The Insider by Leah
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DISCLAIMER: The Pretender and all its characters (Broots, Sydney, Miss Parker, Jarod etc.) and places are the property of MTM Entertainment and NBC Productions and are used without permission. The character of Leah is mine and she is not to be used without permission. Special thanks to the members of the Centre Exchange. Second season story. (Author's note: For fans of Miss Parker, Broots and Sydney, although Jarod appears briefly. As implied by the title, this story takes place mostly inside the Centre.)
AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: While a separate story in itself, I wrote it before the story, "Flashes of Truth", and thus that its timeline is....
TIMELINE: Before "Flashes of Truth" from the Truth Series
THE INSIDER
by Leah
Written in 1997
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THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
TECH ROOM, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
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"How do you think she's gonna take it?" Broots asked, anxiously.
Sydney's Belgium accent rang true. "I don't how she'll take it. I'm not the one who decided to bring this to her attention."
"Well, she'd skin me alive if I'd lied to her."
Sydney smiled amusedly at the thought of Miss Parker's rages and the tone of real fear in the computer tech's voice.
As if materializing from their thoughts, Miss Parker suddenly stood in the doorway. She was wearing her brown suit outfit and her red brown hair was styled in the usual way. As she entered, her presence seemed to invade the room. Broots jumped visibly and Miss Parker strolled deliberately over to him.
"I thought we were done with lies, Broots," she said, waving a finger in his face. Then, she drew back, folding her hands under chin and said, "We have no reason to hide anything, now do we? Out with it. What have you discovered?" Frankly, she enjoyed watching Broots jump at every snap of her fingers. Once she had thought him to be another of the Centre's spineless tech heads, but since his recent help with discovering SL-27 and fooling security to let her question Kyle, she had begun to change her mind.
"Well," Broots began. "It's not exactly...uh....what. It's who."
"You found Jarod?" Miss Parker demanded, a gong sounding in her head.
"Uh," Broots mumbled, trying not meet Miss Parker's steady glare. Why did he always have to get tongue-tied at the most inopportune moments? "No. Not exactly....See there's this Centre operative and she--"
"Broots," Miss Parker cut him off. "You called me and interrupted my lunch break to tell me about a CENTRE OPERATIVE? I encounter dozens in a day. I'm in charge of them." She leaned over into Broot's face and hissed, "This better have something to do with Jarod or else..." The ulcer in her stomach had been wreaking havoc all week, so her nerves were particularly on edge.
"What's the matter, Miss Parker?" Sydney's calm voice interrupted. "Strange however that every waking moment of work you do must pertain to Jarod," he mused. "But I think you'll find what Broots has to say of some import."
Miss Parker decided to ignore Sydney's jab for a moment and stared at Broots. "Well, then, spit it out!"
"Her name is Leah...." Broots stumbled on, wishing for all the world that the Centre and Miss Parker were a million miles away. Miss Parker's eyes snapped at him and he hurried on, "She has these theories. About Jarod." Miss Parker tapped her foot, impatiently and reached for the cigarette pack that wasn't there. Broots went on, taking a bit of pride in his work. "I skimmed over some of The Centre personnel files, although it was tricky bypassing some of the computer security protocol and found out about her. They're theories about Jarod's whereabouts. I ran her theories through my computer checking them against our actual encounters with Jarod."
Miss Parker yawned. "The point of all this would be?"
"I don't know how she did it, but she has a ninety-five percent accuracy rate."
Miss Parker's eyes widened. "I'd like to meet this Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate."
Broots beamed. He held out a manila folder of computer printouts. "I...um...thought you would. It wasn't easy figuring out the passwords of Raines' hidden files but..." Miss Parker flashed Broots a killing look and he stopped in mid-sentence. She snatched the folder and opened it.
"Raines?" she asked, briefly. Even saying the hated name seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She flipped through the printouts in the folder.
"Uh...yeah," Broots replied, fearing to trigger some brutal response. He shuffled his feet nervously as if worried she was going to attack him with the file folder. "She was a Field Operative trained in his division," he replied, hoping this would get Miss Parker off his case.
"Then, enlighten me, Broots." Miss Parker challenged, staring at him. "Where is she now?"
Broots motioned towards the glass partition which showed a view of the All-Purpose Room.
She snapped the folder shut, growling, "It's about time!" Her heels clicked on the tiles as she left and could be heard long after she had disappeared from view.
"What's with her?" Broots asked, speaking more freely now Miss Parker was out of earshot.
"She just quit smoking," replied the informed Sydney.
Broots was shocked. "When was this?"
"Oh," Sydney said, rubbing his chin. "About an hour ago."
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There are Pretenders among us.
Geniuses with the ability to become anyone they want to be.
In 1963, a corporation known as The Centre isolated a young Pretender named Jarod and exploited his genius for their research.
Then, one day, their Pretender ran away...
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The girl had hair so dark brown it nearly looked black and dark brown almond-shaped eyes. Her skin was the color of light caramel and she was wearing black slacks and a black vest over a white cotton blouse. Her head was bent over a laptop computer and she sat at the table so absorbed in running calculations on it that she did not look up, even when Miss Parker entered the room.
"Why isn't your full name listed here?" Miss Parker launched into conversation without so much as a greeting. She waved the folder full of printouts. "All I find is Leah."
"'To possess knowledge of a person's full name is to possess the means of their demise'," Leah quoted promptly. She looked up at Miss Parker and explained the reason for her quote, "That was the first thing I was taught upon joining the Centre co-op program."
Miss Parker found she couldn't argue with that. In fact, the reason her father had insisted she go by the name "Miss Parker" was because the Parker name struck fear into the hearts of those who had any knowledge of it. Besides "Miss Parker" was so much more intimidating than--She stopped in the middle of her thoughts and focused her attention back on the present matter. "Well...Leah. Where have you been kept hidden all these years? For someone with skills like yours, a field operative is the wrong place to be." She gave the girl a searching look and asked, "Why weren't you assigned to the tech room?"
"I'm good at my job," Leah answered, steadily without any show of the usual fear Miss Parker had grown so accustomed to seeing in the faces of those who worked under her. "My theories about Jarod are only a hobby."
Miss Parker grew indignant. The idea that any one could consider chasing Jarod a hobby! "ANY work on Boy Wonder is to be reported me!!! Is that understood?" She glared at Leah. This young woman who so calmly stated that Miss Parker's work of the past year was only a hobby at most could hardly be any older than eighteen. She wanted to see her sweat.
"Yes," Leah answered, coolly. "Since I have been transferred to your department I will follow your orders."
"Transferred?" she let the question slip out. Miss Parker raised her eyebrows. She certainly hadn't been informed of this. The operative held out a transfer paper to her. She snatched it and read it. Hmmm...Miss Parker thought to herself. Things were certainly beginning to look up. She had this girl under her thumb now. However, this lowly field operative and her theories gave Miss Parker an uneasy feeling. Trained under Raines...Miss Parker wasn't too fond of Raines other projects...Kyle, Cousin It, and whatever other off-the-wall experiments his twisted mind could concoct. Still, ninety-five percent accuracy. This was something too good to pass up.
"Very well," Miss Parker said, coolly. "You'll work with Broots in the hunt for Jarod."
"Mr. Raines always enjoyed looking at my theories," Leah nodded. "A pity he's in the burn ward. Ever find out who did it?" Leah's voice was neither hurried nor slow, it flowed along steadily like a river and seemed to convey no emotion.
"That matter is none of your concern," Miss Parker snapped, determined not to get into conversations about that hated character. She walked around the table to look over the operative's shoulder and see what Leah had been working on before she arrived.
Miss Parker threw another question at her. "How long have you been with the Centre?"
"My freshman year of high school I went into the Centre's program. To be in security," Leah replied. Her brown eyes quietly watched Miss Parker to see if this answer would suffice.
"Four years," Miss Parker mused. She thought for a moment as she paced the room. Then, "How long have you had your...hobby?" questioned Miss Parker, begrudgingly.
"Since October of 1996," Leah replied, closing her computer and standing up to face her new boss.
"Henceforth you will report any theories to me FIRST," Miss Parker ordered. She was making for the door, when a remark caught her and brought her back.
"What did you say?" Miss Parker demanded, coming to stand inches away from the irritatingly calm operative's nose.
"I merely said," the girl replied, slowly. "My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker." The minor undercurrent of frustrated irritation broke loose then. Miss Parker slapped her across the face.
At the sudden impact of the hand, Leah took one step back. Her own hand flew up to her right cheek to rub the stinging that remained. Her calm expression disappeared for a moment and she viewed Miss Parker with momentary surprise--but no fear.
"Your loyalty," Miss Parker hissed through gritted teeth, "is to the Centre." Whereupon, Miss Parker turned on her heel and exited the room.
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As Miss Parker tripped down the endless Centre halls in her high heels, thoughts raced through her head. There was something about this new operative, something indefinable but eerie. In Leah's tone of voice, there was something like a taunt, an echoing somehow that reminded her of someone. She just couldn't grasp who it was. It spooked her, for it appeared the girl was appraising her, examining her loyalties, questioning her motives, trying to find out exactly what she felt about the chase for Jarod. Could it be she had possibly gotten wind of the lies Miss Parker had found it necessary to tell the Centre? That could never be!
In retrospect, Miss Parker felt she probably shouldn't have slapped the girl. Yet, statements as the kind the girl had made were dangerous at The Centre. That slap most likely would save herself from being dragged before a committee to be probed and prodded about her own loyalties. Loyalty to The Centre! Only to The Centre! Hadn't that been drilled into to her head since the day she had first walked through the doors! And the security cameras, those lurking eyes and ears of this secret corporation had probably recorded all. Even now Miss Parker dared not betray too much of the emotion she was feeling. She took a deep breath and assumed a cool manner which Broots called "The Ice Queen." Then, she continued down the corridor to resume her duty. This duty could be summed up in two words, "Find Jarod!"
Over the next few weeks, Leah worked very closely with Broots, giving him all the theories about Jarod she had done in the past. Sydney observed and listened and watched as always, but asked no questions. Jarod had contacted none of them in the past few weeks and Sydney wondered if Jarod was aware of the new weapon being used against him. Most of the results of Leah's theories were deadly accurate and she took her work very seriously.
Miss Parker was sitting in her office, reading a report electronically mailed to her by one of the Centre's operatives about the latest Jarod sighting. Upon finishing it, she hit the reply button and the keyboard buzzed as she wrote a biting message and sent it. The sighting was a dud and from now on this op could stick to paper filing. Miss Parker's cell phone rang and she answered it with her usual unceremonious greeting, "What?"
Broot's voice replied, "Um...Miss P. Have you....uh--researched the methods Leah uses to--"
"No, Broots," Miss Parker frowned. "Research is your department. Being sure you don't waste my time is mine."
"Of course," answered Broots, nervously. "But some of these theories are off-the-wall. I mean, take this Red Hair Theory, for instance."
Miss Parker sighed. "And what might that be?"
She heard the clicking of a computer keyboard. "I just mailed you a copy."
Miss Parker clicked the usual icon and stared at her computer screen.
Broots continued his stumbling explanation.
The next morning, Miss Parker marched into the tech room deep into conversation with Sydney and Broots. Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate had received a rare morning off.
"How many red-haired people Jarod meets in his life? It doesn't make sense. And then using the ratio of red-haired people to all the rest to calculate where the highest concentrations of red-haired people are to determine which cities Rat Boy might be?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Yeah, I know," Broots replied. "But that's just one of the theories she's using in conjunction with others to do her locations on Jarod. She factors those results in with what we already know about him....at least, that's how I think she does it."
"You think!" Miss Parker snapped.
"Uh huh," Broots said, cringing away. "She's really close-mouthed. Won't tell me anything," he whined.
"Have you considered the possibility that this girl could be fooling us? Perhaps she writes theories after our actual encounters with Jarod," Sydney joined the conversation suddenly. As always he played the role of a disinterested observer, putting a puzzle before them and causing Miss Parker to seriously examine what she was doing.
"I thought of that," Broots replied, defensively. "But all of her documents are dated. And she has locations on Jarod that we missed until much later or missed entirely." Broots pulled some examples up on his computer screen. "Like the time Jarod pretended to be a orchestra conductor and the time Jarod was on late night TV with a show about improving your memory or the time Jarod was a high school counselor. With this type of evidence, that kind of fraud would be impossible."
"Have you asked her to predict where Jarod is now?" Sydney asked, concernedly.
Sydney and Miss Parker stared at Broots.
"Well, uh...no," replied Broots, starting to itch. "I guess I wanted to...um...test things first."
"The tests and studies are over," Miss Parker commanded. "I want you here 24/7 until you come up with some leads on Jarod."
Broots gulped and nodded.
The hunt was redoubled. Broots got leads on Jarod's activities on the Internet and Leah did her theories...coming up with location upon location. Nine times out of ten and even more so, her theories brought them to locations where Jarod had undoubtedly been. As of yet though, they weren't close. The Centre hounds were following a trail that had grown cold. Yet, with each location, the Sweepers would pick up clues, then the operative would discover something in the red notebooks or the area that fueled the fire for her theories. It was evident that very soon they would be hot on Jarod's trail.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"What!" Miss Parker barked at the door. "Quit lurking out there in the shadows and come in."
The door opened and Leah entered carrying a manila folder. "My latest theory for you, Miss Parker," she said, swiftly.
Immediately, Miss Parker stood up, squaring her shoulders and glared at the operative who had refused to fear her. "Fine," she said, carelessly. "Put it over there." Miss Parker waved at a filing cabinet.
The brown-eyed girl stared at the filing cabinet and then back at Miss Parker. "It is a theory about where the Pretender may be currently," she explained. She matched her boss, stare for stare, glare for glare. "As you wished, I am submitting this theory to you first."
"Put it anywhere, " Miss Parker replied, sinking back into her chair. Her temples throbbed and she felt a tremendous headache coming on. She had been shut up in The Centre for weeks, putting in long hours and still there had been no communications from Jarod and no idea where he was currently doing his good deeds. Now, this little upstart was jumping the gun and saying she knew where Jarod was. Ha! This little weasel Raines had probably implanted under her very nose refused to fear her. All her life, Miss Parker had ruled by fear and without it, she felt somewhat helpless. She quit glaring and turned away, commanding, "Now, go!"
Leah went out the door and Miss Parker could have sworn there a tone of mocking triumph in her voice as she murmured, "Of course. My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker."
That night, as Miss Parker was tossing and turning restlessly in her bed at home, the phone rang. Groping sleepily in the dark, she located the telephone and answered, groggily, "What?"
"Come now, Miss Parker. Don't you think you could be a little more creative than that?" Jarod's voice said, tauntingly.
Wide awake and alert now, Miss Parker replied, "Not at three in the morning, Invisible Man. No one's seen hide nor hair of you for weeks. What's the matter? Running scared?"
"Just playing hard to get," Jarod replied with a smirk in his voice. "Nice to know I was missed."
"I don't plan on missing," Miss Parker remarked. "I'll hit you...some place where it hurts."
"And with what sort of weapon are you planning to do that?"
"Not what," Miss Parker said with an evil grin. "Who."
"That explains it then," Jarod said, suddenly. "You have had help."
Miss Parker was boggled for a moment, but she didn't intend to show it. Did Jarod know about Leah? Was that the reason he had been more elusive than usual? "How I find you doesn't matter, Jarod. Just the fact that I will!"
"I'd check the figures on that one. This game of cat and mouse has been interesting. Catch me if you can." There was a loud click. Miss Parker dropped the phone and all traces of her lingering headache vanished. Then, she picked up the phone again and dialed Sydney.
"There's always a reason for Jarod's calls," Sydney said.
"I know that, Syd," Miss Parker said, eagerly. "But, what?"
The trio was back at the Centre grouped around Broots' computer. Broots blinked his eyes sleepily, trying to focus on his computer screen and on what Miss Parker wanted from him. He hadn't appreciated being yanked from the comfort of his own bed for another one of Miss Parker's hunches, but with this corporation one was always expected to comply....whether it was four 'o clock in the morning or not.
"You taped the call...right?" Broots asked, hesitatingly. "Of course I didn't!" Miss Parker shot back at him. "Do you think I expected this call? Weeks went by without a word and now this!"
"Calm yourself, Miss Parker and try to remember. What did you talk about?".
Miss Parker gave Sydney a calculating gaze and debated on the wisdom of answering the question.
"Try to remember," Sydney repeated in his soft accent. It was the same tones he had used in directing Jarod's simulations. "Clear your mind and focus on the words Jarod said. Was his voice happy? Sad? Excited?"
Miss Parker's face took on a brooding expression. She raised her hand to her chin and said, "Now that I think of it, he was curious."
"About what?" Sydney asked in his professional tone.
"About how we were finding the places he had been so quickly."
"And what did you tell him?"
Miss Parker was getting agitated by these prying questions. "What does it matter, Syd?" She walked in a circle, shaking her head. "I'm going to catch him. I told him that."
Sydney nodded as if that was the typical response he had expected to hear. "Are you sure you aren't missing something? Leaving something out? Can you remember any of his exact words?"
"This is getting us nowhere," Miss Parker retorted. "Jarod likes to play games, puzzles...things you have to figure out," mused Miss Parker, pacing the room. She stopped dead and snapped her fingers. "That's it! He said, "I'd check the figures on that one." It was after I told him we'd be sure to catch him using our new secret weapon."
"D...Do you think he knows about her?" asked Broots, fearfully. His mind had begun to work and he was trying to cover up his thought processes and avoid any demands for answers Miss Parker might suddenly have.
Miss Parker looked at Broots. "Did you say ninety-five percent accuracy? Check the figures on her again." Miss Parker motioned to Sam the Sweeper. He was one of the three sweepers who had been dragged out to run errands for her. He brought a heavy briefcase and lay it on the table in front of Broots.
Broots cast a questioning glance at Miss Parker. She leaned towards him and hissed in his ear, "Theories, Broots. The original copies. I expect the results on my desk in the morning." With this dictum, Miss Parker seemed satisfied. She stalked out of the room followed by her train of sweepers. Sydney sat silently in the corner with an amused look on his face.
Then, he got up and picked up a mug of coffee. Sydney nodded at Broots and headed for the door. "Have a good night," he started to say, when suddenly Miss Parker stuck her head back into the room.
"Stay with him, Syd. If he falls asleep I'm holding you responsible."
She vanished again. Sydney shrugged and returned to his seat. He watched as Broots began pulling the crumpled papers and folders from the briefcase. It promised to be a long night.
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TECH ROOM, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
"What do you mean by this?" Miss Parker stormed in the next day. She still had a dramatic impact though her train of sweepers were not trailing behind her today. Broots nearly fell off his swivel chair as he was rudely awakened by the documents Miss Parker tossed into his face. The papers fell like leaves around him and the faces of charts, graphs, and tables he had submitted to meet her deadline stared up at him from the floor.
"Wha-what you wanted. The figures," gulped Broots, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.
Miss Parker twirled Broot's chair around to face her. She leaned in on him and said in a firm voice, "Plain English, you idiot! What--does--it--mean?"
"I think what Broots is trying to say, Miss Parker," Sydney joined the conversation uninvited. He entered the room from the direction of his office. "Is that we have the answers you've been looking for."
Miss Parker released the arms of Broot's chair and backed away, allowing him room to breathe.
"Yes," said Broots, looking down at his scattered work. "I guess what I mean is the theories...uh...that you get...and the theories that the Centre gets...well, they are um...different." He scratched his nose and retreated over to his computer. He pulled up the tracking reports. Miss Parker followed him, looking over his shoulder like a hawk. "You see for example...the theory that led us to Toledo, Ohio where Jarod was being a zookeeper. The Sweeper team, following the theory submitted to the Centre arrived there a day...twenty-four hours after Jarod was gone. However, if they had followed the information on the theory Leah submitted to you...we would have gotten there at..." Broots paused to type something into his calculator and then to pull up one of his charts onto the screen. "...an hour after Jarod had left."
"And it's that way for all the other theories, too?" Miss Parker guessed. Broots' answer was affirmative. "Then, it's become a pattern," Miss Parker surmised, sharply. "Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate is very serious about her theories and she gets touchy when I won't look at them right away."
"Then, perhaps she was trying to prove a point," Sydney suggested. "Giving you her best theories and when you didn't review them right away, revising them so they were less accurate before turning them over to the Centre expediters. She was trying to teach you a lesson."
"Put a lid on it, Syd," Miss Parker replied, though she had already thought that much out herself.
"Sounds like something Jarod would do," Broots observed. They ignored him.
"Broots get everything you can on this Leah. Hack into the Centre Mainframe for all I care. If this girl has something she isn't telling us, I want to know about it, right down to her shoe size. Understood?"
"Yes, Miss Parker," Broots replied.
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A ROOM IN THE CENTRE
The girl, dressed in black, opened the door and entered the room. The door creaked as she closed it behind her. She observed that Broots was standing in a corner of this unfurnished room and that Sydney, too was standing in the background.
"You wished to see me, Miss Parker?" Leah asked, raising her eyebrows in question.
Miss Parker nodded. "Broots didn't request a transfer...There is no record of a transfer. There is no record of you on the Centre Database." Miss Parker moved forward. "Who are you?"
"If you want to know so badly, you might take it up with the Tower," Leah replied.
Miss Parker, Sydney and Broots exchanged glances. The Tower was definitely one place they did not wish to go. The Tower had something to do with the recent disappearance of Miss Parker's father and she was also certain that recent Tower and Centre upheavals were the result of Mr. Raines work...even if he was in the Centre's burn ward. Who could this girl be, Miss Parker thought. Who was she?
"Do you know where Jarod is now?" Miss Parker demanded.
"Perhaps," Leah said, becoming stubborn suddenly. "You do not seem to put much stock in my theories, Miss Parker. I have been considering taking my work to the Tower personnel. The new cleaner might appreciate it more."
Sensing their underlying dismay, Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accuracy suddenly backed down. "Forgive me, Miss Parker. If it was in my power to tell you I would. You'll just have to trust me. My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker. I will follow your orders."
Miss Parker took advantage of the extra six inches in height her heels gave her. She stepped deliberately over to the girl, put her hands on her hips and said, "You know where he is." Miss Parker's brow raised in a taunting challenge. "Tell me! It is my JOB to direct the HUNT and you better not stand in my way."
A smug look that Miss Parker knew she had seen some place before vanished from the operative's face. In her brown eyes appeared the light of respect. "You really want to find him, don't you?" Leah whispered. A quiet smile crept onto her face and she said, "I'll help you." She pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her black slacks and handed it over. Different than the theories Miss Parker had seen before this one was plain and simple. It was the address of a business in Jackson, Ohio. "It's still a theory at this time," Leah explained, answering Miss Parker's questioning glance. "I haven't tested it yet."
Miss Parker contemplated for a moment, for those who led lives at the Centre were soon conditioned by the shady situations and had suspicion bred into them. "Let's move!" Miss Parker barked at Sydney and Broots. The trio left the room, rushing off to charter one of the corporate planes. A short while later, Leah returned to the Tech Room, picked up the phone Broots had carelessly left behind and dialed a number.
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Templer's Palace Ice Cream Parlour
Jackson, Ohio
"Nah," Jarod told the kid waiting on him at the counter. "I don't guess I was ever considered a wild child. I lived in a pretty controlled environment."
"Yeah, don't I know it," replied Ryan. The waiter was wearing a hat and uniform with the logo a red cardinal eating an ice cream cone. He was around seventeen years of age. He slid Jarod's ice cream soda across the counter to him. "Now you get to take risks. Wear a cool leather jacket. Me, well, I've been here in this ice cream parlour. You've got it made. You're flaming like the Sierra del Fuego."
"Tierra del Fuego, I think you mean," replied Jarod, smiling. "Spanish--for--land of fire," he said between slurps of the frothy soda.
"Yeah, but you've traveled. You've been places," Ryan continued. "Mark's manager here and I tell the kids on Mark's staff...I tell them I'm gonna be a secret agent. Secret agent, dork, they say. That'll never happen."
"I was always taught," Jarod replied, "That if you try hard enough, you can become anyone you want to be. Hmm....this is very good. What I don't get is why it's called a root beer float," Jarod observed, pushing the ice cream up and down with his spoon. "When it's the ice cream that's floating."
"Beats me," Ryan replied, shrugging. He sighed. "Suppose they're right. Nothing exciting happens around here."
Jarod pushed his float aside, leaned against the counter, and said in a confidential whisper, "Have patience. You shall see some excitement. I'm the running from a secret organization. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to give them this." Jarod pulled the familiar red notebook from the inside of his jacket and placed it in Ryan's hands. Ryan gulped and nodded, saying in wonderment, "Sure thing, Chief. It won't self destruct or anything like that?"
Jarod laughed and shook Ryan's hand. "Nope, at least I don't think so. Call me Jarod. Good-bye."
Minutes later, Miss Parker came bursting through the door. Sydney and Broots came in after her and stood near the doorway. She walked up to the counter which Ryan was still attending. The kids working with Ryan paused in their work and watched from behind the counter.
"Have you seen this man?" Miss Parker demanded, holding up a snapshot of Jarod.
Ryan was so stunned with amazement that at first he just blurted, "He wasn't kidding!"
Miss Parker put her hands on her hips and looked at him in frustration. Obviously, she had been running. "Where is he?" Miss Parker asked. "Was he here?"
"He's gone now," Ryan said with interest. "You chasing Jarod?"
Miss Parker pounced on the name. "Yes, Jarod. Do you know where we can find him?"
"He didn't say," Ryan replied, smiling from ear to ear. The kids in the back were listening with awe. Now, this was excitement! "But he left something for you."
"What?" Miss Parker said, abruptly. She suddenly realized this was a public place and she adjusted her jacket to be sure it still concealed her gun.
Ryan was shaken a bit by such abrupt questioning and struck with the reality of the situation. Was he in trouble? "It's in the zar...ah....in the jar, ah....It's in the cookie jar."
Miss Parker went over to the decorative jar where it rested on the counter, took off the lid, snatched the notebook, and slapped the lid back on with such force it was a miracle the jar didn't shatter into a million pieces.
She had been so close to getting Jarod. So close to finding out the truth to what had happened to her mother and perhaps even the whereabouts of her father. So close to having the puzzle solved...only to find the answers lost once again with Jarod's escape. Her hands trembled as she held the notebook in her hands with the knowledge it would possess the details of his latest Pretend. She felt something on its underside and turned it over. There was a note taped to its backside:
Sorry Gotta Run. MNT. Jarod.
"M...n...t--Minnesota perhaps or mint." Broots had come up beside her and was looking over her shoulder. He was trying to offer help, doing his job but annoyingly so.
"Are you alright, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked, picking up on some of the emotions she was trying to hide.
"Don't just stand there, do something!" she exclaimed. Miss Parker's eyes blurred with the disappointment. "Outside. Tell the sweepers to comb the area. Question people. Find out if they've seen anything. Move!"
Sydney and Broots exited quickly to carry out her orders.
The black pay phone on the wall clattered as it rang. When Ryan moved to answer it, Miss Parker waved him aside. "That'll be for me," she said with unerring confidence. Ryan stood watching her in bewilderment. She glared at him and he retreated back behind the counter. The phone clattered again. She picked it up and said in a firm voice, "Jarod."
"Well, well, well, Miss Parker," Jarod's voice came over the line. "And a nice day to you, too." He could not hide the note of satisfaction in his voice. He had won again. When she did not reply he said, "Good to see you haven't given up on me, Miss Parker. I was wondering..."
"Jarod....how...." she began, unable to put her question into coherent words.
"You seem disappointed, Miss Parker. Is it because your secret weapon failed? You should know this by now, things are never quite what they seem. Margery's daughter...You see, she wasn't really a Centre Operative...".
"She was a PRETENDER," Miss Parker cut him off with a tone of finality. She had drawn a conclusion she knew to be acutely accurate. Of course, that explained everything. Her mind raced. Miss Parker was well-versed on everything that had to do with The Pretender Project. In 1959, the Centre had isolated a three year old Pretender named Margery and though she had not equaled the skills Jarod later displayed, she had been useful to the Centre. Margery had mysteriously escaped from the Centre and Miss Parker now knew that she had become one of the rescued children. Miss Parker, of course, in the investigation she had conducted about her mother's past, had asked Broots to look for Margery. They had discovered she died in a car accident four years ago and had never given it a second moment's thought. But a daughter?
"Your mother rescued hers," Jarod explained, as if reading her mind. "But Margery erased any records of Leah's existence. When Leah grew up, she decided to work for the Centre..."
"Infiltrate is more like it," Miss Parker said in a tone of conviction. A Pretender deliberately going inside the Centre? It seemed unthinkable. She paced nervously holding the telephone and then stopped, asking sharply, "Are you gloating?"
"No," Jarod's voice drawled. "I was just struck by a thought."
"What's that?" Miss Parker asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"Like mother, like daughter." There was a click. The dial tone hummed in her ear.
One more wrong had been righted and one more time Jarod had eluded her.
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THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
CHAIRMAN'S OFFICE
"Well, Miss Parker," said Mr. Lyle, sitting behind the desk in his newly redecorated office and every moment reminding Miss Parker that her father was missing. He tapped a pencil on a stack of folders lying in front of him. "I have gone over these reports and all I can say is it appears to me, more than ever, that you need Brigitte's assistance." Miss Parker sat like a statue in a chair in front of the desk and eyed the flashily-clad blonde, who was sitting on the edge of the desk, licking a red sucker and obviously enjoying every second of this meeting.
Brigitte removed the sucker from her mouth and smirked. The tone of her soft British accent was mock puzzlement, "One man vs. one corporation. Clearly, your method of capture was flawed, luv. With my help, that can be remedied."
"Her help!" Miss Parker rose from her chair and crossed her arms, trying to maintain her temper. "We would have had Jarod at the diamond depository if it hadn't been for her help!"
Brigitte hopped off the desk, opened her mouth widely and began to spout, energetically, "Special Operative's Class told me...!" but Mr. Lyle interrupted.
"Ladies, ladies," he said. "You've both made your points." He flashed a cheesy smile. "We must remember who are enemies are. Now, I think it's best we get back to work. Brigitte will accompany you on your next trip, Miss Parker." He clapped his hands and said, "Meeting adjourned."
Brigitte with a quick step was at the door. The red sucker was installed back in her mouth. She opened the door, gave Miss Parker a snooty look and then disappeared, closing the door behind her.
Miss Parker turned towards the door, when Mr. Lyle's words halted her, "Oh, and Miss Parker...about that What's Her Name. The one with all the theories. I never met her."
"Leah," Miss Parker offered.
"Oh, was that her name?" Mr. Lyle smiled, moving to stand in front of his desk. He tapped the pencil against the palm of his hand. "Any word on her?"
"As far as we can tell, she seems to have vanished," Miss Parker replied, coolly.
Mr. Lyle nodded towards her and snapped the pencil into two pieces. "You would tell me if she contacts you?" he questioned. He dropped the pieces in the wastebasket.
Miss Parker looked directly at Mr. Lyle's smiling yet somehow grim face. Her eyes widened like a cat's. "Definitely," replied the Ice Queen.
"Alright," said Mr. Lyle, lazily. He hit a button on his intercom. "Send in the new secretary, I want to write a memo." He looked at her. "You may go, Miss Parker."
Miss Parker again headed for the door. Just as she reached the finished wooden doors, one opened and a girl entered. She was carrying a memo pad and pencil, dressed in a magenta pink dress suit. The girl wore dark-rimmed glasses. She had a look of alert industry and all the airs common to a business secretary.
Mr. Lyle was opening the drawer of his desk and getting out some papers.
Miss Parker looked at the girl and was struck with a sudden realization. The girl evidently saw this, her brown eyes watched Miss Parker and then gave her the calm, quiet smile of a friend.
"Anything else I can help you with?" Mr. Lyle asked, looking up from the drawer.
Miss Parker shook her head and marched out of the room.
"Who is this message addressed to?" asked Leah, industriously beginning to scribble on the notepad.
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It was only in the relative safety of her own office that Miss Parker stopped to reflect on what she had done. There are Pretenders among us, she thought. Leah was here...the insider...helping Jarod, helping others. Like herself. I don't need any help, Miss Parker thought. Still, it might be good to have her around. Just in case. An insider. How many more could there be like her?
Her cell phone rang. She drew it from her pocket and snapped it open. "What is it, Broots?" Miss Parker answered, broken from her thoughts.
"Jarod," Broots replied.
"I'll be right there."
As Miss Parker entered, Broots looked up and Sydney held up a children's storybook. "A bread crumb," replied Sydney. "It just came."
Miss Parker took the book and flipped it open to the inside cover. In Jarod's writing were the words: I enjoy being a weaver of tales. She looked at Sydney after reading the words, and then her gaze moved to Broots.
"I'll...uh," he said, nervously. "Go and run a check on the bookstores. M...n...t," he mumbled to himself as he walked away. "Maybe Minnesota."
Miss Parker settled down at the table to scan the storybook for clues. As she did so, a weight suddenly seemed to lift off her shoulders. She smiled softly to herself. There was still hope of catching Jarod. For while Broots was baffled, she knew what the letters meant.
M. N. T.
Maybe next time.
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: While a separate story in itself, I wrote it before the story, "Flashes of Truth", and thus that its timeline is....
TIMELINE: Before "Flashes of Truth" from the Truth Series
by Leah
Written in 1997
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THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
TECH ROOM, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
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"How do you think she's gonna take it?" Broots asked, anxiously.
Sydney's Belgium accent rang true. "I don't how she'll take it. I'm not the one who decided to bring this to her attention."
"Well, she'd skin me alive if I'd lied to her."
Sydney smiled amusedly at the thought of Miss Parker's rages and the tone of real fear in the computer tech's voice.
As if materializing from their thoughts, Miss Parker suddenly stood in the doorway. She was wearing her brown suit outfit and her red brown hair was styled in the usual way. As she entered, her presence seemed to invade the room. Broots jumped visibly and Miss Parker strolled deliberately over to him.
"I thought we were done with lies, Broots," she said, waving a finger in his face. Then, she drew back, folding her hands under chin and said, "We have no reason to hide anything, now do we? Out with it. What have you discovered?" Frankly, she enjoyed watching Broots jump at every snap of her fingers. Once she had thought him to be another of the Centre's spineless tech heads, but since his recent help with discovering SL-27 and fooling security to let her question Kyle, she had begun to change her mind.
"Well," Broots began. "It's not exactly...uh....what. It's who."
"You found Jarod?" Miss Parker demanded, a gong sounding in her head.
"Uh," Broots mumbled, trying not meet Miss Parker's steady glare. Why did he always have to get tongue-tied at the most inopportune moments? "No. Not exactly....See there's this Centre operative and she--"
"Broots," Miss Parker cut him off. "You called me and interrupted my lunch break to tell me about a CENTRE OPERATIVE? I encounter dozens in a day. I'm in charge of them." She leaned over into Broot's face and hissed, "This better have something to do with Jarod or else..." The ulcer in her stomach had been wreaking havoc all week, so her nerves were particularly on edge.
"What's the matter, Miss Parker?" Sydney's calm voice interrupted. "Strange however that every waking moment of work you do must pertain to Jarod," he mused. "But I think you'll find what Broots has to say of some import."
Miss Parker decided to ignore Sydney's jab for a moment and stared at Broots. "Well, then, spit it out!"
"Her name is Leah...." Broots stumbled on, wishing for all the world that the Centre and Miss Parker were a million miles away. Miss Parker's eyes snapped at him and he hurried on, "She has these theories. About Jarod." Miss Parker tapped her foot, impatiently and reached for the cigarette pack that wasn't there. Broots went on, taking a bit of pride in his work. "I skimmed over some of The Centre personnel files, although it was tricky bypassing some of the computer security protocol and found out about her. They're theories about Jarod's whereabouts. I ran her theories through my computer checking them against our actual encounters with Jarod."
Miss Parker yawned. "The point of all this would be?"
"I don't know how she did it, but she has a ninety-five percent accuracy rate."
Miss Parker's eyes widened. "I'd like to meet this Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate."
Broots beamed. He held out a manila folder of computer printouts. "I...um...thought you would. It wasn't easy figuring out the passwords of Raines' hidden files but..." Miss Parker flashed Broots a killing look and he stopped in mid-sentence. She snatched the folder and opened it.
"Raines?" she asked, briefly. Even saying the hated name seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She flipped through the printouts in the folder.
"Uh...yeah," Broots replied, fearing to trigger some brutal response. He shuffled his feet nervously as if worried she was going to attack him with the file folder. "She was a Field Operative trained in his division," he replied, hoping this would get Miss Parker off his case.
"Then, enlighten me, Broots." Miss Parker challenged, staring at him. "Where is she now?"
Broots motioned towards the glass partition which showed a view of the All-Purpose Room.
She snapped the folder shut, growling, "It's about time!" Her heels clicked on the tiles as she left and could be heard long after she had disappeared from view.
"What's with her?" Broots asked, speaking more freely now Miss Parker was out of earshot.
"She just quit smoking," replied the informed Sydney.
Broots was shocked. "When was this?"
"Oh," Sydney said, rubbing his chin. "About an hour ago."
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There are Pretenders among us.
Geniuses with the ability to become anyone they want to be.
In 1963, a corporation known as The Centre isolated a young Pretender named Jarod and exploited his genius for their research.
Then, one day, their Pretender ran away...
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The girl had hair so dark brown it nearly looked black and dark brown almond-shaped eyes. Her skin was the color of light caramel and she was wearing black slacks and a black vest over a white cotton blouse. Her head was bent over a laptop computer and she sat at the table so absorbed in running calculations on it that she did not look up, even when Miss Parker entered the room.
"Why isn't your full name listed here?" Miss Parker launched into conversation without so much as a greeting. She waved the folder full of printouts. "All I find is Leah."
"'To possess knowledge of a person's full name is to possess the means of their demise'," Leah quoted promptly. She looked up at Miss Parker and explained the reason for her quote, "That was the first thing I was taught upon joining the Centre co-op program."
Miss Parker found she couldn't argue with that. In fact, the reason her father had insisted she go by the name "Miss Parker" was because the Parker name struck fear into the hearts of those who had any knowledge of it. Besides "Miss Parker" was so much more intimidating than--She stopped in the middle of her thoughts and focused her attention back on the present matter. "Well...Leah. Where have you been kept hidden all these years? For someone with skills like yours, a field operative is the wrong place to be." She gave the girl a searching look and asked, "Why weren't you assigned to the tech room?"
"I'm good at my job," Leah answered, steadily without any show of the usual fear Miss Parker had grown so accustomed to seeing in the faces of those who worked under her. "My theories about Jarod are only a hobby."
Miss Parker grew indignant. The idea that any one could consider chasing Jarod a hobby! "ANY work on Boy Wonder is to be reported me!!! Is that understood?" She glared at Leah. This young woman who so calmly stated that Miss Parker's work of the past year was only a hobby at most could hardly be any older than eighteen. She wanted to see her sweat.
"Yes," Leah answered, coolly. "Since I have been transferred to your department I will follow your orders."
"Transferred?" she let the question slip out. Miss Parker raised her eyebrows. She certainly hadn't been informed of this. The operative held out a transfer paper to her. She snatched it and read it. Hmmm...Miss Parker thought to herself. Things were certainly beginning to look up. She had this girl under her thumb now. However, this lowly field operative and her theories gave Miss Parker an uneasy feeling. Trained under Raines...Miss Parker wasn't too fond of Raines other projects...Kyle, Cousin It, and whatever other off-the-wall experiments his twisted mind could concoct. Still, ninety-five percent accuracy. This was something too good to pass up.
"Very well," Miss Parker said, coolly. "You'll work with Broots in the hunt for Jarod."
"Mr. Raines always enjoyed looking at my theories," Leah nodded. "A pity he's in the burn ward. Ever find out who did it?" Leah's voice was neither hurried nor slow, it flowed along steadily like a river and seemed to convey no emotion.
"That matter is none of your concern," Miss Parker snapped, determined not to get into conversations about that hated character. She walked around the table to look over the operative's shoulder and see what Leah had been working on before she arrived.
Miss Parker threw another question at her. "How long have you been with the Centre?"
"My freshman year of high school I went into the Centre's program. To be in security," Leah replied. Her brown eyes quietly watched Miss Parker to see if this answer would suffice.
"Four years," Miss Parker mused. She thought for a moment as she paced the room. Then, "How long have you had your...hobby?" questioned Miss Parker, begrudgingly.
"Since October of 1996," Leah replied, closing her computer and standing up to face her new boss.
"Henceforth you will report any theories to me FIRST," Miss Parker ordered. She was making for the door, when a remark caught her and brought her back.
"What did you say?" Miss Parker demanded, coming to stand inches away from the irritatingly calm operative's nose.
"I merely said," the girl replied, slowly. "My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker." The minor undercurrent of frustrated irritation broke loose then. Miss Parker slapped her across the face.
At the sudden impact of the hand, Leah took one step back. Her own hand flew up to her right cheek to rub the stinging that remained. Her calm expression disappeared for a moment and she viewed Miss Parker with momentary surprise--but no fear.
"Your loyalty," Miss Parker hissed through gritted teeth, "is to the Centre." Whereupon, Miss Parker turned on her heel and exited the room.
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As Miss Parker tripped down the endless Centre halls in her high heels, thoughts raced through her head. There was something about this new operative, something indefinable but eerie. In Leah's tone of voice, there was something like a taunt, an echoing somehow that reminded her of someone. She just couldn't grasp who it was. It spooked her, for it appeared the girl was appraising her, examining her loyalties, questioning her motives, trying to find out exactly what she felt about the chase for Jarod. Could it be she had possibly gotten wind of the lies Miss Parker had found it necessary to tell the Centre? That could never be!
In retrospect, Miss Parker felt she probably shouldn't have slapped the girl. Yet, statements as the kind the girl had made were dangerous at The Centre. That slap most likely would save herself from being dragged before a committee to be probed and prodded about her own loyalties. Loyalty to The Centre! Only to The Centre! Hadn't that been drilled into to her head since the day she had first walked through the doors! And the security cameras, those lurking eyes and ears of this secret corporation had probably recorded all. Even now Miss Parker dared not betray too much of the emotion she was feeling. She took a deep breath and assumed a cool manner which Broots called "The Ice Queen." Then, she continued down the corridor to resume her duty. This duty could be summed up in two words, "Find Jarod!"
Over the next few weeks, Leah worked very closely with Broots, giving him all the theories about Jarod she had done in the past. Sydney observed and listened and watched as always, but asked no questions. Jarod had contacted none of them in the past few weeks and Sydney wondered if Jarod was aware of the new weapon being used against him. Most of the results of Leah's theories were deadly accurate and she took her work very seriously.
Miss Parker was sitting in her office, reading a report electronically mailed to her by one of the Centre's operatives about the latest Jarod sighting. Upon finishing it, she hit the reply button and the keyboard buzzed as she wrote a biting message and sent it. The sighting was a dud and from now on this op could stick to paper filing. Miss Parker's cell phone rang and she answered it with her usual unceremonious greeting, "What?"
Broot's voice replied, "Um...Miss P. Have you....uh--researched the methods Leah uses to--"
"No, Broots," Miss Parker frowned. "Research is your department. Being sure you don't waste my time is mine."
"Of course," answered Broots, nervously. "But some of these theories are off-the-wall. I mean, take this Red Hair Theory, for instance."
Miss Parker sighed. "And what might that be?"
She heard the clicking of a computer keyboard. "I just mailed you a copy."
Miss Parker clicked the usual icon and stared at her computer screen.
Broots continued his stumbling explanation.
The next morning, Miss Parker marched into the tech room deep into conversation with Sydney and Broots. Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate had received a rare morning off.
"How many red-haired people Jarod meets in his life? It doesn't make sense. And then using the ratio of red-haired people to all the rest to calculate where the highest concentrations of red-haired people are to determine which cities Rat Boy might be?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Yeah, I know," Broots replied. "But that's just one of the theories she's using in conjunction with others to do her locations on Jarod. She factors those results in with what we already know about him....at least, that's how I think she does it."
"You think!" Miss Parker snapped.
"Uh huh," Broots said, cringing away. "She's really close-mouthed. Won't tell me anything," he whined.
"Have you considered the possibility that this girl could be fooling us? Perhaps she writes theories after our actual encounters with Jarod," Sydney joined the conversation suddenly. As always he played the role of a disinterested observer, putting a puzzle before them and causing Miss Parker to seriously examine what she was doing.
"I thought of that," Broots replied, defensively. "But all of her documents are dated. And she has locations on Jarod that we missed until much later or missed entirely." Broots pulled some examples up on his computer screen. "Like the time Jarod pretended to be a orchestra conductor and the time Jarod was on late night TV with a show about improving your memory or the time Jarod was a high school counselor. With this type of evidence, that kind of fraud would be impossible."
"Have you asked her to predict where Jarod is now?" Sydney asked, concernedly.
Sydney and Miss Parker stared at Broots.
"Well, uh...no," replied Broots, starting to itch. "I guess I wanted to...um...test things first."
"The tests and studies are over," Miss Parker commanded. "I want you here 24/7 until you come up with some leads on Jarod."
Broots gulped and nodded.
The hunt was redoubled. Broots got leads on Jarod's activities on the Internet and Leah did her theories...coming up with location upon location. Nine times out of ten and even more so, her theories brought them to locations where Jarod had undoubtedly been. As of yet though, they weren't close. The Centre hounds were following a trail that had grown cold. Yet, with each location, the Sweepers would pick up clues, then the operative would discover something in the red notebooks or the area that fueled the fire for her theories. It was evident that very soon they would be hot on Jarod's trail.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"What!" Miss Parker barked at the door. "Quit lurking out there in the shadows and come in."
The door opened and Leah entered carrying a manila folder. "My latest theory for you, Miss Parker," she said, swiftly.
Immediately, Miss Parker stood up, squaring her shoulders and glared at the operative who had refused to fear her. "Fine," she said, carelessly. "Put it over there." Miss Parker waved at a filing cabinet.
The brown-eyed girl stared at the filing cabinet and then back at Miss Parker. "It is a theory about where the Pretender may be currently," she explained. She matched her boss, stare for stare, glare for glare. "As you wished, I am submitting this theory to you first."
"Put it anywhere, " Miss Parker replied, sinking back into her chair. Her temples throbbed and she felt a tremendous headache coming on. She had been shut up in The Centre for weeks, putting in long hours and still there had been no communications from Jarod and no idea where he was currently doing his good deeds. Now, this little upstart was jumping the gun and saying she knew where Jarod was. Ha! This little weasel Raines had probably implanted under her very nose refused to fear her. All her life, Miss Parker had ruled by fear and without it, she felt somewhat helpless. She quit glaring and turned away, commanding, "Now, go!"
Leah went out the door and Miss Parker could have sworn there a tone of mocking triumph in her voice as she murmured, "Of course. My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker."
That night, as Miss Parker was tossing and turning restlessly in her bed at home, the phone rang. Groping sleepily in the dark, she located the telephone and answered, groggily, "What?"
"Come now, Miss Parker. Don't you think you could be a little more creative than that?" Jarod's voice said, tauntingly.
Wide awake and alert now, Miss Parker replied, "Not at three in the morning, Invisible Man. No one's seen hide nor hair of you for weeks. What's the matter? Running scared?"
"Just playing hard to get," Jarod replied with a smirk in his voice. "Nice to know I was missed."
"I don't plan on missing," Miss Parker remarked. "I'll hit you...some place where it hurts."
"And with what sort of weapon are you planning to do that?"
"Not what," Miss Parker said with an evil grin. "Who."
"That explains it then," Jarod said, suddenly. "You have had help."
Miss Parker was boggled for a moment, but she didn't intend to show it. Did Jarod know about Leah? Was that the reason he had been more elusive than usual? "How I find you doesn't matter, Jarod. Just the fact that I will!"
"I'd check the figures on that one. This game of cat and mouse has been interesting. Catch me if you can." There was a loud click. Miss Parker dropped the phone and all traces of her lingering headache vanished. Then, she picked up the phone again and dialed Sydney.
"There's always a reason for Jarod's calls," Sydney said.
"I know that, Syd," Miss Parker said, eagerly. "But, what?"
The trio was back at the Centre grouped around Broots' computer. Broots blinked his eyes sleepily, trying to focus on his computer screen and on what Miss Parker wanted from him. He hadn't appreciated being yanked from the comfort of his own bed for another one of Miss Parker's hunches, but with this corporation one was always expected to comply....whether it was four 'o clock in the morning or not.
"You taped the call...right?" Broots asked, hesitatingly. "Of course I didn't!" Miss Parker shot back at him. "Do you think I expected this call? Weeks went by without a word and now this!"
"Calm yourself, Miss Parker and try to remember. What did you talk about?".
Miss Parker gave Sydney a calculating gaze and debated on the wisdom of answering the question.
"Try to remember," Sydney repeated in his soft accent. It was the same tones he had used in directing Jarod's simulations. "Clear your mind and focus on the words Jarod said. Was his voice happy? Sad? Excited?"
Miss Parker's face took on a brooding expression. She raised her hand to her chin and said, "Now that I think of it, he was curious."
"About what?" Sydney asked in his professional tone.
"About how we were finding the places he had been so quickly."
"And what did you tell him?"
Miss Parker was getting agitated by these prying questions. "What does it matter, Syd?" She walked in a circle, shaking her head. "I'm going to catch him. I told him that."
Sydney nodded as if that was the typical response he had expected to hear. "Are you sure you aren't missing something? Leaving something out? Can you remember any of his exact words?"
"This is getting us nowhere," Miss Parker retorted. "Jarod likes to play games, puzzles...things you have to figure out," mused Miss Parker, pacing the room. She stopped dead and snapped her fingers. "That's it! He said, "I'd check the figures on that one." It was after I told him we'd be sure to catch him using our new secret weapon."
"D...Do you think he knows about her?" asked Broots, fearfully. His mind had begun to work and he was trying to cover up his thought processes and avoid any demands for answers Miss Parker might suddenly have.
Miss Parker looked at Broots. "Did you say ninety-five percent accuracy? Check the figures on her again." Miss Parker motioned to Sam the Sweeper. He was one of the three sweepers who had been dragged out to run errands for her. He brought a heavy briefcase and lay it on the table in front of Broots.
Broots cast a questioning glance at Miss Parker. She leaned towards him and hissed in his ear, "Theories, Broots. The original copies. I expect the results on my desk in the morning." With this dictum, Miss Parker seemed satisfied. She stalked out of the room followed by her train of sweepers. Sydney sat silently in the corner with an amused look on his face.
Then, he got up and picked up a mug of coffee. Sydney nodded at Broots and headed for the door. "Have a good night," he started to say, when suddenly Miss Parker stuck her head back into the room.
"Stay with him, Syd. If he falls asleep I'm holding you responsible."
She vanished again. Sydney shrugged and returned to his seat. He watched as Broots began pulling the crumpled papers and folders from the briefcase. It promised to be a long night.
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TECH ROOM, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
"What do you mean by this?" Miss Parker stormed in the next day. She still had a dramatic impact though her train of sweepers were not trailing behind her today. Broots nearly fell off his swivel chair as he was rudely awakened by the documents Miss Parker tossed into his face. The papers fell like leaves around him and the faces of charts, graphs, and tables he had submitted to meet her deadline stared up at him from the floor.
"Wha-what you wanted. The figures," gulped Broots, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.
Miss Parker twirled Broot's chair around to face her. She leaned in on him and said in a firm voice, "Plain English, you idiot! What--does--it--mean?"
"I think what Broots is trying to say, Miss Parker," Sydney joined the conversation uninvited. He entered the room from the direction of his office. "Is that we have the answers you've been looking for."
Miss Parker released the arms of Broot's chair and backed away, allowing him room to breathe.
"Yes," said Broots, looking down at his scattered work. "I guess what I mean is the theories...uh...that you get...and the theories that the Centre gets...well, they are um...different." He scratched his nose and retreated over to his computer. He pulled up the tracking reports. Miss Parker followed him, looking over his shoulder like a hawk. "You see for example...the theory that led us to Toledo, Ohio where Jarod was being a zookeeper. The Sweeper team, following the theory submitted to the Centre arrived there a day...twenty-four hours after Jarod was gone. However, if they had followed the information on the theory Leah submitted to you...we would have gotten there at..." Broots paused to type something into his calculator and then to pull up one of his charts onto the screen. "...an hour after Jarod had left."
"And it's that way for all the other theories, too?" Miss Parker guessed. Broots' answer was affirmative. "Then, it's become a pattern," Miss Parker surmised, sharply. "Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accurate is very serious about her theories and she gets touchy when I won't look at them right away."
"Then, perhaps she was trying to prove a point," Sydney suggested. "Giving you her best theories and when you didn't review them right away, revising them so they were less accurate before turning them over to the Centre expediters. She was trying to teach you a lesson."
"Put a lid on it, Syd," Miss Parker replied, though she had already thought that much out herself.
"Sounds like something Jarod would do," Broots observed. They ignored him.
"Broots get everything you can on this Leah. Hack into the Centre Mainframe for all I care. If this girl has something she isn't telling us, I want to know about it, right down to her shoe size. Understood?"
"Yes, Miss Parker," Broots replied.
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A ROOM IN THE CENTRE
The girl, dressed in black, opened the door and entered the room. The door creaked as she closed it behind her. She observed that Broots was standing in a corner of this unfurnished room and that Sydney, too was standing in the background.
"You wished to see me, Miss Parker?" Leah asked, raising her eyebrows in question.
Miss Parker nodded. "Broots didn't request a transfer...There is no record of a transfer. There is no record of you on the Centre Database." Miss Parker moved forward. "Who are you?"
"If you want to know so badly, you might take it up with the Tower," Leah replied.
Miss Parker, Sydney and Broots exchanged glances. The Tower was definitely one place they did not wish to go. The Tower had something to do with the recent disappearance of Miss Parker's father and she was also certain that recent Tower and Centre upheavals were the result of Mr. Raines work...even if he was in the Centre's burn ward. Who could this girl be, Miss Parker thought. Who was she?
"Do you know where Jarod is now?" Miss Parker demanded.
"Perhaps," Leah said, becoming stubborn suddenly. "You do not seem to put much stock in my theories, Miss Parker. I have been considering taking my work to the Tower personnel. The new cleaner might appreciate it more."
Sensing their underlying dismay, Miss Ninety-Five Percent Accuracy suddenly backed down. "Forgive me, Miss Parker. If it was in my power to tell you I would. You'll just have to trust me. My loyalty is to you, Miss Parker. I will follow your orders."
Miss Parker took advantage of the extra six inches in height her heels gave her. She stepped deliberately over to the girl, put her hands on her hips and said, "You know where he is." Miss Parker's brow raised in a taunting challenge. "Tell me! It is my JOB to direct the HUNT and you better not stand in my way."
A smug look that Miss Parker knew she had seen some place before vanished from the operative's face. In her brown eyes appeared the light of respect. "You really want to find him, don't you?" Leah whispered. A quiet smile crept onto her face and she said, "I'll help you." She pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her black slacks and handed it over. Different than the theories Miss Parker had seen before this one was plain and simple. It was the address of a business in Jackson, Ohio. "It's still a theory at this time," Leah explained, answering Miss Parker's questioning glance. "I haven't tested it yet."
Miss Parker contemplated for a moment, for those who led lives at the Centre were soon conditioned by the shady situations and had suspicion bred into them. "Let's move!" Miss Parker barked at Sydney and Broots. The trio left the room, rushing off to charter one of the corporate planes. A short while later, Leah returned to the Tech Room, picked up the phone Broots had carelessly left behind and dialed a number.
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Templer's Palace Ice Cream Parlour
Jackson, Ohio
"Nah," Jarod told the kid waiting on him at the counter. "I don't guess I was ever considered a wild child. I lived in a pretty controlled environment."
"Yeah, don't I know it," replied Ryan. The waiter was wearing a hat and uniform with the logo a red cardinal eating an ice cream cone. He was around seventeen years of age. He slid Jarod's ice cream soda across the counter to him. "Now you get to take risks. Wear a cool leather jacket. Me, well, I've been here in this ice cream parlour. You've got it made. You're flaming like the Sierra del Fuego."
"Tierra del Fuego, I think you mean," replied Jarod, smiling. "Spanish--for--land of fire," he said between slurps of the frothy soda.
"Yeah, but you've traveled. You've been places," Ryan continued. "Mark's manager here and I tell the kids on Mark's staff...I tell them I'm gonna be a secret agent. Secret agent, dork, they say. That'll never happen."
"I was always taught," Jarod replied, "That if you try hard enough, you can become anyone you want to be. Hmm....this is very good. What I don't get is why it's called a root beer float," Jarod observed, pushing the ice cream up and down with his spoon. "When it's the ice cream that's floating."
"Beats me," Ryan replied, shrugging. He sighed. "Suppose they're right. Nothing exciting happens around here."
Jarod pushed his float aside, leaned against the counter, and said in a confidential whisper, "Have patience. You shall see some excitement. I'm the running from a secret organization. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to give them this." Jarod pulled the familiar red notebook from the inside of his jacket and placed it in Ryan's hands. Ryan gulped and nodded, saying in wonderment, "Sure thing, Chief. It won't self destruct or anything like that?"
Jarod laughed and shook Ryan's hand. "Nope, at least I don't think so. Call me Jarod. Good-bye."
Minutes later, Miss Parker came bursting through the door. Sydney and Broots came in after her and stood near the doorway. She walked up to the counter which Ryan was still attending. The kids working with Ryan paused in their work and watched from behind the counter.
"Have you seen this man?" Miss Parker demanded, holding up a snapshot of Jarod.
Ryan was so stunned with amazement that at first he just blurted, "He wasn't kidding!"
Miss Parker put her hands on her hips and looked at him in frustration. Obviously, she had been running. "Where is he?" Miss Parker asked. "Was he here?"
"He's gone now," Ryan said with interest. "You chasing Jarod?"
Miss Parker pounced on the name. "Yes, Jarod. Do you know where we can find him?"
"He didn't say," Ryan replied, smiling from ear to ear. The kids in the back were listening with awe. Now, this was excitement! "But he left something for you."
"What?" Miss Parker said, abruptly. She suddenly realized this was a public place and she adjusted her jacket to be sure it still concealed her gun.
Ryan was shaken a bit by such abrupt questioning and struck with the reality of the situation. Was he in trouble? "It's in the zar...ah....in the jar, ah....It's in the cookie jar."
Miss Parker went over to the decorative jar where it rested on the counter, took off the lid, snatched the notebook, and slapped the lid back on with such force it was a miracle the jar didn't shatter into a million pieces.
She had been so close to getting Jarod. So close to finding out the truth to what had happened to her mother and perhaps even the whereabouts of her father. So close to having the puzzle solved...only to find the answers lost once again with Jarod's escape. Her hands trembled as she held the notebook in her hands with the knowledge it would possess the details of his latest Pretend. She felt something on its underside and turned it over. There was a note taped to its backside:
Sorry Gotta Run. MNT. Jarod.
"M...n...t--Minnesota perhaps or mint." Broots had come up beside her and was looking over her shoulder. He was trying to offer help, doing his job but annoyingly so.
"Are you alright, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked, picking up on some of the emotions she was trying to hide.
"Don't just stand there, do something!" she exclaimed. Miss Parker's eyes blurred with the disappointment. "Outside. Tell the sweepers to comb the area. Question people. Find out if they've seen anything. Move!"
Sydney and Broots exited quickly to carry out her orders.
The black pay phone on the wall clattered as it rang. When Ryan moved to answer it, Miss Parker waved him aside. "That'll be for me," she said with unerring confidence. Ryan stood watching her in bewilderment. She glared at him and he retreated back behind the counter. The phone clattered again. She picked it up and said in a firm voice, "Jarod."
"Well, well, well, Miss Parker," Jarod's voice came over the line. "And a nice day to you, too." He could not hide the note of satisfaction in his voice. He had won again. When she did not reply he said, "Good to see you haven't given up on me, Miss Parker. I was wondering..."
"Jarod....how...." she began, unable to put her question into coherent words.
"You seem disappointed, Miss Parker. Is it because your secret weapon failed? You should know this by now, things are never quite what they seem. Margery's daughter...You see, she wasn't really a Centre Operative...".
"She was a PRETENDER," Miss Parker cut him off with a tone of finality. She had drawn a conclusion she knew to be acutely accurate. Of course, that explained everything. Her mind raced. Miss Parker was well-versed on everything that had to do with The Pretender Project. In 1959, the Centre had isolated a three year old Pretender named Margery and though she had not equaled the skills Jarod later displayed, she had been useful to the Centre. Margery had mysteriously escaped from the Centre and Miss Parker now knew that she had become one of the rescued children. Miss Parker, of course, in the investigation she had conducted about her mother's past, had asked Broots to look for Margery. They had discovered she died in a car accident four years ago and had never given it a second moment's thought. But a daughter?
"Your mother rescued hers," Jarod explained, as if reading her mind. "But Margery erased any records of Leah's existence. When Leah grew up, she decided to work for the Centre..."
"Infiltrate is more like it," Miss Parker said in a tone of conviction. A Pretender deliberately going inside the Centre? It seemed unthinkable. She paced nervously holding the telephone and then stopped, asking sharply, "Are you gloating?"
"No," Jarod's voice drawled. "I was just struck by a thought."
"What's that?" Miss Parker asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"Like mother, like daughter." There was a click. The dial tone hummed in her ear.
One more wrong had been righted and one more time Jarod had eluded her.
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THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
CHAIRMAN'S OFFICE
"Well, Miss Parker," said Mr. Lyle, sitting behind the desk in his newly redecorated office and every moment reminding Miss Parker that her father was missing. He tapped a pencil on a stack of folders lying in front of him. "I have gone over these reports and all I can say is it appears to me, more than ever, that you need Brigitte's assistance." Miss Parker sat like a statue in a chair in front of the desk and eyed the flashily-clad blonde, who was sitting on the edge of the desk, licking a red sucker and obviously enjoying every second of this meeting.
Brigitte removed the sucker from her mouth and smirked. The tone of her soft British accent was mock puzzlement, "One man vs. one corporation. Clearly, your method of capture was flawed, luv. With my help, that can be remedied."
"Her help!" Miss Parker rose from her chair and crossed her arms, trying to maintain her temper. "We would have had Jarod at the diamond depository if it hadn't been for her help!"
Brigitte hopped off the desk, opened her mouth widely and began to spout, energetically, "Special Operative's Class told me...!" but Mr. Lyle interrupted.
"Ladies, ladies," he said. "You've both made your points." He flashed a cheesy smile. "We must remember who are enemies are. Now, I think it's best we get back to work. Brigitte will accompany you on your next trip, Miss Parker." He clapped his hands and said, "Meeting adjourned."
Brigitte with a quick step was at the door. The red sucker was installed back in her mouth. She opened the door, gave Miss Parker a snooty look and then disappeared, closing the door behind her.
Miss Parker turned towards the door, when Mr. Lyle's words halted her, "Oh, and Miss Parker...about that What's Her Name. The one with all the theories. I never met her."
"Leah," Miss Parker offered.
"Oh, was that her name?" Mr. Lyle smiled, moving to stand in front of his desk. He tapped the pencil against the palm of his hand. "Any word on her?"
"As far as we can tell, she seems to have vanished," Miss Parker replied, coolly.
Mr. Lyle nodded towards her and snapped the pencil into two pieces. "You would tell me if she contacts you?" he questioned. He dropped the pieces in the wastebasket.
Miss Parker looked directly at Mr. Lyle's smiling yet somehow grim face. Her eyes widened like a cat's. "Definitely," replied the Ice Queen.
"Alright," said Mr. Lyle, lazily. He hit a button on his intercom. "Send in the new secretary, I want to write a memo." He looked at her. "You may go, Miss Parker."
Miss Parker again headed for the door. Just as she reached the finished wooden doors, one opened and a girl entered. She was carrying a memo pad and pencil, dressed in a magenta pink dress suit. The girl wore dark-rimmed glasses. She had a look of alert industry and all the airs common to a business secretary.
Mr. Lyle was opening the drawer of his desk and getting out some papers.
Miss Parker looked at the girl and was struck with a sudden realization. The girl evidently saw this, her brown eyes watched Miss Parker and then gave her the calm, quiet smile of a friend.
"Anything else I can help you with?" Mr. Lyle asked, looking up from the drawer.
Miss Parker shook her head and marched out of the room.
"Who is this message addressed to?" asked Leah, industriously beginning to scribble on the notepad.
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It was only in the relative safety of her own office that Miss Parker stopped to reflect on what she had done. There are Pretenders among us, she thought. Leah was here...the insider...helping Jarod, helping others. Like herself. I don't need any help, Miss Parker thought. Still, it might be good to have her around. Just in case. An insider. How many more could there be like her?
Her cell phone rang. She drew it from her pocket and snapped it open. "What is it, Broots?" Miss Parker answered, broken from her thoughts.
"Jarod," Broots replied.
"I'll be right there."
As Miss Parker entered, Broots looked up and Sydney held up a children's storybook. "A bread crumb," replied Sydney. "It just came."
Miss Parker took the book and flipped it open to the inside cover. In Jarod's writing were the words: I enjoy being a weaver of tales. She looked at Sydney after reading the words, and then her gaze moved to Broots.
"I'll...uh," he said, nervously. "Go and run a check on the bookstores. M...n...t," he mumbled to himself as he walked away. "Maybe Minnesota."
Miss Parker settled down at the table to scan the storybook for clues. As she did so, a weight suddenly seemed to lift off her shoulders. She smiled softly to herself. There was still hope of catching Jarod. For while Broots was baffled, she knew what the letters meant.
M. N. T.
Maybe next time.
THE END
