hands with the children, but on a deeper level. When Kiara joined in the joining became smoother, and deeper, their minds meshing into an gestalt, into one, hyper-aware being.
Then, the children gathered in Angelo, and just beyond him, a beloved presence.
Mommy?:
:Melisande?:
:Kiara? Baby?
One small part of the meld locked onto each other in a flood of welcome and love, but the greater part continued reaching out.
Meredith? The gestalt queried gently, Jarod’s voice taking some precedence over the others.
:??:
Yes. He assured her simply. It’s real. It’s all of us.
In the hallway she simply slipped to the floor, much to the dismay of her father and escort, but mentally she slid into the link as seamlessly as if she’d been practicing with them for years.
Jarod? This mind was a younger, astonished version of his own, and the “Jarod” part of the collective moved forward again.
Yes, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re all here.
Jarod’s approval and encouragement helped, but it was the wordless wave of welcoming from all of them that filled the hole of rejection in the clone. For the first time in his young life he knew he was loved and wanted simply for himself. But even as they enfolded him within their unit, they ranged farther out, meticulously gathering all of the “lost” children to themselves.
Emily? Surprise, longing, and more love flared from the Jarod portion of the link.
Here. Her smile rippled through the link, as she accepted this development with nothing more than a sense of peace and rightness.
Lyle?
Shock swelled through the group as Angelo firmly reached for the angry man’s mind. Lyle was more surprised than any of them, his instinctive defenses lashing out at them all, but Angelo was relentless, engulfing him and holding his ego gently as he smoothed Lyle’s brittle and sharp thoughts into a pattern that could meld with the others.
Lyle struggled mindlessly at first, fear swamping them all in a tidal wave of emotion. Kiara held them fast, however, as Tilena washed away his fears with a flood of understanding and Tasida bathed his battered mind with love. Her innate ability to soothe the damaged mind took on new heights, with the love of a child for a father to back it up. Angelo guided the two girls, bringing in Timmit and Ricard so that they could watch and learn.
:What?!: Lyle’s first instinct to resist, to protect himself at all costs faltered under the weight of Tasida’s concern and hesitant hopes for a father’s love. His shock at the hijacking of his mind slid into astonishment at the truth of Tasida’s existence. :I---I never knew. I was afraid to know.:
His selfishness in taking Tasida from the orphanage and then ignoring her presence loomed sharply in his mind, threatening the timid peace that their ministrations began. Gently, but implacably, Angelo and Tasida forced him to face the self-blame and accusations in his mind. Then Tasida offered her fragile heart to him, an act of vulnerability that Lyle could barely comprehend. Her forgiveness, unforced, unasked for even, breached the final barriers in his mind.
He marveled at the peace, and an acceptance that he’d never even allowed himself to hope for. Years of abuse and rejection and pain melted away in moments. Even more miraculous was the new wave of acceptance coming from Melisande and Meredith. They could forgive the unforgivable in this higher plane, and they let him know that he too had a place in their lives.
Only Jarod’s concern for Sydney marred the perfection of the meld. Sydney, understandably alarmed by the collapse of the other three adults in the underground laboratory, was obviously in great distress. Jarod knew that distress would only grow when the older man realized that the children too were in a state of unconsciousness, but the others insisted that there was nothing they could do for him.
His mind couldn’t handle the shock of our own. Meredith insisted gently, guiding Jarod’s consciousness away. All we can do is finish our business and return to ourselves quickly.
It was an assessment that Jarod couldn’t argue with.
Emily, it’s time to bring in the cavalry. Jarod urged, nudging his sister forward enough to retake control of her body.
“Don’t worry, Jo.” She murmured to the frantic woman beside her in the barren warehouse. She didn’t open her eyes, or return fully to her body. “Just call Bailey and tell him it’s time. He’ll know what you mean. And don’t worry if I’m unresponsive for a while, everything’s okay.”
With that she became utterly limp again, unhappy that it worried Jo, but knowing there was no alternative at the moment.
Clayton. We have to deal with Clayton.
The consensus was reached easily, with everyone sharing memories, ideas, plans. There was no question on anyone’s part that Clayton was the cancer at the heart of the Centre, warping and twisting everything. And the entity that had been created by the meshing of the Centre children had the power to act on that cancer. With the speed of thought, literally, they reached out to the cancer, binding the mind and diving into it without hesitation or remorse.
What they found within it saddened Emily and Jarod the most. The mind was completely wrapped around its obsession with his twin brother. Everything that had ever gone wrong in his life, from the mumps he had in college that made him sterile, to the loss of Margaret’s love, he blamed on his brother Charles. Charles, who’d been born a measly thirty minutes before him, had, in Clayton’s mind, received all the love, attention, and breaks. This conviction had grown and festered and created a lifetime of poison that no one in the group could think how to lance.
Can’t we help him? Like we did Lyle? A part them thought sadly, already knowing the answer.
No, if we tried to bring him in he’d crack. See? See how our brains are put together differently than his?
No one was sadder than Jarod, who wanted desperately to save every member of his family. All of them, even young Midori, didn’t only see the altered neural patterns, they understood the way that pattern made it possible for them to be a whole, and yet retain their individuality. And every one of the gestalt knew that a normal human mind would crack under the strain of their merging.
:So what do we do?:
Simple question for a complex problem.
We can strip his mind bare. We can kill him. We can put in a feedback loop that incapacitates him whenever he tries to hurt someone.: Someone suggested.
:We can’t kill him. It would hurt us too. And we can’t hurt him over and over again. That would make us just like him. But if we remove his memories, maybe he can be retrained.
It took no more than an instant to reach that conclusion. Not one member of the whole liked it, everyone was well aware of how precious a mind was, but it was the best that they could come up with. And they implemented it in the next instant, regretfully leaving Clayton Black a drooling idiot. Then Jarod instigated the unraveling of their whole.
Gently, he removed Melisande and Lyle first, noting Sydney’s overwhelming relief with detached amusement. Then he gave his clone, who called himself Jacob, Emily, and Meredith a feathery nudge. Finally, he, Angelo, and the children released their grip, all of them feeling a twinge of regret as they dwindled into just one person again. The meld had been exhilarating and completed all of them in a way that would be inconceivable to anyone who hadn’t lived through it. They should have been exhausted, every one of them, but they were energized instead.
When the FBI teams arrived to storm the gates they found them open. Files and DSAs were being gathered to make the cases against the remaining Centre employees who had knowingly, and willingly, committed atrocities. Said employees were waiting unhappily in the Centre detention block. Harmful and immoral experiments had been halted and measures were already being instituted to mitigate any damage to any people involved in them.
At first Bailey was highly suspicious and inclined to believe that Emily’s protestations that all was well at the Centre were nothing more than wishful thinking, but Jarod’s freedom, and the sight of Miss Parker working cheerfully by his side pretty much dispelled that suspicion. More astounding was the sight of Lyle working with Sydney and Melisande to reach the parents of the children, who had been moved from the secret laboratory. Tasida had glued herself at his feet. It would have been a matter of some concern, if Lyle hadn’t been transformed, almost literally, by the melding.
Jo had been reunited with Steve and Midori while Emily waited at the warehouse to coordinate with Bailey. She still leaked joyful tears. In short, it was a miracle worthy of a television mini-series. Unfortunately for Bailey’s need to understand this miracle, every Centre child had agreed, without even having to think about it, that the secret of the meld would remain a secret.
They knew that it would breed true, for the alterations had been made to them on a genetic level, and they also knew that the world wasn’t ready for a few individuals to have such power. It didn’t matter that the very nature of that power would prevent them from abusing it, as Lyle’s alteration had proven, there was no doubt that the average human would never understand. Someday, perhaps, they’d be able to reveal themselves, but not now. So all Bailey had to go on was that an unexplainable about face had taken place in the Centre, and he was deeply unhappy with the mystery.
“We’ll have to find the others.” Miss Parker murmured to Jarod as Bailey passed by.
“Yes. We’ll have to see if we can’t convince their families to at least move near here, so they can receive proper training.”
Bailey paused, his curiosity peaked and his instincts telling him he might just find an answer in this conversation.
“First we’ll have to figure out how to train ourselves.” Jarod chuckled wryly. “I’m still not sure what happened. I suspect Kiara knows the most at this point, and how are we going to get a 4 year old to teach what she seems to know instinctively?”
“We’ll work it out.”
Bailey didn’t have the background to realize that the warmth and confidence in Parker’s voice were as much of an about face for her as what he’d seen in the Centre halls. Jarod, however, did, and he was deeply grateful for the change. For years he’d watched the cold façade Parker had put around himself and grieved. He hadn’t had the experience with people to know how to help her, for all of his vast intelligence.
Without thinking about it, he sent a wordless wave of love and happiness at her. Her answering smile nearly blinded him. He’d dreamed of someday seeing such uninhibited joy on her face and in that moment he felt like his life had reached it pinnacle.
“Oh no,” Parker contradicted his thought, not even realizing that it was unspoken. “There’s more and better yet to come.”
Frustrated, Bailey moved off to the room where Mr. Parker waited to be interrogated. He could sense that exchange had answered his questions, but he just couldn’t understand that answer. It was far more important now to simply clean up the mess thirty years of unrestrained Centre damage.
“I don’t think Timmit and Mattais have families to find.” Jarod said suggestively in the quiet that followed Bailey’s departure.
“And what do you think we should do about that?” A smile played around Parker’s lips as she asked.
“I thought it would be nice if we could supply them with a mother and father of their own---and I wondered if…” His words trailed off tantalizingly.
“You wonder if what?” Parker demanded, a flare of her old irritation surfacing under the stress.
“I wondered if you’d be interested in being Mommy to a ready made family.” He finished, a hint of the wary boy worried about rejection lurking in his brown eyes.
“What about my brother?” She asked, startling Jarod.
“You want to adopt him?” He asked, his expression neutral.
“Yes. I know I can talk Daddy into it.”
“Then we’d have to get busy making a few girls to round out our little family, wouldn’t we?” Jarod smiled broadly. “After all, I hate for you to be outnumbered by males forever.”
“Oh, Jarod! I accept!” She wrapped exuberant arms around him and Jarod took advantage of the moment to steal his second kiss from her.
“Accept what?” He asked innocently when they surfaced for air.
“I accepted your proposal of marriage, Jarod. Because I promised Daddy I’d bring you back to the Centre, and I try to keep my promises.” She paused, allowing a deadly gleam to light her blue eyes. “But he did say dead or alive…”
“Oh, my proposal!” Jarod grinned devilishly. “I’d forgotten about that. Of course Mommy and Daddy have to be married. And it will have to be soon if we’re going to do it before your father starts his jail term.”
“Yes.” Parker agreed, to the proposal, to the speed of the marriage, and to the joy Jarod promised her with his eyes and lips.
We’re going to have a real Mom and Dad, Angelo! Mattais exulted.
Just like the others. Timmit agreed.
That’s wonderful, children. Angelo informed them indulgently, happy that young Mattais would be able to do everything Raines had prevented him from accomplishing and more. But it isn’t polite to eavesdrop on people. Especially your parents to be.:
:Sorry!: They chimed in together, and with a remarkable lack of repentance.
:Why don’t you go to the nursery and visit with the baby. His nurse is about to be taken up for questioning, and her replacement hasn’t been allowed into the building by our friends. I’ll be down in a moment to join you.: Angelo suggested, knowing distraction would work better than an appeal to their consciences.
With the two excited boys responsibly engaged, Angelo made his way to Emily, to entice her to follow him and meet her new nephew to be. For once the smile that creased his face wasn’t crafty or tinged with revenge. The victory that had been won this day was real and permanent, not a magician’s illusion of smoke and mirrors that vanished under examination. It was almost a shame that dawn wasn’t tinting the clouds over the sea in brilliant colors, because it was definitely the dawning a new day for them all.
END
