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DISCLAIMER: 'The Pretender' and it's characters are protected trade mark of NBC. This story is independent fan fic. No infringement of copy right intended.
RATING: PG-13 Contains mature subject material and violence. NOT SUITABLE for young children. If you're underaged or faint of heart go read something else.
Many thanks to Eric for editing. All flames or compliments should be sent to me, Comments welcomed.
This story is a sequel to "EXEUNT: STAGE CENTRE" by Jonathn Yip who also wrote the prologue for "RETRIBUTION" "RETRIBUTION' is told entirely from Miss Parker's point of view. Hope you like what I did with your challenge Yip. Also please read Paula H.'s story "Murderer Of The Day". It was inspired by this story.
RETRIBUTION
Prologue
Retribution
by Ra-Chell
Damn the Centre. Damn it for what it did to me. My whole life was shot to hell ! But now I am free. I have a job now, thanks to that bastard Jarod. He found a position for me in a huge corporation. I pull seven figures a year, but what is money? Jarod also gave me my life back. He's been there every step for me. I owe him everything.
He's the one who gave me the answer - the answer to my burning question.
I wish I could do the same for him. But I help him in...other ways. He gave it willingly, with that stupid grin on his face. I knew not what it was. A simple gift. A name. The one...the one who killed my mother. I will get my retribution. I will have my vengeance.
A name.
*****
One year later.
January 17th 4 P.M.
My office in Santa Monica, Cailfornia.
Smiling at the thin pale man prattling before me I am reminded of a vulture as he eyes me up and down like a piece of raw meat. Once my mere presence would have quelled such advances, but this is not the Centre and this vulture seated across from my desk is now my employer. With his becked nose and those beady little eyes that survey my body and mentally undress me, does he really think he has a chance of climbing into my bed? As the phone rings a deep breath of relief fills my lungs.
"Excuse me." With a smile ever so pleasant I answer with a voice like honey. "Miss Parker."
The voice on the other end never sounded sweeter and as I flirt with my caller the beady eyed vulture rises
to leaves.
"No really, I'd love to have some one to cook for. I'll see you tonight at my apartment. You still remember how to get there don't you?" The vulture takes one last look and my smile is one of mixed joy and impending pleasure as my voice purrs.
"Of course Jarod, it'll be fun. I'll even let you help...this time!" I laugh remembering the last time he helped. " And you could bring a nice..." The door to the office slowly closes as my fingers slide down a long lean leg to play with a ankle encircled by a thin gold chain. The gold anklet may be simple but the gift could not have been more appropriate. It's luster never tarnishes, it's strong links encircle like a constant reminder of the hunted's strength. His care and concern for his former huntress. Or is this Jarod's way of saying I'm the one who failed, was captured and subdued?
*****
January 18th. 3:30 A. M.
My bedroom
Dinner lies half made in the kitchen and the trail of clothes marks the way to the bedroom. The bottle of wine sits unopened on the sleek Italian glass and chrome table. It's late and for once I feel content, a physical and emotional hunger satisfied.
"I'm surprised by you Miss Parker. You adapted better than I thought you would." His comment startles me out of a half slumber.
"Why? Just what did you expect? I left the Centre on my own. I knew what I was getting into." Rising up to look at him. "Your help is appreciated Jarod but I'm not a child."
The words are defensive and he looks at me with his sweet innocence. "You know that's not what I meant. You're more ..."
I know what he's going to say. '... more like my mother. Forgiving...the kind to turn the other cheek.' Like hell! I may despise that bastard called my father but I learned from him that to be weak is the last thing one should be. As for turning the other cheek, what a crock! This anger has smoldered too long. He can't see it because he's either blind or chooses to ignore it. But it still burns deep within.
He pulls me down to mold my body to his. At least this is honest and real, no pretense here. I feel more contentment than ever before and desire these moments to be a constant in my life...not just a matter of convenience for him.
****
February 11th 6:45 P.M.
My apartment
Pushing the door shut, I lean against it with eyes closed and head titled back as if to keep the world at bay. Another day of going nowhere, listening to stupid people who make absolutely no sense. Why of all the jobs in the world did Jarod pick this one for me?
"Nice place but not as nice as what you gave up." Lyle's voice shatter the thoughts and my hand reaches for a gun which is no longer there.
"How did you get in?" A light clicks on and his face becomes visible with that smug half smile and a immaculate suit ironically the same color as mine.
"That's not important. I moved into your...or rather our family home." He sighes then realizes the effect is wasted . " I've never felt so at home any place else. Funny but you keep things excatly where I would have put them. It's almost de ja vu. " Rising from the sofa it takes the intruder only a few quick strides to stand close enough to feel his breath. His cold fingers now slowly stroke the side of my hardened face. "It's almost as if I can feel you there. It's almost like having ...a twin." The low voice has a chilling effect.
"Well you certainly didn't waste any time jumping into my grave at the Centre. Enjoy it while you can." Attempts to get away from the offending hand are futile, it follow my every move. "Your visit here is unwelcome." The bitter sarcasm covers the hurt behind the words as I think of this person living in my former home. Rapidly the unwelcomed fingers travel down the jaw before coming to a sudden stop, then jerk my chin up as the stub of a missing thumb is pressed into my check.
"If it's such a hell hole then why have you been trying to sneak back in?" The eyes that stare back are the same that reflect back from my mirror each morning. Cold hard eyes of blue steel, ruthless and uncaring.
"What did Jarod do for you besides scraping you up off the street? Give you a job? Money? An apartment? Tell me, how does it feel being his whore? If you think you'll find out who he...."
"That's not why I'm interested in the Centre." Our eyes meet, thoughts exchanged in a glance and a lump rises in the throat at the realization that now he suddenly knows the truth. "It's not for Jarod's sake but for Mom's." The fingers release my chin as the whispered words confirms the exchange of thoughts
"Then maybe we need to talk." My head nods in agreement. I have no illusions. What ever help he offers will come with a heavy price.
*******
11:20 P.M.
My bathroom shower.
Water cold as ice flows over this naked body matching the icy blood flowing through the veins. As cold as the tile pressed beneath tightly clenched fists to steady a shaky form. Raising my face up away from the freezing onslaught to catch a breath, tears burn their way down chilled checks to mingle with the water from the shower. Lyle's help comes with a heavy price.
"Damn you Jarod, damn you! What do you think I am...your whore?" But only the dull thumps of fists pounding on tile answer back. And what have I prostituded myself for? Nothing more than the simple knowledge of who killed my mother and what good is it if I can not act on it? I have tried in vain to enter into the Centre to complete my mission and each time have been stopped. So now I have sold my soul and made a pact with the devil himself. Why? What drives me to dance with such a demon? And this devil-incarnate is my brother, the man I know as Lyle. My sacrifice upon his altar is you Jarod whom I hate and despise. The one who torments me with a part of my life that has shaped me, molded me into what I am, not what I wanted to be. Yet a simple gaze into your eyes causes this heart of ice to melt, the anger to drain from my soul. A mere touch is pure pleasure, a simple caresses ....
The last drops of bath gel drip onto the loofah from a bottle that twenty minutes ago was full. But no matter how hard the hands scrub, the body still feels dirty and soiled. No amount of water and soap can cleanse this soul.
*****
February 14th 2:10 P.M.
My office.
"See you tonight." Slowly the phone settles back into it's resting place. The smile that was there is gone replaced by a mask to cover the fear. A pain sears the chest from within and the stomach contents threaten to come up. The decision is weighed once again but the outcome remains the same. Picking up a photo in a elegant silver frame, a faint smile returns as my fingers brush lightly across it.
"For you Mom, for you."
****
7:23 P.M.
My apartment.
He stands in the doorway like a giddy little boy in grade school. A heart shaped box of chocolates in one hand, flowers in the other and a expectant face. This is the Jarod I remember as a child and without thinking start to laugh. As if embarrassed by the awkwardness of his gifts, he tries to hands them to me and struggles to speak.
Smiling I place a forefinger on his lips to silence them, then pull him inside and shut the door. Slowly without speaking, keeping his body pinned with mine, I gently begin to trace the soft lips with a finger. Studying him as the finger follows the outline and shape of his face and eyes, now running it lightly down the bridge of the nose to the tip, returning to the lips which part slightly to gently grasp the exploring digit. Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out before reaching forward to cup his face in my hands, wanting to forever comment to memory the texture, shape, feel and yes... even the smell of him. Wanting this moment to last. Then sliding slender fingers with red nails through his silky hair, I gently pull his face to mine and kiss the passionate lips that eargerly return my embrace . All too soon he slowly pulls back and soft brown eyes silently ask a question. But my hands still clasp his head while the eyes burn into memory how he looks at this moment. This is the way I want to remember him, no longer the child but the grown man. The eyes ask the question again and the fingers slowly slide out of his hair, reaching up one last time to gently brush against his forehead.
"Hmm, I just want to remember how you look tonight." It's not a lie and a smile graces my lips. Then suddenly the smile freezes as guilt and horror well up inside at what the outcome of this evening will be. Tonight will be the last time his eyes will look at me this way. Tomorrow something different will emit from those orbs.
***
10:37 P.M
Outside my apartment.
Any other night a romantic dinner out with Jarod would have been a delight. But tonight the food caught in the throat and nerves that should be as steel swayed and threaten to bend. Half of me wanting to go, half wanting to stay. But as we approach the door knowing what surprise lurks in my apartment, doubt appears and the inner child starts to whimper. Shivering in the cool moist air fear and dread spread through me with each step. Now standing in front of the door hands hesitate and fumble with the keys. 'It's not too late to turn and run.' a child like voice whispers.
"Jarod, why don't we go to your place tonight? I've never seen it and..."
"Parker we're here, let's just open the door." He watches my face for a response and wraps a arm protectively around me. "Something wrong?" s gently whispered while pressing his face in my hair.
Surely he must suspect.
"No but I thought a change would be nice. A little more exciting." The words come out from a dry throat un-convincing. 'Run! For God's sake, run.' the child like voice screams.
"You've never been shy before, don't start now." He laughes and takes the keys. In horror eyes watch the key inserted into the lock, watch as it turns and the door is pushed open. The light from the living room spills across the white carpet. The silence of the apartment is deafening.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine just...just a little too much to drink that's all." Moving into the apartment there is no turning back. 'Why JarodWhy did you open that door?' cries the inner child. The apartment appears to be excatly as we left it. The flowers he brought lean lop sided in the vase on the mantel next to Mom's picture. The over sized heart shaped box still wrapped in red cellophane sits on the glass coffee table. Next to it the CD I gave him still nestles in crumpled Valentine theme paper.
"Let's listen to the CD you got me." Like a kid excited about a gift he moves quickly over to snatch it from it's nest and the cellophane is off and floats to the floor. "I still think you should have gone with the system I suggested. "
"What?" But like a child playing with a new toy he is busy opening the case and removing the CD.
"The audio system. I said you should have bought the one I recommended. If it was a matter of money I would have helped out." He puts the CD in and smiles as music begins to fill the room. "I thought you invited me up for a after dinner drink." Wrapping his arms around my waist and slowly rocking back and forth to the music, a silly grin spreads across the boyish face.
"You've watched too much TV since you've escaped." Untangling my body from his.
"Well I do have a lot to catch up on." The answer has a double edged meaning as a hand reaches up and loosens the tie. The jacket is slipped off and tossed on a chair.
"Well in that case, why don't you take care of the drinks and I'll go change." With a forced smile I head for the bedroom leaving Jarod to play bartender. The next few minutes seem like hours as music floats through the air and an unsuspecting Jarod hums along with it. Pushing the bedroom door open on cue, I scream.
"Lyle, NO!....Jarod run..." A hand lashes out to met the side of my face. Pain stuns the senses as Lyle pulls his arm around me and we move into the living room. Jarod stands by the open door ready to bolt.
"I wouldn't if I were you." Lyle has one arm wrapped around me like a vice, pinning my arms to my sides, the cold barrel of his gun pressed under my chin. Jarod hesitates in the doorway and looks helpless in our direction.
"You won't kill your own sister Lyle."
"You're right. I won't kill her but I could cripple her." The gun moves from under the chin to the base of the neck. " Let's play doctor. After all, you were one once. Now if I shoot her here she'll be paralyzed from what? The neck down?"
"Don't do this." Brown eyes plead, face reflecting fear and helplessness as the brain fights between the choice of freedom or the Centre.
"Let's try this then." Lyle laughes and moves the gun down the side to the lower back. "If the bullet enters here that means she'll be paralyzed from hmmm...let's say the waist down?"
"Don't do this Lyle." Brown eyes dart from me to the protective cover of night outside the open door.
"Go out that door and she won't walk again." Jarod moves slightly, Lyle's arm squeezes tighter and with a sick smile in his voice repeats the threat. "I said don't!"
Jarod moves once more. A loud noise explodes in the ears, pain sears the back and a scream escapes the lips. Eyes shut but the darkness only intensifies the pain. Lyle's arm releases as I slide to the floor and curl into a ball. Warm hands suddenly touch my face and slowly my eyes open to find a terrified Jarod bent over me whispering "No." Sweepers appear from nowhere to pull him away and restrain him.
Slowly my hand feels the injured side. A wetness soaks the dress and pulling the hand back a red liquid stains the fingers. "You bastard, you shot me!"
"No I didn't. It's just the dye pack. As for the pain, well I just want to make sure it looked real." Smiling Lyle jerks me up into a standing position. He's right, for a moment I had forgotten about the dye pack slipped under my dress in the bedroom and the 'blanks' in Lyle's gun. Jarod's eyes look at me in disbelief.
"You were a part of this? You knew about this?" He struggles and anger replaces empathy. "Why after all I did for you? Why Parker?"
"You only helped me to get back at the Centre. I don't owe you anything." It takes every bit of strength to speak.
Lyle laughs while shaking his head. "This is sweet. The look on your face, I wish I had a picture of it. Now the question is how do we get you back to the Centre. Mathis, you know what to do."
As sweepers hold him down a man with a large black case approaches. Setting the case down next to Jarod he opens it and removes a thin latex strap. "Hold him still. And you, I want you to hold his hand to keep his arm down." He barks orders to the sweepers and they obey.
"Not that hand, this one." The piece of latex is tightened around Jarod's upper arm and the man retrives a syringe from the case and removes the green plastic cap from the needle. The needle pierces the vein on the inside of his arm at the elbow and slowly the medication is injected.
"What are they doing to him?" I quietly ask.
"Just a little sedative to keep him relaxed on the way home." Is Lyle's reassuring reply.
Jarod stops struggling, his body becomes limp, his eyes roll back. It's clear to all that Mathis is more than just concerned.
"What the hell are you doing to him?" My voice screams and with both hands grab Lyle's arm. "Damn it! You said you wouldn't hurt him."
Mathis fumbles with the contents of his case and leans forward to check Jarod's beathing.
"Shit! I was afraid of this. Get him up here where I can work on him." Jarod is hoisted onto the glass and chrome coffee table as Mathis works feverishly.
"What the hell happened?" Lyle demands.
"He went into respiratory arrest. That means he stopped breathing." Mathis growls back through gritted teeth. " I told you it could happen with this drug. You knew the risk."
Several sweepers bring in emergency equipment as others work on Jarod. One pumps air into Jarod's lungs, another has ripped his shirt open and attached wires to his chest to monitor a fluctuating heart rate. A IV is started and Mathis draws up medication in a syringe while Lyle screams at him.
"You had better fix this. Because if he dies so do you." He ignores Lyle's threats and pushes the needle of the syringe into a port on the IV tubing.
"If he dies it's because you didn't listen. I warned you this could happen." He looks at me and asks "How much did he have to eat and how much alcohol did he drink?"
"He hardly touched his meal. I think he had one drink, maybe not even that before dinner."
Wrapping arms around myself the room is freezing and time stands still. The living room looks like a triage center, medical supplies and wrappers litter the white carpet and off to the side the heart shaped box now with a shoe print lies upside down. Mathis has turned back to his patient. No one speaks until the silence is broken by Lyle.
"Dennis give me your gun." A sweeper resembling a younger version of Sam moves towards Lyle and hands him a gun. Lyle kneels next to Mathis and repeats his threat. "He better live or you won't."
"I think we'll have him stable in the next hour or two. You'll just have to put your flight plans on hold for a while. And Lyle next time someone tells you something, you might want to listen." Mathis warns.
The sight has become unbearable to watch and slowly eyes close to block out the scene. A cold hand glides over the injured side of my face and eyes open to find Lyle standing in front of me.
"I have no intentions of killing him. He's too valuable a commodity." But the soft tone of the voice doesn't match the coldness of his eyes.
"I don't care what price you put on him Lyle, if he dies..." I hiss through clenched teeth as he steps back to inventory my appearance.
"Clean yourself up Parker. I want you to look nice when we arrive back at the Centre. We need to make a good impression."
Pushing past him to the coffee table I kneel down and look at the man spread on top of it like a rag doll. "Will he...will he be alright?" A low whisper asks.
"He should be." Mathis answers back . "He's breathing on his own now. He wasn't without oxygen very long so I doubt there will be any brain damage." His eyes travel over me and he asks. "What about you? Will you bealright?"
Straightening up the words are cold and hard. "I'm fine. You just worry about him. If anything and I mean anything happens to him, you better pray Lyle gets to you before I do." Everyone watches in silence as I leave the room.
Once inside the bedroom with the door closed, the dress is quickly shed. The mirror reflects back the damage. The left side of the face has started to swell and the lip bleeds from a small cut. The right side of the back just above the waist shows signs of a emerging bruise where Lyle pressed the barrel of his gun when he fired. But the impending bruise is secondary to the thoughts of the man spread out in the living room. After all that has transpired Lyle had better keep his half of the bargain.
****
Februray 15th
2:56 A.M.
Los Angeles International Airport.
The Centre's private jet has just taken off from LAX headed for Blue Cove. Never imagined seeing this beast again but here we are. Cleaners and sweepers guarding a drugged and subdued Jarod like a prized animal, Lyle gloating with the phone glued to his ear and the empty shell of a woman reflecting faintly back from the window.
"Well yes I was too......well thank you, thank you very much, I will." Before he can make another call my hand reaches out and takes the phone.
"Will what?" It's more a demand than a question.
"Tell you congratulations Miss Parker." The smug smile spreads it's way across the deceptive face.
"Give me what I want...now. I don't give a damn about some moron's congratulations." Hand held out in front of him, fingers snap indicating an impatient wait. A sigh escapes as he hands over the file.
"As we agreed, the information you requested on the person Jarod told you about."
"Just how is it that you can always get the exact information you want?" The smile that is returned tauts.
My eyes scan the file widening with each new revelation about the man that murdered Mom. This was the person who gave the order for Jarod's abduction, the orders for everything from the pretender project to the red files to....
"He's a member of the triumvirate!"
"Was a member. Now semi-retired due to health problems. But they're willing to give him up in exchange for Jarod's return. You won't have any problem with carrying out your justice." A thumbless hand brushes lint from a sleeve. "That's what you want isn't it? Retribution in exchange for Jarod."
"What happens to Jarod when he doesn't perform the sims they want?" The voice is so low and choked it's almost inaudible.
"Well that depends on you." A arm slips around my shoulders and draws me tight. "You see I can make life miserable or pleasant for him. I can prolong it or end it. The way I see it, his life depends on your co-operation with me."
******
9:05 A.M.
A private airport near the Centre.
The doors to the Centre limo are opened and hey carry him struggling from the jet to the vehicle and shove him in. Lyle trimuphantly slides in to sit across from the newly captured trophy. But the knees lock and legs refuse to move as I stand by the passenger door like a child who has done something terribly wrong and now must face the punishement.
"Get in Parker." Lyle's rough command prompts me to slide in next to him. Looking the other way to avoid the accusing eyes seated across the small confined space, this is the closest we've been since leaving the apartment.
"What's wrong Miss Parker? Can't look at your handiwork? Your mother would be proud of you." The voice is hoarse and dry.
"Damn you Jarod. Don't talk about my mother. As for morality, you have no right to talk." The words come out subdued. Reluctantly I turn to look at the eyes that now burn with anger, a far cry from only a few hours ago.
"I never betrayed a friend. I was your friend wasn't I?"
"You're a pain in the ass. " Feelings freeze like flakes of ice to form a protective wall to encase the heart.
"Is that what you really think of me? Poor Miss Parker, still trying to win Daddy's approval after all he did to you." Turning away there is no escape, even the window reflects the haunting image shaking his head, as the sing song words pound the ears. "And just what will you get this time for bring me in?"
"Daddy has nothing to do with this. " Answering the reflection in the window is easier than answering him.
"You don't get it do you Jarod?" Lyle's laugh is one of utter delight." Miss Parker and I made a rather signifint deal with the Triumvirate. We bring you back and we get everything! Mr. Parker...'Daddy'... and Raines are shown the door. They're old, useless... it's time for new blood. It's our turn to run the Centre. You're just the ticket."
"I'm the sacrifice you made for power?" A undercurrent of hurt and pain can be heard, forcing me to turn back to face the firery brown eyes. But now a protective wall of ice surrounds the heart and nothing can get through.
"Like I said before, spare me your morality lecture Jarod. You're not so pure and innocence. I followed you for years, saw what you did. A one man vigilante. The things you do to people you think are wrong....it's enough to make one sick. Judge. Jury. Executioner. I'm doing the world a favor by locking you back in the cage where you belong." The old Miss Parker has returned, picking up where she left off a year ago without missing a beat. The hate and venom once held in check is now unleashed.
"Is that what you believe? I never killed anyone but gave them a taste of their own medicine."
"You never killed anyone? No you just got someone else to do your dirty work for you. That FBI agent...what was his name? You should remember, you set him up and the Yakuza executed him. You may not have pulled the trigger but you sure as hell set the stage, prompted the actors and the deed was done. You're no better than the Centre." There is no reply and silence dominantes the rest of the trip.
****
9:56 A.M.
The Centre.
Walking through the corridors of this place I sought over a year ago to leave behind, nothing looks changed. But things have changed. Now there is a purpose, a plan ..and retribution soon to come.
He walks before me like a prisoner walking to his execution, never turning back to look over his shoulder. Lyle with his arrogant atittude marches in step beside as we escort Jarod to his cell, parading him through the Centre like some wild exotic animal. Passing by the Tower elevators, the door to one of the elevators closes but not before revealing Tomie Tanaka and and assosciates.
"What are they doing here?" Thoughts of the last time the Centre had dealings with them brings a bitter taste to the mouth.
"Business. Now that Jarod isn't a problem anymore, we don't have to worry about any interference with selling his sims." The answer straight forward, no need to hide the truth.
"Did you forget what happen last time, moron?"
"Daily reminder Miss Parker." The thumbless hand is displayed for all to see.
"This time you may lose more than a thumb." Jarod's words are like a jolt of electricity.
"I don't think so... not this time. But it seems there is a strange conection between the Parkers and the Tanakas."
"What do you mean?" Delighted that Jarod took the bait, Lyle gloats as he leans forward to whisper loud enough for me to hear.
"I may have lost a thumb, but Miss Parker here..." He pauses before continuing, "care to guess what she lost?" The revelation about a long hot summer spent with Tomie when I was in college has the desired effect. Damn Lyle for his sadistic pleasure.
The now silient entourage continues the walk until the cell comes in to view. Once there with eyes avoiding mine the prisoner reluctantly takes his place inside.
****
10:25 P.M.
Jarod's new 'home'.
The last twelve hours have been exhausting. With Jarod strapped to a chair in the cell like a condemned man one after another they came, a long procession of inquisitors.
"Where are the DSA's? "
" How did you escape?"
" Who helped you?" The questions never ending, his answers few. His questions never answered.
Legs ache from standing pressed against the wall to watch each new inquisitor while avoiding the questioning brown eyes that seek mine. Pulling out a silver case as the last one leaves, a old habit resurfaces. Placing the cigarette between my lips a thumbless hand snatches it before the lighter reaches it.
"As long as you're working with me, you don't smoke." The tobacco is crushed beneath a highly polished shoe. A hand reaches out for the case and lighter but defiantly both are slipped back into their hiding place.
"Where's Sydney?" The question asked for the hundredth time breaks the stand off. Brigette standing by the door stifles a laugh as Lyle's attention is directed towards Jarod.
"Who? Sydney? You don't have to worry about Sydney anymore. He's been retired. You'll be re-assigned to someone who won't be...mmmn so sympathic." Lyle stands there laughing, taking pleasure in his victim's torment. Brown eyes close as if to shut out the unwelcomed answer while the tired face reflects pain.
"Poor baby." Brigette laughs.
"Don't be so sad!" Lyle mocks him. " What's wrong? Expect things to be like old times? And tell me, did you think Miss Parker wouldn't betray you just because you came to her rescue and scrapped her up off the street? You forget...she's a Parker!" He laughs, walks around Jarod then returns to stand at my side.
" This is great! The best I've...we've done yet." Taking two steps forward to stand in front of Jarod he leans down to whisper, "Do you know why she did it?"
"Revenge. Wanting retribution for your mother's death, I understand that but why this?" Eyes open to watch the cold face of a woman he thought he could trust but there's no expression, only an icy stare.
"Well the two of you must have a lot to talk about." Lyle breaks the cold silence. "So we'll leave you alone." Smiling he and Brigette depart arm in arm.
Eyes burn into this empty shell as I alone remain against the wall. Slowly moving forward, pulling a chair up in front of him to sit down, I lean forward to show I'm not afraid.
"Why? I thought you cared. All those times you said..." A face full of pain looks up as if hoping to find some hint of love and kindness in these eyes. Half hoping this is a front, a way to hide true feeling from the ever seeing surveillance camera.
Laying a forefinger against the lips to slience him with a whispered "Shh." the finger once more traces the lips and outline of his face. But the texture and feel has a noticable change, a cold hardness replacing the warmth. Sliding fingers through his hair like the night before, he now stiffens and the lips fail to respond to the kiss. Still cupping his head in my hands I pull one hand slightly forward and with the thumb gently wipe the unwanted kiss from his lips.
"I thought you cared Miss Parker. I thought you loved..."
"That wasn't love." From the look on his face the words burn like acid and hope begins to dissolve. Fingers slip out of his hair as if afraid of being burned.
"If it wasn't love, then what was it?" The words escape like a whisper.
"Convience....need...curiousity to see what Syd's little experiment was like in bed." Heart beating wildly hoping the words can convince that no emotional attachment, no emotional ties exist.
"Then if it was curiousity..." Anger now replacing hope.
"What's wrong Jarod? Do you want to know how you rate?" Words like poison drip into a open wound. Smiling at the pain I pull out the cigarettes, light one and blow pale smoke in his face.
"And how do I rate?" A small laugh punucates the remark."I'm sure you'll tell me." Bitterness now marking the words. The pretender in both of us come out as we sit there locked in a stare.
"Well Miss Parker, I'm waiting. How do I rate?"
Rising from the chair with the smile frozen in place, I grind out the cigarette with the toe of my shoe.
"Well Miss Parker? What's wrong...or don't you know?" Hate flowing through the words now matching the angry face.
"I've had better." The comment is flat, without meaning. His reply falls on deaf ears as the feet hurry this corpse out the door.
****
11:42 P.M.
My new Centre office.
Sinking into the leather chair behind my father's desk a monitor lights the dim room. Watching Jarod from the safety of this office, remorse for cruel actions slowly began to take their toll. But even here in this corner of the Centre one doesn't feel safe from prying eyes and the the outer ward appearance reflects absolute control.
Rolling a cold hard glass between slender fingers, eyes never leaving the monitor newly installed this morning I sit in silent watch.
The guards come in to release him and quickly depart leaving behind a tray of food. But like a lifeless statue he continues to sit staring into space. Suddenly as if a switch is thrown he explodes into a fury, throwing everything in reach. Nothing un-secured is safe.
If only Sydney were here to soothe the angry, calm the rage. But Sydney has been retired, banned from the Centre. Lyle had him removed the day after our pact. Helplessly watching for what seems an eternity as everything in the cell is destroyed or assaulted until finally he crumples exhausted into a corner. Still any inner reaction to the display of anguish has little visable effect on this icy outer appearance.
*****
February 16th 8:11 A.M.
My Centre office.
Having had little sleep the night before I slip into the office and check the monitor behind the desk. Jarod still lies in the corner but has moved into a different position. It's as if the soul has taken flight leaving only the crumpled body behind. The office doors swing open as Sydney marches in.
"Well I see your father's dream of you taking over for him is a reality. Only I don't believe he quite planned for the way you accomplished it, Miss Parker." Anger and fear see the beneath the calm surface of his words.
"As my father would have said those doors are there for a reason. Knock next time before you come in. As far as replacing my father, I think Daddy's old office suits me just fine." The sarcasm fails to affect Sydney as I seattle down in the chair behind the massive desk. "What do you want Syd? You didn't come here to congratulate me."
"I want to see Jarod. I need to know he is alright." He's tired and concern is written on a face that has aged years since I last saw him.
"Sorry, you're no longer in charge of him. You are retired remember? Take advantage of it, not many people who work for the Centre do."
"Miss Parker, Jarod was my life's work. I need to know what is happening with him. I need to let him know I wasn't a part of this." He pleads for mercy that's not mine to give.
"You want to see him? Fine, come here then." Motioning for him to come to the other side of the desk his eyes imediately fall on the monitor of Jarod's cell.
"What have you done? " It's more a gasp than a statement.
"Nothing Syd. Jarod has been like that since his little temper tantrum last night when Lyle and I told him how stupid he was and how easy it had been to catch him." A voice so cold and hard echos through the room... it can't be mine.
"He cared about you Miss Parker. The only thing that he was naive about was his concern for you and thinking that you cared about him equally. " If the words were a arrow aimed at the heart, then they certainly hit their mark. But years of pratice makes perfect and hiding hurt feelings is my forte.
"Touching but not important. He let his emotions get in the way. He got what he deserved."
"And what does he deserve Miss Parker? Certainly not this. What happened to you? I was beginning to see some warmth, some touch of humanity in you and now ...you do this! I thought when you left the Centre the part of you that was Catherine... all the goodness in you had prevailed."
"I don't think you ever really knew me Syd. Now you've seen your precious lab rat. There's nothing more you can do here. My suggestion to you is enjoy retirement while you can." Two sweepers enter the office as Sydney straighten up. His eyes are angry and send a chill through me.
"I would not want to be you Miss Parker when Jarod escapes again. He won't forgive you for this."
"I'm not worried about him escaping. You see Syd, as with any valuable 'pet' you own, you put a dog tag on them should they run away or get lost. In your little monkey's case, we implanted one of the new high tech chips that can be tracked by satellite. So no matter where he goes, I'll always be able to find him." How can I tell him the chip is for me? A way to find him should Lyle ever try ...
"Well, I'm sure Jarod appreciates your concern Miss Parker." He turns and walks past the sweepers leaving a chill in his wake.
*****
3:22 P.M.
Centre's renewal wing.
Like a cat stalking it's prey, I silently walk the lifeless corridior. The moment that has been the ultimate goal for years now waits behind the metal doors ahead. The gun with the circle of fire on the gripe feels odd and strange. But how fitting it will be, the same gun used to take Mom's life will now take his. Feelings frozen in time, duty driving me forward, pushing the heavy door open to step inside. He looks up from his desk as I enter and a look of fear grips and contorts his face. A mouth opens and words pour out...words that fall upon deaf ears. I'm here for one purpose and one purpose alone, to avenge a deed that this pathic creature committed. That one act that ricocheted and killed all hope.
The barrel of the gun is leveled at his head as the pressure of a finger against the trigger increases. Left hand supporting the right, arms stretched out in front, slowly pressing the finger back. The gun jerks up slightly harder than expected as a deafening noise explodes in my ears and a abstract picture in dark red blood appears on the wall behind him. Tiny bits of cranial matter and bone complete the macabre work of art while the agonal sounds of a dying animal filter across the room.
But the eyes stare back and I'm not conviced of the finality of my deed. This is after all the Centre and things are not what they seem. Walking around the desk, my foot catches the chair and with difficulty push it back. A wet stain slowly spreads across the crotch of his pants and a fecal odor perfumes the air. There is nothing romantic about death, only gross reality.
Noticing a fine smear of blood on the left sleeve while lowering the gun, my hand reaches up to my cheek to wipe away a drop. Walking into washroom to look in the mirror, surprisingly there is little blood. Without thinking the gun is slipped into a pocket of the jacket before cleansing the face. I then turn to look at the remains that sprawl in the chair and apply fresh lipstick. It's hard to believe that this person could have caused so much grief.
"My job's finished here." I turn and walk through the metal doors. A sweeper greets me outside.
"Are you alright Miss Parker?" His calm voice inquires.
Cold hands straighten the jacket while the brain seaches for a name.
"Yes, why shouldn't I be? Dennis right?" His head nods affrimatively. "See the mess in that office is cleaned up."
A look of understanding crosses his face. "Yes Miss Parker."
Without answering the feet propel me forward and through the open doors of the elevator. The ride is short but the exit brings new concerns. The body begins to shake, at first it's only a fine termor. Then with each step it increases.
' Stop it!' the mind whimpers but the body refuses to obey. Only a few more steps to sanctuary... refuge... my office. But now the shaking is more pronounced.
"Well how does it feel?" Lyle's fallen in step with a laugh. "What's wrong? Got the shakes? Don't worry it'll pass. Next time it will be easier."
"There won't be a next time." The contents of the stomach threaten to come up.
"Of course there will be a next time. We have a deal, remember?"
Pushing hastily through the glass doors of the office, barely making it to the washroom before the contents hurl through my mouth.
"You'll get use to it." Lyle stands in the door with pleasure spread across his face. "We have a deal. If you want to keep Jarod alive and well, you'll do excatly what I say."
****
February 17th
7:20 A.M.
A few miles outside of Blue Cove.
Jarod's escaped and stolen Lyle's car. But the implanted chip that was meant as protection now gives him away. There's no place to hide and freedom this time will be brief. Lyle's internal problems at the Centre prevent his participation in the hunt and once again the huntress is sent out to track him...alone.
The cellular phone rings and I know before answering whose voice will be heard.
"Back to hunting Miss Parker? Think you can catch me this time?" The voice tauts.
"You forget, I know you better this time. " Words filled with vemon strike back.
"Do you really? You don't have Broots or Sydney. There's no one to help you . Even Lyle isn't there." The hard cold voice tauts again.
"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
"You're alone this time Miss Parker, no one to watch your back."
The warning is answered with a callous retort. "That's just the way I like it."
A sigh is the only reply before the phone goes dead. But he is right. This time it is alone I hunt. With Broots' re- assignment over seas, Syd retired, the only companions are Willie and several dubious sweepers. The question is who is more at danger...Jarod or me?
*****
3 P.M.
A motel parking lot in Maryland.
With the cell phone pressed to my ear the tired body slowly slides down into the leather seat of the abandon car. Lyle's angry voice flames from the other end of the phone.
"What's do you mean he's not there Parker? You're not incompetent.You may have fooled Raines and our father with your Jarod's a pretender routine but not me. You can find him if you want."
"I'm only one person Lyle."
"Don't give me that. You may have forgotten but we and the operative word is we...need to tie up loose ends if 'we' plan to continue running the Centre. I don't give a damn about the car, just bring him back. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter. Either you bring him back Parker or I will. And it will be dead. Is that clear?"
"Crystal." Bastard! But he's right. All these years Jarod slipped through Centre fingers not because he was smarter but because I let him. Knowing deep inside his freedom was precious not only to him but to the little girl he once knew.
' But the little girl grew up and betrayed him.' is whispered through the mind.
Snapping the phone shut thoughts return to Lyle. He's right. Focused we make a good team. Two halves a whole. Together we took the Centre and controlled it. But my emotions and feelings got in the way and this time he...no we may lose more than a thumb. With the Triumvirate on one side demanding to know how Jarod escaped and the Yakuza on the other disappointed once again in their dealings with the Centre, our collective lives at the moment aren't worth squat.
*****
February 19th 1:15 A.M.
Ninth Floor of a Hotel in New York City.
The last two days have been frusatrating, always arriving minutes behind our prey, catching at times only a glimpse. The sweepers are exhausted having had no rest and the promise of a few hours sleep sounds inviting. The hotel room is silent and the large bed beckons but the mind refuses to let go and unwind. Lining up the empty bottles from the mini bar like toy soldiers readying for an attack, suppressed thoughts skip through a restless mind which alcohol fails to affect.
The excution went as planned, I should be happy. I have what I have always wanted. Retribution for Mom's death, position and power in the Centre. So what if it means having to share it with that weasel Lyle. Together we make a formidable team.
Why then does my soul feel empty, hollow, this pathic life a shell? The one person who could have given it meaning I betrayed. Love and kindness that once shone in his eyes are now replaced with betrayal and anger. Anger can be dealt with, God knows there's been enough of it in my life. But the hurt and betrayal cut like a sword. His face haunts. Even with the eyes closed the the vision's still there.
Adding one more soldier to the imaginary platoon, the mind continues it's venue. Angelo the little sneak must have had a hand in Jarod's escape from the Centre. And the 'dog tag', the high tech security chip? It was found stuck to the inside of Lyle's stolen car door. A brief smile crosses my face then just as quickly fades as Syd's words of warning return to haunt.
"Jarod won't easily forgive and forget. I should hate to be you Miss Parker."
Adding one more soldier to the army, the alcohol no longer dulls the pain. The bottle of pills which use to sit next to the bed are now a new compaion. Pouring them into a cold hand 'How many would it take to end the suffering permently?' the mind asks. Five? Ten? Twenty? The whole bottle? What if it doesn't work and I'm left trapped, a tomented soul in a prison of flesh?
My gun made short work of my mother's destroyer. The man who destroyed my chance at a normal life and Jarod his. Placing the gun to my head it feels awkward and once again the thought passes...' what if?' A few more pills washed down with the firey liquid that no longer numbs, one more soldier for the platoon. Perhaps the deadly combination of both will assure an end should the bullet miss.
No one will mourn my passing. Even the attorney who made out my will five days ago didn't seem concerned. And why should he? His wife called him twice and his kids came rudely storming into the room. What measure does my life hold compared to that?
The balcony outside the room calls, softly whispering my name. The glass door slides opens easily and the metal railing feels cold beneath the hands. Leaning over to look, the ground seems so far away. Removing my shoes I drop first one, then the other. Watching them fall till they can be seen no more. Climbing up onto the rail is more difficult than I imagined. But sitting there on the edge freedom reaches out and softly sings 'Spread your wings and fly'.
"Give me your hand Miss Parker. Let me help you down." He stands next to me reaching out but my body shies away, eyes refuse to acknowlege his. The head shakes from side to side since the mouth cannot answer.
"If you won't come down then I'll join you." He is now next to me and we both sit on the thin piece of metal, nothing between us and the ground. "If you are going to jump then let's do it together." His hand stretches out and closes over mine.
My head shakes as the mouth forms an answer. "I don't want you to die because of me." His hand feels warm and this aching body begins to relax, the pills and booze have started to take effect.
"Then let's get down." The words are reassuring. Before my head can confirm the request, he's off the railing. Arms quickly encircle my waist and he pulls me like a doll to safety. Strong arms offer support as a weaken body collapses.
Burying my face in his shirt and with a voice sobbing like a child's. "I'm sorry Jarod. I'm so sorry." Suddenly I am aware of others in the room. Dark shadowly creatures at first, then men in blue uniforms.
"This the patient Doc?" One man asks.
Clinging to Jarod and looking up into his face with questions and anger burning in my eyes.
"Why are these creatures here?"
"Give us a moment please." He addresses them and turns to me. "Let's get you to a hospital. Tomorrow we need to talk and put the past behind us." Scooping me up without permission he places my quivering body on a gurney. I want to fight him but feel too weak. He betrayed me, took away my control. Damn him! But there is something else and he leans over to whisper as they wheel the gurney out the door towards the elevator.
"Thank you for doing what I couldn't. I'm just surprised it took you so long." My eyes seek his to question the words. The mind is a blur ... did I hear him right? "You ended the life of the person responsible for our pain. You did what I wanted to but couldn't." Suddenly it is clear as the elevator doors shut.
"I was your Kyle! I was your assasin!" His answer is a smile. He knew what my actions would be once I had a name. The look of hurt and pain that once graced his face is now replaced with gradtitude. The true impact of his betrayal of me is now apparent. "You used me Jarod."
"No I aided you. I know the price you paid, what Lyle exacted from you. Like you said I set the stage, I prompt the players..." He knew about Lyle and the pact all along. The doors of the elevator open and we exit through the hotel lobby.
By now we're at the back of the ambulance and I have to fight to stay alert. Like a flash flood from nowhere reality comes crashing down, comsuming me until I am a part of it being swept along. This man, this child I first pursued has grown and the world has jaded his edges, pierced his soul. The door of the ambulance slams shut. He sits next to me and in a low soft voice continues.
"I was only your co-conspiritor..." Placing fingers against his mouth to silence the words, the softness of the lips contrast with the coarse stubble beneath my finger tips. But the voice continues unabated.
The ride is short and vaguely do his words penetrate the surrounding cloud. Having seen what a overdose patient goes through before, knowing what lies ahead, I close my eyes and wish I were dead. Perhaps this is penance but penance for what? The choice was never mine. Nothing more than a pawn on a chess board manipulated through calculated moves to achieve a goal. Syd's little project is quite a piece of work after all.
*****
February 20th
Manor Lodge.
11 a.m.
Sitting on the bed with back to the wall, legs drawn up in front of me, I lean my chin upon folded arms and wait. The pink walls of this pit, this cell called a private room are anything but calming. This place considered to be the most respected and expensive mental sanitaratium is now my prison. Thanks to that bastard Jarod. God, I should have let Lyle kill him. Or at least cripple him.
Gone are my high heels and short skirt. Today I wear the lastest fashion statement, a matching pink top and elastic waist pants. Damn hospital scrubs. Hell...better yet, I should have taken Jarod up on his offer to jump with me. It would have spared me the suffering and indignity of the last two days and put a end to him.
The red light blinks on the surveillance camera in the corner of the room. This hell is just like the Centre. But then how fitting a sentence. Maybe that's why Jarod sent me here. The psych tech explained that the camera is for my own good because I'm on suicide watch. That's a lie. This is Jarod's way of monitoring me like I did him at the Centre. Holding a fist up, I extend my middle finger for the viewer at the other end of the camera. Almost as if by magic the light stops blinking. The door opens and Jarod walks in.
"Feeling better?" He quietly asks.
"Does it look like it " The answer is shot back with vemon.
"I think so. Like the clothes. You look nice in pink." He sits down next to me on the bed. Running my hand through dishevled hair my raw throat burns as a reply is spit back. "Well I'm glad you think so. When can I leave?" He leans back and stares uncomfortably at me.
"When we've had our talk Miss Parker. Then you can go...if you want."
"Great. So what do we have to talk about?" Turning to watch his face I suddenly realize this man next to me is a stranger.
"The Centre for one thing. Lyle. Your future and mine. How much did you know about Lyle's dealings at the Centre?"
"Not much" Shaking my head and laughing, I realize the answer is simple. "None really. I was more focused on revenge. Why?"
"Did you know the Yakuza aren't pleased with a failed delivery for a second time? Lyle not only has them but also the Triumvirate looking for him. He slipped out last night and disappeared leaving you to take the blame."
"And how would you know?"
"I have my sources. You and Lyle are persona non gratia. They have assigned a team to find you. Do you understand Parker? It means..."
"I know what it means. They want us eliminated. Why should I believe anything you tell me ? How can I trust you Jarod after you used me?"
His finger has slipped between the ankle and the gold chain and in a low voice with head bent answers back. "I gave you what you wanted. A name. I let you use me as a bargaining chip to get back into the Centre. It was my gift to you."
Reaching down my hand gripes his to prevent the finger from playing with the gold anklet.
"You used me like an assasin to kill someone you couldn't. You played me like a pawn in your personal chess game. How dare you call what you did a gift. You planned everything Jarod. How can you expect me to trust you?" Anger resounds through the words as nails dig into his hand.
"Because you do. You trusted me on the balcony, trust me now. If you walk out that door alone you have not only the Yakuza and the Centre after you but also Lyle. If you walk out with me I'll protect you. The choice is yours Parker." Slowly he stands up and the same expectant face from Valentine's day looks down at me. My eyes follow as he walks to the door, opens it and picks up a suit case sitting just outside.
"There are some clothes in here from your apartment. You can get dressed and leave any time you like. Think about what I said and let me know your decision. I won't force you Miss Parker." He sets it down and walks out the door.
After waiting several minutes I crawl off the bed and across the floor to retrive the suitcase. Opening it a hard object wrapped protectively in tissue paper sits on top of the clothes. With trembling fingers the tissue paper is pulled back to reveal the silver framed photo of Mom and a little girl. A little girl that once was me. Slowly tears began to course their way down the checks as fingers softly stroke the photo. Then digging deeper through the selection of clothes I find my favorite heels, perfume and make-up. Efficient Jarod has included everything but no cigarettes. Smiling at his thoughtfulness the angry seems to drain away. Why does he have this effect on me?
Closing the suitcase and standing up exhaustion comsumes me. I head back to the bed to curl up under the covers. Hugging the silver famed photo to my breast tears continue to moisten my checks while silent sobs rack the body.
Funny the twists and turns life takes. Just when you think you're in control it throws a curve, knocking you to your knees. The Centre and Daddy controlled me all my life. But leaving accomplished nothing. It was simply trading one master for another. The eye lids now are heavy and close on their own. The tears have ceased and the sobs have dissipated like the mist.
"Trust me." Jarod had said the night he gave me the name. Trust? I did and look what happened. I thought I was his equal but in reality was a unsuspecting partner in crime. Still his proposition is tempting, hard to resist. My heart tells me one thing , my mind another. And somewhere in between the body cries out for sleep. Jarod will wait. I'll sleep on it before giving him a answer.
RATING: PG-13 Contains mature subject material and violence. NOT SUITABLE for young children. If you're underaged or faint of heart go read something else.
Many thanks to Eric for editing. All flames or compliments should be sent to me, Comments welcomed.
This story is a sequel to "EXEUNT: STAGE CENTRE" by Jonathn Yip who also wrote the prologue for "RETRIBUTION" "RETRIBUTION' is told entirely from Miss Parker's point of view. Hope you like what I did with your challenge Yip. Also please read Paula H.'s story "Murderer Of The Day". It was inspired by this story.
RETRIBUTION
Prologue
Retribution
by Ra-Chell
Damn the Centre. Damn it for what it did to me. My whole life was shot to hell ! But now I am free. I have a job now, thanks to that bastard Jarod. He found a position for me in a huge corporation. I pull seven figures a year, but what is money? Jarod also gave me my life back. He's been there every step for me. I owe him everything.
He's the one who gave me the answer - the answer to my burning question.
I wish I could do the same for him. But I help him in...other ways. He gave it willingly, with that stupid grin on his face. I knew not what it was. A simple gift. A name. The one...the one who killed my mother. I will get my retribution. I will have my vengeance.
A name.
*****
One year later.
January 17th 4 P.M.
My office in Santa Monica, Cailfornia.
Smiling at the thin pale man prattling before me I am reminded of a vulture as he eyes me up and down like a piece of raw meat. Once my mere presence would have quelled such advances, but this is not the Centre and this vulture seated across from my desk is now my employer. With his becked nose and those beady little eyes that survey my body and mentally undress me, does he really think he has a chance of climbing into my bed? As the phone rings a deep breath of relief fills my lungs.
"Excuse me." With a smile ever so pleasant I answer with a voice like honey. "Miss Parker."
The voice on the other end never sounded sweeter and as I flirt with my caller the beady eyed vulture rises
to leaves.
"No really, I'd love to have some one to cook for. I'll see you tonight at my apartment. You still remember how to get there don't you?" The vulture takes one last look and my smile is one of mixed joy and impending pleasure as my voice purrs.
"Of course Jarod, it'll be fun. I'll even let you help...this time!" I laugh remembering the last time he helped. " And you could bring a nice..." The door to the office slowly closes as my fingers slide down a long lean leg to play with a ankle encircled by a thin gold chain. The gold anklet may be simple but the gift could not have been more appropriate. It's luster never tarnishes, it's strong links encircle like a constant reminder of the hunted's strength. His care and concern for his former huntress. Or is this Jarod's way of saying I'm the one who failed, was captured and subdued?
*****
January 18th. 3:30 A. M.
My bedroom
Dinner lies half made in the kitchen and the trail of clothes marks the way to the bedroom. The bottle of wine sits unopened on the sleek Italian glass and chrome table. It's late and for once I feel content, a physical and emotional hunger satisfied.
"I'm surprised by you Miss Parker. You adapted better than I thought you would." His comment startles me out of a half slumber.
"Why? Just what did you expect? I left the Centre on my own. I knew what I was getting into." Rising up to look at him. "Your help is appreciated Jarod but I'm not a child."
The words are defensive and he looks at me with his sweet innocence. "You know that's not what I meant. You're more ..."
I know what he's going to say. '... more like my mother. Forgiving...the kind to turn the other cheek.' Like hell! I may despise that bastard called my father but I learned from him that to be weak is the last thing one should be. As for turning the other cheek, what a crock! This anger has smoldered too long. He can't see it because he's either blind or chooses to ignore it. But it still burns deep within.
He pulls me down to mold my body to his. At least this is honest and real, no pretense here. I feel more contentment than ever before and desire these moments to be a constant in my life...not just a matter of convenience for him.
****
February 11th 6:45 P.M.
My apartment
Pushing the door shut, I lean against it with eyes closed and head titled back as if to keep the world at bay. Another day of going nowhere, listening to stupid people who make absolutely no sense. Why of all the jobs in the world did Jarod pick this one for me?
"Nice place but not as nice as what you gave up." Lyle's voice shatter the thoughts and my hand reaches for a gun which is no longer there.
"How did you get in?" A light clicks on and his face becomes visible with that smug half smile and a immaculate suit ironically the same color as mine.
"That's not important. I moved into your...or rather our family home." He sighes then realizes the effect is wasted . " I've never felt so at home any place else. Funny but you keep things excatly where I would have put them. It's almost de ja vu. " Rising from the sofa it takes the intruder only a few quick strides to stand close enough to feel his breath. His cold fingers now slowly stroke the side of my hardened face. "It's almost as if I can feel you there. It's almost like having ...a twin." The low voice has a chilling effect.
"Well you certainly didn't waste any time jumping into my grave at the Centre. Enjoy it while you can." Attempts to get away from the offending hand are futile, it follow my every move. "Your visit here is unwelcome." The bitter sarcasm covers the hurt behind the words as I think of this person living in my former home. Rapidly the unwelcomed fingers travel down the jaw before coming to a sudden stop, then jerk my chin up as the stub of a missing thumb is pressed into my check.
"If it's such a hell hole then why have you been trying to sneak back in?" The eyes that stare back are the same that reflect back from my mirror each morning. Cold hard eyes of blue steel, ruthless and uncaring.
"What did Jarod do for you besides scraping you up off the street? Give you a job? Money? An apartment? Tell me, how does it feel being his whore? If you think you'll find out who he...."
"That's not why I'm interested in the Centre." Our eyes meet, thoughts exchanged in a glance and a lump rises in the throat at the realization that now he suddenly knows the truth. "It's not for Jarod's sake but for Mom's." The fingers release my chin as the whispered words confirms the exchange of thoughts
"Then maybe we need to talk." My head nods in agreement. I have no illusions. What ever help he offers will come with a heavy price.
*******
11:20 P.M.
My bathroom shower.
Water cold as ice flows over this naked body matching the icy blood flowing through the veins. As cold as the tile pressed beneath tightly clenched fists to steady a shaky form. Raising my face up away from the freezing onslaught to catch a breath, tears burn their way down chilled checks to mingle with the water from the shower. Lyle's help comes with a heavy price.
"Damn you Jarod, damn you! What do you think I am...your whore?" But only the dull thumps of fists pounding on tile answer back. And what have I prostituded myself for? Nothing more than the simple knowledge of who killed my mother and what good is it if I can not act on it? I have tried in vain to enter into the Centre to complete my mission and each time have been stopped. So now I have sold my soul and made a pact with the devil himself. Why? What drives me to dance with such a demon? And this devil-incarnate is my brother, the man I know as Lyle. My sacrifice upon his altar is you Jarod whom I hate and despise. The one who torments me with a part of my life that has shaped me, molded me into what I am, not what I wanted to be. Yet a simple gaze into your eyes causes this heart of ice to melt, the anger to drain from my soul. A mere touch is pure pleasure, a simple caresses ....
The last drops of bath gel drip onto the loofah from a bottle that twenty minutes ago was full. But no matter how hard the hands scrub, the body still feels dirty and soiled. No amount of water and soap can cleanse this soul.
*****
February 14th 2:10 P.M.
My office.
"See you tonight." Slowly the phone settles back into it's resting place. The smile that was there is gone replaced by a mask to cover the fear. A pain sears the chest from within and the stomach contents threaten to come up. The decision is weighed once again but the outcome remains the same. Picking up a photo in a elegant silver frame, a faint smile returns as my fingers brush lightly across it.
"For you Mom, for you."
****
7:23 P.M.
My apartment.
He stands in the doorway like a giddy little boy in grade school. A heart shaped box of chocolates in one hand, flowers in the other and a expectant face. This is the Jarod I remember as a child and without thinking start to laugh. As if embarrassed by the awkwardness of his gifts, he tries to hands them to me and struggles to speak.
Smiling I place a forefinger on his lips to silence them, then pull him inside and shut the door. Slowly without speaking, keeping his body pinned with mine, I gently begin to trace the soft lips with a finger. Studying him as the finger follows the outline and shape of his face and eyes, now running it lightly down the bridge of the nose to the tip, returning to the lips which part slightly to gently grasp the exploring digit. Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out before reaching forward to cup his face in my hands, wanting to forever comment to memory the texture, shape, feel and yes... even the smell of him. Wanting this moment to last. Then sliding slender fingers with red nails through his silky hair, I gently pull his face to mine and kiss the passionate lips that eargerly return my embrace . All too soon he slowly pulls back and soft brown eyes silently ask a question. But my hands still clasp his head while the eyes burn into memory how he looks at this moment. This is the way I want to remember him, no longer the child but the grown man. The eyes ask the question again and the fingers slowly slide out of his hair, reaching up one last time to gently brush against his forehead.
"Hmm, I just want to remember how you look tonight." It's not a lie and a smile graces my lips. Then suddenly the smile freezes as guilt and horror well up inside at what the outcome of this evening will be. Tonight will be the last time his eyes will look at me this way. Tomorrow something different will emit from those orbs.
***
10:37 P.M
Outside my apartment.
Any other night a romantic dinner out with Jarod would have been a delight. But tonight the food caught in the throat and nerves that should be as steel swayed and threaten to bend. Half of me wanting to go, half wanting to stay. But as we approach the door knowing what surprise lurks in my apartment, doubt appears and the inner child starts to whimper. Shivering in the cool moist air fear and dread spread through me with each step. Now standing in front of the door hands hesitate and fumble with the keys. 'It's not too late to turn and run.' a child like voice whispers.
"Jarod, why don't we go to your place tonight? I've never seen it and..."
"Parker we're here, let's just open the door." He watches my face for a response and wraps a arm protectively around me. "Something wrong?" s gently whispered while pressing his face in my hair.
Surely he must suspect.
"No but I thought a change would be nice. A little more exciting." The words come out from a dry throat un-convincing. 'Run! For God's sake, run.' the child like voice screams.
"You've never been shy before, don't start now." He laughes and takes the keys. In horror eyes watch the key inserted into the lock, watch as it turns and the door is pushed open. The light from the living room spills across the white carpet. The silence of the apartment is deafening.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine just...just a little too much to drink that's all." Moving into the apartment there is no turning back. 'Why JarodWhy did you open that door?' cries the inner child. The apartment appears to be excatly as we left it. The flowers he brought lean lop sided in the vase on the mantel next to Mom's picture. The over sized heart shaped box still wrapped in red cellophane sits on the glass coffee table. Next to it the CD I gave him still nestles in crumpled Valentine theme paper.
"Let's listen to the CD you got me." Like a kid excited about a gift he moves quickly over to snatch it from it's nest and the cellophane is off and floats to the floor. "I still think you should have gone with the system I suggested. "
"What?" But like a child playing with a new toy he is busy opening the case and removing the CD.
"The audio system. I said you should have bought the one I recommended. If it was a matter of money I would have helped out." He puts the CD in and smiles as music begins to fill the room. "I thought you invited me up for a after dinner drink." Wrapping his arms around my waist and slowly rocking back and forth to the music, a silly grin spreads across the boyish face.
"You've watched too much TV since you've escaped." Untangling my body from his.
"Well I do have a lot to catch up on." The answer has a double edged meaning as a hand reaches up and loosens the tie. The jacket is slipped off and tossed on a chair.
"Well in that case, why don't you take care of the drinks and I'll go change." With a forced smile I head for the bedroom leaving Jarod to play bartender. The next few minutes seem like hours as music floats through the air and an unsuspecting Jarod hums along with it. Pushing the bedroom door open on cue, I scream.
"Lyle, NO!....Jarod run..." A hand lashes out to met the side of my face. Pain stuns the senses as Lyle pulls his arm around me and we move into the living room. Jarod stands by the open door ready to bolt.
"I wouldn't if I were you." Lyle has one arm wrapped around me like a vice, pinning my arms to my sides, the cold barrel of his gun pressed under my chin. Jarod hesitates in the doorway and looks helpless in our direction.
"You won't kill your own sister Lyle."
"You're right. I won't kill her but I could cripple her." The gun moves from under the chin to the base of the neck. " Let's play doctor. After all, you were one once. Now if I shoot her here she'll be paralyzed from what? The neck down?"
"Don't do this." Brown eyes plead, face reflecting fear and helplessness as the brain fights between the choice of freedom or the Centre.
"Let's try this then." Lyle laughes and moves the gun down the side to the lower back. "If the bullet enters here that means she'll be paralyzed from hmmm...let's say the waist down?"
"Don't do this Lyle." Brown eyes dart from me to the protective cover of night outside the open door.
"Go out that door and she won't walk again." Jarod moves slightly, Lyle's arm squeezes tighter and with a sick smile in his voice repeats the threat. "I said don't!"
Jarod moves once more. A loud noise explodes in the ears, pain sears the back and a scream escapes the lips. Eyes shut but the darkness only intensifies the pain. Lyle's arm releases as I slide to the floor and curl into a ball. Warm hands suddenly touch my face and slowly my eyes open to find a terrified Jarod bent over me whispering "No." Sweepers appear from nowhere to pull him away and restrain him.
Slowly my hand feels the injured side. A wetness soaks the dress and pulling the hand back a red liquid stains the fingers. "You bastard, you shot me!"
"No I didn't. It's just the dye pack. As for the pain, well I just want to make sure it looked real." Smiling Lyle jerks me up into a standing position. He's right, for a moment I had forgotten about the dye pack slipped under my dress in the bedroom and the 'blanks' in Lyle's gun. Jarod's eyes look at me in disbelief.
"You were a part of this? You knew about this?" He struggles and anger replaces empathy. "Why after all I did for you? Why Parker?"
"You only helped me to get back at the Centre. I don't owe you anything." It takes every bit of strength to speak.
Lyle laughs while shaking his head. "This is sweet. The look on your face, I wish I had a picture of it. Now the question is how do we get you back to the Centre. Mathis, you know what to do."
As sweepers hold him down a man with a large black case approaches. Setting the case down next to Jarod he opens it and removes a thin latex strap. "Hold him still. And you, I want you to hold his hand to keep his arm down." He barks orders to the sweepers and they obey.
"Not that hand, this one." The piece of latex is tightened around Jarod's upper arm and the man retrives a syringe from the case and removes the green plastic cap from the needle. The needle pierces the vein on the inside of his arm at the elbow and slowly the medication is injected.
"What are they doing to him?" I quietly ask.
"Just a little sedative to keep him relaxed on the way home." Is Lyle's reassuring reply.
Jarod stops struggling, his body becomes limp, his eyes roll back. It's clear to all that Mathis is more than just concerned.
"What the hell are you doing to him?" My voice screams and with both hands grab Lyle's arm. "Damn it! You said you wouldn't hurt him."
Mathis fumbles with the contents of his case and leans forward to check Jarod's beathing.
"Shit! I was afraid of this. Get him up here where I can work on him." Jarod is hoisted onto the glass and chrome coffee table as Mathis works feverishly.
"What the hell happened?" Lyle demands.
"He went into respiratory arrest. That means he stopped breathing." Mathis growls back through gritted teeth. " I told you it could happen with this drug. You knew the risk."
Several sweepers bring in emergency equipment as others work on Jarod. One pumps air into Jarod's lungs, another has ripped his shirt open and attached wires to his chest to monitor a fluctuating heart rate. A IV is started and Mathis draws up medication in a syringe while Lyle screams at him.
"You had better fix this. Because if he dies so do you." He ignores Lyle's threats and pushes the needle of the syringe into a port on the IV tubing.
"If he dies it's because you didn't listen. I warned you this could happen." He looks at me and asks "How much did he have to eat and how much alcohol did he drink?"
"He hardly touched his meal. I think he had one drink, maybe not even that before dinner."
Wrapping arms around myself the room is freezing and time stands still. The living room looks like a triage center, medical supplies and wrappers litter the white carpet and off to the side the heart shaped box now with a shoe print lies upside down. Mathis has turned back to his patient. No one speaks until the silence is broken by Lyle.
"Dennis give me your gun." A sweeper resembling a younger version of Sam moves towards Lyle and hands him a gun. Lyle kneels next to Mathis and repeats his threat. "He better live or you won't."
"I think we'll have him stable in the next hour or two. You'll just have to put your flight plans on hold for a while. And Lyle next time someone tells you something, you might want to listen." Mathis warns.
The sight has become unbearable to watch and slowly eyes close to block out the scene. A cold hand glides over the injured side of my face and eyes open to find Lyle standing in front of me.
"I have no intentions of killing him. He's too valuable a commodity." But the soft tone of the voice doesn't match the coldness of his eyes.
"I don't care what price you put on him Lyle, if he dies..." I hiss through clenched teeth as he steps back to inventory my appearance.
"Clean yourself up Parker. I want you to look nice when we arrive back at the Centre. We need to make a good impression."
Pushing past him to the coffee table I kneel down and look at the man spread on top of it like a rag doll. "Will he...will he be alright?" A low whisper asks.
"He should be." Mathis answers back . "He's breathing on his own now. He wasn't without oxygen very long so I doubt there will be any brain damage." His eyes travel over me and he asks. "What about you? Will you bealright?"
Straightening up the words are cold and hard. "I'm fine. You just worry about him. If anything and I mean anything happens to him, you better pray Lyle gets to you before I do." Everyone watches in silence as I leave the room.
Once inside the bedroom with the door closed, the dress is quickly shed. The mirror reflects back the damage. The left side of the face has started to swell and the lip bleeds from a small cut. The right side of the back just above the waist shows signs of a emerging bruise where Lyle pressed the barrel of his gun when he fired. But the impending bruise is secondary to the thoughts of the man spread out in the living room. After all that has transpired Lyle had better keep his half of the bargain.
****
Februray 15th
2:56 A.M.
Los Angeles International Airport.
The Centre's private jet has just taken off from LAX headed for Blue Cove. Never imagined seeing this beast again but here we are. Cleaners and sweepers guarding a drugged and subdued Jarod like a prized animal, Lyle gloating with the phone glued to his ear and the empty shell of a woman reflecting faintly back from the window.
"Well yes I was too......well thank you, thank you very much, I will." Before he can make another call my hand reaches out and takes the phone.
"Will what?" It's more a demand than a question.
"Tell you congratulations Miss Parker." The smug smile spreads it's way across the deceptive face.
"Give me what I want...now. I don't give a damn about some moron's congratulations." Hand held out in front of him, fingers snap indicating an impatient wait. A sigh escapes as he hands over the file.
"As we agreed, the information you requested on the person Jarod told you about."
"Just how is it that you can always get the exact information you want?" The smile that is returned tauts.
My eyes scan the file widening with each new revelation about the man that murdered Mom. This was the person who gave the order for Jarod's abduction, the orders for everything from the pretender project to the red files to....
"He's a member of the triumvirate!"
"Was a member. Now semi-retired due to health problems. But they're willing to give him up in exchange for Jarod's return. You won't have any problem with carrying out your justice." A thumbless hand brushes lint from a sleeve. "That's what you want isn't it? Retribution in exchange for Jarod."
"What happens to Jarod when he doesn't perform the sims they want?" The voice is so low and choked it's almost inaudible.
"Well that depends on you." A arm slips around my shoulders and draws me tight. "You see I can make life miserable or pleasant for him. I can prolong it or end it. The way I see it, his life depends on your co-operation with me."
******
9:05 A.M.
A private airport near the Centre.
The doors to the Centre limo are opened and hey carry him struggling from the jet to the vehicle and shove him in. Lyle trimuphantly slides in to sit across from the newly captured trophy. But the knees lock and legs refuse to move as I stand by the passenger door like a child who has done something terribly wrong and now must face the punishement.
"Get in Parker." Lyle's rough command prompts me to slide in next to him. Looking the other way to avoid the accusing eyes seated across the small confined space, this is the closest we've been since leaving the apartment.
"What's wrong Miss Parker? Can't look at your handiwork? Your mother would be proud of you." The voice is hoarse and dry.
"Damn you Jarod. Don't talk about my mother. As for morality, you have no right to talk." The words come out subdued. Reluctantly I turn to look at the eyes that now burn with anger, a far cry from only a few hours ago.
"I never betrayed a friend. I was your friend wasn't I?"
"You're a pain in the ass. " Feelings freeze like flakes of ice to form a protective wall to encase the heart.
"Is that what you really think of me? Poor Miss Parker, still trying to win Daddy's approval after all he did to you." Turning away there is no escape, even the window reflects the haunting image shaking his head, as the sing song words pound the ears. "And just what will you get this time for bring me in?"
"Daddy has nothing to do with this. " Answering the reflection in the window is easier than answering him.
"You don't get it do you Jarod?" Lyle's laugh is one of utter delight." Miss Parker and I made a rather signifint deal with the Triumvirate. We bring you back and we get everything! Mr. Parker...'Daddy'... and Raines are shown the door. They're old, useless... it's time for new blood. It's our turn to run the Centre. You're just the ticket."
"I'm the sacrifice you made for power?" A undercurrent of hurt and pain can be heard, forcing me to turn back to face the firery brown eyes. But now a protective wall of ice surrounds the heart and nothing can get through.
"Like I said before, spare me your morality lecture Jarod. You're not so pure and innocence. I followed you for years, saw what you did. A one man vigilante. The things you do to people you think are wrong....it's enough to make one sick. Judge. Jury. Executioner. I'm doing the world a favor by locking you back in the cage where you belong." The old Miss Parker has returned, picking up where she left off a year ago without missing a beat. The hate and venom once held in check is now unleashed.
"Is that what you believe? I never killed anyone but gave them a taste of their own medicine."
"You never killed anyone? No you just got someone else to do your dirty work for you. That FBI agent...what was his name? You should remember, you set him up and the Yakuza executed him. You may not have pulled the trigger but you sure as hell set the stage, prompted the actors and the deed was done. You're no better than the Centre." There is no reply and silence dominantes the rest of the trip.
****
9:56 A.M.
The Centre.
Walking through the corridors of this place I sought over a year ago to leave behind, nothing looks changed. But things have changed. Now there is a purpose, a plan ..and retribution soon to come.
He walks before me like a prisoner walking to his execution, never turning back to look over his shoulder. Lyle with his arrogant atittude marches in step beside as we escort Jarod to his cell, parading him through the Centre like some wild exotic animal. Passing by the Tower elevators, the door to one of the elevators closes but not before revealing Tomie Tanaka and and assosciates.
"What are they doing here?" Thoughts of the last time the Centre had dealings with them brings a bitter taste to the mouth.
"Business. Now that Jarod isn't a problem anymore, we don't have to worry about any interference with selling his sims." The answer straight forward, no need to hide the truth.
"Did you forget what happen last time, moron?"
"Daily reminder Miss Parker." The thumbless hand is displayed for all to see.
"This time you may lose more than a thumb." Jarod's words are like a jolt of electricity.
"I don't think so... not this time. But it seems there is a strange conection between the Parkers and the Tanakas."
"What do you mean?" Delighted that Jarod took the bait, Lyle gloats as he leans forward to whisper loud enough for me to hear.
"I may have lost a thumb, but Miss Parker here..." He pauses before continuing, "care to guess what she lost?" The revelation about a long hot summer spent with Tomie when I was in college has the desired effect. Damn Lyle for his sadistic pleasure.
The now silient entourage continues the walk until the cell comes in to view. Once there with eyes avoiding mine the prisoner reluctantly takes his place inside.
****
10:25 P.M.
Jarod's new 'home'.
The last twelve hours have been exhausting. With Jarod strapped to a chair in the cell like a condemned man one after another they came, a long procession of inquisitors.
"Where are the DSA's? "
" How did you escape?"
" Who helped you?" The questions never ending, his answers few. His questions never answered.
Legs ache from standing pressed against the wall to watch each new inquisitor while avoiding the questioning brown eyes that seek mine. Pulling out a silver case as the last one leaves, a old habit resurfaces. Placing the cigarette between my lips a thumbless hand snatches it before the lighter reaches it.
"As long as you're working with me, you don't smoke." The tobacco is crushed beneath a highly polished shoe. A hand reaches out for the case and lighter but defiantly both are slipped back into their hiding place.
"Where's Sydney?" The question asked for the hundredth time breaks the stand off. Brigette standing by the door stifles a laugh as Lyle's attention is directed towards Jarod.
"Who? Sydney? You don't have to worry about Sydney anymore. He's been retired. You'll be re-assigned to someone who won't be...mmmn so sympathic." Lyle stands there laughing, taking pleasure in his victim's torment. Brown eyes close as if to shut out the unwelcomed answer while the tired face reflects pain.
"Poor baby." Brigette laughs.
"Don't be so sad!" Lyle mocks him. " What's wrong? Expect things to be like old times? And tell me, did you think Miss Parker wouldn't betray you just because you came to her rescue and scrapped her up off the street? You forget...she's a Parker!" He laughs, walks around Jarod then returns to stand at my side.
" This is great! The best I've...we've done yet." Taking two steps forward to stand in front of Jarod he leans down to whisper, "Do you know why she did it?"
"Revenge. Wanting retribution for your mother's death, I understand that but why this?" Eyes open to watch the cold face of a woman he thought he could trust but there's no expression, only an icy stare.
"Well the two of you must have a lot to talk about." Lyle breaks the cold silence. "So we'll leave you alone." Smiling he and Brigette depart arm in arm.
Eyes burn into this empty shell as I alone remain against the wall. Slowly moving forward, pulling a chair up in front of him to sit down, I lean forward to show I'm not afraid.
"Why? I thought you cared. All those times you said..." A face full of pain looks up as if hoping to find some hint of love and kindness in these eyes. Half hoping this is a front, a way to hide true feeling from the ever seeing surveillance camera.
Laying a forefinger against the lips to slience him with a whispered "Shh." the finger once more traces the lips and outline of his face. But the texture and feel has a noticable change, a cold hardness replacing the warmth. Sliding fingers through his hair like the night before, he now stiffens and the lips fail to respond to the kiss. Still cupping his head in my hands I pull one hand slightly forward and with the thumb gently wipe the unwanted kiss from his lips.
"I thought you cared Miss Parker. I thought you loved..."
"That wasn't love." From the look on his face the words burn like acid and hope begins to dissolve. Fingers slip out of his hair as if afraid of being burned.
"If it wasn't love, then what was it?" The words escape like a whisper.
"Convience....need...curiousity to see what Syd's little experiment was like in bed." Heart beating wildly hoping the words can convince that no emotional attachment, no emotional ties exist.
"Then if it was curiousity..." Anger now replacing hope.
"What's wrong Jarod? Do you want to know how you rate?" Words like poison drip into a open wound. Smiling at the pain I pull out the cigarettes, light one and blow pale smoke in his face.
"And how do I rate?" A small laugh punucates the remark."I'm sure you'll tell me." Bitterness now marking the words. The pretender in both of us come out as we sit there locked in a stare.
"Well Miss Parker, I'm waiting. How do I rate?"
Rising from the chair with the smile frozen in place, I grind out the cigarette with the toe of my shoe.
"Well Miss Parker? What's wrong...or don't you know?" Hate flowing through the words now matching the angry face.
"I've had better." The comment is flat, without meaning. His reply falls on deaf ears as the feet hurry this corpse out the door.
****
11:42 P.M.
My new Centre office.
Sinking into the leather chair behind my father's desk a monitor lights the dim room. Watching Jarod from the safety of this office, remorse for cruel actions slowly began to take their toll. But even here in this corner of the Centre one doesn't feel safe from prying eyes and the the outer ward appearance reflects absolute control.
Rolling a cold hard glass between slender fingers, eyes never leaving the monitor newly installed this morning I sit in silent watch.
The guards come in to release him and quickly depart leaving behind a tray of food. But like a lifeless statue he continues to sit staring into space. Suddenly as if a switch is thrown he explodes into a fury, throwing everything in reach. Nothing un-secured is safe.
If only Sydney were here to soothe the angry, calm the rage. But Sydney has been retired, banned from the Centre. Lyle had him removed the day after our pact. Helplessly watching for what seems an eternity as everything in the cell is destroyed or assaulted until finally he crumples exhausted into a corner. Still any inner reaction to the display of anguish has little visable effect on this icy outer appearance.
*****
February 16th 8:11 A.M.
My Centre office.
Having had little sleep the night before I slip into the office and check the monitor behind the desk. Jarod still lies in the corner but has moved into a different position. It's as if the soul has taken flight leaving only the crumpled body behind. The office doors swing open as Sydney marches in.
"Well I see your father's dream of you taking over for him is a reality. Only I don't believe he quite planned for the way you accomplished it, Miss Parker." Anger and fear see the beneath the calm surface of his words.
"As my father would have said those doors are there for a reason. Knock next time before you come in. As far as replacing my father, I think Daddy's old office suits me just fine." The sarcasm fails to affect Sydney as I seattle down in the chair behind the massive desk. "What do you want Syd? You didn't come here to congratulate me."
"I want to see Jarod. I need to know he is alright." He's tired and concern is written on a face that has aged years since I last saw him.
"Sorry, you're no longer in charge of him. You are retired remember? Take advantage of it, not many people who work for the Centre do."
"Miss Parker, Jarod was my life's work. I need to know what is happening with him. I need to let him know I wasn't a part of this." He pleads for mercy that's not mine to give.
"You want to see him? Fine, come here then." Motioning for him to come to the other side of the desk his eyes imediately fall on the monitor of Jarod's cell.
"What have you done? " It's more a gasp than a statement.
"Nothing Syd. Jarod has been like that since his little temper tantrum last night when Lyle and I told him how stupid he was and how easy it had been to catch him." A voice so cold and hard echos through the room... it can't be mine.
"He cared about you Miss Parker. The only thing that he was naive about was his concern for you and thinking that you cared about him equally. " If the words were a arrow aimed at the heart, then they certainly hit their mark. But years of pratice makes perfect and hiding hurt feelings is my forte.
"Touching but not important. He let his emotions get in the way. He got what he deserved."
"And what does he deserve Miss Parker? Certainly not this. What happened to you? I was beginning to see some warmth, some touch of humanity in you and now ...you do this! I thought when you left the Centre the part of you that was Catherine... all the goodness in you had prevailed."
"I don't think you ever really knew me Syd. Now you've seen your precious lab rat. There's nothing more you can do here. My suggestion to you is enjoy retirement while you can." Two sweepers enter the office as Sydney straighten up. His eyes are angry and send a chill through me.
"I would not want to be you Miss Parker when Jarod escapes again. He won't forgive you for this."
"I'm not worried about him escaping. You see Syd, as with any valuable 'pet' you own, you put a dog tag on them should they run away or get lost. In your little monkey's case, we implanted one of the new high tech chips that can be tracked by satellite. So no matter where he goes, I'll always be able to find him." How can I tell him the chip is for me? A way to find him should Lyle ever try ...
"Well, I'm sure Jarod appreciates your concern Miss Parker." He turns and walks past the sweepers leaving a chill in his wake.
*****
3:22 P.M.
Centre's renewal wing.
Like a cat stalking it's prey, I silently walk the lifeless corridior. The moment that has been the ultimate goal for years now waits behind the metal doors ahead. The gun with the circle of fire on the gripe feels odd and strange. But how fitting it will be, the same gun used to take Mom's life will now take his. Feelings frozen in time, duty driving me forward, pushing the heavy door open to step inside. He looks up from his desk as I enter and a look of fear grips and contorts his face. A mouth opens and words pour out...words that fall upon deaf ears. I'm here for one purpose and one purpose alone, to avenge a deed that this pathic creature committed. That one act that ricocheted and killed all hope.
The barrel of the gun is leveled at his head as the pressure of a finger against the trigger increases. Left hand supporting the right, arms stretched out in front, slowly pressing the finger back. The gun jerks up slightly harder than expected as a deafening noise explodes in my ears and a abstract picture in dark red blood appears on the wall behind him. Tiny bits of cranial matter and bone complete the macabre work of art while the agonal sounds of a dying animal filter across the room.
But the eyes stare back and I'm not conviced of the finality of my deed. This is after all the Centre and things are not what they seem. Walking around the desk, my foot catches the chair and with difficulty push it back. A wet stain slowly spreads across the crotch of his pants and a fecal odor perfumes the air. There is nothing romantic about death, only gross reality.
Noticing a fine smear of blood on the left sleeve while lowering the gun, my hand reaches up to my cheek to wipe away a drop. Walking into washroom to look in the mirror, surprisingly there is little blood. Without thinking the gun is slipped into a pocket of the jacket before cleansing the face. I then turn to look at the remains that sprawl in the chair and apply fresh lipstick. It's hard to believe that this person could have caused so much grief.
"My job's finished here." I turn and walk through the metal doors. A sweeper greets me outside.
"Are you alright Miss Parker?" His calm voice inquires.
Cold hands straighten the jacket while the brain seaches for a name.
"Yes, why shouldn't I be? Dennis right?" His head nods affrimatively. "See the mess in that office is cleaned up."
A look of understanding crosses his face. "Yes Miss Parker."
Without answering the feet propel me forward and through the open doors of the elevator. The ride is short but the exit brings new concerns. The body begins to shake, at first it's only a fine termor. Then with each step it increases.
' Stop it!' the mind whimpers but the body refuses to obey. Only a few more steps to sanctuary... refuge... my office. But now the shaking is more pronounced.
"Well how does it feel?" Lyle's fallen in step with a laugh. "What's wrong? Got the shakes? Don't worry it'll pass. Next time it will be easier."
"There won't be a next time." The contents of the stomach threaten to come up.
"Of course there will be a next time. We have a deal, remember?"
Pushing hastily through the glass doors of the office, barely making it to the washroom before the contents hurl through my mouth.
"You'll get use to it." Lyle stands in the door with pleasure spread across his face. "We have a deal. If you want to keep Jarod alive and well, you'll do excatly what I say."
****
February 17th
7:20 A.M.
A few miles outside of Blue Cove.
Jarod's escaped and stolen Lyle's car. But the implanted chip that was meant as protection now gives him away. There's no place to hide and freedom this time will be brief. Lyle's internal problems at the Centre prevent his participation in the hunt and once again the huntress is sent out to track him...alone.
The cellular phone rings and I know before answering whose voice will be heard.
"Back to hunting Miss Parker? Think you can catch me this time?" The voice tauts.
"You forget, I know you better this time. " Words filled with vemon strike back.
"Do you really? You don't have Broots or Sydney. There's no one to help you . Even Lyle isn't there." The hard cold voice tauts again.
"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
"You're alone this time Miss Parker, no one to watch your back."
The warning is answered with a callous retort. "That's just the way I like it."
A sigh is the only reply before the phone goes dead. But he is right. This time it is alone I hunt. With Broots' re- assignment over seas, Syd retired, the only companions are Willie and several dubious sweepers. The question is who is more at danger...Jarod or me?
*****
3 P.M.
A motel parking lot in Maryland.
With the cell phone pressed to my ear the tired body slowly slides down into the leather seat of the abandon car. Lyle's angry voice flames from the other end of the phone.
"What's do you mean he's not there Parker? You're not incompetent.You may have fooled Raines and our father with your Jarod's a pretender routine but not me. You can find him if you want."
"I'm only one person Lyle."
"Don't give me that. You may have forgotten but we and the operative word is we...need to tie up loose ends if 'we' plan to continue running the Centre. I don't give a damn about the car, just bring him back. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter. Either you bring him back Parker or I will. And it will be dead. Is that clear?"
"Crystal." Bastard! But he's right. All these years Jarod slipped through Centre fingers not because he was smarter but because I let him. Knowing deep inside his freedom was precious not only to him but to the little girl he once knew.
' But the little girl grew up and betrayed him.' is whispered through the mind.
Snapping the phone shut thoughts return to Lyle. He's right. Focused we make a good team. Two halves a whole. Together we took the Centre and controlled it. But my emotions and feelings got in the way and this time he...no we may lose more than a thumb. With the Triumvirate on one side demanding to know how Jarod escaped and the Yakuza on the other disappointed once again in their dealings with the Centre, our collective lives at the moment aren't worth squat.
*****
February 19th 1:15 A.M.
Ninth Floor of a Hotel in New York City.
The last two days have been frusatrating, always arriving minutes behind our prey, catching at times only a glimpse. The sweepers are exhausted having had no rest and the promise of a few hours sleep sounds inviting. The hotel room is silent and the large bed beckons but the mind refuses to let go and unwind. Lining up the empty bottles from the mini bar like toy soldiers readying for an attack, suppressed thoughts skip through a restless mind which alcohol fails to affect.
The excution went as planned, I should be happy. I have what I have always wanted. Retribution for Mom's death, position and power in the Centre. So what if it means having to share it with that weasel Lyle. Together we make a formidable team.
Why then does my soul feel empty, hollow, this pathic life a shell? The one person who could have given it meaning I betrayed. Love and kindness that once shone in his eyes are now replaced with betrayal and anger. Anger can be dealt with, God knows there's been enough of it in my life. But the hurt and betrayal cut like a sword. His face haunts. Even with the eyes closed the the vision's still there.
Adding one more soldier to the imaginary platoon, the mind continues it's venue. Angelo the little sneak must have had a hand in Jarod's escape from the Centre. And the 'dog tag', the high tech security chip? It was found stuck to the inside of Lyle's stolen car door. A brief smile crosses my face then just as quickly fades as Syd's words of warning return to haunt.
"Jarod won't easily forgive and forget. I should hate to be you Miss Parker."
Adding one more soldier to the army, the alcohol no longer dulls the pain. The bottle of pills which use to sit next to the bed are now a new compaion. Pouring them into a cold hand 'How many would it take to end the suffering permently?' the mind asks. Five? Ten? Twenty? The whole bottle? What if it doesn't work and I'm left trapped, a tomented soul in a prison of flesh?
My gun made short work of my mother's destroyer. The man who destroyed my chance at a normal life and Jarod his. Placing the gun to my head it feels awkward and once again the thought passes...' what if?' A few more pills washed down with the firey liquid that no longer numbs, one more soldier for the platoon. Perhaps the deadly combination of both will assure an end should the bullet miss.
No one will mourn my passing. Even the attorney who made out my will five days ago didn't seem concerned. And why should he? His wife called him twice and his kids came rudely storming into the room. What measure does my life hold compared to that?
The balcony outside the room calls, softly whispering my name. The glass door slides opens easily and the metal railing feels cold beneath the hands. Leaning over to look, the ground seems so far away. Removing my shoes I drop first one, then the other. Watching them fall till they can be seen no more. Climbing up onto the rail is more difficult than I imagined. But sitting there on the edge freedom reaches out and softly sings 'Spread your wings and fly'.
"Give me your hand Miss Parker. Let me help you down." He stands next to me reaching out but my body shies away, eyes refuse to acknowlege his. The head shakes from side to side since the mouth cannot answer.
"If you won't come down then I'll join you." He is now next to me and we both sit on the thin piece of metal, nothing between us and the ground. "If you are going to jump then let's do it together." His hand stretches out and closes over mine.
My head shakes as the mouth forms an answer. "I don't want you to die because of me." His hand feels warm and this aching body begins to relax, the pills and booze have started to take effect.
"Then let's get down." The words are reassuring. Before my head can confirm the request, he's off the railing. Arms quickly encircle my waist and he pulls me like a doll to safety. Strong arms offer support as a weaken body collapses.
Burying my face in his shirt and with a voice sobbing like a child's. "I'm sorry Jarod. I'm so sorry." Suddenly I am aware of others in the room. Dark shadowly creatures at first, then men in blue uniforms.
"This the patient Doc?" One man asks.
Clinging to Jarod and looking up into his face with questions and anger burning in my eyes.
"Why are these creatures here?"
"Give us a moment please." He addresses them and turns to me. "Let's get you to a hospital. Tomorrow we need to talk and put the past behind us." Scooping me up without permission he places my quivering body on a gurney. I want to fight him but feel too weak. He betrayed me, took away my control. Damn him! But there is something else and he leans over to whisper as they wheel the gurney out the door towards the elevator.
"Thank you for doing what I couldn't. I'm just surprised it took you so long." My eyes seek his to question the words. The mind is a blur ... did I hear him right? "You ended the life of the person responsible for our pain. You did what I wanted to but couldn't." Suddenly it is clear as the elevator doors shut.
"I was your Kyle! I was your assasin!" His answer is a smile. He knew what my actions would be once I had a name. The look of hurt and pain that once graced his face is now replaced with gradtitude. The true impact of his betrayal of me is now apparent. "You used me Jarod."
"No I aided you. I know the price you paid, what Lyle exacted from you. Like you said I set the stage, I prompt the players..." He knew about Lyle and the pact all along. The doors of the elevator open and we exit through the hotel lobby.
By now we're at the back of the ambulance and I have to fight to stay alert. Like a flash flood from nowhere reality comes crashing down, comsuming me until I am a part of it being swept along. This man, this child I first pursued has grown and the world has jaded his edges, pierced his soul. The door of the ambulance slams shut. He sits next to me and in a low soft voice continues.
"I was only your co-conspiritor..." Placing fingers against his mouth to silence the words, the softness of the lips contrast with the coarse stubble beneath my finger tips. But the voice continues unabated.
The ride is short and vaguely do his words penetrate the surrounding cloud. Having seen what a overdose patient goes through before, knowing what lies ahead, I close my eyes and wish I were dead. Perhaps this is penance but penance for what? The choice was never mine. Nothing more than a pawn on a chess board manipulated through calculated moves to achieve a goal. Syd's little project is quite a piece of work after all.
*****
February 20th
Manor Lodge.
11 a.m.
Sitting on the bed with back to the wall, legs drawn up in front of me, I lean my chin upon folded arms and wait. The pink walls of this pit, this cell called a private room are anything but calming. This place considered to be the most respected and expensive mental sanitaratium is now my prison. Thanks to that bastard Jarod. God, I should have let Lyle kill him. Or at least cripple him.
Gone are my high heels and short skirt. Today I wear the lastest fashion statement, a matching pink top and elastic waist pants. Damn hospital scrubs. Hell...better yet, I should have taken Jarod up on his offer to jump with me. It would have spared me the suffering and indignity of the last two days and put a end to him.
The red light blinks on the surveillance camera in the corner of the room. This hell is just like the Centre. But then how fitting a sentence. Maybe that's why Jarod sent me here. The psych tech explained that the camera is for my own good because I'm on suicide watch. That's a lie. This is Jarod's way of monitoring me like I did him at the Centre. Holding a fist up, I extend my middle finger for the viewer at the other end of the camera. Almost as if by magic the light stops blinking. The door opens and Jarod walks in.
"Feeling better?" He quietly asks.
"Does it look like it " The answer is shot back with vemon.
"I think so. Like the clothes. You look nice in pink." He sits down next to me on the bed. Running my hand through dishevled hair my raw throat burns as a reply is spit back. "Well I'm glad you think so. When can I leave?" He leans back and stares uncomfortably at me.
"When we've had our talk Miss Parker. Then you can go...if you want."
"Great. So what do we have to talk about?" Turning to watch his face I suddenly realize this man next to me is a stranger.
"The Centre for one thing. Lyle. Your future and mine. How much did you know about Lyle's dealings at the Centre?"
"Not much" Shaking my head and laughing, I realize the answer is simple. "None really. I was more focused on revenge. Why?"
"Did you know the Yakuza aren't pleased with a failed delivery for a second time? Lyle not only has them but also the Triumvirate looking for him. He slipped out last night and disappeared leaving you to take the blame."
"And how would you know?"
"I have my sources. You and Lyle are persona non gratia. They have assigned a team to find you. Do you understand Parker? It means..."
"I know what it means. They want us eliminated. Why should I believe anything you tell me ? How can I trust you Jarod after you used me?"
His finger has slipped between the ankle and the gold chain and in a low voice with head bent answers back. "I gave you what you wanted. A name. I let you use me as a bargaining chip to get back into the Centre. It was my gift to you."
Reaching down my hand gripes his to prevent the finger from playing with the gold anklet.
"You used me like an assasin to kill someone you couldn't. You played me like a pawn in your personal chess game. How dare you call what you did a gift. You planned everything Jarod. How can you expect me to trust you?" Anger resounds through the words as nails dig into his hand.
"Because you do. You trusted me on the balcony, trust me now. If you walk out that door alone you have not only the Yakuza and the Centre after you but also Lyle. If you walk out with me I'll protect you. The choice is yours Parker." Slowly he stands up and the same expectant face from Valentine's day looks down at me. My eyes follow as he walks to the door, opens it and picks up a suit case sitting just outside.
"There are some clothes in here from your apartment. You can get dressed and leave any time you like. Think about what I said and let me know your decision. I won't force you Miss Parker." He sets it down and walks out the door.
After waiting several minutes I crawl off the bed and across the floor to retrive the suitcase. Opening it a hard object wrapped protectively in tissue paper sits on top of the clothes. With trembling fingers the tissue paper is pulled back to reveal the silver framed photo of Mom and a little girl. A little girl that once was me. Slowly tears began to course their way down the checks as fingers softly stroke the photo. Then digging deeper through the selection of clothes I find my favorite heels, perfume and make-up. Efficient Jarod has included everything but no cigarettes. Smiling at his thoughtfulness the angry seems to drain away. Why does he have this effect on me?
Closing the suitcase and standing up exhaustion comsumes me. I head back to the bed to curl up under the covers. Hugging the silver famed photo to my breast tears continue to moisten my checks while silent sobs rack the body.
Funny the twists and turns life takes. Just when you think you're in control it throws a curve, knocking you to your knees. The Centre and Daddy controlled me all my life. But leaving accomplished nothing. It was simply trading one master for another. The eye lids now are heavy and close on their own. The tears have ceased and the sobs have dissipated like the mist.
"Trust me." Jarod had said the night he gave me the name. Trust? I did and look what happened. I thought I was his equal but in reality was a unsuspecting partner in crime. Still his proposition is tempting, hard to resist. My heart tells me one thing , my mind another. And somewhere in between the body cries out for sleep. Jarod will wait. I'll sleep on it before giving him a answer.
Chapter End Notes:
Please read Paula H.'s story "Murderer of the Day" Her response to this story.
