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Chapter or Story
This is a fanfic written purely for entertainment and promotion of my favorite show, The Pretender. I am merely borrowing the characters from the TV show owned by Pretender Productions and Fox, for my story. All other characters not appearing on the Pretender are mine. Please don't sue me, as I have no money.
As you may recall, this story takes place in the first days and following months following the 3rd season final, Donoterase. This story is very different from the real 4th season of the Pretender, as it was started in the summer before season 4, and has taken on a life of it's own. jojarod
Following an intense shootout with the people tailing them, Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots, Major Charles, Jarod, and Joe, head for refuge to a farm just outside of Overland Park, Kansas. The Centre is hot on their trail, and time is running out.
In Pursuit Of Happiness
Part 15
by jojarod50
Gravel road 35 minutes from Overland Park, Kansas
10:39 AM CST
Broots flicked as much of the shattered glass off the dash and front seat, as he quickly could. He'd already broken off the biggest parts of the shattered front and rear windshields, which had remained attached. The low-key work seemed to calm him only slightly, as he stood there shaking like a leaf. He'd already lost his breakfast in the ditch beside the road and was grateful Miss Parker had announced, she was driving. Jarod had insisted on caring for his dad's wounded arm. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed him. Sydney was keeping a low profile, as he carefully evaluated Jarod's ability to cope with the present situation. Fortunately, he was doing remarkably well.
Joe was frisking the body laid out on the gravel road, when Jarod approached him.
"ID?"
"Yeah, his badge says, Ricky Armstrong, FBI. Found these papers, too. Come on, Jarod, we better get the hell out of here, before we have company."
"Agreed. How much further?"
"Forty minutes, tops. You ok?"
Jarod gave him a sly pretender smile, his deep brown eyes, clear and focused.
"I'm getting there. Imagine that, just in time to entertain guests," Jarod mused, hoping into Joe's beat up car and motioning for the others to follow.
**
The Centre
Mr. Parker's office
9:39 AM Eastern time
"Lyle? Oh, he didn't want to leave with the others, in case they were intercepted at the airport. Handy thing he hadn't left yet. Willie was able to glean new information on our targets probable secondary location, from one of the fools being interrogated down in SL 27. It's a farmhouse just outside of Overland Park, Kansas, rented by a guy named Joe Clark. I honestly believe this will all be behind us by tonight."
"You better be right," Mutumbo growled glancing at a Centre file and smacking it down on the desk. What about Joe Clark, it says here he's a cop? The last thing we need is more outside involved."
"Mutumbo, he resigned 5 weeks ago, and has had no contact with anyone we should worry about. Actually, his surfacing at this time does us a big favor. Loose ends you know. We'll be able to take him out when we retrieve the others."
"And Lyle?"
"Once he's served his purpose, you can have him. Frankly, I'm tired of dealing with his screw-ups. His insatiable sadistic appetite clouds his judgement and undermines everything he does. The libertieshe took with Jarod, while under Raines direction, is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. He's too much of a liability now to suit me."
"Yes, the man with no conscious. He is a special man indeed. I believe I can find a permanent place for him. Just let me know when you're ready for me to take him off your hands. I have a question for you, though. If you're so blatantly aware of Lyle's shortcomings and potential demise of InkBlot, why the hell are you involving him in it at all? Parker, with your on going track record concerning the recapture of Jarod, you're putting yourself in a very precarious situation. Be forewarned! You and your entire staff are dispensable; the pretender is not."
"Demise is too strong a word. Damnit, don't start throwing your weight around, until you have all the facts. To date, we've circumvented all transfers of Centre records from the Mainframe. Now the only fire left to put out is this criminal investigation pertaining to Jarod. If the Fed.'s blow this thing wide open, we'll have our own patsies lined up and ready to take the fall. We can claim ignorance, and hand Raines and Lyle over as the masterminds of this whole sordid mess. Besides, Willie and Sam are under directorders to keep a close eye on him. Lyle is, shall we say, very motivated to get this one right."
"Have you figured out who the leak in the Centre is?"
"No, but even God won't be able to help him, when we do."
**
Angelo watched the evil men carefully from the air duct to Mr. Parker's office, then quickly scurried down the tube to his lair to send another warning to his friends.
Ruff angry hands grabbed him, as he hopped down from the duct, and dragged him over to the computer on the old wooden desk. A computer tech looked up
briefly, before going back to his work.
"The little guy's been apparently sending emails to Miss Parker and Broots, every 4 hours, daily. He also has enough information lined up here, to put us all away for life. We're just lucky he didn't hit send. Let me do a little more digging. Who knows what I'll come up with."
"Angelo, you've been a very naughty boy. The Centre has taken good care of you over the years, and this is how you repay us? Trying to send sensitive materials to the FBI? Haven't you ever heard the expression, don't bite the hand that feeds you?"
With that, Cox backhanded the frightened young man against the far wall, and into a pile of boxes. Angelo immediately curled into a tight ball and began to shriek.
"Better quiet down, or you'll be hurting a lot more. Take him to Mr. Parker's office now."
"Yes, Sir," one of the sweepers said, as the two dark suits advanced on the terrified man/child, and hauled him out the door.
***
Chapman's farm
2000 south 198th Street
11:49 CST
Major Charles and Sydney sat at the green 50's aluminum kitchen table, discussing whether or not to stay here and make a stand, or run for it, while there was still time. Both watched for any movement from the windows, as they hurried wrapped up their conversation.
Broots came in through the screen door, trying not to make too much noise, and headed for the sink to clean up. He and Joe had hidden both cars in one of the outbuildings, still accessible, but safely out of sight. Then they had quickly unloaded the weapons and brought them into the house. Joe had them arranged off to the side, on the living room floor and was making sure they were all loaded and ready to go. Parker had been watching him for a little bit and then resumed her surveillance from a window near the front door. The curtains were all drawn, making the stuffy air stiflingly hot.
Jarod had been at the computer since they'd arrived, running down the Fed.'s files on Ricky Armstrong. He was searching for Armstrong's likely connection to a Mr. Lucas, whose copy of an email to Mr. Parker had been sent to them earlier by Angelo. It was maddening how insidiously entwined in the fabric of so many institutions, the Centre was, and Jarod was determined to ultimately see it completely unravel.
Bringing up the Centre Mainframe and deftly feeding it a new synchronized incription code, he slipped through undetected and continued his cunning investigation. Slipping in his version of a deadly computer virus for later activation, he continued digging into extremely sensitive places he had never dared try to go, gathering information he needed to complete his own personal quest. His fingers flew over the keys, in a stunning display of what the pretender was capable of, as an awe struck Miss Parker stepped up beside him, after calling his name from a distance to avoid startling him.
"You sure do know how to use that thing, Jarod."
"Wha… oh, well, we don't have much time. With what I just uncovered about your dad's sordid business relationship with his friends, headed by Mr. Lucas, FBI, I think they will be hard pressed to give us any more trouble. Some acquaintances of mine, with the Atlanta violent crime task force, will have them in custody ASAP.
Jarod stood up and put his hands lightly on Miss Parker's shoulders.
"Sweepers will probably be here any time now. We just might be able to take them out, but if we fail, we need a contingency plan, Parker. It's time to make some difficult decisions. I'm willing to be takenback, if you, Sydney and Broots need to go along with it for a time, until a better plan can be put into place. I've planted some surprises in their Mainframe, just in case. I'm sorry to be the realist here, Miss Parker. If it comes down to it, do what ever it takes to survive, you better believe I will. Just don't let them take my dad. Deal?"
"Jarod, I could never let them take you back there. It's not like you to just give up."
"Give up? Where the heck did you get that idea? Look, I'm already thinking clearer than an hour ago. After I finish the doses, I will be unstoppable. They have managed to turn me into a very angry, highly motivated, deadly adversary with the expertise to bring them down. Whether we get them now or later, the Centre will not survive."
Pulling her into a strong embrace, Jarod kissed Parker passionately and then pulled way and gave her a quick wink.
"Talk to Sydney, Broots, Joe, and my Dad. I've got work to do, before our times up."
"Talk to me about what, Jarod?"
"Oh, about an alternative plan if things go south."
"Jarod, Major Charles and I have some ideas of our own. Unfortunately, this conversation will have to be put on hold. It's time for your second dose. Joe said there are plenty of bedrooms upstairs. After observing your reaction to this drug last time, you better take it lying down."
"Can't it wait? I still have some important work to do."
"No, it can't, Jarod. This regimen is very time sensitive. Hopefully, it won't be as incapacitating as last time."
"Major Charles will be up in a few minutes, to keep you company, after he and Joe finish surveying the property."
***
Second floor
Jarod's bedroom
12:00 noon
The two headed upstairs and took the bedroom, down at the end of the hallway on the right.
"How are you feeling, Jarod? You look more alert than I've seen you in months," Sydney said, as he quickly examined the pretender's eyes.
"You can't know what it is like, to live in almost complete chaos for months and then suddenly find yourself able to use your mind again. It's indescribable."
"Hold out your hands for me, that's right. Ok, you can put them down, now."
"Let me take your pulse and we'll be all done."
"All right, Jarod. Your eyes are still slightly dilated, but that's a great improvement over this morning. Have your hands been shaking like this all day? If so, I certainly want commend you on your shooting skills."
"They, um, have gotten a little worse since the confrontation."
"Your heart rate is quite high. You appear to be experiencing extreme anxiety again. Jarod don't look at me like that. It's nothing to get angry about. Under our current situation, it would be unrealistic to expect you to be unaffected, after all you've been through."
"You're dead wrong, Sydney. I'm doing just fine. Why don't you give me that "time sensitive" shot, and skip the small talk."
"All right, Jarod. But I must warn you. You can switch gears all you want to with your brilliant pretender skills, but you can't hide from yourself. You are still suffering emotionally from what was done to you, and just having Raines' drug neutralized will not instantly cure everything. Denial can be a very dangerous thing. Don't push yourself too hard, or you may end up back on some psych ward."
"Sydney, we could all end up dead before the day is over or have you forgotten that?" Jarod asked as he pushed his sleeve up and looked away.
The psychiatrist was silent as he gave his patient the injection and watched him fall gently against the pillows. Pushing aside locks of brown hair that had fallen in his eyes, Sydney sat there observing the pretender, as he worked thought the sudden rush of euphoria that hit him just as hard as before. It took several minutes before, the pretender started coming out of it.
"Jarod, how are you feeling?"
"I'm really out of it, Sydney. Sure hope we have a little more time, before the shootout at OK Corral. If the sweepers get here right away, send Miss Parker up for a farewell kiss."
"Ok, Jarod," he said shaking his head. "Now, listen to me carefully. I'm leaving this Thorozine for you. Major Charles is bringing you up a snack. That would be a good time to take it. You can decide whether to use it or not. Fair enough?"
"Thanks Sydney," Jarod said with a grateful smile, his eyes at half-mast.
***
"There you two are," the Major said peeking into the room. "How is everything going?"
"Just fine. Don't let Jarod up until he's steady on his feet," he said placing the bottle on Jarod's nightstand. Excuse me. I need to speak to Parker."
Major Charles watched Sydney leave, sensing unusual tension in the air.
"Jarod, is something wrong? Sydney looked upset."
"No, Dad. Everything is just fine. He's probably just tired."
"How about some juice?"
"Thanks. Just set it on the table. You know, I'm not feeling very good. I think I'll take a short nap. You don't really need to watch me breath. Why don't you go back down stairs? I promise to stay out of trouble."
"Ok, Jarod. If you're sure that's what you want."
"Yeah. Just be sure to wake me if something comes up."
"You'll be the first to know. Good night, Son."
"Goodnight."
Jarod watched his Dad close the door, just as a full-blown panic attack swept over him. Shaking uncontrollably, he fought against shear terror, as everything speeded up and went out of control. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he desperately struggled to breathe; his mind feeling like it was slipping away. He fought it with his pretender skills, becoming an observer instead of a victim, but ultimately, it was still him lying in a pool of sweat and fear when it was over.
Closing his eyes, Jarod lay motionless, riding out the nausea that always followed one.
After a moment, he sat up slightly, wondering what had triggered the attack. Looking around the room, he saw an old dresser adorned with family pictures, a brightly colored quilt folded neatly on a chair, an old calendar on the wall, and the beige fringed bedspread on the bed he was lying on, but nothing registered.
The sudden unexpected onset of a panic attack had always been the hardest thing to deal with. But now, it could mean the difference between life and death. Looking down at his shaking hands, he knew he couldn't even shoot a weapon, right now.
Looking on the nightstand, he found the medicine Sydney had left. Clutching it tightly, he noted that he was to take two tablets twice daily, as he removed the cap and pour some in his hand. Failing to keep his hands steady enough, Jarod spilled the pills all over the place. At that same moment, the door swung open, and Sydney stepped in, wishing he had knocked first.
"Your dad said you weren't feeling well. I, um, thought you were asleep and just thought I'd peek in on you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. If you would like for me to leave…"
"No, I could use some help," he said briefly looking up. I'm sorry for my anger earlier."
"I know that, Jarod," the older man said patting him gently on the back and helping him put the pills back in the bottle.
"Were you wanting to take some now?" the doctor asked noting that he was trembling badly and dripping with sweat. Judging by his appearance and rapid breathing, he suspected Jarod had just had a panic attack but opted to say nothing.
"Yes, I think it'd be a good idea," he said forcing a smile and glancing at Sydney.
"With the remarkable rate of improvement you are exhibiting, I'm sure it won't be too much longer, before you have completely overcome your anxiety problems."
"To be honest with you Jarod, when I first started working with you, I didn't think you were going to make it. You were just too far-gone. You should feel very proud of your ability to overcome nearly impossible obstacles, to become whole again. If it weren't for our ongoing crisis, you would probably be having a minimal amount of difficulties now."
Jarod managed a smile and took a drink of his juice, anxious to get back down stairs.
"Well, let's go see what we can do about ending this crisis," the pretender said hoping out of bed and swaying slightly.
"Jarod?"
"Don't worry about me, the stairs has a banister."
***
When Sydney and Jarod entered the living room, they were met by Broots and Miss Parker.
"Syd, Angelo never contacted us."
"Oh dear Lord, not Angelo."
"You two better take these now," Joe said handing out the guns. "Hear those dogs barking? I think we have company."
Jarod and Joe took the back windows, while Major Charles and Miss Parker took the front. Broots hunkered down by the side window, while Sydney trained his gun at the opposite window.
"Joe, someone needs to go upstairs, I don't think we're in for a frontal attack."
"Right. I'll go. Broots, you come upstairs with me."
"Um, but what about…"
"Hurry, Broots."
There were noises coming from the cellar and Jarod stepped away from the back door signaling to Sydney who had noticed his movement.
Crashing glass and several gunshots rang out from above, as teargas began billowing down the stairs. The cellar door flew open and several sweepers invaded the room wearing gas masks and firing their weapons.
Jarod took out the first two and upended the kitchen table for cover. He continued firing shots on the others, as clouds of teargas permeated the room virtually blinding him.
Sydney ducked behind an overstuffed chair and tried to draw their fire, so that Jarod could get outside, before fumes overcame him. Sudden searing pain shot through his side and he collapsed to the floor.
The back door flew open, and Jarod choking and gagging was dragged outside. He gave a valiant effort, fighting off two sweepers, but the third one got the best of him and he went down hard. Rolling him over a skinny old man found a vein and plunged the needle in rendering the pretender immediately unconscious.
Miss Parker yelled for Major Charles to cover her, as she made her way toward the rear of the house, just in time to see the body of a black sweeper crashing down to the first landing of the stairs. Looking for cover, she saw Sydney in a crumpled heap on the floor and frantically tried to reach him.
Blinded by gas, strong sweaty hands grabbed her and dragged her out the back door, kicking and clawing her captor. The front door flew opened as another teargas bomb exploded, filling the thick air with more smoke. Tears blinding his eyes, Major Charles nailed a sweeper in a gas mask before succumbing to the fumes. He fought off one sweeper as two more jumped him, beating him nearly unconscious, before they could subdue him. Pulling him upright, the masked sweepers handcuffed his hands tightly behind his back, and hauled him out to the waiting car. Sydney was the last one taken out. He was quickly treated and loaded in the second car with Lyle, Jarod, and the Centre psychiatrist.
Miss Parker, Major Charles, and Broots, were in the first car that headed out, followed by Lyle's car. They all had received a hefty sedative from their new doctor's deadly serious hypo. Joe never made it out alive.
***
"Your men know their jobs. I want the cleaners in and out as quickly as possible. You're asking me? I don't care what you do with Clark's body, just get some decent pictures for Mr. Parker. We've on a tight schedule here. Get your men back to the Centre as quickly as possible."
Lyle exchanged looks with the doctor who was working with Sydney in the back seat.
"He going to live?"
"How long before we're back on your plane?"
"Fifty minutes."
"Probably."
Lyle poured himself a drink and leaned back relaxing while watching the pretender sleep like a baby. He was pretty banged up, but that was his own fault. Taking on 3 sweepers when you can't see, wasn't the brightest thing he's ever seen Jarod do. He knew better than to expected him to give up without a fight, though. He just hoped his dad would understand.
"Lyle here. Yes, right on schedule. Get the champagne iced down; we've got all of them. Yes, he's sitting right beside me, taking a little nap. See you later."
***
The Centre
Reception room 2a
6:00 EST
"Have a cigar, Dr. Meisser?"
"Ah, a Meastoso, natural. Don't mind if I do.
"When will the sedatives wear off? I'd like to talk to my daughter."
"She should be coming around any time now. Feisty little thing, your daughter. About bit my finger in two, when I administered her shot. Figuratively speaking, you know."
"Have you had a chance to evaluate Jarod, yet."
"I'm heading down there right after I finish reading his chart. Your Sydney fellow, certainly is a stickler for details. Reading Jarod's chart is just like having been there from the beginning. Your pretender is quite a remarkable young man. Amazing, quite frankly."
"Speaking of Dr. Green, how is he doing?"
"Older men shouldn't have such nasty wounds. He's still in surgery, but his prognosis is very good.
"Well, I best be going," the new Centre psychiatrist offered, downing the last of his drink.
I'll give you a call after my first session with Jarod. Oh, and thanks for the cigar."
***
As you may recall, this story takes place in the first days and following months following the 3rd season final, Donoterase. This story is very different from the real 4th season of the Pretender, as it was started in the summer before season 4, and has taken on a life of it's own. jojarod
Following an intense shootout with the people tailing them, Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots, Major Charles, Jarod, and Joe, head for refuge to a farm just outside of Overland Park, Kansas. The Centre is hot on their trail, and time is running out.
Part 15
by jojarod50
Gravel road 35 minutes from Overland Park, Kansas
10:39 AM CST
Broots flicked as much of the shattered glass off the dash and front seat, as he quickly could. He'd already broken off the biggest parts of the shattered front and rear windshields, which had remained attached. The low-key work seemed to calm him only slightly, as he stood there shaking like a leaf. He'd already lost his breakfast in the ditch beside the road and was grateful Miss Parker had announced, she was driving. Jarod had insisted on caring for his dad's wounded arm. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed him. Sydney was keeping a low profile, as he carefully evaluated Jarod's ability to cope with the present situation. Fortunately, he was doing remarkably well.
Joe was frisking the body laid out on the gravel road, when Jarod approached him.
"ID?"
"Yeah, his badge says, Ricky Armstrong, FBI. Found these papers, too. Come on, Jarod, we better get the hell out of here, before we have company."
"Agreed. How much further?"
"Forty minutes, tops. You ok?"
Jarod gave him a sly pretender smile, his deep brown eyes, clear and focused.
"I'm getting there. Imagine that, just in time to entertain guests," Jarod mused, hoping into Joe's beat up car and motioning for the others to follow.
**
The Centre
Mr. Parker's office
9:39 AM Eastern time
"Lyle? Oh, he didn't want to leave with the others, in case they were intercepted at the airport. Handy thing he hadn't left yet. Willie was able to glean new information on our targets probable secondary location, from one of the fools being interrogated down in SL 27. It's a farmhouse just outside of Overland Park, Kansas, rented by a guy named Joe Clark. I honestly believe this will all be behind us by tonight."
"You better be right," Mutumbo growled glancing at a Centre file and smacking it down on the desk. What about Joe Clark, it says here he's a cop? The last thing we need is more outside involved."
"Mutumbo, he resigned 5 weeks ago, and has had no contact with anyone we should worry about. Actually, his surfacing at this time does us a big favor. Loose ends you know. We'll be able to take him out when we retrieve the others."
"And Lyle?"
"Once he's served his purpose, you can have him. Frankly, I'm tired of dealing with his screw-ups. His insatiable sadistic appetite clouds his judgement and undermines everything he does. The libertieshe took with Jarod, while under Raines direction, is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. He's too much of a liability now to suit me."
"Yes, the man with no conscious. He is a special man indeed. I believe I can find a permanent place for him. Just let me know when you're ready for me to take him off your hands. I have a question for you, though. If you're so blatantly aware of Lyle's shortcomings and potential demise of InkBlot, why the hell are you involving him in it at all? Parker, with your on going track record concerning the recapture of Jarod, you're putting yourself in a very precarious situation. Be forewarned! You and your entire staff are dispensable; the pretender is not."
"Demise is too strong a word. Damnit, don't start throwing your weight around, until you have all the facts. To date, we've circumvented all transfers of Centre records from the Mainframe. Now the only fire left to put out is this criminal investigation pertaining to Jarod. If the Fed.'s blow this thing wide open, we'll have our own patsies lined up and ready to take the fall. We can claim ignorance, and hand Raines and Lyle over as the masterminds of this whole sordid mess. Besides, Willie and Sam are under directorders to keep a close eye on him. Lyle is, shall we say, very motivated to get this one right."
"Have you figured out who the leak in the Centre is?"
"No, but even God won't be able to help him, when we do."
**
Angelo watched the evil men carefully from the air duct to Mr. Parker's office, then quickly scurried down the tube to his lair to send another warning to his friends.
Ruff angry hands grabbed him, as he hopped down from the duct, and dragged him over to the computer on the old wooden desk. A computer tech looked up
briefly, before going back to his work.
"The little guy's been apparently sending emails to Miss Parker and Broots, every 4 hours, daily. He also has enough information lined up here, to put us all away for life. We're just lucky he didn't hit send. Let me do a little more digging. Who knows what I'll come up with."
"Angelo, you've been a very naughty boy. The Centre has taken good care of you over the years, and this is how you repay us? Trying to send sensitive materials to the FBI? Haven't you ever heard the expression, don't bite the hand that feeds you?"
With that, Cox backhanded the frightened young man against the far wall, and into a pile of boxes. Angelo immediately curled into a tight ball and began to shriek.
"Better quiet down, or you'll be hurting a lot more. Take him to Mr. Parker's office now."
"Yes, Sir," one of the sweepers said, as the two dark suits advanced on the terrified man/child, and hauled him out the door.
***
Chapman's farm
2000 south 198th Street
11:49 CST
Major Charles and Sydney sat at the green 50's aluminum kitchen table, discussing whether or not to stay here and make a stand, or run for it, while there was still time. Both watched for any movement from the windows, as they hurried wrapped up their conversation.
Broots came in through the screen door, trying not to make too much noise, and headed for the sink to clean up. He and Joe had hidden both cars in one of the outbuildings, still accessible, but safely out of sight. Then they had quickly unloaded the weapons and brought them into the house. Joe had them arranged off to the side, on the living room floor and was making sure they were all loaded and ready to go. Parker had been watching him for a little bit and then resumed her surveillance from a window near the front door. The curtains were all drawn, making the stuffy air stiflingly hot.
Jarod had been at the computer since they'd arrived, running down the Fed.'s files on Ricky Armstrong. He was searching for Armstrong's likely connection to a Mr. Lucas, whose copy of an email to Mr. Parker had been sent to them earlier by Angelo. It was maddening how insidiously entwined in the fabric of so many institutions, the Centre was, and Jarod was determined to ultimately see it completely unravel.
Bringing up the Centre Mainframe and deftly feeding it a new synchronized incription code, he slipped through undetected and continued his cunning investigation. Slipping in his version of a deadly computer virus for later activation, he continued digging into extremely sensitive places he had never dared try to go, gathering information he needed to complete his own personal quest. His fingers flew over the keys, in a stunning display of what the pretender was capable of, as an awe struck Miss Parker stepped up beside him, after calling his name from a distance to avoid startling him.
"You sure do know how to use that thing, Jarod."
"Wha… oh, well, we don't have much time. With what I just uncovered about your dad's sordid business relationship with his friends, headed by Mr. Lucas, FBI, I think they will be hard pressed to give us any more trouble. Some acquaintances of mine, with the Atlanta violent crime task force, will have them in custody ASAP.
Jarod stood up and put his hands lightly on Miss Parker's shoulders.
"Sweepers will probably be here any time now. We just might be able to take them out, but if we fail, we need a contingency plan, Parker. It's time to make some difficult decisions. I'm willing to be takenback, if you, Sydney and Broots need to go along with it for a time, until a better plan can be put into place. I've planted some surprises in their Mainframe, just in case. I'm sorry to be the realist here, Miss Parker. If it comes down to it, do what ever it takes to survive, you better believe I will. Just don't let them take my dad. Deal?"
"Jarod, I could never let them take you back there. It's not like you to just give up."
"Give up? Where the heck did you get that idea? Look, I'm already thinking clearer than an hour ago. After I finish the doses, I will be unstoppable. They have managed to turn me into a very angry, highly motivated, deadly adversary with the expertise to bring them down. Whether we get them now or later, the Centre will not survive."
Pulling her into a strong embrace, Jarod kissed Parker passionately and then pulled way and gave her a quick wink.
"Talk to Sydney, Broots, Joe, and my Dad. I've got work to do, before our times up."
"Talk to me about what, Jarod?"
"Oh, about an alternative plan if things go south."
"Jarod, Major Charles and I have some ideas of our own. Unfortunately, this conversation will have to be put on hold. It's time for your second dose. Joe said there are plenty of bedrooms upstairs. After observing your reaction to this drug last time, you better take it lying down."
"Can't it wait? I still have some important work to do."
"No, it can't, Jarod. This regimen is very time sensitive. Hopefully, it won't be as incapacitating as last time."
"Major Charles will be up in a few minutes, to keep you company, after he and Joe finish surveying the property."
***
Second floor
Jarod's bedroom
12:00 noon
The two headed upstairs and took the bedroom, down at the end of the hallway on the right.
"How are you feeling, Jarod? You look more alert than I've seen you in months," Sydney said, as he quickly examined the pretender's eyes.
"You can't know what it is like, to live in almost complete chaos for months and then suddenly find yourself able to use your mind again. It's indescribable."
"Hold out your hands for me, that's right. Ok, you can put them down, now."
"Let me take your pulse and we'll be all done."
"All right, Jarod. Your eyes are still slightly dilated, but that's a great improvement over this morning. Have your hands been shaking like this all day? If so, I certainly want commend you on your shooting skills."
"They, um, have gotten a little worse since the confrontation."
"Your heart rate is quite high. You appear to be experiencing extreme anxiety again. Jarod don't look at me like that. It's nothing to get angry about. Under our current situation, it would be unrealistic to expect you to be unaffected, after all you've been through."
"You're dead wrong, Sydney. I'm doing just fine. Why don't you give me that "time sensitive" shot, and skip the small talk."
"All right, Jarod. But I must warn you. You can switch gears all you want to with your brilliant pretender skills, but you can't hide from yourself. You are still suffering emotionally from what was done to you, and just having Raines' drug neutralized will not instantly cure everything. Denial can be a very dangerous thing. Don't push yourself too hard, or you may end up back on some psych ward."
"Sydney, we could all end up dead before the day is over or have you forgotten that?" Jarod asked as he pushed his sleeve up and looked away.
The psychiatrist was silent as he gave his patient the injection and watched him fall gently against the pillows. Pushing aside locks of brown hair that had fallen in his eyes, Sydney sat there observing the pretender, as he worked thought the sudden rush of euphoria that hit him just as hard as before. It took several minutes before, the pretender started coming out of it.
"Jarod, how are you feeling?"
"I'm really out of it, Sydney. Sure hope we have a little more time, before the shootout at OK Corral. If the sweepers get here right away, send Miss Parker up for a farewell kiss."
"Ok, Jarod," he said shaking his head. "Now, listen to me carefully. I'm leaving this Thorozine for you. Major Charles is bringing you up a snack. That would be a good time to take it. You can decide whether to use it or not. Fair enough?"
"Thanks Sydney," Jarod said with a grateful smile, his eyes at half-mast.
***
"There you two are," the Major said peeking into the room. "How is everything going?"
"Just fine. Don't let Jarod up until he's steady on his feet," he said placing the bottle on Jarod's nightstand. Excuse me. I need to speak to Parker."
Major Charles watched Sydney leave, sensing unusual tension in the air.
"Jarod, is something wrong? Sydney looked upset."
"No, Dad. Everything is just fine. He's probably just tired."
"How about some juice?"
"Thanks. Just set it on the table. You know, I'm not feeling very good. I think I'll take a short nap. You don't really need to watch me breath. Why don't you go back down stairs? I promise to stay out of trouble."
"Ok, Jarod. If you're sure that's what you want."
"Yeah. Just be sure to wake me if something comes up."
"You'll be the first to know. Good night, Son."
"Goodnight."
Jarod watched his Dad close the door, just as a full-blown panic attack swept over him. Shaking uncontrollably, he fought against shear terror, as everything speeded up and went out of control. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he desperately struggled to breathe; his mind feeling like it was slipping away. He fought it with his pretender skills, becoming an observer instead of a victim, but ultimately, it was still him lying in a pool of sweat and fear when it was over.
Closing his eyes, Jarod lay motionless, riding out the nausea that always followed one.
After a moment, he sat up slightly, wondering what had triggered the attack. Looking around the room, he saw an old dresser adorned with family pictures, a brightly colored quilt folded neatly on a chair, an old calendar on the wall, and the beige fringed bedspread on the bed he was lying on, but nothing registered.
The sudden unexpected onset of a panic attack had always been the hardest thing to deal with. But now, it could mean the difference between life and death. Looking down at his shaking hands, he knew he couldn't even shoot a weapon, right now.
Looking on the nightstand, he found the medicine Sydney had left. Clutching it tightly, he noted that he was to take two tablets twice daily, as he removed the cap and pour some in his hand. Failing to keep his hands steady enough, Jarod spilled the pills all over the place. At that same moment, the door swung open, and Sydney stepped in, wishing he had knocked first.
"Your dad said you weren't feeling well. I, um, thought you were asleep and just thought I'd peek in on you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. If you would like for me to leave…"
"No, I could use some help," he said briefly looking up. I'm sorry for my anger earlier."
"I know that, Jarod," the older man said patting him gently on the back and helping him put the pills back in the bottle.
"Were you wanting to take some now?" the doctor asked noting that he was trembling badly and dripping with sweat. Judging by his appearance and rapid breathing, he suspected Jarod had just had a panic attack but opted to say nothing.
"Yes, I think it'd be a good idea," he said forcing a smile and glancing at Sydney.
"With the remarkable rate of improvement you are exhibiting, I'm sure it won't be too much longer, before you have completely overcome your anxiety problems."
"To be honest with you Jarod, when I first started working with you, I didn't think you were going to make it. You were just too far-gone. You should feel very proud of your ability to overcome nearly impossible obstacles, to become whole again. If it weren't for our ongoing crisis, you would probably be having a minimal amount of difficulties now."
Jarod managed a smile and took a drink of his juice, anxious to get back down stairs.
"Well, let's go see what we can do about ending this crisis," the pretender said hoping out of bed and swaying slightly.
"Jarod?"
"Don't worry about me, the stairs has a banister."
***
When Sydney and Jarod entered the living room, they were met by Broots and Miss Parker.
"Syd, Angelo never contacted us."
"Oh dear Lord, not Angelo."
"You two better take these now," Joe said handing out the guns. "Hear those dogs barking? I think we have company."
Jarod and Joe took the back windows, while Major Charles and Miss Parker took the front. Broots hunkered down by the side window, while Sydney trained his gun at the opposite window.
"Joe, someone needs to go upstairs, I don't think we're in for a frontal attack."
"Right. I'll go. Broots, you come upstairs with me."
"Um, but what about…"
"Hurry, Broots."
There were noises coming from the cellar and Jarod stepped away from the back door signaling to Sydney who had noticed his movement.
Crashing glass and several gunshots rang out from above, as teargas began billowing down the stairs. The cellar door flew open and several sweepers invaded the room wearing gas masks and firing their weapons.
Jarod took out the first two and upended the kitchen table for cover. He continued firing shots on the others, as clouds of teargas permeated the room virtually blinding him.
Sydney ducked behind an overstuffed chair and tried to draw their fire, so that Jarod could get outside, before fumes overcame him. Sudden searing pain shot through his side and he collapsed to the floor.
The back door flew open, and Jarod choking and gagging was dragged outside. He gave a valiant effort, fighting off two sweepers, but the third one got the best of him and he went down hard. Rolling him over a skinny old man found a vein and plunged the needle in rendering the pretender immediately unconscious.
Miss Parker yelled for Major Charles to cover her, as she made her way toward the rear of the house, just in time to see the body of a black sweeper crashing down to the first landing of the stairs. Looking for cover, she saw Sydney in a crumpled heap on the floor and frantically tried to reach him.
Blinded by gas, strong sweaty hands grabbed her and dragged her out the back door, kicking and clawing her captor. The front door flew opened as another teargas bomb exploded, filling the thick air with more smoke. Tears blinding his eyes, Major Charles nailed a sweeper in a gas mask before succumbing to the fumes. He fought off one sweeper as two more jumped him, beating him nearly unconscious, before they could subdue him. Pulling him upright, the masked sweepers handcuffed his hands tightly behind his back, and hauled him out to the waiting car. Sydney was the last one taken out. He was quickly treated and loaded in the second car with Lyle, Jarod, and the Centre psychiatrist.
Miss Parker, Major Charles, and Broots, were in the first car that headed out, followed by Lyle's car. They all had received a hefty sedative from their new doctor's deadly serious hypo. Joe never made it out alive.
***
"Your men know their jobs. I want the cleaners in and out as quickly as possible. You're asking me? I don't care what you do with Clark's body, just get some decent pictures for Mr. Parker. We've on a tight schedule here. Get your men back to the Centre as quickly as possible."
Lyle exchanged looks with the doctor who was working with Sydney in the back seat.
"He going to live?"
"How long before we're back on your plane?"
"Fifty minutes."
"Probably."
Lyle poured himself a drink and leaned back relaxing while watching the pretender sleep like a baby. He was pretty banged up, but that was his own fault. Taking on 3 sweepers when you can't see, wasn't the brightest thing he's ever seen Jarod do. He knew better than to expected him to give up without a fight, though. He just hoped his dad would understand.
"Lyle here. Yes, right on schedule. Get the champagne iced down; we've got all of them. Yes, he's sitting right beside me, taking a little nap. See you later."
***
The Centre
Reception room 2a
6:00 EST
"Have a cigar, Dr. Meisser?"
"Ah, a Meastoso, natural. Don't mind if I do.
"When will the sedatives wear off? I'd like to talk to my daughter."
"She should be coming around any time now. Feisty little thing, your daughter. About bit my finger in two, when I administered her shot. Figuratively speaking, you know."
"Have you had a chance to evaluate Jarod, yet."
"I'm heading down there right after I finish reading his chart. Your Sydney fellow, certainly is a stickler for details. Reading Jarod's chart is just like having been there from the beginning. Your pretender is quite a remarkable young man. Amazing, quite frankly."
"Speaking of Dr. Green, how is he doing?"
"Older men shouldn't have such nasty wounds. He's still in surgery, but his prognosis is very good.
"Well, I best be going," the new Centre psychiatrist offered, downing the last of his drink.
I'll give you a call after my first session with Jarod. Oh, and thanks for the cigar."
***
