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Broots had long since reviewed Miss Parker’s email and voicemail, finding no clues as to her whereabouts in either. He looked at his watch: it had been almost three hours since Sydney had stalked out, and the computer tech could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He debated for several minutes over whether or not he should try and reach Jarod, how he would do that, and what exactly he was going to tell the pretender once he contacted him. The ringing of his phone made Broots almost jump out of his chair. He fumbled the headset as he picked it up, dropping it to the floor and then tangling the cord before getting it to his ear.

“H-hello?”

“What’s happened to them, Mr. Broots? Neither of them is answering by phone or email.”

“J-Jarod?”

“Where are they?”

“I...I don’t know. Miss Parker’s been awol for almost 26 hours, and I haven’t heard from Sydney since he went upstairs to confront Mr. Raines.”

“He did what?”

“He went up--”

“--Yes, yes, I heard you, I just can’t believe the stupidity of it. Why in the hell did you let him do that?”

“Let him? I didn’t let him, Jarod...I...I mean, he didn’t exactly ask for my blessings you know...”

“What did he say?”

“He was talking about going to the source, and then he told me that if he didn’t come back I was to contact you, find Miss Parker and then disappear, permanently.”

Jarod’s mind was reeling from the possibilities. The timing was the easiest part to understand in that Raines now felt a measure of safety with the incriminating DSA and files destroyed; but if he merely wanted both Parker and Sydney dead, the bodies would have already turned up somewhere. That wasn’t the man’s end game. Jarod needed to SIM all the possible scenarios, outcomes and gains for the oxygen-dependent man from hell, and he needed time in which to do it.

Broots’ voice brought the pretender out of his deep thoughts. “Jarod? Are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry, Mr. Broots. I was thinking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, I need some time to think out where Raines is headed with this business, and then we can figure out the best way to deal with it.”

“But we don’t even know where they are...”

“My guess, Mr. Broots, is that they’re both still somewhere at the Centre. Raines likes to keep his pet projects close.”

“I can start searching for them.”

“Yes, that would be helpful, just be careful, you don’t want to get caught.”

And then it hit the tech: “Oh my God...we’re on a Centre line...”

“Relax, Mr. Broots, I scrambled this call before I contacted you. We have another three minutes before anyone will be able to breach it.”

“You don’t think that they’re...you know...”

“No, Mr. Broots, I don’t think they’re dead. At least not yet.”

The dial tone sounded loudly in Broots’ ear, and he quickly hung up the phone as if touching the handset had suddenly burned him. He looked around his area suspiciously, as if expecting to see a team full of Sweepers swoop down upon him, but to his relief it was quiet. At least, for the moment...









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