note:This story takes place during The Pretender's third season (fall, 1998)


FOREWORD

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

"Daddy? You wanted to see me?"

Mr. Parker interrupted his conversation with his visitor to look at his daughter. "Ha, Angel, come in. Sit down," he invited, indicating a chair on the other side of his desk.

Parker left his visitor to go to his desk. Picking up a file, he opened it, more for show than to really refresh his memory, then looked at his daughter. "For some months now, someone has been stealing government secrets and selling them to foreign government. These actions were investigated by the Organization for Scientific Information, a quasi-independent branch of the government that we dealt with for some years in the early seventies. Their investigation led them to The Centre. They called in a favor we owed them from way back when, and asked for our help in putting a stop to these illegal activities," explained Parker. "Naturally," he added, with just the right intonation so that her daughter and his visitor both could read whatever they wanted in his tone of voice, "we agreed. I'm putting you in charge of overseeing the investigation for The Centre."

This new assignment caught Miss Parker by surprise. "What about Jarod?" she asked.

"Angel, it's been, what? Eight weeks since you've had any trace of Jarod?"

"Six," she corrected.

"I'm sure you'll have time to conclude this assignment before he shows up again. If not, your brother is quite capable of dealing with Jarod."

It was in situations such as these that Miss Parker really regretted her decision to quit smoking. For years, she had worked on hiding her emotions from everyone and on perfecting her stone cold look. She always thought it had worked better when she could literally throw smoke in people's eyes, rather than just figuratively. But, for all those years, she was never sure how well it worked with her father; she was even less sure now that she could no longer hide behind a cigarette. It was as if he knew how she felt about Lyle, and delighted about rubbing her nose into it.

"Fine," Miss Parker conceded, knowing in the back of her mind that there was little chance Lyle would catch Jarod even if Jarod were to walk into The Centre's lobby and ask to see him. "I want full liberty to choose my team."

"Oh, I've already taken the liberty of assigning Mr. Broots to your team. Don't be surprised, Angel. You might fool everyone else, but I know better. You're a Parker: you wouldn't put up with his bumbling ways and his cowardly air if he didn't get results for you.

"There is one other person who's been assigned to your team." Parker turned towards his visitor, as a means of finally introducing him to his daughter. "This is Col.. Steve Austin. He's been sent by the OSI to work undercover at The Centre and bring this investigation to a close. Officially, he's a sweeper assigned to your team to be your bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" Miss Parker commented, to indicated what she thought of that idea. "Have all the relevant information sent to my office," she practically ordered her father. Getting up, she threw a glance at Austin, to indicate to him that the briefing was to be continued in her office. As they both made for the door, Parker stopped them.

"One more thing, Mr. Austin. You let Oscar Goldman know that The Centre is even more protective of its independence now than it was in the seventies. Once we find out who's behind this, you will get proof that his activities have come to a stop, but The Centre will be the one to deal with this individual."

Austin wanted to reply, but took a look at Parker, then at Miss Parker. She looked like the more reasonable of the two, so he decided to wait, and file this as a battle to be fought later. But, as soon as they were out of Mr. Parker's office, Steve asked Miss Parker, "Any chance you or I could get him to change his mind?"

"Forget it," she replied. "There's only one thing you could offer my father in exchange for your man. And I doubt you'd know where to find him."


*
* *


"Dr. Olivet!"

Jarod looked up from the little girl to whom he'd been talking. The head of the rehabilitation clinic where he was doing his current pretend had called him from down the hall. Two other people were with her, presumably the parents of other patients. Jarod put up his index finger, to let them know he'd be with them in a moment, then turned back to his patient.

"OK, Suzy, I'll see you again tomorrow," he promised. Suzy gave him a shy smile.

Getting up, Jarod gave some instructions to the nurse who accompanied him, then, leaving Suzy in her care, turned towards the people waiting for him. "Yes, Jaime, what is it?"

Jaime Sommers introduced to Jarod the two people who were with her. As he had guessed, they were the parents of another patient Jarod was to start seeing the next day. He exchanged a few pleasantries with them When they left, Jaime motioned to him to follow her into her office. "How's is it going with Suzy?" she asked, as they went into her office.

"I'm sorry to say I'm not making any progress."

"'Not making any progress'?" Jaime replied, with a note of disbelief in her voice. "Jarod, before you arrived last week, Suzy did not even smile, let alone talk. You're the only one who succeeded in getting her to even interact with other people. That's some progress."

"Yes," Jarod conceded, "but I haven't made any progress since my first initial success. Every day, it seems as if I have to start over from the same point. It's as if . . ." Jarod's voice trailed off.

"It's as if what?" Jaime asked.

Jarod took a good look at Jaime. He wasn't sure if he should answer or not. Since he arrived at the rehabilitation clinic, there was something about Jaime Sommers he could not understand. She was hiding some sort of secret, some sort of personal secret. That, in itself, did not necessarily meant she was evil or anything - after all, Jarod conceded to himself, he too was hiding a secret from everyone else- but it did mean he should hesitate before trusting her completely. After all, if he told her his suspicions, and she was the one who was undermining his efforts with Suzy, she could very well attack him or Suzy before he could find out the truth and put his net in place. Or, she could panic, and reveal the truth about her actions. And, because of this secret of hers, because of this unknown quantity, Jarod did not know which way it would go.

But, he started his sentence, and now Jaime was looking at him with a quizzical look. Jarod hated to gamble, but he felt he had no choice. "It's as if someone is trying to undo everything I've accomplished with Suzy." And I intend to find out who it is, he added mentally.

Chapter 1

"Broots? What time did you go to bed last night?" Parker asked.

"Around four-thirty." There was one good thing about his addiction to old movies, Broots thought. It helped him looked tired the morning after Miss Parker gave him assignments she thought would take all night, but that takes him a couple of hours to complete. She had asked him to review the data the OSI had provided them, and confirm that the transmission did in fact originate from The Centre. He had started working on it just around nine, after he had put Debbie to bed. By a quarter to ten, he was convinced the OSI was right; by ten thirty, there was no longer any doubts possible. After that, he had killed some time for a couple of hours, until the channel 38 late movie double-bill started. They had been running an Errol Flynn festival the whole week. Broots was glad for the excuse to stay up and catch a couple of them.

"What's your conclusion?" Miss Parker wanted to know.

"Definitely from The Centre, but I couldn't identify from where within The Centre, as I didn't have access to the phone logs from my place." Actually, he did have access from his place, but there were still some things he did feel the need to hide from Miss Parker.

"You need top level security clearance for that, so I'll have to coordinate with my father. I'll get you access by this afternoon."

"No need to go to that trouble," Broots stopped her. He sat down at her desk, logged on her computer, punched in a couple of commands. Within seconds, he had called up the phone log.

"How did you do that?" she asked, amazed. "Even I don't have access to that log. No, never mind," she cut him off as he was opening his mouth to answer, "just get to work and find an answer."

Broots started comparing data from the printout he had made the night before to the log on the computer screen. The more comparisons he made, the more perplexed he looked.

Parker threw a questioning look at Steve Austin. The expression he gave her in reply indicated that he too had no idea what could be so perplexing. As far as he knew, the data he had provided to The Centre team was rather straightforward. "Well?" she asked Broots. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"Well, the good news is that I've identified which phone line has been used, but I don't think you'll like it. It's Mr. Lyle's"

Parker was shocked. "Daddy will be pleased," was all she could say.

"But it gets better. These transmissions started when Mr. Lyle was -" Broots stopped in mid-sentenced. He looked up to Miss Parker, then to Austin, and back to Miss Parker. " - on leave from the Centre," Broots finished. "And that's not all. There's no record of any use of that phone line on the dates and times the transmissions were made."

"That's a good starting point," commented Austin. His years of training and experience took over, as he took charge of the discussion that had been pretty much only between Parker and Broots until that point. "How many safety protocols would have to be circumvented for a call to be erased from the phone logs, and how many people would have the knowledge to do it?"

"About fifteen protocols - and the whole pool of programmers."

"The whole pool?" Parker asked, incredulously.

"It's the standard test we give prospective employees..." Broots voice trailed off, and he let his sentence go unfinished. Parker just shook her head in disbelief. She had never liked the subculture that had seemed to develop around The Centre's computer people. She would have to do something about this security breach.

"OK, that give us too many suspects for now," Austin continued. "So let's try another approach. Are there any disgruntled former employees that would wish harm on The Centre?"

There aren't too many former employees that are alive," Parker commented wryly.

"Those that are," added Broots, "usually aren't too gruntled either."

"How many of those," Austin asked, "would have the knowledge to tap into your phone system and circumvent your security procedures?"

"Jarod," replied Broots.

"Not his style," contradicted Parker.


*
* *


Oscar Goldman's office
OSI west coast headquarters

Oscar motioned Jaime to sit down. He concluded his phone call, then smiled at her. "And what can I do for you today?"

"Oscar, I think you know why I'm here. It's about Sue Davidson. How's the investigation into the death of her parents going?"

Oscar took off his glasses, and put them on his desk. All signs of pleasantry drained from his face. "It's not," he replied curtly. "Jim Castillian's investigation is going nowhere. I'm giving it another week before I pull him from the case. Problem is, with the years of service the Davidsons had at the OSI, it will be hard to find an agent for whom the investigation would not be personal. What about on your end? Didn't you tell me that Sue was making progress?"

"That's why I'm here, Oscar. The new doctor who's handling her case did make some progress with her - in fact, he's the only one who's had any success. But he told me yesterday he had to start all over again with her every day."

Oscar looked up. "You're suspecting someone at the clinic?"

"I don't know anymore," Jaime admitted.

"Leave it to me, then. I'll arrange for a discreet investigation to be done on the personnel. I'll start with that new doctor - what did you say his name was?"

"Jarod Olivet," replied Jaime. "That's with one L," she added, before Oscar could ask her not to. "And Oscar - thanks!"

"No problem, babe," he replied.

"You, know, sometimes I wish that, after I come back from that conference I'm going to in Ottawa in a few days, everything will be okay: Steve will be back from his mission, Sue will be all right, and her parents' assassins will have been caught!"

"If wishes were horses . . ." commented Oscar. But he knew how she felt.

"Anyway, I have to go now. I want to do some running at the park before I report to the clinic. I need it."

Jaime was glad she had found that park. It was isolated enough, and quite often empty enough, to allow her to run at bionic speed without attracting attention. Today was no exception. There was no one to be seen in the wooden section. She started running. She held back for the first minute or so, just to shake the rust off her legs, then accelerated to top speed.

There was something contradictory in these bionic runs of hers. She was going extremely fast, yet found the exercise extremely peaceful. It helped clear her mind, and reach a sort of inner peace. She had to be careful, of course; on a day like today, she could not afford to get lost in that inner peace, as she did have to go to work. But with all the stress she had been under ever since Sue Davidson had been admitted to her clinic, she needed to forget about her worries for awhile. And the park was the only place where worries about work could be left behind.

"I love ice cream! What about you?"

Jaime stopped in her tracks. That was Jarod's voice. What was he doing here? She looked at her watch. It was just after nine, which meant that she would be late at the clinic, but which meant Jarod was also supposed to be there. There was only one way to find out what he was doing. She started jogging - at non-bionic speed - toward the ice cream stand, and started listening in. She did wish, though, that she had Steve's eye so that she could look as well as listen.

What Jarod was saying was not all that informative. He asked for two cones - one chocolate and one vanilla - and insisted that the salesperson accept an overpayment to compensate for having opened early just to accommodate Jarod and his friend. And that friend was not saying much, so Jamie must move closer to get to the bottom of this.

In no time, Jaime had arrived at the ice cream stand. "Jaime," called out Jarod, waiving at her. She tried to look surprised, and came to join him.

"Jarod," she greeted him. "Fancy running into you here."

"I was surprised I didn't see you at the clinic this morning," admitted Jarod. "I had planned on asking your permission. You see, I thought that going outside and getting some fresh air would be good for Sue." As he was speaking, Jarod motioned with his head towards the nearest picnic table.

Jaime had been so intent on Jarod that she had not even noticed Sue. No wonder I didn't hear who he was speaking to, thought Jaime. "Hi, Sue," Jaime said, as she sat down besides her.

"Would you like some ice cream?" Jarod offered Jaime. "It's really good!" he commented with an earnestness in his voice that Jaime found amusing

"No thanks," replied Jaime, amused. "It's a bit early for me. Besides, I just finished my morning jog, I don't want to put the weight back on."

As Jaime turned back to talk to Sue some more, Jarod took a good look at her. True, she was jogging when she arrived at the ice cream stand. But there was no sign on sweat anywhere on her clothes. Why the lie? Jarod wondered.

But he was drawn from his thought pretty quickly, as a rather loud "Hi, ya, Jarod!" demanded his attention. He looked around and saw a ten year old boy running towards him.

"Hello, Billy!" Jarod replied, kneeling down to meet his young friend. "Billy, this is my friend Sue," he introduced the two children.

"Hello, Sue! Do you want to play?" Billy asked "You can be Little Bo Beep," he continued, without waiting for her to reply, "and I'll be Buzz Lightyear."

Both Jaime and Jarod looked intently at Sue, as they were waiting for her reply. They saw something flicker in her eyes, almost like an indication of an inner conflict. After a couple of seconds, Sue just looked down, withdrawn upon herself once more. Billy shrugged it off, and ran away to play by himself. "I'm Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger!" He could be heard to exclaim as he ran away. "I come in peace!" Some distance away, he knelt down to zap something in the bushes with his laser (the one that's a light bulb).

The sign of disappointment was visible on Jaime's face. She felt Sue had been so close to finally breaking out of her shell. She looked up at Jarod, expecting him to comment. His question took her by surprise.

"Who's Buzz Lightyear?"



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The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Steve was looking at the waves break against the cliff. He was schedule to call Oscar for a report in a few minutes, and had used it to get outside The Centre. There was something about atmosphere in that place that he found oppressive. He wanted to clear his mind before reporting in.

Something broke his reverie - nothing in particular, probably more instinct than anything, but something told him he had to stop watching those waves. He looked up at the smaller building just outside The Centre - The Tower, as it was rather unimaginatively known. There was something Steve did not like about it. He zoomed in to the window with his bionic eye, but he couldn't see anything. Still, it was a good place from which someone could watch him, or even eavesdrop, and Steve didn't like it. He got up, and moved away.

After walking a distance - The Centre's Building did stretch out somewhat - Steve looked at his watch. It was time to call in that report. He took out his cell phone, and dialed up Oscar's private line.

"Snow White," Oscar's voice answered after a few rings, using his old code name.

"Snow White, this is Bashful," Steve identified himself.

"I assume you have news from Grandma's house?" Oscar asked.

"The Big Bad Wolf is definitely in here," Steve confirmed.

"How do you find Little Red Riding Hood? Is she helpful?"

Steve hesitated a moment, as he picture what Miss Parker's reaction would be if she knew what her code name was. "So far," he finally answered. "I think she can be trusted, but I don't know how far."

"I see. Be careful, Pal!" Oscar admonished, before hanging up.

Steve turned off his cell phone, and returned to The Centre. He took the elevator down to Broots' office. He found him in an excited state. It was clear that the guy liked his job. Given a challenge, he didn't hesitate to rise to it.

"Ha, Col.. Austin, you're just in time," Broots greeted him. I just finished my surveillance software, like you asked me to design. It will be in place before tonight."

"You'll be able to pinpoint from where inside The Centre the transmissions come from?" Steve asked, just to make sure.

"Definitely," Broots replied, almost insulted that his word was doubted.

"And they'll have no idea we're tracking them?"

"None whatsoever"

"Good. Let Miss Parker know you're finished. And now, we wait. If our mysterious caller sticks to his schedule, he should be making a transmission tonight."


*
* *
Jarod opened up his red notebook, and unfolded the newspaper clipping he had saved. "Young girl, 8, witnesses parents' death" one headline said. "OSI agents' daughter hasn't talked since parents' death" announced another one, while the third proclaimed that "Little Sue Davidson taken to local rehab clinic". Jarod skimmed over the articles once again, to see if there was details he had missed or forgotten. But it was essentially an exercise in futility - he had committed the articles to memory, and this umpteenth rereading provided nothing new.


"Mr. Castillian will see you now, sir," the receptionist informed Jarod. Jarod closed his notebook, and put it back in his jacket pocket. Throwing a smile in the direction of the receptionist, he walked into the office marked "J. Castillian - private".

Castillian got up from behind his desk, and shook Jarod's hand. "Jim Castillian," he introduced himself. "That's with two L's."

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Mr. Castillian," Jarod replied. "I'm Dr. Jarod Olivet, the new doctor working with Sue Davidson."

"What can I do for you, Dr. Olivet?"

"I understand you're handling the investigation into her parent's death. I was hoping that you could tell me something about the circumstances surrounding the accident - it might help me with the therapy."

"There's not much I can tell you, unfortunately. She saw her parents get into their car, saw it blow up seconds later. She hasn't talked since then. Anything else is either classified or still a mystery."

"Her parents were both OSI agents. Was there a case that they worked on from which someone would hold a grudge, or perhaps a case where someone did not want them to discover the truth?"

"They were both with the OSI for over 15 years. They worked on a number of cases over those years - most of them classified."

"I understand that you can't tell me too much, Mr. Castillian, but I had a good reason for asking. You see, I have some concerns about little Sue's safety. Although I had some progress initially when I first starting seeing Sue, it seems that whatever progress I make is undermined by somebody else - possibly the person who killed her parents. If they think she witnessed anything, they will not want her to get better or start talking again. Now, for me, leaving my previous post to join Jaime Summer's clinic was a career move - I was not able to really give personal attention to my patients at a bigger clinic. But for someone in your situation, where the Davidson girl is potentially your only witness to a major crime, I'd think you would send her to any one of the bigger clinics with an international reputation. There's no shortage of those in the region. Surely, her safety would have been easier to guarantee at one of those clinics?"

"I appreciate you bringing your suspicions to me. But, to answer your question ... well, let's just say we do not have any security question or concerns connected with Ms Sommers' clinic. But the investigation is still ongoing, and I'll keep your thoughts in mind. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"No, thank you. You've been a big help."

Jarod kept a poker face while he was leaving the OSI headquarters, but as soon as he was outside, he allowed himself to smile. Finally, he had a break.

When he shook hands with Castillian, and locked eyes with him, he had received a pretty good impression of his personality. He was arrogant and self-assured, but honest. And Jarod was sure that Castillian had answered truthfully - especially when he said the OSI hadn't had any security concerns about Jaime Sommers' clinic. That, Jarod was sure, was his clue. When Castillian said it, Jarod felt there was a connection between Jaime and the OSI. Once Jarod found out what it was, he was sure he could discover what was that secret she was hiding - and that, whichever way it led, would go a long way towards pushing Sue on the road to recovery. Either by eliminating Jaime as a suspect - or removing her permanently from Sue's entourage.

Back at the clinic, Jarod looked at his watch. Jaime was scheduled to be with a patient for another fifteen minutes. Not long, but it should give him time to get started. He sneaked into her office.

Her computer had been left on. He sat at her desk. Getting past the password protection was easy; now, the real work started. But before anything else, he slipped a floppy in the disk drive, and had a file printed. That took care of his cover, just in case he was discovered before finishing.

He started with the financial records - and his eyebrows went up. That's interesting, he thought. The OSI had been giving regular donations to the clinic. That in itself did not prove anything - only that there was a link between the OSI and the clinic. And Jarod was, more than ever, convinced that that link was Jaime Sommers. But he had to find more proofs. Although useful, the computerized records weren't much help, since they did not show anything else beside the fact that the donations were made.


*
* *
In the hall leading to the office, Jaime suddenly stopped walking. "Judy, Get security," she told her assistant. "There's someone in my office."

"How can you be sure?" asked Judy, taken by surprise both by Jaime's sudden halt and by the unexpected request.

"Never mind that. Just do it," Jaime insisted. Her assistant started for the security officers' desk.

Jaime quietly made for her office door. She could distinctly hear the printer working, and someone working away at the keyboard. She threw the door open. "Jarod!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"Jaime!" Jarod replied, with his calm voice and that characteristic smile of his. "My printer's dead," he gave as an explication for his presence while Jaime was coming around to his side of the desk, "and I needed to print this document in a hurry."

Jaime took the document and glanced at it. It looked like a scholarly review Jarod had written. She handed it back to him. Jarod got up, to let Jaime sit in her chair. On the computer screen, she noticed that the Tetris board read "Game Over".

"Next time," she asked, "ask permission first."

"I'm sorry. You weren't around, and I was in a rush. I guess I forgot my manners," Jarod offered, before leaving.



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The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
Parker had been pacing the room for quite some time, now. She was quite a contrast with both Austin, and Sam and his sweeper team who were waiting for her orders. They all were trained field security personnel, whose job often depended on waiting. But, in her case, her training had been quite different, and this waiting game was not her style; she was more of an action person. All the arguments about catching someone red-handed, to have evidence, had never convinced her that it was better than just going after the person your after. Of course, in this case, they didn't even know from where their target operated, which made it a little bit more difficult. But as far as she was concerned, it was all the same: wasted time, that could have been better put to use.

Of course, part of the frustration was that this part of the evening was somewhat out of her territory. She knew next to nothing about the electronics things that Broots excelled at. This was his territory, and Miss Parker had to concede it. And, as much as she secretly admired Broots, and was in found of him, she hated conceding anything, especially to Broots.

The basic principal, she understood. Since the transmissions were being "piggybacked" on Lyle's phone line, they had put a special tap on it to allow them to track where the transmission came from. It was the specifics that had lost her.

Fortunately for them, Lyle was in Italy ("Probably shopping for clothes," Miss Parker had remarked rather sarcastically, not even trying to hide her feelings about her twin), so, in theory, the only call coming from his line should be the spy's transmission. But they still had to wait for it.

After what had seemed like an eternity, Broots signaled to her to be quiet. "I've got it," he finally announced after a couple of seconds.

"Where from?"

"Give me a moment!" Broots stared at his screen, willing his software to go faster. "SL-18," he finally announced.

"That can't be," reacted Parker. "There's no phone lines beneath SL-17!"

"Actually," Broots objected, "all phone lines for The Centre run in the floor between SL-17 and SL-18. Tacking on a clandestine phone line from SL-18 would be child's play. . . relatively speaking of course. Hold on, I'm getting a more definite location - west wing!"

"Let's go!" Austin ordered, practically rushing out of the door.

Parker signaled to the sweepers to follow her as she practically grabbed Broots while running after Austin.

The whole team quickly took the elevator down to SL-18. Once everyone had made it, they carefully made their way to the west wing of The Centre's sub-level. At the end of one hall, a door had been left partially opened, a faint light coming from inside.

"Just how gullible do these people think I am?" asked Miss Parker. "Their trap is so obvious -"

"That maybe they don't even realize we're on to them," completed Austin. Broots tried to stifle a chuckle; he couldn't remember ever seeing someone interrupt Miss Parker, let alone interrupt her to contradict her.

Parker threw an ice-cold look at the OSI agent. "I wouldn't count on that," she said.

"Then, let's turn their trap on them," suggested Austin.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Parker, interested.

Steve didn't answer her question. He just fell silent, and started staring at the room at the end of the hall for a few seconds. Then he moved towards the left wall, turning his head to keep it aimed at the room. When he reached the wall, he started to move toward the right wall, still keeping his head aimed towards the room. When he reached that wall, his body expression changed. He relaxed, as if what he was waiting for had arrived; but not just what he was waiting for - what he was living for. "Wait until I get inside the room", he instructed Miss Parker. "Then start walking towards the door, but stop when you're about five feet away. Then turn around and start arguing with Broots. I don't care what about, but make sure your voices carry. And don't stay in a direct line of sight with the door." Austin turned towards Broots. "Either of you."

Motioning to Broots and Parker to stay silent, Austin started running - running fast! - towards the door, carefully staying in the shadows. With the lights so dim in the hall, Parker and Broots almost lost sight of him, but then they saw a shadow pass directly in front of the door. Parker turned towards Broots; he nodded, silently. Parker motioned to the sweepers to follow them, and headed towards the door. When she judged she was about five feet, she stopped, as she had been instructed. "Broots?" she asked, moving towards the wall, "What was that all about?"

Inside the room, Steve could barely hear them, but he knew they had followed his instructions. Back in the hall, he had adjusted his bionic eye to the infrared frequencies, and had picked up the gunman hiding on the catwalk. When he sped into the room, the gunman tried to aim on him, but had not counted on bionic reflexes. When Parker and Broots had started arguing, the gunman turned his attention back to his real target. That allowed Steve to get closer to catwalk. The gunman thought he was secure, since he was covering the only ladder going up to the catwalk. Time to surprise him, thought Steve. He jumped fifteen feet straight up.

The gunman's reaction was one Steve had seen countless times before on all those OSI missions. He was so surprise to see someone coming up from nowhere that he dropped his gun and never thought of trying to aim. That suited Steve just find, as it allowed him, after landing on the catwalk, to give him a good punch in the stomach and knock him cold for a few seconds. Grabbing the gun with his right hand, Steve twisted the barrel before throwing it down. Then, he grabbed the gunman, raised him in the air, and jumped back down, towards the door.

"It's safe now, Miss Parker" he called out. When Parker came in, he dropped the gunman down at her feet.

She looked at Steve, impressed, then down at the gunman. "Sam," she called, "put him in a holding cell." When the sweepers had taken the man out, Parker continued. "As much as I'm pleased to catch him, he's not the reason we came down here."

Broots took out an electronic surveillance device, and started scanning the room. Steve pretended to patiently wait around, while secretly scanning the room with his bionic eye set to the infrared frequencies. "There," Broots finally announced, pointing in a general direction. They made their way towards the back of the room.

Steve saw it before everybody else. Tiles had been taken down from the ceiling, and wires reworked, down from the ceiling to an instrument on the floor. Broots kneeled down besides it and looked it over. "It's a retransmitter," he finally confirmed.

"Are you saying," Parker asked, "that the transmissions are not originating off Lyle's phone line?"

"It would seem so."

"Can you track its origins?"

"I'd have to rehook my instruments here in this room, but yes, I think I can do it."

"We should assume," Steve cut in, "that since there was someone here to guard this, that the transmissions still originate from The Centre."

"Yes," Parker agreed, "but we're back to square one. Even if Broots can track it down, by the time he brings his equipment down here and re-hooks it, the transmission will be over. And then what?"

"If the patterns hold, they'll be another transmission made tomorrow night," Steve stated.

"Then there's probably nothing more to learn here tonight. I'll interrogate the prisoner tomorrow. I suppose you'll want to be there?"

"Yes," agreed Steve. "Are we calling it a night?"

Parker nodded. She pointed to the door, to invite Steve to go out first. But, as Broots was also making his way out of the room, she stopped him. She waited for Austin to be out of earshot, then turn to look squarely at Broots. "Broots," she asked him, "is there any way to walk into a room, hide from a gunman, and capture him? Any human way?" she added, with emphasis on the word "human"

"I . . . I don't think so," Broots replied, hesitantly.

"Find out everything you can about Clark Kent here," she ordered, symbolically pointing out in the distance to indicate Austin. "There's something about him. And I don't like secrets."

As Parker made her way out, Broots dropped his head, hoping for a pole against which he could bang it.




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Jarod's hideout

Jarod turned on his laptop. After a short time, he succeeded in logging onto the OSI mainframe. Getting past the security protocols was almost child's play. After all, Jarod was getting to be an old hand at that game. The real trick would be in finding was he's looking for. He did a general search for "Jaime Sommers".

Only one reference came up. She was listed as an operative for "Project C-One". OK, thought Jarod, let's find out what Project C-One is all about.

His search for "Project C-One" brought two options: "Description" and "List of contractors". Of the two, "Description" seemed to be the obvious choice. But when Jarod tried to access it, the computer returned the following message.


Project C-One classified Top Secret
Security clearance level 6 required


No digital versions of records in existence - only hard copies available



Let's see if I have better luck with the contractors, Jarod told himself. Going back one level, he selected the "List of contractors" option. This did not tell him much: it was just a list. But each one was hyper-linked to other documents, so it offered possibilities. Jarod pursued the list, to see which one was more promising: Cal Tech, Corning, Dell, IBM, MIT, NASA, The Centre, . . . .

Jarod could barely believe his eyes. He clicked on The Centre link. It offered the choice between correspondence and invoices. He chose correspondence first. It listed only one letter. Jarod called it up. It was dated 1969:



Dear Doctor Rudi Wells:

I am sorry to report that the [whited out] project is a failure.

Although we have found a way to make it work, which would most definitely
be beneficial to mankind, the consequences would be potentially disastrous
if the technology were to fall into the wrong hands.

In view of these results, I feel that the [whited out] project does not fall
within The Centre's charter regarding research, which states that all research
projects undertaken or assisted by The Centre must be for the sole purpose of
improving living conditions for all. Effective immediately, The Centre is withdrawing
from this project.

Please accept my sincere apologies.

[signed] Catherine Parker



Jarod was tempted to make a hard copy. He would have to let Miss Parker know about this one of these days. After all, it was dated less than a year before her mother's death, and might help her find out what led to the murder. But he did not have the time to think about that right now. That letter, before being scanned into the computer's memory bank, had been carefully edited so that it would not reveal what the project was all about, which meant Jarod was no closer to finding what he was looking for. He once again backtracked, so that he could call up the invoices from The Centre. He dared not hope.

Yes! The invoice was for a simulation. One of his simulations. This was going to be easier than he had thought.

He logged off from the OSI database, turned off his laptop, and went to his bed. He pulled out the DSA player he was hiding underneath it. He searched through the collection of disks before settling on one. He hesitated for a second, anxious as to what he would find out, then put the disk in the player, and hit the play button

"I can't move my arm, or my legs," a young Jarod said, as the black-and-white image lit up on the screen.
"You don't want to help them, Jarod," Sydney's voice said from somewhere unseen. "A lot of people could be helped by this, Jarod. We need you to tell us how."
"I want to help, Sydney, but I can't figure out how to make it work. I can't move my arm!" A hint of panic was starting to show in young Jarod's face.

"Concentrate," ordered Sydney.

The expression changed on Jarod's face. He got up sat up on the hospital bed he had been lying on, and pulled off the vital sign monitors that had been hooked up to him. "It's no use, Sydney. We've tried every variation we thought up, and we still come up with the same results. There's no way to make the patient psychologically accept the implants. He knows that it's not his real limbs. These new prothesis just won't work. Can I go back to my room, now?"
Sydney stepped in front of the DSA recorder. "Stop" he ordered.


The screen went blank for a second. The circumstances of that simulation were coming back to Jarod. During the pause in recording, which, in reality, had lasted several hours, his younger self had been inspired and found a solution. He had been so eager to try it out, that he had sneaked out of his room, gone back to the sim lab, and did something he had never done before - or since: turned on the DSA cameras by himself.

"We'll now try a different variation," Jarod explained to the DSA camera, mimicking Sydney's voice. "For the purpose of the simulation, we will assume that the same drugs that were used on the first try were used once again, but that this time the capabilities of the implants have been modified."

Jarod laid down on the bed, and concentrated. He forced his mind to start the simulation. "I can move my arm again," he said, as he raised his arm rather quickly and awkwardly. "I can't control it as much as I want, but I can move it. I'll try my legs now."
Jarod raised both his legs, one at a time, and had pretty much the same results as when he moved his arm.
The expression on Jarod's face returned to normal, as he ended this part of the simulation.
"The patient will obviously need some months in rehab, to learn to use his limbs again. We'll now assume, for the simulation, that I have been in rehab for the required number of months. We'll say that my left arm, and both my legs, have been replaced by the protheses."

Jarod turned around, and saw a bar of metal. "We'll say this bar weighs 500 pounds." Jarod tried to lift it with his right arm. The effort was obvious on his face. He just was not able to lift it. Then, he tried with his left arm. He lifted it up as if it weighted no more than a few ounces.

"We'll try the legs, now," Jarod announced. A treadmill had been placed in one corner of the room. Jarod went up on it, turned it on, and started running as fast as he could. He looked at the speed it indicated and smiled as his mind, fully absorbed by his simulation, saw the speed at which he would have been running had his legs really been implanted with the protheses.

"Jarod! Why are you running slowly?" Sydney's voice resounded from behind him.

"I found the solution, Sydney!"
"What do you mean, Jarod? You're not making any sense!"

"I was running as fast as I could, Sydney, but I had this feeling that I was going slowly. And yet, when I looked at the speed I was supposed to be running at, it was 60 miles per hour. That's the solution! The protheses can't work if they merely replicate normal human capabilities. They only work if they exceed them.

"Do you understand, Sydney? That's the only way anyone will psychologically accept bionic implants."


Jarod turned off the DSA player. "So," he commented aloud, after a moment's silence, "they went ahead and built a bionic woman!"

Chapter 2
During his years working at The Centre, Sydney had know but one true escape: botany. With no sign of Jarod for more than a month, and no other projects waiting for his attention, Sydney was able to give his plants the attention he would have wanted to give them all the time. When Miss Parker barged in his office, he was busy trimming a bonsai tree. She looked around as Sydney patiently put down his clippers.

"Where's Broots?" she inquired.

"I don't know," Sydney replied. "Is he supposed to be here?"

"He gave me a call this morning. He was all excited about something, and asked me to meet him in your office."

"He did call me, saying he would like to consult something in my files about Jarod," Sydney admitted, "but he did not give me much detail." While he was speaking, Sydney had gone to his desk, and opened a file he had left on it. He took a photograph from the file, and looked at it for a few long seconds. When he put it down, Parker saw that what she had thought was correct, that Sydney had been looking at a photo of his former protégé. But, as Sydney looked from the photograph to Miss Parker, he could see the mix of impatience and curiosity boiling beneath her calm surface. "Parker . . . what's up?" he inquired.

"I don't know . . . yet! But I'm working on it."

Parker and Sydney exchanged a few more pleasantries when Broots barged in the room. "Hi Sydney. Have you seen . . . . Oh, hello Miss Parker. You wouldn't believe the discovery I made last night!"

"Slow down, Broots," Miss Parker ordered, to try to calm him down.

"I broke into the OSI's computer base last night. There was only one reference to Col. Austin -"

"Col.. Austin?" Sydney asked.

Broots turned towards him. "Yes, why?"

"Never mind," Sydney brushed off the question. "Please continue."

"I only found one reference to Col. Austin," Broots repeated. "And it was to a project The Centre was involved with. But get this: when I checked in The Centre's mainframe, I could not find any reference to it. I had to ask my friend Amy, in the billings department. Joey in archives owed her a favor, so he took me to the archives section where all The Centre's dead project are classified. You wouldn't believe all the projects The Centre has been involved with that ended up going nowhere. For example," Broots was going on, turning to look at Sydney, and now talking to him more than to Miss Parker, "did you know that, until he disappeared in 1985, The Centre was financing the research of a Dr. Brown who was trying to build a time machine into -"

"Broots!" Miss Parker cut him off, rather impatiently. As fascinating as this probably was, that was not the information she wanted.

"Sorry," Broots mumbled. "Anyway, there's one project The Centre did some research for the OSI in the late sixties, and . . . . Well, here, read this." Broots handed Miss Parker a piece of paper.

Parker read it over. It was the a copy of the same letter Catherine Parker had written to Rudi Wells that Jarod had found just a few hours ago. When Miss Parker had read it, she asked, "What is the bionics project?"

"Only the most resounding and most frustrating failure of modern science," Broots explained, getting excited again. "It was an attempt to combine the biology of the human body with electronics in order to make artificial limbs that were better than the artificial limbs currently available. But the researchers never found a way to make patients accept those limbs."

"Jarod found a way."

That simple statement from Sydney caught both Broots and Parker by surprise. The both turned towards him. Broots handed him another piece of paper; Sydney looked at it, recognized it as an old invoice for a simulation billed to a client, and simply nodded.

"I remember it well," he started to explain. "It was the first project your mother was involved with when she joined The Centre," he said, looking at Miss Parker. "It was also then that she found out that The Centre was using children for their experiments. A short time later, of course, she started trying to rescue some of them. A year later, she was dead.

"But, to get back to bionics: Jarod found that, as long as you tried to make the patients accept the limbs as 'normal', you were asking them to accept a lie: you were basically telling the patient to accept as his limbs implants which he knew were not real. The only way to make bionics work was to make them stronger than human limbs. It was easier to accept psychologically: that way, not only did the patient not have to "accept a lie", but his new limbs were also performing better than the ones he lost.

"When your mother was told of this solution, Parker, she decided not to involve The Centre with the project any longer. She felt very strongly that the technology posed too much of a risk, should it fall in the wrong hands. The Centre classified it as a dead project, and forgot about it. Not too many people had known about it to start with, probably just Catherine, myself and Jarod. But it was the last we heard about bionics . . . Officially."

"Officially?" Parker asked.

"About six or seven years after we ran that sim, an OSI agent had come to The Centre, for a reason or another which I forget. Mr. Parker and I were discussing something with this agent in the biodome, when we became trapped. The OSI man rescued us - Mr. Parker and I owe him our lives. Of course, we couldn't actually asked the OSI about it, but I'm convinced there was no way for any normal man to do what that man did. I hadn't thought of Jarod's bionic sim for years, but, to this day, I still believe only a bionic man could have saved us."

Parker leaned in towards Sydney across his desk. "Do you remember this agent's name?" she asked him.

But Sydney didn't have the chance to reply, as there was a knock at his office door. "'Miss Parker?" came Austin's voice, as he opened the door before waiting for an answer.

"Yes?" replied Parker, most abruptly.

"Sam told me I would find you here," explained Austin as he walked in. "I wanted to find out when you plan to interrogate our prisoner."

"Col.. Austin?" Sydney asked, before Parker had a chance to reply.

"Yes?" Steve turned around, to see who had called him. At the same time he looked at Sydney, something in the folder on his desk caught his eye. He zoomed in, just as Sydney was closing the folder. But Steve had just enough time to see what he wanted. "Do I know you?" he asked Sydney.

"My name is Sydney. Years ago, you saved my life." As he said that, Sydney threw a meaningful glance at Miss Parker.

"The incident at the Biodome? Yes, I vaguely remember about that. But you'll have to excuse me, because, for me, such assignment were routine. I had even forgotten you name."

"As much as I appreciate reunions," Parker cut in, "you're right, Mr. Austin: we have a prisoner to interrogate. Shall we get to it?"

Steve motioned to her to lead the way.

Sam met them at the holding cell. "I got his name from the sweepers database," he informed Miss Parker. "He's Dave . . . and he's not currently assigned to work for anyone."

"I didn't think there was such a thing a free lance sweeper," Miss Parker asked Sam.

"They're rare, but there's a few of them."

Miss Parker thanked Sam. Both she and Austin then went into the holding cell. Dave the sweeper was sitting on a chair. He looked up when they came in, but looked down again, as if to show he could have no possible interest in either Austin or Parker.

Steve started the interrogation. "Who do you work for?" he asked. "And how much are they paying you?"

Dave the sweeper looked up and laughed. "You've got it all wrong," he said. "He doesn't care about the government secret. He's after the triumvirate."

"Who?" asked Austin, more insistently.

But Parker put her hand up, and cut in the interrogation. "What do you mean, he's after the triumvirate."

"The best way to get at the triumvirate is through Mr. Parker," Dave the sweeper explained. "So he came up with a plan to bring embarrassment to Mr. Parker by making sure an outside agency suddenly took interest in the activities of The Centre - we thought making it look like spies were working from The Centre would do the trick just fine, as it was sure to attract government attention. Once Mr. Parker knew about the outside investigation inside The Centre, we were sure he would put his daughter in charge of the investigation. And once you're investigating, it's just a matter of time before you fall into our trap - which means we have Parker, because everyone at The Centre knows that the way to get to Daddy Parker is through his little angel."

Miss Parker's blood boiled over at that last remark. She gave Dave the sweeper a resounding slap across the face, but it still was not enough to wipe his smirk off. Austin had to take her out of the room try to calm her down.

But, as Miss Parker was positively fuming, Steve thought it was better to let her pace out her frustrations before trying to talk to her. He waited a few minutes before saying "So it's personal. They're after you and your father. We can use it to our advantage."

"How?" Miss Parker asked, her anger still quite evident.

"Now that we know it is personal, we'll be on our guards more. Plus, that probably means that, as long as you don't fall in their trap, they'll keep making the transmission. And that gives us all the more chances to track down from where they originate - and capture whoever is responsible."

"And while we're waiting for that transmission," Parker continued, her anger still seeping through her words, "I'll continue the interrogation of that sweeper."

"Before you do that, Miss Parker," Steve stopped her, "I'd like to ask something. Would you be willing to go to your father, to present to him a new proposition from the OSI."

Parker turned around. "What?" she asked, her tone letting him know she thought it was a waste of her time.

"I don't care about the power struggle within your organization. But I do care about those leaked government secrets - even if that sweeper doesn't. And I am determined to stop them." Steve paused, for a fraction of a second. He was, after all, playing a hutch, and he was not sure which way it would go. But he had recognized that photo in Sydney's file - there was no mistaking it. And from the little he had heard during Miss Parker's conversations with her father of with Broots, he got the feeling this was important to them. "Now, what if, instead of just helping us put an end to the transmission, you were to deliver the man to us, in exchange for, say, Jarod?"

The proposition shocked Miss Parker - the shock of the unexpected. "Do you know where Jarod is hiding?" she asked, almost incredulous.

"That depends," replied Austin. "Why are you after him?"

"He's a psychiatric patient whom The Centre was looking after, for his family. He escaped from our care a few years ago, stealing some corporate secrets with him. We'd like to have back what he stole, of course, - but, he is also mentally unstable, and could be dangerous. We need to get him back, as much for his own good as to protect those he might hurt." Parker had used that lie a few times before. The more she used it, she thought, the more convincing she became. She put all her efforts of deception behind it this time.

"Suppose I was to tell you I know where you can find him - do we have a deal?"

"I'll talk to my father," she replied, before leaving him, presumably to go to Mr. Parker's office.

Steve watched her as she was leaving. What she had told him worried him - for Jaime.


*
* *
"Good morning, Ms. Callahan. Is Ms Sommers in her office?" Jarod asked Jaime's secretary.

"Oh, hello, Dr. Olivet. Yes, she came in about five minutes ago."

"Good. I need to talk to her privately. Please hold her calls," he ordered, before walking into the office.

"Jaime - I need to talk to you privately!"

Jaime looked up. Jarod was standing by the door, holding a silver Haliburton briefcase. There had been, in his voice, a hint of . . . well, not exactly brusqueness, more like urgency. His face showed the same. She motioned him to a seat. "What can I do for you, Jarod?"

"It concerns Sue Davidson. If we want her to get better - and I presume we both do- we're going to start to trust each other. It's been obvious to me that there's more to you than meets the eye - like it's probably been obvious to you that there's more to me than meets your eyes. In the interest of helping Sue, I thought I'd come here so we can make a clean slate.

"I'll start. I'm not really a psychiatrist - I'm not even a doctor."

Jarod paused to let that simple statement sink in, watching her carefully for the first reaction.

After a few seconds, Jaime picked up her phone and called her secretary. "Judy - hold my calls." She put the phone down, looked at Jarod, taking a few more seconds to study him before continuing. "Who are you with? The OSI?" she asked, initially assuming Jarod was some kind of investigator.

"I'm not with anyone," he replied. "I'm a pretender. I have the ability to become anyone or assume any profession I want or need. For example - I read about Sue and wanted to help her, so I became a psychiatrist."

"Jarod, this is rather hard to believe. Do you really expect me take you seriously?"

"Oh, I have proof, and I will show it to you in just a minute," Jarod replied. "When I was little, I was taken from my family by a corporation know as The Centre that wanted to exploit my talents. They kept me in isolation, and had me run simulations, which they recorded. When I was younger, they insured my collaboration by saying the simulations were to benefit mankind. As I grew up, I realized it wasn't always exactly true. Three years ago, I escaped, taking the video records of the simulations with me. The Centre has been trying to recapture me ever since.

"Since I broke out, I've been using my talents to help individual people - rather like what I'm doing with Sue. But for obvious reasons, I've kept these skills of mine a secret. I don't want anybody else exploiting me because they see the talents and ignore the individual."

That struck a chord with Jaime. It hit a little too close to home, she thought. It was almost like he knew the reasons why she had left the OSI all those years ago, vowing never to accept another mission, never to let them use her bionics while ignoring her. To this day, she still had bitter memories of the beauty pageant they had forced her to enter. Since her resignation, of course, she had come to make peace with herself, Oscar had strongly defended her point of view with his superiors, and she had started again doing the occasional undercover mission. But she had never let herself get exploited again like she had been during those early years.

She took another good look at Jarod. What could he possibly want, she thought, with that revelation out of the blue? "If you want to keep this secret, Jarod, why tell me?" she inquired.

Jarod hesitated. All he had told her so far were generalities. Now, he had to admit to doing something criminal - and to probing into her past. He wasn't sure how she would take it. But he had to tell her. "Because there's more to my abilities than what I've told you. One of the things that I can do is simulate anyone's personality. When it became obvious to me that someone did not want Sue to recover, I assumed, successively, the personality of each staff member of the clinic until I could eliminate them as a suspect. But there was something about you that I could not simulate at all - a complete mystery. That's why I was starting to suspect you.

"I was determined to find out what it was. So, last night, I broke into the OSI database to find out what the link was between them and you. What I did find out was that, in 1969, the OSI contracted The Centre to run a simulation for them. This is what the simulation was."

Jarod put his Haliburton briefcase on Jaime's coffee table, and revealed the DSA player. He put the disk into the drive and played the recording for her. At first, she was pretty confused. But when the young Jarod explained why he was "running slowly", she shuddered. Only Jamie and Steve could understand that sensation, for they experienced it themselves every time they accelerated past human limits: that no matter how fast they ran, it still felt exactly like slow motion. And as far as she knew, neither of them had described the effect to anyone else, not even to Rudi. As for Michael and Kate, whose bionics were more advanced than their predecessors', they did not have quite the same feeling. And when the young pretender proclaimed that "that's the only way anyone will psychologically accept bionic implants," Jaime's shock was total.

Jarod turned off the DSA player and waited for a few seconds to let Jamie absorb everything. "That's why I told you my secret: because I found out yours. I know you're bionic. Your secret is safe. I hope mine is also."

It took a few more moments before Jaime could speak. "You're asking me to believe that bionics, a highly sophisticated scientific development that required years or research, succeeded because of the . . . simulation . . . of a ten year old?"

"That is correct."

There was a long pause while no one said anything. Jarod thought the air was getting heavier and heavier as he was waiting for a response from Jaime, as he really did not know how she would react.

"Uh - could you give me some time alone, Jarod, please? I really need to think this out. I'll have to get back to you on this later today."


*
* *
Broots barely looked up when Miss Parker came into his office. "I searched the OSI personnel files like you wanted," he reported. "There's only one Jarod listed for the whole organization."

Parker did not even wait for Broots to finish as she turned his computer screen towards her. "Jarod Bond," she read aloud. "Figures - he's getting more and more obvious, tough"

"Miss Parker" Broots tried to get her attention.

She ignored him. "Good work, Broots. We won't even have to accept Austin's proposal," she continued thinking aloud.

"Ha, . . . Miss Parker," Broots tried once more, still to no avail.

"Maybe we could send Sydney with a sweeper team while we're finishing here. I'd love to see the colonel's face when we show him we've got Jarod as a prisoner and that he's got no deal."

"Miss Parker," Broots tried again, getting more insistent.

"What!?" she finally acknowledge him.

"Jarod Bond is described as five foot two, with blond hair and an amputated left arm. He's a cafeteria worker in the OSI's Colorado base."

Miss Parker's face - and her good humor - sank. "If you see Austin," she ordered, as she left the room, "let him know my father accepts his proposal."


*
* *

Rudi Wells' laboratory
OSI West coast headquarters

Rudi looked up from the processor he was trying to rebuild. "Jaime! This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Rudi, there's something I need to know. I've wondered about it from time to time, late at nights when I can't get to sleep. You know, just thinking about how lucky I am to still be alive after the skydiving accident.

But now, something happened, and I really feel I have to ask you. When you were developing bionics for the first time, did you always meant for them to be better than normal human limbs? Wouldn't it have been safer to develop bionics that duplicate normal human skills? More people could have benefited from them, and there would be no danger of the technology being used by the wrong people."

Rudi Wells' expression changed. "Jaime, you just reminded me of my one failure - my one major regret in life. That was the first intended purpose of bionics - to replace limbs of paraplegics, to eventually make wheelchairs obsolete. But, before we tested them on humans, we had to make sure it would work, that humans would psychologically accept them. So we had a study done by a private corporation -"

"The Centre?" Jaime asked.

"Yes, that's right - The Centre. At that time, we had them do a lot of theoretical work for us. If I remember correctly, they're also the ones who came up with that experimental procedure we used to save your life when you were rejecting your bionics.

Anyway, we had them do a psychological simulation of patients, to see if humans could accept bionic limbs. Their results were clear. Bionics as regular human limbs were a failure, but would succeed if they surpassed regular human abilities. Further research indicated that, once the patient had adapted to bionics, we could tone the strength down - but it still required that we wait until the patient had adapted to bionic limbs, before we could tone it down.

"When I got those results, I decided to see the bionics project reach its logical development - which ended up being Steve - and then pursue research to find a way to adapt our finding to develop more normal human limbs. Unfortunately, funding stopped for that part of the research. I was ordered to concentrate my efforts on perfecting bionics as we know them, and forget about them as regular prostheses replacement."

Jaime waited a few seconds, out of respect for her friend's sense of failure, then asked, hopefully: "Do you know how The Centre conducted its study?"

Rudi was caught by surprise by the question. He thought about it, then admitted "I really don't know. All I know is that The Centre handled many research contracts for the government at that time, and had a solid reputation. I remember that the woman who had conducted the research for us. . . . What was her name again? Oh yeah, Parker! Well, the poor woman committed suicide less than a year after working on the bionics project."



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Jarod's office
Jaime Sommers' rehab clinic

Jaime walked into Jarod's office, and closed the door behind her. He looked up, silently, waiting for her to speak.

"It was a skydiving accident," she answered his unvoiced question. "Somehow, my parachute got tangled, and I crashed down. Both my legs were crushed, my right arm broken, as well as some internal damage to my right ear. My fiancé at the time, Steve, who's now my husband, and whom you met last week, knew about bionics, and convinced the OSI to operate on me. It seems I owe you some thanks for making it possible to save my life." An edited version, Jaime thought, but there were some things he doesn't need to know, such as the fact that Steve was also bionic, or that she had rejected her bionics and almost died from it.

"And I owe you some thanks too. Before meeting you, I did know for sure whether or not all those sims I performed for The Centre had actually helped someone."

Jaime came to sit down beside him. "What can you do to help Sue, Jarod? You said you can assume someone else's personality. Can you assume Sue's personality and find out who's trying to hurt her?"

"It . . . it doesn't work exactly that way," Jarod tried to explain. "I did assume Sue's personality for awhile. When I did, I could see a great fear, but there was also . . . something . . . like a wall that I couldn't get through. Now the fear is normal, after the ordeal she went through, but even that does not explain why I have to start over every day with her. Unless someone is undermining my efforts."

"That's why you're so sure someone's trying to hurt her?"

Jarod nodded. "To find out who, I've had to assume the personality of all the staff members at the clinic."

"And...?" prodded Jaime

"Nothing," Jarod admitted. "I had kept you for last. And when I did try to simulate your personality, as I explained this morning, I could feel I was missing a piece of the puzzle, which ended up being your bionics, and that made me suspect you. Now that I know you can be trusted...." Jarod left it unsaid, but Jaime knew what he meant. All his efforts had been for nothing - or almost for nothing - and he did not know what to do now.

They both sat silently for a few minutes, mulling the problem over. Suddenly, Jaime thought of something. "Jarod, you said you tried to simulate Sue's personality. Would you be willing to try it again - with a variation, this time?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'll explain later, but I have an idea. Can I have Sue's file? I'd like to go over it, to see if my idea fits the facts."

Jarod handed it to her, intrigued.



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Jarod's hideout
Later that night

Jaime hesitated as she walked into Jarod's hotel room. Like most hotels Jarod had stayed in since escaping, it was in bad need of renovations. The room held nothing more than a bed, a few chairs, and a table, where Jarod's few possessions were cluttered. Jaime grabbed a chair, and sat down across the table from Jarod. "How can you stand this?" she asked.

"I don't have much choice," he explained, as he helped himself to a candy from his Pez dispenser. "The Centre has people that can hack into almost all computer bases around the country. If I went into one of the more upscale hotels, if I ever were to rent a condo, Mr. Broots would probably find out about it, and report to Miss Parker. At least here, I can stay hidden - . . . for some time."

"Now that I know about you," offered Jaime, "I can offer you shelter for a time. Steve and I have a guest room - you're more than welcome to it."

"Thank you, but the longer I stay in any one place, the greater the risk that The Centre will find me. In fact, I've stayed at your clinic longer than I've stayed at any other jobs before - and that was only to help Sue."

"Well, let's talk about that, since that's why I came here."

"You said on the phone that you might have found something in her file."

"Yes, I think I might I've picked up on something you overlooked. I called a friend of mine in Ottawa, Dr. Crane - he's a well respected psychiatrist with an international reputation. He's going to be the keynote speaker at a conference I'm attending in a few days, so I thought I'd ask him for some help while I'm there. Anyway, I gave him a call to consult with him, and I think I might be on to something."

"What?" Jarod asked, hopeful

Jaime hesitated before replying. What she was going to ask of Jarod was all new to her, and she did not want to hurt her chances by spoiling the results beforehand. "Jarod," Jaime almost whispered, "Sue has gone through hell long enough. We have to find out what is wrong. If I tell you what I suspect, can you do another simulation of Sue's personality, to determine if I'm right or wrong?"

Jarod looked down for a second. It wasn't from shame, Jaime thought upon seeing his reaction. It was more as if Jaime had touched on something extremely personal with her question. She almost wished she hadn't asked.

"I had already decided to do one," Jarod finally stated after a moment.

"Then you'll have to tell me how you want it done. Should I tell you my theory before, or after you've performed your simulation?"

Jarod got up, and went to the window. He stared out, looking at nothing in particular. He knew it would be coming up, eventually, but it was still hard to let someone else through. No one, except for Sydney, had ever been present while he was doing a simulation. When he had escaped from The Centre, he had promised himself nobody else would ever be. It wasn't so much because the simulations were personal, but he always felt so vulnerable while performing them. And he did not want to let anyone else ever see him in that vulnerable state. And, he was also afraid that having someone else see the simulations would lead, once again, to the exploitation he was so desperately running away from.

After a moment, he went back to where he had been seated. He helped himself to another Pez candy, and offered one to Jaime, who politely declined. "I think it would be best," he finally said, "if you were to test out your theory during the simulation."

"How can I do that?" ask Jaime.

"Question me as if you would question Sue. For all intends and purposes, you will be."

"That's not exactly what I meant, Jarod. In the bionic simulation you showed me, you were still definitely Jarod, even if you were acting and feeling like a bionic person. Will you still be conscious - will I still be talking to Jarod? Or to Sue?"

"It's hard for me to explain," admitted Jarod. "In a way, I will be Sue. But my subconscious will still be Jarod. My reactions will be Sue's reactions - but at the same time as I instantly react, I will be able to analyze objectively the reactions in the part of my mind that is still Jarod. Even if Sue is not able to answer you, Jarod might."

"When do you want to do it?"

Jarod looked up. "Now?" he answered. Jaime nodded in agreement.

Jarod got up, and went to the bed. From underneath it, he pulled out a box, and took out some dolls. "Some of Sue's toys - it helps me get a handle on her personality," he explained.

"One more thing," Jarod asked Jaime. "If we don't succeed, please don't say it's because I don't want to help her!" Jaime agreed, not fully understanding the reasons behind the request.

Jarod sat on the bed, holding Sue's dolls. He started staring into nothingness. After a short moment, he let go of the doll, and held his knees as he was sitting.

"Sue?" asked Jaime.

"I want to answer, but can't," replied Jarod, his tone of voice sounding different. "I'm scared."

"Because your parents are dead?" continued Jaime.

Jarod nodded, then added, "There's more to it."

"It's OK." Jaime had switched to same tone she would have been using if she were really trying to help a child. "Someone will be there to take care of you."

"It's not just that," Jarod replied. Again, his voice sounded different than usual.

"If you'd only tell us, Sue, we could help you. We could help you to get better."

At this, Jarod looked down. He acted like someone trying to withdraw upon himself.

"What is it, Sue?" Jaime inquired, gently, but feeling she was definitely on the right track. "Don't you want to get better?"

"It's my fault," Jarod started to say. "It's my fault." All of a sudden, Jarod stopped. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again, and turned to look at Jaime. His eyes reflected his sense of triumph. "She's blaming herself for her parents' death," he stated, his voice back to his normal, confident self.

"That's why she doesn't want to get better," Jaime concluded.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Once again, Steve, Parker, Broots and a team of sweepers were waiting more of less patiently by Broots surveillance equipment. Broots had reconnected it, both directly to Lyle's line, and to the retransmission box their unknown antagonist had set up in SL-18. The team had turned an unoccupied room on SL-16 into a makeshift war room. Both Parker and Austin thought it more likely that Mr. X., as Broots had started calling him, was operating in the lower levels of The Centre, rather than on the main floors, where the "corporate" offices were.

Just as Miss Parker was looking at her watch for the umpteenth time, Broots called her over. She looked at the information displayed on his laptop, then looked down at him with a quizzical look, as she did not understand the information displayed. Broots looked back up and explained, "It's coming from the Tower."

"Let's go!" Miss Parker ordered

Miss Parker led the way, with Austin besides her, as the small troop made its way to The Tower. Once inside, they rapidly ran down two flights of stairs. But, just as they were to get to their destination, the third sub-level, they were met by two armed men. "That's far enough, Miss Parker," greeted one of them. The whole troop stopped.

One of the two men started towards them. As he was going up the stairs, he was unaware that Steve was evaluating the situation: the other man would be about ten steps below, somewhat to the side, but at the right angle. All Steve had to do was to let the man come to them. So he did.

The man stopped two steps below the group. "Your gun, please, Miss Parker," he demanded, with mock politeness.

That's what Steve had been waiting for. With bionic-quick reflexes, he used his left leg to kick the man in the stomach. The bionic kick had enough force to not only knock the wind out of the man, but send him stumbling down the stairs on his stunned accomplice.

Miss Parker and the sweepers quickly ran down the remaining steps to encircle the two men, and turn the table on them. "Your guns, please, gentlemen," she ordered, taking delights in using the same mock-polite phrase. Once she had safely disarmed the two, she turned towards her sweepers. "One of you bring them up to the same holding cell as the other one. The rest continues with me.

Miss Parker drew up her gun, and carefully opened the stairwell door. She drew a glance down the corridor. It looked safe enough. She nodded to Austin, then threw the door wide open. She and Austin went first, with guns pointing at opposite ends of the corridor. After a second, when they were sure it was safe, the let their guns down, and signaled to the rest to follow them. They made their way towards the only room in that section of The Centre - the room that Broots equipment had identified as the source of the transmission.

When they got to the door, Parker positioned herself right in front, while Austin was off to the side, right against the wall. Miss Parker drew up her gun once more, and gestured a "1-2-3" signal to Austin. On "3", he opened the door wide, and Parker, gun ready, got into the room -

- and looked at a half a dozen sweepers waiting for her with guns drawn and aimed.

She dropped her weapon.

The sweepers quietly gathered the guns and cell phones from Miss Parker and her troop, and led them to a holding cell.

"Great!" Commented Miss Parker, as the door was closed and locked on them. "Now what?"

"Patience, Miss Parker," Steve commented. "We will get out of here. But we don't want to get out just to walk in another trap."

"So now we wait?" she asked.

But she did not have to wait too long, as the door opened, and someone walked in. He had the self-assured look of someone in charge whose plan was progressing exactly as he intended. As the light came over his face, Miss Parker recognized him.

"You're one of Raines man!" she exclaimed. "I should have known that wheezing old fool was behind the attempt to harm my father."

"Really, Miss Parker, you must not know Julius or Raines all that well if that's what you think. Julius in no one's man but his own. And as for Raines, that old man has neither enough motivation nor imagination to pull off what I did. As much as he would like to see your father removed so that he can run The Centre, he would never dream of humiliating your father in the eyes of the Triumvirate by exposing us to outside investigation - which is what I've managed rather well to succeed. And, don't forget, your father is not the real target here, the Triumvirate is. Your father is just a convenient step on the ladder to my goal. Do you really think Raines would have the nerves to go against the hand that fed him? It takes guts to do that - something Julius has a lot more of than Raines."

Steve stepped up to stand beside Miss Parker. "OK, so you've got us, now. What do you intend to do with us?"

Julius looked at him. "You must be the OSI agent. Unfortunately, Mr. Agent, you're a liability that I can afford to keep much longer. But, don't worry, once I've disposed of you, I'll contact Snow White, whoever he is, to let him know where he can find your body. Oh, and I'll also assure him that the transmission he cares so much about have ended."

"And the rest of us?" asked Parker, defiant.

"Well, I do need you to get to your father - but Mr. Broots is not so valuable to me, and neither is the rest of your team." Concluding his little cock-a-doodle of victory on this threat, Julius got out of the room, leaving his prisoner to their thought.

Before she got the chance to say anything, Steve walked up to Miss Parker. "Now, we know what we wanted to know," Steve told her. "We know who's in charge, and we can guess from where he's operating. Let's wait five minutes or so, to give him a false sense of triumph - and then, we act."

"What do we do?" asked Miss Parker.

"Leave that to me - it's my playing field now," Steve replied. "Now, if we were to be successful, but something was to happen to me, get my cell phone, call the number memorized in speed dial "1", and let Snow White know the results. My code name is Bashful - yours is Little Red Riding Hood."

Upon hearing this, Broots let out a chuckle. Parker turned around and sent him a look which, even in the dim light of the holding cell and a five feet distance between the two, made Broots cower back a few steps.

Steve continued taking charge of the action, and went up to Broots. "Mr. Broots, do you know where the power switches for this floor would be?"

"I think so, yes"

"Good. I'll need you to turn the lights off on this floor. All of them. Can you do that?"

"Sure, if you get us out of this room first."

"Consider it done."

Steve then went up to the door. He tried scanning it in the infrared frequencies, but it was useless. The door and the walls were thick enough to block anything that would be on the other side. He put his ear flat against the door, but could not hear anything. He wished he had Jaime's bionic ear. At least, she would be able to hear even just the breathing of the guards posted outside - if there were any. Steve had no way of knowing.

Steve turned his attention away from the door, and looked at the holding cell. The sole source of lighting came from a light bulb. The lighting in the halls had also been dim, and nothing from there was leaking into the cell. Chances were, then, that the guards, if they were there could not see anything in the cell if there was no light in it. "Miss Parker," he asked, "may I have one of your shoes?"

"One of my . . . shoes?" she repeated.

"Yes, that's right, on your shoes," Steve insisted.

Miss Parker sat down, took off her right shoe, and handed it to Steve. Taking it, he went to stand directly below the light bulb. He looked up to judge the distance and then jump up ten feet or so. As soon as he got close enough to the bulb, he used Miss Parker's shoe to smash it, and throw the room into darkness. Back on the floor, he once again switched his bionic eye to the infrared frequencies. He went back to where Miss Parker was sitting and handed her shoe back, after making sure there was no glass in it.

"OK, now, everyone be as quiet as possible," he ordered. "Stand on both sides of the door - you'll know when to act."

Steve waited until his instructions had been followed, then went up to the door. He jumped on it, and smashed it down.

The two guards on the opposite end we stunned as they witnessed the door crashing down. Before any of them had time to react, Steve was back up on his feet. He grabbed one of the guards, and shoved him against the other, sending both of them falling out on the floor. Miss Parker and the sweepers were on them in no time, disarmed them, and locked them up in the holding cell besides the one they just crashed out of. Once that was taken care of, Steve held another quick briefing. "Mr. Broots, you take care of the lights. Can you get to them within ten minutes?"

Broots nodded an answer, then added "You'll only have a two or three minutes before maintenance checks out the problem, and turns the switch back on - five at the most."

"That's enough for my needs. Let's synchronize our watches. Don't kill the lights before it's exactly 27 minutes after. That will be our cue.

"Miss Parker," he continued, once Broots had left to carry out his instructions, "did you have any chance to notice anything about the room where the trap had been set?"

"Yes, it was an old stockroom which looked like they turned into their point of operation."

"Stockroom? Did it still have crates, or anything like that?"

"Yes"

"Good - they'll give us something to hide behind if we need it. I'll go in the room alone - I'll have more chances to defeat them if they think I'm by myself. Don't come in unless I call.

"Oh, and the first thing I'll do is disarm them, and throw their weapons towards the door. Make sure you pick them up. Now, let's our way to the stockroom by keeping to the shadows. Once there, we'll wait for Mr. Broots to take care of the lights."

The team did as Steve instructed. When they were a couple of feet from the stockroom, they stopped. Steve checked his watch. They still had two minutes to wait before the lights went out. They held their breath.

Right on cue, the darkness came.

Inside the stockroom, Julius and the four sweepers still with him were thrown off by the sudden power failure. "Get the flashlights," Julius ordered. But, as the sweepers scrambled to find the hidden flashlights, a shout of panic interrupted them. Because of the darkness, they could not see what had caused it. Otherwise, they would have seen that the sweeper who had been closed to the door had been lifted from his feet, disarmed, then thrown towards the general direction of the wall, only to come crashing in some of the crates.

But, only one person had seen what had happened, and Steve was already running towards the next closest sweeper. This one had had time to get his gun out. But, whereas Steve could see him, he could not see Steve. All Steve needed to do was to give a good chop on the sweeper's hand, who let out a cry of pain as he dropped his gun. Steve immediately picked it up, shoved it towards the door like he had promised Miss Parker he would do, and had done with the other man's gun. He shoved the sweeper aside.

When Steve turned around, he had a light flashed in his face. Julius and the two remaining sweepers had taken their flashlights out, and had hoped to blind Steve. But it only blinded his human eye, on which he hadn't relied on during the fight. He jumped to the side, and rolled behind some crates. He pulled out a couple of planks from the crates, and threw them towards the two remaining sweepers, aiming for their hands.

By reflex, the sweepers put their hands up to protect themselves, as they saw the planks coming at them. This had the effect Steve had been aiming for, as they dropped their gun. One of those two sweepers was infuriated enough by this turn of even that he decided to make a run for Steve.

Steve let that man get closer to him. When this third sweeper was close enough to throw a punch, Steve effortlessly jumped up about seven feet in the air, and landed on the other side of the surprised attacker. Steve turned around, and, because of his momentum, used his left arm to punch him in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of the sweeper, Steve used his right arm to push him away.

As he was about to turn his attention to Julius and the last sweeper, Steve felt a "thump" against his legs. Turning around, he saw the last of Julius's men, holding a four-feet metal pole. He had obviously hoped to knock Steve down with it, and had aimed for the legs. He was now holding it higher. Steve backed up as the man raised it up to try to take another hit, grabbed the pole, and with one quick "swooch", sent the man flying halfway across the room.

But, just as Steve was letting go of the metal-pole, he was attack from his left side. One of the first sweepers he had knocked up had recovered, and had taken Steve by surprise. With Steve down on the floor, the sweeper punched him in the head once or twice. But Steve was not to let himself get beaten so easily. And brought his two feet together and hit the sweeper's ankles on his right feet. The pain and surprise felt by the sweeper gave just enough room to Steve to first fold up his legs in between himself and the sweeper and then use them to push his attacker away. The sweeper arced through the air, and came crashing down on the floor.

Steve turned on his side, and looked straight at Julius, who was looking back with his gun aimed straight at Steve. It was easy for Steve to figure out what had happened. While he was busy fighting off the sweepers, Julius had picked up one of the flashlights and one of the guns which had been dropped. But the metal pole was still lying on the ground near Steve. He grabbed it and threw it towards Julius.

Just as the pole hit Julius and made him drop his gun, the lights came back on. "Now, Miss Parker," called out Steve, as he got up and ran for Julius.

Miss Parker, Broots and their sweepers ran into the room, guns drawn. This time, what they saw was considerably different than what they had seen the first time: their would be antagonists were mostly lying on the ground, in no condition to put up a fight; Steve was holding Julius up and the air, carrying him across the room, finally sitting him rather unceremoniously atop of a crate by Miss Parker. With a few silent commands, Miss Parker had her sweeper escort their new prisoners out of the room.

When only she, Broots and Austin were left, she turned towards Steve. "Where can I find Jarod?" she asked, all other preoccupation now gone with the successful capture of Julius and his men.

"Give me a day," he asked. "I have to contact my superiors, so that arrangements are made for receiving Julius and his eventual trial. Then, you can come with me to California - I'll take you to Jarod once Julius is safely in the care of the OSI."

Chapter 3

Jaime's office
Rehabilitation clinic

Oscar stopped cold at the entrance of Jaime's office. He couldn't help but stare at her secretary. After a moment, she looked up. "Can I help you, sir?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry," Oscar managed to mumbled. "I'm Oscar Goldman."

Judy Callahan stood up. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. My aunt has told me everything about you."

"Jaime mentioned that you were working for her now, but she didn't mentioned how much you look like your aunt."

"I hear that a lot," Callahan smiled. "Miss Sommers is not busy. You can go in if you want to."

"Thank you, Miss Callahan.

"Hey, babe!"

Even if the bionic hear hadn't picked up the conversation just outside her office, Jaime still would have known instantly who it was. Only one person had ever dared call her that. To this day, she hadn't succeeded in making him stop using that "compliment". "And what brings you along today, Mr. Goldman?" she joked.

"You're certainly cheerful today. It's a nice change from the past couple of weeks, when the stress was getting to you. I assume you had good news?"

"Only speculative at this point," Jaime admitted, "but Dr. Olivet and I may finally have a handle on Sue's case, which will help us help her. We were discussing her symptoms last night, and we had a thought. We had assumed, almost from the beginning, that someone was undermining the progress Dr. Olivet was making with Sue, so that she never got better. We had an inspiration last night. What is that someone was Sue herself? That would explain a lot."

"That's your domain," Oscar conceded. "But if you're right, that would be the best news in months."

"Well, you have no idea how happy we were last night, when we had that thought. I just hope our optimism is well founded."

"I think I can imagine," he replied, the optimism visible on his face. "Now, I hate to spoil your good mood," he continued, taking a more serious tone as he broached the subject for which he had come to visit her in the first place, "but did you get a message from Steve?"

"Not since he left for his mission, why?"

"Well, his reports have been brief and terse, as if there was something he could not say. Rudi told me that you were asking about The Centre yesterday, so I thought maybe he had tried to contact you to get a message out."

Something started to sound wrong in Jaime's mind. "What's Steve got to do with The Centre?"

"Oh, you didn't know? That's where Steve is right now. He infiltrated that corporation when we received confirmed reports that a spy was transmitting information from there."

"No, I had no idea, Steve didn't tell me any details about this assignment."

Oscar sat down. "I'm worried about him," he admitted. "In his last message, he said he's coming back tomorrow, so I shouldn't worry. But there was something in his voice - concern, I think - it just didn't sound right."

Now, Jaime was definitely worried. What had started as something that did not sound right, had grown into a nagging feeling and was now evolved into full-blown alarm bells. But it wasn't Steve she was concerned about. She tried to reassure Oscar. "Hey, after thirty years as head of the OSI, haven't you learned you don't solve anything by worrying? Besides, Steve knows how to handle himself by now."

"I hope you're right," Oscar said. But when he looked up to Jaime, his face showed just how deeply he was worried about the man who was not only his agent, but one of his oldest friends. He and Jaime exchanged a few more pleasantries before he got up and left.

Jaime waited at the window until she saw him get into his car before she picked up the phone and dialed Jarod's office. His secretary answered. "Have him come to my office as soon as he's free," she asked. "We might have a problem."

When Jarod did come up to Jaime's office, she told him of her suspicions. Both of them agreed not to take any chances, and spent the day in preparations. Jarod drew up a list of instructions for whoever would replace him looking after Sue, and then proceeded with the more delicate task of making himself a complete set of fake ID, including a passport. Jaime had the much less enjoyable task of informing one of her doctors that he was no longer going to the Ottawa psychiatric conference with her. He did not take the news well, until Jarod came up to him and gave him ten one-hundred dollar bills, "for the inconvenience". They left on the redeye flight that night.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chateau Laurier Hotel
Ottawa, Canada

"You realize I won't be able to stay in the room that the clinic had booked, don't you?" Jarod mentioned, as the taxi was pulling up in front of one of the most luxurious hotels in town.

"I was hoping you could, for a change. I don't like the idea of you going to another of those run-down motels."

"It's not because I like it," he reassured her.

They took their baggage out of the car. While Jaime had brought a suitcase with enough clothes for a four day stay, Jarod had nothing but the Haliburton case which held the DSA player and a duffel bag holding his few possession (his clothes, the few photos he had of his family, and, of course, his Mr. Potato Head). Jarod didn't like the contrast they were making. Too visible, he thought, which meant someone was likely to notice and remember. That hotel employees noticed, he didn't mind - in fact, he counted on it. It's the casual passerby he was worried about. Chances were slim, but none the less existent, that someone who would notice here might remember his face and see him again close to wherever he would end up staying. And if Miss Parker got her hands on this person... Well, that's a thought he didn't like.

At the concierge's desk, Jarod insisted on paying for his room before Jaime could say anything. Thinking that he had changed his mind, she did not argue. But she was surprised when he insisted against receiving change for the American currency he had used for paying the room.

Jaime waited until they were alone in her room before asking him "What made you change your mind about the hotel?"

"Nothing. I didn't change my mind. But, this way, if - or rather, when - The Centre comes looking for me in Ottawa, that should lead them on a false path."

Ingenious, thought Jaime. She simply nodded in approval. Jaime was about to get out of the room, when Jarod stopped her with a question.

"Jaime - exactly how strong are your bionics?"

"You were right about the sixty miles per hour," she replied. As for my arm,..." Jaime hesitated, searching for the right description. A phone book on the night stand caught her eye. Normally, she did not like such "parlor tricks", but Jarod had shared something personal with her just a few nights ago, so she felt obliged to reciprocate. She picked up the phone book, and tore in up in two, as if it were no thicker than a piece of paper. She looked up back as Jarod, and saw how impressed he was.

The rest of the day went by without incident. Jarod found an out-of-the-way, older hotel on one of the roads leading out of town. He and Jaime spend the evening sight seeing. Jaime was quite amused when Jarod insisted on trying one of every kind of beavertails, the local Ottawa pastry. But, in the end, they proved too much, even for Jarod's insatiable curiosity. The parted late that evening, returning to their respective hotels.

Jaime was just finishing her breakfast the next morning when she heard it.

"Patience, Parker," an older gentleman was admonishing. While Jaime waived to the waiter to get her bill, she concentrated on the rest of that conversation.

"We're close, Sydney, I can feel it," came the reply, probably from Miss Parker, Jaime guessed. Jaime could hear everything else distinctly as they asked the concierge to call up first Jarod's room, then her own. When she stepped into the front lobby, She tried to avoid looking around the lobby, so that she would not pick up Miss Parker and Broots before anybody pointed them out to her. "Excuse-me", she told the front desk clerk, "I'm Jaime Sommers, from room 216. Could you please call me a cab?"

"Yes, of course," the clerk replied. "Oh, and these people were looking for you and Mr. Olivet," he added, pointing towards a group of three people.

Jaime turned around. Jarod's description as the ice queen was right, she thought, when she got her first look at Miss Parker. She was standing with her fists on her hips, looking somewhat annoyed. An older gentleman was standing behind her - Sydney, guessed Jaime. He looked more relaxed, more cultured even. The other man's look shouted "computer geek who buys clothes at the discount rack of K-mart" - no doubt about it, that was Broots. "I'm Jaime Sommers," she identified herself to them. "I'm told you're looking for me?"

"Actually," replied Parker, with impatience dripping from her voice, "we're looking for Dr. Olivet."

"Oh, I'm sorry, he's already gone to the conference for today. That's why were in town for the weekend - the pharmaceutical conference at the General Hospital," she explained, deliberately moving the location of the conference to a wrong hospital. "May I ask why you're looking for him?"

"We're the local representative for the attorneys representing the estate of Jarod's uncle," Sydney replied as an explanation. "Jarod is the sole heir. It's important we get in touch with him as soon as possible."

Plausible enough, thought Jaime, if it weren't for the fact Broots looked nothing like the part. "I was just about to leave for the conference myself. I'll relay your message. But between the conference, the seminars and the formal dinners, I'm afraid we won't have too much free time either today or tomorrow. This matter might have to wait until we're back in California," Jaime replied, offering lies in exchange for theirs. "If you have your business card, I can ask him to contact you."

Sydney reached inside his coat pocket and gave her one. Jaime put it in her purse, without really looking at it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to go."

Jaime found the cab she had requested waiting for her just outside the Chateau's doors. As she got in, she turned around and looked back at the hotel's door. She could see Miss Parker, Sydney and Broots standing there, looking at her. She smiled and waived to them before getting in the car and closing the door.

The Centre's agent did not waste time in getting in their own car. Sam had been waiting for them, just beside the hotel's taxi stand. As soon as they were in, Sam shadowed Jaime's taxi.

Jaime, however, had fully expected to be followed, so she had taken her precautions. When she was a full time agent for the OSI, she always kept up the habit of studying local maps before she arrived anywhere, a precaution she had taken before coming to Ottawa. And, she had found that the downtown core contained a number of one-way streets, which suited her purposes just fine. She asked the taxi driver to let her off somewhere, anywhere, on McLeod Street, one of those one-way streets. "Broots - follow her!" With all the noise from the street, it was faint, even for the bionic hear, but Jaime still picked it up. Good, she thought. They took the bate.


*
* *

"There - she's getting out," Broots pointed out.

"Which means she must be close to Jarod's hideout," assumed Parker. "Broots - you follow her on foot. We'll be driving behind you."

Broots did not look too happy with his new orders - trailing someone was not in his line of work. But Miss Parker did not look like she wanted to repeat her orders, so Broots stumbled out of the car before she had the change to verbally abuse him. He followed Sommers for a couple of blocks. At least, she was going in the same direction as the traffic, so Broots knew he would have backup in the car.

However, when Jaime got to the second traffic lights, she stopped. Apparently, she had just noticed that her shoelaces were untied, and bent down to tie them. Broots felt really uncomfortable, just standing there, trying to look like he wasn't staring or following someone. He inched his way closer.

Just as the cross signal turned red, Sommers turned around and made straight for him, catching him off guard. "I'm sorry, Mr. Broots," she said to his face, "but you'll have to do better than that if you want to keep up." And Sommers started running in the direction opposite traffic.

Broots was still too shock and embarrassed to react. The only thing he could notice was that, even if she had to duck around pedestrians, she was still running quite fast. At least, he thought, she's running towards The Centre's car. He saw Sam getting out of the car, and was sure the matter would be put to rest. But when Sommers arrived close to Sam, she gave what looked like a small push to get him out of the way - except that the small push send him rolling over the car, and dazed him for a few seconds. Both Parker and Sydney looked shocked as they watched Sam rolling over. Only after a quick moment could they react. Sydney went over to Sam, to help him get up, and make sure he was all right, while Parker took her gun out to give pursuit. But, even if she had hesitated only a few seconds, it was already too late: Sommers was already at the other intersection, and had turned onto another street. By the time Parker got to the intersection and looked for Sommers, she was already out of sight.

"Now I remember where I saw Jaime Sommer's name," announced Broots, as he was getting back into the car. "She was also listed as an operative for that secret OSI project the Centre had worked on."

"Broots, you moron, why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Up until now, I didn't think we would ever run into another bionic human"



*
* *

When Jaime was pretending to tie up her shoe laces, she knew she would have barely one second to take in the scene before reacting. But she needed to lose The Centre agents, if she wanted to get back to Jarod alive. She turned around quickly, to see where lay the best path for her to run away. But the first thing she saw was Mr. Broots sticking out like a sore thumb. She decided to warn him, and walked briskly in his direction before he could react. "I'm sorry, Mr. Broots," she told him, half taunting him, half jesting, "but you'll have to do better than that if you want to keep up." And she started running away, in the direction opposite traffic.

Ducking gracefully around pedestrians, Jamie dared not run at full bionic speed through a crowd and in full public view, but she could certainly outrun anyone on foot.. Following her by vehicle would be impossible, since she was running against traffic, but that left one thing she was still afraid of - guns. And sure enough, as she started running away from Broots, she saw the hired muscle - undoubtedly one of the sweepers Jarod mentioned - getting out of the car. There was no doubt in Jaime's mind that he was armed.

Fortunately for her, she was on him in no time, and she was able to push him aside before he could try anything. But Jaime still did not feel secure. She got off the sidewalk, and accelerated a bit more. In a few seconds, she was at the intersection of Lyon St., another one-way, this time going north to south. She turned north.

If she wanted to, she could use the one-way street to get to the freeway off-ramp, running against traffic all the time. But that was a little flashy, more like Steve's style. She turned on another street, slowed down (while still running faster than any normal human) and made her way to the downtown pedestrian mall. There, she felt she could stop running: she had definitely outrun the Centre's operatives, car were not allowed on this street, and even if by any chance Miss Parker caught up with her, the crowd on the street was just too big for anyone to even consider using a gun.

She looked at her watch. By the time she makes it to hospital, Jarod will have had a good hour to discuss Sue's case with Dr. Crane. She hoped it was enough, because, even tough she would be on time for the opening of the conference and the first speaker, she doubted that they could now afford to stay much too long in Ottawa. She made her way to the closest hotel, hoped in one of the taxis waiting in front of it, and made her way to the Royal Ottawa Hospital, the real site of the conference.

"You're late," Jarod told her when she finally arrived. The tone of his voice betrayed his worry for her.

"Miss Parker decided to join me, just as I was finishing breakfast," Jaime explained in a way that if anyone overheard, it would sound inconspicuous.

"What did you do?"

"I ran away."

Jarod flashed a smile at the thought of consternation on Miss Parker's face. But his smile quickly disappeared. "That changes everything, tough. I have to leave town."

Let's wait after the first speaker," Jaime suggested, "that way we won't stand out as much when we leave. I gave Miss Parker a wrong location for where we are, so we should have some time before it's too critical."

"I hope so," Jarod replied. But he had to admit it would be easier to leave when there was a crowd of people going out of the room.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Dr. Crane?"

"Yes - and he was quite helpful. I'll tell you about it when we make our get away."

Both Jaime and Jarod barely heard a word from first speaker of the conference. They both kept looking at their watch every five minutes, getting more and more nervous as time went by. When the speaker finally finished his speech, Jaime and Jarod joined the crowd that was leaving the room. But, rather than wait for elevators, they thought it would be safer by the stairs, and turned the corner -

- only to see Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots, and Sam starring at them from about fifteen feet, as surprised to unexpectedly run into Jarod as Jarod was of running into them. "Jarod," called out Miss Parker, as she took out her semi-automatic.

But Jaime reacted just as quickly as Miss Parker. She grabbed an empty gurney that was by the wall, and used all her bionic strength to push it towards Jarod's enemies. About five feet from the Centre's agents, the gurney turned ninety degrees or so, leaving no room to run around it. Miss Parker barely had time to grab Sydney and flattened both of themselves against the wall, narrowly avoiding the gurney. Broots and Sam, however, did not react as quickly, and bore the full brunt of the gurney.

A few nurses, attracted by the noise and the commotion, came to see what was going on, and immediately tended to the downed Centre men. Sydney came to make sure they were all right, but Miss Parker barely grunted a comment about them already being in a hospital anyway before running after Jarod.

But neither Jarod nor Jaime had waited around to see the consequences wrecked by the gurney. They had gone back in the hall they had just left and ran into the first empty office they found. They closed and locked the door behind them, and Jaime pushed a desk in front of it to give them more time. They turned their attention to the window.

It was looking out on the lawn, which meant they would lose some time going around the hospital to get a taxi. If Jaime was alone, it would not have posed a problem, but there was also Jarod to think of. Then again, there was no other way out.

"I'll jump out first," she said, "and then, I'll catch you."

"OK," agreed Jarod, hesitantly, but he, too, realizing they did not have much choice.

Jaime stepped on the outside window sill. She did not even hesitate as she jumped down. She landed gracefully, and relatively softly, on the lawn. "OK, it's your turn, now," she called out to Jarod.

Jarod stepped on the window sill, looked down, then up again. He took up a deep breath, then jumped. Jaime put up he bionic arm, and braced her legs. She was able to slow him down enough, but they still both fell with a thud on the lawn. "I thought you were supposed to catch me," he reproached as they were getting up.

"Would you have jumped," she asked, rhetorically, if I had said I was going to break your fall? Come on, let's go, we don't have time to argue.

Just as they were running away, Miss Parker looked out the window of the office besides the one Jaime and Jarod had escaped from. But by the time she made her way back to the front lobby, and out of the hospital, she had completely lost track of both of them.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Tim Horton's Restaurant
Across from Jarod's hideout, highway 16, Ottawa

"So - what do we do now?" Jaime and Jarod had made their way back to Jarod's hotel, sot that he could pick up his belongings before leaving. They were going over the events of the past hours, and their next move, over a cappuccino and bagel.

"Well, it is too dangerous to stay here," Jarod stated, "but I had really hoped I would have had more time to plan where I want to go next. I don't like planning my next move when I'm desperate." Jarod thought things over for a few minutes. "You know," he said, with an almost smile forming on his face has the idea developed in his mind, "during all the time that the three stooges have been after me, there's one thing I still haven't done. I never went back to a hideout I just left. Let's go back to California. It will get you back to safety. And," he added, this time definitely amused, "it will confuse the heck out of Broots and Miss Parker."

Jaime decided not to ask him which one he thought was the most important. "That will get me back to safety," she asked. "What about you?"

"It should give me just enough time to make arrangements to go somewhere, and confuse the tracks."


*
* *


Miss Parker's Hotel Room
The Citadel Hotel, Ottawa

"What do you want to do now, Parker?"

On the way back to the hotel, Miss Parker had tried to relieve her frustration on Broots. However the trip was too short, and as soon as she had stepped in, she had started pacing the room back and forth. Had she not quit smoking, she would undoubtedly be on her fifth cigarette by now. Broots was his cowering self, sitting in the corner of the room, hoping Miss Parker did not notice him. As usual, Sydney was the calmer of the group. When his question drew out Miss Parker from her fuming, she looked at him, almost challenging him.

"He was at a psychiatric conference, Sydney. He's following into your footsteps," she stated with irony. "Any insights?"

"Without knowing more about what led up to that choice," Sydney patiently explained, "I can't really begin to speculate about his motives."

"You're the one who raised him. Do you think he's likely to go back to the conference."

"In all his pretends, Jarod has always aimed to help someone. Depending on how focused he his about helping his current beneficiary, he might. But I think he values more his freedom from The Centre."

"I don't want to sit here talking until it's time to go back to Blue Cove," Parker announced. She turned towards Broots, who felt some sort of sinking feeling when she looked at him. "Broots - anyway you can access The Centre's mainframe from here, and do some sort of search for boy genius?"

"Actually, Miss Parker," Broots started, hesitantly, "I might be able to do something easier and more efficient that that. There's a number of high tech companies in town. In fact, they sometimes refer to Ottawa as Silicon Valley north. I have a number of friends in the security departments of those companies, who think I'm doing essentially the same type of legitimate work as them. We've been in contact over the Internet, exchanging tips, discussing tracking methods. They know I'm looking for someone called Jarod, but don't know the real reason why. One of them, Mr. Wirthlin from System House, owes me a favor. If he can get me access to a computer at Systemhouse, I could use the net to track down any reference to Jarod in Ottawa - hotel, train ticket, plane ticket, you name it."

Miss Parker's expression changed as Broots was explaining it to her. Her look now said, what are you waiting for?

Broots called up his friend, who assured him his request could be met without any considerable difficulties. Within half an hour, the three stooges were at the Systemhouse corporate headquarters. Parker was quite shock to meet Broots friend. Although he looked nothing like him, he acted almost exactly like Broots. Parker felt like she was in the Twilight Zone, suddenly working with two Broots. The two of them logged on the Internet. After a few hours, Broots found something interesting.

"What?" Miss Parker asked, in her usual brief style.

"Sommers and Jarod had reservations to go back to California in three days. They changed it a couple hours ago. They're going back tonight."

"He's going back to California?" Parker asked, almost incredulous.

"He's never done that before," remarked Sydney.

"Call up Austin," ordered Parker to Sydney. "Ask him to pickup Jarod in California. Broots - what time is their flight? I want to arrive after them - but not by too much. Just enough to give him some false sense of security!"




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Outside of Jarod's former hideout
Somewhere in California


There were no reasons, Steve thought, for Jarod to go back to the clinic - it was a weekend, he was supposed to be in Canada, and it would stir up suspicious. That left two possible choices - he went with Jaime to their home, or to the hideout where he had stayed while we was "working" at the clinic. He had played a hunch, and went to the hotel that was listed as his address. Just in case, he had asked Oscar if it could watch over the house for him (Jaime would never be surprise to see him at their home) and Castillian to watch the clinic.

Steve had left his car a few street over, in order not to attract attention. There were two possibilities. Either Jarod would try to escape by the roof, if he did not want anyone to see him leave the building, or he would leave by the street. If he left by the street, it would be a simple matter for Steve to follow and overpower him. But if he left by the room, Steve had to be ready. He went around the building, where there was less chances of him being seen, and jumped up to the roof of the four-story building.

Once there, Steve surveyed the surrounding buildings. They were a little to bit far off for anyone to jump from one roof to the other. But there were some planks lying around. Steve went to look them over. Yes, they were solid enough to allow someone to use them as a bridge from one roof to the next. Steve took the longest one to the edge of the roof, and measured it. Yes, it did reach to the other side.

To make sure Jarod came the way he intended, Steve left the plank close the edge of the roof. He brought another one, just in case Jarod wanted to make sure his bridge was solid enough. He finished his job by breaking up the other planks, then jumped over to the other building.

He crouched down, in order to get a good view of the street while remaining hidden. He did not have to wait too long. Ten minutes or so later, a taxi pulled up in front of the building. Zooming in, Steve saw Jarod and Jaime get out of the taxi, and into the hotel.

Jaime's presence was a complication he had not counted on. He knew that the two of them had gone to Canada, and then came back to California together, but he hadn't thought that Jaime would be helping him. But Jaime was a reasonable person, and Steve was sure that when he told he the truth about who her "colleague" really was, that she would assist Steve in turning Jarod over to The Centre.


*
* *
Jaime patiently waited while Jarod made some phone calls. He had told her he needed to make those calls before he left, and that he was making arrangements in regards to his next destination, but hadn't told her much more, both to protect his secrets and her security, should she be captured by The Centre. Only after thirty minutes did he finally tell Jaime he was ready. "We'll leave by the roof," he instructed. "Whoever is at the front desk must not see Jarod Olivet leave. Once we come down from the roof, I will no longer use that name - except on the few occasions I check up on Sue from a distance."

They made their way to the stair case, and came out on the roof. Jarod was about to go to the back of the building and climbed down the fire escape, but Jaime suggested another solution.

"If we go to another building, and climb down from there, it will create even less traces of Jarod Olivet, because, if you are seen at another building, it's unlikely anybody associates you with this one."

"And how do you propose we get to another roof?"

"I'll carry you when I jump over," explained Jaime.

"Is it true, this time?"

Jaime put up three finger. "Girl guide's honor", she promised, with a smile.

They went up to the edge of the roof. Jarod put his arm around Jaime's shoulders and she grabbed his legs. She backed up ten steps or so, then started running.

"To infinity. . . ," exclaimed Jarod, just as Jaime's feet were leaving the roof, ". . .and beyond!"

No! Thought Steve, as he was spying over them. She can't be helping him. He got out from his hiding place, and jumped from one roof to the next. "Jaime!" he called out.

"Steve!" Jaime exclaimed. Both she and Jarod turned around, to see him crossing the roof in a few seconds and jump towards the roof they were now standing on.

"You told me he knew about bionics," Jarod said to Jaime. "You didn't tell me he was bionic."

"That's because it's a secret!" she replied.

"Oh, Steve, am I glad to see you," she continued, as Steve landed on the roof.

But Steve looked immediately past Jaime. "Get away from her," he ordered Jarod.

"What?" Jarod asked, instinctually moving to keep Jaime between Steve and him.

"What?" echoed Jaime, taking a few steps back towards Jarod.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked, turning towards Jaime.

"Off course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be?" she replied.

But Steve, satisfied Jaime had not been hurt, ignored her question and continued to concentrate his attention on Jarod. "We have to take you back to The Centre," he explained to Jarod. "It's for your own good!"

"No!" shouted Jarod in denial, moving away from Steve.

"Now, Steve, wait just one minute," Jaime tried to intervene.

But Steve, knowing, or rather thinking he knew, what was better for Jaime's safety, ignored he objections, and stepped around her. "It's better if you come willingly," he tried to convince Jarod, "that way, no one will get hurt."

Jaime could not believe the nightmare this was turning into. Not only was Steve not listening to her, he was dangerously close to actually getting his hands on Jarod. Out of desperation, she grabbed by the waist with both arms, and with all her human and bionic strength, pulled him back, and sent him crashing halfway across the roof.

Steve looked up, stunned, at Jaime. "Why did you do that for?"

Jaime stepped in front of him, with both fists on her hips. "Because Jarod is NOT going back to The Centre," she explained.

"Jaime, listen to me. That man is an escaped psychiatric patient. He needs to go back to The Centre for his own good. I shudder just to think of the damage he might have caused at your clinic."

"That man," corrected Jaime, "is a brilliant man who has escaped from his kidnappers. And the only thing he did at the clinic was good work - because of him, we now have a chance with Sue Davidson."

"And," Jarod added, "The Centre does not want me for my own good - they want me so they can exploit certain talents of mine for their own profit."

"Why should I believe you?" Steve asked.

"Because I do," replied Jaime. All three were silent for a moment, as if everything was on hold while Steve decided whether or not to contest Jaime's statement.

When Jarod saw that Steve was not forthcoming with a reply, he continued. "You've been to The Centre, Mr. Austin. Did it really feel to you like a place where they take care of people in need of help, psychiatric or otherwise?"

Steve looked down. "I did feel oppressive within The Centre's wall, I admit."

"Did you know that entire floors of The Centre consist of holding cells?"

Well, I knew they had some?"

"And it did not strike you as odd that a private corporation has it's own private prison?"

"Every corporation has to ensure it's internal security," tried Steve, sounding less convince than he was earlier.

"Then why, sir, with all these oddities you noticed at The Centre, did you agree to help them capture me?"

"Because," Steve replied, looking straight at Jarod, "I was given some information about you which led me to believe you were a potentially dangerous man. And I made a deal to exchange one dangerous man we were interested in with one that The Centre was interested in. A deal my superiors have agreed to."

"Oscar agreed to this?" Jaime asked, with disbelief.

"You were already out of town when he did," Steve explained. "He had no reason to doubt The Centre. In fact, I'm still not entirely convinced that your the one telling the truth, Dr. Olivet."

Jaime and Jarod looked at each other. They both knew that only one thing would convince Steve.

"In 1969," started explaining Jarod, "the OSI contracted The Centre for a top secret project - the bionics project. Had it not been for The Centre, that project would have been a failure. But The Centre's research was limited to using one of my talents - that of being able to accurately simulate the personality or reaction of anyone. By simulating the reaction of patients implanted with bionic implants, I was able to steer the OSI in the right direction."

"You expect me to believe that?" Steve asked.

"He's got a bionic eye with a zoom in it," Jaime informed Jarod.

Jarod thanked her, closed his eyes, and concentrated for a minute. "When you zoom in, your brain still receives the impulses from your real eye. So, you do not just see a zoomed-in image - you see the regular field of vision anyone sees with a normal eye, plus a zone where every detail is larger, because of the zoom's magnification. You essentially see two images in one. It took you quite some time to adjust to seeing that way."

Steve looked at Jaime. "Not even Rudi Wells knows that. No one but me could have told him that."

"The Centre does not want me for my own good, Mr. Austin. They want to continue to exploit that talent of mine. I don't want to be used that way again."

"Trouble is, the OSI made a deal with The Centre. The Centre lived up with their end of the bargain. How do we get out of a deal with the devil?"

"Where's Miss Parker now?" inquired Jarod.

"Flying in from Canada."

"Good. When she lands, have her come to the train station. Leave the rest to me."


*
* *

As he entered the train station's main lobby, Jim Castillian surveyed the place. He finally saw Steve waiving to him. He quickly went up to him. "What's up, Steve?"

Steve took Castillian to a less crowded section of the lobby, where they could have a little more privacy - as much privacy as one could expect in such a busy station. "It would appear," Steve explained, "that we were given wrong information about Dr. Olivet, but we must not let The Centre know that their deception as been uncovered. So, we have to appear to help them capture Dr. Olivet while actually helping him to get away."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Your a minor OSI operative, neither Jaime nor Dr. Olivet know you or could recognize you, and the less you say, the better. Understood?"

"Understood," agreed Castillian

"Good. Now, let's go outside - Miss Parker should be arriving any minute now.

The two men stepped outside, and waited by the main entrance. They did not wait too long before a car pulled up to let Miss Parker, Sydney and Broots out. "Where's Jarod?" Miss Parker inquired, without losing anytime with pleasantries.

"He's still forcing Ms Sommers to help him," Steve informed them. "I've asked Jim here to come and help me."

Castillian put up his hand when Steve pointed him out. "Jim Castillian," he introduced himself to Miss Parker, "- that's with two L's."

Miss Parker barely gave him a condescending glance before walking right past him. "Get to the point, please."

"Since Ms Sommers does not know Jim, he was able to approach them without being recognized. He was able to overhear Jarod mentioned they would be going to Philadelphia - the train's boarding on platform five."

"Good work," Parker told Steve, almost giving him a smile of satisfaction.

They made their way towards platform five. But, as they were almost there, they saw Jaime, who looked as if she was anxious to get away. "Oh, Steve," she called out when she saw the group. She made her was towards them. "Oh, Steve, am I glad to see you."

"It's OK, Jaime, it's over now," Steve replied, sounding as if he wanted to reassure her.

Jaime turned towards Miss Parker, and showed she recognized her. "Why didn't you tell me the truth, when we were back in Ottawa?" she asked, accusingly. "Jarod went nuts when we ran into you at the hospital. He forced me to come back right away to California, to pick up something called, a . . . a DAS?"

"DSA," corrected Broots. Miss Parker threw him a glance which said "shut up, Broots," louder than words could.

"Yeah, that's right, DSA. Then he forced me to help him make his escape."

Miss Parker gave a good look at Jaime. "I've seen how fast and how strong you are, lady," she replied. "How can anyone force you to do anything?"

Jaime met Miss Parker's stare, and threw it right back at her. "You stay a few feet away from me and pull a gun on me, all the speed and all the strength in the world won't do me any good."

"Can you take it from here, Miss Parker?" Steve asked. "Ms Sommers has had a traumatic experience, and it is my responsibility as her OSI supervisor to see to it that she gets to safety and a debriefing."

"I believe we can handle it, yes," replied Miss Parker, with a somewhat sarcastic edge to her reply.

As the OSI and Centre personnel parted company, Sydney turned back to look at Steve, Jaime and Jim Castillian leaving the train station. After a moment, Miss Parker called out to him. "Syd?"

"I'm coming, Parker," he replied, in his usual patient tone.

Miss Parker was so intent on her search for Jarod that she didn't even notice that Sydney's expression had changed from a worried look to a subtle smile that indicated he knew more than he was letting on.


*
* *
"He's late!"

Jim Castillian was getting nervous as he looked at his watch. He, Steve and Jaime were enjoying a cup of coffee at the little shop where Jarod had promised to meet them for a final time.

"By a minute," Jaime replied, to try to calm him down. "Relax - he'll be here."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Miss Parker hasn't called to thank us for our help in capturing him," replied Jaime.

Castillian could not come up with an argument to counter that. He finished his cup of coffee. Just as he was getting up to order another one, Jarod walked into the shop. He came to join the group at their both.

"How did it go?" inquired Jaime.

"Great. I left so many traces in both the train to California and the station in general that Miss Parker could spend a whole week in there looking for me."

"And no one saw you leave?"

"Of course not - secret exits are a specialty of mine," answered Jarod with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Where will you be going now?" Steve asked.

"Probably south, just long enough to disappear and hide my tracks. After that, I'm not decided. I'll see where events lead me."

"Jarod, I can't thank you enough for their help you've provided with Sue's care. And, I know she'll miss you."

"I'll stay in touch, somehow," he promised.

As he got up to leave, Castillian extended his hand to him. "However briefly, it was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Otivet."

"Please, call me Jarod. And besides, it was "O-LI-vet."

"That's with one L," Steve, Jaime and Jarod added in unison.


THE END