"Miss Parker!" Broots yelled into the speaker without thinking. It was 7am and he had just woken Miss Parker by yelling at her. He stuttered something meant as an apology between her angry sneers before he continued, "Jarod just called Sydney, we know where he is."

On his way down the elevator to meet Sydney and Miss Parker in the towncar, Jarod's desperate plea to his mentor played over and over again in his head like a broker record.

This was more than the usual sleep deprivation, something was very wrong.

Miss Parker glared at Broots as he jumped awkwardly into the town car beside her, a quick glance into the empty back seat.

She silenced his question before he could spit it out.

"Freud is staying behind on this one," she muttered as she pulled the car out onto the street, enjoying the squeal of tires and Broots' bugged-out eyes as they flew around the corner.

"Directions, Broots." She commanded flying around another corner. "Jarod is only a few city blocks away, nothing is standing in my way, not this time."

After the third "Miss Parker, don't you think you should slow down a bit" resulting in her hitting the throttle a little harder he finally saw the connection. So with his hands firmly wrapped around a tourist map he found in the glove compartment, he managed yell out directions to guide her from the giant hamburger to the red H without dropping dead from an aneurysm.

Parker ignored the dirty looks from the concierge as she pulled the car right up the entrance, racing through the main doors and onto the elevator without a second glance back at the tech she knew she would be behind her.

"What room?" she barked, thrusting a small 9 mm into Broots' unsuspecting hands, hitting the button for the top floor as the tech nervously instructed her to. The rat had to be staying in the penthouse suite didn't he, probably on her tab.

She couldn't help but smirk at a little at Broots' forlorn expression. "Relax, just pretend it's a game of Cops and Robbers."

She cocked her gun, standing ready as the elevator pinged open.

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh" Broots muttered again and again, and did his best not to unintentionally fire the weapon.

The elevator came to a sudden stop, "Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh", Miss Parker sent him a look that was less than pleasant and he stopped. The elevator door opened and he quickly hid the gun in his jacket and scurried behind Miss Parker.

What would he do if Jarod was there? What would he do if someone else was there? He reasoned that he probably didn't have to do anything, that Miss Parker would take care of everything...but what if Miss Parker got shot?

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh"

---

Jarod opened his eyes and immediately closed them. Bright lights were flashing in the otherwise pitch black room. Voices were assaulting him from all sides. He was strapped upright in a chair and couldn't move. His mouth was dry and foul-tasting. Sedative, his mind to him. And other drugs.

Jarod knew that something bad was happening. He retreated into the far corner of his mind. Into the area he found when he was a boy and Sydney would be gone. Into the area that wouldn't allow pain to register or anything else to affect him. His muscles relaxed and his pain-filled face sagged. To anyone watching, he now looked catatonic.

---

Another cryptic, agonized phonecall from Jarod and Sydney was that much more frazzled. He went out into the hallway, knocking at Miss Parker and then Broots' doors. No answer. Frustrated, he turned to go back to his room and was met face to face with one of their latest sweepers, Jim or John or something.

"Where have Miss Parker and Broots gone?" he asked him urgently.

The sweeper looked around distractedly, "I thought they had a lead on the pretender."

Sydney groaned "Where did they go?"

"Not sure. Somewhere close I think."

Sydney turned in a huff, storming into his room. How dare she leave without telling him. He knew Broots wasn't behind this; only Miss Parker could be so defiant. She must really mean business and doubted his loyalties. The thought only fed his growing frustration. Logging into his computer, searching for something to keep him too busy for further festering. Checking his e-mail, he was surprised to find he actually had one from an anonymous sender. There was nothing in the subject, and upon opening it, simply an address. Without thinking twice, Sydney copied it down and grabbed his coat.

---

Parker kept her gun steady as she stepped out of the elevator, not daring to risk hushing Broots and his pathetic rambling as she crept her way to the bedroom.

With a mean kick she opened the door to what appeared the master bedroom, the bed was rumbled, the covers tossed carelessly aside but there was most definitely not one broken pretender.

she muttered several choice words as she turned around glaring at Broots who was cowering behind the breakfast bar.

"Even when Jarod is begging for help, he's two damn steps ahead of us," she snarled as she inspected the room.

It was normal in every way except for one, in all of her years of torture chasing the errant pretender around, he had never once missed an opportunity to torment her.

All this room held, was a whole lot of nothing, the second time in as many days.

Something was clearly very wrong.

"Get Sydney and the cleaner team here," she ordered moving back into the bedroom. Parker paused at the doorway to turn back and face the tech with his gaping mouth. "Now!" She added, turning away so Broots wouldn't see her small smirk.

At least some things were still the same.

---

Lyle stepped towards the chair, aware of the pretender’s gaze on him. Undoing the straps, he smiled as he helped him to stand, keeping a steady hand on Jarod’s arm.

“There’s something I want you to do for me, Jarod.”

The pretender nodded and followed him tentatively to a table that had been set up against the far wall. Alex slid a laptop in front of Jarod as he sat down, the screen blank except for a blinking cursor.

“I want you to transfer funds from the Centre into Sydney’s using Broots’ access codes.”

Jarod looked up and for a moment it seemed that he might resist before he returned to the screen and started typing. Thirty minutes later Alex called him.

“Did he do it?”

Alex smiled. “To the last cent. I told you he was ready.”

“We’ll see.” Lyle tucked at his leather glove, a gesture he had come to hate. It reminded him too often the reason why he had a missing thumb. “Get him ready for the next drop point. I don’t want my sister to get suspicious just yet. Let her waste energy trying to proof that Sydney and Broots are innocent when they’re called to a T-Board for stealing of Centre funds.”

Lyle pushed his thumbless hand into a pocket, reminding himself that very soon Jarod would do anything he wanted. He started whistling softly, suddenly feeling calmer. The image of Jarod’s face when he realised that there’s nothing he can do to prevent himself from doing his will was definitively something to look forward too.