Chapter 9

            Jarod was coming here?

            Sydney stared at his computer screen, hardly daring to believe the e-mail he’d just received.  It was from Lyle and it said to expect Jarod in the sim lab shortly so that they could brief him on his first assignment.

            An assignment on which Sydney himself had not yet been briefed.  He set aside that annoying detail for the moment and focused on the fact that he’d soon have a chance to see and actually talk to Jarod.  Other than the quick glimpse he’d had of him yesterday on the main concourse level, the only other time he’d seen him was on the disturbing surveillance recording that Miss Parker had Broots call up on his computer last night.   

Lyle seemed to have installed some sort of invisible fence, similar to the kind used to keep dogs in their yards.  Except this one was used to prevent Jarod from escaping the building.  Coupled with Broots’ news via his friend Cindy in accounting that the mysterious Dr. Archer had received another sizable payment just yesterday, the video suggested that Jarod had somehow been fitted with a device that delivered electric shocks when he crossed a certain line.  Since neither he, Broots, nor Miss Parker could see any kind of “collar” on Jarod when he went into convulsions, they assumed the receiver had been implanted in him, most likely by the doctor who was the expert in nanotechnology.  The money she’d received yesterday was probably payment after the device had worked as promised.

            Of course, even knowing that much, they were no closer to figuring out how to deactivate the device or even if that could safely be accomplished.  Seeing the pain it caused Jarod made Sydney want the infernal thing out of him as quickly as possible.

            But right now he needed to concentrate on what was within the realm of possibility.  Jarod was like a son to him, but a father’s love and sympathy wouldn’t help in this situation.  It would be difficult, but he had to remain objective and slip back into the role of mentor that he’d played when Jarod was a child.  Only that person, the one who’d helped a scared young boy adapt to living at the Centre, could aid Jarod now in accepting his new life back here. 

            Time to get pull yourself together, doctor, Sydney told himself firmly.  He quickly forwarded the e-mail from Lyle to Miss Parker and Broots.  They were both off-campus today, Broots dealing with a computer problem at a satellite office and Miss Parker trying to keep in her father’s good graces by spending time at the country club with him.  He suspected their absence had something to do with Lyle’s decision to bring Jarod to the sim lab today.

            Sydney stood and crossed quickly to the plexiglass front of his office.  As he waited for Jarod to arrive, he stared down at the cavernous room where so much of his protégé’s childhood had been spent.  He could still remember that very first day, see the innocent face, hear the plaintive question of “where’s my Mom and Dad?”  The innocence had long been erased, but the echoes of that unanswered query still hung in the air between them every time he saw Jarod.

            And then there he was.  Jarod, still in shackles and with a black cloth bag over his head, was being prodded down the steps by one of the new Sweepers, a large man with a buzz cut, probably ex-military.  Willie followed close behind, his gun drawn and trained on the prisoner.  He had a bandage taped to his nose, the result of the damage Jarod had inflicted yesterday in his failed attempt to escape.

            Sydney came out of his office but hesitated at the top of the steps when Willie held up a hand to forestall his approach.  Knowing the dreadful memories wearing a hood would dredge up in Jarod, Sydney had to take a few calming breaths to keep from rushing over and ripping it off his head.  He tried to gain control over his own swirling emotions as he watched Willie shove Jarod into a chair at a new table that he hadn’t noticed this morning when he arrived.  It looked like the kind found in police interrogation rooms, complete with circular metal bracket for restraining inmates.  Willie uncuffed Jarod’s left hand and attached the right to the metal loop.  Only then did he remove the bag.  Jarod blinked, focused on Willie’s nose and said, “Sorry about that.”  Willie’s only response was to yank on Jarod’s arm to make sure he was securely fastened.  Sydney saw Jarod wince slightly.

            Willie backed up a few steps and held his gun on Jarod while the other guard – Sydney thought his name was Tony - removed the manacles from his feet.  Then the two Sweepers retreated and settled into still but alert stances a short distance away.

            Sydney hurried down the steps and over to the table.  Mindful of the surveillance equipment recording everything they said or did in this room, he kept his question simple.  “Jarod, are you alright?”

            His former pupil gazed impassively at him.  “Nice to see you again, Sydney.”  His tone matched his expression, carefully devoid of emotion.

            Since Jarod obviously was not going to be forthcoming about his state of well-being, Sydney fell back on his medical experience and did a quick visual assessment of his “patient.”  Jarod was clean-shaven, his sideburns neatly trimmed and his hair brushed back from his forehead, although not in that slightly-spiked, gel-aided style he’d adopted since living on his own.  On the negative side, he looked thin and pale with circles under his eyes.  And now that Jarod’s left arm was free from the cuffs, Sydney could see the angry red welts encircling that wrist, which meant he’d been wearing the handcuffs for far too long.  He must have let his concern show, because Jarod self-consciously pulled his sleeve down to hide the damage.

            Okay, so they wouldn’t dwell on his physical state.  If only he could explore his emotional well-being, but he knew that would also be impossible in this fish-bowl environment.  Sydney sat down across from Jarod and leaned forward so he could speak quietly.  “Jarod, do you know where they’re keeping you?”

            Jarod shook his head.  “Somewhere deep.  When they first take me out of my cell, they have the hood on me.  We make a lot of turns, go up and down stairs, take different elevators.  They only remove the hood once we’re someplace in the Centre familiar to me.”  Again, he’d spoken in a flat tone, but Sydney thought he’d heard an apologetic note in the delivery, almost as if he felt like he’d failed somehow.

            Stepping into his familiar role of offering reassurance in an objective manner, Sydney said as calmly as he could, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

            “Sydney.”  This time there was definite urgency in his voice.  “When I was in the infirmary, there was a woman there… in scrubs... I didn’t recognize her.”

            Sydney nodded and rapidly filled Jarod in on what they’d pieced together so far, security cameras be damned.  “Her name is Dr. Archer, an expert in nanotechnology.  The Centre has paid her a small fortune for unspecified services.  We believe she implanted a device inside you which caused you to experience an electric shock when you tried to escape yesterday.”

Jarod’s eyes widen slightly at the explanation, but he didn’t look too surprised.  “Check the back of my neck,” he murmured, lips barely moving.

            Sydney stood up immediately and walked behind Jarod.  He addressed the two Sweepers.  “Are these restraints really necessary?” he complained, gesturing to the cuffs.

“Orders from Mr. Lyle,” Tony grunted.

            “I’m not releasing him,” Willie said.  “Even with both hands and feet cuffed, he still managed to do this to me.”  He pointed to his broken nose and sent a fierce glare in Jarod’s direction.

Sydney sighed in resignation and leaned over Jarod under the pretense of getting a closer look at his manacled hand.  Instead, he took a quick glance at the red line that stood out sharply at the nape of his neck.  Into Jarod’s ear he reported, “There’s a scar from a surgical incision, approximately two inches in length, extending vertically over the C1-C3 vertebrae.”

“Dr. Archer does good work, wouldn’t you say, Sydney?”

Sydney’s head snapped up to find Lyle standing by the railing on the upper walkway.  “Don’t think it will leave a scar,” he continued, coming down the steps, “which is a shame, really.  I think a scar or two adds character.”  He pulled off his maroon glove and massaged the thickened skin on his left hand where his thumb once was.

Jarod stared coolly at Miss Parker’s brother as he approached, but Sydney had seen the spark of fear in his brown eyes at the first sound of Lyle’s voice. 

“I don’t believe any unnecessary surgery is a good thing,” Sydney said, straightening up and taking a few steps to position himself between his protégé and Lyle.

“Oh, this was necessary.” Lyle came to a stop on the other side of the table.  “That ingenious device Dr. Archer implanted in our genius here has made things so much easier.  And congratulations, Sydney, by the way,” he added, putting his glove back on, “to you and Mr. Broots, I imagine, for figuring out as much as you did.  But I don’t think you know everything this prototype can do.”  He smiled at the Pretender.  “What do you say, Jarod?  Should we give your mentor a full demonstration?”  He reached slowly into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small black box.

Sydney saw Jarod stiffen, although the slightly defiant look on his face never wavered.

            He didn’t know what that little black box did, but he was certain it was nothing good.  “I say we get down to business, Lyle,” Sydney said harshly.  “You mentioned an ‘assignment’ in your e-mail?”

            “No?”  Lyle looked disappointed but he slowly returned the box to his pocket, never taking his eyes off Jarod.  “I suppose you’re right, Sydney.  Business before pleasure.  And the Triumverate is anxious to have this project completed.”  He reached inside his suit jacket again, this time producing a manila folder, which he tossed onto the table.

            Sydney picked up the file and opened it.   His heart sank as he perused the papers within, not just because of the dire situation that required intervention but also because he knew it would be very difficult to convince Jarod to perform this particular simulation.  Even as he digested the particulars of the project, his mind raced with possible arguments he could employ to persuade Jarod to use his unique talents in this instance.

            After a few minutes, Sydney became aware of the silence in the room; it felt like it was growing heavier by the second.  He looked up from his reading and saw that Lyle and Jarod still had intense gazes locked on each other in some bizarre staring contest.  Sydney slapped the folder down on the table to break the spell.

            Lyle glanced his way.  “So what do you think, Sydney?  Is this first assignment worthy of our genius’ abilities?”

            Sydney cleared his throat.  “It will certainly be difficult.”  He watched Jarod carefully as he went on, “It appears there’s been an outbreak of a mysterious virus in several villages in equatorial Africa.”

            Jarod looked at him.  “Let me guess.  No one’s been able to develop an antidote.  That’s where I come in.”  He spoke dryly, but Sydney could see the muscle along his jawline tighten with suppressed tension.

            “We have a fully-equipped science lab all set up for you,” Lyle interjected smoothly.  “I think we’ve anticipated your needs, but if you find something is missing, you have only to ask and –”

            “I won’t do it,” Jarod said flatly, turning his attention back to Lyle.

            Sydney let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  Here we go, he thought.

            Lyle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if assaulted by a sudden headache.  “Can’t you make this easy just once?” he lamented.  Then he sighed and opened his eyes.  “Look, Jarod,” he said, spreading his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, “I wanted your first assignment to be simpler so you could gradually get back in the rhythm of your work here at the Centre, but the Triumverate had other ideas.  Since this plague is literally happening right in their own back yard, they place top priority on this project.”

            “As you said, Lyle, perhaps it would be better if Jarod’s first simulation was not something so crucial,” Sydney suggested mildly.

            Lyle turned a withering look on him.  “Well, I’m sorry, but the Centre hasn’t been contracted to engineer a way for little old ladies to safely cross the street,” he said sarcastically.  “This is what the Triumverate needs done, so this is what we’re going to do.”

            “How do I know this virus is real?” Jarod asked.

            Lyle leaned over the table, pulled a few eight-by-ten glossies out of the manila folder, and slapped them down in front of him.  “Look at these pictures!  These aren’t photo-shopped, Jarod.  These are living and breathing men, women and children suffering from a dreadful illness.  Although if you don’t help, they won’t be living and breathing much longer,” he added casually.

            Sydney had glimpsed these images when he skimmed through the information in the folder, but he still felt a jolt when he saw them laid out on the table.  Real or not, they were disturbing to look at.  The photos showed people of all ages, but predominantly women and young children, in various stages of sickness – some conscious but with blank stares, some grimacing in obvious pain, and some beyond all help, their corpses lying in the dirt, dried blood trails from their noses and mouths.

            Jarod stared at the photos and said nothing.  Sydney knew that look; he’d seen it many times on the face of his young student when he was faced with a particularly difficult simulation, usually one that brought up moral issues that confused the boy.  Sydney had always done his best to teach Jarod right from wrong, but in a place like the Centre, usually “the lesser of two evils” principle was the best one to follow.  Still, he knew Jarod’s strict moral compass was what had prompted him to escape from the Centre the first time; in the years since he had continued on the path of righteousness, making sure criminals were brought to justice.  Sydney was certain Jarod would not do anything that had even the potential of hurting the innocent.  He remembered Jarod’s question soon after he escaped: “How many people have died because of what I thought up?”  Yes, people were dying now from this virus, but Jarod would wonder – and rightly so, no doubt – if even more would perish if he did what the Centre asked.

            Lyle suddenly sat in the chair next to Jarod – a surprising move, Sydney thought, since it gave away the physical advantage he’d had when standing.  What he did next was even more unexpected; he gently gathered the photos together and placed them carefully back inside the folder, which he closed almost reverently.  “I know how difficult this is for you, Jarod,” he said softly.  “I’m aware of the similarities between this assignment and the last official simulation you performed for the Centre.  And, thanks to the DSAs, I know exactly what happened during your final days here.”

            Both Jarod and Sydney looked sharply at Lyle.  “You have the DSAs?” Sydney asked.

            Lyle looked slightly annoyed by the interruption.  “Yes, luckily we found them in a motel near the cemetery after I… ran into Jarod there.”

            “Those DSAs are the only complete record of the Pretender project,” Sydney said, “and as such, they belong in my custody.”

            “Those DSAs are the property of the Centre and they will remain in my possession,” Lyle countered smoothly.  “But if you or Jarod feel nostalgic and want to watch some home movies, just let me know.  I’ll bring the popcorn.”

            “Lyle,” Sydney grumbled, ready to continue the argument.

            “As I was saying,” Lyle went on, sending a warning glare Sydney’s way, “I have watched the archived record of your last days at the Centre, and I know the concerns you had back then.  I also know how that fool Damon tried to manipulate you.  Frankly, Jarod,” he added, “I would have thought you were too smart to believe his promise of freedom.”

            “I’m smart enough to know that I can’t believe any antidote I create will be used only for good,” Jarod said evenly.  “I have to recreate the virus to find a cure, so what’s to stop the Triumverate from spreading more infection and then selling the antidote to the highest bidder?”

            “As I said before, this virus is killing people in the Triumverate’s own back yard, a region where they have many business and personal interests,” Lyle said.  “I sincerely doubt they would want to make the situation worse than it already is.”

            Sydney noticed he hadn’t outright denied the possibility of an antidote being used for nefarious purposes.  Lyle may not know precisely what the Triumverate intended to do with the cure, but at least he didn’t insult Jarod’s intelligence by dismissing his suspicions.

            Lyle looked at his watch and stood up.  “Well, I have a meeting to get to,” he said briskly.  “You can take that file back to your…quarters to study at your leisure.”  He nodded at Willie, who came over to retrieve the folder.      

            “I’m not going to change my mind,” Jarod said.

            “Why don’t you sleep on it?” Lyle suggested, placing a hand companionably on Jarod’s shoulder while Willie detached him from the table and fastened his hands together again.  Sydney could tell Jarod was resisting the urge to shrug him off.

            No doubt sensing the same thing, Lyle dropped his hand and backed off.  He headed for the steps leading out of the cavernous pit.  “Just don’t take too long to make your final decision, Jarod.  Remember, innocent people are dying while you weigh the pros and cons,” he tossed back cheerfully over his shoulder.  Then he was gone.

            Sydney watched helplessly as Tony shackled Jarod’s ankles again and pulled him roughly to his feet.  “A moment, please,” he implored in a raspy voice.

            After a beat, Willie nodded.  He gestured to Tony and the two Sweepers moved away a few paces.

            There was so much he wanted to say!  But he couldn’t forget their audience, both real and electronic.  So he stuck to the most pressing issue.  “I’ll have Broots look into this and make certain this outbreak is real,” he said.

            “Oh, I’m sure it’s real,” Jarod said wearily.  “It’s too easy to check.” Now that Lyle had left the room, his bravado seemed to have vanished and the exhaustion Sydney had observed earlier was even more pronounced. 

            “Well, if there is indeed a mysterious virus killing people in Africa, I’m sure the proper authorities have been notified.  Perhaps they’ll discover a cure soon.”

            “That would be a big help to those poor villagers.”  Then Jarod sighed and shook his head.  “But that doesn’t let me off the hook.  Even if a cure was found tomorrow, the Triumverate is still going to want their own personal stockpile of the antidote and virus so that they can use it against their enemies.  Or they could act as a broker and sell it on the black market to terrorists.” He paused, and a spark of defiance reignited in the depths of his brown eyes.  “I won’t help them do that.”

            “Jarod, please.”  Sydney put his hands on his shoulders and held his gaze.  It felt strange having to look up to meet his eyes, when he could still so clearly see the young boy who’d once looked to him for advice and comfort.  Now Sydney was the one who wanted reassurance.  “Those victims of the virus aren’t the only ones in danger right now,” he quietly pointed out.

            “Lyle won’t kill me.”  His smile was small and grim.  “I’m too valuable to the Centre.”

            “That value diminishes if you won’t do the simulations!”  Was Jarod just putting on a brave front?  Or did he truly not realize the risk he was taking in defying Lyle?

            “Don’t worry, Sydney.  I’m sure Lyle will find other ways to get his money’s worth out of me.  Remember he stopped my heart that one time when the Centre needed a test subject for an experimental drug?”  He shrugged fatalistically, dislodging Sydney’s hands.  “If nothing else, I’m a handy guinea pig.”

            “You’re far more than that.”  He needed to remind Jarod that there was still reason to hope.  “When you were still only a boy, you helped so many people through worthwhile projects spearheaded by the Centre.  Perhaps in the near future there will be more opportunities for you to use your genius for good.”

            “Time’s up,” Willie said, stepping forward and taking Jarod by the arm.  Instantly, the guarded look returned to the Pretender’s eyes.  He obediently shuffled away with the Sweepers closely following.

            Sydney called after him, “We’ll talk again soon, Jarod,” and hoped with all his heart that those words would turn out to be true.

            She caught up to him as he was waiting for the elevator that led to the Tower.  “Hey, little brother,” she said lightly, “I hear you’re having trouble getting your boy to do his assignment.”

            She wondered if the look of irritation that flashed across Lyle’s face had more to do with her pointing out his trouble with Jarod or her reminder that he was the twin born second.  “He’s Sydney’s boy,” he grumbled in response.

            Since Jarod was misbehaving, Lyle was blaming Sydney for being the bad “parent” who’d raised him wrong.  Typical.

            “Walk with me,” Miss Parker invited, giving him no choice by linking her arm through his and steering him away from the elevator.  Even though she hated being in such close contact with a psychotic murderer – she’d seen him commit cold-blooded murder at one of the Centre’s satellite offices, plus he’d pulled a gun on her more than once - she knew she needed to swallow her revulsion and play the part of the helpful big sister if she was going to get what she wanted from him.

            After they’d taken a few steps along the bustling main concourse level, Lyle asked, sounding slightly bemused, “Are we supposed to be projecting a united front?”

            Miss Parker bared her teeth in what she hoped passed for a pleasant smile.  “You’re not the only one who knows how to put on a show for the Centre underlings, brother.  But since everyone now knows that Jarod is here, the rumors have already started that the new Pretender project is an utter failure.  We need to remind these people that we Parkers are still in control.”  She cast a haughty glance around the busy hallway, like a queen acknowledging her subjects.

            “I have not lost control of anything,” Lyle hissed through teeth gritted in his own insincere smile.  “Jarod will come around; you’ll see.”

            “Oh?  From what I understand, there’s no time to waste with this particular project.  People are literally dying while waiting for a cure – and the Triumverate is not known for their patience.”

            “Jarod will complete the simulation,” Lyle insisted.  “It has two main components he won’t be able to resist: one, a degree of difficulty that will challenge him intellectually, and two, a humanitarian crisis that will satisfy his superior moral code.  Innocent women and children are suffering slow, agonizing deaths; how can he turn his back on them?”

            He had a point, but… “The project should appeal to him, yes, but maybe it’s the person giving the assignment that’s causing the trouble,” she suggested pointedly.

            Lyle gave her a scornful glance.  “That’s why I made sure Sydney was there to help me present the facts of this case.  I thought it might feel like old times to Jarod being there in the sim lab with his mentor, going over his newest assignment.”

            His reasoning was sound, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.  “And he’d just slip back into his Pretender role out of what – nostalgia for the good old days?” she scoffed.  “Slight problem; he doesn’t remember anything good about his childhood.”

            “Who does?” Lyle countered.

            Another good point.  Miss Parker turned into a side corridor where they’d have a little more privacy.  The time had come to make her proposal.  She thankfully dropped her brother’s arm and turned to face him directly.  “You claim to have things under control, Lyle, but it’s obvious you need some help.  I’d be willing to talk to Jarod for you on one condition.”

            Lyle held up a hand to stop her.  “First of all, I haven’t asked for your help.  Secondly, what makes you think be of any?  If Sydney, the only person Jarod even halfway trusts at the Centre, can’t convince him to do the sim, you don’t have a chance in hell of doing so.  You’re not exactly one of his favorite people, sis.”

            “True.  But Jarod and I have a unique relationship.  We were children together here.”

            “That was a long time ago.”

            “Our childhood friendship may have been over long ago, but Jarod and I still have a connection.”  Miss Parker paused, not sure how to explain that connection or how much she wanted to reveal to Lyle.  “At least he thinks we do, which I used to my advantage these past few years.  He likes to think of me as a fellow victim of the Centre, so he kept trying to ‘help’ me by providing information about my – our mother.  Every time he called or sent a package with another damn clue to my past, I told myself that one day he’d slip up and that’s when I would catch him.”

            “That’s exactly what happened,” Lyle murmured. “Jarod’s sick fascination with our mother’s death – and your unending grief over it – made him get sloppy.  Going to the cemetery was a risk he should never have taken, and I made him pay for it.”

            Miss Parker nodded, realizing that Lyle had figured out the strange connection between her and Jarod long ago.  That was how he’d been able to predict that Jarod would show up at the cemetery on that day.  Damn it, why hadn’t she come to the same conclusion?  Then she could have been the one to spring the trap on Boy Wonder.

            Lyle’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his sister, as if seeing her in a new light.  “This ‘connection’ Jarod thinks the two of you have just might make him listen to you,” he allowed, “but why would you want to help me?”

            She let some of the bitterness she was just feeling seep into her voice.  “It’s no secret that I hate the fact that you were the one to successfully capture Jarod.  But now that he’s back, who caught him doesn’t matter.  The Triumverate expects results.  If they don’t get them – and soon – it will be all our heads on the chopping block.”

            As expected, Lyle seemed to accept that explanation.  She knew he’d understand self-preservation as a motive.

            “Now, as for that condition I mentioned… I want to talk to Jarod wherever you’re keeping him.”  Her tone brooked no argument.

            Lyle arched an eyebrow.  “Why?”

            Two Centre employees came around the corner, comfortably chatting, but when they spotted Miss Parker and Lyle in an intense huddle near the wall, they turned on their heels and went back the way they’d come.  Miss Parker wondered exactly what kind of vibes were coming off her and her brother.  She hoped the ones she was sending him made it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

            Right now she hoped her answer to his question would satisfy his curiosity.  “Well, I assume you have Jarod stashed somewhere deep in the sub-levels, far away from any active areas.  And since he’s been there for almost two weeks, it seems the location is escape-proof. Privacy and a captive audience?  Perfect.”

            Unfortunately, he wasn’t buying it.  “Jarod’s room does lend itself perfectly to one-on-one conversations,” Lyle said agreeably, “but we both know that’s not the only reason you want to go there.  You and Sydney have been scrambling for over a week trying to find out where I’m keeping Jarod.  I don’t understand why you can’t just be content that he’s back within the confines of the Centre.”

            “I can’t speak for Sydney, but I imagine he wants to see Jarod’s quarters to make sure he’s being treated humanely, and not being kept caged like an animal.”  She saw the shift in Lyle’s eyes but chose to ignore it.  She needed to offer him another motive that he would understand.  “As for me, well… I wasted years chasing Jarod all over the country when I should have been rising to the top in Corporate.  So, no, I can’t just be content that he’s back… especially since I never got to see his face when he was finally caught.  I need to see him now that he’s well and truly trapped, and I need him to acknowledge that I won.” 

            Lyle nodded thoughtfully, his pale blue eyes reflecting the ruthless light she was trying to project from her own.  “You need to see him defeated,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving upwards in a cold smile.

            “Exactly.”  She said the word with merciless relish.  I know you understand that, dear brother, she thought.

            He studied her a moment longer before he finally said, “Alright.  You can go see Jarod in his hole.”  He paused then added, “But I have one condition of my own.”