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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 12
Jarod
The room burst into an explosion of noise and demands for explanations that woke Carrie, who protested noisily. However, only Shannon paid attention to her, the others gathering around Nat at the dining table. He showed them the files, including the details of projects that had somehow jumped from Mutumbo’s old file to Adama’s new one.
“But won’t someone at the Centre notice?” Josh asked.
Charles shook his head. “If they start asking questions about people disappearing at the African Centre, the Africans might start asking about people vanishing from the American Centre, and I don’t think Raines or Mr. Parker would be too keen to answer those.”
“Can you imagine?” Nat chuckled and then assumed a deep, enquiring tone. “Mr. Parker, what happened to your wi…?”
Jarod saw his eyes fall on Shannon, who was soothing her baby, and Ethan, who had moved to sit beside her, and understood the uncomfortable red flush that crept up Nat’s cheeks.
“Well,” Charles said, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, “that’s all very wonderful, but what are we going to do about it?”
“We don’t know for sure whether Langedijk still believes in the scrolls or not,” Jarod pointed out.
“Why don’t we just ask him?” Emily suddenly suggested, and the rest turned to stare at her.
“What?”
Charles’ tone contained the same incredulity that the rest were feeling.
“It was something I heard Shannon say,” the young woman explained, “about dragging him over her and interrogating him.”
“But Emily – ” her mother protested.
“No, wait,” Emily interrupted. “Listen. It’s obviously easy to move the seat of power around, so it probably wouldn’t be too surprising if Langedijk vanished and someone else took over the throne. It obviously isn’t a job with long-term prospects. So let’s invite Langedijk over.”
Jarod suddenly realized what she meant. “We pretend to be Raines,” he said thoughtfully, “and arrange a meeting place. We say we’ve got the scrolls. Then we sit back and wait for his response.”
“Exactly.” Emily grinned at him, obviously pleased that someone understood. “If he comes, we’ll know he either believes in them, or he doesn’t, and maybe wants to destroy them, like Mr. Parker did. We can present Jarod to him and see how he reacts. That should tell us.”
“And if he believes in them,” Charles finished “then he and his people, as well as ours, should be enough to overthrow Parker and his posse. And if not,” he added grimly, “he quietly vanishes.”
“Oh, let’s write the letter then, right now, this minute,” Josh begged, dancing around the room. His childish eagerness made everyone laugh, but they were all feeling the same way, so Nat started up his word processor and they began to piece together the delicate correspondence.
A problem arose when they were trying to decide on a location in which the meeting would take place.
“Somewhere we can get away quickly, if need be,” Cici argued. “And somewhere far enough from the Centre that Langedijk can’t get help.”
“But we need to keep an eye on what’s happening there,” Nat objected. “And we know that, the farther away we are, the harder that is.”
“But if we’re too close, Langedijk might remember where we are and lead people to find us,” Jarod put in, successfully suppressing a shudder at the idea.
“I’m afraid Nat’s right,” Charles said. “And there’s a more important reason why it has to be close to the Centre. Langedijk’s more likely to believe that it’s Raines writing if it’s somewhere as close to the Centre as possible – Blue Cove, maybe, or just outside it.”
The group stared at him, and Jarod saw that most of them looked as horrified as he felt. Only Nat and Margaret nodded, agreeing with Charles’ logic.
“I think the best place,” Charles said quietly,” would be the warehouse just outside of Blue Cove, where we keep the vans and cars for raids.”
A long moment of silence followed this, before, one by one, the group nodded in agreement, and the location was included in the letter.
“This gives us three days to prepare,” Nat said thoughtfully, once the letter was printed out and a forgery of Raines’ signature was added to it.
“We’re going to need to intercept any mail going to Raines,” Cici remarked.
“Steve can do that for us,” Charles confirmed.
“And I’ll put a filter on Raines’ computer, so that I can check anything he gets electronically,” Nat offered.
Jarod looked thoughtfully at the laptop. “How are we going to know how Langedijk reacts? He might just drop everything and rush over.”
“What are you thinking of, Jarod?” Shannon asked quietly, and he saw that she and Ethan had come over to join them, Carrie sleeping in her mother’s arms.
“Well, if we can get into the African document stores using the back door through the Centre’s system,” he suggested, “then surely we can do more than that, like maybe access their security system and keep an eye on Langedijk himself. Then we’d know what he was doing all the time.”
This idea was, after a moment of stunned silence, greeted with the enthusiasm it deserved, and Charles sent Nat out to buy a second laptop with all the necessary equipment that would allow the Centre in Africa to be monitored, in addition to keeping an eye on Raines’ mail.
As soon as the younger man left, Jarod sat in front of the laptop that Nat had set up, seeing that an alarm had been attached to a program that would intercept any messages intended for Raines, meaning that nobody had to sit in front of the machine all the time.
Charles took out his cell phone to arrange for a message to Steve that would tell the man working in the Centre’s mailroom what was required. Unlike the sweepers and other temporary staff that Charles had introduced to the Centre, Steve was a long-term employee.
Jarod knew the story of how the two men had met. Steve had found Charles within the Centre’s grounds, trying to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound Raines had inflicted. Steve had taken Charles back to his house, treated the injury and let him spend the remainder of the night. Then, the next day, he had asked Charles for his story. Naturally, Jarod's father had been reluctant to tell the truth, but Steve reminded him that, instead of handing him over to the teams of sweepers that were doubtless out looking for him, Steve had helped him. Encouraged, Charles told what had happened inside the Centre.
Steve had slowly been growing disillusioned with the Centre, and Charles had found a kindred spirit who shared his enthusiasm for action. Steve agreed to do as much as he could on the inside, passing on copies of any letters that he felt might be relevant to Charles’ search for his sons. Now, of course, most messages were sent electronically, but enough mail continued to pass through the mailroom for Steve to be kept on.
The laptop in front of Jarod beeped, and he opened the message it had intercepted, reading it through and, when it turned out to be irrelevant to their search, letting it pass on. But he saw, as the message disappeared from the inbox of Nat’s program, that a copy appeared in a folder entitled ‘Read’ and Jarod guessed that Nat planned to keep everything, in case it turned out to be helpful later.
“Here, Jarod,” Shannon’s voice said over his shoulder, and she placed a glass of Dr. Pepper on the table, sitting down beside him. “How’s it going?”
“It’s barely started,” he said seriously, referring to the entire situation.
“Relax,” she ordered. “There’s no point getting anxious yet. It’s going to be at least a day before Langedijk even gets the letter. You’ll be a nervous wreck by the time it finally arrives if you keep worrying about it like that.”
He smiled weakly and picked up the glass, sipping the contents and feeling the cold, aerated drink flow down his throat.
“How do you relax?” he asked curiously.
“Usually, I tease Nat,” she smiled. “That’s always satisfying, because he reacts so well.”
Jarod chuckled. “And I’m sure he loves it, too.”
She stared at him in mock-amazement. “You mean he might not like it? Wow. I’d never thought of that.”
He was surprised to feel the tension draining away as they continued to banter, Emily and Joshua coming over to join in. Nat was back with the second laptop almost before Jarod realized, and the two machines were set up on a spare table in the corner of the living room opposite Carrie’s little bedroom.
Once all the equipment was organized and the two machines were humming away, making only occasional beeps, which Josh jokingly said sounded like hiccoughs, the group was able to leave them alone and relax. Shannon brought out a variety of games and, as the weather had begun to deteriorate, with light rain falling outside, they settled down for a pleasant afternoon.
Langedijk
The letter was on his desk when he arrived on Wednesday morning, lying on top of a small pile of other mail. Settling down in the comfortable chair he had taken over after Mutumbo’s untimely demise – and his lips curled into a faint smiled at the thought – he picked up a fancy carved letter-opener and slit the envelope, drawing out the single typed sheet and unfolding it.
His eyes flew over the text, but then he stopped and read it again, more carefully, his lips thinning as he leaned back in the chair. As far as he knew, the scrolls were on Carthis, and as they been for years. But this letter suggested that they were no longer in that safe place and had been found by someone who knew their potential value.
Interestingly, the letter contained no demands or suggestions of a reward. Langedijk considered this for a moment, before deciding that such things would probably be discussed at the meeting proposed in the communication.
Langedijk knew about the prophecy, of course. He always had, as did anyone who worked at the African branch of the Centre. People spoke about it in hushed tones: how, when they found the Jarod named in the scrolls, the Centre would finally reach its full potential.
It had long been obvious to Langedijk and the others that Messrs Raines and Parker resented their branch of the Centre being under the Triumvirate’s control. For fear of a coup, visits to the United States were rare, with teams from America usually coming to them instead. But now, as Langedijk considered what he knew of the situation, he wondered whether Parker had stolen the scrolls from Carthis and was keeping them somewhere at the Centre, to use as a method of gaining control over the Triumvirate.
Langedijk only knew that the scrolls were kept on Carthis because his father, who had been one of Old Mutumbo’s confidants, had told him. After Young Mutumbo overthrew his father, Langedijk’s father had managed to escape the assassins while he wrote a letter to his son, detailing what he knew of the history of the Centre and the scrolls. When Langedijk reached the age of eighteen, he had been given the letter by his father’s lawyer and had vowed to revenge him by working his way up the Centre’s chain of command.
The coup he and Adama had recently orchestrated against Young Mutumbo had finally quenched the fire of revenge that had burned in him for so many years, and Langedijk felt that finding Jarod and fulfilling the prophesy would completely satisfy him. Standing and starting to pace the office, Langedijk wondered whether this letter would be a start.
But one problem loomed large. How would he get Adama out of the way? It was unfortunate that, as part of the agreed coup, Langedijk had allowed Adama to assume nominal control over the Triumvirate. However, this was a small detail, and even as he resumed his seat, Langedijk had managed to come up with a solution. A small smile curled his lips as he drew the keyboard of his computer towards him and began to type up a letter.
Jarod
Emily had heard the computer beep, announcing that Langedijk had arrived in his office for the day, and came in to wake her brother, who had managed to fall asleep in the room he still shared with Josh and Ethan. He came out, wrapping a bathrobe around him to stave off the cold, and sat in front of the machine. Charles and Margaret appeared a moment later, watching their son as he opened the relevant screen.
“Well, Jarod?” Charles demanded after a moment. “What’s going on?”
“Langedijk’s reading the letter,” Jarod said, and then turned the screen around so that his family, Ethan, Josh and Shannon having also appeared, could watch it.
“Call Nat,” Charles directed, and Emily rushed for the phone.
It was fortunate that one of Shannon’s neighbors had gone away on vacation the previous day. Shannon had volunteered to housesit while they were away, without, of course, mentioning her real motivation for offering. The neighbors had unwittingly accepted and Nat, Cici and Sofia had moved in the previous afternoon.
The trio arrived within minutes, just in time to see Langedijk sit down and pull his keyboard closer to him. Nat entered a code, and those watching were then able to see the information that was appearing on the screen.
“What’s he doing?” Emily exclaimed. “It looks like he’s just retyping our letter.”
“Wait.” Nat held up a hand. “Not quite. He’s suggesting,” the young technician paused while the cursor on the screen blinked, before letters appeared again, “that the scrolls were threatened and should be removed from the Centre to a place of safety.” He looked up, confusion written all over his face. “Why would he say that?”
Jarod suddenly laughed, running his eyes over the rest of the letter Langedijk was typing. “I think I know,” he offered. “I suspect that Langedijk is well aware the scrolls have been on Carthis for all this time. His house in Edinburgh meant he probably went over to check on them regularly. But I’ll bet Adama and the others don’t know that. Langedijk’s sending them off to the Centre on a wild goose chase, which will also have the benefit of getting Raines into trouble, and then he can come to our meeting without fear of being questioned over it.”
“So he’ll present his version of the letter to his associates, as if it came from us,” Charles mused, “and keep our letter secret.”
“Well, at least it shows that he must believe in the prophecy,” Shannon remarked, cradling Carrie close to her chest. “If he didn’t, why would he go to all that trouble?”
“Hopefully,” Margaret murmured.
“We won’t know until we get there,” Charles said, before turning to Nat. “How long until they can get here?”
Nat hunched over the computer and hacked into the Centre’s travelogue, finding entries for flights between the two Centre bases.
“Twelve hours, at best estimate, including telling the other Triumvirate members about it all and persuading them to make the trip,” Nat suggested after a moment.
“Good. That gives us time to arrange everything,” the Boss replied. “I’ll call our teams and have them on standby, ready to move up to Blue Cove if everything goes well. And we’re going to need to go up there, too.” He looked around at everyone. “Can you all be ready in two hours?”
Most people nodded. They had so few possessions of their own that it would be an easy matter to pack. Only Shannon looked anxious, glancing down at her baby and then back at her father. As the group dispersed, Nat and Jarod to keep an eye on proceedings and the others to pack, Jarod saw his father draw Shannon over to the sofa and sit beside her.
“I know you want to come, Prodge,” he said gently. “And I’d like you to be there, too. But I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. What if something happened to Carrie?”
“I do want to come,” she pleaded. “I want to be with you and know you’re okay.”
Charles lightly kissed her forehead. “Shannon, honey,” he murmured, stroking Carrie’s soft cheek with his finger, “this is where your responsibility lies now, not with us. You have to keep her safe, and I want you to stay safe, so that your daughter has the chance to grow up with a mother. You have to keep her safe, for Peter’s sake, as much as your own.”
Jarod saw tears dim Shannon’s eyes, but she sniffed them back, looking directly into Charles’ eyes.
“Promise me,” she said in shaky tones, “that you’ll call me as soon as it’s safe for us to come up there.”
“And I want you to promise me,” he said gently, “that if you don’t hear from us in 24 hours, you’ll go to an address I’m going to give you and stay there.”
Shannon nodded, not asking for how long. She knew, as did Jarod, that, should this fail, none of them would return to find her and she would have to bring up her daughter on her own.
The building just outside Blue Cove was large. The lower level had obviously been a factory at one time, but now held three vans, including the one in which Jarod had traveled during Sofia’s rescue. The upper level contained a number of rooms, including a kitchen, bathroom and toilet. The largest room was partly filled by a long table and another room contained several desks, on which Nat and Jarod set up the computers to continue monitoring both Centre stations.
It would be evening before Langedijk arrived, which gave them time to do everything necessary to hopefully make the confrontation go smoothly. Nat installed security cameras outside the building at eight vantage points to ensure that nobody could sneak up unawares. Charles, Jarod and Josh welded all but the main door closed, so that it would be impossible for Langedijk or anyone else to sneak in. Emily, Margaret, Cici and Sofia taped black paper on the inside of the many upstairs windows, so that no light would be visible outside.
The long hours of afternoon passed slowly and the sun began to set. Nat, Jarod and Josh prepared the evening meal, but nobody did more than pick at it and the plates were returned to the kitchen almost as full as they had come out. Around seven, as the sunlight began to fade, a group of men appeared. Jarod recognized some of them from Sofia’s rescue, and guessed that the others were men who had gone into the Centre as sweepers at one time or another.
The hands of the clock barely seemed to move, and any attempts at conversation died away into silence. Then Nat burst into the room.
“Their jet just landed. They’ll be at the Centre in about ten minutes.”
The group hurried into the room in which the computers had been set up. Nat had attached the laptop screens to larger screens, so that everyone could see without having to crowd around the table. They sat on the chairs or the floor and watched the camera that looked out onto the runway near the Centre, seeing as a dozen men came down the stairs to cars that waited on the tarmac.
“So does Raines know they’re coming?” Charles asked.
“No. The Triumvirate keep people here in America to drive them around so that they don’t have to rely on people who might be working for Raines,” Nat replied. “They called them before the jet took off and told them to be ready.”
Naturally, there were no cameras in the cars, so they couldn’t follow them to the Centre, but one of the external cameras recorded their arrival. Then Nat chuckled.
“The bigwigs just realized who turned up,” he reported. “I think you call it ‘panic’.”
Tense laughter greeted this remark, but it lasted only a short time, and no one except Nat was looking at anything apart from the screen. Raines, accompanied by other people Jarod had never seen before, was in the lobby when the group marched in. For an instant, Jarod wondered where Miss Parker and Sydney were, but his attention was quickly captured once more by the scene before him.
At an order that, as Nat had not hooked up speakers, no one could hear, the Americans in the lobby dispersed. The Triumvirate exchanged glances and a brief conversation, and then Adama and the others headed further into the Centre while Langedijk left the building in company with the driver.
“He’s coming,” Charles breathed. Then he looked around at the large group. “Places, people. He’ll be here in no time.”
On the lower level, the vans had been moved outside. A table stood in the very middle of the room and a single ray of light shone onto it from a lamp suspended from a beam on the ceiling. On this table, Jarod placed the scrolls, unrolling one to reveal the prophecy and using the second one to prevent it from rolling closed. Then he retreated to the staircase, to wait there while the other men took their places around the walls. Josh, Margaret, Cici and Sofia waited with Jarod on the stairs. Everyone wore earpieces and microphones.
The main door stood open, but the sky was cloudy and the area around the factory was not well lit. The only light was from that single beam, which shone down onto the scrolls. Everyone waited, and Jarod was sure they could all hear his heart through the microphones as its beat thundered in his ears. Then a strong beam of light shone in briefly through the doorway, and a motor was audible, purring in the darkness for a moment, before it stopped.
Two doors slammed and footsteps approached the building. Jarod held his breath as he saw a tall silhouette outlined in the doorway by the car’s headlights, which had obviously been left on.
A gasp broke the oppressive stillness, and the shadow crossed the floor in a few quick steps. The man bent over the scrolls, and then the door slammed shut.
Langedijk turned quickly and, as other lights around the room were turned on, he looked around at the occupants who came forward from their hiding places. Then the fear vanished and he stood straighter, waiting for someone to step forward and identify themselves as the leader. After a brief pause, Charles did so.
“Mr. Langedijk,” he stated calmly. “So good of you to accept our invitation.”
“Oh, it was one I could not refuse,” the African said. He placed a hand lightly on the table. “Well done on managing to get away alive with the scrolls. Apparently, the monks are not happy when people disturb the tombs.”
“So we saw,” Charles replied. “I believe Mr. Parker and his sweepers would have had to do some pretty fast talking to get away. The monks, you understand, thought they took the scrolls, not us.”
Langedijk grinned, his teeth white in his dark face. “A clever ploy.”
“And quite by chance, I assure you.”
The Zulu arched an eyebrow. “And who might you be, sir? I do not believe we have ever met.”
“You’re right,” Charles said flatly. “We haven’t. However,” he clasped his hands behind his back, “when we worked out how valuable these would be to you, we couldn’t refuse the opportunity to see how you would react to them.” He smiled slightly. “Tell me, Mr. Langedijk, are you the only person who knew that they were on Carthis instead of inside the Centre?”
“You have done your homework,” Langedijk said admiringly. “But might I enquire exactly what you hope to gain by drawing the fact of their location to our attention?”
“More than you can possibly imagine,” Charles smiled. Then he looked at the stairs, which were behind Langedijk. “Jarod? Do you want to come and introduce yourself, son?”
Langedijk gasped, spinning on his heel, as Jarod came down the last few stairs and into the light that covered certain parts of the room. The aim of that, Charles had explained, was a hope that, by keeping some areas in shadow, it might give Josh, Cici, Margaret and Sofia a chance to get away if things got nasty. However, it was obvious from the expression on Langedijk’s face that he was too overawed to think of using the gun that hung at his waist.
“Jarod,” he breathed, his eyes wide.
Over Langedijk’s shoulder, Jarod said his father grin and his eyes light up. It seemed like the plan was going to go as well as they had hoped.
Charles
It took half an hour before Langedijk was able to speak coherently to Jarod. Charles thought this was how the disciples might have felt when Jesus returned to them after his death. But finally he and the driver, who had been as overawed as his boss, examined the scrolls and declared them to be genuine. After some time, the Zulus were escorted to the upstairs room where they could more comfortably discuss the situation and make plans. Jarod allowed Langedijk to carry the scrolls, and, much to Charles’ amusement, the man seemed almost overwhelmed by the favor.
“Who else believes in these?” Charles asked, lightly touching the scrolls, once they were all up in the large living area.
“Everybody,” Langedijk responded readily. “Although I do not think Mutumbo did,” he added, after a moment of thought.
“He didn’t,” Nat agreed. “We know that.”
Langedijk only nodded, not seeming surprised by this. When prompted, he explained that it was expected Jarod would know everything and would pass the necessary information on to those who were helping him. Charles saw his son’s eyes widen with horror at this idea, and tried not to choke on the laughter that was filling him. That would only add more pressure to the situation in future, but Jarod's expression was so dismayed that his father found it very amusing.
“Our problem,” Charles told the African when he had regained his composure, “is that we doubt whether many at the Centre believe in the scrolls, or even know about them.”
“We will tell them,” Langedijk replied, adding, with a careless shrug, “If they do not believe, they have no place at the Centre.” He looked curiously at the older man. “You have a long association with the Centre?”
“Too long,” Charles said shortly, but it was obvious that Langedijk was waiting for details, so he told something of the loss of his children and the events that had followed.
“I never trusted Raines,” Langedijk hissed furiously, and his black eyes seemed to shoot sparks. “It is no wonder that we never saw Jarod, or Joshua,” he had been introduced to Jarod's clone and treated him with the same reverence he displayed to Jarod himself, “as we were shown the skills of other projects.”
“No doubt,” Charles agreed.
Langedijk cast a curious glance at him. “You have suffered much from this?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Charles demanded.
“They will make it up to you,” Langedijk vowed. “That is not the way the Centre was supposed to be run, and it is not the way our branch of it works.”
“What’s the difference?” Josh asked curiously.
“Our people are free to come and go as they please,” Langedijk replied. “They are paid for their work, and may refuse anything that they feel uncomfortable about doing.”
All those who had been subjects looked dazed by the rosy picture Langedijk was drawing, and for Charles, knowing so much of the Centre, it was almost impossible for him to imagine.
“You see,” Langedijk continued, seemingly oblivious to the reactions of those around him, “the original idea of the Centre was that it could be a place that would be beneficial. Those working inside it could solve problems that were unable to be solved by governments or individuals within society. That is what it says on the scrolls.”
“And the part about ‘the detriment of few’?” Cici asked, almost sarcastically.
Langedijk looked thoughtful. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Perhaps the scrolls always knew what the Centre here in America would do, and that, when Jarod was found, we would punish those who had kept him prisoner.”
“That’s the part I’m looking forward to,” Nat murmured under his breath, so that only Charles could hear, before speaking more loudly. “Mr. Langedijk, what do you propose we do to take the Centre from those who have control of it at the moment?”
“There will be little to take,” Langedijk smiled. “We must, of course, remove Raines and those who support him, and we must see if Mr. Parker has returned from Carthis, but otherwise it will be a mere matter of us giving way to the rightful One.”
Jarod nodded. “My concern,” he said quietly, “is that there may be more people at the Centre who are willing to support Raines than we have people to control them.”
Langedijk bowed his head slightly as he responded, and Charles fought to smother a grin.
“I believe your father said that he has perhaps one hundred people who were ready to help in the takeover. To my knowledge, the team of our people over here numbers perhaps another hundred or so, and it will also be possible to bring people over from Africa, if we have time.”
“I doubt whether we do,” Charles put in seriously. “Raines and the others will know that your co-Triumvirate members have come looking for the scrolls, and they might guess that we have something to do with why you’re suddenly looking again. If anything is going to happen, it needs to happen soon.”
“Of course.” Langedijk grinned. “I will call our teams and have my associates leave the Centre for a planning session here.”
He extracted a cell phone out of his pocket, and, as he began to dial a number, Charles felt a hand lightly pinching his arm. Turning, he found Margaret beside him.
“Can we trust this man?” she murmured.
Charles glanced at Jarod, who was listening to Langedijk speaking rapidly on the phone, in his native dialect. Jarod met his father’s gaze and nodded.
“All clear,” he whispered, so softly that the sound barely carried to his father’s ears.
“It all checks out here, too,” Nat added quietly from his seat in front of the laptop, where he had been accessing data from the African Centre using codes provided by Langedijk’s driver.
“I guess so,” Charles said to his wife, before sighing. “All right, let’s call in the teams.”
Jarod
The warehouse was quickly filling with people. The other two members of the Triumvirate had arrived and showed Jarod the same respectful awe that filled Langedijk. But now it failed to amuse him in the same way. They would have to leave for the Centre soon, and he could feel his fear mounting.
Cici crossed the room to sit beside him, taking his hand in both of hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Remember to breathe,” she said softly. “And try to relax.”
“And, if you have a spare second, learn to fly,” he retorted. “Might as well try three impossibilities at once.”
She smiled. “Jarod, there’s an army going with us, an army on your side. I have some idea about how you feel about where we’re going, but I don’t think anyone will even think about touching you with this lot around.”
As she nodded at the Africans, he noticed, for the first time, that they were dressed in protective body armor and armed with high-powered guns.
“Do I get some of that?”
She giggled. “Yes, you do, but they’re too scared to offer it to you. To them, it’s like offering God a shield to protect himself.”
He eyed her in a mood approaching desperation. “How do I do this, Cici?” he begged. “They’re all expecting me to be this great omnipresent leader, but how am I supposed to know everything about a place that I’ve been locked up in for more than thirty years?”
“Well, you can read, can’t you?” she asked reasonably. “And no one’s saying you have to do it all on your own. We’ll all still be here. A good leader,” she said knowingly, “doesn’t do everything for himself. He delegates. That’s what you can do.”
Jarod sighed shakily, seeing that the groups were ready to go, and that Langedijk was fiddling with an armored body suit, which he was obviously hesitant about offering, while Adama waited nearby with a gun.
“I hope you’re right, Cici,” he murmured. “I really hope so.”
Miss Parker
There was a commotion going on somewhere in the Centre. As she got out of the elevator on the level where the more important people had their offices, she was barely given time to get out of the car before a group squeezed themselves inside. She caught several names, and then a word that caused a tremor to pass through her as she urgently pressed the button and, after a second, got sick of waiting and ran for the stairs.
Jarod.
She came out into the lobby to find it filling with strangers, mostly wearing body armor and carrying high-caliber weapons. She caught a glimpse of two sweepers holding the doors open for the intruders, but was quickly distracted from them by the sight of Raines, who burst out of the elevator, stopping short in front of three African men who were clearly leading the invasion.
“The Triumvirate,” a voice said softly behind her, and she turned to see Sydney at her shoulder.
“How do you know?”
“Two of them questioned me about Jarod’s escape.”
She nodded, turning her gaze back to the imposing group in the lobby. None of the Centre’s own sweepers, she noticed, were even bothering to fight.
“Mr. Raines,” the Triumvirate leader said coldly, “where is Mr. Parker?”
“I… I’m afraid I don’t know,” Raines admitted reluctantly, and the nervous tremor in his voice made Miss Parker cast an admiring look at the dark-skinned man. She had never heard so much hesitation and respect in Raines’ voice before. “He disappeared almost a week ago, Mr. Adama. I don’t know where he went.”
“He went to Carthis,” Adama stated flatly. “Can you think of any reason why he might have gone there?”
From her position, Miss Parker could see something like uncertainty flicker across Raines’ face, but he suppressed it and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You’re lying, Raines,” another of the men spat, and Miss Parker was startled by the look of rage in his black eyes. “You will have one more chance to answer our questions honestly. Who is Jarod?”
Miss Parker started at the name, exchanging astonished looks with Sydney, before she looked at Raines again and saw that his blue eyes were burning with hatred.
“I don’t know,” he replied slowly.
“Liar,” the third man hissed from between clenched teeth, and nodded at a group of his guards, who moved forward and grabbed the bald man’s shoulders and arms.
“You lie like a dog, Raines,” Langedijk continued. “You have kept Jarod here for more than thirty years, and yet you knew all along how important he was to the fate of the Centre. You were afraid of losing your power if we ever found him. Well,” he sneered, “he has been found, despite all your efforts. And now you will show him the respect he deserves.”
The three men parted, and Miss Parker gasped at the sight of Jarod behind them, dressed all in black, wearing a black leather coat that ran almost to his knees and seemed to increase his already considerable height. She heard a soft sound from beside her, and out of the corner of her eye, saw that Sydney was staring at the Pretender, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
When she turned back, she saw the guards forcing Raines to his knees. The bald man was trying to resist, but their superior strength meant that he was soon prostrate in front of the former subject, who remained expressionless, apart from a strange light that burned in his dark eyes.
“Well, dog,” Langedijk growled. “It’s not like you to be lost for words.”
Raines’ lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, after a long silence, Langedijk’s patience was clearly at an end.
“Take him away,” he snapped. “There will be cells in this place, considering the way they treat their projects. Lock him up in one.”
Raines was dragged to his feet and towards the elevator. One of the sweepers hurried ahead of them, Miss Parker guessed, to direct them to the cells.
Adama looked around at the group in the lobby. “Return to your work,” he ordered. “You will be told, if and when things change.”
To Miss Parker’s surprise, people began to move away, heading for the elevators and the stairs. In a matter of minutes, only she and Sydney were left, and they were ignored completely by the group. Jarod and the others were escorted along to the elevators and, when one arrived, got in. As the group turned to face the doors, just before they closed, Miss Parker met Jarod's gaze, but his eyes slid away from her to the man beside her. Before Sydney could react, however, the doors closed and they were gone.
Shannon
Shannon had paced around the house for almost the whole day. She was on the verge of tears and only holding them back by a miracle. When Carrie cried, Shannon changed or fed her, but her mind was on her family and friends, so close to the Centre and in so much danger. There were times when she couldn’t bear not to know what was going on, and once she came close to getting into the car and driving to Blue Cove herself, to find out, but each time, as if in response to her feelings, Carrie began to cry, and Shannon would have to turn her thoughts from herself to her daughter.
It was only when she stumbled over the coffee table that she realized the sun had gone down and darkness had fallen. The Triumvirate should have arrived in America by now. They should soon be at the Centre. Were things going right? She had no way of knowing.
Carrie cried again, and Shannon picked her up, cuddling her against her chest and soothing her with softly murmured words as she wiped the tears off her plump, rosy cheeks. Picking up the pacifier from the mattress where it had fallen, she eased it into Carrie’s mouth, and the baby girl sucked enthusiastically on it, her big blue eyes open, staring at her mother. Shannon lightly kissed the smooth forehead, stroking the dark tuft of hair, and, suddenly unable to help herself, wondered what Peter would their of their daughter.
Tears filled her eyes, but before they could fall, headlights turned into the driveway and lit up the living room with their powerful beam.
Shannon clutched Carrie to her so firmly that the baby squawked in protest. A bag stood by the door, containing a change of clothes for Shannon and all the bits and pieces Carrie might need. In one bound, Shannon was beside it and had picked it up, ready to flee out the back door if this turned out to be a threat from the Centre.
“Prodge!”
It was Dan’s voice, and she relaxed as he got out of the car. She opened the door and waited in the doorway for him.
“It worked, Prodge,” he called eagerly. “It’s okay. They’re going to the Centre now. The Boss called and told me to come get you. If we leave now, by the time we get there, they’ll be ready for us.”
She sighed, slumping against the doorframe in her relief. He came over and slid an arm around her shoulder, looking down at Carrie.
“You ready to go?”
“If we’ve got time and there’s space in the car,” she pleaded, “can we take a few more of Carrie’s things?”
“Sure.” He grinned, his teeth shining white in the dim light. “Show me what you want and we’ll pack it all in.”
She pointed out the few things she and Sofia had purchased, but which she would have had to leave behind if they’d been forced to flee. Dan packed them into the truck and secured the baby seat in behind the driver.
“Where d’you want to sit?”
“With Carrie, in the back,” she replied, suiting the action to the word. Dan took the pile of pillows and blankets that lay beside the door and packed them into the front seat, where Shannon could reach them if she wanted to. She smiled at him gratefully and did up her seatbelt, gently tickling Carrie’s little tummy as Dan started the car.
“I never thanked you,” Shannon said suddenly, “for taking me to Lucy’s house that night.”
He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “I was glad to do it, Prodge. You can’t know how relieved I was to see you when I came over that hill. I was just starting to imagine all kinds of horrible things that could have happened to you – outside the Centre, even.”
A whimper from Carrie prevented Shannon from answering, and Dan smiled as he watched her lift the baby out of the traveling capsule and cradle her against her neck.
“You’re going to be a great mom,” he predicted.
“You can’t know that yet,” she protested, settling the baby to feed.
“I can guess,” he retorted. “Your gentleness and patience are a good indication of how you’ll be.”
She smiled. “Well, we’ll see.”
When the baby was finished, and as she lifted Carrie to her shoulder to burp her, Shannon took time to look out at their surroundings. “When do you think we’ll arrive?”
“A few hours, but the Boss asked me to take us to the warehouse where they’re staying tonight, and then bring you to the Centre in the morning. It’s possible that the others will come to the warehouse tonight, too, but even if they don’t, they’ve set up beds there that you can use.”
“Good,” she sighed, thankful for more time to prepare herself.
When Carrie was finished, Shannon placed the baby back into the capsule and did up the straps around her, even as she fell asleep. After covering her with the blanket she had snatched from the crib, tucking in the corners to prevent draughts, Shannon took several pillows from the front seat and settled back against them to watch the world outside fly by.
Joshua
It was well into the early hours of the morning when the van pulled up outside the Centre and the group piled in, most yawning tiredly.
“If this is corporate life,” Jarod joked wearily, “I don’t want it.”
Joshua dropped onto the seat beside him, leaning against his progenitor’s shoulder and feeling Jarod's arm curl around him. The others found places and then Adama got into the driver’s seat. The members of the Triumvirate would spend the night at the Centre, but Adama had volunteered to drive the group back to the warehouse. None of them felt comfortable about sleeping in rooms at the Centre.
The journey only took ten minutes, but Josh fell asleep, and had to be shaken awake once they arrived. He stumbled into the large building, but was wide-awake instantly at the faint sound of a baby crying upstairs. Bolting up the stairs, he finally found Shannon and Carrie in the room at the far end of a long hallway and flung himself onto her bed with a cry of delight. She slid her free arm around his shoulders, the other holding her daughter, who was unsettled by the arrivals, and hugged him warmly.
“You look tired, Josh,” she said critically.
“You, too,” he grinned. “When did you get here?”
“About two hours ago.” She looked up as other people crowded into the room. “Sorry if I’ve taken anyone’s room,” she smiled, “but Carrie wanted nothing but bed, so I just took the one with the least furniture, so there was room for her things.”
Charles smiled, coming over to sit on the bed beside her. “You picked the only free room, Prodge. Very good.”
She giggled tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “How did it go?”
“Well, the Africans believe in the scrolls and us,” Nat offered somewhat warily. “I don’t know about the others, though. And,” he added in satisfied tones, “Raines was thoroughly humiliated, in front of just about everybody.”
“And I missed it?” Shannon wailed. “That’s unfair!”
Jarod grinned. “I’ll arrange a special humiliation ceremony, just for you,” he promised.
Margaret stepped into the room and picked up the baby, who had fallen asleep again. She cast a stern eye at Josh, who wriggled resentfully, knowing what it meant. He was right.
“Bedtime. Come on, boyo.”
He was about to protest when he suddenly yawned, and Shannon squeezed his shoulders with a smile, kissing his cheek.
“Go and get some sleep, Josh, okay? I’ll see you in the morning”
“Uh huh.” He nodded, still yawning, and wearily trailed down the hall to the room he and Jarod would share.
Jarod was already there, spreading out the sleeping bags onto the camping mattresses that had been stored in a cupboard for just such an occasion. Still yawning widely, Josh wriggled out of his jeans and underpants and pulled on the pajama bottoms. Jarod gave him a hand in pulling off his sweatshirt, and then he wriggled into the sleeping bag.
“Jarod?” he murmured sleepily, and the man glanced at him over his shoulder.
“What’s up?”
“Are they always going to treat us like that?”
Jarod grinned. “Maybe.”
“Goody.” Josh nodded, his eyes closing in spite of himself. Then, even as he felt Jarod gently lay something warm over him, he began to fall down into the darkness of sleep.
