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Copyright 2000 by R. Franke
LAVENDER
Part V
by R. Franke
"Are you with me?"
"Miss Parker!" Debbie rushed up and grabbed Parker in a crushing hug. "You’re alive!" She looked up at Parker, her eyes shining. "I knew you couldn’t’ve died. Not that way."
"And how am I supposed to die?" Parker asked dryly, her own eyes suspiciously bright.
"I dunno," Debbie replied. "Something heroic."
"Something heroic?" Jarod repeated. He and Broots shared an amused glance.
Parker pulled away slightly. "Debbie, I need to talk with your father. There are still some things I need to straighten out, and I need his help. But as soon as I’m done, you and I will take a day just for us. Okay?"
"Promise?"
Parker reached down and hooked Debbie’s pinkie finger with her own. "Promise."
"Okay," Debbie smiled and went over to investigate the painting on the far wall.
"Did you two morons want to say something?" Parker asked coolly. Both men shook their heads. "Good." She explained the situation to Broots in a few terse sentences. "So get Debbie to her godmother’s and get back here," she concluded.
"She’s out of town," Broots replied.
"Grandmother?"
"Ill."
"Damn. Anyone else?"
"Not that I’d trust for something like this."
"With twins," Angelo spoke from the doorway. "Father Moore."
Parker whirled. "Of course. He can protect her while he’s protecting them." She turned back to Broots. "Any problem with that?"
"Uh, no," Broots replied. "But how will we keep in touch with them?"
"We won’t," Parker snapped. "The less we know about where they are the better."
"Angelo and Father Moore will keep an eye on things, and contact us when they think it’s safe," Jarod explained. "If something does go wrong, well," he shrugged, "we can’t tell what we don’t know."
"Oh," Broots said. "Okay. Debbie? Could you come here please?"
"Things are bad, aren’t they?" Debbie asked solemnly.
"Not yet," Jarod replied. "And with your dad’s help, everything will be fine. But he needs, we all need, to know you’re safe."
"Father Moore was my mother’s confessor, and mine too, these past few years," Parker added. "I trust him. And I trust Angelo."
"Dad?"
"Be brave for me, pumpkin," Broots answered, kneeling down and giving Debbie a hug. "Listen to Father Moore, and help him take care of the twins."
"But Dad-" Debbie began.
"Debbie, please, I need you to do this for me."
"But Dad," Debbie repeated. "Who are the twins? And who is Angelo?"
Broots grinned. "Oh. Well, the twins are, um, they are-"
"They are my father’s children," Parker broke in. "He and," she paused for a moment, "his wife are both in jail right now, so I have to watch them. Angelo is a friend of ours. Angelo, come over here please."
Angelo sidled over to Parker and Debbie. "Hi," he offered, ducking his head shyly.
"Hi," Debbie returned, equally shyly. She glanced questioningly at Parker.
"Angelo was hurt when he was about your age," Parker replied. "He can’t talk very well, but he’s clever, and very sensitive to people’s feelings."
"Oh," Debbie said. "Is he going to take care of me, or am I supposed to take care of him?"
"Well honey, probably a little bit of both," Broots answered. "And you’ll both have to take care of the twins. They’re just babies."
"Oh, okay. I can do that," Debbie replied. Angelo leaned over and whispered in her ear. Debbie’s eyes grew wide. "Really?" she breathed, her eyes flicking to the vent on the wall. Angelo grinned and nodded in reply. "Love you Daddy," she said, flinging her arms around Broots’ neck and kissing him soundly. "Be careful, okay?"
"I will pumpkin," Broots replied. "Love you too. Now go with Angelo."
"Okay. Bye Miss Parker. Bye Jarod. Come on Angelo."
"Debbie safe," Angelo promised as he and Debbie left.
"Ahem," Broots coughed. "I can, I can tweak that program you gave me for inserting false records in the Centre’s database," he told Jarod. "Five minutes and it will start making up records and putting them in automatically."
Parker grinned wolfishly. "Do that, and let it run as long as possible. And when you’re done deleting the real records, start deleting the fa lse ones as well."
"Huh?" Broots asked. "Delete the- Oh, I get it. Even if they manage to recover something, they won’t know what’s real and what’s fake. I’m on it." He turned and dashed out the door.
"Karen, when you’re done here, shut everything down and go home," Parker ordered. Karen nodded in reply. "Don’t come back until I call you," Parker threw back over her shoulder as she strode back into her office. "Now, why aren’t you trying to take charge like you usually do?" she demanded as Jarod shut the door behind them.
"You haven’t done anything wrong yet," Jarod replied. He smiled at her outraged glare. "Truthfully," he continued, watching her open the floor safe, "as much as I dislike the Centre, I like the idea of the Triumvirate triumphant even less. Right now you’re my best bet to keep that from happening. And Centre personnel are much more likely to obey a Parker than- Are you crazy?" he yelled as she pulled a large black case from the safe and set it on the desk.
"In case you haven’t noticed the gloves are off," Parker snapped. "I’m going to need every advantage I can get."
"That thing sent five people to Renewal Wing," Jarod argued. "Or at least their bodies. God knows where their minds are. Damn it, Parker," he continued, grabbing her by the shoulders. "It’s too dangerous. We’ll think of something else."
Parker flung his hands off angrily. "Well if you’ve got any better ideas Wonderboy, I’d love to hear them." She laid her hand on Jarod’s chest and looked up into his eyes. "We’re the only two people in the world who could use this thing without months of training."
"Then I’ll use it."
"No, I need you to figure out what the Triumvirate is going to do next." Parker smiled sadly. "Besides which, you said it yourself. Centre pers onnel will obey a Parker. And if I can’t handle it, you’re the best one to protect the innocent and punish the guilty." She picked up the case. "Please Jarod, don’t fight me on this."
"Parker’s orders," Angelo said. The sweeper on guard nodded and opened the door to the nursery. "Twins asleep," he whispered after the sweeper had shut the door behind them.
Debbie peered at the two slumbering forms. "She looks like Miss Parker." Her eyes widened. "They’re clones, aren’t they? Clones of Miss Par ker and her brother."
Angelo nodded. "How did you know?"
"My father has nightmares sometimes. He talks in his sleep." She looked at the children again. "Is he going to turn out like Mr. Lyle?"
"Hope not," Angelo replied.
Agent Kassebaum intercepted them as they stepped off the elevator. "Miss Parker don’t do this. Let us handle the Triumvirate."
"Like you did in Europe?" Parker replied, striding past the agent. "Forgive me if I’m not exactly filled with confidence in the oh so wise and wonderful FBI."
"All right, damn it, we screwed up," Kassebaum answered, scurrying after Parker. "But you starting a private war with the Triumvirate is only going to make things worse."
"I don’t intend to start anything," Parker snapped. "But I will finish whatever they start."
Kassebaum looked at Jarod. "Can’t you-"
"Just stay out of the way, Agent," he replied.
"Why the hell should we do anything?" a voice called out as they entered the Control Room. "All you Parkers have ever done is use us, and you’re just going to do it again." Several other voices in the room called out in agreement.
Parker shoved the case at Jarod and let go. He barely caught it in time. She stalked forward and confronted the milling crowd of technicians and sweepers. "Who said that?" The men and women in the crowd shuffled their feet and subtly drew away from one of the technicians. "Was it you, Wentworth?" she demanded, her voice icy.
Wentworth drew himself up straighter. "Yes it was. We’ve all seen the news, we’ve read the papers. We know what the Centre has been up to. We were told we were helping people, making their lives better."
"Yeah, people with names like Parker," a woman called out of the crowd.
"Precisely," continued Wentworth. "Your father and his cronies used us to build their own power and increase their wealth, and to hell with anyone who got in the way."
"You’re right," Parker replied. "You were used." Wentworth stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. "And I will use every one of you if I have to." The crowd around her muttered angrily. "To save people. People with names like Carchrie." The woman who had called out earlier blushed. "Julia, how old is that boy of yours now?"
"Um, three," Julia replied.
"And when he asks ‘Mommy, are you are criminal?’ what are you going to tell him? And Charley, when your daughter asks, ‘Daddy, were you a fool?’ what are you going to tell her?" Parker looked around the room. "Yes, you were used. Your idealism was used, your professionalism was used, your honor was used. All in the service of a lie. I can’t change the past. But I can offer you a chance to reclaim it."
"How?" challenged Wentworth.
"By making the lie true. By making the Centre what it was always meant to be. A place of discovery and learning. A place any one of us can be proud to work." Parker leaned back against a console and casually crossed her arms. "Those of you who aren’t interested, or don’t feel up to the challenge can leave. You’ll still have your jobs when things settle down." She straightened,
and took a step toward her audience. "But for those of you who stay, when people ask you about the Centre, you’ll be able to say ‘Yes, it was a criminal organization, but I helped Miss Parker change all that.’ The Triumvirate and its allies are still out there," she continued, her voice somber. "They want to rule your lives by terror and intimidation, to have you always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the bullet in the dark, the knife slipped oh so casually between your ribs." She paused and pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Many of the people who work here can’t do a thing to change that. They’re your colleagues, your friends, and all they can do is wait. And fear. And hope. But you can do more than that. You can protect
your friends and family, and end the threat from the Triumvirate forever." Her audience leaned forward, anxious to hear every word. "It won’t be easy, and I can’t guarantee that none of you will be hurt. But I can guarantee that when this is over, every last one of you be able to hold your heads high, and say with pride, ‘I work at the Centre’." She turned and looked at Wentworth. "What do you say, Wentworth? Are you with me?"
"Ah, hell Miss Parker," Wentworth grinned. "I reckon you and I can beat the Triumvirate our ownselves."
Parker grinned back as the audience laughed. "What are you all doing standing around like this?" she demanded. "We’ve got work to do." The sweepers and technicians all filed back to their jobs, chattering among themselves. Several stopped to shake hands with Miss Parker and assure her of their support. "Find Broots and get him up here," she ordered one of the sweepers. The man grinned and set off at a run.
"Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George," Kassebaum quoted. "I minored in theatre," she explained to Jarod’s questioning look.
He smiled briefly in reply. "Let’s just hope she does as well against the Triumvirate as Henry did against the French."
"Broots, get in here," Parker ordered as the technician appeared in the doorway. "I need you to start this thing up." She took the case from Jarod and set it on top of a large computer, set off by itself to the side of the room. She opened the case and pulled out the equipment.
The headpiece consisted of one earphone that covered the user’s right ear, a microphone, and a clear plastic screen that sat directly in front of the wearer’s right eye. Three induction leads dangled off it and a thick cable ran from the headset to a rectangular black box that clipped onto the wearer’s belt. Another cable ran from the box to a skintight glove, studded with
sensors. A third cable, longer and thicker than the other two, ran from the box, ending in a heavy plug. Parker flipped open the cover and inserted the plug into its receptacle on the computer. She looked up to find everyone in the Control Room watching her. "Did I stutter?" she snapped.
Broots shook his head. "I’ve heard about that thing."
"We all have," Julia added. "And about how dangerous it is."
"I’m willing to risk it," Parker replied.
"What is it?" Kassebaum asked Jarod.
"It’s not a true brain-computer interface," Jarod answered. "But it’s pretty damn close." He smiled grimly. "The big question is, how much data can her brain process at once?"
"Jarod, can’t you…" Broots appealed, waving his hands helplessly.
"I’ve already tried, Mr. Broots," Jarod replied. He moved to position the induction leads at Parker’s temples and at the base of her skull as she put the headset on. Broots sighed and began booting up the computer.
Parker pulled the glove on and addressed the others. "If things go wrong, listen to Jarod. Follow his orders and he’ll keep you safe." She looked over at Broots. "Ready?" Broots nodded, then looked up as Jarod reached over his shoulder and poised his finger above the enter key. Parker’s eyes locked with Jarod’s. "Do it," she ordered. Jarod pressed the key.
Parker gave a start and staggered slightly. "Whoa." She smiled. "This isn’t so-" Her head snapped back as she screamed in agony.
End Part V
Comments? Opinions?
Copyright 2000 by R. Franke
Part V
by R. Franke
"Are you with me?"
"Miss Parker!" Debbie rushed up and grabbed Parker in a crushing hug. "You’re alive!" She looked up at Parker, her eyes shining. "I knew you couldn’t’ve died. Not that way."
"And how am I supposed to die?" Parker asked dryly, her own eyes suspiciously bright.
"I dunno," Debbie replied. "Something heroic."
"Something heroic?" Jarod repeated. He and Broots shared an amused glance.
Parker pulled away slightly. "Debbie, I need to talk with your father. There are still some things I need to straighten out, and I need his help. But as soon as I’m done, you and I will take a day just for us. Okay?"
"Promise?"
Parker reached down and hooked Debbie’s pinkie finger with her own. "Promise."
"Okay," Debbie smiled and went over to investigate the painting on the far wall.
"Did you two morons want to say something?" Parker asked coolly. Both men shook their heads. "Good." She explained the situation to Broots in a few terse sentences. "So get Debbie to her godmother’s and get back here," she concluded.
"She’s out of town," Broots replied.
"Grandmother?"
"Ill."
"Damn. Anyone else?"
"Not that I’d trust for something like this."
"With twins," Angelo spoke from the doorway. "Father Moore."
Parker whirled. "Of course. He can protect her while he’s protecting them." She turned back to Broots. "Any problem with that?"
"Uh, no," Broots replied. "But how will we keep in touch with them?"
"We won’t," Parker snapped. "The less we know about where they are the better."
"Angelo and Father Moore will keep an eye on things, and contact us when they think it’s safe," Jarod explained. "If something does go wrong, well," he shrugged, "we can’t tell what we don’t know."
"Oh," Broots said. "Okay. Debbie? Could you come here please?"
"Things are bad, aren’t they?" Debbie asked solemnly.
"Not yet," Jarod replied. "And with your dad’s help, everything will be fine. But he needs, we all need, to know you’re safe."
"Father Moore was my mother’s confessor, and mine too, these past few years," Parker added. "I trust him. And I trust Angelo."
"Dad?"
"Be brave for me, pumpkin," Broots answered, kneeling down and giving Debbie a hug. "Listen to Father Moore, and help him take care of the twins."
"But Dad-" Debbie began.
"Debbie, please, I need you to do this for me."
"But Dad," Debbie repeated. "Who are the twins? And who is Angelo?"
Broots grinned. "Oh. Well, the twins are, um, they are-"
"They are my father’s children," Parker broke in. "He and," she paused for a moment, "his wife are both in jail right now, so I have to watch them. Angelo is a friend of ours. Angelo, come over here please."
Angelo sidled over to Parker and Debbie. "Hi," he offered, ducking his head shyly.
"Hi," Debbie returned, equally shyly. She glanced questioningly at Parker.
"Angelo was hurt when he was about your age," Parker replied. "He can’t talk very well, but he’s clever, and very sensitive to people’s feelings."
"Oh," Debbie said. "Is he going to take care of me, or am I supposed to take care of him?"
"Well honey, probably a little bit of both," Broots answered. "And you’ll both have to take care of the twins. They’re just babies."
"Oh, okay. I can do that," Debbie replied. Angelo leaned over and whispered in her ear. Debbie’s eyes grew wide. "Really?" she breathed, her eyes flicking to the vent on the wall. Angelo grinned and nodded in reply. "Love you Daddy," she said, flinging her arms around Broots’ neck and kissing him soundly. "Be careful, okay?"
"I will pumpkin," Broots replied. "Love you too. Now go with Angelo."
"Okay. Bye Miss Parker. Bye Jarod. Come on Angelo."
"Debbie safe," Angelo promised as he and Debbie left.
"Ahem," Broots coughed. "I can, I can tweak that program you gave me for inserting false records in the Centre’s database," he told Jarod. "Five minutes and it will start making up records and putting them in automatically."
Parker grinned wolfishly. "Do that, and let it run as long as possible. And when you’re done deleting the real records, start deleting the fa lse ones as well."
"Huh?" Broots asked. "Delete the- Oh, I get it. Even if they manage to recover something, they won’t know what’s real and what’s fake. I’m on it." He turned and dashed out the door.
"Karen, when you’re done here, shut everything down and go home," Parker ordered. Karen nodded in reply. "Don’t come back until I call you," Parker threw back over her shoulder as she strode back into her office. "Now, why aren’t you trying to take charge like you usually do?" she demanded as Jarod shut the door behind them.
"You haven’t done anything wrong yet," Jarod replied. He smiled at her outraged glare. "Truthfully," he continued, watching her open the floor safe, "as much as I dislike the Centre, I like the idea of the Triumvirate triumphant even less. Right now you’re my best bet to keep that from happening. And Centre personnel are much more likely to obey a Parker than- Are you crazy?" he yelled as she pulled a large black case from the safe and set it on the desk.
"In case you haven’t noticed the gloves are off," Parker snapped. "I’m going to need every advantage I can get."
"That thing sent five people to Renewal Wing," Jarod argued. "Or at least their bodies. God knows where their minds are. Damn it, Parker," he continued, grabbing her by the shoulders. "It’s too dangerous. We’ll think of something else."
Parker flung his hands off angrily. "Well if you’ve got any better ideas Wonderboy, I’d love to hear them." She laid her hand on Jarod’s chest and looked up into his eyes. "We’re the only two people in the world who could use this thing without months of training."
"Then I’ll use it."
"No, I need you to figure out what the Triumvirate is going to do next." Parker smiled sadly. "Besides which, you said it yourself. Centre pers onnel will obey a Parker. And if I can’t handle it, you’re the best one to protect the innocent and punish the guilty." She picked up the case. "Please Jarod, don’t fight me on this."
"Parker’s orders," Angelo said. The sweeper on guard nodded and opened the door to the nursery. "Twins asleep," he whispered after the sweeper had shut the door behind them.
Debbie peered at the two slumbering forms. "She looks like Miss Parker." Her eyes widened. "They’re clones, aren’t they? Clones of Miss Par ker and her brother."
Angelo nodded. "How did you know?"
"My father has nightmares sometimes. He talks in his sleep." She looked at the children again. "Is he going to turn out like Mr. Lyle?"
"Hope not," Angelo replied.
Agent Kassebaum intercepted them as they stepped off the elevator. "Miss Parker don’t do this. Let us handle the Triumvirate."
"Like you did in Europe?" Parker replied, striding past the agent. "Forgive me if I’m not exactly filled with confidence in the oh so wise and wonderful FBI."
"All right, damn it, we screwed up," Kassebaum answered, scurrying after Parker. "But you starting a private war with the Triumvirate is only going to make things worse."
"I don’t intend to start anything," Parker snapped. "But I will finish whatever they start."
Kassebaum looked at Jarod. "Can’t you-"
"Just stay out of the way, Agent," he replied.
"Why the hell should we do anything?" a voice called out as they entered the Control Room. "All you Parkers have ever done is use us, and you’re just going to do it again." Several other voices in the room called out in agreement.
Parker shoved the case at Jarod and let go. He barely caught it in time. She stalked forward and confronted the milling crowd of technicians and sweepers. "Who said that?" The men and women in the crowd shuffled their feet and subtly drew away from one of the technicians. "Was it you, Wentworth?" she demanded, her voice icy.
Wentworth drew himself up straighter. "Yes it was. We’ve all seen the news, we’ve read the papers. We know what the Centre has been up to. We were told we were helping people, making their lives better."
"Yeah, people with names like Parker," a woman called out of the crowd.
"Precisely," continued Wentworth. "Your father and his cronies used us to build their own power and increase their wealth, and to hell with anyone who got in the way."
"You’re right," Parker replied. "You were used." Wentworth stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. "And I will use every one of you if I have to." The crowd around her muttered angrily. "To save people. People with names like Carchrie." The woman who had called out earlier blushed. "Julia, how old is that boy of yours now?"
"Um, three," Julia replied.
"And when he asks ‘Mommy, are you are criminal?’ what are you going to tell him? And Charley, when your daughter asks, ‘Daddy, were you a fool?’ what are you going to tell her?" Parker looked around the room. "Yes, you were used. Your idealism was used, your professionalism was used, your honor was used. All in the service of a lie. I can’t change the past. But I can offer you a chance to reclaim it."
"How?" challenged Wentworth.
"By making the lie true. By making the Centre what it was always meant to be. A place of discovery and learning. A place any one of us can be proud to work." Parker leaned back against a console and casually crossed her arms. "Those of you who aren’t interested, or don’t feel up to the challenge can leave. You’ll still have your jobs when things settle down." She straightened,
and took a step toward her audience. "But for those of you who stay, when people ask you about the Centre, you’ll be able to say ‘Yes, it was a criminal organization, but I helped Miss Parker change all that.’ The Triumvirate and its allies are still out there," she continued, her voice somber. "They want to rule your lives by terror and intimidation, to have you always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the bullet in the dark, the knife slipped oh so casually between your ribs." She paused and pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Many of the people who work here can’t do a thing to change that. They’re your colleagues, your friends, and all they can do is wait. And fear. And hope. But you can do more than that. You can protect
your friends and family, and end the threat from the Triumvirate forever." Her audience leaned forward, anxious to hear every word. "It won’t be easy, and I can’t guarantee that none of you will be hurt. But I can guarantee that when this is over, every last one of you be able to hold your heads high, and say with pride, ‘I work at the Centre’." She turned and looked at Wentworth. "What do you say, Wentworth? Are you with me?"
"Ah, hell Miss Parker," Wentworth grinned. "I reckon you and I can beat the Triumvirate our ownselves."
Parker grinned back as the audience laughed. "What are you all doing standing around like this?" she demanded. "We’ve got work to do." The sweepers and technicians all filed back to their jobs, chattering among themselves. Several stopped to shake hands with Miss Parker and assure her of their support. "Find Broots and get him up here," she ordered one of the sweepers. The man grinned and set off at a run.
"Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George," Kassebaum quoted. "I minored in theatre," she explained to Jarod’s questioning look.
He smiled briefly in reply. "Let’s just hope she does as well against the Triumvirate as Henry did against the French."
"Broots, get in here," Parker ordered as the technician appeared in the doorway. "I need you to start this thing up." She took the case from Jarod and set it on top of a large computer, set off by itself to the side of the room. She opened the case and pulled out the equipment.
The headpiece consisted of one earphone that covered the user’s right ear, a microphone, and a clear plastic screen that sat directly in front of the wearer’s right eye. Three induction leads dangled off it and a thick cable ran from the headset to a rectangular black box that clipped onto the wearer’s belt. Another cable ran from the box to a skintight glove, studded with
sensors. A third cable, longer and thicker than the other two, ran from the box, ending in a heavy plug. Parker flipped open the cover and inserted the plug into its receptacle on the computer. She looked up to find everyone in the Control Room watching her. "Did I stutter?" she snapped.
Broots shook his head. "I’ve heard about that thing."
"We all have," Julia added. "And about how dangerous it is."
"I’m willing to risk it," Parker replied.
"What is it?" Kassebaum asked Jarod.
"It’s not a true brain-computer interface," Jarod answered. "But it’s pretty damn close." He smiled grimly. "The big question is, how much data can her brain process at once?"
"Jarod, can’t you…" Broots appealed, waving his hands helplessly.
"I’ve already tried, Mr. Broots," Jarod replied. He moved to position the induction leads at Parker’s temples and at the base of her skull as she put the headset on. Broots sighed and began booting up the computer.
Parker pulled the glove on and addressed the others. "If things go wrong, listen to Jarod. Follow his orders and he’ll keep you safe." She looked over at Broots. "Ready?" Broots nodded, then looked up as Jarod reached over his shoulder and poised his finger above the enter key. Parker’s eyes locked with Jarod’s. "Do it," she ordered. Jarod pressed the key.
Parker gave a start and staggered slightly. "Whoa." She smiled. "This isn’t so-" Her head snapped back as she screamed in agony.
Comments? Opinions?
