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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
The Gift
part X
by Nicolette & paula h
Major Charles looked at his wife standing beside the window. How often had she stood the same way, worrying about him and her sons? Now one of them was dead and the other was beyond their help, back in The Centre. What could Jarod have been thinking? More likely, he was not thinking at all. He wanted to protect the boy and the woman, and even his years of freedom had not convinced him that good cannot always triumph. Rescuing Jarod would be dangerous, if it was even possible, and he and his family had two new members to worry about first. It appeared that Miss Parker would survive. The bullet had done a fair amount of soft tissue damage and she had lost far too much blood to be walking around, but it had somehow missed her lung and major blood vessels. Her father called her Angel, and she must have one of her own.
He left the bedroom and descended the stairs. Jake was standing at the bottom. He looked concerned. "Dad, I think we need to do something about her car...."
"Jake, we're far from the beaten path here, and the snow will cover the car tracks. No one will find it."
"That's just it, Dad, no one can find it here. They will keep looking for it, and them," he nodded to ward the top of the stairs. "We have to give them a reason to stop looking, or at least another direction to look in."
"And you have a plan, I suppose?" the Major smiled. Both Jake and Jarod always had a plan. When they were together no one was safe. His smile faded; he could only hope to see them together again.
"Toward the north there are a couple bridges crossing one river. I can't remember the name, but it's pretty deep and fast, and there was rain before the temperature dropped. The water should be running pretty fast. Anyway, it empties into the Delaware and then out to the ocean. If we ditch the car over the edge of a bridge, they will have a hard time proving nobody was in it."
Major Charles nodded, "I see your point. But the weather is getting worse by the hour. If we're going to do this we better do it now. Can you and Emily watch Parker and Ryan while your mother and I are gone?"
"I wanted to drive," Jake whined. He managed to look like Ryan when the child asked for more cookies.
"I think not; you have no experience with this kind of driving."
"But Jarod says I'm good at pretending..."
"And I say no!" Charles and Jake turned to look at Margaret, who quickly joined them. "You just tell us what we need to make this look real and we'll do it. I will not risk any more of my children." She looked on the verge of tears, but both men recognized her resolve.
"Okay," Jake agreed, slightly deflated, and outlined his plan.
********
Margaret drove the family's SUV; Major Charles drove Miss Parker's car. He chose a bridge with a deserved reputation for accidents. The road had a short downhill curve that practically aimed a car at the river. A recent wreck had left the guard rails bent at the near edge. That driver was fortunate, the Russells hoped to convince The Centre that Miss Parker was not.
The Major pulled the car over to the curb, toward the middle of the rise. He adjusted the steering wheel so that the car was aligned with the broken guard rail. He opened the trunk and pulled out a garbage bag and a short heavy board. From the bag, he removed Miss Parker's blood-soaked coat, packed with snow. He placed the coat firmly on the gas pedal and was gratified to hear the engine rev. Then he pulled out a strip of silk ripped from her equally bloody blouse and forced it to catch on the edge of a metal seam along the outside edge of the driver's side door. He and removed the plastic sheet he had been sitting on to protect him from the bloody seat. The plastic sheet went into the plastic bag.
Then he looked up the hill to where Margaret waited and watched for traffic. He flickered his lights; she flickered hers in response. No one was coming. He pulled one of Ryan's tiny shoes from his pocket and threw it on the back seat. An added touch, suggested by Jake. He used the board to press on the brake while he put the car into gear. He left the car door wide open. He mentally crossed his fingers and jumped back, taking the board with him.
The car rolled slowly away, then picked up speed on the slope. It hit the damaged railing and tottered at the edge. The Major feared it might not go into the river, but a tire caught on the twisted metal and the car spun slightly. It went into the water. It twisted in the strong current and the rear end sank. The front end slowly followed until all that was visible were the lit headlamps. This plan was not perfect. The Major decided he might have to make an anonymous call to report the car wreck.
Margaret pulled up behind her husband. He threw the board and the bag into the back and jumped into the driver's seat. She smiled at him and reported, "We'd better get going. I saw headlights coming."
The Major drove over the bridge, turned around as quickly as possible and drove back the way they came. As they were cresting the hill, they passed a black Town Car going toward the river. Miss Parker's car was about to be discovered.
****
"They're both sleeping now," Emily joined her younger brother in front of the fireplace. Silently she stared into the flames. After several minutes she stood up and paced around.
"I wish Mom and Dad were back; I have a bad feeling," Emily said nervously.
Jake turned around to face the young woman. "Don’t worry, the plan is perfect," Jake assured her, "I've simmed the whole situation. This will give us the time we need."
Emily glared darkly at him and turned toward the kitchen, just before she left the room she turned and looked back to the teenager sitting in front of the fireplace.
"I just hope that your plan is not as perfect as Jarod's last one, 'cause now he's at The Centre."
Not waiting for an answer she walked out.
***
Jarod sat on his cot, eyes closed, wishing both Mutambo and Raines would go away. Then he realized they had stopped talking; they were waiting for him to say something. He tried to remember what Mutambo had said, how he should answer. The seconds of silence seemed like hours; Jarod raised his head and looked at Mr. Raines' expectant smile. He turned his head slightly and looked at Mutambo; the words "contact with you" came into Jarod's mind. "'Contact me?' What do you mean?"
Gratified that Jarod was now attentive, Mutambo repeated his question, "You have been with us several hours. Has anyone attempted to contact you?"
A thrill of impending doom ran through Jarod's mind. "There is no way any one could reach me," Jarod lied. "You have me buried here."
Mutambo frowned, "Ah, Jarod. I had hoped that we could come to a point of mutual trust. After all, you returned of your own free will." He ignored the look Jarod shot at him. "But you have chosen to lie."
Shit, was all that Jarod could think. He watched Mutambo turn to Raines. Mr. Raines picked up the conversation. "I warned you that transgressions would be punished. What did Angelo say or give you?"
Jarod's first urge was to lie again. But they already knew Angelo had been there. "He said nothing. He just came to see me."
"Would you prefer that we question Angelo?"
Jarod knew that they would, and that they would search the cell and him until they found the picture. "All right," he said and handed the print to Mutambo.
Mutambo unfolded the picture, looked at it briefly, and returned it to Jarod. Jarod felt a wave of relief, followed by one of suspicion. Mutambo nodded to Jarod and Raines, then he left the room.
Raines shook his head sadly, "You will be allowed to keep the picture to remind you why you will obey in the future. However, since you have abused our trust, you must be moved to an area where further contact can be better controlled. Come with me, now." Jarod stood and followed Raines without comment. He knew that he had failed their test, and had been expected to do so. He suspected that his visit to SL-26 was mainly for that purpose; the conversations with Lyle an object lesson. Now he prepared himself to be thrown into the cage they used on his last visit.
****
Miss Parker stirred in her sleep; she felt a heavy weight on her chest; for a moment a wave of panic shot though her; she opened her eyes and looked directly into two dark brown eyes. The panic was gone the same moment she realized who it was. Ryan lay partly on her fresh wound. She welcomed the pain in a way, it told her she was still alive.
The boy looked at her in mixture of love and curiosity.
"What?" she asked him softly, lifting her left arm and stroking a stand of his dark hair out of his face.
"Are you really my mother?" Ryan asked, cocking his head
Flabbergasted, Miss Parker looked at the baby face only inches from her own. The urge to laugh was nearly overwhelming. If this is a taste what it is to have a genius as baby, then what would come when he was a bit older?
"How did you come up with this idea?" she finally asked, really curios to hear his answer, and to buy herself a bit of time. She still felt dizzy and weak, not really ready to get in such a discussion with her son. She still felt the shock of finding out he was her son. Everything since the email was a blur.
"Major Charles said to his wife, when they where here, to make sure you are okay before you stood up and walked around," his voice indicating he was still upset that she had left the bed.
"Would you like it, if I were your mother? " Miss Parker still wondered if she would ever be able to adjust the abrupt changes in his behavior. One second he was a not even three year old baby; the next he sounded grown-up.
The expression on Ryan’s face changed again. Fear in his eyes as his slowly nodded.
Miss Parker felt a twinge of guilt that she had answered his question with another question. The way he looked now assured her that no matter how intelligent he was, emotionally he was the same as every two year old child. Turning on her left side, she let the small body slowly slide down hers. He now lay in her arms, while she curled her body as well as possible around his small form.
"I am your mother." The lack of reaction to her statement was like a cold hand grabbing her heart. Suddenly, two small arms where around her neck and the boy pressed himself a close as he could into her arms. He lifted his head so that his lips where close to her ear.
"I love you, Mammy," he whispered and buried his face in her hair.
*****
Jarod was surprised when the elevator continued to rise until it reached ground level. Were they taking him out of The Centre? The party of Raines, Jarod and four sweepers walked through the main lobby and continued on to the hall that led to the Tower. Jarod felt a new chill as they boarded the Tower elevator. Mr. Raines flashed him one of his insanely beatific smiles, and Jarod was sure this move was not destined to be pleasurable.
When the elevator doors opened Jarod hesitated; one of the sweepers shoved him forward. Raines turned to the man, "Jarod is to be treated as a guest, a truculent one, but a guest." The man nodded and stepped back. Jarod looked around the room. It was almost filled with a Plexiglas booth. The booth extended from floor to ceiling. It contained a cot, a small desk and chair. Raines unlocked the door to the booth with his hand print and opened the door himself. Jarod walked in. There were air vents in the ceiling, several of them, none wider than Jarod's head. He suspected that Angelo would not be able to crawl close enough to this Plexiglas cell to give him more notes. There were cameras trained on the booth; and, most amazing of all, a widow. The cameras and the window were outside the booth. In a corner opposite the window, farthest from the elevator, was a small area enclosed in opaque walls.
Mr. Raines followed Jarod's gaze. "The bathroom will offer you privacy. You are a guest here. If you can act like a guest, your privacy will be maintained. If you perform to your abilities, you will be rewarded."
"What? No reeducation?"
"Our last attempt at force proved ineffective. We realize you are intelligent. We have seen that you appreciate and know how to use power. If you wish, you may reeducate yourself; cooperate; and be granted increased privileges. If not, this will be your permanent home."
Jarod's first impulse was punch Raines in the face, but he wished them to think he was considering working for them. He needed to work for them to buy Miss Parker time. He clenched his fists and said, "I will consider it," when hell freezes over, "I make no promises."
Raines smiled again, "An honest answer. Good. I will leave you alone now, to think." He and the sweepers left Jarod. He spent the next several hours checking every inch of the cell, looking for a way out.
*****
Lyle sat at the end of the T-shaped table. The room was nearly dark except the white glow of the table. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He had always enjoyed the T-boards, but this was the first time he sat on this end.
Today he had to admit he was scared, he felt small and unsure. They had dragged him out of his cell to this room, and left him alone. He had no idea how long he was here now, nothing indicated the time. The silence was absolute; the only sounds he could hear were his own breath and the hushing sound of his clothes when he sledded around his hard chair.
From time to time he was even sure that he could hear his rapid heartbeat. Normally there was no room without a camera, but as much as he looked around he could not find the red eyes that indicated that there were any cameras. He tried to remember where they where and concentrate on those points, but all he saw was darkness. He had hated the dead eyes in his cell, recording every second. The red light had made him angry, he had wanted to smash anything against it. Now he missed it, no sign of life, the light had at least indicated that they where recording his movement, so they had interest in him, here he felt like he was buried alive. The urge to stand up and scream against the silence was nearly overwhelming. He was sure he could see the walls moving, they where coming closer and closer. And was it not warmer now? It was harder to breath.
He had to stay focused, he knew all the psychological tricks. They just want to break you, he told himself, or they want you dead.
****
Mr. Raines walked into Mutambo's office. The big man raised his head, "Report."
"The sweepers have completed their on-site investigation. No sign of Miss Parker or the boy," Raines rasped, grimly. "By the amount of blood in the car, I'm surprised she got that far."
"She was a determined woman," Mutambo interrupted. "And a strong one." He thought back to the time he first met her; how she had disagreed with his ruling. He had cut her down then, 'This is not a democracy!', but it had made him smile later. She had been a good choice to mother the "Little King." Mr. Lyle had not been a good choice to manage her. "I will bring him personally. I want the interior of the car undisturbed until he sees it." Raines nodded and left.
Mutambo stared after Raines for a moment. They had Jarod but had lost their leverage against him. It might be advantageous to allow him to continue believing the boy lived but, then again, this way Jarod had no immediate reason to escape. Mutambo had watched the man pace the glass cage. He understood Jarod far better than Raines. They would never break Jarod. They needed to convince him to join them or coerce him into bending to their will. Jarod's "family" could still be used as a bargaining chip, and this bit of honesty would both discomfit the man and show him the folly of crossing The Centre. He rose from his chair, considering the spectrum of Jarod's possible reactions to the news. First he had to attend to the matter of Mr. Lyle and his disobedience.
*****
Lyle had no idea how long he was there, when the shadows on the other end of the room suddenly came alive. He could make out at least four different persons. His throat tightened even more. He was not able to identify anybody. Only four shadows in different sizes. No words where spoken. He could here them taking their seats, and than nothing again.
Nobody spoke. It was again so quiet that he could hear his heartbeat. A pressure was building in his lungs, rising up to his head.... he felt a urgent demand to... to what his brain was not able to make it out. The shadows from the room had invaded his mind. Breathe! A voice demanded and he realized that he was holding his breath. As carefully a he could manage he exhaled, praying that the others would not notice. At the same time he asked himself who he was fooling. They where watching every move.
Why they are so silent, please let them speak, Lyle could feel cold sweat running down his back. The last time he was so terrified was when the Yakusa had tied him up. The memory of the event when he lost his thumb swamping into his mind. He was sure he could feel the knife again, slicing his skin, his flesh, his....
"You have destroyed Centre's property! " a deep male voice swept through the room like a thunder roll. Lyle immediately identified it as Mutumbo’s.
*****
Destroyed... does this mean they are dead? No, not this. The boy was his! He belonged to him; it was his project; he had worked it out. He had taken the whole risk. He only wanted his sister out of the way. It was not fair that she had failed the Centre again and again; they had threatened, but never really punished her.
She was going to run away with that carpenter and nobody did anything to stop her; he had finally taken care of the situation. God, that man had been so stupid. What had he been thinking, just walking in and taking her away? He would never forget the surprised expression on his face as he pointed the his sister's gun at him. He liked the slight blaze in his eyes, satisfied that he was aware that the gun of the woman he loved would kill him. After the man was dead Lyle took some blood and placed it in the middle of the living room and arranged the whole scene. He was still sorry that he had been not able to watch his sister discovering his great work. Surely she had admired his perfect setup.
"We are waiting" Mutumbo’s voice growled again.
Waiting? Waiting for what? "What do you want from me?" Lyle was surprised that his voice was so small, his throat felt like he had swallowed sheets of sand paper.
"Well," another voice came up in the room, "you have cost us a lot of money. And we need you to pay it back."
"Dad?" Lyle was shocked, this was not possible, his father had not been here for years. But this was a good sign, he would help him.
"Sorry, Mr. Lyle," Mr Parker spoke again, "you are not my son anymore. The Centre is your father and your mother, and you have betrayed them. You shot my daughter. She is dead; we found her car and this." With the last words a small dark object came flying across the table. It was a small shoe, one of the black shoes he remembered seeing on Ryan. The shoe was wet.
"You have killed my daughter."
Lyle could hear his father again, no he had said he was not his father anymore. But he was, he had proven it with a genetic test. How could he refuse the truth? His mind was playing tricks on him again, Pictures where popping up in his mind, a dark big figure coming towards him, a belt in his hand. Yelling words at him he could not understand. All he felt was the sharp pain when the belt hit him again and again, he had done nothing, why he was hitting him again and again.
The picture changed, now he was holding a belt in his hand, he saw the small figure in front of him, lying on a bed. She was crying, pleading that she had done nothing. But this would not help her, she had to be punished, he had never done anything wrong, but he had taken the whole blame from his father, as she would now. With every hit he could feel the anger raising and he could not stop, he was still hitting the girl when she lay there motionless. Sheer exhaustion stopped him and he was sitting on the floor, he could hear Bobby screaming, terrified, but he did not listen.
The memory faded and all he saw was the little black shoe on the white glowing table. Whom this shoe belonged to, he could not remember, for a moment he was sure this was his shoe, the one his mother had bought for his third birthday. He had been so proud, but then his father came in.. No it was not his shoe, he was not longer three years old and his mother was not his mother.
Lyle had no idea how long he was sitting there, he heard two different male voices yelling at him, accusing him, but he had no idea what they wanted from him. He had been a good boy. He could feel salty tears running down his face, collecting into the corners of his mouth. He slipped down his chair and tried to hide under the table.
He could hear his mother yelling to stop beating him and then he heard her cry in pain. He was beating her as well, he needed to go up and protect her, but he could not move. The smell from his new shoes mixed up with the familiar scent as he wet his pants. For this his father would lock him in the shed again.
Suddenly Lyle felt the hard floor under his hands. Why was he under the table? He could see four pairs of shoes from his point of view. Slowly, and embarrassed, he crawled out. The room was still dark, but he was not terrified anymore, he was old enough and he was the Chairman of the Centre. He and not his traitorous sister.
Out of nowhere two big men in dark suits appeared, taking him with them. The words reeducation and renewal wing rang in his ears.
*****
Mutambo left the T-Board room immediately after Lyle. He walked into Jarod's room alone. Jarod stood and walked to the door of his cage. They might not beat him but they seemed to have no intention of leaving him alone. Mutambo unlocked the door with his hand print and stepped back. "You will come with me."
"But I just got here," Jarod surprised himself with his attempt at humor. So, there is life after failure.
"You will be returning," he gestured toward the elevator. The door opened, revealing two sweepers with a set of familiar shackles. Jarod balked, and Mutambo placed a hand on his shoulder. "It is necessary if you are to accompany me." Jarod submitted to the restraints, gritting his teeth at the sensation of being a prisoner again. Raines had been right, they had treated him like a guest, until now. Where were they taking him that they wanted additional control? They boarded the elevator.
Mutambo was silent during the descent. Two more sweepers joined them at the main lobby; the elevator continued down two sub-levels. Jarod identified this as the storage level for Centre-owned vehicles. He could see a stretch limousine and two vans as he exited the elevator. The group rounded a corner and Jarod stopped. The sweepers looked at Mutambo for orders.
"Stay here." He placed a hand briefly on Jarod's arm, "Come."
Jarod identified Parker's car instantly. They had her! They had the boy! Mutambo had lied and wanted to gloat. Jarod did not notice that he had stopped; he did not notice that he obeyed Mutambo and moved forward. They reached the car before Jarod saw the water dripping on the cement and flowing down a drain. Water. The car had been in the water. Jarod moved around the open driver's door, noting that it was no longer capable of closing. Someone got out! He looked at the interior; the driver's seat stained black with blood, and felt nausea and fear rising. He looked up at Mutambo; the big man was expressionless. He looked around the garage. They were the only ones there except for Mr. Raines, who wore a look of sincere sorrow. Jarod refused to know. He looked in the car again, saw that it had obviously been submerged. no! Saw the bloody jacket. No! Saw the shred of bloody silk on the door. NO!!
Mr. Raines walked over to the paralyzed man. He held out something in his hand. Jarod had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the car he did not want to see. He looked at the object in Raines hand. His eyes refused to focus. He took it in his hands; it was wet. NO, his mind screamed, NO, No, no, nonono. He saw the small shoe in his hand, and recognized it as Ryan's from the picture. His vision blurred again, this time from tears. He fell to the cement; he did not feel his knees hit the floor. He could not feel anything but the cold dark water. He did not know that he had made a sound.
Mutambo heard the sound, the small whimper, the "no" that came with unwanted knowledge. He had felt the same when his own family was... but that was the past. The future knelt before him struggling with his own loss. Mutambo was gratified when Jarod spoke; the younger man was still able to question, even in despair.
"Bodies?" Jarod managed in a shaky whisper. He was fighting to control his tears.
"None yet," Mutambo knew the question was to him. "It is a swift current and not far from the big river." Jarod nodded; the tears stopped. Control was foremost in his mind, other thoughts were difficult. "Jarod, do you believe this is real?"
Jarod's eyes shifted to Mutambo. Did he believe this was real? Were they trying to trick him, or did they think Parker was trying to trick them? He returned his attention to the car. "She was shot?" He could see Mutambo nod. "This is her car. Where was it?"
Raines responded, "The Dolores Hill Bridge, across Angel Creek. It's near where the creek empties into the Delaware."
Jarod nodded, he was familiar with Blue Cove area. It made sense, Parker would have headed north, to loose herself in New York or Philadelphia; maybe try for Maine. From the amount of blood on the seat and jacket, he was amazed she got as far as she did. Running on adrenaline. Had she lost consciousness or tried to ditch the car? Did she know she was not going to make it and choose death for them both? The tears threatened; he returned to abstract analysis of the evidence. soaking wet and injured she probably could not have left the scene if she escaped. Now for the car itself, "The blood is hers?"
"It is being analyzed."
The comparison should be easy. Jarod was sure they knew her blood right down to the DNA. He touched the jacket; he recognized it as hers. He touched the fabric on the door. She had tried to get out. "Where was the shoe?"
"The floor in the back."
She would not have saved herself without her son. And she could not save them both...he could not save them at all. "It is real," he said, his voice reflecting the ice in his soul.
Mutambo nodded, turned and left. It was some moments before Jarod spoke, "I would like to go back to my room now."
Raines called the sweepers, who helped Jarod to his feet. Jarod clutched the shoe as he was led to the elevator. He noticed the shackles again. Had they expected him to try as escape? To fight? They overestimated him. The only desire he had now was to see Lyle...one last time.
The elevator door opened on the main lobby, and Bridgette. Jarod was momentarily shocked. What was she doing here?
"Hello, Luv. Sorry about the news. My poor dear stepdaughter, I never really got to be her friend," she smiled like a snake. "I can hardly wait to see what projects Mr. Raines finds to fill your time. I have a new project of my own, you see."
Jarod was not interested, until she stepped aside. His attention moved from her wide smile to the man behind her. Lyle! Jarod did not think. His posture did not alert the sweepers. He was out of the elevator and had the chain from his cuffs around Lyle's neck before they could move. He put what was left of his soul into the effort to crush Lyle's wind pipe. It took all four of his sweepers plus the two with Lyle to pry Jarod off the man. When that failed he tried for one of the sweepers guns. But they threw him to the floor and Bridgette stepped on his hand. "Naughty, Naughty!" she laughed. "Rainsey will have to punish you if you can't behave." She licked her lips; she would be more than willing to punish him herself.
Raines held the elevator open till the sweepers dragged Jarod back in, "Bridgette, you would be advised to keep that...thing away from Jarod," he rasped, "or you will be the one punished." The elevator closed on the still smiling Bridgette as she checked on her coughing prisoner. She noticed something on the floor at Lyle's feet.
*****
Sydney sat on his chair, still shaken from the last four hours. This was only his second T-board and the first one from this end of the table. When Mutumbo ordered him into the tower he had no idea what was up this time, for some seconds he had even suspected that he was having a T-board meeting. Oh sure, he had one, but not on the end he had expected.
He had tried to set his focus on the man at the other end of the table. Mr. Parker and Mutumbo had accused Lyle over and over again; asked questions he was sure Lyle could not answer. Not that they had even given him room to answer them.
The real shock had come when he entered the room behind the T-board room. It was furnished like a VIP lounge in a cinema. A big screen on one wall, displaying the almost dark room with the T-shaped table. Seeing Lyle at the end of the T had not been a real surprise. This time he had stepped on one toe too many.
It was the time before Christmas; Sydney felt like he already had his gift. When he had seen all the blood on the parking lot he felt like he would die. He believed he had lost her. The image of Catherine’s dead body had come up as clearly as if had been yesterday that she had lain in that damn elevator. History repeats itself? He was glad that it was not the case this time. This time the mother had managed to rescue her child and she had survived. He could not be thankful enough that she had known the location of Jarod’s family, he still marveled how, but this was not important. His little girl was safe and so was her baby.
He had smiled when he remembered mother and son, so it took him some seconds to process the information his eyes gave him about the two other persons in this room. Sydney had felt his mouth drop open and, recalling the moment, he was sure he had looked like Broots would if Miss Parker told him that she loved him.
This reaction was triggered by the couple that sat in the corner of the room and seemed to enjoy watching Lyle sweat in the other room. Brigitte and Mr. Parker where sitting there like they had never been away. Three years and now they where just sitting there. His mind at first refused to accept it, but Mr. Parker’s faked and enthusiastic greeting, as well as Brigitte’s purred "Luv" convinced him that he was not dead and in hell.
He was in a state of shock, and the way Mr. Parker had accused him of failing to save his *daughter* had left only one wish open, his fist in the other man's face. But he knew that would do nobody a favor. God, but he wished.......
Then Mutumbo had swept in, fuming. Waving around a plastic bag with a baby shoe inside, he told them that they had found the car. He reported they where still searching for bodies.
Now that Brigitte was back it had been not a big surprise for Sydney that
she was in charge of the new project they call BBL. He was really not sure if he liked the reeducation programs the Centre was doing lately. He felt sorry for Lyle when he watched him during the four hours session. He was too long in his job not to see what was happening to the young man. A degree was not needed, anybody could clearly see the pain in him. His expression had changed as well as his behavior. He had been a child crying for help and in the next moment he was a cold blooded killer. Knowing that Brigitte would be his supervisor did not make it easier for him.
Brigitte had not changed a bit, she had sat there the whole time a smug grin on her face a Lolly Pop in her mouth and a predators gleam in her eyes.
No matter what, Sydney was sure he could do nothing at the moment. Maybe he should contact Broots and see how things had gone. With a heavy sigh he got up and left the room.
*******
Jarod was still shaking when he lay down on the cot in the glass cage. The sweepers cautiously removed his shackles and backed out the door. Jarod put an arm over his eyes. "Is it possible to turn off the lights?"
"Not at this time," Raines paused. "You will not be punished for that little episode. It appears that Bridgette has the same poor judgment as her stepson."
Jarod did not care about punishment, all he could think about was the car in the river and that small shoe. The shoe! He had dropped it when he went after Lyle. Raines and the sweepers were getting into the elevator. "Raines!" The other man turned with a questioning look. "What happened to my son's... Ryan's shoe?"
Raines looked around the elevator, "I don't know. I will have someone look or it." The elevator doors closed.
Jarod sat at the desk and put his head down on his arms. He was back where he started. If he had stayed here Ryan might never have been born, and Parker would not have died. He damned The Centre, and he damned himself. He still felt his hands around Lyle's throat. One more nanosecond, another ounce of pressure.... The look on Lyle's face when he saw Jarod springing on him; the gurgling scream; the weakening fight. They were all gratifying but not enough. Even so, Jarod replayed them in his mind. It kept him from thinking of other things.
Jarod heard the elevator open again and lifted his head. Now what Hell did they want to show him?! It was Mutambo, "Mr. Raines has advised me about your brief encounter." Jarod looked at him without emotion. "I cannot allow Lyle to be further damaged, at this time."
"He's MINE!" Jarod stood and moved to the door.
Mutambo smiled, "If I decide he is no longer of use, we will see...."
Jarod turned away. He walked to the wall nearest the window. "He is mine," Jarod repeated softly. He wrapped his fingers around the picture of Parker and Ryan, and stared out at the early morning darkness.
"For the interim I must go home for several days. I will not return until after your Christmas. Mr. Raines will see to your care and assignments. I trust you will cooperate. I would hate for you loose additional family." Jarod did not respond. "Then it is farewell," Mutambo returned to the elevator. He did not know what Jarod would do during his absence, but it was better to let underlings deal with such things. One could always take the credit, or assign the blame. This man was a leopard; Mutambo wondered if a glass cage could hold him.
part X
by Nicolette & paula h
Major Charles looked at his wife standing beside the window. How often had she stood the same way, worrying about him and her sons? Now one of them was dead and the other was beyond their help, back in The Centre. What could Jarod have been thinking? More likely, he was not thinking at all. He wanted to protect the boy and the woman, and even his years of freedom had not convinced him that good cannot always triumph. Rescuing Jarod would be dangerous, if it was even possible, and he and his family had two new members to worry about first. It appeared that Miss Parker would survive. The bullet had done a fair amount of soft tissue damage and she had lost far too much blood to be walking around, but it had somehow missed her lung and major blood vessels. Her father called her Angel, and she must have one of her own.
He left the bedroom and descended the stairs. Jake was standing at the bottom. He looked concerned. "Dad, I think we need to do something about her car...."
"Jake, we're far from the beaten path here, and the snow will cover the car tracks. No one will find it."
"That's just it, Dad, no one can find it here. They will keep looking for it, and them," he nodded to ward the top of the stairs. "We have to give them a reason to stop looking, or at least another direction to look in."
"And you have a plan, I suppose?" the Major smiled. Both Jake and Jarod always had a plan. When they were together no one was safe. His smile faded; he could only hope to see them together again.
"Toward the north there are a couple bridges crossing one river. I can't remember the name, but it's pretty deep and fast, and there was rain before the temperature dropped. The water should be running pretty fast. Anyway, it empties into the Delaware and then out to the ocean. If we ditch the car over the edge of a bridge, they will have a hard time proving nobody was in it."
Major Charles nodded, "I see your point. But the weather is getting worse by the hour. If we're going to do this we better do it now. Can you and Emily watch Parker and Ryan while your mother and I are gone?"
"I wanted to drive," Jake whined. He managed to look like Ryan when the child asked for more cookies.
"I think not; you have no experience with this kind of driving."
"But Jarod says I'm good at pretending..."
"And I say no!" Charles and Jake turned to look at Margaret, who quickly joined them. "You just tell us what we need to make this look real and we'll do it. I will not risk any more of my children." She looked on the verge of tears, but both men recognized her resolve.
"Okay," Jake agreed, slightly deflated, and outlined his plan.
********
Margaret drove the family's SUV; Major Charles drove Miss Parker's car. He chose a bridge with a deserved reputation for accidents. The road had a short downhill curve that practically aimed a car at the river. A recent wreck had left the guard rails bent at the near edge. That driver was fortunate, the Russells hoped to convince The Centre that Miss Parker was not.
The Major pulled the car over to the curb, toward the middle of the rise. He adjusted the steering wheel so that the car was aligned with the broken guard rail. He opened the trunk and pulled out a garbage bag and a short heavy board. From the bag, he removed Miss Parker's blood-soaked coat, packed with snow. He placed the coat firmly on the gas pedal and was gratified to hear the engine rev. Then he pulled out a strip of silk ripped from her equally bloody blouse and forced it to catch on the edge of a metal seam along the outside edge of the driver's side door. He and removed the plastic sheet he had been sitting on to protect him from the bloody seat. The plastic sheet went into the plastic bag.
Then he looked up the hill to where Margaret waited and watched for traffic. He flickered his lights; she flickered hers in response. No one was coming. He pulled one of Ryan's tiny shoes from his pocket and threw it on the back seat. An added touch, suggested by Jake. He used the board to press on the brake while he put the car into gear. He left the car door wide open. He mentally crossed his fingers and jumped back, taking the board with him.
The car rolled slowly away, then picked up speed on the slope. It hit the damaged railing and tottered at the edge. The Major feared it might not go into the river, but a tire caught on the twisted metal and the car spun slightly. It went into the water. It twisted in the strong current and the rear end sank. The front end slowly followed until all that was visible were the lit headlamps. This plan was not perfect. The Major decided he might have to make an anonymous call to report the car wreck.
Margaret pulled up behind her husband. He threw the board and the bag into the back and jumped into the driver's seat. She smiled at him and reported, "We'd better get going. I saw headlights coming."
The Major drove over the bridge, turned around as quickly as possible and drove back the way they came. As they were cresting the hill, they passed a black Town Car going toward the river. Miss Parker's car was about to be discovered.
****
"They're both sleeping now," Emily joined her younger brother in front of the fireplace. Silently she stared into the flames. After several minutes she stood up and paced around.
"I wish Mom and Dad were back; I have a bad feeling," Emily said nervously.
Jake turned around to face the young woman. "Don’t worry, the plan is perfect," Jake assured her, "I've simmed the whole situation. This will give us the time we need."
Emily glared darkly at him and turned toward the kitchen, just before she left the room she turned and looked back to the teenager sitting in front of the fireplace.
"I just hope that your plan is not as perfect as Jarod's last one, 'cause now he's at The Centre."
Not waiting for an answer she walked out.
***
Jarod sat on his cot, eyes closed, wishing both Mutambo and Raines would go away. Then he realized they had stopped talking; they were waiting for him to say something. He tried to remember what Mutambo had said, how he should answer. The seconds of silence seemed like hours; Jarod raised his head and looked at Mr. Raines' expectant smile. He turned his head slightly and looked at Mutambo; the words "contact with you" came into Jarod's mind. "'Contact me?' What do you mean?"
Gratified that Jarod was now attentive, Mutambo repeated his question, "You have been with us several hours. Has anyone attempted to contact you?"
A thrill of impending doom ran through Jarod's mind. "There is no way any one could reach me," Jarod lied. "You have me buried here."
Mutambo frowned, "Ah, Jarod. I had hoped that we could come to a point of mutual trust. After all, you returned of your own free will." He ignored the look Jarod shot at him. "But you have chosen to lie."
Shit, was all that Jarod could think. He watched Mutambo turn to Raines. Mr. Raines picked up the conversation. "I warned you that transgressions would be punished. What did Angelo say or give you?"
Jarod's first urge was to lie again. But they already knew Angelo had been there. "He said nothing. He just came to see me."
"Would you prefer that we question Angelo?"
Jarod knew that they would, and that they would search the cell and him until they found the picture. "All right," he said and handed the print to Mutambo.
Mutambo unfolded the picture, looked at it briefly, and returned it to Jarod. Jarod felt a wave of relief, followed by one of suspicion. Mutambo nodded to Jarod and Raines, then he left the room.
Raines shook his head sadly, "You will be allowed to keep the picture to remind you why you will obey in the future. However, since you have abused our trust, you must be moved to an area where further contact can be better controlled. Come with me, now." Jarod stood and followed Raines without comment. He knew that he had failed their test, and had been expected to do so. He suspected that his visit to SL-26 was mainly for that purpose; the conversations with Lyle an object lesson. Now he prepared himself to be thrown into the cage they used on his last visit.
****
Miss Parker stirred in her sleep; she felt a heavy weight on her chest; for a moment a wave of panic shot though her; she opened her eyes and looked directly into two dark brown eyes. The panic was gone the same moment she realized who it was. Ryan lay partly on her fresh wound. She welcomed the pain in a way, it told her she was still alive.
The boy looked at her in mixture of love and curiosity.
"What?" she asked him softly, lifting her left arm and stroking a stand of his dark hair out of his face.
"Are you really my mother?" Ryan asked, cocking his head
Flabbergasted, Miss Parker looked at the baby face only inches from her own. The urge to laugh was nearly overwhelming. If this is a taste what it is to have a genius as baby, then what would come when he was a bit older?
"How did you come up with this idea?" she finally asked, really curios to hear his answer, and to buy herself a bit of time. She still felt dizzy and weak, not really ready to get in such a discussion with her son. She still felt the shock of finding out he was her son. Everything since the email was a blur.
"Major Charles said to his wife, when they where here, to make sure you are okay before you stood up and walked around," his voice indicating he was still upset that she had left the bed.
"Would you like it, if I were your mother? " Miss Parker still wondered if she would ever be able to adjust the abrupt changes in his behavior. One second he was a not even three year old baby; the next he sounded grown-up.
The expression on Ryan’s face changed again. Fear in his eyes as his slowly nodded.
Miss Parker felt a twinge of guilt that she had answered his question with another question. The way he looked now assured her that no matter how intelligent he was, emotionally he was the same as every two year old child. Turning on her left side, she let the small body slowly slide down hers. He now lay in her arms, while she curled her body as well as possible around his small form.
"I am your mother." The lack of reaction to her statement was like a cold hand grabbing her heart. Suddenly, two small arms where around her neck and the boy pressed himself a close as he could into her arms. He lifted his head so that his lips where close to her ear.
"I love you, Mammy," he whispered and buried his face in her hair.
*****
Jarod was surprised when the elevator continued to rise until it reached ground level. Were they taking him out of The Centre? The party of Raines, Jarod and four sweepers walked through the main lobby and continued on to the hall that led to the Tower. Jarod felt a new chill as they boarded the Tower elevator. Mr. Raines flashed him one of his insanely beatific smiles, and Jarod was sure this move was not destined to be pleasurable.
When the elevator doors opened Jarod hesitated; one of the sweepers shoved him forward. Raines turned to the man, "Jarod is to be treated as a guest, a truculent one, but a guest." The man nodded and stepped back. Jarod looked around the room. It was almost filled with a Plexiglas booth. The booth extended from floor to ceiling. It contained a cot, a small desk and chair. Raines unlocked the door to the booth with his hand print and opened the door himself. Jarod walked in. There were air vents in the ceiling, several of them, none wider than Jarod's head. He suspected that Angelo would not be able to crawl close enough to this Plexiglas cell to give him more notes. There were cameras trained on the booth; and, most amazing of all, a widow. The cameras and the window were outside the booth. In a corner opposite the window, farthest from the elevator, was a small area enclosed in opaque walls.
Mr. Raines followed Jarod's gaze. "The bathroom will offer you privacy. You are a guest here. If you can act like a guest, your privacy will be maintained. If you perform to your abilities, you will be rewarded."
"What? No reeducation?"
"Our last attempt at force proved ineffective. We realize you are intelligent. We have seen that you appreciate and know how to use power. If you wish, you may reeducate yourself; cooperate; and be granted increased privileges. If not, this will be your permanent home."
Jarod's first impulse was punch Raines in the face, but he wished them to think he was considering working for them. He needed to work for them to buy Miss Parker time. He clenched his fists and said, "I will consider it," when hell freezes over, "I make no promises."
Raines smiled again, "An honest answer. Good. I will leave you alone now, to think." He and the sweepers left Jarod. He spent the next several hours checking every inch of the cell, looking for a way out.
*****
Lyle sat at the end of the T-shaped table. The room was nearly dark except the white glow of the table. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He had always enjoyed the T-boards, but this was the first time he sat on this end.
Today he had to admit he was scared, he felt small and unsure. They had dragged him out of his cell to this room, and left him alone. He had no idea how long he was here now, nothing indicated the time. The silence was absolute; the only sounds he could hear were his own breath and the hushing sound of his clothes when he sledded around his hard chair.
From time to time he was even sure that he could hear his rapid heartbeat. Normally there was no room without a camera, but as much as he looked around he could not find the red eyes that indicated that there were any cameras. He tried to remember where they where and concentrate on those points, but all he saw was darkness. He had hated the dead eyes in his cell, recording every second. The red light had made him angry, he had wanted to smash anything against it. Now he missed it, no sign of life, the light had at least indicated that they where recording his movement, so they had interest in him, here he felt like he was buried alive. The urge to stand up and scream against the silence was nearly overwhelming. He was sure he could see the walls moving, they where coming closer and closer. And was it not warmer now? It was harder to breath.
He had to stay focused, he knew all the psychological tricks. They just want to break you, he told himself, or they want you dead.
****
Mr. Raines walked into Mutambo's office. The big man raised his head, "Report."
"The sweepers have completed their on-site investigation. No sign of Miss Parker or the boy," Raines rasped, grimly. "By the amount of blood in the car, I'm surprised she got that far."
"She was a determined woman," Mutambo interrupted. "And a strong one." He thought back to the time he first met her; how she had disagreed with his ruling. He had cut her down then, 'This is not a democracy!', but it had made him smile later. She had been a good choice to mother the "Little King." Mr. Lyle had not been a good choice to manage her. "I will bring him personally. I want the interior of the car undisturbed until he sees it." Raines nodded and left.
Mutambo stared after Raines for a moment. They had Jarod but had lost their leverage against him. It might be advantageous to allow him to continue believing the boy lived but, then again, this way Jarod had no immediate reason to escape. Mutambo had watched the man pace the glass cage. He understood Jarod far better than Raines. They would never break Jarod. They needed to convince him to join them or coerce him into bending to their will. Jarod's "family" could still be used as a bargaining chip, and this bit of honesty would both discomfit the man and show him the folly of crossing The Centre. He rose from his chair, considering the spectrum of Jarod's possible reactions to the news. First he had to attend to the matter of Mr. Lyle and his disobedience.
*****
Lyle had no idea how long he was there, when the shadows on the other end of the room suddenly came alive. He could make out at least four different persons. His throat tightened even more. He was not able to identify anybody. Only four shadows in different sizes. No words where spoken. He could here them taking their seats, and than nothing again.
Nobody spoke. It was again so quiet that he could hear his heartbeat. A pressure was building in his lungs, rising up to his head.... he felt a urgent demand to... to what his brain was not able to make it out. The shadows from the room had invaded his mind. Breathe! A voice demanded and he realized that he was holding his breath. As carefully a he could manage he exhaled, praying that the others would not notice. At the same time he asked himself who he was fooling. They where watching every move.
Why they are so silent, please let them speak, Lyle could feel cold sweat running down his back. The last time he was so terrified was when the Yakusa had tied him up. The memory of the event when he lost his thumb swamping into his mind. He was sure he could feel the knife again, slicing his skin, his flesh, his....
"You have destroyed Centre's property! " a deep male voice swept through the room like a thunder roll. Lyle immediately identified it as Mutumbo’s.
*****
Destroyed... does this mean they are dead? No, not this. The boy was his! He belonged to him; it was his project; he had worked it out. He had taken the whole risk. He only wanted his sister out of the way. It was not fair that she had failed the Centre again and again; they had threatened, but never really punished her.
She was going to run away with that carpenter and nobody did anything to stop her; he had finally taken care of the situation. God, that man had been so stupid. What had he been thinking, just walking in and taking her away? He would never forget the surprised expression on his face as he pointed the his sister's gun at him. He liked the slight blaze in his eyes, satisfied that he was aware that the gun of the woman he loved would kill him. After the man was dead Lyle took some blood and placed it in the middle of the living room and arranged the whole scene. He was still sorry that he had been not able to watch his sister discovering his great work. Surely she had admired his perfect setup.
"We are waiting" Mutumbo’s voice growled again.
Waiting? Waiting for what? "What do you want from me?" Lyle was surprised that his voice was so small, his throat felt like he had swallowed sheets of sand paper.
"Well," another voice came up in the room, "you have cost us a lot of money. And we need you to pay it back."
"Dad?" Lyle was shocked, this was not possible, his father had not been here for years. But this was a good sign, he would help him.
"Sorry, Mr. Lyle," Mr Parker spoke again, "you are not my son anymore. The Centre is your father and your mother, and you have betrayed them. You shot my daughter. She is dead; we found her car and this." With the last words a small dark object came flying across the table. It was a small shoe, one of the black shoes he remembered seeing on Ryan. The shoe was wet.
"You have killed my daughter."
Lyle could hear his father again, no he had said he was not his father anymore. But he was, he had proven it with a genetic test. How could he refuse the truth? His mind was playing tricks on him again, Pictures where popping up in his mind, a dark big figure coming towards him, a belt in his hand. Yelling words at him he could not understand. All he felt was the sharp pain when the belt hit him again and again, he had done nothing, why he was hitting him again and again.
The picture changed, now he was holding a belt in his hand, he saw the small figure in front of him, lying on a bed. She was crying, pleading that she had done nothing. But this would not help her, she had to be punished, he had never done anything wrong, but he had taken the whole blame from his father, as she would now. With every hit he could feel the anger raising and he could not stop, he was still hitting the girl when she lay there motionless. Sheer exhaustion stopped him and he was sitting on the floor, he could hear Bobby screaming, terrified, but he did not listen.
The memory faded and all he saw was the little black shoe on the white glowing table. Whom this shoe belonged to, he could not remember, for a moment he was sure this was his shoe, the one his mother had bought for his third birthday. He had been so proud, but then his father came in.. No it was not his shoe, he was not longer three years old and his mother was not his mother.
Lyle had no idea how long he was sitting there, he heard two different male voices yelling at him, accusing him, but he had no idea what they wanted from him. He had been a good boy. He could feel salty tears running down his face, collecting into the corners of his mouth. He slipped down his chair and tried to hide under the table.
He could hear his mother yelling to stop beating him and then he heard her cry in pain. He was beating her as well, he needed to go up and protect her, but he could not move. The smell from his new shoes mixed up with the familiar scent as he wet his pants. For this his father would lock him in the shed again.
Suddenly Lyle felt the hard floor under his hands. Why was he under the table? He could see four pairs of shoes from his point of view. Slowly, and embarrassed, he crawled out. The room was still dark, but he was not terrified anymore, he was old enough and he was the Chairman of the Centre. He and not his traitorous sister.
Out of nowhere two big men in dark suits appeared, taking him with them. The words reeducation and renewal wing rang in his ears.
*****
Mutambo left the T-Board room immediately after Lyle. He walked into Jarod's room alone. Jarod stood and walked to the door of his cage. They might not beat him but they seemed to have no intention of leaving him alone. Mutambo unlocked the door with his hand print and stepped back. "You will come with me."
"But I just got here," Jarod surprised himself with his attempt at humor. So, there is life after failure.
"You will be returning," he gestured toward the elevator. The door opened, revealing two sweepers with a set of familiar shackles. Jarod balked, and Mutambo placed a hand on his shoulder. "It is necessary if you are to accompany me." Jarod submitted to the restraints, gritting his teeth at the sensation of being a prisoner again. Raines had been right, they had treated him like a guest, until now. Where were they taking him that they wanted additional control? They boarded the elevator.
Mutambo was silent during the descent. Two more sweepers joined them at the main lobby; the elevator continued down two sub-levels. Jarod identified this as the storage level for Centre-owned vehicles. He could see a stretch limousine and two vans as he exited the elevator. The group rounded a corner and Jarod stopped. The sweepers looked at Mutambo for orders.
"Stay here." He placed a hand briefly on Jarod's arm, "Come."
Jarod identified Parker's car instantly. They had her! They had the boy! Mutambo had lied and wanted to gloat. Jarod did not notice that he had stopped; he did not notice that he obeyed Mutambo and moved forward. They reached the car before Jarod saw the water dripping on the cement and flowing down a drain. Water. The car had been in the water. Jarod moved around the open driver's door, noting that it was no longer capable of closing. Someone got out! He looked at the interior; the driver's seat stained black with blood, and felt nausea and fear rising. He looked up at Mutambo; the big man was expressionless. He looked around the garage. They were the only ones there except for Mr. Raines, who wore a look of sincere sorrow. Jarod refused to know. He looked in the car again, saw that it had obviously been submerged. no! Saw the bloody jacket. No! Saw the shred of bloody silk on the door. NO!!
Mr. Raines walked over to the paralyzed man. He held out something in his hand. Jarod had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the car he did not want to see. He looked at the object in Raines hand. His eyes refused to focus. He took it in his hands; it was wet. NO, his mind screamed, NO, No, no, nonono. He saw the small shoe in his hand, and recognized it as Ryan's from the picture. His vision blurred again, this time from tears. He fell to the cement; he did not feel his knees hit the floor. He could not feel anything but the cold dark water. He did not know that he had made a sound.
Mutambo heard the sound, the small whimper, the "no" that came with unwanted knowledge. He had felt the same when his own family was... but that was the past. The future knelt before him struggling with his own loss. Mutambo was gratified when Jarod spoke; the younger man was still able to question, even in despair.
"Bodies?" Jarod managed in a shaky whisper. He was fighting to control his tears.
"None yet," Mutambo knew the question was to him. "It is a swift current and not far from the big river." Jarod nodded; the tears stopped. Control was foremost in his mind, other thoughts were difficult. "Jarod, do you believe this is real?"
Jarod's eyes shifted to Mutambo. Did he believe this was real? Were they trying to trick him, or did they think Parker was trying to trick them? He returned his attention to the car. "She was shot?" He could see Mutambo nod. "This is her car. Where was it?"
Raines responded, "The Dolores Hill Bridge, across Angel Creek. It's near where the creek empties into the Delaware."
Jarod nodded, he was familiar with Blue Cove area. It made sense, Parker would have headed north, to loose herself in New York or Philadelphia; maybe try for Maine. From the amount of blood on the seat and jacket, he was amazed she got as far as she did. Running on adrenaline. Had she lost consciousness or tried to ditch the car? Did she know she was not going to make it and choose death for them both? The tears threatened; he returned to abstract analysis of the evidence. soaking wet and injured she probably could not have left the scene if she escaped. Now for the car itself, "The blood is hers?"
"It is being analyzed."
The comparison should be easy. Jarod was sure they knew her blood right down to the DNA. He touched the jacket; he recognized it as hers. He touched the fabric on the door. She had tried to get out. "Where was the shoe?"
"The floor in the back."
She would not have saved herself without her son. And she could not save them both...he could not save them at all. "It is real," he said, his voice reflecting the ice in his soul.
Mutambo nodded, turned and left. It was some moments before Jarod spoke, "I would like to go back to my room now."
Raines called the sweepers, who helped Jarod to his feet. Jarod clutched the shoe as he was led to the elevator. He noticed the shackles again. Had they expected him to try as escape? To fight? They overestimated him. The only desire he had now was to see Lyle...one last time.
The elevator door opened on the main lobby, and Bridgette. Jarod was momentarily shocked. What was she doing here?
"Hello, Luv. Sorry about the news. My poor dear stepdaughter, I never really got to be her friend," she smiled like a snake. "I can hardly wait to see what projects Mr. Raines finds to fill your time. I have a new project of my own, you see."
Jarod was not interested, until she stepped aside. His attention moved from her wide smile to the man behind her. Lyle! Jarod did not think. His posture did not alert the sweepers. He was out of the elevator and had the chain from his cuffs around Lyle's neck before they could move. He put what was left of his soul into the effort to crush Lyle's wind pipe. It took all four of his sweepers plus the two with Lyle to pry Jarod off the man. When that failed he tried for one of the sweepers guns. But they threw him to the floor and Bridgette stepped on his hand. "Naughty, Naughty!" she laughed. "Rainsey will have to punish you if you can't behave." She licked her lips; she would be more than willing to punish him herself.
Raines held the elevator open till the sweepers dragged Jarod back in, "Bridgette, you would be advised to keep that...thing away from Jarod," he rasped, "or you will be the one punished." The elevator closed on the still smiling Bridgette as she checked on her coughing prisoner. She noticed something on the floor at Lyle's feet.
*****
Sydney sat on his chair, still shaken from the last four hours. This was only his second T-board and the first one from this end of the table. When Mutumbo ordered him into the tower he had no idea what was up this time, for some seconds he had even suspected that he was having a T-board meeting. Oh sure, he had one, but not on the end he had expected.
He had tried to set his focus on the man at the other end of the table. Mr. Parker and Mutumbo had accused Lyle over and over again; asked questions he was sure Lyle could not answer. Not that they had even given him room to answer them.
The real shock had come when he entered the room behind the T-board room. It was furnished like a VIP lounge in a cinema. A big screen on one wall, displaying the almost dark room with the T-shaped table. Seeing Lyle at the end of the T had not been a real surprise. This time he had stepped on one toe too many.
It was the time before Christmas; Sydney felt like he already had his gift. When he had seen all the blood on the parking lot he felt like he would die. He believed he had lost her. The image of Catherine’s dead body had come up as clearly as if had been yesterday that she had lain in that damn elevator. History repeats itself? He was glad that it was not the case this time. This time the mother had managed to rescue her child and she had survived. He could not be thankful enough that she had known the location of Jarod’s family, he still marveled how, but this was not important. His little girl was safe and so was her baby.
He had smiled when he remembered mother and son, so it took him some seconds to process the information his eyes gave him about the two other persons in this room. Sydney had felt his mouth drop open and, recalling the moment, he was sure he had looked like Broots would if Miss Parker told him that she loved him.
This reaction was triggered by the couple that sat in the corner of the room and seemed to enjoy watching Lyle sweat in the other room. Brigitte and Mr. Parker where sitting there like they had never been away. Three years and now they where just sitting there. His mind at first refused to accept it, but Mr. Parker’s faked and enthusiastic greeting, as well as Brigitte’s purred "Luv" convinced him that he was not dead and in hell.
He was in a state of shock, and the way Mr. Parker had accused him of failing to save his *daughter* had left only one wish open, his fist in the other man's face. But he knew that would do nobody a favor. God, but he wished.......
Then Mutumbo had swept in, fuming. Waving around a plastic bag with a baby shoe inside, he told them that they had found the car. He reported they where still searching for bodies.
Now that Brigitte was back it had been not a big surprise for Sydney that
she was in charge of the new project they call BBL. He was really not sure if he liked the reeducation programs the Centre was doing lately. He felt sorry for Lyle when he watched him during the four hours session. He was too long in his job not to see what was happening to the young man. A degree was not needed, anybody could clearly see the pain in him. His expression had changed as well as his behavior. He had been a child crying for help and in the next moment he was a cold blooded killer. Knowing that Brigitte would be his supervisor did not make it easier for him.
Brigitte had not changed a bit, she had sat there the whole time a smug grin on her face a Lolly Pop in her mouth and a predators gleam in her eyes.
No matter what, Sydney was sure he could do nothing at the moment. Maybe he should contact Broots and see how things had gone. With a heavy sigh he got up and left the room.
*******
Jarod was still shaking when he lay down on the cot in the glass cage. The sweepers cautiously removed his shackles and backed out the door. Jarod put an arm over his eyes. "Is it possible to turn off the lights?"
"Not at this time," Raines paused. "You will not be punished for that little episode. It appears that Bridgette has the same poor judgment as her stepson."
Jarod did not care about punishment, all he could think about was the car in the river and that small shoe. The shoe! He had dropped it when he went after Lyle. Raines and the sweepers were getting into the elevator. "Raines!" The other man turned with a questioning look. "What happened to my son's... Ryan's shoe?"
Raines looked around the elevator, "I don't know. I will have someone look or it." The elevator doors closed.
Jarod sat at the desk and put his head down on his arms. He was back where he started. If he had stayed here Ryan might never have been born, and Parker would not have died. He damned The Centre, and he damned himself. He still felt his hands around Lyle's throat. One more nanosecond, another ounce of pressure.... The look on Lyle's face when he saw Jarod springing on him; the gurgling scream; the weakening fight. They were all gratifying but not enough. Even so, Jarod replayed them in his mind. It kept him from thinking of other things.
Jarod heard the elevator open again and lifted his head. Now what Hell did they want to show him?! It was Mutambo, "Mr. Raines has advised me about your brief encounter." Jarod looked at him without emotion. "I cannot allow Lyle to be further damaged, at this time."
"He's MINE!" Jarod stood and moved to the door.
Mutambo smiled, "If I decide he is no longer of use, we will see...."
Jarod turned away. He walked to the wall nearest the window. "He is mine," Jarod repeated softly. He wrapped his fingers around the picture of Parker and Ryan, and stared out at the early morning darkness.
"For the interim I must go home for several days. I will not return until after your Christmas. Mr. Raines will see to your care and assignments. I trust you will cooperate. I would hate for you loose additional family." Jarod did not respond. "Then it is farewell," Mutambo returned to the elevator. He did not know what Jarod would do during his absence, but it was better to let underlings deal with such things. One could always take the credit, or assign the blame. This man was a leopard; Mutambo wondered if a glass cage could hold him.
