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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Ditto the disclaimer in chapter 1.
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Seizing Destiny
By Phenyx
Part 6
09/19/04
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“I can’t believe you’d let him walk away like that.” Lyle complained for the hundredth time.
Parker sighed. Crossing her arms she glared at her brother a moment before turning a disgusted gaze back to her cup of coffee. “I’ve told you,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “The only way to earn Jarod’s trust is to give ours to him first.”
“You could have at least put a tail on him,” the dark haired man grumped.
“No need,” Parker said with more confidence than she felt. “He’ll be here.”
“He’s already late,” Lyle pointed out.
“He said he would be here,” Parker reiterated. “He’s being cautious. That’s all. He’s probably watching us right now, making sure we didn’t bring a sweeper team along.”
Lyle glanced around the room. They were sitting in a corner booth in a Dover coffee shop, surrounded by other patrons. The place was busy. People in suits jostled among students from the nearby technical school. No one seemed to pay the lovely Centre operative or her brother any mind. Everyone was too intent on getting that daily caffeine fix.
Lyle sipped at his own drink without really tasting it. It was a double mocha latte something-or-other with extra whipped cream and cinnamon. He had purchased the two identical beverages with the sole intent of annoying his sister with them. He knew she’d hate it. Parker was a fierce advocate of plain, black, coffee-flavored coffee. The fact that this concoction would be something that Jarod would enjoy had not occurred to Lyle until Parker pointed it out.
“So how long are we going to sit here like idiots?” Lyle asked casually.
“Until Jarod shows up, or I shoot you, whichever comes first,” Parker replied.
“Good morning,” a perky voice chirped. A girl, looking to be somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five years of age, bounced up to their table. She wore an apron and the distinctive t-shirt that indicated she was an employee of this establishment. “Is there something wrong with your coffee, Ma’am?” she asked, noticing Parker’s lack of enthusiasm.
“It’s fine.” Lyle spoke quickly, cutting off the biting remark that he knew would be coming. “We’re fine, really. Thank you.” He added dismissively.
But the pretty girl with the blonde ponytail wasn’t leaving. She just stood there, eyeing Miss Parker’s clothes.
“Is there a problem, Gidget?” Parker turned an icy glare on the girl. But instead of scuttling away in terror as intended, the girl’s smile grew.
“Miss Parker, I presume,” she said cheerily. The girl followed the presumption with a delighted giggle.
Lyle raised one eyebrow in mild amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone affected quite this way when meeting my sister,” he drawled as he quickly inventoried the waitress’s assets.
With a grin and a toss of her hair the girl explained. “Oh it’s not that. Jarod promised a fifty to whichever of us could pick you out of the crowd. And I just won.”
“Goody for you,” Parker snapped.
“Yep,” the girl said happily. “I’m supposed to tell you that he is waiting for you out back, on the loading dock.”
Lyle and Parker both stood, abandoning their cups.
“Have a nice day,” the girl called as she began to clear off the table.
At the back of the shop, they found an alley. It was one of those narrow, grungy looking streets that decent people made a point of avoiding at night. But during the day it was just a dingy, brick lined road with more potholes than pavement. A white box truck, labeled “Bakery Goods and Supplies” was backed up to the shop’s delivery platform. The truck’s rear door was open and there were metal ramps spanning the gap between the truck’s cargo area and the wooden receiving platform.
Parker peeked around the edge of the vehicle and glanced inside. The truck was nearly empty, with only three large crates resting within. There was no pretender to be seen.
“Well,” Lyle asked. “Where is he?”
“I’m here,” Jarod answered as he eased his way out the rear entrance of the coffee shop, backward. He was pulling an empty metal dolly and carried a clipboard under one arm. On the loading dock, Jarod righted the dolly and made a notation on his clipboard using a pen he had tucked behind one ear. With a final flourish and a firm tap of the pen, Jarod looked up and said, “Time for my break. Step into my office so we can talk.”
Jarod gestured toward the open box of the truck.
“The last time you lured me into a truck,” Lyle said with a grimace. “You locked me up for days.”
Jarod smiled cruelly. “We have to learn to trust each other sometime, don’t we?”
Lyle shot the other man a look of disbelief. “Are you going to learn to trust me?” he asked.
“Never,” Jarod admitted.
Lyle responded with a single nod. “Exactly, “he said. “Just wanted to make sure we understood one another.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Bobby,” Jarod agreed.
Parker huffed with impatience. “If you two would finish playing Alpha male,” she scolded. “We might be able to get some work done.” She stomped into the truck and glared back at the two men expectantly.
With a shrug, Jarod followed her in. Lifting several pages on the clipboard, Jarod revealed a red notebook. He pulled the book from under the metal clasp and tossed it onto the top of one of the crates.
Parker tossed a frown at her brother, telling him without words to join her. Then, using the crate as a makeshift table, she opened the notebook and began to scan Jarod’s research. There were the familiar newspaper clippings, but not as many as Parker was accustomed to finding in these books. Most of the information pasted to the pages was in the form of computer printouts or hand written notes.
“Where did you get all this?” Parker asked in awe.
Jarod lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. “Just have to know where to look,” he said simply.
Curiosity overcame wariness, forcing Lyle to move to his sister’s side. It took only a moment of reading over Parker’s shoulder to understand her surprise. “You’ve hacked into the Triumvirate database,” Lyle observed.
“No,” Jarod said. “Didn’t need to. This information is all a matter of public record. But who would realize that this data is interrelated? The Triumvirate is so secret, only a few understand the significance of how these pieces fit in the puzzle.”
“These are dossiers of every single member of the Triumvirate,” Parker said. She looked up at Jarod and for the first time in many years, she allowed her admiration for his abilities to shine in her eyes.
Jarod leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “The best way to take control of the Centre is to have the Triumvirate give it to us. Without Triumvirate backing, no rise to power will last long at the Centre.”
Lyle laughed. “And how are we going to convince the Triumvirate to do that, eh?”
The pretender’s dark brows rose as though his words were perfectly obvious and he was explaining them to a small child. “Simple. You will ask them.”
Now it was Parker’s turn to laugh.
Jarod straightened and reached into the brown coveralls he was wearing. He pulled out two thick white envelopes and handed them to Miss Parker. “These are your travel arrangements. You’ll be flying into Entebbe International the day after tomorrow. The Triumvirate will be meeting the day after that. There are suites booked for each of you at the Windsor Lake Victoria Hotel.”
“Wait a minute Jarod,” Parker held up her hand to stop him. “I feel like I’ve missed the first act of the play.”
“It’s all in the notebook,” the pretender told her.
“Fine,” Parker said. “Explain it to us anyway.” She folded her arms and took that no-one-goes-anywhere-until-I-am-appeased stance.
Jarod sighed and looked at her for a moment. Lyle was right. She was the bitch who ruled over them. Jarod wondered for a moment if she realized exactly how true it was. Mentally shaking himself, he focused on the task at hand.
“Since Mutumbo was killed,” Jarod began. “There has been no single person who has risen to power within the Triumvirate.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Lyle grumbled.
Jarod ignored him. “Most of the authority lies with the original troika, the three seats on the board that made up the original Triumvirate. Over the centuries, finances and acquisition of territory have resulted in additional members to the board with the current total of fifteen. But even today the majority of power still lies within those first three seats. In order to rule over the Triumvirate, one must first hold one of the original troika of power, just as Mutumbo did.”
“Go on,” Parker urged. This was nothing new to her, nor to anyone within the upper echelon at the Centre. But she knew there was more.
“As you will see in that notebook, the three people currently owning those seats have been vying for dominance over the last few years. None of them really mastering their goal, yet none surrendering it either,” Jarod explained.
“You want us to gain support from one of the three,” Parker guessed. “We promise our allegiance in return for their support.”
Jarod shook his head solemnly. “No. Too risky. That would require an element of loyalty where none can exist. Agreements can be broken. And face it Parker,” Jarod said. “You’ll have enough trouble keeping the three of us honest with each other. No way you can afford to depend on another player.”
Parker frowned. “I don’t understand, Jarod. If we aren’t going to align ourselves with one of the troika...”
“We are going to become one of the troika,” he said.
“Bloody hell,” Lyle hissed in surprise. A devilish grin broke out on his face. “There’s no such thing as halfway with you is there, Jarod?”
Hard, dark eyes glared at him. “All or nothing. It is what I was taught.”
“Jarod,” Parker said. “Those seats are either inherited or appointed by the board. It’s not like we can break in and steal one.”
Reaching over Parker‘s shoulder, Jarod opened the red notebook and pointed to a page. “Mutumbo died without issue,” Jarod continued. “As a result, his seat was passed on to a nephew. He’s young, but ambitious. He tries to act the playboy but he can be a fierce rival. His name is Nabasa. Unfortunately,” Jarod added with a grim smile. “Mr. Nabasa has recently fallen victim to a horrible financial crisis.”
“How recent?” Parker asked.
“Very recent. It seems that a scandal within his accounting firm has resulted in serious accusations. There may be legal action,” Jarod shrugged. “And when the news hits the papers, about three hours from now, his support within the Triumvirate will falter dramatically. No one likes to follow orders from a poor man.”
Lyle spoke up. “If we show up just after this ‘scandal’, and start making demands, the Triumvirate will think that we had something to with it.”
“Exactly,” Jarod replied. “But they won’t be able to prove it. They won’t be entirely sure.”
Parker watched Jarod closely. His dark eyes were as hard as granite and he had a fierce look to him that frightened her. His demeanor put her in the mind of a big, chained dog. A mean but intelligent creature lying in wait, patiently watching for some hapless creature to stumble into the circle of its reach.
“Even so,” Lyle said. “That won’t lose him his seat on the Triumvirate.”
“No,” Jarod agreed. “And we don’t want him to. Nabasa has two young sons both of whom stand to inherit should he be removed. They are too young to be of concern but I see no need to risk bringing an unknown custodial element into things.”
Lyle moved as if to speak again but Parker hushed him with a sweep of her hand.
“I have Nabasa by the wallet. He is ours already, even if he doesn’t know it yet,” Jarod said. “It is the other two seats that interest me.” Jarod flipped the pages in the book to reveal a newspaper photo of a middle-aged woman. “Yvette Guimard. Her son died ten years ago when he lost control of his car during a race in Marseilles. Her only other child is a lesbian daughter who has been disinherited for years.”
“No heirs,” Parker observed.
Jarod turned the page in the book again, revealing the image of an aging, wrinkled man. “This is Antonio Canossa. Never married, no children. He is arguably one of the richest men in Italy. He has held a position on the Triumvirate board for almost half a century.”
“What do you want us to do?” Miss Parker asked.
“We need a target,” Jarod said bluntly. “We need to set an example for the others by coming down hard on one of them. Force is all these people will understand. We need to be fierce, merciless and swift.”
“Which one?” Lyle frowned.
Jarod’s smile grew even colder, a fact Parker found troublesome. “That’s why you are headed for Africa,” he said. “Either will work. You need to decide which it will be.”
“How?” Parker asked. She refused to reveal how uncomfortable Jarod’s attitude was making her.
“Just be your regular charming selves,” Jarod said sarcastically. “Whichever of them bites back first will be the one to watch, the more aggressive adversary. That will be the one we need to remove.”
Lyle shook his head. “It is too blatant,” he argued. “We’ll be tipping our hand. Word will get back to Dad.”
“It won’t matter,” Jarod said. “They won’t know about me. Not yet. In stepping forward to tell them what you are about to do, when the hammer falls, everyone will know where it came from. It will show them that you aren’t afraid, that you won’t hide in the shadows any longer.”
“The ultimate defiance,” Parker said softly. “It will be like waving the red cloak in front of the bull.”
“When the bull turns to attack,” Jarod said. “That is when we shall strike.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lyle grumbled. “You’re not the one standing in the middle of the arena. We are the ones who will be gored if this doesn’t work.”
“It will work.” Jarod spoke directly to Parker, capturing her attention with his eyes. “I will never be far away. You won’t always see me, but trust that I will be there.”
Looking up into the pretender’s dark gaze, Parker wondered for the first time, how far Jarod was willing to go. The hard, determined look on his face was so unlike the old lab-rat that Parker was afraid for him suddenly. Among them, Jarod alone still held a gentle heart. Parker found herself desperately hoping that this mission would not destroy it.
-
Seizing Destiny
By Phenyx
Part 6
09/19/04
-
“I can’t believe you’d let him walk away like that.” Lyle complained for the hundredth time.
Parker sighed. Crossing her arms she glared at her brother a moment before turning a disgusted gaze back to her cup of coffee. “I’ve told you,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “The only way to earn Jarod’s trust is to give ours to him first.”
“You could have at least put a tail on him,” the dark haired man grumped.
“No need,” Parker said with more confidence than she felt. “He’ll be here.”
“He’s already late,” Lyle pointed out.
“He said he would be here,” Parker reiterated. “He’s being cautious. That’s all. He’s probably watching us right now, making sure we didn’t bring a sweeper team along.”
Lyle glanced around the room. They were sitting in a corner booth in a Dover coffee shop, surrounded by other patrons. The place was busy. People in suits jostled among students from the nearby technical school. No one seemed to pay the lovely Centre operative or her brother any mind. Everyone was too intent on getting that daily caffeine fix.
Lyle sipped at his own drink without really tasting it. It was a double mocha latte something-or-other with extra whipped cream and cinnamon. He had purchased the two identical beverages with the sole intent of annoying his sister with them. He knew she’d hate it. Parker was a fierce advocate of plain, black, coffee-flavored coffee. The fact that this concoction would be something that Jarod would enjoy had not occurred to Lyle until Parker pointed it out.
“So how long are we going to sit here like idiots?” Lyle asked casually.
“Until Jarod shows up, or I shoot you, whichever comes first,” Parker replied.
“Good morning,” a perky voice chirped. A girl, looking to be somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five years of age, bounced up to their table. She wore an apron and the distinctive t-shirt that indicated she was an employee of this establishment. “Is there something wrong with your coffee, Ma’am?” she asked, noticing Parker’s lack of enthusiasm.
“It’s fine.” Lyle spoke quickly, cutting off the biting remark that he knew would be coming. “We’re fine, really. Thank you.” He added dismissively.
But the pretty girl with the blonde ponytail wasn’t leaving. She just stood there, eyeing Miss Parker’s clothes.
“Is there a problem, Gidget?” Parker turned an icy glare on the girl. But instead of scuttling away in terror as intended, the girl’s smile grew.
“Miss Parker, I presume,” she said cheerily. The girl followed the presumption with a delighted giggle.
Lyle raised one eyebrow in mild amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone affected quite this way when meeting my sister,” he drawled as he quickly inventoried the waitress’s assets.
With a grin and a toss of her hair the girl explained. “Oh it’s not that. Jarod promised a fifty to whichever of us could pick you out of the crowd. And I just won.”
“Goody for you,” Parker snapped.
“Yep,” the girl said happily. “I’m supposed to tell you that he is waiting for you out back, on the loading dock.”
Lyle and Parker both stood, abandoning their cups.
“Have a nice day,” the girl called as she began to clear off the table.
At the back of the shop, they found an alley. It was one of those narrow, grungy looking streets that decent people made a point of avoiding at night. But during the day it was just a dingy, brick lined road with more potholes than pavement. A white box truck, labeled “Bakery Goods and Supplies” was backed up to the shop’s delivery platform. The truck’s rear door was open and there were metal ramps spanning the gap between the truck’s cargo area and the wooden receiving platform.
Parker peeked around the edge of the vehicle and glanced inside. The truck was nearly empty, with only three large crates resting within. There was no pretender to be seen.
“Well,” Lyle asked. “Where is he?”
“I’m here,” Jarod answered as he eased his way out the rear entrance of the coffee shop, backward. He was pulling an empty metal dolly and carried a clipboard under one arm. On the loading dock, Jarod righted the dolly and made a notation on his clipboard using a pen he had tucked behind one ear. With a final flourish and a firm tap of the pen, Jarod looked up and said, “Time for my break. Step into my office so we can talk.”
Jarod gestured toward the open box of the truck.
“The last time you lured me into a truck,” Lyle said with a grimace. “You locked me up for days.”
Jarod smiled cruelly. “We have to learn to trust each other sometime, don’t we?”
Lyle shot the other man a look of disbelief. “Are you going to learn to trust me?” he asked.
“Never,” Jarod admitted.
Lyle responded with a single nod. “Exactly, “he said. “Just wanted to make sure we understood one another.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Bobby,” Jarod agreed.
Parker huffed with impatience. “If you two would finish playing Alpha male,” she scolded. “We might be able to get some work done.” She stomped into the truck and glared back at the two men expectantly.
With a shrug, Jarod followed her in. Lifting several pages on the clipboard, Jarod revealed a red notebook. He pulled the book from under the metal clasp and tossed it onto the top of one of the crates.
Parker tossed a frown at her brother, telling him without words to join her. Then, using the crate as a makeshift table, she opened the notebook and began to scan Jarod’s research. There were the familiar newspaper clippings, but not as many as Parker was accustomed to finding in these books. Most of the information pasted to the pages was in the form of computer printouts or hand written notes.
“Where did you get all this?” Parker asked in awe.
Jarod lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. “Just have to know where to look,” he said simply.
Curiosity overcame wariness, forcing Lyle to move to his sister’s side. It took only a moment of reading over Parker’s shoulder to understand her surprise. “You’ve hacked into the Triumvirate database,” Lyle observed.
“No,” Jarod said. “Didn’t need to. This information is all a matter of public record. But who would realize that this data is interrelated? The Triumvirate is so secret, only a few understand the significance of how these pieces fit in the puzzle.”
“These are dossiers of every single member of the Triumvirate,” Parker said. She looked up at Jarod and for the first time in many years, she allowed her admiration for his abilities to shine in her eyes.
Jarod leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “The best way to take control of the Centre is to have the Triumvirate give it to us. Without Triumvirate backing, no rise to power will last long at the Centre.”
Lyle laughed. “And how are we going to convince the Triumvirate to do that, eh?”
The pretender’s dark brows rose as though his words were perfectly obvious and he was explaining them to a small child. “Simple. You will ask them.”
Now it was Parker’s turn to laugh.
Jarod straightened and reached into the brown coveralls he was wearing. He pulled out two thick white envelopes and handed them to Miss Parker. “These are your travel arrangements. You’ll be flying into Entebbe International the day after tomorrow. The Triumvirate will be meeting the day after that. There are suites booked for each of you at the Windsor Lake Victoria Hotel.”
“Wait a minute Jarod,” Parker held up her hand to stop him. “I feel like I’ve missed the first act of the play.”
“It’s all in the notebook,” the pretender told her.
“Fine,” Parker said. “Explain it to us anyway.” She folded her arms and took that no-one-goes-anywhere-until-I-am-appeased stance.
Jarod sighed and looked at her for a moment. Lyle was right. She was the bitch who ruled over them. Jarod wondered for a moment if she realized exactly how true it was. Mentally shaking himself, he focused on the task at hand.
“Since Mutumbo was killed,” Jarod began. “There has been no single person who has risen to power within the Triumvirate.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Lyle grumbled.
Jarod ignored him. “Most of the authority lies with the original troika, the three seats on the board that made up the original Triumvirate. Over the centuries, finances and acquisition of territory have resulted in additional members to the board with the current total of fifteen. But even today the majority of power still lies within those first three seats. In order to rule over the Triumvirate, one must first hold one of the original troika of power, just as Mutumbo did.”
“Go on,” Parker urged. This was nothing new to her, nor to anyone within the upper echelon at the Centre. But she knew there was more.
“As you will see in that notebook, the three people currently owning those seats have been vying for dominance over the last few years. None of them really mastering their goal, yet none surrendering it either,” Jarod explained.
“You want us to gain support from one of the three,” Parker guessed. “We promise our allegiance in return for their support.”
Jarod shook his head solemnly. “No. Too risky. That would require an element of loyalty where none can exist. Agreements can be broken. And face it Parker,” Jarod said. “You’ll have enough trouble keeping the three of us honest with each other. No way you can afford to depend on another player.”
Parker frowned. “I don’t understand, Jarod. If we aren’t going to align ourselves with one of the troika...”
“We are going to become one of the troika,” he said.
“Bloody hell,” Lyle hissed in surprise. A devilish grin broke out on his face. “There’s no such thing as halfway with you is there, Jarod?”
Hard, dark eyes glared at him. “All or nothing. It is what I was taught.”
“Jarod,” Parker said. “Those seats are either inherited or appointed by the board. It’s not like we can break in and steal one.”
Reaching over Parker‘s shoulder, Jarod opened the red notebook and pointed to a page. “Mutumbo died without issue,” Jarod continued. “As a result, his seat was passed on to a nephew. He’s young, but ambitious. He tries to act the playboy but he can be a fierce rival. His name is Nabasa. Unfortunately,” Jarod added with a grim smile. “Mr. Nabasa has recently fallen victim to a horrible financial crisis.”
“How recent?” Parker asked.
“Very recent. It seems that a scandal within his accounting firm has resulted in serious accusations. There may be legal action,” Jarod shrugged. “And when the news hits the papers, about three hours from now, his support within the Triumvirate will falter dramatically. No one likes to follow orders from a poor man.”
Lyle spoke up. “If we show up just after this ‘scandal’, and start making demands, the Triumvirate will think that we had something to with it.”
“Exactly,” Jarod replied. “But they won’t be able to prove it. They won’t be entirely sure.”
Parker watched Jarod closely. His dark eyes were as hard as granite and he had a fierce look to him that frightened her. His demeanor put her in the mind of a big, chained dog. A mean but intelligent creature lying in wait, patiently watching for some hapless creature to stumble into the circle of its reach.
“Even so,” Lyle said. “That won’t lose him his seat on the Triumvirate.”
“No,” Jarod agreed. “And we don’t want him to. Nabasa has two young sons both of whom stand to inherit should he be removed. They are too young to be of concern but I see no need to risk bringing an unknown custodial element into things.”
Lyle moved as if to speak again but Parker hushed him with a sweep of her hand.
“I have Nabasa by the wallet. He is ours already, even if he doesn’t know it yet,” Jarod said. “It is the other two seats that interest me.” Jarod flipped the pages in the book to reveal a newspaper photo of a middle-aged woman. “Yvette Guimard. Her son died ten years ago when he lost control of his car during a race in Marseilles. Her only other child is a lesbian daughter who has been disinherited for years.”
“No heirs,” Parker observed.
Jarod turned the page in the book again, revealing the image of an aging, wrinkled man. “This is Antonio Canossa. Never married, no children. He is arguably one of the richest men in Italy. He has held a position on the Triumvirate board for almost half a century.”
“What do you want us to do?” Miss Parker asked.
“We need a target,” Jarod said bluntly. “We need to set an example for the others by coming down hard on one of them. Force is all these people will understand. We need to be fierce, merciless and swift.”
“Which one?” Lyle frowned.
Jarod’s smile grew even colder, a fact Parker found troublesome. “That’s why you are headed for Africa,” he said. “Either will work. You need to decide which it will be.”
“How?” Parker asked. She refused to reveal how uncomfortable Jarod’s attitude was making her.
“Just be your regular charming selves,” Jarod said sarcastically. “Whichever of them bites back first will be the one to watch, the more aggressive adversary. That will be the one we need to remove.”
Lyle shook his head. “It is too blatant,” he argued. “We’ll be tipping our hand. Word will get back to Dad.”
“It won’t matter,” Jarod said. “They won’t know about me. Not yet. In stepping forward to tell them what you are about to do, when the hammer falls, everyone will know where it came from. It will show them that you aren’t afraid, that you won’t hide in the shadows any longer.”
“The ultimate defiance,” Parker said softly. “It will be like waving the red cloak in front of the bull.”
“When the bull turns to attack,” Jarod said. “That is when we shall strike.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lyle grumbled. “You’re not the one standing in the middle of the arena. We are the ones who will be gored if this doesn’t work.”
“It will work.” Jarod spoke directly to Parker, capturing her attention with his eyes. “I will never be far away. You won’t always see me, but trust that I will be there.”
Looking up into the pretender’s dark gaze, Parker wondered for the first time, how far Jarod was willing to go. The hard, determined look on his face was so unlike the old lab-rat that Parker was afraid for him suddenly. Among them, Jarod alone still held a gentle heart. Parker found herself desperately hoping that this mission would not destroy it.
