Chapter 3 – My Brother

LA PLAYA DE CIELO RESORT - MAZATLAN, MEXICO

Jay shot Emily a worried glance, as the two siblings became aware of the Major’s cries from the nearby bedroom.

The Major’s nightmares had been constant since he had failed to free Jarod from the Centre’s clutches. Jay shuddered as his thoughts turned to his brother. He didn’t know much about the Africans, but the further he plunged into the Centre mainframe, the more alarmed he was becoming. Raines had kept him purposely sheltered from the true political nature of the Centre and the Triumvirate. Jay, as Gemini, had been brainwashed to be compliant, thus there was no need to threaten him with transfer to Africa, or infiltrate the boy’s nightmares with hellish tales of what the Africans were capable of doing.

The Major had given very few details about what had happened the day Jarod was carted across the Atlantic. He had managed only to say that there had been a tracking device on the transport vehicle, and fortunately Miss Parker had shown up just ahead of the sweeper teams, allowing the Major to escape.

Jay felt immeasurable guilt at this, he had overlooked something. He’d failed to provide a contingency plan. What had he been thinking? He should have anticipated the Centre’s paranoia, known that they would have gone to any length to keep their grimy grip on Jarod. It was his failure, and Jarod’s fate was on his head. He had been trained his entire childhood to consider every possibility, and in overlooking one simple variable, he had cost his older brother his freedom. The more he watched his father suffer, the deeper the guilt became encrusted in his soul. Carrying the undeserved load of guilt, Jay was more like his brother he realized, as his spoken mantra became, ‘it’s all my fault.’

With Jarod out of the way, the Centre pursuit efforts were now focused on returning Gemini back to the Centre, and silencing the remaining three members of Jarod’s family. Mr. Broots had forwarded a memo to Jay that had been sent only hours after Jarod’s plane had left for Africa. Mr. Lyle was in charge of the pursuit. The family had decided to leave the US and lay low, while they regrouped and plotted a way to free Jarod. Emily had suggested the west coast of Mexico. They could easily blend in amongst the mass of tourists, and enjoy the warmth and sunshine while those north of the equator suffered through the remains of winter. They were living the highlife, penthouse suite at a top resort in the Mexican city of Mazatlan. Although Emily forced them to get out and try to enjoy the sunshine on regular intervals, the condo showed the truth behind their intentions. Expensive electronic equipment, piles of printouts, all with the purpose of finding out every possible detail about the Triumvirate, and where Jarod was being held.

“Hey.” Emily’s soft voice cut into Jay’s thoughts, as her natural empathetic talents surfaced in times of need. “We’ve been through this. Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

Jay looked up and offered his sister a sad smile but continued to pace. She had been his saving grace as he had struggled to define exactly what his role was in this life and in particular with this family. He and the Major had tiptoed around the topic for the year that the two had been living underground. The older man had easily slid into the role of a father, but the two had never dared to use the proper pronouns that described the bond that developed between them for fear of rejection. Deep down, Jay knew he was loved, almost unconditionally, but there were always those hairs that stood up on his neck, reminding him that in a normal world he would not exist, that he owed every breath to a technology unwillingly created by his ‘brother’ that had been exploited by the worst of players. He knew the Major and Jarod cared deeply for him, but at the end of the day he was nothing but a replica of the man, a second-hand replacement, a reminder of the abuse the Centre had inflicted on all of them. He had felt tremendous guilt as he was living the life that had long ago been denied to Jarod, and he sometimes wondered if the Major was using him only as a replacement in attempt to gain back some of what was taken the day Jarod had been stolen.

It was Emily that had finally freed him from the emotional stigma of being a clone. It hadn’t been through some deep-hearted conversation done by firelight, or some intense psychological babble. No, she had just one day turned to him, a big smile lighting up her features and called him her little brother. At first this had stopped him straight in his tracks, but slowly over time, with endless resolve, Emily had convinced Jay that she meant it. Before long she had added ‘our father’ into to her repertoire. His older sister had made a point of using these titles in front of the Major, and especially in front of Jarod. It hadn’t taken long before the titles easily rolled off each of their tongues. It wasn’t therapy Freud would have developed, but in assigning Jay a title, she had given him the gift of being able to close the door on his past role as a lab experiment. He would always be Jarod’s clone, and would never be able to completely forget his painful upbringing. His nightmares would never completely be erased, but slowly, step by step, they were being replaced by new memories and real dreams, the kind that left you smiling and relaxed in the morning. Emily had found him a place in this world, an identity where his role were redefined. He was something else other than a pretender. He was Jay. A brother, a son, and he was loved. He had a dad, a sister, an older brother, and a mother he had could only hope to one day meet. These facts were enough for a positive beginning to release him from the residual psychological baggage left over from fifteen years at the Centre.

“Little brother, let me in.” Emily’s voice once again pulled Jay out of his thoughts, making him realize he had once again drifted off.

“I’m sorry Em. It’s his nightmares. The more we are learning about the Triumvirate, the worse they seem to be getting.” Jay responded honestly.

Emily ran a frustrated hand through her long auburn hair. “I honestly thought that being here, in the warmth, by the ocean, would help him. But he’s getting more distant every day. I don’t know what else to do Jay.” She whispered in defeat.

The young pretender walked over to his sister, giving her a comforting squeeze. “I managed to hack into their level one system in the Congo. I’m downloading a satellite map of their location as we speak. As soon as we have it, we can start plotting our rescue plan. I’m sure that will help Dad. Once we have something concrete, his despondency should start to lift.” Jay shifted his eyes as he unwillingly allowed his mind to return to the pain of his childhood. “Nothing is worse than the absence of hope. As soon as Dad is working actively on a plan to free Jarod, I know sure he’ll get better.”

Emily squeezed his hand. “I hope so bro. How much longer for the download?”

Jay sighed, signalling his impatience. “I’m rerouting the information through several hundred data banks. I don’t want them to catch on to where the information is being headed if they notice the security breach. Several hours at least.”

Emily nodded. “More than enough time to watch the Rock! I’ll go track it down at the front desk. You head down and talk the bar out of parting with some of their ice cream. Deal?”

“The Rock?” Jay asked curiously.

Emily’s smile was contagious. “Escape from Alcatraz. It’s that high security prison on its own island on the San Francisco bay in California. Maybe we’ll pick up a few pointers. But honestly I just think Sean Connery is sexy. When you hear his accent, you’ll understand.”

“What’s in it for me?” Jay asked playfully as he enthusiastically followed his sister towards the elevator. He lingered for a moment at the Major’s closed door. He could hear the older man tossing and turning, still a victim of his nightmares. He could pretend for a few moments that everything was okay, but despite Emily’s contagious spirit, Jay knew his family was in grave danger. The Centre was after them in full force, Jarod was in the hands of what had to be the most dangerous and ruthless inhumane people on the planet, and everyday his brother was trapped in Africa, was another day the Major slipped further away. Jay knew all to well from his studies in psychology that all this time his Dad spent sleeping was due to the worsening depression that had settled around him. Despite what he’d said to Emily, the more withdrawn their father became, the more concerned Jay felt that they needed to keep a 24/7 watch on him just to keep him safe from himself. All too often people could become self-destructive, without consciously even meaning to do so.

Things were about as far from okay as they could be. Jay was aware of the fire that was burning within, he imagined it to be similar to the flame that lit Jarod’s desire to help people. He was beginning to realize it was about time that he take control and seize destiny into his own hands. Jarod had done the same the day he had summoned the courage to leave the Centre. It was Jay’s turn to make a difference.

He had been created with a gift, a curse, and it was about time he put his talents to a use of his own choosing. They had used his mind for most of his life, now it was time to use it against his makers.

THE COVE STEAKHOUSE & GRILL – BLUE COVE, DELAWARE

“You’re late.” Miss Parker stated icily as Broots slid into the booth that she and Sydney currently occupied. They were well into their second round, having impatiently been awaiting the arrival of the third member of their squad.

“I’m sorry Miss Parker, but Debbie called just as I was leaving. I didn’t have the heart to tell her to call back later. She’s barely calls as it is.” Broots offered lamely.

“How is she enjoying Paris, Broots?” Sydney questioned, knowing Debbie was about seven weeks into a semester exchange in Paris. Broots’ daughter was quickly growing up, and was now in her second year of high school.

Miss Parker watched from a distance as Broots and Sydney casually conversed about Debbie’s well being. The girl’s safety had been one of Parker’s main concerns as the Corporation Zero threat had presented itself. Fortunately the girl was far away from any potential danger, giving Parker both peace of mind and guilt-free reign to put her dad’s computer skills to work, around the clock.

With another sip of scotch, Miss Parker couldn’t help to notice the feelings of admiration and respect for the two men that sat before her. Six years ago, Jarod’s escape had caused their worlds to collide together. None of them would have anticipated that they would be sitting here together, all of these years later, admitted friends. Jarod had brought them together, whether intentionally or not he had a hand in every significant event in Parker’s life since the pursuit had begun. For the first time in years her life was admittedly Jarod free, and the former huntress was beginning to realize how large a void he had left behind.

“The wonderful thing about life Miss Parker, is if you change the story, the ending is up to you.”

Every hero needs a catch phrase. The pretender had developed an increasingly annoying habit of speaking in metaphors, especially in matters concerning Parker. She supposed being raised by a shrink was at least partially to blame, nothing could be literal. She would never forget the look in Jarod’s eyes that day in Scotland, after he had uttered those famous last words. She had never seen such disappointment, misery, or hardness on her former friend's features until she had rejected him. Jarod had taken such a risk, reaching over to her despite the handcuffs on his wrists. She’d put on her ice queen persona and jerked her hands away, reacting with only coldness.

Parker and Jarod had done nothing but bicker while the Centre was holed up at the Aquastar complex, exploiting Jarod’s genius and abusing him to save their asses from Corporation Zero. Both had been forced into roles that neither was completely comfortable, not unlike their past lives. He was the slave and she the abusive master. Parker thrived on being the one in control, but she was still troubled by the depths to which she had sunk to exploit Jarod’s mind in order to survive. She had teamed up willingly with Lyle, plotted against Jarod with the Triumvirate, and forced Jarod to exist under more restraint, more security, than even the most despicable criminal deserved. It had been a necessity, but she traded the well-being of those who sat before her for Jarod. Parker couldn’t help but wonder if there had been another way to handle the situation, but it was much too late for wishful thinking. Jarod was gone but far from forgotten. She couldn’t deny the starring role she had played in ensuring his capture and subsequent delivery to the Africans.

Call it a cliché, but it was time to change the story. Jarod would not be living life on the safari indefinitely if she had anything to say about. She had no fantasies about herself and Jarod running off into the sunset together, but she would do whatever needed to be done to get him back in North America. When Jarod was once again at the Centre, the pretender would be on his own. He would sink or swim on his own abilities, and Parker would finally embrace the destiny her mother had dreamed for her, she would leave the Centre – for good. Blue Cove was their level playing field, and she was confident Jarod could handle the situation on his own, once brought back here. Assuming of course, Jarod was Jarod anymore, and that he would even have the will to try and leave.

With another sip, Parker put her glass down with a little more force than was necessary. She was rewarded as Sydney and Broots snapped out of their friendly conversation, focusing intently on her.

“Let’s make this short.” Parker started, looking deeply into Broots eyes, trying to determine if the tech had what it was going to take to get through this. “I didn’t chase boy wonder around the country for six years just to watch him be shipped across the Atlantic like yesterday’s news. We are going to get him back, whatever it takes. Jarod belongs at the Centre, not brown nosing some wannabe Zulu.”

The two men remained silent, but attentive. As she spoke so bluntly of Jarod, Parker did not fail to notice as Sydney’s face tightened briefly.

“They way I see it, there are two obstacles that stand between me and Africa.”

“Lyle and Raines.” Sydney offered knowingly.

Parker nodded, an evil smile on her face. “Genetics aside, it’s time for Dr. Wheezy to go. He murdered my Mother in cold blood. He whisked Lyle off to be turned into Mr. Rogers meets Hannibal Lecter. Ethan, Kyle, everything that man has touched has resulted in disaster.”

“What are you planning on doing Parker?” Sydney asked with concern, his mind obviously concluding that she was planning to kill Raines. She couldn’t blame the shrink for jumping to that conclusion, she’d been blowing smoke in that regards for years.

“Relax Freud, I’m not going to jump on the assassin Ferris wheel quite yet. What I have in mind is best described as puppetry.” Parker replied gently, turning to the cowering technician. Broots had worked with her long enough to know when she was about to make his life a lot more difficult. Parker had a habit of sending him into suicidal missions, but never without reason. He wasn’t sure if he was stupidly loyal, or loyally stupid. Probably both.

“Broots, I want you find out everything you can about Raines and Lyle. If they buy a new toothbrush, I want to know how many bristles and what kind of toothpaste. Nothing is unimportant. Meetings, schedules, properties, stocks, bonds, associates, I want to know all about it. And put a tail on Willie. That sweeper has changed loyalties more times than Jarod can count. If one of them is plotting something, then he’s got to be pushing papers for one of them.”

“I don’t understand Miss Parker?” Broots replied meekly, the magnitude of the task Parker had assigned him starting to sink in.

Parker ignored Sydney’s concerned gaze as she continued on. “It’s simple. I don’t know exactly what goes on in the demented brains of the members of my family tree, but one thing is for certain, they will stop at nothing to achieve power. Raines may be in charge, but you can bet your next week’s pay that he isn’t taking Lyle’s loyalty for granted, and vice-versa. One, if not the two of them, have some sort of plan to off the other. Our job is simply to figure out who is planning to do what to whom at the next company picnic.”

Parker turned to Sydney, seeing the psychiatrist was still not in agreement with her.

“What is it Syd?” She sighed impatiently.

“Then what will you do Miss Parker? This is a dangerous game you are proposing we play. Raines and Lyle have secrets, have connections to the Triumvirate that we cannot begin to fathom. If either one of them gets suspicious, we’re gone, and so is our last chance at helping Jarod.”

“Do you have a better plan Syd?” She replied snidely. “When we find what I’m pretty damn sure we are going to find, I’m just going to accidentally allow the right information to fall into the wrong hands. Raines and Lyle will take care of each other, and whoever is left, will be the one we need to worry about.”

“How Miss Parker?” Broots stammered. He had heard a lot of crazy things, but this was nuts. They might as well be engaging in a game of Russian roulette.

Miss Parker rubbed her face tiredly. “Does it matter? I can be pretty damn persuasive when I want to be.”

“There has to be another way.” Sydney insisted.

“I’ve tried Syd. I’ve looked at it from every angle, every possibility. The path to and from Africa is connected to the Centre, only by Lyle and Raines. They are two loose cannons, we need one of them out of the way, leaving us to pull the necessary strings we need to bring Jarod home. What else can we do?”

Sydney reached over, blocking Parker as she attempted to refill her glass. “I know you are trying Parker, but this way is simply too dangerous and it will take too long. We don’t even know what state Jarod’s in by now. I know you want to bring Jarod home as much as I do, but not like this. This will mean nothing if you get hurt in the process. You are playing with fire.”

Parker shrugged his arm away. “It has to be this way Sydney. You can either go back home and continue your pathetic little journey down memory lane, or stand up and fight with Broots and I.”

The shrink sighed, covering his face with his hands tiredly.

Parker looked over him knowingly at him. “Just say it Sydney.”

“Say what Miss Parker?” He grumbled.

“The only one who could think a way out of this mess is Jarod. You miss your beloved prodigal son.”

The psychiatrist huffed slightly, but made no attempt to respond to Parker’s remark.

“Too bad Gemini has flown the coop. I wonder where Major Charles has our little Jarod Jr. stashed away.” She questioned, almost wistfully, the younger pretender would have added a much more threatening and convincing element to the game.

Broots and Sydney exchanged a knowing look. The tech hesitantly cleared his throat. “I, uh, I may be able to help with that.”

TRIUMVIRATE STATION –THE CONGO, AFRICA

Jarod winced as he rolled over, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position amongst the cuts and bruises that dominated his slender frame. He closed his eyes, reminding his ailing muscles what it might feel like to be lying on a soft mattress right now. He could almost make believe – almost; the plush material under his back, the comfort of a soft pillow supporting his head, the hum of an air conditioner that would bring relief from the oppressive heat.

With a slight groan, Jarod returned to reality, swallowing painfully against his dry throat. He ran his tongue over his chapped and split lips, knowing it was a futile effort. He was being given water and some bland tasting gruel once a day, just enough to keep his organs functioning, but far below what his body required to stay properly nourished. His thirst was constant, along with the dull headache and light-headedness that indicated just how dehydrated he was. There was no relief from the discomfort.

Jarod couldn’t ignore the fatigue in his body, the endless mistreatment taking its toll physically and mentally. He was increasingly concerned at the effort he needed to pull himself out of the space he created in his mind to disconnect from their torture. He had lost himself once before, the first time he had outright refused a simulation which had bought him one week of quality one on one with Raines. It had taken weeks before Sydney had been able to pull Jarod out of mental hiding. He had never made that mistake again, and every time Jarod was returned to this cell he forced himself to return to reality, despite the pain and discomfort that existed. Sydney wasn’t here to save him, not this time. He had to make sure that he maintained the ability to pull himself back to reality at will, that it was still within his control.

Jarod allowed a small moan to escape as he became aware of a presence outside his cell. With whatever strength he could gather, he pushed himself off the floor, and into a seated position.

He couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he would be atoning for Lyle and Raines’ sins. Eventually they would tire of this dance, and he would go back to being the defiant pretender, refusing their simulations. He wasn’t here so they could avenge the murder of Adama and his men on the way back from Scotland. They wanted one thing, and one thing only – the profit from his simulations. Money paid in exchange for innocent lives.

Jarod didn’t bother looking up as the guards entered his cell, nor did he fight as they dropped a black hood over his head, before pulling him painfully to a standing position. It had been the same routine, which was quickly becoming mundane. No words were exchanged, they didn’t even bother to give simple commands or terse threats, as the Centre sweepers seem to thrive on. Not one word had been said to him since he had arrived.

Jarod winced as the handcuffs were placed on his wrists before he was propelled forward. The last four times they had come for him, he had lacked the physical stamina to keep up with their walk, and now he was basically dragged along. Jarod had no concept of time, no idea how much time had passed since he had been here, but despite the hood he had been escorted along this route to his little torture chamber enough times to have it memorized, if only mentally, beginning with a left turn twenty paces away from his cell.

But today they didn’t turn left.

In that instant Jarod realized with trepidation that his penance in the eyes of the Africans was now officially over. He was back to being their rebellious pretender, and today they would begin the war for control of his mind.