"Syd, I have a very bad feeling about this," Broots said, leaping over a pile of wood scraps as he chased after Angelo. Angelo had appeared in Sydney's office several minutes ago, shouting at them to come with him, to follow him, that he wold help them. And so, off they went. He had scurried through The Centre like he had a map in his head, choosing the most direct and unoccupied routes that eventually, they found, brought them to SL-19, which was affectionately known by the employees as "Hell". This was due to the many hot water pipes that ran through it, sending their heat through the entire sublevel, keeping the temperature at a comfortable 97 degrees Fahrenheit.

"Angelo can help us, Broots," Sydney assured him breathlessly; Angelo had been running the entire way.

"I know, but running through SL-19 isn't exactly a safe idea," Broots pointed out doubtfully. "If we touch one of those hot water pipes -" he gestured to the wall, which was covered with tangles and mazes of them "-they'll scorch us to crisps."

Before Sydney had a chance to answer, Angelo, from several steps ahead, came to a stop and muttered, "Mr. Rains mad! Mr. Lyle mad! Bad, bad for them. Bad for us." He pointed up, and Sydney and Broots realized that he had stopped right under an exposed pipe.

"Oh my God, Angelo, get away from there!" Broots half shouted. "Syd, come on, please...let's get out of here."

"Shhhh, listen, Broots," Sydney said, putting a finger to his lips and moving closer to Angelo and the pipe.

"…bad news."

"Where the hell did that - ?"

"Shhh!" it was both Sydney and Angelo who shushed Broots this time, and Sydney edged closer to Angelo.

"What is it, Lyle?" Mr. Rains' voice rattled through the pipe.

"It seems that my f–your brother, was spotted in Africa."

"The pipe must lead into Lyle's office," Sydeny hissed. He and Broots exchanged glances, wondering how long Angelo had know about this method of listening in.

"My God," Mr. Rains's voice wheezed down to them, echoing slightly, "he didn't die after the jump?"

"No, he didn't. And the scrolls haven't been ruined. That doesn't tie in very well with our story to the Triumvirate. If he makes it to Morocco and is able to tell them how we planned to take over The Centre, it'll be bad for us."

There was silence for several seconds, and then, "Do you think Miss Parker is helping him?" Mr. Rains asked.

"No, I don't," Mr. Lyle said firmly. "But I do believe she might be helping Jarod. But I'll take care of her, don't worry." They could here a sickening happiness in his voice, as though nothing appealed to him more than the thought of harming his sister. "I approached Sydney and Broots with my offer, and they refused."

"Of course. Sydney has always helped Jarod. The only reason he ever helped Miss Parker was because he alone knew Jarod well enough to predict where he could be. We had hoped that he would believe that it was for the greater good for him to be recaptured, but we were obviously mistaken. Broots follows his suit, and Miss Parker...well, she has been brainwashed by Jarod and Sydney alike. As of now, you are my only trusted colleague. Jarod has to come in, and we can't have any setbacks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Mr. Lyle said, his voice unwavering. "I'll take care of it." They could barely make out the sound of shuffling, and then the bang of a door slamming, which echoed deafeningly through the pipe, expelling poofs of steam. Angelo moved away from it, gesturing for Sydney and Broots to follow.

"Syd, Syd, they're gonna kill us!" Broots spluttered. "We gotta get out of here! Now!"

"We need to find out where Miss Parker is first," Sydney said hurriedly, shaking his head. "They're going after her. Hopefully she really is with Jarod and we can protect both of them. I bet the information is on Lyle's computer. Broots, you need to get into his office."

"Fast!" Angelo added, grabbing Broots's unwilling elbow and starting to hurry him to the stairs that would take them out of SL-19.

"Yes, Angelo," Sydney agreed, running after them. "Fast."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Jarod had been dozing for hours before the urgent, but not unhappy, voice snapped him awake. "Jarod, wake up!"

He bolted up as his eyes shot open and he reached instinctively for the gun in his pocket. He was breathing hard from the fright, but as his eyes fell on the two people in front of him, all fear vanished into pure excitement. "Oh my God!" he said, unable to stop the smile from bursting across his face. "Dad!"

His father chuckled happily, helping him up and giving him a hug.

"It's so good to see you!" Jarod said. He looked behind his father, and his sister grinned at him. "Emily!" Jarod ran forward to hug her as well. "How did you two find me?"

"Your mother contacted me," Major Charles said, and Jarod's eyes grew wide. "She said that she needed our help and she would be around here. When she wasn't in the village we started down here looking for her."

"We were hoping you would be looking for her too, and we might find you along the way," Emily said. "I'm glad we did."

"I followed her here," Jarod explained. "Did she say where she was going?"

"She didn't tell us exactly," his father said, shaking his head sadly. "Said she couldn't stop running - that someone was following her, and we would have to catch up to her before they did."

"What's she running from?" Jarod asked, then frowned, "Or who?"

"She didn't say," Emily told him. "But whoever it is probably isn't far from here."

"You're right," Jarod nodded. "We should get out of here and keep looking for Mom. I'm going to follow the path and wherever it leads, I'll take it from there."

And the three of them set off together, for the first time feeling like a somewhat united family.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Miss Parker rested her head in her hands as she slowly sipped her scotch. What had Jarod said? Her mother and his mother had known each other when they were young. How important was that? Why did he make it sound like such a big deal? What had he said exactly? "Hope I've reeled you into this mystery." What was that supposed to mean?

She looked out the window at the small ocean town and sighed - it was a nice day, maybe the fresh air would lift her spirits. Unable to stop from smirking at herself, she realized that throughout her life she had thought the same thing so many times, yet a walk in the great outdoors never did anything but make her more miserable...after all, the most beautiful, sunny days became marred with storm clouds and thunderclaps eventually. It was the story of her life. Regardless, she slipped her coat on and stood. There was a marina right in front of the motel – maybe she would watch the boats go by. She downed the rest of her scotch in one gulp, gave her head a shake as it burned down her throat, and headed for the door.

"You gonna take your crackers, Ma'am?" the bartender said, making her jump. Since she had left The Centre, any small noise or disturbance startled her.

"What?" Miss Parker asked shortly, spinning around. He held a small packet out in his hand, waving it back-and-forth as though trying to entice her with it.

"Your oyster crackers," the man said. "They aren't really oysters, you know, they're just shaped like…"

"I know what they are," Miss Parker snapped.

"We give 'em to all our patrons, on account that we're called the Oyster Bar and…"

"Oh, just give them to me," she muttered, snatching the crackers from his hand. She rolled her eyes and stuffed them into her coat pocket.

Several minutes later, and after a short walk down the docks, Miss Parker had seated herself on a bench and was sipping from a cup of coffee she had gotten from a vendor in a small snack shack on the way. The bench was perched on the edge of the boardwalk, and Miss Parker could looked directly into the water. She watched a school of fish as they skimmed the top of the water for food.

"Mommy, Mommy!" she heard a little girl's voice exclaim from just a couple feet down the dock. "Look at all the fish!"

Miss Parker turned slowly to look at the young girl as she ran up and stopped beside the bench. She was leaning over the small railing looking down into the water, grinning from ear-to-ear as she pointed down into the sea. Her teeth were crooked in the way that only made her smile look bigger and happier. Miss Parker's had been the same way before her father had insisted she get braces at thirteen.

"Do you have any food for them?" the little girl asked her mother hopefully, big blue eyes pleadingly wide.

"Sorry, sweetie, I don't," the mother said, putting a hand apologetically on her daughter's shoulder.

Miss Parker's head turned away from them as the voices began flooding her head, and the picture of the past played so clearly in her mind that it could have been a movie running in front of her.

"Daddy look at the fish, they're so bright!" Miss Parker said as she skipped across the shoreline of the ocean. She had come with her father on a business trip to the Dominican Republic and was enjoying running along the Centre's privately owned strip of beach "The fish are beautiful, Daddy! I still have some bread from dinner, can we feed them? Please?"

"No Angel, I'm busy," her father said gruffly from behind her. He was at a wooden table on a large patio with six other men in dark suits, executives from The Centre's Central American satellite, drinking an expensive fruit drink that he hadn't allowed Miss Parker to have any of. Mama had always gotten her a alcohol-free version of whatever she had been drinking if Miss Parker wanted some. She would have asked one of the waiters herself, but she didn't speak Spanish, and her father had already gotten mad at her once this vacation for distracting his translator.

"But Daddy, look at them!" she continued, her eyes fixed on the pretty fish.

"Angel, please!" He apologized to the men sitting with him, but before they could resume the meeting, Miss Parker interrupted again.

"Mama always let me…"

Mr. Parker got up from the table and bent down to talk in her ear. "You are embarrassing me in front of my colleagues. You need to start acting more your age. You're eleven, you shouldn't still want to feed fish like you did when you were five."

"But..!"

"Angel! Stop embarrassing me."

As suddenly as the memory had started, it snapped off. Miss Parker gave an almost inaudible gasp as her eyes opened - she didn't even remember closing them - and looked around, blinking in the sunlight, and taking deep breaths to remind herself that it was a memory; a very distant, very raw memory.

"Maybe they'll have something to give the fish at the boathouse," the little girl's mother said, pulling Miss Parker mind back to the cold marina. Miss Parker glanced at the boathouse, and it was only then that she saw the sign:

Wellson Marina – The best in water transportation. Take a look; we'll reel you in!

She read the last sentence again mouthing "Reel you in...". It didn't take long to put together the pieces of Jarod's stupid little puzzle. "Son of a bitch," she whispered under her breath. Getting to her feet, she reached in to her pocket and pulled out the crackers. "Here," she said, holding them out to the little girl. "You can use these."

"Thanks!" the girl said as she took them happily from Miss Parker, her eyes glowing. "Do you want to feed the fish with us?"

"No," Miss Parker said as she turned away. As she started walking away she added quietly, "I don't feed fish."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Centre

"Come on, Broots, we don't have much time!" Sydney said, pacing nervously back-and-forth in Lyle's office.

"Hold on, Syd, I've almost got it," Broots said, entering a code and watching the screen. His hands were shaking, and he kept entering the wrong numbers. Finally, forcing himself to breathe and stay steady, he got the password right, hit the "Go" button, and an address appeared on the screen. "Okay, here it is. Write this down." He repeated the address to Sydney three times, back and forth to make sure they had it copied down correctly. Then, after closing the window and trying his best to hide the evidence that he had been on the computer, Broots got up.

"All right, let's go," Sydney said, stuffing the piece of paper with Miss Parker's location on it into his pocket. His hand was on the doorknob when it turned. He and Broots jumped backwards and scrambled around. There was no where to hide – they were stuck.

"Well, look at this," Mr. Lyle said, smiling at them. "Office party?"

"We were just looking for you, Lyle," Sydney said coolly, stepping in front of a sweating, panting Broots. "We have some information about Jarod."

"Really?" Mr. Lyle said, sitting at his desk. "Let's hear it."

"He phoned today," Sydney said. "Broots traced the call and found out he was in California."

Mr. Lyle smiled. "Well, that is fascinating, isn't it?"

"Why?" Sydney asked. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"No, not that," Lyle said, waving him off as though it was nothing. "Someone broke into my computer. And it looks like they got some valuable information."

"Oh?" Broots said, trembling to the point that his keys rattled in his pocket. "R-really?"

Mr. Lyle raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Oh, don't tell me that surprises you, Broots, because I know it doesn't." His smile vanished. "I don't like it when people lie to me." Lyle got to his feet and came around the table, stopping inches in front of the still even-faced Sydney. "What information did you two get?"

"We suspected you had information on Jarod, and we wanted to know where he was," Sydney said, as calm as ever. "We would have asked you, but we feared that you wouldn't tell us. It was me, Miss Parker, and Broots who started the hunt for Jarod, after all. Even though Miss Parker has vanished, we would like to be the ones to bring him in."

"You've had five years to bring Jarod in," Mr. Lyle said, sneering at them as he reached into his jacket pock. "Time's up." Before his gun could leave it's compartment, the door behind Mr. Lyle banged open and he flew to the ground. All Broots and Sydney could see was a blur of clothing and hair as Angelo's fist collided with Mr. Lyle's head.

"Angelo!" Sydney said, running forward.

Angelo threw one last elbow into Mr. Lyle's head, and then stood up, grinning like it was his birthday.

"Thanks, Angelo," Broots said, stepping away from the unconscious Mr. Lyle. "You really saved us! Come on, Syd, we've got to get out of here – NOW!"

Sydney nodded. He put a hand on Angelo's shoulder. "Thank you, Angelo."

"Wait!" Angelo stopped them before they stepped out the door. "Angelo wants to come, too!"