Table of Contents [Report This]
Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc.and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
The Passing Dark Angel
by Ruth Piwonka
Blue Cove, Delaware-April 9, 2000
Broots was sitting at his favorite esteemed spot with his laptop computer when an incoming e-mail message flashed on his screen. Broots dropped the coffee mug that he had been holding onto his lap and he yelped in pain. His excitement enraged Miss Parker, who had been studying a mess of documents strewn upon her desk. When his scream sounded, she threw the papers into the air and stormed over to his chair. “What it is, you spineless idiot?!?”
“A message from Jarod. It’s for Sydney. He says he’s in the place where rock n’roll started to be established over the radio.”
“You know better than that, Broots. He’s probably right under our noses.”
“Maybe it’s where he will be in the next future.”
“I doubt it, Broots. Jarod just wants us to follow him to Cleveland, and then by the time we get there, he’ll be gone without a trace like usual. Better luck next time, bald boy.” She began to walk away but then spun around on her high heels. “Research from where that e-mail came from. And Broots?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Try not to scream so loudly when your coffee spills on you again. You will push my usual six twenty headache to five thirty. So if you want to use that head of yours ever again, don’t press my button.” Miss Parker strolled back to her office and slammed the glass door shut. Just then, her computer monitor brightened and also flashed the same message. “I’m in the first place where rock n’roll was first established over the radio. Care to find me? I’ll only be in town for a short while, Miss Parker. Jarod.”
She picked up the phone. “Hello? Yes, I would like to speak with my father, Mr. Parker. Yes. No, I’m his daughter! Yes, it’s important! It’s about Jarod!”
“Hello, buttercup. I sent a team of sweepers to Cleveland yesterday. In fact, Mr. Krein told me that they had picked up a trail of him there in the vicinity.”
“Who’s Mr. Krein?”
“The new head of the sweepers since Gar, well-died. He’s an expert on weaponry. He’s very good-looking. You’d like him, Angel.”
“I’ll bet. Did you check Mr. Krein’s backgrounds?”
“Of course, buttercup. Mr. Krein assured me that he would take care of Jarod when he was found.”
Broots entered her office with a stack of papers in a manila file folder. It was labeled “Jarod e-mail encounters”. He went over to Miss Parker and gave her the file as she talked to her father. “What does he mean by taking care of Jarod, Daddy?’
“Making sure that the well, abduction, is not seen by anyone else.” As he continued to talk, Miss Parker opened the file and re-read the e-mail. She also looked at the location where the modem could have been but there was not one. The words “modem connection” were circled with a pink highlighter and a question mark. “Look, Angel, I know you wanted to catch Jarod and bring him home here, but, Mr. Krein’s already there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Fine, Daddy. That whoever Klein had better bring Jarod home in three days.”
“Mr. Krein, Angel. Mr. Krein will do.” The dial tone was more abrupt than she expexpected. Miss Parker motioned Broots to come in. “What’s this, Broots? Have we forgotten something again?”
“No. I could not trace where that e-mail was coming from. So either Jarod scrambled his signal, or Syd’s account is protected.”
Cleveland, OH
Darkness surrounded him. He could not see anything but the cloth material in front of his eyes; that was pitch black. His hands were tied behind his back and the gun he was reaching for in his back holster was gone. So was the knife. He knew he was sitting in a cushioned chair, but he had no reason why. He heard thick soled shoes scraping the pavement quietly as they neared his chair. A single overhead light was switched on-he could hear it but not see anything. The shoes walked around the chair twice and finally stopped when he could take it no longer. “Is that you, Jarod? Have you gone to torturing your victims now? I just came to take you home. Home to all your friends; at the Centre.”
The shoes crept up closer and he could feel his torturer’s cold breath fall on him. “Why, Jarod? Why? Why can’t you just go home and be a good boy?”
Something was happening, but he could not see what. He heard the sound of something being removed from leather. Quickly his mind searched for what it could be. A knife, a hypodermic needle, a-gun? When the leather fell down to his feet, he heard the sound of metal clicking. “I never thought that you would resort to murder, Jarod.”
It stopped a few seconds later. The waiting was sheer torture for him. He had no idea what would happen to him now. The safety of the gun was unlatched. It made that familiar squeak. Jarod is using my own gun to murder me, he thought. “Why use my own gun, Jarod? Are you too lazy to go out and buy your own?”
Finally, the shadow in front of his face spoke as he held the gun up to the frightened man’s face. “My name isn’t Jarod.”
“Who are you?”
“Your angel of death. I’m the key to your eternity’s future. Say goodbye to the world that you’ve come to know, Mr. Meeks.” Mr. Meeks never got a chance to reply. The shadow’s finger moved and fired the gun once. A few specks of blood glittered the shadow’s black gloves as he untied Mr. Meeks’ hands and smothered the gun with the man’s fingerprints. He took the chair away and left the gun in Meeks’ left hand. The dead boy lay on the floor with the light passing to and fro over it. The expression on Meeks’ face was horror when the hood was removed.
Atlanta, Georgia, April 10, 2000
Jarod was again in the area, and after some consideration, he decided to be a doctor. His latest uncovering was a Doctor William Drake, who was taking advantage of his patients’ families by charging them too much. One day, as Jarod was putting his usual newspaper article in his red notebook, he got an incoming e-mail on his latop computer. It read “Jarod:
Wherever you are, do not trust anyone. Someone is coming to harm you-it may be anyone. It may be Miss Parker or Mr. Lyle. Stay on your guard and keep saving people. Sydney.”
Jarod opened up the e-mail to see where it came from. He believe it was Sydney, but since he had gotten a few false e-mails from Mr. Lyle to trap in him in a small town in Arizona, he had to be extra cautious. However, when he traced the modem signal, the only thing that would come up was Sydney’s e-mail address. Jarod sighed and finished pasting the article into the notebook. The title read “Patients Are Saved From Local Con-Artist.” A sign that said Dr. Jarod Tate rested on the desk he was working at. The phone that sat next to his laptop rang. He pushed the intercom button. “Yes, Tara?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Tate. I meant to call you earlier, but a woman was inquiring about you.” Jarod cringed as he was rocking back and forth on his leather chair.
“A woman, you say? What did she look like?”
“Oh, about 5’9’’, a little over 120, um, blue-eyed. She was asking a former patient that you helped-Ryan wilts?”
“Yes, Tara, go on.” He began to shut his laptop computer down as she talked to him and get together his things from his temporary desk.
“She wanted to know why you were a doctor now and not a Secret Service agent. She made Ryan Wilts feel a little uncomfortable because she was questioning him so much. He later complained to me, that’s why I am revealing this information to you. He had never seen her before; he also explained.”
“Was a man with her?”
“Excuse me? I seem to be getting a little static on my line.”
“Was a man with her?”
“Mr. Wilts did not say. He inquired why you were a Secret Service agent. Is there anything you wish for me to relay to Mr. Wilts, Dr. Tate?”
“Tell him that I never worked for the Secret Service. Tara, before I leave, I would like to give you something. Something that I picked up at a friend’s.”
“Why are you leaving, Dr. Tate?”
“That woman, which you just described, has been chasing after me. I cannot explain to you why in thirty seconds, but you must accept that I have not broken any laws.”
“Wait, Dr. Tate!”
“Why?”
“I just saw someone start to head for your office. I don’t know if that was who Mr. Wilts described, or what, but I see her heading upstairs. Should I call security?”
“No.” Jarod pushed the dial-tone button as he saw a hand knock on his translucent door. He opened the window and took off the white medical coat he had been wearing. The door opened and he forced himself out of the window as the woman called his name, “Jarod!”
He had barely gotten two feet away from the window when he saw the woman stick her head outside it and call to him. “Jarod, what on earth, are you doing out there?” To Jarod’s surprise, it was not Miss Parker. He saw the familiar smile and intrigue in Rachel Burke’s face when he first met her not two months ago. She repeated the question “Jarod, what on earth are you doing out there?”
“Sorry. I saw a pigeon that was trying to destroy my tulips. I proceeded to follow it and I sort of, ended up on this ledge.”
“You’d better come in.” He did and knocked the flower pot that had his tulips in it to the ground-twenty stories below. “Agent Burke, what’re you doing here?” he inquired.
“I was just about to ask you,” she picked up the tag, “Dr. Jarod Tate?”
“Ah. I was helping people. That’s what I do.”
“Evidently so, Dr. Jarod,” she flashed him a winning smile.
“I guess our paths have crossed again, Agent.”
“Not as agents, though. Tell me, Jarod, did you really go to medical school to be adoctor?” Rachel took the sign and began to play with it in her hands.
“No, if you want to know the truth.”
“That’s start. Now finish it.”
“I’m not really a doctor, or an FBI agent, or a lawyer, or an ex-cop, or a bodyguard.”
“Then what are you?”
“Anything I want to be.” A profound smirk came over her face. But as she saw his expression turn to a somber one, she smoothed her fingertips over the sign and put it back down on the desk.
“What does that mean, Jarod? You’re a man of many different talents?”
“Have you ever heard of the word ‘pretend’?”
“Great, Scott, Jarod, what adult hasn’t? Yes, I have.” Rachel crossed her arms and leaned against a file cabinet.
“According to Noah Webster’s Dictionary, “to pretend” is to put forward as being something that is not. That’s what I do. I’m the Pretender.”
“What to they do?”
“Precisely what you said about ten seconds ago. I’m a man of many different talents. I can become anything or anyone I want to be.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The talent was given to me by someone...”
“God?”
Jarod paused to think. He began to clear off his desk and pack his few belongings into a leather briefcase. “You know, out of all the things I’ve pretended to be, I’ve never pretended to be a minister or priest.”
“Maybe it’s not possible for you to do so.”
“Why not? Lots of men do it for money.”
“True. But they say you can’t fool God.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried to fool him.” He slipped the laptop into his carrying case. “So, what’re you actually doing here, Agent Burke?”
“You can call me Rachel, now that we’re not working together on a professional basis, Jarod. I read the paper.” She pointed to the article that he had recently pasted into his red notebook. “You always leave your trademark by not being photographed with the family. I’ve noticed that.”
“Yes, well, I have a reason for doing that. Perhaps you’d like to hear it sometime over coffee.”
“I’m working, Jarod. I actually have a stable job, unlike you.”
“That’s how I want it to be.”
“How do you support yourself if you don’t hang around long enough for a paycheck?”
“Sometimes I do. But the families that I do help sometimes give rewards. I try not to accept them, but they insist. So, that’s how I survive.”
“Like I was saying, I’m only stopping by because you’ll probably be moving onto a different city, a different life, a different job. I only wanted to say hello because we promised each other the last time, that I would drop by when I saw you in Atlanta. So, I’m fulfilling my promise.”
“Rachel, don’t go yet. I want to get to know you better. Please.” He zipped up his carrying case and slung it over his shoulder as she moved toward the door. She sighed and nodded. “Okay. Promise you’ll stay here a few more days, and I’ll try to squeeze you into my work schedule. I work 50 hours a week, you know.”
“I do. I’ll stay here a little bit longer. I have one problem, though.”
“What’s that?” she asked as she opened the door.
“All the hotels are booked up, and I just removed my stuff from my room this morning. So, I...um, I feel a little bit awkward about asking you this, but....I-”
“Do you have a rental car?”
“No.”
“Good. Okay. You can stay with me. However, Jarod, I’m on my lunch hour right now, and I have to be getting back to work. I’ll be expecting you at nine, okay?”
“Nine?”
“I have a long day.” He smiled and walked her to the elevator.
Cleveland, OH
He was absolutely terrified. He saw absolute darkness ahead of him and his hands were tied behind his back. Then he heard the sound of shoes-very thick ones-walking on the pavement towards the chair he was sitting on. He tried to get up, but he was instantaneously shoved down coldly. “Who are you?” he asked blindly. He wanted to kick the person in front of him, but his feet were tied together.
“An agent of the light.”
“Your voice sounds awfully familiar. Aren’t you that Jarod guy?” The shadow in fron t of him neglected to reply to his question. Instead he removed the black gun from the holster he had taken off of Mr. Fanning. “Tell me, Mr. Fanning, does the Centre want Jarod so badly that they would sacrifice anything?”
“I don’t know. I’ve barely been working there for four months. They haven’t told me a thing about Jarod, except what he looks like.”
“Would they sacrifice you for Jarod?” Mr. Fanning snapped his mouth shut when he was about to say yes and kept his cool. He was still absolutely terrified. Then he heard the shadow in front of him put the gun down onto a metal surface-possibly a table. When he heard the sound of his cellular phone beeping, the specter in front of him answered the phone and pressed the talk button. “Fanning? It’s Jackson. Where are you, man? You were supposed to meet us outside the Terminal Tower half an hour ago!” Fanning felt the cell phone smack him in the ear.
“Answer it,” the voice commanded harshly.
“I don’t know. I think I’m lost somewhere.”
“Well, wherever you are, find the directions to the Carlton Hotel and be there at eight thirty! The boss is expecting us in a brief. A very important brief,” his voice began to calm down.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Listen, can you tell us where you are? I’ll come find you if it’s necessary.” Fanning felt a gloved hand punch his face and the phone was removed from his ear. “It’s no trouble for him.”
“Who is this? You’re not Fanning? And what are you doing on his phone?”
“What are you willing to do for me if I told you that I knew where Jarod is?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know anyone named Jarod. And who is this? Where’s Fanning?”
“Right here. Next to me. Want to hear him? He was just talking to you.”
“I know that. Who are you?”
“Some people call me an agent of the light. Others call me the worst hell-bent demon from the pits of Hell.”
“Whoever you are, you leave Fanning alone. We can trace his phone anywhere.”
“In that case, you had better say goodbye to him now. He won’t be going to the Carlton Hotel at eight thirty alive.”
“WAIT! Maybe we’ll give you something for Jarod’s whereabouts.”
“Oh, him again? You seem to be pretty desperate, so I’m not going to tell you what I know. Say goodbye to your friend, Fanning.” The specter took the gun from the metal table, cocked it, and fired three shots. The first was aimed at Fanning’s arm, at which he screamed in pain, and the other two were fired into his heart. “Have a nice day.” The figure dropped the phone onto the ground and stomped his heel onto its electronic body. It was completely ruined and Mr. Fanning was taken care of the same way as Mr. Meeks’ body was.
8:30, The Ritz Carlton Hotel, Downtown Cleveland....
Mr. Parker arrived and the two men that followed him closely were his bodyguards. Mr. Jackson, Mr. Rice, Mr. Schultz, and the head of the sweepers’ party, Mr. Krein, all followed Mr. Parker into Conference Room C. “Mr. Krein, I am interested in your progress so far. Please report,” Mr. Parker leaned back in his chair and took out a cigar.
Mr. Krein put the glasses that he needed on for reading and removed a few papers from his briefcase. “I prepared this summary for you before I ate dinner.”
Mr. Parker lit his cigar and took a huge drag. “Can you tell me why, Mr. Krein, you did not eat with your other members?”
“I am not a people person, sir. Sometimes I need my share of space from others.”
“Well, please do, uh, read on.”
“Thank you, sir.” Krein eyed his other three colleagues and then his eyes shot immediately to the papers. “We have received three more e-mails from Jarod to Sydney. Reports are that Jarod has recently helped three families in the area. We are not yet certain where his cell phone calls are coming from, because his phone uses a scrambling chip to confuse the satellite that we use to track it. I have sighted him walking around the Rock n’Roll Hall of Fame twice.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Krein. Where are your other two members? I seem to remember sending out six sweepers-a Mr. Meeks and a Mr. Fanning.”
“They must be running late.” Krein shifted his papers coolly and handed them to Mr. Parker’s bodyguard, who gave it to his employer.
“I heard something really weird, Mr. Parker. I think Jarod’s gone mad. I called Fanning at about six-forty-five. He answered it and then I talked to him for a while. He acted like he was lost or something. I heard a voice that sounded exactly like Jarod talking to me-he told me that he was an angel of the light. He also told me that Mr. Fanning wasn’t gonne come back here alive. I heard a gunshot and Mr. Fanning scream; then two more and nothing. Jarod picked the phone back up and said to have a nice day,” Mr. Jackson explained.
“Yes, Jackson, I agree, that is very strange. What about Mr. Meeks?”
“I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. I’ve been trying to find him,” Krein assured his supervisor.
Mr. Parker took nervous pulls on his cigar and a cloud proceeded from his nostrils. “Okay. It’s obvious that Jarod has gone ballistic. My orders are, that if he confronts you with a weapon, shoot to kill. I don’t want him back at the Centre that badly. I’m worried that he might do something to my little girl.”
“I can guarantee that I will do my utmost best to find and capture him. I’m sure that my other three associates will do theirs, as well.”
“By the way, Mr. Krein, I don’t believe that you’ve met my daughter yet, have you?
“Why, no, Mr. Parker...I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“She’s not here in Cleveland, but, um, perhaps back home, you’d like to...”
“Yes. I would. Thank you, sir. How do I know that she’ll like me?”
“You’ll know it, Mr. Krein. You’ll know, believe me.” He arose and put his used cigar butt into the ashtray. His two bodyguards followed him out the door.
“Hey, Mr. Krein?” Mr. Schultz asked.
“Yes?”
“We’d better find Meeks.”
“Jarod comes first.” The solemn face young man shut his briefcase coldly and gave him a grim stare. “Mission before pleasure.”
“It’s not pleasure!” Mr. Rice called after him.
“Okay, then you find him. I’ll go after Jarod by myself. You are dismissed from my party, if you wish.”
“Fine. I don’t like how you work, anyway,” Jackson spat.
Atlanta, Georgia, 9:02 p.m.
Jarod looked at the torn scrap of paper he was holding and the house’s address. Yep, it seemed correct. Number 422, Spencer Drive. He walked up the small walkway and set his luggage down in front of the door as he rang the doorbell. He wadded up the garbage and put it in his leather jacket pocket. Rachel came and let him in-her hair was alittle disheveled, but he didn’t care. She was wearing a white tank top and blue warm-up pants with the word Adidas written along its sides. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she grinned.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, noticing that the grandfather clock inside her living room gave the time 9:10. Her eyes followed his and she turned around.
“Oh, that old thing is so off. It’s only 9:03. I’m sorry I’m so casual, but I just got done with my exercises.”
“Really? What kind do you do?”
“Tae Bo. You know, Billy Blanks?”
“Billy Blanks? No, I...don’t think I’ve met him.”
“He’s made lots of videos. I think he invented Tae Bo.”
“What is Tae Bo?”
“Oh, you don’t know what it is?”
“No,” Jarod bit his lip. He felt so stupid. She got a glass out of her kitchen cupboard and drank some water.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My manners, excuse me. Do you want something to drink?”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“How about something to eat? I’m making some chicken fajitas. It’s really no problem to cut up some more stuff.”
“I have to admit I’m a little hungry. Yes, please.”
“Okay.” She washed her hands and began to cut some peppers on a cutting board. “So, Jarod, I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of Tae Bo.”
“Well, all the careers that I’ve been in haven’t led me to it yet, I’m afraid.”
“Do you live in a cave or something?”
“Not really, but, kind of.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude.”
“No problem.” Rachel turned her gas range on and then put the black iron skillet underneath the heat. She put the onions in the skillet and the chicken in it as well. “What big case are you working on now?”
“Me? Well, right now, we’re doing little things. I sometimes give advice to rape victims on a radio show and I research the top ten.”
“Top ten?”
“Jarod, come on, with all your experience with the FBI-you don’t know what the top ten are? Top ten wanted criminals? Is that coming back to you?”
‘Hmmm...sort of.” She added the peppers and increased the heat.
“We’re getting closer to getting this guy; he’s number eight. His name is Carl Ibanioni. An Italian mobster who runs most of New York’s bordellos, drug-houses, and casinos. He’s committed six major felonies and he’s made-about three men disappear mysteriously.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We expect that he’s killed them, or actually, had them killed. But no one can prove it because there’s not enough evidence to convict him. So we call it an ambiguous disappearance.”
“Who’s number one?”
“Believe it or not-it’s a woman. Tanya Peternov. She has committed sixteen major felonies, including espionage, and she has killed about thirt-five people connected wiht the Russian embassy.”
“Why is she so hard to catch?”
“No one knows where she is. She moves abou the U.S. like you do. Except that she doesn’t help anybody-she looks to destroy everyone. The last city she was seen in was Boston. She killed two diplomats from Russia.”
“What can you do?”
“Hope and pray that God will show us where to go next.” She stirred the mixture and shook the pan while it sizzled off the range. “I’m glad you’re back in town, Jarod. Things haven’t been the same.”
“Same here. So why do you work so late?”
“Humph. Bailey works about two more hours than I do. He’s probably the hardest working man that I know at the FBI.” Rachel shut the gass off and got out some warm wraps from her microwave. She filled both of them and put them on one plate. Jarod followed her into the dining room. He sat right next to her and ate his in less than one minute.
“My. Ravenous, aren’t we?” she smiled.
“I haven’t eaten since noon.”
“That would explain it. Do you want mine?”
“No, no, eat yours. Thank you.”
“Jarod, you mentioned something about telling me why you never are photographed wiht the families that you help. Could you tell me now?” She put the first mouthful of fajita in her mouth and wiped the grease off of it with a napkin.
“Yes. I suppose I could. But, I would require before I tell you the reason why, that you promise never to reveal any of the information I tell you.”
“Why is it so top secret?” she inquired with her full mouth.
“Well, let’s just say that I’m a fugitive, too.”
“From what?”
“My past.” Rachel finished her meal and went over to the kitchen again with the plate. Jarod followed her once more as she began to wash the dishes. He leaned up against the counter next to her.
Blue Cove, Delaware
Miss Parker was pacing the floor as she waited inside of her father’s office. Broots and Sydney were sitting besides eaceh other and staring at her quizzically. “Where in the worl could my father be?”
“Maybe he went to check up on Mr. Krein in Cleveland,” Syndey replied.
“Why would he do that? He trusts everyone.”
“I don’t think so. Everyone knows that five people died on the expedition in Cleveland. Mr. Krein’s the prime suspect to everyone but your father. Maybe it’s because he’s so weird,” Broots said.
“Weird? Who could possibly be more strange than the two of you?” she pointed her ringed index finger at both of them. Sydney grinned.
“Your brother, Mr. Lyle.” Suddenly, the double doors burst open and Mr. Parker’s bodyguards held them for their employer. The old man strolled through with a man that Miss Parker had never seen before. “Hello, Angel,” he beamed and kissed her on the forehead as he went to sit in his comfortable chair. The young man crossed his arms and looked round the office.
“So, haven’t you caught Jarod yet?” she asked sardonically.
“No, Angel. We had to bring him home because something unexpected came up in Cleveland. His excursion got interrupted by that rotten Jarod.”
“Imagine that,” the woman snapped.
“I’m serious. He was the only man that survived. Somehow, Jarod got them all separated from one another and then killed the rest of the men. I don’t know how Mr. Krein escaped him. What a madman, that Jarod has become. We have got to bring him home so we can save him.”
“Daddy, what are you talking about?”
“Jarod is a murderer. He killed my other men when I was red hot on his trail,” Krein answered.
“He’s right, Angel. We’re lucky he did survive. He was making good progress, too.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Mr. Krein, I would like to introduce you to my daughter.” The brown-haired, brown eyed man offered Miss Parker his hand and she shrugged him off.
“Daddy, what do you mean? Jarod does not kill people. He helps them.”
“We have proof of a recorded conversation between Mr. Jackson and Jarod that he is a murderer. There were bullets. Shortly after our conference, Mr. Jackson perished, Angel. I know you once had feelings for him, but Jarod is now a cold-blooded killer.”
Miss Parker crossed her arms and turned to face Krein. “I find that very hard to believe,” she said while she was staring Krein over.
“Would you like to talk about it over coffee sometime?” he offered, brushing his hand on her shoulder. Miss Parker pulled away from his touch and turned to walk out. Mr. Parker winced. This was not how he had planned for the meeting to go with Mr. Krein. “I’m sorry, Krein. I think she’s still angry with me for not being able to go after Jarod in Cleveland.”
“It’s a good thing she didn’t go. She may have been killed,” Krein replied softly.
“Yes. Yes, that’s very true.” Parker’s expression dimmed and then he smiled once more. “I’m sorry. Mr. Krein, this is Broots, and this is Sydney. They work with my daughter very closely.”
“Nice to meet you,” Broots shook his hand and Krein’s grip made him go down to the floor on his knees. “Wow...” his voice cracked. “That’s quite a grip you got there, Krein.”
“I think I’ll give my regards from a distance like Miss Parker,” Sydney eyed Krein. He helped his fallen colleague up from the floor and nodded to Mr. Krein. “I’m sure you wil be a valuable asset to us in the whole Jarod scheme.” The two walked out the doors still being held by the two bodyguards.
Mr. Parker motioned for them to leave and they did as he commanded. He opened a desk drawer and offered a cigar to Mr. Krein, who declined. “My dear fellow Krein, there are a few things about my daughter that you need to know about. She’s not your regular beautiful woman.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But, I think a man like you with a dominant personality can win her over.”
“She’s gorgeous, sir. Absolutely a terrific knockout.”
“I know. Her mother was just as wonderful looking.” Mr. Parker frowned as he remembered an elegant necklace that he had given her a day before she was killed. (This is a flashback.) “Oh, John, I love it,” she exclaimed as he put it around her neck.
“I know you love jewels. In a day or so, you’ll get to see our very own jewel,” he simpered.
“That’s right. I miss her so.”
(Flash to present.) And I think I’m going to miss you forever, Catharine, he pondered. Krein’s questions brought him back to the real world.
Atlanta, Georgia
As Rachel Burke was drying and putting her dishes away, Jarod recounted his life story to her. “I was taken from my family when I was very young. And I was taken to a very dark place. I had no idea where I was at the time, but I came to learn the place as being called the Centre. While I was there, I was trained by a man named Sydney Green and his brother to be what they called “a pretender”. They had several other projects going on there-from what I knew and was told. I was isolated from civilization-I was never allowed to go outside of the complex. While I was there, I met two children that are now adults like me-Miss Parker and Angelo. Miss Parker was daughter to the Centre chairman, Mr. Parker.”
“She didn’t have a first name?”
“I do not believe that anyone knows her real name except her father and maybe Miss Parker herself. As children, when we first met, she addressed herself to me as Miss Parker. I do not believe she has a first name.”
“Have you made one up for her?” Rachel put the skillet on the gas stove under a low flame.
“No. But I know what her middle name could be.”
“What’s that?”
“Anger. Miss Parker had a very unusual childhood-almost stranger than mine. Her father and mother were never seen together in public. They kept Miss Parker hidden away in the Centre-her father wanted her to become a pretender-to be trained in the same ways that I was. But her mother absolutely refused to let him do so; she even threatened to divorce him. One day, though, Catharine Parker was brutally killed because she was smuggling children that the Centre had captured out to the real world. And that devastated the poor girl. She’s been very bitter about it ever since.”
“So, she is working for this Centre of yours?”
“Yes. She struggles day and night to find me, but she could really be helping herself more if she would just stop. I think, a year ago, she realized what I was really doing-helping the world.”
“Do you think she loves you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think Miss Parker really knows what love is. It’s tragic and both sad. I wish she could join me, but she’s insisted on staying there.”
“Would she ever kill you if given the chance?” Rachel switched the gas off and put the skillet away. She motioned him to go into the living room and sit on a leather loveseat. She bent down to tend to the fire that was already going in the fireplace.
“I’d like to think she wouldn’t, but I don’t know her anymore. So, ever since about three years ago, I’ve been assisting the weak and abused. I broke out of the Centre, and I’m telling you, the freedom is feeling great. You don’t know-you could never know what it was like to be shut up from the real world for almost thirty years.”
“You’re right, Jarod, I could never know or go through what happened to you.” She knelt down by his feet and put her hands on his left leg. “But I can have compassion for you. And now I understand why you are so shy and reluctant to receive the glory that you deserve.”
“Yes. I got an e-mail from Sydney today that told me not to trust anybody. I wonder where he could be at this point. I wonder how Miss Parker will be sleeping tonight.”
“Probably tossing and turning. You’re an elusive character to catch, Jarod. I almost missed you today. Had I arrived an hour later, you might’ve been gone.” She reached up to trace the side of his long cheekbone and then ran her index finger down it. “Rachel, will you help me with my work?”
“I already do help people, Jarod. I caught a sexual offender last week.”
“Do you save lives?”
“I try to.” She let her hand fall and he caught it with both of his large hands.
“Sydney always told me that there are a lot of things you can assimilate through a person’s hands.”
“What can you assess about me, Jarod?”
“You have a lot of grief stored up inside of you. I can tell by the way these wrinkles are directed. And your hands are much more rough than a usual woman’s. You have done a lot more work than a regular little girl would normally do. This scar leads me to believe that you had an accidnet or an abusive parent.”
“My father died when I was young, and since I was the oldest of the family, I had to work in place of my mother. She was out working manually. I did her jobs while I did school. It was a hard life for me and my other six siblings. Before he died, he did used to whip me-you’re right, Jarod.” Rachel lifted herself onto the couch next to him. He was still holding her hands in his. “What can you assimilate in faces, Jarod?”
“A lot. Even people who can’t talk say a lot by their faces. You’ve been hurt by other men in the past-I can tell that. You’ve probably endured a lot of disappointment and hardships during your college life. And your eyes tell me that you have experience. You’re not new to the world-you’ve faced it a lot longer than most adults our age have. You had to, in order to survive.”
“Your face says that you’re still searching for something to fulfill your life. I know that helping people makes a huge difference, because I do it myself, but I still feel a void in myself. I’m still looking, too.” He let go of her left hand and began to stroke the hand that he was holding.
“Maybe I’ve found it today,” he whispered and got closer to her.
“Could be.” Jarod leaned even closer and she let him seal their lips together. It seemed like something bound to happen, she thought. But then she reconsidered the idea and pulled away. Rachel got up off of the couch and cleared her throat. “Is there something wrong?” he questioned.
“I...had better go to bed. It’s 11:30. I need a full nine hours of sleep. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room.” Jarod nodded and picked up his luggage in the foyer. He pursued her into a huge guestroom furnished with a king sized bed and a canopy. “You know how to treat your guests with style, Rachel,” he smiled.
“I like to make people feel they’re at home when they stay here. So, if you need anything, my room’s down the hall and to the left. It’s the last one. Goodnight, Jarod. Sleep well and sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams,” he agreed. She closed the door on her way out.
Blue Cove, Delaware, The Centre Complex-11:30 p.m.
Miss Parker was rummaging through her desk as a knock came to her transparent glass door. It was Mr. Krein. Great, she thought. Mr. Nosy is coming back to spy on me. I hope my father hasn’t become attached to him already.
“Come in,” she signaled him as she put a huge stack of papers on top of her untidy desk. He walked inside quietly and let the door shut slowly. “What?” she snarled as he stood by her.
“Your father wants me to close up. Are you going to spend the night here?”
“Look, Mister-Krein is it?” He nodded and crossed his legs as he was standing near her. “I’m just getting caught up on Jarod and when I find what I’ve been looking for, I’ll leave. Okay?”
“Fine, fine.” He spun around on his thick soled heel and began to walk away.
“I knew Jarod had problems but I didn’t think he’d murder people.” Krein stopped dead in his tracks. A smile crossed his face and he faced her.
“It’s all the more reason that your father did not want you to go. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she spat and then buried her eyes into the desk.
“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot-”
“You have no idea. You couldn’t possibly understand what happened to me.”
“But I’m willing to try. I wish you wouldn’t brush me off so coldly like you do Sydney and Broots. I bet they’re used to it, and never thought of telling you not to treat them like dirt, but I’ m not like them. I’m not some underdog you can rub in the mud, Miss Parker. I care about you and your father. And Jarod. If you wish me not to bring up the ordeal, calmly and civilly tell me. I’ll shutup immediately.” Mr. Krein’s face was stern, and she knew that he meant business. No one had ever had the impertinence to tell her how to act-even her father.
She was so stunned that she didn’t know what to say for about four seconds. “I’m sorry, Mr. Krien. I’ve just...been through a lot where there was nobody I could talk to.”
“But you had Jarod when you were younger, right? Is that why you want him back so much?”
“Jarod was the one stable thing I had in my life during my childhood. I rarely saw my father or mother-I had to stay here in the Centre most of the time. And when my mother was killed...” her voice began to tremble, “he was there beside me. He always knew how to encourage or comfort me during that horrible time.”
“And you’re afraid you have no one to talk to now, is that it?” Miss Parker slowly nodded. He bit his lip and tapped his fingers on her desk. “Don’t worry, Miss Parker. I’m right here. I will always be here to talk to you.”
“Remember you said that you wanted to take me out for a coffee?”
“Yes, I remember making the offer. Is that something you wanted to do tonight?”
“I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“Of course.” They parted and he got there first. He ordered a café mocha and Miss Parker arrived as the waitress brought out his drink. “Is there something that you would like, ma’am?”
“Café caramelli with nutmug, milk, and chocolate. Also, I’ll eat a chocolate muffin.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back to assist you. As of now, your total is $5.72.” Mr. Krein stirred his drink and offered some to Miss Parker, who declined. When she came back with Miss Parker’s order, they began to talk.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’ve been chasing Jarod for the last three years. It hasn’t been easy. And he was always, in a way, still trying to help me. He even asked me to run away from the Centre with him to help the little guy.”
“Obviously you rejected the offer. What made you want to stay here?” She eyed him carefully to see if he was sincere.
“The same reason why you are here.”
“You couldn’t possibly have the same reason as I do.”
“Then you tell me why you are here.”
“I asked you first.”
“So you did. All right, I’ll tell you. The Centre is my home. May God himself strike me dead if I ever leave it to help Jarod.”
“Is that an oath?”
“I guess. Now your reason.”
“I like taking care of people’s problems.”
“Then maybe you should be helping him,” she smirked but when she saw the sinister glare that came from Mr. Krein, she felt stupid.
“Yes, well, if I had been born a good child, maybe that would’ve been possible. But that would be in a different world, Miss Parker. A much different world than the one we live in.” He took another sip of his beverage.
“Are you carrying?”
“What on earth made you ask that question?”
“There are some men over there that keep staring at me.”
“How?”
“Like they want to kill me or something.” Krein glanced over a few tables and noticed two men staring and talking about Miss Parker. He nodded a yes.
“Don’t worry about it. I assume you are as well?”
“Yes.”
“Just look like you’re an average business woman talking business with me.”
“How can I do that? Neither of us have briefcases.”
“Good point.” As he was beginning to think, the two men got up and pulled chairs up to Miss Parker. One quickly removed his gun and kept it under the table. He pushed it into Krein’s groin and whispered harshly, “Don’t move. Your life depends on it.”
Miss Parker felt the other one’s hand slide onto her leg and she stomped on his toe with her spiked heel. This distracted the one that was guarding Krein and Krein elbowed the man in the face. They both dropped their guns and fell off of their chairs. Krein took a $10 bill and left it on the table. He and Miss Parker hurried out to the street. They took off down a corner to the right and after half a mile, he stopped. “Wait a minute,” he said and looked behind him.
The gunmen came outside the coffee shop with their guns in hand and Krein made a quick decision. “I know this might seem presumptuous of me, Miss Parker, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”
“How?” she was puzzled.
“No time to talk.” He grabbed her and turned so his back was to the running gunmen. He quickly crushed her lips to hers-not violently to hurt her, but she felt his abrupt breath. She went with the flow as the gunmen neared them. They eyed the couple for a few seconds and then took off in the same direciton.
“Sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else. I know that was very audacious, but-” Miss Parker smacked him.
“I haven’t been kissed like that since I was eighteen.”
“Now I know why.” Mr. Krein winced and rubbed his cheek.
“I should be going home. Do you need a ride?”
“A ride? To where? I don’t have a home here. I don’t have a hotel, either.”
“Then where were you planning to sleep?”
“They have a facility at the Centre.” She shook her head.
“Oh, no. You’re coming with me to my house. I won’t have you sleeping there. That place is full of horrible memories for me.”
“Then why are you still working at the Centre?”
“We’ve been over this. I meant the sleeping chamber was terrible.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just don’t say stupid things next time.” Miss Parker dug the keys out of her shirt pocket and opened the locks on her 1999 Mustang. Once they were at her house, he marveled at how nice it was. “It’s funny. I wouldn’t expect a woman like you to live in a house.”
“Sometimes a big house is very much me. But that’s because you don’t know me very well, Mr. Krein, do you?”
“Not as well as I’d like.” She opened the front door and they entered.
“I need to check my e-mail. Please excuse me. The bedroom you can use is located upstairs and to the left. It’s the first door. It has a bathroom.” She hurried over to the computer at a desk. As she got on-line, Miss Parker drank from a glass that was full of orange juice. She did have e-mail, and only one new message that was from Jarod. “Missed you in Cleveland. Will be in the first state in 1787. Hope to pick you up for dinner sometime. Jarod.”
“The first state-what on earth does he mean?” she pondered aloud.
“You don’t know what the first state was?” Mr. Krein inquired from behind her. Shocked, she immediately spilled the orange juice onto him.
“Don’t ever do that again!!” she growled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like I did. But you don’t know what the first state was?”
“Krein, it’s 12:50 a.m. and I just got over a traumatic experience of kissing you. Don’t expect me to have any common sense.”
“I have something that might help cool you down.”
“Not another one of your ideas?!”
“No. Just calm down and turn around.” He cracked his knuckles and put his hands on her shoulders. She began to tense and her head reared, but he gently pushed her toward the monitor’s screen. “Just calm down. I’m not going to give you a traumatic experience.” Mr. Krein began to massage her shoulders and her neck. When he reached her neck, there was a spot that gave her aches every time she had tried to reach it, but when he touched her there, it felt so good. He put just enough pressure on her aching muscles for it to feel good but not too much to make her feel like she was in a vice.
“Oh...” she groaned and hung her head as he kneaded her stiff neck muscles. “Why did you ever come to the Centre to be a weapons specialist when you could’ve made so much more money doing this?”
“A feeling in me. I...was motivated by my heart to come here.” Miss Parked stopped him and took off her jacket. She felt his warm hands almost melt through her silk shirt. “Since you stopped me once, we might as well do it right. On the sofa,” he motioned. Her eyebrows raised.
“I won’t do anything insolent, I promise you.”
“Good. Because the last man who did ended up with a broken finger.” She did as he asked her to and laid down on the sofa on her stomach. He sat in the computer seat and did her back while she made small noises of pleasure.
You’ll see God faster than you think you will, Miss Parker, he thought and went back to his work. “By the way, Miss Parker, Delaware was the first state. It started the Union in 1787.”
“So that’s what he meant.”
“Yes. Which means he is now right under our noses.”
“Why don’t you get any e-mail from Jarod, Mr. Krein?”
“I don’t have an e-mail address.”
“What? Everyone does.”
“Everyone except me. I do not have access to the Internet, although I know how to use it, I would not care to do so.”
“Did you go to school to learn how to do this?”
“No. I picked up a book one day and read it. It was quite fascinating.”
“Oh...right there. No, above that. Yes...oh...”
“So, who else do you care about besides Jarod and your father?”
“I have a brother named Mr. Lyle. But he’s in South America right now.”
“Would you ever consider marrying?”
“I don’t like long term commitments.” He got up off of the chair and knelt down on the floor. “Have you ever fallen in love, Miss Parker?”
“We’re getting close and personal, Mr. Krein.”
“You’re getting a massage. You haven’t objected to it. That’s close and personal.”
“And it feels good, too,” she sighed.
“Are you gonna answer?”
“If you get this one spot and knot out that’s been killing me all day.” She moved her left hand to his hands and moved them down to her waist. “Right there.” He began to work and gently caress it.
“Yes, I have fallen in love before. But things got complicated and he ended up dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “what’s your favorite flower?”
“Why do you care?” She immediately got defensive. Krein’s hands pressed harder into her back.
“Because I like you. You’ve got that something-something in a woman that I can’t resist.”
“You find me attractive?”
“I find you alluring, charming, and desirable.”
“Really?” Miss Parker turned her head toward his face, which was about four inches from hers. “What kind of desire?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure we can figure out a way if you’ll let me.” He stopped rubbing her sore muscles and leaned to her lips. She joined him in a kiss that she would never forget. Fire and brimstone raced through their hearts. His hand advanced to the back of her neck and held it while they embraced.
Atlanta, Georgia, April 11, the next morning...
Jarod had plugged his laptop computer into the outlet nearest his bed and checked his e-mail. “We’ll be in the area soon, Jarod. Miss Parker’s caught onto our account somehow, so be extra careful. Sydney.”
There was a knock on his door. “Yes?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Rachel opened the wooden door and the scent of cooking bacon filled the room. “Are you gonna have some breakfast?”
“I was just checking my e-mail. Depending on the vibes that I’m getting, I might be better off leaving town today.”
“Well, whether you’re leaving or not, you should have a good breakfast before catching a plane. I make a good omelet.”
“I can smell the bacon.”
“I had hoped you would. Jarod, before you leave, is there something that you want to tell me?”
“Miss Parker’s going to be in the area. Sydney told me that’s she’s catching onto me quickly.”
“Okay. Jarod, come to think about it, this may sound selfish of me, but, the best thing you should do is stay here. Did she know about us?”
“No. She has no idea who you are. I don’t think she knew about that pretend anyway.”
“But she’ll know about the doctor you just pretended to be. And therefore, she’ll be looking for you in a hotel room or on a plane out of town. I hope you don’t think I want to keep you here, or anything...because I don’t want to be parsimonious.”
“You’re right. I’ll lay low here for a while. Thanks for your hospitality. I’d do the same for you if I could.”
“I know, Jarod, I know.” Rachel closed the door on her way out and he showered. He came down about fifteen minutes later as she was putting the food onto the kitchen table. “Mmm...looks good. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a culinary chef.”
“One of the things that I had to do when I was helping my mother was cook. I learned from her and some of her best secrets.”
“So what time do you have to go in today?”
“I don’t. I get a day off once every two weeks and today’s the day. Would you like to go out and do something?”
“In public?”
“Jarod, come on. You won’t be photographed. I know a nice little park where we can eat and enjoy the sunshine without being provoked by your Centre people. In fact, very few people know about it. We’ll have to travel a bit, though. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you want for lunch?”
“Whatever you pack, I’ll eat. Do you want some help?” They began to eat.
“That’d be nice. Could you do the dishes while I go clean myself up?”
“Yes. You sure do make a good omelet. I never had one before.” She shook her head and laughed. “Jarod, I have a feeling that I’m the only one who’s opened you up to the real cooking world. What did they make you eat there?”
“You really don’t wanna know.”
“You’re right. I really don’t,” she grinned.
Blue Cove, Delaware, the same morning, at 11:15...
Mr. Krein awoke before Miss Parker did and dressed. He slipped out of the house quietly and walked to the Centre. When he arrived, Sydney was waiting for him. “We got this from Jarod. It was supposed to be for me, but I never wrote him any e-mail to which he is referring.” Krein grabbed the piece of paper from Sydney’s hand.
“Thanks for the advice about Miss Parker. How long will you be in Atlanta, what is this?” he asked him.
“Obviously someone has been using my e-mail address to impersonate me. I can only imagine that someone upstairs might be doing it. I know it’s someone within the walls of the Centre. This has been done before to Jarod to trap him.”
“Who did it before?”
“Mr. Lyle, Miss Parker’s brother. But I can’t imagine him pulling the same trick.”
“Why not? He pretended to die twice,” Miss Parker barked.
“My, my, Miss Parker, why are we so dour this morning?” Sydney smiled.
“I didn’t have a full night’s sleep.”
“Sorry to hear that. Have you been brought up to speed?”
“Yes.”
“Umm...I just got the okay from upstairs to go to Atlanta. Should we take the jet?” Broots inquired.
“Whatever’s the quickest way. Let’s get this jerk,” Krein snapped.
A little outside of Atlanta, Georgia, 1:47 p.m...
“You’re right, there aren’t many people here. How did you learn about this?”
“As an agent of the FBI, one has to find ways to be secretive,” she beamed and they sat down on her blankets. “So, what did you do before your last pretend as a doctor?”
“I was in a white supremacist group.” Her eyebrows arose in disbelief. “I’m not racist. It was an attempt to save the unity rally and a pastor’s two little girls from being killed.”
“Jarod, from the sound of things, you have gathered quite a few adversaries.”
“I have put a lot of people away, yes. But the blessings have all been worth it.”
“So they have. Jarod, a few things have happened since I saw you last.”
“Such as?”
“I’m being held under investigation for forcing a fellow subservient to engage in copulations. It’s been a hard thing for me to go through, especially when I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Not unless you can force the man who pressed the charges against me to drop them. I don’t want you to do that, I was only being facetious.”
“What actually happened, if you don’t mind my asking?” She paused and took a drink from her water bottle. He finished his sandwich and did the same.
“The subordinate and I happened to meet at a bar by chance. We had a few drinks, a few laughs together, and before either one of us really knew it, we were in a hotel room drinking together. But we never engaged in coitus.”
“Does he remember?”
“I think he was more drunk than I was, but he testified that I forced him to. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him that we didn’t.” Jarod leaned back on his left elbow and on his side. He wished that he didn’t have to leave Rachel. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her-but he knew that neither of them could marry. She was beautiful, though. Beautiful and sensitive. “Jarod. Jarod? Hello?”
“Oh, sorry. My mind sometimes wanders off like that.”
“Do I need to keep you awake?”
“That depends.” A smile of mischief crossed her face and she picked up the water bottle. She squirted a few drops of water at him and his face was entirely wet. He shook his head and before she knew it, he tackeld her down and began to tickle her. “Oh, no, Jarod. Please. Jarod,” she began to laugh, “no, don’t tickle! Oh!!”
They got into a small fight and he ended up on top. “Do you surrender?” he asked.
“What happens if I surrender?”
“The winner gets a kiss.”
“I don’t think that’s fair.”
“No? Then how are you for some more?” His fingers moved to her waist and poked her there. She jolted in shock and sighed. “Okay, okay, you win.” She grabbed the water bottle and squirted some into her mouth. Rachel’s long finger motioned him to come down and receive his award. Their lips sealed around each other’s. Her hand moved to the back of his head an urged him on. It was a very heated moment for him. Exciting but satisfying. Jarod finally had to break away for a breath, but he barely got one when she seized him by the back of the neck down to her lips.
Atlanta Metrpolitan Airport, 5:32 p.m.
The Centre’s private jet arrived in the hangar and Miss Parker, Sydney, and Mr. Krein stepped onto Georgia’s soil. “The first thing we have to look for is the newspaper,” Miss Parker said.
“There are newsstands in the airport,” Sydney suggested.
“Weren’t there other sweepers supposed to come with us?” Krein inquired.
“Yes, but somehow, they got ordered to Jacksonville, Florida instead of Atlanta,” Miss Parker smiled.
“Let me guess...Broots?” Sydney asked.
“The one and only,” she replied as they strolled through the airport. “You know, lately, he’s been really useful to me. For some reason, he’s-wait-” the trio stopped immediately as they saw a news stand. Miss Parker picked up the Atlanta Journal and stared at the headline. It had nothing to do with a Jarod pretend. “Excuse me, sir, would you mind telling me where yesterday’s paper would be?”
“Why would you wanna buy yesterday’s paper?” She smiled and put her hands on her hips. As she did, she accidentally revealed a holster. The clerk panicked and gulped. “On second thought, we...we sold out yesterday’s newspaper.”
“Why?” Mr. Krein asked.
“The headline. It was talking about this doctor that was caught cheating families.”
The three looked at one another and Miss Parker took out a pad with a fountain pen. “Where was this hospital where the doctor was caught?”
“Pierson’s Memorial Institute. I think. It’s about two miles east of here, if you’d-” they were already gone.
Miss Parker got into their rental car and sped on the highway to get to Pierson’s Memorial. “Be careful, gentlemen. Do not show that you have weapons until we meet up with Jarod.”
“Miss Parker, aren’t you taking a risk? Jarod might already be gone,” Sydney explained.
“It was only yesterday. Let’s go,” Krein snapped. Sydney shrugged his shoulders and followed his two younger companions. “Excuse me, have you seen this man?” Miss Parker flashed Jarod’s picture to a nurse by the emergency unit.
“You mean Dr. Tate?”
“Yes. He’s wanted by the FBI for impersonating several dead people and then using their social security numbers for illegal purposes,” Krein answered.
“That cannot be. Dr. Tate has just helped three-”
“His real name isn’t Dr. Tate, Nurse Ebony,” Miss Parker noticed the woman’s ID tag. “It’s Jarod.”
“I’ll call his secretary for you, if you’d like. We’re not sure if the doctor’s in.” By the time Nurse Ebony had gotten a hold of Tara, the three companions were on the elevator.
All that remained in Jarod’s office was his desk, chair, and a few empty file cabinets. His secretary Tara had objected to them searching his office, but they ignored her. “Where is he?” Krein questioned her.
“I told you already...I don’t know. I saw him leave yesterday after seven o’clock and I haven’t seen him since. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have to be closing up.”
“Was it his day off?” Miss Parker inquired.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did he have any visitors?” Mr. Krein wondered.
“Come to think of it, yes. It was a woman. I didn’t catch her name, but I know she looked like she was a federal official. She looked kind of like you folks. I think she was little shorter than you,” she pointed to Miss Parker, “but she had blue eyes and red hair. I saw Dr. Tate come out of his office with her and walk her to that elevator. And like I said, the last I saw of him was at seven o’clock yesterday evening.”
“Hmm..well thank you very much for your help, miss,” Krein nodded. “And if Dr. Tate does come back here, will you let us know? Here’s my beeper number. He’s a wanted man. If you want to be safe, call me. My name’s Mr. Krein.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you.” They left the hospital and went to a motel.
“This is absolutely ludicrous! He has to be staying in a hotel or apartment. He couldn’t have bought a house,” Miss Parker cursed. She paced the room while Mr. Krein talked to Broots on his cell phone.
“Yeah? I can hear Miss Parker screaming obscenities. I hope I’m not the cause of them...” Broots said.
“No, not at all, Broots,” Krein answered calmly. Miss Parked conitnued to talk loudly to Mr. Krein while he was on the phone. “He has been nailing us with those red herrings, we must be so close now!”
“Does she do this all the time?” Krein asked Broots.
“Jarod could be right under my nose, do you know that?! And it drives me up the wall!!!!” she yelled at Krein, who ignored her and listened to Broots.
“If she’s going through her time of the month, sometimes,” the hacker responded coolly. “The best thing to do is just to let her scream her frustrations out on you and then sit there quietly for a minute or so. Then after she has finished, tell her to calm down.”
“I gotcha.”
“Are you even listening to me?!” she miffed. “Here I am pouring my heart out to you when you said you were going to listen to me and you’re just talking to Broots!”
“I think you were right that she’s on her time of the month, Broots.”
“He hasn’t found anything anyway, so why do you keep talking to that loser?!” Miss Parker grabbed Krein’s cell phone, opened up the motel door, and threw it out into the pool. Once she did so, she slammed the door and forced him to sit on one of the beds in the room. “Listen. You promised you would.” He nodded and when she turned to sigh, he rolled his eyes.
About two hours away from where the trio was...
Jarod and Rachel were still osculating madly as a figure got out of his car. They did not hear the sounds of a camera’s shutter release as it took pictures. The photographer zoomedin on their embrace and also, Rachel, in particular. As soon as he had used up a roll of film, he took out anothe camera. This one could be hooked into his laptop computer and the camera even took a took of Rachel’s car. Her license plate would easily give away who she was and the only thing that puzzled the photographer was how Jarod got to know this person.
As the mysterious photographer gets up to leave, we see for the first time that it is Krein. He got into the car and quietly left the park. Jarod and Rachel never knew that they had a stalker named Mr. Krein.
The motel where the trio was staying...
Mr. Krein took out his laptop while Miss Parker was in the shower and connected it into the nearest outlet. He plugged the camera’s feeding cable into the computer and booted it up. As soon as he got onto the Internet, he went to Interpol and typed in a password he had stolen from his hacking years before. By then, the photos had loaded themselves and he sent them with an instant message to find out who the woman was. In about a minute and a half, he got a message back confirming his suspicions: “Name: Rachel Burke. Status: FBI Profiler. Stationed: Atlanta, Georgia.”
Just as he was about to learn more about her college history and background FBI file from her past experiences in Washington, D.C., the door opened and Miss Parker emerged out of the bathroom in a robe. He immediately shut the screen off and tried to hide the computer from her sight. “So, Krein, what do you suggest we do next?”
“Track his credit cards. I just called Broots and ordered him to do so.”
“What if Jarod doesn’t have any credit cards?”
“I also thought about that and asked Broots to track down the signal from where his laptop was contacting the satellite. We’ll be able to pick him up wherever that computer is.” She began to slip into her pajamas, but the camera is angled so we cannot see her disrobing. Mr. Krein used these few precious moments and unplugged the computer from the wall. He slid the slim laptop underneath his king-sized bed and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. As Miss Parker came out to reveal herself, she removed the ring that she always wore on her index finger and put it on the nightstand.
“My, aren’t we handsome?” He looked down at his chest and back at her wandering eyes. He said nothing and unbuckled his belt. “You know, Mr. Krein, I wouldn’t mind it if you gave me another one of your good massages.” Krein took off his gold watch and rings. He placed them adjacent to her things. He still had not taken off his shirt yet.
His hip holster came off next, and he removed the gun to check the fully loaded magazine just for security. When he also placed that on the nightstand, Miss Parker could take it no longer. She rushed over to him and pushed him up against the wall. “Geting a little close and personal, aren’t we?” he said, using her own words against her.
She moved in closer to touch her lips to his. He released her after a few seconds and nodded. “You’ve convinced me. Go ahead and lie down.” Krein cracked his knuckles and waited for her to do as she was told.
Late at night, back at Rachel Burke’s house...
Jarod got an e-mail once more Sydney. “We’re now in Atlanta. Be careful, Jarod, we’ve got an extra man sent with us to keep us honest. His name is Mr. Krein. And someone was using my e-mail address to send you things that I did not write. I would be careful-he’s a very complicated man. I haven’t been able to figure him out and while he was in Cleveland picking up on your trail, the other five members of his party mysteriously died. Mr. Parker believes you killed them. He wants you dead.”
Jarod wrote back an instant message, hoping and praying that Sydney was on-line, wherever in Atlanta he was. “I was never in Cleveland. Why does Mr. Parker think that I killed five sweepers?”
About thirty seconds later, a message popped up from Sydney. “Then Mr. Krein was lying. One of his former colleagues, a Mr. Jackson swore that he heard your voice on a Mr. Fanning’s cell phone. I know that you don’t kill. I didn’t believe Mr. Parker for a moment.”
“Why was Mr. Krein lying?”
“I don’t know, Jarod, I said that I haven’t figured him out yet. He’s a very complicated man, like I said.”
“Do you think that he was sending me the e-mail with your address?”
“It’s very likely. But I’m willing to bet my life that he’s convinced Miss Parker that you’re a cold blooded murderer. I am also willing to wager my house that he’s got her at the tips of his fingers to do anything for him.”
“So it’s best that I stay away from this area? Should I leave Atlanta?”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you, Jarod. If you have found some kind of safe haven, someone to confide in in Atlanta and we don’t know who that someone is, stay there. You’ll be safe from Parker and that maniac Krein. I think he killed those five sweepers. I cannot imagine why, but I have a feeling that he did so.”
While Jarod was typing away on his computer to Sydney Green, Mr. Krein had wandered away from the motel he and his other two companions were staying. He had managed to get Agent Rachel Burke’s address from a few resources at his disposal on the Interpol. He had taken the rental car which Parker had secured and driven it to her address. He silently shut the engine off and took out a flashlight.
“The question is, Syd, if that psycho did kill the sweepers, why would he?”
“I think you answered your own question, Jarod. You called him a psycho. That may be reason enough. The Centre does not discrimate mentally disturbed people. Remember Mr. Lyle is still working there?”
“Yes. Has he killed anyone else?”
“No. But the way he was acting today, it sounds like he might be striking soon. He might want to kill you, Jarod. I don’t know why or understand it, but just because he could be mentally ill, he might try to assassinate you. So watch out.”
“You be careful, too, Syd. He might try to kill you, too.”
Krein saw the light on in Jarod’s bedroom. He looked for a way to get up there since the window was open, and he saw a fence on the side of the house. He removed the gun from his hip holster and began to climb the fence. He reached the window and aimed at Jarod’s turned back.
Jarod pushed the last send button to Sydney and signed off of his computer. He cracked his back and stretched out on the bed. He turned off the light.
Krein had to re-angle his shot on Jarod. His sinister stare hardened on his face as he pulled the safety off. Jarod heard its click and cringed. He rolled over and saw a shadow in the mirror pulling a gun’s trigger. Jarod threw himself off of the bed as the shot was fired and Krein missed. Krein jumped down from two stories up and landed on his left elbow. Jarod looked out of the window to try to see him, but it was too dark and Krein had a black suit on. He saw his shadow move over to the driveway and heard a car’s engine start.
He had failed. He missed his shot at killing Jarod. He floored the gas as he hurried back to the motel.
Rachel rushed over to Jarod’s room as soon as she heard the shot and banged on his door. “Are you all right? Jarod?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad Sydney warned me just in time.”
“You have an assassin?”
“Yes, someone working for the Centre. A Mr. Krein. Sydney informed me that he may have possibly murdered five other men affliated with the Centre.” He let her inside and she immediately shut the window. And locked it. “Maybe it was a bad idea for you to stay here. I’m sorry, Jarod. I have no idea how-”
“Don’t worry about it, Rachel. I’ll just have to leave.”
“Now?”
“Now. I don’t want to endager you or myself any longer. So I think it’s in our best interest if I leave.” He began to pack up his few things.
“Don’t.”
“I don’t want to get you or myself killed. He may try again.”
“He’s gone. You can stay with me.”
“I have been. What do you-” she gestured to her bedroom down the long hallway. “Oh. I’m not certain if that’s a good idea, either.”
“Why?”
“I may do something that you and I might regret.”
“Like what? I’m not suggesting that we sleep with one another, Jarod. I’m just suggesting that you sleep in my room. Possibly in my bed, but that’s up to you.”
“Just for tonight, but I need to be leaving in the morning.” He followed her to the master bedroom, which had a king-sized bed and a huge comforter. “It looks tempting,” he murmured as she slid her robe off (we cannot see anything but the robe dropping to the floor) and instantaneously slid under the bed covers. He sat in a chair that was across from the bed and began to ponder.
She stirred and the covers moved slightly. He fought with himself inside. He did not want to get too involved with Rachel, because he was going to leave the next morning. She was intoxicating-perhaps a little too enticing for what he had in mind. But he wasn’t sure what to do. He could not sleep for an hour. But finally, he decided not to sleep in her bed but rather just in the chair.
April 12, 2000, the next morning in the hotel...
Sydney arose early, about six-thirty and groomed himself. He changed into a comfortable suit of clothes and put some penny loafers on before securing his holster to his belt. He found the adjacent room’s door ajar (Miss Parker and Krein’s room) and opened it. Sydney quietly walked through the room as both occupants slept in separate beds. He found Mr. Krein’s laptop underneath his bed and quietly took it back to his own room.
Once there, he powered the laptop up and went into Microsoft Word. He looked through the files-files of various names, especially like Mr. Fanning, Mr. Meeks, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Rice, and Mr. Schultz; the five missing members of his Cleveland investigation. Sydney opened each of them; Mr. Krein must have somehow gotten these from the Centre. Then he found one on Rachel Burke. Sydney wondered who Rachel Burke was as the file silently opened. Then he read the information about her. An FBI agent; Jarod did mention that he had worked with the FBI once, he thought. Next, Sydney saw another file called “mandatory obligations” and opened it. It was a journal and it was started from the month of December 1999. He read the first entry:
December 15, 1999
Was released from Delaware State Penitentiary today. My first breath of freedom in ten years. It feels good to be out in the world again. I had forgotten what life was like. Now I will truly live a good life. Revenge will be sweet.
Sydney scratched his chin and scrolled down to yesterday’s entry.
April 11, 2000
Mission accomplished. Party dead. Parker has fallen in love with me. I have her now. Jarod will be next. I failed killing him. Someone must have warned him. I vow that I will find out who did and make them suffer.
Sydney gulped as he heard the click of a safety go off on Mr. Krein’s Walther PPK 9 mm. It was being pressed to his right temple. “Doesn’t it say in the ten commandments that ‘thou shalt not steal’?” he asked.
“Doesn’t it also say in the ten commandments ‘thou shalt not murder’?” Sydney retorted.
“You will return that laptop to where you found it, or I will remove you from this planet’s existence.”
“You probably were planning to kill me anyway, so go ahead.”
“Don’t taunt me. I’ve killed five men. One more man isn’t gonna make any difference to me.”
“You don’t have the gumption.”
“Like I said, don’t make me pull the trigger right now.”
“You won’t becayse I’m a necessary component to your plan of revenge.”
“Ah...so you have been reading much of my journal, haven’t you?
“You were also planning to kill Parker, weren’t you?”
“If necessary. She’s not a wet blanket, as most people would figure, you know. She’s got feelings for Jarod. I can tell they’re not professional.”
“So? I do, too, but do she or I deserve to die because of that?”
“Yes. This was not the way that I had intended for you to die, Syd. You were supposed to be blindfolded with a hood over your head and your body was to be completely tied up. And meanwhile, I would have removed all possible means of escape for you to use, cell phones, and beepers. Then, I would have shot you with your own gun. A Col 45, right? Or am I mistaken?” He held out his hand and Sydney reluctantly gave him his metallic colored gun.
“Just the way Jarod was taken,” Sydney mumbled aloud.
“Right. So let’s go, Sydney. Or do I have to be uncivilized and knock you out?” The older man smiled and put his hands behind his back willingly while Mr. Krein handcuffed him.
As he walked Sydney out to the rental car, Miss Parker had gotten up and dressed. She got out of the room just in time to see Krein force Sydney into the car handcuffed. “Krein, what are you doing?”
“I caught him talking to Jarod again and he was trying to keep up from him by warning Jarod ahead of time. He’s a traitor.”
“Where are you taking him?”
“To his justice.” Krein put his own gun back into his holster and put Sydney’s on the dashboard as he opened the Lincoln Town Car’s black door.
“Wait a minute, Krein. Shouldn’t we notify the Centre first?”
“I just got the go-ahead from Mr. Parker. He wants this mutineer terminated permanently.”
“But you can’t just kill him.”
“Don’t listen to him, Parker,” Sydney called from the car.
“Shutup, old man,” Krein barked, “I’ll be back in about half an hour. Be ready to get Jarod. I think I have an idea of where he could be hiding out from Sydney’s e-mails.”
“Parker, please....don’t let him mesmerize you anymore.”
“Shutup.”
“He’s a liar!” Sydney pleaded as Krein started the engine.
“SHUTUP!” Krein yelled as he shifted the car’s gears and backed up.
“He’s going to kill you and Jarod if you don’t stop him!!” Sydney screamed as the car sped off.
Miss Parker bit her lip and put the ring that fit her index finger on. She didn’t know who to believe. Everything was crazy. Jarod was a murderer, or wasn’t he? Was Sydney a double-crosser, or wasn’t he? He always let Jarod slip by whenever we had a chance to grab him. How could my father tell Mr. Krein to kill Syd? Or is Mr. Krein trying to make me fall in love with him so I could be blinded?
There was only one answer to her questions-to find Jarod. And wherever he was, there almost assuredly would be answers. She opened the door to Sydney’s motel room and went inside. She found his cell phone lying on the perfectly made bed. It was a number somewhere in this area-a private home possibly. Miss Parker took her own cell phone out of her pocket and phoned Broots. “Broots, this is Parker. Find out whose number this is. Area code 873 and the number is 447-3810.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It took about fifteen seconds for Broots to find out. “Rachel Burke.”
“Thanks, Broots. Address. Now.” She whipped out a pad of paper and her fountain pen. “Good. I’ll have Jarod home in less than six hours. If my father inquires my progress, you can tell him that news.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She hung up and locked both motel rooms. She hurried out to the nearest bus stop and got on the bus.
Somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia...
Sydney was bound to a chair but his head was not covered his a black hood. But he was in pitch black darkness. He heard the sound of foot steps and a light was switched on. He made out a table and Mr. Krein stood there. He had a few magazine clips on the table and some boxes of bullets on it. Krein was filling them and as he realized that Sydney was watching him, he turned to face his captive.
“Getting ready for the big murder, Krein?” Krein neglected to reply to his question and examined the bullets.
“You know, Miss Parker is a very strong woman. I admire her. And she’s been chasing Jarod for what..about three years now?”
“Almost four.”
“It’s taken her four years to track down Jarod, but she never caught him? Sloppy. I almost killed him last night. And if it hadn’t been for you, he would’ve been dead right now.”
“Why? Why are you so determined to kill people?”
“Why not?” His cold response startled Sydney and Krein loaded Sydney’s automatic with a full magazine of bullets.
“One more question before you pull off your dastardly deed, Krein. Who’s that Rachel Burke?”
“FBI Agent of the Violent Crime Task Force. Jarod’s soulmate.”
“How would you know about their relationship?”
“I’ve been following him even more closely than the Centre has for the past four years.”
“You’ve only been out of prison since December.”
“I didn’t say that I was following him for four years. I’ve been following him since January. I must say he has a weak spot that has nearly gotten him killed quite a few times. I find it an unecessary component of life that others dwell on constantly.”
“What’s that?”
“Mercy.”
Jarod awoke to the sound of foot steps in Rachel Burke’s room. It was Miss Parker. He immediately tried to speak, but she waived her gun in his face as she came over to him. “How-”
“Sydney’s in trouble. We’ve gotta help him from Mr. Krein. I think he’s going to murder him,” she whispered.
“What if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll shoot you.”
“How can I resist?” She grabbed him by his t-shirt and they hurried out of the house onto the street. “How’d you get here, Miss Parker? I don’t see a car.”
“Bus.” She saw a taxi and waived him down. “Hey, pretty lady, I see you wanna go somewhere?” the driver smiled. Miss Parker returned his smile, opened the door, seized him by his coat’s lapels with one hand, and struck him hard with her gun. He sprawled onto the lawn and was out. She pointed to the front seat and Jarod sat on the passenger side. The taxi soon sped off with Miss Parker driving. “So, Jarod, who’s the broad?” she inquired with a smirk. He ignored her and kept his eyes focused on the road.
“Have you any idea where Mr. Krein was headed?”
“South of our motel.”
“While he was making his wonderful escape last night after completely missing me, Miss Parker, I happened to toss a tracking bug on your rental car.”
“I think this is the one time I appreciate your presence, Jarod. Where is he?”
“Fifteen minutes’ distance from here. Turn right at this corner.”
“Which corner? This corner?” He hesitated to look at his homing device’s screen and then answered a quick yes. The taxi swerved and accelerated once more.
“Rachel Burke,” he finally answered her question.
“Her name doesn’t ring a bell. Some poor little unfortunate victim that you got mixed up with?”
“Actually, no. She’s an FBI agent.”
“Your quote secretary told us about her.”
“What?”
“She was coming and going from your office. Are we getting involved?”
“I think you should be concentrating on the road more than my personal life.”
“Oh, Jarod, don’t get off the topic. You finally care for someone, huh?”
“Maybe. Keep going straight.”
“I don’t know who to believe anymore in life, Jarod. My father’s lied to me, my brother’s lied to me, and the person I was just starting to like lied to me.”
“Mr. Krein, I assume?”
“You assume correctly. I wonder what screwed him up.”
“Maybe he’s a cannibal like someone I know of.”
“Shutup. There weren’t any missing body parts from the bodies anyway. He almost started to brainwash me. He told me that he cared about me and no one else. He lied to my father and me. And my father’s developed this fatherly love for him which makes me want to throw up. He said you were a merciless cold blooded killer. I almost believed him.”
“Uh, Miss Parker, that was a red light back there.”
“Was I supposed to turn there?”
“No.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“No.”
“Then keep your mouth shut about the way I drive.”
“Did you and he ‘get involved’?”
“Somewhat. We were acting unprofessionally. Why would he want to kill Syd?”
“Obviously Sydney warned me that he was coming to slay me and fortunately, he missed. So, now, Sydney has to pay the price.”
“Poor guy. He’s been through so much. Krein is probably torturing him as we speak.”
“I don’t think so. Sydney guessed that Krein was mentally paranoiac. He may have witnessed something horrible during his childhood. Psychotic murderers do not think their murders through in a very organized way. He may be smart and try to make Sydney’s death look like a suicide, like he did with the other five. Turn left at this upcoming light.” She did as he told her to, and he pointed at the warehouse.
“That’s where the car is.”
“Stay here. I don’t have to handcuff you, do I?”
“You can’t do this by yourself, Parker. How do you expect to save Sydney and catch Mr. Krein at the same time?”
“Do you want a bullet in your head?” He did not reply and she handcuffed him. Before leaving the taxi, she took the keys with her and put him in the back. Once he was inside, he could not get out without outside help because of child security locks.
Miss Parker ran around the side of the huge warehouse and opened the door. She sneaked in quietly and removed her automatic gun. She traveled about for a minute or so before she saw a catwalk and decided to climb it.
Mr. Krein knew that Miss Parker had been following his every move into the warehouse and he pointed the gun at Sydney’s heart. “Come on out, Miss Parker, join the fun,” he called. His voice echoed all throughout the warehouse. He turned around and saw her standing right above him on the catwalk. Her gun was in both hands and she was ready to kill him. “Drop it, Parker, or your colleague gets to meet God before you do.”
“You’re gonna kill him anyway, so why should I listen to you?”
“Because I have someting to bargain with, and you don’t.”
“What’s that?” He smiled and opened his handy laptop for her. On the screen was a three minute clock. “I’ve placed a small hydrogen bomb in the Centre. By the time this clock reaches zero, say goodbye to your family.”
“You son of a-”
“I wouldn’t talk like that, if I were you, Parker. The bomb is controlled by the NASA satellite. I have manipulated it from my own ways. And at the time I press enter, the countdown will start.”
You said that you had no access to the Internet.”
“I said a lot of things that weren’t true.”
“How do I know that you’re not lying to me again?”
“Because I have a camera near the Centre that will show the mass destruction when the bomb goes off. Everything and everyone that you ever held dear in that place will die.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Why not?” He motioned her to throw her weapon down and to come down to his level. She did as he commanded and he handcuffed her into a chair. “You know, Parker, I’ve come to admire you for your strength. You pretend that you don’t need anyone-you’re really afraid to admit that you need someone to lean on.”
“And you were obviously the wrong person,” she snarled.
“Whose fault was that? Who trusted me and slept with me? Any death that is in the Centre because of the H-bomb will be your fault. Their blood lies in your hands.”
“What do you want from me then? What do I have to do to...” he wandered away from her and picked up her fallen Smith & Wesson 9 mm.
“Absolutely nothing, Miss Parker. Absolutely nothing.” He examined her weapon and removed the magazine. “You really did enjoy those massages, didn’t you?”
“I should have known better that a lunatic like you would try to lure me into a sexual relationship by starting with one lousy massage.”
“It’s all coming to you now, isn’t it? The common sense that you left long ago far behind you, right?”
“It all started when your hands touched my shoulders. That’s when it left.”
“Would you like to feel it again?” Mr. Krein put the gun and clip onto the table and strolled over to her chair. She remained taciturn. He crouched behind her and whispered right in her left ear, “Didn’t it feel good?”
“Yes, that’s why I wanted you to do it again.”
“What would you give me if I did it again?”
“A bullet through the skull if my hands weren’t cuffed.” An evil grin spread slowly across his face but she could not see it. Sydney did and averted his eyes.
“If I remember good enough, the worst part of your bdoy that got stressed out a the end of the day...was your neck.”
“If you touch me, Mr. Krein...”
“Are we making threats? Need I press the button?”
“No.” His hands moved to the nape of her neck and removed the black hair from the skin. He breathed his warm breath slowly onto it. She shivered as if he were breathing ice onto her.
“Have you ever had the feeling you were being watched?” he asked. Parker nodded as she saw some shadows move about the catwalk and they were carrying guns. Mr. Krein gently kissed her neck. “Because that’s what is happening. Jarod’s soulmate is here somewhere with her troops from the FBI.” He moved hastily away from her and pointed Sydney’s weapon at Sydney’s heart. “Come on out, Agent, I know you’re in here somewhere,” he called. He whistled like he was calling a dog. “Here, Agent, Agent, Agent Burke. Come out like a good girl and I won’t kill the two hostages.”
“Put down your weapon and release your hostages. You are surrounded,” said a male voice.
“Big deal. Would you rather them to die? You throw down yours, or they will.” Bailey Malone, an FBI agent of the VCTF stepped forward into the light with his own gun and aimed it straight at Krein.
“Then I’ll kill you.”
“I have no fear of dying, Agent. But they do,” he gestured to Miss Parker and Sydney. He went over to the computer and pressed enter.
Mr. Krein took aim at Malone, but he felt a tranquilizer dart hit him from behind. A fellow officer of Malone’s lowered the gun. Krein suddenly felt drowsy. He blinked his eyes twice and directed Sydney’s gun toward him. The officer was ordered by Malone to get Krein. However Krein fired the gun and it hit Sydney in the stomach. He dropped to the floor before the officer could hit him.
Agent Bailey Malone began to undo her restraints when she tapped him with her foot. “Quick! The computer’s counting down to a bomb in my business. He was going to kill everyone there.” He ran over to it and began frantically typing.
“What...should I do?” he stammered.
“Try shooting it.” He fired his gun twice and blew up the computer. The last thing that was on the screen before it blew up was ‘contact with satellite lost’. Then he loosened the handcuffs that were around her wrists. “How did the-” she was about to ask, but reconsidered. Jarod, she figured. Somehow he got out of the car to contact his girlfriend and their big team. Well, she didn’t care. Bailey turned to shackle Krein but found his officer’s body on the floor.
Miss Parker rushed over to the wounded Sydney and asked Bailey to call for an ambulance. “Co-worker, right?”
“Yeah.” They traveled outside the warehouse and the FBI officers helped put Sydney into the ambulance. Miss Parker went over to her car but Agent Malone stopped her. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Watch out for him. He’s a real psycho. He’s out to get Jarod.”
“Jarod? Jarod who?” She didn’t say anything more when she began the engine and drove off. Bailey shook his head and walked back over to the warehouse. Rachel joined him there. “Did you get a good look at that woman?” she asked him.
“Yeah. I think so. Why?”
“She kept this man imprisoned in a taxicab,” she pointed to Jarod, who strolled up to Bailey.
“Agent of the secret service, right?” Bailey grinned.
“Not at the moment.”
“Get fired?”
“It’s a long story, Bailey. You said that was Miss Parker, right, Jarod?”
“Correct. I managed to get the license plate number of the rental car for you if you need it, Agent Burke.” He handed her a scrap piece of paper.
“So you’re the Jarod she was talking about?” Malone wondered.
“Yes. Did you catch him?”
“He slipped right through our fingers. Officer Brian Dover hit the man in the back with a tranquilizer, and he shot that older man in the stomach. He faked being knocked out and probably ran while I was trying to disarm his bomb.”
“At least no one died,” she crossed her arms. They traveled into the warehouse once again and examined the blood that was on the floor beneath the chair Sydney had previously occupied.
“That was the chair where the man was shot. We have no idea who he was,” Bailey stated. Rachel looked over at Jarod, who had turned away from them to cry. Tears filled his eyes.
“What’s wrong, Jarod?” she inquired.
“That was Sydney Green. He had had a stomach operation about ten years ago, and I think that would will prove to be fatal,” he stammered. As Bailey and rachel put on their latex gloves, Rachel spotted a gun lying on the floor. “That was Sydney’s,” Jarod told her.
“Why did he carry a gun?” Bailey questioned.
“Bailey, there will be a time and a place to answer that question. This is not the time nor place,” she responded coolly.
Not too far from the warehouse...
Mr. Krein was swaying around because of the tranquilizer drug. He had lost his gun back at the warehouse somewhere, but he didn’t remember. He knew he had failed. And pretty miserably, too. But he would have to get back at that FBI agent Rachel Burke. She ruined his chance to murder. She would have to suffer.
Her pain would have to be much greater than the one Sydney or Jarod were going through right now. But he was too tired to care or notice where he was going. Krein tripped on a sidewalk and landed on his face on a garbage can. That knocked him out totally.
When Mr. Krein awoke, it was dark at night, about nine thirty. He smiled, got up, brushed his suit off, and walked to the nearest barber shop. “I want the hair died. Black to the roots.”
“Yes, sir, that will be about forty dollars,” the hairdresser said. He paid her with the cash that was in his wallet and he sat in the chair while she trimmed his hair and dyed it a jet black color. His next move was to go to the nearest gun shop, which he did. While he was there, he bought two guns (both Col 45 government models), a two-gun holster, and a knife. “You planning on a mass murder or what?” the cashier asked slyly.
Mr. Krein’s eyes had been following the cashier’s every move and until then had just been staring at his hands. They whipped up to the cashier’s level and the irises narrowed. “Okay, okay. Just joking.” Once outside the gun shop, he took out the knife and cut a long, painful gash on his left cheek.
Inside the FBI Violent Crime Task Force building...
Bailey sat down in his chair and motioned for Rachel to close the door as she left Jarod with him. She stopped over at the coffee pot to refill her old mug before returning to her own office. It’s been hell around here without George, she thought. Why did he have to be so selfish and do those drugs? A knock came to her door that startled her from her long train of thought. It was a young man who she had never seen before.
He had a scar down his cheek-a long one that looked pretty fresh and jet black hair. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt you, miss, but could you tell me where Agent Rachel Burke’s office might be?”
“That’s me. Who are you and how did you get into this building?”
“I’m from Washington. I got sent here to replace someone, I believe. My name is Norman Madison. Actually, I’m known in Washington as Agent Madison.” He held his hand to her as she stood up to greet him.
“I’m sorry I was so curt to you. We’ve been having some security problems in the Atlanta branch here, Agent Madison.” His grip was like an iron vice and she winced as he shook her hand. “Wow, that’s some grip you have there, Agent.”
“Thank you. I’ve received many of the same kind of remarks from each person who has had the opportunity to shake my hand.”
“So you were sent here to replace George, right?”
“I was not told that information. I was merely told that I was to go to the FBI Agency in Atlanta, Georgia, and that was to be my temporary station.”
“Temporary?”
“Yes. The FBI uses me all over the country. I think the only “hacker” better than your George was me. And so, I’m moved from FBI agency to agency.”
“Oh. How long does each agency require your presence?”
“Average time is about four weeks. The longest I’ve ever spent at an agency was in Washington, my permanent station. So what’s your latest case around here?”
“We had a psychopathic assassin escape not too long ago. His name is Mr. Krein. No one knows his real name or even first name. He’s wanted for killling at least five people that we know about.”
“So you’re the Profiler of the Atlanta FBI, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you could kinda, I don’t know....profile that guy?” He smiled charismatically as she offered him a seat. She sat back down and rifled through her desk.
“The guys in Ohio picked up some of the evidence. I can only make a few...hypotheses. I’m not....exactly sure if they’re accurate or not. I can’t promise anything...”
“You have to. Or else I won’t be able to do my job correctly.”
“Okay. I’ll do what I can.” She looked at the gun that Mr. Krein had used to murder Mr. Meeks with-Mr. Meeks’ own gun. It was a small automatic Beretta, about a 45 calibre. And she saw the evil look that came across Krein’s face when he shot Meeks. Another flashblack hit her. She heard a gunshot and saw a shocked child’s face.
Rachel took a sip of her coffee and relaxed. “I know he’s a white male, probably about the age of 28-34. He is very smart, but also, very much disturbed in the same way. He kills the victim to show that he has complete control over the victim’s life. And he portrays their deaths as suicides to make them appear to be weak.” Agent Madison (Mr. Krein) cracked his back and crossed one leg over the other.
“What about his motives?” he asked.
“I couldn’t tell that until I get a real report. We need to find out who this guy really is. What I want from you, Agent Madison...is it okay if I call you Norman?”
“We’ll stick to formalities for now, Agent Burke. Please.”
“Okay, what I was saying before was...what I want from you is Mr. Krein’s records. Only if you can find anything. We got a picture of him that should be coming out in ten minutes. I want that posted on the FBI site so we can find him or any information about him.”
“I’ll do my best. Where’s the nearest computer?”
“I will show you.” They got up and Rachel introduced him to his office and laptop. “This will be your official laptop, Agent Madison, until you leave. You will probably get constant e-mails, so don’t be astounded when it happens.”
“I’ll get started on the ‘Krein Project’ right away, Agent Burke.”
“Thanks. Oh, the scanner for the photo is in the top drawer to your left.” As she left, Bailey Malone had a small conference with her. She introduced Agent Madison to Bailey, who simply nodded his head and handed him Mr. Krein’s photo.
Inside Agent Burke’s office....
“You said that was who?”
“Agent Norman Madison from Washington, D.C. He’s here to replace George temporarily.”
“Temporarily?”
“That’s what he said. I wonder how he got that nasty cut down his face.”
“I got to take a good look at that picture that we developed.”
“And?”
“It’s too bad I didn’t shoot him.” He brought out another photo from a file he had been carrying. The photo was attached to a blank sheet of paper. Krein had a twisted expression of cruelty on his face.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Ah...I had someone take a lucky shot before we surrounded him.”
“He almost seems like a Jekyll and Hyde case.”
“Actually, more of a Hyde than Jekyll case, Rachel,” Jarod corrected her. “This man, for some reason, wanted to do away with all members of the Centre. Look at the five people he killed in his expedition in Cleveland. Look at Sydney, who is mortally wounded now. He’s not normal, that’s for sure.”
“He must have witnessed something terrible when he was young,” Bailey said.
“Or, something terrible was done to him,” Rachel replied. “So, Bailey, are you caught up on the situation we have on our hands?”
“It was very confusing at the moment, but, I’m starting to see things fit together. You know, Jarod, I’ll make a deal with you. You help us find this Mr. Krein character, and I’ll help you find your family. I promise.”
“Thank you, Agent Malone. By now, at least, the tranquilizer dart that one of your men shot into Mr. Krein’s back will be all used up. He must be wandering the streets-looking for victims connected with the Centre. Me.”
“He failed killing you once. Maybe he’ll quit,” Bailey said.
“No. I think Jarod was definitely right when he said that this guy wasn’t normal. A normal person would stop, because he’d have the brains or wouldn’t have the audacity.” Rachel sighed and drummed her fingers on the desk’s top. “Bailey, have you managed to get any autopsy reports from the boys in Ohio?”
“Yes. I have them right here in my hand.” He handed her a few manila files with pictures and autopsy reports. She first looked at Mr. Meeks. “Bullet to the head. Just one shot, right?” Her superior nodded.
“More or less. He was found on the ground a day after Mr. Krein had returned to...where’s that place of yours located, Jarod?”
“Blue Cove, Delaware.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“They found some rope markings on the body; on the wrists and ankles. Otherwise, they could have mistaken this for a suicide. Krein’s fingerprints were not traced to the gun Mr. Meeks was murdered with-only the victim’s. The gun was even strategically placed where it would have fallen if Meeks had killed himself. His ID, pager, cell phone, and wallet were nowhere to be found. They even searched the trash, but they were gone permanently.”
“Can you give us a low-down here, Rach?” Bailey inquired.
“The murderer has probably witnessed horrible things either being done to someone else, or to himself. Jarod, I don’t want to sound like you’re not wanted here, but I think you need to find a safe haven. With Mr. Krein knowing where I live, you’re not safe, like you said before.”
“I have. Don’t you worry. I’ll call on you on your phone to tell you how I am when I get there. Goodbye, Agent Malone. Nice to meet you again.”
“Same here, Jarod.” When the Pretender left the FBI building, Bailey got closer to Rachel and they whispered. “So did he tell you everything?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Depends on what you call everything, Rach. But I think he supplied me with adequate information about his previous life at this...Centre. I wonder why our boys didn’t know about this company up north.”
“Are you going to shut them down?”
“We don’t have enough evidence to convict the Centre. The only person that would be willing to testify against it is Jarod. He’s only one witness.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about the Centre,” Madison said from the door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I overheard your conversation. I can supply you with any information you need or want to know about it.”
“How?”
“While I was stationed temporarily in Delaware, I came to learn about this place called the Centre. I began to read up on it on the Internet and I found a very interesting website. Then I learned, that I, too, was one of the children that had been set free from Catherine Parker. I was dropped off at an orphanage. There, I spent hard years thinking about my experience at the Centre. I made it my obsession to find out anything about it. And somehow, I did.”
“When you were there, did you meet this man?” Rachel handed him a picture of Jarod and Madison shook his head.
“He must have been kept away in another part of the building. I remember making tally marks on my walls.”
“How about this...Sydney Green?” Bailey questioned. Madison’s eyes immediately narrowed. He wiped his dry lip with his tongue.
“My mentor. He taught me things. Taught me how to think for myself and how to think logically.”
“Logically? Would you please explain?”
“To become a Pretender, one has to think logically, even more logically than a normal human being would. He must think beyond who or what he is pretending to be. For example, when Jarod becomes, let’s say, a doctor, he does not focus his mind on his present job. He thinks in the past or present of who he’s impersonating. He must become that person without concentrating too much on his actual occupation. It’s a psychological aspect of becoming a Pretender.”
“I never mentioned this man’s name. How do you know this man to be called Jarod?” Madison paused and sucked in a deep breath.
“Yes, please, I would be very interested in how you have come to know Jarod’s name but not his face,” Rachel twisted her lip.
“Remember I told you that I visited their website? He’s the main subject of it, besides job applications. I learned everything about him from that website.” Bailey leaned back in a chair and sighed.
“Please don’t take this personally, Agent Madison,” he apologized, “it’s just that Agent Burke and I have been finding many flaws in this department of the FBI VCTF. We’re tired of the boys in Washington who aren’t doing their jobs for background checks.”
“I understand. If you’d like to read up on him, I can give you the website.”
“That won’t be necessary, Agent Madison. We trust you,” Rachel replied.
“Do you need me to research anything specifically?”
“Yes. Find out who Mr. Krein is. I already gave you his picture. Put him on our wanted men website. You can do that, can’t you?” A smile swept across his serious face and he walked out of the office.
“You still have that camera running in George’s office, don’t you?” Rachel inquired.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just checking.”
Agent Madison powered up his laptop and plugged the scanner into it. He altered the picture so the man looked nothing like him and posted “Mr. Krein”- ‘wanted for murder’ on the VCTF’s site. This time, when he pulled up his e-mail account, he wrote to Jarod for the first time using his real address instead of Sydney Green’s.
Jarod:
I’m right under your nose and you don’t know it. You can’t find me, and soon, very soon, I’ll be able to find you and kill you. Oh, that also goes for your FBI friend Agent Burke. Have you ever heard of a double agent? You may also tell your friend that somewhere, in her deparment is a leak. He’ll lead her right to me and her death.
He pushed the send button and looked at the security camera above him. He knew that they would be watching his every move; so earlier, he had looked for one in the office and put a lens cap onto the lens. Now Agent Madison took out a cigar and lit it as he pondered how to find Jarod.
About nine o’clock p.m., when Rachel arrived home...
Jarod phoned her and she picked up the receiver. “I got a threatening e-mail from Krein. He says that he’s got a double agent in your workplace.”
“We did get a man to replace George, but he seems to be pretty honest. He says in fact, Jarod, that he was rescued by Catherine Parker as a child.”
“What’s his name?”
“Norman Madison.”
“Tell me, Rachel, what do you think Mr. Krein is thinking now?”
“I believe he’s desperate for attention. We’re not giving him what he wants. Sometimes, I’m not too sure of what he wants besides your death.”
“Well, whatever he asks for, Rachel, give it to him. If he wants me, I’ll give up. I’m willing to sacrifice my life if it will save-”
“But Jarod, we don’t know if it will. With whatever kind of grudge this man holds against you or your Centre, I can guarantee you that he will not be satisfied if he takes your life.” She paused to run her fingers through her hair. “I love you, Jarod, and I don’t want to see you hurt. And I don’t want him to ruin us.”
“I won’t let him, for our sake.”
“Where are you, Jarod?”
“I want to tell you, but I cannot.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s best that we stay a distance from one another, just in case he’s following you. He might be listening to our conversation from somewhere.” Rachel instinctively spun around to look outside an open window. A tree rustled while a breeze blew its leaves around.
Agent Madison loaded his magazine and stared through the telescopic lens at Rachel. She was a perfect target, if only she did not move.
“I catch your drift, Jarod.” She began to pace as she was talking and look around her. “Have you heard anything recently about your Sydney character?”
“He’s back in Blue Cove. I know that. I called Miss Parker, but her phone is off the hook. Obviously, she does not want to talk to anyone.”
The leather jacket she was wearing made it harder for him to focus in on her heart. His hand moved to the trigger and took the safety off. He made sure it was purely impossible for her to see him and pulled it back.
The shot broke through a glass window. Rachel jumped in fright and threw herself down onto the wooden floor. The phone she had in her hand dropped to the floor and broke. Another one came through and broke the entire window. Glass shattered all over the dining room and onto Rachel. She groaned in pain as she felt the particles pierce her skin.
Rachel reached for her gun and drew it. But she knew that it was impossible for her to try and defend herself against Mr. Krein. Slowly, she crawled over to the broken window and kicked away the shards of glass. Again, a bullet soared into the room but this time broke a vase with roses in it on the table.
She checked her magazine clip and armed the gun. She held the gun up quickly enough to fire a shot, but not quick enough. He fired a shot a millisecond just before she did and knocked the gun out of her hand with a bullet. She grimaced in pain and leaned back against the wall. Her hand was bleeding profusely and she couldn’t touch it for risk of more pain. Suddenly, the bullets began to rip through the house and Rachel kept as far away from the window as she could.
With her uninjured hand, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her cellular phone. She dialed Bailey Malone’s number. He wasn’t there, so his answering machine picked up. “Bailey, it’s me. I’m at home. Our assassin has resurfaced. Please come, if you’re there! I’m in trouble!! Bailey!!” she screamed.
The shots stopped and she heard the sound of a car pull away. She hurried to her door and saw a car’s tire tracks imprinted on her newly planted chysanthemums.
Minutes later, she had bandaged up her wound and heard her doorbell ring. Before she answered it, she held her gun with her good hand and looked through the peep hole. It was Agent Norman Madison. She opened the door. “Are you okay? I happened to be walking down the street and I heard arguments. I also heard glass breaking.”
“How convenient for you to be here in my time of need.”
“What’s that, you say?”
“I said it must be convenient for you to be here in my time of need.”
“I’m only sorry I couldn’t have been your white knight earlier. Oh, no, you’re hurt.” He gawked at the bloody bandage on her hand. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
“I’ll be fine. He’ll be expecting me to go there, anyway.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Krein. He tried to kill me.”
“I see that. Is there anything I can do?”
“Well, there is one thing. Please come in.” She closed the door behind him and took him into her kitchen. His eyes passed quickly through her dining room and saw the broken window. “Before I ask you to do this, Agent Madison, I need to tell you something. This is not, in any way, supposed to be a come-on to you at all. Please understand that.”
“I’m very much confused.” Rachel got out a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol and a washcloth. “There’s some glass that’s gotten me just below the right shoulder and I can’t reach it. It’s been killing me ever since the bullet broke the window and I hit the floor.”
“Oh. You mean you want me to...oh, I see.”
“It’s not embarrassing for you, is it? Because I could go to the hospital, I guess. But it takes me twenty minutes because of the traffic.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose I could do so, but...I’m not very good with medicine stuff.” He removed his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Rachel took off her leather jacket and revealed a spaghetti strap shirt on underneath it.
“What did you find about Mr. Krein?” she asked with her back turned. He wet the washcloth with water from the sink and put the alcohol on it.
“He’d been incarcerated in the penitentiary in Blue Cove, Delaware for armed robbery. He got out on parole this last December.” Madison gently put the washcloth onto her shoulder. She winced at the feeling of sharp pain. As she did so, she took a shallow breath and he removed the washcloth immediately from her skin. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed. “What else?”
“He often isolated himself from the other prisoners when they had recreational time. He began to research about the Centre during his last few months when he saw the complex on his way out on a walk one day. He made it his goal to learn everything about the Centre. Like who was in it, what did it do, why was it there, that sort of thing.”
He went back to mopping her injured shoulder again and remained silent for a few seconds. Rachel received a flashback as she felt the damp washcloth touch her skin. She saw the eyes of Mr. Krein as a child-dark and sad.
“Did he have any psychological problems as a child?
“He was never really examined, but one would imagine that he does now, because he’s a psychotic killer.”
“Not imagine, Agent Madison. We would conclude that he has problems.” The scent of her perfume made him think twice about killing her here and now. She was like a little animal-hurt and wounded. However, she was trusting him, her unknown predator to take care of her...he couldn’t stand the agony. Either he would have to shoot her right now or give into the desire that was eating away at his soul.
“Have you ever had to...to sacrifice something for another person?” Rachel’s head lifted slightly. A perplexed look crossed her face, but Madison didn’t see it.
“Yes. I believe that all humans will have to do that at least once in a lifetime.”
“I...feel very uncomfortable around Bailey. He seems to be eyeing me from all sorts of angles and questioning me like I’m some sort of traitor.”
“I don’t understand what you’re-”
“I made a sacrifice by coming here, do you understand that? I could’ve refused this assignment and the FBI would have let me stay in Washington where I belong.”
“Yes, I do, Agent Madison, but-”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place. But my sacrifice is calling me to think, well...unprofessionally.” He dipped the cloth back into the rubbing alcohol and put it back onto her shoulder lightly.
“Towards who?” His lips trembled as he said this and he dropped the washcloth, “ You, Agent Burke.”
“I see. Perhaps it is for the best that you return to Washington.” She turned around and picked up the fallen washcloth. He had gone to do the same thing but their eyes met. Rachel put the cloth on the counter and his hand covered her unwounded hand. Several seconds went by when neither of them said anything. “Would you care for a glass of wine, Agent Madison?” she asked finally.
“Aren’t we being a little too...” She took his tie in her hands and felt the silk. She turned and led him over to the refrigerator where there was a bottle of white wine.
“The glasses are in the cupboard above the sink.” He retrieved them and she let him carry them while she led him with the bottle in one hand and his tie in the other.
While she poured the wine, he unbuttoned his top button and loosened his silk tie. “What was the word you were going to say, Madison?” she inquired.
“Uh, I’m not entirely sure anymore. I think we’ve gone beyond that point.”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “And I think it started when you showed up on my porch.” He took a sip of his wine and sighed.
“Well, maybe I should leave so we don’t do something that we both might regret.” By this time, they had had about two glassfuls of wine.
“What would I regret?”
“Aren’t you with that Jarod guy?”
“Jarod. Oh, Jarod. He’s out of town.”
“What?” he asked a little too tersely.
“He left town yesterday. I can’t tell you where he went because I don’t know.” Madison put his wine glass down and took out his Colt 45 Government model. Rachel’s eyes suddenly widened.
“That’s an interesting kind of gun for an American FBI agent to own.”
“It was a gift.” He took the magazine clip out of the gun and looked at how many shots he had left-about six.
“From whom?” She got up from the couch and sat on the arm of the chair that he was sitting on. That feeling of uneasiness was coming back to him again. He hid this from her as he studied the bullets.
“A friend,” a murmured and went back to stripping his gun. A smile draped itself across her face as she looked directly into his eyes. As she was staring at his eyes, a sudden flashback hit her of Mr. Krein’s eyes as a child. Those were the same ones as the ones she was looking at, weren’t they?
But this guy was different looking than Krein, sort of. Something she had said earlier popped into her mind and out of her mouth, “Agent Madison, where did you get that scar from, if I may ask?”
“A field mission that took me down to Miami, Florida. I wasn’t always a hacked for the FBI-I was once a field agent. I went against one of my superior’s orders, went on a personal vendetta against the criminal that killed my partner,” he pointed to his scar. “I thought I knew everything about him. The scoundrel had tricked me-I thought I had him cornered. But he had a way of getting out of the skirmish we had gotten into. He carried a pretty thick knife-army combat one, I think.” He paused to return her smile quickly.
“Is that all? Did you put him behind bars or what?”
“No. My administrator found out that I’d gone on a vendetta and had I caught him, I wouldn’t have been demoted.” He put his gun back together and put it back in his left shoulder’s holster. Madison took out the other gun and started to check its parts.
Rachel’s jaw tensed as she thought she snatched the gun away from his hands. She dropped the gun on the coffee table nearly, separated his lips with her fingers, and gently bent down to kiss him. He said nothing, but immediately accepted her. It was along kiss. “Tell me, Agent Madison, were there any girls in Washington worth staying there?”
“I mostly kept to myself, I wouldn’t know. I’m sure that Jonathan Grant would know.” She moved away from his face ans at back on the arm
“I suppose you heard rumors about us, didn’t you?
“Some. He just looked like the kind of guy that-:
“Well, he’s not. Agent Grant is the youngest professional FBI agent that I know. And he and I would never, not in a million....-”
“I didn’t say that I believed them. I said that I heard some.” Her grin returned as she realized that he was not the slimeball that she had thought he was. “Coffee, Agent Madison?”
“If you make some, I’ll drink it.”
“You could have said yes,” she said as she walked away. He recovered his gun, put it back, and began to look around at pictures of her. She had several frames of younger pictures with her and what looked like her younger siblings. He never had any brothers or sisters-just problems. And no love. He began to ponder where Jarod could be, maybe he could pry something out of her.
“Cream or sugar?”
“No thanks.” He took the mug that she offered to him and ran his hand over the silver frames. “You’ve got a nice family, Agent Burke.”
“Thanks. I only keep in contact with about one or two people, though.”
“Why? If I had family, I would...well...” Madison stammered and looked down at the floor while he drank his coffee. Rachel tapped her fingers on her mug and leaned against a wall by the mantel. She was beginning to feel a little uneasy, like he was not to be trusted. But he hadn’t taken advantage of her, even when he would have had the opportunity. “What do you mean by that, Agent Madison?”
“My parents died when I was very young. I saw them die. My dad pulled out his gun and shot my mother then himself.” His eyes were glued to the floor.
“I’m so sorry. Did they know you were there?”
“Yes. He looked at me before he killed himself and laughed. Then he pulled the trigger. I was six. Then I...” he caught himself. I’m revealing too much information, he thought. But he wanted to finish. “I was given to my uncle and aunt. They molested me. Sexually. For two years, I told no one. Then I guess my teacher found out somehow and the State Department took me away. I was passed from foster home to foster home. Nobody wanted me. I never knew what love was.”
Rachel was shocked. She had not expected this to happen.
“It makes me wonder, you know...how many people are screwed up at the FBI,” she muttered. “I had no idea, Agent Madison, I...I-” He stepped forward and his dark eyes searched through hers. She was frightened of him. It felt like she was going to expose him at any moment but yet he was strangely attracted to her. He wanted to stay.
Suddenly, a huge explosion shook the house and a tree outside burst into flames. He was close enough to her that when it happened, she threw herself into her arms. By instinct, she clung to him for about three second and came back into the real world. When she did, she let go of him. Madison had forgotten that he left his C-4 explosives in the tree where he had been watching her, and somehow, they went off. He burst through the broken window and searched the area. “Is this the work of your psychotic killer?” he asked her.
“Possibly.” A chill ran down her back and she turned to face him. “I don’t usually spaz out like this, Madison, but...I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” he answered. “We’d better get some CO2 on this quickly.” He saw an extinguisher in the kitchen and began to put out the fire on the tree.
“Thank you,” she said as he picked up his suit coat from the kitchen counter.
“For what?”
“Being my white knight.”
“And a nurse, don’t forget. I would say ‘the pleasure’s all mine’ except for what just happened.” Rachel grinned.
“So you’ll keep me updated on Mr. Krein?”
“Of course. What else do I have to do?”
“Practice with your guns.”
“I’m a computer hacker. I shouldn’t really need ‘em, but oh well.” He loosened his tie as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“Agent Madison, would you ever...like to have breakfast with me sometime?” she questioned as they walked to her front door.
“If you can cook.”
“Can I cook? Now there’s a good question that somebody hasn’t asked me for a long time. You just find out yourself.”
“The two of us? How early?”
“Any time, anywhere. Provided I have the materials.”
“Tell you what...Thursday, 7:30 a.m. Is that good enough for you?”
“Hey, you name your time. That’s good.” Madison opened the wooden door and screen porch door. He backed out, still watching her, and she followed him onto the porch. “There’s something that I’d like to give you to seal the deal, if you will,” he said.
“What’s that?” He put one arm on the pillar that she was leaning up against and bent down. Her eyes followed his movements and closed as she felt his mouth upon hers. She felt his desire when she leaned even further into the kiss and when she put her hand on the back of his neck. His suit coat dropped from his right hand onto the porch steps. But then, as she wanted him to continue and she tried to make him understand that, he gently, lightly, removed his lips from hers. He picked up his coat and as he got back up, he whispered into her ear, “sealed with a kiss.”
As Agent Madison left, Rachel began to ponder her life. Two men; both mysterious and with tortured pasts, but the question was, which one should she choose? Certainly one would be jealous of the other. Jarod really loves me and I can feel his warmth when he kisses me, she thought. But Agent Madison’s chemistry and mine go much farther. When I kissed him for the first time, I thought he was nonchalant and cold. But when he kissed me, I felt a flame begin to burn inside of me and him. Could he just be using me? Could Jarod be the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with?
Her cell phone rang and interrupted her thoughts. “Rachel Burke,” she answered calmly.
“It’s Bailey. Rachel, I just got home, are you okay?” He sounded worried.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Krein tried to kill you?”
“Yeah. Then, about five minutes later, Agent Madison came to my door and said he was walking in the neighborhood when he heard gun shots.”
“Walking, huh?”
“I didn’t see him driving away when he just left.”
“I meant that it was purely coincidental that he happened to be in the neighborhood, Rachel. Be very careful. You don’t know what could-”
“If you’re suggesting that Agent Madison tried to kill me, you’re an absolute lunatic, Bailey. I invited him to come in for a while. He had so many opportunities to do me in, it’s not even funny. He didn’t.”
“I’m not suggesting, I’m implying. Incidentally, we found a dead body in a dumpster just outside of Pierson’s Memorial Institute.”
“I’ll be right there,” she pushed the talk button to end the call.
Pierson’t Memorial Institute, 11:22 p.m.
Detective Jonathan Grant was stooping over the body when Rachel came up. “Nice to see you again, Rach,” Jonathan smiled.
“Long time, no see. What you been up to?” she inquired.
“All right, you two, enough small talk. You’re late.” Bailey sensed she was about to argue. “Save the explanation for later, Agent Burke.” He took out his notepad and pencil. As he read, he shoved the pencil behind his ear. “White single female, age twenty-five. No ID, no purse, no keys, nothing. The witness that found the body was a garbage man by the name of J.T. Fuller. I spent the last fifteen minutes talking to hospital volunteers and nurses. She was Dr. Jarod Tate’s last secretary.”
Shock hit Rachel like a load of bricks. Why would anyone kill Jarod’s secretary? Then the reason dawned on her: Mr. Krein.
“All we could get was her name from them,” Jonathan continued, “Tara Appleworth. She left work at seven thirty, which they said was usual, and the garbage man found her at nine fifteen tonight. Any first impressions?”
“Let me look at her. How was she killed, Grace?” The mulatto woman behind her glanced at a clipboard she had been making notes on.
“Bullet to the heart and she was beaten in the back of the head, at the base of the skull.”
“Was it enough to draw blood?”
“Yes. Quite a bit of blood, in fact. The victim’s fingers were dusted. Apparently, she was taken by surprised from behind, beaten to the point of blood, and then, when she was unconscious, shot in the heart.”
“So there was no struggle?”
“Right. Like I said, she was taken by surprise.” Rachel stared at the dead woman lying on the sidewalk in the streetlight. “Oh, one more thing, Grace, were the victim’s shoes found on her?”
“No,” Grant replied. “That’s one of the odd things. In any other case, this could be mistaken for a mugging. Her purse was gone.”
“I realize that, thank you, Detective,” Rachel snapped. His eyebrows raised when she spoke to him the way she did and his hands went to his hips.
“He’s been getting on my nerves, sorry, Jon.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Krein, our present psycho. It’s like he wants everything that is close to Jarod-everything that he grew up with, ever place he grew up in. Why?’
“I don’t know-that’s your job to figure it out. I just catch him.” Grant begant to walk back to his car and Grace Alvarez followed him. Rachel gazed into the sky and started to collect her thouhts. As she was doing so, Bailey approached her again and tapped her on the shoulder.
“We need to talk.”
“What about?”
“For one thing, about this Jarod character.”
“What is there to say?” Rachel continued to watch the stars twinkle.
“He needs to be notified about his secretary’s death.”
“Jarod wasn’t a real doctor, Bailey.”
“Oh that’s right, I forgot. However, some pictures were dropped off anonymously in a brown envelope at the office tonight, and well...I’m...”
“Spit it out, Bailey. I’m tird and I want to go home.” Her breath hit the sky in a cold visible cloud.
“I guess a good word for my reaction would be ‘flabbergasted’. I had no idea what to say or what to do about these pictures of you and Jarod-in the park, osculating?!” The Profiler’s head snapped back to look at Malone’s serious face.
“Was it dropped in the overnight box? Postmarked? Delivered by hand?”
“Stop it, Rachel,” his tone became very grave. “It does not matter how it got here or who took the pictures. I think you need to set your relationship with Jarod from a far away distance.”
“Oh, forget it, Bailey-”
“NO! You stop-right now!!” Her eyes went to the ground. She had never seen him get this angry. “It’s very unprofessional for an FBI Profiler to get involved with a victim or witness. And I’m sick of the stuff that I have to deal with in this office! George just got suspended for drugs, and now you are breaking the professional code! I’m tired of it, Rachel! As your superior, until you can get things resolved, I’m going to have to order you to hand over your badge and personal weapon.” Tears filled her eyes that were still staring at the ground.
“Isn’t...isn’t there a way that, that we could...work this out?” she asked weakly after about a minute of silence.
“No. This is the only way, Rach. I wish that I could bend the rules, just for you, but if I couldn’t for George, I can’t for you,” he whispered gently. Slowly and silently, she dug out her wallet and removed the badge. She placed it into his palm and at the same time, her automatic gun. “I’m sorry, it had to be this way, Rach. There was no other oway. Call me when you’ve settled your matters. I’ll be waiting to give these back to you.” Bailey sighed and turned around. He got into his car and drove off.
“I’m sorry, too, Bailey,” she answered to no one as she drove away in her car.
VCTF Headquarters, 11:47 p.m.
Agent Bailey Malone arrived back at his office and slammed his door shut. He hated himself for doing that to Rachel. Naturally, he could see why she would hate him for suspending her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took off his suit coat. Things just weren’t working the way they were supposed to. Things were a lot smoother when Sam was around-no. He told himself that he was not going to compare Rachel to Sam when he first met Agent Burke. And he was not going to let himself do it now. Especially when she was gone.
A knock came to his door. It was Grace with the autopsy reports. “Here’s the stuff from Tara Appleworth’s death like you asked, Bailey.” He lit a cigar and held it in his hand while he looked over the file briefly.
“Thanks, Grace. It won’t do me much good-since she’s gone.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. But I’m gonna have to sometime.” She closed the door and sat in one of his client chairs.
“You might want to start from the beginning, so you don’t confuse me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Come on, ring,” Detective Jonathan Grant cursed, while holding his cell phone close to his ear while he drove home. “Pick up the phone, George.”
“Hello?” a tired voice asked.
“George, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What kind?” he yawned.
“I know this is kind of illegal, but could you hack into the FBI Employment Records and find out if an Agent Norman Madison is in the Washington branch, please?”
“Let me get to the computer.” Jon’s hand gripped the steering wheel more tightly as he waited for George. “Okay, I’m looking for who in Washington or Atlanta?”
“Agent Norman Madison. He’s our temporary hacker here.”
“Hmm...intersting.”
“What, did you find anything?”
“Let me get on the Net, first.” In one minute, George had cracked the codes of the database and typed in ‘Agent Norman Madison’. “Your new hacker, did you say?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Why are you so concerned about this guy?”
“I don’t trust him. The surveillance videos that used to be in your office are still there, but I just checked them today. He put lens caps on them so we can’t see what’s going on in that office. Something’s very funny here.”
“Well, well, well.”
“Yes?”
“There was a record of employee #335760 called Agent Norman Madison in the FBI’s Employment Records. But, he was killed during the Cold War. I think your suspicions were correct, Detective Grant. Your hacker is using a fake name-I think you should find out the reason why.”
“I will. I’ll find that slimeball and confront him. With Bailey behind me, of course.”
“Of course. Is there any hope of me getting back yet, Jon?”
“You know the answer to that. Two more weeks for you, George. You have to be off of those drugs for six weeks. It takes self-control. You can do it.”
“It’s been so hard, but at least I’m getting rest. I want you to know that I appreciate your backing me up, Jon.”
“No problem. And thanks for the help.” Grant pressed the talk button and threw the phone onto the passenger seat next to him. He shifted gears and accelerated to eighty miles per hour. Bailey’s gotta know, but more importantly, Rachel’s gotta know. When he arrived at the building, he was surprised to see Rachel’s car not in its usual spot. She usually works late with Bailey at this time of night, he thought. Grant picked up his cell phone and attached it to his belt. “Where’s Rach?” he asked, barging in on Grace and Bailey’s heart to heart talk. He saw the frown on both of their faces. “Oh, I’m sorry. This was bad timing.”
“Not terribly, Jonathan. You might as well be the next to know,” Malone sighed.
“To know what?”
“Rache’s suspended.”
“What? How are we going to-how did that happen?”
“You remember that guy that came here a while ago as a secrety service agent?”
“Vaguely. What’s that got to do with her?”
“They had an affair.”
“And you’re suspending her because of that?”
“You know the rules, Jon. When she breaks off the ties with him, I’ll be more than happy to hand her badge and gun back to her.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t. Rachel would never-”
“She has, Jon. She’s a human; she makes mistakes,” Grace said gently. “And Bailey, I think, has made the right decision.”
“Am I squared away for tonight? Do we have anything else to accomplish?”
“I don’t think so. You can leave, Jon. I don’t want you to go to her house and question her about it. It is her own personal business, not yours.”
“Where’s that new guy?”
“I gave him the night off to gather more material about Mr. Krein. Tomorrow, I am expecting to get a full lecture about his past and what screwed this guy up. You can leave, too, if you want, Grace.”
“I’ve got a few things to finish with the newest vicitm, Miss Appleworth.” She got up from the seat and brushed past Detective Grant lightly. He followed her and left.
Rachel’s house...
“Rachel, I’ve been able to see Sydney since I last spoke to you.”
“Great, Jarod, but-”
“The doctors say that he might be able to make it, but if he does live, then he won’t be able to eat normally anymore.”
“Tell him I’m sorry that he got hit. Jarod, I have something important to tell you.” Right as she finished her first sentence, the other line began to flash. “Let me take this other person. I think it might be Bailey.”
“Rachel, this is Agent Madison. I just heard about a woman’s death. Is everything okay?”
“No, Agent Madison. I got suspended.”
“Sorry to hear that. Are we still on for breakfast on Thursday? I don’t have to come to work until eleven.” She sighed and leaned her against the couch she was reclining on. “Why not? See you then, Madison.”
“Thank you for not telling Bailey where I am,” Jarod said.
“I don’t even know where you are, Jarod, so how could I tell him?”
“True. But I would have figured that the FBI has a tracking device or something like that that you would use to hunt me down.”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you, Jarod. I was suspended today because somebody took pictures of us and they ended up on Bailey’s desk.”
“I see.” He paused and thought. “I could arrange a time for us to-”
“Jarod, our relationship isn’t going to last long by brief cameos.”
“Cameos?”
“You know, when you or I show up because we happen to be “in the neighborhood”? That’s what I’m talking about. Love can’t function when people rarely see one another. And please don’t take this the wrong way, Jarod, but, we can’t go on doing this. I can’t keep this relationship with you anymore.”
“Have I done something wrong to hurt you, Rachel?”
“NO! Nothing at all, Jarod, do you hear me? You did nothing wrong. It’s just that we are two very different people who lead two very different lives. We can’t have anything more than a friendship because of that reason.”
“I understand you. Do you mean by saying this that I can never call you or show up one night at your doorstep?”
“No, Jarod. I mean that we should just be friends. Nothing more. Keep in mind this, Jarod. I love you. As a friend.” She hung up and got ready for bed.
April 13th, 2000, the next morning, Rachel’s house...
Agent Madison knocked on her door and she opened it. “Morning, sunshine,” she grinned. He returned her smile and sat down at her table. “I have only a couple of things left to finish before we can...hey, are you okay?”
He was staring into space. When her eyes found his, she waived a finger in front of his eyes and he came back into the real world. “Are you okay, Madison?”
“Yeah. Have you made any coffee? I think I need some already.”
“Yes.” As she poured him a cup and went about her cooking, she saw a flashback. It was when she was talking to Bailey the night before.
“If you’re suggesting that Agent Madison tried to kill me, you’re an absolute lunatic, Bailey.”
“Be very careful. You don’t know what he could-”
But then it occurred to her-he could. “Madison, I...I need to be very blunt with you.” He drank his last drop of coffee after she said this.
“What about?”
“Rememner those things you were telling me last night about your family? And, well...something inside of me...is telling me not to-”
“Trust me?” She turned the bacon over in her black skillet and raised the heat of the fire. Her back was also turned, but she heard the chair move as he got up.
“Yes. Not that I think you’re some sort of-” He put his arms around her waist and her emotions began to tense.
“Lunatic?” he whispered in her ear.
“I don’t want to. But yet, after all you told me last night...” Madison began to gently turn her and she lost her concentration. He knew this and reached over her to switch the heat off of the bacon.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood to eat now,” he murmured. “And I don’t think you are, either.” She shook her head as he led her over to the couch.
“Does it matter to you that I might be a madman anymore, Agent Burke?”
“No.”
“Show me.”
Detective Jonathan Grant smoothly shifted gears as he pulled inside of Agent Burke’s driveway. He hoped she would be awake at this time of the morning. She usually was, but sometimes she did sleep in. He was just about to ring her doorbell when he saw two shadows. Grant removed his handheld Beretta from its holder and bent down below a window.
He heard some laughing and switched off the safety. He looked inside the window and saw Madison with Rachel. More importantly, he saw them on the couch together. He clutched the gun as he watched them. “Oh, no,” he muttered and put the gun back. Grant crawled back to his car and started it. He pulled out angrily and sped off.
VCTF Headquarters, 11:30 a.m., The firing range...
Agent Madison selected a pair of red headphones to wear and slid his FBI ID card down a scanner. The glass door that was connected to the scanner opened mechanically and shut after he went inside after about ten seconds. He ran the same card down another scanner and the small screen flashed a message: “ready”. He pressed the enter key. Another message came: “select program.”
Madison randomly picked a number and typed it in. A computer voice asked, “Please enter again to verify code number.” He did and the voice’s next message was this: “your program selection has been verified. Level six, blue entry, number 370. Please load your weapon, put your headset on for hearing safety, and the program will start in thirty seconds. The first target will be set at ten meters and it will move randomly. When you hit a bullseye within five shots, a bell will ring and the next target will appear at twenty meters. Please wait.”
He put his headphones on and took out both of his guns. Madison waited patiently for the first target and began to fire. The bullseye was hit within three shots. The target moved back and another began to come forward.
The door opened and a voice said “Program terminated. Please make another selection.” Madison turned to see Detective Jonathan grant slide his ID card down teh scanner. He took off his headphones and put his guns back.
“I want to talk to you,” Grant said without looking up. He started to enter various numbers and pressed enter. The voice softly began to talk again as he strolled over to Madison. “Your program has been verified. Level seven, gold entry, number 15. The first target will be set at twenty meters and will move randomly.”
“What about?” Madison asked.
“Your research. I want to know what you’ve found out about Mr. Krein.”
“When you hit a bullseye within four shots-”
“That’s not your concern,” he snapped. “I report only to Agent Malone. You’re not my superior.”
“I’m gonna grill you.” Grant put his headphones on and took out his Beretta.
“Is that a threat?”
“You could take it that way.” He fired three shots and two of them hit the target. One completely missed it. “It’s a warning, Madison.”
“What did I do?”
“I know you’re not who you say you are.” Madison’s eyebrows furrowed. Grant fired another three shots and pulled out the empty magazine. He threw it on the ground and pulled one outs from his belt. The young FBI agent reloaded his gun and took off his headphones. “And I’m gonna grill you. And until I can get further proof, I suggest you stay away from here and Agent Burke’s house.”
“You can’t order me around. I can do whatever I want.”
“You mean lie about your identity?” Madison began to back up and Grant followed, pointing his gun at him. “Or use Agent Burke to fulfill your lust?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t, huh? I’ve been doing some inquiry of my own, Agent Madison. You’re not a real employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You’ve been using the name of an employee who’s been dead for ten years. I’d like to know just who you are and why you’re here?!” By this time, Madison was against the wall. Grant was only a foot away from him.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Malone inquired as he opened the door. “Grant, are you using your personal weapon for business or pleasure?” The young man quickly hid his small gun and turned around.
“We were just having a minor disagreement on who would use the firing range first, sir,” Grant replied.
“Is there some reason why you had to back Agent Madison into a corner?”
“No, sir,” he answered. Madison cleared his throat and crossed his arms.
“Well, enough of this, you two. We don’t have time to waste on a firing range. We have to find a homicidal maniac. There’s no telling when he’ll strike next. Grant, when you’re finished here, I want to see you for about five minutes.”
“Is it important, sir? Or can it wait?”
“I guess it can. I’m giving you three minutes to be ready; the both of you.” Bailey let the door close by itself on the way out.
“Like I said, Madison, or whoever you are, keep away from Rachel! I will kill you myself if I ever see you over at her place again!!” Grant warned.
Madison opened the glass door and walked out calmly. He took the laptop computer that was sitting in his office and traveled to the front room. Once he was there, he connected the computer to the big projection screen. The others (Grace, Grant, and Bailey) arrived as he turned the computer on.
“Have you turned your autopsy yet, Grace?” Bailey questioned.
“Yes. I have very little to add to what I observed last night at the scene of the crime. The killer, according to my research, could have been Mr. Krein. I cross-referenced with our branch in Cleveland and they found one of the victims, Mr. Jackson, was slain the same exact way that I found. He was found outside of The Cleveland Clinic Medical Building downtown Cleveland. He had been hit at the base of the skull, just as Miss Appleworth was, and shot in the heart.”
“Was it the same kind of bullet?” Grant asked.
“No. I did happen to ask that question on the phone and the doctor there said that the bullet was a .357. The bullet that killed Miss Appleworth was a .45. So, unless we can prove otherwise, we have no evidence to convict Mr. Krein. I’m sure psychologically, we could track him down, piece by piece.”
“We can’t,” Grant started to pace back and forth. “Our Profiler’s gone.”
“We’ve done it before, Jon. We can do it again,” Bailey assured him. “Agent Madison is number one in his field in Washington. I guess this is where I turn the research part over to you, Madison. Educate us.”
“All right, this is the long and short of it.” He began to explain his history in prison and finished up his story by sighing. The three eyed him very carefully.
“Thanks, Agent. Now, we need to build a profile. You say that Krein was obsessed with the Centre, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Can you, Madison, look on the FBI’s records and find out about Mr. Krein’s history before his incarceration?”
“I already tried that, but everything was wiped out. I even tried Interpol. His records, somehow, completely disappeared.” Grant bit his tongue and lip.
“Can you prove it to us?” he asked. Each FBI agent’s eyes went to him. “I’d just like to know-to be able to see it for myself. It’s not that I don’t trust Agent Madison’s hacking abilities, I just want to see it.”
“Suit yourself.” Madison began typing away on his computer, and on the screen, the FBI Search Service provided a response: “no records to match search. Please try again.”
“Did he have another name?” Grant inquired.
“What?”
“Try looking into Delaware State Penitentiary records and finding his real name with his picture.”
“I don’t think I can do that, can I?” Madison asked Bailey.
“If we have a legitimate excuse for looking, yes. Are you positive that he had a different name, Grant?”
“No, sir. Just a theory.”
“Rachel would give it a go,” Grace added. Malone’s brown eyes stared long and hard at the blinking cursor on the screen. “Do it, Madison.”
He nodded and began typing quickly. “I’m not searching to find a previous name for Mr. Krein, right?”
“Yes,” Grace uttered. Finally, he got into the records.
“That was pretty quick. George’s hacking episodes used to last for at least a good three minutes,” Malone commented.
“I’m not your George, Agent Malone.” You sure aren’t, Grant thought. He caught Bailey’s peeved expression. Good. I’m not the only one that doesn’t appreciate his comments.
“He got thrown in there for armed robbery and he’s out now. He’s listed in her under the name William Myers. He served ten years,” Madison reported.
“Put it on the screen,” Bailey commanded and he did so. “Any past convictions under the same name?”
“No. Just a few minor traffic violations.”
“Did he kill anyone in the armed robbery?” Grant questioned.
“I can’t find that out on the prison record page. I would have to go into the actual police records or court cases. I can do that, I just need a little time.”
“Time that we don’t have,” Bailey mumbled. “Agent Madison, I want those court cases or police records ASAP. Print them out, put them in a manila folder, and leave them on my desk. Also, I want you to contact Jarod.”
“Jarod? Who’s Jarod?”
“One of Agent Burke’s friends that has helped us out. Find him. I don’t care how you do it.”
“Does he have a last name?”
“Not that I know of. And you won’t find it in the FBI’s records. I’m certain of that.”
“Where will you be?” The superior got up from his seat and signaled Grant to come with him. “I will be in my office with Detective-” the ringing of a phone interupted him.
Madison picked it up. “Agent Madison, FBI, VCTF.”
“Is Agent Bailey Malone available?” He motioned Bailey to come to the phone.
“It’s for you,” he whispered. “Do you want me to put him on the speaker?”
“Let me answer, then I’ll decide.” Bailey took the phone from Madison and answered. “This is Agent Malone, how can I help you?”
“Agent Malone, this is Jarod.”
“Jarod, can you please hold on a minute? I need to go to my office.” He gestured for Madison to begin tracing the call. Madison quickly hooked up the wires onto the telphone and laptop. Bailey pressed the intercom button. “Now, Jarod, what do you need me for?”
“I’ve been doing some research. One of your agents in the VCTF building isn’t who he or she seems to be. I got an e-mail from Mr. Krein informing me that he has a double agent working there.” The hacker put a map up of the U.S. and a line began from Atlanta, Georgia to go all arond it.
“Is that so, Jarod? We found your ex-secretary’s body in a dumpster last night. We think she was murdered by Mr. Krein, but we have no conclusive proof.”
“As soon as I find some myself, I will tell you who the double agent is. I have some circumstantial evidence, but nothing truly factual. Tell me, Agent Malone, does Agent Burke mean so little to you that you would suspend her?”
“She was going against governmental policy, Jarod. I had no choice. Did she tell you she was suspended?”
“Yes. She was about to tell me something else when I lost contact with her. And when I tried to call her house this morning, I got a message from the phone company that her line was disconnected. I’d like to know what’s going on, Malone. Did you make her move?” Several thoughts were running through Bailey’s mind before Jarod asked his question. He looked over Madison’s shoulder.
“He’s in South Carolina. I’m getting the city-it’s a suburb near Charleston. Wait a minute. Keep him on the line.”
“Why would I make her move, Jarod?”
“Sometimes the government has different ways of disposing their past employees.”
“If you’re implying that I fired her, Jarod, you’re wrong. The reason why, and I think Rachel told you this, unles I’m wrong, is because you two were involved. It it appropriate morally, and against government status for an FBI Profiler to be involved with a wintess!” A star up on the map told Bailey that the search was finished. Jarod was in Gladysville, South Carolina. “When she ends your relationship, she is welcome to come back. I told her that.”
“She ended it last night. I think you’d better call her. You want to catch a serial killer, don’t you?” He hung up and the dial tone was heard on the intercom before Bailey could say anything else.
“Is there something you want me to do?” Grant inquired. “Do you want me to take a team to Gladysville?” Bailey was scratching his chin and he reached inside of his pocket for a cigar. He lit it with a lighter and exhaled a puff of smoke.
“No, Grant. I need you to run an errand for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Take some things over to our friend. Quickly. And see if she’s up to coming back today.” Grant grinned and followed his boss back to his office. Bailey gave him her gun and badge. “Hurry, Jon.” He agreed and walked briskly back to his car.
“Oh, and Agent Madison-” he called, but the hacker was gone. His laptop remained on the table with a blank screen adjacent to it.
Rachel’s house, 1:57 p.m.
Her cell phone rang and the empty wine glass that she had been holding in her hand dropped to the floor. She felt horrible and rolled off of the couch onto the floor where the ringing phone was. “Hello?” she asked groggily.
“Rachel,” a male voice answered insistently.
“Speaking. Who is this?” The cracking noise from his line made her get up from the floor.
“Rachel. Don’t trust him. You must believe me. He’s the double agent.”
“Who? Who are you?”
“Agent Madison. Don’t let him come into your house or ever meet him anywhere. It’s important that you...” it began to fade but then it came back stronger. “This is Jarod. Please hang up and bolt your doors.”
“Wh-what?” her speech was slurred.
“Jarod? What’s going on?”
“Lock your doors right now and keep away from Agent Madison. He’s Mr. Krein and he’s going to kill you.” Rachel hobbled into her kitchen and began to open her cupboards as she listened to him. “I’ll try to get to your house as soon as possible. I’m on an airplane right now. Be very-”
She pushed the talk button before he could finish his sentence as she was reaching for a bottle of Excedrin. The doorbell rang as she swallowed two pills and she made her way to the front door. Agent Madison was waiting for her and he smiled evilly as she opened the door to him. “Did you have a good night’s sleep, my love?” he asked and realized that she was intoxicated. Good. That made her all the more vulnerable.
“Oh...” she rubbed her forehead and leaned against the doorpost. He went inside of the house and wrote a short note. In case you miss her, she’s gone shopping for time, he quickly wrote. Madison then came back and gently led Rachel into his car.
Minutes later...
Grant pulled up in Rachel’s driveway and rang the doorbell. When no one came to answer it, he turned the knob. It was open; then he knew something was wrong. He rushed inside and read the note. “No,” he muttered softly and the cell phone that Rachel had left on her kitchen counter rang.
“Rachel, this is Jarod. I’m on my way to your house in a taxi and-”
“You’re gonna hafta make him go faster, Jarod. Rachel’s not here. I think Madison took her. She’s in trouble and if he’s who I think he really is, then we don’t have much time on our hands.”
“Call Bailey right away. Is this Jonathan Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Hurry. He doesn’t leave ransom notes or a bargain for his captives. He shoots on sight.”
The Clock Tower, Atlanta, Georgia
Rachel’s hangover got worse as her headache increased its intensity. She had passed out in Madison’s car and when she awoke, it hurt even more to lift her head. But she forgot about the pain momentarily to open her eyes and get her bearings. She saw a clock face in front of her and she tried to move, but soon found out that her appendages were handcuffed to a wall behind her.
Her jailer was as handsome as ever and was apparently making a phone call on his cell phone. “Yes, she’s here right with me. You don’t believe me. Well, I’ll just have to wake her up-” he walked over to her and kissed her passionately. She did not respond to him. “Hmm...this one wasn’t so good, eh?” he asked her. Again there was no answer.
“She’s giving me the silent treatment, Jarod.”
“What do you want?” Jarod’s annoyed voice came over the line and Rachel straigthened up when she heard it.
“You. Only you may answer my riddle. I don’t want her federal friends hanging around the tower. If I see one FBI man, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger. You know I’m a madman, Jarod. You’ve seen what kind of a lousy deal-maker I am. I go one way or another. I take you or her down with me.”
“If that’s how you want to play your game.”
“It’s not about me, Jarod. You should know that.”
“Who is it about?”
“You’ll find out when you come,” he snapepd and pushed the talk button. His comely features began to disappear as thunder growled and lighting flashed outside. His face looked even darker than before she saw him in the warehouse with Sydney Green and Miss Parker. “Are you going to use my own gun to murder me just like the others?” she asked timidly.
Madison began to pace back and forth, not answering her. He stared outside at the ominous storm’s power and stopped after a few times of pacing. “They don’t give you very much credit for your genius. You took all of us for a good ride. But what do you want now that you have them at your fingertips?”
The thunder rumbled furiously after she asked him that question and his head flew in her direction with a glacial scowl. There was no charm, no humor, no kindness on his expression. The transformation that she had thought about earlier with Jekyll and Hyde was just a facade. He was Mr. Krein, or William Myers. An evil monster that had been in a tortured cage and is now free on its own rampage; ready to kill anything or anyone that gets in his way.
“Why are you doing this? What is it inside of you that wants to kill so much?” she inquired again and her eyes widened as he came forward. His eyes were the eyes she had seen on a cold blooded killer not three days ago. They burned into hers as he grabbed her by the throat. Finally he spoke, but the words did not comfort her, as she had hoped.
“You’re the Profiler. Figure it out!!!” His voice had turned into a rapsy snarl-no longer a smooth and calm voice that had been whispering love into her ear twenty four hours ago. The blackness outside in the storm seemed to creep around her as his fingers tightened their grip around her throat. It filled her with fear; a terror that she had never felt before.
He shook her and pushed her head against the wall hard before releasing his fingers. Madison removed both of his guns and checked the magazines. Both were full and ready to be fired at any time. “Krein! Krein!” Jarod’s voice called to him from below the tower. The serial killer went to a place where he could see his ultimate enemy and motioned for him to come forward. “Come up and die,” he taunted him.
“Is Rachel up there with you?”
“She may be, she may not be. Face your fate.” The Pretender disappeared from sight and made his way up the tower stairs. The only entrance to the tower was the panel four feet from Rachel and Madison’s guns were pointed right at the entrance. He hid behind a few of the large gears in the shadows that were turning and the storm continued to pour out its fury outside.
In two minutes’ time, the panel opened. Jarod, soaked, but armed with a knife threw it open and lifted himself out of the stairs. Madison took aim and Rachel saw him. She tried to warn Jarod, but it was too late. The serial killer fired his guns twice. Jarod went down with two bullets in the right shoulder. He grabbed it before keeling over. Madison appeared from his hiding place and kicked Jarod in the ribs with his thick soled shoes. Jarod winced and groaned, but he kept his grip on the knife. He gave one weak attempt to stab Madison with it, but Madison evaded the attack and crushed his large shoe onto Jarod’s wounded shoulder.
That was enough to make Jarod scream in pain and lose the knife. His enemy bent down and picked it up. As the Pretender was lying crumpled on the floor, Madison kicked him in the ribs again and stabbed him in the back near the kidneys. “Why? Why are you doing this to him? Coward!!” Rachel hollered and struggled in her chains to try and free herself.
Madison ignored her and kept his sinister glare on Jarod. “Get up.”
Jarod rolled over onto his stomach and grunted. “I said get up, you weakling,” he growled. He brought his fists together into one and slammed all of his might onto the fresh knife wound that he gave Jarod. Finally, Jarod mustered up some strength and swept his leg under Madison. Madison fell hard onto the wooden platform they were battling on. Jarod slowly stood and retrieved his fallen knife. “Now it’s time for you to feel the pain.”
Without another word, he ran up to Madison and thrust the knife into his stomach. Madison began to breathe hard and more slowly as he dropped the guns to grab madly at the knife that was impaling him. “What pain? The pain of-” Madison paused to try and catch his breath. “Of hundreds of families who turned away a small child because he was...different? Or the pain of...seeing your father shoot your own mother in front of your eyes.” Madison began to walk backwards and he stumbled against the wall that Rachel was handcuffed to.
“Or the fact...that your only living relatives...took advantage of you?”
“That’s not my fault,” Jarod replied coldly and picked up one of the forsaken guns. He held it in a defensive position, just in case Madison was trying to fake his death.
“No, it was. All of you...in the Centre. You all...are one...in the same. It ruined my life. And I would have no rest until I saw that all...who are in it...would suffer a pain greater than I.”
“It wasn’t my choice to live in the Centre.”
“You...still belong to them. You may think...that you’re free...but you’re not. You are still Sydney’s lab rat.” Jarod’s anger burned up inside of him and before he knew it, he had squeezed the trigger of the gun he had been holding. The bullet flew through the air hundreds of miles per hour and landed in the wall just inches above Madison’s head.
Rachel turned her head as far as she could to see Madison cover the knife with both of his hands and pull it out of himself. The first thing he did was to slide the handcuff keys into her hands before dropping to her feet. She quickly released herself and got down on her hands and knees beside Madison. Then her eyes went up to Jarod-she saw the impulse-and the animosity. “No, Jarod, control yourself, don’t-” But it was too late.
The bullet penetrated the fresh wound and Madison howled in anguish.
“Did you get your revenge? Was that enough?” Jarod barked.
“Please, Jarod, call an ambulance.” Suddenly, he was brought into the real world and he realized what he had just done. “NOW!” she raised her voice.
“But...I-” he tried to comfort her, but she pulled away.
“Get out of my sight,” she spat. She lifted his head up onto her lap and stroked his hair after the panel went down. “Is there no forgiveness?” she asked him.
“No one can change my heart but me. And I feel no remorse for what I have done,” he choked.
“What about for them?”
“No.”
“What did I do to wrong you?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I am sorry though, for my selfishness with you.
“What?” His eyes began to flutter and his breathing became less involuntary.
“I’m sorry you had to get involved. I did...” he sighed and coughed. With all his remaining might, he pulled himself up to her lips and kissed her gingerly. As it left him, he gradually fell back into her arms. “Love you,” were his final words. His eyes closed and Rachel frantically searched for a pulse, but he was dead.
THE END
The Passing Dark Angel
by Ruth Piwonka
Blue Cove, Delaware-April 9, 2000
Broots was sitting at his favorite esteemed spot with his laptop computer when an incoming e-mail message flashed on his screen. Broots dropped the coffee mug that he had been holding onto his lap and he yelped in pain. His excitement enraged Miss Parker, who had been studying a mess of documents strewn upon her desk. When his scream sounded, she threw the papers into the air and stormed over to his chair. “What it is, you spineless idiot?!?”
“A message from Jarod. It’s for Sydney. He says he’s in the place where rock n’roll started to be established over the radio.”
“You know better than that, Broots. He’s probably right under our noses.”
“Maybe it’s where he will be in the next future.”
“I doubt it, Broots. Jarod just wants us to follow him to Cleveland, and then by the time we get there, he’ll be gone without a trace like usual. Better luck next time, bald boy.” She began to walk away but then spun around on her high heels. “Research from where that e-mail came from. And Broots?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Try not to scream so loudly when your coffee spills on you again. You will push my usual six twenty headache to five thirty. So if you want to use that head of yours ever again, don’t press my button.” Miss Parker strolled back to her office and slammed the glass door shut. Just then, her computer monitor brightened and also flashed the same message. “I’m in the first place where rock n’roll was first established over the radio. Care to find me? I’ll only be in town for a short while, Miss Parker. Jarod.”
She picked up the phone. “Hello? Yes, I would like to speak with my father, Mr. Parker. Yes. No, I’m his daughter! Yes, it’s important! It’s about Jarod!”
“Hello, buttercup. I sent a team of sweepers to Cleveland yesterday. In fact, Mr. Krein told me that they had picked up a trail of him there in the vicinity.”
“Who’s Mr. Krein?”
“The new head of the sweepers since Gar, well-died. He’s an expert on weaponry. He’s very good-looking. You’d like him, Angel.”
“I’ll bet. Did you check Mr. Krein’s backgrounds?”
“Of course, buttercup. Mr. Krein assured me that he would take care of Jarod when he was found.”
Broots entered her office with a stack of papers in a manila file folder. It was labeled “Jarod e-mail encounters”. He went over to Miss Parker and gave her the file as she talked to her father. “What does he mean by taking care of Jarod, Daddy?’
“Making sure that the well, abduction, is not seen by anyone else.” As he continued to talk, Miss Parker opened the file and re-read the e-mail. She also looked at the location where the modem could have been but there was not one. The words “modem connection” were circled with a pink highlighter and a question mark. “Look, Angel, I know you wanted to catch Jarod and bring him home here, but, Mr. Krein’s already there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Fine, Daddy. That whoever Klein had better bring Jarod home in three days.”
“Mr. Krein, Angel. Mr. Krein will do.” The dial tone was more abrupt than she expexpected. Miss Parker motioned Broots to come in. “What’s this, Broots? Have we forgotten something again?”
“No. I could not trace where that e-mail was coming from. So either Jarod scrambled his signal, or Syd’s account is protected.”
Cleveland, OH
Darkness surrounded him. He could not see anything but the cloth material in front of his eyes; that was pitch black. His hands were tied behind his back and the gun he was reaching for in his back holster was gone. So was the knife. He knew he was sitting in a cushioned chair, but he had no reason why. He heard thick soled shoes scraping the pavement quietly as they neared his chair. A single overhead light was switched on-he could hear it but not see anything. The shoes walked around the chair twice and finally stopped when he could take it no longer. “Is that you, Jarod? Have you gone to torturing your victims now? I just came to take you home. Home to all your friends; at the Centre.”
The shoes crept up closer and he could feel his torturer’s cold breath fall on him. “Why, Jarod? Why? Why can’t you just go home and be a good boy?”
Something was happening, but he could not see what. He heard the sound of something being removed from leather. Quickly his mind searched for what it could be. A knife, a hypodermic needle, a-gun? When the leather fell down to his feet, he heard the sound of metal clicking. “I never thought that you would resort to murder, Jarod.”
It stopped a few seconds later. The waiting was sheer torture for him. He had no idea what would happen to him now. The safety of the gun was unlatched. It made that familiar squeak. Jarod is using my own gun to murder me, he thought. “Why use my own gun, Jarod? Are you too lazy to go out and buy your own?”
Finally, the shadow in front of his face spoke as he held the gun up to the frightened man’s face. “My name isn’t Jarod.”
“Who are you?”
“Your angel of death. I’m the key to your eternity’s future. Say goodbye to the world that you’ve come to know, Mr. Meeks.” Mr. Meeks never got a chance to reply. The shadow’s finger moved and fired the gun once. A few specks of blood glittered the shadow’s black gloves as he untied Mr. Meeks’ hands and smothered the gun with the man’s fingerprints. He took the chair away and left the gun in Meeks’ left hand. The dead boy lay on the floor with the light passing to and fro over it. The expression on Meeks’ face was horror when the hood was removed.
Atlanta, Georgia, April 10, 2000
Jarod was again in the area, and after some consideration, he decided to be a doctor. His latest uncovering was a Doctor William Drake, who was taking advantage of his patients’ families by charging them too much. One day, as Jarod was putting his usual newspaper article in his red notebook, he got an incoming e-mail on his latop computer. It read “Jarod:
Wherever you are, do not trust anyone. Someone is coming to harm you-it may be anyone. It may be Miss Parker or Mr. Lyle. Stay on your guard and keep saving people. Sydney.”
Jarod opened up the e-mail to see where it came from. He believe it was Sydney, but since he had gotten a few false e-mails from Mr. Lyle to trap in him in a small town in Arizona, he had to be extra cautious. However, when he traced the modem signal, the only thing that would come up was Sydney’s e-mail address. Jarod sighed and finished pasting the article into the notebook. The title read “Patients Are Saved From Local Con-Artist.” A sign that said Dr. Jarod Tate rested on the desk he was working at. The phone that sat next to his laptop rang. He pushed the intercom button. “Yes, Tara?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Tate. I meant to call you earlier, but a woman was inquiring about you.” Jarod cringed as he was rocking back and forth on his leather chair.
“A woman, you say? What did she look like?”
“Oh, about 5’9’’, a little over 120, um, blue-eyed. She was asking a former patient that you helped-Ryan wilts?”
“Yes, Tara, go on.” He began to shut his laptop computer down as she talked to him and get together his things from his temporary desk.
“She wanted to know why you were a doctor now and not a Secret Service agent. She made Ryan Wilts feel a little uncomfortable because she was questioning him so much. He later complained to me, that’s why I am revealing this information to you. He had never seen her before; he also explained.”
“Was a man with her?”
“Excuse me? I seem to be getting a little static on my line.”
“Was a man with her?”
“Mr. Wilts did not say. He inquired why you were a Secret Service agent. Is there anything you wish for me to relay to Mr. Wilts, Dr. Tate?”
“Tell him that I never worked for the Secret Service. Tara, before I leave, I would like to give you something. Something that I picked up at a friend’s.”
“Why are you leaving, Dr. Tate?”
“That woman, which you just described, has been chasing after me. I cannot explain to you why in thirty seconds, but you must accept that I have not broken any laws.”
“Wait, Dr. Tate!”
“Why?”
“I just saw someone start to head for your office. I don’t know if that was who Mr. Wilts described, or what, but I see her heading upstairs. Should I call security?”
“No.” Jarod pushed the dial-tone button as he saw a hand knock on his translucent door. He opened the window and took off the white medical coat he had been wearing. The door opened and he forced himself out of the window as the woman called his name, “Jarod!”
He had barely gotten two feet away from the window when he saw the woman stick her head outside it and call to him. “Jarod, what on earth, are you doing out there?” To Jarod’s surprise, it was not Miss Parker. He saw the familiar smile and intrigue in Rachel Burke’s face when he first met her not two months ago. She repeated the question “Jarod, what on earth are you doing out there?”
“Sorry. I saw a pigeon that was trying to destroy my tulips. I proceeded to follow it and I sort of, ended up on this ledge.”
“You’d better come in.” He did and knocked the flower pot that had his tulips in it to the ground-twenty stories below. “Agent Burke, what’re you doing here?” he inquired.
“I was just about to ask you,” she picked up the tag, “Dr. Jarod Tate?”
“Ah. I was helping people. That’s what I do.”
“Evidently so, Dr. Jarod,” she flashed him a winning smile.
“I guess our paths have crossed again, Agent.”
“Not as agents, though. Tell me, Jarod, did you really go to medical school to be adoctor?” Rachel took the sign and began to play with it in her hands.
“No, if you want to know the truth.”
“That’s start. Now finish it.”
“I’m not really a doctor, or an FBI agent, or a lawyer, or an ex-cop, or a bodyguard.”
“Then what are you?”
“Anything I want to be.” A profound smirk came over her face. But as she saw his expression turn to a somber one, she smoothed her fingertips over the sign and put it back down on the desk.
“What does that mean, Jarod? You’re a man of many different talents?”
“Have you ever heard of the word ‘pretend’?”
“Great, Scott, Jarod, what adult hasn’t? Yes, I have.” Rachel crossed her arms and leaned against a file cabinet.
“According to Noah Webster’s Dictionary, “to pretend” is to put forward as being something that is not. That’s what I do. I’m the Pretender.”
“What to they do?”
“Precisely what you said about ten seconds ago. I’m a man of many different talents. I can become anything or anyone I want to be.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The talent was given to me by someone...”
“God?”
Jarod paused to think. He began to clear off his desk and pack his few belongings into a leather briefcase. “You know, out of all the things I’ve pretended to be, I’ve never pretended to be a minister or priest.”
“Maybe it’s not possible for you to do so.”
“Why not? Lots of men do it for money.”
“True. But they say you can’t fool God.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried to fool him.” He slipped the laptop into his carrying case. “So, what’re you actually doing here, Agent Burke?”
“You can call me Rachel, now that we’re not working together on a professional basis, Jarod. I read the paper.” She pointed to the article that he had recently pasted into his red notebook. “You always leave your trademark by not being photographed with the family. I’ve noticed that.”
“Yes, well, I have a reason for doing that. Perhaps you’d like to hear it sometime over coffee.”
“I’m working, Jarod. I actually have a stable job, unlike you.”
“That’s how I want it to be.”
“How do you support yourself if you don’t hang around long enough for a paycheck?”
“Sometimes I do. But the families that I do help sometimes give rewards. I try not to accept them, but they insist. So, that’s how I survive.”
“Like I was saying, I’m only stopping by because you’ll probably be moving onto a different city, a different life, a different job. I only wanted to say hello because we promised each other the last time, that I would drop by when I saw you in Atlanta. So, I’m fulfilling my promise.”
“Rachel, don’t go yet. I want to get to know you better. Please.” He zipped up his carrying case and slung it over his shoulder as she moved toward the door. She sighed and nodded. “Okay. Promise you’ll stay here a few more days, and I’ll try to squeeze you into my work schedule. I work 50 hours a week, you know.”
“I do. I’ll stay here a little bit longer. I have one problem, though.”
“What’s that?” she asked as she opened the door.
“All the hotels are booked up, and I just removed my stuff from my room this morning. So, I...um, I feel a little bit awkward about asking you this, but....I-”
“Do you have a rental car?”
“No.”
“Good. Okay. You can stay with me. However, Jarod, I’m on my lunch hour right now, and I have to be getting back to work. I’ll be expecting you at nine, okay?”
“Nine?”
“I have a long day.” He smiled and walked her to the elevator.
Cleveland, OH
He was absolutely terrified. He saw absolute darkness ahead of him and his hands were tied behind his back. Then he heard the sound of shoes-very thick ones-walking on the pavement towards the chair he was sitting on. He tried to get up, but he was instantaneously shoved down coldly. “Who are you?” he asked blindly. He wanted to kick the person in front of him, but his feet were tied together.
“An agent of the light.”
“Your voice sounds awfully familiar. Aren’t you that Jarod guy?” The shadow in fron t of him neglected to reply to his question. Instead he removed the black gun from the holster he had taken off of Mr. Fanning. “Tell me, Mr. Fanning, does the Centre want Jarod so badly that they would sacrifice anything?”
“I don’t know. I’ve barely been working there for four months. They haven’t told me a thing about Jarod, except what he looks like.”
“Would they sacrifice you for Jarod?” Mr. Fanning snapped his mouth shut when he was about to say yes and kept his cool. He was still absolutely terrified. Then he heard the shadow in front of him put the gun down onto a metal surface-possibly a table. When he heard the sound of his cellular phone beeping, the specter in front of him answered the phone and pressed the talk button. “Fanning? It’s Jackson. Where are you, man? You were supposed to meet us outside the Terminal Tower half an hour ago!” Fanning felt the cell phone smack him in the ear.
“Answer it,” the voice commanded harshly.
“I don’t know. I think I’m lost somewhere.”
“Well, wherever you are, find the directions to the Carlton Hotel and be there at eight thirty! The boss is expecting us in a brief. A very important brief,” his voice began to calm down.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Listen, can you tell us where you are? I’ll come find you if it’s necessary.” Fanning felt a gloved hand punch his face and the phone was removed from his ear. “It’s no trouble for him.”
“Who is this? You’re not Fanning? And what are you doing on his phone?”
“What are you willing to do for me if I told you that I knew where Jarod is?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know anyone named Jarod. And who is this? Where’s Fanning?”
“Right here. Next to me. Want to hear him? He was just talking to you.”
“I know that. Who are you?”
“Some people call me an agent of the light. Others call me the worst hell-bent demon from the pits of Hell.”
“Whoever you are, you leave Fanning alone. We can trace his phone anywhere.”
“In that case, you had better say goodbye to him now. He won’t be going to the Carlton Hotel at eight thirty alive.”
“WAIT! Maybe we’ll give you something for Jarod’s whereabouts.”
“Oh, him again? You seem to be pretty desperate, so I’m not going to tell you what I know. Say goodbye to your friend, Fanning.” The specter took the gun from the metal table, cocked it, and fired three shots. The first was aimed at Fanning’s arm, at which he screamed in pain, and the other two were fired into his heart. “Have a nice day.” The figure dropped the phone onto the ground and stomped his heel onto its electronic body. It was completely ruined and Mr. Fanning was taken care of the same way as Mr. Meeks’ body was.
8:30, The Ritz Carlton Hotel, Downtown Cleveland....
Mr. Parker arrived and the two men that followed him closely were his bodyguards. Mr. Jackson, Mr. Rice, Mr. Schultz, and the head of the sweepers’ party, Mr. Krein, all followed Mr. Parker into Conference Room C. “Mr. Krein, I am interested in your progress so far. Please report,” Mr. Parker leaned back in his chair and took out a cigar.
Mr. Krein put the glasses that he needed on for reading and removed a few papers from his briefcase. “I prepared this summary for you before I ate dinner.”
Mr. Parker lit his cigar and took a huge drag. “Can you tell me why, Mr. Krein, you did not eat with your other members?”
“I am not a people person, sir. Sometimes I need my share of space from others.”
“Well, please do, uh, read on.”
“Thank you, sir.” Krein eyed his other three colleagues and then his eyes shot immediately to the papers. “We have received three more e-mails from Jarod to Sydney. Reports are that Jarod has recently helped three families in the area. We are not yet certain where his cell phone calls are coming from, because his phone uses a scrambling chip to confuse the satellite that we use to track it. I have sighted him walking around the Rock n’Roll Hall of Fame twice.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Krein. Where are your other two members? I seem to remember sending out six sweepers-a Mr. Meeks and a Mr. Fanning.”
“They must be running late.” Krein shifted his papers coolly and handed them to Mr. Parker’s bodyguard, who gave it to his employer.
“I heard something really weird, Mr. Parker. I think Jarod’s gone mad. I called Fanning at about six-forty-five. He answered it and then I talked to him for a while. He acted like he was lost or something. I heard a voice that sounded exactly like Jarod talking to me-he told me that he was an angel of the light. He also told me that Mr. Fanning wasn’t gonne come back here alive. I heard a gunshot and Mr. Fanning scream; then two more and nothing. Jarod picked the phone back up and said to have a nice day,” Mr. Jackson explained.
“Yes, Jackson, I agree, that is very strange. What about Mr. Meeks?”
“I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. I’ve been trying to find him,” Krein assured his supervisor.
Mr. Parker took nervous pulls on his cigar and a cloud proceeded from his nostrils. “Okay. It’s obvious that Jarod has gone ballistic. My orders are, that if he confronts you with a weapon, shoot to kill. I don’t want him back at the Centre that badly. I’m worried that he might do something to my little girl.”
“I can guarantee that I will do my utmost best to find and capture him. I’m sure that my other three associates will do theirs, as well.”
“By the way, Mr. Krein, I don’t believe that you’ve met my daughter yet, have you?
“Why, no, Mr. Parker...I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“She’s not here in Cleveland, but, um, perhaps back home, you’d like to...”
“Yes. I would. Thank you, sir. How do I know that she’ll like me?”
“You’ll know it, Mr. Krein. You’ll know, believe me.” He arose and put his used cigar butt into the ashtray. His two bodyguards followed him out the door.
“Hey, Mr. Krein?” Mr. Schultz asked.
“Yes?”
“We’d better find Meeks.”
“Jarod comes first.” The solemn face young man shut his briefcase coldly and gave him a grim stare. “Mission before pleasure.”
“It’s not pleasure!” Mr. Rice called after him.
“Okay, then you find him. I’ll go after Jarod by myself. You are dismissed from my party, if you wish.”
“Fine. I don’t like how you work, anyway,” Jackson spat.
Atlanta, Georgia, 9:02 p.m.
Jarod looked at the torn scrap of paper he was holding and the house’s address. Yep, it seemed correct. Number 422, Spencer Drive. He walked up the small walkway and set his luggage down in front of the door as he rang the doorbell. He wadded up the garbage and put it in his leather jacket pocket. Rachel came and let him in-her hair was alittle disheveled, but he didn’t care. She was wearing a white tank top and blue warm-up pants with the word Adidas written along its sides. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she grinned.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, noticing that the grandfather clock inside her living room gave the time 9:10. Her eyes followed his and she turned around.
“Oh, that old thing is so off. It’s only 9:03. I’m sorry I’m so casual, but I just got done with my exercises.”
“Really? What kind do you do?”
“Tae Bo. You know, Billy Blanks?”
“Billy Blanks? No, I...don’t think I’ve met him.”
“He’s made lots of videos. I think he invented Tae Bo.”
“What is Tae Bo?”
“Oh, you don’t know what it is?”
“No,” Jarod bit his lip. He felt so stupid. She got a glass out of her kitchen cupboard and drank some water.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My manners, excuse me. Do you want something to drink?”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“How about something to eat? I’m making some chicken fajitas. It’s really no problem to cut up some more stuff.”
“I have to admit I’m a little hungry. Yes, please.”
“Okay.” She washed her hands and began to cut some peppers on a cutting board. “So, Jarod, I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of Tae Bo.”
“Well, all the careers that I’ve been in haven’t led me to it yet, I’m afraid.”
“Do you live in a cave or something?”
“Not really, but, kind of.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude.”
“No problem.” Rachel turned her gas range on and then put the black iron skillet underneath the heat. She put the onions in the skillet and the chicken in it as well. “What big case are you working on now?”
“Me? Well, right now, we’re doing little things. I sometimes give advice to rape victims on a radio show and I research the top ten.”
“Top ten?”
“Jarod, come on, with all your experience with the FBI-you don’t know what the top ten are? Top ten wanted criminals? Is that coming back to you?”
‘Hmmm...sort of.” She added the peppers and increased the heat.
“We’re getting closer to getting this guy; he’s number eight. His name is Carl Ibanioni. An Italian mobster who runs most of New York’s bordellos, drug-houses, and casinos. He’s committed six major felonies and he’s made-about three men disappear mysteriously.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We expect that he’s killed them, or actually, had them killed. But no one can prove it because there’s not enough evidence to convict him. So we call it an ambiguous disappearance.”
“Who’s number one?”
“Believe it or not-it’s a woman. Tanya Peternov. She has committed sixteen major felonies, including espionage, and she has killed about thirt-five people connected wiht the Russian embassy.”
“Why is she so hard to catch?”
“No one knows where she is. She moves abou the U.S. like you do. Except that she doesn’t help anybody-she looks to destroy everyone. The last city she was seen in was Boston. She killed two diplomats from Russia.”
“What can you do?”
“Hope and pray that God will show us where to go next.” She stirred the mixture and shook the pan while it sizzled off the range. “I’m glad you’re back in town, Jarod. Things haven’t been the same.”
“Same here. So why do you work so late?”
“Humph. Bailey works about two more hours than I do. He’s probably the hardest working man that I know at the FBI.” Rachel shut the gass off and got out some warm wraps from her microwave. She filled both of them and put them on one plate. Jarod followed her into the dining room. He sat right next to her and ate his in less than one minute.
“My. Ravenous, aren’t we?” she smiled.
“I haven’t eaten since noon.”
“That would explain it. Do you want mine?”
“No, no, eat yours. Thank you.”
“Jarod, you mentioned something about telling me why you never are photographed wiht the families that you help. Could you tell me now?” She put the first mouthful of fajita in her mouth and wiped the grease off of it with a napkin.
“Yes. I suppose I could. But, I would require before I tell you the reason why, that you promise never to reveal any of the information I tell you.”
“Why is it so top secret?” she inquired with her full mouth.
“Well, let’s just say that I’m a fugitive, too.”
“From what?”
“My past.” Rachel finished her meal and went over to the kitchen again with the plate. Jarod followed her once more as she began to wash the dishes. He leaned up against the counter next to her.
Blue Cove, Delaware
Miss Parker was pacing the floor as she waited inside of her father’s office. Broots and Sydney were sitting besides eaceh other and staring at her quizzically. “Where in the worl could my father be?”
“Maybe he went to check up on Mr. Krein in Cleveland,” Syndey replied.
“Why would he do that? He trusts everyone.”
“I don’t think so. Everyone knows that five people died on the expedition in Cleveland. Mr. Krein’s the prime suspect to everyone but your father. Maybe it’s because he’s so weird,” Broots said.
“Weird? Who could possibly be more strange than the two of you?” she pointed her ringed index finger at both of them. Sydney grinned.
“Your brother, Mr. Lyle.” Suddenly, the double doors burst open and Mr. Parker’s bodyguards held them for their employer. The old man strolled through with a man that Miss Parker had never seen before. “Hello, Angel,” he beamed and kissed her on the forehead as he went to sit in his comfortable chair. The young man crossed his arms and looked round the office.
“So, haven’t you caught Jarod yet?” she asked sardonically.
“No, Angel. We had to bring him home because something unexpected came up in Cleveland. His excursion got interrupted by that rotten Jarod.”
“Imagine that,” the woman snapped.
“I’m serious. He was the only man that survived. Somehow, Jarod got them all separated from one another and then killed the rest of the men. I don’t know how Mr. Krein escaped him. What a madman, that Jarod has become. We have got to bring him home so we can save him.”
“Daddy, what are you talking about?”
“Jarod is a murderer. He killed my other men when I was red hot on his trail,” Krein answered.
“He’s right, Angel. We’re lucky he did survive. He was making good progress, too.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Mr. Krein, I would like to introduce you to my daughter.” The brown-haired, brown eyed man offered Miss Parker his hand and she shrugged him off.
“Daddy, what do you mean? Jarod does not kill people. He helps them.”
“We have proof of a recorded conversation between Mr. Jackson and Jarod that he is a murderer. There were bullets. Shortly after our conference, Mr. Jackson perished, Angel. I know you once had feelings for him, but Jarod is now a cold-blooded killer.”
Miss Parker crossed her arms and turned to face Krein. “I find that very hard to believe,” she said while she was staring Krein over.
“Would you like to talk about it over coffee sometime?” he offered, brushing his hand on her shoulder. Miss Parker pulled away from his touch and turned to walk out. Mr. Parker winced. This was not how he had planned for the meeting to go with Mr. Krein. “I’m sorry, Krein. I think she’s still angry with me for not being able to go after Jarod in Cleveland.”
“It’s a good thing she didn’t go. She may have been killed,” Krein replied softly.
“Yes. Yes, that’s very true.” Parker’s expression dimmed and then he smiled once more. “I’m sorry. Mr. Krein, this is Broots, and this is Sydney. They work with my daughter very closely.”
“Nice to meet you,” Broots shook his hand and Krein’s grip made him go down to the floor on his knees. “Wow...” his voice cracked. “That’s quite a grip you got there, Krein.”
“I think I’ll give my regards from a distance like Miss Parker,” Sydney eyed Krein. He helped his fallen colleague up from the floor and nodded to Mr. Krein. “I’m sure you wil be a valuable asset to us in the whole Jarod scheme.” The two walked out the doors still being held by the two bodyguards.
Mr. Parker motioned for them to leave and they did as he commanded. He opened a desk drawer and offered a cigar to Mr. Krein, who declined. “My dear fellow Krein, there are a few things about my daughter that you need to know about. She’s not your regular beautiful woman.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But, I think a man like you with a dominant personality can win her over.”
“She’s gorgeous, sir. Absolutely a terrific knockout.”
“I know. Her mother was just as wonderful looking.” Mr. Parker frowned as he remembered an elegant necklace that he had given her a day before she was killed. (This is a flashback.) “Oh, John, I love it,” she exclaimed as he put it around her neck.
“I know you love jewels. In a day or so, you’ll get to see our very own jewel,” he simpered.
“That’s right. I miss her so.”
(Flash to present.) And I think I’m going to miss you forever, Catharine, he pondered. Krein’s questions brought him back to the real world.
Atlanta, Georgia
As Rachel Burke was drying and putting her dishes away, Jarod recounted his life story to her. “I was taken from my family when I was very young. And I was taken to a very dark place. I had no idea where I was at the time, but I came to learn the place as being called the Centre. While I was there, I was trained by a man named Sydney Green and his brother to be what they called “a pretender”. They had several other projects going on there-from what I knew and was told. I was isolated from civilization-I was never allowed to go outside of the complex. While I was there, I met two children that are now adults like me-Miss Parker and Angelo. Miss Parker was daughter to the Centre chairman, Mr. Parker.”
“She didn’t have a first name?”
“I do not believe that anyone knows her real name except her father and maybe Miss Parker herself. As children, when we first met, she addressed herself to me as Miss Parker. I do not believe she has a first name.”
“Have you made one up for her?” Rachel put the skillet on the gas stove under a low flame.
“No. But I know what her middle name could be.”
“What’s that?”
“Anger. Miss Parker had a very unusual childhood-almost stranger than mine. Her father and mother were never seen together in public. They kept Miss Parker hidden away in the Centre-her father wanted her to become a pretender-to be trained in the same ways that I was. But her mother absolutely refused to let him do so; she even threatened to divorce him. One day, though, Catharine Parker was brutally killed because she was smuggling children that the Centre had captured out to the real world. And that devastated the poor girl. She’s been very bitter about it ever since.”
“So, she is working for this Centre of yours?”
“Yes. She struggles day and night to find me, but she could really be helping herself more if she would just stop. I think, a year ago, she realized what I was really doing-helping the world.”
“Do you think she loves you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think Miss Parker really knows what love is. It’s tragic and both sad. I wish she could join me, but she’s insisted on staying there.”
“Would she ever kill you if given the chance?” Rachel switched the gas off and put the skillet away. She motioned him to go into the living room and sit on a leather loveseat. She bent down to tend to the fire that was already going in the fireplace.
“I’d like to think she wouldn’t, but I don’t know her anymore. So, ever since about three years ago, I’ve been assisting the weak and abused. I broke out of the Centre, and I’m telling you, the freedom is feeling great. You don’t know-you could never know what it was like to be shut up from the real world for almost thirty years.”
“You’re right, Jarod, I could never know or go through what happened to you.” She knelt down by his feet and put her hands on his left leg. “But I can have compassion for you. And now I understand why you are so shy and reluctant to receive the glory that you deserve.”
“Yes. I got an e-mail from Sydney today that told me not to trust anybody. I wonder where he could be at this point. I wonder how Miss Parker will be sleeping tonight.”
“Probably tossing and turning. You’re an elusive character to catch, Jarod. I almost missed you today. Had I arrived an hour later, you might’ve been gone.” She reached up to trace the side of his long cheekbone and then ran her index finger down it. “Rachel, will you help me with my work?”
“I already do help people, Jarod. I caught a sexual offender last week.”
“Do you save lives?”
“I try to.” She let her hand fall and he caught it with both of his large hands.
“Sydney always told me that there are a lot of things you can assimilate through a person’s hands.”
“What can you assess about me, Jarod?”
“You have a lot of grief stored up inside of you. I can tell by the way these wrinkles are directed. And your hands are much more rough than a usual woman’s. You have done a lot more work than a regular little girl would normally do. This scar leads me to believe that you had an accidnet or an abusive parent.”
“My father died when I was young, and since I was the oldest of the family, I had to work in place of my mother. She was out working manually. I did her jobs while I did school. It was a hard life for me and my other six siblings. Before he died, he did used to whip me-you’re right, Jarod.” Rachel lifted herself onto the couch next to him. He was still holding her hands in his. “What can you assimilate in faces, Jarod?”
“A lot. Even people who can’t talk say a lot by their faces. You’ve been hurt by other men in the past-I can tell that. You’ve probably endured a lot of disappointment and hardships during your college life. And your eyes tell me that you have experience. You’re not new to the world-you’ve faced it a lot longer than most adults our age have. You had to, in order to survive.”
“Your face says that you’re still searching for something to fulfill your life. I know that helping people makes a huge difference, because I do it myself, but I still feel a void in myself. I’m still looking, too.” He let go of her left hand and began to stroke the hand that he was holding.
“Maybe I’ve found it today,” he whispered and got closer to her.
“Could be.” Jarod leaned even closer and she let him seal their lips together. It seemed like something bound to happen, she thought. But then she reconsidered the idea and pulled away. Rachel got up off of the couch and cleared her throat. “Is there something wrong?” he questioned.
“I...had better go to bed. It’s 11:30. I need a full nine hours of sleep. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room.” Jarod nodded and picked up his luggage in the foyer. He pursued her into a huge guestroom furnished with a king sized bed and a canopy. “You know how to treat your guests with style, Rachel,” he smiled.
“I like to make people feel they’re at home when they stay here. So, if you need anything, my room’s down the hall and to the left. It’s the last one. Goodnight, Jarod. Sleep well and sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams,” he agreed. She closed the door on her way out.
Blue Cove, Delaware, The Centre Complex-11:30 p.m.
Miss Parker was rummaging through her desk as a knock came to her transparent glass door. It was Mr. Krein. Great, she thought. Mr. Nosy is coming back to spy on me. I hope my father hasn’t become attached to him already.
“Come in,” she signaled him as she put a huge stack of papers on top of her untidy desk. He walked inside quietly and let the door shut slowly. “What?” she snarled as he stood by her.
“Your father wants me to close up. Are you going to spend the night here?”
“Look, Mister-Krein is it?” He nodded and crossed his legs as he was standing near her. “I’m just getting caught up on Jarod and when I find what I’ve been looking for, I’ll leave. Okay?”
“Fine, fine.” He spun around on his thick soled heel and began to walk away.
“I knew Jarod had problems but I didn’t think he’d murder people.” Krein stopped dead in his tracks. A smile crossed his face and he faced her.
“It’s all the more reason that your father did not want you to go. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she spat and then buried her eyes into the desk.
“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot-”
“You have no idea. You couldn’t possibly understand what happened to me.”
“But I’m willing to try. I wish you wouldn’t brush me off so coldly like you do Sydney and Broots. I bet they’re used to it, and never thought of telling you not to treat them like dirt, but I’ m not like them. I’m not some underdog you can rub in the mud, Miss Parker. I care about you and your father. And Jarod. If you wish me not to bring up the ordeal, calmly and civilly tell me. I’ll shutup immediately.” Mr. Krein’s face was stern, and she knew that he meant business. No one had ever had the impertinence to tell her how to act-even her father.
She was so stunned that she didn’t know what to say for about four seconds. “I’m sorry, Mr. Krien. I’ve just...been through a lot where there was nobody I could talk to.”
“But you had Jarod when you were younger, right? Is that why you want him back so much?”
“Jarod was the one stable thing I had in my life during my childhood. I rarely saw my father or mother-I had to stay here in the Centre most of the time. And when my mother was killed...” her voice began to tremble, “he was there beside me. He always knew how to encourage or comfort me during that horrible time.”
“And you’re afraid you have no one to talk to now, is that it?” Miss Parker slowly nodded. He bit his lip and tapped his fingers on her desk. “Don’t worry, Miss Parker. I’m right here. I will always be here to talk to you.”
“Remember you said that you wanted to take me out for a coffee?”
“Yes, I remember making the offer. Is that something you wanted to do tonight?”
“I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“Of course.” They parted and he got there first. He ordered a café mocha and Miss Parker arrived as the waitress brought out his drink. “Is there something that you would like, ma’am?”
“Café caramelli with nutmug, milk, and chocolate. Also, I’ll eat a chocolate muffin.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back to assist you. As of now, your total is $5.72.” Mr. Krein stirred his drink and offered some to Miss Parker, who declined. When she came back with Miss Parker’s order, they began to talk.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’ve been chasing Jarod for the last three years. It hasn’t been easy. And he was always, in a way, still trying to help me. He even asked me to run away from the Centre with him to help the little guy.”
“Obviously you rejected the offer. What made you want to stay here?” She eyed him carefully to see if he was sincere.
“The same reason why you are here.”
“You couldn’t possibly have the same reason as I do.”
“Then you tell me why you are here.”
“I asked you first.”
“So you did. All right, I’ll tell you. The Centre is my home. May God himself strike me dead if I ever leave it to help Jarod.”
“Is that an oath?”
“I guess. Now your reason.”
“I like taking care of people’s problems.”
“Then maybe you should be helping him,” she smirked but when she saw the sinister glare that came from Mr. Krein, she felt stupid.
“Yes, well, if I had been born a good child, maybe that would’ve been possible. But that would be in a different world, Miss Parker. A much different world than the one we live in.” He took another sip of his beverage.
“Are you carrying?”
“What on earth made you ask that question?”
“There are some men over there that keep staring at me.”
“How?”
“Like they want to kill me or something.” Krein glanced over a few tables and noticed two men staring and talking about Miss Parker. He nodded a yes.
“Don’t worry about it. I assume you are as well?”
“Yes.”
“Just look like you’re an average business woman talking business with me.”
“How can I do that? Neither of us have briefcases.”
“Good point.” As he was beginning to think, the two men got up and pulled chairs up to Miss Parker. One quickly removed his gun and kept it under the table. He pushed it into Krein’s groin and whispered harshly, “Don’t move. Your life depends on it.”
Miss Parker felt the other one’s hand slide onto her leg and she stomped on his toe with her spiked heel. This distracted the one that was guarding Krein and Krein elbowed the man in the face. They both dropped their guns and fell off of their chairs. Krein took a $10 bill and left it on the table. He and Miss Parker hurried out to the street. They took off down a corner to the right and after half a mile, he stopped. “Wait a minute,” he said and looked behind him.
The gunmen came outside the coffee shop with their guns in hand and Krein made a quick decision. “I know this might seem presumptuous of me, Miss Parker, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”
“How?” she was puzzled.
“No time to talk.” He grabbed her and turned so his back was to the running gunmen. He quickly crushed her lips to hers-not violently to hurt her, but she felt his abrupt breath. She went with the flow as the gunmen neared them. They eyed the couple for a few seconds and then took off in the same direciton.
“Sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else. I know that was very audacious, but-” Miss Parker smacked him.
“I haven’t been kissed like that since I was eighteen.”
“Now I know why.” Mr. Krein winced and rubbed his cheek.
“I should be going home. Do you need a ride?”
“A ride? To where? I don’t have a home here. I don’t have a hotel, either.”
“Then where were you planning to sleep?”
“They have a facility at the Centre.” She shook her head.
“Oh, no. You’re coming with me to my house. I won’t have you sleeping there. That place is full of horrible memories for me.”
“Then why are you still working at the Centre?”
“We’ve been over this. I meant the sleeping chamber was terrible.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just don’t say stupid things next time.” Miss Parker dug the keys out of her shirt pocket and opened the locks on her 1999 Mustang. Once they were at her house, he marveled at how nice it was. “It’s funny. I wouldn’t expect a woman like you to live in a house.”
“Sometimes a big house is very much me. But that’s because you don’t know me very well, Mr. Krein, do you?”
“Not as well as I’d like.” She opened the front door and they entered.
“I need to check my e-mail. Please excuse me. The bedroom you can use is located upstairs and to the left. It’s the first door. It has a bathroom.” She hurried over to the computer at a desk. As she got on-line, Miss Parker drank from a glass that was full of orange juice. She did have e-mail, and only one new message that was from Jarod. “Missed you in Cleveland. Will be in the first state in 1787. Hope to pick you up for dinner sometime. Jarod.”
“The first state-what on earth does he mean?” she pondered aloud.
“You don’t know what the first state was?” Mr. Krein inquired from behind her. Shocked, she immediately spilled the orange juice onto him.
“Don’t ever do that again!!” she growled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like I did. But you don’t know what the first state was?”
“Krein, it’s 12:50 a.m. and I just got over a traumatic experience of kissing you. Don’t expect me to have any common sense.”
“I have something that might help cool you down.”
“Not another one of your ideas?!”
“No. Just calm down and turn around.” He cracked his knuckles and put his hands on her shoulders. She began to tense and her head reared, but he gently pushed her toward the monitor’s screen. “Just calm down. I’m not going to give you a traumatic experience.” Mr. Krein began to massage her shoulders and her neck. When he reached her neck, there was a spot that gave her aches every time she had tried to reach it, but when he touched her there, it felt so good. He put just enough pressure on her aching muscles for it to feel good but not too much to make her feel like she was in a vice.
“Oh...” she groaned and hung her head as he kneaded her stiff neck muscles. “Why did you ever come to the Centre to be a weapons specialist when you could’ve made so much more money doing this?”
“A feeling in me. I...was motivated by my heart to come here.” Miss Parked stopped him and took off her jacket. She felt his warm hands almost melt through her silk shirt. “Since you stopped me once, we might as well do it right. On the sofa,” he motioned. Her eyebrows raised.
“I won’t do anything insolent, I promise you.”
“Good. Because the last man who did ended up with a broken finger.” She did as he asked her to and laid down on the sofa on her stomach. He sat in the computer seat and did her back while she made small noises of pleasure.
You’ll see God faster than you think you will, Miss Parker, he thought and went back to his work. “By the way, Miss Parker, Delaware was the first state. It started the Union in 1787.”
“So that’s what he meant.”
“Yes. Which means he is now right under our noses.”
“Why don’t you get any e-mail from Jarod, Mr. Krein?”
“I don’t have an e-mail address.”
“What? Everyone does.”
“Everyone except me. I do not have access to the Internet, although I know how to use it, I would not care to do so.”
“Did you go to school to learn how to do this?”
“No. I picked up a book one day and read it. It was quite fascinating.”
“Oh...right there. No, above that. Yes...oh...”
“So, who else do you care about besides Jarod and your father?”
“I have a brother named Mr. Lyle. But he’s in South America right now.”
“Would you ever consider marrying?”
“I don’t like long term commitments.” He got up off of the chair and knelt down on the floor. “Have you ever fallen in love, Miss Parker?”
“We’re getting close and personal, Mr. Krein.”
“You’re getting a massage. You haven’t objected to it. That’s close and personal.”
“And it feels good, too,” she sighed.
“Are you gonna answer?”
“If you get this one spot and knot out that’s been killing me all day.” She moved her left hand to his hands and moved them down to her waist. “Right there.” He began to work and gently caress it.
“Yes, I have fallen in love before. But things got complicated and he ended up dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “what’s your favorite flower?”
“Why do you care?” She immediately got defensive. Krein’s hands pressed harder into her back.
“Because I like you. You’ve got that something-something in a woman that I can’t resist.”
“You find me attractive?”
“I find you alluring, charming, and desirable.”
“Really?” Miss Parker turned her head toward his face, which was about four inches from hers. “What kind of desire?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure we can figure out a way if you’ll let me.” He stopped rubbing her sore muscles and leaned to her lips. She joined him in a kiss that she would never forget. Fire and brimstone raced through their hearts. His hand advanced to the back of her neck and held it while they embraced.
Atlanta, Georgia, April 11, the next morning...
Jarod had plugged his laptop computer into the outlet nearest his bed and checked his e-mail. “We’ll be in the area soon, Jarod. Miss Parker’s caught onto our account somehow, so be extra careful. Sydney.”
There was a knock on his door. “Yes?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Rachel opened the wooden door and the scent of cooking bacon filled the room. “Are you gonna have some breakfast?”
“I was just checking my e-mail. Depending on the vibes that I’m getting, I might be better off leaving town today.”
“Well, whether you’re leaving or not, you should have a good breakfast before catching a plane. I make a good omelet.”
“I can smell the bacon.”
“I had hoped you would. Jarod, before you leave, is there something that you want to tell me?”
“Miss Parker’s going to be in the area. Sydney told me that’s she’s catching onto me quickly.”
“Okay. Jarod, come to think about it, this may sound selfish of me, but, the best thing you should do is stay here. Did she know about us?”
“No. She has no idea who you are. I don’t think she knew about that pretend anyway.”
“But she’ll know about the doctor you just pretended to be. And therefore, she’ll be looking for you in a hotel room or on a plane out of town. I hope you don’t think I want to keep you here, or anything...because I don’t want to be parsimonious.”
“You’re right. I’ll lay low here for a while. Thanks for your hospitality. I’d do the same for you if I could.”
“I know, Jarod, I know.” Rachel closed the door on her way out and he showered. He came down about fifteen minutes later as she was putting the food onto the kitchen table. “Mmm...looks good. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a culinary chef.”
“One of the things that I had to do when I was helping my mother was cook. I learned from her and some of her best secrets.”
“So what time do you have to go in today?”
“I don’t. I get a day off once every two weeks and today’s the day. Would you like to go out and do something?”
“In public?”
“Jarod, come on. You won’t be photographed. I know a nice little park where we can eat and enjoy the sunshine without being provoked by your Centre people. In fact, very few people know about it. We’ll have to travel a bit, though. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you want for lunch?”
“Whatever you pack, I’ll eat. Do you want some help?” They began to eat.
“That’d be nice. Could you do the dishes while I go clean myself up?”
“Yes. You sure do make a good omelet. I never had one before.” She shook her head and laughed. “Jarod, I have a feeling that I’m the only one who’s opened you up to the real cooking world. What did they make you eat there?”
“You really don’t wanna know.”
“You’re right. I really don’t,” she grinned.
Blue Cove, Delaware, the same morning, at 11:15...
Mr. Krein awoke before Miss Parker did and dressed. He slipped out of the house quietly and walked to the Centre. When he arrived, Sydney was waiting for him. “We got this from Jarod. It was supposed to be for me, but I never wrote him any e-mail to which he is referring.” Krein grabbed the piece of paper from Sydney’s hand.
“Thanks for the advice about Miss Parker. How long will you be in Atlanta, what is this?” he asked him.
“Obviously someone has been using my e-mail address to impersonate me. I can only imagine that someone upstairs might be doing it. I know it’s someone within the walls of the Centre. This has been done before to Jarod to trap him.”
“Who did it before?”
“Mr. Lyle, Miss Parker’s brother. But I can’t imagine him pulling the same trick.”
“Why not? He pretended to die twice,” Miss Parker barked.
“My, my, Miss Parker, why are we so dour this morning?” Sydney smiled.
“I didn’t have a full night’s sleep.”
“Sorry to hear that. Have you been brought up to speed?”
“Yes.”
“Umm...I just got the okay from upstairs to go to Atlanta. Should we take the jet?” Broots inquired.
“Whatever’s the quickest way. Let’s get this jerk,” Krein snapped.
A little outside of Atlanta, Georgia, 1:47 p.m...
“You’re right, there aren’t many people here. How did you learn about this?”
“As an agent of the FBI, one has to find ways to be secretive,” she beamed and they sat down on her blankets. “So, what did you do before your last pretend as a doctor?”
“I was in a white supremacist group.” Her eyebrows arose in disbelief. “I’m not racist. It was an attempt to save the unity rally and a pastor’s two little girls from being killed.”
“Jarod, from the sound of things, you have gathered quite a few adversaries.”
“I have put a lot of people away, yes. But the blessings have all been worth it.”
“So they have. Jarod, a few things have happened since I saw you last.”
“Such as?”
“I’m being held under investigation for forcing a fellow subservient to engage in copulations. It’s been a hard thing for me to go through, especially when I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Not unless you can force the man who pressed the charges against me to drop them. I don’t want you to do that, I was only being facetious.”
“What actually happened, if you don’t mind my asking?” She paused and took a drink from her water bottle. He finished his sandwich and did the same.
“The subordinate and I happened to meet at a bar by chance. We had a few drinks, a few laughs together, and before either one of us really knew it, we were in a hotel room drinking together. But we never engaged in coitus.”
“Does he remember?”
“I think he was more drunk than I was, but he testified that I forced him to. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him that we didn’t.” Jarod leaned back on his left elbow and on his side. He wished that he didn’t have to leave Rachel. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her-but he knew that neither of them could marry. She was beautiful, though. Beautiful and sensitive. “Jarod. Jarod? Hello?”
“Oh, sorry. My mind sometimes wanders off like that.”
“Do I need to keep you awake?”
“That depends.” A smile of mischief crossed her face and she picked up the water bottle. She squirted a few drops of water at him and his face was entirely wet. He shook his head and before she knew it, he tackeld her down and began to tickle her. “Oh, no, Jarod. Please. Jarod,” she began to laugh, “no, don’t tickle! Oh!!”
They got into a small fight and he ended up on top. “Do you surrender?” he asked.
“What happens if I surrender?”
“The winner gets a kiss.”
“I don’t think that’s fair.”
“No? Then how are you for some more?” His fingers moved to her waist and poked her there. She jolted in shock and sighed. “Okay, okay, you win.” She grabbed the water bottle and squirted some into her mouth. Rachel’s long finger motioned him to come down and receive his award. Their lips sealed around each other’s. Her hand moved to the back of his head an urged him on. It was a very heated moment for him. Exciting but satisfying. Jarod finally had to break away for a breath, but he barely got one when she seized him by the back of the neck down to her lips.
Atlanta Metrpolitan Airport, 5:32 p.m.
The Centre’s private jet arrived in the hangar and Miss Parker, Sydney, and Mr. Krein stepped onto Georgia’s soil. “The first thing we have to look for is the newspaper,” Miss Parker said.
“There are newsstands in the airport,” Sydney suggested.
“Weren’t there other sweepers supposed to come with us?” Krein inquired.
“Yes, but somehow, they got ordered to Jacksonville, Florida instead of Atlanta,” Miss Parker smiled.
“Let me guess...Broots?” Sydney asked.
“The one and only,” she replied as they strolled through the airport. “You know, lately, he’s been really useful to me. For some reason, he’s-wait-” the trio stopped immediately as they saw a news stand. Miss Parker picked up the Atlanta Journal and stared at the headline. It had nothing to do with a Jarod pretend. “Excuse me, sir, would you mind telling me where yesterday’s paper would be?”
“Why would you wanna buy yesterday’s paper?” She smiled and put her hands on her hips. As she did, she accidentally revealed a holster. The clerk panicked and gulped. “On second thought, we...we sold out yesterday’s newspaper.”
“Why?” Mr. Krein asked.
“The headline. It was talking about this doctor that was caught cheating families.”
The three looked at one another and Miss Parker took out a pad with a fountain pen. “Where was this hospital where the doctor was caught?”
“Pierson’s Memorial Institute. I think. It’s about two miles east of here, if you’d-” they were already gone.
Miss Parker got into their rental car and sped on the highway to get to Pierson’s Memorial. “Be careful, gentlemen. Do not show that you have weapons until we meet up with Jarod.”
“Miss Parker, aren’t you taking a risk? Jarod might already be gone,” Sydney explained.
“It was only yesterday. Let’s go,” Krein snapped. Sydney shrugged his shoulders and followed his two younger companions. “Excuse me, have you seen this man?” Miss Parker flashed Jarod’s picture to a nurse by the emergency unit.
“You mean Dr. Tate?”
“Yes. He’s wanted by the FBI for impersonating several dead people and then using their social security numbers for illegal purposes,” Krein answered.
“That cannot be. Dr. Tate has just helped three-”
“His real name isn’t Dr. Tate, Nurse Ebony,” Miss Parker noticed the woman’s ID tag. “It’s Jarod.”
“I’ll call his secretary for you, if you’d like. We’re not sure if the doctor’s in.” By the time Nurse Ebony had gotten a hold of Tara, the three companions were on the elevator.
All that remained in Jarod’s office was his desk, chair, and a few empty file cabinets. His secretary Tara had objected to them searching his office, but they ignored her. “Where is he?” Krein questioned her.
“I told you already...I don’t know. I saw him leave yesterday after seven o’clock and I haven’t seen him since. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have to be closing up.”
“Was it his day off?” Miss Parker inquired.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did he have any visitors?” Mr. Krein wondered.
“Come to think of it, yes. It was a woman. I didn’t catch her name, but I know she looked like she was a federal official. She looked kind of like you folks. I think she was little shorter than you,” she pointed to Miss Parker, “but she had blue eyes and red hair. I saw Dr. Tate come out of his office with her and walk her to that elevator. And like I said, the last I saw of him was at seven o’clock yesterday evening.”
“Hmm..well thank you very much for your help, miss,” Krein nodded. “And if Dr. Tate does come back here, will you let us know? Here’s my beeper number. He’s a wanted man. If you want to be safe, call me. My name’s Mr. Krein.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you.” They left the hospital and went to a motel.
“This is absolutely ludicrous! He has to be staying in a hotel or apartment. He couldn’t have bought a house,” Miss Parker cursed. She paced the room while Mr. Krein talked to Broots on his cell phone.
“Yeah? I can hear Miss Parker screaming obscenities. I hope I’m not the cause of them...” Broots said.
“No, not at all, Broots,” Krein answered calmly. Miss Parked conitnued to talk loudly to Mr. Krein while he was on the phone. “He has been nailing us with those red herrings, we must be so close now!”
“Does she do this all the time?” Krein asked Broots.
“Jarod could be right under my nose, do you know that?! And it drives me up the wall!!!!” she yelled at Krein, who ignored her and listened to Broots.
“If she’s going through her time of the month, sometimes,” the hacker responded coolly. “The best thing to do is just to let her scream her frustrations out on you and then sit there quietly for a minute or so. Then after she has finished, tell her to calm down.”
“I gotcha.”
“Are you even listening to me?!” she miffed. “Here I am pouring my heart out to you when you said you were going to listen to me and you’re just talking to Broots!”
“I think you were right that she’s on her time of the month, Broots.”
“He hasn’t found anything anyway, so why do you keep talking to that loser?!” Miss Parker grabbed Krein’s cell phone, opened up the motel door, and threw it out into the pool. Once she did so, she slammed the door and forced him to sit on one of the beds in the room. “Listen. You promised you would.” He nodded and when she turned to sigh, he rolled his eyes.
About two hours away from where the trio was...
Jarod and Rachel were still osculating madly as a figure got out of his car. They did not hear the sounds of a camera’s shutter release as it took pictures. The photographer zoomedin on their embrace and also, Rachel, in particular. As soon as he had used up a roll of film, he took out anothe camera. This one could be hooked into his laptop computer and the camera even took a took of Rachel’s car. Her license plate would easily give away who she was and the only thing that puzzled the photographer was how Jarod got to know this person.
As the mysterious photographer gets up to leave, we see for the first time that it is Krein. He got into the car and quietly left the park. Jarod and Rachel never knew that they had a stalker named Mr. Krein.
The motel where the trio was staying...
Mr. Krein took out his laptop while Miss Parker was in the shower and connected it into the nearest outlet. He plugged the camera’s feeding cable into the computer and booted it up. As soon as he got onto the Internet, he went to Interpol and typed in a password he had stolen from his hacking years before. By then, the photos had loaded themselves and he sent them with an instant message to find out who the woman was. In about a minute and a half, he got a message back confirming his suspicions: “Name: Rachel Burke. Status: FBI Profiler. Stationed: Atlanta, Georgia.”
Just as he was about to learn more about her college history and background FBI file from her past experiences in Washington, D.C., the door opened and Miss Parker emerged out of the bathroom in a robe. He immediately shut the screen off and tried to hide the computer from her sight. “So, Krein, what do you suggest we do next?”
“Track his credit cards. I just called Broots and ordered him to do so.”
“What if Jarod doesn’t have any credit cards?”
“I also thought about that and asked Broots to track down the signal from where his laptop was contacting the satellite. We’ll be able to pick him up wherever that computer is.” She began to slip into her pajamas, but the camera is angled so we cannot see her disrobing. Mr. Krein used these few precious moments and unplugged the computer from the wall. He slid the slim laptop underneath his king-sized bed and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. As Miss Parker came out to reveal herself, she removed the ring that she always wore on her index finger and put it on the nightstand.
“My, aren’t we handsome?” He looked down at his chest and back at her wandering eyes. He said nothing and unbuckled his belt. “You know, Mr. Krein, I wouldn’t mind it if you gave me another one of your good massages.” Krein took off his gold watch and rings. He placed them adjacent to her things. He still had not taken off his shirt yet.
His hip holster came off next, and he removed the gun to check the fully loaded magazine just for security. When he also placed that on the nightstand, Miss Parker could take it no longer. She rushed over to him and pushed him up against the wall. “Geting a little close and personal, aren’t we?” he said, using her own words against her.
She moved in closer to touch her lips to his. He released her after a few seconds and nodded. “You’ve convinced me. Go ahead and lie down.” Krein cracked his knuckles and waited for her to do as she was told.
Late at night, back at Rachel Burke’s house...
Jarod got an e-mail once more Sydney. “We’re now in Atlanta. Be careful, Jarod, we’ve got an extra man sent with us to keep us honest. His name is Mr. Krein. And someone was using my e-mail address to send you things that I did not write. I would be careful-he’s a very complicated man. I haven’t been able to figure him out and while he was in Cleveland picking up on your trail, the other five members of his party mysteriously died. Mr. Parker believes you killed them. He wants you dead.”
Jarod wrote back an instant message, hoping and praying that Sydney was on-line, wherever in Atlanta he was. “I was never in Cleveland. Why does Mr. Parker think that I killed five sweepers?”
About thirty seconds later, a message popped up from Sydney. “Then Mr. Krein was lying. One of his former colleagues, a Mr. Jackson swore that he heard your voice on a Mr. Fanning’s cell phone. I know that you don’t kill. I didn’t believe Mr. Parker for a moment.”
“Why was Mr. Krein lying?”
“I don’t know, Jarod, I said that I haven’t figured him out yet. He’s a very complicated man, like I said.”
“Do you think that he was sending me the e-mail with your address?”
“It’s very likely. But I’m willing to bet my life that he’s convinced Miss Parker that you’re a cold blooded murderer. I am also willing to wager my house that he’s got her at the tips of his fingers to do anything for him.”
“So it’s best that I stay away from this area? Should I leave Atlanta?”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you, Jarod. If you have found some kind of safe haven, someone to confide in in Atlanta and we don’t know who that someone is, stay there. You’ll be safe from Parker and that maniac Krein. I think he killed those five sweepers. I cannot imagine why, but I have a feeling that he did so.”
While Jarod was typing away on his computer to Sydney Green, Mr. Krein had wandered away from the motel he and his other two companions were staying. He had managed to get Agent Rachel Burke’s address from a few resources at his disposal on the Interpol. He had taken the rental car which Parker had secured and driven it to her address. He silently shut the engine off and took out a flashlight.
“The question is, Syd, if that psycho did kill the sweepers, why would he?”
“I think you answered your own question, Jarod. You called him a psycho. That may be reason enough. The Centre does not discrimate mentally disturbed people. Remember Mr. Lyle is still working there?”
“Yes. Has he killed anyone else?”
“No. But the way he was acting today, it sounds like he might be striking soon. He might want to kill you, Jarod. I don’t know why or understand it, but just because he could be mentally ill, he might try to assassinate you. So watch out.”
“You be careful, too, Syd. He might try to kill you, too.”
Krein saw the light on in Jarod’s bedroom. He looked for a way to get up there since the window was open, and he saw a fence on the side of the house. He removed the gun from his hip holster and began to climb the fence. He reached the window and aimed at Jarod’s turned back.
Jarod pushed the last send button to Sydney and signed off of his computer. He cracked his back and stretched out on the bed. He turned off the light.
Krein had to re-angle his shot on Jarod. His sinister stare hardened on his face as he pulled the safety off. Jarod heard its click and cringed. He rolled over and saw a shadow in the mirror pulling a gun’s trigger. Jarod threw himself off of the bed as the shot was fired and Krein missed. Krein jumped down from two stories up and landed on his left elbow. Jarod looked out of the window to try to see him, but it was too dark and Krein had a black suit on. He saw his shadow move over to the driveway and heard a car’s engine start.
He had failed. He missed his shot at killing Jarod. He floored the gas as he hurried back to the motel.
Rachel rushed over to Jarod’s room as soon as she heard the shot and banged on his door. “Are you all right? Jarod?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad Sydney warned me just in time.”
“You have an assassin?”
“Yes, someone working for the Centre. A Mr. Krein. Sydney informed me that he may have possibly murdered five other men affliated with the Centre.” He let her inside and she immediately shut the window. And locked it. “Maybe it was a bad idea for you to stay here. I’m sorry, Jarod. I have no idea how-”
“Don’t worry about it, Rachel. I’ll just have to leave.”
“Now?”
“Now. I don’t want to endager you or myself any longer. So I think it’s in our best interest if I leave.” He began to pack up his few things.
“Don’t.”
“I don’t want to get you or myself killed. He may try again.”
“He’s gone. You can stay with me.”
“I have been. What do you-” she gestured to her bedroom down the long hallway. “Oh. I’m not certain if that’s a good idea, either.”
“Why?”
“I may do something that you and I might regret.”
“Like what? I’m not suggesting that we sleep with one another, Jarod. I’m just suggesting that you sleep in my room. Possibly in my bed, but that’s up to you.”
“Just for tonight, but I need to be leaving in the morning.” He followed her to the master bedroom, which had a king-sized bed and a huge comforter. “It looks tempting,” he murmured as she slid her robe off (we cannot see anything but the robe dropping to the floor) and instantaneously slid under the bed covers. He sat in a chair that was across from the bed and began to ponder.
She stirred and the covers moved slightly. He fought with himself inside. He did not want to get too involved with Rachel, because he was going to leave the next morning. She was intoxicating-perhaps a little too enticing for what he had in mind. But he wasn’t sure what to do. He could not sleep for an hour. But finally, he decided not to sleep in her bed but rather just in the chair.
April 12, 2000, the next morning in the hotel...
Sydney arose early, about six-thirty and groomed himself. He changed into a comfortable suit of clothes and put some penny loafers on before securing his holster to his belt. He found the adjacent room’s door ajar (Miss Parker and Krein’s room) and opened it. Sydney quietly walked through the room as both occupants slept in separate beds. He found Mr. Krein’s laptop underneath his bed and quietly took it back to his own room.
Once there, he powered the laptop up and went into Microsoft Word. He looked through the files-files of various names, especially like Mr. Fanning, Mr. Meeks, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Rice, and Mr. Schultz; the five missing members of his Cleveland investigation. Sydney opened each of them; Mr. Krein must have somehow gotten these from the Centre. Then he found one on Rachel Burke. Sydney wondered who Rachel Burke was as the file silently opened. Then he read the information about her. An FBI agent; Jarod did mention that he had worked with the FBI once, he thought. Next, Sydney saw another file called “mandatory obligations” and opened it. It was a journal and it was started from the month of December 1999. He read the first entry:
December 15, 1999
Was released from Delaware State Penitentiary today. My first breath of freedom in ten years. It feels good to be out in the world again. I had forgotten what life was like. Now I will truly live a good life. Revenge will be sweet.
Sydney scratched his chin and scrolled down to yesterday’s entry.
April 11, 2000
Mission accomplished. Party dead. Parker has fallen in love with me. I have her now. Jarod will be next. I failed killing him. Someone must have warned him. I vow that I will find out who did and make them suffer.
Sydney gulped as he heard the click of a safety go off on Mr. Krein’s Walther PPK 9 mm. It was being pressed to his right temple. “Doesn’t it say in the ten commandments that ‘thou shalt not steal’?” he asked.
“Doesn’t it also say in the ten commandments ‘thou shalt not murder’?” Sydney retorted.
“You will return that laptop to where you found it, or I will remove you from this planet’s existence.”
“You probably were planning to kill me anyway, so go ahead.”
“Don’t taunt me. I’ve killed five men. One more man isn’t gonna make any difference to me.”
“You don’t have the gumption.”
“Like I said, don’t make me pull the trigger right now.”
“You won’t becayse I’m a necessary component to your plan of revenge.”
“Ah...so you have been reading much of my journal, haven’t you?
“You were also planning to kill Parker, weren’t you?”
“If necessary. She’s not a wet blanket, as most people would figure, you know. She’s got feelings for Jarod. I can tell they’re not professional.”
“So? I do, too, but do she or I deserve to die because of that?”
“Yes. This was not the way that I had intended for you to die, Syd. You were supposed to be blindfolded with a hood over your head and your body was to be completely tied up. And meanwhile, I would have removed all possible means of escape for you to use, cell phones, and beepers. Then, I would have shot you with your own gun. A Col 45, right? Or am I mistaken?” He held out his hand and Sydney reluctantly gave him his metallic colored gun.
“Just the way Jarod was taken,” Sydney mumbled aloud.
“Right. So let’s go, Sydney. Or do I have to be uncivilized and knock you out?” The older man smiled and put his hands behind his back willingly while Mr. Krein handcuffed him.
As he walked Sydney out to the rental car, Miss Parker had gotten up and dressed. She got out of the room just in time to see Krein force Sydney into the car handcuffed. “Krein, what are you doing?”
“I caught him talking to Jarod again and he was trying to keep up from him by warning Jarod ahead of time. He’s a traitor.”
“Where are you taking him?”
“To his justice.” Krein put his own gun back into his holster and put Sydney’s on the dashboard as he opened the Lincoln Town Car’s black door.
“Wait a minute, Krein. Shouldn’t we notify the Centre first?”
“I just got the go-ahead from Mr. Parker. He wants this mutineer terminated permanently.”
“But you can’t just kill him.”
“Don’t listen to him, Parker,” Sydney called from the car.
“Shutup, old man,” Krein barked, “I’ll be back in about half an hour. Be ready to get Jarod. I think I have an idea of where he could be hiding out from Sydney’s e-mails.”
“Parker, please....don’t let him mesmerize you anymore.”
“Shutup.”
“He’s a liar!” Sydney pleaded as Krein started the engine.
“SHUTUP!” Krein yelled as he shifted the car’s gears and backed up.
“He’s going to kill you and Jarod if you don’t stop him!!” Sydney screamed as the car sped off.
Miss Parker bit her lip and put the ring that fit her index finger on. She didn’t know who to believe. Everything was crazy. Jarod was a murderer, or wasn’t he? Was Sydney a double-crosser, or wasn’t he? He always let Jarod slip by whenever we had a chance to grab him. How could my father tell Mr. Krein to kill Syd? Or is Mr. Krein trying to make me fall in love with him so I could be blinded?
There was only one answer to her questions-to find Jarod. And wherever he was, there almost assuredly would be answers. She opened the door to Sydney’s motel room and went inside. She found his cell phone lying on the perfectly made bed. It was a number somewhere in this area-a private home possibly. Miss Parker took her own cell phone out of her pocket and phoned Broots. “Broots, this is Parker. Find out whose number this is. Area code 873 and the number is 447-3810.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It took about fifteen seconds for Broots to find out. “Rachel Burke.”
“Thanks, Broots. Address. Now.” She whipped out a pad of paper and her fountain pen. “Good. I’ll have Jarod home in less than six hours. If my father inquires my progress, you can tell him that news.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She hung up and locked both motel rooms. She hurried out to the nearest bus stop and got on the bus.
Somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia...
Sydney was bound to a chair but his head was not covered his a black hood. But he was in pitch black darkness. He heard the sound of foot steps and a light was switched on. He made out a table and Mr. Krein stood there. He had a few magazine clips on the table and some boxes of bullets on it. Krein was filling them and as he realized that Sydney was watching him, he turned to face his captive.
“Getting ready for the big murder, Krein?” Krein neglected to reply to his question and examined the bullets.
“You know, Miss Parker is a very strong woman. I admire her. And she’s been chasing Jarod for what..about three years now?”
“Almost four.”
“It’s taken her four years to track down Jarod, but she never caught him? Sloppy. I almost killed him last night. And if it hadn’t been for you, he would’ve been dead right now.”
“Why? Why are you so determined to kill people?”
“Why not?” His cold response startled Sydney and Krein loaded Sydney’s automatic with a full magazine of bullets.
“One more question before you pull off your dastardly deed, Krein. Who’s that Rachel Burke?”
“FBI Agent of the Violent Crime Task Force. Jarod’s soulmate.”
“How would you know about their relationship?”
“I’ve been following him even more closely than the Centre has for the past four years.”
“You’ve only been out of prison since December.”
“I didn’t say that I was following him for four years. I’ve been following him since January. I must say he has a weak spot that has nearly gotten him killed quite a few times. I find it an unecessary component of life that others dwell on constantly.”
“What’s that?”
“Mercy.”
Jarod awoke to the sound of foot steps in Rachel Burke’s room. It was Miss Parker. He immediately tried to speak, but she waived her gun in his face as she came over to him. “How-”
“Sydney’s in trouble. We’ve gotta help him from Mr. Krein. I think he’s going to murder him,” she whispered.
“What if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll shoot you.”
“How can I resist?” She grabbed him by his t-shirt and they hurried out of the house onto the street. “How’d you get here, Miss Parker? I don’t see a car.”
“Bus.” She saw a taxi and waived him down. “Hey, pretty lady, I see you wanna go somewhere?” the driver smiled. Miss Parker returned his smile, opened the door, seized him by his coat’s lapels with one hand, and struck him hard with her gun. He sprawled onto the lawn and was out. She pointed to the front seat and Jarod sat on the passenger side. The taxi soon sped off with Miss Parker driving. “So, Jarod, who’s the broad?” she inquired with a smirk. He ignored her and kept his eyes focused on the road.
“Have you any idea where Mr. Krein was headed?”
“South of our motel.”
“While he was making his wonderful escape last night after completely missing me, Miss Parker, I happened to toss a tracking bug on your rental car.”
“I think this is the one time I appreciate your presence, Jarod. Where is he?”
“Fifteen minutes’ distance from here. Turn right at this corner.”
“Which corner? This corner?” He hesitated to look at his homing device’s screen and then answered a quick yes. The taxi swerved and accelerated once more.
“Rachel Burke,” he finally answered her question.
“Her name doesn’t ring a bell. Some poor little unfortunate victim that you got mixed up with?”
“Actually, no. She’s an FBI agent.”
“Your quote secretary told us about her.”
“What?”
“She was coming and going from your office. Are we getting involved?”
“I think you should be concentrating on the road more than my personal life.”
“Oh, Jarod, don’t get off the topic. You finally care for someone, huh?”
“Maybe. Keep going straight.”
“I don’t know who to believe anymore in life, Jarod. My father’s lied to me, my brother’s lied to me, and the person I was just starting to like lied to me.”
“Mr. Krein, I assume?”
“You assume correctly. I wonder what screwed him up.”
“Maybe he’s a cannibal like someone I know of.”
“Shutup. There weren’t any missing body parts from the bodies anyway. He almost started to brainwash me. He told me that he cared about me and no one else. He lied to my father and me. And my father’s developed this fatherly love for him which makes me want to throw up. He said you were a merciless cold blooded killer. I almost believed him.”
“Uh, Miss Parker, that was a red light back there.”
“Was I supposed to turn there?”
“No.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“No.”
“Then keep your mouth shut about the way I drive.”
“Did you and he ‘get involved’?”
“Somewhat. We were acting unprofessionally. Why would he want to kill Syd?”
“Obviously Sydney warned me that he was coming to slay me and fortunately, he missed. So, now, Sydney has to pay the price.”
“Poor guy. He’s been through so much. Krein is probably torturing him as we speak.”
“I don’t think so. Sydney guessed that Krein was mentally paranoiac. He may have witnessed something horrible during his childhood. Psychotic murderers do not think their murders through in a very organized way. He may be smart and try to make Sydney’s death look like a suicide, like he did with the other five. Turn left at this upcoming light.” She did as he told her to, and he pointed at the warehouse.
“That’s where the car is.”
“Stay here. I don’t have to handcuff you, do I?”
“You can’t do this by yourself, Parker. How do you expect to save Sydney and catch Mr. Krein at the same time?”
“Do you want a bullet in your head?” He did not reply and she handcuffed him. Before leaving the taxi, she took the keys with her and put him in the back. Once he was inside, he could not get out without outside help because of child security locks.
Miss Parker ran around the side of the huge warehouse and opened the door. She sneaked in quietly and removed her automatic gun. She traveled about for a minute or so before she saw a catwalk and decided to climb it.
Mr. Krein knew that Miss Parker had been following his every move into the warehouse and he pointed the gun at Sydney’s heart. “Come on out, Miss Parker, join the fun,” he called. His voice echoed all throughout the warehouse. He turned around and saw her standing right above him on the catwalk. Her gun was in both hands and she was ready to kill him. “Drop it, Parker, or your colleague gets to meet God before you do.”
“You’re gonna kill him anyway, so why should I listen to you?”
“Because I have someting to bargain with, and you don’t.”
“What’s that?” He smiled and opened his handy laptop for her. On the screen was a three minute clock. “I’ve placed a small hydrogen bomb in the Centre. By the time this clock reaches zero, say goodbye to your family.”
“You son of a-”
“I wouldn’t talk like that, if I were you, Parker. The bomb is controlled by the NASA satellite. I have manipulated it from my own ways. And at the time I press enter, the countdown will start.”
You said that you had no access to the Internet.”
“I said a lot of things that weren’t true.”
“How do I know that you’re not lying to me again?”
“Because I have a camera near the Centre that will show the mass destruction when the bomb goes off. Everything and everyone that you ever held dear in that place will die.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Why not?” He motioned her to throw her weapon down and to come down to his level. She did as he commanded and he handcuffed her into a chair. “You know, Parker, I’ve come to admire you for your strength. You pretend that you don’t need anyone-you’re really afraid to admit that you need someone to lean on.”
“And you were obviously the wrong person,” she snarled.
“Whose fault was that? Who trusted me and slept with me? Any death that is in the Centre because of the H-bomb will be your fault. Their blood lies in your hands.”
“What do you want from me then? What do I have to do to...” he wandered away from her and picked up her fallen Smith & Wesson 9 mm.
“Absolutely nothing, Miss Parker. Absolutely nothing.” He examined her weapon and removed the magazine. “You really did enjoy those massages, didn’t you?”
“I should have known better that a lunatic like you would try to lure me into a sexual relationship by starting with one lousy massage.”
“It’s all coming to you now, isn’t it? The common sense that you left long ago far behind you, right?”
“It all started when your hands touched my shoulders. That’s when it left.”
“Would you like to feel it again?” Mr. Krein put the gun and clip onto the table and strolled over to her chair. She remained taciturn. He crouched behind her and whispered right in her left ear, “Didn’t it feel good?”
“Yes, that’s why I wanted you to do it again.”
“What would you give me if I did it again?”
“A bullet through the skull if my hands weren’t cuffed.” An evil grin spread slowly across his face but she could not see it. Sydney did and averted his eyes.
“If I remember good enough, the worst part of your bdoy that got stressed out a the end of the day...was your neck.”
“If you touch me, Mr. Krein...”
“Are we making threats? Need I press the button?”
“No.” His hands moved to the nape of her neck and removed the black hair from the skin. He breathed his warm breath slowly onto it. She shivered as if he were breathing ice onto her.
“Have you ever had the feeling you were being watched?” he asked. Parker nodded as she saw some shadows move about the catwalk and they were carrying guns. Mr. Krein gently kissed her neck. “Because that’s what is happening. Jarod’s soulmate is here somewhere with her troops from the FBI.” He moved hastily away from her and pointed Sydney’s weapon at Sydney’s heart. “Come on out, Agent, I know you’re in here somewhere,” he called. He whistled like he was calling a dog. “Here, Agent, Agent, Agent Burke. Come out like a good girl and I won’t kill the two hostages.”
“Put down your weapon and release your hostages. You are surrounded,” said a male voice.
“Big deal. Would you rather them to die? You throw down yours, or they will.” Bailey Malone, an FBI agent of the VCTF stepped forward into the light with his own gun and aimed it straight at Krein.
“Then I’ll kill you.”
“I have no fear of dying, Agent. But they do,” he gestured to Miss Parker and Sydney. He went over to the computer and pressed enter.
Mr. Krein took aim at Malone, but he felt a tranquilizer dart hit him from behind. A fellow officer of Malone’s lowered the gun. Krein suddenly felt drowsy. He blinked his eyes twice and directed Sydney’s gun toward him. The officer was ordered by Malone to get Krein. However Krein fired the gun and it hit Sydney in the stomach. He dropped to the floor before the officer could hit him.
Agent Bailey Malone began to undo her restraints when she tapped him with her foot. “Quick! The computer’s counting down to a bomb in my business. He was going to kill everyone there.” He ran over to it and began frantically typing.
“What...should I do?” he stammered.
“Try shooting it.” He fired his gun twice and blew up the computer. The last thing that was on the screen before it blew up was ‘contact with satellite lost’. Then he loosened the handcuffs that were around her wrists. “How did the-” she was about to ask, but reconsidered. Jarod, she figured. Somehow he got out of the car to contact his girlfriend and their big team. Well, she didn’t care. Bailey turned to shackle Krein but found his officer’s body on the floor.
Miss Parker rushed over to the wounded Sydney and asked Bailey to call for an ambulance. “Co-worker, right?”
“Yeah.” They traveled outside the warehouse and the FBI officers helped put Sydney into the ambulance. Miss Parker went over to her car but Agent Malone stopped her. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Watch out for him. He’s a real psycho. He’s out to get Jarod.”
“Jarod? Jarod who?” She didn’t say anything more when she began the engine and drove off. Bailey shook his head and walked back over to the warehouse. Rachel joined him there. “Did you get a good look at that woman?” she asked him.
“Yeah. I think so. Why?”
“She kept this man imprisoned in a taxicab,” she pointed to Jarod, who strolled up to Bailey.
“Agent of the secret service, right?” Bailey grinned.
“Not at the moment.”
“Get fired?”
“It’s a long story, Bailey. You said that was Miss Parker, right, Jarod?”
“Correct. I managed to get the license plate number of the rental car for you if you need it, Agent Burke.” He handed her a scrap piece of paper.
“So you’re the Jarod she was talking about?” Malone wondered.
“Yes. Did you catch him?”
“He slipped right through our fingers. Officer Brian Dover hit the man in the back with a tranquilizer, and he shot that older man in the stomach. He faked being knocked out and probably ran while I was trying to disarm his bomb.”
“At least no one died,” she crossed her arms. They traveled into the warehouse once again and examined the blood that was on the floor beneath the chair Sydney had previously occupied.
“That was the chair where the man was shot. We have no idea who he was,” Bailey stated. Rachel looked over at Jarod, who had turned away from them to cry. Tears filled his eyes.
“What’s wrong, Jarod?” she inquired.
“That was Sydney Green. He had had a stomach operation about ten years ago, and I think that would will prove to be fatal,” he stammered. As Bailey and rachel put on their latex gloves, Rachel spotted a gun lying on the floor. “That was Sydney’s,” Jarod told her.
“Why did he carry a gun?” Bailey questioned.
“Bailey, there will be a time and a place to answer that question. This is not the time nor place,” she responded coolly.
Not too far from the warehouse...
Mr. Krein was swaying around because of the tranquilizer drug. He had lost his gun back at the warehouse somewhere, but he didn’t remember. He knew he had failed. And pretty miserably, too. But he would have to get back at that FBI agent Rachel Burke. She ruined his chance to murder. She would have to suffer.
Her pain would have to be much greater than the one Sydney or Jarod were going through right now. But he was too tired to care or notice where he was going. Krein tripped on a sidewalk and landed on his face on a garbage can. That knocked him out totally.
When Mr. Krein awoke, it was dark at night, about nine thirty. He smiled, got up, brushed his suit off, and walked to the nearest barber shop. “I want the hair died. Black to the roots.”
“Yes, sir, that will be about forty dollars,” the hairdresser said. He paid her with the cash that was in his wallet and he sat in the chair while she trimmed his hair and dyed it a jet black color. His next move was to go to the nearest gun shop, which he did. While he was there, he bought two guns (both Col 45 government models), a two-gun holster, and a knife. “You planning on a mass murder or what?” the cashier asked slyly.
Mr. Krein’s eyes had been following the cashier’s every move and until then had just been staring at his hands. They whipped up to the cashier’s level and the irises narrowed. “Okay, okay. Just joking.” Once outside the gun shop, he took out the knife and cut a long, painful gash on his left cheek.
Inside the FBI Violent Crime Task Force building...
Bailey sat down in his chair and motioned for Rachel to close the door as she left Jarod with him. She stopped over at the coffee pot to refill her old mug before returning to her own office. It’s been hell around here without George, she thought. Why did he have to be so selfish and do those drugs? A knock came to her door that startled her from her long train of thought. It was a young man who she had never seen before.
He had a scar down his cheek-a long one that looked pretty fresh and jet black hair. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt you, miss, but could you tell me where Agent Rachel Burke’s office might be?”
“That’s me. Who are you and how did you get into this building?”
“I’m from Washington. I got sent here to replace someone, I believe. My name is Norman Madison. Actually, I’m known in Washington as Agent Madison.” He held his hand to her as she stood up to greet him.
“I’m sorry I was so curt to you. We’ve been having some security problems in the Atlanta branch here, Agent Madison.” His grip was like an iron vice and she winced as he shook her hand. “Wow, that’s some grip you have there, Agent.”
“Thank you. I’ve received many of the same kind of remarks from each person who has had the opportunity to shake my hand.”
“So you were sent here to replace George, right?”
“I was not told that information. I was merely told that I was to go to the FBI Agency in Atlanta, Georgia, and that was to be my temporary station.”
“Temporary?”
“Yes. The FBI uses me all over the country. I think the only “hacker” better than your George was me. And so, I’m moved from FBI agency to agency.”
“Oh. How long does each agency require your presence?”
“Average time is about four weeks. The longest I’ve ever spent at an agency was in Washington, my permanent station. So what’s your latest case around here?”
“We had a psychopathic assassin escape not too long ago. His name is Mr. Krein. No one knows his real name or even first name. He’s wanted for killling at least five people that we know about.”
“So you’re the Profiler of the Atlanta FBI, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you could kinda, I don’t know....profile that guy?” He smiled charismatically as she offered him a seat. She sat back down and rifled through her desk.
“The guys in Ohio picked up some of the evidence. I can only make a few...hypotheses. I’m not....exactly sure if they’re accurate or not. I can’t promise anything...”
“You have to. Or else I won’t be able to do my job correctly.”
“Okay. I’ll do what I can.” She looked at the gun that Mr. Krein had used to murder Mr. Meeks with-Mr. Meeks’ own gun. It was a small automatic Beretta, about a 45 calibre. And she saw the evil look that came across Krein’s face when he shot Meeks. Another flashblack hit her. She heard a gunshot and saw a shocked child’s face.
Rachel took a sip of her coffee and relaxed. “I know he’s a white male, probably about the age of 28-34. He is very smart, but also, very much disturbed in the same way. He kills the victim to show that he has complete control over the victim’s life. And he portrays their deaths as suicides to make them appear to be weak.” Agent Madison (Mr. Krein) cracked his back and crossed one leg over the other.
“What about his motives?” he asked.
“I couldn’t tell that until I get a real report. We need to find out who this guy really is. What I want from you, Agent Madison...is it okay if I call you Norman?”
“We’ll stick to formalities for now, Agent Burke. Please.”
“Okay, what I was saying before was...what I want from you is Mr. Krein’s records. Only if you can find anything. We got a picture of him that should be coming out in ten minutes. I want that posted on the FBI site so we can find him or any information about him.”
“I’ll do my best. Where’s the nearest computer?”
“I will show you.” They got up and Rachel introduced him to his office and laptop. “This will be your official laptop, Agent Madison, until you leave. You will probably get constant e-mails, so don’t be astounded when it happens.”
“I’ll get started on the ‘Krein Project’ right away, Agent Burke.”
“Thanks. Oh, the scanner for the photo is in the top drawer to your left.” As she left, Bailey Malone had a small conference with her. She introduced Agent Madison to Bailey, who simply nodded his head and handed him Mr. Krein’s photo.
Inside Agent Burke’s office....
“You said that was who?”
“Agent Norman Madison from Washington, D.C. He’s here to replace George temporarily.”
“Temporarily?”
“That’s what he said. I wonder how he got that nasty cut down his face.”
“I got to take a good look at that picture that we developed.”
“And?”
“It’s too bad I didn’t shoot him.” He brought out another photo from a file he had been carrying. The photo was attached to a blank sheet of paper. Krein had a twisted expression of cruelty on his face.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Ah...I had someone take a lucky shot before we surrounded him.”
“He almost seems like a Jekyll and Hyde case.”
“Actually, more of a Hyde than Jekyll case, Rachel,” Jarod corrected her. “This man, for some reason, wanted to do away with all members of the Centre. Look at the five people he killed in his expedition in Cleveland. Look at Sydney, who is mortally wounded now. He’s not normal, that’s for sure.”
“He must have witnessed something terrible when he was young,” Bailey said.
“Or, something terrible was done to him,” Rachel replied. “So, Bailey, are you caught up on the situation we have on our hands?”
“It was very confusing at the moment, but, I’m starting to see things fit together. You know, Jarod, I’ll make a deal with you. You help us find this Mr. Krein character, and I’ll help you find your family. I promise.”
“Thank you, Agent Malone. By now, at least, the tranquilizer dart that one of your men shot into Mr. Krein’s back will be all used up. He must be wandering the streets-looking for victims connected with the Centre. Me.”
“He failed killing you once. Maybe he’ll quit,” Bailey said.
“No. I think Jarod was definitely right when he said that this guy wasn’t normal. A normal person would stop, because he’d have the brains or wouldn’t have the audacity.” Rachel sighed and drummed her fingers on the desk’s top. “Bailey, have you managed to get any autopsy reports from the boys in Ohio?”
“Yes. I have them right here in my hand.” He handed her a few manila files with pictures and autopsy reports. She first looked at Mr. Meeks. “Bullet to the head. Just one shot, right?” Her superior nodded.
“More or less. He was found on the ground a day after Mr. Krein had returned to...where’s that place of yours located, Jarod?”
“Blue Cove, Delaware.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“They found some rope markings on the body; on the wrists and ankles. Otherwise, they could have mistaken this for a suicide. Krein’s fingerprints were not traced to the gun Mr. Meeks was murdered with-only the victim’s. The gun was even strategically placed where it would have fallen if Meeks had killed himself. His ID, pager, cell phone, and wallet were nowhere to be found. They even searched the trash, but they were gone permanently.”
“Can you give us a low-down here, Rach?” Bailey inquired.
“The murderer has probably witnessed horrible things either being done to someone else, or to himself. Jarod, I don’t want to sound like you’re not wanted here, but I think you need to find a safe haven. With Mr. Krein knowing where I live, you’re not safe, like you said before.”
“I have. Don’t you worry. I’ll call on you on your phone to tell you how I am when I get there. Goodbye, Agent Malone. Nice to meet you again.”
“Same here, Jarod.” When the Pretender left the FBI building, Bailey got closer to Rachel and they whispered. “So did he tell you everything?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Depends on what you call everything, Rach. But I think he supplied me with adequate information about his previous life at this...Centre. I wonder why our boys didn’t know about this company up north.”
“Are you going to shut them down?”
“We don’t have enough evidence to convict the Centre. The only person that would be willing to testify against it is Jarod. He’s only one witness.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about the Centre,” Madison said from the door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I overheard your conversation. I can supply you with any information you need or want to know about it.”
“How?”
“While I was stationed temporarily in Delaware, I came to learn about this place called the Centre. I began to read up on it on the Internet and I found a very interesting website. Then I learned, that I, too, was one of the children that had been set free from Catherine Parker. I was dropped off at an orphanage. There, I spent hard years thinking about my experience at the Centre. I made it my obsession to find out anything about it. And somehow, I did.”
“When you were there, did you meet this man?” Rachel handed him a picture of Jarod and Madison shook his head.
“He must have been kept away in another part of the building. I remember making tally marks on my walls.”
“How about this...Sydney Green?” Bailey questioned. Madison’s eyes immediately narrowed. He wiped his dry lip with his tongue.
“My mentor. He taught me things. Taught me how to think for myself and how to think logically.”
“Logically? Would you please explain?”
“To become a Pretender, one has to think logically, even more logically than a normal human being would. He must think beyond who or what he is pretending to be. For example, when Jarod becomes, let’s say, a doctor, he does not focus his mind on his present job. He thinks in the past or present of who he’s impersonating. He must become that person without concentrating too much on his actual occupation. It’s a psychological aspect of becoming a Pretender.”
“I never mentioned this man’s name. How do you know this man to be called Jarod?” Madison paused and sucked in a deep breath.
“Yes, please, I would be very interested in how you have come to know Jarod’s name but not his face,” Rachel twisted her lip.
“Remember I told you that I visited their website? He’s the main subject of it, besides job applications. I learned everything about him from that website.” Bailey leaned back in a chair and sighed.
“Please don’t take this personally, Agent Madison,” he apologized, “it’s just that Agent Burke and I have been finding many flaws in this department of the FBI VCTF. We’re tired of the boys in Washington who aren’t doing their jobs for background checks.”
“I understand. If you’d like to read up on him, I can give you the website.”
“That won’t be necessary, Agent Madison. We trust you,” Rachel replied.
“Do you need me to research anything specifically?”
“Yes. Find out who Mr. Krein is. I already gave you his picture. Put him on our wanted men website. You can do that, can’t you?” A smile swept across his serious face and he walked out of the office.
“You still have that camera running in George’s office, don’t you?” Rachel inquired.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just checking.”
Agent Madison powered up his laptop and plugged the scanner into it. He altered the picture so the man looked nothing like him and posted “Mr. Krein”- ‘wanted for murder’ on the VCTF’s site. This time, when he pulled up his e-mail account, he wrote to Jarod for the first time using his real address instead of Sydney Green’s.
Jarod:
I’m right under your nose and you don’t know it. You can’t find me, and soon, very soon, I’ll be able to find you and kill you. Oh, that also goes for your FBI friend Agent Burke. Have you ever heard of a double agent? You may also tell your friend that somewhere, in her deparment is a leak. He’ll lead her right to me and her death.
He pushed the send button and looked at the security camera above him. He knew that they would be watching his every move; so earlier, he had looked for one in the office and put a lens cap onto the lens. Now Agent Madison took out a cigar and lit it as he pondered how to find Jarod.
About nine o’clock p.m., when Rachel arrived home...
Jarod phoned her and she picked up the receiver. “I got a threatening e-mail from Krein. He says that he’s got a double agent in your workplace.”
“We did get a man to replace George, but he seems to be pretty honest. He says in fact, Jarod, that he was rescued by Catherine Parker as a child.”
“What’s his name?”
“Norman Madison.”
“Tell me, Rachel, what do you think Mr. Krein is thinking now?”
“I believe he’s desperate for attention. We’re not giving him what he wants. Sometimes, I’m not too sure of what he wants besides your death.”
“Well, whatever he asks for, Rachel, give it to him. If he wants me, I’ll give up. I’m willing to sacrifice my life if it will save-”
“But Jarod, we don’t know if it will. With whatever kind of grudge this man holds against you or your Centre, I can guarantee you that he will not be satisfied if he takes your life.” She paused to run her fingers through her hair. “I love you, Jarod, and I don’t want to see you hurt. And I don’t want him to ruin us.”
“I won’t let him, for our sake.”
“Where are you, Jarod?”
“I want to tell you, but I cannot.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s best that we stay a distance from one another, just in case he’s following you. He might be listening to our conversation from somewhere.” Rachel instinctively spun around to look outside an open window. A tree rustled while a breeze blew its leaves around.
Agent Madison loaded his magazine and stared through the telescopic lens at Rachel. She was a perfect target, if only she did not move.
“I catch your drift, Jarod.” She began to pace as she was talking and look around her. “Have you heard anything recently about your Sydney character?”
“He’s back in Blue Cove. I know that. I called Miss Parker, but her phone is off the hook. Obviously, she does not want to talk to anyone.”
The leather jacket she was wearing made it harder for him to focus in on her heart. His hand moved to the trigger and took the safety off. He made sure it was purely impossible for her to see him and pulled it back.
The shot broke through a glass window. Rachel jumped in fright and threw herself down onto the wooden floor. The phone she had in her hand dropped to the floor and broke. Another one came through and broke the entire window. Glass shattered all over the dining room and onto Rachel. She groaned in pain as she felt the particles pierce her skin.
Rachel reached for her gun and drew it. But she knew that it was impossible for her to try and defend herself against Mr. Krein. Slowly, she crawled over to the broken window and kicked away the shards of glass. Again, a bullet soared into the room but this time broke a vase with roses in it on the table.
She checked her magazine clip and armed the gun. She held the gun up quickly enough to fire a shot, but not quick enough. He fired a shot a millisecond just before she did and knocked the gun out of her hand with a bullet. She grimaced in pain and leaned back against the wall. Her hand was bleeding profusely and she couldn’t touch it for risk of more pain. Suddenly, the bullets began to rip through the house and Rachel kept as far away from the window as she could.
With her uninjured hand, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her cellular phone. She dialed Bailey Malone’s number. He wasn’t there, so his answering machine picked up. “Bailey, it’s me. I’m at home. Our assassin has resurfaced. Please come, if you’re there! I’m in trouble!! Bailey!!” she screamed.
The shots stopped and she heard the sound of a car pull away. She hurried to her door and saw a car’s tire tracks imprinted on her newly planted chysanthemums.
Minutes later, she had bandaged up her wound and heard her doorbell ring. Before she answered it, she held her gun with her good hand and looked through the peep hole. It was Agent Norman Madison. She opened the door. “Are you okay? I happened to be walking down the street and I heard arguments. I also heard glass breaking.”
“How convenient for you to be here in my time of need.”
“What’s that, you say?”
“I said it must be convenient for you to be here in my time of need.”
“I’m only sorry I couldn’t have been your white knight earlier. Oh, no, you’re hurt.” He gawked at the bloody bandage on her hand. “Let me take you to a hospital.”
“I’ll be fine. He’ll be expecting me to go there, anyway.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Krein. He tried to kill me.”
“I see that. Is there anything I can do?”
“Well, there is one thing. Please come in.” She closed the door behind him and took him into her kitchen. His eyes passed quickly through her dining room and saw the broken window. “Before I ask you to do this, Agent Madison, I need to tell you something. This is not, in any way, supposed to be a come-on to you at all. Please understand that.”
“I’m very much confused.” Rachel got out a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol and a washcloth. “There’s some glass that’s gotten me just below the right shoulder and I can’t reach it. It’s been killing me ever since the bullet broke the window and I hit the floor.”
“Oh. You mean you want me to...oh, I see.”
“It’s not embarrassing for you, is it? Because I could go to the hospital, I guess. But it takes me twenty minutes because of the traffic.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose I could do so, but...I’m not very good with medicine stuff.” He removed his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Rachel took off her leather jacket and revealed a spaghetti strap shirt on underneath it.
“What did you find about Mr. Krein?” she asked with her back turned. He wet the washcloth with water from the sink and put the alcohol on it.
“He’d been incarcerated in the penitentiary in Blue Cove, Delaware for armed robbery. He got out on parole this last December.” Madison gently put the washcloth onto her shoulder. She winced at the feeling of sharp pain. As she did so, she took a shallow breath and he removed the washcloth immediately from her skin. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed. “What else?”
“He often isolated himself from the other prisoners when they had recreational time. He began to research about the Centre during his last few months when he saw the complex on his way out on a walk one day. He made it his goal to learn everything about the Centre. Like who was in it, what did it do, why was it there, that sort of thing.”
He went back to mopping her injured shoulder again and remained silent for a few seconds. Rachel received a flashback as she felt the damp washcloth touch her skin. She saw the eyes of Mr. Krein as a child-dark and sad.
“Did he have any psychological problems as a child?
“He was never really examined, but one would imagine that he does now, because he’s a psychotic killer.”
“Not imagine, Agent Madison. We would conclude that he has problems.” The scent of her perfume made him think twice about killing her here and now. She was like a little animal-hurt and wounded. However, she was trusting him, her unknown predator to take care of her...he couldn’t stand the agony. Either he would have to shoot her right now or give into the desire that was eating away at his soul.
“Have you ever had to...to sacrifice something for another person?” Rachel’s head lifted slightly. A perplexed look crossed her face, but Madison didn’t see it.
“Yes. I believe that all humans will have to do that at least once in a lifetime.”
“I...feel very uncomfortable around Bailey. He seems to be eyeing me from all sorts of angles and questioning me like I’m some sort of traitor.”
“I don’t understand what you’re-”
“I made a sacrifice by coming here, do you understand that? I could’ve refused this assignment and the FBI would have let me stay in Washington where I belong.”
“Yes, I do, Agent Madison, but-”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place. But my sacrifice is calling me to think, well...unprofessionally.” He dipped the cloth back into the rubbing alcohol and put it back onto her shoulder lightly.
“Towards who?” His lips trembled as he said this and he dropped the washcloth, “ You, Agent Burke.”
“I see. Perhaps it is for the best that you return to Washington.” She turned around and picked up the fallen washcloth. He had gone to do the same thing but their eyes met. Rachel put the cloth on the counter and his hand covered her unwounded hand. Several seconds went by when neither of them said anything. “Would you care for a glass of wine, Agent Madison?” she asked finally.
“Aren’t we being a little too...” She took his tie in her hands and felt the silk. She turned and led him over to the refrigerator where there was a bottle of white wine.
“The glasses are in the cupboard above the sink.” He retrieved them and she let him carry them while she led him with the bottle in one hand and his tie in the other.
While she poured the wine, he unbuttoned his top button and loosened his silk tie. “What was the word you were going to say, Madison?” she inquired.
“Uh, I’m not entirely sure anymore. I think we’ve gone beyond that point.”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “And I think it started when you showed up on my porch.” He took a sip of his wine and sighed.
“Well, maybe I should leave so we don’t do something that we both might regret.” By this time, they had had about two glassfuls of wine.
“What would I regret?”
“Aren’t you with that Jarod guy?”
“Jarod. Oh, Jarod. He’s out of town.”
“What?” he asked a little too tersely.
“He left town yesterday. I can’t tell you where he went because I don’t know.” Madison put his wine glass down and took out his Colt 45 Government model. Rachel’s eyes suddenly widened.
“That’s an interesting kind of gun for an American FBI agent to own.”
“It was a gift.” He took the magazine clip out of the gun and looked at how many shots he had left-about six.
“From whom?” She got up from the couch and sat on the arm of the chair that he was sitting on. That feeling of uneasiness was coming back to him again. He hid this from her as he studied the bullets.
“A friend,” a murmured and went back to stripping his gun. A smile draped itself across her face as she looked directly into his eyes. As she was staring at his eyes, a sudden flashback hit her of Mr. Krein’s eyes as a child. Those were the same ones as the ones she was looking at, weren’t they?
But this guy was different looking than Krein, sort of. Something she had said earlier popped into her mind and out of her mouth, “Agent Madison, where did you get that scar from, if I may ask?”
“A field mission that took me down to Miami, Florida. I wasn’t always a hacked for the FBI-I was once a field agent. I went against one of my superior’s orders, went on a personal vendetta against the criminal that killed my partner,” he pointed to his scar. “I thought I knew everything about him. The scoundrel had tricked me-I thought I had him cornered. But he had a way of getting out of the skirmish we had gotten into. He carried a pretty thick knife-army combat one, I think.” He paused to return her smile quickly.
“Is that all? Did you put him behind bars or what?”
“No. My administrator found out that I’d gone on a vendetta and had I caught him, I wouldn’t have been demoted.” He put his gun back together and put it back in his left shoulder’s holster. Madison took out the other gun and started to check its parts.
Rachel’s jaw tensed as she thought she snatched the gun away from his hands. She dropped the gun on the coffee table nearly, separated his lips with her fingers, and gently bent down to kiss him. He said nothing, but immediately accepted her. It was along kiss. “Tell me, Agent Madison, were there any girls in Washington worth staying there?”
“I mostly kept to myself, I wouldn’t know. I’m sure that Jonathan Grant would know.” She moved away from his face ans at back on the arm
“I suppose you heard rumors about us, didn’t you?
“Some. He just looked like the kind of guy that-:
“Well, he’s not. Agent Grant is the youngest professional FBI agent that I know. And he and I would never, not in a million....-”
“I didn’t say that I believed them. I said that I heard some.” Her grin returned as she realized that he was not the slimeball that she had thought he was. “Coffee, Agent Madison?”
“If you make some, I’ll drink it.”
“You could have said yes,” she said as she walked away. He recovered his gun, put it back, and began to look around at pictures of her. She had several frames of younger pictures with her and what looked like her younger siblings. He never had any brothers or sisters-just problems. And no love. He began to ponder where Jarod could be, maybe he could pry something out of her.
“Cream or sugar?”
“No thanks.” He took the mug that she offered to him and ran his hand over the silver frames. “You’ve got a nice family, Agent Burke.”
“Thanks. I only keep in contact with about one or two people, though.”
“Why? If I had family, I would...well...” Madison stammered and looked down at the floor while he drank his coffee. Rachel tapped her fingers on her mug and leaned against a wall by the mantel. She was beginning to feel a little uneasy, like he was not to be trusted. But he hadn’t taken advantage of her, even when he would have had the opportunity. “What do you mean by that, Agent Madison?”
“My parents died when I was very young. I saw them die. My dad pulled out his gun and shot my mother then himself.” His eyes were glued to the floor.
“I’m so sorry. Did they know you were there?”
“Yes. He looked at me before he killed himself and laughed. Then he pulled the trigger. I was six. Then I...” he caught himself. I’m revealing too much information, he thought. But he wanted to finish. “I was given to my uncle and aunt. They molested me. Sexually. For two years, I told no one. Then I guess my teacher found out somehow and the State Department took me away. I was passed from foster home to foster home. Nobody wanted me. I never knew what love was.”
Rachel was shocked. She had not expected this to happen.
“It makes me wonder, you know...how many people are screwed up at the FBI,” she muttered. “I had no idea, Agent Madison, I...I-” He stepped forward and his dark eyes searched through hers. She was frightened of him. It felt like she was going to expose him at any moment but yet he was strangely attracted to her. He wanted to stay.
Suddenly, a huge explosion shook the house and a tree outside burst into flames. He was close enough to her that when it happened, she threw herself into her arms. By instinct, she clung to him for about three second and came back into the real world. When she did, she let go of him. Madison had forgotten that he left his C-4 explosives in the tree where he had been watching her, and somehow, they went off. He burst through the broken window and searched the area. “Is this the work of your psychotic killer?” he asked her.
“Possibly.” A chill ran down her back and she turned to face him. “I don’t usually spaz out like this, Madison, but...I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” he answered. “We’d better get some CO2 on this quickly.” He saw an extinguisher in the kitchen and began to put out the fire on the tree.
“Thank you,” she said as he picked up his suit coat from the kitchen counter.
“For what?”
“Being my white knight.”
“And a nurse, don’t forget. I would say ‘the pleasure’s all mine’ except for what just happened.” Rachel grinned.
“So you’ll keep me updated on Mr. Krein?”
“Of course. What else do I have to do?”
“Practice with your guns.”
“I’m a computer hacker. I shouldn’t really need ‘em, but oh well.” He loosened his tie as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“Agent Madison, would you ever...like to have breakfast with me sometime?” she questioned as they walked to her front door.
“If you can cook.”
“Can I cook? Now there’s a good question that somebody hasn’t asked me for a long time. You just find out yourself.”
“The two of us? How early?”
“Any time, anywhere. Provided I have the materials.”
“Tell you what...Thursday, 7:30 a.m. Is that good enough for you?”
“Hey, you name your time. That’s good.” Madison opened the wooden door and screen porch door. He backed out, still watching her, and she followed him onto the porch. “There’s something that I’d like to give you to seal the deal, if you will,” he said.
“What’s that?” He put one arm on the pillar that she was leaning up against and bent down. Her eyes followed his movements and closed as she felt his mouth upon hers. She felt his desire when she leaned even further into the kiss and when she put her hand on the back of his neck. His suit coat dropped from his right hand onto the porch steps. But then, as she wanted him to continue and she tried to make him understand that, he gently, lightly, removed his lips from hers. He picked up his coat and as he got back up, he whispered into her ear, “sealed with a kiss.”
As Agent Madison left, Rachel began to ponder her life. Two men; both mysterious and with tortured pasts, but the question was, which one should she choose? Certainly one would be jealous of the other. Jarod really loves me and I can feel his warmth when he kisses me, she thought. But Agent Madison’s chemistry and mine go much farther. When I kissed him for the first time, I thought he was nonchalant and cold. But when he kissed me, I felt a flame begin to burn inside of me and him. Could he just be using me? Could Jarod be the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with?
Her cell phone rang and interrupted her thoughts. “Rachel Burke,” she answered calmly.
“It’s Bailey. Rachel, I just got home, are you okay?” He sounded worried.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Krein tried to kill you?”
“Yeah. Then, about five minutes later, Agent Madison came to my door and said he was walking in the neighborhood when he heard gun shots.”
“Walking, huh?”
“I didn’t see him driving away when he just left.”
“I meant that it was purely coincidental that he happened to be in the neighborhood, Rachel. Be very careful. You don’t know what could-”
“If you’re suggesting that Agent Madison tried to kill me, you’re an absolute lunatic, Bailey. I invited him to come in for a while. He had so many opportunities to do me in, it’s not even funny. He didn’t.”
“I’m not suggesting, I’m implying. Incidentally, we found a dead body in a dumpster just outside of Pierson’s Memorial Institute.”
“I’ll be right there,” she pushed the talk button to end the call.
Pierson’t Memorial Institute, 11:22 p.m.
Detective Jonathan Grant was stooping over the body when Rachel came up. “Nice to see you again, Rach,” Jonathan smiled.
“Long time, no see. What you been up to?” she inquired.
“All right, you two, enough small talk. You’re late.” Bailey sensed she was about to argue. “Save the explanation for later, Agent Burke.” He took out his notepad and pencil. As he read, he shoved the pencil behind his ear. “White single female, age twenty-five. No ID, no purse, no keys, nothing. The witness that found the body was a garbage man by the name of J.T. Fuller. I spent the last fifteen minutes talking to hospital volunteers and nurses. She was Dr. Jarod Tate’s last secretary.”
Shock hit Rachel like a load of bricks. Why would anyone kill Jarod’s secretary? Then the reason dawned on her: Mr. Krein.
“All we could get was her name from them,” Jonathan continued, “Tara Appleworth. She left work at seven thirty, which they said was usual, and the garbage man found her at nine fifteen tonight. Any first impressions?”
“Let me look at her. How was she killed, Grace?” The mulatto woman behind her glanced at a clipboard she had been making notes on.
“Bullet to the heart and she was beaten in the back of the head, at the base of the skull.”
“Was it enough to draw blood?”
“Yes. Quite a bit of blood, in fact. The victim’s fingers were dusted. Apparently, she was taken by surprised from behind, beaten to the point of blood, and then, when she was unconscious, shot in the heart.”
“So there was no struggle?”
“Right. Like I said, she was taken by surprise.” Rachel stared at the dead woman lying on the sidewalk in the streetlight. “Oh, one more thing, Grace, were the victim’s shoes found on her?”
“No,” Grant replied. “That’s one of the odd things. In any other case, this could be mistaken for a mugging. Her purse was gone.”
“I realize that, thank you, Detective,” Rachel snapped. His eyebrows raised when she spoke to him the way she did and his hands went to his hips.
“He’s been getting on my nerves, sorry, Jon.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Krein, our present psycho. It’s like he wants everything that is close to Jarod-everything that he grew up with, ever place he grew up in. Why?’
“I don’t know-that’s your job to figure it out. I just catch him.” Grant begant to walk back to his car and Grace Alvarez followed him. Rachel gazed into the sky and started to collect her thouhts. As she was doing so, Bailey approached her again and tapped her on the shoulder.
“We need to talk.”
“What about?”
“For one thing, about this Jarod character.”
“What is there to say?” Rachel continued to watch the stars twinkle.
“He needs to be notified about his secretary’s death.”
“Jarod wasn’t a real doctor, Bailey.”
“Oh that’s right, I forgot. However, some pictures were dropped off anonymously in a brown envelope at the office tonight, and well...I’m...”
“Spit it out, Bailey. I’m tird and I want to go home.” Her breath hit the sky in a cold visible cloud.
“I guess a good word for my reaction would be ‘flabbergasted’. I had no idea what to say or what to do about these pictures of you and Jarod-in the park, osculating?!” The Profiler’s head snapped back to look at Malone’s serious face.
“Was it dropped in the overnight box? Postmarked? Delivered by hand?”
“Stop it, Rachel,” his tone became very grave. “It does not matter how it got here or who took the pictures. I think you need to set your relationship with Jarod from a far away distance.”
“Oh, forget it, Bailey-”
“NO! You stop-right now!!” Her eyes went to the ground. She had never seen him get this angry. “It’s very unprofessional for an FBI Profiler to get involved with a victim or witness. And I’m sick of the stuff that I have to deal with in this office! George just got suspended for drugs, and now you are breaking the professional code! I’m tired of it, Rachel! As your superior, until you can get things resolved, I’m going to have to order you to hand over your badge and personal weapon.” Tears filled her eyes that were still staring at the ground.
“Isn’t...isn’t there a way that, that we could...work this out?” she asked weakly after about a minute of silence.
“No. This is the only way, Rach. I wish that I could bend the rules, just for you, but if I couldn’t for George, I can’t for you,” he whispered gently. Slowly and silently, she dug out her wallet and removed the badge. She placed it into his palm and at the same time, her automatic gun. “I’m sorry, it had to be this way, Rach. There was no other oway. Call me when you’ve settled your matters. I’ll be waiting to give these back to you.” Bailey sighed and turned around. He got into his car and drove off.
“I’m sorry, too, Bailey,” she answered to no one as she drove away in her car.
VCTF Headquarters, 11:47 p.m.
Agent Bailey Malone arrived back at his office and slammed his door shut. He hated himself for doing that to Rachel. Naturally, he could see why she would hate him for suspending her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took off his suit coat. Things just weren’t working the way they were supposed to. Things were a lot smoother when Sam was around-no. He told himself that he was not going to compare Rachel to Sam when he first met Agent Burke. And he was not going to let himself do it now. Especially when she was gone.
A knock came to his door. It was Grace with the autopsy reports. “Here’s the stuff from Tara Appleworth’s death like you asked, Bailey.” He lit a cigar and held it in his hand while he looked over the file briefly.
“Thanks, Grace. It won’t do me much good-since she’s gone.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. But I’m gonna have to sometime.” She closed the door and sat in one of his client chairs.
“You might want to start from the beginning, so you don’t confuse me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Come on, ring,” Detective Jonathan Grant cursed, while holding his cell phone close to his ear while he drove home. “Pick up the phone, George.”
“Hello?” a tired voice asked.
“George, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What kind?” he yawned.
“I know this is kind of illegal, but could you hack into the FBI Employment Records and find out if an Agent Norman Madison is in the Washington branch, please?”
“Let me get to the computer.” Jon’s hand gripped the steering wheel more tightly as he waited for George. “Okay, I’m looking for who in Washington or Atlanta?”
“Agent Norman Madison. He’s our temporary hacker here.”
“Hmm...intersting.”
“What, did you find anything?”
“Let me get on the Net, first.” In one minute, George had cracked the codes of the database and typed in ‘Agent Norman Madison’. “Your new hacker, did you say?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Why are you so concerned about this guy?”
“I don’t trust him. The surveillance videos that used to be in your office are still there, but I just checked them today. He put lens caps on them so we can’t see what’s going on in that office. Something’s very funny here.”
“Well, well, well.”
“Yes?”
“There was a record of employee #335760 called Agent Norman Madison in the FBI’s Employment Records. But, he was killed during the Cold War. I think your suspicions were correct, Detective Grant. Your hacker is using a fake name-I think you should find out the reason why.”
“I will. I’ll find that slimeball and confront him. With Bailey behind me, of course.”
“Of course. Is there any hope of me getting back yet, Jon?”
“You know the answer to that. Two more weeks for you, George. You have to be off of those drugs for six weeks. It takes self-control. You can do it.”
“It’s been so hard, but at least I’m getting rest. I want you to know that I appreciate your backing me up, Jon.”
“No problem. And thanks for the help.” Grant pressed the talk button and threw the phone onto the passenger seat next to him. He shifted gears and accelerated to eighty miles per hour. Bailey’s gotta know, but more importantly, Rachel’s gotta know. When he arrived at the building, he was surprised to see Rachel’s car not in its usual spot. She usually works late with Bailey at this time of night, he thought. Grant picked up his cell phone and attached it to his belt. “Where’s Rach?” he asked, barging in on Grace and Bailey’s heart to heart talk. He saw the frown on both of their faces. “Oh, I’m sorry. This was bad timing.”
“Not terribly, Jonathan. You might as well be the next to know,” Malone sighed.
“To know what?”
“Rache’s suspended.”
“What? How are we going to-how did that happen?”
“You remember that guy that came here a while ago as a secrety service agent?”
“Vaguely. What’s that got to do with her?”
“They had an affair.”
“And you’re suspending her because of that?”
“You know the rules, Jon. When she breaks off the ties with him, I’ll be more than happy to hand her badge and gun back to her.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t. Rachel would never-”
“She has, Jon. She’s a human; she makes mistakes,” Grace said gently. “And Bailey, I think, has made the right decision.”
“Am I squared away for tonight? Do we have anything else to accomplish?”
“I don’t think so. You can leave, Jon. I don’t want you to go to her house and question her about it. It is her own personal business, not yours.”
“Where’s that new guy?”
“I gave him the night off to gather more material about Mr. Krein. Tomorrow, I am expecting to get a full lecture about his past and what screwed this guy up. You can leave, too, if you want, Grace.”
“I’ve got a few things to finish with the newest vicitm, Miss Appleworth.” She got up from the seat and brushed past Detective Grant lightly. He followed her and left.
Rachel’s house...
“Rachel, I’ve been able to see Sydney since I last spoke to you.”
“Great, Jarod, but-”
“The doctors say that he might be able to make it, but if he does live, then he won’t be able to eat normally anymore.”
“Tell him I’m sorry that he got hit. Jarod, I have something important to tell you.” Right as she finished her first sentence, the other line began to flash. “Let me take this other person. I think it might be Bailey.”
“Rachel, this is Agent Madison. I just heard about a woman’s death. Is everything okay?”
“No, Agent Madison. I got suspended.”
“Sorry to hear that. Are we still on for breakfast on Thursday? I don’t have to come to work until eleven.” She sighed and leaned her against the couch she was reclining on. “Why not? See you then, Madison.”
“Thank you for not telling Bailey where I am,” Jarod said.
“I don’t even know where you are, Jarod, so how could I tell him?”
“True. But I would have figured that the FBI has a tracking device or something like that that you would use to hunt me down.”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you, Jarod. I was suspended today because somebody took pictures of us and they ended up on Bailey’s desk.”
“I see.” He paused and thought. “I could arrange a time for us to-”
“Jarod, our relationship isn’t going to last long by brief cameos.”
“Cameos?”
“You know, when you or I show up because we happen to be “in the neighborhood”? That’s what I’m talking about. Love can’t function when people rarely see one another. And please don’t take this the wrong way, Jarod, but, we can’t go on doing this. I can’t keep this relationship with you anymore.”
“Have I done something wrong to hurt you, Rachel?”
“NO! Nothing at all, Jarod, do you hear me? You did nothing wrong. It’s just that we are two very different people who lead two very different lives. We can’t have anything more than a friendship because of that reason.”
“I understand you. Do you mean by saying this that I can never call you or show up one night at your doorstep?”
“No, Jarod. I mean that we should just be friends. Nothing more. Keep in mind this, Jarod. I love you. As a friend.” She hung up and got ready for bed.
April 13th, 2000, the next morning, Rachel’s house...
Agent Madison knocked on her door and she opened it. “Morning, sunshine,” she grinned. He returned her smile and sat down at her table. “I have only a couple of things left to finish before we can...hey, are you okay?”
He was staring into space. When her eyes found his, she waived a finger in front of his eyes and he came back into the real world. “Are you okay, Madison?”
“Yeah. Have you made any coffee? I think I need some already.”
“Yes.” As she poured him a cup and went about her cooking, she saw a flashback. It was when she was talking to Bailey the night before.
“If you’re suggesting that Agent Madison tried to kill me, you’re an absolute lunatic, Bailey.”
“Be very careful. You don’t know what he could-”
But then it occurred to her-he could. “Madison, I...I need to be very blunt with you.” He drank his last drop of coffee after she said this.
“What about?”
“Rememner those things you were telling me last night about your family? And, well...something inside of me...is telling me not to-”
“Trust me?” She turned the bacon over in her black skillet and raised the heat of the fire. Her back was also turned, but she heard the chair move as he got up.
“Yes. Not that I think you’re some sort of-” He put his arms around her waist and her emotions began to tense.
“Lunatic?” he whispered in her ear.
“I don’t want to. But yet, after all you told me last night...” Madison began to gently turn her and she lost her concentration. He knew this and reached over her to switch the heat off of the bacon.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood to eat now,” he murmured. “And I don’t think you are, either.” She shook her head as he led her over to the couch.
“Does it matter to you that I might be a madman anymore, Agent Burke?”
“No.”
“Show me.”
Detective Jonathan Grant smoothly shifted gears as he pulled inside of Agent Burke’s driveway. He hoped she would be awake at this time of the morning. She usually was, but sometimes she did sleep in. He was just about to ring her doorbell when he saw two shadows. Grant removed his handheld Beretta from its holder and bent down below a window.
He heard some laughing and switched off the safety. He looked inside the window and saw Madison with Rachel. More importantly, he saw them on the couch together. He clutched the gun as he watched them. “Oh, no,” he muttered and put the gun back. Grant crawled back to his car and started it. He pulled out angrily and sped off.
VCTF Headquarters, 11:30 a.m., The firing range...
Agent Madison selected a pair of red headphones to wear and slid his FBI ID card down a scanner. The glass door that was connected to the scanner opened mechanically and shut after he went inside after about ten seconds. He ran the same card down another scanner and the small screen flashed a message: “ready”. He pressed the enter key. Another message came: “select program.”
Madison randomly picked a number and typed it in. A computer voice asked, “Please enter again to verify code number.” He did and the voice’s next message was this: “your program selection has been verified. Level six, blue entry, number 370. Please load your weapon, put your headset on for hearing safety, and the program will start in thirty seconds. The first target will be set at ten meters and it will move randomly. When you hit a bullseye within five shots, a bell will ring and the next target will appear at twenty meters. Please wait.”
He put his headphones on and took out both of his guns. Madison waited patiently for the first target and began to fire. The bullseye was hit within three shots. The target moved back and another began to come forward.
The door opened and a voice said “Program terminated. Please make another selection.” Madison turned to see Detective Jonathan grant slide his ID card down teh scanner. He took off his headphones and put his guns back.
“I want to talk to you,” Grant said without looking up. He started to enter various numbers and pressed enter. The voice softly began to talk again as he strolled over to Madison. “Your program has been verified. Level seven, gold entry, number 15. The first target will be set at twenty meters and will move randomly.”
“What about?” Madison asked.
“Your research. I want to know what you’ve found out about Mr. Krein.”
“When you hit a bullseye within four shots-”
“That’s not your concern,” he snapped. “I report only to Agent Malone. You’re not my superior.”
“I’m gonna grill you.” Grant put his headphones on and took out his Beretta.
“Is that a threat?”
“You could take it that way.” He fired three shots and two of them hit the target. One completely missed it. “It’s a warning, Madison.”
“What did I do?”
“I know you’re not who you say you are.” Madison’s eyebrows furrowed. Grant fired another three shots and pulled out the empty magazine. He threw it on the ground and pulled one outs from his belt. The young FBI agent reloaded his gun and took off his headphones. “And I’m gonna grill you. And until I can get further proof, I suggest you stay away from here and Agent Burke’s house.”
“You can’t order me around. I can do whatever I want.”
“You mean lie about your identity?” Madison began to back up and Grant followed, pointing his gun at him. “Or use Agent Burke to fulfill your lust?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t, huh? I’ve been doing some inquiry of my own, Agent Madison. You’re not a real employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You’ve been using the name of an employee who’s been dead for ten years. I’d like to know just who you are and why you’re here?!” By this time, Madison was against the wall. Grant was only a foot away from him.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Malone inquired as he opened the door. “Grant, are you using your personal weapon for business or pleasure?” The young man quickly hid his small gun and turned around.
“We were just having a minor disagreement on who would use the firing range first, sir,” Grant replied.
“Is there some reason why you had to back Agent Madison into a corner?”
“No, sir,” he answered. Madison cleared his throat and crossed his arms.
“Well, enough of this, you two. We don’t have time to waste on a firing range. We have to find a homicidal maniac. There’s no telling when he’ll strike next. Grant, when you’re finished here, I want to see you for about five minutes.”
“Is it important, sir? Or can it wait?”
“I guess it can. I’m giving you three minutes to be ready; the both of you.” Bailey let the door close by itself on the way out.
“Like I said, Madison, or whoever you are, keep away from Rachel! I will kill you myself if I ever see you over at her place again!!” Grant warned.
Madison opened the glass door and walked out calmly. He took the laptop computer that was sitting in his office and traveled to the front room. Once he was there, he connected the computer to the big projection screen. The others (Grace, Grant, and Bailey) arrived as he turned the computer on.
“Have you turned your autopsy yet, Grace?” Bailey questioned.
“Yes. I have very little to add to what I observed last night at the scene of the crime. The killer, according to my research, could have been Mr. Krein. I cross-referenced with our branch in Cleveland and they found one of the victims, Mr. Jackson, was slain the same exact way that I found. He was found outside of The Cleveland Clinic Medical Building downtown Cleveland. He had been hit at the base of the skull, just as Miss Appleworth was, and shot in the heart.”
“Was it the same kind of bullet?” Grant asked.
“No. I did happen to ask that question on the phone and the doctor there said that the bullet was a .357. The bullet that killed Miss Appleworth was a .45. So, unless we can prove otherwise, we have no evidence to convict Mr. Krein. I’m sure psychologically, we could track him down, piece by piece.”
“We can’t,” Grant started to pace back and forth. “Our Profiler’s gone.”
“We’ve done it before, Jon. We can do it again,” Bailey assured him. “Agent Madison is number one in his field in Washington. I guess this is where I turn the research part over to you, Madison. Educate us.”
“All right, this is the long and short of it.” He began to explain his history in prison and finished up his story by sighing. The three eyed him very carefully.
“Thanks, Agent. Now, we need to build a profile. You say that Krein was obsessed with the Centre, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Can you, Madison, look on the FBI’s records and find out about Mr. Krein’s history before his incarceration?”
“I already tried that, but everything was wiped out. I even tried Interpol. His records, somehow, completely disappeared.” Grant bit his tongue and lip.
“Can you prove it to us?” he asked. Each FBI agent’s eyes went to him. “I’d just like to know-to be able to see it for myself. It’s not that I don’t trust Agent Madison’s hacking abilities, I just want to see it.”
“Suit yourself.” Madison began typing away on his computer, and on the screen, the FBI Search Service provided a response: “no records to match search. Please try again.”
“Did he have another name?” Grant inquired.
“What?”
“Try looking into Delaware State Penitentiary records and finding his real name with his picture.”
“I don’t think I can do that, can I?” Madison asked Bailey.
“If we have a legitimate excuse for looking, yes. Are you positive that he had a different name, Grant?”
“No, sir. Just a theory.”
“Rachel would give it a go,” Grace added. Malone’s brown eyes stared long and hard at the blinking cursor on the screen. “Do it, Madison.”
He nodded and began typing quickly. “I’m not searching to find a previous name for Mr. Krein, right?”
“Yes,” Grace uttered. Finally, he got into the records.
“That was pretty quick. George’s hacking episodes used to last for at least a good three minutes,” Malone commented.
“I’m not your George, Agent Malone.” You sure aren’t, Grant thought. He caught Bailey’s peeved expression. Good. I’m not the only one that doesn’t appreciate his comments.
“He got thrown in there for armed robbery and he’s out now. He’s listed in her under the name William Myers. He served ten years,” Madison reported.
“Put it on the screen,” Bailey commanded and he did so. “Any past convictions under the same name?”
“No. Just a few minor traffic violations.”
“Did he kill anyone in the armed robbery?” Grant questioned.
“I can’t find that out on the prison record page. I would have to go into the actual police records or court cases. I can do that, I just need a little time.”
“Time that we don’t have,” Bailey mumbled. “Agent Madison, I want those court cases or police records ASAP. Print them out, put them in a manila folder, and leave them on my desk. Also, I want you to contact Jarod.”
“Jarod? Who’s Jarod?”
“One of Agent Burke’s friends that has helped us out. Find him. I don’t care how you do it.”
“Does he have a last name?”
“Not that I know of. And you won’t find it in the FBI’s records. I’m certain of that.”
“Where will you be?” The superior got up from his seat and signaled Grant to come with him. “I will be in my office with Detective-” the ringing of a phone interupted him.
Madison picked it up. “Agent Madison, FBI, VCTF.”
“Is Agent Bailey Malone available?” He motioned Bailey to come to the phone.
“It’s for you,” he whispered. “Do you want me to put him on the speaker?”
“Let me answer, then I’ll decide.” Bailey took the phone from Madison and answered. “This is Agent Malone, how can I help you?”
“Agent Malone, this is Jarod.”
“Jarod, can you please hold on a minute? I need to go to my office.” He gestured for Madison to begin tracing the call. Madison quickly hooked up the wires onto the telphone and laptop. Bailey pressed the intercom button. “Now, Jarod, what do you need me for?”
“I’ve been doing some research. One of your agents in the VCTF building isn’t who he or she seems to be. I got an e-mail from Mr. Krein informing me that he has a double agent working there.” The hacker put a map up of the U.S. and a line began from Atlanta, Georgia to go all arond it.
“Is that so, Jarod? We found your ex-secretary’s body in a dumpster last night. We think she was murdered by Mr. Krein, but we have no conclusive proof.”
“As soon as I find some myself, I will tell you who the double agent is. I have some circumstantial evidence, but nothing truly factual. Tell me, Agent Malone, does Agent Burke mean so little to you that you would suspend her?”
“She was going against governmental policy, Jarod. I had no choice. Did she tell you she was suspended?”
“Yes. She was about to tell me something else when I lost contact with her. And when I tried to call her house this morning, I got a message from the phone company that her line was disconnected. I’d like to know what’s going on, Malone. Did you make her move?” Several thoughts were running through Bailey’s mind before Jarod asked his question. He looked over Madison’s shoulder.
“He’s in South Carolina. I’m getting the city-it’s a suburb near Charleston. Wait a minute. Keep him on the line.”
“Why would I make her move, Jarod?”
“Sometimes the government has different ways of disposing their past employees.”
“If you’re implying that I fired her, Jarod, you’re wrong. The reason why, and I think Rachel told you this, unles I’m wrong, is because you two were involved. It it appropriate morally, and against government status for an FBI Profiler to be involved with a wintess!” A star up on the map told Bailey that the search was finished. Jarod was in Gladysville, South Carolina. “When she ends your relationship, she is welcome to come back. I told her that.”
“She ended it last night. I think you’d better call her. You want to catch a serial killer, don’t you?” He hung up and the dial tone was heard on the intercom before Bailey could say anything else.
“Is there something you want me to do?” Grant inquired. “Do you want me to take a team to Gladysville?” Bailey was scratching his chin and he reached inside of his pocket for a cigar. He lit it with a lighter and exhaled a puff of smoke.
“No, Grant. I need you to run an errand for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Take some things over to our friend. Quickly. And see if she’s up to coming back today.” Grant grinned and followed his boss back to his office. Bailey gave him her gun and badge. “Hurry, Jon.” He agreed and walked briskly back to his car.
“Oh, and Agent Madison-” he called, but the hacker was gone. His laptop remained on the table with a blank screen adjacent to it.
Rachel’s house, 1:57 p.m.
Her cell phone rang and the empty wine glass that she had been holding in her hand dropped to the floor. She felt horrible and rolled off of the couch onto the floor where the ringing phone was. “Hello?” she asked groggily.
“Rachel,” a male voice answered insistently.
“Speaking. Who is this?” The cracking noise from his line made her get up from the floor.
“Rachel. Don’t trust him. You must believe me. He’s the double agent.”
“Who? Who are you?”
“Agent Madison. Don’t let him come into your house or ever meet him anywhere. It’s important that you...” it began to fade but then it came back stronger. “This is Jarod. Please hang up and bolt your doors.”
“Wh-what?” her speech was slurred.
“Jarod? What’s going on?”
“Lock your doors right now and keep away from Agent Madison. He’s Mr. Krein and he’s going to kill you.” Rachel hobbled into her kitchen and began to open her cupboards as she listened to him. “I’ll try to get to your house as soon as possible. I’m on an airplane right now. Be very-”
She pushed the talk button before he could finish his sentence as she was reaching for a bottle of Excedrin. The doorbell rang as she swallowed two pills and she made her way to the front door. Agent Madison was waiting for her and he smiled evilly as she opened the door to him. “Did you have a good night’s sleep, my love?” he asked and realized that she was intoxicated. Good. That made her all the more vulnerable.
“Oh...” she rubbed her forehead and leaned against the doorpost. He went inside of the house and wrote a short note. In case you miss her, she’s gone shopping for time, he quickly wrote. Madison then came back and gently led Rachel into his car.
Minutes later...
Grant pulled up in Rachel’s driveway and rang the doorbell. When no one came to answer it, he turned the knob. It was open; then he knew something was wrong. He rushed inside and read the note. “No,” he muttered softly and the cell phone that Rachel had left on her kitchen counter rang.
“Rachel, this is Jarod. I’m on my way to your house in a taxi and-”
“You’re gonna hafta make him go faster, Jarod. Rachel’s not here. I think Madison took her. She’s in trouble and if he’s who I think he really is, then we don’t have much time on our hands.”
“Call Bailey right away. Is this Jonathan Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Hurry. He doesn’t leave ransom notes or a bargain for his captives. He shoots on sight.”
The Clock Tower, Atlanta, Georgia
Rachel’s hangover got worse as her headache increased its intensity. She had passed out in Madison’s car and when she awoke, it hurt even more to lift her head. But she forgot about the pain momentarily to open her eyes and get her bearings. She saw a clock face in front of her and she tried to move, but soon found out that her appendages were handcuffed to a wall behind her.
Her jailer was as handsome as ever and was apparently making a phone call on his cell phone. “Yes, she’s here right with me. You don’t believe me. Well, I’ll just have to wake her up-” he walked over to her and kissed her passionately. She did not respond to him. “Hmm...this one wasn’t so good, eh?” he asked her. Again there was no answer.
“She’s giving me the silent treatment, Jarod.”
“What do you want?” Jarod’s annoyed voice came over the line and Rachel straigthened up when she heard it.
“You. Only you may answer my riddle. I don’t want her federal friends hanging around the tower. If I see one FBI man, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger. You know I’m a madman, Jarod. You’ve seen what kind of a lousy deal-maker I am. I go one way or another. I take you or her down with me.”
“If that’s how you want to play your game.”
“It’s not about me, Jarod. You should know that.”
“Who is it about?”
“You’ll find out when you come,” he snapepd and pushed the talk button. His comely features began to disappear as thunder growled and lighting flashed outside. His face looked even darker than before she saw him in the warehouse with Sydney Green and Miss Parker. “Are you going to use my own gun to murder me just like the others?” she asked timidly.
Madison began to pace back and forth, not answering her. He stared outside at the ominous storm’s power and stopped after a few times of pacing. “They don’t give you very much credit for your genius. You took all of us for a good ride. But what do you want now that you have them at your fingertips?”
The thunder rumbled furiously after she asked him that question and his head flew in her direction with a glacial scowl. There was no charm, no humor, no kindness on his expression. The transformation that she had thought about earlier with Jekyll and Hyde was just a facade. He was Mr. Krein, or William Myers. An evil monster that had been in a tortured cage and is now free on its own rampage; ready to kill anything or anyone that gets in his way.
“Why are you doing this? What is it inside of you that wants to kill so much?” she inquired again and her eyes widened as he came forward. His eyes were the eyes she had seen on a cold blooded killer not three days ago. They burned into hers as he grabbed her by the throat. Finally he spoke, but the words did not comfort her, as she had hoped.
“You’re the Profiler. Figure it out!!!” His voice had turned into a rapsy snarl-no longer a smooth and calm voice that had been whispering love into her ear twenty four hours ago. The blackness outside in the storm seemed to creep around her as his fingers tightened their grip around her throat. It filled her with fear; a terror that she had never felt before.
He shook her and pushed her head against the wall hard before releasing his fingers. Madison removed both of his guns and checked the magazines. Both were full and ready to be fired at any time. “Krein! Krein!” Jarod’s voice called to him from below the tower. The serial killer went to a place where he could see his ultimate enemy and motioned for him to come forward. “Come up and die,” he taunted him.
“Is Rachel up there with you?”
“She may be, she may not be. Face your fate.” The Pretender disappeared from sight and made his way up the tower stairs. The only entrance to the tower was the panel four feet from Rachel and Madison’s guns were pointed right at the entrance. He hid behind a few of the large gears in the shadows that were turning and the storm continued to pour out its fury outside.
In two minutes’ time, the panel opened. Jarod, soaked, but armed with a knife threw it open and lifted himself out of the stairs. Madison took aim and Rachel saw him. She tried to warn Jarod, but it was too late. The serial killer fired his guns twice. Jarod went down with two bullets in the right shoulder. He grabbed it before keeling over. Madison appeared from his hiding place and kicked Jarod in the ribs with his thick soled shoes. Jarod winced and groaned, but he kept his grip on the knife. He gave one weak attempt to stab Madison with it, but Madison evaded the attack and crushed his large shoe onto Jarod’s wounded shoulder.
That was enough to make Jarod scream in pain and lose the knife. His enemy bent down and picked it up. As the Pretender was lying crumpled on the floor, Madison kicked him in the ribs again and stabbed him in the back near the kidneys. “Why? Why are you doing this to him? Coward!!” Rachel hollered and struggled in her chains to try and free herself.
Madison ignored her and kept his sinister glare on Jarod. “Get up.”
Jarod rolled over onto his stomach and grunted. “I said get up, you weakling,” he growled. He brought his fists together into one and slammed all of his might onto the fresh knife wound that he gave Jarod. Finally, Jarod mustered up some strength and swept his leg under Madison. Madison fell hard onto the wooden platform they were battling on. Jarod slowly stood and retrieved his fallen knife. “Now it’s time for you to feel the pain.”
Without another word, he ran up to Madison and thrust the knife into his stomach. Madison began to breathe hard and more slowly as he dropped the guns to grab madly at the knife that was impaling him. “What pain? The pain of-” Madison paused to try and catch his breath. “Of hundreds of families who turned away a small child because he was...different? Or the pain of...seeing your father shoot your own mother in front of your eyes.” Madison began to walk backwards and he stumbled against the wall that Rachel was handcuffed to.
“Or the fact...that your only living relatives...took advantage of you?”
“That’s not my fault,” Jarod replied coldly and picked up one of the forsaken guns. He held it in a defensive position, just in case Madison was trying to fake his death.
“No, it was. All of you...in the Centre. You all...are one...in the same. It ruined my life. And I would have no rest until I saw that all...who are in it...would suffer a pain greater than I.”
“It wasn’t my choice to live in the Centre.”
“You...still belong to them. You may think...that you’re free...but you’re not. You are still Sydney’s lab rat.” Jarod’s anger burned up inside of him and before he knew it, he had squeezed the trigger of the gun he had been holding. The bullet flew through the air hundreds of miles per hour and landed in the wall just inches above Madison’s head.
Rachel turned her head as far as she could to see Madison cover the knife with both of his hands and pull it out of himself. The first thing he did was to slide the handcuff keys into her hands before dropping to her feet. She quickly released herself and got down on her hands and knees beside Madison. Then her eyes went up to Jarod-she saw the impulse-and the animosity. “No, Jarod, control yourself, don’t-” But it was too late.
The bullet penetrated the fresh wound and Madison howled in anguish.
“Did you get your revenge? Was that enough?” Jarod barked.
“Please, Jarod, call an ambulance.” Suddenly, he was brought into the real world and he realized what he had just done. “NOW!” she raised her voice.
“But...I-” he tried to comfort her, but she pulled away.
“Get out of my sight,” she spat. She lifted his head up onto her lap and stroked his hair after the panel went down. “Is there no forgiveness?” she asked him.
“No one can change my heart but me. And I feel no remorse for what I have done,” he choked.
“What about for them?”
“No.”
“What did I do to wrong you?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I am sorry though, for my selfishness with you.
“What?” His eyes began to flutter and his breathing became less involuntary.
“I’m sorry you had to get involved. I did...” he sighed and coughed. With all his remaining might, he pulled himself up to her lips and kissed her gingerly. As it left him, he gradually fell back into her arms. “Love you,” were his final words. His eyes closed and Rachel frantically searched for a pulse, but he was dead.
THE END
