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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Moments in Time
part 2
by TerriH
Sidney’s Office
Sidney sat behind his desk with a crease growing deeper between his eyes. He studied the DSA screen in front of him intently. His eyes, usually sad, today were angry and focused. Sidney pressed his lips together, as if consciously avoiding speaking his thoughts. He sat forward in his chair, as if he was prepared to leap inside the screen itself, concentrating on every detail of the silent images flickering in front of him. The DSA had no audio track, but the images spoke clearly enough.
“Hey, Sid…” Miss Parker announced casually as she burst through the office door without knocking, stopping mid-word when Sidney came into view.
“What is it…” Miss Parker’s tone revealed her concern for the older man. Then a sly smile crossed her face. “You’ve got a line on Jarod.” Her voice rose as her giddiness increased.
Miss Parker quickly crossed the room, slipping behind Sidney and draping herself across his shoulder as she looked past him to the screen on his desk. Sidney sat back in his chair, straightening his posture, as if silently protesting her intrusion.
“So where is the Boy Wonder?” Miss Parker spoke through her teeth, with a mock anger Sidney recognized as her defense against admitting any true feelings about her assignment to return Jarod to the Centre.
The image on the screen focused on Jarod being forced to his knees by sweepers in a nondescript Centre lab. Jarod wore street clothes and looked disheveled. He was speaking to someone just out of view. Jarod’s face was contorted in anger. He was shouting at the figure off screen in front of him . His face was strained, red, and the muscles of his neck bulged. Both Parker and Sidney knew Jarod well enough to also see the fear, nearly panic, buried behind the angry show.
Suddenly, responding to something being said, presumably by the man off camera, Jarod’s expression changed and he began struggling as if he was trying to flee. His expression became desperate with soundless words tumbling out of his mouth. He appeared to be pleading with someone, shouting for help, shouting at the sweepers to release him. They didn’t.
Another sweeper walked into view moving Jarod with scissors in hand and began cutting away Jarod’s clothes, stripping him bare as the remaining sweepers held him down. Following the removal of his clothes, Jarod was again forced to his knees. He no longer looked defiant. Now, the prodigy, the genius of the Centre, looked small and defeated. The humiliation he felt, the helplessness, was obvious in his face. He no longer struggled.
Jarod’s face revealed the waves of emotion washing through him, despair, anger, grief, hopelessness. Parker and Sidney could see him attempting to retain a sense of calm. His eyes stayed focused on the floor in front of him as if he was refusing to meet the eyes of his tormentor somewhere out of view on the DSA. Sidney recognized Jarod focusing his attention on an imaginary object using a technique Sidney had taught him to use when he felt overwhelmed.
The sweepers holding Jarod nodded as if they’d received and instruction from someone out of sight of the camera. Then, they dragged Jarod toward the rear of the room, dropping him near the back wall and stepping out of frame.
“Sid?” Miss Parker said breathlessly. She put her hand on Sidney’s shoulder as she stood. “What is this?” She stood back as if trying to distance herself from the image she was watching, her face showing disgust and shock. She checked the inscription log notation on the lower left portion of the screen.
“This is a security tape from yesterday, Sidney.” Miss Parker’s voice revealed confusion and anger blended in the same moment. She pivoted on one heel, looking Sidney in the eye.
“Where’d you get it, Sid?” Her tone was threatening. She knew the answer to the question, but remained incredulous. The Centre was a place where you didn’t just find secure surveillance footage. Any record of Jarod would be highly guarded. Sidney had known where to look.
Sidney leaned back in his chair, not speaking, bringing his fingertips together in his lap. He smiled slightly in a way that always seemed condescending to Miss Parker and flattened his hands on his thighs. He seemed to consider his answer. Miss Parker shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip, taking a posture of authority. Her eye became sharp and her expression darkened in an unspoken threat. She leaned in toward Sidney extending her arm and supporting her weight on the desk in front of him. She raised an eyebrow demanding he answer her question.
Sidney seemed to think better of remaining silent and began quietly, “I asked Broots to keep an eye on Lyle’s whereabouts. It appears your brother has been keeping secrets.” Sidney pressed his lips together and paused, knowing Miss Parker would react to those words.
Sidney enjoying seeing her struggle to control her own emotions. Understanding others emotions (and their struggles with them) was, after all, his profession. Sidney also understood that the Centre would not wait for Parker to bring Jarod back if they thought Lyle could do it faster. It had been a pragmatic decision on his part to monitor Lyle’s progress. Jarod was a valuable asset. Sidney wasn’t surprised that Lyle had chosen to exclude Parker and himself on the retrieval attempt. He’d want the glory for himself. He’d want control.
“Lyle.” Miss Parker practically growled the word. She sidestepped Sidney’s chair and marched for the door as she shouted instructions and waved her arms. “Sidney, I want to know where Jarod is… YESTERDAY!” Air whooshed in the doorway behind her as the door swung closed.
Sidney leaned back in his chair and grinning at himself. Despite the direness of the situation, watching Miss Parker react to the Centre and its politics was often quite amusing to him, though he knew it shouldn’t be. He chastised himself lightly.
Sidney brought his hands together, then steepled his finger tips and brought them to his lips. He refocused on the DSA playing in front of him. Sidney hoped he’d be able to determine where Lyle was holding Jarod before any permanent damage had been done.
Sidney began extrapolating Jarod’s likely response to the treatment he was receiving. Assessing Jarod’s response to stimulus was Sidney’s expertise. His twenty odd years of experience with Jarod told him that Jarod was emotionally spent and angry. Lyle was playing a dangerous game.
Sidney believed Jarod to be far more fragile than Lyle or anyone else assumed. Strength is often relative to many emotional elements. Sidney doubted Lyle knew or cared about Jarod’s emotional state. Sidney wanted to go to Jarod, to see for himself how his young prodigy was holding up. Sidney cared deeply for the pretender, he’d been his caretaker for most of this life at the Centre, but Jarod was also Sidney’s life work. The conflict between his compassion and his curiosity had never been resolved.
Sidney shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As if on cue, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Mr. Broots’s stuck his head inside the door, waiting for a nod from Sidney before entering. Sidney turned to face him making eye contact that implied an invitation. Broots strode quickly into the room and slipped onto a chair in front of Sidney’s desk. He seemed excited and nervous.
“Sidney, I think I found something.” Broots glanced over his shoulder self consciously. He paused, eyeing the DSA reader on Sidney’s desk as if it was dangerous. His demeanor shifted. He shivered and a crease formed in his brow. He looked up at the older man, as if pleading for him to make sense of something. Then his eyes shifted back to the DSA case. Broots seemed to look through it, his thoughts moving to the images he’d seen on the DSA before he’d given it to Sidney.
“I didn’t watch the whole thing, but…” He paused, as if not wanting to voice the question in his mind. “Why would anyone do something like that?” His incredulity was born in fear that one day someone might decide to do the same to him. Broots’s shivered again unconsciously.
The DSA image in front of Sidney revealed Jarod being sprayed with a high-powered hose, being given a “shower” against his will. The force of the water threw the pretender across a wall, leaving red welts on his back and arms. The water was turned off, and a soaking wet Jarod was again dragged to the center of the room where someone out of view spoke to him, probably Lyle.
Sidney concentrated for a moment on Jarod’s eyes before he answered Broots’s question. Sidney started slowly, methodically, trying to explain what he intuitively understood. “Even the ‘dust’ of the outside world had been taken from Jarod.”
Sidney paused, realizing he wasn’t explaining in a way Broots would understand. On the screen, Jarod stared up at his tormentor through wet locks of hair. His face was now blank as he succeeded at catching his mental balance by focusing on his anger instead of the Centre walls closing in around him. His face took on a hard quality, as if the fear had simply slipped away. Jarod understood what Lyle was doing to him. Sidney did too.
“Lyle is telling Jarod that he will never see the outside world again. He wants to remove from him any connection he has to it.” Sidney recognized the dynamic. He simply wished Lyle was less ….less barbaric. Jarod didn’t need to be handled with an iron fist. Simply being inside the Centre walls would be more than enough to leave him psychologically off balanced.
Sidney shook his head. It was all so pointless, letting a man like Lyle get near Jarod was a counter productive move by the Tower. Then again, he corrected, Lyle had managed to bring him in. That was more than he and Parker had managed. Wanting to dismiss that thought, he dropped his hands to his lap and turned his attention to Broots.
“What have you found?” Sidney’s voice sounded deflated, tired. His enthusiasm at discovering Jarod was so close was tempered by the reality that even if Jarod was being held inside the Centre, the likelihood of getting to him remained remote. Many inside the Centre still blamed Sidney for Jarod’s escape despite the fact Sidney had been as surprised as everyone else involved in the Pretender project the day their pretender ran away. Sidney patiently waited for Broots to reveal his news.
“Well, Sidney, I talked to Manny down in communications.” Broots paused, slightly chuckling to himself, looking very pleased with his cleverness. “It seems he has a thing for Belgian chocolate and Miss Parker, so I arranged for him to find a nice box of truffles with a note from her.” Broots grinned, looking a bit like the cat that ate the canary as he began rattling on, gesturing and repeating bits of his conversation with Manny.
“Broots.” Sidney redirected the younger man and tapped his finger on the desk. “What did you find.” His tone was insistent without being short.
“Oh, yeah, Sidney. Sorry.” Broots took a deep breath. He looked suddenly tense and glanced over his shoulder again before leaning forward in a half whisper. “He’s right here at the Centre. Lyle’s got him hidden over in SubLevel 14 in a holding area classified as Biohazard.” Broots paused. “And one more thing. The DSA you’re looking at is not logged on any official Centre security log.” Broots nearly whispered the last sentence, looking frightened. He knew the Centre well enough to know when he’d found something he might later wish he hadn’t.
Broots straightened up, his pride at his own resourcefulness temporarily outpacing his better judgement. “I managed to scrub it off of a private download through the Centre mainframe to Lyle’s laptop.” A chill settled along in Broots’s spine.
“It looks like he downloaded it for pleasure viewing.” Broots’s expression resembled one of a man who’s just tasted something repugnant. He paused again. “Imagine that.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking at no one. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Broots couldn’t help but think about the visceral response his stomach had whenever he thought of being in the same room with Lyle.
Sidney nodded, as if reading Broots’s thoughts. Sidney had seen men like Lyle do many things at the Centre. He knew how to stay out of harms way, and how to use his own position to both protect his own interests and get his way. Men like Lyle were usually bullies with more brawn than brain. Sidney steepled his hands below his chin again. His eyes focused unseeing at the desk.
“Sidney?” Broots looked worried. Caught momentarily in his own thoughts, Sidney hadn’t realized Broots had stopped speaking, and was slightly startled.
“Yes, thank you Broots.” Sidney said quickly, looking up. His attention still split between Broots and his own thoughts. Sensing a question from Broots, Sidney mentally shook himself, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Um… Sidney? Are you going to go there?” The there he referred to was Jarod’s location and both men knew it, but it seemed like bad luck to say it outloud. Broots now sat on the edge of his seat, looking as if he was trying to penetrate Sidney’s thoughts. Sidney sat silent, considering his options. He needed to see Jarod, but knew Lyle would never permit it. The silence implied what Broots had feared. Sidney was not going to make this easy.
“Um… okay.” Broots looked down at his hands, thinking for a moment. Then looking back at Sidney he added. “Should we tell Miss Parker?” She was, after all, his boss, not to mention one of few people who seemed quite willing to squash him like a bug if he didn’t do what she wanted. It seemed unwise to keep secrets from her. Though not the coward she thought he was, Broots was in no hurry to make an enemy of Miss Parker or her powerful father.
“Let’s wait until we know what Lyle has planned.” Sidney knew Miss Parker would be angry if she learned he’d withheld information. But, with Jarod back inside the Centre, Miss Parker was no longer the most significant consideration in the politics of the situation. Sidney justified, “Lyle is her concern for now. Let’s let her work on that.”
Sidney chose to avoid considering the ramifications of offending the chairman’s daughter. She only mattered as long as the hunt for Jarod continued. With him found, Sidney was in a strong position to reclaim his status as necessary, something he rarely took for granted at the Centre.
“Okay.” Broots shrugged and slipped quietly out of Sidney’s office. When it came to Jarod, it always seemed he was a page behind. He could find the information they asked for, but watching the power shift inside the Centre often left him wondering if there was a right side to be on. If there was, Broots knew he rarely seemed to be on it.
Sidney turned back to the DSA and pressed the play button again. This time, he’d watch Jarod’s expression more closely. Sidney’s sadness at Jarod’s situation was quickly clouded by more pressing concerns. Sidney needed to determine how likely Jarod would be to trust him. Jarod would have to trust him if Sidney hoped to work with him again. And, if Jarod wouldn’t do that, Sidney would quickly become obsolete, a very dangerous condition in a place like the Centre.
Sublevel 14, Biohazard Lab 4
The lab’s gray concrete walls and tiled floor had the cold feel that Jarod was accustomed to. All of the places he’d variously lived at the Center had the same general atmosphere. No matter the temperature of the room, they always felt cold, vacuous, devoid of hope. The pretender forced his thoughts to other things. Hope is important, I must not let go of it. Jarod remembered simulations he’d done as a child with Sidney. He’d learned that hope can help one survive even the most intolerable conditions. He’d told Sidney then he’d not give up wanting a family and a life outside the Centre. Nothing had changed in the twenty years since.
Jarod had been left standing, feet shackled to a concrete post near the center of the lab. A hole drilled in the post somewhere above and behind him served as an anchor for the chain
holding his wrists behind and high above his head. His shoulders had begun to ache a few hours ago as a result of being constantly flexed upward and backward. The soles of his feet burned from the constant pressure of standing in one place. A tingling sensation was climbing up his leg as fatigue set in and his joints began to complain about the lack of movement.
Jarod took in a deep breath and listened to the air move in and out of his lungs, concentrating. He knew he needed to keep his focus off of the dull pain growing in his body. Pain has a way of zapping your strength and he knew he’d need his energy to fight the mental challenge that most certainly was coming. He tried again to relax his shoulders again, without success. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. I’d imagine Lyle planned it this way. He thought, cynically.
Jarod’s head was beginning to clear as the drugs he’d been given outside the bank finally wore off. He understood Lyle’s tactics and he knew they were designed to wear him down both emotionally and physically. It was a simple matter of endurance. He’d completed dozens of simulations related to POW’s and interrogations. He knew the kind of mental toughness required to resist, and he knew he had it.
One thing a pretender learns fast at the Centre is how to muster the strength to remain focused in difficult circumstances. Completing a simulation is impossible without the ability to focus passed the distractions of pain and fear. For once, Jarod was grateful for his gift. He knew it was the tool he’d need it to get through this. With bitterness he noted that the same gift was what caused him to find himself in these circumstances in the first place. The irony was not lost on him.
Jarod closed his eyes and let his head drop forward onto his chest. The boredom was perhaps the most difficult thing about being isolated in the lab. He tried to let his mind wander, but all the images were of the sky and flowers and images of the outside world. Somehow the images seemed painful. He wanted to believe he’d be back among those things soon, but he’d lived too long in the Centre to plan on it. Jarod raised his head, consciously shaking loose that thought. He couldn’t permit himself to let them win. He was a pretender. He’d find a way out, again. It was just a matter of time.
Opening his eyes, Jarod looked down at the black pajama type pants he was wearing. Lyle had kindly given them to him after his “shower”. They were the same style he’d worn every day before he left the Centre. Though he preferred being dressed to being naked, wearing these pants made it seem like he belonged at the Centre somehow, and that turned his stomach.
Jarod heard footsteps approaching down the hall. Lyle had been his only visitor so far and he was likely returning. Jarod refused to give Lyle the pleasure of seeing his fatigue, so he consciously controlled his expression and focused his eyes on an imaginary point about three feet in front of him. Jarod doubted anyone else knew he was here, except possibly Raines.
A few hours ago, he’d heard the unmistakable sound of Raines’s oxygen tank being wheeled into an observation area above the lab. He’d not been able to turn his head far enough to see who was there, but he felt eyes inspect him from above. Jarod’s face had flushed red with anger at the idea he’d become some animal in a zoo for Raines to watch. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the feeling more than the current incarnation that infuriated him. Being regarded as somehow less than human, a tool to be used, was something he’d once been accustomed to, but never accepted. Now, standing chained to a post, it was an indignity difficult to tolerate.
The relentless droning of ventilation fans was interrupted by a sharp hiss as the air seal of the biohazard lab was released. Lyle’s hard soled shoes made a clicking noise as he stepped inside the lab. Jarod involuntarily flinched at sound of the lock being reset on the door. A sense of confinement and suffocation always accompanied the sound. He recognized it as purely psychological reaction, but, for a moment, it seemed as if there was no air in the room. He felt pressure in his lungs and forced himself to breathe evenly. He knew it was a panic response to the idea he was locked inside the lab and refused to reveal his discomfort to Lyle.
“Well, well, Jarod.” Lyle grinned and spoke easily, as if he was greeting an old friend. He walked casually toward the pretender with his gloved hand in the trouser pocket of his Italian suit as had become his habit after having his thumb removed by the Yakuza.
“It looks like you’ve adjusted nicely to your new surroundings.” Lyle approached Jarod and stood in front of him, admiring the beauty of seeing the other man bound and helpless.
Lyle stepped closer, leaning in so his face was near Jarod’s. His voice became quiet, taking on a more intimate tone. “There’s no place like home, is there, Jarod.” Lyle’s words were emotionless, except for a hint of satire.
Jarod rolled his eyes up, meeting Lyle’s. “I wouldn’t know.” Jarod returned Lyle’s satire.
The intensity of Jarod’s gaze caused Lyle to step back. Though they were about the same height, Jarod seemed to possess the ability to leave Lyle feeling intimidated. That rarely happened to Lyle. Each time it did, Lyle was startled by it. He hadn’t expected Jarod to be this composed. I should have. He thought to himself.
Taking a deep breath, Lyle grinned and turned on one foot gesturing around the room as if speaking to an audience. “Don’t you recognize your home, Jarod.” Lyle said, his voice becoming cold. Lyle turned back to face the pretender. Speaking quietly, almost under his breath, Lyle added, “Always defiant, Jarod. It’s good to know there are things in life I can count on.”
Lyle slipped his gloved hand back in his pocket and seemed to consider his next statement before speaking. He simply stared at Jarod, assessing his mood.
After several minutes, Jarod’s neck grew tired from the odd angle he was forced to hold his head in order to keep eye contact with Lyle. Jarod allowed his head to drop, resting his chin on his chest, knowing that doing so would signal his loosing this round with Lyle. He consoled himself by rationalizing it didn’t matter. But, it did matter to him that Lyle had seem him tired, and seen him surrender first. Jarod felt ashamed and wondered if Sidney would be disappointed. He missed Sidney and wished he were here. As much as it embittered him, Jarod knew he desperately needed Sidney’s encouragement.
Lyle stood for a few more minutes watching Jarod. Jarod felt embarrassed, but could think of nothing to say. Lyle finally looked at his watch and simply said, “I’ll be back.” And walked casually to the door, as if nothing had happened. Jarod knew better. He didn’t yet know what Lyle had planned, but he knew he’d walked into Lyle’s trap at the bank, and he had the distinct feeling he’d just done so again.
Jarod chastised himself and began spiraling into self pity. It was difficult not to let his emotions take over. It felt so overwhelming to be back in the Centre after better than 4 years of freedom. All at once, it felt as if he’d never been gone. The oppressiveness seemed to soak into his skin. His eyes filled with tears, though he wouldn’t permit himself to release them. The ever present eye of the surveillance camera was watching. Jarod took a deep breath, cleansing his lungs, and redirecting his thoughts. It’s only a matter of time. I will get out. I will.
Miss Parker’s Office
Miss Parker sat leaning back in her high backed leather chair. Her feet were propped on the corner of her desk. Various files lay strewn across the top of the desk, apparently ignored. Miss Parker’s face looked distracted, dark. She was thinking about how much she both hated the Centre and how much she felt she’d always be connected to it.
Parker’s eyes traveled across her desk to the picture of her mother, Catherine, in a small gold colored frame. She’d been a casualty of the same people who now held Jarod. Miss Parker couldn’t let herself fully connect with the emotion behind that thought, there were too many emotional land mines attached. Instead, she felt frozen inside, empty.
Parker’s eyes moved past the picture, to the clean black lines accenting the wall opposite her desk. Often it seemed everything in the Centre was black or some shade of gray, from the politics to the paint. It was almost as if the walls themselves were constantly dressed for a funeral. Miss Parker smiled to herself, finding humor in the observation. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.
Broots’s knock on her door was more annoying than truly bothersome, but it still pulled Miss Parker away from the relaxed state she’d been in. “What!” she sniped as Broots entered the room, adjusting her posture to accommodate her usual stiff demeanor, but leaving her feet propped on the desk. She rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, clasping her hands at the level of her waist.
“Hello, Miss Parker. Sorry to interrupt.” Broots managed to say. Broots disliked how nervous he felt around the Chairman’s daughter. She had a way of leaving him feeling like he had always done something wrong and been caught red handed.
Miss Parker smiled, relaxing and settling back into her chair. She swiveled the chair a quarter turn with an amused expression on her face. “It’s okay, Broots. What is it?”
“The gate called. Your car is waiting.” Broots delivered the message in a neutral voice, but his face revealed concern.
Miss Parker drooped her feet from the desk where they were propped, and sat upright in her chair, reaching for a thin brown file folder with the Centre logo on the front. “Thank you, Broots.” Miss Parker’s tone was polite, but cold. The Centre isn’t a place for emotional connections, she reminded herself, always certain to remain in control of herself. She’d miss Broots’s competent hands when she moved back to her Corporate position in the Tower. She refused to admit she had any personal feelings for the man.
“M-miss Parker?” Broots was still standing in front of her desk, not taking Parker’s cue to leave.
“What is it, Broots?” Miss Parker sounded irritated now. She stopped collecting her things and looked up at him. Her blue eyes drilled into him.
“Well, I was wondering, see… I was wondering where you’re going.” He seemed to pause, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. He knew he didn’t have the right to demand information from her. “Are you leaving the Centre?” Broots’s looked dejected, troubled.
Miss Parker let herself grin, an easy smile Broots almost never saw. In truth, it almost frightened him simply because it was so foreign. “Why, Broots. You seem disappointed.” She
chuckled to herself, pivoting to the side and standing gracefully in one fluid motion. Broots shrugged, as if apologizing for asking his question.
“I… I just wondered if we’d be working together anymore. You know, now that Jarod’s been found, and all.” Broots’s voice was less steady than he would have liked. Despite Miss Parker’s occasionally caustic personality, Broots liked working with her. She pushed harder than anyone he knew, and he liked that. He liked the challenge. He found it exciting.
Miss Parker strolled across the office, picking up a black leather attaché. She felt Broots’s eyes travel down her legs as she reached for the case. Miss Parker liked being watched, but only if she knew she had the upper hand. She stood slowly, almost feeling the heat in Broots face before she turned and saw his red cheeks. “Like what you see, Broots?” She smiled at herself, looking a bit like a sly fox about to trap something for dinner. Broots tried to shrug nonchalantly. Parker let it go. She had more important things on her mind.
Parker stood, looking past him for a moment, her expression turning bitter. “I’ve been transferred back to Corporate, Broots.” There was a time she’d have liked nothing better. At this point, however, it seemed clear the transfer was an equivalent of being sent to Siberia. She’d not be trusted with another important project. In the eyes of the Tower, she’d failed to bring Jarod back. They’d not forget that easily.
She paused, taking a breath and leveling her eyes at Broots. “It seems our time together is done.” She stepped forward taking his chin in her hands and moving her face near his, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. “Buck up, little trooper, it’ll be alright.” Then she threw her head back in a defiant smile. And slapped him lightly on the cheek. Corporate hasn’t conquered me yet, she thought, as she stepped past him. Broots reached up to touch the spot Miss Parker had touched, his jaw hanging open, not knowing what to say.
Parker slipped the cashmere coat from the back of her chair over one arm and began walking for the door. Speaking with her back to Broots, she added, “Tell Sid I’ll wrap up the last of the case files from Corporate.”
Parker paused at the door, looking back past Broots to her desk. For a moment, there seemed to be regret in her eyes. Then, she turned back to the door and slipped away into the hall, her heels clicking as she strolled toward the elevator.
Broots was left standing alone in Parker’s office, unsure of what to do. Working with Miss Parker had been his sole task for the last four years. He wasn’t sure what her departure would mean for his own future at the Centre. A cold chill ran through him. He was reasonably certain he’d proven his usefulness. Surely, the Tower knew that. He’d likely be reassigned as well. He just didn’t like the feeling of not knowing what would happen to him.
For a split second, Broots felt a parallel between himself and Jarod. Both of their futures were being written by powerful the nameless faces that ran the Centre. Broots hoped his future was one less frightening than Jarod’s seemed to be. The image of Jarod he’d seen a few hours ago on the DSA, hung in his mind.
Realizing he was still standing in the middle of Parker’s office, Broots glanced nervously over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. It’s going to be very strange to be here without Miss Parker around, he thought to himself as he touched the doorknob. Very strange. Broots stepped through the door, flicking the light switch as he passed through. As the room drooped into shadow, he had a sense a chapter of his life was ending, one he wasn’t yet ready to give up.
part 2
by TerriH
Sidney’s Office
Sidney sat behind his desk with a crease growing deeper between his eyes. He studied the DSA screen in front of him intently. His eyes, usually sad, today were angry and focused. Sidney pressed his lips together, as if consciously avoiding speaking his thoughts. He sat forward in his chair, as if he was prepared to leap inside the screen itself, concentrating on every detail of the silent images flickering in front of him. The DSA had no audio track, but the images spoke clearly enough.
“Hey, Sid…” Miss Parker announced casually as she burst through the office door without knocking, stopping mid-word when Sidney came into view.
“What is it…” Miss Parker’s tone revealed her concern for the older man. Then a sly smile crossed her face. “You’ve got a line on Jarod.” Her voice rose as her giddiness increased.
Miss Parker quickly crossed the room, slipping behind Sidney and draping herself across his shoulder as she looked past him to the screen on his desk. Sidney sat back in his chair, straightening his posture, as if silently protesting her intrusion.
“So where is the Boy Wonder?” Miss Parker spoke through her teeth, with a mock anger Sidney recognized as her defense against admitting any true feelings about her assignment to return Jarod to the Centre.
The image on the screen focused on Jarod being forced to his knees by sweepers in a nondescript Centre lab. Jarod wore street clothes and looked disheveled. He was speaking to someone just out of view. Jarod’s face was contorted in anger. He was shouting at the figure off screen in front of him . His face was strained, red, and the muscles of his neck bulged. Both Parker and Sidney knew Jarod well enough to also see the fear, nearly panic, buried behind the angry show.
Suddenly, responding to something being said, presumably by the man off camera, Jarod’s expression changed and he began struggling as if he was trying to flee. His expression became desperate with soundless words tumbling out of his mouth. He appeared to be pleading with someone, shouting for help, shouting at the sweepers to release him. They didn’t.
Another sweeper walked into view moving Jarod with scissors in hand and began cutting away Jarod’s clothes, stripping him bare as the remaining sweepers held him down. Following the removal of his clothes, Jarod was again forced to his knees. He no longer looked defiant. Now, the prodigy, the genius of the Centre, looked small and defeated. The humiliation he felt, the helplessness, was obvious in his face. He no longer struggled.
Jarod’s face revealed the waves of emotion washing through him, despair, anger, grief, hopelessness. Parker and Sidney could see him attempting to retain a sense of calm. His eyes stayed focused on the floor in front of him as if he was refusing to meet the eyes of his tormentor somewhere out of view on the DSA. Sidney recognized Jarod focusing his attention on an imaginary object using a technique Sidney had taught him to use when he felt overwhelmed.
The sweepers holding Jarod nodded as if they’d received and instruction from someone out of sight of the camera. Then, they dragged Jarod toward the rear of the room, dropping him near the back wall and stepping out of frame.
“Sid?” Miss Parker said breathlessly. She put her hand on Sidney’s shoulder as she stood. “What is this?” She stood back as if trying to distance herself from the image she was watching, her face showing disgust and shock. She checked the inscription log notation on the lower left portion of the screen.
“This is a security tape from yesterday, Sidney.” Miss Parker’s voice revealed confusion and anger blended in the same moment. She pivoted on one heel, looking Sidney in the eye.
“Where’d you get it, Sid?” Her tone was threatening. She knew the answer to the question, but remained incredulous. The Centre was a place where you didn’t just find secure surveillance footage. Any record of Jarod would be highly guarded. Sidney had known where to look.
Sidney leaned back in his chair, not speaking, bringing his fingertips together in his lap. He smiled slightly in a way that always seemed condescending to Miss Parker and flattened his hands on his thighs. He seemed to consider his answer. Miss Parker shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip, taking a posture of authority. Her eye became sharp and her expression darkened in an unspoken threat. She leaned in toward Sidney extending her arm and supporting her weight on the desk in front of him. She raised an eyebrow demanding he answer her question.
Sidney seemed to think better of remaining silent and began quietly, “I asked Broots to keep an eye on Lyle’s whereabouts. It appears your brother has been keeping secrets.” Sidney pressed his lips together and paused, knowing Miss Parker would react to those words.
Sidney enjoying seeing her struggle to control her own emotions. Understanding others emotions (and their struggles with them) was, after all, his profession. Sidney also understood that the Centre would not wait for Parker to bring Jarod back if they thought Lyle could do it faster. It had been a pragmatic decision on his part to monitor Lyle’s progress. Jarod was a valuable asset. Sidney wasn’t surprised that Lyle had chosen to exclude Parker and himself on the retrieval attempt. He’d want the glory for himself. He’d want control.
“Lyle.” Miss Parker practically growled the word. She sidestepped Sidney’s chair and marched for the door as she shouted instructions and waved her arms. “Sidney, I want to know where Jarod is… YESTERDAY!” Air whooshed in the doorway behind her as the door swung closed.
Sidney leaned back in his chair and grinning at himself. Despite the direness of the situation, watching Miss Parker react to the Centre and its politics was often quite amusing to him, though he knew it shouldn’t be. He chastised himself lightly.
Sidney brought his hands together, then steepled his finger tips and brought them to his lips. He refocused on the DSA playing in front of him. Sidney hoped he’d be able to determine where Lyle was holding Jarod before any permanent damage had been done.
Sidney began extrapolating Jarod’s likely response to the treatment he was receiving. Assessing Jarod’s response to stimulus was Sidney’s expertise. His twenty odd years of experience with Jarod told him that Jarod was emotionally spent and angry. Lyle was playing a dangerous game.
Sidney believed Jarod to be far more fragile than Lyle or anyone else assumed. Strength is often relative to many emotional elements. Sidney doubted Lyle knew or cared about Jarod’s emotional state. Sidney wanted to go to Jarod, to see for himself how his young prodigy was holding up. Sidney cared deeply for the pretender, he’d been his caretaker for most of this life at the Centre, but Jarod was also Sidney’s life work. The conflict between his compassion and his curiosity had never been resolved.
Sidney shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As if on cue, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Mr. Broots’s stuck his head inside the door, waiting for a nod from Sidney before entering. Sidney turned to face him making eye contact that implied an invitation. Broots strode quickly into the room and slipped onto a chair in front of Sidney’s desk. He seemed excited and nervous.
“Sidney, I think I found something.” Broots glanced over his shoulder self consciously. He paused, eyeing the DSA reader on Sidney’s desk as if it was dangerous. His demeanor shifted. He shivered and a crease formed in his brow. He looked up at the older man, as if pleading for him to make sense of something. Then his eyes shifted back to the DSA case. Broots seemed to look through it, his thoughts moving to the images he’d seen on the DSA before he’d given it to Sidney.
“I didn’t watch the whole thing, but…” He paused, as if not wanting to voice the question in his mind. “Why would anyone do something like that?” His incredulity was born in fear that one day someone might decide to do the same to him. Broots’s shivered again unconsciously.
The DSA image in front of Sidney revealed Jarod being sprayed with a high-powered hose, being given a “shower” against his will. The force of the water threw the pretender across a wall, leaving red welts on his back and arms. The water was turned off, and a soaking wet Jarod was again dragged to the center of the room where someone out of view spoke to him, probably Lyle.
Sidney concentrated for a moment on Jarod’s eyes before he answered Broots’s question. Sidney started slowly, methodically, trying to explain what he intuitively understood. “Even the ‘dust’ of the outside world had been taken from Jarod.”
Sidney paused, realizing he wasn’t explaining in a way Broots would understand. On the screen, Jarod stared up at his tormentor through wet locks of hair. His face was now blank as he succeeded at catching his mental balance by focusing on his anger instead of the Centre walls closing in around him. His face took on a hard quality, as if the fear had simply slipped away. Jarod understood what Lyle was doing to him. Sidney did too.
“Lyle is telling Jarod that he will never see the outside world again. He wants to remove from him any connection he has to it.” Sidney recognized the dynamic. He simply wished Lyle was less ….less barbaric. Jarod didn’t need to be handled with an iron fist. Simply being inside the Centre walls would be more than enough to leave him psychologically off balanced.
Sidney shook his head. It was all so pointless, letting a man like Lyle get near Jarod was a counter productive move by the Tower. Then again, he corrected, Lyle had managed to bring him in. That was more than he and Parker had managed. Wanting to dismiss that thought, he dropped his hands to his lap and turned his attention to Broots.
“What have you found?” Sidney’s voice sounded deflated, tired. His enthusiasm at discovering Jarod was so close was tempered by the reality that even if Jarod was being held inside the Centre, the likelihood of getting to him remained remote. Many inside the Centre still blamed Sidney for Jarod’s escape despite the fact Sidney had been as surprised as everyone else involved in the Pretender project the day their pretender ran away. Sidney patiently waited for Broots to reveal his news.
“Well, Sidney, I talked to Manny down in communications.” Broots paused, slightly chuckling to himself, looking very pleased with his cleverness. “It seems he has a thing for Belgian chocolate and Miss Parker, so I arranged for him to find a nice box of truffles with a note from her.” Broots grinned, looking a bit like the cat that ate the canary as he began rattling on, gesturing and repeating bits of his conversation with Manny.
“Broots.” Sidney redirected the younger man and tapped his finger on the desk. “What did you find.” His tone was insistent without being short.
“Oh, yeah, Sidney. Sorry.” Broots took a deep breath. He looked suddenly tense and glanced over his shoulder again before leaning forward in a half whisper. “He’s right here at the Centre. Lyle’s got him hidden over in SubLevel 14 in a holding area classified as Biohazard.” Broots paused. “And one more thing. The DSA you’re looking at is not logged on any official Centre security log.” Broots nearly whispered the last sentence, looking frightened. He knew the Centre well enough to know when he’d found something he might later wish he hadn’t.
Broots straightened up, his pride at his own resourcefulness temporarily outpacing his better judgement. “I managed to scrub it off of a private download through the Centre mainframe to Lyle’s laptop.” A chill settled along in Broots’s spine.
“It looks like he downloaded it for pleasure viewing.” Broots’s expression resembled one of a man who’s just tasted something repugnant. He paused again. “Imagine that.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking at no one. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Broots couldn’t help but think about the visceral response his stomach had whenever he thought of being in the same room with Lyle.
Sidney nodded, as if reading Broots’s thoughts. Sidney had seen men like Lyle do many things at the Centre. He knew how to stay out of harms way, and how to use his own position to both protect his own interests and get his way. Men like Lyle were usually bullies with more brawn than brain. Sidney steepled his hands below his chin again. His eyes focused unseeing at the desk.
“Sidney?” Broots looked worried. Caught momentarily in his own thoughts, Sidney hadn’t realized Broots had stopped speaking, and was slightly startled.
“Yes, thank you Broots.” Sidney said quickly, looking up. His attention still split between Broots and his own thoughts. Sensing a question from Broots, Sidney mentally shook himself, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Um… Sidney? Are you going to go there?” The there he referred to was Jarod’s location and both men knew it, but it seemed like bad luck to say it outloud. Broots now sat on the edge of his seat, looking as if he was trying to penetrate Sidney’s thoughts. Sidney sat silent, considering his options. He needed to see Jarod, but knew Lyle would never permit it. The silence implied what Broots had feared. Sidney was not going to make this easy.
“Um… okay.” Broots looked down at his hands, thinking for a moment. Then looking back at Sidney he added. “Should we tell Miss Parker?” She was, after all, his boss, not to mention one of few people who seemed quite willing to squash him like a bug if he didn’t do what she wanted. It seemed unwise to keep secrets from her. Though not the coward she thought he was, Broots was in no hurry to make an enemy of Miss Parker or her powerful father.
“Let’s wait until we know what Lyle has planned.” Sidney knew Miss Parker would be angry if she learned he’d withheld information. But, with Jarod back inside the Centre, Miss Parker was no longer the most significant consideration in the politics of the situation. Sidney justified, “Lyle is her concern for now. Let’s let her work on that.”
Sidney chose to avoid considering the ramifications of offending the chairman’s daughter. She only mattered as long as the hunt for Jarod continued. With him found, Sidney was in a strong position to reclaim his status as necessary, something he rarely took for granted at the Centre.
“Okay.” Broots shrugged and slipped quietly out of Sidney’s office. When it came to Jarod, it always seemed he was a page behind. He could find the information they asked for, but watching the power shift inside the Centre often left him wondering if there was a right side to be on. If there was, Broots knew he rarely seemed to be on it.
Sidney turned back to the DSA and pressed the play button again. This time, he’d watch Jarod’s expression more closely. Sidney’s sadness at Jarod’s situation was quickly clouded by more pressing concerns. Sidney needed to determine how likely Jarod would be to trust him. Jarod would have to trust him if Sidney hoped to work with him again. And, if Jarod wouldn’t do that, Sidney would quickly become obsolete, a very dangerous condition in a place like the Centre.
Sublevel 14, Biohazard Lab 4
The lab’s gray concrete walls and tiled floor had the cold feel that Jarod was accustomed to. All of the places he’d variously lived at the Center had the same general atmosphere. No matter the temperature of the room, they always felt cold, vacuous, devoid of hope. The pretender forced his thoughts to other things. Hope is important, I must not let go of it. Jarod remembered simulations he’d done as a child with Sidney. He’d learned that hope can help one survive even the most intolerable conditions. He’d told Sidney then he’d not give up wanting a family and a life outside the Centre. Nothing had changed in the twenty years since.
Jarod had been left standing, feet shackled to a concrete post near the center of the lab. A hole drilled in the post somewhere above and behind him served as an anchor for the chain
holding his wrists behind and high above his head. His shoulders had begun to ache a few hours ago as a result of being constantly flexed upward and backward. The soles of his feet burned from the constant pressure of standing in one place. A tingling sensation was climbing up his leg as fatigue set in and his joints began to complain about the lack of movement.
Jarod took in a deep breath and listened to the air move in and out of his lungs, concentrating. He knew he needed to keep his focus off of the dull pain growing in his body. Pain has a way of zapping your strength and he knew he’d need his energy to fight the mental challenge that most certainly was coming. He tried again to relax his shoulders again, without success. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. I’d imagine Lyle planned it this way. He thought, cynically.
Jarod’s head was beginning to clear as the drugs he’d been given outside the bank finally wore off. He understood Lyle’s tactics and he knew they were designed to wear him down both emotionally and physically. It was a simple matter of endurance. He’d completed dozens of simulations related to POW’s and interrogations. He knew the kind of mental toughness required to resist, and he knew he had it.
One thing a pretender learns fast at the Centre is how to muster the strength to remain focused in difficult circumstances. Completing a simulation is impossible without the ability to focus passed the distractions of pain and fear. For once, Jarod was grateful for his gift. He knew it was the tool he’d need it to get through this. With bitterness he noted that the same gift was what caused him to find himself in these circumstances in the first place. The irony was not lost on him.
Jarod closed his eyes and let his head drop forward onto his chest. The boredom was perhaps the most difficult thing about being isolated in the lab. He tried to let his mind wander, but all the images were of the sky and flowers and images of the outside world. Somehow the images seemed painful. He wanted to believe he’d be back among those things soon, but he’d lived too long in the Centre to plan on it. Jarod raised his head, consciously shaking loose that thought. He couldn’t permit himself to let them win. He was a pretender. He’d find a way out, again. It was just a matter of time.
Opening his eyes, Jarod looked down at the black pajama type pants he was wearing. Lyle had kindly given them to him after his “shower”. They were the same style he’d worn every day before he left the Centre. Though he preferred being dressed to being naked, wearing these pants made it seem like he belonged at the Centre somehow, and that turned his stomach.
Jarod heard footsteps approaching down the hall. Lyle had been his only visitor so far and he was likely returning. Jarod refused to give Lyle the pleasure of seeing his fatigue, so he consciously controlled his expression and focused his eyes on an imaginary point about three feet in front of him. Jarod doubted anyone else knew he was here, except possibly Raines.
A few hours ago, he’d heard the unmistakable sound of Raines’s oxygen tank being wheeled into an observation area above the lab. He’d not been able to turn his head far enough to see who was there, but he felt eyes inspect him from above. Jarod’s face had flushed red with anger at the idea he’d become some animal in a zoo for Raines to watch. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the feeling more than the current incarnation that infuriated him. Being regarded as somehow less than human, a tool to be used, was something he’d once been accustomed to, but never accepted. Now, standing chained to a post, it was an indignity difficult to tolerate.
The relentless droning of ventilation fans was interrupted by a sharp hiss as the air seal of the biohazard lab was released. Lyle’s hard soled shoes made a clicking noise as he stepped inside the lab. Jarod involuntarily flinched at sound of the lock being reset on the door. A sense of confinement and suffocation always accompanied the sound. He recognized it as purely psychological reaction, but, for a moment, it seemed as if there was no air in the room. He felt pressure in his lungs and forced himself to breathe evenly. He knew it was a panic response to the idea he was locked inside the lab and refused to reveal his discomfort to Lyle.
“Well, well, Jarod.” Lyle grinned and spoke easily, as if he was greeting an old friend. He walked casually toward the pretender with his gloved hand in the trouser pocket of his Italian suit as had become his habit after having his thumb removed by the Yakuza.
“It looks like you’ve adjusted nicely to your new surroundings.” Lyle approached Jarod and stood in front of him, admiring the beauty of seeing the other man bound and helpless.
Lyle stepped closer, leaning in so his face was near Jarod’s. His voice became quiet, taking on a more intimate tone. “There’s no place like home, is there, Jarod.” Lyle’s words were emotionless, except for a hint of satire.
Jarod rolled his eyes up, meeting Lyle’s. “I wouldn’t know.” Jarod returned Lyle’s satire.
The intensity of Jarod’s gaze caused Lyle to step back. Though they were about the same height, Jarod seemed to possess the ability to leave Lyle feeling intimidated. That rarely happened to Lyle. Each time it did, Lyle was startled by it. He hadn’t expected Jarod to be this composed. I should have. He thought to himself.
Taking a deep breath, Lyle grinned and turned on one foot gesturing around the room as if speaking to an audience. “Don’t you recognize your home, Jarod.” Lyle said, his voice becoming cold. Lyle turned back to face the pretender. Speaking quietly, almost under his breath, Lyle added, “Always defiant, Jarod. It’s good to know there are things in life I can count on.”
Lyle slipped his gloved hand back in his pocket and seemed to consider his next statement before speaking. He simply stared at Jarod, assessing his mood.
After several minutes, Jarod’s neck grew tired from the odd angle he was forced to hold his head in order to keep eye contact with Lyle. Jarod allowed his head to drop, resting his chin on his chest, knowing that doing so would signal his loosing this round with Lyle. He consoled himself by rationalizing it didn’t matter. But, it did matter to him that Lyle had seem him tired, and seen him surrender first. Jarod felt ashamed and wondered if Sidney would be disappointed. He missed Sidney and wished he were here. As much as it embittered him, Jarod knew he desperately needed Sidney’s encouragement.
Lyle stood for a few more minutes watching Jarod. Jarod felt embarrassed, but could think of nothing to say. Lyle finally looked at his watch and simply said, “I’ll be back.” And walked casually to the door, as if nothing had happened. Jarod knew better. He didn’t yet know what Lyle had planned, but he knew he’d walked into Lyle’s trap at the bank, and he had the distinct feeling he’d just done so again.
Jarod chastised himself and began spiraling into self pity. It was difficult not to let his emotions take over. It felt so overwhelming to be back in the Centre after better than 4 years of freedom. All at once, it felt as if he’d never been gone. The oppressiveness seemed to soak into his skin. His eyes filled with tears, though he wouldn’t permit himself to release them. The ever present eye of the surveillance camera was watching. Jarod took a deep breath, cleansing his lungs, and redirecting his thoughts. It’s only a matter of time. I will get out. I will.
Miss Parker’s Office
Miss Parker sat leaning back in her high backed leather chair. Her feet were propped on the corner of her desk. Various files lay strewn across the top of the desk, apparently ignored. Miss Parker’s face looked distracted, dark. She was thinking about how much she both hated the Centre and how much she felt she’d always be connected to it.
Parker’s eyes traveled across her desk to the picture of her mother, Catherine, in a small gold colored frame. She’d been a casualty of the same people who now held Jarod. Miss Parker couldn’t let herself fully connect with the emotion behind that thought, there were too many emotional land mines attached. Instead, she felt frozen inside, empty.
Parker’s eyes moved past the picture, to the clean black lines accenting the wall opposite her desk. Often it seemed everything in the Centre was black or some shade of gray, from the politics to the paint. It was almost as if the walls themselves were constantly dressed for a funeral. Miss Parker smiled to herself, finding humor in the observation. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.
Broots’s knock on her door was more annoying than truly bothersome, but it still pulled Miss Parker away from the relaxed state she’d been in. “What!” she sniped as Broots entered the room, adjusting her posture to accommodate her usual stiff demeanor, but leaving her feet propped on the desk. She rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, clasping her hands at the level of her waist.
“Hello, Miss Parker. Sorry to interrupt.” Broots managed to say. Broots disliked how nervous he felt around the Chairman’s daughter. She had a way of leaving him feeling like he had always done something wrong and been caught red handed.
Miss Parker smiled, relaxing and settling back into her chair. She swiveled the chair a quarter turn with an amused expression on her face. “It’s okay, Broots. What is it?”
“The gate called. Your car is waiting.” Broots delivered the message in a neutral voice, but his face revealed concern.
Miss Parker drooped her feet from the desk where they were propped, and sat upright in her chair, reaching for a thin brown file folder with the Centre logo on the front. “Thank you, Broots.” Miss Parker’s tone was polite, but cold. The Centre isn’t a place for emotional connections, she reminded herself, always certain to remain in control of herself. She’d miss Broots’s competent hands when she moved back to her Corporate position in the Tower. She refused to admit she had any personal feelings for the man.
“M-miss Parker?” Broots was still standing in front of her desk, not taking Parker’s cue to leave.
“What is it, Broots?” Miss Parker sounded irritated now. She stopped collecting her things and looked up at him. Her blue eyes drilled into him.
“Well, I was wondering, see… I was wondering where you’re going.” He seemed to pause, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. He knew he didn’t have the right to demand information from her. “Are you leaving the Centre?” Broots’s looked dejected, troubled.
Miss Parker let herself grin, an easy smile Broots almost never saw. In truth, it almost frightened him simply because it was so foreign. “Why, Broots. You seem disappointed.” She
chuckled to herself, pivoting to the side and standing gracefully in one fluid motion. Broots shrugged, as if apologizing for asking his question.
“I… I just wondered if we’d be working together anymore. You know, now that Jarod’s been found, and all.” Broots’s voice was less steady than he would have liked. Despite Miss Parker’s occasionally caustic personality, Broots liked working with her. She pushed harder than anyone he knew, and he liked that. He liked the challenge. He found it exciting.
Miss Parker strolled across the office, picking up a black leather attaché. She felt Broots’s eyes travel down her legs as she reached for the case. Miss Parker liked being watched, but only if she knew she had the upper hand. She stood slowly, almost feeling the heat in Broots face before she turned and saw his red cheeks. “Like what you see, Broots?” She smiled at herself, looking a bit like a sly fox about to trap something for dinner. Broots tried to shrug nonchalantly. Parker let it go. She had more important things on her mind.
Parker stood, looking past him for a moment, her expression turning bitter. “I’ve been transferred back to Corporate, Broots.” There was a time she’d have liked nothing better. At this point, however, it seemed clear the transfer was an equivalent of being sent to Siberia. She’d not be trusted with another important project. In the eyes of the Tower, she’d failed to bring Jarod back. They’d not forget that easily.
She paused, taking a breath and leveling her eyes at Broots. “It seems our time together is done.” She stepped forward taking his chin in her hands and moving her face near his, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. “Buck up, little trooper, it’ll be alright.” Then she threw her head back in a defiant smile. And slapped him lightly on the cheek. Corporate hasn’t conquered me yet, she thought, as she stepped past him. Broots reached up to touch the spot Miss Parker had touched, his jaw hanging open, not knowing what to say.
Parker slipped the cashmere coat from the back of her chair over one arm and began walking for the door. Speaking with her back to Broots, she added, “Tell Sid I’ll wrap up the last of the case files from Corporate.”
Parker paused at the door, looking back past Broots to her desk. For a moment, there seemed to be regret in her eyes. Then, she turned back to the door and slipped away into the hall, her heels clicking as she strolled toward the elevator.
Broots was left standing alone in Parker’s office, unsure of what to do. Working with Miss Parker had been his sole task for the last four years. He wasn’t sure what her departure would mean for his own future at the Centre. A cold chill ran through him. He was reasonably certain he’d proven his usefulness. Surely, the Tower knew that. He’d likely be reassigned as well. He just didn’t like the feeling of not knowing what would happen to him.
For a split second, Broots felt a parallel between himself and Jarod. Both of their futures were being written by powerful the nameless faces that ran the Centre. Broots hoped his future was one less frightening than Jarod’s seemed to be. The image of Jarod he’d seen a few hours ago on the DSA, hung in his mind.
Realizing he was still standing in the middle of Parker’s office, Broots glanced nervously over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. It’s going to be very strange to be here without Miss Parker around, he thought to himself as he touched the doorknob. Very strange. Broots stepped through the door, flicking the light switch as he passed through. As the room drooped into shadow, he had a sense a chapter of his life was ending, one he wasn’t yet ready to give up.
