Gabe opened a plain manila folder and handed it to Sara. “These women were volunteer nurses working with Florence Nightingale during the Crimean War in 1855.”

Sara looked at the printout of an old newspaper article with a picture of a group of women, all dressed in apron-covered frocks. Sara’s eye was drawn to one of the women seated in the front row; the woman wore the Witchblade. Sara braced herself for a vision, but none came. She glanced at Gabriel then looked back at the newspaper clipping.

According to the caption, the woman with the Witchblade was Florence Nightingale. Sara raised an eyebrow, returning her attention to Gabriel.

“Florence Nightingale?” She hadn’t meant to sound as doubting as it had come out.

Gabriel gave her a smug smile. “Actually, no.” He reached over to his desk and gave her another printout. “This is Florence Nightingale.”

The woman in this printout was not the one wearing the Witchblade in the newspaper article. Sara looked at the newspaper article again. Florence Nightingale was seated next to the woman with the Witchblade. Gabriel added, “They must have made a mistake when they identified the women in the picture.”

“So, who is she?”

“Mary Smith. She trained under Nightingale, and according to Nightingale, was a gifted student who helped immensely with her – and I quote – ‘almost preternatural insight’.”

Both of Sara’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Gabriel smiled and nodded.

Sara prepared herself for visions, but none came. She glanced at the Witchblade with a little surprise, then asked Gabriel, “What else do you know about her?”

“She returned to England a few years later. Got married. Had one daughter…which seemed to be the trend for a couple of generations.” Gabriel handed Sara a sheet of paper outlining everything he was telling her. “Smith’s great-granddaughter emigrated to the US, had one child, a girl coincidentally enough also named Mary. That Mary married a man named Jamison and they, too, had a daughter, Catherine Elaine. They moved to Delaware when Catherine was a baby and that’s where the trail goes cold.”

“And the Witchblade?”

“None of them were wearing it in the pictures I could find. But I’ll keep looking.”

Sara nodded and Gabriel walked over to his computer and started typing on the keyboard. He said, “I’ve got something else to show you.”

~*~*~*~*~

Parker tried to keep the surprise from her face, but from the way Irons’ smile grew wider, she was sure she had failed. “That’s…quite a generous offer.”

With a little gleam in his eye, Irons nodded once. “Contingent on Jarod’s return to and continuing to work for The Centre, of course.”

Parker tried (and failed) to keep her smile from twisting into one of mild disgust. “Of course.” She raised her glass to her lips muttering, “It always comes back to Jarod.”

She took a long taste of her wine, certain that Irons and the rest of the universe were laughing at her.

“Tell me, Miss Parker,” Mr. Irons said, “Why did your Pretender run away?”

Parker focused on his face trying to read where he was going with that question. That topic was not one for discussion outside Centre walls, but she was sure Irons knew why Jarod had left. Irons would not have asked, otherwise.

“He was betrayed by The Centre, by the only home he had known. At his core, Jarod is a do-gooder. When he learned that his good work was being corrupted, he had no reason to stay.”

“If he was offered a position as a full employee of The Centre with complete freedom to do only simulations of his choosing and to come and go as he pleases, do you think he would return?”

Parker’s gut reaction was No way! but the idea had some merit. If nothing else, Jarod could reunite his family and guarantee their safety. For that, he might do it. “Possibly, but it would be a hard sell. He doesn’t exactly trust The Centre.”

“But he trusts you.”

Jarod did trust her – he trusted her to do the right thing when it mattered, he trusted her to take care of Sydney, he trusted her in their quest for the truth, he had even trusted her with Tommy... Sometimes she felt that trust was misguided and undeserved, a phantom emotion leftover from their childhood. And sometimes…sometimes she felt that trust was the only thing that kept her from becoming a monster like the other Parkers.

She shrugged, trying not to give away too much to Irons. “That’s not enough.”

She sipped her wine then asked, “Say I were to accept your offer, but I was unable to convince Jarod to return to the fold. What would happen then?”

“Then there would be no need to restrict The Centre’s endeavors.” Irons tilted his head slightly, and his eyes turned colder. “And if you had any reservations about that type of work, then I would replace you with your brother.”

Parker decided Irons was a bastard, but at least he was being honest about it. “Have you already made a similar offer to my brother?”

For an instant, she thought she saw surprise in his eyes.

“No,” he replied, but did not elaborate.

Parker considered asking for more of an explanation but decided it was best not to. If he wanted her to know, he would have told her. Instead, she asked, “how will you take care of the Triumverate?”

“I will offer to buy them out, and they will probably refuse.”

A question flashed in Parker’s brain: Did he know about the Scrolls?

“But I’m sure something can be arranged.” A little smile danced on his lips. “I can be rather resourceful.”

And by “I” you really mean “Ian”, Parker thought dryly. She smiled. “I’m sure.”

Parker took a moment to sample the wine again then looked at him for a long moment. Kenneth Irons hadn’t become The Kenneth Irons by doing extravagant favors for pretty girls. “What do you want from me in return?”

He looked at her and his eyes, for a fleeting moment, seemed to have sparked with something Parker could not quite identify. She thought he might ask for sexual favors, and while she wasn’t necessarily averse to the idea, she would be disappointed that Kenneth Irons had turned out to be so…banal and ignoble.

He smiled that playful smile again and Parker had to wonder whether he knew what she was thinking. “I do not want anything from you…or Jarod…or The Centre.”

He paused, waiting for her reaction, but Parker only raised an eyebrow. She didn’t buy that for a minute and he knew it. He stood, setting his glass on a side table and took a few steps toward the fire before turning back to her. He looked somber, sincere and almost vulnerable in a way she was sure few had ever witnessed.

“I am in your mother’s debt. Because of my business dealings with your father, I have been unable to repay that debt until now.”

Parker didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “You…you knew my mother?”

Irons nodded, rubbing the scar on his right hand with his left. “A long time ago,” he said softly.

He straightened up, his demeanor losing that fleeting vulnerability. His eyes hardened, boring into Parker’s. When he spoke, his voice was again strong. “How I knew Catherine and the nature of my debt to her are personal. I will not share that with you. My offer to leave The Centre in your hands with Jarod in your employ is genuine. It is not exactly what Catherine wanted, but it is all I can offer you.” With a knowing look, he added, “and only you.”

So, he wasn’t going to make the same offer to Lyle? Interesting. A million thoughts began to run through Parker’s mind, but they all came down to one: If she took over at The Centre, she would have access to everything. She would finally have the answers to all the questions. Could she make this decision now? Shouldn’t she talk to Jarod about it? What if Irons changes his mind? Maybe this was one of those damned turning points Jarod was talking about.

“You do not have to give me an answer at this moment, Miss Parker.”

Parker looked up at Irons who had that playful smile again. And with that, he transformed back into his 'perfect host' persona – offering more wine and a meal, both of which she declined, but she promised to have an answer for him within a few days. She wanted to get back to her hotel room, take a long shower and consider his proposal. More importantly, she had to talk to Jarod. Sam hadn’t called her, so she knew Jarod had gotten away. Today was her birthday and Boy Wonder never failed to call to offer his best wishes.

Irons offered Ian to drive her back into the city and didn’t give Parker a chance to object. Apparently, Ian had duties there anyway. She’d check-in with Sam on the way, and once she got to her hotel room, she would wait for Jarod’s call.

~*~*~*~*~

To be continued...