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Vertias Odium Parit
Red Roses

"Emotional assimilation, a psychological side-effect of prolonged undercover work." - Jarod, Life Line




The room was dimly lit, electric lights trying in vain to combat clouds of cigarette smoke that floated around the room; hovering over the comfortable looking armchairs and tables holding ashtrays. Most of the occupants were shrouded in shadow, Mr. Parker swallowed audibly.

One of the figures offered a cigarette pack - Mr Parker shook his head. One of the Centre mottoes: Never accept anything that comes from someone who works - or lives - in the tower. Except compliments, and even then be wary.

"You know why you've been summoned."

Summoned, Mr Parker thought. What is this a monarchy?

"Of course," he replied, bowing his head, for in some ways it was a monarchy; these were the kings and he was a messenger.

"We have hit the six year mark, have we not?" The question drifted from towards the back.

"Yes."

"Hmmm," the figure said, taking a drag from his cigarette and producing a small glow.

"Miss Parker is still in charge of the hunt?" Asked another, he was closer to the front and nearly visible in the moving shadows.

They knew of course, the answer to each and every question. The Tower knew everything about everything. They believed that knowledge was important; theirs that is.

Mr. Parker nodded a yes and resisted the urge to cough.

"Good."

This took him by surprise, in the past five meetings there had been nothing but insults, threats and orders concerning his daughter. Now a sudden change of heart? Mr. Parker looked for a cigarette glow and directed the question at that.

"Do not remove Miss Parker from the hunt, if you do these last six years will have been a waste."

If this is monarchy then I'm about to my head chopped off, Mr. Parker thought, but, you don't get anywhere in the Centre if you're out of the loop.

"They have been a waste."

Figures chuckled in the darkness; he was most definitely out of the loop, a big one.

"We are confidant that we will no longer be having these anniversary meetings," said another shape from towards the back. Unlike the first two speakers whose voices were distinctly male, this was a woman.

"What makes you so sure?"

There was an abrupt tension and lack of movement; the room held its breath, waiting for the reply.

"We watch more than just what happens in the Centre Mr. Parker," said the voice, her tone patronising.

The figures began to breath and smoke again, showing that no harm had been done today. Thinking the interview was over after such as near miss, Mr. Parker got up from the uncomfortable chair. The women's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Will you honour your promise to Miss Parker?"

Mr. Parker lowered himself into the chair slowly, focussing on his breathing and not getting angry.

"Which promise?"

"That if she catches Jarod she gets freedom from the Centre."

The chair seemed even more uncomfortable and he squirmed while thinking quickly.

"I don't know if I can," he finally said.

"How so?"

"She's learnt a lot over these last six years, too much."

The woman broke over the murmuring with a 'tsk, tsk' sound. "We handle how much Miss Parker learns."

"Of course," Mr Parker replied smoothly, giving another bow, "I meant that what you have allowed her to learn could still be dangerous."

The women lit up a cigarette, temporarily unmasking her face, from what little he could see she was mid 50's with wrinkled skin and a permanently down-turned mouth.

"When the time comes, let her go, if she does prove dangerous she will be dealt with."

Now it was the end of their meeting, Mr. Parker could feel the shift in attention but he still had questions.

"And if she makes demands?"

"Demands?"

Mr. Parker shrugged slightly, not sure himself.

"If they're reasonable then meet them."

Mr. Parker nodded his head at the figure and gave a bow to the rest of the room before getting up and leaving. He was after all, the messenger.

* * *




If her house hadn't been so ordered, she never would have noticed. A single red long stem rose in a crystal vase beside her bed. In its centre perfume had been sprayed, adding to the roses scent.

Miss Parker entered the bedroom, immediately noting the change and in a few fluid motions, she crossed the room and put it in the wastebasket where a dozen others lay.

* * *




Another lair, another discovery, it was all becoming a little irritating. No, Parker decided, while removing a PEZ dispenser from yet another bouquet of roses. It was beyond irritating.

"Perhaps Jarod was pretending to be a florist." Sydney suggested from somewhere amongst the sea of flowers.

Thinking of the flowers she'd received, Parker muttered a "Maybe."

They had scoured the lair, looking in every bunch of flowers and even the surrounding warehouses all producing no results. Miss Parker, Broots and Sydney were about to head back to the airport when Broots pointed out a second level.

"Does that look like a platform to you?" He asked in a hushed whisper.

They surveyed the small alcove and noted the only way up was a ladder climbing from on top of a desk.

"Shit," Parker muttered with feeling. There was no way to climb a rung ladder in a skirt, heels and carrying a gun.

Nevertheless she was about to stand on the desk and attempt it when from outside came the sounds of an engine starting up.

Swearing some more, Parker followed the sound and arrived just in time to see an expensive red car and a figure speeding away. "No way!" she howled after it.

Fearing her temper, Broots and Sydney ended up talking to the sweepers who had missed him. Parker used the time to climb the ladder. It looked the mostly the same from down on the ground. The only thing Parker hadn't noticed was a small bottle of perfume tucked away in a corner.

Once back on solid ground she examined the little treasure more closely - it was the scent from the roses - but now in vaster quantities it triggered a memory in her mind. Her mother had worn this perfume on extra special occasions. She wore it once when Parker had a bad day at school and to cheer her daughter up that night they dressed up in there best clothes and talked for hours.

The jet arrived back in Delaware at almost 5 PM the following day. Lyle greeting them on the air-pad with a sneer, "Let me guess, the lab-rat got away again."

"We came very close," mumbled Broots.

"What was that Mr. Broots?"

Sydney jumped to his aid. "He said we had a near miss."

Lyle looked sceptical. "In your last three reports you noted this also. I'm having a hard time believing your genius is getting that cocky."

"Jarod-" began Sydney in his patient physiatrist voice.

"-Does everything for a reason." Lyle finished. "How's this for a reason." He pulled a red notebook from his jacket pocket. "It arrived some time before you did."

Miss Parker snatched it from him and opened it. The usual newspaper clippings displayed the wrongs he'd righted and innocents he'd saved.

"'Rose' Killer Caught By Unidentified Man," read the headline.

She turned the page, Sydney and Broots reading over her shoulder.

"'Rose' Killer Takes Another Victim."

The article was all about an unidentified man who killed people and then left a rose with the body. This article was about the third victim.

"Explains why he had all those flowers," muttered Broots.

Sydney nodded in his 'I knew there was a reason' way and Parker decided to stop for the day. "I wouldn't want to spoil the ending when wonder-boy rings," she said, and shoved the notebook back into Lyle's hands.

*



It was a beautiful night; the air was still warm from the hot summer day and the clouds distant on the horizon, only just visible in the fading light. Miss Parker was sitting under one the many trees with memories playing all around her. Everything in the house and garden was special, had its own memory. This particular tree even had one; Parker had only been five or six when it was planted, she had helped her mother compact the soil around the roots. "This is my favourite spot in the whole garden." Her mother had said. "And all that's missing is a tree to sit under."

As modern technology often does, her cell-phone broke the moment. She tried to ignore it but the phone continued to ring and disturbed the night sounds. After the fifth ring it switched over to her voice mail but instead of recording, Jarod's voice announced smugly. "You can pick up now or at 2 am."

After a groan that scared nearby crickets into silence, Parker answered.

"What?"

"You know not even I would have guessed that'd be your voice mail."

"People talk more when they're flustered." Parker replied with a roll of her eyes.

Damn, it had been a perfectly good evening until he rang, she thought ruefully.

"Well you'll like what I have to say."

"As long as it's not repeated at 2 am," Miss Parker said tiredly.

There must be some way to hide my number.

"It's about your mother."

It always is, Miss Parker thought but replied, "What about her?"

"Raines' cabin," Jarod said. "The disks you found were ... highlights put together by Raines, there are more."

Miss Parker was shocked, but didn't let it stop her. "What do I have to do for these treats?" She hissed in a venomous tone.

"Tell me why the Centre wants me back."

"You know I can't do that. They'd kill me!"

"Then were going in circles, same questions, no answers," he growled.

"Then stop chasing your tail!" Parker yelled in frustration. Why did he have to keep digging? In all his genius, did he not know the saying 'let sleeping dogs lie'?

"Easy for you to say," Jarod retorted.

"No, it's not. I want answers just as much as you do. The only difference is that I've known true freedom and you haven't." It was a low blow, striking at his freedom but he'd hurt her also, using her mother as bait in yet another giant rattrap. She was beginning to feel just as trapped with him as she was in the Centre.

"There is no freedom from the Centre." Came the reply, the tone sad and angry.

"Then why do you try?" she asked exasperatedly.

"My family-"

"-Yes your family. Who have you found Jarod?

"Your father: that you had to question on my mother's death, that got caught after 30 years on the run and 3 days in your company. Your sister: pushed out a window and then nearly killed by sweepers because she asked questions about you. Your brother jumped in front of a bullet to save you. What, 3 hours after coming back into your life. Your clone will never have a normal life no matter where you hide. And what about Ethan - our brother - who jumped off a train 10 seconds after meeting you!"

A dial tone sang back in response. Miss Parker sighed, threw the phone in her pocket and stood up. The silence and peace was long broken, the warm night air was no longer refreshing but uncomfortable, and the night noises slightly sinister.

Inside she cast off her work clothes and found something silk to get into. The hot chocolate she had made before going outside was cold but she drank it anyway. Only when she climbed into bed did she notice the red rose and Pepé Le Pew PEZ dispenser on the nightstand. Resisting the urge to throw them, she casually turned out the light and rolled away from the foreign objects.

* * *




The Pepé Le Pew PEZ dispenser slammed down on Broots' computer monitor. Broots looked shocked more than afraid at his boss's entrance. "Good morning Miss Parker," he said as he moved back slightly, encase there would be more violence.

"Good morning Broots," she replied, "Now. Tell me what this means."

Broots surveyed the candy holder. "Jarod likes cartoons?" He suggested weakly.

"No. This," she said and revealed the tray. Usually filled with square candy it instead held a note that Miss Parker removed for his inspection.

'681' was all it said.

Broots covered his groan with, "I'll get right on it." Parker gave him a rare smile. "Thank you." He returned the smile. "Oh, and Broots." She almost laughed at how terrified he suddenly looked. "I need a new security system for my house. Jarod can beat the current one in his sleep. I want you to set it up." The doors hissed open and close without waiting for his response.

*




Broots came around that evening, looking like a child who'd been let loose in a candy store. "I got the best." He informed her, as two men began the unloading. Miss Parker surveyed the bill, "Yes I can see that," she said as she scribbled in her Centre expense details. "Which is good, 'cause we need it."

The existing security system went, along with many an hour, while Broots confessed that with a bit of know how, Debbie could have beaten it. "This one," Broots assured her, "Will take a bit more, but then it is Jarod we're talking about." He babbled on a bit on the features before saying, "Oh and I didn't get any further with that number you gave me." Parker nodded, it wasn't a surprise, she had assumed as much so went off to order take-out. Over the take-out Parker inquired as to how Debbie was. "Good," Broots replied cheerfully, if anyone ever wanted to gain Broots trust and affection all they had to do was ask about her; "Actually, it was just the other day she was talking about you. She came first in her cooking class and wanted to invite you over."

Miss Parker smiled around her drink. "That sounds nice."

Broots nearly choked. "Does that mean you'll come?" He missed his mouth with chopsticks when she nodded, causing them both to laugh. "That's - that's great. Debbie will be thrilled."

At almost 11 PM, Broots declared the work finished, and began teaching her how to operate it. There wasn't much to learn, Parker had been reading the instructions and watching as he installed it, only the keypad remained. "The good thing about this place is the fuse box is in a central room. Had it been outside we would have needed an electrician, because you can imagine how easy it would be to cut off power," Broots gibbered as she put in the new code. "Now when you leave you can arm it so that if there's and intruder the message is sent to your mobile."

They tested it a couple of times and it worked perfectly. "One last thing," Broots said, handing her a package. "I thought you might find this interesting."

The package was an automatic call timer.

"To stop all late night calls."

"Next chance I get Broots," Parker said with a smirk, "I'm giving you a pay rise."

* * *




It turned out Miss Parker's happiness was short lived; not three days after the new system was installed she came home to find no messages, intruders or alerts but yet a key, attached to a piece of paper sitting on her coffee table.

Grabbing it so roughly a small tear appeared; she quickly read the address of the Dover Bank and ripped it to shreds.

The bank was five minutes from closing when she arrived. The teller made a fuss about the time but escorted her to the safety deposit boxes when she realised that Miss Parker wasn't going anywhere.

"Here you go miss, box 681, please remember the bank will be closing shortly." She said with fake cheer.

Miss Parker smiled sardonically at the teller and waited until she left before opening it.

The box was small, one of the smallest the bank offered; inside were two shiny silver disks. DSA's just slightly smaller than Sony's new Mini Disc's.

Quickly Parker pocketed them and replaced the box. The teller gave a small smile of relief as she left.

Having driven at a cruise 70 mp/h. Parker arrived home and went straight inside. If Jarod could beat the security system, there didn't seem much point in turning it on. The cupboard that held the DSA player was immediately visited; after a brief stop at the liquor cabinet, she set it up.

The black and white screen flickered to life, the camera panning around the grey room, showing the floral wallpaper and highly lacy décor before finally settling on her mother; lying on the bed weeping for her baby girl. Parker's own tears hit the machine and the view crackled. It took a few seconds for her to realise her tears were not the cause. Suddenly Catherine's crying stopped. "I know Jarod and Sydney will look after her!" she said, wiping the tears from her eyes even as more fell. "I just wish I could have saved her," she whispered and began to cry again.

After a while, the DSA and her mothers crying stopped, the only sound in the house became Miss Parker's own tears.

* * *




Jarod's next three lairs left this new kind of breadcrumb, each one of them hidden amongst his discoveries and toys. The first one was simple: inside the red notebook full of paper dolls, created by a man who swore innocence to the charge of murder. The second in a Twinkie and covered in strawberry cream, as the victims had been of the serial rapist Jarod put away. The third in the pages of a book they found on a would-be assassin. To Parker these new breadcrumbs added a new dimension to the game, an enticing one. Watching her mother do everyday things was soothing and reminded her of better times - simple times.

Sydney would no doubt tell her it was unhealthy, to continually watch the last months of a parent's life, so she didn't tell him.

* * *




Her house was still ordered, but now there was an organised clutter. DSA's stacked and the DSA player left out.

Now and then red long stemmed roses would appear in a crystal vase beside her bed; she'd quickly note the change, take a few strides and gather up the flower. So, it could hang with the others in her mother's studio, refilling the room with her scent.










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