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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 25
by paula h and N.R. Levy
Disclaimer in Part 1
Lillias had helped Ethan understand himself a great deal in their few days together at Kinlock Inn. They spent hours talking while she taught him how to live with his gift. He had found his family, Jarod and Parker, only a short time ago. In some way he had always known them, but he not realized who or what they were. Once he found them, he thought they were all the family he would ever have. Now he found that he had aunts and uncles and cousins. Still, Parker shared his gift and, emotionally, he felt closest to Jarod.
Ethan knew the second Jarod recognized his mother for who she was. After Parker left that day Ethan could not keep still. He was tense and worried about his brother and sister. Lillias finally talked him into eating a bit of lunch when he suddenly stopped, just stopped, with a glass of milk poised inches from his lips. Lillias knew by the look on Ethan's face that something terrible had happened. She waited while Ethan stared into space. When he came to himself a few minutes later she did not need to ask.
"He knows," Ethan said softly. He focused on Lillias. "Jarod knows the truth."
Lillias nodded solemnly. She felt this would have a bad ending. Still there was hope; Parker was going after him.
"She has him, Aunt Lillias, I should have gone with Parker."
"Parker wanted ye t' stay here, lad. She be fair formidable by herself."
Ethan asked. "Could you check on her car please? Just in case."
"Aye, laddie, Alisdair went down this mornin'. When he comes home he'll have news fer sure."
Ethan lost what little interest he had in eating. "Would you mind if I went for a walk, Aunt Lillias?"
"No, lad, but stay close. There be evil sneakin' about in the town and I would prefer ye stayed away from it."
"I'm just going down to the sea. I won't be gone long."
Lillias gave Ethan a quick peck on the cheek as he picked up his coat and went out the back door.
Ethan walked longer than he planned. He was nearly back to the stairs that led from the beach to Ceol Na Mara when he felt Parker silently scream in anger at Margaret Abbot's deal. He felt her capitulation and sorrow. He stumbled up the steps as she walked down to Jarod's cell.
Ethan made his way to the Inn, where Lillias sat waiting for him, and fell to his knees. He felt both his half-siblings' pain and his voices were wild in his head. He heard his mother trying to comfort him. Her voice and Lillias' joined as an anchor to keep him sane.
Lillias also knew the instant Parker stalked into Margaret's trap. She knew when Parker considered choosing death for them all. And she was relieved when Catherine wrapped both her children in the warmth of her love. All that time; all the time she waited for Ethan to come to her, she repeated assurances to him in her mind; all the time he knelt before her, his head in her lap, talking to the voices, she whispered them aloud. "It will be all right, me luv. Ye will make it all right. I know ye will," over and over as a mantra.
Ethan heard, and when he finally came back to reality he asked, "Do you really know, Aunt Lillias? Or are you just saying it? Can you see it?"
Lillias smoothed Ethan's hair back from his anguished face. "The future be in a mist, me luv, but I see ye standin' strong and I see Maggie Abbot in fear o' ye. Even she knows there be somethin' about ye that will bring yer family together."
Ethan just nodded. He lay his head back in her lap but he was calm now. "I have to go Aunt Lillias. I know where she's taking them and I have to go."
"Aye, lad, it be time." She continued to stroke Ethan's hair as she looked up at Alisdair. He had just gotten home and stood solemnly watching the scene unfold from the doorway of the sitting room. "Where's Ian?" she asked.
"I left him at the garage, playing wi' Jimmy's lad."
"Good. This would frighten him. But I want him safe here soon. Maggie has the two of them now. I fear her thoughts may turn t' a bit o' revenge afore she goes t' America. And how's Jimmy comin' along wi' the auto?"
"Jimmy says it'll be done t'day, two more hours or less. An' ye know he reckons pretty close t' true."
"Aye, an' a good thing too. I feel like as Ethan needs t' be gone before that woman turns her attention this way."
"I'll bring Ian back when I takes Ethan by the garage," Alisdair added. "And ye, Lilli, be ye all right?"
"Aye, me luv, we'll all be all right." She continued to stroke Ethan's hair.
After a time the three people in the kitchen grew stiff in their various positions. Alisdair went to the cellar to attend to a few things. Ethan got up and went to pack. Lillias busied herself with making tea and a bit of food for Ethan to take when he left. Alisdair sat down and had a mug of tea with Ethan. Then he took the younger man to get Parker's car.
Lillias walked them to the door, scanning the neighborhood for signs of Maggie Abbot's presence. She saw none and was pleased to not see Erin. She would never see her again; no one would.
Ethan started down the stairway to the parking area in front of the Inn. He turned around, ran back up the steps and embraced Lillias. "Thank you, thank you." He looked soulfully into her eyes. "I love you, Aunt Lillias."
Lillias smiled. "I ken ye do, lad," she kissed him on the forehead, "I've known it all yer life." She patted him on the shoulder as he left her. She spent the rest of the day praying for his safekeeping and the deliverance of the two at Abbott Hall.
Miss Parker ate supper in her room while Nigel packed her clothing. He rolled a large Pullman out with him when he left. Half an hour later Buchan walked into her room without knocking. True to Nigel's statement that they would leave as soon as she was packed, Buchan told Parker they were leaving immediately,
Parker picked up a small overnight bag and strode past him to the door. "I'm more than ready. What took you so long?" she asked without looking back at him.
He smiled secretly to himself. "Miss Abbott required my services. I apologize for making you wait."
"Will Margaret be joining us?"
"No, she has other plans. She told me to take good care of you."
Parker eyed him quickly, trying to determine his meaning. Buchan's small smile seemed relatively friendly for a Centre creature. "I don't suppose taking care of me would include allowing me to drive off into the sunset?"
"No, I think not, Miss Parker. An escape attempt would serve no purpose and I value my life a bit too much to release you."
Parker grunted grudging acceptance of the truth. She appreciated his honest answer. She would bide her time, at least until she was on home ground.
Margaret did not appear for a send-off. Parker was relieved.
The drive to a small private airport was silent. Two sweepers joined their group, plus two doctors and their assistants. Parker recognized them from her procedure at Caer Erract. Their appearance gave Parker an anxiety attack that she hid as well as she could. Once they were settled in the Centre plane and in the air, Buchan handed Parker a small pile of files to review so that she could catch up on transactions at The Centre. He told her to start at the top and work her way down. Well, well, back to work already. Margaret wasn't wasting any time before assimilation began.
The flight to Delaware was long and mind-numbing. Parker could not concentrate on anything. She only read five rather boring files before the words blurred. She flipped through another five till she found one even worth reading. By that time she was getting twinges in her back.
Cameron was growing daily, and lately Parker had noticed it by the extra pressure on her bladder and lower back. She stood and stretched, gaining instant and appreciative attention from her all male companions. She walked up and down the aisle several times but it did not help, and passing the lab staff made her jittery. She sat down again.
Buchan asked her if she needed anything. She declined. Later he offered her food, which she refused. He started an in-flight movie, but Parker was not interested. She leaned her seat back and tried to get comfortable. Buchan brought her a blanket and a pillow. She curled up and stared out the window until she dozed off.
Parker did not sleep well or long. She startled awake to find Buchan seated beside her, watching her. "Something entertaining?"
He smiled. "You were restless and mumbling in your sleep."
Parker pushed off the blanket and adjusted herself in her seat. "Did I give up any state secrets?"
"I heard a couple names, Jarod as expected, and Cameron. Since I've never seen that name in your file, I assume he's your future child?"
"It's none of your business."
"True, and no one else's either. I'll get you a cup of coffee."
"Decaf." Parker was slightly stunned. It was just a small secret but she was surprised that he would offer to keep it, and suspicious.
Buchan returned with the coffee and Parker stared at him while she sipped it. "Don't think this changes my opinion of you. We're not going to be buddy-buddy and I'm not going to confide in you."
"I would be shocked if you did. I know a good deal about you, Miss Parker, and I have no misconceptions about your capitulation. Unfortunately for you, neither does Miss Abbott."
"Is that a threat?" Parker's hackles were raised.
"Not at all, and you can pull in the claws. I am merely the messenger here. Miss Abbott asked me to extend you an invitation. I would advise you to think about it before you say anything."
"I think you're more than a messenger and I think you should remember that I will be Centre Chairperson soon."
"When you've walked through the valley of the shadow of death for forty-some years, Miss Parker, you find mere tigresses restful." Buchan's amused smile was genuine.
"Your mistress is a snake."
"True, or possibly true. She is what she is. You've been with The Centre all your life. Do you find her that different from any of the others in power?"
"She sold her own son, and now her grandson for... whatever it is she really wants."
"You'll learn what it is. I have no idea...and that's the truth, but keep in mind that your father was in on this from the very beginning."
Parker could not respond to that indictment. It was true, her father had allowed her memory to be wiped, her happiness to be stolen. He should have protected her. And she was not even surprised to learn that he had not. Was Margaret so much worse?
Buchan changed subjects. "As I said I am courier of an invitation; Miss Abbott would like you to stay at her compound in Blue Cove." He saw Parker's reply boiling up and cut her off. "Don't respond hastily. Remember your position. If you refuse she will have your every move scrutinized. You will never leave your house without supervision and I guarantee you will never have a private conversation. You need to prove yourself." He got up abruptly. "I await your decision," he finished as he left her and walked to the back of the plane.
Parker calmed herself. The thought of staying with Margaret, the thought of being near her at all, nauseated Parker. But Buchan was right, she had to prove herself and, if that meant staying with the bitch, then she would. At least he was not forcing her to capitulate the point immediately; it could wait till they landed. Buchan had given her that tiny crumb. She was grateful for it. Maybe even grateful enough not to kill him when she finished off the bitch.
Sydney wandered among his bonsai trees and tried to shake off the odd feeling that had plagued him all night and into the day. He felt guilty for having made Jarod feel guilty during their phone conversation, and it wouldn't stop troubling him. He knew that he and Jarod had often said things to make each other uncomfortable during his years of freedom; it was nothing new. Still, something in Jarod's voice had seemed more, more...Sydney wasn't sure what the word was, but he sensed it wasn't good. Jarod had said things with Parker were fine, that she was all right. He'd even said she had some good news "about family." What that meant, Sydney couldn't begin to imagine, but he supposed anything that was good news for either of them was long overdue.
Sydney was just about to begin trimming another tree when Broots came skulking into the room, his head whipping from side to side to see if they were alone. Though he adored Broots, the technicians dramatic, over-the-top mannerisms were sometimes so amusing it was difficult not to laugh, even in the mood he was in today. This was one of those times, and Sydney let out a slight chuckle as he spoke.
"Did you find aliens doing an autopsy on Kennedy's missing brain?"
Broots stopped short, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Kennedy's brain really disappeared?"
Sydney laughed again, this time less gently, and Broots rolled his eyes as he realized he was being teased. Sydney's laughter calmed and he looked pointedly at his protégé. "What is it, Broots?"
He leaned closer to Sydney and said in a conspiratorial voice, "When you spoke to, you know, did...was there any mention that someone might be coming home?"
Narrowing his eyes, Sydney reached up to trim a branch on the bonsai in front of him in case the wrong people were watching them right now. "No, nothing like that. Why?"
Broots looked back over his shoulder and then back at Sydney. His voice was even lower than it had been before when he spoke.
"Because I found an order for a Centre car to pick up Miss Parker at the private airstrip, tonight. What do you think that means, Syd? I mean, he said she was okay, right? So why is she coming back here?"
Sydney shook his head, unable to think of a reason that would make any sense unless what she and Jarod had found in Scotland demanded that one of them return to Blue Cove for answers. The sound of Broots' voice broke up what little chain of thought Sydney had been able to put together.
"What do you think they're gonna do, Syd? She's been gone a long time, and Mr. Parker is not happy about it."
"I don't know, Broots. I really don't know.
Jarod woke with a start, to find himself in almost total darkness. He heard a chair leg scraping on the tile floor and knew he still had company in his cell. So, it wasn't a dream, he was in Abbott Hall and his mother was its mistress, mistress of the caer, mistress of the darkness, and mistress of his fate.
Jarod berated himself for getting caught again. As a result he had condemned his son to follow in his footsteps. He groaned aloud at the thought, and hid it by rolling over and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He had repeated Cameron's name to himself so many times he had lost count when exhaustion finally got the best of him and he fell asleep. Was it enough? What else should he have done? What could he try? Jarod rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and ran fingers through his hair.
Jarod's temporary cellmate stood and stretched. He walked over to the door and tapped on it. A small slit opened and the sweepers spoke briefly. The lights came up.
Jarod squinted. "I guess this means it's morning?"
"About three. The mistress of the house said not to wake you till five."
"Big of her." He scratched at the stubble on his chin.
"She also said that I was to get you moving whenever you woke up. The other guys," he pointed toward the door with his thumb, "will pass on the news."
Jarod rubbed at his two-day growth of beard. "Am I allowed to shave or is my mother afraid of what I might do with a razor?"
"There's a battery powered shaver in a bag in the bathroom. There's also a change of clothes and a few other things you might need."
"Am I allowed any privacy?"
"Not really." The sweeper dropped his eyes briefly, and then looked Jarod in the eye.
It was futile to argue, orders were orders and a sweeper was first and foremost a Centre man. Jarod pushed himself off the bed, stood and stretched, flexing his muscles for effect.
The sweeper took the hint and stayed where he was, with no line of sight into the bathroom.
Jarod showered, shaved and dressed. The sweeper was waiting for him, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Jarod tossed him the bag. "Here, make yourself useful."
The sweeper caught the bag smoothly and without comment. He tapped on the door again; this time it opened. Jarod followed the other man out of the room. Four additional sweepers waited in the hall. All wore the requisite dark suits and overcoats. One handed Jarod's guard a coat as they passed. Jarod hoped they would give him his jacket before they cuffed him. It was nippy in the unheated hall, which led him to believe it was cold as heck outside.
Margaret was waiting for them at in the front hall, dressed in a brown suit and camel coat. She had Jarod's jacket folded over her arm. The sweepers led Jarod up to her and stopped slightly back. Jarod stood stiffly in front of his mother and stared through her.
Margaret smiled. "You look rested and ready to travel."
Jarod did not respond.
"You'll need this jacket." she held it out. "The temperature dropped overnight."
Jarod silently took the jacket and put it on.
Margaret's smile broadened. "That's better." She motioned the sweepers out the door before she continued. "Pouting is pointless. You won't be making things difficult for me, only yourself."
"Then why should you care?" Jarod focused on her, his anger still hot. He held out his hands, wrists together. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Actually, if I wanted to restrain you I would've had you drugged and carted you back on a gurney. I expected mature behavior. You're disappointing me right now." She allowed her irritation to show. "I'm not cuffing you, Jarod. But if you try to escape or start another fight I gave the sweepers permission to defend themselves...with prejudice. Clear?"
"Crystal," he growled.
"Good." Her smile returned. "I won't insist you cooperate, at least not yet, but you will be well-mannered. Surely Sydney taught you manners. You will speak civilly to me, Jarod, even if you hate me. You can pretend that we've already come to an understanding, can't you?"
"You forced me to do sims all my life, I guess one more won't kill me. If you could pretend to be a loving mother, I can pretend anything, after all I am your son."
Margaret found the venom in Jarod's voice amusing; he knew he was powerless and hated it. She knew he would try to rectify that situation. She had seen interesting changes in Jarod during his interlude of freedom. The need for, and enjoyment of, power were among them. Margaret studied her son for a moment. He might have more of her in him than she thought. "Yes, perhaps you are. Let's go." She touched him lightly on the sleeve.
Jarod pulled away from her and walked ahead to the car. The sweepers were in place and geared up for trouble. Jarod planned to disappoint them. He calmly walked to the car and held the door open for Margaret. She flashed him the same bright smile that lit his best dreams. Anger obscured his thoughts; he could have killed her in that instant, instead he numbly followed her into the back seat.
The drive to Glasgow Airport was uneventful. Jarod spent it considering the random math of frost patterns on the windows and watching the morning light dance on the ice coated grass and trees. He put most of his energy into blanking out Margaret's presence.
Jarod was polite and stoic while they boarded the Centre corporate jet. Margaret tried to engage him in conversation after takeoff but he pointedly concentrated on the view out the window. He pretended to doze off a few times while he ran through the memory routines again, but he could not actually sleep.
Margaret spent the majority of the ten-hour flight working. She placed several phone calls but accepted only one, eight hours into the trip. After listening to the message, all Margaret said was "good." Then she looked at Jarod, who was patently watching her, and smiled. He turned away. If it made her smile he did not want to know.
Margaret made another effort at conversation as they approached the east coast and Jarod rebuffed her once more. This time Margaret did not let it ride. "At some point you know you will have to talk to me."
Silence and the back of his head.
"You might find it advantageous to court my favor rather than defying me."
Jarod knew that was true but he could barely tolerate sharing air with her. He could see the reflection of his anger in the plane's window. He gripped the seat's arms and kept his head turned away from her.
Margaret was annoyed. "I wish I could give you time to get over yourself but your brother, Ethan, complicated things, destroyed my plan and forced my hand. Raines' abomination should never have been born. He can't be controlled or reasoned with, and just when I thought he was eliminated you saved him."
Jarod sneered. "Screwed your plans, did we?"
"Miss Parker is being far more reasonable." She paused, waiting for his reaction.
"Reasonable?" he asked her reflection. "She just went back to all the family she's ever known or wanted. I trusted her and I believed in both of you. I never want to see or talk to either of you again. Get away from me."
"So much for manners. You know, Jarod, this behavior only confirms my initialopinion that your memory must be wiped for you to be productive again."
He finally turned to face her. "Like you need an excuse."
"You might give me an excuse not to do it, but you won't. You refuse to understand. You've had this opportunity before and made the same decision...and lost. I hate to waste the insight you've gained; loose the experiences you've collected out in the world, but continued surliness cannot be tolerated."
"Fuck you." Jarod turned away. He swore at himself for his outburst. He should have groveled, done anything, to keep his memory, but he could not bow to the woman who had orchestrated the hell that was his life. He would be almost glad to see Raines again if it meant not having to see his mother.
The single phone call Margaret accepted during the flight was from Buchan. The "good" message was that they were about to leave the compound for The Centre.
Parker had arrived in Blue Cove at midnight and was taken directly to the compound. She had long passed the point of exhaustion and hardly remembered the drive. Emotional turmoil and jetlag made her slightly disoriented. Her biggest impression was that the grounds were large and the house modern and made mostly of windows. Nonsensically she wondered if washing them was part of her penance. She smiled at the thought and Buchan gave her an odd look.
"Just happy to be home." She said. She knew he did not believe her but he accepted the remark.
Buchan and Nigel's American butler clone insisted that she eat a bit of soup before she went to her rooms. She had no appetite until she swallowed the first sip. She ate two large bowls of chicken and barley soup plus a turkey sandwich and a big glass of milk.
When Parker went to her small suite she found all her things had arrived before her. The room was set up nicely, including a bottle of calcium based antacids on the dresser. She took one, just to be on the safe side. Then she took a long hot shower and fell into bed.
Parker's body was still on European time so waking in the morning was not a problem. Bracing herself to go to The Centre was. Her first mission was to say hello to Daddy. Sydney and Broots were next. They knew they had a meeting scheduled, but thought it was with Mr. Parker. They were in for a surprise, even if they found out she was coming back. She wondered how much, if anything, Jarod told them before he dumped himself into Margaret's lap.
Parker chose a suit based on shortness of skirt, and a pair of heels that meant business. It was better to let them know she was back in full force. She had little appetite but used breakfast as an excuse to delay leaving. No one was pushing...yet.
Buchan excused himself and made a call while she was nursing her coffee. God, she hated decaf. When Buchan came back he informed her that Jarod and Margaret would land in Blue Cove in approximately two hours. They needed to get moving.
Arrival at The Centre caused an instant stir. Stares and whispers followed Parker as she strode swiftly through the lobby. She did not talk to anyone. She especially did not want to run into Sydney or Broots. She was going to have enough trouble convincing them that this was what she wanted; a public explanation was out of the question. Best to head straight for her father.
Parker arrived at the familiar double doors and stopped to take a deep breath. She had walked through these doors before, her heart sensing the lies her father told her, lies her mind had ignored. The denial was over now. She knew that her beloved "father" had conspired with Margaret to manipulate her entire existence. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, to scream at him, but now was not the time. Today she was putting on a performance for her new mentor, and it would be a first-rate show.
She was just about to open the doors when she heard a set of footsteps approaching her from behind. She expected to turn and find Buchan waiting to escort her inside. Instead, she came blue eye to blue eye with one of the only people she would be glad to see inside this horrible place.
"Welcome home, Miss Parker."
Sam. Stalwart, dependable and loyal Sam. Parker hadn't even spared him a thought during her time away from the Centre, so focused had her thoughts been on Jarod and the secrets they had sought. But now, seeing him, Parker felt the edges of her nerves smooth over just a bit.
"Sam, how have you been?"
"Well, working for your brother doesn't improve my disposition much, but thankfully I've been reassigned."
Parker fought hard not to let anything show on her face. So, they were taking Sam away from her, too.
"Where are you headed?"
"I believe the Tower Directive said, and I quote, 'Sam will take his orders solely from Miss Parker until further notice.'"
Neither of them could let the smile they wanted to share come to the surface,but they each knew it was there. Sam had been beyond frustrated during Miss Parker's absence, frustrated that wherever she was, he wasn't there to watch her back as he always tried to. He had failed her in that over the years, twice, specifically, when Mr. Raines had made certain he would fail. Sam was determined that there would be no third incident. He didn't know what had transpired over the past few months, or what had brought her back, Sam was only glad to return to the one job in this place that didn't make his stomach turn into a knot.
"Well, then, Sam, I have a meeting with my father. I'll meet you in my office in half an hour and you can catch me up on what I missed."
"Half an hour, ma'am," Sam said, turning on his heel and striding down the hallway with all the confidence of the sweeper of the most feared woman in the Centre. Parker felt a shudder inside her body at the thought. Most feared inside until Margaret arrived and made her presence known.
Mr. Parker was just finishing up a call with the Russia office, his voice thickly accented as he spoke to the director there, when his eyes were drawn to the opening of his office doors. He almost dropped the phone when he saw his daughter stride into the room, her presence as strong and room-filling as ever. Why was it no one had told him she was returning? What had Margaret done to bring her back here, and why the hell hadn't that damnable woman warned him?
Biting out a cutting Russian dismissal, Mr. Parker hung up the phone and quickly moved to his daughter, his arms outstretched, his patented fatherly-concern-filled smile on his face.
"Angel, I've been so worried about you. Where have you been?"
He reached her and took her into his arms. As she felt him pull her close, Parker reminded herself why she was doing this and, thinking of Cameron, she wrapped her arms around her father just enough for the action to be called an embrace.
Mr. Parker didn't miss the lack of enthusiasm in his daughter's hug. He stepped back, looking at her with real confusion on his face. Was all this symptomatic of the memory wipe Margaret had administered to her, or was something he didn't know about at work here?
"Angel, is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Daddy. Why wouldn't it be?"
He stepped back again, eyeing her carefully. She looked physically well, her trademark clothing and makeup in place. Still, he sensed something off in her.
"Where have you been, Angel?"
"I'm sure you'll be getting a full report soon."
"I will," he asked, "from whom?"
"Your friend in Scotland. She'll be more than willing to fill you in completely when she arrives with her treasure."
Margaret, she was talking about Margaret, but if the memory wipe had held...Mr. Parker suddenly felt a tightening in his chest. Margaret was prone to sudden power plays. Was this one of them?
"Sweetheart, I'm afraid I don't know..."
There was a limit to how much of this game she could play, and Parker sensed that what Margaret really wanted to know is how much she would reveal here. It would be indicative of how "on board" Parker was with their agreed to plan. She doubted Margaret expected perfect compliance, and banking on it, Parker put her hand up to her lips in a motion indicating silence to her father. He stopped speaking, a furrow gathering in his brow as he took in her gesture.
"Daddy, what do you say we just get things back to normal around here. You can pretend to be a loving father and I'll pretend to believe you."
His eyes widened. He had lost control of her, and he knew it, and he knew who now held it.
"Now if you'll excuse me, Daddy, I have a lot to catch up on." She leaned forward and placed her customary parting peck on his right cheek. Stepping back, she dropped her eyes to the floor momentarily. What she'd really wanted to say to him was, and I'll pretend to care. God, she hated that even after everything she had learned, she did still care. She turned, heading for the door and making her way back into the hallway. Reflexively, Parker's hand moved to her abdomen and gently brushed over it. I will never let anyone take away your freedom, Cameron, she thought, I promise you.
She hadn't truly felt her son's thoughts since her memory had returned, though his presence was always with her. As she started down the hallway, however, she was certain she sensed a small voice answer back to her, "I know."
Margaret did not allow Jarod's sullen outburst on the corporate jet to spoil her good mood. She returned to her seat, content with the fact that Parker was cooperating. Jarod's obstinacy could be dealt with in a number of ways, not the least of which was the memory wipe she had originally planned.
Still, Margaret reflected, Jarod's travels had changed him. Her little boy in a man's body had grown up. Warped, as all children of The Centre were in one way or another - living too close to a source of power could do that - but really much improved over the genius simpleton he was before. Perhaps seeing the world in grayscale rather than his previous black and white version did it, or finding that punishment meted out by his own hand was exhilarating.
It had been some time since Margaret was personally involved in Centre operations. Pulling distant puppet strings was safer and more productive most times, but it was boring. Mr. Parker and Raines did enjoy their little power games, she had to give that much. It was time for a few changes.
Thoughts of running her own games at The Centre brought a smile to Margaret's face. She reclined her seat and settled herself back. She dozed, safe in the knowledge that she was in charge of her fate.
Changes in the engine noise roused Margaret. A short time later the landing gear deployed, and the jet landed without incident.
Margaret stretched and glanced at Jarod. His jaw was working and he swallowed more often than necessary, but he was calm. He had been through this before, and was worried about what awaited him. She caught his eye and he dropped his head slightly. Probably regretting antagonizing her before, she mused. Good, Margaret thought, she had been more than accommodating in her terms and was not offering again.
A limousine and a town car waited at the side of the runway. Buchan waited beside them. Jarod was led somewhat reluctantly to the first vehicle. Margaret seemed unmoved as she walked to the second. She spoke to Buchan for a moment and they exchanged a bit of paperwork. She left in the town car, alone.
Buchan joined Jarod and several sweepers in the limousine. He signaled the driver to move out. Once again, the scenery riveted Jarod's attention. The drive was relatively short and Buchan was content with silence.
Jarod wanted to know what was waiting for him. After a few minutes he could not suppress his curiosity. "When did you get to Blue Cove?" he asked, looking directly at Buchan.
Buchan considered Jarod for a moment. "Late last night."
"I assume Miss Parker was with you?"
"She was." Buchan paused to see if Jarod would ask. When he did not, the sweeper added, "She went back to The Centre this morning."
"Eager to get back to work, I'm sure," Jarod grumbled.
"She had appointments. She has some...explaining to do." Buchan crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jarod's reactions closely. A report would be expected later.
"Will she be 'there' when we walk in the door?"
"Doubtful, but she'd have no reason to tell me."
"Did she say anything about...?" Jarod literally bit his tongue; he had not meant to ask, to let Margaret's man see his pain.
"Did she mention you, boyo?" He chuckled for effect. "She told me to make sure you were safely ensconced in yer rooms. And she told me she's in no hurry to see you again."
Jarod looked at Buchan, trying to decide if it was the truth. Buchan's smile revealed nothing. "Who will be there? Raines?"
Buchan uncrossed his arms and leaned toward Jarod conspiratorially. "Now that I do know. Your mother conveniently arranged for Mr. Raines to be in Switzerland and Mr. Lyle to be in Hong Kong. Some problem with Centre accounts." He smiled. "She knows how to arrange things."
"She's had years of practice."
"Yes, she has. You may think you can outwit her, but you'd be mistaken. She's bested many who thought they were smarter than her and she's bested you, if you must know."
"So it would seem." Jarod returned his attention to the window, where the roofline of The Centre that was just visible.
"Not now; you did that one to yerself. I mean she knew everything The Centre knew about you all along, and we've tracked you down once or twice ourselves while you were out running around. She knows you, Jarod, at least as well as your dear Sydney."
"Then why didn't you bring me back?" Jarod was still doubtful.
"Because as long as you were out, Miss Parker was in. Miss Abbott hoped she would choose to stay in." Buchan stopped; he felt he might have said too much. "And now she has."
Jarod missed the inference; they were pulling onto Centre grounds and he was preoccupied. "Yes, she has." He found it hard to think or even breathe. The conversation was over.
Sydney and Broots walked quickly toward the Tower elevator and their imminent meeting. Originally they had expected the usual inquisition by Lyle or, more recently, Mr. Parker. Now they knew Miss Parker was back - they would have had to be on Sublevel 40 not to have heard the news - and they were eager to attend. The grapevine said that she had already been to her father's office and gone straight from there to the Tower. First and foremost they both wanted to see her. They had missed her and worried about her when she was gone. They worried more now that she was back.
The fact that they were meeting her in the Tower rather than her office was unsettling. So much so that Broots was silent after an initial attempt at small talk. He exited the elevator two steps behind Sydney, scanning the empty hallway and closed doors. They walked toward the only open door, a mass of etched glass and brass.
Broots touched Sydney's arm lightly and cleared his throat twice before he could speak. "I've never been on this floor. I thought it was restricted. Are you sure this is the right place?""
Sydney smiled to himself. "I'm sure. I've never been on this particular floor either. An elevator key has always been required to exit here. Apparently things have changed." He wondered about their privileged status.
"Syd, is it me or is it awful empty up here?"
"It is, but that is not necessarily a bad sign, especially if Miss Parker arranged for privacy. But remember, Broots, we may still be under observation."
Parker posed herself leaning slightly against a heavy glass and brass table; she crossed her long legs at the ankle and pretended she had not just stopped pacing when she heard the ding of the elevator opening.
On the way to The Centre Buchan had told Parker that her base of operations had moved, at least temporarily, into one of the offices in Margaret's Tower suite. The way the sweeper looked at her when he passed on the information led her to believe it was a non-negotiable decision. Most of her experience was with windowless T-Board rooms. She had never been on this floor; the elevator did not even open here...until today.
Alone, except for the comfort of Cameron, Parker had pressed the button and waited. The doors opened to darkness. The lights came up automatically. Trust Margaret to inject a touch of drama. She exited the elevator and walked, with the familiar click of heels on marble, to the only glass, and only open, door.
The large reception area was carpeted, furnished in brass, glass and an array of modern art. There were several leaded glass doors; one was open. The office that Parker assumed was hers was now furnished with her desk and other Centre trappings. There was an arrangement of fresh flowers on the desk and a window that looked out on the cove. She had been called down from Corporate into the bowels of The Centre. Now she could look down on the place. It seemed she had "come up" in the world, above her father, who she knew loved to be in the hub of the action. She thought she might like this detachment. The thought that she understood Margaret's perspective sent a chill through her.
Parker returned to the reception area and closed the door behind her. She paced the room until she heard the elevator open. She kept telling herself she was ready for this meeting. These two were her friends; she did not want them involved, so she could not tell them the truth. She also did not want them nosing into things, so she would choose her words with care.
A smile spread across Sydney's face as he walked through the door. Parker could not completely repress the smile that came to her lips. She was as glad to see him as she had been to see Sam. Only Sam was not about to question her.
Broots followed Sydney, grinned and stated the obvious. "Miss Parker, you're really back."
She wanted to laugh at him but she straightened her face and her stance. "Yes, gentlemen, I am back."
Sydney's smile disappeared. "Parker, what happened?"
"If you want a play-by-play you'll have to wait for the movie."
"But I thought..." He paused noticing the set of her jaw. Anger crept into his voice, "If you were coerced...forced..."
Parker cut him short. "I made the decision to come back here. As you can see," she indicated their surroundings, "things have changed."
"And...Jarod?"
"I came to my senses and realized I'd made a mistake. And that will probably be all you need to know on that subject for now."
Sydney's furrowed brow told Parker he did not believe her. She decided she should add the bad news; she took a deep breath. "How do you like my new digs?"
Broots looked around in apparent awe. Sydney took the scenery in quickly. "Very nice. Does a new assignment accompany the accommodations?"
"Why yes, it seems my previous position has become obsolete. You see Jarod found his mother."
Broots' jaw dropped; Sydney lifted an eyebrow.
"The problem, his problem, is that these offices are hers." Parker waited for their reaction.
Broots stuttered; then shut his mouth. Sydney replied, "This place ceased to shock me long ago."
"Me, too. Oh, Syd, a heads up. Jarod is coming home today. If you can return to treating him like the test subject he is, then he's yours. If you cannot or prefer not to, other arrangements will be made."
Broots managed a coherent sentence, "J...Jarod is coming back, too?"
"I believe that's what I said."
"But, Miss Parker!"
Parker fixed him with a stare she hoped would stop him.
Her hopes were dashed. Once Broots actually started he was hard to stop. He looked down at the carpet but desperately went on, "How could you do that?"
"I didn't," she growled. How could he think that?
"Oh, no." He looked up at her, desperation growing. "I didn't think you...I mean how could you come...how could you let...?" He finally came to a halt under the weight of her stare. She felt as though she had broken another heart.
Sydney put a hand to his chin, rubbing his forefinger across his mouth, and considered. "I will let you know my decision after I speak with Jarod."
"Wrong, Sydney, you are to speak to him about nothing except business, nothing of what happened before now or what I just told you." She looked at his urgently hoping he could understand her meaning. She added, "It's for his own good."
"I see."
She hoped he did. "Also, the information on Jarod's discovery," she tilted her head slightly, indicating the room, "is strictly confidential."
Both men nodded.
"So now, if you will excuse me, I have files to catch up on, and Sam has offered to fill me in on events during my absence."
Sydney spoke for both of them. "As you wish, Miss Parker." They turned and left.
Parker shut the heavy glass door behind them and returned to her own private glass cage.
The limousine pulled up to the front entrance. The car door was opened. Jarod managed to get himself out of the car and standing without assistance, but he could not force his foot take the first step. Buchan placed a hand lightly on Jarod's shoulder. It was not meant to intimidate or comfort, but it went through Jarod like an electric shock. He took a step and kept moving. He sensed the sweepers surrounding him in case he bolted but he had tunnel vision, focused on
the door.
Jarod made it inside and stopped again, taking a breath. He was back, thanks to his mother, but at least he had walked in on his own. He looked around. All eyes were on him. That was somewhat gratifying and, always a showman at heart, it allowed him to continue.
The entourage had barely cleared the lobby when Mr. Parked rapidly approached from the direction of his office. He scanned the faces of all present, settling briefly on Jarod, to whom he nodded acknowledgement, before he focused on Buchan. "Where's your mistress?"
Buchan disliked being attacked smiled secretly at the other meaning of the word. "My mistress's whereabouts are not your concern until she wants them known. She will contact you tomorrow."
Mr. Parker ground his teeth in frustration. "She'd better watch her step."
Buchan was not impressed.
Mr. Parker cleared his throat and focused on Jarod. "You must be the treasure my daughter alluded to." He glanced at Buchan again. "I was under the impression that she was coming with him."
"Your impressions are hardly her concern," the sweeper replied.
"Remember your place," the elder man said before he returned his attention to Jarod. "Welcome home, Jarod." Mr. Parker took a firm hold on Jarod's coat sleeve and guided him toward the elevator.
Buchan did not follow; he decided to take a break. He had a sudden desire for a large mug of American coffee.
As the elevator doors closed, Jarod saw Sydney and Broots coming from the direction of the Tower. They looked troubled. Sydney caught Jarod's eye for the briefest moment. Desperate questions met desperate questions. Neither had any answers.
