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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Jarod, Miss Parker, et al. are the property of Steven Long Mitchell, Craig W. Van Sickle, MTM Entertainment, NBC, the actors, writers, and all other persons known or unknown with a legal claim on the characters. All characters unique to this story are the property of R. Franke. This is a story of fan fiction, written for the purpose of personal satisfaction and the enjoyment of others, and monetary or other compensation is neither expected nor desired.
Copyright 2000 by R. Franke
Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at
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Part VI
by R. Franke
Lyle sat patiently until the guard had removed the handcuffs and left the room. "You’re not my regular attorney," he stated. "Who are you?
The elderly gentleman raised an eyebrow. "You’re right, I’m not you’re regular attorney. In fact, I’m not an attorney at all."
"Then who are you?" Lyle repeated. "And what do you want?"
"If you need a name Mr. Lyle, you may call me Caesar." He smiled as Lyle drew back in surprise. "And I have a proposition for you."
Jarod leapt to catch Parker’s collapsing form. "Shut it off!" he yelled at Broots.
"It’s not working!" the frantic tech yelled back.
"Then pull the damn plug," Jarod snarled, laying Parker on the floor and reaching for the headset.
"NO!" came from every speaker in the room. Parker’s hand came up, knocking Jarod’s hand away. "Kill" came from one speaker, "me" from another. Parker’s eyes opened and she focused on Jarod. "Stand," she croaked. "Help me. Stand."
"Parker, it’s too-"
"I have to, go through," she labored. "Control it. No other, choice."
"All right." Jarod lifted her until they both stood; or rather, he stood supporting her from behind, left arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders. Her head lolled back against his shoulder.
Parker moved her gloved arm. "Need arm free."
Jarod quickly snaked his right arm under hers and brought it diagonally across her torso. "Better?"
Parker’s lips gave a twitch that might have been a smile. Her left hand came up to rest on Jarod’s at her waist. "Be my, anchor. Hold me. Talk to me."
"Of course," Jarod murmured. He felt her hand squeeze his forearm as she lifted her gloved hand and began manipulating things only she could see. "You surprised me," he admitted. "I never even considered the possibility of you faking your own death." He chuckled ruefully. "You warned Lyle not underestimate you, you should have reminded me too." He felt her lightly slap his arm. "Anyhow, it wasn’t too long after that Zoë learned she was terminal."
Parker rolled her head so she could look at him. "Jarod-" Her hand tightened on his arm.
"I’m all right, Parker," he replied, hugging her to him. "It was a bad couple of months, but it seems like I had more help than I knew."
Parker smiled sadly. "Mostly Angelo."
"It wasn’t until later that I realized Angelo couldn’t have done some of the things I thought he did. I investigated further and I realized not only had someone else helped keep Lyle and company off my back, but that Angelo was actually helping them gather information on the Centre, including access to the information he’d gathered for me. I have to admit I felt a bit
insulted he was doing that for somebody else as well."
"Voco," said Parker. "Exaudit vocam meam. Amen."
"Voice recognition?" Jarod asked. Parker nodded briefly. "Do you want me to keep talking?" Another nod, and Parker began reciting tongue twisters in a low voice. "So I confronted him, and finally got him to admit that he was working for ‘her’. Once he said ‘her’ in that tone of voice, all the pieces fell into place. He told me when you wanted Lyle to capture me, so we made
sure the stage was properly set and voila!"
Parker grinned. "Between the three of us, they never stood a chance, did they?"
Jarod grinned back. "No, they didn’t."
"I’m going to try standing on my own now."
"All right." Jarod slowly and carefully let Parker go. She swayed slightly but remained upright. He watched as her spine straightened and she took on the unmistakable air of command.
"What will you need?" she asked.
"Every scrap of information your father collected on the Triumvirate," Jarod replied. "Even without that I can tell you their first attacks will be indirect, using legitimate agencies as smokescreens. Unrestricted access to you," he continued. "Full access to the mainframe. A large sturdy table. And a couple of sweepers answering only to me. I don’t know what else I may need as this thing goes on, and I don’t want to have to go through channels for every little thing."
"Channel 1 is general communications, channel 2 is restricted, just the two of us," Parker answered. "Julia and Charley are yours, everything that I managed to find is in the top drawer of the filing cabinet and Wentworth can move a terminal to that table over there," she ended, pointing to a large table on the far side of the room.
Jarod grinned wolfishly. "It’s a start. Julia, Charley," he called. "The first thing I want you to do…"
Parker turned to the other sweepers. "Congratulations Sam."
"Ma’am?" Sam asked as he stepped away from the others.
Parker smiled. "I need a new security chief, one I can trust. You’ve just been promoted." The two of them turned away from the others and Parker continued in a lower voice. "I doubt the Triumvirate has the resources left to mount a physical attack, but if I’m wrong I want sweepers with combat experience on guard. Leave about a dozen to run errands for me and the geek chorus here."
"Some of the techs have ECM experience," Sam answered. "Be helpful if I could pull some of them too."
"Hmm." Parker’s eye focused on the screen in front of it. "I need the ones with sigint and elint experience but," she paused as a sheet of paper came out of the printer closest to them, "I can give you these."
Sam glanced over the list. "I’ll make it work."
"Good. Coordinate with Kassebaum, get as much help as you can from her people and the locals without letting them know too much." She raised her voice slightly. "Broots, get over here."
Broots scurried over. "Yes Miss Parker?"
"Sam’s the new security chief, you’re the new head of the IT division." Parker gestured the two to lean in closer and lowered her voice. "We know the Triumvirate buried some moles in the Centre, but we couldn’t figure out how many or where they are. I need you both to keep an eye out, especially now. If you find anything, report it directly to me. Sam, we’re done." Sam nodded sharply and left. "Guess what Broots, you’re going to be on the front lines of a real live infowar. Be a hell of a lot different than reading about it on your lunch break."
"Miss Parker, I don’t know if I can-"
"You screw up, Broots," Parker growled, "And Debbie grows up fatherless."
Broots gulped. "What do I do?"
"Sit," she ordered. The monitor came alive as Broots sat. "I can find it, but I need you and your people running code."
"That’s you and Jarod in the FBI database."
"I know," Parker replied shortly. "The Triumvirate put it in there, take it out." She activated comm channel 2. "I’m sending you something from VICAP," she told Jarod.
"My, my, aren’t FNU Parker and Jarod LNU a couple of nasty characters," he chuckled. "I assume Broots can handle this?"
"Of course," she replied as Broots erased the data. "That’s what I need, Broots, and defenses against any attempts at hacking the Centre’s computers as well."
"So we’re just defending ourselves, right?" Broots asked. Parker raised her eyebrow. "I mean, if this really does turn into an infowar," he continued, "we’ve got some pretty awesome stuff, you know, offensive capability-wise that we might be able to something with."
"Show me," Parker ordered.
"Angelo? Where are you?"
"Father Moore." Angelo stood, holding one of the twins in his arms.
"Oh, thank Heaven," the elderly priest gasped. "When I got Parker’s message I-" He gave a start when Debbie emerged from the bushes, cradling the other baby.
"Debbie, Parker says protect," Angelo explained, placing the babies in the car. Debbie got in and began placing the babies in their car seats. "Listen to Father Moore." he said, turning away.
"Angelo!" Debbie called, her eyes wide. "What are you doing?"
Angelo smiled slightly. "Not finished," he said, then turned and walked back into the woods.
Parker paced. She had kicked off her stiletto heels hours before. "I have got to get an extension
cord for this thing," she muttered as the interface cable grew taut. "Anything?"
Jarod looked up from the notes and files and other items he had piled on the table. More items
spilled from the boxes at his feet. "Too many possibilities. We have to wait for their next
attempt."
"Damn."
"Parker, sit down and stop pacing, save your energy for-" Jarod’s head snapped around as one
of the techs whooped in triumph.
"Tower Central Asia’s main server is down and out for at least a day," he crowed. The others
cheered.
Parker smiled. "All right people, settle down. We’ve still got five main servers and God knows
how many secondaries still on-line." She turned to Jarod. "Anything yet?"
Jarod shook his head. "Eliminated some possibilities, that’s it."
"Let’s see if I can force their hand."
"Parker," Jarod began warningly when every computer in the room froze.
"Holy-" breathed Parker. She shook herself and the computers came back to life.
"Parker, talk to us," demanded Jarod. "What was that?"
She looked over at Jarod. "I-I’ll tell you later," she replied, her eyes wide with fear.
"I’ve got something coming out of the Argentinean sub-server!" a tech yelled.
"Emily no, it’s too dangerous. What if she turns out to be just like her father?"
"Or maybe she’ll turn out to be just like her mother," Emily argued. "Catherine had her for the
first ten years of her life, and you know that’s when the basic personality is formed."
"Her father was around then, too," Margaret replied. "And he’s had years to counteract
Catherine’s influence. Look at what she did. She didn’t destroy the Centre, she took it over.
When she was a little girl that’s all he wanted her to do when she grew up. Catherine wanted to
destroy it."
"Only after she realized what the Centre had become, what her husband had become." Emily
ran her fingers through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh. "The only reason she tried to
destroy it was because she didn’t have enough power to change it. Miss Parker does. Now."
"And the power to make it even worse." Margaret replied flatly.
"If she wanted to do that, would she have done it this way?" Emily countered. "The Centre’s in
every newspaper in the country and half the ones in the rest of the world. There’s a Senate
subcommittee meeting next month to look into exactly how much influence the Tower has. If
she wanted to keep things as they are, would she have exposed all that?"
"Her father was a master at sleight-of-hand, of letting you see only what he wanted you to see."
Margaret shook her head. "This is still the Centre. Never trust what you see."
"So, what," Emily retorted. "We run, and hide, again? Damn it Mom, don’t you see, I’m tired of
this. I’ve spent my whole life running, and hiding, and wondering if the next person I meet is
going to be a Sweeper in disguise. I want to be able to live without looking over my shoulder all
the time. I want to go to a store, or to a restaurant, and be greeted by people who have known
me for years. I want a relationship that lasts longer than six months before I have to disappear
because somebody in a suit happens to drive a black limo through town. I want a normal life. Is
that too much to ask? Just a normal life."
Margaret shook her head. "It’s too risky."
"Well, maybe it’s time we started taking some risks," Emily argued. "Look, Jarod’s helping her,
right. That has to mean something. And," she took a deep breath, "while I’d like your support,
I’m prepared to do without it."
Margaret looked sharply at her daughter. "You’re serious, aren’t you?" Emily nodded. "I’m not
sure your brother’s emotions aren’t clouding his judgement."
"I didn’t plan to waltz right in and say ‘Hi, I’m Emily’. I’m going to try and find some way I can
observe them without them knowing about it."
"When you say ‘them’, do you mean Jarod as well?"
Emily smiled wryly. "You said it yourself. We can’t be sure his judgement isn’t affected."
"The main African server just went off-line," Broots announced. "We did it," he continued as the
room erupted in cheers. "I don’t believe it. We took out six servers with one."
"Believe it, Mr. Broots," Jarod replied. "Get ready to take her off-line," he added. "I know she
wants you doing it."
"Um, Jarod?" Broots asked as Jarod turned away. "Can I, can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"I saw the files, you know. The red files." Jarod nodded in reply. "Her file, it was marked
Ongoing."
"And?"
"The only other file marked Ongoing was yours. Everything else was marked Concluded
Satisfactory or Concluded Unsatisfactory."
"Your question, Mr. Broots?" Jarod asked, allowing a hint of impatience to creep into his tone.
"I mean, she’s not a Pretender," Broots said, "but what is she?"
Jarod smiled. "The Centre never came up with a name." He shrugged. "Call her a Leader. It’s as
good a term as any."
"If you two morons are done gossiping," Miss Parker called, "I could use a little help here."
Lyle sat patiently, allowing his seatmate’s chatter to wash over him as the prison transport
rolled through the low-lying countryside. His nose twitched at the stench of the chicken farms
to either side.
The driver saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror and pulled over. The state police officer
got out of her cruiser and hurried up. "Thank God. I got to you in time," she gasped as the
driver leaned out of his window. "We just got word there’s going to be an ambush to free one of
the prisoners. We tried to let you know, but we couldn’t raise you on the radio."
"She’s right," the guard replied. "I’m not getting anything, not even static."
"Do you know where this ambush is supposed to take place?" the driver asked.
"Yes," the officer replied, raising her gun and shooting both men through head. "Right here."
She opened the sliding door of the van. "Mr. Lyle, if you would be so kind as to drive the van
into that barn over there?" Lyle nodded and held out his hands for her to remove the cuffs. "As
for the rest of you, there’s $500,000 each plus a chance at a new life in a country that doesn’t
have extradition if you cooperate."
The other prisoners looked at each other, and at the cooling corpses of the two guards. "Works
for me," one said. The others quickly chimed agreement. Lyle shoved the driver aside and drove
the van into the barn. The officer followed and motioned Lyle to shut the door behind them.
She went over to box by the wall, opened it and pulled out two AK-47 submachine guns. She
handed one to Lyle and they both turned and sprayed the van with bullets until their clips
were emptied.
"Asshole talked too much anyhow," Lyle remarked.
"Incendiaries under the floor," the officer replied as she tossed her gun on the floor and walked
out the door. Lyle quickly followed her out to a nondescript sedan parked outside. Looking back
as they drove off, Lyle could see the flames beginning to emerge from the sides of the barn.
Comments? Opinions?
Copyright 2000 by R. Franke
Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at
Part VI
by R. Franke
Lyle sat patiently until the guard had removed the handcuffs and left the room. "You’re not my regular attorney," he stated. "Who are you?
The elderly gentleman raised an eyebrow. "You’re right, I’m not you’re regular attorney. In fact, I’m not an attorney at all."
"Then who are you?" Lyle repeated. "And what do you want?"
"If you need a name Mr. Lyle, you may call me Caesar." He smiled as Lyle drew back in surprise. "And I have a proposition for you."
Jarod leapt to catch Parker’s collapsing form. "Shut it off!" he yelled at Broots.
"It’s not working!" the frantic tech yelled back.
"Then pull the damn plug," Jarod snarled, laying Parker on the floor and reaching for the headset.
"NO!" came from every speaker in the room. Parker’s hand came up, knocking Jarod’s hand away. "Kill" came from one speaker, "me" from another. Parker’s eyes opened and she focused on Jarod. "Stand," she croaked. "Help me. Stand."
"Parker, it’s too-"
"I have to, go through," she labored. "Control it. No other, choice."
"All right." Jarod lifted her until they both stood; or rather, he stood supporting her from behind, left arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders. Her head lolled back against his shoulder.
Parker moved her gloved arm. "Need arm free."
Jarod quickly snaked his right arm under hers and brought it diagonally across her torso. "Better?"
Parker’s lips gave a twitch that might have been a smile. Her left hand came up to rest on Jarod’s at her waist. "Be my, anchor. Hold me. Talk to me."
"Of course," Jarod murmured. He felt her hand squeeze his forearm as she lifted her gloved hand and began manipulating things only she could see. "You surprised me," he admitted. "I never even considered the possibility of you faking your own death." He chuckled ruefully. "You warned Lyle not underestimate you, you should have reminded me too." He felt her lightly slap his arm. "Anyhow, it wasn’t too long after that Zoë learned she was terminal."
Parker rolled her head so she could look at him. "Jarod-" Her hand tightened on his arm.
"I’m all right, Parker," he replied, hugging her to him. "It was a bad couple of months, but it seems like I had more help than I knew."
Parker smiled sadly. "Mostly Angelo."
"It wasn’t until later that I realized Angelo couldn’t have done some of the things I thought he did. I investigated further and I realized not only had someone else helped keep Lyle and company off my back, but that Angelo was actually helping them gather information on the Centre, including access to the information he’d gathered for me. I have to admit I felt a bit
insulted he was doing that for somebody else as well."
"Voco," said Parker. "Exaudit vocam meam. Amen."
"Voice recognition?" Jarod asked. Parker nodded briefly. "Do you want me to keep talking?" Another nod, and Parker began reciting tongue twisters in a low voice. "So I confronted him, and finally got him to admit that he was working for ‘her’. Once he said ‘her’ in that tone of voice, all the pieces fell into place. He told me when you wanted Lyle to capture me, so we made
sure the stage was properly set and voila!"
Parker grinned. "Between the three of us, they never stood a chance, did they?"
Jarod grinned back. "No, they didn’t."
"I’m going to try standing on my own now."
"All right." Jarod slowly and carefully let Parker go. She swayed slightly but remained upright. He watched as her spine straightened and she took on the unmistakable air of command.
"What will you need?" she asked.
"Every scrap of information your father collected on the Triumvirate," Jarod replied. "Even without that I can tell you their first attacks will be indirect, using legitimate agencies as smokescreens. Unrestricted access to you," he continued. "Full access to the mainframe. A large sturdy table. And a couple of sweepers answering only to me. I don’t know what else I may need as this thing goes on, and I don’t want to have to go through channels for every little thing."
"Channel 1 is general communications, channel 2 is restricted, just the two of us," Parker answered. "Julia and Charley are yours, everything that I managed to find is in the top drawer of the filing cabinet and Wentworth can move a terminal to that table over there," she ended, pointing to a large table on the far side of the room.
Jarod grinned wolfishly. "It’s a start. Julia, Charley," he called. "The first thing I want you to do…"
Parker turned to the other sweepers. "Congratulations Sam."
"Ma’am?" Sam asked as he stepped away from the others.
Parker smiled. "I need a new security chief, one I can trust. You’ve just been promoted." The two of them turned away from the others and Parker continued in a lower voice. "I doubt the Triumvirate has the resources left to mount a physical attack, but if I’m wrong I want sweepers with combat experience on guard. Leave about a dozen to run errands for me and the geek chorus here."
"Some of the techs have ECM experience," Sam answered. "Be helpful if I could pull some of them too."
"Hmm." Parker’s eye focused on the screen in front of it. "I need the ones with sigint and elint experience but," she paused as a sheet of paper came out of the printer closest to them, "I can give you these."
Sam glanced over the list. "I’ll make it work."
"Good. Coordinate with Kassebaum, get as much help as you can from her people and the locals without letting them know too much." She raised her voice slightly. "Broots, get over here."
Broots scurried over. "Yes Miss Parker?"
"Sam’s the new security chief, you’re the new head of the IT division." Parker gestured the two to lean in closer and lowered her voice. "We know the Triumvirate buried some moles in the Centre, but we couldn’t figure out how many or where they are. I need you both to keep an eye out, especially now. If you find anything, report it directly to me. Sam, we’re done." Sam nodded sharply and left. "Guess what Broots, you’re going to be on the front lines of a real live infowar. Be a hell of a lot different than reading about it on your lunch break."
"Miss Parker, I don’t know if I can-"
"You screw up, Broots," Parker growled, "And Debbie grows up fatherless."
Broots gulped. "What do I do?"
"Sit," she ordered. The monitor came alive as Broots sat. "I can find it, but I need you and your people running code."
"That’s you and Jarod in the FBI database."
"I know," Parker replied shortly. "The Triumvirate put it in there, take it out." She activated comm channel 2. "I’m sending you something from VICAP," she told Jarod.
"My, my, aren’t FNU Parker and Jarod LNU a couple of nasty characters," he chuckled. "I assume Broots can handle this?"
"Of course," she replied as Broots erased the data. "That’s what I need, Broots, and defenses against any attempts at hacking the Centre’s computers as well."
"So we’re just defending ourselves, right?" Broots asked. Parker raised her eyebrow. "I mean, if this really does turn into an infowar," he continued, "we’ve got some pretty awesome stuff, you know, offensive capability-wise that we might be able to something with."
"Show me," Parker ordered.
"Angelo? Where are you?"
"Father Moore." Angelo stood, holding one of the twins in his arms.
"Oh, thank Heaven," the elderly priest gasped. "When I got Parker’s message I-" He gave a start when Debbie emerged from the bushes, cradling the other baby.
"Debbie, Parker says protect," Angelo explained, placing the babies in the car. Debbie got in and began placing the babies in their car seats. "Listen to Father Moore." he said, turning away.
"Angelo!" Debbie called, her eyes wide. "What are you doing?"
Angelo smiled slightly. "Not finished," he said, then turned and walked back into the woods.
Parker paced. She had kicked off her stiletto heels hours before. "I have got to get an extension
cord for this thing," she muttered as the interface cable grew taut. "Anything?"
Jarod looked up from the notes and files and other items he had piled on the table. More items
spilled from the boxes at his feet. "Too many possibilities. We have to wait for their next
attempt."
"Damn."
"Parker, sit down and stop pacing, save your energy for-" Jarod’s head snapped around as one
of the techs whooped in triumph.
"Tower Central Asia’s main server is down and out for at least a day," he crowed. The others
cheered.
Parker smiled. "All right people, settle down. We’ve still got five main servers and God knows
how many secondaries still on-line." She turned to Jarod. "Anything yet?"
Jarod shook his head. "Eliminated some possibilities, that’s it."
"Let’s see if I can force their hand."
"Parker," Jarod began warningly when every computer in the room froze.
"Holy-" breathed Parker. She shook herself and the computers came back to life.
"Parker, talk to us," demanded Jarod. "What was that?"
She looked over at Jarod. "I-I’ll tell you later," she replied, her eyes wide with fear.
"I’ve got something coming out of the Argentinean sub-server!" a tech yelled.
"Emily no, it’s too dangerous. What if she turns out to be just like her father?"
"Or maybe she’ll turn out to be just like her mother," Emily argued. "Catherine had her for the
first ten years of her life, and you know that’s when the basic personality is formed."
"Her father was around then, too," Margaret replied. "And he’s had years to counteract
Catherine’s influence. Look at what she did. She didn’t destroy the Centre, she took it over.
When she was a little girl that’s all he wanted her to do when she grew up. Catherine wanted to
destroy it."
"Only after she realized what the Centre had become, what her husband had become." Emily
ran her fingers through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh. "The only reason she tried to
destroy it was because she didn’t have enough power to change it. Miss Parker does. Now."
"And the power to make it even worse." Margaret replied flatly.
"If she wanted to do that, would she have done it this way?" Emily countered. "The Centre’s in
every newspaper in the country and half the ones in the rest of the world. There’s a Senate
subcommittee meeting next month to look into exactly how much influence the Tower has. If
she wanted to keep things as they are, would she have exposed all that?"
"Her father was a master at sleight-of-hand, of letting you see only what he wanted you to see."
Margaret shook her head. "This is still the Centre. Never trust what you see."
"So, what," Emily retorted. "We run, and hide, again? Damn it Mom, don’t you see, I’m tired of
this. I’ve spent my whole life running, and hiding, and wondering if the next person I meet is
going to be a Sweeper in disguise. I want to be able to live without looking over my shoulder all
the time. I want to go to a store, or to a restaurant, and be greeted by people who have known
me for years. I want a relationship that lasts longer than six months before I have to disappear
because somebody in a suit happens to drive a black limo through town. I want a normal life. Is
that too much to ask? Just a normal life."
Margaret shook her head. "It’s too risky."
"Well, maybe it’s time we started taking some risks," Emily argued. "Look, Jarod’s helping her,
right. That has to mean something. And," she took a deep breath, "while I’d like your support,
I’m prepared to do without it."
Margaret looked sharply at her daughter. "You’re serious, aren’t you?" Emily nodded. "I’m not
sure your brother’s emotions aren’t clouding his judgement."
"I didn’t plan to waltz right in and say ‘Hi, I’m Emily’. I’m going to try and find some way I can
observe them without them knowing about it."
"When you say ‘them’, do you mean Jarod as well?"
Emily smiled wryly. "You said it yourself. We can’t be sure his judgement isn’t affected."
"The main African server just went off-line," Broots announced. "We did it," he continued as the
room erupted in cheers. "I don’t believe it. We took out six servers with one."
"Believe it, Mr. Broots," Jarod replied. "Get ready to take her off-line," he added. "I know she
wants you doing it."
"Um, Jarod?" Broots asked as Jarod turned away. "Can I, can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"I saw the files, you know. The red files." Jarod nodded in reply. "Her file, it was marked
Ongoing."
"And?"
"The only other file marked Ongoing was yours. Everything else was marked Concluded
Satisfactory or Concluded Unsatisfactory."
"Your question, Mr. Broots?" Jarod asked, allowing a hint of impatience to creep into his tone.
"I mean, she’s not a Pretender," Broots said, "but what is she?"
Jarod smiled. "The Centre never came up with a name." He shrugged. "Call her a Leader. It’s as
good a term as any."
"If you two morons are done gossiping," Miss Parker called, "I could use a little help here."
Lyle sat patiently, allowing his seatmate’s chatter to wash over him as the prison transport
rolled through the low-lying countryside. His nose twitched at the stench of the chicken farms
to either side.
The driver saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror and pulled over. The state police officer
got out of her cruiser and hurried up. "Thank God. I got to you in time," she gasped as the
driver leaned out of his window. "We just got word there’s going to be an ambush to free one of
the prisoners. We tried to let you know, but we couldn’t raise you on the radio."
"She’s right," the guard replied. "I’m not getting anything, not even static."
"Do you know where this ambush is supposed to take place?" the driver asked.
"Yes," the officer replied, raising her gun and shooting both men through head. "Right here."
She opened the sliding door of the van. "Mr. Lyle, if you would be so kind as to drive the van
into that barn over there?" Lyle nodded and held out his hands for her to remove the cuffs. "As
for the rest of you, there’s $500,000 each plus a chance at a new life in a country that doesn’t
have extradition if you cooperate."
The other prisoners looked at each other, and at the cooling corpses of the two guards. "Works
for me," one said. The others quickly chimed agreement. Lyle shoved the driver aside and drove
the van into the barn. The officer followed and motioned Lyle to shut the door behind them.
She went over to box by the wall, opened it and pulled out two AK-47 submachine guns. She
handed one to Lyle and they both turned and sprayed the van with bullets until their clips
were emptied.
"Asshole talked too much anyhow," Lyle remarked.
"Incendiaries under the floor," the officer replied as she tossed her gun on the floor and walked
out the door. Lyle quickly followed her out to a nondescript sedan parked outside. Looking back
as they drove off, Lyle could see the flames beginning to emerge from the sides of the barn.
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