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Chapter or Story
Part 3
Jarod sat, his hands wrapped around a mug, watching as Nicholas, Debbie and Angelo played outside the house.
"I know you didn't want to use the drug," Sydney placed one hand on Jarod's shoulder, "but I really didn't feel that there was a choice. If she'd hurt herself, or someone else - "
"I know." Jarod smiled. "I wasn't really thinking about that. Actually I was just wondering - what's it like to have a family?"
Sydney sat opposite him. "I'm not sure I understand, Jarod."
"What's it like to have people to depend on, like you have Michelle? I guess, in all my time of wondering whether anyone would ever want me, I didn't think about it any further. I know that you and Michelle have been talking about this situation and," Jarod smiled knowingly at his former mentor, "probably also a little about the future."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sydney tried not to look conscious of the truth, however he couldn't fully hide the secret smile.
"I'm not going to bother trying to make you deny it. But, Sydney, I want to know: how... what's it like to have someone like that?"
Sydney immediately sobered and tried to think of an answer that would satisfy Jarod. It was, he knew, a deeper question than it seemed, as many of the younger man's questions were, and he needed a more satisfactory answer.
"Sydney... Jarod! Jarod!"
The interruption ended the conversation as Broots burst into the room. Jarod had calculated that the drug that Parker had received would last for several hours and Broots had offered to stay in the room, giving the other two men a break. Both men looked up sharply, but only Jarod responded.
"What is it, Broots?"
"She...she's awake! She knows me! She's..."
"Okay! All right!" The words were yelled over his shoulder as Jarod went up the stairs, two at a time, closely followed by Sydney.
"Jarod, you said it..."
"I know I did, Sydney. I can't help but wonder..." He fell silent as he entered the room and saw the figure lying on the bed, eyes closed. Reaching out, he placed one hand gently on her arm. "Parker?"
The eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. The expression was undoubtedly that of the adult Miss Parker and Jarod, eyes narrowing, tried to work out what had caused this change.
"It's okay, Jarod. I'm only here because of the drug you administered." The voice spoke in a dreamy, singsong tone and the smile was faint. "I'll be gone when she wakes, but for now, I'm here." Jarod sat down in the chair beside the bed, aware that Sydney had entered the room behind him. The Pretender’s voice was full of curiosity.
"What is it, Parker?"
"She's not dealing with all of the emotions that you're trying to make her face. If you're not careful, she might crack under the pressure."
Sydney spoke up. "We're dealing with it the best we can. If we don't confront this now, it might never be dealt with. Do you want the situation you've been facing for so long to go away or to continue the way it was?"
"But... it's so hard." The words were soft and a single tear trickled down her face in accompaniment to the whisper.
"I know, Parker." Jarod took her hand in both of his. "I know."
He watched as her eyelids drooped, not understanding what circumstances had allowed her to speak with them but thankful for the flash of insight into what she was feeling and which he could or would not understand.
June 23, 1969
""Love must be completely sincere. Hate what is evil, hold on to what is good." (Romans 12:9)"
Broots stared down at the Bible quotation. Having never met Catherine Parker, he had not looked through the diary; however now he hoped that it might give him an indication of something he could do to help. Although he was used to a fifth-wheelish feeling, in this sort of situation he was desperate to help in some way. The feelings he harbored for the woman made that necessary.
"Oh, Miss Parker, what did he do to you?"
He was unaware that he had spoken aloud and was so deep in thought that he never heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. A hand on his shoulder was the first indication that he was not alone in the room and he felt himself shift several inches out of the chair.
"Sorry, Broots. I thought you'd hear us."
Jarod dropped into a chair without a word as Sydney made the statement. Broots looked up at them. "What was it? How did she suddenly know who I was? What's causing this whole situation?"
Sydney looked over to Jarod, surmising that the Pretender would want to answer this. Jarod's expression confirmed it as the young man thought for several seconds. "You probably won't believe this, but I can try. It's not an easy situation to understand - I don't understand all of it myself, actually. But here goes."
Parker stared up at the ceiling of the room. She had known that it was necessary to talk to Jarod, little though she felt comfortable doing so, but she had to make him understand what her younger self was suffering. Her own emotions were, to a certain extent, restricted by the medication that was keeping her other 'self' under sedation and there was a relief to be free of the tension that accompanied full consciousness. It was strange, she thought drowsily, that she was depending on Jarod to help her gain control over her own life so that she could - what? Return him to the Centre? Finally be free, as her father had promised? She wondered if that would still be her desire after the treatment was complete.
After Sydney left the room to go back up to the woman, Broots glanced over at Jarod. "That makes sense, but what I don't get is how you got involved with this. All I know is that Miss Parker left the Centre and went home. How do you fit in?"
"I..." Jarod sighed heavily, recalling that night. "I went to her house, to give her something."
The technician lifted the book out of his lap. "The diary?"
Jarod nodded. "As you know, it was the anniversary of Catherine's death and I chose that day because I understood she was going out for the evening with her father, Lyle and Brigitte."
"What's happening with them now?"
Jarod sighed again, his impatience obvious, and Broots, quickly realizing his error, backtracked. "Okay, sorry. Keep going."
"When I got there, I heard arguing. I looked in the window of her living room and saw a guy yelling at her."
"Allan?"
"You know him?"
"We...we've met."
Jarod grinned faintly. "Got a reputation already?"
"He deserves everything bad that anyone ever said about him. I don't get..."
The Pretender’s movement silenced the other man and Jarod arched an eyebrow. "Should I go on?"
"Please."
"I saw him raise his hand, in a threat, and then he hit her - hard enough to send her clear across the room. She slammed her head on the corner of a table and it knocked her out. Allan waited until he saw that she wasn't going to get up and left the room. When I knew he wasn't coming back, I climbed in through the window." Jarod looked at Broots and was somewhat startled to see the expression on his face. "What? What is it?"
"You...you did that? Knowing what she thinks of you? Knowing the danger you it put you in?"
"Broots, Parker's the closest thing I've got to family," Jarod explained patiently. "She's also one of only a few real friends that I've made in my life. I had to."
"A...and then?"
"I picked her up and put her on the sofa. When she first saw me, she didn't know who I was but, when I told her, she didn't react in the way I thought she would. It was then that she began talking like a nine-year-old, because that's what she'd become." Jarod fell silent, having run out of words that would express the full anguish and helplessness that he had felt at that moment.
"Can't we do what you did to me? Suppress her emotions but let her recall the actual events?"
Sydney placed a hand on Jarod's shoulder as they stood beside the bed. "I know you want to help, to stop her from having to go through this, but you know as well as I do that the only answer is the one we're using. We just have to take things one day at a time."
As he left the room, Michelle appeared beside him. Sydney, both hands in the pockets of his jacket, looked at her as they went down the stairs. "Why are you here?"
She slipped her arm around his. "To help you. To give you the support you need to get through this."
"Sometimes I feel like this is never going to end. We could be here for ever."
"There are worse things that could happen." She smiled at him. "At least you'd have your family together."
"My...?"
He stopped and looked at her. Then, suddenly, he kissed her.
Jarod watched as Miss Parker gradually came around from the sedative. The memories, he had estimated, would be slow in returning, giving her time, they hoped, to deal with them, and so he sat, holding her hand and waiting.
"Jarod?" Although her eyes were still closed, her hand moved in his.
"Yes, Parker, I'm here." Thank goodness, it was the young Parker. The older had been correct; it seemed she couldn't appear during periods of full consciousness.
"D’you hate my Daddy too?"
"For what he did, yes."
"Do I..." The eyes fluttered open and she focused on him. "Do I have to see him again? 'Cause I don't want to, not ever again in my life." Awkwardly, still slightly hampered by the effects of drug, she crawled over the bed to him and, as he sat down on the mattress, pulled herself into his lap. Resting her head against his shoulder, he pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her.
"Parker, you only have to see him if you want. I'm not going to force you."
"I love you, Jarod. More than I love my Daddy."
"Why did you stop liking me, Parker? Do you remember when you stopped liking me?" Jarod prompted gently, wondering what her response would be, hoping that dealing with the smaller issues would help her deal with the larger ones.
"Daddy said...you didn't like me anymore." The confused mind had no difficulty in jumping forward and recalling the scene in her father's office.
"Angel, I have to show you something."
The DSA was slipped into the machine and started up.
"I don't understand." Sydney's voice betrayed his confusion. "You and she got along so well. What's gone wrong?"
The small boy was curled up in the corner of what looked like a bedroom, a pillow held tightly against his chest. "I hate her! I never want to see her again! D’you hear me? Never!" The pillow came flying in Sydney's direction and the man had to duck to avoid being hit by it.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course I'm sure!"
A button touched and the screen was blank, but Parker had continued to stare at it, tears rolling down her face, until her face took her by the shoulder and led her from the office.
Jarod stared at the screen of the computer. Broots had finally found the DSA in the Centre's record and had downloaded it using a program that would hide his journeys into the mainframe.
"I...don't remember ever saying that." Jarod looked up at Sydney. "When did it happen?"
"It didn't - as such." Sydney opened another ffile. "This was what you can most probably remember."
The machine hummed into life and Jarod watched a very different scene unfold in front of him.
"As an important member of Congress, it's important for us to understand what he's feeling. We need to know what he might do or say. Can you show us that?"
Jarod watched as the young figure on the screen closed his eyes, recalling the gradual summoning of understanding that followed, until he could become the character he had been instructed to create. The eyes slowly opened but now the expression in them was strange and, somehow, the entire face looked as if it belonged to another person. Broots gasped in shock as he witnessed the total transformation, no longer wondering at the desire of the Centre to have Jarod returned to them. With powers like this, he was certainly a very valuable entity. The voice that came clearly through the DSA player speakers was unrecognizable.
"I need her back with me! I want her here. I need her to know that I love her."
"So you want her to stay with you?" Sydney's voice was calm.
"I...I...Yes! Wait! No! No, I don't! I never want her to come into my life again!"
"I don't understand. You and she got along so well. What's gone wrong?"
"I hate her! I never want to see her again! Do you hear me? Never!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course I'm sure!"
Sydney pressed another button and the picture faded but Jarod's eyes remained glued to the screen.
"So Mr Parker used that SIM to convince his daughter that I never wanted to see her again. That was why, the day before she left for Japan..."
"Angry...sad...wanted friend...scared of Daddy." Angelo looked up as he spoke.
"Yes, Angelo. She was always scared of him and I never saw it. I never did one single thing to save her from it!" Jarod hunched his shoulders miserably. "I couldn't even see there was anything wrong. How could I have completely missed something like that, something that obvious? I never even tried to get her to tell me why she suddenly stopped being friendly to me after so long." He stood up, ignoring the fact that the chair spun out from behind him and ended up on its side on the floor. "Why didn't I ask? Why didn't she tell me? Couldn't she realize that I would have at least tried to understand! I..." Jarod rounded on Sydney. "Why didn't I ever realize?"
"Jarod, you can't blame yourself for this. Parker's always been taught not to show her emotions. She wouldn't have told you what she felt, even if her father hadn't threatened her." He placed one hand on each of Jarod's shoulders. "It's not your fault."
Jarod looked up at Sydney without speaking. His eyes betrayed the fact that the other man's arguments had been in no way convincing.
"Jarod, can I go outside to play?"
A little surprised by the request, Jarod thought for several seconds. "Well, not today. How about you stay in the house today? Maybe tomorrow you can go outside. I wouldn't want you to get sick again."
She looked up at him as he stood at the side of the bed and then suddenly threw both arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.
"Jarod?"
"Mmm?"
"Will you adopt me?"
He pulled back a little and looked down at her, a startled expression appearing on his face. "What? What did you say?"
"I want you to adopt me. My Daddy... I don't want to go back to him - what he did to me. Please, Jarod, I want to stay here, with you!" She turned her face into his stomach and burst into tears. "I'm scared of him. He plays games that hurt really bad! And he says that it's a secret - but Momma used to tell me secrets and they didn't hurt. I never cried after Momma told me secrets. Daddy says I shouldn't cry, but I do."
The tears that flooded from her eyes soaked the front of Jarod's black t-shirt but he didn't notice.
"Please, Jarod. Adopt me. Take me away from him."
Her voice broke off as the sobs made speech impossible. Jarod loosened his grip on her and gently sat down on the bed. She threw both arms violently around his neck and as her head rested on his shoulder he could feel the sobs that shook her entire body.
"Parker, look at me." The tear-stained face turned to his bore virtually no resemblance to the calm, composed features that he usually saw and he stroked her hair. "You don't ever have to go back to your Daddy if you don't want to."
"P-promise?"
"I promise."
She snuggled back into his neck. "I love you, Jarod."
He hesitated for a second. "I love you too, Parker."
"Parker?" Sydney's voice began calmly.
"Jarod, did you mean what you said?" The figure lying on the bed, now deep in the hypnotic trance, didn't open her eyes, but Jarod could easily picture the pleading expression that would have crossed her face, and smiled as he responded.
"Yes, Parker. I did."
"It will help her to know that."
"Her? Or you too?"
There was a short period of silence. "I find it difficult, after so long with our unique situation, to accept that idea. But I think you're right. It will help me, too."
Sydney looked quizzically at Jarod but the younger man shook his head. Sydney had to be content with the hope that Jarod would explain those comments to him later. He proceeded with the planned session.
"Parker, I want to ask you to do something."
"For you, Syd? Or for me?"
"For us all."
"All right." The voice was quiet, composed, but both men wondered how composed it would remain after hearing his suggestion.
"I want you to take on some of the memories which your younger self has. Now, while you can, I want you to relive some of the memories that are haunting the other part of you."
"I...I can't." The sentence was little more than a whisper.
"Parker, we can't do this without help from you." Jarod's tones tried to inspire in her the courage that she lacked to attempt the feat.
Sydney reiterated what the younger man had said. "Please, Parker. We'll stop if it gets too bad, but we need to try this."
"Okay." The voice was hushed and strained with emotion,
"I want you to go back to the first time that your father abused you."
"I...I can't."
Jarod moved over and placed one hand on the woman's tense fist. "Try, Parker."
"Tell me about what he's doing to you," Sydney offered.
"I...I'm in bed." The voice of the adult slowly faded, gradually taking on the child's tones. "When the door opens, it wakes me up. I see him coming in and he comes over to the bed. He...he gets into it with me. I scream but - he tells me Momma's still at work. He tells me that if I scream again, he'll...he'll..."
"What, Parker? He'll what?"
"He'll kill Jarod."
Jarod's hand paused in its comforting touch, but it was only momentary. His face was pale, but he managed to make no comment.
"He knows that Jarod and I are friends... He... touches me. It hurts badly, but he says that it's supposed to hurt like that. He says that I can't become a woman unless I get this hurt. I don't want it but I'm too scared to make a noise."
She was becoming increasingly agitated and Sydney called on the image that he had had the foresight to create.
"Parker, I want you to leave the bedroom now and go to the safe room. Do you remember the safe room, with your Momma? Are you there now?"
"Yes." The whisper was hardly audible as Jarod and Sydney exchanged glances.
"Parker, I want you to find a really nice memory of your Momma. Can you do that? Find a really nice memory and give it to the other part of you, in exchange for the memory that you've taken away. And I want you to always remember the connection between those two memories. Have you done that?"
"Yes."
"And now, every time you remember the bad memory, you'll remember the good one as well. Can you do that, too?"
"Yes."
"Okay, now I want you to come out of the memory..."
September 15, 1966
""Lord, you are a God who punishes; reveal your anger! You are the judge of all men; rise and give the proud what they deserve!" (Psalms 94:1-2) Sometimes I wonder if my husband uses outside forces to get what he wants. Just before I fell asleep last night I could have sworn that I heard my daughter scream, but when I asked him this morning, he denied hearing it. I wonder also why I was unable to summon enough energy to get out of bed. I have never had that problem before, even on the brink of sleep, when she suffered nightmares as a small child. Could I have been drugged?"
Jarod have an exclamation and pushed the diary across to Sydney before getting out of his chair and pacing the room.
"Death is too good for that bastard!" The growl was almost inhuman, coming from deep within. "When I think how many people's lives he's destroyed in his climb to power. And he wants that power from anyone, even a six-year-old girl. His own daughter, in fact."
"You hadn't read that entry before?"
"I haven't read many of the earlier entries. I opened it at the middle, thinking that the beginning wasn't likely to contain that much information." Jarod glared blackly at the floor. "Obviously I was wrong."
"Be careful, Jarod. You can't just assume that what Catherine writes is totally accurate. I'm inclined to believe her, but she could have been getting sick and so not been as aware as she would normally have been."
"Do you really believe that?" Jarod rounded on Sydney and slammed both palms down on the table, making the glasses jump. " Do you think that she would have written that if she didn't believe that it was true? Do you?"
Sydney looked down at the book, and then back up at Jarod, his voice soft and attempting to be calm. "No, I don't."
Jarod sat and watched as the wool, quickly slipping between Michelle's fingers, was crocheted into a pattern. The delicate white fibers were already looking like a pile of snowflakes in her lap and it reminded Jarod of his discussion with Miss Parker, so many years earlier, of the mysteries of that substance and, eventually, of his temporary escape from the Centre so that he could see it for himself. The room was silent except for the clicking of the needles. In the room above, Sydney was striving to make the connections that the woman needed in order to recall her memories without the pain associated with them. It had been decided that Jarod should come into the session only at the end, and be seen as a figure with whom safety and security could be recognized. This was not a circumstance that pleased him but, after some persuasion, he had agreed with Sydney's argument and waited below for the signal that would call him up to the room. He sat for only a few minutes, however, before resuming pacing the length of the room.
"Where did the others go?"
"Shopping, Jarod." Michelle forced a calm tone into her voice, not willing to add to his concerns by speaking any of hers. "They went to the store you suggested."
"Why?"
"Well, mostly because we had no milk, little bread and only enough meat for tonight. But also to get away from the house."
"I only hope it's safe."
Michelle put down her work and looked up at him. "But they're going to the place you suggested, Jarod."
He sat down with a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Michelle. It's just... this is probably the longest that I've spent anywhere since I got out and I guess I'm a little edgy."
"A little?"
He blushed and tried not to grin. "Okay, a lot."
Sydney finished the session, knowing that Jarod had not needed his summons and was standing behind him. Rising from his chair, he gave the younger man a look that combined hope and concern. Jarod's response was to turn immediately to the bed, knowing that the session had been only partly successful. Sydney sighed and left the room. Slowly descending the stairs, he stood in the doorway, watching the wool slip through Michelle's fingers. The slow, regular movements helped to calm the tension that he felt building up inside.
"You can't expect everything to go smoothly, Sydney. You have to be patient."
Michelle's eyes never lifted from her work as he and sat in the chair that Jarod had occupied. For lack of anything else to do, he picked up Catherine's diary and began flipping through it.
April 11, 1968
""You will listen and listen, but not understand; you will look and look but not see." (Acts 28:26) When I accosted my husband with the drugs, he denied it. It makes me wonder if anything he has ever told me, in all our years of marriage, was the truth. And I can't help but wonder if her has ever given our daughter the same medication. I often feel like there's something she won't tell me. One day we'll get away from the Centre and start a new life - with no secrets and no pressure. When I look at all of the children still trapped within the Centre and everything that they are forced to do every day, I could cry."
Sydney looked up as Jarod entered the room.
"I failed. Everything she expected of me. I couldn't do it."
His voice was a dull monotone and his eyes had no life in them. Michelle looked at him and then dropped her work as she jumped up to put her arms around him. She felt him trembling slightly and her eyes pleaded with Jarod to try to find an answer. Having never seen the man in that state, Jarod hesitated, momentarily unsure of what to do. He scanned the writing in the diary to understand what had prompted the thought in Sydney's head and, in a flash of insight, tried to give the best comfort he could. Kneeling on the floor at Sydney's feet, he looked up into the older man's face.
"Syd, we'll do it. Together. There is a way to get her past all that - I know there is. And we'll find it. It's just a matter of time. I understand your frustration - hell, I'm frustrated too, but we will do it. We have to. We can't give up now."
Sydney, when he looked up, appeared to have aged many years in the space of several minutes. "But you don't understand. She trusted me. She wanted me to save them - and I... I couldn't do it."
"And yet she thought you were even braver than she was."
The words were soft, but Sydney felt them and understood the truth of them. However it wasn't enough to make him able to deal with his first serious realization of the magnanimity of his crimes, as he saw them. The stress and exhaustion, too, were beginning to take their toll. The trembling continued and in Jarod's professional mind he had already had more than enough. A nod at Michelle and she began to encourage him out of the room and up into the bedroom they shared. Jarod, meanwhile, quickly mixed up a powerful dose of sedative. Little though he generally liked administering drugs, he knew that Sydney was unlikely, even in his current state of exhaustion, to sleep naturally, and sleep was the one thing he needed to get past the mental block he had created within his own mind.
Going up to the room with the tray, he handed an undoctored mug to Michelle and went over to the bed, helping Sydney to sit up and slipping an arm around his shoulders for support.
"Here. This might help."
Sydney eyed the mug suspiciously as it was placed in his hands. "What is it?"
"Coffee."
"Oh good. I thought..." He drained the mug, which Jarod had deliberately cooled slightly so that Sydney would have no excuse for not drinking it.
"You thought what?" Jarod smiled after accepting the empty mug. "That I would drug you? What a thought!" He watched as Michelle raised her eyebrows and nodded very slightly. She smiled before taking the mugs and going downstairs, realizing that it was best to leave Sydney with Jarod.
"Not...exactly." Sydney closed his eyes as the weariness that he had, through willpower, been holding back, began to sweep over him in waves. He could feel as he was gently lowered back down against the pillow and looked up as the younger man moved over and shut the blinds, darkening the room considerably. "Why... are you helping her?"
Jarod smiled. "You taught me to could help people, what I could do for them. I couldn't turn my back on someone who was my friend for so many years, even if our situations have changed a little over time."
Sydney blinked several times before his eyelids fell shut. He forced them open again and Jarod, placing one hand on his arm as he rose to his feet, spoke softly. "You're allowed to sleep, Syd. Nothing will happen for a few hours - it never does. And you'll be better afterwards anyway."
The older man nodded drowsily as the drug began to take effect. Jarod watched as his eyes finally closed and Sydney's mouth opened with a soft sigh, his head rolling to one side. Standing, the young man pulled a blanket up over the inert figure and, bending down, kissed him softly on the forehead before leaving the room.
"Better?"
"Mm hmm." Sydney yawned and then stretched, feeling more relaxed than he had for some time.
Michelle moved over and sat on the bed as he made room for her, smiling as he took her hand. "I'm not really surprised."
"Why?" Sydney's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What time is it?"
"Four o'clock..."
"That's not so bad."
"...on Thursday afternoon."
"What?! But it was...wasn't it...Wednesday?" Sydney suddenly sat upright in bed and stared at Michelle and then at Jarod, who had appeared in the doorway and who was grinning at him.
"Can I help it if you were tired?"
The words sounded innocent, but Sydney had known Jarod long enough not to be taken in by his looks.
"What did you do? You said you wouldn't give me anything."
"I said nothing of the kind," Jarod argued. "My words were 'What a thought!' There was no denial there, but there wasn't any admittance, either. And you do have to agree that you're much better than you were."
Sydney tried to look stern but knew that his former protégée had been correct in his assumptions. Throwing back the blankets that lay on top of him, Sydney was about to get up, but Michelle, in response to a glance from Jarod, stopped him.
"The stuff I gave you won't wear off properly for a few more hours yet," the younger man explained. "So you'll have to stay where you are and let us look after you for a bit longer."
"But...Parker?"
"She's fine. I left her downstairs watching television. Nicholas introduced himself and they're getting on like a house on fire."
"But I thought we decided..."
"I know, but she does need someone other than the two of us, and Angelo would be too much of a risk while Broots is busy keeping Debbie out of trouble. But, like I said, they're getting on very well."
Sydney lay back against the pillows that Michelle had piled up behind him with a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm..."
"Worried? I know. But we won't achieve anything unless we actually instigate a few changes." He grinned. "And now, if you don't mind, I have a meal to cook."
"Cook, you?"
"Of course!" Jarod pretended to look offended but Michelle laughed and spoiled his mock anger.
"Sydney, Jarod's been cooking about half the meals you've eaten. Generally the ones you commented favorably on."
As Jarod went down the stairs, chuckling to himself, he could hear the laughter that followed that remark and was still grinning as he entered the kitchen. Miss Parker looked up as he appeared before running over and demanding to know what he was going to make for dinner.
"What do you want?"
"Hmm…pizza?"
Jarod laughed. "You needed to tell me earlier in the day for me to make that. It's too late now - but maybe tomorrow. I can do chicken or spaghetti. Which?"
"Chicken."
"Okay."
She returned to the television but as Jarod put the meat into the oven she spoke again. "Can I go up and see Sydney now?"
"Not yet. Maybe you can take his dinner up to him with me, though."
"Is he going to have dinner in bed?"
"You've been sick and haven't we been giving you dinner in bed?"
"Yes."
"So we'll do the same for him."
Miss Parker giggled. "It's treating him like a baby."
Jarod raised an eyebrow. "So are you saying we treated you like a baby?"
She turned back to the television, but glanced over her shoulder at him once more with a grin. "Well...no."
When the dinner was prepared, Jarod walked behind the woman as she carefully carried the laden tray upstairs. Michelle and Sydney were talking quietly but they looked up as Miss Parker appeared in the doorway.
"Well, it's about time. I was getting hungry."
Michelle came over and took the tray, after which Miss Parker sat on the bed and looked up at Sydney.
"Are you better now?"
"Much better." He smiled. "How are you?"
"Bored." She kicked petulantly at the bed covers. "I want to go outside."
Sydney looked up at Jarod, who nodded. He then looked back at Miss Parker as Michelle put the tray on his lap.
"Well, what about tomorrow?"
"Really?" She began to bounce on the bed and Sydney had to pick up the tray to prevent it being overturned.
"On one condition," Jarod grinned. "That you leave Sydney alone until tomorrow and that you eat your whole dinner and go to bed early tonight."
"That's three conditions," the childish voice complained.
"Maybe so, but you have to fulfill all of them to go outside tomorrow."
She jumped off the bed and grumpily headed out of the door. Jarod grinned at Sydney, who couldn't help smiling back, even as he spoke. "Bully."
Jarod's eyes scanned the information that had appeared on the screen. The early morning sunlight had begun to light the room, providing sufficient illumination for him to extinguish the lamp that sat on the table beside him. He half-turned at the sound of the footsteps in the doorway in time to see Sydney appear.
"Up already?" the psychiatrist prompted.
"That's the question I should be asking you."
"Well, after twenty-four..."
"...forty-eight..." interposed Jarod quickly.
"...hours in bed, I felt that was probably sufficient."
"But you feel better." It wasn't posed as a question. Jarod hadn't known Sydney for so many years that he needed confirmation of the fact.
"Most definitely, although I hate to admit that you were right."
"I figured that after almost four months and countless sessions, you probably did need the break."
Sydney passed over this comment and pulled up a chair. "What are you doing?"
"Searching."
The older man arched an eyebrow. "Are you being particularly annoying this morning or have you always been like this and I've never noticed it before?"
Jarod thought for several seconds, a small smile beginning to curl the corners of his mouth. "Well, not having any external images of myself, I don't think I'd be the best person to ask."
"I...Just forget it. I don't even really want to know."
"Well, to get back to your original question," Jarod pressed several keys and the image on the screen changed, "these are a series of reports I found two weeks ago. They relate to a series of deals around the Centre dating from 1959. These are pages that detail connections between the Centre, the FBI, the CIA and the KGB, but I haven't been able to work out the whole situation yet."
The screen filled with words, some of which Sydney understood, but the rate at which they flashed up left him bemused. "It would help if my Russian was better than it is. Can you explain that to me?"
"I'm not sure about all of the details, but it seems as though the Centre played a major role in the Cold War for virtually the entire forty-five years. And they also got a large amount of money for it."
"And what were you looking at when I came in?"
"This." Jarod typed several keys and the screen filled with FBI reports. "They don't give much information but I'm going to keep looking."
"And the KGB?"
More files appeared. "The Russian records aren't as recent or as good as the American ones but there's certainly something there. I just have to find it."
"Jarod, I got the file you wanted."
The Pretender turned from his computer and almost snatched the paper from the technician, who sat down on a nearby chair and watched the prodigy.
"They were in on everything."
"I know," Broots agreed. "And they scooped a packet for it, too."
Jarod looked up and tried to smile. "That doesn't really surprise me. The day the Centre does something for which they don't get something back is the day I might begin to forgive them for everything else they've done."
"Exactly how many countries have done deals with the Centre?"
"I wouldn't like to guess. Mafia branches in most places have bought information from the Centre and now, from this," he tapped the pages, "it seems that even some of the secret governmental organizations in America, like the CIA, might have got details from them at some point too."
"All overseen by the Triumvirate."
"Well...possibly..." Jarod demurred.
"How 'possibly'?"
"From what I've been reading, it seems like some Centre operatives have been nicely lining their pockets without the knowledge of the Triumvirate."
Broots’ eyes widened. "But that would be asking for trouble."
Jarod stood and began pacing the room, before suddenly turning and staring at Broots and then at the paper he held in his hand. "Unless they were so important to the Centre that they couldn't be removed."
"There wouldn't be many people in that situation."
"I can think of one."
Sydney leaned over Broots' shoulder and pointed at a spot on the screen.
"What's that?"
Jarod looked at the abbreviation. "MVD? The forerunner to the modern KGB - it stands for 'Ministry of Internal Affairs'. It existed from 1946 until 1960, when the KGB took over. The Centre's had a long history with them." He picked flicked a finger an another file on the screen. "That's a list of the main contracts that they were involved in. Only the main projects and just a list of closely-typed names in three columns, but it extends for thirty pages."
"Thirty?"
"Incredibly, yes. It deals with nuclear placements, the most important internal affairs memos, just about everything really."
"Jarod?"
He spun around in the chair to see the woman in the doorway and smiled at the eagerness in her eyes. "Morning, Parker."
"Can I really go outside today?"
He looked her up and down. "If you have a shower and get dressed first."
She immediately turned away, walking back towards the door, but a soft whine was audible. "Oh!"
Although the word had been quiet, the three in the room heard it and grinned as they turned back to their work.
"Jarod?" The woman’s eyes were eager, and the Pretender smiled in response.
"Ready?"
"Uh huh."
Sydney and Broots watched as Jarod and Miss Parker went down the stairs at the front of the house.
"How's she doing?" the technician prompted.
"Much better. She doesn't have the fear of the idea of her father that she used to have, and she doesn't need some sort of security symbol as she did at first."
"You mean like a security blanket?"
"Exactly."
"So is the therapy nearly finished?"
"Well, there's still some way to go - but I do have to say that it's happened a lot faster than I thought it would. I mean these things can sometimes take upwards of two years."
Broots looked over at his co-worker. "But from some material that Jarod showed me, a large part of that is development of trust between the therapist and the patient. There was no need for that here."
Sydney remained silent as they watched the two figures for several minutes and then Broots spoke again. "I don't really get why Jarod is carrying his gun. I would have thought that this place was fairly safe."
"Maybe he thinks that we're not as safe as he's letting on."
"Maybe."
The two figures approached the stream that ran down from the hills behind the house, winding through the forest that surrounded it. Miss Parker's eyes, full of that childish light that had appeared months earlier, but was now slowly fading, lit up at the sight of the clear, running water. Jarod, however, was cautious. It was, he thought, nothing but the natural reaction to being cooped up for so long; still it was a feeling he couldn't rid himself of. When he heard the footstep, he realized that his instincts had been correct.
"Stand still."
The words were whispered but time had taught her the importance of obedience and there was, perhaps, the memory of a time when her father had given the same command. Jarod silently took several paces away and heard the noises that indicated the movement of a less than expert tracker through the trees. Mentally, he visualized the house that they had just left, knowing that all of the occupants except for Miss Parker and himself were still there. This, then, was someone else. Jarod took the small silencer out of his pocket and, out of Miss Parker's line of vision, screwed it on to the gun in his hand. He had a feeling that the sight of such a weapon might have caused her more distress and this was something that he was determined to avoid if he could help it.
Moving around a clump of bushes, he spotted a man crouching beside the water and the familiarity of the person terrified him. Interference by the Centre was something that he had wanted desperately to avoid. He watched as the figure stood and, like an animal, looked around carefully before kneeling down again and scooping up water in the palm of his hand. Jarod looked carefully at the gun his prey held and, with his eyes, measured the distance that it would fly out of his hand when Jarod shot at him. It wasn't yet far enough for the man not to be able to reach it, should he try.
The man straightened and began slowly making his way downstream, following the direction of the water and assuming that the subject of his search would be there. In mild amusement, strange considering the situation, Jarod shook his head. With modern plumbing techniques there had been no need to build the house on the shores of the river, either at its mouth or at the point where it fed into the large lake.
He recalled, briefly, the weeks of effort that it had taken to build the structure. It had been something he had enjoyed and the company of Thomas had been especially helpful. The conversations they had had regarding Miss Parker came back to him with stunning clarity and he recalled the sadness he had felt at the learning of other man's death. Despite having only seen a photo, Thomas had been determined to get to know the woman for whom he had fallen at first sight. Jarod had found the situation amusing but his warnings regarding Miss Parker's character had acted as a spur to the young builder. The memory of the unnecessary murder fed the flame of anger that was burning in him as he looked down at the figure that was now almost directly below him.
As the figure slipped along the bank, Jarod felt a hand tugging his sleeve and, as he slipped the gun out of sight, turned with an inward curse to see Miss Parker standing there.
"Who is it?" She looked over as she whispered the words but there was no sign of recognition on her face.
"Someone who'll hurt us if he can." Jarod's words produced fear in the eyes that she turned to him. "I want you to go back to the house and tell Sydney, Nicholas and Broots to come here. Go quietly."
She nodded briefly and turned to go back the way they had come. Her feet on the ground were almost silent and Jarod was thankful that he had bought her decent walking shoes two days earlier. But it was probably that shopping trip which had given away their location now. Turning, he watched as the figure moved further away. Jarod was waiting until he was far enough away from the house that its occupants wouldn't hear the shot and the distance was not yet great enough. Although his gun would make no sound, there was no guarantee that the other wouldn't. Turning, Jarod moved almost silently along the top of the ridge that flanked either side of the river and wondered at the man who was foolish enough to walk, almost unprotected, along such an exposed area. Jarod was aware that it would take almost half an hour for anybody else to reach him and he hoped that the situation would be dealt with by then.
June 16, 1952
""Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail." (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) The emotions that I'm feeling are almost indescribable. I can't believe it. Only sixteen and my whole life is planned out for me. I know what I want and where I am going. How many other people of my age are that fortunate? There is nothing that could persuade from this path that I have taken. A long life, dedicated to God and his work, with children, many children, to whom I can teach the mysteries of the love of God."
Sydney shook his head at the disappointment of so many of the hopes that she had believed in when she was young. They had discussed that during some of the sessions that they had had as therapist and patient, but never during that time had she revealed the fear that was so obvious on every page of the diary. He wondered if Mr Parker had known about book. Sydney thought that that was unlikely. If he had known, he certainly wouldn't have allowed it to fall into Jarod's hands, either keeping it somewhere safer or simply destroying it.
Jarod watched as the figure turned, gun in his hand. Aiming carefully, the Pretender pulled the trigger and watched as the weapon flew through the air and landed on the far shore. Then, as the gun's owner stared wildly around, wringing his hand in pain, Jarod stepped out from behind the tree.
"Well, if it isn't the prodigy." Jarod could detect the fear that was masked by the man's snarl. "What a surprise."
"Hello Lyle."
The man’s blue eyes were a mixture of anger and curiosity. "Where's my sister?"
"Somewhere safe," Jarod assured him. "Concerned? That doesn't sound like you. I thought you had even less emotion than your father."
"My father cares for both of us."
"Well, he certainly paid more attention to her when she was younger. But then I guess it's difficult to rape someone who's stronger and taller than you are. Still, it's been done before."
"Rape? What crap has she been telling you?"
"Only the same 'crap' which is written in Catherine Parker's diary. You do remember Catherine. Your mother."
Lyle felt a shudder go through him as he stepped forward. "Look, Jarod..."
"Careful." Jarod indicated the gun in his hand. "One more step and I'll make a hole in you bigger than the Grand Canyon."
"Come on, let's talk about this. Face to face. Man to man. I sure we can work out a solution."
Jarod kept the gun aimed at Lyle's chest. "The only thing I want to work out is the muscle in my finger that will pull this trigger. I hated you before for what you did to my brother..."
"Kyle? God, are you still worrying about him? Wherever he is, I'm sure he's better off than he was here. Stop living in the past, Jarod."
"I don't live in the past," the Pretender growled, "because I don't have a past. And I'm going to make sure as hell that you don't have a future."
Lyle, for the first time, felt a strange feeling go through him. It was almost like - fear. Fear because he knew that, this time, Jarod was determined not to let him out of this situation alive.
"And you believe my sister when she tells you that the man who loves her would treat her like a prostitute? She tricked you nicely, didn't she?" Lyle gave a snide half-laugh as he spoke.
"Are you saying that I should believe you and not her? That's a joke, right? I've got enough evidence to see your father locked away for the rest of his despicable life, so why should I believe what you tell me? And, more to the point, the proof comes from a person that I've respected and loved, whose memory is revered by so many, and who is, unbelievably, your own mother. Believe you? I wouldn't believe you even if you could prove otherwise yourself."
Lyle stretched one hand slightly backwards, hoping that Jarod would be too intent on the conversation to notice. Finally, after the seconds had dragged on interminably, his hand touched the cold metal of the gun that he kept in his waistband. It had been the first thing his father had given him when they had been reunited as family. Now he withdrew it and, with a rapid movement, swung around with it in his hand.
The first crack startled him and the second was his own response to the first. The pain took several seconds to hit, but the wave of agony that engulfed him as the bullet punctured his lung and sank into his heart made his vision almost instantly go blurry. He heard a dull roaring in his ears that gradually rose and fell and Lyle slowly realized that it was his tattered lung as it struggled to vainly take in air and that the irregular, dull pounding was that of his own heart.
With a numb sense of surprise, he became aware that he was lying facedown in the river, the strength of which was gradually pulling him towards the waterfall. The water around him was a brilliant red but it was only slowly that he realized the redness was his own blood. The roaring was less powerful but had instead been replaced by a bubbling sound and the pounding was gradually becoming slower. The urge to fight death was also fading but, as his legs slipped over the sharp rocks, tearing his tailored trousers, he saw Jarod, clutching at one arm, fall backwards, slamming his head on a tree stump as he hit the ground. Lyle's dying thought was pleasure that he had at least killed the man who had been the bane of his life for so long.
