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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
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.
Rating: R
Parts: 4
Feedback: yes
Copyright: 1997
A Lonely Corridor
Part One
of Four
Introduction
He knew he was walking away from something very special; but, how could he risk her life by staying. "I hope she understands." He thought to himself.
His musings were disturbed by the sound of a car's tire crunching below. He watched from the shadow of a tree as a black Chrysler LHS came around the bend. "Why are they back?" he thought; then he noticed that there was only one occupant - female, black hair. "She is not a very experienced driver," he thought. He had ample time to look over the front and back seats as she continued up the drive. "No guns, a lap-top computer, a steel case..." his thoughts drifted off as he attempted to become her to understand why she was here. Surprisingly, he could not tell a single thing about her.
He looked down at the case in his hand - the DSA reader he carried was familiar to him and as far as he knew it would be familiar only to others from The Centre. He had not encountered anything like it here on the out side. What was this person doing with a DSA reader? No, it was probably just a briefcase. With that last thought he continued deeper into the woods, just to 'find himself'.
Nia stepped out onto the porch, as she heard the crunching of gravel. She watched as the sleek car came to a stop. The license plates were from out-of-state and it looked to be brand-new. When the woman got out of the car she was immediately struck by several things. Her eyes were covered by mirrored, dark glasses while her hair was long, jet black with streaks of gray and combed back to be held in place with a plain, silver clip at the nape of her neck. Her clothing was obviously as new as the car and the pants, suit jacket, vest, and silk shirt in somber black were cov ered with an equally new black trenchcoat. The third thing Nia noticed was that this woman does not look comfortable - with the woods or with approaching her.
"What can I do for you?" Nia asked.
"If it would be convenient, may I ask you some questions?" Her voice was smooth with a light accent that she couldn't place, melodic like the voice of a born singer.
"I have a little bit of time. Come on up."
The strange woman walked to the porch, climbed the steps, and took a seat opposite Nia. "First, have you seen this man?" She reached out across the space between them to hand Nia a picture of Jarod.
Nia took the picture and looked at it. "Tall, dark and handsome, with a small mole next to his right eye. I told the other people. You guys need to learn to communicate." The woman looked confused. "There were three people here this morning, a woman and two men. He's not here. I do not know if he will be back."
She started to hand the picture back but the woman held up her hand, "Keep it. You have no other pictures of him." She slowly stood up. "Thank you for your time. I am sorry to have bothered you." How did she know that?
"Wait! Who are you?" Nia said as the car door was opened.
The woman looked up at her as if to question what her answer should be. "I do not know. I know more about Jarod than I do about myself." She started to get into the car then stopped. "If you see him again, tell him to get in touch with me here is my card." She handed the card to Nia and quickly got into the car.
Krystal Forest
P.O.Box 164223
New York, New York 10022
kforest@ksc.nasa.gov
9005804.1541@CompuServe.com
The information was printed in raised, gold letters on a black background. Very stark just like the woman who had handed it to her. She looked up as the car started and was shifted into gear. She watched the road a long time after the car and its strange occupant disappeared.
* * * *
"How does he do that, Sydney?" Growled Miss Parker. "He knows just when we are coming. I am tired of this." They were in a small office at the ranger station waiting for someone to describe this latest escaped of Jarod's.
"I don't know Miss Parker." Sydney said as he grinned at Broots.
"Oh, you just think this is just so funny, don't you? Well, I can't wait to catch your little monster and put him back where he bel.." She stopped as the door was opened by one of the rangers. Her blazing eyes said this discussion was not finished by a long-shot.
"I'm Ranger Korby. What can I help you with?" He extended his hand and shook hands with each of The Centre's team.
"You can start by telling us everything you can about this man." Miss Parker held out a photo of Jarod.
"Jarod Forest, former Army Ranger. He helped us in a search for a missing student. I didn't talk to him much. If you want to find out something about this guy you should see Nia the local outfitter. He stayed at her place while he was here."
"We were already there."
"Can you tell us anything else about him? How did he look?" Sydney asked.
"He looked like a normal person." Korby said with a shrug. "I don't know anything else about him. What is he wanted for?"
"Thank you for your time." Miss Parker said as she turned to leave the office.
A yellow envelope is under the wiper-blade of their vehicle. Miss Parker jerks it away from the car and quickly opens it. "To find yourself some times you must lose yourself along the way. Jarod. P.S.: Have you found yourself yet?" She shows the note to Sydney and Broots. "I want him. I will get him!"
"What do you think it means, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked.
"Miss Parker?" Broots asks. "Why don't we stake out the lady's house? He probably knows we were there. Maybe he will come back to say goodbye?"
"They still haven't given you a gun - have they?" Broots shakes his head, no. "Have someone watch her place. He won't be back."
Sydney looks at her closely. "How do you know that, Miss Parker?"
"Because, he didn't..." She stops herself and looks around not seeing the station or the beautiful scenery. She is looking at a picture from her past. "Just because, Syd. I know." She stares at him almost daring him to doubt her. "Let's go see that lady again."
Nia was in the back of her cabin when Miss Parker started pounding on her door. "One minute, I'll be right there." She went to the front door and opened it. "What do you want?"
"We need to speak to you again." Miss Parker walked right through the open door not waiting for an invitation. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a small black business card sitting on the stand. She walked over and picked it up. "What's this?"
Nia paused as she thought of something to say. She knew instinctively that these people should not know about the mysterious woman. "My publisher in New York. I write books in my spare time." She covered the pause with a disinterested shrug. "Now why are you interested in Jarod."
Miss Parker pursed her lips, "Can I keep this?" She held the card up to show it to Nia.
"No." Nia plucked the card from Miss Parker's finger-tips. "Krystal is my publisher, get your own. And, get out of my house. I have been tolerant up to this point; but, now I am tired of being harassed. If Jarod is such a terrible person go to the authorities, I'm sure they can find him. "
"Let's go." Sydney said as he gently caught her raised elbow to guide her out of the cabin. "Thank you for your time."
Sydney guided Miss Parker to the passenger side as he nodded to Broots to drive. He got into the backseat. "What has gotten into you Miss Parker? Were you going to hit her?" He asked as they made their way down the mountain.
Miss Parker glared out the window as the scenery speed by. "I am tired of coming up empty-handed, Syd. I was not going to hit her." She lit a cigarette and slowly blew a cloud of smoke at the window.
"I thought you were going to quit?"
She flipped down her visor and glared at Sydney through the vanity mirror. Slowly, she dragged smoke into her lungs and blew a cloud at his reflection, "Why should I quit."
Sydney rolled down his window to let the smoke out. Broots turned a strange shade of gray and tapped his window down. Miss Parker quickly killed her cigarette as the airport came into view. Their black Lear jet was on the runway ready for their departure.
As they started toward the plane, Miss Parker held back slightly. She turned quickly at the bottom of the stairs and pointed a finger into Sydney's chest. "We will get him won't we Syd."
A strange look was in her eyes a mix of hatred, rage, betrayal, and something he was hard pressed to find a name for. "Patience, Miss Parker. We have to have patience. We will find him." He almost felt sorry for her.
"Aghh." Miss Parker struck him in the chest and quickly climbed into the jet.
* * * *
Chapter 1
The camera zoomed in on a young girl sitting with a straight back in a tall-backed chair. She was tall, with black hair and crystal clear ice-blue eyes. The man in the room with her was asking her to answer math pro blems - square roots, long division, probabilities.
"What is the square root of 3.11254327?"
"The square root of 3.11254327 is 1.76424013955."
"What is the square root of 654773827?"
"The square root of 654,773,827 is 25,588.5487474."
"What is 5328871659 divided by 7851902?"
"The answer to 5,328,871,659 divided by 7,851,902 is 678.672716369."
"If a person chooses six different numbers of a possible 44, how many pos sible combination can the person create?"
"Does the order matter?"
"No and yes. I want both possible answers."
"If the order does not matter the number of possible combinations created by choosing six different numbers from a possible 44 is 7,059,052. If the order does matter the number of possible combinations created by choosing six different numbers from a possible 44 is 5,082,517,440."
The tall man walked to the sliding glass door and stepped through as it was opened from the outside. "Well, what do you think?" a harsh, raspy breathe questioned.
"She is phenomenal. Simply put she is the most extraordinary individual I have ever seen. I have tested her in reading, writing, science, history, and mathematics and she is able to answer everything. I would like to have Sydney take a look at her as a possible pretender. She has the mental ability for it."
"Sydney is busy with someone else. A male who shows great promise."
"Who else is there? We can not afford to lose this one."
"Give her to Markam. He once was the best trainer we had; maybe with her he can be again."
"Markam. I thought he was going to be eliminated."
"He was. He probably still will be; but, maybe she will bring him back around. She is not as emotional as some of his others. She certainly will never be able to exist in the real world. She's just turned three and she already has the mind of an adult. She has the control of an adult, too. Give her to him - and - do not use her name. Do not call her anything."
"What can I call her then?"
"Girl. I will have her parents taken care of." A puff of blue smoke drifts past the camera lens as a door opens and then closes with an echoing click.
The man from the room whispered, "What if she fails?"
A shadow walks in front of the camera as the man walks again into the room. The girl has not moved from her chair. The man shook his head and waved to her to come over to him. "You are going to see another man today. You will stay with him until you are ready to leave."
"Why am I here? And, where are my mother and father?"
"Come girl." He said with a pat on the head, as they exited the room we gain our first clear look at the man's face.
A hand reaches for the controls on the DSA reader rewinding the picture until the man's face is clearly displayed. The picture is paused. A quick command is entered and the image is captured and saved to the neighbor ing lap-top computer. The same hand turns the reader off and brings the image up in a graphics program on the lap-top from which it is printed.
A silver, blue light plays over the electronics as a lean form stands to get the print-out. As the person sits back down in front of the lap-top we catch a glimpse of her reflection, the mystery woman with the long black hair now tied severely in a bun. She shuffles several files at her right pulling two from their resting place. I>Centre Employee File – Sydney and Centre Employee File – Jacob were the titles. After turning off the DSA reader, she turns her chair to face the desk behind her. She lays out the files one above the other and the print-out to the right side. As she leafs through Sydney's file we catch glimpses of copies of his degrees, pictures of him with his brother, and finally pictures of his other clients. One of the pictures was of a young, thin boy of about four or five. The picture was dated February 4, 1963.
She pushes the file out of the way as she moves Jacob's file to the front . Again, she leafs through the file. Glimpses of degrees and brotherly pictures. His file, unlike his brother's, is devoid of clients. A page does occupy the back section of the file, though. It was a list entitled simply Potentials. The list started in June of 1945 with Frederick W.. Under the name was a brief summary listing date of birth, credentials, and reasons for being a potential.
"A potential what?" she whispered quietly. The list ended December of 1962 a full two months before she was interviewed. She then picked up the print-out of Jacob and added it to his file. She had run down every name on the list, every birth date, and every little fact that it contained; not a single shred of information about Jarod. Every one of these children had been returned to their parents. They had not met their potential. The files were then thrown back to the stack from which they came.
She turned her attention to the apartment surrounding her. A beautiful home located in the heart of New York City. She had chosen it because its extravagant cost was unlike her usual demeanor of cost effectiveness - or at least that was one of the reasons. Its fine plastered walls were painted a rich golden vanilla that accentuated the fine furniture with which she had attired the rooms. The rich colors throughout were in defiance of the colorless environment in which she had been raised. "Trump Tower ," she whispered. "Who at The Centre would ever think to look for me here, guards at every entrance and exit and security locks everywhere."
It was the first time she had ever been completely on her own. "Markam had said I could handle this." She thought. She slumped into a chair and reached for one of the files she had laying around the room. Centre Simulation - Jarod 135. As she read through it she became aware of a fact. She really did know more about Jarod than she did about herself.
She laid the file down and started toward the master bedroom. Folders, pictures, and printouts were strewn across the floor and the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up one file Centre Pretender File – Jarod. She slowly leafed through it looking at the pictures of his mother, father, and sisters. There were records of his test scores and his projects and his schooling. He was four when he was brought to The Centre . His birthday was February second and he was born in 1959. That would make him thirty-eight now. She knew who he was and who he could have been. Slowly she closed his file and reached into a box beside her, she drew out several red notebooks, one for each of his cases.
"These are what will lead me to him." Her eyes drifted upward to glance at the ceiling. The little red notebooks were forgotten as she left the bedroom and drifted again into her study.
This was a room in which she felt comfortable. It was the one most like her room at The Centre and a quick glance around the room showed that this was a room designed to be used. It was lit using diffused, full-spectrum lighting and heavy drapes secured the deep bay window. Along one wall were three large workstations. The one located in the corner contained the backbone of her computer network a beast with eight, nine gigabyte hard drives and a series of twelve-speed CD-ROM drives. It was powered by an experimental P6 chip - her own design. It clocked at more than 556 MHZ. Powerful enough for a large research company, or... to search for information about a pretender.
The next unit was outfitted with a desktop computer that was tied into the Internet via an ISDN data line. At this workstation, a pair of high speed color laser printers were housed. It was this system from which she had located an E-Mail address for information concerning Jarod's mother. The address turned out to be an agency for locating missing persons in Florida. She had left a carefully worded message at the agency not really expecting a reply.
The final unit was the one she most often used. A lap-top computer sat open. One of her DSA readers sat next to the lap-top. A full color scanner was attached to the computer. Under the desk were boxes filled to various capacities with files she had stolen from The Centre.
A full DSA center was housed along the other wall. She had taken a DSA camera, filtering and mixing system, multi-DSA writing system, and one of the full DSA readers. This system allowed her to monitor The Centre through another ISDN line. With its multiple write drives, it made easy work of recording the offices of those involved in finding Jarod - Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots. She had wired Markam's house before she had left the area so she could monitor him as well. She glanced quickly at each of the feeds - double-checking that she had not been detected.
A series of lateral files lined the back wall, the drawers contents were clearly marked. The first file housed a portion of Jarod's records, DSA copies that The Centre did not know about, DSA transcripts, notes she had taken from Jarod's room at The Centre, and the beginnings of Jarod's travels out here. Each case he investigated was being documented further and information added as it was collected. The notebooks in the bedroom would soon make their way into the files. The next two cabinets housed Markam's complete records. Every simulation he ever over saw, every report he had filed. Copies of everything were documented and filed away. The final cabinet housed her own DSA copies, transcripts, and notes.
She looked around the room, finally, her eyes fell on the DSA reader already open. She stepped over to the desk and sat down in front of the reader. From the top shelf of the desk she removed her final DSA from The Centre. She inserted the disk and turned on the reader. The picture flickered into view showing a stark office and a tall, lean man slumped over a desk.
The girl, now fully grown - a woman, walks into the room from a side door. She checks his pulse and pushes him into a sitting position . His eyes slowly open and focus on her. "You have to get out of here. Once I am dead no one will be here to protect you. As if I ever did really protect you." His eyes closed again in an attempt to close out painful memories.
"I can not leave. I do not even have a name. I know nothing about how to live in the outside world."
"One of Sydney's Pretenders is living out there. He seems to be doing just fine. You have more intelligence and abilities than anyone Sydney had." He reached for her face and looked into her eyes. "Please, leave here. They are going to kill me soon anyway if I do not die. I have broken far too many of their rules. They will kill you as well. Perhaps, they will not kill you physically; but, they will mentally and emotionally." His arms dropped to the arms of the chair as he began to slump forward. "Just like they did me." He said as an after-thought.
"What would I do out there?"
"Anything you want too." He seemed to strengthen at her response. "Here take this." He shoved a key into her hand. "Open that closet over there."
She walked to the closet and unlocked it. The light turned on automatica lly as she stepped into the space. There were stacks of boxes and files. A DSA cabinet was placed at the farthest point. She turned to look at Markam with a shocked look on her face. "What is this?"
"The truth. The truth about The Centre, its operatives, its pretenders and other creations, and simulations. I warn you - it is not a pretty picture. I have worked at copying every file, DSA and computer file in The Centre over the last two months. I think I got them all."
She paused the DSA and looked at the walk-in closet in the corner. It know housed the truths about The Centre. Its contents protected by a steel firewall and a heavy lock. A sigh escaped as she continued the DSA.
"How am I to remove all of this?"
"Come here." He held out his hand and showed her a set of keys. There were keys similar to the one she had used to open the door; but, several were for cars or trucks. "These two," he said holding two together, "are for a black Dodge Ram truck out back. I just bought it a couple of days ago. You know how to reroute their security cameras to ignore' you. Do it! Get these packages out to the truck and get as far away from here as possible." He shook his hand her way.
The woman took the keys. "I don't even know how to drive." She laughed softly.
"Yes, you do. Now go." He said with a smile.
Her form came and went from the picture as she quickly rerouted the security system and left the room. Markam got up from the desk and left the room as well. She was stacking boxes on a flat-bed cart when Markam returned. He had a collection of files under his arm that he set on the cart. "Sydney's Pretender is named Jarod. This is documentation from his office. Find Jarod and give him the answers that I can not give you. I am going to get more information on him from another place. If I am not back before you are packed leave; because, they will have caught me."
She changed some settings on the security system and continued packing up the truck. As she returned with the cart Markam returned with a box filled with little red notebooks laying on top was a folder. "These note books are the documentation Jarod has left of what he has done on the out side. This folder contains his past." He looked back out the door. "One of the guards saw me as I was walking back; you better go before he gets suspicious."
She turned to leave. "Wait! Stop, please." He reached out and hugged her close to him. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "I got you some ID' s, a birth certificate, driver's license, and a social security card. They may not be yours; but, they will allow you to get established. And, I made this for you. The simulations you made were for money. You received commissions from them. Access the Internet via this disk and take the money from the listed accounts. The money is already yours - use it. " He stood back and waved her goodbye.
"Thank you." The woman whispered.
"What for?"
"My freedom." She then walked back to the office security board and touched the DSA. "This is the only proof of what happened. Tell them I over powered you and escaped. I will be watching."
The DSA picture went blank. She sat there for a long time just watching the darkened picture her reflection her only company.
Rating: R
Parts: 4
Feedback: yes
Copyright: 1997
Part One
of Four
Introduction
He knew he was walking away from something very special; but, how could he risk her life by staying. "I hope she understands." He thought to himself.
His musings were disturbed by the sound of a car's tire crunching below. He watched from the shadow of a tree as a black Chrysler LHS came around the bend. "Why are they back?" he thought; then he noticed that there was only one occupant - female, black hair. "She is not a very experienced driver," he thought. He had ample time to look over the front and back seats as she continued up the drive. "No guns, a lap-top computer, a steel case..." his thoughts drifted off as he attempted to become her to understand why she was here. Surprisingly, he could not tell a single thing about her.
He looked down at the case in his hand - the DSA reader he carried was familiar to him and as far as he knew it would be familiar only to others from The Centre. He had not encountered anything like it here on the out side. What was this person doing with a DSA reader? No, it was probably just a briefcase. With that last thought he continued deeper into the woods, just to 'find himself'.
Nia stepped out onto the porch, as she heard the crunching of gravel. She watched as the sleek car came to a stop. The license plates were from out-of-state and it looked to be brand-new. When the woman got out of the car she was immediately struck by several things. Her eyes were covered by mirrored, dark glasses while her hair was long, jet black with streaks of gray and combed back to be held in place with a plain, silver clip at the nape of her neck. Her clothing was obviously as new as the car and the pants, suit jacket, vest, and silk shirt in somber black were cov ered with an equally new black trenchcoat. The third thing Nia noticed was that this woman does not look comfortable - with the woods or with approaching her.
"What can I do for you?" Nia asked.
"If it would be convenient, may I ask you some questions?" Her voice was smooth with a light accent that she couldn't place, melodic like the voice of a born singer.
"I have a little bit of time. Come on up."
The strange woman walked to the porch, climbed the steps, and took a seat opposite Nia. "First, have you seen this man?" She reached out across the space between them to hand Nia a picture of Jarod.
Nia took the picture and looked at it. "Tall, dark and handsome, with a small mole next to his right eye. I told the other people. You guys need to learn to communicate." The woman looked confused. "There were three people here this morning, a woman and two men. He's not here. I do not know if he will be back."
She started to hand the picture back but the woman held up her hand, "Keep it. You have no other pictures of him." She slowly stood up. "Thank you for your time. I am sorry to have bothered you." How did she know that?
"Wait! Who are you?" Nia said as the car door was opened.
The woman looked up at her as if to question what her answer should be. "I do not know. I know more about Jarod than I do about myself." She started to get into the car then stopped. "If you see him again, tell him to get in touch with me here is my card." She handed the card to Nia and quickly got into the car.
Krystal Forest
P.O.Box 164223
New York, New York 10022
kforest@ksc.nasa.gov
9005804.1541@CompuServe.com
The information was printed in raised, gold letters on a black background. Very stark just like the woman who had handed it to her. She looked up as the car started and was shifted into gear. She watched the road a long time after the car and its strange occupant disappeared.
"How does he do that, Sydney?" Growled Miss Parker. "He knows just when we are coming. I am tired of this." They were in a small office at the ranger station waiting for someone to describe this latest escaped of Jarod's.
"I don't know Miss Parker." Sydney said as he grinned at Broots.
"Oh, you just think this is just so funny, don't you? Well, I can't wait to catch your little monster and put him back where he bel.." She stopped as the door was opened by one of the rangers. Her blazing eyes said this discussion was not finished by a long-shot.
"I'm Ranger Korby. What can I help you with?" He extended his hand and shook hands with each of The Centre's team.
"You can start by telling us everything you can about this man." Miss Parker held out a photo of Jarod.
"Jarod Forest, former Army Ranger. He helped us in a search for a missing student. I didn't talk to him much. If you want to find out something about this guy you should see Nia the local outfitter. He stayed at her place while he was here."
"We were already there."
"Can you tell us anything else about him? How did he look?" Sydney asked.
"He looked like a normal person." Korby said with a shrug. "I don't know anything else about him. What is he wanted for?"
"Thank you for your time." Miss Parker said as she turned to leave the office.
A yellow envelope is under the wiper-blade of their vehicle. Miss Parker jerks it away from the car and quickly opens it. "To find yourself some times you must lose yourself along the way. Jarod. P.S.: Have you found yourself yet?" She shows the note to Sydney and Broots. "I want him. I will get him!"
"What do you think it means, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked.
"Miss Parker?" Broots asks. "Why don't we stake out the lady's house? He probably knows we were there. Maybe he will come back to say goodbye?"
"They still haven't given you a gun - have they?" Broots shakes his head, no. "Have someone watch her place. He won't be back."
Sydney looks at her closely. "How do you know that, Miss Parker?"
"Because, he didn't..." She stops herself and looks around not seeing the station or the beautiful scenery. She is looking at a picture from her past. "Just because, Syd. I know." She stares at him almost daring him to doubt her. "Let's go see that lady again."
Nia was in the back of her cabin when Miss Parker started pounding on her door. "One minute, I'll be right there." She went to the front door and opened it. "What do you want?"
"We need to speak to you again." Miss Parker walked right through the open door not waiting for an invitation. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a small black business card sitting on the stand. She walked over and picked it up. "What's this?"
Nia paused as she thought of something to say. She knew instinctively that these people should not know about the mysterious woman. "My publisher in New York. I write books in my spare time." She covered the pause with a disinterested shrug. "Now why are you interested in Jarod."
Miss Parker pursed her lips, "Can I keep this?" She held the card up to show it to Nia.
"No." Nia plucked the card from Miss Parker's finger-tips. "Krystal is my publisher, get your own. And, get out of my house. I have been tolerant up to this point; but, now I am tired of being harassed. If Jarod is such a terrible person go to the authorities, I'm sure they can find him. "
"Let's go." Sydney said as he gently caught her raised elbow to guide her out of the cabin. "Thank you for your time."
Sydney guided Miss Parker to the passenger side as he nodded to Broots to drive. He got into the backseat. "What has gotten into you Miss Parker? Were you going to hit her?" He asked as they made their way down the mountain.
Miss Parker glared out the window as the scenery speed by. "I am tired of coming up empty-handed, Syd. I was not going to hit her." She lit a cigarette and slowly blew a cloud of smoke at the window.
"I thought you were going to quit?"
She flipped down her visor and glared at Sydney through the vanity mirror. Slowly, she dragged smoke into her lungs and blew a cloud at his reflection, "Why should I quit."
Sydney rolled down his window to let the smoke out. Broots turned a strange shade of gray and tapped his window down. Miss Parker quickly killed her cigarette as the airport came into view. Their black Lear jet was on the runway ready for their departure.
As they started toward the plane, Miss Parker held back slightly. She turned quickly at the bottom of the stairs and pointed a finger into Sydney's chest. "We will get him won't we Syd."
A strange look was in her eyes a mix of hatred, rage, betrayal, and something he was hard pressed to find a name for. "Patience, Miss Parker. We have to have patience. We will find him." He almost felt sorry for her.
"Aghh." Miss Parker struck him in the chest and quickly climbed into the jet.
The camera zoomed in on a young girl sitting with a straight back in a tall-backed chair. She was tall, with black hair and crystal clear ice-blue eyes. The man in the room with her was asking her to answer math pro blems - square roots, long division, probabilities.
"What is the square root of 3.11254327?"
"The square root of 3.11254327 is 1.76424013955."
"What is the square root of 654773827?"
"The square root of 654,773,827 is 25,588.5487474."
"What is 5328871659 divided by 7851902?"
"The answer to 5,328,871,659 divided by 7,851,902 is 678.672716369."
"If a person chooses six different numbers of a possible 44, how many pos sible combination can the person create?"
"Does the order matter?"
"No and yes. I want both possible answers."
"If the order does not matter the number of possible combinations created by choosing six different numbers from a possible 44 is 7,059,052. If the order does matter the number of possible combinations created by choosing six different numbers from a possible 44 is 5,082,517,440."
The tall man walked to the sliding glass door and stepped through as it was opened from the outside. "Well, what do you think?" a harsh, raspy breathe questioned.
"She is phenomenal. Simply put she is the most extraordinary individual I have ever seen. I have tested her in reading, writing, science, history, and mathematics and she is able to answer everything. I would like to have Sydney take a look at her as a possible pretender. She has the mental ability for it."
"Sydney is busy with someone else. A male who shows great promise."
"Who else is there? We can not afford to lose this one."
"Give her to Markam. He once was the best trainer we had; maybe with her he can be again."
"Markam. I thought he was going to be eliminated."
"He was. He probably still will be; but, maybe she will bring him back around. She is not as emotional as some of his others. She certainly will never be able to exist in the real world. She's just turned three and she already has the mind of an adult. She has the control of an adult, too. Give her to him - and - do not use her name. Do not call her anything."
"What can I call her then?"
"Girl. I will have her parents taken care of." A puff of blue smoke drifts past the camera lens as a door opens and then closes with an echoing click.
The man from the room whispered, "What if she fails?"
A shadow walks in front of the camera as the man walks again into the room. The girl has not moved from her chair. The man shook his head and waved to her to come over to him. "You are going to see another man today. You will stay with him until you are ready to leave."
"Why am I here? And, where are my mother and father?"
"Come girl." He said with a pat on the head, as they exited the room we gain our first clear look at the man's face.
A hand reaches for the controls on the DSA reader rewinding the picture until the man's face is clearly displayed. The picture is paused. A quick command is entered and the image is captured and saved to the neighbor ing lap-top computer. The same hand turns the reader off and brings the image up in a graphics program on the lap-top from which it is printed.
A silver, blue light plays over the electronics as a lean form stands to get the print-out. As the person sits back down in front of the lap-top we catch a glimpse of her reflection, the mystery woman with the long black hair now tied severely in a bun. She shuffles several files at her right pulling two from their resting place. I>Centre Employee File – Sydney and Centre Employee File – Jacob were the titles. After turning off the DSA reader, she turns her chair to face the desk behind her. She lays out the files one above the other and the print-out to the right side. As she leafs through Sydney's file we catch glimpses of copies of his degrees, pictures of him with his brother, and finally pictures of his other clients. One of the pictures was of a young, thin boy of about four or five. The picture was dated February 4, 1963.
She pushes the file out of the way as she moves Jacob's file to the front . Again, she leafs through the file. Glimpses of degrees and brotherly pictures. His file, unlike his brother's, is devoid of clients. A page does occupy the back section of the file, though. It was a list entitled simply Potentials. The list started in June of 1945 with Frederick W.. Under the name was a brief summary listing date of birth, credentials, and reasons for being a potential.
"A potential what?" she whispered quietly. The list ended December of 1962 a full two months before she was interviewed. She then picked up the print-out of Jacob and added it to his file. She had run down every name on the list, every birth date, and every little fact that it contained; not a single shred of information about Jarod. Every one of these children had been returned to their parents. They had not met their potential. The files were then thrown back to the stack from which they came.
She turned her attention to the apartment surrounding her. A beautiful home located in the heart of New York City. She had chosen it because its extravagant cost was unlike her usual demeanor of cost effectiveness - or at least that was one of the reasons. Its fine plastered walls were painted a rich golden vanilla that accentuated the fine furniture with which she had attired the rooms. The rich colors throughout were in defiance of the colorless environment in which she had been raised. "Trump Tower ," she whispered. "Who at The Centre would ever think to look for me here, guards at every entrance and exit and security locks everywhere."
It was the first time she had ever been completely on her own. "Markam had said I could handle this." She thought. She slumped into a chair and reached for one of the files she had laying around the room. Centre Simulation - Jarod 135. As she read through it she became aware of a fact. She really did know more about Jarod than she did about herself.
She laid the file down and started toward the master bedroom. Folders, pictures, and printouts were strewn across the floor and the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up one file Centre Pretender File – Jarod. She slowly leafed through it looking at the pictures of his mother, father, and sisters. There were records of his test scores and his projects and his schooling. He was four when he was brought to The Centre . His birthday was February second and he was born in 1959. That would make him thirty-eight now. She knew who he was and who he could have been. Slowly she closed his file and reached into a box beside her, she drew out several red notebooks, one for each of his cases.
"These are what will lead me to him." Her eyes drifted upward to glance at the ceiling. The little red notebooks were forgotten as she left the bedroom and drifted again into her study.
This was a room in which she felt comfortable. It was the one most like her room at The Centre and a quick glance around the room showed that this was a room designed to be used. It was lit using diffused, full-spectrum lighting and heavy drapes secured the deep bay window. Along one wall were three large workstations. The one located in the corner contained the backbone of her computer network a beast with eight, nine gigabyte hard drives and a series of twelve-speed CD-ROM drives. It was powered by an experimental P6 chip - her own design. It clocked at more than 556 MHZ. Powerful enough for a large research company, or... to search for information about a pretender.
The next unit was outfitted with a desktop computer that was tied into the Internet via an ISDN data line. At this workstation, a pair of high speed color laser printers were housed. It was this system from which she had located an E-Mail address for information concerning Jarod's mother. The address turned out to be an agency for locating missing persons in Florida. She had left a carefully worded message at the agency not really expecting a reply.
The final unit was the one she most often used. A lap-top computer sat open. One of her DSA readers sat next to the lap-top. A full color scanner was attached to the computer. Under the desk were boxes filled to various capacities with files she had stolen from The Centre.
A full DSA center was housed along the other wall. She had taken a DSA camera, filtering and mixing system, multi-DSA writing system, and one of the full DSA readers. This system allowed her to monitor The Centre through another ISDN line. With its multiple write drives, it made easy work of recording the offices of those involved in finding Jarod - Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots. She had wired Markam's house before she had left the area so she could monitor him as well. She glanced quickly at each of the feeds - double-checking that she had not been detected.
A series of lateral files lined the back wall, the drawers contents were clearly marked. The first file housed a portion of Jarod's records, DSA copies that The Centre did not know about, DSA transcripts, notes she had taken from Jarod's room at The Centre, and the beginnings of Jarod's travels out here. Each case he investigated was being documented further and information added as it was collected. The notebooks in the bedroom would soon make their way into the files. The next two cabinets housed Markam's complete records. Every simulation he ever over saw, every report he had filed. Copies of everything were documented and filed away. The final cabinet housed her own DSA copies, transcripts, and notes.
She looked around the room, finally, her eyes fell on the DSA reader already open. She stepped over to the desk and sat down in front of the reader. From the top shelf of the desk she removed her final DSA from The Centre. She inserted the disk and turned on the reader. The picture flickered into view showing a stark office and a tall, lean man slumped over a desk.
The girl, now fully grown - a woman, walks into the room from a side door. She checks his pulse and pushes him into a sitting position . His eyes slowly open and focus on her. "You have to get out of here. Once I am dead no one will be here to protect you. As if I ever did really protect you." His eyes closed again in an attempt to close out painful memories.
"I can not leave. I do not even have a name. I know nothing about how to live in the outside world."
"One of Sydney's Pretenders is living out there. He seems to be doing just fine. You have more intelligence and abilities than anyone Sydney had." He reached for her face and looked into her eyes. "Please, leave here. They are going to kill me soon anyway if I do not die. I have broken far too many of their rules. They will kill you as well. Perhaps, they will not kill you physically; but, they will mentally and emotionally." His arms dropped to the arms of the chair as he began to slump forward. "Just like they did me." He said as an after-thought.
"What would I do out there?"
"Anything you want too." He seemed to strengthen at her response. "Here take this." He shoved a key into her hand. "Open that closet over there."
She walked to the closet and unlocked it. The light turned on automatica lly as she stepped into the space. There were stacks of boxes and files. A DSA cabinet was placed at the farthest point. She turned to look at Markam with a shocked look on her face. "What is this?"
"The truth. The truth about The Centre, its operatives, its pretenders and other creations, and simulations. I warn you - it is not a pretty picture. I have worked at copying every file, DSA and computer file in The Centre over the last two months. I think I got them all."
She paused the DSA and looked at the walk-in closet in the corner. It know housed the truths about The Centre. Its contents protected by a steel firewall and a heavy lock. A sigh escaped as she continued the DSA.
"How am I to remove all of this?"
"Come here." He held out his hand and showed her a set of keys. There were keys similar to the one she had used to open the door; but, several were for cars or trucks. "These two," he said holding two together, "are for a black Dodge Ram truck out back. I just bought it a couple of days ago. You know how to reroute their security cameras to ignore' you. Do it! Get these packages out to the truck and get as far away from here as possible." He shook his hand her way.
The woman took the keys. "I don't even know how to drive." She laughed softly.
"Yes, you do. Now go." He said with a smile.
Her form came and went from the picture as she quickly rerouted the security system and left the room. Markam got up from the desk and left the room as well. She was stacking boxes on a flat-bed cart when Markam returned. He had a collection of files under his arm that he set on the cart. "Sydney's Pretender is named Jarod. This is documentation from his office. Find Jarod and give him the answers that I can not give you. I am going to get more information on him from another place. If I am not back before you are packed leave; because, they will have caught me."
She changed some settings on the security system and continued packing up the truck. As she returned with the cart Markam returned with a box filled with little red notebooks laying on top was a folder. "These note books are the documentation Jarod has left of what he has done on the out side. This folder contains his past." He looked back out the door. "One of the guards saw me as I was walking back; you better go before he gets suspicious."
She turned to leave. "Wait! Stop, please." He reached out and hugged her close to him. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "I got you some ID' s, a birth certificate, driver's license, and a social security card. They may not be yours; but, they will allow you to get established. And, I made this for you. The simulations you made were for money. You received commissions from them. Access the Internet via this disk and take the money from the listed accounts. The money is already yours - use it. " He stood back and waved her goodbye.
"Thank you." The woman whispered.
"What for?"
"My freedom." She then walked back to the office security board and touched the DSA. "This is the only proof of what happened. Tell them I over powered you and escaped. I will be watching."
The DSA picture went blank. She sat there for a long time just watching the darkened picture her reflection her only company.
