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Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. "The Pretender" is a protected trademark of MTM Television and NBC and the characters of that series are used herein with no mean intent or desire for remuneration. It is, instead, a tribute to innovative television, that rare and welcome phenomenon.
The Third Highway Series Part 2
Labrats Anonymous
Chapter 1
Witch 1
Bucks County, Pennsylvania
Where she lay was a warm, safe place. Of course, there were the whispers to deal with, which she tried now to ignore, rolling over and tugging the soft cotton sheet and lightweight blanket over her ears. It wasn't so much what they were saying--which seemed to have to do with fear, danger and some shadowy someone who wanted to do her great harm--as their aggravating persistence. In her mind, she tried once again to reason with them: "Look, I know what you're saying but you're not getting it! I am safe here, as safe as anyone can ever be! I've got fences and cameras and motion detectors and security guards and . . . "
The ringing that interrupted her dream was loud and violent and she bolted straight up in bed, reaching instinctively for the gun on the table beside her. It took a moment for her to realize it was not the perimeter alarm but just the phone that was ringing, another moment to curse loudly, and another to find the light, switch it on, get over being blinded by it and finally answer the phone.
Jarod's voice, unmistakably, and he said: "Laura, I need you."
"What time is it, Jarod? I mean where you are. Because I'm sure as hell hoping you're in Japan or Australia or something and you've managed somehow to forget about time zones because it's two o'clock in the fucking morning here and I am not a happy camper!"
"You're camping?"
"No, I'm not literally camping. But I was sleeping. Happily."
"But I need you right now, Laura, and I couldn't wait!"
"Jarod, you haven't been in touch in months. I can certainly imagine you need someone at this point, but this doesn't exactly give me that lovin' feeling, if you catch my meaning."
"No, actually I don't know what you mean at all. You know, no one else I've met since I've been out speaks English quite the way you do. I love that about you. But I called because I need you right now, and only you can do this for me," he answered.
"Oh." She paused, biting back her anger. In the back of her mind, she'd always been quite certain he'd be back in her life eventually. "Actually, that's kind of sweet", she said, smiling at last. "In an annoying, Jarod sort of way. There is something we can do about that. But it's sort of a game . . .first you ask me what I'm wearing."
"Why is that important, Laura?"
"Jarod, you ask way too many questions, have I ever mentioned that? You have to ask me what I'm wearing so I can say, 'why, absolutely nothing.' Do you see where this is going?"
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. And while pondering Laura's words Jarod noted that the computer registered that two out of his six phone bounces had been detected. He pictured Broots typing furiously at the Centre, trying to trace the call and finding one dead end after another. They'd been playing this game quite a while now and Broots was definitely solving the links more quickly. Time to find another way to encrypt his calls, he could see. But he knew he had a little more time--there were two bounces off satellites, which would take awhile to resolve--but he still was frustrated that Laura clearly wasn't understanding what he was saying.
"I've got it now!" he said, "you're playing a sex game!"
"Yes, it's called phone sex, or giving good phone. It's not quite like the real thing but I've found ---"
"That's not why I called, Laura, what I mean is I need you to come here as soon as you can. I need your help--with that psychic thing you do. I may have figured a way to get Rebecca Caspari out of the Centre but what I need is--"
"That's why you called at two a.m.? You're not exactly making any points here, pal!" Laura exclaimed, allowing her voice to positively drip with anger and sarcasm.
"Points? Is that another part of the game, Laura?"
"You betcha, and you're losing big time, which of course is only proof that guys are guys even if they're raised like prize specimen goldfish!"
"Underwater?" he asked, confused.
"No, in a fucking fish bowl, Jarod--you know, that bubble-boy thing! Geez, Jarod, if you didn't keep doing impossible stuff I'd think I was dealing with a Gump, not a genius!"
"Gump?"
"OK, OK, it's a movie reference. I should know better. And you should know how I am if somebody wakes me up."
"But that always goes away if I kiss the back of your neck. Or the front of your neck, for that matter, or your smooth, warm belly or that special place just under your right breast . You do have the nicest tits, Laura, have I mentioned that? That's what men say, right? I never know about the language, that's the hardest part."
"Ah ha! Let's talk about 'the hardest part'. I'm going to have to start from the beginning again. Ask me what I'm wearing."
"No time, Laura," Jarod explained, watching the line on his computer monitor jump another connection. Broots had figured out the second satellite much too quickly.
"I need you here, Laura," he said. "For more reasons than one," he added quickly.
"Jarod, you're getting better at this, you know that? Maybe there is hope for you after all."
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Laura drove her new Range Rover into town to pick up some supplies as soon as the stores opened. Her last stop was the feed store, where she couldn't find a parking spot near the loading dock. In a hurry to get back home, finish packing and leave to meet Jarod as they'd planned, she gave up and left the Rover at the curb and was balancing an eighty pound bag of dog chow over her shoulder, trying to open the rear gate, when she heard the voice behind her.
"Well, well, if it isn't The Bride of Frankenstein."
Laura turned, wide-eyed, to confront the tall, very thin woman with dark hair who stood staring at her. "On steroids, evidently," the stranger added, looking appraisingly at Laura's biceps as she shifted the bag of kibble.
"Miss Parker, I presume," Laura said. "Excuse me a moment, won't you?" She swung open the rear door and flipped the bag in the Rover without visible effort, all the while her mind racing, remembering all that Jarod had told her about his pursuer's relentless attempt to find him and return him to the Centre against his will--or kill him trying.
Turning back she did a quick appraisal of the notorious Miss Parker--tightly fitted tan jacket; black, absurdly short skirt, stiletto heels: 'They couldn't pay me enough to wear those things,' she thought. No place to hide a gun where you could get at it quickly, she decided. She felt the comforting hardness of her own sleek little hand gun nestled in it's holster against the small of her back with relief. And for the first time she noticed the two men who stood deferentially behind Miss Parker.
Laura felt a stab of unwelcome recognition as she looked the older man in the eye. He was older, the hair more silver, but she was quite sure he was the same man she had known when she was sixteen as Dr. Greene--the man who had administered most of the endless tests she had been forced to endure at the mental hospital.
"You recognize me, Laura," he said, moving closer but still staying behind the formidable Miss Parker. "I remember you as well. You knew me as Dr. Greene, but that's not really my name. No doubt Jarod has spoken of me--we are still quite close. I am Sydney, Laura-- it is I he turns to for help, even now."
"He trusted you completely once, Sydney, but he'll never make that mistake again," she told him.
A visible spark of anger flared for an instant in his eyes. "I remember you very, very well, Laura. I was surprised when our investigations led us here to you. I can not possibly imagine what Jarod wanted from you. You were by far the most troublesome guest we ever had with us. Willful. Filled with anger. Most uncooperative. And a fraud, of course. You aren't really psychic, you know, in spite of what you may have convinced Jarod. I performed the tests myself, Laura--you're just a very good liar." "Ironic you should mention lying since that's basically what you taught Jarod to do, Sydney. Now he's the world's best liar. "
"Well, clearly he's been lying to you, my dear, if you are protecting him because you think he feels some affection for you. We want to find Jarod for his own good. He doesn't belong out here in the real world. By helping us you will do him no harm. Out here, he only hurts people, people like yourself. Believe me, had he felt strong emotions for you, I would have known. He called me to ask about Nia, for example--did he mention her to you? No, I thought not. He called to ask me what to do, because he was falling in love with her. And yet I heard nothing from him while he was here with you. I only mention this because you need to understand that you owe Jarod nothing. We won't hurt you if you tell us how to find him."
"You won't hurt me no matter what, you smug, pompous, controlling bastard," Laura answered angrily.
"Jarod used you," Miss Parker said slowly. "But thanks for the video, it's provided untold hours of entertainment for the entire male staff."
Laura looked directly into Miss Parker eyes and saw a clear vision of her watching a video clip on a computer screen, her knuckles white as she clutched the arms of her chair. Laura took a deep breath, focusing more closely and saw the tape through the other woman's eyes. Laura felt herself blush in spite of her best efforts to remain calm when she realized what it was.
"You didn't know Jarod sent me a copy of the tape, did you?" Miss Parker laughed. "That's rich! See what your little science project has been up to, Sydney: making porno flicks and not even paying his number one star." Turning back to Laura, she moved a menacing step closer. Laura was pleased to notice that even in those killer shoes Miss Parker had to look up another inch to look her in the eye.
"What kind of lover would do that?" Parker hissed. "Or leave your bed to run right into the arms of another woman, calling Sydney to ask about the birds and the bees, gushing about falling in love 'for the first time'? I guess there were some subjects you didn't teach him. Or some positions, perhaps. Tell me where to find him. That's all I ask. And we'll leave and be out of your life forever."
"You're worried about my life?" Laura asked sarcastically. "You know, Jarod just keeps trying to tell you to get a life of your own. And stop trying to destroy his. "
"Touching, isn't it, Sydney?" Miss Parker answered, "I guess it's 'Stand By Your Man' time. I have a life. I have a job, and I'm just trying to do my job. Jarod had a job, too, until he ran away from his responsibilities."
"Being in prison hardly qualifies as a job. Besides, the benefits package sucked, " Laura said.
"The Centre is a refuge for special individuals like Jarod, hardly a prison. In time he'll realize that", Sydney said, trying with obvious effort to keep the anger out of his voice. "I know you think you have a unique bond with Jarod because you were both at the Centre, but--"
"Right," Laura interrupted, "we started our own little self-help group. You can think of us as Lab Rats Anonymous--fellow escapees."
"Very clever," said Miss Parker, "except you didn't exactly escape. As I understand it you were kicked out."
"What would you know about--" Laura began, only to be interrupted by an increasingly angry Sydney:
"We wanted you to leave, Laura. We left the doors open. We practically threw you out the door. Don't you understand? We decided you were hardly Centre material."
"You can save yourself a lot of trouble if you just tell us where he is," Miss Parker repeated.
Laura took another deep breath, forcing herself to ignore her anger and focus. She was standing very close to Miss Parker now, close enough to effortlessly read her. "It's not cancer, you know. You don't want to go to a doctor because you're sure it is but it's not. You do have an ulcer, however. Treatable. Should have it looked at soon, though. There's this new antibiotics regimen . . ."
"Are you trying to impress us, Laura, because parlor tricks like that really won't do it," Sydney interjected as Miss Parker fell silent.
"Really, Sydney? OK, how's this: the gold watch you lost--how long ago, a month or two? I see, this, a motion of your wrist. The strap broke and it fell off. Look behind something in a small dark room--wait a minute, that's a closet. A basket--no not a basket, similar-- it's underneath a wicker hamper in your closet."
Sydney's mouth fell visibly open in spite of himself.
"And you," Laura said, looking directly at Broots. "You're wearing Dilbert boxer shorts." Broots reached down involuntarily, as if to check if he was wearing pants.
"One more thing," she continued, turning back to Miss Parker. "Your mother didn't kill herself. She was murdered. Because of what she knew. Because of what she dared to do. She stands beside you often--can't you feel her there? She wants desperately to talk to you . . . OK--show's over, folks. Now I'm going home. Perhaps you should just do the same. One more thing . . . " she moved a step closer to the now-silent Parker. "Don't fuck with me!"
But even as she turned to leave she felt her mistake. There had been a final flicker in Miss Parker's eyes at her last remark, and Laura thought she knew what it meant. By proving herself a genuine psychic she had made herself desirable to the Centre once again. And therefore to Miss Parker.
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All the way back home Laura kept one eye on the rear view mirror even though there was no sign that Miss Parker was following her, or any reason to believe that she did not already know where Laura lived.
Once through the gates and home, she carried her bags of groceries and the dog chow inside, put away the stock pile of food she had bought and then crossed the hall from the kitchen into the computer room. Her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, she saw to her relief that Paul was still on duty.
"Ma'am!" he barked briskly, rising from his seat before the monitors as she entered.
Resisting an urge to bark "At ease!" back, she sat down facing him and motioned for him to do the same.
"Paul, you can call me Laura--you're not in the Navy anymore and I'd make an truly awful commanding officer."
"Yes, ma'am!" he answered, oblivious to her request.
"OK, OK!" Laura continued, "Have you ever wondered what this is all about, Paul, all this security?"
Paul glanced deferentially away from her gaze, obviously uncomfortable with the personal nature of the question. "Lieutenant Banks told me you were being stalked, ma'am. Some whacko, nutcase group. He indicated there was a real and serious threat against your life, ma'am."
Former Naval Lieutenant Banks had been Jarod's persona while he had been staying with her--evidently he had satisfied Paul's curiosity quite well. Laura let that vague explanation ride, wondering again at just how very good Jarod was at pretending, and finished her thought: "I had an encounter with three of these people just now in town, Paul, and I'm concerned there may be an attempt to break in soon."
"Forgive my saying so, ma'am, but it has seemed to me for some time it is too risky for you to travel outside the compound without personal security. I know you travel armed, ma'am, but I think you should always have one of us with you, as well."
"Well, I'm leaving as soon as Jerry gets here--I've decided to have him fly me rather than drive. And I'm going to meet Jarod--ah: Lieutenant Banks."
"Then you'll be safe there, ma'am."
Laura watched him closely, amused that there was absolutely no sign of a snicker even though he had no doubt been watching the monitors when she had tried to seduce Jarod on the deck. And watching again as they had disappeared into her bedroom, where they had spent the better part of three days together. But he remained dead serious and reached behind him and pressed a button. "We have gone to a full security alert. All perimeter measures are up, including the new infrared system Lieutenant Banks installed. I will stay right through the next shift--and as long as we think we have a threat situation."
"I really don't expect you to stay indefinitely, Paul. I mean, you have a life besides this job."
"I have a job to do here, ma'am. I take that with the utmost seriousness."
"OK., Paul--thank you. Look, use the pool, the exercise room, spa--whatever. I just stocked up on food so please help yourself. I also got more dog chow for Harry."
"Harry may only be a mutt, ma'am, but he is an excellent guard dog. Nothing gets past Harry."
"Well, then I leave things in good hands."
Within minutes she had packed a small bag with travel essentials and clothes and was waiting for Jerry outside. Looking at her newest acquisition, she mused that even though her life might be a mess at the moment--with the only man she was even vaguely involved with off on adventures without her and a homicidal maniac pursuing both him and herself-- at least she had really, really cool toys. Admiring the gleaming beast before her, she had to admit nothing could beat a brand new helicopter all of your own for pure coolness.
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Smyna, Delaware
She was still in the first stages of her flying lessons, so Laura did not participate in either the landing or take-off, but she did fly her shiny new toy all the way down to the small airport in Delaware where she was meeting Jarod. When she'd left the chopper and met him on the tarmac he clearly couldn't take his eyes off the machine.
"That is so cool," he said. "I want to fly it somewhere soon."
'Just like a big kid,' she thought.
Jerry, her instructor--who was leaving the helicopter behind and catching a shuttle back to Philadelphia, looked at Jarod quizzically. "Lieutenant Banks is a former Navy pilot, Jerry," Laura explained. He left, satisfied, but Jarod remained rooted on the spot, staring at the gleaming machine. "It's my toy, Jarod, but I'll let you play with it if you're nice to me," she said to break his fixation.
"Laura, I'm glad you're here. Thanks for coming!" This was accompanied by a rather perfunctory hug while he still stared hungrily at the helicopter.
She followed him to the parking lot but gasped involuntarily when she caught sight of the Saab she had given him. There were long gashes through the paint into bare metal--already showing signs of rust--down both sides, and several parts of the front and rear bumpers appeared to me missing. Also, both rear quarter panels had been hit, hard.
"I see you've been detailing the car, Jarod," she said tersely, although slightly amused. When she opened the passenger side door she was startled to encounter a drift of food wrappers and empty plastic cups almost even with the seat. "Have you been living in here or what?" she asked.
"No, " he answered, "but do you know how many drive-thru windows there are? I love drive-thru! It's amazing how many kinds of food you can buy that way." She noticed he'd also added a pine tree shaped air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror. Pushing aside some of the food wrappers with her foot, she gasped to see a thick stack of twenties held loosely together with a rubber band. Picking it up, she thumbed quickly through the bills and whistled softly, raising her eyebrows in wonderment at Jarod.
"Drive-thru banking!" he said with great pleasure. "I talked an ATM into emptying itself out for me this morning. Do you have any idea how easy that is to do? The banking industry really needs to be alerted--"
"Wait a minute, Jarod, let me get this straight: you've been living off Taco Bell and Burger King, hitting ATMs and playing real-life bumper cars with my car?"
He smiled happily and she only stared at him in amazement. Clearly he was no longer in his FBI agent persona. But when he turned the key and the Saab roared into life she was truly surprised--he'd left the CD player on and the incredibly loud, pounding beat that immediately filled the car and the surrounding several square miles of Delaware made her literally wince. She looked at him in wide-eyed amazement.
"Jarod, you put a bass box in my Saab?"
"Yeah," he answered, clearly pleased with himself, "pretty cool, huh? Do you like Nine Inch Nails--I have the new CD somewhere, " he added, fumbling through the pile of detritus on the floor. The Saab swerved out of the lane for an instant as he took his eyes off the road to cue the CD and they were blasted by a horn honk from the car beside them. Jarod slammed the Saab back into fourth, the turbocharger screaming in protest, and dropped back alongside the Honda that had honked, flashing an unmistakable finger at the glaring driver before dropping down into third and accelerating past all the other traffic in one heart-stopping burst of speed.
He turned to Laura, laughing out loud, clearly immensely pleased with himself. "I just learned about the unique sign language of the road, as well!" she thought he shouted above the wind noise, turbo scream and Trent Rezner's voice whining loudly about the unfairness of life, while what sounded like a car alarm swirled around the shattering bass line and mind-numbing beat. Shuffling the pile of trash on the floor with her foot, she saw more CD jewel cases: 311, The Offspring.
"Dear Lord," she thought, "Just what the world needs: another testosterone junkie. I've created a freaking monster."
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Laura sat silently, thinking of all she had to tell Jarod, about her meeting Miss Parker, about the video tape he had sent her; and about recognizing Sydney. She'd had time on the flight down to think about how to begin, but Jarod put the top down on the Saab, sending a flock of Taco Bell wrappers flying off behind them and making conversation even more difficult.
"Jarod?" she yelled, hoping to be heard above the wind noise and the engine's whine as he slammed through the gears, "I met your Miss Parker today."
"What? Hey, hold on!" he yelled as he jerked back down into third again and shoved the protesting Saab across three lanes of traffic on a steep angle to get in the far left hand lane. "Gotta check that one!"
"That one what?" Laura asked.
"Metallic green Lexus," he yelled back. "Three cars up."
Laura held on as he wound the rpm's even higher. She tried hard not to look at the speedometer , or to notice how close he was coming to other cars. Angrily honking horns marked their progress as he wove with expert but terrifying skill between the other cars. She winced as he jerked back and forth between lanes, trying to overtake the green car ahead. Suddenly she understood the scrapes on the Saab's sides as he came within a hair of side-swiping a Mercedes, weaving back into the left lane behind the Lexus: although she doubted any of the injuries to the Saab were technically Jarod's fault. He was clearly a much more skilled driver than anyone else on the road, but that couldn't fully protect him from their merely-mortal dumb choices and fatally slow response times.
"2QT4U!" he yelled, looking, alarmingly, at Laura and not the road. "She should meet 2HT4U--red Miyata, Jersey plates!"
"Jarod, have you gone insane? What the hell are you talking about?" she gasped as they blew by the Lexus at ninety.
"License plate!" he answered. "What about XNTRNK. I don't get that one."
Laura thought for a moment. "Ex-in-trunk!" she yelled back, "you know, like: ex- husband."
Jarod laughed boyishly. "Got it!" he said, happily.
"Vanity plates!" she yelled.
"What?"
"They're called vanity plates. When they say things like that in code."
"Like BMN2NT?"
"'Be mine tonight', right," she answered.
"OK, what about XSLBDO? Haven't figured that one out." Jarod asked, still shouting.
" 'Excess libido'."
Jarod laughed again. "Absolutely wonderful! People just make these things up, right? To call attention to themselves? Great stuff! I think I see one up there."
"Can you slow down a minute? Please?"
He did, dropping back to seventy-five. "Have you also discovered the wonders of Mr. Officer and speeding tickets?" she asked him, relieved he had actually slowed down a bit.
"Glove compartment," he said, gesturing toward it.
She flipped opened the door and was surprised by a flood of paper that flowed out onto the already cluttered floor. Several pieces took immediately to the wind and were lost behind them. "Geez, Jarod, you're got, like, four million dollars in speeding tickets here."
"Right," he answered casually, "there--and no where else. Do you know it only takes three key strokes to completely erase a traffic ticket? Amazing! I actually discovered this while I was a cop--law enforcement needs to know about how easy that is and I'm doing some research--for the better good, of course." He laughed again, the same boyish guffaw.
And Laura only shook her head in disbelief.
Labrats Anonymous
Chapter 1
Witch 1
Bucks County, Pennsylvania
Where she lay was a warm, safe place. Of course, there were the whispers to deal with, which she tried now to ignore, rolling over and tugging the soft cotton sheet and lightweight blanket over her ears. It wasn't so much what they were saying--which seemed to have to do with fear, danger and some shadowy someone who wanted to do her great harm--as their aggravating persistence. In her mind, she tried once again to reason with them: "Look, I know what you're saying but you're not getting it! I am safe here, as safe as anyone can ever be! I've got fences and cameras and motion detectors and security guards and . . . "
The ringing that interrupted her dream was loud and violent and she bolted straight up in bed, reaching instinctively for the gun on the table beside her. It took a moment for her to realize it was not the perimeter alarm but just the phone that was ringing, another moment to curse loudly, and another to find the light, switch it on, get over being blinded by it and finally answer the phone.
Jarod's voice, unmistakably, and he said: "Laura, I need you."
"What time is it, Jarod? I mean where you are. Because I'm sure as hell hoping you're in Japan or Australia or something and you've managed somehow to forget about time zones because it's two o'clock in the fucking morning here and I am not a happy camper!"
"You're camping?"
"No, I'm not literally camping. But I was sleeping. Happily."
"But I need you right now, Laura, and I couldn't wait!"
"Jarod, you haven't been in touch in months. I can certainly imagine you need someone at this point, but this doesn't exactly give me that lovin' feeling, if you catch my meaning."
"No, actually I don't know what you mean at all. You know, no one else I've met since I've been out speaks English quite the way you do. I love that about you. But I called because I need you right now, and only you can do this for me," he answered.
"Oh." She paused, biting back her anger. In the back of her mind, she'd always been quite certain he'd be back in her life eventually. "Actually, that's kind of sweet", she said, smiling at last. "In an annoying, Jarod sort of way. There is something we can do about that. But it's sort of a game . . .first you ask me what I'm wearing."
"Why is that important, Laura?"
"Jarod, you ask way too many questions, have I ever mentioned that? You have to ask me what I'm wearing so I can say, 'why, absolutely nothing.' Do you see where this is going?"
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. And while pondering Laura's words Jarod noted that the computer registered that two out of his six phone bounces had been detected. He pictured Broots typing furiously at the Centre, trying to trace the call and finding one dead end after another. They'd been playing this game quite a while now and Broots was definitely solving the links more quickly. Time to find another way to encrypt his calls, he could see. But he knew he had a little more time--there were two bounces off satellites, which would take awhile to resolve--but he still was frustrated that Laura clearly wasn't understanding what he was saying.
"I've got it now!" he said, "you're playing a sex game!"
"Yes, it's called phone sex, or giving good phone. It's not quite like the real thing but I've found ---"
"That's not why I called, Laura, what I mean is I need you to come here as soon as you can. I need your help--with that psychic thing you do. I may have figured a way to get Rebecca Caspari out of the Centre but what I need is--"
"That's why you called at two a.m.? You're not exactly making any points here, pal!" Laura exclaimed, allowing her voice to positively drip with anger and sarcasm.
"Points? Is that another part of the game, Laura?"
"You betcha, and you're losing big time, which of course is only proof that guys are guys even if they're raised like prize specimen goldfish!"
"Underwater?" he asked, confused.
"No, in a fucking fish bowl, Jarod--you know, that bubble-boy thing! Geez, Jarod, if you didn't keep doing impossible stuff I'd think I was dealing with a Gump, not a genius!"
"Gump?"
"OK, OK, it's a movie reference. I should know better. And you should know how I am if somebody wakes me up."
"But that always goes away if I kiss the back of your neck. Or the front of your neck, for that matter, or your smooth, warm belly or that special place just under your right breast . You do have the nicest tits, Laura, have I mentioned that? That's what men say, right? I never know about the language, that's the hardest part."
"Ah ha! Let's talk about 'the hardest part'. I'm going to have to start from the beginning again. Ask me what I'm wearing."
"No time, Laura," Jarod explained, watching the line on his computer monitor jump another connection. Broots had figured out the second satellite much too quickly.
"I need you here, Laura," he said. "For more reasons than one," he added quickly.
"Jarod, you're getting better at this, you know that? Maybe there is hope for you after all."
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Laura drove her new Range Rover into town to pick up some supplies as soon as the stores opened. Her last stop was the feed store, where she couldn't find a parking spot near the loading dock. In a hurry to get back home, finish packing and leave to meet Jarod as they'd planned, she gave up and left the Rover at the curb and was balancing an eighty pound bag of dog chow over her shoulder, trying to open the rear gate, when she heard the voice behind her.
"Well, well, if it isn't The Bride of Frankenstein."
Laura turned, wide-eyed, to confront the tall, very thin woman with dark hair who stood staring at her. "On steroids, evidently," the stranger added, looking appraisingly at Laura's biceps as she shifted the bag of kibble.
"Miss Parker, I presume," Laura said. "Excuse me a moment, won't you?" She swung open the rear door and flipped the bag in the Rover without visible effort, all the while her mind racing, remembering all that Jarod had told her about his pursuer's relentless attempt to find him and return him to the Centre against his will--or kill him trying.
Turning back she did a quick appraisal of the notorious Miss Parker--tightly fitted tan jacket; black, absurdly short skirt, stiletto heels: 'They couldn't pay me enough to wear those things,' she thought. No place to hide a gun where you could get at it quickly, she decided. She felt the comforting hardness of her own sleek little hand gun nestled in it's holster against the small of her back with relief. And for the first time she noticed the two men who stood deferentially behind Miss Parker.
Laura felt a stab of unwelcome recognition as she looked the older man in the eye. He was older, the hair more silver, but she was quite sure he was the same man she had known when she was sixteen as Dr. Greene--the man who had administered most of the endless tests she had been forced to endure at the mental hospital.
"You recognize me, Laura," he said, moving closer but still staying behind the formidable Miss Parker. "I remember you as well. You knew me as Dr. Greene, but that's not really my name. No doubt Jarod has spoken of me--we are still quite close. I am Sydney, Laura-- it is I he turns to for help, even now."
"He trusted you completely once, Sydney, but he'll never make that mistake again," she told him.
A visible spark of anger flared for an instant in his eyes. "I remember you very, very well, Laura. I was surprised when our investigations led us here to you. I can not possibly imagine what Jarod wanted from you. You were by far the most troublesome guest we ever had with us. Willful. Filled with anger. Most uncooperative. And a fraud, of course. You aren't really psychic, you know, in spite of what you may have convinced Jarod. I performed the tests myself, Laura--you're just a very good liar." "Ironic you should mention lying since that's basically what you taught Jarod to do, Sydney. Now he's the world's best liar. "
"Well, clearly he's been lying to you, my dear, if you are protecting him because you think he feels some affection for you. We want to find Jarod for his own good. He doesn't belong out here in the real world. By helping us you will do him no harm. Out here, he only hurts people, people like yourself. Believe me, had he felt strong emotions for you, I would have known. He called me to ask about Nia, for example--did he mention her to you? No, I thought not. He called to ask me what to do, because he was falling in love with her. And yet I heard nothing from him while he was here with you. I only mention this because you need to understand that you owe Jarod nothing. We won't hurt you if you tell us how to find him."
"You won't hurt me no matter what, you smug, pompous, controlling bastard," Laura answered angrily.
"Jarod used you," Miss Parker said slowly. "But thanks for the video, it's provided untold hours of entertainment for the entire male staff."
Laura looked directly into Miss Parker eyes and saw a clear vision of her watching a video clip on a computer screen, her knuckles white as she clutched the arms of her chair. Laura took a deep breath, focusing more closely and saw the tape through the other woman's eyes. Laura felt herself blush in spite of her best efforts to remain calm when she realized what it was.
"You didn't know Jarod sent me a copy of the tape, did you?" Miss Parker laughed. "That's rich! See what your little science project has been up to, Sydney: making porno flicks and not even paying his number one star." Turning back to Laura, she moved a menacing step closer. Laura was pleased to notice that even in those killer shoes Miss Parker had to look up another inch to look her in the eye.
"What kind of lover would do that?" Parker hissed. "Or leave your bed to run right into the arms of another woman, calling Sydney to ask about the birds and the bees, gushing about falling in love 'for the first time'? I guess there were some subjects you didn't teach him. Or some positions, perhaps. Tell me where to find him. That's all I ask. And we'll leave and be out of your life forever."
"You're worried about my life?" Laura asked sarcastically. "You know, Jarod just keeps trying to tell you to get a life of your own. And stop trying to destroy his. "
"Touching, isn't it, Sydney?" Miss Parker answered, "I guess it's 'Stand By Your Man' time. I have a life. I have a job, and I'm just trying to do my job. Jarod had a job, too, until he ran away from his responsibilities."
"Being in prison hardly qualifies as a job. Besides, the benefits package sucked, " Laura said.
"The Centre is a refuge for special individuals like Jarod, hardly a prison. In time he'll realize that", Sydney said, trying with obvious effort to keep the anger out of his voice. "I know you think you have a unique bond with Jarod because you were both at the Centre, but--"
"Right," Laura interrupted, "we started our own little self-help group. You can think of us as Lab Rats Anonymous--fellow escapees."
"Very clever," said Miss Parker, "except you didn't exactly escape. As I understand it you were kicked out."
"What would you know about--" Laura began, only to be interrupted by an increasingly angry Sydney:
"We wanted you to leave, Laura. We left the doors open. We practically threw you out the door. Don't you understand? We decided you were hardly Centre material."
"You can save yourself a lot of trouble if you just tell us where he is," Miss Parker repeated.
Laura took another deep breath, forcing herself to ignore her anger and focus. She was standing very close to Miss Parker now, close enough to effortlessly read her. "It's not cancer, you know. You don't want to go to a doctor because you're sure it is but it's not. You do have an ulcer, however. Treatable. Should have it looked at soon, though. There's this new antibiotics regimen . . ."
"Are you trying to impress us, Laura, because parlor tricks like that really won't do it," Sydney interjected as Miss Parker fell silent.
"Really, Sydney? OK, how's this: the gold watch you lost--how long ago, a month or two? I see, this, a motion of your wrist. The strap broke and it fell off. Look behind something in a small dark room--wait a minute, that's a closet. A basket--no not a basket, similar-- it's underneath a wicker hamper in your closet."
Sydney's mouth fell visibly open in spite of himself.
"And you," Laura said, looking directly at Broots. "You're wearing Dilbert boxer shorts." Broots reached down involuntarily, as if to check if he was wearing pants.
"One more thing," she continued, turning back to Miss Parker. "Your mother didn't kill herself. She was murdered. Because of what she knew. Because of what she dared to do. She stands beside you often--can't you feel her there? She wants desperately to talk to you . . . OK--show's over, folks. Now I'm going home. Perhaps you should just do the same. One more thing . . . " she moved a step closer to the now-silent Parker. "Don't fuck with me!"
But even as she turned to leave she felt her mistake. There had been a final flicker in Miss Parker's eyes at her last remark, and Laura thought she knew what it meant. By proving herself a genuine psychic she had made herself desirable to the Centre once again. And therefore to Miss Parker.
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All the way back home Laura kept one eye on the rear view mirror even though there was no sign that Miss Parker was following her, or any reason to believe that she did not already know where Laura lived.
Once through the gates and home, she carried her bags of groceries and the dog chow inside, put away the stock pile of food she had bought and then crossed the hall from the kitchen into the computer room. Her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, she saw to her relief that Paul was still on duty.
"Ma'am!" he barked briskly, rising from his seat before the monitors as she entered.
Resisting an urge to bark "At ease!" back, she sat down facing him and motioned for him to do the same.
"Paul, you can call me Laura--you're not in the Navy anymore and I'd make an truly awful commanding officer."
"Yes, ma'am!" he answered, oblivious to her request.
"OK, OK!" Laura continued, "Have you ever wondered what this is all about, Paul, all this security?"
Paul glanced deferentially away from her gaze, obviously uncomfortable with the personal nature of the question. "Lieutenant Banks told me you were being stalked, ma'am. Some whacko, nutcase group. He indicated there was a real and serious threat against your life, ma'am."
Former Naval Lieutenant Banks had been Jarod's persona while he had been staying with her--evidently he had satisfied Paul's curiosity quite well. Laura let that vague explanation ride, wondering again at just how very good Jarod was at pretending, and finished her thought: "I had an encounter with three of these people just now in town, Paul, and I'm concerned there may be an attempt to break in soon."
"Forgive my saying so, ma'am, but it has seemed to me for some time it is too risky for you to travel outside the compound without personal security. I know you travel armed, ma'am, but I think you should always have one of us with you, as well."
"Well, I'm leaving as soon as Jerry gets here--I've decided to have him fly me rather than drive. And I'm going to meet Jarod--ah: Lieutenant Banks."
"Then you'll be safe there, ma'am."
Laura watched him closely, amused that there was absolutely no sign of a snicker even though he had no doubt been watching the monitors when she had tried to seduce Jarod on the deck. And watching again as they had disappeared into her bedroom, where they had spent the better part of three days together. But he remained dead serious and reached behind him and pressed a button. "We have gone to a full security alert. All perimeter measures are up, including the new infrared system Lieutenant Banks installed. I will stay right through the next shift--and as long as we think we have a threat situation."
"I really don't expect you to stay indefinitely, Paul. I mean, you have a life besides this job."
"I have a job to do here, ma'am. I take that with the utmost seriousness."
"OK., Paul--thank you. Look, use the pool, the exercise room, spa--whatever. I just stocked up on food so please help yourself. I also got more dog chow for Harry."
"Harry may only be a mutt, ma'am, but he is an excellent guard dog. Nothing gets past Harry."
"Well, then I leave things in good hands."
Within minutes she had packed a small bag with travel essentials and clothes and was waiting for Jerry outside. Looking at her newest acquisition, she mused that even though her life might be a mess at the moment--with the only man she was even vaguely involved with off on adventures without her and a homicidal maniac pursuing both him and herself-- at least she had really, really cool toys. Admiring the gleaming beast before her, she had to admit nothing could beat a brand new helicopter all of your own for pure coolness.
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Smyna, Delaware
She was still in the first stages of her flying lessons, so Laura did not participate in either the landing or take-off, but she did fly her shiny new toy all the way down to the small airport in Delaware where she was meeting Jarod. When she'd left the chopper and met him on the tarmac he clearly couldn't take his eyes off the machine.
"That is so cool," he said. "I want to fly it somewhere soon."
'Just like a big kid,' she thought.
Jerry, her instructor--who was leaving the helicopter behind and catching a shuttle back to Philadelphia, looked at Jarod quizzically. "Lieutenant Banks is a former Navy pilot, Jerry," Laura explained. He left, satisfied, but Jarod remained rooted on the spot, staring at the gleaming machine. "It's my toy, Jarod, but I'll let you play with it if you're nice to me," she said to break his fixation.
"Laura, I'm glad you're here. Thanks for coming!" This was accompanied by a rather perfunctory hug while he still stared hungrily at the helicopter.
She followed him to the parking lot but gasped involuntarily when she caught sight of the Saab she had given him. There were long gashes through the paint into bare metal--already showing signs of rust--down both sides, and several parts of the front and rear bumpers appeared to me missing. Also, both rear quarter panels had been hit, hard.
"I see you've been detailing the car, Jarod," she said tersely, although slightly amused. When she opened the passenger side door she was startled to encounter a drift of food wrappers and empty plastic cups almost even with the seat. "Have you been living in here or what?" she asked.
"No, " he answered, "but do you know how many drive-thru windows there are? I love drive-thru! It's amazing how many kinds of food you can buy that way." She noticed he'd also added a pine tree shaped air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror. Pushing aside some of the food wrappers with her foot, she gasped to see a thick stack of twenties held loosely together with a rubber band. Picking it up, she thumbed quickly through the bills and whistled softly, raising her eyebrows in wonderment at Jarod.
"Drive-thru banking!" he said with great pleasure. "I talked an ATM into emptying itself out for me this morning. Do you have any idea how easy that is to do? The banking industry really needs to be alerted--"
"Wait a minute, Jarod, let me get this straight: you've been living off Taco Bell and Burger King, hitting ATMs and playing real-life bumper cars with my car?"
He smiled happily and she only stared at him in amazement. Clearly he was no longer in his FBI agent persona. But when he turned the key and the Saab roared into life she was truly surprised--he'd left the CD player on and the incredibly loud, pounding beat that immediately filled the car and the surrounding several square miles of Delaware made her literally wince. She looked at him in wide-eyed amazement.
"Jarod, you put a bass box in my Saab?"
"Yeah," he answered, clearly pleased with himself, "pretty cool, huh? Do you like Nine Inch Nails--I have the new CD somewhere, " he added, fumbling through the pile of detritus on the floor. The Saab swerved out of the lane for an instant as he took his eyes off the road to cue the CD and they were blasted by a horn honk from the car beside them. Jarod slammed the Saab back into fourth, the turbocharger screaming in protest, and dropped back alongside the Honda that had honked, flashing an unmistakable finger at the glaring driver before dropping down into third and accelerating past all the other traffic in one heart-stopping burst of speed.
He turned to Laura, laughing out loud, clearly immensely pleased with himself. "I just learned about the unique sign language of the road, as well!" she thought he shouted above the wind noise, turbo scream and Trent Rezner's voice whining loudly about the unfairness of life, while what sounded like a car alarm swirled around the shattering bass line and mind-numbing beat. Shuffling the pile of trash on the floor with her foot, she saw more CD jewel cases: 311, The Offspring.
"Dear Lord," she thought, "Just what the world needs: another testosterone junkie. I've created a freaking monster."
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Laura sat silently, thinking of all she had to tell Jarod, about her meeting Miss Parker, about the video tape he had sent her; and about recognizing Sydney. She'd had time on the flight down to think about how to begin, but Jarod put the top down on the Saab, sending a flock of Taco Bell wrappers flying off behind them and making conversation even more difficult.
"Jarod?" she yelled, hoping to be heard above the wind noise and the engine's whine as he slammed through the gears, "I met your Miss Parker today."
"What? Hey, hold on!" he yelled as he jerked back down into third again and shoved the protesting Saab across three lanes of traffic on a steep angle to get in the far left hand lane. "Gotta check that one!"
"That one what?" Laura asked.
"Metallic green Lexus," he yelled back. "Three cars up."
Laura held on as he wound the rpm's even higher. She tried hard not to look at the speedometer , or to notice how close he was coming to other cars. Angrily honking horns marked their progress as he wove with expert but terrifying skill between the other cars. She winced as he jerked back and forth between lanes, trying to overtake the green car ahead. Suddenly she understood the scrapes on the Saab's sides as he came within a hair of side-swiping a Mercedes, weaving back into the left lane behind the Lexus: although she doubted any of the injuries to the Saab were technically Jarod's fault. He was clearly a much more skilled driver than anyone else on the road, but that couldn't fully protect him from their merely-mortal dumb choices and fatally slow response times.
"2QT4U!" he yelled, looking, alarmingly, at Laura and not the road. "She should meet 2HT4U--red Miyata, Jersey plates!"
"Jarod, have you gone insane? What the hell are you talking about?" she gasped as they blew by the Lexus at ninety.
"License plate!" he answered. "What about XNTRNK. I don't get that one."
Laura thought for a moment. "Ex-in-trunk!" she yelled back, "you know, like: ex- husband."
Jarod laughed boyishly. "Got it!" he said, happily.
"Vanity plates!" she yelled.
"What?"
"They're called vanity plates. When they say things like that in code."
"Like BMN2NT?"
"'Be mine tonight', right," she answered.
"OK, what about XSLBDO? Haven't figured that one out." Jarod asked, still shouting.
" 'Excess libido'."
Jarod laughed again. "Absolutely wonderful! People just make these things up, right? To call attention to themselves? Great stuff! I think I see one up there."
"Can you slow down a minute? Please?"
He did, dropping back to seventy-five. "Have you also discovered the wonders of Mr. Officer and speeding tickets?" she asked him, relieved he had actually slowed down a bit.
"Glove compartment," he said, gesturing toward it.
She flipped opened the door and was surprised by a flood of paper that flowed out onto the already cluttered floor. Several pieces took immediately to the wind and were lost behind them. "Geez, Jarod, you're got, like, four million dollars in speeding tickets here."
"Right," he answered casually, "there--and no where else. Do you know it only takes three key strokes to completely erase a traffic ticket? Amazing! I actually discovered this while I was a cop--law enforcement needs to know about how easy that is and I'm doing some research--for the better good, of course." He laughed again, the same boyish guffaw.
And Laura only shook her head in disbelief.
