Truth Series by Leah
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
DISCLAIMER: The Pretender and all its characters (Broots, Sydney, Miss Parker, Jarod, Brigitte etc.) and places are the property of MTM Entertainment and NBC Productions and are used without permission for no profit. I was asked for a sequel to "The Search for Truth" so here it is. This takes story takes place after the episode, "Exposed." Hope you enjoy! Again, I'm on my knees begging you to, please send comments.
FLASHES OF TRUTH
by Leah
Copyright 1997
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"Daddy, I don't need any help," Miss Parker retorted, weakly.
"Listen, Angel," the man with a white mustache and balding head replied. "I'm not asking much of you. You know what we have to do so just don't worry about it. My asking that another be brought in to assist you, besides Brigitte, was approved by the Tower."
"But, Daddy..."
"Father knows best," Mr. Parker stated. "It wouldn't look good now for us to back down on my decision. It would seem we have something to hide," Mr. Parker explained, kindly--but in the way that left Miss Parker powerless to question his decision. All the walls of her objections were torn down and she was left speechless.
How could she tell this man whom she had trusted and thought of as father the doubts now surfacing in her mind. Something to hide. That last remark cut into her, breaking through the facade of Ice Queen and made her want to shout. Something to hide? Don't you know, don't you suspect that I may not be who you think I am? She did have something to hide. She had everything that was important to hide. Half of her wanted to tell her father that she had spoken to Jarod, face to face, made a deal with him. The other half screamed a warning that if she did so everything would be lost. She feared shattering Mr. Parker's image of her as his perfect little girl. He had acted as her father and it didn't matter what the message Jarod had sent in the music box meant.
The music box...Ben Miller...Maine...Mother...These thoughts haunted her mind as her father, calmly unaware of her inner torment, continued, "Our hired man is coming in this afternoon. Make him welcome."
Miss Parker nodded and Mr. Parker left her to attend to some arrangements he had in progress since his return to the Centre.
Jarod, she thought. The cause of all her problems but also the solution to them. Where could he be now?
"Hey, Chef. Hurry up with that spaghetti! I got two tables waiting," Sylvia, manager of the Divine Dines called into the kitchen.
"No problem, coming right up," a good-natured voice called back.
The kitchen was filled with food preparers and steamy vapors wafted from boiling pots. The chef of the kitchen seemed to have it all under control, as if it were an exact science. He pulled bread from the oven, seasoned the salad and sent it out, and at last came over to the steaming pot of spaghetti noodles. He lifted a few out with a large spatula, flipped them into the air and the activity of the bustling workers around seemed to stop for a moment as they watched him. SPLAT! The noodles adhered to the wall.
In less than two minutes, he had the spaghetti noodles rinsed, five plates filled complete with spaghetti sauce and meatballs, and each plate was garnished with two leaves of oregano.
"All done!" Jarod grinned. The chef's hat bobbed on his head as he spoke.
A cheer went up from his fellow workers, and the bustling began again. Jarod alone did not continue in his work. He removed his chef's hat and apron and slipped out of the kitchen into the restaurant lobby.
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"What?"
"Still looking for me, Miss Parker?"
"No, Jarod. I was waiting for a call from Grandma," she snapped, every syllable edged with sarcasm. "For a genius, you certainly have a knack for stating the obvious."
"Well, I'm cooking up a few surprises for you, Miss Parker."
"How nice, Jarod, and am I supposed to thank you for this?"
"I hardly would expect that. Just thought you needed to taste a bit of humble pie."
"The music box, Jarod. The photograph? What does it all mean?"
"You know what it means," Jarod replied, steadily. Miss Parker moved in her chair and then stood up, clutching the phone to her ear. She turned to peer out the window. Yes, she knew what it meant, but she had somehow hoped Jarod would deny the meaning, tell her it was some cruel trick, while her wits told her there was no denying the knowledge Jarod had given her.
"And now you tell me something," Jarod's voice cut in. "About my family."
"Your family? Well, things have been a bit hectic around here, Jarod. Daddy's back and Princess Eyes thinks she owns Mr. Lyle--" she cut herself off, remembering Jarod was the escaped and she was his pursuer. "Wait a minute," and her voice rose, sharply. "Why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I need to know the truth," Jarod responded, not missing a beat. "Our deal stands." The dial tone came on and Miss Parker slowly lowered the phone from her ear and snapped it shut. Yes, she thought, resignedly. Our deal stands. To think of it now she couldn't imagine what on earth had possessed to make such a promise. Jarod would give her information on her mother, while she--at her own risk--would find out information about Jarod's family when the opportunity presented itself. Why? Because he wanted to know the truth.
Flashes of truth. That's the way it always was with Jarod. He was never content to impart information in the normal way. No, he always, gave you a piece here, a bit there. A jigsaw puzzle of information until FLASH! All the pieces would drop into place and some vital truth would be revealed.
Her phone rang again. "What is it?" she snapped. She hated being interrupted, even from her own thoughts.
"Um...it's...it's," Broots' voice stuttered. "He's here, Miss P."
Miss Parker held back the anger in her voice to ask, "Who?"
"The Guesstimator."
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The man was clad in a white suit complete with black tie and white polished leather shoes. His build was thin and tall. His hair was blond and his eyes were gray. There was a perpetual smile that never left his face and as Sydney, Broots, and Miss Parker stood on the above level looking down at this visitor, he quietly walked about the room. In his hand he held a report which he must have just finished reading. Stacked neatly in rows of two were file folders, ones which he evidently had been reading before their arrival. Now, he simply paced around the room in a circle as if deep in thought.
"Who is this neat freak?" Miss Parker whispered, picking her way across the floor gratings in her heels, as they prepared to go down the stairs. "Is he a Pretender?"
Sydney smiled to himself. He felt Miss Parker always had Pretenders on the brain. "No," he replied in his soft Belgium accent as the trio started down. "Guesstimators, unlike Pretenders, do not have the ability to become anyone they want to be. But their powers of perception and understanding motivating factors behind why people do what they do are remarkable."
"Like Angelo, then?" Broots asked, trying not to break into a sweat. How come he had to be dragged into this thing? He would much rather have been back safely behind his computer where it was safe. But Miss Parker had directed him to come, so he was coming. Besides what if Brigitte should choose to pay a visit while his teammates were out? He shuddered and moved to catch up with them.
Sydney shook his head. "These beings do have personalities of their own...they are at times unruly, unpredictable, and egotistical. This comes from the fact their minds are continually active and if not constantly fed a puzzle to figure out, they become bored."
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, should it, Syd?" Miss Parker said flashing a set of white teeth as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Everything about Jarod is a puzzle."
Miss Parker moved into the room first, followed by Broots and Sydney.
"Hi, I'm Jonathan Bink," the Guesstimator greeted them at their appearance. His smile seemed to grow wider. Jonathan Bink, thought Miss Parker. How ridiculous! JB would be more like it. She followed her father's direction however, and said, "Well, Mr. Bink. You've been briefed. Let me know when you get something."
She was about to turn away when the Guesstimator's laugh halted her. He came up and walked in a circle around her, speaking at the same time. "JB, that's what you'd rather call me, I guess." He promptly pulled a small notebook from his pocket and a pencil from the other, and began scribbling notes in it. He tore off a sheet and handed it to her. On it was written in calligraphy: A Guessitimate, Why don't you like me?
Miss Parker didn't like the way this man was studying her, even though she was fully decked out as the Ice Queen, despite the absent smokes. "The first thing you are going to learn about me, JB," Miss Parker replied. "Is that I ask the questions and you give me the answers."
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The restaurant had closed and Jarod was sitting, studying the plaques on the wall that were displayed above the cash register.
"Looking at the competition?" Sylvia asked, peeking over Jarod's shoulder.
Jarod smiled. "Well," he began pointing at a gold plaque, "Actually this kind of interested me. Sands Springer? He's not working around here anymore is he?"
"No," answered Sylvia, slowly. She turned to the cash register to check the money. "That was last year...Sands was quite an amazing guy."
"Manager as well," Jarod prodded. He took off his chef's apron and folded it up. "Employee of the year. Nice title, that."
"Oh," Sylvia said with a smile. "There was a customer in here one night, must've had some type of allergic reaction. Sands was running a minimum staff that night. I guess I was one of the few there. Anyways, he was the only one to notice this man who was having trouble. He runs over there shouting, "Call 911!" But there was this rainstorm going on outside, see, and the wind broke the phone line. So he gets the man in his truck, drives him to the hospital in the pouring rain. If that isn't customer service, I don't know what it is!" She was finished with sorting the bills and went to put them in the safe.
"Why did he leave?" Jarod asked, helping her check the doors and switch off the lights.
"Oh, turns out after he became regular hero around here, we come to find out that he's just been working at Divine Dines to make a little extra cash. He really had been studying medicine quite a bit and was taking a little break. But being back at the hospital scene, made him want to get back there. He quit two weeks after that." Sylvia sighed. "Just when you think you're really starting to know someone..."
"They do something totally unexpected," Jarod said with a knowing look.
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The Centre
Sub-Level Five, Tech Room
A promise is a promise, this thought ran through Miss Parker's head as she entered the room and hovered uneasily for a moment over Broots' computer. It was too early in the morning even for the tech head to be there, but glancing at her watch she was sure he would arrive at any moment. She was dressed in her dark brown pants suit, and it reflected somewhat her dark frame of mind.
"Miss Parker!" Broots exclaimed in a startled fashion, nearly tipping his coffee cup. "Did you forget something?"
Miss Parker turned and gave him a calm, cool stare. "No. But I want you to."
She handed him a note to read, and on it was instructions on what she wanted him to do. After he read it, Broots' mouth dropped open in amazement. He shook his head. There was no way. Not with his daughter just home. He wouldn't stick out his neck like that, not for anybody. What if it led them to finding out how he had broken into Mr. Lyle's office?
"I'm sorry," Broots finally managed to say.
Miss Parker looked at him. Broots took a step back as if to wield off blows. She stared at him. Broots shook his head and tried to hand the note of instructions back to her. And then, the chairman's daughter did something worse than anything else imaginable for Broots.
"Pleeease!"
Broots could not refuse. His hand closed over the note of her request. He nodded and Miss Parker left swiftly, pausing only once to give a look of caution. She turned her head to the left and to the right, her eyes scanning the area to see if they had been watched. Then, she strolled out of sight.
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The Centre
Sydney's Office
"Sydney," Sydney answered the phone, calmly.
"Why do people do it, Sydney? Why do they hide the truth?"
Sydney picked up a pencil and fiddled with it. He knew it was Jarod and had spent the past year in the chase after The Pretender he had trained and raised. But Sydney really could not be considered to be a chaser, he was more along for the ride, trying to be sure that Jarod was safe. He smiled to himself, glad that Jarod had called, silently wondering if Jarod would ever come "home" to the Centre.
"It's good to hear your voice, Jarod. I think it's in human behavior....the hiding of a the truth. A child breaks something and then lies because the child loves the parent and is afraid of losing the parent's love. But children aren't born liars..."
"Yes, Sydney...Deception is a behavior they learn," Jarod replied, not wishing for an example. "But something goes beyond that. It seems to be a human tendency. What about adults? Why do they hide the truth?"
"Well, as an you grow, there is a difference between right and wrong and a mature person knows this. It's the conscience, the voice inside you that tells you when something you're doing is right or wrong."
"But people don't always listen to that voice," Jarod commented. He picked up a red notebook from the table where he had been sitting.
"No," Sydney said, laying the pencil on the table in front of him. "Your conscience is relative to your actions. If you ignore that voice inside you, it grows fainter and fainter until eventually it disappears altogether."
"But if that's the case," Jarod's voice sounded distressed. "And if people know this, why do they lie? Why do they hide the truth from themselves and others?"
"Because they are afraid the truth will hurt them."
"Then, they're fooling themselves. Lies hurt more. I know that more than ever before. I will find out the truth, Sydney. I will!" Jarod said, determinedly. He flipped open the red notebook and leafed through a few pages, pausing at one.
Sydney nodded to himself. His fingers brushed the pencil and it rolled across the desk. "Be careful, Jarod. You may not like what you find." The pencil dropped to the floor.
"No matter how deep it's buried, I'll find out the truth!" Jarod said. He pushed the 'off' button of his cellular and looked at the headline of the clipping he'd stopped on. It read, "Child Mourns Death of Grandfather." There was a photo of a ten-year old, wide-eyed girl. Her brown eyes brimmed with sadness. The eyes were what struck Jarod the most. The painful sense of loss he saw there reminded him of someone he knew well.
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CENTRE DATABASE
The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
The door creaked open and Miss Parker crept in, pausing to peek around the door and looking up at the wall where a security camera vigilantly was scanning the area. The room was filled with dark monitors, keyboards and computer panels and only special personnel were ever allowed to access to the wealth of information stored in this electronic library. The red light of the security camera went off and Miss Parker's heart beat faster as she realized this was her chance. Broots had done as was asked and looped the security cameras. There was at least two hours before any of the employees would arrive.
It was now or never.
Yes, Miss Parker had a security clearance to be in the Centre Database, but only as an observer. Any research she wanted done would have to be cleared with the Tower and then only if one of the Centre researchers assisted her. The information Miss Parker wanted to search on would have caused too many questions to arise. She moved into the room and sat down quickly at a computer terminal.
Miss Parker glared at the screen and then entered the code to access a specific line of data. THE PRETENDER PROJECT, she typed and pressed enter. The usual info came up about Pretenders among us and geniuses with the ability to become anyone they want to be. She skimmed over that. Then, she typed two more words and initiated a search on them. PRETENDER: JAROD. The usual explanation scrolled across the dark computer screen in blue letters. In 1963 the Centre isolated a young Pretender named Jarod and harnessed his genius for their research. Then one day, the Pretender ran away. Well, that's all very well and good, Miss Parker thought fiercely. Everyone knows that! She hit the key for the search to continue, but a box flashed up which read: NO FURTHER FILES FOUND.
Stupid databases! A wealth of knowledge at her fingertips and this is what she got! She was almost struck the keyboard with her fist, but caught herself in time. Why hadn't she convinced Broots that he could loop the security cameras and still come into the database for her? Miss Parker frowned and was about to enter and initiate a new search, when a voice behind her said, "What are you doing here?"
Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around and then her look of shock changed into one of annoyed surprise.
"Syd! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"
Sydney was calm and collected. He held a book in his hand and repeated the question. "Miss Parker, what are you doing here? The Centre Database employees won't be around for another hour and a half."
"You never saw me, Syd. I'm not here," Miss Parker replied, stubbornly. She couldn't let Sydney know she was doing this for Jarod. Why didn't he just go away and leave her to do what must be done?. Sydney caught an inkling of the dismay Miss Parker was feeling. He had known her since she was not the persistent, relentless huntress of the day, but a little girl lost, alone, and saddened by her mother's death and Sydney, with his analytical mind, still saw that side of her. "This has something to do with Jarod, doesn't it? Something that we don't want," his accented voice lowered, "them to know about."
Caught in the act, Miss Parker had nothing to say. It wasn't a question as to whether or not Sydney would tell. She had no fear of Sydney. It was a question of admitting that she had been--She shook her head and rolled her eyes trying to clear her head of the thought, but to no avail. She had been helping Jarod. And more surprisingly, the thought unfurled in her mind....Sydney would help her!
"Well!" Miss Parker said, sharply.
Sydney smiled, amusedly and said, "If there is something you need, Miss Parker, you should ask for it."
Miss Parker pushed her rolling chair back from the terminal and spun it around to face Sydney's position. She rested her chin on her hand and said, "Well, Syd. Think you can get Cyber Brain to talk. Please..." She gestured towards the terminal. "Your audience awaits."
Sydney opened the book, he had been carrying, read something from it, and then looked at Miss Parker. The book snapped shut and was placed beside the monitor. Sydney gave her one last bemused smile. Then, his finger moved toward the keyboard. He typed and entered the words which initiated a search: The Pretender Project, 1963: Jarod. "NO FURTHER MATCHES FOUND," flashed on the screen. Then, Sydney entered another word into the keyboard and pressed enter. The message stopped flashing. The screens on the computer began to change rapidly at last stopping on one which listed three files.
Miss Parker jumped up from her chair and crowded Sydney away from the monitor, staring at it in amazement. "What was the magic word, Syd?" she said in wonderment. Then, without waiting for a reply, she quickly pulled out a headset piece and placed it on her head. Adjusting the mouthpiece, she spoke softly into the mike. "Pigeon this is Falcon. Come in. Do you read?"
"Loud and clear, Falcon," Broots replied.
"We have found the nest, Pigeon," Miss Parker said. "Sending you the egg."
"Don't you think if would be safer to copy it later, on disk, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked.
"Last time I listened to that advice of yours, Sydney, and we lost all those folders in SL-27," Miss Parker replied. "This time, I'm not listening." She grimaced and turned to punch some keys on the keyboard. Perhaps she should listen to Sydney? This thought surfaced involuntarily in her mind. No, that was ridiculous. She had enough superiors to worry about without having Jarod's nursemaid start ordering her about.
As she began uploading the three files onto the network, she spoke into the set, "Pigeon, the birds are flying the nest." She turned to Sydney who had again taken up his book, but was giving her a think-about-what-you're-doing-look. "This way, Syd," Miss Parker said, throwing up her arms and pointing at Sydney as she spoke. "There's no mess. I keep the Tower off my back and I walk out of here scot-free. With nothing on me."
All the lit computer screens in the room went dark! A glaring red box labeled warning sprung onto the screen. "Unauthorized access of files."
"Falcon! Abandon nest, abandon nest!" Broot's strained voice came through on the headset. She yanked off her headpiece and concealed it in her jacket.
"Time to go, Syd!" Miss Parker said, immediately tense and alert. As an alarm bell sounded, she grabbed Sydney's arm and hurried him out of the room. They glanced around the hall be sure no one had seen them come out.
Miss Parker and Sydney began walking down the hallway away from the Centre Database. They hurried through one more hall when Miss Parker held up her hand to tell Sydney to stop. There were rushing footsteps headed directly towards them. Miss Parker pulled out her gun. "Miss Parker!" Sydney exclaimed. She turned back to face the direction of the Centre Database and her expression was deadly. She stood very straight and still...waiting.
Brigitte and a security team of five sweepers rushed up to them. The sweepers' pace slowed as Brigitte nodded at them and then looked at Miss Parker and Sydney. "The alarm sounded. What's going on, luv?" Brigitte asked, breathlessly. Her own gun was pulled.
"About time you got here!" Miss Parker snapped, gripping the 9mm. "I called for backup five minutes ago. Let's move it!"
Without questioning it, they complied. Brigitte and Miss Parker led the security team back towards the Centre Database. So far so good, Miss Parker thought. They entered quickly and swept through the room, pointing their guns in all directions.
"Ooooh!" Miss Parker kicked the wall in pretended frustration, careful not to set off the trigger of her gun.
"They're gone, whoever twas," Brigitte observed, smiling at Miss Parker's dismay. Good, Miss Parker thought, inwardly relieved her sham had worked. Miss Parker stood in the background, watching to see what Brigitte and her team would do. Brigitte walked over to the lit computer screen and typed something into the board saying, "Let's see what was wanted." The screen in white letters flashed: Files deleted. "Can you retrieve it?" Brigitte asked one of the security team.
He moved forward and typed in several things, but then shook his head. "Memory's been wiped," he mumbled. "Don't know what was erased."
Brigitte replaced her gun in her holster. She pulled out a red sucker and licked it. "I best report this to Mr. Raines," Brigitte remarked and exited followed by the security team.
Miss Parker stood alone in the room, running her fingers through her hair. Who had erased the files? Jarod! Miss Parker thought fiercely. This is all your fault. The things you make me do! Then, she also exited. If she had stayed a moment longer, she would have caught the scratching sound of a grate snapping in place. And if she had been a keen listener she would also have caught the stifled laughter of someone who was treating himself to a snack of Cracker Jacks.
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The Hallway of a Hospital
"He made you do it, didn't he?" Jarod confronted Sands. "Lie for him."
"Look, I've got a lot of work I need to do," Sands said, giving a worried smile.
"You're afraid," Jarod said. Sands stopped his tracks, still facing away from Jarod as the Pretender continued, "Afraid of the truth. Afraid of what might happen to you if you do tell. How long can you live knowing that a life was lost and the man responsible for it walks around free because of you? How can you even look at yourself in the mirror every morning knowing what you have done?"
There were tears in Sands' eyes as he turned around to look at Jarod. He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, trying to hold them back. "I can't," he said. "I didn't know it was that serious. I never thought he'd die. Doctor Robins said it was okay. Whatever treatment given wouldn't do much good. He was old, had lived his life. It was best we concentrate on giving someone else a chance. Then, I...when I saw him in the restaurant, I knew what the problem was. It had been a misdiagnosis. More tests should have been run. I knew we had to get him to the hospital. And he was safe, then. But Doctor Robins wasn't really worried about the patient. He died about a week after that."
"And if Doctor Anthony Robins had cared, this little girl might still have her grandfather," Jarod held up the red notebook and pointed to the picture of the wide-eyed little girl in the news clipping. "Why didn't you tell the truth in the first place?"
Sands eyed the photo guiltily. "I knew if anyone ever found out, I'd lose all hope of getting a degree. Dr. Robins would find a way to pin all the blame on me."
"A doctor who doesn't tell his patients the truth doesn't deserve one," Jarod replied. "But you can redeem yourself..."
Sands snapped to attention immediately. "How?"
"A favor," Jarod answered.
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Hospital Research Area
Storage Room
"Sands?" asked Dr. Robins, walking into the dimly lit room. It was after visiting hours and he couldn't understand why this meeting had been arranged.
"Excuse me, coming through," a voice called. Someone bumped into him and he felt something piercing his skin.
"Ouch! What do you think you're doing?" Doctor Robins shouted, grabbing his arm where he had just been poked with a syringe. "Who are you?"
"Jarod Learner. Call me Jarod. I'm sorry," the man half-hidden by the shadows apologized.
"What was in that?"
"Oh, did I poke you? It's just some experimental research for class. It was this," Jarod held out an empty bottle of the fluid that had been in the needle.
"What?" asked Dr. Robins, trying to read the label. He felt he was getting light-headed. "You're...one of the medical students?"
"You might want to sit down," Jarod instructed, easing Dr. Robins into a chair. "Yeah, you got a dose of a special concoction of mine. Pretty potent stuff. Happily for you, I've already formulated an antidote."
"Antidote? Give me the antidote!"
"Problem is, I haven't tested it. It'll either cure you or constrict the flow of blood to your brain."
Dr. Robins eyes widened. He tried to stand up, but realized his legs would no longer support him. "What! You haven't tested it yet? Don't use it on me! Call a doctor."
"But now's a perfect time as any," Jarod countered. "Hey, I think you'll make the perfect lab rat." He filled another syringe with purple fluid and stepped towards Dr. Robins.
"Are you crazy?" Dr. Robins asked, still helplessly sitting in the chair. "You never administer anything without the proper tests! Haven't they taught you anything in medical school!"
"Afraid not," Jarod said, looking at the needle. "But if makes you feel any better I'm not really a medical student."
"Madman!"
"No, I'm someone who doesn't think a little girl should have lost her grandfather. You were his doctor. He trusted you and you let him down. He came to you to be treated and you didn't bother performing a simple test! It was procedure. But you didn't think it mattered....you skipped the extra tests. You were proud of yourself. You thought you were a medical whiz, that you knew it all. And you made a misdiagnosis and then tried to cover it up, didn't you? Didn't you?" Jarod moved the needle closer. "Didn't you?!"
"Yes! I did," cried Dr. Robins, his eyes were fixed on the syringe in Jarod's hands. "How did you know? Springer must have told you. I'll kill him! Now, please get that stuff away from me. Don't give me that." Dr. Robin's vision was getting blurry.
"Oh, if I messed up the antidote, what does it matter," Jarod shrugged. "I think you've lived a full life. Now it's time give someone else a chance." Jarod smirked at him, in a quick motion, he injected Dr. Robins with the needle.
"What's happening to me!" Dr. Robins gasped as Jarod's potion began to work. "You can't get away with this," he panted.
"You can't get away with the death of someone whose life you were responsible for," Jarod said. "Smile, for the camera!" Jarod said, pulling a cloth away to reveal a hidden video camera. "I think it'll be interesting to know what the medical board has to say."
These words rang in Dr. Robin's ears as he slumped to the floor.
Sands stood in the doorway looking down at the doctor. "When he wakes up he's going to have a killer hangover."
Nodding, Jarod handed Sands the video tape. "Just goes to show, lies are one big headache after another."
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Miss Parker's Office
Intergroup Concourse Level
The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
"What?" Miss Parker answered her cellular phone. "Oh, it's you Broots. Got it?"
"Yeah, I think so....I mean I think no one saw me," Broots replied.
"Did you get it?"
"Uh, can't tell you now. This guy here...he's driving me nuts," Broots whispered into the phone.
"Who?" asked Miss Parker in puzzlement.
"The Guesstimator guy. Who else? He been hovering around here like...a vulture all day, taking notes and asking questions...about you." Broots swallowed hard.
"He's there! In the tech room? WHAT did YOU tell him?"
"Nothing, I swear!" Broot insisted.
"I'm coming down." Miss Parker knew she sounded annoyed and didn't care. She snapped the phone shut and sighed. If the Guesstimator was asking about her, she better get going and make some pretense of working with him before Daddy found out about her neglect.
"There you are, wondered where you were," the Guesstimator said with his perpetual smile as Miss Parker entered the tech room. Broots breathed a sigh of relief.
Miss Parker stared at JB. "Well?" she said. She wished this Guesstimator was out of her hair. If anyone but Daddy had brought this "helper" in she would have gotten out of working with him long ago. When the young man only looked at her, she added, "I don't suppose you have any idea where Boy Wonder is?"
The Guesstimator shook his blond head. "I do not know, Jarod," he explained. "Never seen him before. Hard to guess without seeing him. My guesstimates must be based on what I know. I would like to talk with him."
"JB, we have had others before you who specifically located him, but had never met him. I'll take no excuses." She turned to go out and was dismayed to find JB was following her. She did an about face and leaned towards him, "What are you doing?"
He had a smile in his voice too, as he explained his own strange logic. "He knows you and you know him. You have seen him. If I know you, I'll find him!"
"You don't get out much, do you?" Miss Parker smirked.
The Guesstimator turned serious suddenly. In amazement, Miss Parker saw his smile vanish. "My guess is," Jonathan Bink said, suddenly. "That the escaped is somewhere, somewhere close."
Miss Parker froze. She stared at the Guesstimator. "Why?"
But he continued, "You talked with him recently..."
Miss Parker crossed her arms. "It's common knowledge that he makes calls here. Because of Sydney playing Mommy. I don't think guesses are going to do you any good. The cold, hard facts are Jarod only lets us get close when he wants us to."
The blond man smiled at Miss Parker. "I could do much better. Much better...if you do not fight me on this."
"Fight you?" Miss Parker shrugged, boiling with agitation. She laughed, wryly. "I have not yet begun to fight!" She had entered her office and stood in the doorway, looking back at the Guesstimator. "Look, do me a favor. When you find Jarod, call me." The door slammed in his face.
She sat down at her desk in her office and tapped her fingers on the desk. A distant look came across her face. She opened a case on her desk and pulled out the music box. Her fingers stroked the lid before she opened it and immediately the music began to play and the two ballerina figurines danced before her eyes. Water gathered behind her eyes. She blinked hard to keep the tears from coming, however a single crystalline tear escaped, sliding silently down her cheek before splashing down onto her desk and slowly evaporating. She closed the music box and the music ceased, but her feelings did not diminish.
Her mind went back over the conversation she had just had. The words she had spoken, Jarod only lets us get close when he wants us to. A year ago she would have vehemently denied such a thing. Now, she believed this was a fact. She knew from her own experience and the overconfidence of Brigitte had served to aggravate Miss Parker's best chance at catching Jarod. But why? Why would Jarod let anyone from the Centre get close. In fact, if it weren't for the diligence in their pursuit and the clues the genius helpfully left behind, Jarod was quite capable of disappearing altogether.
Well, one reason was Sydney but there was more to it than that. Miss Parker didn't want to think about it anymore. This place she worked was full of contradictions.
The cellular phone in her pocket rang.
"What?"
JB said, "It's Jonathan Bink, Miss Parker. It is a guesstimate, but I believe I have located your Pretender."
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"JB, Broots...Stay!" Miss Parker directed, as she stepped from the limo. Sydney was the only one allowed to follow her into the Divine Dines restaurant. It was early morning and not many customers had come in yet, so the manager was quite cooperative.
"Yes, Jarod worked here. He was substitute chef, but his job ended yesterday," Sylvia answered as Miss Parker held up the photo of Jarod. Her brown eyes sparkled merrily. "He was the nicest guy. Hey, you must be that woman he was talking about! He left you something."
"This is Miss Parker. I am Sydney," Sydney answered, kindly.
Miss Parker decided to cut the small talk. "Do you know where Jarod might be now?"
"Oh, well I know he was going to the hospital."
"The hospital?" Sydney asked with concern. "Is he well?"
"Oh, fine," Sylvia replied. "Wait a minute." Sylvia walked back to the into the kitchen. When she returned, she was carrying a cardboard pastry container and on top of this was a manila envelope.
"Thank you," Miss Parker said, abruptly taking the items. She opened the cardboard container. "Pie," she said in annoyance, shutting it again and passing it to Sydney. Then, Miss Parker opened the envelope and took out a red notebook. Without another word, she turned and headed towards the exit.
"Where's JB?" Miss Parker asked when she got into the limo.
"Um," Broots replied. "I think he said he had to get something."
Sydney got into the limo and the Guesstimator quickly appeared behind him.
"Miss Parker," JB began. Miss Parker ignored him. She had told him to stay and he had disobeyed her order. She told the address of the hospital to the driver. The automobile sped down the busy streets.
"You will be interested in this, Miss Parker," the Guesstimator insisted.
Broots was intently studying the road maps of the city on his laptop computer. Sydney was occupied with observing Miss Parker and wondering what he could do to keep her calm.
"But the train..."
"One more word, JB..." Miss Parker hissed not finishing her threat and then returning to the task of viewing Jarod's red notebook.
The Guesstimator sat back in the car seat and looked out the window. Observers, less occupied than the trio, would have noted that he seemed to be laughing to himself.
Miss Parker's eyes settled on the picture of the little girl. So this is what Jarod has been up to lately, she thought.
Now that Miss Parker seemed calmer, Sydney noticed the newspaper the Guesstimator had been holding. He held out his hand in a "May I?" gesture and received the newspaper. Sydney unfolded it and began to read the words of an article, softly, " 'I'm glad to know the truth. That Grandpa didn't leave me on purpose,' the ten-year old stated. Doctor Anthony Robins, 49 was exposed for malpractice due to the efforts a mysterious man--" Sydney's reading halted as his eyes skipped ahead. He read on in surprise, "known only as Jarod."
If lightning had struck then, the hearers couldn't have been more stunned.
"If you had listened to me," the Guesstimator smiled in amusement.
"Jarod!" Miss Parker dropped everything and snatched the paper. There was a photo of the same ten-year old granddaughter. In one hand, the girl held a model train. The caption underneath read, "A gift from a sympathetic mystery friend."
"HE'S AT THE TRAIN STATION!" the Guesstimator shouted. Sydney had stated that guessitimators are unruly, unpredictable and egotisical and JB was no exception. "That's what I have been attempting to tell you." He crossed his arms and shook his blond head. "Some people..." he muttered, inaudibly.
"We're at the hospital ma'am," the driver said, pulling over to the curb.
"Can the hospital!" Miss Parker said. "To the nearest train station! Step on it."
An engine's whistle blew. The occupants who sprang from the limo arrived just in time to catch the glimmer of a Pretender's smile as he waved from the caboose of the train, well out of shooting range, speeding onward to his next adventure.
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LATER...
The Centre,
Blue Cove Delaware
"And why JB didn't you speak up?" Miss Parker snapped. Sydney quietly sat in background, taking notes.
The Guessitmator's answer silenced any further questions she had. "I was merely performing my task. You did not wish to listen. It implied your existence rested on the chase of the Pretender. My guesstimate was you didn't really want to catch him. Not yet anyway."
She stared steadily at him, trying to see if that had been an accusation. It wasn't. She glanced at Sydney who only shook his head, relaying that JB had not made an accusation. Like Sydney he was stating a perception. He had simply been doing his job...which included guesstimating the motivations of others. Miss Parker concentrated. Was this correct? Was the reason she had been so unwilling to listen to JB was because unconciously she didn't really want to catch Jarod? Had she lost her focus. Shut up! She stopped that line of reasoning abruptly. I'm beginning to sound like Sydney.
"Absurd!" she hissed. She shook her head in disbelief. "I am very disappointed."
The Guessitmator's smile vanished. He began to breath rapidly. "I did my job! I made a guesstimate!" he said, making a fist and pounding the table. Bruised egos were never to be taken lightly, not by Guessitmators.
Sydney jumped in. "Of couse you did, Jonathan, but you are human and all of us make mistakes. Come along, I believe you have been assigned another project to work on elsewhere. We'll go and find out where your skills are needed."
The young man nodded. His eyes pierced Miss Parker for a moment and as Sydney gently led him to the door, he gasped, "I didn't guess! I know."
The door closed and Miss Parker was left in the empty room. She sat down wearily.
The phone buzzed, she pulled it out and put it to her ear, too piqued to even breath out her usual 'what'. "And a big "howdy" to you, ma'am," Jarod's voice greeted. "Westerns...pony express quite interesting."
"Spare me the run around, Jarod. You want to know what I found about your family." Miss Parker sighed. "It wasn't easy. Broots pulled some files out of the Centre Database...it was risky."
"And?"
"The transferred copies were damaged...the originals erased." There had been a tone of hopeful expectancy in Jarod's one worded question and Miss Parker knew that Jarod's family was the one thing that clouded his well-trained judgment when it came to keeping ahead of his pursuers.
"Keep trying," Jarod said, simply.
"Keep trying! And how am I supposed to get information to you about your family if I don't where you are?" Would he take the bait?
"Do I detect a note of concern in your question, Miss Parker? How flattering. Then, you haven't tasted your humble pie. Little Jack Horner sat in a corner eating a cherry pie..." CLICK!
Miss Parker's thoughts turned back to the pie. Quickly, she tried to recall the next lines of the famous nursery rhyme. Miss Parker opened the container with the pie and took a good look at it. He stuck in his thumb and... She pushed one of her fingers into the filling and then tasted it. Cherry! ...pulled out a plum. An inspiration struck her. Writhing with the displeasure of messing up her manicure, she pushed her whole left hand into the center of the pie through the gooey filling. Yes, there was something there! She pulled it out quickly, shaking the cherry filling from the rolled document she had found. Slowly and carefully, she unfolded it and read: What a good boy am I! You've got questions. I've got answers. Keep in touch.--J.
It came to her. The flash of truth! Another piece of the puzzle had dropped into place. She stared at the document for a long moment and then said, softly, "You know something Jarod. Something about my mother. Something you're holding back."
Now her resolve to catch him was stronger than ever before.
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Author's note: If you're reading this, you've read my story. Please send
by Leah
Copyright 1997
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"Daddy, I don't need any help," Miss Parker retorted, weakly.
"Listen, Angel," the man with a white mustache and balding head replied. "I'm not asking much of you. You know what we have to do so just don't worry about it. My asking that another be brought in to assist you, besides Brigitte, was approved by the Tower."
"But, Daddy..."
"Father knows best," Mr. Parker stated. "It wouldn't look good now for us to back down on my decision. It would seem we have something to hide," Mr. Parker explained, kindly--but in the way that left Miss Parker powerless to question his decision. All the walls of her objections were torn down and she was left speechless.
How could she tell this man whom she had trusted and thought of as father the doubts now surfacing in her mind. Something to hide. That last remark cut into her, breaking through the facade of Ice Queen and made her want to shout. Something to hide? Don't you know, don't you suspect that I may not be who you think I am? She did have something to hide. She had everything that was important to hide. Half of her wanted to tell her father that she had spoken to Jarod, face to face, made a deal with him. The other half screamed a warning that if she did so everything would be lost. She feared shattering Mr. Parker's image of her as his perfect little girl. He had acted as her father and it didn't matter what the message Jarod had sent in the music box meant.
The music box...Ben Miller...Maine...Mother...These thoughts haunted her mind as her father, calmly unaware of her inner torment, continued, "Our hired man is coming in this afternoon. Make him welcome."
Miss Parker nodded and Mr. Parker left her to attend to some arrangements he had in progress since his return to the Centre.
Jarod, she thought. The cause of all her problems but also the solution to them. Where could he be now?
"Hey, Chef. Hurry up with that spaghetti! I got two tables waiting," Sylvia, manager of the Divine Dines called into the kitchen.
"No problem, coming right up," a good-natured voice called back.
The kitchen was filled with food preparers and steamy vapors wafted from boiling pots. The chef of the kitchen seemed to have it all under control, as if it were an exact science. He pulled bread from the oven, seasoned the salad and sent it out, and at last came over to the steaming pot of spaghetti noodles. He lifted a few out with a large spatula, flipped them into the air and the activity of the bustling workers around seemed to stop for a moment as they watched him. SPLAT! The noodles adhered to the wall.
In less than two minutes, he had the spaghetti noodles rinsed, five plates filled complete with spaghetti sauce and meatballs, and each plate was garnished with two leaves of oregano.
"All done!" Jarod grinned. The chef's hat bobbed on his head as he spoke.
A cheer went up from his fellow workers, and the bustling began again. Jarod alone did not continue in his work. He removed his chef's hat and apron and slipped out of the kitchen into the restaurant lobby.
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"What?"
"Still looking for me, Miss Parker?"
"No, Jarod. I was waiting for a call from Grandma," she snapped, every syllable edged with sarcasm. "For a genius, you certainly have a knack for stating the obvious."
"Well, I'm cooking up a few surprises for you, Miss Parker."
"How nice, Jarod, and am I supposed to thank you for this?"
"I hardly would expect that. Just thought you needed to taste a bit of humble pie."
"The music box, Jarod. The photograph? What does it all mean?"
"You know what it means," Jarod replied, steadily. Miss Parker moved in her chair and then stood up, clutching the phone to her ear. She turned to peer out the window. Yes, she knew what it meant, but she had somehow hoped Jarod would deny the meaning, tell her it was some cruel trick, while her wits told her there was no denying the knowledge Jarod had given her.
"And now you tell me something," Jarod's voice cut in. "About my family."
"Your family? Well, things have been a bit hectic around here, Jarod. Daddy's back and Princess Eyes thinks she owns Mr. Lyle--" she cut herself off, remembering Jarod was the escaped and she was his pursuer. "Wait a minute," and her voice rose, sharply. "Why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I need to know the truth," Jarod responded, not missing a beat. "Our deal stands." The dial tone came on and Miss Parker slowly lowered the phone from her ear and snapped it shut. Yes, she thought, resignedly. Our deal stands. To think of it now she couldn't imagine what on earth had possessed to make such a promise. Jarod would give her information on her mother, while she--at her own risk--would find out information about Jarod's family when the opportunity presented itself. Why? Because he wanted to know the truth.
Flashes of truth. That's the way it always was with Jarod. He was never content to impart information in the normal way. No, he always, gave you a piece here, a bit there. A jigsaw puzzle of information until FLASH! All the pieces would drop into place and some vital truth would be revealed.
Her phone rang again. "What is it?" she snapped. She hated being interrupted, even from her own thoughts.
"Um...it's...it's," Broots' voice stuttered. "He's here, Miss P."
Miss Parker held back the anger in her voice to ask, "Who?"
"The Guesstimator."
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The man was clad in a white suit complete with black tie and white polished leather shoes. His build was thin and tall. His hair was blond and his eyes were gray. There was a perpetual smile that never left his face and as Sydney, Broots, and Miss Parker stood on the above level looking down at this visitor, he quietly walked about the room. In his hand he held a report which he must have just finished reading. Stacked neatly in rows of two were file folders, ones which he evidently had been reading before their arrival. Now, he simply paced around the room in a circle as if deep in thought.
"Who is this neat freak?" Miss Parker whispered, picking her way across the floor gratings in her heels, as they prepared to go down the stairs. "Is he a Pretender?"
Sydney smiled to himself. He felt Miss Parker always had Pretenders on the brain. "No," he replied in his soft Belgium accent as the trio started down. "Guesstimators, unlike Pretenders, do not have the ability to become anyone they want to be. But their powers of perception and understanding motivating factors behind why people do what they do are remarkable."
"Like Angelo, then?" Broots asked, trying not to break into a sweat. How come he had to be dragged into this thing? He would much rather have been back safely behind his computer where it was safe. But Miss Parker had directed him to come, so he was coming. Besides what if Brigitte should choose to pay a visit while his teammates were out? He shuddered and moved to catch up with them.
Sydney shook his head. "These beings do have personalities of their own...they are at times unruly, unpredictable, and egotistical. This comes from the fact their minds are continually active and if not constantly fed a puzzle to figure out, they become bored."
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, should it, Syd?" Miss Parker said flashing a set of white teeth as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Everything about Jarod is a puzzle."
Miss Parker moved into the room first, followed by Broots and Sydney.
"Hi, I'm Jonathan Bink," the Guesstimator greeted them at their appearance. His smile seemed to grow wider. Jonathan Bink, thought Miss Parker. How ridiculous! JB would be more like it. She followed her father's direction however, and said, "Well, Mr. Bink. You've been briefed. Let me know when you get something."
She was about to turn away when the Guesstimator's laugh halted her. He came up and walked in a circle around her, speaking at the same time. "JB, that's what you'd rather call me, I guess." He promptly pulled a small notebook from his pocket and a pencil from the other, and began scribbling notes in it. He tore off a sheet and handed it to her. On it was written in calligraphy: A Guessitimate, Why don't you like me?
Miss Parker didn't like the way this man was studying her, even though she was fully decked out as the Ice Queen, despite the absent smokes. "The first thing you are going to learn about me, JB," Miss Parker replied. "Is that I ask the questions and you give me the answers."
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The restaurant had closed and Jarod was sitting, studying the plaques on the wall that were displayed above the cash register.
"Looking at the competition?" Sylvia asked, peeking over Jarod's shoulder.
Jarod smiled. "Well," he began pointing at a gold plaque, "Actually this kind of interested me. Sands Springer? He's not working around here anymore is he?"
"No," answered Sylvia, slowly. She turned to the cash register to check the money. "That was last year...Sands was quite an amazing guy."
"Manager as well," Jarod prodded. He took off his chef's apron and folded it up. "Employee of the year. Nice title, that."
"Oh," Sylvia said with a smile. "There was a customer in here one night, must've had some type of allergic reaction. Sands was running a minimum staff that night. I guess I was one of the few there. Anyways, he was the only one to notice this man who was having trouble. He runs over there shouting, "Call 911!" But there was this rainstorm going on outside, see, and the wind broke the phone line. So he gets the man in his truck, drives him to the hospital in the pouring rain. If that isn't customer service, I don't know what it is!" She was finished with sorting the bills and went to put them in the safe.
"Why did he leave?" Jarod asked, helping her check the doors and switch off the lights.
"Oh, turns out after he became regular hero around here, we come to find out that he's just been working at Divine Dines to make a little extra cash. He really had been studying medicine quite a bit and was taking a little break. But being back at the hospital scene, made him want to get back there. He quit two weeks after that." Sylvia sighed. "Just when you think you're really starting to know someone..."
"They do something totally unexpected," Jarod said with a knowing look.
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The Centre
Sub-Level Five, Tech Room
A promise is a promise, this thought ran through Miss Parker's head as she entered the room and hovered uneasily for a moment over Broots' computer. It was too early in the morning even for the tech head to be there, but glancing at her watch she was sure he would arrive at any moment. She was dressed in her dark brown pants suit, and it reflected somewhat her dark frame of mind.
"Miss Parker!" Broots exclaimed in a startled fashion, nearly tipping his coffee cup. "Did you forget something?"
Miss Parker turned and gave him a calm, cool stare. "No. But I want you to."
She handed him a note to read, and on it was instructions on what she wanted him to do. After he read it, Broots' mouth dropped open in amazement. He shook his head. There was no way. Not with his daughter just home. He wouldn't stick out his neck like that, not for anybody. What if it led them to finding out how he had broken into Mr. Lyle's office?
"I'm sorry," Broots finally managed to say.
Miss Parker looked at him. Broots took a step back as if to wield off blows. She stared at him. Broots shook his head and tried to hand the note of instructions back to her. And then, the chairman's daughter did something worse than anything else imaginable for Broots.
"Pleeease!"
Broots could not refuse. His hand closed over the note of her request. He nodded and Miss Parker left swiftly, pausing only once to give a look of caution. She turned her head to the left and to the right, her eyes scanning the area to see if they had been watched. Then, she strolled out of sight.
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The Centre
Sydney's Office
"Sydney," Sydney answered the phone, calmly.
"Why do people do it, Sydney? Why do they hide the truth?"
Sydney picked up a pencil and fiddled with it. He knew it was Jarod and had spent the past year in the chase after The Pretender he had trained and raised. But Sydney really could not be considered to be a chaser, he was more along for the ride, trying to be sure that Jarod was safe. He smiled to himself, glad that Jarod had called, silently wondering if Jarod would ever come "home" to the Centre.
"It's good to hear your voice, Jarod. I think it's in human behavior....the hiding of a the truth. A child breaks something and then lies because the child loves the parent and is afraid of losing the parent's love. But children aren't born liars..."
"Yes, Sydney...Deception is a behavior they learn," Jarod replied, not wishing for an example. "But something goes beyond that. It seems to be a human tendency. What about adults? Why do they hide the truth?"
"Well, as an you grow, there is a difference between right and wrong and a mature person knows this. It's the conscience, the voice inside you that tells you when something you're doing is right or wrong."
"But people don't always listen to that voice," Jarod commented. He picked up a red notebook from the table where he had been sitting.
"No," Sydney said, laying the pencil on the table in front of him. "Your conscience is relative to your actions. If you ignore that voice inside you, it grows fainter and fainter until eventually it disappears altogether."
"But if that's the case," Jarod's voice sounded distressed. "And if people know this, why do they lie? Why do they hide the truth from themselves and others?"
"Because they are afraid the truth will hurt them."
"Then, they're fooling themselves. Lies hurt more. I know that more than ever before. I will find out the truth, Sydney. I will!" Jarod said, determinedly. He flipped open the red notebook and leafed through a few pages, pausing at one.
Sydney nodded to himself. His fingers brushed the pencil and it rolled across the desk. "Be careful, Jarod. You may not like what you find." The pencil dropped to the floor.
"No matter how deep it's buried, I'll find out the truth!" Jarod said. He pushed the 'off' button of his cellular and looked at the headline of the clipping he'd stopped on. It read, "Child Mourns Death of Grandfather." There was a photo of a ten-year old, wide-eyed girl. Her brown eyes brimmed with sadness. The eyes were what struck Jarod the most. The painful sense of loss he saw there reminded him of someone he knew well.
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CENTRE DATABASE
The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
The door creaked open and Miss Parker crept in, pausing to peek around the door and looking up at the wall where a security camera vigilantly was scanning the area. The room was filled with dark monitors, keyboards and computer panels and only special personnel were ever allowed to access to the wealth of information stored in this electronic library. The red light of the security camera went off and Miss Parker's heart beat faster as she realized this was her chance. Broots had done as was asked and looped the security cameras. There was at least two hours before any of the employees would arrive.
It was now or never.
Yes, Miss Parker had a security clearance to be in the Centre Database, but only as an observer. Any research she wanted done would have to be cleared with the Tower and then only if one of the Centre researchers assisted her. The information Miss Parker wanted to search on would have caused too many questions to arise. She moved into the room and sat down quickly at a computer terminal.
Miss Parker glared at the screen and then entered the code to access a specific line of data. THE PRETENDER PROJECT, she typed and pressed enter. The usual info came up about Pretenders among us and geniuses with the ability to become anyone they want to be. She skimmed over that. Then, she typed two more words and initiated a search on them. PRETENDER: JAROD. The usual explanation scrolled across the dark computer screen in blue letters. In 1963 the Centre isolated a young Pretender named Jarod and harnessed his genius for their research. Then one day, the Pretender ran away. Well, that's all very well and good, Miss Parker thought fiercely. Everyone knows that! She hit the key for the search to continue, but a box flashed up which read: NO FURTHER FILES FOUND.
Stupid databases! A wealth of knowledge at her fingertips and this is what she got! She was almost struck the keyboard with her fist, but caught herself in time. Why hadn't she convinced Broots that he could loop the security cameras and still come into the database for her? Miss Parker frowned and was about to enter and initiate a new search, when a voice behind her said, "What are you doing here?"
Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around and then her look of shock changed into one of annoyed surprise.
"Syd! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"
Sydney was calm and collected. He held a book in his hand and repeated the question. "Miss Parker, what are you doing here? The Centre Database employees won't be around for another hour and a half."
"You never saw me, Syd. I'm not here," Miss Parker replied, stubbornly. She couldn't let Sydney know she was doing this for Jarod. Why didn't he just go away and leave her to do what must be done?. Sydney caught an inkling of the dismay Miss Parker was feeling. He had known her since she was not the persistent, relentless huntress of the day, but a little girl lost, alone, and saddened by her mother's death and Sydney, with his analytical mind, still saw that side of her. "This has something to do with Jarod, doesn't it? Something that we don't want," his accented voice lowered, "them to know about."
Caught in the act, Miss Parker had nothing to say. It wasn't a question as to whether or not Sydney would tell. She had no fear of Sydney. It was a question of admitting that she had been--She shook her head and rolled her eyes trying to clear her head of the thought, but to no avail. She had been helping Jarod. And more surprisingly, the thought unfurled in her mind....Sydney would help her!
"Well!" Miss Parker said, sharply.
Sydney smiled, amusedly and said, "If there is something you need, Miss Parker, you should ask for it."
Miss Parker pushed her rolling chair back from the terminal and spun it around to face Sydney's position. She rested her chin on her hand and said, "Well, Syd. Think you can get Cyber Brain to talk. Please..." She gestured towards the terminal. "Your audience awaits."
Sydney opened the book, he had been carrying, read something from it, and then looked at Miss Parker. The book snapped shut and was placed beside the monitor. Sydney gave her one last bemused smile. Then, his finger moved toward the keyboard. He typed and entered the words which initiated a search: The Pretender Project, 1963: Jarod. "NO FURTHER MATCHES FOUND," flashed on the screen. Then, Sydney entered another word into the keyboard and pressed enter. The message stopped flashing. The screens on the computer began to change rapidly at last stopping on one which listed three files.
Miss Parker jumped up from her chair and crowded Sydney away from the monitor, staring at it in amazement. "What was the magic word, Syd?" she said in wonderment. Then, without waiting for a reply, she quickly pulled out a headset piece and placed it on her head. Adjusting the mouthpiece, she spoke softly into the mike. "Pigeon this is Falcon. Come in. Do you read?"
"Loud and clear, Falcon," Broots replied.
"We have found the nest, Pigeon," Miss Parker said. "Sending you the egg."
"Don't you think if would be safer to copy it later, on disk, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked.
"Last time I listened to that advice of yours, Sydney, and we lost all those folders in SL-27," Miss Parker replied. "This time, I'm not listening." She grimaced and turned to punch some keys on the keyboard. Perhaps she should listen to Sydney? This thought surfaced involuntarily in her mind. No, that was ridiculous. She had enough superiors to worry about without having Jarod's nursemaid start ordering her about.
As she began uploading the three files onto the network, she spoke into the set, "Pigeon, the birds are flying the nest." She turned to Sydney who had again taken up his book, but was giving her a think-about-what-you're-doing-look. "This way, Syd," Miss Parker said, throwing up her arms and pointing at Sydney as she spoke. "There's no mess. I keep the Tower off my back and I walk out of here scot-free. With nothing on me."
All the lit computer screens in the room went dark! A glaring red box labeled warning sprung onto the screen. "Unauthorized access of files."
"Falcon! Abandon nest, abandon nest!" Broot's strained voice came through on the headset. She yanked off her headpiece and concealed it in her jacket.
"Time to go, Syd!" Miss Parker said, immediately tense and alert. As an alarm bell sounded, she grabbed Sydney's arm and hurried him out of the room. They glanced around the hall be sure no one had seen them come out.
Miss Parker and Sydney began walking down the hallway away from the Centre Database. They hurried through one more hall when Miss Parker held up her hand to tell Sydney to stop. There were rushing footsteps headed directly towards them. Miss Parker pulled out her gun. "Miss Parker!" Sydney exclaimed. She turned back to face the direction of the Centre Database and her expression was deadly. She stood very straight and still...waiting.
Brigitte and a security team of five sweepers rushed up to them. The sweepers' pace slowed as Brigitte nodded at them and then looked at Miss Parker and Sydney. "The alarm sounded. What's going on, luv?" Brigitte asked, breathlessly. Her own gun was pulled.
"About time you got here!" Miss Parker snapped, gripping the 9mm. "I called for backup five minutes ago. Let's move it!"
Without questioning it, they complied. Brigitte and Miss Parker led the security team back towards the Centre Database. So far so good, Miss Parker thought. They entered quickly and swept through the room, pointing their guns in all directions.
"Ooooh!" Miss Parker kicked the wall in pretended frustration, careful not to set off the trigger of her gun.
"They're gone, whoever twas," Brigitte observed, smiling at Miss Parker's dismay. Good, Miss Parker thought, inwardly relieved her sham had worked. Miss Parker stood in the background, watching to see what Brigitte and her team would do. Brigitte walked over to the lit computer screen and typed something into the board saying, "Let's see what was wanted." The screen in white letters flashed: Files deleted. "Can you retrieve it?" Brigitte asked one of the security team.
He moved forward and typed in several things, but then shook his head. "Memory's been wiped," he mumbled. "Don't know what was erased."
Brigitte replaced her gun in her holster. She pulled out a red sucker and licked it. "I best report this to Mr. Raines," Brigitte remarked and exited followed by the security team.
Miss Parker stood alone in the room, running her fingers through her hair. Who had erased the files? Jarod! Miss Parker thought fiercely. This is all your fault. The things you make me do! Then, she also exited. If she had stayed a moment longer, she would have caught the scratching sound of a grate snapping in place. And if she had been a keen listener she would also have caught the stifled laughter of someone who was treating himself to a snack of Cracker Jacks.
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The Hallway of a Hospital
"He made you do it, didn't he?" Jarod confronted Sands. "Lie for him."
"Look, I've got a lot of work I need to do," Sands said, giving a worried smile.
"You're afraid," Jarod said. Sands stopped his tracks, still facing away from Jarod as the Pretender continued, "Afraid of the truth. Afraid of what might happen to you if you do tell. How long can you live knowing that a life was lost and the man responsible for it walks around free because of you? How can you even look at yourself in the mirror every morning knowing what you have done?"
There were tears in Sands' eyes as he turned around to look at Jarod. He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, trying to hold them back. "I can't," he said. "I didn't know it was that serious. I never thought he'd die. Doctor Robins said it was okay. Whatever treatment given wouldn't do much good. He was old, had lived his life. It was best we concentrate on giving someone else a chance. Then, I...when I saw him in the restaurant, I knew what the problem was. It had been a misdiagnosis. More tests should have been run. I knew we had to get him to the hospital. And he was safe, then. But Doctor Robins wasn't really worried about the patient. He died about a week after that."
"And if Doctor Anthony Robins had cared, this little girl might still have her grandfather," Jarod held up the red notebook and pointed to the picture of the wide-eyed little girl in the news clipping. "Why didn't you tell the truth in the first place?"
Sands eyed the photo guiltily. "I knew if anyone ever found out, I'd lose all hope of getting a degree. Dr. Robins would find a way to pin all the blame on me."
"A doctor who doesn't tell his patients the truth doesn't deserve one," Jarod replied. "But you can redeem yourself..."
Sands snapped to attention immediately. "How?"
"A favor," Jarod answered.
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Hospital Research Area
Storage Room
"Sands?" asked Dr. Robins, walking into the dimly lit room. It was after visiting hours and he couldn't understand why this meeting had been arranged.
"Excuse me, coming through," a voice called. Someone bumped into him and he felt something piercing his skin.
"Ouch! What do you think you're doing?" Doctor Robins shouted, grabbing his arm where he had just been poked with a syringe. "Who are you?"
"Jarod Learner. Call me Jarod. I'm sorry," the man half-hidden by the shadows apologized.
"What was in that?"
"Oh, did I poke you? It's just some experimental research for class. It was this," Jarod held out an empty bottle of the fluid that had been in the needle.
"What?" asked Dr. Robins, trying to read the label. He felt he was getting light-headed. "You're...one of the medical students?"
"You might want to sit down," Jarod instructed, easing Dr. Robins into a chair. "Yeah, you got a dose of a special concoction of mine. Pretty potent stuff. Happily for you, I've already formulated an antidote."
"Antidote? Give me the antidote!"
"Problem is, I haven't tested it. It'll either cure you or constrict the flow of blood to your brain."
Dr. Robins eyes widened. He tried to stand up, but realized his legs would no longer support him. "What! You haven't tested it yet? Don't use it on me! Call a doctor."
"But now's a perfect time as any," Jarod countered. "Hey, I think you'll make the perfect lab rat." He filled another syringe with purple fluid and stepped towards Dr. Robins.
"Are you crazy?" Dr. Robins asked, still helplessly sitting in the chair. "You never administer anything without the proper tests! Haven't they taught you anything in medical school!"
"Afraid not," Jarod said, looking at the needle. "But if makes you feel any better I'm not really a medical student."
"Madman!"
"No, I'm someone who doesn't think a little girl should have lost her grandfather. You were his doctor. He trusted you and you let him down. He came to you to be treated and you didn't bother performing a simple test! It was procedure. But you didn't think it mattered....you skipped the extra tests. You were proud of yourself. You thought you were a medical whiz, that you knew it all. And you made a misdiagnosis and then tried to cover it up, didn't you? Didn't you?" Jarod moved the needle closer. "Didn't you?!"
"Yes! I did," cried Dr. Robins, his eyes were fixed on the syringe in Jarod's hands. "How did you know? Springer must have told you. I'll kill him! Now, please get that stuff away from me. Don't give me that." Dr. Robin's vision was getting blurry.
"Oh, if I messed up the antidote, what does it matter," Jarod shrugged. "I think you've lived a full life. Now it's time give someone else a chance." Jarod smirked at him, in a quick motion, he injected Dr. Robins with the needle.
"What's happening to me!" Dr. Robins gasped as Jarod's potion began to work. "You can't get away with this," he panted.
"You can't get away with the death of someone whose life you were responsible for," Jarod said. "Smile, for the camera!" Jarod said, pulling a cloth away to reveal a hidden video camera. "I think it'll be interesting to know what the medical board has to say."
These words rang in Dr. Robin's ears as he slumped to the floor.
Sands stood in the doorway looking down at the doctor. "When he wakes up he's going to have a killer hangover."
Nodding, Jarod handed Sands the video tape. "Just goes to show, lies are one big headache after another."
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Miss Parker's Office
Intergroup Concourse Level
The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
"What?" Miss Parker answered her cellular phone. "Oh, it's you Broots. Got it?"
"Yeah, I think so....I mean I think no one saw me," Broots replied.
"Did you get it?"
"Uh, can't tell you now. This guy here...he's driving me nuts," Broots whispered into the phone.
"Who?" asked Miss Parker in puzzlement.
"The Guesstimator guy. Who else? He been hovering around here like...a vulture all day, taking notes and asking questions...about you." Broots swallowed hard.
"He's there! In the tech room? WHAT did YOU tell him?"
"Nothing, I swear!" Broot insisted.
"I'm coming down." Miss Parker knew she sounded annoyed and didn't care. She snapped the phone shut and sighed. If the Guesstimator was asking about her, she better get going and make some pretense of working with him before Daddy found out about her neglect.
"There you are, wondered where you were," the Guesstimator said with his perpetual smile as Miss Parker entered the tech room. Broots breathed a sigh of relief.
Miss Parker stared at JB. "Well?" she said. She wished this Guesstimator was out of her hair. If anyone but Daddy had brought this "helper" in she would have gotten out of working with him long ago. When the young man only looked at her, she added, "I don't suppose you have any idea where Boy Wonder is?"
The Guesstimator shook his blond head. "I do not know, Jarod," he explained. "Never seen him before. Hard to guess without seeing him. My guesstimates must be based on what I know. I would like to talk with him."
"JB, we have had others before you who specifically located him, but had never met him. I'll take no excuses." She turned to go out and was dismayed to find JB was following her. She did an about face and leaned towards him, "What are you doing?"
He had a smile in his voice too, as he explained his own strange logic. "He knows you and you know him. You have seen him. If I know you, I'll find him!"
"You don't get out much, do you?" Miss Parker smirked.
The Guesstimator turned serious suddenly. In amazement, Miss Parker saw his smile vanish. "My guess is," Jonathan Bink said, suddenly. "That the escaped is somewhere, somewhere close."
Miss Parker froze. She stared at the Guesstimator. "Why?"
But he continued, "You talked with him recently..."
Miss Parker crossed her arms. "It's common knowledge that he makes calls here. Because of Sydney playing Mommy. I don't think guesses are going to do you any good. The cold, hard facts are Jarod only lets us get close when he wants us to."
The blond man smiled at Miss Parker. "I could do much better. Much better...if you do not fight me on this."
"Fight you?" Miss Parker shrugged, boiling with agitation. She laughed, wryly. "I have not yet begun to fight!" She had entered her office and stood in the doorway, looking back at the Guesstimator. "Look, do me a favor. When you find Jarod, call me." The door slammed in his face.
She sat down at her desk in her office and tapped her fingers on the desk. A distant look came across her face. She opened a case on her desk and pulled out the music box. Her fingers stroked the lid before she opened it and immediately the music began to play and the two ballerina figurines danced before her eyes. Water gathered behind her eyes. She blinked hard to keep the tears from coming, however a single crystalline tear escaped, sliding silently down her cheek before splashing down onto her desk and slowly evaporating. She closed the music box and the music ceased, but her feelings did not diminish.
Her mind went back over the conversation she had just had. The words she had spoken, Jarod only lets us get close when he wants us to. A year ago she would have vehemently denied such a thing. Now, she believed this was a fact. She knew from her own experience and the overconfidence of Brigitte had served to aggravate Miss Parker's best chance at catching Jarod. But why? Why would Jarod let anyone from the Centre get close. In fact, if it weren't for the diligence in their pursuit and the clues the genius helpfully left behind, Jarod was quite capable of disappearing altogether.
Well, one reason was Sydney but there was more to it than that. Miss Parker didn't want to think about it anymore. This place she worked was full of contradictions.
The cellular phone in her pocket rang.
"What?"
JB said, "It's Jonathan Bink, Miss Parker. It is a guesstimate, but I believe I have located your Pretender."
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"JB, Broots...Stay!" Miss Parker directed, as she stepped from the limo. Sydney was the only one allowed to follow her into the Divine Dines restaurant. It was early morning and not many customers had come in yet, so the manager was quite cooperative.
"Yes, Jarod worked here. He was substitute chef, but his job ended yesterday," Sylvia answered as Miss Parker held up the photo of Jarod. Her brown eyes sparkled merrily. "He was the nicest guy. Hey, you must be that woman he was talking about! He left you something."
"This is Miss Parker. I am Sydney," Sydney answered, kindly.
Miss Parker decided to cut the small talk. "Do you know where Jarod might be now?"
"Oh, well I know he was going to the hospital."
"The hospital?" Sydney asked with concern. "Is he well?"
"Oh, fine," Sylvia replied. "Wait a minute." Sylvia walked back to the into the kitchen. When she returned, she was carrying a cardboard pastry container and on top of this was a manila envelope.
"Thank you," Miss Parker said, abruptly taking the items. She opened the cardboard container. "Pie," she said in annoyance, shutting it again and passing it to Sydney. Then, Miss Parker opened the envelope and took out a red notebook. Without another word, she turned and headed towards the exit.
"Where's JB?" Miss Parker asked when she got into the limo.
"Um," Broots replied. "I think he said he had to get something."
Sydney got into the limo and the Guesstimator quickly appeared behind him.
"Miss Parker," JB began. Miss Parker ignored him. She had told him to stay and he had disobeyed her order. She told the address of the hospital to the driver. The automobile sped down the busy streets.
"You will be interested in this, Miss Parker," the Guesstimator insisted.
Broots was intently studying the road maps of the city on his laptop computer. Sydney was occupied with observing Miss Parker and wondering what he could do to keep her calm.
"But the train..."
"One more word, JB..." Miss Parker hissed not finishing her threat and then returning to the task of viewing Jarod's red notebook.
The Guesstimator sat back in the car seat and looked out the window. Observers, less occupied than the trio, would have noted that he seemed to be laughing to himself.
Miss Parker's eyes settled on the picture of the little girl. So this is what Jarod has been up to lately, she thought.
Now that Miss Parker seemed calmer, Sydney noticed the newspaper the Guesstimator had been holding. He held out his hand in a "May I?" gesture and received the newspaper. Sydney unfolded it and began to read the words of an article, softly, " 'I'm glad to know the truth. That Grandpa didn't leave me on purpose,' the ten-year old stated. Doctor Anthony Robins, 49 was exposed for malpractice due to the efforts a mysterious man--" Sydney's reading halted as his eyes skipped ahead. He read on in surprise, "known only as Jarod."
If lightning had struck then, the hearers couldn't have been more stunned.
"If you had listened to me," the Guesstimator smiled in amusement.
"Jarod!" Miss Parker dropped everything and snatched the paper. There was a photo of the same ten-year old granddaughter. In one hand, the girl held a model train. The caption underneath read, "A gift from a sympathetic mystery friend."
"HE'S AT THE TRAIN STATION!" the Guesstimator shouted. Sydney had stated that guessitimators are unruly, unpredictable and egotisical and JB was no exception. "That's what I have been attempting to tell you." He crossed his arms and shook his blond head. "Some people..." he muttered, inaudibly.
"We're at the hospital ma'am," the driver said, pulling over to the curb.
"Can the hospital!" Miss Parker said. "To the nearest train station! Step on it."
An engine's whistle blew. The occupants who sprang from the limo arrived just in time to catch the glimmer of a Pretender's smile as he waved from the caboose of the train, well out of shooting range, speeding onward to his next adventure.
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LATER...
The Centre,
Blue Cove Delaware
"And why JB didn't you speak up?" Miss Parker snapped. Sydney quietly sat in background, taking notes.
The Guessitmator's answer silenced any further questions she had. "I was merely performing my task. You did not wish to listen. It implied your existence rested on the chase of the Pretender. My guesstimate was you didn't really want to catch him. Not yet anyway."
She stared steadily at him, trying to see if that had been an accusation. It wasn't. She glanced at Sydney who only shook his head, relaying that JB had not made an accusation. Like Sydney he was stating a perception. He had simply been doing his job...which included guesstimating the motivations of others. Miss Parker concentrated. Was this correct? Was the reason she had been so unwilling to listen to JB was because unconciously she didn't really want to catch Jarod? Had she lost her focus. Shut up! She stopped that line of reasoning abruptly. I'm beginning to sound like Sydney.
"Absurd!" she hissed. She shook her head in disbelief. "I am very disappointed."
The Guessitmator's smile vanished. He began to breath rapidly. "I did my job! I made a guesstimate!" he said, making a fist and pounding the table. Bruised egos were never to be taken lightly, not by Guessitmators.
Sydney jumped in. "Of couse you did, Jonathan, but you are human and all of us make mistakes. Come along, I believe you have been assigned another project to work on elsewhere. We'll go and find out where your skills are needed."
The young man nodded. His eyes pierced Miss Parker for a moment and as Sydney gently led him to the door, he gasped, "I didn't guess! I know."
The door closed and Miss Parker was left in the empty room. She sat down wearily.
The phone buzzed, she pulled it out and put it to her ear, too piqued to even breath out her usual 'what'. "And a big "howdy" to you, ma'am," Jarod's voice greeted. "Westerns...pony express quite interesting."
"Spare me the run around, Jarod. You want to know what I found about your family." Miss Parker sighed. "It wasn't easy. Broots pulled some files out of the Centre Database...it was risky."
"And?"
"The transferred copies were damaged...the originals erased." There had been a tone of hopeful expectancy in Jarod's one worded question and Miss Parker knew that Jarod's family was the one thing that clouded his well-trained judgment when it came to keeping ahead of his pursuers.
"Keep trying," Jarod said, simply.
"Keep trying! And how am I supposed to get information to you about your family if I don't where you are?" Would he take the bait?
"Do I detect a note of concern in your question, Miss Parker? How flattering. Then, you haven't tasted your humble pie. Little Jack Horner sat in a corner eating a cherry pie..." CLICK!
Miss Parker's thoughts turned back to the pie. Quickly, she tried to recall the next lines of the famous nursery rhyme. Miss Parker opened the container with the pie and took a good look at it. He stuck in his thumb and... She pushed one of her fingers into the filling and then tasted it. Cherry! ...pulled out a plum. An inspiration struck her. Writhing with the displeasure of messing up her manicure, she pushed her whole left hand into the center of the pie through the gooey filling. Yes, there was something there! She pulled it out quickly, shaking the cherry filling from the rolled document she had found. Slowly and carefully, she unfolded it and read: What a good boy am I! You've got questions. I've got answers. Keep in touch.--J.
It came to her. The flash of truth! Another piece of the puzzle had dropped into place. She stared at the document for a long moment and then said, softly, "You know something Jarod. Something about my mother. Something you're holding back."
Now her resolve to catch him was stronger than ever before.
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Author's note: If you're reading this, you've read my story. Please send
