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Chapter or Story
Legal disclaimer and distribution notice in Part One
Copyright 1999 by R. Franke
LAVENDER
Part II
by R. Franke
Eighteen months later:
"Wakey, wakey, luv."
Jarod’s eyes snapped open as he felt the handcuffs close over his wrists. Brigitte and Lyle stood beside his bed, backed up by half-a-dozen sweepers, all with their guns out and leveled at him. "Well, well," Jarod said. "If it isn’t my two most favorite people in the whole wide world. Who told you where to find me?"
"Maybe we just outthought you," Brigitte smirked.
Jarod snorted in derision. "You?"
"CJ told us," Lyle replied, hauling Jarod out of bed by the chain of the cuffs.
Brigitte leered. "I just knew you were a boxer man."
"I like the freedom," Jarod replied as a sweeper fastened shackles on his ankles and ran a chain from the ankle restraints to the handcuffs. "How are the twins?"
"How the hell should I know? I pay some mouthbreather to take care of the brats and worry about things like that."
"Ah, the joys of motherhood."
"Let’s go." Lyle led Jarod out of the building to the waiting black Lincoln, recoiling as he opened the rear door. "Christ, Sydney, can’t you get the freak to control itself any better than that?"
"It was a long trip," Sydney replied calmly.
"Well get it cleaned up," Lyle snapped, motioning them out of the limousine.
Sydney stepped out of the Town Car first, avoiding Jarod’s eyes. "Angelo," breathed Jarod. He barely recognized his friend in the scrawny, trembling figure that emerged hesitantly from the car. "Lyle," he ground out, "what have you done to him?"
Angelo ducked his head, trying to shrink into himself further. "J-jarod. S-s-sorry."
"It’s all right, Angelo," Sydney soothed, shooting a glare at Lyle. "It’s not your fault."
"Angelo, and Sydney, have both learned the value of cooperation," Lyle said as Sydney led Angelo into the building. "Something you’ll learn as well," he continued, shoving Jarod into the car. Jarod looked levelly at Lyle, then spit directly in his face. "Lesson one," Lyle replied, calmly wiping his face and taking a shock stick from one of the sweepers, "is the importance of etiquette."
Jarod’s muscles spasmed in agony as Lyle jammed the shock stick into his side. The last thing he heard before blacking out was Brigitte commenting mildly, "The Triumvirate would prefer him alive."
"Stay there, Angelo," Sydney ordered. Angelo crouched unmoving under the stinging spray of the shower. "Just, stay there," he repeated sadly. He went over and began rummaging through Jarod’s bag, pulling out a T-shirt for Angelo. He was looking for a pair of pants when his fingers brushed against something hard. Curious, he dug deeper and pulled out a small notebook. His eyebrows rose as he read the first page. "Catherine’s diary," he whispered to himself. He thought for a moment, then slipped the diary into the waistband of his pants, letting it rest against the small of his back. A quick check in the mirror revealed no telltale bulges under his jacket.
As soon as Sydney turned away and began going through Jarod’s bag, Angelo reached out and took Miss Parker’s silver ring from the edge of the bathroom sink. He left the chain beside Jarod’s shaving kit.
There is a technique, known to escape artists, where the performer partially swallows a small object, such as a key, and then regurgitates it at need. The performer can breathe, and talk normally, but not eat or drink. By the time Sydney turned back around with a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, Angelo was once again crouched unmoving as the water flowed over him.
"Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha," taunted Miss Parker.
"Y-you, you cheated," replied Jarod, outraged.
"I did not," Miss Parker replied hotly. "You take that back."
"No."
"Children," interrupted Sydney. The two whirled on him, both loudly defending their actions. Sydney held up his hands and waited. The two subsided, still shooting glares at each other. "Jarod, Miss Parker did not cheat."
"See?" Miss Parker smirked.
Jarod crossed his arms, a look of mulish obstinacy on his face. "But you didn’t play fair."
"I didn’t cheat, that means I won fairly. Right, Sydney?"
"No, I’m afraid it doesn’t, Miss Parker."
"What?" they asked simultaneously. "How can she not win fairly, but not cheat either?" Jarod continued.
"How did she win. And why?" Sydney asked. "Both of you."
"Miss Parker actually won against Jarod?" asked Broots.
Sydney started. "Broots, I didn’t hear you come in." He switched off the DSA player. "Not often. And not with anything approaching consistency. Nevertheless, she did win. Why do you think she was put on the hunt for Jarod?"
"Well, her test scores in that file we found were pretty high. And she did spend a lot of time with Jarod."
"That’s not what convinced the Tower." Sydney pointed to the DSA player. "That did. Miss Parker is the only individual who has ever beaten Jarod one-on-one."
"How?" asked Broots. "It seems like Jarod pretty much led us around by the nose."
"She changed the game."
"Huh?"
Sydney smiled. "Have you ever heard what to do when you can’t win against your computer at chess?"
"No," replied Broots.
"Challenge it to a kickboxing match."
Broots chuckled. "That’s pretty-Oh, I get it. She couldn’t win playing Jarod’s game, so she did something else instead."
"Yes, basically. I tried to encourage her to do it again, but she either wasn’t able to or wasn’t willing." He sighed. "And in the end it is Lyle who captures Jarod."
"Speaking of which," Broots asked, "did you have any luck? Can we see him?"
"No," Sydney replied. "He’ll ‘take it under advisement’. Merde. He has been ‘taking it under advisement’ for the past two weeks. What he really means is that he will ask Lyle or Brigitte and they will say no. Again."
"Seems like Miss Parker’s death really took a lot out of him."
Sydney sighed again. "He’s let himself become a figurehead."
"Yeah," Broots agreed. "But what happens to us," he continued nervously, "when Brigitte and Lyle decide they no longer need a figurehead?"
"Enemies," Angelo said. "Enemies coming."
Broots and Sydney both stared at Angelo, who sat up on the couch he had been resting on. "What enemies?" asked Sydney. "Angelo, what enemies?"
"E-enemies of us?" Broots stuttered.
Angelo shook his head. "Lyle enemies. Lyle enemies coming. Need allies."
"They want us as allies?" Sydney asked.
"Enemies coming," Angelo repeated. "Lyle fall. Tower fall. Centre as should be."
"What do they need?" asked Broots.
Angelo stood up, his spine erect instead of its usual hunch. "Broots," he snapped, obviously repeating the tone and body language of whoever had instructed him, "setup purge all Jarod data, all Miss Parker data, all Angelo data. Mainframe, backup, everything. Keep off-line copy. Run 10 days 0930. Sydney, what three steps redemption?"
"Well," Sydney began. "In Catholic doctrine-"
Angelo nodded. "Good."
Sydney raised an eyebrow. "In Catholic doctrine," he repeated, "the three steps to redemption are confession, absolution, and restitution."
"Good," said Angelo. "Remember. Both go stockholder meeting. And no say Jarod. Whatever happens. Make Jarod safe. Make Jarod free." With that, Angelo lay back down on the couch and curled up into a fetal ball, his back to the room.
"God, Sydney, I didn’t know Angelo could do that."
"Neither did I," Sydney replied, a slight frown on his face. "And there’s something familiar about the way he acted. Someone I should know."
"Someone we can trust?"
"I think," Sydney paused. "Yes. For now."
Jarod raised his head groggily. He had been put in a small cage, too short for him to stand up in and too small for him to lie down. It hung from the ceiling on a large chain, and was completely illuminated by high-powered floodlights. "What are you so dressed up for?"
Lyle smiled, fastidiously tugging at his cuffs. "Shareholders meeting, nothing to concern you. Unless of course you’re prepared to tell me where the DSA’s are?"
"Go to hell."
Still smiling, Lyle reached out and pulled the cage toward him. He released it, imparting a viscous spin as he let go. He turned and walked out of the room, flipping a switch on the wall as he went. His smile grew wider as he heard the retching sounds from inside the room as Jarod’s already abused senses proved unable to handle the spinning, swinging cage and the suddenly strobing lights.
"This is unusual," rumbled Mutumbo. "Observe the Centre’s shareholders meeting, but do not interfere," he quoted.
"Indeed," commented the Director. "Between the two of us, I find this directive rather disturbing."
Mutumbo leaned back. "In what way, Madame Director?"
"Until recently the Centre was our top moneymaker in the North American division," she began. Mutumbo nodded in reply. "Since Jarod’s escape, and his subsequent predation on Centre funds," the Director continued, "the Centre’s financial status has worsened considerably. Add to that the costs of concealing Lyle’s," she paused for a moment, "extracurricular activities, and Mrs. Parker’s insistence on maximum revenge for every slight visited upon her, however minor, and we find that in fact the Tower has been subsidizing the Centre for the past two years." She paused again, and took a deep breath. "I intend to recommend to the Triumvirate that we sever our ties to the Centre. Will I have your support in this matter, Auditor Mutumbo?"
"That may not be advisable at this time," replied Mutumbo. "Mr. Parker has been a valued ally of the Triumvirate for many years now."
"Has been," repeated the Director. "Not is, has been. Lyle runs the Centre now, no matter whom is officially in charge. And he is nowhere near as successful as Parker was."
"Lyle’s accession to power has indeed been, disappointing," answered Mutumbo. "In the normal course of events I would support you. However, there are certain elements you may not be aware of. First, between Scotland Yard, the Surete, and the Questura, Tower Europe has had to cut back operations to avoid notice. Secondly, Tower Central Asia is having to walk a very fine line between the various mujahidin and the Obshina factions. Third, certain elements in the Yakuza and the Triads have begun to oppose us, slowing the planned expansion of Tower East Asia. To be blunt, Madame Director, the last thing the Triumvirate needs right now is any more difficulty from Tower North America."
"Goddamnit!" Security Chief Therman yelled as he shut off the strobing lights. "Didn’t either of you assholes read the fucking memo? He should have been on SL-27 an hour ago!" Jarod stared dully as Therman held up a pair of handcuffs and a tranquilizer gun. "Easy or hard? I don’t give a damn which."
Jarod thought for a moment. His equilibrium was still seriously disturbed from the lights and the spinning cage. "Give them here." Therman tossed Jarod the handcuffs. Jarod put them on and waited patiently while the two sweepers removed him from the cage and strapped him to a gurney.
"Get him out of here," Therman ordered. "And you two better hope to hell Mrs. Parker doesn’t find out about this."
Jarod smiled. "You missed it too, didn’t you?"
"Young man," the elderly woman stated, "I am a stockholder in this company. This company is holding it’s annual stockholder’s meeting, open by law to all stockholders. You will not prevent me from attending this meeting."
"Ma’am, I-" the guard began.
"Of course he won’t," Raines spoke from across the reception area. "William Raines." He walked across the room and guided her past the nonplussed guard. "It’s just so rare that any of our stockholders want to attend these dreary meetings."
"Esther Thaumassiere," she replied, allowing him to guide her. "To be perfectly truthful, I normally don’t come to these sorts of things, but I’ve heard some disturbing rumors about this company. Rumors that say this company has been, and still is, involved in illegal experimentation on human subjects. Even children. I do hope you can disprove these vile rumors, Mr. Raines."
"I assure you, madam, we hold ourselves to the highest of ethical standards here at the Centre," Raines replied as they walked through the door.
"Just what the hell was that?" asked Brigitte as she watched the two walk away.
"A shareholder," Lyle answered. "Before the Tower, and the Triumvirate, entered the picture," he explained to her enquiring look, "shares of Centre stock were briefly traded on the New York Stock Exchange." He shrugged. "The Centre needed money. The Triumvirate provides that now."
"The Centre is a privately held corporation now," Brigitte stated. "Why is she here?"
"The shares involved aren’t a big enough percentage to worry about. Normally we just send them their dividend checks and they’re happy."
"It sounds like somebody isn’t happy."
"She probably owns less than one percent of the Centre," Lyle replied airily. "Besides, what harm can one old lady do?"
"Thank you for your consideration, gentlemen," Jarod said, rubbing his wrists. The two sweepers shot him identical glares and left the room, locking the door behind them. "Is everything going as planned?" he asked, removing the ventilation grille and placing it on the floor. Inside the vent, Angelo grinned in reply, then wriggled backwards. Jarod followed, replacing the grille and the two sets of bars in the ducts as he went.
"Is everything ready?" murmured Sydney.
"Yes," replied Broots, equally softly. "The purge will start in approximately seven minutes."
"I checked my paper files this morning," Sydney commented. "Some files had been removed."
"Jarod’s file?"
Sydney nodded in confirmation. "Angelo’s as well. And Parker’s file had been altered."
"Sounds like they have more allies here than just us and Angelo," Broots replied.
"Yes it does, doesn’t it?" Sydney stood for a moment, lost in thought. "I wish I could figure out who was behind this." He gave a little shake. "We will find out soon enough. Come along, Broots. We don’t want to be late for the meeting."
"I don’t like this, Sydney," Broots said as they walked down the corridor. "I keep wondering what will happen to me if I vote the wrong way."
"Leaving Debbie’s shares to be administered by an Chancery Court judge?" replied Sydney. "After all, with your wife-"
"Ex-wife."
"Pardon, your ex-wife specifically barred from having any control of Debbie’s inheritance, I think the Centre would prefer the devil they-" Sydney stopped as he saw the two sweepers guarding the door to the conference room.
"Why aren’t you with Debbie?" Broots asked.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Broots," Sam replied, "but I’ve been pulled off of Debbie’s protection detail. Orders from the Tower."
"Now I really don’t like this," Broots muttered as the other sweeper opened the door for them.
"Sydney, Mr. Broots," Mr. Parker greeted them as they entered the room. "We were about to start without you."
Sydney looked around the room. He had expected the presence of Lyle, Brigitte, and Raines. Even the presence of Mutumbo, seated in a chair off to the side, was not a surprise. What did surprise him was the presence of half-a-dozen elderly persons also seated around the conference table. "Mr. Parker?"
"I’m afraid some of our stockholders have been listening to some disturbing rumors," Mr. Parker replied. "They’re here to make sure Centre operations are completely ethical and aboveboard."
"Of course," Sydney murmured as he and Broots took their seats.
The door opened again. "Madame Director," murmured Mr. Parker. She nodded in return as she settled into the chair beside Mutumbo.
"Was that really her?" asked the stunned receptionist, eyeing the still closing inner doors of the Centre.
"Yeah," replied the equally stunned sweeper assigned to guard duty. "Oh yeah, that’s her." He shook his head. "This job just gets weirder and weirder."
"She was right," the receptionist said, removing her headset. "All communications are offline, both internal and external."
"I think maybe we’d better take the rest of her advice too," responded the sweeper. He motioned towards the vehicles pulling up in front of the Centre. "They do tend to get nasty if they think you’re obstructing them," he commented, stashing his weapon in one of the potted plants along the wall.
"That concludes all old business," Mr. Parker stated. "Is there any new business?" He looked around the room. "The Chair recognizes Mrs. Thaumassiere."
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I move for a vote of no confidence in Mr. Parker as Chairman of the Centre."
"Second," an elderly gentleman in a checkered sport coat spoke into the sudden silence.
"Just in time for the good part," Jarod murmured as they settled into the vent overlooking the conference room. The long, narrow vent above and behind the Chairman’s seat offered them an excellent view of the meeting. Angelo grinned in reply and offered Jarod some of his Cracker Jacks.
"Hello, Sam, it’s good to see you again." Sam just stared at her, a stunned look on his face. "Nicole, right?" she asked the other sweeper. "I need the two of you to come with me. She stepped between them and opened the conference room door. "Hello, Daddy."
End Part II
Comments and opinions are appreciated
Copyright 1999 by R. Franke
Part II
by R. Franke
Eighteen months later:
"Wakey, wakey, luv."
Jarod’s eyes snapped open as he felt the handcuffs close over his wrists. Brigitte and Lyle stood beside his bed, backed up by half-a-dozen sweepers, all with their guns out and leveled at him. "Well, well," Jarod said. "If it isn’t my two most favorite people in the whole wide world. Who told you where to find me?"
"Maybe we just outthought you," Brigitte smirked.
Jarod snorted in derision. "You?"
"CJ told us," Lyle replied, hauling Jarod out of bed by the chain of the cuffs.
Brigitte leered. "I just knew you were a boxer man."
"I like the freedom," Jarod replied as a sweeper fastened shackles on his ankles and ran a chain from the ankle restraints to the handcuffs. "How are the twins?"
"How the hell should I know? I pay some mouthbreather to take care of the brats and worry about things like that."
"Ah, the joys of motherhood."
"Let’s go." Lyle led Jarod out of the building to the waiting black Lincoln, recoiling as he opened the rear door. "Christ, Sydney, can’t you get the freak to control itself any better than that?"
"It was a long trip," Sydney replied calmly.
"Well get it cleaned up," Lyle snapped, motioning them out of the limousine.
Sydney stepped out of the Town Car first, avoiding Jarod’s eyes. "Angelo," breathed Jarod. He barely recognized his friend in the scrawny, trembling figure that emerged hesitantly from the car. "Lyle," he ground out, "what have you done to him?"
Angelo ducked his head, trying to shrink into himself further. "J-jarod. S-s-sorry."
"It’s all right, Angelo," Sydney soothed, shooting a glare at Lyle. "It’s not your fault."
"Angelo, and Sydney, have both learned the value of cooperation," Lyle said as Sydney led Angelo into the building. "Something you’ll learn as well," he continued, shoving Jarod into the car. Jarod looked levelly at Lyle, then spit directly in his face. "Lesson one," Lyle replied, calmly wiping his face and taking a shock stick from one of the sweepers, "is the importance of etiquette."
Jarod’s muscles spasmed in agony as Lyle jammed the shock stick into his side. The last thing he heard before blacking out was Brigitte commenting mildly, "The Triumvirate would prefer him alive."
"Stay there, Angelo," Sydney ordered. Angelo crouched unmoving under the stinging spray of the shower. "Just, stay there," he repeated sadly. He went over and began rummaging through Jarod’s bag, pulling out a T-shirt for Angelo. He was looking for a pair of pants when his fingers brushed against something hard. Curious, he dug deeper and pulled out a small notebook. His eyebrows rose as he read the first page. "Catherine’s diary," he whispered to himself. He thought for a moment, then slipped the diary into the waistband of his pants, letting it rest against the small of his back. A quick check in the mirror revealed no telltale bulges under his jacket.
As soon as Sydney turned away and began going through Jarod’s bag, Angelo reached out and took Miss Parker’s silver ring from the edge of the bathroom sink. He left the chain beside Jarod’s shaving kit.
There is a technique, known to escape artists, where the performer partially swallows a small object, such as a key, and then regurgitates it at need. The performer can breathe, and talk normally, but not eat or drink. By the time Sydney turned back around with a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, Angelo was once again crouched unmoving as the water flowed over him.
"Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha," taunted Miss Parker.
"Y-you, you cheated," replied Jarod, outraged.
"I did not," Miss Parker replied hotly. "You take that back."
"No."
"Children," interrupted Sydney. The two whirled on him, both loudly defending their actions. Sydney held up his hands and waited. The two subsided, still shooting glares at each other. "Jarod, Miss Parker did not cheat."
"See?" Miss Parker smirked.
Jarod crossed his arms, a look of mulish obstinacy on his face. "But you didn’t play fair."
"I didn’t cheat, that means I won fairly. Right, Sydney?"
"No, I’m afraid it doesn’t, Miss Parker."
"What?" they asked simultaneously. "How can she not win fairly, but not cheat either?" Jarod continued.
"How did she win. And why?" Sydney asked. "Both of you."
"Miss Parker actually won against Jarod?" asked Broots.
Sydney started. "Broots, I didn’t hear you come in." He switched off the DSA player. "Not often. And not with anything approaching consistency. Nevertheless, she did win. Why do you think she was put on the hunt for Jarod?"
"Well, her test scores in that file we found were pretty high. And she did spend a lot of time with Jarod."
"That’s not what convinced the Tower." Sydney pointed to the DSA player. "That did. Miss Parker is the only individual who has ever beaten Jarod one-on-one."
"How?" asked Broots. "It seems like Jarod pretty much led us around by the nose."
"She changed the game."
"Huh?"
Sydney smiled. "Have you ever heard what to do when you can’t win against your computer at chess?"
"No," replied Broots.
"Challenge it to a kickboxing match."
Broots chuckled. "That’s pretty-Oh, I get it. She couldn’t win playing Jarod’s game, so she did something else instead."
"Yes, basically. I tried to encourage her to do it again, but she either wasn’t able to or wasn’t willing." He sighed. "And in the end it is Lyle who captures Jarod."
"Speaking of which," Broots asked, "did you have any luck? Can we see him?"
"No," Sydney replied. "He’ll ‘take it under advisement’. Merde. He has been ‘taking it under advisement’ for the past two weeks. What he really means is that he will ask Lyle or Brigitte and they will say no. Again."
"Seems like Miss Parker’s death really took a lot out of him."
Sydney sighed again. "He’s let himself become a figurehead."
"Yeah," Broots agreed. "But what happens to us," he continued nervously, "when Brigitte and Lyle decide they no longer need a figurehead?"
"Enemies," Angelo said. "Enemies coming."
Broots and Sydney both stared at Angelo, who sat up on the couch he had been resting on. "What enemies?" asked Sydney. "Angelo, what enemies?"
"E-enemies of us?" Broots stuttered.
Angelo shook his head. "Lyle enemies. Lyle enemies coming. Need allies."
"They want us as allies?" Sydney asked.
"Enemies coming," Angelo repeated. "Lyle fall. Tower fall. Centre as should be."
"What do they need?" asked Broots.
Angelo stood up, his spine erect instead of its usual hunch. "Broots," he snapped, obviously repeating the tone and body language of whoever had instructed him, "setup purge all Jarod data, all Miss Parker data, all Angelo data. Mainframe, backup, everything. Keep off-line copy. Run 10 days 0930. Sydney, what three steps redemption?"
"Well," Sydney began. "In Catholic doctrine-"
Angelo nodded. "Good."
Sydney raised an eyebrow. "In Catholic doctrine," he repeated, "the three steps to redemption are confession, absolution, and restitution."
"Good," said Angelo. "Remember. Both go stockholder meeting. And no say Jarod. Whatever happens. Make Jarod safe. Make Jarod free." With that, Angelo lay back down on the couch and curled up into a fetal ball, his back to the room.
"God, Sydney, I didn’t know Angelo could do that."
"Neither did I," Sydney replied, a slight frown on his face. "And there’s something familiar about the way he acted. Someone I should know."
"Someone we can trust?"
"I think," Sydney paused. "Yes. For now."
Jarod raised his head groggily. He had been put in a small cage, too short for him to stand up in and too small for him to lie down. It hung from the ceiling on a large chain, and was completely illuminated by high-powered floodlights. "What are you so dressed up for?"
Lyle smiled, fastidiously tugging at his cuffs. "Shareholders meeting, nothing to concern you. Unless of course you’re prepared to tell me where the DSA’s are?"
"Go to hell."
Still smiling, Lyle reached out and pulled the cage toward him. He released it, imparting a viscous spin as he let go. He turned and walked out of the room, flipping a switch on the wall as he went. His smile grew wider as he heard the retching sounds from inside the room as Jarod’s already abused senses proved unable to handle the spinning, swinging cage and the suddenly strobing lights.
"This is unusual," rumbled Mutumbo. "Observe the Centre’s shareholders meeting, but do not interfere," he quoted.
"Indeed," commented the Director. "Between the two of us, I find this directive rather disturbing."
Mutumbo leaned back. "In what way, Madame Director?"
"Until recently the Centre was our top moneymaker in the North American division," she began. Mutumbo nodded in reply. "Since Jarod’s escape, and his subsequent predation on Centre funds," the Director continued, "the Centre’s financial status has worsened considerably. Add to that the costs of concealing Lyle’s," she paused for a moment, "extracurricular activities, and Mrs. Parker’s insistence on maximum revenge for every slight visited upon her, however minor, and we find that in fact the Tower has been subsidizing the Centre for the past two years." She paused again, and took a deep breath. "I intend to recommend to the Triumvirate that we sever our ties to the Centre. Will I have your support in this matter, Auditor Mutumbo?"
"That may not be advisable at this time," replied Mutumbo. "Mr. Parker has been a valued ally of the Triumvirate for many years now."
"Has been," repeated the Director. "Not is, has been. Lyle runs the Centre now, no matter whom is officially in charge. And he is nowhere near as successful as Parker was."
"Lyle’s accession to power has indeed been, disappointing," answered Mutumbo. "In the normal course of events I would support you. However, there are certain elements you may not be aware of. First, between Scotland Yard, the Surete, and the Questura, Tower Europe has had to cut back operations to avoid notice. Secondly, Tower Central Asia is having to walk a very fine line between the various mujahidin and the Obshina factions. Third, certain elements in the Yakuza and the Triads have begun to oppose us, slowing the planned expansion of Tower East Asia. To be blunt, Madame Director, the last thing the Triumvirate needs right now is any more difficulty from Tower North America."
"Goddamnit!" Security Chief Therman yelled as he shut off the strobing lights. "Didn’t either of you assholes read the fucking memo? He should have been on SL-27 an hour ago!" Jarod stared dully as Therman held up a pair of handcuffs and a tranquilizer gun. "Easy or hard? I don’t give a damn which."
Jarod thought for a moment. His equilibrium was still seriously disturbed from the lights and the spinning cage. "Give them here." Therman tossed Jarod the handcuffs. Jarod put them on and waited patiently while the two sweepers removed him from the cage and strapped him to a gurney.
"Get him out of here," Therman ordered. "And you two better hope to hell Mrs. Parker doesn’t find out about this."
Jarod smiled. "You missed it too, didn’t you?"
"Young man," the elderly woman stated, "I am a stockholder in this company. This company is holding it’s annual stockholder’s meeting, open by law to all stockholders. You will not prevent me from attending this meeting."
"Ma’am, I-" the guard began.
"Of course he won’t," Raines spoke from across the reception area. "William Raines." He walked across the room and guided her past the nonplussed guard. "It’s just so rare that any of our stockholders want to attend these dreary meetings."
"Esther Thaumassiere," she replied, allowing him to guide her. "To be perfectly truthful, I normally don’t come to these sorts of things, but I’ve heard some disturbing rumors about this company. Rumors that say this company has been, and still is, involved in illegal experimentation on human subjects. Even children. I do hope you can disprove these vile rumors, Mr. Raines."
"I assure you, madam, we hold ourselves to the highest of ethical standards here at the Centre," Raines replied as they walked through the door.
"Just what the hell was that?" asked Brigitte as she watched the two walk away.
"A shareholder," Lyle answered. "Before the Tower, and the Triumvirate, entered the picture," he explained to her enquiring look, "shares of Centre stock were briefly traded on the New York Stock Exchange." He shrugged. "The Centre needed money. The Triumvirate provides that now."
"The Centre is a privately held corporation now," Brigitte stated. "Why is she here?"
"The shares involved aren’t a big enough percentage to worry about. Normally we just send them their dividend checks and they’re happy."
"It sounds like somebody isn’t happy."
"She probably owns less than one percent of the Centre," Lyle replied airily. "Besides, what harm can one old lady do?"
"Thank you for your consideration, gentlemen," Jarod said, rubbing his wrists. The two sweepers shot him identical glares and left the room, locking the door behind them. "Is everything going as planned?" he asked, removing the ventilation grille and placing it on the floor. Inside the vent, Angelo grinned in reply, then wriggled backwards. Jarod followed, replacing the grille and the two sets of bars in the ducts as he went.
"Is everything ready?" murmured Sydney.
"Yes," replied Broots, equally softly. "The purge will start in approximately seven minutes."
"I checked my paper files this morning," Sydney commented. "Some files had been removed."
"Jarod’s file?"
Sydney nodded in confirmation. "Angelo’s as well. And Parker’s file had been altered."
"Sounds like they have more allies here than just us and Angelo," Broots replied.
"Yes it does, doesn’t it?" Sydney stood for a moment, lost in thought. "I wish I could figure out who was behind this." He gave a little shake. "We will find out soon enough. Come along, Broots. We don’t want to be late for the meeting."
"I don’t like this, Sydney," Broots said as they walked down the corridor. "I keep wondering what will happen to me if I vote the wrong way."
"Leaving Debbie’s shares to be administered by an Chancery Court judge?" replied Sydney. "After all, with your wife-"
"Ex-wife."
"Pardon, your ex-wife specifically barred from having any control of Debbie’s inheritance, I think the Centre would prefer the devil they-" Sydney stopped as he saw the two sweepers guarding the door to the conference room.
"Why aren’t you with Debbie?" Broots asked.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Broots," Sam replied, "but I’ve been pulled off of Debbie’s protection detail. Orders from the Tower."
"Now I really don’t like this," Broots muttered as the other sweeper opened the door for them.
"Sydney, Mr. Broots," Mr. Parker greeted them as they entered the room. "We were about to start without you."
Sydney looked around the room. He had expected the presence of Lyle, Brigitte, and Raines. Even the presence of Mutumbo, seated in a chair off to the side, was not a surprise. What did surprise him was the presence of half-a-dozen elderly persons also seated around the conference table. "Mr. Parker?"
"I’m afraid some of our stockholders have been listening to some disturbing rumors," Mr. Parker replied. "They’re here to make sure Centre operations are completely ethical and aboveboard."
"Of course," Sydney murmured as he and Broots took their seats.
The door opened again. "Madame Director," murmured Mr. Parker. She nodded in return as she settled into the chair beside Mutumbo.
"Was that really her?" asked the stunned receptionist, eyeing the still closing inner doors of the Centre.
"Yeah," replied the equally stunned sweeper assigned to guard duty. "Oh yeah, that’s her." He shook his head. "This job just gets weirder and weirder."
"She was right," the receptionist said, removing her headset. "All communications are offline, both internal and external."
"I think maybe we’d better take the rest of her advice too," responded the sweeper. He motioned towards the vehicles pulling up in front of the Centre. "They do tend to get nasty if they think you’re obstructing them," he commented, stashing his weapon in one of the potted plants along the wall.
"That concludes all old business," Mr. Parker stated. "Is there any new business?" He looked around the room. "The Chair recognizes Mrs. Thaumassiere."
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I move for a vote of no confidence in Mr. Parker as Chairman of the Centre."
"Second," an elderly gentleman in a checkered sport coat spoke into the sudden silence.
"Just in time for the good part," Jarod murmured as they settled into the vent overlooking the conference room. The long, narrow vent above and behind the Chairman’s seat offered them an excellent view of the meeting. Angelo grinned in reply and offered Jarod some of his Cracker Jacks.
"Hello, Sam, it’s good to see you again." Sam just stared at her, a stunned look on his face. "Nicole, right?" she asked the other sweeper. "I need the two of you to come with me. She stepped between them and opened the conference room door. "Hello, Daddy."
End Part II
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