Disclaimer: Jarod, Lyle, Miss Parker and anyone else associated with the Centre are characters that do not belong to me. Someone else thought them up, pitched the idea for a series and sold them to a bunch of schmucks who didn’t know a good thing when they had it sitting in their laps. I have blatantly stolen the pretender and his associates. I’m not sorry. I won’t apologize. I am not, nor have I ever made any money in these endeavors. But it has been a lot of fun.


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Seizing Destiny

Part 1

09/05/04

EPILOG (two years in the future)

Jarod folded his cell phone closed and gazed out the windows. For a long moment, he allowed his mind to go blank, to simply take in the awesome panorama before him. The room was walled on two sides by huge picture windows overlooking the rocky slope that lead to the ocean. Foam topped waves stretched as far as the eye could see, each one dazzling with a slash of color. As the sun dipped into the Pacific, hues of yellow, pink and orange blended together creating a magically golden aura all around.

A weary sigh from behind caught Jarod’s attention. He turned toward the sound, finding this view to be no less stunning, and even more entrancing than the sunset. His beautiful wife lay in the bed, her dark brown hair fanning on the pillow like a halo. He liked her hair long and had told her so on their wedding night. She had let it grow ever since.

It was one of those little clues that Jarod had not failed to notice. She left her hair long, because he liked it. She refilled his Pez containers when he wasn’t looking. She seemed to always know, somehow, when it all was becoming too much for him. She could see it every time, the tension edging up to intolerable levels, even before he recognized it in himself. She always knew when it was time for them to run away for a few days, to escape the life they had built and hide in each other’s arms.

She loved him. Jarod had known that fact for some time but it still amazed him when he thought about it. Miss Parker loved him, though she’d never once said so. She proved it to him every day in dozens of little ways. Today she had proved it in a big way with a tiny bundle of just over 7 pounds.

Some stray part of Jarod’s mind registered that he would have to buy this house. He and Parker had decided to rent it for a number of reasons. The magnificent view had been only one of them. The fact that it was located in a city where home births were all the rage was another. But for Jarod, the main factor in choosing this place had been that this was just about as far from Blue Cove as one could get while still remaining in the continental United States.

All too soon, Jarod knew, he would have to trundle his little family back to Delaware. But this place, this glorious home on the opposite coast, was now a treasured landmark. His child had been born here. He would buy the house so that they could return whenever they wanted.

Parker sighed again, causing a frown from Jarod. “Would you like something stronger for the pain?” he asked with concern.

“No,” she replied. “I’m fine. Tired. A little sore, but I’m fine. Really.” Her eyes remained closed as she spoke. “Has everyone been properly notified?”

“Yes,” Jarod answered as he crossed the room.

“Everyone?” she reiterated.

Jarod smiled tenderly and said, “Well, I have yet to contact the New York Times. But we’ve missed the deadline for the evening edition.”

“Sorry,” Parker answered with half a shrug.

Sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, Jarod stroked the hair from Parker’s forehead. “That’s okay,” he said. “It will just have to wait until tomorrow.”

Carefully, almost fearfully, Jarod turned his gaze from his wife to the newborn infant at her side. With one finger, he gently caressed the feathery dark locks from the baby’s brow in much the same manner as he had just done for Parker.

“Dad will be on a plane first thing in the morning. He promises not to stay long but he simply has to see his grandchild as soon as possible.” As Jarod spoke, he traced the tiny wrinkled face with his fingertips, measuring the little nose and circling one precious shell of an ear. “Lyle is thrilled,” Jarod said in a low voice. Only a fraction of his mind was even aware of his own words, the rest of his being focused solely on the babe.

“We must never leave our little girl alone in his presence,” Parker said sternly.

“Of course not.” Jarod glanced at her with a frown. “I wouldn’t leave a child with him for even one minute, regardless of gender. It’s just,” Jarod shook his head slowly as a confused look darkened his face. “He seems so excited to have a niece.”

Parker huffed. “His position is less threatened by a girl than it would have been by a boy,” she told him disdainfully. She opened her eyes and looked up at Jarod. “I so wanted to give you a son.”

“Who needs a boy?” It was Jarod’s turn to scoff. “You Parker women run circles around us mere males.”

“Her name isn’t Parker,” Jarod’s wife reminded him gently.

“A rose, by any other name,” he began.

“Still has thorns,” Parker finished.

Jarod nodded. “That’s what makes them interesting,” he said with a smile. The grin spread across his face, lighting his eyes for the first time since he’d sat down. Parker brushed the lower curve of his lip with the pad of her thumb as she admired it.

Slowly, as though losing a valiant struggle to keep it in place, Jarod’s smile faded. The dark eyes became shrouded as the new parents gazed at one another. Looking away, Jarod focused intently upon Parker’s fingers, entwined in his own. He raised them to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

“Do you know what day this is?” he whispered.

Parker nodded. “I was wondering when you would mention it.” She had remembered the significance of this date from the moment she had woken up that morning. A short time later, when the first band of tension had squeezed around her midsection, panic had surged through her. “Not today, baby. Please not today,” she had begged.

When it became apparent that she had indeed gone into labor, Parker had offered up silent prayers, hoping against hope that her child would not deliver until after midnight. But as luck would have it, Parker’s labor had lasted only a little more than six hours. This was, no doubt, due in part to the yoga and relaxation techniques she and Jarod had practiced together for months.

Parker cupped one soft palm around Jarod’s stubbly cheek. Fate had never been kind to this sweet man. She ached for him, knowing how torn he was. His daughter had been born today and he wanted nothing more than to jump for joy. And yet...

“Two years,” Jarod muttered. “Two years ago, today.”

“I know,” Parker sighed.

“It was the worst day of my life,” he groaned softly.

“I know,” Parker said again.

“It changed everything.” Jarod looked down at his little girl, covering her tiny body with one large hand. “Without that day,” he murmured soulfully. “This one would never have happened.”

Jarod continue to stare at the child, fascinated by the contrast of his size compared to hers.

“I feel as though,” he gasped suddenly as tears abruptly sprang to his eyes. “As though I traded one life for another. She was taken so that this little one could exist. Everything I have, everything that brings me joy, I owe to the fact that she died.”

“That’s not true,” Parker said in a scolding tone.

“But it is true,” Jarod argued. “If she were still alive, you and I wouldn’t be together. We’d still be playing the game, running and chasing.” Jarod paused, heaving a deep breath as though trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say. “I can’t even bring myself to wish that things had been different. Because I love my life just the way it is. Her death made this life possible.”

“Oh, Jarod,” Parker grasped her husband’s face in both hands and pulled him to her for a kiss. As they parted, Parker shook him gently. “It was not your fault,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. The pretender gazed at Parker with dark eyes that swam with unshed tears. “My head knows, but my heart can’t help what it feels.”

Parker placed her hand over Jarod’s as it rested on the child’s torso. Together they felt the gentle rise and fall of the babe’s breathing.

“We’ll name her Margaret,” Parker said softly but with conviction.

“No.” Jarod’s response was immediate and sharp enough to startle a flinch from the baby. “Not Margaret or Catherine or even Angel.” His eyes went hard with determination as he spoke. “I won’t have her future colored by our past. It has tortured us long enough.”

“She needs a name Jarod,” Parker urged. They had not chosen names during Parker’s pregnancy. Jarod had gotten it into his head that to do so would be bad luck. He had no desire to tempt fate against them. But now Parker felt a strange urgency to christen their baby.

Jarod gazed lovingly at the child for a moment before answering dreamily. “’Amy’ is a pretty name,” he said. “It means ‘beloved’.”

“Amy,” Parker tested the name on her tongue a few times. “Yes,” she smiled. “Amy.”

Jarod laid down pillowing his head on one folded arm. “My Amy,” he whispered. “Daddy won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll never lie to you or make you afraid. When you’re big enough, you can come to work with Mommy and me and you will play in the same corridors we grew up in. But you won’t be alone. You won’t be in the dark. Those shadows are all gone now.”

Parker, unable to control her riotous emotions, could only smile happily as tears dampened her cheeks. It was so touching, listening to Jarod make these vows to his daughter. Parker knew how much the words meant to her husband. She knew better than anyone else could.

Parker also understood that, for the rest of his life, this day would be a bittersweet one for Jarod. Sorrow would claw at him just as it did to Parker each April. Yet his grief would be forever contradicted by the joy of Amy’s birthday. The guilt would never completely lift. Jarod had always felt responsible for the lives that had been affected in some way by his own. He would never fully learn to forgive himself for what had been done to him by others.

“Parker?” Jarod called softly, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

With his attention still focused on the child between them, Jarod said, “I think we should make an offer on this place. I’m sure that the owners could be persuaded to sell.”

Parker smiled. “I called the realtor last week,” she admitted.

Laughter bubbled from Jarod. “How did I manage to escape you for so many years?” he wondered. “You seem to always be one step ahead of me.”

“It’s only because you allow it Pez-head,” Parker said as her eyelids fluttered closed. “I caught you because you let me.”

The large hand that had been caressing the infant’s stomach shifted to rest on Parker’s. Rubbing soft lazy circles on Parker’s abdomen, Jarod carefully massaged her tender womb.

“I needed someone to catch me,” he whispered. “I was falling so fast, slipping into a darkness that truly terrified me.”

“That’s all in the past,” Parker replied with a contented sigh.

“Yes,” Jarod smiled. “The darkness is behind us now.”

As the sunlight slipped away and dusk turned into night, Jarod smiled into the gloom. The sound of Parker’s breathing became deep and regular, letting Jarod know that she had fallen asleep. He continued to stroke her middle, a little bemused at how the contours of her body had been changed in the last few hours.

It was true. The evil that had haunted their lives had been subdued. Jarod had walked along the precipice, teetering for a time into the shadows himself. But he had survived. He not only survived but had also prevailed against his enemies. With this woman at his side, Jarod had been able to defeat them.

Together they had created light.

End Part 1

Author’s Note: Yes, this chapter is the end of the story. I put it at the beginning just for kicks. The next chapter will begin on the day two years before Amy’s birth. The sickly sweet sappiness you’ve found so far will not continue. For those of you who like sap, I hope I’ve peaked your curiosity enough to continue reading without it. For those of you who are ready to barf, I’m done with the syrup. For the most part anyway, I won’t make promises.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.

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Author’s Note: I just saw the coolest thing on a rerun of CSI. To be honest, I had never seen the show until Spike TV ran a marathon on Labor Day. Anyway, there was this woman who had been abducted when she was four and was now (21 years later), suspected of murder. The investigators were talking with a psychologist regarding the woman’s state of mind. He said that children abducted at that age tend to develop sociopathic personalities. They will do anything, absolutely anything in order to survive. I thought that was rather significant in regards to our favorite pretender. Just thought I would share.

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Seizing Destiny
Part 2

09/06/04

- Two years earlier. -

Jarod hovered in the shadows as dawn crept over the treetops. He waited with what seemed to be a remarkable calm. Few who knew him would have recognized the pretender’s economy of motion as the tension it was.

Everything about this screamed of a trap. An unsolicited email allegedly sent by “a friend”. A meeting place that was uncomfortably isolated, a state park far from civilization. It felt wrong, as if things were being manipulated. Having played by the Centre’s rules for so long, Jarod could smell a setup from a mile away. And right now the odor was very strong.

And yet, there was still a chance, however miniscule it may be, that the arranged meeting was for real. Jarod’s mother could have found a way to contact him. They had been so close on Carthis. In the four months that had lapsed since then, Jarod had confirmed her location on three different occasions. He had been less than a day behind her the last time.

Perhaps it was because he was getting so close. Each near miss became more disheartening than the last. The running, the searching was taking its toll. He was so weary of the game that he was willing to grasp at straws. However, Jarod wasn’t blind to his own desperation. He wanted this liaison to be the reunion he hoped for. But he very much doubted it.

It was a dangerous risk he was taking. In the months since Carthis, with Mr. Raines in charge at the Centre, the game had taken a serious turn. Jarod had always counted on the fact that the powers that be wanted him alive. That knowledge had given him an edge in every encounter. But things had changed. The threats themselves had not, Parker still snarled at him with the same fervor during their phone calls. But there was a new tension in her voice. An uncertainty that told Jarod how bad things had gotten within the Centre’s dark halls. He feared for her. He feared for Sydney. He feared for himself should he ever fall into Raines’ grasp.

This meeting was a gamble and the pretender knew it. But forewarned was forearmed as the old saying goes. Jarod could not pass up this opportunity. Yet he still braced himself for disappointment.

Jarod barely moved as he waited for the appointed time. Still as a statue, he hid among the pines at the edge of a large field. This position gave him the best view of his surroundings. He could see the empty parking lot, a dozen barren picnic tables and the entrance to a trail that disappeared into the woods.

There was no one to be seen. Not surprising, given the day and the location. In another state, closer to a town, Jarod may have found the occasional jogger this early in the morning. Weekends would have brought campers, hikers and nature lovers on picnics. But today the park was vacant.

Jarod had arrived early. So much so that by the time the red hatchback pulled into the lot, his legs and shoulders had begun to ache from the tense immobility of his stance. His heart leapt in anticipation as the automobile came to a stop.

For one long minute, the driver was nothing more than a shadow within the car. Jarod held his breath as the shadow shifted and the door opened. A denim-clad leg stepped from the vehicle as the driver stood and glanced around warily.

Jarod gasped. He had never seen her wear her hair loose, except in pictures. The long tresses were the most unusual color. Age had lessened the red and the auburn locks were now shot through with streaks of white. Early morning sunlight illuminated the soft curls, revealing every imaginable color in red-orange spectrum.

Simply dressed and without makeup she was lovely without even trying. She had no manicure, no dye in her hair, nothing artificial to mar her radiance. She cupped one hand over her eyes and squinted toward the tree line, deepening the wrinkles at the edges of each eye. Jarod stared at her, thinking that no other woman in the world carried such natural beauty. No woman - except one.

Jarod’s gawking lasted for the span of two heartbeats. Habit forced him to scan the park with his eyes once more before he stepped from his hiding place. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for her to see him.

“Jarod?” she called uncertainly.

“Mom.” His voice was little more than a strangled croak. Suddenly, Jarod was running. He sprinted across the grass, closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Jarod scooped his mother into a huge bear hug and spun her in circles as he buried his face in the mesmerizing curls.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Jarod’s mother cried over and over.

Jarod’s laughter rolled through his entire body. Tears wet his cheeks and he didn’t try to wipe them away. When his spinning slowed and came to a stop, Jarod hugged his mother tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. She had her arms wrapped around his midsection, squeezing him hard as she wept into the fabric of his shirt.

With the palm of one hand, Jarod made soothing little circles on his mother’s back. He felt a mild sense of disorientation as he realized that he was comforting her. In his dreams, he had always imagined their reunion to consist of mother reassuring child.

“It’s okay,” Jarod murmured. “Don’t cry. We’re together now.”

The woman continued to sob as she spoke. “I can’t believe you finally found me, Jarod. How on earth did you do it?”

Jarod’s entire body tensed and went on the alert. “I didn’t,” he replied bluntly. Snapping to attention, the pretender’s eyes scoured the area. Still, he saw nothing, no one to cause concern.

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked.

Pulling his mother from his embrace, Jarod shifted her into a defensible position. “They are here.” He couldn’t see anyone, but Jarod was sure that they weren’t far. The abrupt cessation of sound seemed to prove it. The birds that had been singing moments ago were now mute. Heavy silence blanketed the park as Jarod grasped his mother by the arm and they started to run.

“My car,” Jarod’s mother began.

“No,” he bit in frustration. “The road is easily blocked. We’ll go this way.” Nearly dragging his mother with him, Jarod dashed across the field toward the hiking trail.

Behind them Jarod could hear cars screeching to a halt in the lot. He didn’t need to look to know that the sweepers had boxed in the little red vehicle. Doors slammed and voices shouted instructions. The pretender used the sounds to tell him what he did not want to know. There were two sedans, carrying no less than six sweepers. Parker was not among them, nor was Sydney, a fact that caused a sudden bolt of panic to surge through Jarod’s veins.

It was a matter of speed now. Jarod knew that he and his mother only needed to make it to the trees and they would be safe. Once in the woods, he could easily vanish. Even with an untrained woman along, Jarod’s skill at evasion would be no match for those that pursued him.

They were less than fifty yards from the edge of the trail before Jarod risked a glance backward. The sweepers were well behind them. He and his mother had gotten a good head start. A smile curled Jarod’s mouth as he calculated the two distances and realized that the shorter was in their favor.

Jarod suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body reacting before his mind even registered what was happening. Willie had stepped out of the trees and was pointing a pistol. The tall black man stood between Jarod and safety.

“Willie,” Jarod hissed. The sweeper had been waiting, hiding in the trees just as Jarod had done. Willie had been waiting longer than Jarod, for the pretender would have noticed his approach otherwise. “Why didn’t you just grab me? Why the charade?” Jarod asked coldly as the other sweepers caught up and surrounded them.

“I wasn’t waiting for you,” Willie answered.

There was a loud report, a single gunshot ripping through the air. Jarod flinched in astonishment. In the same moment, his mother crumpled to the ground at his side.

“NO!”

With her hand still clasped in his, Jarod’s mother dragged him down as she fell. She landed on her side so that Jarod was forced to roll her over in order to see her. The dark red stain on her blouse was spreading rapidly. Whimpering his distress, Jarod put one hand over the scarlet hole and put firm pressure on the wound. Under his palm, he could feel the spongy surge of liquid as his mother’s heart pumped blood through the puncture in her chest.

“Mom,” Jarod cried through a blur of tears. “No, please no.”

The startled look on the woman’s face softened into sadness. She placed one hand over her son’s and gave it a little squeeze. “My poor baby,” she whispered. Reaching up she ran her fingertips across Jarod’s cheek, leaving bright red streaks of blood wherever she touched.

Jarod sobbed. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Remember,” she gasped as she clutched weakly at Jarod’s shirt. “I always loved you. Always remember.”

The human body contains approximately twelve pints of blood. When more than half of that volume is lost, the body shuts down. Jarod knew this. He knew exactly how much of his mother’s life was slipping away with each heartbeat. As her eyes slipped closed, Jarod gathered her into his arms and pulled her on to his lap. Beneath his palm he could feel the heart struggling, weakening as the precious liquid leaked between his fingers.

When Jarod could no longer feel the beats in her chest, he placed his hand to his mother’s neck and counted the fluttering pulse at her carotid. Moments later, this soft sign of life faded as well. She was gone. Jarod had found her and lost her in the span of just a few minutes.

Hugging his mother to his chest, Jarod held her tightly and wailed in grief. The edges of his vision wavered and suddenly it was night. He was in a dark desert kneeling over his brother as a different set of Centre representatives watched. The strange sensation lasted only a moment before he snapped back to the present where the day was bright and the body he held was a parent rather than a sibling.

One of the sweepers, someone Jarod did not recognize, stepped to his side and grabbed him by the arm. The sweeper dragged Jarod backward and as the lifeless body slid from his embrace, he was overwhelmed by a black rage. This wasn’t the first time the pretender had surrendered to fury. Men had been badly beaten in the past, one nearly choked to death, when Jarod’s anger had ruled him.

With a roar of pure hatred, Jarod spun in the other man’s grasp and jabbed upward in a sharp, vicious motion. The man went down like a stone, blood bursting from his nose and eye sockets as cartilage shattered and was forced into the brain. As the sweeper fell to the ground, Jarod took the man’s gun. Before the others could react, Jarod was using the weapon on them with a deadly precision.

There was a clattering of gunfire, pitifully short in duration, as Jarod mowed down his opponents. Few of the sweepers even managed to return fire at all. In what seemed to be little more than the blink of an eye, only Jarod and Willie were left standing. The two men stood, rigidly pointing their weapons at one another. With a blatant disregard for the black man’s gun, Jarod stalked toward Willie, closing the distance between them.

“You didn’t have to kill her,” the pretender growled.

In a blur of motion, Jarod lunged forward and grabbed Willie’s pistol. There was a shot but it went wild as Jarod wrenched the gun from Willie’s hand and promptly began to beat him with it. Tossing aside both guns, Jarod continued to pummel the sweeper with his fists. He grabbed the other man by the shirt and slammed him against the tree that Willie had been hiding behind. The back of Willie’s skull cracked against the bark repeatedly.

“Why did you have to KILL HER?” Jarod screamed with rage.

“Orders,” Willie gasped. “I had orders.”

The pretender went terribly still. For a long moment, he was as motionless as a statue. When Jarod moved again, it was with lightening speed. A knife abruptly appeared from under Jarod’s jacket. It was a very large, wicked looking knife that he held to Willie’s throat.

“Whose orders?” Jarod asked with an ominous quiet.

“I don’t know,” Willie answered. Looking into Jarod’s hard brown eyes, Willie knew that he was staring at his own death. “I swear to god, I do not know. All Centre contracts are issued through code names. You know that as well as any of us.”

The blade turned so that Jarod held it along his forearm at Willie’s neck. The sharp edge pressed into Willie’s tender flesh leaving a fine red line as more weight pressed against the sweeper.

“Enigma,” Willie added quickly. “Code name enigma. That’s all I have.”

“It isn’t enough to save you” Jarod hissed. With a violent jerk of his arm, he slashed the blade across the dark skin. Jarod didn’t even flinch when hot liquid spurted across his face. Willie was gurgling through a sliced windpipe as Jarod stepped back and allowed the other man to fall.

The pretender stood and watched with a detached fascination as Willie bled to death. Only after the sweeper’s legs had given their last convulsive twitch, did Jarod turn to survey the carnage that surrounded him. Bodies were strewn everywhere like in some grotesque horror film. But he ignored them, stepping over them as if they didn’t exist.

Kneeling beside the dead woman, Jarod reached out and caressed her soft hair. Something deep inside his soul sighed with resignation. Hatred and rage hardened in Jarod’s chest, so that he could not even weep. The sorrow was there, Jarod knew. But for the moment, his grief was buried beneath icy hate. Cradling his mother in his arms, Jarod stood up. He carried her into the woods and vanished, leaving the sweepers where they lay.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.


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Seizing Destiny
Part 3

09/12/04

-

He was skulking. He knew it and he hated it. He was skulking around the hallways like some cliché from a bad novel. It irritated him to no end. His anxiety however, was only visible in the way he absently rubbed at his mangled hand. The leather glove he wore tended to distract others from the deformity, but it did nothing for the pain.

The multiple surgeries he had undergone several months ago had changed things. Before that, the phantom thumb had ached only on occasion. At times, Lyle had even managed to forget about the missing thumb, only remembering when he tried to pick up something without thinking. But the hours long procedure to attach a new thumb had involved a great deal of nerve reconstruction. The doctors, the best in their field, had assured him that the tedious process was necessary in order to actually gain use of the appendage one day.

The second surgery had of course, been much more rapid. A local anesthesia and a few quick slices had been all it took to undo the work of the first operation. The reconstructed nerve endings had protested, still protested. The ache in Lyle’s hand had not abated. At times the pain escalated into a burning fire that raced up his arm to his elbow. The agony sometimes forced Lyle to wear a sling, immobilizing the entire limb.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Giving the stolen thumb back to his new father was the perfect way for Lyle to show Raines his loyalty. As a matter of fact, Raines had implied that such a display would be required from him, and from his sister. So Lyle had given away the thumb, submitting to Raines’ promises of inheritance. It was such a little thing. Besides, Lyle had another.

Now though, Lyle realized that it had been a mistake. He had wound up giving Raines more than just a thumb. He had given the older man power, the authority to command Lyle’s obedience. The subservience Lyle had been forced into was a feeling that had become all too familiar to him.

To make matters worse, the required sign of loyalty had never been given by Lyle’s sister. Never would be given, he knew. Parker’s defiance and outright derision for their father had actually strengthened her position within the Centre. She refused to accept Raines as her sire, despite all medical evidence to the contrary.

Parker balked Raines’ wishes at every turn. Stopping barely short of outright insolence, Lyle’s sister behaved as if she were the one in charge, not their wheezing father. Her royal demeanor and queenly commands grated on Lyle’s nerves. He resented the fact that she could get away with it.

Lyle knew that it was only a matter of time before Raines tired of her behavior and had the child removed from the game. He knew that Parker knew it as well. She knew and yet plowed on, barreling through the obstacles Raines placed in her path. She was a force to be reckoned with, an unpredictable power to be feared, a strength to be admired.

Lyle’s feelings for his sister were horribly conflicted. Parker was a beautiful and intelligent woman. If Lyle had not known when they first met that they were siblings, he would have pursued her with vigor. But she hated him, always had. Over the years, he had learned to resent nearly everything about her.

And yet, with each new crisis that Parker managed to survive, Lyle saw her more and more clearly. His sister was no ignorant damsel in distress. She held her own against the worst of them. Lyle had even seen her stand up to Mutumbo once and no one had ever argued with that crazy Zulu before. Despite all the lies and the secrets that had been kept from her, Parker continued to prevail. She carried on without surrendering her soul. Lyle envied her that.

It was this jealousy that fed Lyle’s need to upstage his sister at every opportunity. This only served to increase the hostility between them but Lyle just couldn’t seem to stop it. Somehow they always seemed to find themselves on opposite sides of every battle.

So now, Lyle was skulking in the corridors like a criminal, nervously glancing at his watch. He and his sister had been summoned to their father’s office. “Noon,” Raines had hissed at him over the phone this morning. “Don’t be late.”

Lyle refused to be early, appalled at the prospect of having to wait meekly like some child in the principal’s office. But as the minutes ticked away and twelve o’clock came closer, he began to wonder if Parker might not just blow off the meeting. With a shrug, Lyle decided that his sister’s absence could only benefit him. He strode across the hall and knocked on Raines’ office door at precisely twelve.

“Where’s your sister?” Raines asked as Lyle entered the room.

With a shrug and a jaunty smile Lyle answered. “I didn’t realize it was my turn to keep track of her.”

“It’s your job,” Raines snapped. “I thought you understood the situation.”

“Situation?” Lyle raised his eyebrows. He did his best to portray a casual nonchalant air.

Just then the door flew open and Parker strode into the room in all her glory. Lyle glanced at his watch just in time to see the minute hand shift to 12:01. She hadn’t been late. The frown on Raines’ face caused Lyle’s smile to change into the real thing rather than a pasted on mask. He nearly laughed. God, but she was magnificent. For the briefest of moments, Lyle almost loved her.

“You wanted to see me?” Parker asked with arched brows. No “us”, no greeting, just a curt, business-like inquiry. She stood, her hands clasped behind her back, as if she was standing at attention. She wore her gray suit, the one that was all jacket and made her look tantalizing and cold at the same time.

“No,” said a deep voice from the doorway. “But I did.”

Lyle and Parker both whirled around and stared in dumbfounded wonder. Parker found her voice first. “Daddy?” she gasped.

Lyle felt the sudden sadistic urge to correct her but his own shock prevented it.

“Angel.” Mr. Parker grinned as he crossed the room with open arms. Parker stepped into the embrace and hugged the older man, holding on as though a stiff breeze would knock her down.

“Daddy,” she breathed. “We thought you were dead.”

“You can’t kill a Parker,” he replied. “You know that,” he added in a scolding tone.

“But were have you been for the last four months?” she asked.

“There were one or two loose ends that I had to get cleared away,” Mr. Parker said. When it looked as though Parker might argue with him, he cut her off. “Now Angel, when I can tell you more, I will. But for now let’s just concentrate on what needs to be done. Everything is status quo.”

“Back to normal,” Parker said sadly.

“Exactly. We’ll all get together for dinner tonight,” Mr. Parker promised. “You can bring me up to date on the Jarod pursuit.”

“But, Daddy,” Parker tried again.

“Later Angel,” Mr. Parker said sternly. “Raines. Come along. They are waiting for us in the boardroom.”

With that, the two older men left the room, leaving Lyle and Miss Parker to stare after them.

“Did you know about this?” Parker turned on Lyle with a vicious glare.

“No!” he protested. “I’m as astonished as you are.”

“What loose ends?” Parker growled to herself. “Something must have happened, something big. Something so important that it could put Daddy back in the driver’s seat.”

Lyle approached his sister until he was only inches away from her. Standing behind her, he leaned forward until he was nearly whispering in her ear. “Parker,” he said softly. “I could find out what it was.”

She turned and shot him an icy stare.

“I know things that you don’t,” Lyle added quickly.

If looks could kill his heart would have stopped. But Lyle rushed on. “He’s lying to you,” Lyle said. “You know that. But do you know exactly how much?”

Parker crossed her arms to keep herself from strangling her brother. “I’m listening,” she told him frostily.

“I can get proof that he’s been lying to you all along,” Lyle said.

“And why would you suddenly share this information with me, dear brother?” Parker snarled.

“Because it is becoming all too clear to me,” Lyle explained. “Neither of them is ever going to hand power over to us.”

“You mean, to you,” she scoffed.

“To either me or you,” Lyle frowned. Anger and resentment abruptly boiled in his voice. “They are playing us, moving us around on the game board like pawns. And frankly I’m sick of it. I’m tired of playing their game. Tired of trying to win when they keep changing the rules.”

“Poor baby,” Parker cooed. “What has your frustration got to do with me?”

“You are as much a victim of their machinations as the rest of us, Parker,” Lyle said. “Perhaps more so. I think it’s time that you and I did something about it. It’s time for the Parker legacy to move on. Time for the next generation of Parker twins to rule what is rightfully ours.”

“You’re talking about a coup,” Parker said.

“Together we could do it,” Lyle said confidently. As the words left his lips, he knew them to be true. Alone Parker would have had a shot at the Chairmanship if she’d ever decided she wanted it. Lyle wanted to kick himself at the realization. He had chosen the wrong side to ally himself with. She was the one who could raise Lyle past his present position. With Lyle’s cooperation, Parker’s chances at success rose significantly.

“I can’t trust you,” Parker said. “You change sides faster than a tennis ball at Wimbledon.”

“You can’t trust anyone,” Lyle agreed. “But let me show you. I’ll give you the proof of his betrayal. The only way this will ever end is if we decide to end it.”

“What you propose is risky.” Parker chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip.

“Very,” Lyle nodded. “But I’m tired of being their lackey. Do you really want to go on kow-towing to those old men?”

Parker heaved a large sigh then answered. “I want to see this proof of yours before I make any decisions.”

Lyle smiled. Her readiness to even consider the possibilities spoke volumes. “I’ll bring it by your place first thing in the morning. We’ll have all weekend to debate our strategy.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Parker warned. Turning on her heel, Parker strode from the room without looking back.

“Yet.” Lyle said with a grin to the empty office. “But you will.”

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.

-

Seizing Destiny
Part 4

09/12/04

-

It was well after eleven o’clock at night by the time Miss Parker pulled into the driveway in front of her house. Dinner with her family had been an exhausting affair, as usual. She and her father, her uncle, whatever he was, had quickly fallen back into their old relationship. They talked without saying anything, hedging around the truth, lying to each other through omission.

Added to the strain of dealing with dear ‘Daddy’, had been the knowing, secretive looks from her twin all night. Lyle had a point, of that Parker could not argue. She had given his words a great deal of thought. All through dinner, she had found herself reflecting on the three men at the table, Daddy, Lyle, and Raines. Which of them deserved her allegiance? The answer had been simple, and incredibly depressing. Not one of them.

But Lyle’s offer had opened a tantalizing possibility. Parker’s other option was to let things continue as they had in the past. How long could she go on this way? The ‘status quo’ was slowly destroying her, had in fact been eating away at her for years. This fact had become glaringly apparent to her while she and Jarod had been on Carthis.

“Is this the legacy you want to pass on to your children?” Jarod had asked her that day at the airport.

“No,” she whispered now in her darkened car. Yet, joining forces with Lyle seemed akin to selling out to the devil. With an exasperated sigh, Parker threw open her door and stepped into the night. She didn’t need to make any decisions immediately. She would wait and see whatever it was that Lyle had to show her.

High heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk, Parker walked to the house and quickly climbed the stairs of her front porch. The light was on above the door, giving her just enough illumination to find the lock. As the tumblers clicked and the door opened, something shifted along the edges of her peripheral vision.

Parker quickly pulled her weapon and moved to investigate. Just beyond the circle of light, hunched among the shadows of her porch, was Jarod. Little more than a darker shape in the darkness, the pretender was sitting on the floor leaning against the wooden railing. His knees were pulled up so that he was hugging them to his chest. If Parker hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that Jarod was staring at the spot where she had found the body of Thomas Gates. But there was no way he could have learned the exact location.

“Jarod,” Parker growled in icy warning. “It has been one hell of a day. I’m not really in the mood to play your games.”

A strangely flat burst of laughter came from the shadows. “No games, Parker,” Jarod said. His voice sounded strange, weary and defeated. “I’m sick to death of games. They keep breaking the rules.”

A shiver ran down Parker’s spine. The tone in Jarod’s voice was quite contrary to what she had come to expect from him. The fact that his words so closely mirrored the ones Lyle had spoken earlier only magnified her uneasiness.

Crouching down beside him, Parker asked, “What are you doing here, Jarod?”

“Looking for a hole,” he said. “A deep dark hole that I can crawl into and hide forever. Maybe pull a nice big rock in over my head.” There was another rush of that eerie, cold laughter.

“I’d be only too glad to accommodate you there, Pez-head,” Parker said. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this new aspect of Jarod’s personality. So she fell into the part she’d played with him for the last half dozen years. “There are a few pits at the Centre that would fit the bill quite nicely.”

“Exactly why I came,” Jarod answered.

Parker’s concern increased several notches. Something was horribly wrong. “What has happened?” she asked. The sharpness abruptly felt from her voice to be replaced with sincere concern.

“For behold there came a pale horse and he who sat upon it had the name Death; and Hades followed with him,” Jarod intoned.

“Jarod, you’re scaring me.” Parker told him. Reaching out she grasped his hand and was startled to find his skin cool to the touch. “You’re freezing. Come inside,” she commanded. She stood and urged him up as well. Jarod offered no resistance at all, following her without comment.

Parker led Jarod across the porch toward the open door. As they passed under the light, she glanced back at him and nearly screamed at the sight she beheld. The pretender was covered in blood. His hands and shirt were covered in dried rusty stains. It was spattered across his face and into his hair where it clumped the strands together. Jarod’s dark eyes burned bright with an unseen horror.

“God,” Parker gasped. She hurried Jarod into the house, fearful of being seen. Once inside, she quickly bolted the door and pulled the curtains across the windows. The dimly lit room cast Jarod’s gruesome appearance back into shadow.

“Jarod,” Parker rasped. “What is going on?”

“I killed her.”

The whispered confession made Parker’s blood run cold.

“I let them kill her,” he said. “Then I killed them. Killed them all.”

Parker tried again to get some coherent information from the tall man. “Jarod. Tell me who was killed.” As she spoke, Parker took Jarod’s hand once more and forced herself not to shudder at the dried crust on his fingertips.

“My mother.” Jarod answered flatly. “Willie killed her. Enigma.”

“Damn,” Parker sighed. Tears sprang to her eyes and for a long minute she was at a complete loss as to what to say or do.

Jarod laughed again, that chilling cackle. Parker abruptly realized that the pretender was in shock. That was why his flesh was so cold and his eyes so bright. She acted without thinking, moving quickly through her house while Jarod stood in the livingroom. When she returned a moment later, he was swaying ever so slightly on his feet.

“Here, take this.” Parker handed Jarod a single tablet.

He took it without question and swallowed it with the shot of bourbon she offered him.

“Come on,” Parker said. She guided him to her bedroom and into the bath where she turned on the spigot in the tub. “A hot shower will make you feel better. Get undressed.”

Jarod was moving slowly, but doing as he was told, when Parker left to give him some privacy. A quick look at her watch told her she had about ten minutes before the Valium she had just given Jarod began to do its work. With rapid efficiency Parker set to her task.

She peeled off her dress and tossed it across a chair carelessly. Her clothes were abandoned as she stripped out of them. Yanking open a bottom drawer, Parker pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. These were followed by a simple pair of canvass shoes, easily recognizable as inexpensive blue-light specials. Price tags still dangled from one shoelace.

Parker dressed quickly in the cheap but common attire. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Parker stood beside the bathroom door and waited. When Jarod had been in the shower for nine minutes, Parker pushed open the bathroom door and entered without knocking.

“Jarod?” she called cautiously. Under the sound of running water, Parker could hear a muffled sob. Pulling aside the shower curtain, Parker looked down to find Jarod curled in one corner of the tub. He had his knees hugged close to his chest and his face buried in his arms.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, Parker helped Jarod out of the tub and did her best to dry his body. She took the opportunity to check for wounds but found none. Satisfied that the last of the blood had been washed away, Parker wrapped the naked man in her largest fluffiest robe. Even at that, he looked ridiculous. His frame was too broad and tall for the robe to cover him properly but it was the best she could do for now.

The sedative, in combination with the alcohol, was doing its job. It was all Parker could do to get Jarod out of the bathroom and onto the bed before he collapsed. She stood at his side for several minutes, watching and waiting as Jarod’s breathing deepened into a regular rhythm. With the back of one hand against Jarod’s cheek, Parker checked his temperature before tossing a quilt over him.

Parker went on automatic pilot. She pulled a roll of garbage bags from under the sink and from a box in the medicine cabinet she took several pairs of medical gloves. Moving with a calm professionalism, Parker snapped on a pair of the gloves before picking up the bloodstained clothes that littered the bathroom floor. She found nothing in the pockets when she searched them. Stuffing the garments into a bag, she carried it with her as she left the room and quickly made her way out of the house.

She did not use her flashlight, but left it in her pocket as she walked through the night. Jarod must have gotten to Blue Cove somehow. His appearance would have attracted attention on any form of public transportation. Logic would dictate that he had driven himself.

Finding the car was easy. Parker knew where to look and found the abandoned SUV less than an hour later. There was no mistaking it for the pretender’s vehicle. A set of keys dangled from the ignition, a silver case lay on the floor of the passenger’s side and in the back seat, carefully swathed in a blanket, Parker found a dead woman.

It was Jarod’s mother. She had been shot in the heart and must have died very quickly by the looks of things. Parker wondered how far Jarod had come to reach Delaware. How long had he driven with nothing but this corpse for company?

Forcing these dark thoughts from her mind, Parker set to work. It was amazing how quickly it all came back to her. Before Parker had become a pretender-hunter, she had been an executive at corporate. Before that she had served a three-year stint as chief of security at the Centre. And before that, she had been a cleaner.

It was the skills Parker had learned then that she relied upon now. Her years as a cleaner had been difficult ones. Desperate for her father’s approval and struggling to establish herself within the Centre, Parker had been forced to work twice as hard, to be twice as good as anyone else. She had been the best cleaner the Centre ever had.

Old habits die hard. It had never occurred to Parker that only cleaners needed to keep a set of untraceable clothing hidden in a drawer. Only cleaners carried gloves at the ready. Only cleaners knew what to do when faced with a bloodstained automobile and a dead body. Parker hadn’t been a cleaner for years, yet the deadly precision that had made her great at the job, was a permanent part of her psyche. She eased back into the role as smoothly as Jarod could slip into a pretend.

Several hours later, Parker sat in a cushioned chair in her bedroom with her legs curled beneath her. Jarod’s car was gone and would never be found. His mother’s body was carefully hidden in a safe place where it would stay until Parker could arrange for a death certificate and a decent burial. Parker had salvaged what she could of Jarod’s belongings. The rest, including the clothes he had arrived in, had been destroyed. Even the garments Parker had worn during the night were gone forever.

A very hot and vigorous shower had followed. After which, Parker had propped herself in this chair to stand watch for what remained of the night. She did not sleep, but instead stared at the pretender while she reflected over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Her father’s reappearance on the very day Jarod’s mother was killed had little to do with coincidence. There was no such thing at the Centre, and Parker knew it. Jarod’s mother had known something. She had held some piece of information that Mr. Parker had thought was dangerous.

The older woman’s death had somehow paved the way for Parker’s father to return. The perceived risk had been eradicated. The knowledge Jarod’s mother had held was now gone forever. Parker doubted they would ever learn what those secrets had been.

By the time dawn had crept over the windowsill, Parker had made a decision. It wasn’t a conscious choice, per se, but was more of an acceptance of fate. She rose from her post and dressed quickly.

There wasn’t much time. She needed to rouse Jarod and get him functioning on some level of coherent thought. With a little luck she could get him to drink a few cups of coffee. But she would have to hurry.

Lyle was coming.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.

-

Seizing Destiny
Part 5

09/14/04

-

Miss Parker checked her reflection in the mirror once more. She had debated with herself about how to dress, finally choosing the tailored slacks and silk blouse she now wore. The rust colored wool pants weren’t as professional as she would normally wear to the Centre. But neither were they the casual attire that she lounged around in on a regular Saturday morning. Satisfied with what she saw, Parker turned from the mirror as she tucked her handgun into the waistband at the small of her back.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, Parker gazed down at the sleeping man. Jarod had barely moved during the night. He had whimpered pitifully once or twice while Parker watched over him but for the most part he had been quiet.

Parker hated to wake him. Physically he was in much better shape than he had been. His temperature had returned to normal and his pulse and respiration were steady and even. But Parker knew that the emotional damage was far from repaired. It would take much more than a single night of drugged sleep to ease that pain.

“Jarod,” Parker called softly. When there was no response, she reached out and carefully shook his shoulder. “Jarod,” she repeated.

As though he had suddenly been jolted with a live electrical wire, Jarod snapped into consciousness. He gasped, throwing up his arms in a defensive gesture.

“Easy. You’re safe,” Parker reassured him.

For a moment, Jarod seemed disoriented. He glanced around frantically, unsure of his surroundings. When he raised his head from the pillow and met Parker’s gaze, the soft frightened eyes found recognition.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he said mournfully.

Parker shook her head. “No.”

With a heavy sigh, Jarod let his head fall back and he stared at the ceiling. A full minute passed in complete silence. Then with a moan, Jarod rolled into a sitting position and buried his face in his hands.

“Good lord,” he groaned. “What did you give me?”

Parker’s lips curled slightly. “Valium,” she explained. “Low dose, only 3 milligrams, with a bourbon chaser.” She shrugged and added, “It didn’t take much to knock you out. You were already a little shocky and about ready to fall down.”

Jarod looked up and gazed sightlessly out the bedroom window. “My mother?” he asked softly.

“With a coroner I know who owes me a favor,” Parker told him. “He’ll keep her with the Jane Does until we can manufacture the right paperwork.”

Jarod’s dark eyes swung toward Parker but didn’t quite reach her face. Instead he stared at some spot just passed her right elbow. “Thank you, Miss Parker,” he said.

Again, silence reigned for several moments. With a sigh Parker asked, “Are you going to be all right?”

Jarod worried his lower lip between his teeth. He took deep calming breaths in an attempt to stave off the tears that were threatening in his eyes. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied in a forlorn voice.

Placing a reassuring hand on Jarod’s arm, Parker said gently, “I need you to do two things for me, Jarod.” She waited for him to glance up at her before continuing. “First, I need you to get dressed.”

Jarod nodded his acquiescence.

“Second,” she went on. “I need you to trust me for the next thirty minutes or so. Can you do that, Jarod? Can you trust me for just a little while?”

They stared at each other for a moment before Jarod finally shrugged offhandedly. “Why not?” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Good.” Parker stood and handed Jarod a pile of clothing. “Be quick about it,” she commanded. Just then, the front doorbell rang.

“The sweepers are here,” Jarod grumped.

“Not exactly,” Parker said, earning herself a troubled frown from the pretender. She had crossed the bedroom and was headed into the hallway when Jarod spoke again.

“Parker,” he called. “You are being awfully nice to me.”

Parker raised her eyebrows. “Feels a little strange, eh?” she asked.

“Creeps me out,” he answered. “Quit it.”

Flashing Jarod a genuine smile, Parker said, “You don’t give the orders around here, Pez-head. Hurry up and get dressed.”

Parker rushed to the livingroom. As she peered through the peephole, she took out her gun and flipped off the safety. She slid a round into the chamber before unlocking the door and opening it for her brother.

Lyle blinked in surprise as he stared down the barrel of Miss Parker’s weapon.

“Someone’s a little cranky this morning,” Lyle drawled. “What’s the matter, Sis? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Give it,” Parker snapped. Gesturing with her gun she reiterated. “Your sidearm. Hand it over.”

“Why do you think I’d be packing? We are family after all.” Lyle smiled encouragingly.

Parker rolled her eyes, not buying it for a moment. “Don’t make me frisk you, Lyle,” she snarled. “I will conduct a cavity search if you force me to.”

With an insolent shrug, Lyle reached into his coat and carefully removed his pistol from a shoulder holster. He handed it to Parker butt first. She took it, checked the chamber and removed the clip. Then she carelessly tossed the weapon into a nearby drawer.

“You’ll get it back when we’re done,” Parker said as she stepped back and allowed her twin to enter.

Parker showed her brother into the livingroom and nodded him toward the couch. Rather than sitting, Parker stood, her gun held casually at her side. She was every bit the Centre ice queen that Lyle had always known.

“No coffee?” Lyle asked, trying to irritate her and gain the upper hand.

“Small talk isn’t really our niche, Lyle,” she said coolly.

Lyle nodded. “Right. Down to business then.” Leaning forward, Lyle produced a thick blue folder and handed it to Miss Parker. “The proof I promised you,” he explained.

Parker recognized this type of classified information. The last time she had seen a Z-3 file, she had been standing in this very same spot. But then, the folder had been labeled “rumor” where this one had “enigma” emblazoned across the first page.

“Daddy’s code name is ‘enigma’,” Parker said aloud as she flipped through the first several pages of the file.

“Enigma killed my mother,” a low voice growled from the other side of the room. Jarod stood in the archway that led to the hall. He stood with his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

At the sound of the pretender’s voice, Lyle sprang from the couch. “What the hell?” he cried. Lyle jumped forward trying to grab the other man. Jarod reacted as one would expect. He crouched into a defensive position and raised his fists.

For a moment, confusion reigned. The two men glared at each other as Miss Parker jostled between them. “STOP!” she yelled at them. Holding up her gun she said, “I am the only one armed here, and I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in a couple kneecaps if that’s what it takes.”

Lyle glanced from Jarod to Miss Parker. She wasn’t the least bit surprised by Jarod’s presence. “Damn it,” Lyle hissed. “You two have been plotting together all along.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Parker snapped. “I got home last night and found Jarod on my doorstep. Ready to turn himself in as a matter of fact.”

“And you didn’t call anyone,” Lyle accused.

“Of course not,” Parker replied angrily. “We’ll have a hell of a time taking control if we hand the keys back to Raines. Don’t you agree?”

Lyle’s glance flashed back to his quarry. Jarod’s expression was hard and inscrutable.

“Sit down.” Parker commanded. “Jarod is the key, remember? Always has been. It might be wise to keep such a valuable prize for ourselves.”

Still eyeing the others warily, Lyle eased back down to the couch. “How did you convince him to cooperate?” Lyle asked.

“I haven’t yet,” Parker stated simply. Turning her attention back to the file, Parker turned the page and frowned. As understanding dawned on her, Parker closed her eyes and sighed heavily. When she looked up, she could see the question in Jarod’s eyes. “Tommy,” she explained.

“Enigma killed my mother,” Jarod repeated forcefully.

“Join the club,” Lyle scoffed, his voice thick with derision.

This comment brought Parker’s head up in astonishment. “What?”

Lyle’s face broke out in a wicked smile. Now the tables were turned and he was the one surprising her. “You heard me. It’s all there. Check out the notation made in April, 1970.”

As Parker found the pages Lyle had mentioned, an angry exhalation hissed from between her teeth. Tension crackled in the air until it was nearly visible. Jarod took a cautious step forward, not wanting to get too close but needing to offer support.

“Bastard,” she ground through a clenched jaw. With a snap, Parker closed the file and thrust it in Jarod’s direction.

The pretender scanned through the pages rapidly. When he looked up, hard dark eyes met steely gray ones. “He must pay for what he has done to us,” Jarod said.

“He will pay,” Parker replied. Her tone was cold and dangerous.

Lyle, smiling evilly, looked from his sister to Jarod and back again. “And how do you suggest we go about collecting what is owed?”

“Simple,” Parker told him. “We do what they have taught us to do.”

Lyle and Jarod glanced at one another uncertainly.

“Think about it,” Parker said with an exasperated rolling of her eyes. “We have been trained all our lives, molded to fit the Centre’s purposes. In the past, that purpose has been to further the ambition of others.”

“But now it will be our turn,” Lyle added.

“Yes,” Parker agreed. “And if we three are working together, there is nothing they will be able to do to stop us.” Her eyes sparkled with confidence. “They will be faced with their worst fear.”

“Us,” Jarod nodded. His eyes widened as the realization struck him. “All these years, they have intentionally pitted us against each other. By stirring up antagonism between us, they have been able to prevent any collaboration.”

“We are the Red files after all.” Parker crossed her arms and glared thoughtfully at the folder in Jarod’s grasp. “Individually, we are a variable that must be dealt with. Together, any two of us would become a dangerous rival.”

“But we,” Lyle said with an encompassing gesture. “Make three Red files.”

“Four,” Jarod corrected. A crafty grin curled one side of his mouth. “Angelo will join us.”

“We will hurt them where it hurts the most,” Parker promised. “We will take the Centre right from under their noses. Anyone who opposes us will be swatted away like flies.”

Lyle sat back and crossed his arms. Raising one eyebrow he drawled, “Wonderful speech to rally the troops. But tell me Sis, do you have a plan for this takeover?”

Parker shrugged. “Not my job,” she said. “In order for this to work, we must recognize the inherent talents that each of us possess. The planning stages will be Jarod’s responsibility.”

“You can’t expect me to follow his orders,” Lyle cried, aghast.

“No,” Parker snarled. “I expect you to follow mine.”

Rising quickly to his feet, Lyle frowned in irritation. “And what, exactly, is my role in this little fantasy of yours?”

“You are the knife,” Parker told him. “The blade that will cut down those who stand in our way.”

This brought a sly smile to Lyle’s face. “The pretender, the assassin and the bitch who rules them both.”

“If I were Raines, I would be worried,” Jarod said.

Parker tossed him a regal glare. “If you were Raines, you’d have good reason for concern.” With an imperious glance from one man to the other, Parker asked, “Are we in agreement then?”

Both men nodded solemnly.

“Good.” Parker clapped her hands once and then rubbed her palms together. “Now, what would you boys say to a cup of coffee?”

Lyle and Jarod watched Parker as she breezed out of the room. For a moment, they eyed each other in silence. Lyle spoke first.

“After you, partner,” Lyle grinned.

Jarod shook his head slowly. “I won’t turn my back on you for even a second,” he vowed. With a shrug Lyle started to follow Parker. Jarod’s voice stopped him. “Lyle,” he said in a low ominous tone. “If you betray us, if you disappoint her at all, I will cut out your heart. I’ll do it slowly to make sure I find so small a target.”

Lyle scoffed. “You haven’t got the stomach for that sort of thing,” he said. “That’s why you need me.”

Jarod stepped closer, invading Lyle’s personal space. “You’d be surprised what I can do,” he growled. “Just ask Willie.”

Lyle frowned. He did not know what had happened to the big black sweeper, so Jarod’s reference made little sense. Deciding he’d figure it out later, Lyle turned and headed for the kitchen. He really needed that cup of coffee.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.

-

Seizing Destiny
By Phenyx

Part 6

09/19/04

-

“I can’t believe you’d let him walk away like that.” Lyle complained for the hundredth time.

Parker sighed. Crossing her arms she glared at her brother a moment before turning a disgusted gaze back to her cup of coffee. “I’ve told you,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “The only way to earn Jarod’s trust is to give ours to him first.”

“You could have at least put a tail on him,” the dark haired man grumped.

“No need,” Parker said with more confidence than she felt. “He’ll be here.”

“He’s already late,” Lyle pointed out.

“He said he would be here,” Parker reiterated. “He’s being cautious. That’s all. He’s probably watching us right now, making sure we didn’t bring a sweeper team along.”

Lyle glanced around the room. They were sitting in a corner booth in a Dover coffee shop, surrounded by other patrons. The place was busy. People in suits jostled among students from the nearby technical school. No one seemed to pay the lovely Centre operative or her brother any mind. Everyone was too intent on getting that daily caffeine fix.

Lyle sipped at his own drink without really tasting it. It was a double mocha latte something-or-other with extra whipped cream and cinnamon. He had purchased the two identical beverages with the sole intent of annoying his sister with them. He knew she’d hate it. Parker was a fierce advocate of plain, black, coffee-flavored coffee. The fact that this concoction would be something that Jarod would enjoy had not occurred to Lyle until Parker pointed it out.

“So how long are we going to sit here like idiots?” Lyle asked casually.

“Until Jarod shows up, or I shoot you, whichever comes first,” Parker replied.

“Good morning,” a perky voice chirped. A girl, looking to be somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five years of age, bounced up to their table. She wore an apron and the distinctive t-shirt that indicated she was an employee of this establishment. “Is there something wrong with your coffee, Ma’am?” she asked, noticing Parker’s lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s fine.” Lyle spoke quickly, cutting off the biting remark that he knew would be coming. “We’re fine, really. Thank you.” He added dismissively.

But the pretty girl with the blonde ponytail wasn’t leaving. She just stood there, eyeing Miss Parker’s clothes.

“Is there a problem, Gidget?” Parker turned an icy glare on the girl. But instead of scuttling away in terror as intended, the girl’s smile grew.

“Miss Parker, I presume,” she said cheerily. The girl followed the presumption with a delighted giggle.

Lyle raised one eyebrow in mild amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone affected quite this way when meeting my sister,” he drawled as he quickly inventoried the waitress’s assets.

With a grin and a toss of her hair the girl explained. “Oh it’s not that. Jarod promised a fifty to whichever of us could pick you out of the crowd. And I just won.”

“Goody for you,” Parker snapped.

“Yep,” the girl said happily. “I’m supposed to tell you that he is waiting for you out back, on the loading dock.”

Lyle and Parker both stood, abandoning their cups.

“Have a nice day,” the girl called as she began to clear off the table.

At the back of the shop, they found an alley. It was one of those narrow, grungy looking streets that decent people made a point of avoiding at night. But during the day it was just a dingy, brick lined road with more potholes than pavement. A white box truck, labeled “Bakery Goods and Supplies” was backed up to the shop’s delivery platform. The truck’s rear door was open and there were metal ramps spanning the gap between the truck’s cargo area and the wooden receiving platform.

Parker peeked around the edge of the vehicle and glanced inside. The truck was nearly empty, with only three large crates resting within. There was no pretender to be seen.

“Well,” Lyle asked. “Where is he?”

“I’m here,” Jarod answered as he eased his way out the rear entrance of the coffee shop, backward. He was pulling an empty metal dolly and carried a clipboard under one arm. On the loading dock, Jarod righted the dolly and made a notation on his clipboard using a pen he had tucked behind one ear. With a final flourish and a firm tap of the pen, Jarod looked up and said, “Time for my break. Step into my office so we can talk.”

Jarod gestured toward the open box of the truck.

“The last time you lured me into a truck,” Lyle said with a grimace. “You locked me up for days.”

Jarod smiled cruelly. “We have to learn to trust each other sometime, don’t we?”

Lyle shot the other man a look of disbelief. “Are you going to learn to trust me?” he asked.

“Never,” Jarod admitted.

Lyle responded with a single nod. “Exactly, “he said. “Just wanted to make sure we understood one another.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Bobby,” Jarod agreed.

Parker huffed with impatience. “If you two would finish playing Alpha male,” she scolded. “We might be able to get some work done.” She stomped into the truck and glared back at the two men expectantly.

With a shrug, Jarod followed her in. Lifting several pages on the clipboard, Jarod revealed a red notebook. He pulled the book from under the metal clasp and tossed it onto the top of one of the crates.

Parker tossed a frown at her brother, telling him without words to join her. Then, using the crate as a makeshift table, she opened the notebook and began to scan Jarod’s research. There were the familiar newspaper clippings, but not as many as Parker was accustomed to finding in these books. Most of the information pasted to the pages was in the form of computer printouts or hand written notes.

“Where did you get all this?” Parker asked in awe.

Jarod lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. “Just have to know where to look,” he said simply.

Curiosity overcame wariness, forcing Lyle to move to his sister’s side. It took only a moment of reading over Parker’s shoulder to understand her surprise. “You’ve hacked into the Triumvirate database,” Lyle observed.

“No,” Jarod said. “Didn’t need to. This information is all a matter of public record. But who would realize that this data is interrelated? The Triumvirate is so secret, only a few understand the significance of how these pieces fit in the puzzle.”

“These are dossiers of every single member of the Triumvirate,” Parker said. She looked up at Jarod and for the first time in many years, she allowed her admiration for his abilities to shine in her eyes.

Jarod leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “The best way to take control of the Centre is to have the Triumvirate give it to us. Without Triumvirate backing, no rise to power will last long at the Centre.”

Lyle laughed. “And how are we going to convince the Triumvirate to do that, eh?”

The pretender’s dark brows rose as though his words were perfectly obvious and he was explaining them to a small child. “Simple. You will ask them.”

Now it was Parker’s turn to laugh.

Jarod straightened and reached into the brown coveralls he was wearing. He pulled out two thick white envelopes and handed them to Miss Parker. “These are your travel arrangements. You’ll be flying into Entebbe International the day after tomorrow. The Triumvirate will be meeting the day after that. There are suites booked for each of you at the Windsor Lake Victoria Hotel.”

“Wait a minute Jarod,” Parker held up her hand to stop him. “I feel like I’ve missed the first act of the play.”

“It’s all in the notebook,” the pretender told her.

“Fine,” Parker said. “Explain it to us anyway.” She folded her arms and took that no-one-goes-anywhere-until-I-am-appeased stance.

Jarod sighed and looked at her for a moment. Lyle was right. She was the bitch who ruled over them. Jarod wondered for a moment if she realized exactly how true it was. Mentally shaking himself, he focused on the task at hand.

“Since Mutumbo was killed,” Jarod began. “There has been no single person who has risen to power within the Triumvirate.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Lyle grumbled.

Jarod ignored him. “Most of the authority lies with the original troika, the three seats on the board that made up the original Triumvirate. Over the centuries, finances and acquisition of territory have resulted in additional members to the board with the current total of fifteen. But even today the majority of power still lies within those first three seats. In order to rule over the Triumvirate, one must first hold one of the original troika of power, just as Mutumbo did.”

“Go on,” Parker urged. This was nothing new to her, nor to anyone within the upper echelon at the Centre. But she knew there was more.

“As you will see in that notebook, the three people currently owning those seats have been vying for dominance over the last few years. None of them really mastering their goal, yet none surrendering it either,” Jarod explained.

“You want us to gain support from one of the three,” Parker guessed. “We promise our allegiance in return for their support.”

Jarod shook his head solemnly. “No. Too risky. That would require an element of loyalty where none can exist. Agreements can be broken. And face it Parker,” Jarod said. “You’ll have enough trouble keeping the three of us honest with each other. No way you can afford to depend on another player.”

Parker frowned. “I don’t understand, Jarod. If we aren’t going to align ourselves with one of the troika...”

“We are going to become one of the troika,” he said.

“Bloody hell,” Lyle hissed in surprise. A devilish grin broke out on his face. “There’s no such thing as halfway with you is there, Jarod?”

Hard, dark eyes glared at him. “All or nothing. It is what I was taught.”

“Jarod,” Parker said. “Those seats are either inherited or appointed by the board. It’s not like we can break in and steal one.”

Reaching over Parker‘s shoulder, Jarod opened the red notebook and pointed to a page. “Mutumbo died without issue,” Jarod continued. “As a result, his seat was passed on to a nephew. He’s young, but ambitious. He tries to act the playboy but he can be a fierce rival. His name is Nabasa. Unfortunately,” Jarod added with a grim smile. “Mr. Nabasa has recently fallen victim to a horrible financial crisis.”

“How recent?” Parker asked.

“Very recent. It seems that a scandal within his accounting firm has resulted in serious accusations. There may be legal action,” Jarod shrugged. “And when the news hits the papers, about three hours from now, his support within the Triumvirate will falter dramatically. No one likes to follow orders from a poor man.”

Lyle spoke up. “If we show up just after this ‘scandal’, and start making demands, the Triumvirate will think that we had something to with it.”

“Exactly,” Jarod replied. “But they won’t be able to prove it. They won’t be entirely sure.”

Parker watched Jarod closely. His dark eyes were as hard as granite and he had a fierce look to him that frightened her. His demeanor put her in the mind of a big, chained dog. A mean but intelligent creature lying in wait, patiently watching for some hapless creature to stumble into the circle of its reach.

“Even so,” Lyle said. “That won’t lose him his seat on the Triumvirate.”

“No,” Jarod agreed. “And we don’t want him to. Nabasa has two young sons both of whom stand to inherit should he be removed. They are too young to be of concern but I see no need to risk bringing an unknown custodial element into things.”

Lyle moved as if to speak again but Parker hushed him with a sweep of her hand.

“I have Nabasa by the wallet. He is ours already, even if he doesn’t know it yet,” Jarod said. “It is the other two seats that interest me.” Jarod flipped the pages in the book to reveal a newspaper photo of a middle-aged woman. “Yvette Guimard. Her son died ten years ago when he lost control of his car during a race in Marseilles. Her only other child is a lesbian daughter who has been disinherited for years.”

“No heirs,” Parker observed.

Jarod turned the page in the book again, revealing the image of an aging, wrinkled man. “This is Antonio Canossa. Never married, no children. He is arguably one of the richest men in Italy. He has held a position on the Triumvirate board for almost half a century.”

“What do you want us to do?” Miss Parker asked.

“We need a target,” Jarod said bluntly. “We need to set an example for the others by coming down hard on one of them. Force is all these people will understand. We need to be fierce, merciless and swift.”

“Which one?” Lyle frowned.

Jarod’s smile grew even colder, a fact Parker found troublesome. “That’s why you are headed for Africa,” he said. “Either will work. You need to decide which it will be.”

“How?” Parker asked. She refused to reveal how uncomfortable Jarod’s attitude was making her.

“Just be your regular charming selves,” Jarod said sarcastically. “Whichever of them bites back first will be the one to watch, the more aggressive adversary. That will be the one we need to remove.”

Lyle shook his head. “It is too blatant,” he argued. “We’ll be tipping our hand. Word will get back to Dad.”

“It won’t matter,” Jarod said. “They won’t know about me. Not yet. In stepping forward to tell them what you are about to do, when the hammer falls, everyone will know where it came from. It will show them that you aren’t afraid, that you won’t hide in the shadows any longer.”

“The ultimate defiance,” Parker said softly. “It will be like waving the red cloak in front of the bull.”

“When the bull turns to attack,” Jarod said. “That is when we shall strike.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lyle grumbled. “You’re not the one standing in the middle of the arena. We are the ones who will be gored if this doesn’t work.”

“It will work.” Jarod spoke directly to Parker, capturing her attention with his eyes. “I will never be far away. You won’t always see me, but trust that I will be there.”

Looking up into the pretender’s dark gaze, Parker wondered for the first time, how far Jarod was willing to go. The hard, determined look on his face was so unlike the old lab-rat that Parker was afraid for him suddenly. Among them, Jarod alone still held a gentle heart. Parker found herself desperately hoping that this mission would not destroy it.

Disclaimer: Jarod, Lyle, Miss Parker and anyone else associated with the Centre are characters that do not belong to me. Someone else thought them up, pitched the idea for a series and sold them to a bunch of schmucks who didn’t know a good thing when they had it sitting in their laps. I have blatantly stolen the pretender and his associates. I’m not sorry. I won’t apologize. I am not, nor have I ever made any money in these endeavors. But it has been a lot of fun.


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Seizing Destiny
By Phenyx

Part 7

09/21/04

-

Miss Parker strode confidently across the lobby. Her high heels clicked sharply on the tile as she went. She walked with her head held high, her regal demeanor not the least bit marred by the two large men escorting her from the premises. Lyle was in the entourage as well with an additional guard at each side. But it was Parker in her short black skirt and commanding gaze that captured the attention of those she passed.

One of the men held open the front door as Parker stepped into the blazing heat. She and Lyle descended the stairs that led to a large brick building, the Triumvirate’s main facility. There was nothing but silence between them as they ducked into a waiting limousine.

Several moments passed before the vehicle started to move.

Lyle glanced over his shoulder at the rapidly retreating building. The sweepers still stood on the pavement, watching the Parker twins drive away, as though they could intimidate them from afar. “That was easier than I expected,” he said.

No sooner had the words left Lyle’s mouth than the cell phone in Parker’s pocket rang.

“What?” she sighed as she put the device to her ear.

“Well?”

The deep voice didn’t need to identify himself. He never had. Parker cast a quick look out the window at her side, idly wondering where he was. Jarod wasn’t far, she knew. He must have been watching and had seen them leave the Triumvirate facility.

“The woman,” Parker answered. “Guimard is the target.”

The cell phone abruptly buzzed in her ear as Jarod disconnected the call.

“Jarod said we should pick whomever spoke first,” Lyle scolded. “And that was the Italian. Not the Frenchwoman.”

“But Canossa was terribly polite, almost welcoming,” Parker argued.

“He was too busy staring at your legs to be rude,” Lyle said.

“The idea is to remove our most aggressive rival.” Parker ignored Lyle’s remark. “That bitch made no secret of her feelings. She came right out and said that she was against the Centre’s leadership being a part of our family heritage.”

“I think we irritated her,” Lyle added. “Just smiling at her like that.”

“Your mere presence has always had an incredibly irksome effect,” Parker told him.

The two siblings were quiet for a long moment.

“How long do you think it will be before Dad hears about this?” Lyle asked. His voice colored with a trace of concern.

Parker made a great display of staring down at her watch. “I figure he learned of our visit about five minutes ago,” she said.

“He’s going to pitch a fit.” Lyle sighed.

One delicate eyebrow arched. “Are you scared?” Parker asked.

“Aren’t you?”

Parker shook her head. “Daddy won’t hurt us. We are his progeny, part of the Centre legacy.”

“But what about Raines?” Lyle asked.

Parker thought about that for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “Raines won’t touch us either.”

Scoffing, Lyle said, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because if he could, he already would have done so.” Gazing at her brother with a fierce confidence she added, “Besides, if Raines does anything to us, Jarod will come down on him like a vulture on road kill.”

“Hmm,” Lyle nodded. “Your pretender has been a little edgy of late hasn’t he?”

“He isn’t my pretender,” Parker snapped. She turned to stare out the window, watching the African landscape speed by.

“Do you know what he did to Willie and that sweeper team?” Lyle asked.

“I know,” Parker replied blandly.

Lyle sighed dramatically. “It makes me think Jarod’s grasp on sanity may be a bit more tenuous than any of us had thought.”

Without turning her gaze from the window Parker said, “You should think more about staying on his good side, Lyle. You’re not exactly Jarod’s favorite person. If he should lose his temper with you, there would be one hell of a mess to clean up.”

“Would you try to stop him?” Lyle asked.

“Probably not.”

-

“Last call for Air France flight 2305,” a woman’s soothing voice called through overhead speakers. “Last call for flight 2305 – Entebbe to Addis Ababa.”

Jarod put forth an extra burst of energy, dodging passed an elderly couple strolling down the walkway. He turned a corner and skidded to a stop in front of the Air France departure gate. The girl behind the counter smiled at him in amusement.

“Have I missed the flight?” he panted.

“No, Sir,” she replied in lightly accented English. “You’ve just made it.”

Jarod flashed her one of his devastating grins as she processed his ticket for boarding. After a cursory security search of his carryon luggage, Jarod was permitted to climb the stairs to the plane. A few minutes later, he eased back in his seat as the jet left the ground.

Closing his eyes, Jarod immediately began to drift into unconsciousness. The flight to Paris wasn’t a short one, with two stops along the way. Luckily, Jarod would not be required to change planes, so most of his transfers would be spent in slumber. He was exhausted and really needed the sleep.

Jarod hadn’t slept at all in the last week. There had been too much to do. When he wasn’t researching Triumvirate members, he’d been keeping tabs on the players within the Centre. At times he had followed Miss Parker or Mr. Lyle just to ease his doubts about their allegiance.

The pretender had pushed himself to the limits of his endurance. He couldn’t have stayed awake now if his life depended on it. Of course, that had been the point. After nearly two hundred hours of sleep deprivation, Jarod knew he would be practically comatose for the majority of this trip. He would sleep the deep, dreamless sleep of the dead.

For a while, Jarod’s plan had worked. He hadn’t even noticed the plane’s stop in Ethiopia. The next thing he knew, a pretty dark-eyed flight attendant was gently shaking his shoulder. Jarod snapped into wakefulness at her touch, startling them both.

“Perdonarme, signore,” the girl said. “Sono spiacente per svegliarlo.”

“Non è niente,” Jarod answered in Italian.

Jarod stretched stiff muscles as the attendant told him that, for security reasons, he would have to disembark during the layover in Rome. Nodding amiably, Jarod gave the girl a friendly smile before standing to retrieve his bag. As he strolled into the airport, his stomach growled, reminding him that he had not eaten for a while. With two hours before the next leg of his journey was to begin, Jarod made his way toward the small concourse in search of food.

The trip from Rome to Paris wasn’t as simple. Well fed but less exhausted than earlier, Jarod couldn’t sleep as easily as he had before. He tried to doze for a while but dreams of his mother kept intruding. Finally, Jarod gave up and spent the remainder of the flight working on his newest alias.

Undercover as a journalist doing a human-interest story, Jarod was going to Paris to find the estranged daughter of Yvette Guimard. With a little luck, he would be able to find something that would help him defeat the Triumvirate board member. Experience had taught Jarod that a personal attack was far more effective than an assault on someone’s business assets.

As it turned out, luck was smiling on the pretender this day. Marie Tourneau was more than eager to give Jarod all the information he could possibly need. The young woman was a veritable font of information. In addition, she was extremely bitter, gladly giving Jarod plenty of ammunition against her mother.

Apparently, mother and daughter had been distant for many years. The first rift between them had begun when Marie had been in college and had first revealed her sexual orientation. Her mother had, at first, been distraught, then furious. When Marie had moved in with her girlfriend, her mother had disowned her. The two did not speak to one another for years.

Then, the racing accident had taken the life of Marie’s brother. At the funeral, an uneasy truce had formed between the two women. Over time, they had managed to form a strained but firm relationship.

It had lasted until just over a year ago. Marie’s father, Renee Tourneau, had died suddenly under questionable circumstances. Less than a month later, the grieving widow had remarried. With a new, much younger husband, and all of her late spouse’s money, Yvette Guimard had begun to jet across Europe, vacationing in all the most elegant places.

Marie was convinced that her mother had murdered her father. Whether by her own hand or by someone she had hired, Marie wasn’t sure. All evidence against the dead man’s widow was purely circumstantial so the police could do nothing. But no one could keep Marie from continuing her campaign to find her father’s killer.

By the time Jarod left the young lady’s apartment, he was as sure of Yvette Guimard’s guilt as her daughter. This made things easier for Jarod. The Frenchwoman deserved to pay for what she had done. What was about to happen to her would simply be a form of justice. The fact that Jarod and his new partners would benefit was simply an added bonus.

Before the day was over, Jarod was on another plane. Bound this time for New York City, Jarod spent the eight hour flight with is eyes closed. He wasn’t resting, but was instead performing simulations in his mind. He wanted to be prepared with an action plan by the time he saw Miss Parker again.

It was strange when one thought about it. Jarod was oddly intrigued by his need to do well on this. Miss Parker was counting on him, staking her very life on his abilities. As a result, Jarod was beginning to feel a measure of pride in his work that he had not felt in a very long time. Pride as well as anxiety.

He couldn’t let her down. He had to protect her as best he could. In some small way, Jarod knew that this intense focus on what lay ahead was merely a distraction from looking back at the recent past. Concentrating on the most dangerous pretend in his life kept him from thinking about the loss of his mother.

As the plane began to circle over JFK International Airport, Jarod glanced at his watch and frowned. He had promised Parker that he would be nearby. He had been gone for far too long already. To make matters worse, Parker and Lyle would have gone into the Centre today. They would have had to face Raines and Mr. Parker. Both undoubtedly knew about the Triumvirate visit by now.

He hoped Parker was safe. Jarod did some quick calculations and figured that he would reach Blue Cove several hours before Parker would normally leave the Centre. He would have to wait for her. He would go to her house and stand watch until no later than 6 PM. If she weren’t home by then, Jarod would go looking for her.

Jarod gazed out the window and watched, as New York City grew larger beneath him. The drumming of his fingertips on one thigh was the only indicator of his current state of mind.

-

End part 7
Author’s Note: Sorry about the abrupt ending in this chap. The next chapter will have the Lyle/Jarod sidebar. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Jarod, Lyle, Miss Parker and anyone else associated with the Centre are characters that do not belong to me. Someone else thought them up, pitched the idea for a series and sold them to a bunch of schmucks who didn't know a good thing when they had it sitting in their laps. I have blatantly stolen the pretender and his associates. I'm not sorry. I won't apologize. I am not, nor have I ever made any money in these endeavors. But it has been a lot of fun.


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Author's Note: First, please allow me to apologize to any of my Brazilian readers. I mean no offense. As research for this chapter, I went onto an internet search engine and typed in "South America" "poverty". After reading a few articles on the topic I learned about favellasand was struck by the economic contrasts of Rio de Janeiro. Seemed like just the kind of place Lyle would enjoy. (Sort of like Las Vegas, but with more exotic scenery.)

Seizing Destiny – Strong PG-13 rating!
By Phenyx

Part 8

09/26/04

-

"We shouldn't have left her alone," Jarod grumbled.

The street before them was in desperate need of repair. But Lyle was driving a jeep, so the unpaved road was little more than a bumpy nuisance. "She's a big girl," Lyle answered.

Jarod sighed in frustration.

"Come on," Lyle said, exasperated. "She can handle it. Besides, the false lead you've planted for Raines' benefit will keep her out of Blue Cove until we get back."

"One of us should have stayed with her," Jarod frowned. He didn't like this one bit. The situation had made him feel uneasy ever since he had returned from Paris. As planned, he had waited at Parker's house for her to return from work. When she had stepped across the threshold, Jarod had suffered quite a shock.

Parker had a hand-sized bruise forming on one cheek. Evidently, Mr. Parker had been fuming with righteous indignation when Miss Parker and Lyle had shown up at the Centre. From what Lyle had told him, Jarod gathered that Miss Parker had thrown fuel on the already intense fire. She had been insubordinate and disparaging of her father's words, literally picking a fight with the older man.

Mr. Parker had lost his temper. He had lashed out at the woman he had raised as his own child and had struck her across the face. According to Lyle's narrative, Miss Parker had straightened regally and smiled at the old man with a bitter, knowing grin. Then, turning on her heel she had left the room without another word, not even waiting to be dismissed.

As Jarod had listened to the twins tell him the tale, he'd gently pressed an ice pack to Miss Parker's swelling cheek. He had said nothing. The look in Miss Parker's steely gray eyes had spoken volumes. In an eerie way, the incident had been a victory for her. She had pushed her father to a breaking point, forcing him to lose control. His loss of control, for even that brief moment, had bestowed Miss Parker with a power no one else had possessed in years.

A secondary result of the confrontation had been that Jarod was now forced to acknowledge just how much faith Parker had placed in him. They were at a dangerous crossroad, with no chances for turning back. Jarod's plan simply had to work. Which was, of course, why he and Lyle were now driving through the streets of Rio de Janeiro.

For the sake of appearances, Miss Parker was busily pursuing a phantom pretender across the Northern hemisphere. This not only kept her out of her father's path, but also served to disguise Jarod's true location. He was sitting less than two feet away from one of the very people sent out to capture him.

"You know what we are looking for, Jarod," Lyle said. "I know how to get it. There was no choice but to leave Parker to fend for herself."

Jarod cast Lyle a suspicious frown.

"What?" Lyle gasped. "You can worry about the ice queen but her own brother can't?"

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jarod told him.

"Then you don't know me that well," Lyle said.

"I know you better than you think I do," Jarod replied. "And far better than I ever wanted to."

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes. Jarod allowed Lyle to concentrate on the pockmarked road. They were in a seedy part of the city. It seemed as though they were fathoms away from the elegant, posh resorts of Rio. But in actuality, only a few miles separated this favella from the exclusive haunts of the wealthy.

Lyle brought the jeep to a stop in front of a two-story, stucco building that had seen better days. Music blared from the open door. A group of four young men, barely more than boys, lounged against the wall, eyeing the jeep and the men within.

Jarod frowned. "Are you sure about this, Lyle?" he asked. "This place looks a bit treacherous."

"That's because it is," Lyle said with a sly grin. "They aren't called houses of ill repute for nothing, you know."

Jarod eyed Lyle warily for a moment, then turned and glared at the young men watching from the doorway. "I've never been in a brothel before," he murmured.

This made Lyle laugh. "This joint isn't classy enough to be called a brothel, pin-head," he drawled callously. "I wouldn't even call it a whore house."

"Then what would you call it?"

Lyle shrugged. "It's a body shop. Bodies for sale or rent, by the week, the day or the hour." With that Lyle climbed from the car and strode toward the front door. Feeling as though he was not about to enjoy this new experience, Jarod followed his companion into the building.

Inside, it was dim and filled with smoke. It reminded Jarod of a sleazy, rundown tavern he had been in once. The main difference between that place and this, however, was that this room was scattered with men and women in various stages of undress.

As he and Lyle headed toward the bar, Jarod passed a dark-haired girl half sitting, half lying on a table. She caught his eye, smiled and then lifted her skirt, showing him, and everyone else, her bare assets. Jarod was stunned, momentarily frozen in place with his mouth hanging open.

"Maybe later, doll," Lyle told the girl in Spanish. Chuckling, he grabbed Jarod by the arm and dragged him up to the bar.

"Welcome back, Joe. Haven't seen you around in a long while," the bartender drawled in heavily accented English. "You want the usual?"

Lyle nodded at the rotund little man. "And a beer for my friend," he added, jerking a thumb at Jarod.

Two drinks appeared on the counter as if by magic.

"Is your boss around?" Lyle asked casually.

The bartender shook his head. "Don't expect him for another hour or so."

"We'll have to come back later," Jarod said.

"Nonsense," Lyle scoffed. He took a sip from his glass and declared, "We can find a way to while away the time." With a grand sweep of his arm, Lyle said, "Pick one Jarod. My treat. I'll even spring for a room."

For a split second, Jarod didn't understand what Lyle meant. He followed Lyle's gesture and scanned the room. The girl who had advertised so blatantly when they had walked in, had found herself a customer. A dusty, jean clad man with blonde hair was handing the girl a bill. The money vanished into her bodice. She raised her skirt and the man began to ravage her right there on the tabletop.

Jarod quickly turned his back on the scene. Wide-eyed and confused, he glanced at Lyle in near panic. "No thanks," he croaked.

Lyle tossed back the rest of his drink and grinned. "Well I hope you don't mind if I relieve a little tension," he said.

"Would it matter if I said I did mind?" Jarod asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nope." Smiling rakishly, Lyle pushed away from the bar and strolled across the room. As he made his way toward a wooden staircase, he grabbed a woman by the wrist as if by random choice. She was pretty in a sad sort of way with a tiny bosom and long straight hair.

Jarod kept his gaze focused on the drink in front of him as though nothing else existed. As the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, he memorized every microscopic detail of the beer bottle. He gauged the weight and classification of the glass, calculated the volume it contained and even estimated the rate of gas exchange as the beer fizzed.

Jarod closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. God he hated this. He hated Lyle for leaving him in so awkward a situation. He hated Lyle in sheer principle. He hated the way it felt when hate curled around his heart like it did now. It was a cold snake leaving a constrictive trail of ice around his soul.

Hate was one of those words most people bandied about so easily. Jarod wondered if what he felt was a common feeling with others. Somehow, he doubted it. 'I hate asparagus. I hate that movie. I hate this outfit.' None of those seemed representative of the deep hatred Jarod was becoming familiar with.

It frightened him, the ease with which hate had been blossoming in the last few weeks. The feeling had flared abruptly and with great intensity when Jarod had seen the bruise on Parker's cheek. He'd wanted to hunt the old man down with dogs and rip his throat out. Gripping the beer bottle fiercely, Jarod tried to reign in the emotion. But like a wild creature locked away too long, this darkness became harder to keep chained once it had broken free.

Jarod slugged down the last of his beer and slammed the bottle onto the counter. Glancing at his watch, he wondered idly how long it took to bed a prostitute. Was there small talk involved? His experience in the field had all been from the other end, when he had done a stint as a gigolo in Detroit. He had no clue what etiquette was involved for a paying customer.

Just as he was about to order another beer, Jarod became aware of something odd. It was something in the way the bartender looked at him, with a combination of respect and revulsion. Jarod frowned and tried to decipher the sudden dread that settled upon him. He remembered the jovial gleam in Lyle's eyes as they entered this place and the strange tone to his voice when he had said the word "bodies".

Jarod's instincts had kept him alive and free for too long. He wasn't about to ignore them now. Rising from the bar stool, Jarod hurried to the stairs and climbed them two at a time. Reaching the second floor, he found a dimly lit, narrow hallway bordered on each side by matching wooden doors. For a long minute, Jarod stood in the corridor with his head tilted to one side, trying to figure out which room Lyle was in. A muffled thud, followed by the sound of glass breaking, made the decision for him.

Dashing to a room about halfway down the hall, Jarod threw open the door. Inside he found Lyle. The dark-haired man was wearing nothing but his unbuttoned jeans. His skin was shiny with a thin sheen of sweat, indicative of his recent exertions with the girl. The naked girl was pinned to the mattress beneath Lyle's knee. Around her throat was a coil of fabric, a pillowcase from the looks of it, which Lyle was using to gleefully strangle the life from her.

Jarod barreled across the room, slamming into Lyle and shoving him off the choking young woman. Jarod scooped the girl off the bed, the sheets still tangled around her. Setting her on her feet, he gripped her by the arms and shook her to get her attention as she coughed and gasped.

"Run," Jarod commanded. Weaving drunkenly, the girl did as she was told, stumbling from the room as quickly as she could.

Covering her escape, Jarod turned to face Lyle. Blue eyes burned fiercely as Lyle growled at him. With his hair in disarray and his fists clenched tightly at his sides, the dark-haired man was almost unrecognizable. Jarod felt fear spear through him. This was not the Lyle he knew. The creature panting before him was a madman, the thing that had become a serial killer.

Trying to stay calm, Jarod voiced his thoughts. "How many girls are buried in the woods, Bobby?" Jarod asked with a deceptively bland tone.

As intended, Jarod's words seemed to jerk Lyle in surprise. "They don't all go to the woods," Lyle responded.

'Even his voice sounds different,' Jarod thought. Lyle's tone was gravelly and deeper than normal, as if his throat were raw.

"Only the special ones get a trip to the cabin." Lyle's beatific smile sent a shiver of trepidation down Jarod's spine. Lyle heaved a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it. "How long have you known?" he asked.

"A while," Jarod admitted.

Lyle smirked uncaringly. Rummaging in a drawer he found a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "Does Parker know?" he asked exhaling a white cloud of smoke over their heads.

Jarod nodded.

"That explains a lot."

It was astounding. As Jarod watched, the dark creature that had been intent on murder a moment ago began to slip away. The erudite businessman returned, with his dashing smile and charming ways. It was as if Lyle's body held two visibly different people, a real life Jekyll and Hyde.

Jarod's thoughts must have been apparent on his face. "I'm not schizophrenic," Lyle said. "I'm perfectly cognizant of what I'm doing." He shrugged. "After all, we all have a dark side. I just give mine free reign once in a while. Doesn't everyone?"

"Your dark side kills people, Lyle." Jarod said.

"So does yours," Lyle pointed out in a soft, cruel voice.

Jarod gasped in pain. "That's different," he whispered.

Shrugging into his shirt, Lyle asked, "Why? Willie is just as dead as May Lin. Dead is dead."

"May Lin was an innocent."

"Everyone is guilty of something," Lyle smiled again.

Jarod was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. It felt as though a vice was clamping down on his chest. He didn't want to have this discussion any longer.

"You are what the Centre has made of you, Jarod," Lyle said. "Just like the rest of us. The only difference is that I embrace who I have become, while you wallow in self pity and martyrdom."

"They had no right to take me from my family," Jarod nearly whimpered.

Lyle's reaction was immediate and explosive. "You think I don't know that?" he screamed. "I was stolen from my parents as I left my mother's womb!"

Jarod involuntarily took a step backward, retreating from the other man's fury.

"Easy. Easy now," Lyle hushed. He held his hands forward in a calming gesture. Jarod wasn't sure which of them he was trying to soothe. He watched fearfully as Lyle approached him. Moving with a gentle slowness, Lyle stepped toward Jarod as though the pretender was a wild animal, ready to bolt.

Wide brown eyes stared into sharp blue ones as Lyle spoke. "We are kindred spirits you and I. No one knows your inner demons like I do."

As Lyle put his arm around his shoulders, Jarod felt a terrible need to cry. Desolation swept through him like a windstorm in the desert, leaving nothing in its wake but dry, barren sand. Lyle gave Jarod an amiable pat on the back before turning to locate his jacket.

"We've got work to do, partner," Lyle said. "The owner of this lovely establishment should have arrived by now. Let's go have a talk with him."

Jarod looked up in concern. "The girl will have called the authorities. We can't stay here."

"Don't worry about it," Lyle grinned. "They know me here."

Understanding dawned in Jarod's weary mind. "You've been here before. You could have killed that girl and no one would have done a thing about it," he said in awe.

"The trick is to know whom to pay," Lyle told him. "Come on, Jarod. We have a boy-toy to buy."

As Jarod followed Lyle out of the dingy room, he clamped a mental fist over the roiling in his stomach. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and tried to find that safe place in his mind. His years at the Centre had taught Jarod to find a mental sense of detachment, helping him to escape the pain and loneliness. He could function from that place for days.

Something told Jarod that he was going to need it.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in the last chapter.


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Seizing Destiny
Part 9

By Phenyx

09/28/04

-

Miss Parker waited for the water to run cold before she stepped from the shower. She wrapped herself in a warm robe and tried not to think of how it had looked on Jarod’s body. Drying her hair with half-hearted enthusiasm, she left it in a tangled mess rather that bothering with the effort to comb it.

These last few weeks had been exhausting. Keeping a constantly antagonistic attitude toward her father caused a tension that was nearly palpable whenever they were in the same room together. And Lyle, slimy weasel that he was, did nothing to help the situation.

Parker’s twin did everything in his power to stay neutral in every confrontation. Why her father and Raines didn’t notice the reduced backstabbing between the siblings, Parker wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because the mutual dislike between them was still so readily visible.

Parker couldn’t blame Lyle for straddling the fence. Until the seat on the troika was actually appointed to one of them, there existed the chance that this could all blow up in their faces. For Parker, there was no going back. She had burned her bridges. But Lyle had managed to step away from the current sphere of Centre influence just enough to be barely noticeable. When Jarod’s trap was sprung, Lyle would be ready for the coup. However, if something should go wrong, Lyle could easily smooth over his involvement and slip back into his old role.

It wasn’t an easy line to walk. Yet, Lyle balanced it like an expert performing on the high wire. He was a true connoisseur of the game, an aficionado of treachery. Not to say that Parker feared a betrayal from her brother. The reality was that if Jarod’s plan worked the way they hoped, Lyle would find himself in a position of power undreamed of under Raines’ regime. Lyle stood to profit as much as the rest of them. And frankly, profit was the only thing Lyle was after.

With a sigh of fatigue, Parker wandered through the darkened house, wondering if she should try to find something to eat. Reaching the livingroom, she detoured from the path leading toward the kitchen and went to the liquor cabinet instead. Food wasn’t what she wanted. Pouring a healthy serving of gin into a glass, she gulped it down in one long swallow and then poured herself another.

“Can I have one of those?” a deep voice asked softly.

Parker wasn’t really surprised when Jarod appeared, seeming to materialize from the shadows in the far corner. He had been doing that a lot lately. During the first weeks of their partnership, Jarod had startled her badly with his silent, unexpected approach. She’d nearly shot him on more than one occasion.

But with time, Parker had grown accustomed to the pretender’s coming and going. He appeared and disappeared with equal stealth. She had no idea where he went when he left. He usually didn’t bother say goodbye. As with the phone conversations they shared, Jarod simply terminated the conversation and was gone when Parker turned to look for him.

Parker didn’t nag Jarod about where he was going or when he would be back. She never questioned him, but instead waited for him to volunteer information. And he invariably did.

It was an exercise in trust. The subtle ebb and sway of Jarod’s confidence was a tender and vulnerable thing. It needed to be coaxed, carefully tended in order to become strong. As a result, Parker didn’t keep tabs on him, letting him know that she didn’t see him as her subject. She didn’t give him orders, but preferred to debate with him until they could find a compromise.

Most importantly, Parker did her best to show Jarod her confidence in him. Once she had made the decision to join forces with her old rival, Parker had ceased to doubt him. He had never lied to her, not really, and she knew without reservation that he would not start. She believed in him completely. Jarod would do anything for her and Parker knew it. The trick was getting Jarod to realize that she would gladly do anything for him in return.

Parker poured a second drink and held it out to her old friend. She watched him over the edge of her glass as she sipped the clear liquid. Jarod sniffed his glass before taking a swallow. As he tried to hide a grimace, Parker smiled. He was such a child at times.

They stood in silence for several minutes. “I’ll be leaving for Paris tomorrow,” Jarod said finally.

“Already?” Parker asked with surprise. “It’s only been three weeks. You said it would take a month to get Diego ready.”

Jarod shrugged. “He’s an intelligent young man. Learned quickly.”

Parker nodded. It was more likely that Jarod had been pushing the kid harder than he wanted to admit. Diego was an attractive young man. Barely twenty-years-old, the kid looked younger. He had wavy hair so black that it shimmered blue and his large round eyes were the epitome of puppy dog brown.

Three weeks ago, Jarod and Lyle had returned from Brazil with Diego in tow. A bit too thin and a little mouthy, the young man had spent every moment since then learning to be what was required of him. Like a real life version of “Pretty Woman”, Jarod had changed this prostitute into a suave playboy.

Parker had only met Diego twice, for Jarod had whisked his pupil off to some unknown location for training. But the results had been all but miraculous. It was hard to recognize the sophisticated young man as the same ragged creature she’d first met.

Of course, Diego had plenty of incentive to do well. If the young man did his job well, he would be given a very large nest egg with which to start a new life. With plenty of money and an educated persona to match, Diego’s life would be irrevocably changed for the better.

Jarod sighed heavily and sat down on Parker’s couch. He dangled his half empty glass between his knees and stared solemnly at the floor. He seemed so tired, so worn.

“Are you okay?” Parker asked.

With a shrug Jarod answered, “Not sure.”

Gliding across the floor, Parker carefully sat beside him and folded her legs beneath her. She didn’t touch him, but sipped quietly at her drink for a minute. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked finally.

“Not really,” was the reply. Jarod straightened abruptly and tossed down what remained in his glass. The burning trail left in his throat forced him to suppress a cough. “I have to go.”

“What’s the rush?” Parker asked.

“I still need to let Lyle know I’m leaving,” he answered.

Parker frowned. “I can tell him,” she said.

Jarod shrugged again. “He asked me to keep him informed personally.”

“He’s playing you,” Parker said, unable to keep the derision from her tone. “You know that don’t you? He’s being nice to you in order to lure you into a false sense of security. He’s trying to make you believe that he is your friend.”

Dark brown eyes gazed at Miss Parker. “Isn’t that what you are doing as well?” he asked forlornly.

Parker blinked. She was surprised at how much Jarod’s question hurt. It took all her resolve not to lash out in self-defense. “Is that what you really believe?” she asked quietly.

Something flashed across the dark, chiseled features. An emotion, so briefly revealed that Parker nearly missed it. She caught just enough to be able to identify it. Pain. Gut-wrenching, soul-rending misery had been written all over Jarod’s face for the briefest of moments.

“What I believe, or want to believe, really doesn’t matter anymore. Does it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Parker urged. “Yes, it does matter.”

Silence reigned for several long minutes as the two stared at each other. “I’m sorry, Parker,” Jarod whispered. “I never really understood.”

Parker tilted her head at him questioningly.

“All those years,” Jarod went on. “I pushed and prodded at your greatest vulnerabilities. I thought that if I pushed hard enough, I’d find the girl I once knew, hidden beneath the hardness. I believed your heart still held the child I had adored so much.”

Jarod shook his head sadly. “I didn’t realize how badly you had suffered. I couldn’t comprehend the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Parker asked. She felt the tears scratching at her throat, but she would not let them fall.

Jarod reached out and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “When the heart is wounded badly enough, it leaves behind something far worse than scars. If the pain runs deep enough, that tortured part of our being atrophies. The hardness isn’t a mask. It is a means of survival.”

Without another word, Jarod stood and strode away. When he had reached the front door and yanked it open, Parker found her voice. “Jarod,” she called. He stopped and turned to look back at her. “The hardness comes from burying the pain. Eventually it eats away at you until there is nothing inside but the rigid shell. I know it hurts. But you have to let it out, allow yourself to grieve properly. Trust me, it is the only way you’ll ever heal.”

Jarod’s dark gaze met hers. “Maybe I’m tired of hurting,” he said. “Maybe I’m looking forward to becoming as strong and hard as you. Maybe Lyle is right and his way is easier.”

“You are not like us,” Parker whispered. “You still have your soul.”

“Not for long,” he replied quietly.

Jarod closed the door behind him as he left. Parker watched him go, staring at the blank wooden door. It wasn’t until she had heard the car pull out of the driveway that she allowed the tears to flow.

Sobs shook her body as Parker buried her face in a pillow and wept. She cried for the agony Jarod was suffering. She cried for the innocent man he had been and could never be again. She cried for the girl who had once loved him.

As her tears began to dry, Parker felt her grief begin to change. Anger followed and was rapidly replaced by determination. Jarod had been one of the few beacons of goodness in her life. He was in fact the only one still alive. Her mother and Thomas had both been keepers of Parker’s conscience in a way, but now they were dead. Only Jarod remained. She could not allow his soul to slip into darkness. If she did, she would eventually be lost as well.

Parker wiped her cheeks on the arm of her robe and sniffled loudly. Saving Jarod from his grief would not be easy. She knew only too well what it would require of her. She would have to give Jarod something that she had denied for a long time. She would have to admit that her heart wasn’t as empty as she led others to believe.

It was time to face the truth. Jarod needed someone to care for him, not just anyone. He needed her. - Almost as much as she needed him.

-

-

Jarod stood on the corner and gazed across the street without really seeing what was there. Red and blue lights flashed through the night, giving everything a strobe-like eeriness. He watched the policemen wander about helplessly as the paramedics came from the building. A black shrouded body encased in a plastic body bag, rode on a gurney, rocking grotesquely as the officials slid it into the waiting ambulance.

In a strange, disconnected fog, Jarod pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched a button. It had been more than two weeks since he’d spoken to Miss Parker. He’d wanted to contact her about a dozen times since then, but he had chosen instead to focus on his mission. His concentration had paid off even better than he had imagined.

The phone rang only once on the other end of the line, even though it was barely 5 A.M. in Blue Cove. “What?” Miss Parker barked in her typical tone.

“Yvette Guimard killed herself tonight,” Jarod said without preamble.

Silence answered.

Jarod closed his eyes and tried to keep his body from shaking. The last ten days had gone just as planned. Jarod and Diego had flown to France and had begun a determined effort to seduce Mr. Guimard. Diego had done well, catching the other man’s eye just as Jarod had instructed him to do so. A few well-arranged coincidences in conjunction with an ecstasy-like drug designed by Jarod, had allowed Diego to get into the Guimard mansion. When Yvette Guimard had come home, it had been to find her new husband in bed with another man.

Pictures of the tryst had found their way to the public, causing a scandal within the society pages. Mrs. Guimard’s background with her daughter re-surfaced and she was labeled a homophobe by the press. Adding insult to injury, new evidence had been found, linking Guimard to the murder of her first husband.

It had all been carefully planned. Information had been leaked at just the right times to maximize trauma. Jarod had even arranged an ugly encounter between Guimard and her daughter, just when the older woman was at her lowest point.

As a matter of fact, Jarod had been standing in this very spot, watching the apartment where Yvette Guimard had tried to hide from the media. He had been watching and waiting when the sound of a gunshot had echoed through the neighborhood. Of course, nothing could connect him to the suicide. Diego was long gone by now, his part in the assault over as soon as the photographs had been developed.

“She blew her brains out,” Jarod reiterated into the still silent phone connection.

There was a long pause then Parker asked, “Are you okay?”

Perhaps it was the gentleness in her voice. Perhaps it was the way her concern seemed to reach through the line and touch him. Perhaps it was because his self-control was little more than a slender thread. Regardless of the reason, Parker’s simple question was enough to shatter Jarod’s restraint.

“No,” he gasped. His body wouldn’t stop shaking. He had never killed in this manner before. He had never attempted to disgrace someone to the point of madness, which had been his original intent. Yet during the course of his simulations, Jarod had realized that this was a possible outcome to the scenario. He had known and pursued it just the same. Jarod slumped against a nearby wall and slid to the ground. “No,” he repeated.

“Jarod.” Parker’s voice was warm with understanding. For a moment, Jarod felt as though her arms were around him, even though they were separated by thousands of miles. “Jarod, listen to me,” Parker commanded.

Jarod took a shuddering breath and tried to focus on what Parker was saying.

“Its almost over,” she told him. “You can get through this. Just hang on a for a little longer.”

Jarod nodded though Parker could not see his response.

“Jarod?” Parker asked. “Jarod, what do we do next?”

Jarod heaved several deep breaths, reining in his emotions. He pressed the heel of one hand against his eye and sighed. “We go to Africa. There will be an emergency meeting of the Triumvirate. The three of us need to be there.”

“Get on a plane,” Parker ordered. “Take the next flight if you can. Lyle and I will meet you in Uganda.”

Jarod nodded again.

“You’ll be okay, Jarod. I promise I’ll get you through this,” Parker added softly.

“How?” Jarod moaned sadly.

“Let me worry about that,” Parker urged. “You just get on that plane.”

“I will.”

“See you soon, Pez-head,” Parker said. “Hang in there.”

-

End part 9

Author’s Note: Let the angst abound! Thank you again, Jarrod.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in Chapter 1 (or 8). Same difference.


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Seizing Destiny
Part 10

By Phenyx

10/02/04

-

Antonio Canossa had been religious once. His mother had been a simple peasant girl raised at the foot of a mountain in Northern Italy. Her only education had been in the church. Aside from her name she could only read the few verses that adorned the walls of the small cathedral in their village.

Antonio had no recollection of his father. The forgotten sire had been killed in a farming accident when Antonio was still in diapers. As a result, the only life Antonio had known as a boy was the life he'd shared with his mother. Each week, he and his mother had walked hand in hand, into the village to attend service on Sunday.

Everything about the ceremony had fascinated him as a boy. The chanted Latin phrases, the hymns, the repetitive familiarity of it all. Young Antonio had been especially enthralled with the stained glass window beside the door. A blonde haired angel of exquisite loveliness welcomed visitors to the church.

Antonio had been a little in love with that stained glass window. In his quite limited experience, young Antonio had never met anyone with hair that color and he thought it magical. The only thing more divine than that window had been Antonio's own mother.

She had been beautiful. Even now, three quarters of a century later, Antonio Canossa had never found a woman to equal her radiance. Memories of her kindness, her voice and even the smell of her clothes, sometimes whispered across the years. As if it had been only yesterday, Antonio could at times see her face smiling at him.

She'd been dead for more than sixty years now. Antonio had not set foot in a church since. It wasn't that Antonio stopped believing in what he had been taught. But when he had been twelve, God had dealt him a terrible blow. Antonio had yet to forgive Him for it.

To Antonio, it had started like any other Sunday. A boy that age thought little of politics. He knew only about chores and playing with his friends. He didn't know what it meant when German soldiers arrived in the village. "Occupation" was a word he did not understand.

But when the soldiers had stopped Antonio and his mother, they had been very drunk. Drunk and dangerous were concepts Antonio had understood even then. There had been four of them, all blond, blue-eyed Arian soldiers. Antonio remembered thinking that they had hair like the angel beside the church door. But they did not look like angels. Antonio had done his best to stop them, but in their drunkenness the soldiers had raped and killed his beautiful mother.

In the years of war that followed, Antonio's village was razed to the ground. Hitler's soldiers had bivouacked there for months. When they left, the Nazi's had taken everything. Then, equally devastating, had been the arrival of the Allied forces. What the Germans didn't take, these soldiers bombed into rubble.

Antonio had managed to survive. His hatred for the soldiers who had murdered his mother grew over time to include all things German. Before Antonio had turned thirteen, he had killed one of the blonde devils himself. He assassinated many more before the war had ended.

Killing and hatred had proven to be a far more profitable way of life for Antonio. He cast aside the simple, compassionate ways his mother had taught him. By the time he was twenty, Antonio had become a valued member of the mafia. Over the years his power and fortune had grown. From there, he had been invited into the Triumvirate.

As a member of the Triumvirate, holding one of the troika seats of power, Antonio Canossa had feared no one in decades. It had been even longer since he had given a second thought to the God he felt had abandoned him. But today was different. Today Antonio felt every minute of his seventy-five years of age. Today he felt afraid.

The reason for Antonio's anxiety stood quietly just inside the door. They stood at silent attention, backs straight and fearless, where everyone could see them. They were beautiful really, the result of years worth of controlled breeding. They were the greatest achievement ever accomplished at the Centre. And they had come to take what was theirs.

As the boardroom slowly filled, Antonio watched them openly. The trio watched him in return. They were perfect, like fine artwork meant for display. Antonio was abruptly reminded of angels and some part of him worried that these were indeed divine creatures.

These were not the hymn-singing cherubs of mercy. No, these beings were vengeful seraphim armed with the sword of righteousness. These were the creatures God sent to inflict His wrath upon mankind. It was an angel such as these that must guard the gates of Eden, forever barring human entrance.

They were imposing enough by their mere presence, to remind Antonio what it meant to be a "God-fearing" man. Perhaps God had finally tired of waiting for Antonio to return to the fold. He had sent this trio to summon the lost lamb.

The murmur of voices in the room was more subdued than normal. Usually, a Triumvirate board meeting was preceded by a great deal of political wrangling. Personal finances were discussed, meetings were arranged and alliances fostered. But today's circumstances were out of the ordinary. The presence of the three Red files made matters even more extreme.

Antonio continued to stare at them, especially the steely-eyed woman. She would not back down, but met him glare for glare. Antonio remembered when they had last met, just a few weeks ago. She had seemed almost bored by the stinging words Yvette had tossed at her. Now Yvette was dead. There was little doubt to the fact that these three had been somehow involved.

'I know you killed her,' Antonio said to the woman with a silent look of anger.

The woman's lips curled ever so slightly at the edges. The secretive smile was almost seductive. 'You were meant to know,' her answering smirk told him.

Antonio nodded. He knew what was expected of him. He knew what these three wanted. Without a word from any of them, Antonio also knew what would happen to him if he didn't give them what they desired. After all, they had done away with Yvette less than six weeks after she had insulted the twins.

Antonio saw little reason to dispute them. If he denied them now, there would surely be another meeting in a month or two. That meeting would be scheduled to refill the seat he now occupied rather than the one to his left. Antonio Canossa was an old man, but he was not so old that he was ready to die just yet.

Having made his decision, Antonio felt his nervousness slip away. Knowing that the consequences of this meeting would reverberate back to the Centre, Antonio wondered if, in the long run, his actions weren't for the best. Over the last few years, the Centre's management had been inconsistent. Perhaps it was time for a new administration.

Picking up a gavel, Antonio quickly brought the meeting to order. He spoke a few words of respect in recognition of Yvette Guimard. Then he quickly moved on to the matter that had brought them all here.

"There must an appointment to the open seat," Antonio said sternly. "Because the position in question is of the troika, it can not be permitted to remain open."

He cast a firm gaze at his fellow board members.

"We shall now discuss viable applicants," he intoned.

For a moment no one spoke. Triumvirate members glanced at each other warily.

Xuan Mae Tran from Vietnam was the first to break the silence. "I think it would be best if an existing Triumvirate member moved up to the troika," he said.

"No," Antonio answered sharply, leaving no room for debate. "That will only open another position, thereby defeating our purpose here. No," he repeated. "The appointment must be a new member."

"You have someone in mind, Mr. Canossa?" the Asian man asked in a frosty tone.

"Actually," Antonio said. "I do. My nominee has years of experience with our traditions, skills that are unmatched in the field, and the respect of many in this room." Antonio played his role well, pausing for a moment to allow the anticipation to grow dramatically. "I propose the open seat go to Miss Parker of Delaware."

There was a round of shocked murmuring as the other board members whispered amongst one another. The Asian glared at Miss Parker in fury but his gaze was met by the hard dark stare of the pretender. Antonio watched in detached amusement as he saw the truth dawn on the Vietnamese man's face.

The room went silent as, one by one, the other board members realized what Antonio had already come to accept. The three Red files were not here by coincidence. The last one to defy their authority had wound up dead. Anyone else questioning the Parker legacy would face a similar fate.

There was a war beginning, a revolution within the Centre walls. It was time to choose sides. Antonio chose to follow the angels.

-

-

Jarod opened his eyes. Above was the plain white textured ceiling of Parker's bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window as dawn crept over the horizon. With a huge yawn, Jarod stretched, savoring the feel of fine linen against his flesh. For several long minutes he simply lay there and listened to the sounds of Miss Parker in the shower. Jarod thought about joining her but he was not yet comfortable enough with their relationship to be the aggressor.

He and Parker had been a couple for nearly a week now. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just hours short of a full week since Jarod had found himself on the receiving end of Parker's tender embrace. It had been a week during which he had not left her side.

Jarod had been a basket case, frighteningly close to losing it after Guimard had killed herself. He had managed to catch a plane as Parker instructed, arriving in Kampala a day later. He had checked into the hotel and locked himself in his room. How long he had waited afterward, he wasn't sure.

Somehow, as if by magic, Parker had suddenly been there. She had brushed the frightened tears from Jarod's cheeks and gathered him in her arms. She had kissed him and Jarod had given himself over to the moment. His need for her had become all encompassing. It had been a raw yearning to join with another being, to stave off the loneliness. He simply could not survive alone for another moment.

At some point during that first night, Jarod had realized that sex with Parker was nothing like the encounters he had shared with other women. He had never felt so in tune with another person as when he and Parker were together. Being with her, Jarod had found what it meant to make love versus having sex.

She had saved him that night. Parker had braved the darkness in which Jarod had lost himself. She had found him and with her body had anchored him back in her world. Jarod refused to question her motives. He simply took what she offered and held on as though his life depended upon it. Perhaps it did.

One thing Jarod was sure of. He had found the strength to get through the Triumvirate board meeting only because Parker had been there to help him. He'd been terrified when their limousine had pulled up in front of Triumvirate Station. But with a simple smile she had eased his fears.

"You've brought us this far, Jarod," she had told him. "Let me take it from here." Then she had leaned over and kissed him passionately, nearly sucking his fillings out in the process. Lyle's stunned sputtering at their display of affection only served to increase Jarod's enjoyment of it.

In the days that followed, Parker had led her comrades to a whole new level in the game they lived. They had spent four days at Triumvirate Station, establishing Parker's position on the board and defining expectations among the other members. Once it had become apparent that Canossa would align with them, stepping into power had been remarkably easy.

Parker emerged from the bathroom, her still wet body wrapped in a towel. The sight of her tore Jarod from his musings. She was beautiful.

Leaning over gracefully, Parker kissed Jarod on the lips. "You need to get up," she told him.

With a nod Jarod tossed aside the blankets and stood up. His nudity didn't bother him. It had taken all of a day and a half for him to overcome modesty in Parker's presence. "You're worried about today," he said.

"Nonsense," Parker frowned.

"Liar," Jarod replied with an understanding smile.

"How would you know?" she snapped in that regal tone of hers.

Jarod shrugged. "You taste different when you worry," he said.

Parker turned to stare at him warily. A frown crossed her face and she sighed with exasperation. "That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."

Crossing the room, Jarod took Parker by the arms and smiled at her. "Let me taste again to be sure."

For several long moments Parker allowed the kiss. But as Jarod began to nibble a trail down her throat, she stopped him. "We haven't time for this right now," she scolded.

Jarod pouted dramatically. "You are going to send me into that cold, dark place I hate without so much as a kiss to keep me warm?" he whined.

"Give me a break." Parker rolled her eyes. "You got more than enough to keep you warm last night."

Jarod laughed. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said as he turned toward the bathroom.

He was halfway across the room when Parker stopped him. "Jarod, are you okay?"

He turned and looked at her with those dark, soulful eyes of his. "I'm getting there," he said with a nod.

"Raines has to die today," Parker reminded him. She hated to bring down his mood, but Parker knew that Jarod would adapt much more easily if his emotions were more level. The extreme ups and downs that Jarod was prone to experiencing weren't good for him in the long run.

"I know," Jarod replied.

"Are you okay with that?" she asked.

"I will be," Jarod sighed.

Parker nodded and Jarod went to take a shower. She stood for a moment and chewed at her lower lip thoughtfully. She hated doing this to him. The path they had chosen was a difficult one for Jarod to walk. His conscience was under constant assault. All Parker could do was be there for him, help him learn to live with it somehow.

It was almost over. It wouldn't be long before the Centre was theirs to rule. Once in power, Parker could allow Jarod's exuberance to run free. Without further dark deeds to cloud his psyche, the pretender could learn to deal with his fearful episodes of depression. Things could get better and stay that way.

But for now, there were still shadows to be traversed.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in Chapter 1 (or 8). Same difference.


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Seizing Destiny
Part 11

By Phenyx

10/03/04

-

As the limousine rounded a bend, Jarod ticked off another mile in his head. The countdown had started the moment their party had gathered and began the drive to the Centre. His nervousness grew though the only outward sign of it was in the fierce grip he had on Parker's hand.

"If you squeeze any tighter, you'll break her fingers." Lyle smirked at Jarod from the leather seat opposite him. The three of them were alone. The two Triumvirate-provided sweepers in front were hidden behind the dark glass partition. Two black sedans followed, carrying the rest of their burly entourage.

"Shut up, Lyle," Parker snapped. "I'm fine," she added, turning to Jarod with a reassuring smile. She caressed the side of Jarod's face as she kissed him tenderly. In response, Jarod's eyelids fluttered closed and he sighed with longing.

Lyle watched the scene without comment. He was the only one permitted to see the couple behave this way. In public, Parker and Jarod behaved just as they had before, rarely ever touching one another. But for some reason, Parker seemed to find it necessary to show Lyle that her relationship with her former prey had drastically changed.

Upon further reflection, Lyle realized that his sister's behavior made a strange kind of sense. In staking her claim on Jarod, she had effectively placed herself as the leader of this little group. If Lyle were to oppose her at this point, her influence with Jarod would ensure that the pretender would be on her side.

The most troubling aspect for Lyle was that he wasn't quite sure his sister had planned it this way. One moment Lyle would be absolutely convinced that Parker was manipulating her new lover. But in the next, she would say something or glance Jarod's way in a manner that seemed so sincere Lyle couldn't believe she was acting.

It was this uncertainty about his sister that drove Lyle up a wall. Was she capable of taking the troubled man for a ride? No doubt about it. But was she playing him, or did she truly have feelings for Jarod? Lyle couldn't tell.

Of course, from Lyle's perspective it really didn't matter. Either way, he was the odd man out. Parker was in charge and there wasn't a thing Lyle could do about it. If, by chance, someone should bring harm to Parker, cause something to happen to her, Jarod would wreak vengeance upon that someone to an extreme Lyle didn't care to imagine. If Lyle had learned anything in the last few months, it was that Jarod's temper was not a thing to be toyed with.

Jarod caught the angry looks exchanged between the siblings and his thoughts unknowingly strayed along the same lines Lyle's had lingered only a moment ago. The nearly matching outfits worn by Parker and her brother, as well as the similarly malicious glares they shot at each other, abruptly reminded Jarod that these were the Parker twins he was sitting between.

Jarod fought a wave of panic every time he thought about it. He was literally sleeping with the enemy; fully cognizant of the lengths the Parkers would go to achieve their goals. The path they now walked was the most important and dangerous of their lives. What would Miss Parker do to ensure its success? Jarod knew the answer - anything. Would she go so far as to offer herself to the lab-rat? Jarod swallowed, refusing to answer his own silent question.

Parker gave his hand a gentle squeeze, drawing Jarod's gaze to meet hers. She smiled at him and Jarod did his best to smile back. With a fierce mental shrug, Jarod squashed the fluttery, nauseous fear that clawed at him. Parker's reasons for permitting this intimacy were her own and frankly Jarod didn't want to look at them too closely. The truth of it was, Jarod didn't care why. He knew only that she was there. She was letting him in, allowing a closeness that Jarod had never shared with another human being. Nothing else mattered.

As the limo pulled to a stop in front of the Centre, Jarod turned his thoughts to the events ahead. Parker pulled her pistol from its holster at her back and snapped off the safety. She slid a round into the chamber, preparing for a firefight if necessary.

With a hard look at Jarod she said, "You stay between us. Understood?"

Jarod nodded.

"The walk from the front door to the board room will be the most dangerous," she reiterated. "Let Lyle and me deal with it."

Jarod shot a wary look at Lyle. Parker had no trouble interpreting his thoughts. "If Lyle betrays us," she said icily. "My first shot will be through his brain." Shooting her brother a frosty glare of warning she added, "As will the second."

The limo door opened and Parker looked expectantly at her two companions. "Ready?" With a single curt nod, Lyle and Jarod both followed her from the car.

Their appearance in the Centre's lobby caused quite a stir. Jarod could see surprise ripple through the corridors. He looked straight ahead, keeping his gaze steady. Jarod knew that the positions they had taken as they walked, served to keep others away. With Parker on one side and Lyle on the other, surrounded front and back by Triumvirate sweepers, a casual observer might almost think that Jarod was being escorted back to his prison.

It was an impression that they hoped to encourage for the next few minutes. As the group entered an elevator and the doors slid shut, Jarod inhaled deeply, releasing his breath in a slow hiss. His dark eyes grew hard as he watched the digital readout mark their descent. When the elevator reached SL-20, the doors opened and Jarod stepped into the shadowy bowels of the Centre once again.

-

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Parker yelled. The two big, black men dragged him through the hallways, ignoring his blustering. "You are both finished here," he told them. "Do you hear me?" Mr. Parker didn't recognize either of the men escorting him, a fact that worried him to some extent.

He was shoved through a door and into a large room. There was one bright light hanging in the middle of the room, casting the edges of the space into shadow. Only the T-shaped table in the middle of the room was lit.

Mr. Parker swallowed. There were others in the room, he knew. He could hear them, shuffling quietly in the darkness. There was a raised platform located in front of the long table. Mr. Parker knew this, not because he could see it, but because he had often been among those sitting on that platform.

"Mr. Parker," a smooth voice said. The heavy Italian accent identified the speaker. "So glad you could join us."

"What is going on?" Mr. Parker said firmly, keeping all traces of fear from his voice.

"All in due time, Mr. Parker," Canossa said.

The door clanged open again as two new sweepers hauled Raines into the room. Half pushed, half carried across the room, Raines was deposited at Mr. Parker's side. The sweepers then backed away, leaving the two older men standing alone at the foot of the table.

For a long moment there was silence. A form shifted in the darkness and stepped forward. Mr. Parker smiled. She was lovely, a vision really. She was every bit as beautiful as her mother but without the same weaknesses.

"Angel," he cooed. Her response was not what he expected.

She turned her head toward the unseen sweepers. "Seal the room." Her voice was as sharp and cold as a knife. There were more shuffling sounds as several people left. The doors seemed to clang shut ominously.

"Angel," Mr. Parker tried again. He brought a scolding tone to his voice, knowing how well he could manipulate her with it. But again, her reaction was not what he had anticipated.

Steely gray eyes bored into him. With her regal bearing and rigid stance, she seemed to look down at him as though he were a distasteful creature crawling across the floor. She crossed her arms and said in that same icy tone, "It's over, Daddy."

"What's over Angel?" He tried a different tactic and did his best to sound warm and affectionate.

"Everything," she said simply.

Canossa's voice echoed from the darkness. "As you may be aware, Mr. Parker," the Italian said. "There has recently been an addition to the Triumvirate board."

Mr. Parker did not respond. Of course he knew about the death of the Frenchwoman. He also knew that there had been an emergency meeting of the Triumvirate. But the results of that meeting had been kept secret and his sources had not been able to discover the identity of the new chair holder.

"May I present our newest member," Canossa said.

No one moved. It took Mr. Parker a moment to realize that Canossa was referring to his adopted daughter. Raines recognized this fact at the same time. A raspy gasp indicated his surprise.

Mr. Parker grinned. A surge of paternal pride rushed through him. His Angel had surpassed his expectations. Not only had she garnered a seat on the Triumvirate, but it was also a seat of the troika. "Well done, Angel," he told her, delight beaming in his voice.

Canossa went on, ignoring Mr. Parker's remark. "These changes in our infrastructure preclude the current status quo within the Centre's management."

Mr. Parker frowned. "Why?" He looked toward the woman he had raised as his daughter. "Angel, you need me here. You need help to run the Centre."

"I have all the help I need, Daddy," she answered.

As if her words had been a signal, another shadow moved from the darkness and stepped into the light. Lyle's smile was smug and full of condemnation. Mr. Parker swallowed his uneasiness. If his daughter and Lyle had formed an alliance, he was indeed in trouble.

But, what happened next caused the blood in Mr. Parker's veins to freeze. Jarod was abruptly there, standing at Lyle's side. He simply appeared as if he had materialized out of thin air. The pretender's dark eyes burned with undisguised hatred. Mr. Parker felt his heart rate quicken as he realized that his life was in jeopardy.

Miss Parker looked meaningfully from Raines to her father. "You're fired," she said. "Call it early retirement if you like. But your services here are no longer required. You will be escorted from the premises. From this day forward, neither of you will be permitted within five miles of this facility."

"We helped to build the Centre," Raines wheezed. "You can't keep us from it."

"Watch me," Miss Parker said in a hard, flat voice.

"We will stop you," Raines argued.

One delicate eyebrow arched. "Really?" she asked in an almost bored tone. "The way you stopped my mother? The way you stopped Jarod's mother?"

Raines eyes flickered nervously toward the tall silent man. Jarod's glare was malevolent and frightening. "I was following orders," Raines stammered, as he realized the seriousness of the situation.

"Yes," Miss Parker replied. "Orders given to you by your brother."

The two older men both flinched.

"You see, Daddy," Miss Parker continued sadly. "I know everything. I know all about the lies." She sighed dramatically and strolled by the head of the t-shaped table, trailing her fingertips across the smooth surface. "I know that together, you and Raines have wrought death and destruction within these walls for decades." When she had crossed the room, Miss Parker straightened and crossed her arms again. Her voice was hard as she spoke. "I know that now it will stop."

Mr. Parker said nothing.

"I have chosen a place for you to retire," Miss Parker said. "It is a lovely island just off the coast of Argentina. You will be given a monthly allowance to spend as you see fit. But you will not be permitted to leave the grounds."

"You can't lock us up like criminals!" Mr. Parker gasped in shock. Jarod snorted rudely, cutting off any further comment.

"Do you really think you can be rid of us so easily?" Raines hissed. "Many have tried, child. But they have all failed."

Miss Parker's small smile was eerily calm. With an offhanded shrug she said, "I did try. I offered you a chance." She glanced over at Lyle and gave him a single nod. As Lyle stepped toward the table, she continued, "Over the years, we've noticed that your influence within the Centre is markedly decreased whenever one or the other of you is not around. Therefore, it has been decided that one of you must be permanently removed from the equation."

The tone of Miss Parker's voice was as casual as if she'd been discussing a dinner menu. "It sparked a rather heated debate between my two companions," she said. "Choosing which of you had to go was easy. But there was quite the argument over who would be allowed the honor."

Mr. Parker swallowed and glanced fearfully at his twin. Which of them was the more hated by the three red files, he wondered.

"In the end, we flipped a coin," Miss Parker added.

Lyle grinned as he pulled his weapon from its holster. It was a nice touch, the bit about the coin toss. Totally untrue, but rather amusing in a way. This was Lyle's forte, the talent he brought to their little trio. He was the knife, the assassin. His blue eyes twinkled as he cocked his revolver.

How many times as a boy had he fantasized about this? How many years had he longed to destroy his tormentor? And with an audience no less, how perfect was that? There were half a dozen Triumvirate board members seated in the darkness of the room, watching. None of them would move to stop what was happening. None of them would repeat a word of what occurred here today.

Pressing the muzzle of his gun against the bald, wrinkled head, Lyle leaned forward and whispered into Raines' ear, "Does this fulfill your expectations, Father? Has your disappointment eased to some extent?"

"I've always known it would come to this," Raines snarled. "I should have smothered you when I had the chance."

"Destiny is no matter of chance," Lyle quoted. He didn't flinch when the gun fired. The shot was very loud in the dark room. It seemed to echo in the enclosed space as Raines' body slid quietly to the ground.

All was silent for a full minute. Finally Miss Parker spoke. "Jarod, make sure."

Kneeling beside the crumpled body, Jarod pressed three fingers to Raines' neck, feeling for the carotid artery. His dark eyes looked up at Parker and he nodded once. Raines was dead. Jarod rose slowly and waited in silence.

"Erase him," Miss Parker demanded. "He never existed."

Jarod nodded again, a curt, obedient tilt of his head.

Miss Parker turned toward the man who had raised her. "Have a nice trip, Daddy," she said. "We won't be seeing each other again." She turned her back on him then, and started toward the door. "This meeting is adjourned."

Mr. Parker moved to follow her. "Angel, wait!"

A firm hand against his chest stopped him. Mr. Parker glared up at the hard, fathomless eyes of the pretender.

"I can erase you too," Jarod spoke for the first time since entering this room. His voice was low, threatening and grim. "It would annoy her. But if you force me to, I'll do it anyway." A shiver of apprehension ran down Mr. Parker's spine. Jarod's words held no warning. He simply stated fact.

"Why don't you do it?" Mr. Parker asked. "Just kill me and be done with it."

Jarod's eyes glittered viciously. "You've lost your family. You've lost your beloved Centre," he said. "Now you will lose your freedom. If you're dead, it ends. This way, you will suffer."

The lights clicked on and the abrupt illumination made Mr. Parker blink in pain. As his escorts returned and grabbed him by the arms, Mr. Parker glanced around quickly, frantic for some hint of support from somewhere. But the room had already emptied. The platform held nothing but several vacant chairs. Even the corpse had vanished.

His part in the Parker legacy was over. A lifetime of work would be eradicated. Mr. Parker knew that these three would sweep through the Centre with a deadly efficiency. All traces of the old regime would be wiped away. The slate would be rubbed clean and a new heritage would spring forth.

As the sweepers shoved him into an elevator, Mr. Parker wondered where he had gone wrong. What had caused the Red file project to end in failure? When the truth dawned on him, he began to laugh. The Red files had not failed. On the contrary, the project had succeeded beyond anyone's imagining. They had become exactly what they had been created to be.

They were the best and the brightest. And now the Centre belonged to them.

Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in Chapter 1 (or 8). Same difference.


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Seizing Destiny

Part 12

By Phenyx

10/11/04

“I don’t care, Broots,” Miss Parker snapped angrily. Her long strides forced the balding technician to run to keep up with her. “Find a way. Tell the ambassador that we will meet him anywhere he likes, but it will be at the time of our choosing.”

“Will all three of you be going then?” Broots stammered.

Parker stopped abruptly and cringed at the squeaking sound Broots’ shoes made on the tiled corridor floor. “Yes,” she said between gritting teeth. With a growl of frustration she pushed her way past Broots and continued on her way.

The last few days had been grueling. She and her partners had worked around the clock to establish their new positions in the Centre. Word of the coup was beginning to spread and now, outside forces were bringing pressure upon the new regime. They would be tested, Parker knew. But she wasn’t worried about being able to handle it. They could deal with whatever came their way.

Parker rounded a corner and nearly crashed into Angelo. The wild-haired man whimpered with fright and scurried away in the direction from which Parker had just come. She frowned and looked around for Jarod. The fact that he was not in the immediate vicinity was cause for concern. Angelo had been Jarod’s shadow over the last three days.

After leaving the T-board, Jarod had gone straight to Angelo’s room and had freed the little troll from his cubbyhole. The two had been constant companions ever since. The empath even slept at Jarod’s feet like some oversized lap dog.

“Where’s he going?” Broots asked as he watched Angelo disappear down another hallway.

“I don’t know,” Parker replied. “He looked spooked. More so than usual.”

Parker continued with a quickened pace. She hesitated for only a moment upon reaching her destination. When she threw open the door and stepped into what had once been her father’s office, what she found within caused her anxiety to rise.

Jarod stood behind his desk, his back to the room as he gazed out the huge windows. Lyle leaned against a windowsill a few feet away. In the middle of the room, with his hands clasped behind his back, was Sydney.

No one spoke when Parker and Broots entered. Miss Parker frowned and glanced questioningly at her brother. Lyle simply smiled and shrugged at her. Her twin’s nonchalance did not fool Miss Parker. The room nearly shimmered with tension. Anger radiated within these walls like heat from a blast furnace. To Miss Parker and her heightened senses, it was as tangible as frost in the air of a cold autumn morning.

“What’s going on?” Parker asked.

At first, none of the three men moved to answer. After what seemed an eternity, Jarod turned and gazed at her. “We were discussing locale,” he replied. His tone was flat and hollow as though he’d just been punched in the gut and was still attempting to catch his breath.

“Locale?” Parker frowned.

Lyle explained. “The good doctor seems to feel that Jarod shouldn’t set up shop in here.” He waved a hand in the air indicating the extravagant office.

“Oh?” Miss Parker glanced at Sydney, her eyebrows arched with questions.

Sydney nodded and said, “I think Jarod would be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”

“On one of the sub-levels I presume?” Miss Parker’s ire began to rise, adding to the tension in the room. “Perhaps even the in the sim lab?”

“I fear what he may become if he remains in the tower,” Sydney said.

Parker glanced at Jarod in concern. He looked stricken. Pain and anger vied for control on his face. His wide brown eyes gazed back at her in confusion. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked and could not understand why.

Lyle stepped forward to stand at Jarod’s side. Placing his good hand on Jarod’s shoulder, Lyle leaned in and whispered into his ear. Jarod sighed and nodded thankfully. The look in the dark eyes as Jarod turned toward Lyle was one of gratitude, almost worship.

Miss Parker felt her temper snap and rage surged through her. Grabbing Sydney by the arm she viciously yanked him toward the door. “I want to speak with you,” she growled between her teeth.

Shoving the older man in front of her she pushed him from the room, barreling into Broots in the process. In the hallway, she slammed the door closed behind her and glared menacingly at the shivering technician. “Vanish,” she hissed at him. Broots didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried down the corridor as quickly as he could.

She turned on Sydney and unleashed her venom at him. “I should kill you where you stand.” Her voice shook with fury. “How dare you? Of all people in this world, how dare you, Sydney?”

“I only want what is best for Jarod,” Sydney defended.

“Bullshit,” Parker spat.

“This is a difficult time for him,” Sydney continued.

“Brilliant deduction,” Parker yelled. “I don’t need a degree in psychiatry to figure that one out.”

Sydney pressed on. “Miss Parker, we must remove him from this environment before any further damage is done to his psyche.”

“It’s too late for that,” Parker argued. “The damage has been done. Locking him away from the world won’t ease his pain.” Miss Parker gasped and tears filled her eyes as she thought of the look on Jarod’s face. “Don’t you see what you’ve done? My god Syd, he’s turning to Lyle for support. Lyle!”

“But,” Sydney tried to speak but Parker cut him off.

“But nothing,” she snapped. “Jarod is not your pet project anymore. He is not your experiment. He is your boss.” Parker punctuated each word by poking Sydney in the chest with her finger. “If you are lucky… If you are very lucky, you will find a way to become his friend again. Although how you will manage that after this fiasco, I can’t imagine.”

“But I just,”

Parker ignored Sydney’s attempts to defend himself. “I’ll do what I can to smooth this over with him, but you’ve really blown it Syd. He can’t afford to lose friends right now. He needs us too much.”

Sydney nodded sadly. “I wanted to help,” he whispered.

“Things have changed Sydney,” Parker said. “He has changed. Everything you knew about him before is meaningless. You can’t have the same relationship with him. You’ll need to forge a new one just like the rest of us. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Parker sighed. The anger slipped away to be replaced by fatigue. “Stay away from him for a few days,” she sighed. “Give me a chance to do some damage control.”

Sydney nodded again. He turned and walked slowly down the hallway toward the elevator.

“Sydney,” Parker called after him. “I want you to dismantle the lab. Get rid of everything.”

The psychiatrist’s head practically spun around in surprise.

“Everything,” she hollered. “Understood?”

“Understood?” Jarod and Lyle heard much of the argument between Sydney and Miss Parker. Her raised voice was only slightly muffled by the closed office door. The two men stood and stared at each other as Miss Parker railed at Sydney in the hallway.

“Like a lioness protecting her cub,” Lyle murmured.

Jarod frowned. “I’m not her cub.”

“You are her something,” Lyle smirked. “You belong to her. Might as well tattoo ‘Property of Miss Parker’ on your forehead.”

Jarod made a rude noise.

Lyle laughed. “Scoff if you like, my friend,” he said. “But you are definitely caught in her web.”

Jarod swallowed nervously and sank into the leather chair behind his desk. “What do you think she will do to me?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Lyle sat on the corner of Jarod’s desk and tilted his head quizzically. At Jarod’s nod he answered, ”I think she’ll take very good care of you.”

Jarod frowned and looked up at the piercing blue eyes. “That isn’t what I expected you to say,” he admitted.

Lyle shrugged. “I had my doubts at first,” he said. “Let’s face it, my sister is a class-A bitch. I was convinced that she was putting out so that you would be her ally against me.”

Jarod cringed inwardly as he realized that he and Lyle had shared the same thoughts.

With a sigh, Lyle continued. “But I’m beginning to believe differently.”

“How so?” Jarod asked.

“I think she really cares,” Lyle said in a slightly embarrassed tone.

“I’d like to believe that,” Jarod sighed.

Lyle looked down at Jarod as a frown creased his brow. “I think you should,” he said. “Allow yourself to believe.”

“I want to,” Jarod whispered. “I really want to.”

“I know.”

Jarod groaned and sprang from the chair. “Why do you care, Lyle? I’d have thought you would enjoy playing us against each other. Why the tender advice?”

Lyle blinked at Jarod in silence for a long moment. “We are a great deal alike you and I,” he said softly. “More so than either of us cares to admit. You struggle to suppress the darker side of your personality while I choose to hide the opposite.”

“I don’t understand,” Jarod said.

Lyle smiled. “I think you do.” He added, “I know that Parker doesn’t believe me capable of it. Hell, no one does. But the fact of the matter is that I care about my sister. I want to see her find the happiness that was stolen from us. I am beginning to realize that she can do just that.”

“She can?”

Lyle nodded. “With you at her side, I believe she can do anything.”

Jarod’s answering grin was as bright as a small star. “She is incredible, isn’t she?” he asked.

Lyle laughed. “She is one crazy bitch,” he said. “But if she floats your boat, Jarod, I say go for it.”

“Go for what?” Parker chose that moment to reenter the room.

The two men stared at her with wide eyes, as though they had just been caught in the middle of some heinous crime.

“What?” she repeated.

“Sailing lessons,” Lyle answered with a wink at Jarod.

Parker looked from her brother to her lover and back again. Both men seemed to be sharing a joke of some sort, at her expense no doubt. Jarod’s hurt and anger from a few minutes ago seemed to have vanished. It made her more than a little nervous, this camaraderie forming between Jarod and her brother. She would need to keep a closer eye on Lyle.

“Look,” Parker changed the subject abruptly. “We’ve been at this for days. I say we go home and rest. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

“It’s about time,” Lyle grimaced. “I need a hot shower, a good meal and a soft bed, in that order.”

“We’ll meet back here at eight in the morning,” Parker told him as Lyle headed for the door.

Without looking back, Lyle waved over his shoulder in acknowledgment as he left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Parker strode across the room and put her arms around Jarod. He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the top of her head as he hugged her back.

“How does that sound to you, Pez-head?” Parker asked. “Shower, food and bed, in that order.”

“Hmm,” Jarod hummed. “I don’t care about the sequence of events, a long as I can have you somewhere in between.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Parker replied with a smile.

They stood there for several minutes, just holding each other.

“Jarod?”

“”Hmm?” he grunted.

“Are you okay?” Parker looked up at him, waiting for his reply.

Running his fingers through her hair, Jarod nodded. “I’m working on it.” He kissed her lips, nibbling delicately on the lower curve as he went. “Parker?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Hmm?” was the dreamy response.

“Don’t stop asking.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

The End

Author’s Note: This marks the end of ‘Seizing Destiny’. The three Red files have won the right to rule the Centre, which was after all the entire point. But, there is another story to be told here. Now that Jarod has found his destiny, how does he live with it? His relationship with Sydney and Lyle are both morphing into something new. Therefore, I have decided that there will be a “Book 2”. I haven’t chosen a title yet but it will contain the word destiny somehow. So watch for it.

Thanks again for reading!

*****

there is a sequel to this story here: Destiny Unfolding