Table of Contents [Report This]
THE PRETENDER
“The Shadowlands”
by the lurker
The Centre
He walked down the long corridor toward his office. It was late, and there were not many people around. His long stride slowed as he neared his area; he was struck by an intense feeling of foreboding. He tried to shake it off.
Cautiously, he stepped inside his office space. The room was as dimly lit as it always was, but the fact that it was attached to a labyrinth of other corridors and sub-levels created an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake the sense that he was being observed. He looked around the office; it was as he had left it. He released a sigh of air which he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Smiling slightly at his own paranoia, he walked over to his desk, setting the file folders in his hands down on the top.
That was when he saw it: An innocuous looking envelope, sitting there. It was blank on the outside, sealed, and he was sure that it had not been there when he left his office earlier. He looked around again, the eerie feeling of being watched, reasserting itself. He upended the envelope, allowing the contents to spill out onto the desk. A single DSA fell to the blotter with a slight thump.
Pier 24, San Francisco
The fog rolled across the pier, blanketing the boardwalk with a dense coat of cold humidity. She stood silently in the shadows, shivering in her jacket. The steel of the gun in her hand felt cold against her skin. Why she hadn’t thought to bring gloves she couldn’t fathom. But there had been no time. She had hopped on the company jet with only the clothes she had been wearing.
She watched as several Sweepers quietly moved to their secondary positions. Sam looked expectantly at her from across the nearest alcove of shadows. She took in a deep breath of the cold, wet air and nodded to him.
Sam whispered into his com link, “Final mark, go.”
The first set of Sweepers broke through the warehouse door, the second set ran past the first, guns drawn. She followed Sam at a dead run through the door and into the darkness of the warehouse. It smelled of must and mold; the kind of smell that can only come from years of disuse.
The smell gave it away. She didn’t need the lights to suddenly snap on, causing several Sweepers to duck and roll, preparing for the worst, to tell her that they would not acquire the target.
Her arms dropped to her sides as she sighed deeply, “Shit,” was all she muttered under her breath.
The lights weren’t the only things on a motion censor. Much to her great dismay and torment, after the lights, music began to blast through the large room. It was the song, Happy Birthday. Her teeth began to grind in frustration. She looked up just in time to see the massive sea of balloons falling from a net in the ceiling. Damn him. Damn him all to hell.
Sam looked over at her, his face a mixture of disappointment and barely contained amusement. It made her blood boil. She fixed him with a withering stare, causing him to look down at the floor.
As she swept by him, she barked an order, “Comb it for anything that might be useful; and if I ever hear one word about this back at the Centre, your ass is mine.”
“Yes ma’am,” was all he said.
As she exited the building, she slammed the door as forcefully as she could. It didn’t help. Happy Birthday? Happy Fucking Birthday. Her jaw set tightly as the anger rose in her throat. She would catch him eventually, and when she did, there would be hell to pay.
The Centre
The images of the DSA continued to replay in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread which had crept over him. Still in his clothes from the previous day, he stood, arms folded across his chest, in the middle of the Sim Lab. Exactly why he ended up here, he was not sure; he had been guided by a force within him that was far stronger than his conscious mind. His eyes closed, as he concentrated upon the unseen force. And it came to him in a single word: Jarod. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth slightly. Of course he would come here, where the memory of Jarod was still the strongest. He hadn’t realized how profoundly the information stored on the DSA had jarred him. He needed to feel safe, and it was that need, which had called him here.
“Well, your freaking wünder-monkey did it again...”
The voice right behind him, made him start. He was so deeply ensconced in his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard her come in.
She laughed at his surprise, “What’s the matter Freud...too much java juice got you jumpy this morning?”
The smile on her face quickly fell away as he turned to face her, and she took in his disheveled appearance. His clothes were rumpled, his face unshaven, and there was a hollow look in his eyes which made her blood freeze.
She took a step closer to him, her tone laced with concern, “Sydney, are you all right?”
He smiled wanly at her, “Of course. Everything’s fine.”
He was a lousy liar. He always had been.
An eyebrow arched at him, “Let’s play again, Alex, I’ll take truths over lies for two hundred.”
He looked to the floor and then moved away from her, not volunteering anything more. Parker simply followed him across the lab, like a dog biting at his heels.
“Sydney...Sydney”
Unexpectedly, he whirled on her, intensity flashing in his eyes, “I told you, I am fine. Now let it go.”
He stalked out of the lab, leaving Parker to stand there in the shock of the moment.
Toronto, Ontario
The snow lined the pathways of the park, and the crunching sound under his boots was as pleasant to him as the feel of sand could be under bare feet. He shoved his hands further into his pockets; it was far colder here than he ever remembered it to be in Delaware.
A ball of snow flew past his nose, and the joyful giggles of children playing to his left, filled his ears. He looked over at them, and had to laugh at the pure mischief on their faces. A smile overtook his features as he walked toward them, taking the further pelts of snow in stride. He watched with fascination as one boy molded two handfuls of snow into a ball, patting it down to make it harder.
“Why mold snow into the circular shape of a ball? Why not just use a ball?”
The boy looked up at him, “We wouldn’t have enough balls between us to have a real snowball fight. Besides, a ball’d hurt.”
“Snowball fight?”
“Yeah, you know...a snowball fight.”
“So you wage battle upon each other with little balls molded from frozen water...cool.”
The boy launched the snowball right at Jarod, who dodged it. Running to his right, he scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a ball. He launched it back at the boy. It was all out war. Jarod had no idea that a snowball fight could be such good fun.
Ducking behind a nearby trash can, he reloaded his pocket with more ‘ammo’. He heard a giggle to his left, and barely dodged another one. As he prepared to throw a retaliatory launch, he heard the first scream. Then another, and another.
Jarod dropped the snowball in his hand, and ran towards the sound. A man was being beaten senseless by several other men. The beaten man was much larger than any of the others, and yet he did not appear to resist in any way. A ten year old boy, presumably the man’s son, was screaming at the top of his lungs, and yanking at the clothing of the thugs.
“Hey,” Jarod screamed, “Hey, stop! What are you doing to him?”
One of the men called the others off and they got into a nearby car.
The ringleader turned to the man now lying bloody on the ground, “Remember what we talked about, Harry.”
The man jumped into the car and it quickly drove off. Jarod reached the man as he struggled to get to his feet, his son crying all the while.
“Here, let me help you.”
Jarod gripped the man’s elbow and helped hoist him to his feet.
“Thanks.”
“Dad...dad...”
The man picked up his son and held him close, “It’s okay, Ben, it’s okay. I’m fine, shhhh, it’s okay.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should go to a hospital and be examined.”
The man turned toward Jarod, “I’m fine, thanks.”
The man began to walk away with his son; Jarod closed the distance.
“Look, you’re obviously in some kind of trouble. Maybe I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“It was you this time, but what about the next time? What if they come after your son?”
The man stopped and glared at Jarod, “Just who the hell are you to say that to me? You don’t know anything about me. What’s it to you anyway?”
“I don’t want to see a son lose his father.”
The man stood still, thinking for a moment, gently stroking his son’s hair.
“Look man, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here.”
“Don’t worry about it. The name’s Jarod.”
The man shook Jarod’s extended hand, “I’m Harry, and this tough guy here is Ben.”
“Mister, can you really help us?”
“I can try, Ben.”
The Centre
Broots was exactly where she expected to find him; staring into his computer screen in yet another attempt to track Jarod.
She peered at the screen over his shoulder, “Find anything?”
“Nope. Cleaners got nothing at the scene except for the balloons.”
“Damn. I assume that they went through all of them.”
“Yep, nothing there to find.”
“Another dead end; not even a small clue this time. I guess last night was just for show.”
Broots smiled, “Yeah, I heard he got you big with the birthday thing.”
The smile was wiped from his face a moment later as her hand connected painfully with the back of his head.
“Ow...Miss Parker, that hurt.”
“Good.”
Broots turned back to his computer screen, sulking. Parker moved around to the front of his desk, where she began to pace. Broots watched her for a few minutes, then tried to return his concentration to his work. The pacing was making him nervous.
“Miss Parker?”
“What?”
“Uhm, well, your pacing is kinda getting on my nerves, and”
Her glare stopped him in mid sentence. Slowly, she stalked back over to his desk, and leaning down on it, she loomed very close to his face.
“Too. Bad.”
“O-o-okay.”
Parker paced a few more steps then turned back to Broots, almost nonchalantly, “Have you seen Sydney this morning?”
“Yeah, when I first came in.”
“He seem okay to you?”
Broots stopped typing and looked up at her; she was on a fishing expedition.
“He looked a little tired, but I heard he was here all night.”
“Doing what?”
“Researching some files or something.”
“Well which one is it, Broots, researching files, or...something?”
“I uhm, don’t know for sure...you want me to ask him?”
Parker fixed him with the look she reserved for moronic moments, “No Broots, I do not want you to ask him about it. I could have done that, myself.” She paused to shake her head at him, “Is there any way that you can isolate his terminal and double check the files he was calling up?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Good. Do it.”
Parker started out, but Broot’s voice stopped her, “Miss Parker?”
“What now?”
“I feel...well, I feel weird spying on Sydney.”
“We’re not spying on him, Broots, we’re just making sure that Dr. Strangelove hasn’t crawled into a boiling pot of lobsters.”
Parker didn’t wait for another reply.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod surveyed the simple apartment. There were small hints of a woman’s touch throughout, but other than photographs, no sign of a woman.
“You want a cup of coffee, Jarod?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Dad, can I just sit in here while you guys talk?”
“No Ben, you have to do your homework, buddy.”
“But Dad”
“Nope, cowboy, homework is non-negotiable.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ben headed toward his room, “Will you be here when I’m done, Jarod?”
“How much homework have you got?”
“A ton from stupid ol’ Mrs. Winslow.”
“Ben...”
“Sorry dad. See ya later, Jarod.”
“Later, Ben.”
The boy disappeared down the hallway and into his room. Jarod followed Harry into the kitchen, where the latter began to prepare coffee.
“So Harry...who were the men? Mob?”
“Yeah, I owe them some money. I was laid off my job about six months ago, and it’s been kinda tough.”
“So you borrowed some cash from these guys and now they want it back.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Harry poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Jarod.
“And Ben’s mother?”
Pain flickered across Harry’s eyes for a moment, and Jarod felt the pang of regret.
“She’s dead. It’s just me and Ben.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Jarod followed Harry back out into the living room, and they both sat down.
“How much money?”
“What?”
“How much money do you owe?”
“Eight grand.”
“Don’t lie to me, Harry.”
“What?”
“Only eight grand?”
“All right, I owe a lot more than eight grand. Look, Jarod, I don’t care about the money...I don’t even care about me. I just don’t want them coming after my boy.”
“That’s why you didn’t fight back today, isn’t it? They threatened Ben.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who can help you, if you let me.”
The Centre
The click of keys from his keyboard could be heard echoing down the corridors branching out from his office. It matched the click-clacks of Parker’s spiky heels on the floor.
She walked into his area, unannounced, “What are you doing? We had a meeting with Mr. Clean upstairs fifteen minutes ago, and you were conspicuous in your absence.”
Sydney started at the sound of her voice, just as he had done earlier. It was not lost on Parker, who moved closer to his desk. He quickly removed whatever document he had displayed on his screen, before she could see what it was.
Parker arched an eyebrow at him, “You’re a little tense today, Freud. What are you doing that you shouldn’t be?”
Sydney stood up and walked a few paces away from her, irritation filling his voice, “I was just doing some research. Or do I now need your permission to do that?”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Sydney felt the immediate sting of regret. He looked away. Parker let the awkward silence sit between them for a moment, before she closed the distance between them, stopping right in front of him. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Sydney folded his arms across his chest.
“Sydney, what is it? What’s wrong?”
He smiled at her reassuringly, “Nothing, Miss Parker. I’m just a little tired today, that’s all.”
His lying was not improving. For the moment, Parker decided aggression was the wrong tact to take with him.
“I heard you were here all night.” He looked at her sharply, and she continued, “Look, Syd, whatever you’re up to, be careful. Nosferatu’s on the warpath this morning, and my father has suddenly run off to some conference in the Middle East. Now may not be the best time to rattle anybody’s cage.”
Parker saw something light up his eyes for a moment when she mentioned her father, but in another moment it was gone. He was hiding something from her, but what and why she didn’t know.
“There’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Miss Parker.”
She fixed him with a solid stare, “I hope not, Sydney.” She started to leave and then turned back to him, “By the way, Broots has another lead on Jarod. He should have something for us in a few hours.”
“Fine.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving him alone.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod sat in front of his laptop, searching. Nothing had come through the standard avenues, and it was time to run Mr. Harry Sykes through the non standard ones. He had been working for several hours on hacking into the mainframe of Canadian Intelligence, and finally, he was in. He typed in Harry’s name and waited. A file popped up; Harry had a record. He had been convicted of embezzling funds from a company called Gentech.
Jarod logged out of the mainframe, and leaned back in his chair. It was all beginning to make sense. Harry had been out of work for six months because he lost his bonding as a security agent; a convicted felon could not be bonded. That explained the inability to find work, and the need for money. Jarod frowned; there was still something missing. Not only did Harry not seem like the type to embezzle, Jarod couldn’t imagine him risking his son’s future. It was clear that Harry loved Ben. So why?
As Jarod’s mind worked on the puzzle, it wandered into the corner of Centre memories...
July 18, 1966
The Centre
Jarod looked at Sydney in confusion, “But Sydney, I don’t understand why that’s important. It’s not a factor in the situation.”
“Because Jarod, it is not only important to understand the black and whites of a situation, but also the grey areas as well.” Jarod’s brow creased in concentration as Sydney continued, “Even a criminal legal case such as the one we’re studying is not cut and dried; there are mitigating factors that have to be considered.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Jarod, you’ve looked at the facts of the case, and you have concluded that the son killed his father. But you haven’t considered why he killed him. What purpose did it serve?”
“I don’t see how the ‘why’ matters. He still killed him, what difference does ‘why’ make?”
“In a criminal case, a lot. You see, even if the son is guilty, his attorney must consider the end game. If the boy killed his father out of malice, then perhaps the punishment should fit the crime; however, if he killed him by accident, or by reason of insanity, then the punishment could be less.”
“So, even though he killed him, if it was an accident, then you’re saying he shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life in prison, because the intent to kill him wasn’t there.”
“Exactly. This type of reasoning is important, Jarod, because there are many situations in life which will require three dimensional thinking as opposed to two.”
“I think I understand now, Sydney.” Sydney smiled at the boy and started to walk away, but Jarod’s voice stopped him, “Sydney, are you...”
Jarod’s voice died out and Sydney turned back to him. The small boy looked sad and alone. Syd walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Jarod, what is it?”
“I just...I...am I here because I killed my father?”
Sydney dropped to one knee, and grabbed Jarod by the shoulders, “Oh dear god, no, Jarod. What makes you think that?”
Jarod didn’t answer Sydney, instead he looked down at the floor.
Sydney swallowed hard, “Do you think you’re here because you’re being punished Jarod?”
Slowly the boy’s eyes rose to meet his mentor’s, “It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“Jarod, no. You’re here because you are very special, not because you’re being punished for something.”
“Sydney?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have a father? Is it you?”
A pain filled Sydney’s eyes, and he was slow in answering, “No, Jarod. I’m not you’re father.” Sydney stood up and stared at the wall, “I’m not anyone’s father.”
“That’s too bad. You’d be a good father.”
Sydney slammed his eyes shut against the tear he felt in his heart, and his voice was slightly shaky when he answered.
“Go do your work, Jarod.”
Toronto, Ontario, present
Jarod’s eyes were slightly moist from the memory. He hadn’t thought of that conversation in years, but he remembered with clarity, the pain and sorrow he had placed in Sydney’s eyes with his words. Jarod shook his head: The Centre had caused all of them so much anguish. Miss Parker, her mother, Jacob, to himself; but it was Sydney, who had borne most of it. And all for what? A defunct pretender program, and a protegé who could not bear to be in the same room with his mentor.
He looked over at the phone lying on the table. He picked it up and punched in a code. The phone rang a few times.
“This is Sydney.”
“Why are fathers and sons always so complicated?”
“Hello, Jarod.”
There was a dullness to Sydney’s voice, one Jarod had never heard before.
“Do you know the answer to the question, Sydney?”
There was a long pause, and Sydney’s voice was very quiet, “No, I really don’t know.”
Jarod frowned, “And it sounds like you really don’t care right now.”
Silence.
“Sydney? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Jarod’s brow creased further, “You sound upset.”
“I’m not.” Sydney’s tone mellowed, “I’m...sorry. What’s really on your mind, Jarod.”
Jarod paused for a moment, trying to keep his anger at bay. When he continued, his voice was tight.
“You were never there for me, Sydney. There were so many times when I needed you, and you weren’t there. I was just a little boy. Why didn’t you help me?”
Sydney sighed into the phone. It didn’t matter how he tried to explain the realities of the situation to Jarod, the boy didn’t want to hear it. The boy. Even now, Sydney still thought of him as a child. He leaned his elbows on his desk, feeling suddenly very tired, and very old.
“There were a lot of mitigating factors, Jarod. There still are.”
Jarod gripped the phone tighter, “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”
Sydney’s tone was far snippier than Jarod had ever heard it, “I was there for you far more than you understand.”
“Really...”
“Yes.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Jarod stabbed the off button on his cell phone with a vengeance. He was never going to get straight answers out of Sydney; why he still bothered to try, he didn’t know. The anger he felt permeated his mind for a few minutes, but then he remembered that he had a job to do, and a pretend to execute...
The Centre
The dial tone rang in his ear, and Sydney put the phone back in its cradle. He returned his attention to the documents before him. There was nothing at all unusual about the birth certificate. He typed in a few more codes and another document came up, the Centre’s infirmary records. He studied them page by page, but nothing jumped out at him.
An involuntary shiver hit him, as he once again felt the sensation of being watched. He glanced around the office and down the connected corridors, but there was no one. Shaking it off, Sydney proceeded to the next set of documents, unaware of the eyes watching him from behind the air vent grate.
He watched the older man study the computer screen, and he could feel the man’s worry. No, worry wasn’t the right word. Pain, sorrow, regret; these words were closer. He had witnessed the phone conversation earlier and had closed his eyes in empathic pain. The mentor was sad. He had watched him all through the previous night, as the mentor replayed the DSA over and over again. And it had caused a rip. That was the only word he could think of that described the feeling. Something had broken, snapped.
Help the mentor.
Angelo scurried through the air vents of Centre, and at the end of one, approached an old box. He opened the top and dug through the scads of DSA’s and file folders. Near the bottom was the file folder he sought. He picked it up, clutching it to his chest and once again, he scuddled through the air ducts.
Toronto, Ontario
The restaurant was crowded and noisy. Jarod and Harry sat in a booth at the back, where it was a little more private, a little more quiet.
“Thanks for meeting me, Harry.”
“Sure. You got an idea on how to get these guys off of me?”
“Well, that depends on you.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“First, where’s Ben?”
“He’s with my friend Stephen and his wife, Shirley.”
“This is the guy from Gentech, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Look, Harry, you haven’t been on the level with me. I can only help you if you tell me the truth.”
“I don’t even know who the hell you are, Jarod.”
Jarod reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge, “Jarod Russell, Canadian Intelligence.”
“What’s your interest in a little mob intimidation?”
“It’s the embezzlement that interests me.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t do that.”
“I know.”
Harry looked at Jarod sharply, “What do you mean, you know?”
“Harry, I’ve done my research, and you were not only set up by someone on the inside, but you were setup to find yourself in debt to the mob.” Jarod paused, allowing Harry to digest his words, then he continued, “It was all planned very carefully. What I don’t know, is what it is that they really want from you.”
Harry looked away, and took a long sip from his gin. His mind whirled from the impossibility of it all. How had he ended up here?
“They want me to help them break through Gentech’s security system.”
“And?”
Harry swallowed, “And help them swipe some biochems.”
“As in germ warfare?”
“Yeah, the very same. The one they want could knock out a province the size of Ontario with about four ounces strategically placed in the water supply.”
“Which they’ll sell to the highest bidder.”
“Yep. It’s worth millions out on the open market.”
“Then I guess we’d better come up with a plan.”
Harry stared in disbelief at Jarod, “Plan?”
Jarod smiled at Harry, and took a sip of his drink.
The Centre
Broots was at his desk, and Parker was standing behind him.
“These are the documents Sydney’s been studying?”
“Yeah, this is it.”
Parker shook her head, “I don’t get it. What would he want with my birth records?”
“I don’t know.”
Sydney entered the room, and all conversation stopped.
Parker looked at her watch, “Slow boat from China?”
Sydney ignored the remark and walked over to the desk, leaning on it casually. Parker’s annoyance lit up her eyes, and Sydney couldn’t keep the slight grin from tugging at the corners of his mouth. She had feigned annoyance with him since she was a small child. It was her way of possessing his regard, and she hadn’t grown out of it. In a way, he was glad she still required attention from him.
Irritated by the grin, Parker turned away from him, “Broots, let’s have it.”
“Well, I was monitoring some small newspapers, when this caught my eye...” Broots pointed to his computer screen, “A guy stopped a man from being beaten to death in front of his son, in Bozeman, Montana.”
“So?”
Parker’s glare made Broots nervous, “There’s more...it turns out that this guy’s in trouble with the mob.”
“The part about the mob was in the local rag?”
“No, Miss Parker, I dug that up myself.”
“Well remind me to give you a gold star then, Broots.”
“Really?”
Parker withered him with a stare.
“Well, anyway, this guy, Harry Sykes, was indicted for embezzling a genetic research laboratory. He was head of their security at the time. Meanwhile, his wife gets sick, and he needs big bucks to pay the hospital bills, but, he can’t get a job, because he’s lost his bonding”
“What prey tell, does this have to do with Jarod?”
“Look at the picture from the paper, Miss Parker.”
Parker and Sydney leaned in, and sure enough, there was Harry and Ben Sykes, and standing in the background was Jarod. Parker batted the back of Broots’ head.
“Ow...what was that for?”
“For making me wait through that stupid monologue, you moron.” Parker picked up the phone, “This is Miss Parker, I need the jet...Montana. Three of us”
Raines’ voice stopped her, “Make that two of you. Sydney’s presence is required elsewhere.”
Parker frowned and looked at Sydney, who simply nodded in acquiescence. Raines smiled and left as quickly as he had come.
“Make that two. Yes, I want to leave in thirty minutes.”
She hung up the phone and turned just in time to see Sydney walking out of the office. She followed him out into the hallway.
“Hey, Freud, what’s going on with you and Dr. Death?”
Sydney stopped and slowly turned around to face her; he looked apprehensive. Abstractly playing with the strand of pearls around her neck, Parker closed the distance between them.
“Syd?”
He smiled weakly at her and gently ran a finger across the strand of pearls, “They look as beautiful on you, as they did your mother.”
The compliment brought a smile of embarrassment to Parker’s face. Despite all that had transpired between Parker and Sydney, she realized that her mother had been right in the letter she had left for her: Sydney had always been her protector, and she had come to realize that even the strange sense of moral code which had kept his silence for thirty years at her mother’s behest, was an expression of love for both Miss Parker and Catherine.
“I’m glad you held onto these for so many years, it’s the only thing I have of my mother’s that my father gave her.”
Sydney looked at her sharply, “Your father?”
“Yes. In the letter, my mother said that my father”
“She told you they were a gift from Mr. Parker?”
Parker chuckled slightly, “Unless you know of another father of mine, she wrote that my father gave them to her on her”
“Twenty-fifth birthday, yes.”
All the colour had drained out of Sydney’s face; he looked as if he might be blown away by a strong wind.
Parker took his hand in hers, “You don’t look so good, Syd.”
“I’ll be fine. Good luck in Bozeman, Miss Parker.”
He turned and slowly walked away. Parker watched him, worry outlining her features.
The file folder was sitting on his desk when he entered his office. He sighed heavily, no longer even caring how or why someone was leaving him clues on his desk. He walked over and sat heavily in his chair. He reached for the file, but when he touched it, his noticed his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and opened the folder.
His eyes grew wide as he perused the papers, “Oh my god...”
After a moment Sydney closed the file folder. He pulled the DSA out from his pocket, and turned it in his hands, thinking. It wasn’t safe on him, and he knew it. It had to stay hidden; if Miss Parker saw itHe couldn’t complete that thought. It would devastate her. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. He placed the DSA in the envelope, grabbed some tape, and quickly taped it under the bottom corner of his desk. The eyes from the air duct didn’t miss a beat.
Toronto, Ontario
The street was cold and empty, as Harry and Jarod walked along. Their footsteps resounded on the pavement, and the air carried with it the scent of burning fireplaces.
“So you think we can just placate them with the money?”
“Well, that’s what they’re holding over you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Because they think you can’t pay it back; but if you do pay it back, then what have they got?”
“What about my kid?”
“I can help get you relocated, a new identity and a new job.”
Harry stopped, “Jarod, what exactly do you get out of all of this?”
“Satisfaction from seeing a family stay together.”
They began walking again, each silent with his own thoughts. As they rounded the final corner to Harry’s apartment, the peace of the night was shattered. There were police units everywhere, lights flashing, uniforms all around. And then Harry saw where they were going, and it hit him.
“Oh my god...BEN.”
He took off at a run, with Jarod right behind him. Harry tried to bulldoze his way through the police barricade, but uniforms held him back.
“My son...my son was in there. What happened?”
“Easy sir, tell me your name.”
“Harry. Harry Sykes.”
“Okay.”
The cop let him through and then stopped Jarod, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Jarod flashed his badge, “With him.”
The cop stood aside and Jarod followed Harry into the building and up the stairs to the apartment. The police were everywhere, dusting for prints, taking pictures. Stephen was sitting on the couch, holding a towel to his head. He saw Harry at the door.
“Oh god, Harry...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop them, I swear to god I tried, I”
The man disintegrated into tears and Harry just sat next to him, holding him for a moment.
“Stephen, tell me what happened.”
“Ben and I were sitting here, watching tv, when these guys broke through the door. I grabbed Ben and tried to get away from them, but there were too many. They wrestled Ben away, and clubbed me with a gun. Harry, I swear to god, I tried...”
“I know.”
Harry looked at Jarod, who stepped closer.
“What did these men look like?”
Stephen scowled at Jarod, “Who the hell are you?”
Harry paced back and forth in Jarod’s apartment. Jarod was typing furiously on his laptop. Harry stopped right in front of the table at which Jarod was working.
“Jarod...I know we were going to expose these guys, but, the deal’s off. I can’t do this. They have my son. They’ll kill my boy if I don’t do what they want.”
“Harry, you have to trust me. I’ll get him back before you have to go through with it. It’s all going to work out, and you know, I think I may have just found us the key...”
The Centre
The scotch went down smoothly, but no matter, it couldn’t kill the pain. It couldn’t take away the regret, nor the sorrows of the past. And there were so many sorrows. He took another sip of it and loosened his tie. There were so many ghosts living within the Centre. Far too many for him to make peace with himself, or with them. He looked at his watch; Parker should be in Montana by now.
And in his heart, he knew she would find nothing. He had been isolated by Raines for a purpose; he was quite certain that if Broots backtracked the news story, it would prove to have been falsified. He could have prevented it, but the look Raines had given him in the office told him that whatever it was, it was something that Miss Parker was safer not knowing about.
He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He wondered how much longer Raines was going to keep him waiting.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod handed Harry the com unit, “I promise you that I will rescue your son while you’re in there. As soon as I have him, you’ll know.”
“And that’s when I lock Balducci’s men in a room, red-handed with the stuff.”
“Exactly.”
“Jarod...what if...what if they’ve already”
“You can’t think like that, Harry.”
“But how do you even know where to look for Ben? He could be anywhere...”
Jarod looked across the room, where Stephen and his wife were puttering.
He smiled back at Harry, “Let’s just say that I have a pretty good idea where to start.”
Harry packed all his equipment into a black bag, and shook Jarod’s hand.
“Please save my son. I don’t really care about me; just save my son.”
“Harry, I’m going to help both of you. Just stick to the plan, and it will all work out.”
“Jarod, if I don’t hear from you while I’m in there, I’m going along with them.”
“Harry, they’ll pin it on you, you know that.”
“If it saves my boy, I don’t care.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me.”
“I hope so.”
Jarod watched Harry go, closed the door and then turned, smiling at Stephen and his wife, “So, anybody for a game of Pictionary?”
The Centre
His eyes snapped open, as the squeaky sound of wheels moving across the polished floor reached his ears. He turned just in time to see Raines enter the room, followed by four Cleaners. He said nothing, but merely watched as the man dragged his oxygen tank toward him. Raines stopped right in front of his desk. Sydney allowed the silence to simply lie there.
“You’ve been digging around where you shouldn’t have, Sydney.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I was wondering how long it would take you to put the pieces together.”
“Well now, I only had part of the puzzle, didn’t I?”
“True.” Raines paused then continued, “Frankly, I’m surprised that Catherine never told you.”
Sydney stood up, “I’m not. She did what she thought best for everyone at the time; especially for her daughter.”
Raines nodded to the Cleaners, who moved in closer.
“Perhaps. But she cheated you in the process.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then Raines spoke again, “You know that I cannot allow you to retain this information.”
“I knew you isolated me for a reason.”
“Good. Then you’ll come quietly?”
Sydney smiled, “Of course...not.”
He punched the nearest Cleaner in the face with his fist, and grabbed the light off his desk, smashing it into another Cleaner’s jaw. But he was too outnumbered; the remaining two Cleaners grabbed a hold of him, one landing a solid punch in his stomach, and the other smashing Sydney’s head on his desk. They held him while Raines moved closer.
“That was not a wise choice, Sydney.”
Sydney spat blood on the floor and looked up at Raines, “Go to hell, Raines.”
Raines pulled a syringe from his pocket, “I think it is you who will be going there first.”
He stabbed Sydney in the carotid artery with the needle, injecting him with the liquid. Even though Sydney willed himself to remain quiet, the pain caused him to cry out.
Raines turned toward the door, “Bring him.”
Angelo, crumpled in a ball of empathic pain, watched as the Cleaners dragged Sydney’s unconscious form from the room. It was only after they were long gone, that the howl of pain and sadness echoed through the air duct.
Toronto, Ontario
Harry led the team of four men through the first of the security doors at Gentech. It was as easy as pie; they had changed the passwords, but Harry had designed the system. No one had ever removed the back door. One level upon another, the four men made their way through the building. Harry had kept only part of his attention on what his hands were doing; most of it had been in his ear, in the com unit Jarod had given him. But he had heard nothing. He looked at his watch; he couldn’t stall this thing much longer, or it would arouse suspicion. Only two levels to go...
Stephen was uncomfortable. The handcuffs around his wrists were cutting into his flesh, and his head was pounding in his ears. His wife’s whimpers next to him were not helping. Jarod was standing at an easel, drawing a picture with a pen.
“It’s all up to you, Stephen. I’m just waiting for you to tell me where they’re keeping Ben.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you stupid psycho; I had nothing to do with it.”
Jarod turned around, smiling, “No? That’s strange. See, I uncovered some disturbing little facts about you, Stephen. The whole time you were pretending to be Harry’s friend, you were taking pay offs from the very man who set Harry up to take the fall in the first place. Yeah, I know all about your dirty little deal with Balducci.
“You helped put together the ‘evidence’ against Harry for the embezzlement that you actually committed, and then you watched him lose his wife, his job and you sat back taking money from the man who put him away. And it was you who introduced Harry to Balducci’s money man; told him it was the only way to save his son.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about...”
Jarod pulled a chair next to Stephen’s and leaned into the man’s face, “And it was you who let Balducci take Ben, when you realized that I was going to bail Harry out of the money he owed.”
“My god, Stephen, say it’s not true.”
Stephen looked at his wife, “Shut up, Shelley.”
Shelley began to cry and Jarod moved in on her, “You shouldn’t have gone along with this, Shelley; but then, I’ll bet you didn’t know that kidnapping Ben was part of the deal. Too bad, because if Ben dies, you’re both going up for murder...and I’ll see to it that you get the chair.”
“Shut up, just shut up...”
Shelley began sobbing, “I swear to god, I didn’t know about Ben; it was only supposed to be Harry...”
“Shelley, shut the hell up!”
Jarod smiled and leaned in toward Shelley, “Tell me where Ben is, and I’ll see to it that you’re cut a deal. You know, prison is terrible on a woman’s age; hardens you right up, giving you ten more years on your face than you already”
“He’s being held in the back of the Gypsy Rose. On Queen Street.”
Jarod smiled and headed toward the door.
Stephen yelled at him, “Hey, you can’t just leave us locked up here!”
“Wanna bet?”
Bozeman, Montana
They had the house surrounded. According to all their sources and research, this was Jarod’s latest lair. Parker watched silently as Sam and his team moved in. Broots stood behind her, waiting. There was no way Jarod would escape this time. There was nowhere for him to go.
Parker nodded, and Sam broke down the door, Sweepers moving in as quickly as they could. Parker and Broots brought up the rear. The house was completely empty. Devoid of any life. There was no furniture, no trash, not even so much as a match lying on the floor. Only cobwebs and dust, pointing to the fact that no one had been there in quite some time.
“Damn it,” Parker yelled, “Broots!”
“I swear to god, I don’t”
“Shut. Up. Just. Tell. Me.” She swallowed and then calmed slightly, “Where did you get the information?”
“I told you, from the newspapers.”
“No, you moron, where did the file come from?”
“It came from Jester.”
Parker rolled her eyes, knowing that she didn’t really want to hear it, but also knowing she had to, “Jester?”
“Yeah, you know, the guy who works in communications; the one with the eye patch.”
“Eye patch?”
“Yeah. He’s always complaining how the socket itches below the patch and so he has to”
Parker leveled her gun into Broots’ face, “I swear to god, if you finish that sentence, I’m going to blow your head off.”
Broots swallowed, “Yes ma’am.”
“Where did Jester get it?”
Broots looked away, so Parker prompted him, “Broots?”
“Well, he sorta intercepted it from Mr. Raines’ office.”
Broots watched as Parker’s face turned from a scowl to understanding and then finally to absolute panic.
“Miss Parker?”
“Oh my god...” Parker started to walk quickly back toward the cars, “Oh my god, oh my god...”
Broots followed her, “Miss Parker, what is it?”
“Sydney.”
“What about him?”
Parker stopped and grabbed Broots by the shirt, “Raines sent us here to get us out of the way, Broots. He wanted to get Sydney alone.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, but Sydney knew it and allowed it, which means Syd was afraid he’d take us down with him if he resisted.”
Broots was barely able to keep up with her as she ran for the car.
The Centre
It was so cold. And dark. He tried to move, but found he had no strength. He rolled onto his side, and felt his head hit water. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could hear water dripping. He shivered uncontrollably. What the hell happened? Then it came back to him in one wave of memory; Raines, his office, the syringe. But that did not answer the question of where he was at the moment.
Panic hit him like a lightening bolt. He could barely breathe, and he was cold, so cold. The water kept dripping. He realized that he was cold because he was damp. He was lying in a puddle of water, and on concrete. Wherever he was, it was pitch black. There was a metallic taste in his mouth. It took him a few minutes to understand that it was his own blood.
He needed to stay calm. He needed to think. Those would be the only two things that might possibly save his life...
The Centre Jet
Miss Parker quickly dialed a number into the plane’s phone system, and she waited. It rang once, twice...it kept ringing.
“Damn it,” Parker muttered as she put the phone down, “Sydney’s not answering at home, the office or on his cell.”
Broots took in a deep breath, “Miss Parker, you don’t think that they’d actually...”
“Kill him?” Broots nodded to her and she continued, “I don’t know, Broots. I just don’t know.”
Toronto, Ontario
Harry crossed the wires once again, and again, the door misfired. And of course it would, he was crossing the wrong two wires, in a further effort to stall for time. It was wearing thin.
“Hey, dickhead,” one of the men whispered, “I thought you was some kind of security expert. You don’t know shit.”
Harry put the correct wires together and the door opened, “Yeah, well, at least I don’t smell like it.”
The man thumped Harry on the head, and shoved him through the door. Harry looked at his watch. They were running out of time. He was just going to go through with it; obviously something had happened to Jarod, and now the only thing that could save Ben was him.
Jarod watched from his vantage point in the kitchen of the restaurant, as three men had been going in and out of a door at the end of the hall. One of them looked at him, and Jarod momentarily returned his attention to the vegetables he was chopping.
The executive chef wandered by and pointed at Jarod’s carrots, “Those are not matched. They’ll cook unevenly. Get with it.”
“Yeah, sorry, okay...”
Jarod watched the door cautiously, as he continued chopping. Two of the men had gone into the restaurant, leaving only one in the room that he knew was holding Ben. Now was his best chance. He opened a container of duck fat, and leaned over the grill, emptying half of it onto the open fire. The flames rose up alarmingly, causing shouts of warning and much movement in the direction of the grill.
Jarod ran quickly through the kitchen and pounded on the door at the back.
The third man opened it, “Yeah, what?”
“Fire...there’s a fire.”
The man looked in the direction that Jarod pointed, and Jarod grabbed him by the neck, shoving him back through the door. He smashed the man’s head into the wall, and wasted no time moving further into the room. Ben was bound and gagged on the floor toward the back. Jarod quickly untied him and carried the boy through the kitchen and out the back door. At a dead run, Jarod carried Ben to his car.
“Jarod...”
“It’s okay Ben, you’re safe now.”
Jarod put Ben in the car, started the engine and quickly drove away, just in time to see the fire trucks pulling up to the scene.
“That should keep them busy for awhile.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“Let’s find out.”
Jarod pulled over and stopped the car. He pulled out a titanium case, opened it and donned the com unit.
“Harry? Harry, you with me? If you can hear me, cough into the com unit.”
A rather large cough rolled into Jarod’ ear, causing him to smile.
“Harry, I have somebody here who wants to say hello to you.” Jarod handed Ben the com unit, “Just speak into it, he’ll hear you.”
“Dad? It’s me! I’m with Jarod. I can’t wait to see you.”
Jarod took the equipment back, “Harry, Ben’s safe and sound, and with me. By now the police have picked up Stephen and Shelley, and they have the envelope of evidence I left them, proving that it was Stephen who embezzled the money. It’s your turn now, Harry. Do your stuff, and we’ll meet you back at your place. Good luck.”
Harry tried to hide the big, dumb smile he knew was threatening to overtake his face. He opened the last door, and they were inside the biochem lab. The men followed him as he made his way to the large refrigerated unit at the far end of the room. He attached a device to the lock on the door.
“Okay guys, here we go...” Harry cycled the lock, and it popped open. He smiled at them, holding the door open, “After you, gentlemen.”
The men walked through the door, and Harry slammed it shut, locking it with a new code.
“Happy icicles, fellas...”
Harry walked out of the lab without looking back.
He walked into his apartment and Ben ran to him, jumping into his arms.
“Dad!”
“Hey cowboy. Thank god you’re okay.”
Jarod smiled at the father and son, and somewhere deep inside, he really was happy for them. Closer to the surface, he fought against his own emotions of loneliness and separation.
Harry extended a hand to Jarod, who clasped it warmly.
“Jarod, I don’t know how to thank you for this. You saved us in more ways than one.”
“The best way to thank me, is to enjoy your son, and your life, Harry.”
Jarod headed for the door.
“Jarod? Isn’t there anything tangible I can do for you?”
Jarod smiled, “Seeing you two together is more than enough.”
Without waiting for a response, Jarod walked out the door, and like he had done so many times before, out of people’s lives.
The Centre
It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Soon, he knew he would lose consciousness. He couldn’t focus his mind. It wanted to wander, and he could no longer force it to work his will...
May, 1960
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She was talking to a few trustees across the room, and she looked over, catching him in the act of watching her. She smiled at him, and it reminded him of feeling the warmth of sunshine on his face. He grinned back at her. The moment was broken when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder.
“Sydney...I’m a little surprised to see you here.”
He didn’t need to turn around to recognize Mr. Parker’s booming baritone. Sydney exhaled a mouthful of air, and turned to face the man slated to take over the Centre.
“Mr. Parker, good evening.”
“Escorting Catherine, I take it?”
Sydney looked away, embarrassed. Even though Catherine had broken it off with Mr. Parker months before, Sydney still felt uncomfortable in these situations. Parker knew it, and purposefully served up these little moments of intimidation. Exactly where they were headed this time, Sydney wasn’t sure.
He looked back into Parker’s face, “Yes, Mr. Parker, I am. It’s her twenty-fifth birthday, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
Parker glared at Sydney, and to his credit, Sydney stayed with him. The silent contest of wills was broken by Catherine sliding her arm through Sydney’s.
“What are you two boys doing?”
“Good evening, Catherine,” Parker smiled, “you look quite lovely.”
“Thank you...may I offer my congratulations on your recent appointment by the trustees to head the Centre? I think it was an excellent choice.”
Parker smiled, “You appear to have made a choice as well.”
He looked at Sydney, and it was not lost on Catherine, “Yes, that I have.”
Parker extended his hand to Sydney, “You have a good evening now.”
Sydney shook his hand and Parker moved on to greet some other people.
Sydney turned to Catherine, “What the hell was that about?”
“He’s just jealous, Sydney.”
“Do I have something to worry about?”
Catherine leaned in and lightly kissed his lips, “No, he has no say in the matter.”
Sydney smiled and took her hand, “Come on, there’s something I want to give you.”
Catherine let Sydney guide her through the crowded room, and out onto a balcony. He gently pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her.
“Mmmm...I always feel so safe with you, Syd.”
He smiled at her, “So, I’m the safe guy?”
“No. You’re the right guy.”
Catherine kissed him, and after a moment, he pulled away slightly, smiling. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a jewelry box.
“I have something for you.”
The Centre, present
Sydney moaned in pain. His chest was burning, and he felt his muscles cramping.
What had Raines injected him with?
Parker practically ran through the Centre and down the corridor to Sydney’s office. Broots followed as best he could. She entered the room to find absolutely nothing. There was no sign of Sydney, and no signs of anything being amiss. Broots entered at a run, out of breath, and bumped into her. She glared at him.
“Uhm, sorry.”
Parker moved further into the room, and turned on the light, which for some reason, didn’t illuminate. She looked at the bulb, and that was the problem; there was no bulb. Parker pulled a small flashlight from her jacket and switched it on, flashing it about the room. There was nothing on his desk, save for a few notes he had scribbled about Angelo and a new experiment in empathic experiences. Broots looked through the file cabinet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Deflated, Parker plopped in Sydney’s desk chair, only to promptly fly right back out of it, “Ow...shit!”
Broots looked over, “Miss Parker, you all right?”
“Yeah, something stuck me though...”
She pulled a piece of glass from her jacket, and held it in the light. It was part of a tumbler. She aimed her light on the floor around the desk, and saw no more glass, but did find a small splatter of blood on the bottom drawer of the desk. Sloppy Cleaners...
Parker knelt down and examined the stain. She looked over at Broots.
“Five’ll getcha ten this is Sydney’s.”
Once again Broots found himself running to catch up with her.
Parker threw the doors to Raines’ office wide open, and just as she expected, he was sitting in his chair, waiting for her.
“Miss Parker...what a surprise.”
Parker pulled her gun out and leveled it in Raines’ face, “What have you done with him?”
“Done with whom, Miss Parker?”
“Sydney.”
“Sydney? He’s on leave, Miss Parker. He’ll be gone for the next week or so.”
“Really...I don’t ever remember Freud asking for a vacation in all the years he’s worked here.”
“Why Miss Parker, he didn’t need to request it. Surely you must have noticed how tired he was looking? That was what I needed him for, I wanted to send him on a vacation.”
“I’m not going to ask you again. Where is he?”
“I’m sorry Miss Parker, but he didn’t say where he was going, so there’s nothing else I can tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the broken glass and blood in Sydney’s office? Your Cleaners have gotten sloppy, Raines.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Parker.”
“You always know everything that transpires around here, Dr. No, and this time you have no clue? How convenient.”
Raines smiled at her, “For all I know Miss Parker, Sydney is using his leave to lie on some beach somewhere in the Bahamas...”
Knowing she would get nothing more, Parker put her gun away, “If anything happens to him, Raines, I’m popping you first, and asking questions later.”
Mr. Raines smiled at her. Parker stalked out of the office, Broots in tow. Raines’ smile disappeared as soon as he was alone. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a series of numbers.
“It’s me. We have a problem...”
The office was in shambles; the two of them had torn it apart, looking for any clue that would tell them what had happened to Sydney, but they had found nothing. Broots looked at his watch, the morning shift would be coming on any moment now.
He watched as Parker paced back and forth in front of Sydney’s desk. He wished that there was something he could do to calm her, but he knew if he tried, she would resent him for it. Miss Parker had never been one to accept comfort from anyone except her father, and occasionally she tolerated it from Sydney; but it extended no further.
“Miss Parker, why don’t you sit down for awhile?”
“That won’t help, Broots. There has to be something here; we must have missed it.” Her voice was sounding slightly desperate, “There has to be something.”
A whimpering noise shot out at them from the air duct. The two of them turned sharply toward the sound, then to each other. Parker ran to the grate and looked inside; Angelo was rolled up in a ball, crying.
“Broots...help me get this grate off.”
Broots and Parker pried the grate off the wall, and they tried to coax Angelo out, but it was as if he couldn’t hear them. Her frustration mounting, Parker grabbed Angelo by the shirt collar, yanking him from the air duct. He screamed and curled into a ball on the floor of Sydney’s office. She started to grab him again, but Broots held her back.
“Miss Parker...don’t. That won’t help.”
She glared at him, and Broots flinched away from her. She let out an uneven sigh of air, and in the low light he saw the shine in her eyes; they were filled with barely contained tears. Broots took her hand in his.
“I’m scared for him too, Miss Parker.”
“I know.”
Angelo began wailing at the top of his lungs, and they knelt down next to him.
“Angelo,” Broots soothed, “take it easy. Tell us what happened.”
Parker leaned into the sobbing man, “Angelo...Sydney. Tell us what happened to Sydney.”
Tears of agony were streaming down Angelo’s face, “It’s so cold... and pain, so much pain.”
Miss Parker swallowed hard. She had been right. Something dire had transpired, and Sydney was right in the middle of it.
She tried to keep her voice calm and even, “Angelo, we want to help Sydney. Can you tell us where he is?”
“Cold. So cold. Hard. Concrete. Wet water. Dripping. Darkness. Pain.”
Parker turned to Broots, “This isn’t helping...maybe if we put him in Syd’s chair.”
Broots and Parker lifted the empath up and carefully put him in the desk chair. Angelo slammed his fists on the desktop, causing both Parker and Broots to jump.
“No...Sydney will not give in. Must protect the daughter.”
Parker looked at Angelo in confusion, “Daughter? Sydney doesn’t have a daughter, Angelo.”
“The daughter...He must protect you.”
Parker sighed and turned to Broots, “This is one flew over the rubber room. He’s not making any sense.”
Angelo moved out of the chair, and knelt on the floor by the desk. He reached under it, and pulled out the DSA that Sydney had taped there the night before. He handed it to Miss Parker.
“Sydney protects the daughter.”
Parker snatched the DSA from Angelo’s hands and practically threw it at Broots, who quickly played it on Sydney’s computer.
The Centre June 14, 1967
“I’m not threatening you. I’m asking you to desist with your silly notions regarding our test subjects here at the Centre,” Raines smiled.
Catherine Parker’s voice held solid determination, “I don’t think so.”
Catherine turned on her heel and started out of the office, but Raines grabbed her arm, hard.
“Let go of me.”
Raines pulled her closer to his face, “Before you go, I want you to have the complete picture of what could happen. I need you on board with me for this.”
“Impossible.”
“That’s too bad. I will have to tell Mr. Parker the truth then.”
“What truth?”
“Why, Miss Parker, of course.”
Catherine stared at him, horrified.
“I thought that might get your attention, Catherine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Catherine moved away from him, but he closed the distance again, coming to stand right behind her shoulder.
“Mr. Parker isn’t her biological father.”
Catherine turned around, glaring into his eyes, “You stay away from my husband, and my daughter.”
Raines smiled broadly, holding up a file folder, “Ah, ah, ah, Catherine. I have proof. I not only know that Mr. Parker isn’t her father...I know who is.” Raines paused for effect, “Now, unless you want this file to wind up in both of their hands, I suggest you cooperate with me.”
The Centre, present
Miss Parker stood frozen in place. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Yet another secret to her past that Sydney had kept to himself; and how long had he known? Broots was unsure what to do, so he waited. After a few long minutes, Parker pulled her gun out, cocking it.
“I’m going to kill him, Broots.” Parker’s voice was shaking with emotion, “If he’s not dead already, when we find him, I’m going to splatter his Flemish brains all over the wall.”
“Miss Parker...we don’t know all the”
She pointed the gun into his face, “Just keep talking Broots, and I’ll take you out first.”
Broots closed his eyes in fear, but in his heart, he knew he had to keep going, “No, Miss Parker, I’m not going to keep quiet. I don’t care if you do kill me.” He opened one eye and realized he was still alive, so he kept talking, “Everything Sydney has done, has always proved out in one way or another, as having been either to protect you, or Jarod. And in some cases, he was protecting the memory of your mother.” He swallowed hard, and for a moment, watched the tears fall down her face. “Miss Parker, whatever the reasons Sydney had for keeping this from you, he must have thought he was shielding you somehow.”
Parker blinked the tears from her eyes, moved away from Broots and slammed her gun down on the desk.
Her voice shook with an emotion that emanated from deep within her, “I don’t need his protection. I don’t want his protection. I’m sick of the secrets, I am sick of the lies. I just want the truth...”
Miss Parker leaned on the desk, her head falling to her chest. She tried to hold back the sobs, but she couldn’t. Broots took a move toward her, but then stopped himself, knowing she wouldn’t accept any comfort from him anyway. It was Angelo who finally stood up and went to Parker, taking her hand in his. She looked into his face, and he smiled gently at her.
“Sydney guards you...loves you. Mr. Parker guards you... loves you. Two...not one.”
“Two, not one? Angelo...”
“Two...”
Miss Parker touched the pearl necklace she was wearing, “Oh my god...my mother...”
“Miss Parker?” Broots stood next to her, confusion in his eyes.
“When she wrote that my father gave these to her, I assumed she meant...”
“Mr. Parker...”
“Yes. And that’s why Sydney reacted yesterday when I said the pearls had been a gift from my father to my mother; Broots, he didn’t know. Or at least he wasn’t sure until that moment.”
“You’ve lost me, Miss Parker...”
“Broots, you stupid moron, Sydney gave the pearls to my mother.”
“But that would make Sydney...”
“...my biological father, yes.” Parker wiped the tears from her eyes, “It explains why Raines took him out of play. He must have known that Sydney was close to finding out the truth, and Nosferatu wanted to keep a lid on it.”
“But Miss Parker, that kind of order could only come from”
“My father...Mr. Parker, yes.”
Broots’ heart was pounding in his chest, “Miss Parker, what do we do? I mean, if they find out we know, we’re dead.”
“I guess we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves then, Broots.” Parker turned to Angelo, “We’re going to need your help, Angelo. I doubt Dr. Death killed Sydney outright; it would be more his style to try and make it look like some kind of accident. Which means that Syd has to be somewhere.”
Angelo looked at her, frowning, “Cold. Dark. Water. Sydney, frightened.”
Parker closed her eyes.
Broots gently touched her elbow, “Miss Parker, you okay?”
After a steadying breath, she refocused on Broots, “Yeah. Let’s go find him.”
He came to, lying on his back. He could taste the foul bile in his mouth, and knew that he was lucky he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in his unconsciousness. With all the effort he had left, he rolled onto his side. His reward was a coughing spasm the likes of which he thought would end him. He could taste the blood in his mouth. Whatever he had been injected with, it was going to kill him, and in a fairly short amount of time. He closed his eyes and thought of Miss Parker and Jarod: He would never be able to tell them how sorry he was. How sorry he was, for everything. The last thing he felt as darkness claimed him, was sadness; they would never know the depth of love he held for them in his heart.
Sioux City, Iowa
Jarod listened to the recording again. It wasn’t a mistake. Sydney’s cell phone had been disconnected; so had his home number, and his extension at the Centre was being rerouted to Raines’ office. Jarod could taste his own fear. He quickly entered another phone number and waited...
The Centre
Parker stood behind Broots’ shoulder, as he typed commands into his keyboard. Neither had slept, nor had they found a thing. Parker’s cell phone rang, making both of them jump.
She answered it, completely annoyed, “What?”
“Miss Parker.”
She didn’t even try to hold back the sound of relief in her voice, “Jarod, thank god.”
Jarod knew that he was right, “What’s happened to Sydney?”
Miss Parker choked back tears, “I don’t know. I was hoping maybe you”
“I haven’t heard from him. What can I do?”
“Nothing yet, Jarod. As soon as I know something, I’ll send you an email through Refuge.”
“Miss Parker...don’t let anything happen to him. Please.”
Mr. Parker was pacing the length of his office, when Miss Parker burst in on him, “You’re back. Why wasn’t I notified?”
He looked at her with surprised, “No ‘hello daddy’? No hug? No kiss?”
She frowned slightly but walked over to him and greeted him. He could feel her hesitation, and her stiffness around him.
“Angel? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked her over, “I know my daughter better than that. You can tell me. What is it?”
“I told you...daddy, nothing. Look, I’m worried about Sydney.”
“Sydney? Why?”
“He disappeared with no word. Raines says Syd went on vacation, but I don’t ever remember him taking one in all the years he’s worked here.”
“Angel...I’m sure if Mr. Raines says that Sydney is on vacation, then, that’s where he is.”
Miss Parker looked at him sharply; he was in on it. Whatever had happened to Sydney, he knew about it. She smiled at him sweetly.
“Well, if you say so, then I’ll accept it.”
He kissed her forehead, “That’s my girl.” He walked over to his desk, “I hear we have another lead on Jarod.”
“We do?”
“Yes, it just came in. There is reason to believe that he’s in Fargo.”
Miss Parker was barely able to cover her agitation; he was trying to get her out of the way. There could only be one reason for it; Sydney was still at the Centre. Somewhere.
Once again she smiled sweetly, “Fine. Broots and I can leave tomorrow.”
“No. You’ll leave today. In half an hour as a matter of fact.”
“Very well.”
Miss Parker smiled at him and sauntered out of his office; once clear she bolted for the stairs.
Parker entered Broots’ area at a dead run, “Come on Broots, we’ve got trouble.”
“What do you mean, trouble?”
“I mean they’re trying to get us out of here.”
“What?”
“Sydney must be here at the Centre, you dolt, and they need to move him.”
Angelo appeared behind them, startling both of them.
“What is it, monkey-boy?”
“SL-27.”
Parker’s irritation crept into her voice, “What about it?”
“Cold. Dark. Water.”
“Cold, dark...Sydney? Is Sydney on SL-27, Angelo?”
Angelo smiled at Parker. As she ran past him, she touched his face with her hand, “Thank you.”
“Come on Broots, grab some flashlights...”
SL-27 always creeped Broots out. He and Parker quickly made their way through the opening rooms of the level, and were shining their lights into every corner.
Broots called for him, “Sydney?...Syd?”
“Come on Freud...where the hell are you...”
Parker could hear the dripping of a leaky pipe. It was making her nuts. She shined her light into yet another corner of the floor; nothing. She sighed. Maybe monkey-boy had it all wrong.
Broots yelled in panic, “Miss Parker!”
Parker ran toward his voice as quickly as she could navigate the darkness. As she shined her light into the corner where Broots was standing, her heart dropped and she felt sick. There was a heap on the floor, in tattered clothes, surrounded by blood, vomit, and lying in muddy water. She didn’t have to look closely to know who it was. Please god, let him be alive.
She closed the remaining yards at a dead run, and slid on her knees in the last five feet. Broots was already kneeling next to Sydney, checking for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Parker lifted his upper body into her lap. He felt like ice, and he was completely wet.
“Broots, go for help.”
“Who...do I go to? Who can we trust?”
“Sam. Get Sam and his crew down here, tell them I’ve been in an accident, and keep it quiet.”
“Okay.”
None to sure of it, Broots took off as quickly as he could. Sydney moaned, and Parker pulled him further into her arms, cradling him.
“Easy Syd. I’m here, I’ve got you.”
She felt his forehead, and it was on fire. He groaned in pain, but his eyes fluttered open, and fought to focus on her.
His voice sounded like gravel, “Miss Parker...”
“Shhh, don’t try to talk. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should have come to me, Sydney.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the DSA...and I know that you gave the pearls to my mother.”
“Oh god...”
“What I don’t understand is why my fatherI mean, why”
Sydney grabbed her hand, his voice barely a whisper, “You must always think of him as your father. He raised you. He does love you. And I’m not sure that he knows the entire truth.”
“How...I don’t understand.”
“Your mother broke it off with Mr. Parker, and a few weeks later, your mother and I, we...”
“Yeah, I think I have that part, Sydney.”
“Right after her twenty-fifth birthday, she came to me and told me that she had to marry Mr. Parker. I always assumed it was because she discovered that she was pregnant with his child. We never spoke of it again.”
“And?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth so dry he could barely speak, “The truth was that Mr. Parker went to Catherine and told her that if she did not end it with me and marry him, that he would kill me. Knowing that he could protect you from the Centre, she never told him that the child she was carrying wasn’t his, nor did she tell me that I had a beautiful daughter. I didn’t know I was your father until”
“Until I told you what she wrote about the pearls.”
“Yes.”
Sydney’s eyes filled with tears, “I’m so sorry, my little one.”
Parker lightly kissed his forehead, “I know you...love me, Syd. I’ve always known.”
Exhausted, his eyes closed and he leaned into the comfort of her arms.
St. Joseph Hospital, Delaware
His eyes fluttered open, and he was staring into the worried faces of Miss Parker and Broots. He swallowed and his throat hurt; he must have been hooked up to a respirator. He tried to make sound, but couldn’t.
“Shhh, Syd, don’t try to talk. Just relax.”
He tried again, “Water.”
Parker reached for the glass by the hospital bed, and gently lifting his head, poured some water into his mouth.
“Better?”
He nodded.
Broots smiled at him, “I’m glad you’re gonna be okay, Sydney. You sure gave us one hell of a scare.”
Sydney looked into Miss Parker’s eyes, and grabbed her hand. Parker looked slightly confused by the demonstrative gesture.
“I’m so sorry...”
Parker smiled at him but removed her hand from under his, “Relax, Freud, you didn’t do it on purpose. And you didn’t scare me. I knew you’d be fine.”
A slight frown creased Sydney’s face, “You’re not angry with me?”
“Sydney, why the hell would I be pissed at you?”
“The DSA, the file, I kept it from you...”
Miss Parker leaned closer to him, concern now etching her features, “What the hell are you talking about Syd? You didn’t have any DSA on you at the time of the accident, nor any files.” She put a hand on his forehead, “You’re fever’s way down, but, better safe than sorry.” She turned to Broots, “Go get the doctor, let’s make sure he’s okay.” Broots nodded and left the room, Parker looked back at Sydney, “Relax.”
Sydney’s voice sounded apprehensive, “I’m...confused. Didn’t you find me on SL-27?”
Parker ran a soothing hand over his brow a few times, “SL-27? No, Syd, don’t you remember? There was an accident in the Sim Lab, a virus got loose, and you’ve been in the hospital for over a week.”
“I...don’t remember that.”
“What do you remember?”
Sydney felt tears beginning to sting his eyes; none of it was real. It had all been the fabrication of a fevered mind; the DSA, the pearls, Miss Parker... The last was the one which hurt the most. He couldn’t keep the tears from falling, so he closed his eyes and felt them roll down his cheeks. He didn’t see the sorrow that flickered in Parker’s eyes as she watched him tormenting himself with something that she did not understand.
He felt her hand caress his face, and he looked at her once again.
She sat down on the bed, “Syd, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
He took her hand in his, and brought it to his chest, “In here.”
Parker frowned, “Your chest hurts?”
Sydney shook his head, “No, my heart.”
“Syd, you’re not making any sense to me right now.”
He gripped her hand harder, and despite her normal aversion to strong displays of affection, she returned the pressure of it.
His voice was almost a whisper, “Just stay here with me.”
Miss Parker did not understand, but it was a simple enough request from the man who had been there for her, for as long as she could remember. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.
“I’m right here, Syd. You just rest.”
He closed his eyes again, and let the moisture fall. He tightened his hand around hers. She softly stroked his face, trying to brush away his sadness. He knew she would never understand what he was going through, nor would he ever explain it. In his mind, he had lost his daughter, and his heart was breaking.
Miss Parker continued to hold his hand in hers long after he fell into a troubled sleep. She didn’t know what torturous tricks his fevered mind had played on him; but she knew that it had distressed him greatly. She wanted him to find some measure of peace. She reached up with her free hand, and absently fingered the strand of pearls around her neck.
Fin
“The Shadowlands”
by the lurker
The Centre
He walked down the long corridor toward his office. It was late, and there were not many people around. His long stride slowed as he neared his area; he was struck by an intense feeling of foreboding. He tried to shake it off.
Cautiously, he stepped inside his office space. The room was as dimly lit as it always was, but the fact that it was attached to a labyrinth of other corridors and sub-levels created an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake the sense that he was being observed. He looked around the office; it was as he had left it. He released a sigh of air which he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Smiling slightly at his own paranoia, he walked over to his desk, setting the file folders in his hands down on the top.
That was when he saw it: An innocuous looking envelope, sitting there. It was blank on the outside, sealed, and he was sure that it had not been there when he left his office earlier. He looked around again, the eerie feeling of being watched, reasserting itself. He upended the envelope, allowing the contents to spill out onto the desk. A single DSA fell to the blotter with a slight thump.
Pier 24, San Francisco
The fog rolled across the pier, blanketing the boardwalk with a dense coat of cold humidity. She stood silently in the shadows, shivering in her jacket. The steel of the gun in her hand felt cold against her skin. Why she hadn’t thought to bring gloves she couldn’t fathom. But there had been no time. She had hopped on the company jet with only the clothes she had been wearing.
She watched as several Sweepers quietly moved to their secondary positions. Sam looked expectantly at her from across the nearest alcove of shadows. She took in a deep breath of the cold, wet air and nodded to him.
Sam whispered into his com link, “Final mark, go.”
The first set of Sweepers broke through the warehouse door, the second set ran past the first, guns drawn. She followed Sam at a dead run through the door and into the darkness of the warehouse. It smelled of must and mold; the kind of smell that can only come from years of disuse.
The smell gave it away. She didn’t need the lights to suddenly snap on, causing several Sweepers to duck and roll, preparing for the worst, to tell her that they would not acquire the target.
Her arms dropped to her sides as she sighed deeply, “Shit,” was all she muttered under her breath.
The lights weren’t the only things on a motion censor. Much to her great dismay and torment, after the lights, music began to blast through the large room. It was the song, Happy Birthday. Her teeth began to grind in frustration. She looked up just in time to see the massive sea of balloons falling from a net in the ceiling. Damn him. Damn him all to hell.
Sam looked over at her, his face a mixture of disappointment and barely contained amusement. It made her blood boil. She fixed him with a withering stare, causing him to look down at the floor.
As she swept by him, she barked an order, “Comb it for anything that might be useful; and if I ever hear one word about this back at the Centre, your ass is mine.”
“Yes ma’am,” was all he said.
As she exited the building, she slammed the door as forcefully as she could. It didn’t help. Happy Birthday? Happy Fucking Birthday. Her jaw set tightly as the anger rose in her throat. She would catch him eventually, and when she did, there would be hell to pay.
The Centre
The images of the DSA continued to replay in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread which had crept over him. Still in his clothes from the previous day, he stood, arms folded across his chest, in the middle of the Sim Lab. Exactly why he ended up here, he was not sure; he had been guided by a force within him that was far stronger than his conscious mind. His eyes closed, as he concentrated upon the unseen force. And it came to him in a single word: Jarod. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth slightly. Of course he would come here, where the memory of Jarod was still the strongest. He hadn’t realized how profoundly the information stored on the DSA had jarred him. He needed to feel safe, and it was that need, which had called him here.
“Well, your freaking wünder-monkey did it again...”
The voice right behind him, made him start. He was so deeply ensconced in his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard her come in.
She laughed at his surprise, “What’s the matter Freud...too much java juice got you jumpy this morning?”
The smile on her face quickly fell away as he turned to face her, and she took in his disheveled appearance. His clothes were rumpled, his face unshaven, and there was a hollow look in his eyes which made her blood freeze.
She took a step closer to him, her tone laced with concern, “Sydney, are you all right?”
He smiled wanly at her, “Of course. Everything’s fine.”
He was a lousy liar. He always had been.
An eyebrow arched at him, “Let’s play again, Alex, I’ll take truths over lies for two hundred.”
He looked to the floor and then moved away from her, not volunteering anything more. Parker simply followed him across the lab, like a dog biting at his heels.
“Sydney...Sydney”
Unexpectedly, he whirled on her, intensity flashing in his eyes, “I told you, I am fine. Now let it go.”
He stalked out of the lab, leaving Parker to stand there in the shock of the moment.
Toronto, Ontario
The snow lined the pathways of the park, and the crunching sound under his boots was as pleasant to him as the feel of sand could be under bare feet. He shoved his hands further into his pockets; it was far colder here than he ever remembered it to be in Delaware.
A ball of snow flew past his nose, and the joyful giggles of children playing to his left, filled his ears. He looked over at them, and had to laugh at the pure mischief on their faces. A smile overtook his features as he walked toward them, taking the further pelts of snow in stride. He watched with fascination as one boy molded two handfuls of snow into a ball, patting it down to make it harder.
“Why mold snow into the circular shape of a ball? Why not just use a ball?”
The boy looked up at him, “We wouldn’t have enough balls between us to have a real snowball fight. Besides, a ball’d hurt.”
“Snowball fight?”
“Yeah, you know...a snowball fight.”
“So you wage battle upon each other with little balls molded from frozen water...cool.”
The boy launched the snowball right at Jarod, who dodged it. Running to his right, he scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a ball. He launched it back at the boy. It was all out war. Jarod had no idea that a snowball fight could be such good fun.
Ducking behind a nearby trash can, he reloaded his pocket with more ‘ammo’. He heard a giggle to his left, and barely dodged another one. As he prepared to throw a retaliatory launch, he heard the first scream. Then another, and another.
Jarod dropped the snowball in his hand, and ran towards the sound. A man was being beaten senseless by several other men. The beaten man was much larger than any of the others, and yet he did not appear to resist in any way. A ten year old boy, presumably the man’s son, was screaming at the top of his lungs, and yanking at the clothing of the thugs.
“Hey,” Jarod screamed, “Hey, stop! What are you doing to him?”
One of the men called the others off and they got into a nearby car.
The ringleader turned to the man now lying bloody on the ground, “Remember what we talked about, Harry.”
The man jumped into the car and it quickly drove off. Jarod reached the man as he struggled to get to his feet, his son crying all the while.
“Here, let me help you.”
Jarod gripped the man’s elbow and helped hoist him to his feet.
“Thanks.”
“Dad...dad...”
The man picked up his son and held him close, “It’s okay, Ben, it’s okay. I’m fine, shhhh, it’s okay.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should go to a hospital and be examined.”
The man turned toward Jarod, “I’m fine, thanks.”
The man began to walk away with his son; Jarod closed the distance.
“Look, you’re obviously in some kind of trouble. Maybe I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“It was you this time, but what about the next time? What if they come after your son?”
The man stopped and glared at Jarod, “Just who the hell are you to say that to me? You don’t know anything about me. What’s it to you anyway?”
“I don’t want to see a son lose his father.”
The man stood still, thinking for a moment, gently stroking his son’s hair.
“Look man, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here.”
“Don’t worry about it. The name’s Jarod.”
The man shook Jarod’s extended hand, “I’m Harry, and this tough guy here is Ben.”
“Mister, can you really help us?”
“I can try, Ben.”
The Centre
Broots was exactly where she expected to find him; staring into his computer screen in yet another attempt to track Jarod.
She peered at the screen over his shoulder, “Find anything?”
“Nope. Cleaners got nothing at the scene except for the balloons.”
“Damn. I assume that they went through all of them.”
“Yep, nothing there to find.”
“Another dead end; not even a small clue this time. I guess last night was just for show.”
Broots smiled, “Yeah, I heard he got you big with the birthday thing.”
The smile was wiped from his face a moment later as her hand connected painfully with the back of his head.
“Ow...Miss Parker, that hurt.”
“Good.”
Broots turned back to his computer screen, sulking. Parker moved around to the front of his desk, where she began to pace. Broots watched her for a few minutes, then tried to return his concentration to his work. The pacing was making him nervous.
“Miss Parker?”
“What?”
“Uhm, well, your pacing is kinda getting on my nerves, and”
Her glare stopped him in mid sentence. Slowly, she stalked back over to his desk, and leaning down on it, she loomed very close to his face.
“Too. Bad.”
“O-o-okay.”
Parker paced a few more steps then turned back to Broots, almost nonchalantly, “Have you seen Sydney this morning?”
“Yeah, when I first came in.”
“He seem okay to you?”
Broots stopped typing and looked up at her; she was on a fishing expedition.
“He looked a little tired, but I heard he was here all night.”
“Doing what?”
“Researching some files or something.”
“Well which one is it, Broots, researching files, or...something?”
“I uhm, don’t know for sure...you want me to ask him?”
Parker fixed him with the look she reserved for moronic moments, “No Broots, I do not want you to ask him about it. I could have done that, myself.” She paused to shake her head at him, “Is there any way that you can isolate his terminal and double check the files he was calling up?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Good. Do it.”
Parker started out, but Broot’s voice stopped her, “Miss Parker?”
“What now?”
“I feel...well, I feel weird spying on Sydney.”
“We’re not spying on him, Broots, we’re just making sure that Dr. Strangelove hasn’t crawled into a boiling pot of lobsters.”
Parker didn’t wait for another reply.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod surveyed the simple apartment. There were small hints of a woman’s touch throughout, but other than photographs, no sign of a woman.
“You want a cup of coffee, Jarod?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Dad, can I just sit in here while you guys talk?”
“No Ben, you have to do your homework, buddy.”
“But Dad”
“Nope, cowboy, homework is non-negotiable.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ben headed toward his room, “Will you be here when I’m done, Jarod?”
“How much homework have you got?”
“A ton from stupid ol’ Mrs. Winslow.”
“Ben...”
“Sorry dad. See ya later, Jarod.”
“Later, Ben.”
The boy disappeared down the hallway and into his room. Jarod followed Harry into the kitchen, where the latter began to prepare coffee.
“So Harry...who were the men? Mob?”
“Yeah, I owe them some money. I was laid off my job about six months ago, and it’s been kinda tough.”
“So you borrowed some cash from these guys and now they want it back.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Harry poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Jarod.
“And Ben’s mother?”
Pain flickered across Harry’s eyes for a moment, and Jarod felt the pang of regret.
“She’s dead. It’s just me and Ben.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Jarod followed Harry back out into the living room, and they both sat down.
“How much money?”
“What?”
“How much money do you owe?”
“Eight grand.”
“Don’t lie to me, Harry.”
“What?”
“Only eight grand?”
“All right, I owe a lot more than eight grand. Look, Jarod, I don’t care about the money...I don’t even care about me. I just don’t want them coming after my boy.”
“That’s why you didn’t fight back today, isn’t it? They threatened Ben.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who can help you, if you let me.”
The Centre
The click of keys from his keyboard could be heard echoing down the corridors branching out from his office. It matched the click-clacks of Parker’s spiky heels on the floor.
She walked into his area, unannounced, “What are you doing? We had a meeting with Mr. Clean upstairs fifteen minutes ago, and you were conspicuous in your absence.”
Sydney started at the sound of her voice, just as he had done earlier. It was not lost on Parker, who moved closer to his desk. He quickly removed whatever document he had displayed on his screen, before she could see what it was.
Parker arched an eyebrow at him, “You’re a little tense today, Freud. What are you doing that you shouldn’t be?”
Sydney stood up and walked a few paces away from her, irritation filling his voice, “I was just doing some research. Or do I now need your permission to do that?”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Sydney felt the immediate sting of regret. He looked away. Parker let the awkward silence sit between them for a moment, before she closed the distance between them, stopping right in front of him. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Sydney folded his arms across his chest.
“Sydney, what is it? What’s wrong?”
He smiled at her reassuringly, “Nothing, Miss Parker. I’m just a little tired today, that’s all.”
His lying was not improving. For the moment, Parker decided aggression was the wrong tact to take with him.
“I heard you were here all night.” He looked at her sharply, and she continued, “Look, Syd, whatever you’re up to, be careful. Nosferatu’s on the warpath this morning, and my father has suddenly run off to some conference in the Middle East. Now may not be the best time to rattle anybody’s cage.”
Parker saw something light up his eyes for a moment when she mentioned her father, but in another moment it was gone. He was hiding something from her, but what and why she didn’t know.
“There’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Miss Parker.”
She fixed him with a solid stare, “I hope not, Sydney.” She started to leave and then turned back to him, “By the way, Broots has another lead on Jarod. He should have something for us in a few hours.”
“Fine.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving him alone.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod sat in front of his laptop, searching. Nothing had come through the standard avenues, and it was time to run Mr. Harry Sykes through the non standard ones. He had been working for several hours on hacking into the mainframe of Canadian Intelligence, and finally, he was in. He typed in Harry’s name and waited. A file popped up; Harry had a record. He had been convicted of embezzling funds from a company called Gentech.
Jarod logged out of the mainframe, and leaned back in his chair. It was all beginning to make sense. Harry had been out of work for six months because he lost his bonding as a security agent; a convicted felon could not be bonded. That explained the inability to find work, and the need for money. Jarod frowned; there was still something missing. Not only did Harry not seem like the type to embezzle, Jarod couldn’t imagine him risking his son’s future. It was clear that Harry loved Ben. So why?
As Jarod’s mind worked on the puzzle, it wandered into the corner of Centre memories...
July 18, 1966
The Centre
Jarod looked at Sydney in confusion, “But Sydney, I don’t understand why that’s important. It’s not a factor in the situation.”
“Because Jarod, it is not only important to understand the black and whites of a situation, but also the grey areas as well.” Jarod’s brow creased in concentration as Sydney continued, “Even a criminal legal case such as the one we’re studying is not cut and dried; there are mitigating factors that have to be considered.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Jarod, you’ve looked at the facts of the case, and you have concluded that the son killed his father. But you haven’t considered why he killed him. What purpose did it serve?”
“I don’t see how the ‘why’ matters. He still killed him, what difference does ‘why’ make?”
“In a criminal case, a lot. You see, even if the son is guilty, his attorney must consider the end game. If the boy killed his father out of malice, then perhaps the punishment should fit the crime; however, if he killed him by accident, or by reason of insanity, then the punishment could be less.”
“So, even though he killed him, if it was an accident, then you’re saying he shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life in prison, because the intent to kill him wasn’t there.”
“Exactly. This type of reasoning is important, Jarod, because there are many situations in life which will require three dimensional thinking as opposed to two.”
“I think I understand now, Sydney.” Sydney smiled at the boy and started to walk away, but Jarod’s voice stopped him, “Sydney, are you...”
Jarod’s voice died out and Sydney turned back to him. The small boy looked sad and alone. Syd walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Jarod, what is it?”
“I just...I...am I here because I killed my father?”
Sydney dropped to one knee, and grabbed Jarod by the shoulders, “Oh dear god, no, Jarod. What makes you think that?”
Jarod didn’t answer Sydney, instead he looked down at the floor.
Sydney swallowed hard, “Do you think you’re here because you’re being punished Jarod?”
Slowly the boy’s eyes rose to meet his mentor’s, “It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“Jarod, no. You’re here because you are very special, not because you’re being punished for something.”
“Sydney?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have a father? Is it you?”
A pain filled Sydney’s eyes, and he was slow in answering, “No, Jarod. I’m not you’re father.” Sydney stood up and stared at the wall, “I’m not anyone’s father.”
“That’s too bad. You’d be a good father.”
Sydney slammed his eyes shut against the tear he felt in his heart, and his voice was slightly shaky when he answered.
“Go do your work, Jarod.”
Toronto, Ontario, present
Jarod’s eyes were slightly moist from the memory. He hadn’t thought of that conversation in years, but he remembered with clarity, the pain and sorrow he had placed in Sydney’s eyes with his words. Jarod shook his head: The Centre had caused all of them so much anguish. Miss Parker, her mother, Jacob, to himself; but it was Sydney, who had borne most of it. And all for what? A defunct pretender program, and a protegé who could not bear to be in the same room with his mentor.
He looked over at the phone lying on the table. He picked it up and punched in a code. The phone rang a few times.
“This is Sydney.”
“Why are fathers and sons always so complicated?”
“Hello, Jarod.”
There was a dullness to Sydney’s voice, one Jarod had never heard before.
“Do you know the answer to the question, Sydney?”
There was a long pause, and Sydney’s voice was very quiet, “No, I really don’t know.”
Jarod frowned, “And it sounds like you really don’t care right now.”
Silence.
“Sydney? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Jarod’s brow creased further, “You sound upset.”
“I’m not.” Sydney’s tone mellowed, “I’m...sorry. What’s really on your mind, Jarod.”
Jarod paused for a moment, trying to keep his anger at bay. When he continued, his voice was tight.
“You were never there for me, Sydney. There were so many times when I needed you, and you weren’t there. I was just a little boy. Why didn’t you help me?”
Sydney sighed into the phone. It didn’t matter how he tried to explain the realities of the situation to Jarod, the boy didn’t want to hear it. The boy. Even now, Sydney still thought of him as a child. He leaned his elbows on his desk, feeling suddenly very tired, and very old.
“There were a lot of mitigating factors, Jarod. There still are.”
Jarod gripped the phone tighter, “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”
Sydney’s tone was far snippier than Jarod had ever heard it, “I was there for you far more than you understand.”
“Really...”
“Yes.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Jarod stabbed the off button on his cell phone with a vengeance. He was never going to get straight answers out of Sydney; why he still bothered to try, he didn’t know. The anger he felt permeated his mind for a few minutes, but then he remembered that he had a job to do, and a pretend to execute...
The Centre
The dial tone rang in his ear, and Sydney put the phone back in its cradle. He returned his attention to the documents before him. There was nothing at all unusual about the birth certificate. He typed in a few more codes and another document came up, the Centre’s infirmary records. He studied them page by page, but nothing jumped out at him.
An involuntary shiver hit him, as he once again felt the sensation of being watched. He glanced around the office and down the connected corridors, but there was no one. Shaking it off, Sydney proceeded to the next set of documents, unaware of the eyes watching him from behind the air vent grate.
He watched the older man study the computer screen, and he could feel the man’s worry. No, worry wasn’t the right word. Pain, sorrow, regret; these words were closer. He had witnessed the phone conversation earlier and had closed his eyes in empathic pain. The mentor was sad. He had watched him all through the previous night, as the mentor replayed the DSA over and over again. And it had caused a rip. That was the only word he could think of that described the feeling. Something had broken, snapped.
Help the mentor.
Angelo scurried through the air vents of Centre, and at the end of one, approached an old box. He opened the top and dug through the scads of DSA’s and file folders. Near the bottom was the file folder he sought. He picked it up, clutching it to his chest and once again, he scuddled through the air ducts.
Toronto, Ontario
The restaurant was crowded and noisy. Jarod and Harry sat in a booth at the back, where it was a little more private, a little more quiet.
“Thanks for meeting me, Harry.”
“Sure. You got an idea on how to get these guys off of me?”
“Well, that depends on you.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“First, where’s Ben?”
“He’s with my friend Stephen and his wife, Shirley.”
“This is the guy from Gentech, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Look, Harry, you haven’t been on the level with me. I can only help you if you tell me the truth.”
“I don’t even know who the hell you are, Jarod.”
Jarod reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge, “Jarod Russell, Canadian Intelligence.”
“What’s your interest in a little mob intimidation?”
“It’s the embezzlement that interests me.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t do that.”
“I know.”
Harry looked at Jarod sharply, “What do you mean, you know?”
“Harry, I’ve done my research, and you were not only set up by someone on the inside, but you were setup to find yourself in debt to the mob.” Jarod paused, allowing Harry to digest his words, then he continued, “It was all planned very carefully. What I don’t know, is what it is that they really want from you.”
Harry looked away, and took a long sip from his gin. His mind whirled from the impossibility of it all. How had he ended up here?
“They want me to help them break through Gentech’s security system.”
“And?”
Harry swallowed, “And help them swipe some biochems.”
“As in germ warfare?”
“Yeah, the very same. The one they want could knock out a province the size of Ontario with about four ounces strategically placed in the water supply.”
“Which they’ll sell to the highest bidder.”
“Yep. It’s worth millions out on the open market.”
“Then I guess we’d better come up with a plan.”
Harry stared in disbelief at Jarod, “Plan?”
Jarod smiled at Harry, and took a sip of his drink.
The Centre
Broots was at his desk, and Parker was standing behind him.
“These are the documents Sydney’s been studying?”
“Yeah, this is it.”
Parker shook her head, “I don’t get it. What would he want with my birth records?”
“I don’t know.”
Sydney entered the room, and all conversation stopped.
Parker looked at her watch, “Slow boat from China?”
Sydney ignored the remark and walked over to the desk, leaning on it casually. Parker’s annoyance lit up her eyes, and Sydney couldn’t keep the slight grin from tugging at the corners of his mouth. She had feigned annoyance with him since she was a small child. It was her way of possessing his regard, and she hadn’t grown out of it. In a way, he was glad she still required attention from him.
Irritated by the grin, Parker turned away from him, “Broots, let’s have it.”
“Well, I was monitoring some small newspapers, when this caught my eye...” Broots pointed to his computer screen, “A guy stopped a man from being beaten to death in front of his son, in Bozeman, Montana.”
“So?”
Parker’s glare made Broots nervous, “There’s more...it turns out that this guy’s in trouble with the mob.”
“The part about the mob was in the local rag?”
“No, Miss Parker, I dug that up myself.”
“Well remind me to give you a gold star then, Broots.”
“Really?”
Parker withered him with a stare.
“Well, anyway, this guy, Harry Sykes, was indicted for embezzling a genetic research laboratory. He was head of their security at the time. Meanwhile, his wife gets sick, and he needs big bucks to pay the hospital bills, but, he can’t get a job, because he’s lost his bonding”
“What prey tell, does this have to do with Jarod?”
“Look at the picture from the paper, Miss Parker.”
Parker and Sydney leaned in, and sure enough, there was Harry and Ben Sykes, and standing in the background was Jarod. Parker batted the back of Broots’ head.
“Ow...what was that for?”
“For making me wait through that stupid monologue, you moron.” Parker picked up the phone, “This is Miss Parker, I need the jet...Montana. Three of us”
Raines’ voice stopped her, “Make that two of you. Sydney’s presence is required elsewhere.”
Parker frowned and looked at Sydney, who simply nodded in acquiescence. Raines smiled and left as quickly as he had come.
“Make that two. Yes, I want to leave in thirty minutes.”
She hung up the phone and turned just in time to see Sydney walking out of the office. She followed him out into the hallway.
“Hey, Freud, what’s going on with you and Dr. Death?”
Sydney stopped and slowly turned around to face her; he looked apprehensive. Abstractly playing with the strand of pearls around her neck, Parker closed the distance between them.
“Syd?”
He smiled weakly at her and gently ran a finger across the strand of pearls, “They look as beautiful on you, as they did your mother.”
The compliment brought a smile of embarrassment to Parker’s face. Despite all that had transpired between Parker and Sydney, she realized that her mother had been right in the letter she had left for her: Sydney had always been her protector, and she had come to realize that even the strange sense of moral code which had kept his silence for thirty years at her mother’s behest, was an expression of love for both Miss Parker and Catherine.
“I’m glad you held onto these for so many years, it’s the only thing I have of my mother’s that my father gave her.”
Sydney looked at her sharply, “Your father?”
“Yes. In the letter, my mother said that my father”
“She told you they were a gift from Mr. Parker?”
Parker chuckled slightly, “Unless you know of another father of mine, she wrote that my father gave them to her on her”
“Twenty-fifth birthday, yes.”
All the colour had drained out of Sydney’s face; he looked as if he might be blown away by a strong wind.
Parker took his hand in hers, “You don’t look so good, Syd.”
“I’ll be fine. Good luck in Bozeman, Miss Parker.”
He turned and slowly walked away. Parker watched him, worry outlining her features.
The file folder was sitting on his desk when he entered his office. He sighed heavily, no longer even caring how or why someone was leaving him clues on his desk. He walked over and sat heavily in his chair. He reached for the file, but when he touched it, his noticed his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and opened the folder.
His eyes grew wide as he perused the papers, “Oh my god...”
After a moment Sydney closed the file folder. He pulled the DSA out from his pocket, and turned it in his hands, thinking. It wasn’t safe on him, and he knew it. It had to stay hidden; if Miss Parker saw itHe couldn’t complete that thought. It would devastate her. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. He placed the DSA in the envelope, grabbed some tape, and quickly taped it under the bottom corner of his desk. The eyes from the air duct didn’t miss a beat.
Toronto, Ontario
The street was cold and empty, as Harry and Jarod walked along. Their footsteps resounded on the pavement, and the air carried with it the scent of burning fireplaces.
“So you think we can just placate them with the money?”
“Well, that’s what they’re holding over you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Because they think you can’t pay it back; but if you do pay it back, then what have they got?”
“What about my kid?”
“I can help get you relocated, a new identity and a new job.”
Harry stopped, “Jarod, what exactly do you get out of all of this?”
“Satisfaction from seeing a family stay together.”
They began walking again, each silent with his own thoughts. As they rounded the final corner to Harry’s apartment, the peace of the night was shattered. There were police units everywhere, lights flashing, uniforms all around. And then Harry saw where they were going, and it hit him.
“Oh my god...BEN.”
He took off at a run, with Jarod right behind him. Harry tried to bulldoze his way through the police barricade, but uniforms held him back.
“My son...my son was in there. What happened?”
“Easy sir, tell me your name.”
“Harry. Harry Sykes.”
“Okay.”
The cop let him through and then stopped Jarod, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Jarod flashed his badge, “With him.”
The cop stood aside and Jarod followed Harry into the building and up the stairs to the apartment. The police were everywhere, dusting for prints, taking pictures. Stephen was sitting on the couch, holding a towel to his head. He saw Harry at the door.
“Oh god, Harry...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop them, I swear to god I tried, I”
The man disintegrated into tears and Harry just sat next to him, holding him for a moment.
“Stephen, tell me what happened.”
“Ben and I were sitting here, watching tv, when these guys broke through the door. I grabbed Ben and tried to get away from them, but there were too many. They wrestled Ben away, and clubbed me with a gun. Harry, I swear to god, I tried...”
“I know.”
Harry looked at Jarod, who stepped closer.
“What did these men look like?”
Stephen scowled at Jarod, “Who the hell are you?”
Harry paced back and forth in Jarod’s apartment. Jarod was typing furiously on his laptop. Harry stopped right in front of the table at which Jarod was working.
“Jarod...I know we were going to expose these guys, but, the deal’s off. I can’t do this. They have my son. They’ll kill my boy if I don’t do what they want.”
“Harry, you have to trust me. I’ll get him back before you have to go through with it. It’s all going to work out, and you know, I think I may have just found us the key...”
The Centre
The scotch went down smoothly, but no matter, it couldn’t kill the pain. It couldn’t take away the regret, nor the sorrows of the past. And there were so many sorrows. He took another sip of it and loosened his tie. There were so many ghosts living within the Centre. Far too many for him to make peace with himself, or with them. He looked at his watch; Parker should be in Montana by now.
And in his heart, he knew she would find nothing. He had been isolated by Raines for a purpose; he was quite certain that if Broots backtracked the news story, it would prove to have been falsified. He could have prevented it, but the look Raines had given him in the office told him that whatever it was, it was something that Miss Parker was safer not knowing about.
He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He wondered how much longer Raines was going to keep him waiting.
Toronto, Ontario
Jarod handed Harry the com unit, “I promise you that I will rescue your son while you’re in there. As soon as I have him, you’ll know.”
“And that’s when I lock Balducci’s men in a room, red-handed with the stuff.”
“Exactly.”
“Jarod...what if...what if they’ve already”
“You can’t think like that, Harry.”
“But how do you even know where to look for Ben? He could be anywhere...”
Jarod looked across the room, where Stephen and his wife were puttering.
He smiled back at Harry, “Let’s just say that I have a pretty good idea where to start.”
Harry packed all his equipment into a black bag, and shook Jarod’s hand.
“Please save my son. I don’t really care about me; just save my son.”
“Harry, I’m going to help both of you. Just stick to the plan, and it will all work out.”
“Jarod, if I don’t hear from you while I’m in there, I’m going along with them.”
“Harry, they’ll pin it on you, you know that.”
“If it saves my boy, I don’t care.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me.”
“I hope so.”
Jarod watched Harry go, closed the door and then turned, smiling at Stephen and his wife, “So, anybody for a game of Pictionary?”
The Centre
His eyes snapped open, as the squeaky sound of wheels moving across the polished floor reached his ears. He turned just in time to see Raines enter the room, followed by four Cleaners. He said nothing, but merely watched as the man dragged his oxygen tank toward him. Raines stopped right in front of his desk. Sydney allowed the silence to simply lie there.
“You’ve been digging around where you shouldn’t have, Sydney.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I was wondering how long it would take you to put the pieces together.”
“Well now, I only had part of the puzzle, didn’t I?”
“True.” Raines paused then continued, “Frankly, I’m surprised that Catherine never told you.”
Sydney stood up, “I’m not. She did what she thought best for everyone at the time; especially for her daughter.”
Raines nodded to the Cleaners, who moved in closer.
“Perhaps. But she cheated you in the process.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then Raines spoke again, “You know that I cannot allow you to retain this information.”
“I knew you isolated me for a reason.”
“Good. Then you’ll come quietly?”
Sydney smiled, “Of course...not.”
He punched the nearest Cleaner in the face with his fist, and grabbed the light off his desk, smashing it into another Cleaner’s jaw. But he was too outnumbered; the remaining two Cleaners grabbed a hold of him, one landing a solid punch in his stomach, and the other smashing Sydney’s head on his desk. They held him while Raines moved closer.
“That was not a wise choice, Sydney.”
Sydney spat blood on the floor and looked up at Raines, “Go to hell, Raines.”
Raines pulled a syringe from his pocket, “I think it is you who will be going there first.”
He stabbed Sydney in the carotid artery with the needle, injecting him with the liquid. Even though Sydney willed himself to remain quiet, the pain caused him to cry out.
Raines turned toward the door, “Bring him.”
Angelo, crumpled in a ball of empathic pain, watched as the Cleaners dragged Sydney’s unconscious form from the room. It was only after they were long gone, that the howl of pain and sadness echoed through the air duct.
Toronto, Ontario
Harry led the team of four men through the first of the security doors at Gentech. It was as easy as pie; they had changed the passwords, but Harry had designed the system. No one had ever removed the back door. One level upon another, the four men made their way through the building. Harry had kept only part of his attention on what his hands were doing; most of it had been in his ear, in the com unit Jarod had given him. But he had heard nothing. He looked at his watch; he couldn’t stall this thing much longer, or it would arouse suspicion. Only two levels to go...
Stephen was uncomfortable. The handcuffs around his wrists were cutting into his flesh, and his head was pounding in his ears. His wife’s whimpers next to him were not helping. Jarod was standing at an easel, drawing a picture with a pen.
“It’s all up to you, Stephen. I’m just waiting for you to tell me where they’re keeping Ben.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you stupid psycho; I had nothing to do with it.”
Jarod turned around, smiling, “No? That’s strange. See, I uncovered some disturbing little facts about you, Stephen. The whole time you were pretending to be Harry’s friend, you were taking pay offs from the very man who set Harry up to take the fall in the first place. Yeah, I know all about your dirty little deal with Balducci.
“You helped put together the ‘evidence’ against Harry for the embezzlement that you actually committed, and then you watched him lose his wife, his job and you sat back taking money from the man who put him away. And it was you who introduced Harry to Balducci’s money man; told him it was the only way to save his son.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about...”
Jarod pulled a chair next to Stephen’s and leaned into the man’s face, “And it was you who let Balducci take Ben, when you realized that I was going to bail Harry out of the money he owed.”
“My god, Stephen, say it’s not true.”
Stephen looked at his wife, “Shut up, Shelley.”
Shelley began to cry and Jarod moved in on her, “You shouldn’t have gone along with this, Shelley; but then, I’ll bet you didn’t know that kidnapping Ben was part of the deal. Too bad, because if Ben dies, you’re both going up for murder...and I’ll see to it that you get the chair.”
“Shut up, just shut up...”
Shelley began sobbing, “I swear to god, I didn’t know about Ben; it was only supposed to be Harry...”
“Shelley, shut the hell up!”
Jarod smiled and leaned in toward Shelley, “Tell me where Ben is, and I’ll see to it that you’re cut a deal. You know, prison is terrible on a woman’s age; hardens you right up, giving you ten more years on your face than you already”
“He’s being held in the back of the Gypsy Rose. On Queen Street.”
Jarod smiled and headed toward the door.
Stephen yelled at him, “Hey, you can’t just leave us locked up here!”
“Wanna bet?”
Bozeman, Montana
They had the house surrounded. According to all their sources and research, this was Jarod’s latest lair. Parker watched silently as Sam and his team moved in. Broots stood behind her, waiting. There was no way Jarod would escape this time. There was nowhere for him to go.
Parker nodded, and Sam broke down the door, Sweepers moving in as quickly as they could. Parker and Broots brought up the rear. The house was completely empty. Devoid of any life. There was no furniture, no trash, not even so much as a match lying on the floor. Only cobwebs and dust, pointing to the fact that no one had been there in quite some time.
“Damn it,” Parker yelled, “Broots!”
“I swear to god, I don’t”
“Shut. Up. Just. Tell. Me.” She swallowed and then calmed slightly, “Where did you get the information?”
“I told you, from the newspapers.”
“No, you moron, where did the file come from?”
“It came from Jester.”
Parker rolled her eyes, knowing that she didn’t really want to hear it, but also knowing she had to, “Jester?”
“Yeah, you know, the guy who works in communications; the one with the eye patch.”
“Eye patch?”
“Yeah. He’s always complaining how the socket itches below the patch and so he has to”
Parker leveled her gun into Broots’ face, “I swear to god, if you finish that sentence, I’m going to blow your head off.”
Broots swallowed, “Yes ma’am.”
“Where did Jester get it?”
Broots looked away, so Parker prompted him, “Broots?”
“Well, he sorta intercepted it from Mr. Raines’ office.”
Broots watched as Parker’s face turned from a scowl to understanding and then finally to absolute panic.
“Miss Parker?”
“Oh my god...” Parker started to walk quickly back toward the cars, “Oh my god, oh my god...”
Broots followed her, “Miss Parker, what is it?”
“Sydney.”
“What about him?”
Parker stopped and grabbed Broots by the shirt, “Raines sent us here to get us out of the way, Broots. He wanted to get Sydney alone.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, but Sydney knew it and allowed it, which means Syd was afraid he’d take us down with him if he resisted.”
Broots was barely able to keep up with her as she ran for the car.
The Centre
It was so cold. And dark. He tried to move, but found he had no strength. He rolled onto his side, and felt his head hit water. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could hear water dripping. He shivered uncontrollably. What the hell happened? Then it came back to him in one wave of memory; Raines, his office, the syringe. But that did not answer the question of where he was at the moment.
Panic hit him like a lightening bolt. He could barely breathe, and he was cold, so cold. The water kept dripping. He realized that he was cold because he was damp. He was lying in a puddle of water, and on concrete. Wherever he was, it was pitch black. There was a metallic taste in his mouth. It took him a few minutes to understand that it was his own blood.
He needed to stay calm. He needed to think. Those would be the only two things that might possibly save his life...
The Centre Jet
Miss Parker quickly dialed a number into the plane’s phone system, and she waited. It rang once, twice...it kept ringing.
“Damn it,” Parker muttered as she put the phone down, “Sydney’s not answering at home, the office or on his cell.”
Broots took in a deep breath, “Miss Parker, you don’t think that they’d actually...”
“Kill him?” Broots nodded to her and she continued, “I don’t know, Broots. I just don’t know.”
Toronto, Ontario
Harry crossed the wires once again, and again, the door misfired. And of course it would, he was crossing the wrong two wires, in a further effort to stall for time. It was wearing thin.
“Hey, dickhead,” one of the men whispered, “I thought you was some kind of security expert. You don’t know shit.”
Harry put the correct wires together and the door opened, “Yeah, well, at least I don’t smell like it.”
The man thumped Harry on the head, and shoved him through the door. Harry looked at his watch. They were running out of time. He was just going to go through with it; obviously something had happened to Jarod, and now the only thing that could save Ben was him.
Jarod watched from his vantage point in the kitchen of the restaurant, as three men had been going in and out of a door at the end of the hall. One of them looked at him, and Jarod momentarily returned his attention to the vegetables he was chopping.
The executive chef wandered by and pointed at Jarod’s carrots, “Those are not matched. They’ll cook unevenly. Get with it.”
“Yeah, sorry, okay...”
Jarod watched the door cautiously, as he continued chopping. Two of the men had gone into the restaurant, leaving only one in the room that he knew was holding Ben. Now was his best chance. He opened a container of duck fat, and leaned over the grill, emptying half of it onto the open fire. The flames rose up alarmingly, causing shouts of warning and much movement in the direction of the grill.
Jarod ran quickly through the kitchen and pounded on the door at the back.
The third man opened it, “Yeah, what?”
“Fire...there’s a fire.”
The man looked in the direction that Jarod pointed, and Jarod grabbed him by the neck, shoving him back through the door. He smashed the man’s head into the wall, and wasted no time moving further into the room. Ben was bound and gagged on the floor toward the back. Jarod quickly untied him and carried the boy through the kitchen and out the back door. At a dead run, Jarod carried Ben to his car.
“Jarod...”
“It’s okay Ben, you’re safe now.”
Jarod put Ben in the car, started the engine and quickly drove away, just in time to see the fire trucks pulling up to the scene.
“That should keep them busy for awhile.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“Let’s find out.”
Jarod pulled over and stopped the car. He pulled out a titanium case, opened it and donned the com unit.
“Harry? Harry, you with me? If you can hear me, cough into the com unit.”
A rather large cough rolled into Jarod’ ear, causing him to smile.
“Harry, I have somebody here who wants to say hello to you.” Jarod handed Ben the com unit, “Just speak into it, he’ll hear you.”
“Dad? It’s me! I’m with Jarod. I can’t wait to see you.”
Jarod took the equipment back, “Harry, Ben’s safe and sound, and with me. By now the police have picked up Stephen and Shelley, and they have the envelope of evidence I left them, proving that it was Stephen who embezzled the money. It’s your turn now, Harry. Do your stuff, and we’ll meet you back at your place. Good luck.”
Harry tried to hide the big, dumb smile he knew was threatening to overtake his face. He opened the last door, and they were inside the biochem lab. The men followed him as he made his way to the large refrigerated unit at the far end of the room. He attached a device to the lock on the door.
“Okay guys, here we go...” Harry cycled the lock, and it popped open. He smiled at them, holding the door open, “After you, gentlemen.”
The men walked through the door, and Harry slammed it shut, locking it with a new code.
“Happy icicles, fellas...”
Harry walked out of the lab without looking back.
He walked into his apartment and Ben ran to him, jumping into his arms.
“Dad!”
“Hey cowboy. Thank god you’re okay.”
Jarod smiled at the father and son, and somewhere deep inside, he really was happy for them. Closer to the surface, he fought against his own emotions of loneliness and separation.
Harry extended a hand to Jarod, who clasped it warmly.
“Jarod, I don’t know how to thank you for this. You saved us in more ways than one.”
“The best way to thank me, is to enjoy your son, and your life, Harry.”
Jarod headed for the door.
“Jarod? Isn’t there anything tangible I can do for you?”
Jarod smiled, “Seeing you two together is more than enough.”
Without waiting for a response, Jarod walked out the door, and like he had done so many times before, out of people’s lives.
The Centre
It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Soon, he knew he would lose consciousness. He couldn’t focus his mind. It wanted to wander, and he could no longer force it to work his will...
May, 1960
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She was talking to a few trustees across the room, and she looked over, catching him in the act of watching her. She smiled at him, and it reminded him of feeling the warmth of sunshine on his face. He grinned back at her. The moment was broken when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder.
“Sydney...I’m a little surprised to see you here.”
He didn’t need to turn around to recognize Mr. Parker’s booming baritone. Sydney exhaled a mouthful of air, and turned to face the man slated to take over the Centre.
“Mr. Parker, good evening.”
“Escorting Catherine, I take it?”
Sydney looked away, embarrassed. Even though Catherine had broken it off with Mr. Parker months before, Sydney still felt uncomfortable in these situations. Parker knew it, and purposefully served up these little moments of intimidation. Exactly where they were headed this time, Sydney wasn’t sure.
He looked back into Parker’s face, “Yes, Mr. Parker, I am. It’s her twenty-fifth birthday, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
Parker glared at Sydney, and to his credit, Sydney stayed with him. The silent contest of wills was broken by Catherine sliding her arm through Sydney’s.
“What are you two boys doing?”
“Good evening, Catherine,” Parker smiled, “you look quite lovely.”
“Thank you...may I offer my congratulations on your recent appointment by the trustees to head the Centre? I think it was an excellent choice.”
Parker smiled, “You appear to have made a choice as well.”
He looked at Sydney, and it was not lost on Catherine, “Yes, that I have.”
Parker extended his hand to Sydney, “You have a good evening now.”
Sydney shook his hand and Parker moved on to greet some other people.
Sydney turned to Catherine, “What the hell was that about?”
“He’s just jealous, Sydney.”
“Do I have something to worry about?”
Catherine leaned in and lightly kissed his lips, “No, he has no say in the matter.”
Sydney smiled and took her hand, “Come on, there’s something I want to give you.”
Catherine let Sydney guide her through the crowded room, and out onto a balcony. He gently pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her.
“Mmmm...I always feel so safe with you, Syd.”
He smiled at her, “So, I’m the safe guy?”
“No. You’re the right guy.”
Catherine kissed him, and after a moment, he pulled away slightly, smiling. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a jewelry box.
“I have something for you.”
The Centre, present
Sydney moaned in pain. His chest was burning, and he felt his muscles cramping.
What had Raines injected him with?
Parker practically ran through the Centre and down the corridor to Sydney’s office. Broots followed as best he could. She entered the room to find absolutely nothing. There was no sign of Sydney, and no signs of anything being amiss. Broots entered at a run, out of breath, and bumped into her. She glared at him.
“Uhm, sorry.”
Parker moved further into the room, and turned on the light, which for some reason, didn’t illuminate. She looked at the bulb, and that was the problem; there was no bulb. Parker pulled a small flashlight from her jacket and switched it on, flashing it about the room. There was nothing on his desk, save for a few notes he had scribbled about Angelo and a new experiment in empathic experiences. Broots looked through the file cabinet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Deflated, Parker plopped in Sydney’s desk chair, only to promptly fly right back out of it, “Ow...shit!”
Broots looked over, “Miss Parker, you all right?”
“Yeah, something stuck me though...”
She pulled a piece of glass from her jacket, and held it in the light. It was part of a tumbler. She aimed her light on the floor around the desk, and saw no more glass, but did find a small splatter of blood on the bottom drawer of the desk. Sloppy Cleaners...
Parker knelt down and examined the stain. She looked over at Broots.
“Five’ll getcha ten this is Sydney’s.”
Once again Broots found himself running to catch up with her.
Parker threw the doors to Raines’ office wide open, and just as she expected, he was sitting in his chair, waiting for her.
“Miss Parker...what a surprise.”
Parker pulled her gun out and leveled it in Raines’ face, “What have you done with him?”
“Done with whom, Miss Parker?”
“Sydney.”
“Sydney? He’s on leave, Miss Parker. He’ll be gone for the next week or so.”
“Really...I don’t ever remember Freud asking for a vacation in all the years he’s worked here.”
“Why Miss Parker, he didn’t need to request it. Surely you must have noticed how tired he was looking? That was what I needed him for, I wanted to send him on a vacation.”
“I’m not going to ask you again. Where is he?”
“I’m sorry Miss Parker, but he didn’t say where he was going, so there’s nothing else I can tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the broken glass and blood in Sydney’s office? Your Cleaners have gotten sloppy, Raines.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Parker.”
“You always know everything that transpires around here, Dr. No, and this time you have no clue? How convenient.”
Raines smiled at her, “For all I know Miss Parker, Sydney is using his leave to lie on some beach somewhere in the Bahamas...”
Knowing she would get nothing more, Parker put her gun away, “If anything happens to him, Raines, I’m popping you first, and asking questions later.”
Mr. Raines smiled at her. Parker stalked out of the office, Broots in tow. Raines’ smile disappeared as soon as he was alone. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a series of numbers.
“It’s me. We have a problem...”
The office was in shambles; the two of them had torn it apart, looking for any clue that would tell them what had happened to Sydney, but they had found nothing. Broots looked at his watch, the morning shift would be coming on any moment now.
He watched as Parker paced back and forth in front of Sydney’s desk. He wished that there was something he could do to calm her, but he knew if he tried, she would resent him for it. Miss Parker had never been one to accept comfort from anyone except her father, and occasionally she tolerated it from Sydney; but it extended no further.
“Miss Parker, why don’t you sit down for awhile?”
“That won’t help, Broots. There has to be something here; we must have missed it.” Her voice was sounding slightly desperate, “There has to be something.”
A whimpering noise shot out at them from the air duct. The two of them turned sharply toward the sound, then to each other. Parker ran to the grate and looked inside; Angelo was rolled up in a ball, crying.
“Broots...help me get this grate off.”
Broots and Parker pried the grate off the wall, and they tried to coax Angelo out, but it was as if he couldn’t hear them. Her frustration mounting, Parker grabbed Angelo by the shirt collar, yanking him from the air duct. He screamed and curled into a ball on the floor of Sydney’s office. She started to grab him again, but Broots held her back.
“Miss Parker...don’t. That won’t help.”
She glared at him, and Broots flinched away from her. She let out an uneven sigh of air, and in the low light he saw the shine in her eyes; they were filled with barely contained tears. Broots took her hand in his.
“I’m scared for him too, Miss Parker.”
“I know.”
Angelo began wailing at the top of his lungs, and they knelt down next to him.
“Angelo,” Broots soothed, “take it easy. Tell us what happened.”
Parker leaned into the sobbing man, “Angelo...Sydney. Tell us what happened to Sydney.”
Tears of agony were streaming down Angelo’s face, “It’s so cold... and pain, so much pain.”
Miss Parker swallowed hard. She had been right. Something dire had transpired, and Sydney was right in the middle of it.
She tried to keep her voice calm and even, “Angelo, we want to help Sydney. Can you tell us where he is?”
“Cold. So cold. Hard. Concrete. Wet water. Dripping. Darkness. Pain.”
Parker turned to Broots, “This isn’t helping...maybe if we put him in Syd’s chair.”
Broots and Parker lifted the empath up and carefully put him in the desk chair. Angelo slammed his fists on the desktop, causing both Parker and Broots to jump.
“No...Sydney will not give in. Must protect the daughter.”
Parker looked at Angelo in confusion, “Daughter? Sydney doesn’t have a daughter, Angelo.”
“The daughter...He must protect you.”
Parker sighed and turned to Broots, “This is one flew over the rubber room. He’s not making any sense.”
Angelo moved out of the chair, and knelt on the floor by the desk. He reached under it, and pulled out the DSA that Sydney had taped there the night before. He handed it to Miss Parker.
“Sydney protects the daughter.”
Parker snatched the DSA from Angelo’s hands and practically threw it at Broots, who quickly played it on Sydney’s computer.
The Centre June 14, 1967
“I’m not threatening you. I’m asking you to desist with your silly notions regarding our test subjects here at the Centre,” Raines smiled.
Catherine Parker’s voice held solid determination, “I don’t think so.”
Catherine turned on her heel and started out of the office, but Raines grabbed her arm, hard.
“Let go of me.”
Raines pulled her closer to his face, “Before you go, I want you to have the complete picture of what could happen. I need you on board with me for this.”
“Impossible.”
“That’s too bad. I will have to tell Mr. Parker the truth then.”
“What truth?”
“Why, Miss Parker, of course.”
Catherine stared at him, horrified.
“I thought that might get your attention, Catherine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Catherine moved away from him, but he closed the distance again, coming to stand right behind her shoulder.
“Mr. Parker isn’t her biological father.”
Catherine turned around, glaring into his eyes, “You stay away from my husband, and my daughter.”
Raines smiled broadly, holding up a file folder, “Ah, ah, ah, Catherine. I have proof. I not only know that Mr. Parker isn’t her father...I know who is.” Raines paused for effect, “Now, unless you want this file to wind up in both of their hands, I suggest you cooperate with me.”
The Centre, present
Miss Parker stood frozen in place. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Yet another secret to her past that Sydney had kept to himself; and how long had he known? Broots was unsure what to do, so he waited. After a few long minutes, Parker pulled her gun out, cocking it.
“I’m going to kill him, Broots.” Parker’s voice was shaking with emotion, “If he’s not dead already, when we find him, I’m going to splatter his Flemish brains all over the wall.”
“Miss Parker...we don’t know all the”
She pointed the gun into his face, “Just keep talking Broots, and I’ll take you out first.”
Broots closed his eyes in fear, but in his heart, he knew he had to keep going, “No, Miss Parker, I’m not going to keep quiet. I don’t care if you do kill me.” He opened one eye and realized he was still alive, so he kept talking, “Everything Sydney has done, has always proved out in one way or another, as having been either to protect you, or Jarod. And in some cases, he was protecting the memory of your mother.” He swallowed hard, and for a moment, watched the tears fall down her face. “Miss Parker, whatever the reasons Sydney had for keeping this from you, he must have thought he was shielding you somehow.”
Parker blinked the tears from her eyes, moved away from Broots and slammed her gun down on the desk.
Her voice shook with an emotion that emanated from deep within her, “I don’t need his protection. I don’t want his protection. I’m sick of the secrets, I am sick of the lies. I just want the truth...”
Miss Parker leaned on the desk, her head falling to her chest. She tried to hold back the sobs, but she couldn’t. Broots took a move toward her, but then stopped himself, knowing she wouldn’t accept any comfort from him anyway. It was Angelo who finally stood up and went to Parker, taking her hand in his. She looked into his face, and he smiled gently at her.
“Sydney guards you...loves you. Mr. Parker guards you... loves you. Two...not one.”
“Two, not one? Angelo...”
“Two...”
Miss Parker touched the pearl necklace she was wearing, “Oh my god...my mother...”
“Miss Parker?” Broots stood next to her, confusion in his eyes.
“When she wrote that my father gave these to her, I assumed she meant...”
“Mr. Parker...”
“Yes. And that’s why Sydney reacted yesterday when I said the pearls had been a gift from my father to my mother; Broots, he didn’t know. Or at least he wasn’t sure until that moment.”
“You’ve lost me, Miss Parker...”
“Broots, you stupid moron, Sydney gave the pearls to my mother.”
“But that would make Sydney...”
“...my biological father, yes.” Parker wiped the tears from her eyes, “It explains why Raines took him out of play. He must have known that Sydney was close to finding out the truth, and Nosferatu wanted to keep a lid on it.”
“But Miss Parker, that kind of order could only come from”
“My father...Mr. Parker, yes.”
Broots’ heart was pounding in his chest, “Miss Parker, what do we do? I mean, if they find out we know, we’re dead.”
“I guess we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves then, Broots.” Parker turned to Angelo, “We’re going to need your help, Angelo. I doubt Dr. Death killed Sydney outright; it would be more his style to try and make it look like some kind of accident. Which means that Syd has to be somewhere.”
Angelo looked at her, frowning, “Cold. Dark. Water. Sydney, frightened.”
Parker closed her eyes.
Broots gently touched her elbow, “Miss Parker, you okay?”
After a steadying breath, she refocused on Broots, “Yeah. Let’s go find him.”
He came to, lying on his back. He could taste the foul bile in his mouth, and knew that he was lucky he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in his unconsciousness. With all the effort he had left, he rolled onto his side. His reward was a coughing spasm the likes of which he thought would end him. He could taste the blood in his mouth. Whatever he had been injected with, it was going to kill him, and in a fairly short amount of time. He closed his eyes and thought of Miss Parker and Jarod: He would never be able to tell them how sorry he was. How sorry he was, for everything. The last thing he felt as darkness claimed him, was sadness; they would never know the depth of love he held for them in his heart.
Sioux City, Iowa
Jarod listened to the recording again. It wasn’t a mistake. Sydney’s cell phone had been disconnected; so had his home number, and his extension at the Centre was being rerouted to Raines’ office. Jarod could taste his own fear. He quickly entered another phone number and waited...
The Centre
Parker stood behind Broots’ shoulder, as he typed commands into his keyboard. Neither had slept, nor had they found a thing. Parker’s cell phone rang, making both of them jump.
She answered it, completely annoyed, “What?”
“Miss Parker.”
She didn’t even try to hold back the sound of relief in her voice, “Jarod, thank god.”
Jarod knew that he was right, “What’s happened to Sydney?”
Miss Parker choked back tears, “I don’t know. I was hoping maybe you”
“I haven’t heard from him. What can I do?”
“Nothing yet, Jarod. As soon as I know something, I’ll send you an email through Refuge.”
“Miss Parker...don’t let anything happen to him. Please.”
Mr. Parker was pacing the length of his office, when Miss Parker burst in on him, “You’re back. Why wasn’t I notified?”
He looked at her with surprised, “No ‘hello daddy’? No hug? No kiss?”
She frowned slightly but walked over to him and greeted him. He could feel her hesitation, and her stiffness around him.
“Angel? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked her over, “I know my daughter better than that. You can tell me. What is it?”
“I told you...daddy, nothing. Look, I’m worried about Sydney.”
“Sydney? Why?”
“He disappeared with no word. Raines says Syd went on vacation, but I don’t ever remember him taking one in all the years he’s worked here.”
“Angel...I’m sure if Mr. Raines says that Sydney is on vacation, then, that’s where he is.”
Miss Parker looked at him sharply; he was in on it. Whatever had happened to Sydney, he knew about it. She smiled at him sweetly.
“Well, if you say so, then I’ll accept it.”
He kissed her forehead, “That’s my girl.” He walked over to his desk, “I hear we have another lead on Jarod.”
“We do?”
“Yes, it just came in. There is reason to believe that he’s in Fargo.”
Miss Parker was barely able to cover her agitation; he was trying to get her out of the way. There could only be one reason for it; Sydney was still at the Centre. Somewhere.
Once again she smiled sweetly, “Fine. Broots and I can leave tomorrow.”
“No. You’ll leave today. In half an hour as a matter of fact.”
“Very well.”
Miss Parker smiled at him and sauntered out of his office; once clear she bolted for the stairs.
Parker entered Broots’ area at a dead run, “Come on Broots, we’ve got trouble.”
“What do you mean, trouble?”
“I mean they’re trying to get us out of here.”
“What?”
“Sydney must be here at the Centre, you dolt, and they need to move him.”
Angelo appeared behind them, startling both of them.
“What is it, monkey-boy?”
“SL-27.”
Parker’s irritation crept into her voice, “What about it?”
“Cold. Dark. Water.”
“Cold, dark...Sydney? Is Sydney on SL-27, Angelo?”
Angelo smiled at Parker. As she ran past him, she touched his face with her hand, “Thank you.”
“Come on Broots, grab some flashlights...”
SL-27 always creeped Broots out. He and Parker quickly made their way through the opening rooms of the level, and were shining their lights into every corner.
Broots called for him, “Sydney?...Syd?”
“Come on Freud...where the hell are you...”
Parker could hear the dripping of a leaky pipe. It was making her nuts. She shined her light into yet another corner of the floor; nothing. She sighed. Maybe monkey-boy had it all wrong.
Broots yelled in panic, “Miss Parker!”
Parker ran toward his voice as quickly as she could navigate the darkness. As she shined her light into the corner where Broots was standing, her heart dropped and she felt sick. There was a heap on the floor, in tattered clothes, surrounded by blood, vomit, and lying in muddy water. She didn’t have to look closely to know who it was. Please god, let him be alive.
She closed the remaining yards at a dead run, and slid on her knees in the last five feet. Broots was already kneeling next to Sydney, checking for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Parker lifted his upper body into her lap. He felt like ice, and he was completely wet.
“Broots, go for help.”
“Who...do I go to? Who can we trust?”
“Sam. Get Sam and his crew down here, tell them I’ve been in an accident, and keep it quiet.”
“Okay.”
None to sure of it, Broots took off as quickly as he could. Sydney moaned, and Parker pulled him further into her arms, cradling him.
“Easy Syd. I’m here, I’ve got you.”
She felt his forehead, and it was on fire. He groaned in pain, but his eyes fluttered open, and fought to focus on her.
His voice sounded like gravel, “Miss Parker...”
“Shhh, don’t try to talk. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should have come to me, Sydney.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the DSA...and I know that you gave the pearls to my mother.”
“Oh god...”
“What I don’t understand is why my fatherI mean, why”
Sydney grabbed her hand, his voice barely a whisper, “You must always think of him as your father. He raised you. He does love you. And I’m not sure that he knows the entire truth.”
“How...I don’t understand.”
“Your mother broke it off with Mr. Parker, and a few weeks later, your mother and I, we...”
“Yeah, I think I have that part, Sydney.”
“Right after her twenty-fifth birthday, she came to me and told me that she had to marry Mr. Parker. I always assumed it was because she discovered that she was pregnant with his child. We never spoke of it again.”
“And?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth so dry he could barely speak, “The truth was that Mr. Parker went to Catherine and told her that if she did not end it with me and marry him, that he would kill me. Knowing that he could protect you from the Centre, she never told him that the child she was carrying wasn’t his, nor did she tell me that I had a beautiful daughter. I didn’t know I was your father until”
“Until I told you what she wrote about the pearls.”
“Yes.”
Sydney’s eyes filled with tears, “I’m so sorry, my little one.”
Parker lightly kissed his forehead, “I know you...love me, Syd. I’ve always known.”
Exhausted, his eyes closed and he leaned into the comfort of her arms.
St. Joseph Hospital, Delaware
His eyes fluttered open, and he was staring into the worried faces of Miss Parker and Broots. He swallowed and his throat hurt; he must have been hooked up to a respirator. He tried to make sound, but couldn’t.
“Shhh, Syd, don’t try to talk. Just relax.”
He tried again, “Water.”
Parker reached for the glass by the hospital bed, and gently lifting his head, poured some water into his mouth.
“Better?”
He nodded.
Broots smiled at him, “I’m glad you’re gonna be okay, Sydney. You sure gave us one hell of a scare.”
Sydney looked into Miss Parker’s eyes, and grabbed her hand. Parker looked slightly confused by the demonstrative gesture.
“I’m so sorry...”
Parker smiled at him but removed her hand from under his, “Relax, Freud, you didn’t do it on purpose. And you didn’t scare me. I knew you’d be fine.”
A slight frown creased Sydney’s face, “You’re not angry with me?”
“Sydney, why the hell would I be pissed at you?”
“The DSA, the file, I kept it from you...”
Miss Parker leaned closer to him, concern now etching her features, “What the hell are you talking about Syd? You didn’t have any DSA on you at the time of the accident, nor any files.” She put a hand on his forehead, “You’re fever’s way down, but, better safe than sorry.” She turned to Broots, “Go get the doctor, let’s make sure he’s okay.” Broots nodded and left the room, Parker looked back at Sydney, “Relax.”
Sydney’s voice sounded apprehensive, “I’m...confused. Didn’t you find me on SL-27?”
Parker ran a soothing hand over his brow a few times, “SL-27? No, Syd, don’t you remember? There was an accident in the Sim Lab, a virus got loose, and you’ve been in the hospital for over a week.”
“I...don’t remember that.”
“What do you remember?”
Sydney felt tears beginning to sting his eyes; none of it was real. It had all been the fabrication of a fevered mind; the DSA, the pearls, Miss Parker... The last was the one which hurt the most. He couldn’t keep the tears from falling, so he closed his eyes and felt them roll down his cheeks. He didn’t see the sorrow that flickered in Parker’s eyes as she watched him tormenting himself with something that she did not understand.
He felt her hand caress his face, and he looked at her once again.
She sat down on the bed, “Syd, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
He took her hand in his, and brought it to his chest, “In here.”
Parker frowned, “Your chest hurts?”
Sydney shook his head, “No, my heart.”
“Syd, you’re not making any sense to me right now.”
He gripped her hand harder, and despite her normal aversion to strong displays of affection, she returned the pressure of it.
His voice was almost a whisper, “Just stay here with me.”
Miss Parker did not understand, but it was a simple enough request from the man who had been there for her, for as long as she could remember. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.
“I’m right here, Syd. You just rest.”
He closed his eyes again, and let the moisture fall. He tightened his hand around hers. She softly stroked his face, trying to brush away his sadness. He knew she would never understand what he was going through, nor would he ever explain it. In his mind, he had lost his daughter, and his heart was breaking.
Miss Parker continued to hold his hand in hers long after he fell into a troubled sleep. She didn’t know what torturous tricks his fevered mind had played on him; but she knew that it had distressed him greatly. She wanted him to find some measure of peace. She reached up with her free hand, and absently fingered the strand of pearls around her neck.
Fin
