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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Pursuit Of Happiness
Part 42
By jojarod50
Safe house
Living room
6:34 PM
"He's still fast asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake him," Andrea
explained, as she finished the last of the stairs.
"Maybe you can take something up to him later on," Major Charles
suggested, relieved that his son was mercifully asleep, remembering
the excruciating pain of being shot in the back, courtesy of Mr.
Raines.
"Why don't we go on and eat," Margaret said, grateful that an agent
had delivered some carry out.
"I'm starving," Michael said, quoting from a movie he had seen that
afternoon, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his gross
exaggeration.
"Starving?" Major Charles asked in amusement.
"Well, figuratively speaking."
"Emily, are you all right?" her dad asked, following her gaze to the
staircase.
"Oh sure," she said, mustering a smile, despite the tears suddenly
filling her glassy eyes.
"He's going to be just fine, sugar," Major Charles said, giving her a
gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get some dinner,
before it gets cold."
*
Dinning room moments later…
"Bubba's BBQ"- -what a special treat," Andrea, mocked, feeling
trapped inside a vintage "Leave it to Beaver" episode.
"I'm sure I've never had anything like this," Michael said, pulling
at the appendage of a bright orange chicken wing by the tip and
studying it skeptically.
"They're spicy hot wings, Michael, give'em a try. They're really
good," Emily encouraged, simply hating all that had been denied Jarod
and the boy.
"Slaw, anyone?" Major Charles asked, taking a generous potion then
holding the pint up in the air.
"I'd rather have the barbecue beans, Charlie," Margaret said,
noticing the strained look on Andrea's face as she excused herself
and left the room.
*
Living room - moments later…
"I'm fine," she said convincingly, waving her away. "It's just that…"
"You don't have to explain anything to me. Andi, you've been like a
daughter to me, for quite some time now," Margaret said lovingly,
fully aware that Andrea had never had a real family, and that she was
easily overwhelmed.
"I didn't mean…"
"I know."
*
10:30 PM
2nd upstairs bedroom on the right
Andrea removed her terry night robe and carefully slipped
into bed, hoping not to disturb her sleeping husband.
Pulling the covers snuggly against her shoulders, she shifted
slightly until she was comfortable, vaguely aware that Jarod had
started mumbling something quietly in his sleep. After a
moment or two, he fell silent and resumed his steady breathing.
Knowing that he wasn't having another nightmare, felt comforting to
her and she relaxed markedly, drifting off to sleep.
7:30 AM
2nd upstairs bedroom on the right
Andrea awoke with a start, aware that her husband was no
longer in bed. Rising quickly, she could vaguely make out a slight
glimmer of light present under the closed bathroom door. Straining
her ears she heard only the deathly silence of early morning.
"Jarod, are you all right," Andrea ventured, hating the fact
that she was snooping on him.
"Andi, come on in," Jarod said with a dimpled smile, loving the fact
that he wasn't alone.
"How's my little miss pregnant wife," he asked adoringly,
shifting his view in the mirror from his face to hers.
Andrea gave her strikingly hansom husband an appraising look, taking
in his firm bootie in matter of fact underwear and muscular chest
slightly visible under his unbuttoned light blue short sleeved shirt.
"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked, suddenly feeling
protective, taking in his extensive bruising and bandages visible
only in the mirror.
"Shaving," he grinned, hurriedly finishing up.
"Well, I know but, it's…"
"Seven thirty in the morning. Fourteen and a half hours are
more than enough for someone convalescing, don't you think?"
"Yeah, if you'd actually sle…never mind. Looks like you
nicked yourself quite a few times," Andi remarked, concerned that his
hand was trembling as he put up his razor.
"Hum? Oh, well, nobody's perfect," he said distractedly,
barely registering what she'd said, as he grabbed a towel and blotted
his face.
"Why don't we have breakfast in bed? I hate having you
negotiate those stairs so much during the day," she suggested,
noticing that he was still deathly pale and rather shaky on his feet.
Jarod considered her offer, knowing that he was having a
horrible time with the stairs, though he'd adamantly refused to sleep
in a makeshift bedroom on ground level with his wife.
"This should prove interesting," he said, with a sexy smile,
hating appearing vulnerable to her.
"Why don't you lay back down while I get things ready," she
suggested, realizing by the way he was moving, that he was still in
appreciable pain. "Have you taken your pain medication yet?"
"It's not a good idea to take medicine like that without an
antiemetic on an empty stomach," he explained quietly, wishing she
hadn't asked, as he carefully sat down on the bed.
"Right," she said wondering what on earth he had just said. "I'll be
back in a little bit," she said, relieved to see that he was being
more compliant today.
"By the way, what exactly are pigs under the blankets, Jarod?" Andi
asked turning back into the room.
"I'm really not sure," he confessed. "I just assumed you'd
know, considering you were out and about, while I was a "resident at
the Centre," he said giving her a little wink.
"For a genius, you're not making any sense. Why the hell
would you want something, when you don't even know what it is?" she
asked, realizing by the look on his face that she was embarrassing
him. "I'm sorry, Jarod, I didn't mean…"
"No, you just don't know the whole story. While on a pretend of
sorts, I ran into a sheriff who swore, he'd never start a day without
pigs under blankets," he mused, remembering how the guy looked while
being targeted by his own rifle before he admitted to his
crime. "He , um, seemed to know a lot about food," he said picturing
his wide girth.
"Hmm. I'll see what I can do," Andrea said, shaking her head
slightly, as she left the room and headed downstairs.
The moment she was out of sight, the Pretender activated his
laptop and hurriedly requested a status report from Broots, hating
sneaking behind her back, but unwilling to upset his her more than he
had to.
*
Downstairs kitchen moments later…
"Good morning, Andrea. Could I offer you a cup of coffee?" he asked,
with cup in hand ready to pour.
"Mmm. That sounds really good," Andrea said, enjoying being pampered
for a change.
"I'm surprised to see you up this early," he said, noticing that she
looked totally exhausted.
"Jarod's hungry," she said, with a smile, taking a big sip of her
coffee. "Say, do you have any idea what pigs under the blankets are?"
she asked in desperation, barely able to hide her frustration.
"Well, I think they're thin pancakes wrapped around sausages, if
memory serves me correctly," he answered, amused at her dilemma.
"Joy."
"Andrea, how's Jarod doing?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself? He tells me he's doing just fine."
"What's wrong, Andrea?" he asked gently.
"I'm not sure," she said, rubbing her temples. "How can a person
suffering from repeated nightmares wake up nearly predawn and claim
to have gotten a perfect nights rest? I was there, and I sure as hell
didn't."
"I don't know. Is that what he said?" the Major asked, hoping she had
left out part of the explanation.
"Yeah," she said, her voice cracking as she turned away. "But his
nightmares were much worse last night."
"Andrea, why don't you make him some breakfast and then I'll have a
talk with him, if you like. Come on, I'll help you get started," he
said reaching for a frying pan.
Upstairs bed room
Second door on the right
Jarod sat nearly bolt upright in bed, regretting the pain of sudden
movement, vaguely aware that it was his wife, who'd just stepped into
the room.
"Whoa kid it's only me," she assured her startled husband, surprised
to find he'd apparently fallen back to sleep.
"I didn't expect you to be back so soon," Jarod explained, glossing
over the fact that he'd been deeply startled.
"I hope you're still hungry," she said, deciding not to make his
nervousness an issue, proudly presenting him with his tray. "Pigs in
the blanket", or as you are so fond of calling them, "Pigs under the
blankets."
"I'm not sure what to say," he said, staring at the food, still
partially in a daze.
"You could say thank you," she grinned, leaning in for a kiss.
"Mmmm, I had no idea you were such a good cook," he said, smelling
the aroma.
"Well, your father is. I backed out half way through the pancake
batter."
"Where's your plate, Andi?"
"I'm really not hungry."
"Ok. What's the matter?" Jarod asked, laying his tray aside.
"What do you mean?"
"Let me give you a little hint.. It has something to do with the way
you've been looking at me since we woke up this morning. I'm sure you
know the look… like I've already got one foot in the grave. If you
have information that I'm not privy to… please…"
"Stop it, Jarod."
"Still unsure," he said smoothly. "Let's try to narrow it down a
little more," he offered, slowly rising from the bed. "Is Jarod in
the process of having a nervous breakdown, again? ^$#^^^, time's up.
The answer is…"
"Don't…"
"Don't what, Andrea? Don't do it…Don't disappoint me… Pretend it
can't happen again," he said closing the space between them, with an
intensity she had never seen before.
"God, Jarod, you're scaring me."
"And how do you think I'm feeling right now? Perfectly all right?"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know."
"Andrea," he said, letting out a halting sigh. "I…successfully
recovered from what was done to me at the Centre, but I didn't escape
completely unscathed," he reminded her bitterly, turning his gaze
toward the window nearest him, wishing he were somewhere else.
"I, um, have a certain… vulnerability to excessive stress, now," he
said, having to literally force himself to look her. "But I assure
you, I'm no where near having a nervous breakdown right now…more
accurately…just a temporary set back."
"Jarod…"
"Please don't look at me that way. The last thing I need right now is
your sympathy," he said, hating the look on her face. "I just need a
little time to process what happened the other night and what they
wanted to do with you and our baby. That's all."
"But, Jarod… the nightmares…"
"I know, " he said, finally admitting to the gravity of his horrific
dreams. "But, they'll inevitably decrease in frequency over time," he
said, trying remain upbeat.
"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" he said sadly,
looking into her tired blue eyes.
" It would be better if I sleep downstairs in the sun room, until
things settle down a little bit. You're pregnant now. You need all
the sleep you can get," he said with sincere concern, studying her
with his big dark eyes.
"We'll work something out," she said, suddenly remembering
breakfast. "Oh no, your food is probably ice cold," Andrea said
apologetically, happily changing the subject, knowing how hard it was
for Jarod, to level with her.
"Yeah, well, don't mention it to my dad," he said sheepishly,
grateful that she had given him a graceful way out. "I hear that
cooks spit on food sent back to them."
*
"Jarod, you have a phone call," Major Charles said, lightly tapping
on door.
"Thanks, dad," Jarod said, stepping out into the hall way and taking
the phone.
"Hello."
"Jarod, I hate to disturb you this early in the morning, but we have
a situation down at the Yellowbird office and we need your immediate
help, if you feel up to it," Agent Malone said, speaking from his
cell phone, as he flagged a cab.
"What's wrong?"
"I'd rather not discuss it over the phone."
"Is my family in danger?"
"No. They just need to stay put."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," the Pretender said, disconnecting
the phone, and tossing it onto the bed.
"Andrea, could you help me pull on my trousers," he asked, wondering
what could've possibly come up that would require his help.
"You don't need this right now."
"Tell me about it," he mused, doing his best to work with her as he
got into his trousers.
"This is insane, Jarod. Why don't they find someone more in tact to
help them. You're, excuse me, in pretty bad shape."
"Not really," he said, grinning at her, as he abandoned an attempt to
put on a tie, tossing it to her.
"I'll be back in a little bit, I hope" he said, putting his right arm
through the sleeve of his suit jacket and pulling it over his left
shoulder as he made his way out of the bed room and down the stairs.
*
FBI Office
Downtown
Yellowbird Island 9:30 AM.
The pretender exited the dark car flanked by two undercover agents.
Just inside the door, they were met by Agent Malone and another man
he didn't recognize.
"Jarod…please come this way," Bailey said, quickly leading him into
one of the rooms at the end of a narrow hallway, marked, Computer Lab
B1. Authorized Personnel Only.
As they entered the spacious room, the Pretender was surprised to
find Broots and Sydney and several agents he'd worked with seated at
a conference table, each with their own manila folder, papers
scattered here and there, obviously in the middle of a meeting.
Along the far wall several computer technicians were busy at their
PCs, seemingly lost in their own little world.
"I'm sure you all remember Agent Jarod," Bailey said, as many of them
welcomed him back.
"Please, Jarod, have a seat."
"Where did you get these?" the pretender asked, in a low guttural
voice, as he sat down and opened the file in front of him. "I've
never been to any of these places," he said, going through the
numerous photographs of himself. "I don't understand," he said,
glancing around the table at the other men, noticing the clinical
look Sydney was giving him.
"Jarod, those are photographs of a genius named Hans Eichhmann. He's
Sieble's right hand man. From what we've been able to ascertain, you
were cloned shortly after birth."
"Jarod closed his eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy, trying to keep his
rage in check, feeling like he had been raped. "Go on," he said in a
low menacing voice.
"We believe he's actively attempting to breech one of our fire walls.
He may be trying to discover the exact location of Andi, you, and
possibly your family. We need you to stop him before he discovers
your program and corrupts it."
"Jarod?" Malone asked, breaking through to the dazed man. "I'm sorry,
I know this is a lot to take in, but we really don't have much time."
The pretender looked down at this hand in the sling and shook his
head. This is going to be difficult," he said, meeting his former
mentors eyes briefly, before scooting his chair back and stepping
around the table to him.
"I'm so sorry, you had to find out this way. I wanted to talk with
you about this privately, but Malone said, there just wasn't time."
"Never mind. I need for you to give me something for the pain,
otherwise, I might as well not even try this."
"Have you taken anything today?"
"No."
"Jarod, you can use my computer; it's right over here," Broots said,
showing him to his seat.
"I'm sorry, Jarod. He he's just t too sm smart for me. There's just
no w way I can…"
"I know. Let's just hope I can stop him," he said, wincing as he
removed his suit jacket and arm from the sling, wasting not time
logging on.
*
Safe house
Undisclosed location
Living room…9:38 PM
"Someone just pulled into the drive way," Michael said, glancing out
the window, straining to get a better look. "Jarod is home."
"I'll let Andrea know," Margaret said to her husband, leaving the
couch and heading upstairs.
The pretender spoke quietly at length to one of the agents as he came
into the foyer before saying good night and entering the living room.
"Hi, Jarod," Emily said, wondering, like everyone else, what had kept
him away all day.
"Hi, Em," he said, giving her a kiss on her forehead, before sitting
down on the nearest chair.
"Where's Andi?"
"Upstairs taking a nap. You're mom went to tell her that you're
home," Major Charles explained. "It's late, Jarod. What on earth did
they have you doing all day?"
"It's hot in here," the exhausted man said, as he gingerly slipped
off his suit coat and laying it over the back of the chair."
"You're bleeding."
"What?"
"Look at you're shirt…you must have broken a stitch or two. Jarod,
what have you been doing?" his dad reiterated, pressing for an answer
as he crossed the room facing his son.
"Trying to stop myself from breaking through a maze of level 5
security firewalls," he said bitterly, grimacing as he looked away.
"You have another clone," Michael said in amazement, remembering how
Jarod had referred to him when they had first met. TBC
Part 42
By jojarod50
Safe house
Living room
6:34 PM
"He's still fast asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake him," Andrea
explained, as she finished the last of the stairs.
"Maybe you can take something up to him later on," Major Charles
suggested, relieved that his son was mercifully asleep, remembering
the excruciating pain of being shot in the back, courtesy of Mr.
Raines.
"Why don't we go on and eat," Margaret said, grateful that an agent
had delivered some carry out.
"I'm starving," Michael said, quoting from a movie he had seen that
afternoon, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his gross
exaggeration.
"Starving?" Major Charles asked in amusement.
"Well, figuratively speaking."
"Emily, are you all right?" her dad asked, following her gaze to the
staircase.
"Oh sure," she said, mustering a smile, despite the tears suddenly
filling her glassy eyes.
"He's going to be just fine, sugar," Major Charles said, giving her a
gentle squeeze on her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get some dinner,
before it gets cold."
*
Dinning room moments later…
"Bubba's BBQ"- -what a special treat," Andrea, mocked, feeling
trapped inside a vintage "Leave it to Beaver" episode.
"I'm sure I've never had anything like this," Michael said, pulling
at the appendage of a bright orange chicken wing by the tip and
studying it skeptically.
"They're spicy hot wings, Michael, give'em a try. They're really
good," Emily encouraged, simply hating all that had been denied Jarod
and the boy.
"Slaw, anyone?" Major Charles asked, taking a generous potion then
holding the pint up in the air.
"I'd rather have the barbecue beans, Charlie," Margaret said,
noticing the strained look on Andrea's face as she excused herself
and left the room.
*
Living room - moments later…
"I'm fine," she said convincingly, waving her away. "It's just that…"
"You don't have to explain anything to me. Andi, you've been like a
daughter to me, for quite some time now," Margaret said lovingly,
fully aware that Andrea had never had a real family, and that she was
easily overwhelmed.
"I didn't mean…"
"I know."
*
10:30 PM
2nd upstairs bedroom on the right
Andrea removed her terry night robe and carefully slipped
into bed, hoping not to disturb her sleeping husband.
Pulling the covers snuggly against her shoulders, she shifted
slightly until she was comfortable, vaguely aware that Jarod had
started mumbling something quietly in his sleep. After a
moment or two, he fell silent and resumed his steady breathing.
Knowing that he wasn't having another nightmare, felt comforting to
her and she relaxed markedly, drifting off to sleep.
7:30 AM
2nd upstairs bedroom on the right
Andrea awoke with a start, aware that her husband was no
longer in bed. Rising quickly, she could vaguely make out a slight
glimmer of light present under the closed bathroom door. Straining
her ears she heard only the deathly silence of early morning.
"Jarod, are you all right," Andrea ventured, hating the fact
that she was snooping on him.
"Andi, come on in," Jarod said with a dimpled smile, loving the fact
that he wasn't alone.
"How's my little miss pregnant wife," he asked adoringly,
shifting his view in the mirror from his face to hers.
Andrea gave her strikingly hansom husband an appraising look, taking
in his firm bootie in matter of fact underwear and muscular chest
slightly visible under his unbuttoned light blue short sleeved shirt.
"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked, suddenly feeling
protective, taking in his extensive bruising and bandages visible
only in the mirror.
"Shaving," he grinned, hurriedly finishing up.
"Well, I know but, it's…"
"Seven thirty in the morning. Fourteen and a half hours are
more than enough for someone convalescing, don't you think?"
"Yeah, if you'd actually sle…never mind. Looks like you
nicked yourself quite a few times," Andi remarked, concerned that his
hand was trembling as he put up his razor.
"Hum? Oh, well, nobody's perfect," he said distractedly,
barely registering what she'd said, as he grabbed a towel and blotted
his face.
"Why don't we have breakfast in bed? I hate having you
negotiate those stairs so much during the day," she suggested,
noticing that he was still deathly pale and rather shaky on his feet.
Jarod considered her offer, knowing that he was having a
horrible time with the stairs, though he'd adamantly refused to sleep
in a makeshift bedroom on ground level with his wife.
"This should prove interesting," he said, with a sexy smile,
hating appearing vulnerable to her.
"Why don't you lay back down while I get things ready," she
suggested, realizing by the way he was moving, that he was still in
appreciable pain. "Have you taken your pain medication yet?"
"It's not a good idea to take medicine like that without an
antiemetic on an empty stomach," he explained quietly, wishing she
hadn't asked, as he carefully sat down on the bed.
"Right," she said wondering what on earth he had just said. "I'll be
back in a little bit," she said, relieved to see that he was being
more compliant today.
"By the way, what exactly are pigs under the blankets, Jarod?" Andi
asked turning back into the room.
"I'm really not sure," he confessed. "I just assumed you'd
know, considering you were out and about, while I was a "resident at
the Centre," he said giving her a little wink.
"For a genius, you're not making any sense. Why the hell
would you want something, when you don't even know what it is?" she
asked, realizing by the look on his face that she was embarrassing
him. "I'm sorry, Jarod, I didn't mean…"
"No, you just don't know the whole story. While on a pretend of
sorts, I ran into a sheriff who swore, he'd never start a day without
pigs under blankets," he mused, remembering how the guy looked while
being targeted by his own rifle before he admitted to his
crime. "He , um, seemed to know a lot about food," he said picturing
his wide girth.
"Hmm. I'll see what I can do," Andrea said, shaking her head
slightly, as she left the room and headed downstairs.
The moment she was out of sight, the Pretender activated his
laptop and hurriedly requested a status report from Broots, hating
sneaking behind her back, but unwilling to upset his her more than he
had to.
*
Downstairs kitchen moments later…
"Good morning, Andrea. Could I offer you a cup of coffee?" he asked,
with cup in hand ready to pour.
"Mmm. That sounds really good," Andrea said, enjoying being pampered
for a change.
"I'm surprised to see you up this early," he said, noticing that she
looked totally exhausted.
"Jarod's hungry," she said, with a smile, taking a big sip of her
coffee. "Say, do you have any idea what pigs under the blankets are?"
she asked in desperation, barely able to hide her frustration.
"Well, I think they're thin pancakes wrapped around sausages, if
memory serves me correctly," he answered, amused at her dilemma.
"Joy."
"Andrea, how's Jarod doing?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself? He tells me he's doing just fine."
"What's wrong, Andrea?" he asked gently.
"I'm not sure," she said, rubbing her temples. "How can a person
suffering from repeated nightmares wake up nearly predawn and claim
to have gotten a perfect nights rest? I was there, and I sure as hell
didn't."
"I don't know. Is that what he said?" the Major asked, hoping she had
left out part of the explanation.
"Yeah," she said, her voice cracking as she turned away. "But his
nightmares were much worse last night."
"Andrea, why don't you make him some breakfast and then I'll have a
talk with him, if you like. Come on, I'll help you get started," he
said reaching for a frying pan.
Upstairs bed room
Second door on the right
Jarod sat nearly bolt upright in bed, regretting the pain of sudden
movement, vaguely aware that it was his wife, who'd just stepped into
the room.
"Whoa kid it's only me," she assured her startled husband, surprised
to find he'd apparently fallen back to sleep.
"I didn't expect you to be back so soon," Jarod explained, glossing
over the fact that he'd been deeply startled.
"I hope you're still hungry," she said, deciding not to make his
nervousness an issue, proudly presenting him with his tray. "Pigs in
the blanket", or as you are so fond of calling them, "Pigs under the
blankets."
"I'm not sure what to say," he said, staring at the food, still
partially in a daze.
"You could say thank you," she grinned, leaning in for a kiss.
"Mmmm, I had no idea you were such a good cook," he said, smelling
the aroma.
"Well, your father is. I backed out half way through the pancake
batter."
"Where's your plate, Andi?"
"I'm really not hungry."
"Ok. What's the matter?" Jarod asked, laying his tray aside.
"What do you mean?"
"Let me give you a little hint.. It has something to do with the way
you've been looking at me since we woke up this morning. I'm sure you
know the look… like I've already got one foot in the grave. If you
have information that I'm not privy to… please…"
"Stop it, Jarod."
"Still unsure," he said smoothly. "Let's try to narrow it down a
little more," he offered, slowly rising from the bed. "Is Jarod in
the process of having a nervous breakdown, again? ^$#^^^, time's up.
The answer is…"
"Don't…"
"Don't what, Andrea? Don't do it…Don't disappoint me… Pretend it
can't happen again," he said closing the space between them, with an
intensity she had never seen before.
"God, Jarod, you're scaring me."
"And how do you think I'm feeling right now? Perfectly all right?"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know."
"Andrea," he said, letting out a halting sigh. "I…successfully
recovered from what was done to me at the Centre, but I didn't escape
completely unscathed," he reminded her bitterly, turning his gaze
toward the window nearest him, wishing he were somewhere else.
"I, um, have a certain… vulnerability to excessive stress, now," he
said, having to literally force himself to look her. "But I assure
you, I'm no where near having a nervous breakdown right now…more
accurately…just a temporary set back."
"Jarod…"
"Please don't look at me that way. The last thing I need right now is
your sympathy," he said, hating the look on her face. "I just need a
little time to process what happened the other night and what they
wanted to do with you and our baby. That's all."
"But, Jarod… the nightmares…"
"I know, " he said, finally admitting to the gravity of his horrific
dreams. "But, they'll inevitably decrease in frequency over time," he
said, trying remain upbeat.
"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" he said sadly,
looking into her tired blue eyes.
" It would be better if I sleep downstairs in the sun room, until
things settle down a little bit. You're pregnant now. You need all
the sleep you can get," he said with sincere concern, studying her
with his big dark eyes.
"We'll work something out," she said, suddenly remembering
breakfast. "Oh no, your food is probably ice cold," Andrea said
apologetically, happily changing the subject, knowing how hard it was
for Jarod, to level with her.
"Yeah, well, don't mention it to my dad," he said sheepishly,
grateful that she had given him a graceful way out. "I hear that
cooks spit on food sent back to them."
*
"Jarod, you have a phone call," Major Charles said, lightly tapping
on door.
"Thanks, dad," Jarod said, stepping out into the hall way and taking
the phone.
"Hello."
"Jarod, I hate to disturb you this early in the morning, but we have
a situation down at the Yellowbird office and we need your immediate
help, if you feel up to it," Agent Malone said, speaking from his
cell phone, as he flagged a cab.
"What's wrong?"
"I'd rather not discuss it over the phone."
"Is my family in danger?"
"No. They just need to stay put."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," the Pretender said, disconnecting
the phone, and tossing it onto the bed.
"Andrea, could you help me pull on my trousers," he asked, wondering
what could've possibly come up that would require his help.
"You don't need this right now."
"Tell me about it," he mused, doing his best to work with her as he
got into his trousers.
"This is insane, Jarod. Why don't they find someone more in tact to
help them. You're, excuse me, in pretty bad shape."
"Not really," he said, grinning at her, as he abandoned an attempt to
put on a tie, tossing it to her.
"I'll be back in a little bit, I hope" he said, putting his right arm
through the sleeve of his suit jacket and pulling it over his left
shoulder as he made his way out of the bed room and down the stairs.
*
FBI Office
Downtown
Yellowbird Island 9:30 AM.
The pretender exited the dark car flanked by two undercover agents.
Just inside the door, they were met by Agent Malone and another man
he didn't recognize.
"Jarod…please come this way," Bailey said, quickly leading him into
one of the rooms at the end of a narrow hallway, marked, Computer Lab
B1. Authorized Personnel Only.
As they entered the spacious room, the Pretender was surprised to
find Broots and Sydney and several agents he'd worked with seated at
a conference table, each with their own manila folder, papers
scattered here and there, obviously in the middle of a meeting.
Along the far wall several computer technicians were busy at their
PCs, seemingly lost in their own little world.
"I'm sure you all remember Agent Jarod," Bailey said, as many of them
welcomed him back.
"Please, Jarod, have a seat."
"Where did you get these?" the pretender asked, in a low guttural
voice, as he sat down and opened the file in front of him. "I've
never been to any of these places," he said, going through the
numerous photographs of himself. "I don't understand," he said,
glancing around the table at the other men, noticing the clinical
look Sydney was giving him.
"Jarod, those are photographs of a genius named Hans Eichhmann. He's
Sieble's right hand man. From what we've been able to ascertain, you
were cloned shortly after birth."
"Jarod closed his eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy, trying to keep his
rage in check, feeling like he had been raped. "Go on," he said in a
low menacing voice.
"We believe he's actively attempting to breech one of our fire walls.
He may be trying to discover the exact location of Andi, you, and
possibly your family. We need you to stop him before he discovers
your program and corrupts it."
"Jarod?" Malone asked, breaking through to the dazed man. "I'm sorry,
I know this is a lot to take in, but we really don't have much time."
The pretender looked down at this hand in the sling and shook his
head. This is going to be difficult," he said, meeting his former
mentors eyes briefly, before scooting his chair back and stepping
around the table to him.
"I'm so sorry, you had to find out this way. I wanted to talk with
you about this privately, but Malone said, there just wasn't time."
"Never mind. I need for you to give me something for the pain,
otherwise, I might as well not even try this."
"Have you taken anything today?"
"No."
"Jarod, you can use my computer; it's right over here," Broots said,
showing him to his seat.
"I'm sorry, Jarod. He he's just t too sm smart for me. There's just
no w way I can…"
"I know. Let's just hope I can stop him," he said, wincing as he
removed his suit jacket and arm from the sling, wasting not time
logging on.
*
Safe house
Undisclosed location
Living room…9:38 PM
"Someone just pulled into the drive way," Michael said, glancing out
the window, straining to get a better look. "Jarod is home."
"I'll let Andrea know," Margaret said to her husband, leaving the
couch and heading upstairs.
The pretender spoke quietly at length to one of the agents as he came
into the foyer before saying good night and entering the living room.
"Hi, Jarod," Emily said, wondering, like everyone else, what had kept
him away all day.
"Hi, Em," he said, giving her a kiss on her forehead, before sitting
down on the nearest chair.
"Where's Andi?"
"Upstairs taking a nap. You're mom went to tell her that you're
home," Major Charles explained. "It's late, Jarod. What on earth did
they have you doing all day?"
"It's hot in here," the exhausted man said, as he gingerly slipped
off his suit coat and laying it over the back of the chair."
"You're bleeding."
"What?"
"Look at you're shirt…you must have broken a stitch or two. Jarod,
what have you been doing?" his dad reiterated, pressing for an answer
as he crossed the room facing his son.
"Trying to stop myself from breaking through a maze of level 5
security firewalls," he said bitterly, grimacing as he looked away.
"You have another clone," Michael said in amazement, remembering how
Jarod had referred to him when they had first met. TBC
