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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer in Part One.
By the way, in case we never noted it, this story does not acknowledge that the Pretender 2001 movie ever happened at this point. Just in case anyone was wondering about that. And it also takes place before last year's presidential election.
The Road Taken
part 7
by Renewal Wing
Lyle wanted to get back to work immediately, working to protect his son, but he had enough trouble just making it to his office. His back hurt more today than it did yesterday, in fact it hurt like hell. He carefully sat down at his desk, making every effort not to jar anything. It was all he could do not to fold in half; he was so tired; and the bruising on his side seemed to be spreading rather than clearing. Lyle was beginning to suspect something was seriously wrong and he had no time for it.
Mr. Parker had said, "That baby is the one the Triumvirate is waiting to get back..." Not your son; not my grandson, just that baby. Mr. Parker had proved he did not give a damn about either of his children, and now his grandson was just another tool to be used and dismissed. Lyle had hoped against hope that he would be allowed to take over the search for Thane, just to ensure the Triumvirate continued to wait for what they wanted. His father knew Thane was really his son, even though Lyle pretended indifference, yet he did not trust him to take over the investigation. He was to find Ethan.
Lyle spent an hour reviewing possible leads on Ethan. Jarod had made no effort to reveal his half-brother's location, not that Lyle had expected it, and he was curious to see just how well Ethan was hidden. He did not really intend to bring him in to The Centre, but finding him would be an interesting mental exercise.
According to Parker, Ethan was more functional now that he knew what the voices were. According to Jarod it was because Raines was gone. Lyle tended to agree with the latter opinion. Either way, Jarod was welcome to taking care of Ethan. It would give him something to do while he was staying out of The Centre's and Lyle's, business. Lyle wondered how long that would last.
There were no plausible leads on Ethan in the stack of reports but Lyle had to give Jarod credit, there were a few good false leads. If Lyle had not known exactly - he rubbed absently at his back, noting the pain had lessened -where Jarod was three days ago he might have bought the lead to Mexico City.
He filed the reports and left a message for his assistant, saying he had a meeting with a private informant then was going home. He was on his way out the door when Mr. Cox walked in. Lyle assumed an aggressive posture and tone, "Did I forget an appointment?"
Cox, always strange, had not been on good terms with Lyle since taking the blame for Zoe's failed kidnapping. Lyle had warned him not to underestimate Jarod. Major Charles had come as a surprise to both of them but it had been Cox's plan and, therefore, his failure.
Cox was in a foul, if soft-spoken, mood. "I hear you want to take over the search for Miss Parker. Do you know something you're hiding?"
"I know a lot of things, most of which I have no intention of telling you. In the case of my sister, I would love to see her brought back to the bosom of her family, but I can't help you there."
"I won't brook interference with my investigation, Mr. Lyle," stated Cox with his typical menacing tone. "You aren't the only one who knows things. Miss Parker is mine."
Lyle felt his stomach tighten. To hear anyone say something like that about Parker would make his blood boil, but for this freak Cox to say it...but he couldn't cave into an emotional response. He needed to keep his Mr. Lyle persona firmly in place.
"Jarod may have something to say about that at the moment, Coxy, and my sister will definitely have an opinion."
"I'm warning you..."
Lyle moved inches from Cox's face. "Don't finish that sentence. My father seems to value your work, but that'll only take you so far. Blood is still thicker than embalming fluid." Lyle straightened Cox's lapels and smiled a snake's smile as he took a step back.
Cox eyed Lyle for a beat but kept silent.
Lyle's smile disappeared. "If I ever want to see you in my office again, I'll let you know. Now get out."
Mr. Cox turned and walked out the door.
"That went well," Lyle mumbled. He picked up his discarded briefcase and exited The Centre.
***
The very same day that Lyle returned to the Centre, Parker and Corinna arrived at Dulles International Airport at 6:00 in the morning. They were both exhausted, the events of California having left little chance of restful sleep during their last few days there or on the flight. Parker had started to drift midway through the trip only to be awakened by a nightmare regarding Lyle. After, she had been unable to fall back to sleep. Corinna had thought to ask her companion about what had upset her, but seeing a look on Parker's face that she knew all too well from her years with Lyle, the agent passed on the idea.
Once they were on the ground, the two women rented a nondescript car and drove to the outskirts of D.C. where they would set up their base of operations.
The apartment Parker found herself in was a renovated warehouse that had been secured by Corinna when she'd been assigned permanently to Cyrus' staff. It had mostly served as a place that was safe for Lyle and her to meet no matter what the other's current cover might be. Now it was a safe haven from the Centre and the agency for Corinna and Parker. Too tired to eat, both stumbled into their respective bedrooms.
Parker closed her door, dropped her bag and sank onto the bed. She was unaffected by being in a strange place; the years of chasing Jarod half way around the globe had made her impervious to feeling displaced no matter where she was. Growing more tired by the second, Parker leaned back against the pillows, her low energy level starting to make her silk pants suit seem like an attractive pajama option. She was just about to drift off when she curled instinctively onto her side and her eyes fell on a picture that told her instantly who's room it was she was borrowing.
She and Thane-the picture had clearly been culled from the Centre's security cameras during one of Parker's lunchtime visits to her little bro...to her nephew's nursery. The baby was laughing as Parker held him up and smiled up at him.
Suddenly wide awake, Parker sat up and took the picture in hand, looking closely at her own face in it's stolen image. No hint of what was to come...of the revelation of secrets, of the change in allegiances that had put her on such a new and dangerous path, not that her old one had been so secure. Lightly, her fingers glanced over the sweet face of the little boy she held in the photo, her heart suddenly aching for him and yet feeling absolute relief that he was in California, far from the Centre's clutches. If she could do anything meaningful with her life, she would make certain he remained so.
And what was Lyle doing now, she wondered? Was he missing his son? The son he had so rarely been able to see or hold.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Parker wanted very much to speak to her brother, but she knew she could not. There was no reason her "captor" Jarod would let her call her brother, so any contact between them right now, at least initiated by her, would alert the Centre to something being amiss. No, better to let them keep thinking she was being dragged around the country by Jarod with her "little brother" in tow.
Still, she thought as she finally stood and stripped out of her clothes, she wished she could talk to him. Climbing into bed, Parker couldn't fight off a slight flash of the nightmare that had woken her on the plane. Lyle was hurt and alone, and he was calling out to her and Thane, but no one was answering him. Shivering, Parker tried to push the image from her mind as sleep finally claimed her.
***
Cyrus' wanting to see for himself that Lyle was on top of the game did not disturb Lyle in the least. He was fully aware that he had given the Company plenty of reasons to mistrust him. There was no agenda for today's meeting; Cyrus just wanted to be sure that Lyle had one that was directly connected to his assignment.
Lyle was running late for their meeting and that did disturb him. He preferred being early so he couldn't be scrutinized as he entered a room or exited his car. Lyle swore under his breath as he pulled into the small roadside rest area. Cyrus had beaten him to the meeting and was leaning against his car with arms and legs casually crossed. Lyle parked so that the driver's side doors of the cars were facing. He checked his wristwatch as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. Five minutes till five; early but still a tick too late. He wondered if he should take this as an omen of the future; he put a smile on his face and hoped not.
"Not much traffic coming out of D.C. tonight?" he asked by way of greeting.
"I was in Alexandria most of the day. The meetings went better than expected so I got a good start." Cyrus blatantly examined Lyle until he was satisfied. "Nice makeup job, Lyle. Any comments on it or the shiner it's covering?"
"It's The Centre; a little cover-up is par for the day. My father was more interested in ripping my face off than looking at it. The only other person I let get near me was Cox, and he's a whole lot weirder than makeup."
Cyrus nodded. "Are you okay?"
Lyle leaned against his car and imitated Cyrus' stance. He moved carefully to hide his persistent back pain. "Fine, just cosmetic damage. I'm putting off the plastic surgery until I need a new identity."
"That's good to hear and not what I meant."
"I'm fine as long as Thane and my sister are safe. Jarod's on our side; all's right with the world."
Cyrus nodded again. "I take it that your father still doesn't trust you enough to allow you access to all the files we need?"
"No, and he probably won't, not in the new timeframe. I have a couple other options. Broots can be put on it if absolutely necessary, and he already showed me a few little tricks.
"Dad is going out of town in a week or so. I'm sure I'll be watched, but I'll have a bit more freedom to cruise the sublevels."
"What about what's his name...ah, Angelo?"
"We're not exactly the best of friends. I've made sure he kept his distance. If he ever guessed the truth, he might have blown everything. Besides that," Lyle cleared his throat, "he gives me the creeps."
"Just a thought."
"I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"
"No."
"Then this was a productive day for you?"
"Very gratifying."
Lyle smiled, "I'll be in touch with Corinna when it's safe. In the meantime, she knows how to reach me."
Cyrus pushed himself upright. "Be careful, Lyle, but remember the timetable is absolute. We have enough to shut the doors on The Centre now, but the Director wants the place to implode and all the branches sucked into the vacuum."
They parted ways.
Cyrus hit speed dial on his cellular a mile down the road.
Tucker Channing answered on the second ring. "Yes."
"Lyle says, 'All's right with the world.'"
"Should I take that to mean he really is functioning as promised?"
"By the looks of him, he and Jarod came to terms by pummeling each other, but they did come to terms. He's definitely on the job."
"And the timeline?"
"There are still access problems, but Lyle is confident. He has options."
"I have a meeting with the Director; he'll be happy to hear that. A lot is on the line. Keep me updated."
"Will do." Cyrus cut the call. He drove on thinking about the culmination of years of work and worrying about what would happen to the players afterward.
***
Tucker went to her meeting with empty hands. The Director preferred it that way. His office was microwave hardened and he wanted no extraneous objects brought into the room. Tucker suspected all incoming traffic was x-rayed. A few of her Agency acquaintances said he was conspiracy crazy, but Tucker knew he needed to be. And she knew too much.
Tucker had ambition; she had fought hard to climb through the government's glass ceiling before it was acknowledged. Ambition had gotten her where she was today, and it had gotten her deeper than she wanted. But she forged on because the Director dangled the carrot of the position she really wanted, his.
She hit the elevator button to take her up. When had Peter Karnes become "the" Director? When had that title with a capital letter become synonymous with only him? It had, and some people took it as a joke, but Karnes was not joking. His ambitions ran far beyond the Agency and now Tucker was along for the ride.
The Director's secretary was absent so Tucker knocked on his inner door and looked at the visible surveillance camera while she waited for admission. She knew for a fact that there were several other, unauthorized, cameras in this area and his meeting room. She also knew that his inner office was swept daily to make sure there were no surveillance devices in it at all.
Karnes opened the door himself; as expected the Director was the only person in the room. He was silent until he sat at his desk. "Channing, what did Carver have to say?"
Tucker was not surprised that he knew about Cyrus' call. "The situation is stable and everything is moving along. The timetable is a problem. Lyle has been unable to establish the degree of trust we hoped for. He's exploring alternatives."
"Is there any way of moving in one of our other players?"
"Miss St. John is following possible leads outside The Centre."
"She certainly won't find anyone willing or able to talk about Centre misdoings. They clean up their leaks quite well.
"Cyrus wasn't specific," Tucker replied, her tone staying even. "It's probably some piece of information from Lyle or his sister. Corinna might find the break we need...but she'll give it to Lyle."
"Just how expendable is Lyle?"
"Not expendable. Lyle is our main inside operative. No one but him could get even this close to the Chairman. Sacrificing him at this point would gain nothing."
"How expendable?" the Director asked again.
Tucker was silent.
The Director continued, "If Lyle cannot deliver, we need options. Removing him from the equation may provide a better outcome."
"I disagree. Jarod wouldn't interfere; he hates Lyle. But Lyle's sister and St. John might become difficult, and if Miss Parker is endangered Jarod would become a major problem."
"St. John can be replaced. Lyle has marginal potential value. But Jarod and Miss Parker are essential to our future. Avoid damaging either of them." What about the Parker baby?"
"He's fine," Tucker remarked, "hidden somewhere outside The Centre."
"Do we need to search for him?"
"No, he's safe, and enough people know his whereabouts that we can find him when we need to."
"Good. Then I'll leave the details to you for now. As soon as any new information's in our hands I want to know."
The Director paused, looking at her as though evaluating her for the first time. "By the way, I have someone who wants to meet you, the man who convinced me there were benefits to preserving certain Centre projects rather than dismantling everything. He's pleased with your work, and I assume he wants to tell you so himself. I'll let you know when and where." He began to turn, "And Channing, if Lyle even hints at being a problem, cut your losses."
With that, the Director turned his back to her and Tucker was dismissed.
***
The drive back to Lyle's condominium, after the meeting, was short, but it seemed endless to Lyle. The constant ache in his back became a deep burning pain that spread to his right side and ribs. It hurt like the devil; and at one point he felt that he was on the verge of blacking out.
Lyle parked the car and kept himself erect by force of will, only doubling over when the door to his home closed behind him. Bracing himself against the wall, he made it to the bathroom. He was hardly surprised to see that his urine was bright red with blood. He found himself lying on the bathroom floor a few moments later. Lyle checked his watch; he had not been out for long. He lay on the floor and waited.
After some time the pain seemed to improve and Lyle was able to sit up, braced against the sink. Trying to stand up was not an option, so he turned, kneeling, to face the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He drank a couple glasses of water just to see what would happen. They stayed down and the dizziness improved. He tried to stand again, but vertigo forced him to crawl to his bed.
He already knew what was wrong; had since the day after the fight. He'd seen blood on his first trip to the bathroom that morning but had not wanted to worry anyone; more important things were happening. He had hoped the bleeding would clear up on its own. Later that day, he had accessed a symptoms database on the Internet, and self-diagnosed a bruised kidney. Conservative treatment was usual and it should have improved by itself. By today's episode he suspected something a bit more serious was wrong. Should he call somebody? No, it was better to die here than get anyone outside The Centre involved. He rolled himself into a ball and waited.
He spent the majority of the night worrying about what would happen to Thane if he died right now. As long as The Centre existed, neither his son nor his sister would ever be safe. His best hope was that Jarod would go off the deep end someday and blow the place up. He tried not to smile at the vision of Jarod blowing up with the Centre.
***
In a motel room 1,700 miles away, Jarod spread out the items he'd brought with him: baby bottles, formula cans, some of which he partially emptied or emptied completely, diapers (he'd stumbled upon a unique mixture of baby foods, bacteria and chemicals to formulate "pretend" baby poop - the sweepers were going to love it), blankets, baby powder and clothes. After he was done with that, he grabbed another bag, this one containing several items of clothing that Parker had reluctantly surrendered to him. He almost smiled, remembering her scowl as he'd told her the sweepers would expect some "personal" items. If looks could have killed...
Still, he didn't smile. There was too much at stake right now for him to find much humor in the present situation. He'd put trust in Lyle, a risky proposition if there ever was one, he'd left Parker alone with a stranger and he'd promised not to interfere. Worse, he'd made the promise to her...and there would be hell to pay if he went back on it, he knew that. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching Lyle like a hawk. One slip up, and Jarod was prepared to swoop in and settle everything in his own way.
Happy with the lair he'd created, Jarod set the timer for the lights and then exited. It would take a few days for the Centre to find this place. Just enough time for that chemical and baby food mixture to really settle in.
***
By morning the faintness and pain in Lyle's back were bearable. He even managed to stand after three attempts and made it to the bathroom. Lyle took the hottest shower he could tolerate and popped half a dozen pain pills.
While choosing the designer suit of the day, Lyle thought about the secret room behind the closet, and shed it duplicated. He shivered as he remembered one particularly bad beating, when he'd had similar pain on his left side and the same kind of bleeding. Lyle Bowman had locked him in the shed and he thought he was going to die there. He ran fevers for days and had been too weak for chores, earning him no medical attention, and another round of beatings. But he had survived; he could tough this out, too.
Lyle dressed and returned to The Centre.
Lyle got to his office and was informed that Sydney and Broots had returned. He immediately went to Sydney's office.
"Well, Sydney, how was the latest hunting trip?" Lyle asked as he walked in the door, masking their new understanding with his expected attitude.
"You might know, Mr. Lyle, it appears you are the one who sent us on a false trail." Sydney looked closely, trying to detect any difference.
"Sydney, how could you say that? I'm wounded." He smirked and placed a hand over his heart.
"You know that you have interfered with our finding Jarod."
"Plan to blame all your failures on me? Your record of Jarod-finding is unimpressive up to now. I didn't need you muddying the trail to Ethan."
"Jarod has your sister and the baby."
"My sister can take care of herself. And do-gooder Jarod would never harm an innocent little child. Besides, Mr. Cox is assigned to the search for Parker and my little brother."
"Mr. Cox?"
"Yes. If you're that worried about my sister perhaps you should wish him luck...and stay out of his way.
"You can keep searching for Jarod or just sit on your thumbs; the outcome's the same--a waste of Centre money." Lyle turned to go. "I, on the other hand," he waggled his left hand, "have every intention of locating Ethan. And since my sister isn't here to baby-sit you two, you report to me. If you get any messages from Jarod, I want to see them 10 seconds after you do."
"As you wish, Mr. Lyle."
"You'd better hope things go as I wish." Lyle added as he walked out of the door.
***
Lyle felt a surge of relief as he rounded the corner and his office was in sight. He had pulled off the meeting. Sydney had not mentioned, and hopefully not noticed, his condition.
The hall seemed to lengthen and his vision began to tunnel. Damn it, damn it, not now, he thought. Lyle fought the need to lean on the wall, something added to the constant urge he felt to double over. Thank god, there was no one in the hall. He made it into his office, closed the door, and somehow ended up at his desk. He literally felt his way to his chair, then rested his head on his desk; everything went black.
Lyle regained consciousness to the sound of Sydney's voice, filled with concern.
"Lyle, Lyle, can you hear me?" This was followed by a slight shake and an order. "Talk to me, Lyle."
He attempted to lift his head but could not seem to make it obey. "I'm okay, Sydney. I'm okay. What do you want?"
"If you saw yourself you wouldn't need to ask that question." Sydney gently raised Lyle's head for a better look. "Your lips are colorless and you are blue around the eyes." He lifted an eyelid. "Even a layman could see that you are severely anemic. How much pain are you in?"
"Not bad; nothing I can't tolerate."
"Hmph. Do you think you can stand?"
Lyle tried. He managed a sitting position and nothing more.
"Apparently not." Sydney turned to another person in the room. "Broots, get a wheelchair from the Infirmary."
"Right away, Syd." Broots, always the master of unobtrusiveness, left immediately.
"No," Lyle said, his voice much softer than he intended, "no wheelchair, no Infirmary."
"We could take you directly to the morgue," Sydney paused for effect, "but how could I explain that to..." he lowered his voice, "Thane." He paused again. "You really have no choice."
Lyle tried to deny Sydney's words, but he could not. "All right." He lay his head back down on his arms and drifted in grayness until he felt Broots and Sydney lifting him by his arms. "How's this going to look? You helping me?"
"Appearances be damned," Sydney murmured. "Can you sit up?"
"Yes," and he did.
Lyle hung onto consciousness until Broots pushed him into the Infirmary and they got him onto a table. Lying prone improved his alertness but exacerbated his pain.
Broots quickly excused himself, mumbling something about checking a program. Sydney stood to one side, watching the on-duty physician examine Lyle. The sight of Lyle's side and back made Sydney wince. They were badly discolored. Lyle was obviously at the end of his stamina. He flinched and groaned when the physician palpated the area. The bruising was much more extensive than Sydney remembered from three days ago. He regretted not forcing Lyle to get a thorough examination immediately.
Lyle's cover story, a thwarted mugging in D.C., was noted by the doctor without comment. Sydney was familiar with the man treating Lyle and asked him to call his office when testing was complete. The doctor agreed. Lyle watched warily as the nurse drew blood, hung an IV, and injected morphine. His parting request to Sydney was "Don't tell anyone."
Sydney nodded in agreement. "I'll return later." And he left.
Broots anxiously waited in his office. "How bad is it, Sydney?"
"Bad, but Mr. Lyle is a survivor. Perhaps too stubborn for his own good, but I think he will be alright."
"Should we call...anybody?"
"Lyle prefers that no one else knows. We'll abide by his wishes...for the moment." Sydney turned his attention to paperwork. "I think it best that we attend to our own business." Broots took the cue and left. Sydney worked for a few minutes but soon found himself staring into space worrying about a man he thought he had come to hate.
Several hours later Sydney was called to the Infirmary for a report. The doctor was encouraging. "Mr. Lyle is badly injured but stable. The delay in treatment could have been, probably was, life threatening. If he had passed out at home or while driving he could be dead right now." The physician shook his head. "Apparently," he consulted the chart, "three days ago Mr. Lyle was beaten and knocked down a flight of stairs by a would-be mugger. During the fight he suffered a few surface contusions and abrasions. More seriously, he also sustained fractures of the 11th and 12th ribs and probable fractures to the transverse processes of three lumbar vertebrae. None of the fractures is displaced, which is fortunate because we could be talking about paralysis or a punctured lung at the moment. He is very anemic." He looked at Sydney emphatically.
Sydney nodded. "There's internal bleeding?"
"Not as extensive as I feared. His right kidney is badly contused; on CT scan a small tear is appreciated." He held up a transparency and pointed out the tear. "The bleeding was relatively slow and intermittent. It's stopped for the moment. Mr. Lyle was very lucky."
Sydney smiled at the thought of Lyle and lucky in the same sentence. "Treatment?"
"Conservative. Total bed rest. Repeat CT in three and seven days. If the bleeding continues or worsens, or he becomes septic, immediate surgery. That's where the problem lies." The doctor paused. Sydney focused his attention on another CT transparency that the doctor presented. "Mr. Lyle's left kidney is completely nonfunctional. When I questioned him, he spoke about a sports injury and infection when he was in high school.
"He refused the transfusion I recommended, and is resistant to staying here. I would appreciate it if you would talk to him, convince him of the necessity of compliance. If I'm forced to remove that kidney, Mr. Lyle will be my first dialysis patient. I would rather not explain that to the Chairman." The doctor was visibly concerned.
Sydney reassured him, "I will speak to him."
Sydney brushed aside the curtain and entered Lyle's cubicle. The man on the bed was pale but peaceful. "Lyle?"
Lyle opened his eyes, instantly alert. "Hello, Syd. Don't think this means that you don't have to keep me updated on Jarod and Ethan, and of course, my sister and little brother."
"You need complete relaxation for the next two weeks."
"Can't relax. Things to do, places to go."
"Traveling will be more difficult hooked to a dialysis machine."
Lyle studied Sydney's expression. "That serious?"
"Yes. You cannot afford to be cavalier about this. Listen to the doctors."
"If I'm a good little boy, everything will be fine?"
Sydney knew better than to reply.
"Funny, that never worked before." Lyle held up a hand. "Before you pull out the trump card, I'm properly scared and I will stay down. One week not two. Agreed?"
"We will see," Sydney replied. Lyle nodded and closed his eyes. Sydney left him to his rest.
***
Corinna had just pulled dinner out of the oven when she heard Parker
let loose with a string of profanity that would have made a Flatbush streethustler blush. Dishing up the casserole, Corinna quickly scooped up two plates and headed for the living room.
"What happened?"
"Jarod, what else?" Parker ended the statement by standing up, crumpling up a piece of paper and hurling it against the far wall.
"Parker, what's wrong?"
"I just got done reading through all of his notes about the things he found in my mother's safety deposit boxes. The nerve of that man! You should see some of the things he's kept from me. She was my mother, damn it."
Corinna sat down and took a bit of her casserole. As she chewed, she watched Parker pace back and forth on the side of the couch, her irritation with Jarod a palpable force in the room. Yep, the stride was the same as Lyle's, getting shorter and more clipped as her anger grew. I guess those twin studies aren't far off, Corinna thought to herself. They have no idea how much alike they are.
"Your dinner is getting cold."
The words found there way to Parker's ears, but they didn't mean anything to her just then. She was too upset and too frustrated.
"I thought that the safety deposit box locations weren't on the list of places we were checking." The statement was Corinna's next attempt at conversation. This one met with more success.
"They aren't, but what he found in them is what he used to come up with his suggestions of places we should look for the DSA. He's had her diary for four years, Corinna. Four years!"
The last words brought a sense of surrender to Parker's movement, and she returned to her seat on the couch and picked up her fork. She began to idly play with her dinner.
"He really gets to you, doesn't he?"
Had Parker seen the smile on Corinna's face, she might have been less inclined to give the response she did, but since she hadn't, she didn't know that Corinna was once again comparing brother to sister. Their mutual annoyance at the man called Jarod was another common thread.
"Yes, he does, damn it, and I hate it."
With that, Parker finally attacked her meal. She was suddenly starving and she cleared her plate as the two sat in an easy silence. Finished, Parker leaned back on the couch. She looked over and saw Corinna relaxing, waiting for a time when she felt conversation could be picked up again.
"So," Corinna finally started, "do any of the ideas we came up with seem more likely to ante up the DSA than any others?"
Parker nodded. Several of the locations she, Jarod and Lyle had come up with in Los Angeles could be likely hiding places.
"I've got three likelies and two doubtful but maybes," Parker announced. "We still have to check the others, too, but I think we can head there last."
Corinna stood up and took both of their now empty plates. "Then I guess we should get to work."
Nodding, Parker grabbed her laptop and turned it on. Within minutes she was on a travel website checking plane departure and arrival times for a trip to Southampton, Long Island.
***
Lyle spent three days in an Infirmary bed with nothing to do. He was more than ready to leave, but a couple of things kept him from ripping out the IV and walking out the door.
Mental willingness notwithstanding, Lyle was fairly sure he would not make it to the door. He felt no stronger than the day he was admitted. The pain was better. He had been able to forgo the morphine since yesterday, but the vertigo remained. He had blustered, sweet talked, and finally whined his nurse into letting him out of bed long enough to avoid the indignity of the bedpan. If she ever found out how close he came to passing out during those little walks he would need a gun to get past her again.
The other reason, which Lyle would never admit, was that he was scared. He had no particular fear of death, although he suspected that, as Queen sang, Beelzebub has a devil put aside for him. Four years ago he would not have cared if he lived or died, but somewhere along the line he had found a sister and a half-brother, fathered a son, and acquired responsibility for their safety. What Lyle feared was letting them down. If he died before The Centre was destroyed, it would be the ultimate failure.
Today's CT scan showed little improvement. The bleeding had stopped, at least for the moment. The doctor warned against overconfidence. He patiently explained what would happen if his kidney ruptured, or a clot cut off circulation, or the tear just continued to seep blood. The kidney or Lyle himself could die, and his plans with him. So Lyle decided to suck it up and listen to the doctor. He thought of his sister and smiled. Wouldn't Parker be proud? If she knew, which she never would - as long if Sydney kept his word - unless she was looking for him, unless she needed him and he was not there for her, or dead because he did not listen to the doctor. It was a circular argument.
Sydney had stopped to check on him the day after his collapse, and Lyle made the older doctor reiterate his promise not to tell anyone outside The Centre what was happening. Sydney also promised to update him periodically, instantly if anything vital changed.
If Sydney wavered, Lyle had a marker to call. When Sydney was blind and being taunted by Raines in Renewal Wing, Lyle had come to his rescue. Sydney, one of the men who failed to protect him and the other children, who knowingly participated in the Pretender Project, owed him big. Contrary to Parker's assumption that Syd had sold his soul in exchange for freedom, their agreement was that Sydney would keep Parker safe and as far from the truth as possible. Sydney had kept little of the past from Parker; it just kept slithering out of every little Centre crack. He still owed Lyle one unquestioned favor, so Lyle felt he could relax, for today.
The feeling of relaxation ended when Mr. Parker entered Lyle's room. "What the Hell's going on? What are you doing in here? I had to find out from your assistant when I sent for you."
Lyle lifted an eyebrow, "Sent for me?"
"I, we, got a call from Jarod this morning."
Lyle perked up, "What did he say? Any mention of Ethan?"
"Nothing useful, just taunting me. I'm having the call analyzed for clues and background noises. It was foolish of you to think you could keep something like this from me, Lyle, I'm your father. Surely I've proven myself by all the things I've done for you."
"You've proven yourself."
"So I want to know what happened. The doctor said you were mugged?"
"That's what I told him. Knocked down a flight of steps."
"Foolish to put yourself in danger, that's what sweepers are for. When do you get out?"
"Not for a few days."
"Well, I'll send you a report on the call. You're keeping up with things, aren't you?"
"Not exactly. The doctor was pretty adamant about resting."
"That won't do. Gotta keep a hand in. I'll see you get all the reports. Can't have you gathering dust, no good for you, no good for us. Too much is at stake."
Lyle mumbled, "Better than pushing up daisies."
Mr. Parker was backing from the room, a smile on his face, his attention already elsewhere. "I have to get moving. I'll stop around again as soon as I can. Lots happening, lots to do, lots to keep an eye on. Gotta keep the Triumvirate appeased till we can give them what they want. Get up and around fast, eh? Remember you're a Parker."
Lyle bit back on the reply that bubbled to his lips--I wish to God I wasn't. He kept his silence and smiled as the man he called "Dad" left the room. He doubted he would be getting many more "personal" visits.
Lyle's estimation of Mr. Parker's visits was correct. The elder Parker popped in only once over the next several days and carried on a cell phone conversation the entire time he was there. Sydney was more faithful, stopping every day until he had to leave town on a Jarod hunt triggered by the trace Mr. Parker had put on Jarod's earlier phone call.
The report that came back on the Jarod incident did much to make Lyle chuckle. Jarod had done his part and then some. The sweepers had reported a hideous odor that could only have come from well-used diapers left far too long in a trash can as well as many other baby and Parker-related effects. The sweepers, along with Sydney and Broots, had concluded there could be no other possibility but that "the Pretender is, in fact, planning to keep Miss Parker and the infant with him for some time."
Just imaging the fury that quote would bring to the faces of Misters Parker and Cox made Lyle feel better than any medicine ever could.
***
A CT scan marking the seventh day of Lyle's stay in the Centre Infirmary showed that the kidney laceration was slowly healing. It also showed a spot that could be infection. The doctor was concerned because Lyle was still anemic and had been running an intermittent fever for the past two days, so he prescribed IV antibiotics.
Lyle was sitting up in bed reading the report on Jarod's latest pretend. There was not a hint of information on Ethan in the file. Jarod had left copious evidence that he still had custody of Parker and the baby. More empty formula and juice cans, ripe diapers and, for added effect, leg shackles were found in the latest lair. Sydney and the sweepers were two days behind Jarod. In other words, status quo.
Mr. Parker strode into Lyle's room, full of bon mot and power. "Well Lyle, m'boy, how're ya doin? When do I see you back at work?" He noticed the new IV attached to Lyle's arm. "What's going on? I thought you were improving."
Lyle frowned up at the IV bag. "Antibiotics. The doctor didn't like something on the CT."
"Well this won't do. You've been lying around too long. Nothing keeps a Parker down; there's work to be done. I'll just have to go talk to that doctor. We'll spring you outta' here, don't you worry." He slapped Lyle jovially on the shoulder and bustled out of the room.
"Nice of you to visit. Don't want to keep you," Lyle muttered. The truth was that he was stir-crazy. If Jarod wanted him to gain appreciation of what he had gone through, he could not have chosen a better way. Lyle needed to get out of this place. He needed to be able to move, and search for the information the CIA required.
The doctor entered Lyle's room ten minutes later, frowning and rattled, "Mr. Parker says that you want to be discharged. He demands it."
Lyle smiled, "Does that mean you're releasing me?"
"No, I disagreed, but I was overruled. You will stay until all that IV is in. You will be chauffeured home. No driving. You take oral antibiotics as prescribed. You work half-days and stop in here before and after work."
"Is that all, Herr Doktor?"
"Any vertigo, if you even feel like your blood pressure is dropping, any bleeding, any sharp pain, you get your butt in here. And if that fever does not disappear in 48 hours, you'll be back in that bed with another IV."
"Sounds reasonable. My father agreed to all this?"
"He's not happy about the half-days but I convinced him. I want to keep you alive."
"Nice to know somebody does." The doctor was not amused.
Lyle made a major effort to be compliant over the next four days. His fever disappeared and he had no pain or bleeding. The most trying part of the recuperation was not checking on Parker. He knew she must be wondering why he hadn't called, but he had nothing to report except his medical problems, and he did not want her to worry about those.
On the fifth day Mr. Parker called him into his office.
***
Looking in the mirror, Parker realized that the person that was staring back was unrecognizable. A straight nose, sculpted cheekbones, green eyes and a crown of red hair, her own little pretend as it were. For two weeks, she had downplayed her attractiveness, wore little or no makeup and hid behind these props to protect herself and her family as she followed the tracks of her mother's past in an effort to secure the future. Reaching up carefully, Parker removed the wig, and folded it neatly before placing it on the bathroom counter. She quickly removed her green contact lenses, then headed out of the room.
Tired, Parker walked toward her bed and sat down on the edge of it. Her eyes darted toward the phone, then away again. She had to admit, she was a little surprised that she hadn't heard from Lyle. She and Corinna were beginning to worry that the silence might indicate a foiled attempt to convince Mr. Parker of his loyalty. To assuage her worry, she'd called California on her secure cell phone to check on Thane at least once a day. Hearing that her nephew was happy and well made it easier to forge ahead despite her worry about her brother.
As these thoughts were making the rounds in her mind, Parker's cell phone rang. She reached for it and brought the phone to her ear.
"What?"
"Still the gentle voice of..."
"Well, if it isn't Mary Poppins," she said, stifling a yawn. "So why the call?"
"I'm going to offer you some help," Jarod said, putting Parker instantly on the alert.
"What sort of help?"
"Don't get nervous on me, Miss Parker. It's a small thing, really. A computer program designed to target all the banks that your mother might have had access to on the East coast. I e-mailed you the exe file."
She wanted to tell him that reminding her of his knowledge of her mother's past, knowledge he'd kept from her except when he saw fit to dole it out, was probably not the smartest thing he could have done, but she was really not in the mood for him and she just wanted to get off the phone.
"Actually, I'm really beginning to believe that it's all nothing but a wild goose chase.
"Is the great huntress getting a little tired?"
Parker stifled the reply that wanted to jump out of her gut. Why the hell was he trying to bait her?
"So is that all you wanted, Jarod, to tell me about this program?"
"Not really..."
She groaned. Of course not. It couldn't have been that easy. "What else?"
"I just...I wanted to tell you to trust in yourself and use your inner sense, Parker. It won't deceive you. It just might lead you to the truth. You can't be afraid of it."
"I'm not afraid," she snapped at him just a bit too quickly.
"Are you sure? Seems to me that you've been surrounded by despots and liars of all sorts for so many years, that maybe you're afraid you wouldn't recognize the truth it if it jumped up in front of you."
She wanted to scream at him, to swear at him. Instead Parker once again fought for control. "I have a full-time shrink in residence, Jarod, but thanks anyway."
Silence came from the other end of the line, and Parker thought she was about to get out of the tedious conversation when Jarod's voice chimed in again.
"By the way, have you or Corinna heard from Lyle, or has he reverted to type now that he's gotten you out of the Centre?" The implied 'and out of his way' remained unspoken.
That was the proverbial last straw. He wasn't getting away with that, not when she was sitting here worried sick about her brother.
"Jarod, nobody asked for you to be involved in this, you know? You, as always, barged in uninvited and where you were not welcome. Feel free to bail out anytime." There was enough ice in her voice to push the season forward by months. The receiver was away from her ear and almost back into the cradle when she heard his voice.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
That got her attention. She brought the receiver back up.
"I realize I'm exhausted, but did I just hear the almighty Jarod apologize?"
"Just check your computer," Jarod said, and then he was gone.
Parker let out a loud Argh! as she slammed the phone down. She'd been ready to kill him one second then ready to forgive him when he'd uttered his barely audible apology. But even that was too simple for them. Instead of acknowledging that he'd been a creep, Jarod had done what he always did, ended the conversation on his terms.
Thinking back over the conversation, Parker felt herself growing even angrier. Sure, he'd called to help her, but then he'd had to get his dig in on her brother, hadn't he? Why was he like that?
No, she told herself, she wasn't doing this. She had work to do. Yet even as she moved off the bed and headed for the living room to start working, his words skipped and jumped through her mind like small unruly animals. She tried to focus, but she could not dismiss them. Or him. That man! And that thought made her even angrier. Why was she thinking about him? She was supposed to be focusing on saving her family. It was ridiculous that he should affect her so strongly.
And yet...
And yet she could not rid herself of his voice, his face, his presence, the trio working on her like garden tools on firm earth, digging and hoeing and shoveling, breaking up her resistance with their sharp edges, with their implacable certainty. How did he manage that, when no one else could?
No, she would not do this, Parker told herself. She was stronger than him, stronger than his ability to provoke her emotions. Taking a steadying breath, Parker turned and grabbed the laptop that Jarod had supplied her with before they had left California. She ignored his name in her thoughts and turned the computer on. After making herself comfortable on the couch, she thought about her next course of action.
Maybe she would download the program that Jarod had called to tell her about. If it helped in locating her mother's missing DSA, then she couldn't let her anger at Ja---, at him get the best of her. And finding the DSA would certainly cheer her up. The list of dead ends she and Corinna had pursued read like a laundry list of small east coast enclaves. One more bed and breakfast and folksy, hi-y'all inn keeper, and Parker might be ready to turn herself into Renewal Wing.
The screen came to life, and she scrolled down the new messages. There it was. A few strokes of the keyboard and computer chips began to process and analyze with blinding speed. The download screen indicated it would be 13 minutes till the program was completely installed.
Thirteen hours later, Parker was still sitting there in front of her computer. She had kept going out of sheer determination, out of stubbornness and out of certainty that if she stopped, she'd lose the momentum her anger had built up in her. Despite the stiffness starting to make itself very much known in her back and shoulders, Parker wasn't going to give into fatigue and tension, not when the voice inside of her was so firm and compelling. What had Jarod said, she needed to trust her inner sense? Well, her inner sense certainly trusted Jarod.
All Parker had to do was close her eyes and listen. The voice insisted she do as Jarod had told her to do, to trust in herself. And really, wasn't that was all she had to rely on, her mother's voice at work inside her, giving her direction, leading her at last, hopefully, to the answers they all needed so they could be free. They just had to hope that there were no other unexpected twists and turns to come.
***
The Director was physically unremarkable, slightly taller than average, medium build with dark blonde hair. There was nothing you could put your finger on, nothing to draw unwanted attention, but there was something attractive about him. A touch of gray was making its way through his sideburns and he used reading glasses; these were the only signs of age. Tucker Channing had never seen him do anything physical but all his movements hinted of strength. He delegated well and conducted meetings with an assured style that gave a mere glimpse of his personal power, but he remained aloof. He barely spoke to her, or anyone, in the halls. When he did talk, people listened.
Tucker was slightly concerned. This was the first time Peter Karnes had asked her to meet him outside his CIA office. Tonight's meeting was at Rock Creek Park, just outside DC. The Director had not stated any reasons but Tucker knew it was more important than an update on the "seemingly stalled" Centre project.
The Director sat in his Town Car until Tucker had parked and exited hers. He got out and stood beside his car, compelling her to come to him. As she walked toward him she noted that he was not alone. Another man still sat in the car. She became more concerned.
The Director spoke first. "I brought someone I would like to introduce to you."
Tucker relaxed slightly; Karnes had mentioned another player.
The other man exited the Town Car and walked toward them. He was shorter than Karnes, slighter, and had more gray. He wore a friendly smile, but even in the low evening light, Tucker could see that it did not extend to his eyes.
When the man reached them the Director placed a hand lightly on his back. "This is Alex Renfro. A man with the vision to see the potential of Centre projects fulfilled under the proper direction."
Renfro immediately took over the conversation. "The Centre has brilliant scientists, mathematicians, computer specialists and 'thinkers,' what they call pretenders. You may have thought that Jarod was the only one, but there are others with lesser degrees of talent. They can mold the future of the world, cure diseases, and find the answers we need to survive what we've done to this planet.
"We cannot allow that knowledge, or the mechanisms that produced it, to disappear. What we can do is take the information out of the Marketplace, manage it properly, and make it available to those that really need it, the people, the world."
"You're preaching to the choir," Tucker replied, still uneasy.
"I just want to make sure that you understand the implications, what's at stake. Because there may come a time when you don't like some of the means we need to use to attain our goals."
"Overthrowing The Centre has been a CIA goal for years."
"A long-term and rather ethereal goal. If Clinton hadn't gotten involved through that idiot brother-in-law of his and his more unsavory connections, it would still be sitting on the backburner."
"What about the President?"
"He is more concerned with...personal problems."
"And Gore?" Tucker asked.
"He's trying to set up a Presidential Campaign. He wants The Centre taken care of before they can become an issue. He has plenty of those already. And he doesn't care to know details. At this point, what he doesn't know won't hurt him or us. And after this thing is done...it has a title now. Did you know? M3. After M3's done, he can take credit for it. It will seal victory for him and us."
"Karnes tells me he brought you into this project because you have the ability to think and work outside the box," Renfro continued. "Are you onboard?"
"Yes, there are things worth saving there." Something in the back of her brain wanted to say no, but she was already in a too deep.
"You have personal operatives?" Renfro raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Can you trust their discretion?"
"Three, and they know the value of silence," was Tucker's reply.
"If they don't, they'll be taught. Find two more and, if necessary, I can loan you two. Karnes tells me you've lost track of young Master Parker."
"He's not exactly lost. At first we thought Jarod took him." Tucker noted that Renfro twitched at the mention of that name. "Now I've learned that Lyle has him hidden somewhere, supposedly far from The Centre. Lyle, his sister, St. John and Jarod apparently all know where the baby is."
"Tsk, tsk, too many people. The more people that know a secret, the less likely it will remain one." There was a snakelike charm to Renfro's voice. "It's essential we locate that baby. Does your friend Carver know?"
"No, and I doubt that he would have asked. He has a thing about protecting family."
"You have family?"
"Not really, the CIA, career, all that." Why was she telling him so much?
"Good. I don't need anybody interfering with M3 because of entimentality," he said, emphasizing 'anybody.' "I also need you to keep tabs on Jarod. We can't let him get in the way."
"I have an informant, in a manner of speaking"
Renfro nodded. "That's all for now." Renfro turned to the Director, "I'm satisfied," and back to Tucker, "We'll meet again, My Dear, M3 will succeed. Three's the charm."
The "My Dear" sent chills down her spine, and she was positive that Renfro noticed it. His smile broadened as he returned to his seat on the opposite side of the car.
The Director straightened up, changing his position from that of leaning against the car. "I'll give you the name of two analysts we can trust. He means it about the Parker baby, but especially about Jarod. Make sure this doesn't come crashing down around our ears." With that the Director got in the Town Car and drove away.
Whew! I don't know about anyone else, but I'm exhausted (that's Niceole talking).
By the way, in case we never noted it, this story does not acknowledge that the Pretender 2001 movie ever happened at this point. Just in case anyone was wondering about that. And it also takes place before last year's presidential election.
part 7
by Renewal Wing
Lyle wanted to get back to work immediately, working to protect his son, but he had enough trouble just making it to his office. His back hurt more today than it did yesterday, in fact it hurt like hell. He carefully sat down at his desk, making every effort not to jar anything. It was all he could do not to fold in half; he was so tired; and the bruising on his side seemed to be spreading rather than clearing. Lyle was beginning to suspect something was seriously wrong and he had no time for it.
Mr. Parker had said, "That baby is the one the Triumvirate is waiting to get back..." Not your son; not my grandson, just that baby. Mr. Parker had proved he did not give a damn about either of his children, and now his grandson was just another tool to be used and dismissed. Lyle had hoped against hope that he would be allowed to take over the search for Thane, just to ensure the Triumvirate continued to wait for what they wanted. His father knew Thane was really his son, even though Lyle pretended indifference, yet he did not trust him to take over the investigation. He was to find Ethan.
Lyle spent an hour reviewing possible leads on Ethan. Jarod had made no effort to reveal his half-brother's location, not that Lyle had expected it, and he was curious to see just how well Ethan was hidden. He did not really intend to bring him in to The Centre, but finding him would be an interesting mental exercise.
According to Parker, Ethan was more functional now that he knew what the voices were. According to Jarod it was because Raines was gone. Lyle tended to agree with the latter opinion. Either way, Jarod was welcome to taking care of Ethan. It would give him something to do while he was staying out of The Centre's and Lyle's, business. Lyle wondered how long that would last.
There were no plausible leads on Ethan in the stack of reports but Lyle had to give Jarod credit, there were a few good false leads. If Lyle had not known exactly - he rubbed absently at his back, noting the pain had lessened -where Jarod was three days ago he might have bought the lead to Mexico City.
He filed the reports and left a message for his assistant, saying he had a meeting with a private informant then was going home. He was on his way out the door when Mr. Cox walked in. Lyle assumed an aggressive posture and tone, "Did I forget an appointment?"
Cox, always strange, had not been on good terms with Lyle since taking the blame for Zoe's failed kidnapping. Lyle had warned him not to underestimate Jarod. Major Charles had come as a surprise to both of them but it had been Cox's plan and, therefore, his failure.
Cox was in a foul, if soft-spoken, mood. "I hear you want to take over the search for Miss Parker. Do you know something you're hiding?"
"I know a lot of things, most of which I have no intention of telling you. In the case of my sister, I would love to see her brought back to the bosom of her family, but I can't help you there."
"I won't brook interference with my investigation, Mr. Lyle," stated Cox with his typical menacing tone. "You aren't the only one who knows things. Miss Parker is mine."
Lyle felt his stomach tighten. To hear anyone say something like that about Parker would make his blood boil, but for this freak Cox to say it...but he couldn't cave into an emotional response. He needed to keep his Mr. Lyle persona firmly in place.
"Jarod may have something to say about that at the moment, Coxy, and my sister will definitely have an opinion."
"I'm warning you..."
Lyle moved inches from Cox's face. "Don't finish that sentence. My father seems to value your work, but that'll only take you so far. Blood is still thicker than embalming fluid." Lyle straightened Cox's lapels and smiled a snake's smile as he took a step back.
Cox eyed Lyle for a beat but kept silent.
Lyle's smile disappeared. "If I ever want to see you in my office again, I'll let you know. Now get out."
Mr. Cox turned and walked out the door.
"That went well," Lyle mumbled. He picked up his discarded briefcase and exited The Centre.
***
The very same day that Lyle returned to the Centre, Parker and Corinna arrived at Dulles International Airport at 6:00 in the morning. They were both exhausted, the events of California having left little chance of restful sleep during their last few days there or on the flight. Parker had started to drift midway through the trip only to be awakened by a nightmare regarding Lyle. After, she had been unable to fall back to sleep. Corinna had thought to ask her companion about what had upset her, but seeing a look on Parker's face that she knew all too well from her years with Lyle, the agent passed on the idea.
Once they were on the ground, the two women rented a nondescript car and drove to the outskirts of D.C. where they would set up their base of operations.
The apartment Parker found herself in was a renovated warehouse that had been secured by Corinna when she'd been assigned permanently to Cyrus' staff. It had mostly served as a place that was safe for Lyle and her to meet no matter what the other's current cover might be. Now it was a safe haven from the Centre and the agency for Corinna and Parker. Too tired to eat, both stumbled into their respective bedrooms.
Parker closed her door, dropped her bag and sank onto the bed. She was unaffected by being in a strange place; the years of chasing Jarod half way around the globe had made her impervious to feeling displaced no matter where she was. Growing more tired by the second, Parker leaned back against the pillows, her low energy level starting to make her silk pants suit seem like an attractive pajama option. She was just about to drift off when she curled instinctively onto her side and her eyes fell on a picture that told her instantly who's room it was she was borrowing.
She and Thane-the picture had clearly been culled from the Centre's security cameras during one of Parker's lunchtime visits to her little bro...to her nephew's nursery. The baby was laughing as Parker held him up and smiled up at him.
Suddenly wide awake, Parker sat up and took the picture in hand, looking closely at her own face in it's stolen image. No hint of what was to come...of the revelation of secrets, of the change in allegiances that had put her on such a new and dangerous path, not that her old one had been so secure. Lightly, her fingers glanced over the sweet face of the little boy she held in the photo, her heart suddenly aching for him and yet feeling absolute relief that he was in California, far from the Centre's clutches. If she could do anything meaningful with her life, she would make certain he remained so.
And what was Lyle doing now, she wondered? Was he missing his son? The son he had so rarely been able to see or hold.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Parker wanted very much to speak to her brother, but she knew she could not. There was no reason her "captor" Jarod would let her call her brother, so any contact between them right now, at least initiated by her, would alert the Centre to something being amiss. No, better to let them keep thinking she was being dragged around the country by Jarod with her "little brother" in tow.
Still, she thought as she finally stood and stripped out of her clothes, she wished she could talk to him. Climbing into bed, Parker couldn't fight off a slight flash of the nightmare that had woken her on the plane. Lyle was hurt and alone, and he was calling out to her and Thane, but no one was answering him. Shivering, Parker tried to push the image from her mind as sleep finally claimed her.
***
Cyrus' wanting to see for himself that Lyle was on top of the game did not disturb Lyle in the least. He was fully aware that he had given the Company plenty of reasons to mistrust him. There was no agenda for today's meeting; Cyrus just wanted to be sure that Lyle had one that was directly connected to his assignment.
Lyle was running late for their meeting and that did disturb him. He preferred being early so he couldn't be scrutinized as he entered a room or exited his car. Lyle swore under his breath as he pulled into the small roadside rest area. Cyrus had beaten him to the meeting and was leaning against his car with arms and legs casually crossed. Lyle parked so that the driver's side doors of the cars were facing. He checked his wristwatch as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. Five minutes till five; early but still a tick too late. He wondered if he should take this as an omen of the future; he put a smile on his face and hoped not.
"Not much traffic coming out of D.C. tonight?" he asked by way of greeting.
"I was in Alexandria most of the day. The meetings went better than expected so I got a good start." Cyrus blatantly examined Lyle until he was satisfied. "Nice makeup job, Lyle. Any comments on it or the shiner it's covering?"
"It's The Centre; a little cover-up is par for the day. My father was more interested in ripping my face off than looking at it. The only other person I let get near me was Cox, and he's a whole lot weirder than makeup."
Cyrus nodded. "Are you okay?"
Lyle leaned against his car and imitated Cyrus' stance. He moved carefully to hide his persistent back pain. "Fine, just cosmetic damage. I'm putting off the plastic surgery until I need a new identity."
"That's good to hear and not what I meant."
"I'm fine as long as Thane and my sister are safe. Jarod's on our side; all's right with the world."
Cyrus nodded again. "I take it that your father still doesn't trust you enough to allow you access to all the files we need?"
"No, and he probably won't, not in the new timeframe. I have a couple other options. Broots can be put on it if absolutely necessary, and he already showed me a few little tricks.
"Dad is going out of town in a week or so. I'm sure I'll be watched, but I'll have a bit more freedom to cruise the sublevels."
"What about what's his name...ah, Angelo?"
"We're not exactly the best of friends. I've made sure he kept his distance. If he ever guessed the truth, he might have blown everything. Besides that," Lyle cleared his throat, "he gives me the creeps."
"Just a thought."
"I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"
"No."
"Then this was a productive day for you?"
"Very gratifying."
Lyle smiled, "I'll be in touch with Corinna when it's safe. In the meantime, she knows how to reach me."
Cyrus pushed himself upright. "Be careful, Lyle, but remember the timetable is absolute. We have enough to shut the doors on The Centre now, but the Director wants the place to implode and all the branches sucked into the vacuum."
They parted ways.
Cyrus hit speed dial on his cellular a mile down the road.
Tucker Channing answered on the second ring. "Yes."
"Lyle says, 'All's right with the world.'"
"Should I take that to mean he really is functioning as promised?"
"By the looks of him, he and Jarod came to terms by pummeling each other, but they did come to terms. He's definitely on the job."
"And the timeline?"
"There are still access problems, but Lyle is confident. He has options."
"I have a meeting with the Director; he'll be happy to hear that. A lot is on the line. Keep me updated."
"Will do." Cyrus cut the call. He drove on thinking about the culmination of years of work and worrying about what would happen to the players afterward.
***
Tucker went to her meeting with empty hands. The Director preferred it that way. His office was microwave hardened and he wanted no extraneous objects brought into the room. Tucker suspected all incoming traffic was x-rayed. A few of her Agency acquaintances said he was conspiracy crazy, but Tucker knew he needed to be. And she knew too much.
Tucker had ambition; she had fought hard to climb through the government's glass ceiling before it was acknowledged. Ambition had gotten her where she was today, and it had gotten her deeper than she wanted. But she forged on because the Director dangled the carrot of the position she really wanted, his.
She hit the elevator button to take her up. When had Peter Karnes become "the" Director? When had that title with a capital letter become synonymous with only him? It had, and some people took it as a joke, but Karnes was not joking. His ambitions ran far beyond the Agency and now Tucker was along for the ride.
The Director's secretary was absent so Tucker knocked on his inner door and looked at the visible surveillance camera while she waited for admission. She knew for a fact that there were several other, unauthorized, cameras in this area and his meeting room. She also knew that his inner office was swept daily to make sure there were no surveillance devices in it at all.
Karnes opened the door himself; as expected the Director was the only person in the room. He was silent until he sat at his desk. "Channing, what did Carver have to say?"
Tucker was not surprised that he knew about Cyrus' call. "The situation is stable and everything is moving along. The timetable is a problem. Lyle has been unable to establish the degree of trust we hoped for. He's exploring alternatives."
"Is there any way of moving in one of our other players?"
"Miss St. John is following possible leads outside The Centre."
"She certainly won't find anyone willing or able to talk about Centre misdoings. They clean up their leaks quite well.
"Cyrus wasn't specific," Tucker replied, her tone staying even. "It's probably some piece of information from Lyle or his sister. Corinna might find the break we need...but she'll give it to Lyle."
"Just how expendable is Lyle?"
"Not expendable. Lyle is our main inside operative. No one but him could get even this close to the Chairman. Sacrificing him at this point would gain nothing."
"How expendable?" the Director asked again.
Tucker was silent.
The Director continued, "If Lyle cannot deliver, we need options. Removing him from the equation may provide a better outcome."
"I disagree. Jarod wouldn't interfere; he hates Lyle. But Lyle's sister and St. John might become difficult, and if Miss Parker is endangered Jarod would become a major problem."
"St. John can be replaced. Lyle has marginal potential value. But Jarod and Miss Parker are essential to our future. Avoid damaging either of them." What about the Parker baby?"
"He's fine," Tucker remarked, "hidden somewhere outside The Centre."
"Do we need to search for him?"
"No, he's safe, and enough people know his whereabouts that we can find him when we need to."
"Good. Then I'll leave the details to you for now. As soon as any new information's in our hands I want to know."
The Director paused, looking at her as though evaluating her for the first time. "By the way, I have someone who wants to meet you, the man who convinced me there were benefits to preserving certain Centre projects rather than dismantling everything. He's pleased with your work, and I assume he wants to tell you so himself. I'll let you know when and where." He began to turn, "And Channing, if Lyle even hints at being a problem, cut your losses."
With that, the Director turned his back to her and Tucker was dismissed.
***
The drive back to Lyle's condominium, after the meeting, was short, but it seemed endless to Lyle. The constant ache in his back became a deep burning pain that spread to his right side and ribs. It hurt like the devil; and at one point he felt that he was on the verge of blacking out.
Lyle parked the car and kept himself erect by force of will, only doubling over when the door to his home closed behind him. Bracing himself against the wall, he made it to the bathroom. He was hardly surprised to see that his urine was bright red with blood. He found himself lying on the bathroom floor a few moments later. Lyle checked his watch; he had not been out for long. He lay on the floor and waited.
After some time the pain seemed to improve and Lyle was able to sit up, braced against the sink. Trying to stand up was not an option, so he turned, kneeling, to face the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He drank a couple glasses of water just to see what would happen. They stayed down and the dizziness improved. He tried to stand again, but vertigo forced him to crawl to his bed.
He already knew what was wrong; had since the day after the fight. He'd seen blood on his first trip to the bathroom that morning but had not wanted to worry anyone; more important things were happening. He had hoped the bleeding would clear up on its own. Later that day, he had accessed a symptoms database on the Internet, and self-diagnosed a bruised kidney. Conservative treatment was usual and it should have improved by itself. By today's episode he suspected something a bit more serious was wrong. Should he call somebody? No, it was better to die here than get anyone outside The Centre involved. He rolled himself into a ball and waited.
He spent the majority of the night worrying about what would happen to Thane if he died right now. As long as The Centre existed, neither his son nor his sister would ever be safe. His best hope was that Jarod would go off the deep end someday and blow the place up. He tried not to smile at the vision of Jarod blowing up with the Centre.
***
In a motel room 1,700 miles away, Jarod spread out the items he'd brought with him: baby bottles, formula cans, some of which he partially emptied or emptied completely, diapers (he'd stumbled upon a unique mixture of baby foods, bacteria and chemicals to formulate "pretend" baby poop - the sweepers were going to love it), blankets, baby powder and clothes. After he was done with that, he grabbed another bag, this one containing several items of clothing that Parker had reluctantly surrendered to him. He almost smiled, remembering her scowl as he'd told her the sweepers would expect some "personal" items. If looks could have killed...
Still, he didn't smile. There was too much at stake right now for him to find much humor in the present situation. He'd put trust in Lyle, a risky proposition if there ever was one, he'd left Parker alone with a stranger and he'd promised not to interfere. Worse, he'd made the promise to her...and there would be hell to pay if he went back on it, he knew that. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching Lyle like a hawk. One slip up, and Jarod was prepared to swoop in and settle everything in his own way.
Happy with the lair he'd created, Jarod set the timer for the lights and then exited. It would take a few days for the Centre to find this place. Just enough time for that chemical and baby food mixture to really settle in.
***
By morning the faintness and pain in Lyle's back were bearable. He even managed to stand after three attempts and made it to the bathroom. Lyle took the hottest shower he could tolerate and popped half a dozen pain pills.
While choosing the designer suit of the day, Lyle thought about the secret room behind the closet, and shed it duplicated. He shivered as he remembered one particularly bad beating, when he'd had similar pain on his left side and the same kind of bleeding. Lyle Bowman had locked him in the shed and he thought he was going to die there. He ran fevers for days and had been too weak for chores, earning him no medical attention, and another round of beatings. But he had survived; he could tough this out, too.
Lyle dressed and returned to The Centre.
Lyle got to his office and was informed that Sydney and Broots had returned. He immediately went to Sydney's office.
"Well, Sydney, how was the latest hunting trip?" Lyle asked as he walked in the door, masking their new understanding with his expected attitude.
"You might know, Mr. Lyle, it appears you are the one who sent us on a false trail." Sydney looked closely, trying to detect any difference.
"Sydney, how could you say that? I'm wounded." He smirked and placed a hand over his heart.
"You know that you have interfered with our finding Jarod."
"Plan to blame all your failures on me? Your record of Jarod-finding is unimpressive up to now. I didn't need you muddying the trail to Ethan."
"Jarod has your sister and the baby."
"My sister can take care of herself. And do-gooder Jarod would never harm an innocent little child. Besides, Mr. Cox is assigned to the search for Parker and my little brother."
"Mr. Cox?"
"Yes. If you're that worried about my sister perhaps you should wish him luck...and stay out of his way.
"You can keep searching for Jarod or just sit on your thumbs; the outcome's the same--a waste of Centre money." Lyle turned to go. "I, on the other hand," he waggled his left hand, "have every intention of locating Ethan. And since my sister isn't here to baby-sit you two, you report to me. If you get any messages from Jarod, I want to see them 10 seconds after you do."
"As you wish, Mr. Lyle."
"You'd better hope things go as I wish." Lyle added as he walked out of the door.
***
Lyle felt a surge of relief as he rounded the corner and his office was in sight. He had pulled off the meeting. Sydney had not mentioned, and hopefully not noticed, his condition.
The hall seemed to lengthen and his vision began to tunnel. Damn it, damn it, not now, he thought. Lyle fought the need to lean on the wall, something added to the constant urge he felt to double over. Thank god, there was no one in the hall. He made it into his office, closed the door, and somehow ended up at his desk. He literally felt his way to his chair, then rested his head on his desk; everything went black.
Lyle regained consciousness to the sound of Sydney's voice, filled with concern.
"Lyle, Lyle, can you hear me?" This was followed by a slight shake and an order. "Talk to me, Lyle."
He attempted to lift his head but could not seem to make it obey. "I'm okay, Sydney. I'm okay. What do you want?"
"If you saw yourself you wouldn't need to ask that question." Sydney gently raised Lyle's head for a better look. "Your lips are colorless and you are blue around the eyes." He lifted an eyelid. "Even a layman could see that you are severely anemic. How much pain are you in?"
"Not bad; nothing I can't tolerate."
"Hmph. Do you think you can stand?"
Lyle tried. He managed a sitting position and nothing more.
"Apparently not." Sydney turned to another person in the room. "Broots, get a wheelchair from the Infirmary."
"Right away, Syd." Broots, always the master of unobtrusiveness, left immediately.
"No," Lyle said, his voice much softer than he intended, "no wheelchair, no Infirmary."
"We could take you directly to the morgue," Sydney paused for effect, "but how could I explain that to..." he lowered his voice, "Thane." He paused again. "You really have no choice."
Lyle tried to deny Sydney's words, but he could not. "All right." He lay his head back down on his arms and drifted in grayness until he felt Broots and Sydney lifting him by his arms. "How's this going to look? You helping me?"
"Appearances be damned," Sydney murmured. "Can you sit up?"
"Yes," and he did.
Lyle hung onto consciousness until Broots pushed him into the Infirmary and they got him onto a table. Lying prone improved his alertness but exacerbated his pain.
Broots quickly excused himself, mumbling something about checking a program. Sydney stood to one side, watching the on-duty physician examine Lyle. The sight of Lyle's side and back made Sydney wince. They were badly discolored. Lyle was obviously at the end of his stamina. He flinched and groaned when the physician palpated the area. The bruising was much more extensive than Sydney remembered from three days ago. He regretted not forcing Lyle to get a thorough examination immediately.
Lyle's cover story, a thwarted mugging in D.C., was noted by the doctor without comment. Sydney was familiar with the man treating Lyle and asked him to call his office when testing was complete. The doctor agreed. Lyle watched warily as the nurse drew blood, hung an IV, and injected morphine. His parting request to Sydney was "Don't tell anyone."
Sydney nodded in agreement. "I'll return later." And he left.
Broots anxiously waited in his office. "How bad is it, Sydney?"
"Bad, but Mr. Lyle is a survivor. Perhaps too stubborn for his own good, but I think he will be alright."
"Should we call...anybody?"
"Lyle prefers that no one else knows. We'll abide by his wishes...for the moment." Sydney turned his attention to paperwork. "I think it best that we attend to our own business." Broots took the cue and left. Sydney worked for a few minutes but soon found himself staring into space worrying about a man he thought he had come to hate.
Several hours later Sydney was called to the Infirmary for a report. The doctor was encouraging. "Mr. Lyle is badly injured but stable. The delay in treatment could have been, probably was, life threatening. If he had passed out at home or while driving he could be dead right now." The physician shook his head. "Apparently," he consulted the chart, "three days ago Mr. Lyle was beaten and knocked down a flight of stairs by a would-be mugger. During the fight he suffered a few surface contusions and abrasions. More seriously, he also sustained fractures of the 11th and 12th ribs and probable fractures to the transverse processes of three lumbar vertebrae. None of the fractures is displaced, which is fortunate because we could be talking about paralysis or a punctured lung at the moment. He is very anemic." He looked at Sydney emphatically.
Sydney nodded. "There's internal bleeding?"
"Not as extensive as I feared. His right kidney is badly contused; on CT scan a small tear is appreciated." He held up a transparency and pointed out the tear. "The bleeding was relatively slow and intermittent. It's stopped for the moment. Mr. Lyle was very lucky."
Sydney smiled at the thought of Lyle and lucky in the same sentence. "Treatment?"
"Conservative. Total bed rest. Repeat CT in three and seven days. If the bleeding continues or worsens, or he becomes septic, immediate surgery. That's where the problem lies." The doctor paused. Sydney focused his attention on another CT transparency that the doctor presented. "Mr. Lyle's left kidney is completely nonfunctional. When I questioned him, he spoke about a sports injury and infection when he was in high school.
"He refused the transfusion I recommended, and is resistant to staying here. I would appreciate it if you would talk to him, convince him of the necessity of compliance. If I'm forced to remove that kidney, Mr. Lyle will be my first dialysis patient. I would rather not explain that to the Chairman." The doctor was visibly concerned.
Sydney reassured him, "I will speak to him."
Sydney brushed aside the curtain and entered Lyle's cubicle. The man on the bed was pale but peaceful. "Lyle?"
Lyle opened his eyes, instantly alert. "Hello, Syd. Don't think this means that you don't have to keep me updated on Jarod and Ethan, and of course, my sister and little brother."
"You need complete relaxation for the next two weeks."
"Can't relax. Things to do, places to go."
"Traveling will be more difficult hooked to a dialysis machine."
Lyle studied Sydney's expression. "That serious?"
"Yes. You cannot afford to be cavalier about this. Listen to the doctors."
"If I'm a good little boy, everything will be fine?"
Sydney knew better than to reply.
"Funny, that never worked before." Lyle held up a hand. "Before you pull out the trump card, I'm properly scared and I will stay down. One week not two. Agreed?"
"We will see," Sydney replied. Lyle nodded and closed his eyes. Sydney left him to his rest.
***
Corinna had just pulled dinner out of the oven when she heard Parker
let loose with a string of profanity that would have made a Flatbush streethustler blush. Dishing up the casserole, Corinna quickly scooped up two plates and headed for the living room.
"What happened?"
"Jarod, what else?" Parker ended the statement by standing up, crumpling up a piece of paper and hurling it against the far wall.
"Parker, what's wrong?"
"I just got done reading through all of his notes about the things he found in my mother's safety deposit boxes. The nerve of that man! You should see some of the things he's kept from me. She was my mother, damn it."
Corinna sat down and took a bit of her casserole. As she chewed, she watched Parker pace back and forth on the side of the couch, her irritation with Jarod a palpable force in the room. Yep, the stride was the same as Lyle's, getting shorter and more clipped as her anger grew. I guess those twin studies aren't far off, Corinna thought to herself. They have no idea how much alike they are.
"Your dinner is getting cold."
The words found there way to Parker's ears, but they didn't mean anything to her just then. She was too upset and too frustrated.
"I thought that the safety deposit box locations weren't on the list of places we were checking." The statement was Corinna's next attempt at conversation. This one met with more success.
"They aren't, but what he found in them is what he used to come up with his suggestions of places we should look for the DSA. He's had her diary for four years, Corinna. Four years!"
The last words brought a sense of surrender to Parker's movement, and she returned to her seat on the couch and picked up her fork. She began to idly play with her dinner.
"He really gets to you, doesn't he?"
Had Parker seen the smile on Corinna's face, she might have been less inclined to give the response she did, but since she hadn't, she didn't know that Corinna was once again comparing brother to sister. Their mutual annoyance at the man called Jarod was another common thread.
"Yes, he does, damn it, and I hate it."
With that, Parker finally attacked her meal. She was suddenly starving and she cleared her plate as the two sat in an easy silence. Finished, Parker leaned back on the couch. She looked over and saw Corinna relaxing, waiting for a time when she felt conversation could be picked up again.
"So," Corinna finally started, "do any of the ideas we came up with seem more likely to ante up the DSA than any others?"
Parker nodded. Several of the locations she, Jarod and Lyle had come up with in Los Angeles could be likely hiding places.
"I've got three likelies and two doubtful but maybes," Parker announced. "We still have to check the others, too, but I think we can head there last."
Corinna stood up and took both of their now empty plates. "Then I guess we should get to work."
Nodding, Parker grabbed her laptop and turned it on. Within minutes she was on a travel website checking plane departure and arrival times for a trip to Southampton, Long Island.
***
Lyle spent three days in an Infirmary bed with nothing to do. He was more than ready to leave, but a couple of things kept him from ripping out the IV and walking out the door.
Mental willingness notwithstanding, Lyle was fairly sure he would not make it to the door. He felt no stronger than the day he was admitted. The pain was better. He had been able to forgo the morphine since yesterday, but the vertigo remained. He had blustered, sweet talked, and finally whined his nurse into letting him out of bed long enough to avoid the indignity of the bedpan. If she ever found out how close he came to passing out during those little walks he would need a gun to get past her again.
The other reason, which Lyle would never admit, was that he was scared. He had no particular fear of death, although he suspected that, as Queen sang, Beelzebub has a devil put aside for him. Four years ago he would not have cared if he lived or died, but somewhere along the line he had found a sister and a half-brother, fathered a son, and acquired responsibility for their safety. What Lyle feared was letting them down. If he died before The Centre was destroyed, it would be the ultimate failure.
Today's CT scan showed little improvement. The bleeding had stopped, at least for the moment. The doctor warned against overconfidence. He patiently explained what would happen if his kidney ruptured, or a clot cut off circulation, or the tear just continued to seep blood. The kidney or Lyle himself could die, and his plans with him. So Lyle decided to suck it up and listen to the doctor. He thought of his sister and smiled. Wouldn't Parker be proud? If she knew, which she never would - as long if Sydney kept his word - unless she was looking for him, unless she needed him and he was not there for her, or dead because he did not listen to the doctor. It was a circular argument.
Sydney had stopped to check on him the day after his collapse, and Lyle made the older doctor reiterate his promise not to tell anyone outside The Centre what was happening. Sydney also promised to update him periodically, instantly if anything vital changed.
If Sydney wavered, Lyle had a marker to call. When Sydney was blind and being taunted by Raines in Renewal Wing, Lyle had come to his rescue. Sydney, one of the men who failed to protect him and the other children, who knowingly participated in the Pretender Project, owed him big. Contrary to Parker's assumption that Syd had sold his soul in exchange for freedom, their agreement was that Sydney would keep Parker safe and as far from the truth as possible. Sydney had kept little of the past from Parker; it just kept slithering out of every little Centre crack. He still owed Lyle one unquestioned favor, so Lyle felt he could relax, for today.
The feeling of relaxation ended when Mr. Parker entered Lyle's room. "What the Hell's going on? What are you doing in here? I had to find out from your assistant when I sent for you."
Lyle lifted an eyebrow, "Sent for me?"
"I, we, got a call from Jarod this morning."
Lyle perked up, "What did he say? Any mention of Ethan?"
"Nothing useful, just taunting me. I'm having the call analyzed for clues and background noises. It was foolish of you to think you could keep something like this from me, Lyle, I'm your father. Surely I've proven myself by all the things I've done for you."
"You've proven yourself."
"So I want to know what happened. The doctor said you were mugged?"
"That's what I told him. Knocked down a flight of steps."
"Foolish to put yourself in danger, that's what sweepers are for. When do you get out?"
"Not for a few days."
"Well, I'll send you a report on the call. You're keeping up with things, aren't you?"
"Not exactly. The doctor was pretty adamant about resting."
"That won't do. Gotta keep a hand in. I'll see you get all the reports. Can't have you gathering dust, no good for you, no good for us. Too much is at stake."
Lyle mumbled, "Better than pushing up daisies."
Mr. Parker was backing from the room, a smile on his face, his attention already elsewhere. "I have to get moving. I'll stop around again as soon as I can. Lots happening, lots to do, lots to keep an eye on. Gotta keep the Triumvirate appeased till we can give them what they want. Get up and around fast, eh? Remember you're a Parker."
Lyle bit back on the reply that bubbled to his lips--I wish to God I wasn't. He kept his silence and smiled as the man he called "Dad" left the room. He doubted he would be getting many more "personal" visits.
Lyle's estimation of Mr. Parker's visits was correct. The elder Parker popped in only once over the next several days and carried on a cell phone conversation the entire time he was there. Sydney was more faithful, stopping every day until he had to leave town on a Jarod hunt triggered by the trace Mr. Parker had put on Jarod's earlier phone call.
The report that came back on the Jarod incident did much to make Lyle chuckle. Jarod had done his part and then some. The sweepers had reported a hideous odor that could only have come from well-used diapers left far too long in a trash can as well as many other baby and Parker-related effects. The sweepers, along with Sydney and Broots, had concluded there could be no other possibility but that "the Pretender is, in fact, planning to keep Miss Parker and the infant with him for some time."
Just imaging the fury that quote would bring to the faces of Misters Parker and Cox made Lyle feel better than any medicine ever could.
***
A CT scan marking the seventh day of Lyle's stay in the Centre Infirmary showed that the kidney laceration was slowly healing. It also showed a spot that could be infection. The doctor was concerned because Lyle was still anemic and had been running an intermittent fever for the past two days, so he prescribed IV antibiotics.
Lyle was sitting up in bed reading the report on Jarod's latest pretend. There was not a hint of information on Ethan in the file. Jarod had left copious evidence that he still had custody of Parker and the baby. More empty formula and juice cans, ripe diapers and, for added effect, leg shackles were found in the latest lair. Sydney and the sweepers were two days behind Jarod. In other words, status quo.
Mr. Parker strode into Lyle's room, full of bon mot and power. "Well Lyle, m'boy, how're ya doin? When do I see you back at work?" He noticed the new IV attached to Lyle's arm. "What's going on? I thought you were improving."
Lyle frowned up at the IV bag. "Antibiotics. The doctor didn't like something on the CT."
"Well this won't do. You've been lying around too long. Nothing keeps a Parker down; there's work to be done. I'll just have to go talk to that doctor. We'll spring you outta' here, don't you worry." He slapped Lyle jovially on the shoulder and bustled out of the room.
"Nice of you to visit. Don't want to keep you," Lyle muttered. The truth was that he was stir-crazy. If Jarod wanted him to gain appreciation of what he had gone through, he could not have chosen a better way. Lyle needed to get out of this place. He needed to be able to move, and search for the information the CIA required.
The doctor entered Lyle's room ten minutes later, frowning and rattled, "Mr. Parker says that you want to be discharged. He demands it."
Lyle smiled, "Does that mean you're releasing me?"
"No, I disagreed, but I was overruled. You will stay until all that IV is in. You will be chauffeured home. No driving. You take oral antibiotics as prescribed. You work half-days and stop in here before and after work."
"Is that all, Herr Doktor?"
"Any vertigo, if you even feel like your blood pressure is dropping, any bleeding, any sharp pain, you get your butt in here. And if that fever does not disappear in 48 hours, you'll be back in that bed with another IV."
"Sounds reasonable. My father agreed to all this?"
"He's not happy about the half-days but I convinced him. I want to keep you alive."
"Nice to know somebody does." The doctor was not amused.
Lyle made a major effort to be compliant over the next four days. His fever disappeared and he had no pain or bleeding. The most trying part of the recuperation was not checking on Parker. He knew she must be wondering why he hadn't called, but he had nothing to report except his medical problems, and he did not want her to worry about those.
On the fifth day Mr. Parker called him into his office.
***
Looking in the mirror, Parker realized that the person that was staring back was unrecognizable. A straight nose, sculpted cheekbones, green eyes and a crown of red hair, her own little pretend as it were. For two weeks, she had downplayed her attractiveness, wore little or no makeup and hid behind these props to protect herself and her family as she followed the tracks of her mother's past in an effort to secure the future. Reaching up carefully, Parker removed the wig, and folded it neatly before placing it on the bathroom counter. She quickly removed her green contact lenses, then headed out of the room.
Tired, Parker walked toward her bed and sat down on the edge of it. Her eyes darted toward the phone, then away again. She had to admit, she was a little surprised that she hadn't heard from Lyle. She and Corinna were beginning to worry that the silence might indicate a foiled attempt to convince Mr. Parker of his loyalty. To assuage her worry, she'd called California on her secure cell phone to check on Thane at least once a day. Hearing that her nephew was happy and well made it easier to forge ahead despite her worry about her brother.
As these thoughts were making the rounds in her mind, Parker's cell phone rang. She reached for it and brought the phone to her ear.
"What?"
"Still the gentle voice of..."
"Well, if it isn't Mary Poppins," she said, stifling a yawn. "So why the call?"
"I'm going to offer you some help," Jarod said, putting Parker instantly on the alert.
"What sort of help?"
"Don't get nervous on me, Miss Parker. It's a small thing, really. A computer program designed to target all the banks that your mother might have had access to on the East coast. I e-mailed you the exe file."
She wanted to tell him that reminding her of his knowledge of her mother's past, knowledge he'd kept from her except when he saw fit to dole it out, was probably not the smartest thing he could have done, but she was really not in the mood for him and she just wanted to get off the phone.
"Actually, I'm really beginning to believe that it's all nothing but a wild goose chase.
"Is the great huntress getting a little tired?"
Parker stifled the reply that wanted to jump out of her gut. Why the hell was he trying to bait her?
"So is that all you wanted, Jarod, to tell me about this program?"
"Not really..."
She groaned. Of course not. It couldn't have been that easy. "What else?"
"I just...I wanted to tell you to trust in yourself and use your inner sense, Parker. It won't deceive you. It just might lead you to the truth. You can't be afraid of it."
"I'm not afraid," she snapped at him just a bit too quickly.
"Are you sure? Seems to me that you've been surrounded by despots and liars of all sorts for so many years, that maybe you're afraid you wouldn't recognize the truth it if it jumped up in front of you."
She wanted to scream at him, to swear at him. Instead Parker once again fought for control. "I have a full-time shrink in residence, Jarod, but thanks anyway."
Silence came from the other end of the line, and Parker thought she was about to get out of the tedious conversation when Jarod's voice chimed in again.
"By the way, have you or Corinna heard from Lyle, or has he reverted to type now that he's gotten you out of the Centre?" The implied 'and out of his way' remained unspoken.
That was the proverbial last straw. He wasn't getting away with that, not when she was sitting here worried sick about her brother.
"Jarod, nobody asked for you to be involved in this, you know? You, as always, barged in uninvited and where you were not welcome. Feel free to bail out anytime." There was enough ice in her voice to push the season forward by months. The receiver was away from her ear and almost back into the cradle when she heard his voice.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
That got her attention. She brought the receiver back up.
"I realize I'm exhausted, but did I just hear the almighty Jarod apologize?"
"Just check your computer," Jarod said, and then he was gone.
Parker let out a loud Argh! as she slammed the phone down. She'd been ready to kill him one second then ready to forgive him when he'd uttered his barely audible apology. But even that was too simple for them. Instead of acknowledging that he'd been a creep, Jarod had done what he always did, ended the conversation on his terms.
Thinking back over the conversation, Parker felt herself growing even angrier. Sure, he'd called to help her, but then he'd had to get his dig in on her brother, hadn't he? Why was he like that?
No, she told herself, she wasn't doing this. She had work to do. Yet even as she moved off the bed and headed for the living room to start working, his words skipped and jumped through her mind like small unruly animals. She tried to focus, but she could not dismiss them. Or him. That man! And that thought made her even angrier. Why was she thinking about him? She was supposed to be focusing on saving her family. It was ridiculous that he should affect her so strongly.
And yet...
And yet she could not rid herself of his voice, his face, his presence, the trio working on her like garden tools on firm earth, digging and hoeing and shoveling, breaking up her resistance with their sharp edges, with their implacable certainty. How did he manage that, when no one else could?
No, she would not do this, Parker told herself. She was stronger than him, stronger than his ability to provoke her emotions. Taking a steadying breath, Parker turned and grabbed the laptop that Jarod had supplied her with before they had left California. She ignored his name in her thoughts and turned the computer on. After making herself comfortable on the couch, she thought about her next course of action.
Maybe she would download the program that Jarod had called to tell her about. If it helped in locating her mother's missing DSA, then she couldn't let her anger at Ja---, at him get the best of her. And finding the DSA would certainly cheer her up. The list of dead ends she and Corinna had pursued read like a laundry list of small east coast enclaves. One more bed and breakfast and folksy, hi-y'all inn keeper, and Parker might be ready to turn herself into Renewal Wing.
The screen came to life, and she scrolled down the new messages. There it was. A few strokes of the keyboard and computer chips began to process and analyze with blinding speed. The download screen indicated it would be 13 minutes till the program was completely installed.
Thirteen hours later, Parker was still sitting there in front of her computer. She had kept going out of sheer determination, out of stubbornness and out of certainty that if she stopped, she'd lose the momentum her anger had built up in her. Despite the stiffness starting to make itself very much known in her back and shoulders, Parker wasn't going to give into fatigue and tension, not when the voice inside of her was so firm and compelling. What had Jarod said, she needed to trust her inner sense? Well, her inner sense certainly trusted Jarod.
All Parker had to do was close her eyes and listen. The voice insisted she do as Jarod had told her to do, to trust in herself. And really, wasn't that was all she had to rely on, her mother's voice at work inside her, giving her direction, leading her at last, hopefully, to the answers they all needed so they could be free. They just had to hope that there were no other unexpected twists and turns to come.
***
The Director was physically unremarkable, slightly taller than average, medium build with dark blonde hair. There was nothing you could put your finger on, nothing to draw unwanted attention, but there was something attractive about him. A touch of gray was making its way through his sideburns and he used reading glasses; these were the only signs of age. Tucker Channing had never seen him do anything physical but all his movements hinted of strength. He delegated well and conducted meetings with an assured style that gave a mere glimpse of his personal power, but he remained aloof. He barely spoke to her, or anyone, in the halls. When he did talk, people listened.
Tucker was slightly concerned. This was the first time Peter Karnes had asked her to meet him outside his CIA office. Tonight's meeting was at Rock Creek Park, just outside DC. The Director had not stated any reasons but Tucker knew it was more important than an update on the "seemingly stalled" Centre project.
The Director sat in his Town Car until Tucker had parked and exited hers. He got out and stood beside his car, compelling her to come to him. As she walked toward him she noted that he was not alone. Another man still sat in the car. She became more concerned.
The Director spoke first. "I brought someone I would like to introduce to you."
Tucker relaxed slightly; Karnes had mentioned another player.
The other man exited the Town Car and walked toward them. He was shorter than Karnes, slighter, and had more gray. He wore a friendly smile, but even in the low evening light, Tucker could see that it did not extend to his eyes.
When the man reached them the Director placed a hand lightly on his back. "This is Alex Renfro. A man with the vision to see the potential of Centre projects fulfilled under the proper direction."
Renfro immediately took over the conversation. "The Centre has brilliant scientists, mathematicians, computer specialists and 'thinkers,' what they call pretenders. You may have thought that Jarod was the only one, but there are others with lesser degrees of talent. They can mold the future of the world, cure diseases, and find the answers we need to survive what we've done to this planet.
"We cannot allow that knowledge, or the mechanisms that produced it, to disappear. What we can do is take the information out of the Marketplace, manage it properly, and make it available to those that really need it, the people, the world."
"You're preaching to the choir," Tucker replied, still uneasy.
"I just want to make sure that you understand the implications, what's at stake. Because there may come a time when you don't like some of the means we need to use to attain our goals."
"Overthrowing The Centre has been a CIA goal for years."
"A long-term and rather ethereal goal. If Clinton hadn't gotten involved through that idiot brother-in-law of his and his more unsavory connections, it would still be sitting on the backburner."
"What about the President?"
"He is more concerned with...personal problems."
"And Gore?" Tucker asked.
"He's trying to set up a Presidential Campaign. He wants The Centre taken care of before they can become an issue. He has plenty of those already. And he doesn't care to know details. At this point, what he doesn't know won't hurt him or us. And after this thing is done...it has a title now. Did you know? M3. After M3's done, he can take credit for it. It will seal victory for him and us."
"Karnes tells me he brought you into this project because you have the ability to think and work outside the box," Renfro continued. "Are you onboard?"
"Yes, there are things worth saving there." Something in the back of her brain wanted to say no, but she was already in a too deep.
"You have personal operatives?" Renfro raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Can you trust their discretion?"
"Three, and they know the value of silence," was Tucker's reply.
"If they don't, they'll be taught. Find two more and, if necessary, I can loan you two. Karnes tells me you've lost track of young Master Parker."
"He's not exactly lost. At first we thought Jarod took him." Tucker noted that Renfro twitched at the mention of that name. "Now I've learned that Lyle has him hidden somewhere, supposedly far from The Centre. Lyle, his sister, St. John and Jarod apparently all know where the baby is."
"Tsk, tsk, too many people. The more people that know a secret, the less likely it will remain one." There was a snakelike charm to Renfro's voice. "It's essential we locate that baby. Does your friend Carver know?"
"No, and I doubt that he would have asked. He has a thing about protecting family."
"You have family?"
"Not really, the CIA, career, all that." Why was she telling him so much?
"Good. I don't need anybody interfering with M3 because of entimentality," he said, emphasizing 'anybody.' "I also need you to keep tabs on Jarod. We can't let him get in the way."
"I have an informant, in a manner of speaking"
Renfro nodded. "That's all for now." Renfro turned to the Director, "I'm satisfied," and back to Tucker, "We'll meet again, My Dear, M3 will succeed. Three's the charm."
The "My Dear" sent chills down her spine, and she was positive that Renfro noticed it. His smile broadened as he returned to his seat on the opposite side of the car.
The Director straightened up, changing his position from that of leaning against the car. "I'll give you the name of two analysts we can trust. He means it about the Parker baby, but especially about Jarod. Make sure this doesn't come crashing down around our ears." With that the Director got in the Town Car and drove away.
Whew! I don't know about anyone else, but I'm exhausted (that's Niceole talking).
