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Truth and Consequences - by MMB

Chapter 18: Taking Care of Business


Sam turned the nose of his car down the road toward the Victorville Municipal Airport, glancing at his watch. It was eight in the morning already - Miss Parker had told him that the jet would be landing at about six, but for him to meet her there at eight. He might have been there earlier, but he had stayed a little longer than originally planned at the hospital when he'd had an opportunity to talk to Deb's doctor about her condition.

Deb had improved enough to be moved to the medical floor, but she had ended up in a different room from Davy after all. It was just as well, for Deb's emotional state was nothing to visit on a much younger and already confused little boy. Sam had stayed in her room only for a few minutes, disconcerted by her insistence that he keep his distance. From the doctor he learned that although her physical injuries were healing at a good rate, the therapist that had been contacted to work with her had expressed grave concerns about her mental state. There was a recommendation for intensive therapy to begin as soon as possible - as soon as a decision was made where she would be doing the better part of her convalescence. Dr. Ramsey was pushing for her transfer to a psychiatric facility in San Bernardino, but Sam had convinced him to hold off on that decision until Miss Parker could be informed and perhaps Deb's father consulted.

The Centre jet, black and sleek, sat parked off the main runway and near the General Aviation hangar. As he drove up, Sam saw Bernie, another talented sweeper, duck back into the fuselage and then re-emerge, Miss Parker behind him. With a brisk gesture, she ordered Bernie to stay with the jet and then walked swiftly toward the car. She climbed into the front passenger seat. "Good morning, Sam. Running a little behind?"

"Took the time to talk to Deb's doctor before he left for the day," Sam told her, putting the car back in gear and pulling away from the jet. "How was your flight?"

"Restful," she admitted. "I think knowing that the kids are safe and the two most responsible for what happened to them are in cages one way or the other helped."

"Good," Sam nodded and kept his eyes firmly on the road. He set his face in a somber expression and focused his attention completely on his driving. At least he was finally going to be able to return her son to her - Broots' daughter too. They were a little worse for wear, but they were alive. Maybe he'd be allowed to continue as the Los Angeles satellite supervisor - it would be nice to think that he could continue to work for her... after...


Miss Parker studied her Security Chief, concerned by what she was seeing now that she was close enough to study him carefully. There was an aura of deep fatigue and something else even more distressing about him - and for the first time she actively noticed that he was avoiding looking at her. Something was VERY wrong. "Pull over, Sam."

He looked at her sharply, then nosed the comfortable sedan to the side of the road. "Yes, ma'am."

Once the car had pulled to a stop, she gazed at him closely - and still he couldn't bring himself to return the gaze. "OK," she said finally. "Something's got you tied up in knots. We've been friends and colleagues for too long." She turned in her seat so that her back was against the car door. "We've got some time before visiting hours at the hospital, and we're not scheduled to see Mayeda until after lunch. So talk to me."

Sam cringed inside. This wasn't the time or the place in which he wanted to have this conversation. "What about?" he asked lamely, still holding his hands on the wheel as if driving and gazing out through the windshield at the road ahead of them.

"Sam!" She reached out a hand and grabbed an upper arm and shook it with some force. "This is me. What's going on here?"

"Miss Parker..."

"Don't tell me it's nothing - whatever it is, you can't even look at me anymore." She relaxed back against the door again. "This is just us - nobody else is here, and what's said now will stay between just the two of us. Talk to me. What's going on with you?"

Finally he glanced at her, and she was shocked by the amount of regret and guilt that was crammed into that brief glimpse. "It's complicated."

She blinked at him calmly. "So explain it to me."

He pounded his open hands against the wheel in frustration and self-accusation. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? This is all my fault..."

"What?" She gasped. "You've GOT to be kidding..."

"No, I'm NOT kidding! I was responsible for the security on you and Sydney after the explosion," he ground out, his abused conscience making his voice rough. "Jarod told me that he was trusting me with your safety - and just look what happened. Davy and Deb were stolen right out from under our noses, Sydney injured and unable to even walk now..."

"Stop it!" Miss Parker was aghast that this had been allowed to fester inside her friend for so long without anybody noticing. "You are NOT to blame for that..."

"If not me, then who?" he turned and asked her simply, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I'm your Chief of Security. I was the one who didn't break Flores until it was too late to stop things. I was the one who assigned the sweeper to watch Sydney's house..."

"Don't be unreasonable. The sweeper in front of Sydney's was killed - you know that. Flores himself was the one who turned over security codes he was given by Raines himself to the kidnappers - he admitted that to the feds after you left for California." She shook her head. "You did exactly what you were supposed to do."

"No I didn't," he said, hanging his head. "I should have known about this ahead of time and put a stop to it. Now Deb's seriously messed up, Sydney..."

"Sam." Miss Parker put her hand on his arm. "Sam, look at me." She waited patiently for him to do as she asked. Finally, grudgingly, he complied. "I was the one who refused to let you set any sweepers in front of my house at night, remember? I was the one who told you that one sweeper in a car in front of Syd's would be sufficient, remember? If anybody is responsible here, it's me for being too complacent - too worried about image to think of the risk." She shook her head. "I can't let you shoulder blame that rightfully belongs to me."

"But if I'd been doing my job right, you wouldn't have needed to..."

"Sam, neither of us knew the lengths to which Flores was willing to go, or how much a protégé and cohort of Raines he turned out to be. You know that as well as I do."

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding and silently admitting she was right.

"OK then. Don't you DARE try to shoulder the responsibility for all of this by yourself."

"But I promised Jarod..."

She gave him a disgusted look. "Yeah, you promised Jarod. And you've done your damnedest to keep that promise in the face of unexpected and very difficult circumstances," she told him firmly. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"You deserve a better Security Chief." He said it softly, but it was the heart of his pain.

"Sam Atlee! I don't WANT another Security Chief," she shouted at him and grabbed at his upper arm again. "I chose you because I trusted you over all others."

He looked at her sadly. "I don't deserve that trust, Miss Parker."

Her grey eyes dove deep into his, and then she reached out and gently took his nearest hand from the wheel and held it tightly. "Yes, you do."

"You're being kind," Sam told her, touched that even after exposing his weakness she seemed determined to stand beside him and defend him. "But you don't have to. I figured that once everything was settled, I'd just resign so you wouldn't have to fire me. I was hoping maybe you'd let me keep the LA office..."

"Listen to me, Sam, and pay attention this time because I don't intend to have to tell you this again," she told him, her voice firm and determined but a smile on her face taking the sting from the words. "I need you in Delaware with me as my head of Security - and nobody BUT you will do for what I have in mind. Somebody else is going to take over LA when you're through sifting through the mess Flores left us." She shook the hand she held tightly for emphasis. "Besides, you can't quit. The Centre owns you - remember? That means you're mine - lock, stock and barrel - and you can't quit until I say you can. Got it?"

Sam stared at her wordlessly as her words finally began chipping away at the shell of despair and desolation that had slowly accrued around his soul in the days since Davy and Deb had vanished. If he had been loyal to her before, the past few minutes had welded into place a fierce devotion that was beyond anything he'd ever experienced before.

"Got it?" she asked him again, seeing in the depths of his eyes that he was finally starting to believe her.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered at last. "Thank you, Miss Parker."

"And don't ever let me find out that you've been tearing yourself apart like that again, do you understand? I will NOT stand for it. Anybody who messes with my friends' minds answers to ME. If you EVER put yourself through something like this again, I swear I'll rip you a new orifice or two myself. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

His lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "Yes, ma'am - crystal clear."

"Good." She patted his hand between the two of hers and then let him go to settle back into her seat properly. "Now, what do you say you take me to the hospital so I can see my son - and, if you can do two things at once, maybe you can tell me what Deb's doctor had to say that made you late."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sam turned the key and put the car back in gear, then nosed it back onto the road to Adelanto.

~~~~~~~~

Sydney lifted his eyes from his reading and ran a thumb and forefinger up behind his reading glasses to rub at his already tired eyes. Going through the bundled material in the living room was certainly a challenge - both to his eyes and to his ability to comprehend complex subjects outside his normal sphere of expertise.

It had never occurred to him just how much he'd been obliged to learn and understand himself in order to be able to give Jarod his grounding in the basics of complex scientific arenas like physics and chemistry. The Pretender had absorbed the material he'd been introduced to like a sponge and moved quickly from basics to far more difficult aspects of the various fields of study. Eventually Jarod had ended up dragging him along and in turn teaching his mentor the more sophisticated material so that the proper level of oversight could be maintained. The result, however, was that reading through unabridged chemical and pharmaceutical research notes hadn't been quite the slogging through gibberish he'd feared - he must have retained much more of the information he'd overseen than he'd suspected after all.

A deep sigh from behind him had him twisting on the couch as much as he could to look back at Kevin. The young man looked distracted and distressed. "Time to take a break," he announced to his protégé.

Kevin let the folder in his hand drop noisily to the table. "Why in the world would they be working on a new drug to suppress heart beat and respiration?"

Sydney shook his head. "They seemed always to be looking for new and more efficient ways of torturing people. I'm sure there was probably a genuine purpose behind the project to begin with..."

"Come on, Sydney! What possible use..."

"Think of it, Kevin - a cardiac patient with a history of anxiety attacks could be treated with that substance so that their mental state doesn't trigger a life-threatening episode," Sydney said after some thought. "The substance of this project," he added, waving the document he'd just put down himself in the air where Kevin could see it, "was an anti-psychotic. But it had psychotropic properties in higher dosages that could be used to further a brain-washing program by someone with no scruples."

"It's as if everything they did had a dual purpose," Kevin said, shaking his head. "Just like all my work - I thought I was working for the government in the area of military strategy, only to find out from you and Jarod that my work had been sold to criminals."

"That was why Jarod escaped originally," the psychiatrist told his young friend. "I don't know how it happened - although I have some suspicions - but he discovered some of the really deadly uses some of his work had been put to. And then, when a friend of his was murdered right in front of him to try to intimidate him into never refusing to cooperate again..."

"You killed someone?" Kevin asked, his mouth agape.

"Not I," Sydney shook his head vigorously. "Someone else who managed to get a hold of Jarod when I was busy doing something else and pushed in the one way that would make Jarod rebel, thinking they could intimidate him into cooperation." He closed his eyes, remembering that horrible DSA of the murder of the simple-minded janitor, Kenny, by a psychotic pretender named Damon - probably at the orders of Mr. Raines. Sydney shuddered inwardly at the thought that somewhere in the mass of material he would be reading might be information on that project - and the steps taken to assure its completion. "At least your situation, as bad and abusive as it was, protected you from THAT kind of abuse."

"How did Jarod survive?" Kevin's voice was small. "Did you find out about these things and help him out then?"

Sydney shook his head. "I honestly wish I had known, Kevin - I think I'd have helped Jarod escape long before he accomplished it on his own. No, I knew nothing of what was going on behind my back. Jarod never said anything, and I was carefully kept ignorant of what happened when I was sent to conferences and conventions - or went on my yearly Christmas holiday." He looked back at his young protégé. "Tell me - did Vernon supervise your training from the very beginning?"

"Pretty much," Kevin answered. "From time to time, he'd bring in a specialist to help me understand the basics of things - like structural engineering or chemistry - and then Vernon would just oversee the actual project or SIM itself."

"You mean he didn't understand half of what he was asking you to do?" Sydney was shocked - the Pretender Project under Raines' auspices had been a flawed process from beginning to end.

"No, of course not. Vernon kept reminding me that he WASN'T a Pretender." Kevin's voice took on a tone that implied he was imitating Vernon - and that Vernon was suggesting that being a Pretender was something negative.

Sydney shook his head. "I'm so glad we got you away from that man..."

"Me too," the young Pretender agreed quickly. "Me too!"

"Listen, why don't you go get us both some coffee - I think we could use it." Sydney suggested. "We don't need to be nodding off while we're trying to prioritize this stuff..."

"What do I want to do about this heart and respiratory suppressant then?" Kevin asked from the kitchen. "Is Miss Parker going to want to actually KEEP this information?"

"Can you see a case where having that information on hand could be helpful to another project later on?" Sydney asked in response. "Finding value in the conclusions of research doesn't necessarily mean that we approve of either the methods used or the intent of the original project, you know..."

Kevin brought the two coffee mugs in and set the one down in the clear space on the coffee table he'd been using as a seat. "You mean divorce the information gathered from its means of collection and the reason it was collected in the first place?"

"Exactly. In some cases, that is going to be the ONLY way some of the evils we're going to be reading about will ever have any beneficial meaning at all." Sydney sounded disgusted.

"That's going to be hard," Kevin commented, sitting down and putting his coffee mug within easy reach, then taking up his folder again.

"That's for sure," Sydney mumbled to himself.

~~~~~~~~

Tyler watched warily as Mei Chiang ushered Gillespie and Police Chief Harrison into Miss Parker's office, where he had taken up temporary residency for the duration of her absence. "What can I do for you on a Saturday morning, Mr. Gillespie? Chief Harrison?" he asked with a calmness he didn't really feel.

"Miss Parker is unavailable, I take it," the FBI agent stated the obvious.

"That's correct. I'm Cody Tyler, her personal assistant."

"Haven't seen you around much, son," Harrison commented dryly. He'd been in Miss Parker's office too many times to know that the man before them probably had the authority to sit in her chair, but had never seen him active in Centre doings before.

"There are a number of positions here at the Centre which have new people filling them," Tyler responded simply. "I'd imagine that unless you were stationed here, you'd have a hard time knowing all of our employees by sight. True?"

Harrison rubbed his upper lip and grunted his agreement while Gillespie eyed this new Centre contact with interest. Tyler had that open and honest look that went with his Southern drawl. "Maybe you can answer some questions that have just stymied all our attempts to investigate."

"I'll do my best," Tyler replied and leaned back in Miss Parker's chair. "Shoot."

"What do you know of the murders of the two men found on the Centre property perimeter?" Harrison asked his question first, earning him a glare from the FBI SAC.

Tyler leaned forward, his interlaced fingers landing gently on the blotter pad in front of him. "One was a gardener or landscape maintenance man. The other was the man who was responsible for setting the explosives that destroyed the Tower." He gazed back at the Delaware cop without flinching. "You folks told us that much a while ago."

"Who killed them?" Harrison pushed.

"It's my understanding that the bomber killed the gardener in order to gain access to the Tower. The bomber was killed by an assassin from the Yakuza, who had hired him in the first place."

Gillespie's eyebrows shot up. This had been his working theory, but had never had any form of confirmation before. "You're sure?" he asked quickly.

Tyler's gaze shifted to the FBI agent. "As sure as I can be," he replied obliquely.

"Do you have corroborating evidence that shed light on the matter that you can share with us so we can mark this case closed?"

"You mean names of those responsible?" Tyler leaned back in his chair again. "Well, we do know that it was Tommy Tanaka that ordered the bombing - and that he was killed in the blast along with one of his lieutenants. Tanaka was the head of one of the branches of the Yakuza, you know..."

"We know that much," Gillespie retorted. "What about the assassin - what do you know about him?"

Tyler pulled a face and shook his head. "Just that he saved the American taxpayers a lot of money by taking care of the bomber. I'm sorry." There was no way he was going to mention Ikeda - Miss Parker had taken the Japanese into the organization and was using his expertise to her advantage, and he wasn't going to second guess her reasons.

"Alright, then tell us what you know about Otamo Ngawe," Gillespie moved to the next unsolved puzzle.

"He is the head of an organization called The Triumvirate, with whom the Centre used to have business dealings. I believe Mr. Ngawe was injured in the explosion in the Tower."

"Any idea why someone would order a hit on him?"

Tyler's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? This is the first I've heard of THAT, Mr. Gillespie. No, of course I'd have no idea about anything like that. The Centre concluded its business with the Triumvirate quite peacefully, for what it's worth."

The FBI agent had watched the apparently easy-going Southerner carefully and could detect no signs of subterfuge in his answer. "What about Mr. Fujimori?"

"Who?" Tyler's eyes gazed into his easily.

"The Japanese who was also injured in the explosion." Gillespie explained curtly.

"No idea," Tyler shook his head. "The position I held at the Centre prior to the explosion kept me from knowing much of anything. Sorry - can't help you there."

"I told you, we're going to have to mark all those cases "Unsolved" and file 'em away," Harrison blurted out to Gillespie.

Tyler pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head again. "I'm really sorry that I can't tell you gentlemen anything new - but I'm sure Miss Parker would want you both to feel free to bring any new questions you might have to us anytime."

"Why did the Centre have representatives of the Yakuza in the Tower the day it blew?" Gillespie added one more shot in the dark.

"The Centre used to have business dealings with the Yakuza as well in the days before Miss Parker took over," Tyler said honestly. "That was one of the first things Miss Parker put a stop to when she became Chairman."

"What's the Centre doing - going legit?" Harrison began to chortle.

"That's exactly what the Centre is doing," Tyler replied with eyes narrowed. "When the Tower was destroyed, the old Centre died with it. We are a new administration, and the reason we have so few answers for you is because we're far too busy cleaning house here at home - and dealing with the criminal element within our own numbers - to want to pry into the affairs of law enforcement."

Gillespie winced. That Miss Parker had had her hands full of late with her own business was certainly true. No doubt this Cody Tyler had been up to his elbows in helping her sort through all of that. "Well," he said, rising, "we won't take up anymore of your time. Tell Miss Parker that we're glad that she has her son back safe and sound, and that we hope the girl recovers from her ordeal."

Now it was Tyler's turn to pause. "Do you have any further news on Deb Broots' condition? Miss Parker and I haven't had the opportunity to confer on that..."

Gillespie nodded. "The rape kit was negative, and the boy identified one of the suspects named by Berringer as the man who molested the girl. The last word I had from California last night was that she's not in great shape."

"Molested!" Tyler whispered to himself. "My God!" He sank into his chair weakly after forcing himself to shake hands with both men. "Thank you for the information."

He waited until the two men had left the office before putting his face in his hands. He'd have to have a long talk with Kevin - they were going to have to shelve their rivalry for Deb's affections until she was able to handle such a thing again.

Why had Miss Parker not told him about this?

~~~~~~~~

Jarod followed his latest client and the little boy's mother out of his office - they to make another appointment for the next week, he to check up on the status of his foster daughter. Cindy was just answering a phone call when they emerged, and she beckoned him. "It's a Mr. Crandall on the phone for you, Doctor Jarod."

"I'll take it in my office," he told her quickly, then leaned across the counter to stroke Ginger's head. "How you doin', Sprite?" She nodded, her face serene and apparently quite content, and returned to carefully folding billing statements. "I'll be back out in a bit," he told her, then headed back into his office to pick up the phone there. "Hello. Jarod Russell."

"Dr. Russell! I hear you have temporary custody of the little girl. How's that going?" echoed the voice of the lawyer over the phone lines.

"Just fine," Jarod replied. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Crandall?"

"Actually, this is a progress report on your adoption petition," the lawyer informed him. "I spent the time doing some research. The parental rights for Ginger were terminated when the parents were found guilty of child abuse and neglect two years ago. There was no effort put into adopting her out immediately because CPS wanted to make sure that no relatives were available to place her with family. CPS is now willing to end that portion of the process and proceed with a more formal adoption placement with you."

"That's good news!" Jarod said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. "What's next, then?"

"Well, probably another home inspection with the child in place, interviews with the child and you - both separately and together..."

"You know that Ginger is very frightened of strangers and isn't speaking anyway, right?" Jarod cautioned the lawyer.

"Those factors will be taken into consideration, Dr. Russell. The evidence of her behavior while in the secured facility after being removed from the foster home is rather striking, as was the statement made by a CPS representative named Rizzo..."

"He was the one who was there when I picked her up," Jarod filled in the gap. "She was almost catatonic by then."

Crandall harrumphed. "Anyway, provided everything moves through smoothly, there should be a hearing within a week's time. After that, there's the waiting period before the decree is made final, just to make sure that all parties are still fully committed to the arrangement."

"How long will that take?"

"Could take up to a year, depending on a number of factors."

"Remember," Jarod reminded him, "I'm intending to move back to Delaware in the relatively near future to be married and live with my wife and son. Are there some accommodations that can be made..."

"You'll need to submit an application to have your case transferred to the proper Delaware authorities, but otherwise, that shouldn't be too much of a problem." Crandall paused. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Yes. Did the information on my fiancée's previous adoption come through?"

"Yes - as a matter of fact, that information is sitting in your file folder here at my office. Should it become necessary, I can provide it to the courts."

"Then I guess we're on track," Jarod said with a growing smile. Ginger was almost his for real.

"Good luck with your little girl, Doctor Russell. I'm glad to see one little kid find the kind of father she needs for a change. So many don't..."

"Thanks. Keep me informed."

"Don't worry," Crandall chuckled. "I'll be in touch from time to time until this whole process is concluded. Talk to you later."

"Goodbye." Jarod stood and went back out to the counter and gestured for Ginger to come with him into his office. She came around the end of the counter and immediately raised her hands for him to lift her up into his arms. Cindy chuckled as Jarod swooped down and gave her the kind of swing high up into the air that a doting father often did. She smiled wider when she saw Ginger suddenly break into a wider and obvious smile of her own and squeak happily as she settled her arms around her guardian's neck when he finally brought her down against him.

He carried her to the comfortable couch against the wall and seated himself, settling her onto his lap. "I want to talk to you, Sprite. I'm thinking that I don't want to have you end up going to live somewhere else later on - so what would you think of my becoming your new daddy for real? Would you like to stay with me, live with me as my little girl, forever?"

Ginger's eyes widened, and for the first time since he'd come back from the East Coast, she smiled at him. She then snuggled down into his embrace as his arms came up and around her tightly. "I love you, Sprite," he whispered down at her, then kissed the top of her head as it lay against his chest. "You're my fairy child."

She closed her eyes tightly and hummed her contentment to him as the embrace around her warmed her and made her feel safe. For the first time in her life, the sound of the word daddy hadn't been scary, because for the first time in her life, it was in reference to someone whom she knew wouldn't hurt her and of whom she already was very fond. The past two days had been the happiest she'd ever been in her short life - to think that she would never have to worry about being picked up and moved from this happiness to somewhere else was like a burden lifting from the back of her heart.

~~~~~~~~

Miss Parker looked around her and then walked resolutely into the Adelanto General Hospital with Sam at her side. During the rest of the drive from the airfield to the hospital, her Security Chief had seemed to be relaxing, reclaiming a confidence in himself that she'd been too traumatized before to see clearly had been missing. She could now appreciate first-hand the worry and concern that must have been Sydney's at the indication that she'd suddenly changed personalities herself.

She'd had help working through the need to wear the Lyle façade - between needing to drop it to talk to Broots and having a psychiatrist as a foster father, she'd never lost touch with the person she really was. In contrast, Sam had been shipped to California and had no one who knew him well enough to know how badly he was hurting, and in that isolation had managed to convince himself of his own lack of worth. This would never happen again, she promised herself. Sam was as much family as Broots - once things quieted down again, she'd make sure that he knew how important he was to her, to all of them.

For a smaller hospital, the facility seemed to be quite modern and well maintained. Sam moved with the easy of familiarity through the double doors at the end of the lobby and down a corridor, then around a corner and down another corridor to a nurse's station. "We're here to see Davy Parker and Deb Broots. Will Dr. Ramsey be available to speak to Davy's mother?"

"I can page him," the nurse replied immediately, and ran her finger down a list of numbers before picking up the phone and dialing. She spoke into the phone, listened for a while before nodding and hanging up. "He will be making his rounds of his ICU patients in about a half-hour - you can meet him back here after those rounds are completed and talk to him then."

"How IS Davy?" Miss Parker asked.

The nurse pulled the chart from the hanging file and opened it. "He's doing much better this morning, off of IV support and on solid foods again. I think Doctor Ramsey wanted to see him one more time this afternoon before releasing him."

"How about Deb?" Sam spoke up - the last he'd heard hadn't been encouraging.

"She's with the therapist at the moment," the nurse told him, then turned to Miss Parker. "Doctor Ramsey referred her to a rape crisis therapist once she woke up. Claire saw her yesterday, after which we had to sedate her because she became hysterical. We're trying it again today - so far so good. Claire hasn't called for help yet."

Miss Parker flinched inwardly. Deb had been a virtual innocent in the hands of that monster - sheltered from so much of the dark side of society by the might of the Centre and her proximity to the center of authority within it. Now that shelter had turned into the monster that had done her such evil. Briefly she wondered whether Sydney, with everything else on his plate including his own injury, would be up to the task of helping Deb put her life back together again once she got home.

"I want to see Davy," she said, suddenly feeling the very strong need to hold her little boy in her arms.

Sam nodded - he'd watched the expressions flit over her face and knew exactly what she was feeling and why. After all, he'd been wrestling with those same emotions himself ever since the call into the FBI office had been relayed to him. "This way," he indicated with an extended hand. Miss Parker thanked the nurse and moved along with him down the corridor until he stopped in front of a door.

"This one," he said quietly. "Let me get the FBI agent out of there so you can have some privacy. I'll wait for you out here..."

"Shoo the FBI out, by all means," she told him firmly, "but you stick around. You're family."

Sam straightened just a hint more at yet another comforting stroke, and then moved into the room. Within moments, a young, blonde agent emerged, buttoning his sports jacket, and Miss Parker waited for him to clear the door before retracing his path into the room.

"Mommy!" Davy cried the moment he saw her, his grey eyes turning frantic and his arms coming up and out to her.

She rushed past Sam toward the bed and sat down at his side to finally gather her son into her arms and hold him tightly. "Mommy's here, baby," she soothed into his ear with tears of relief running freely down her face. "You're safe now. Mommy's here. Nobody's ever going to get at you again!"

~~~~~~~~

Deb lay quiet against her pillow feeling completely drained and empty of any feelings at all. The tears she'd cried the day before when Claire had finally given her permission to cry had made her feel just a tiny bit better in one sense, but had done little good otherwise. She was grateful that she'd at least had enough sense not to fall completely apart today like she had the previous day.

She desperately wanted to shower - to stand under stinging hot water and wash away the sensation of those groping hands and viciously sharp teeth at her breast - but had been warned that such a thing could cause problems with both the cut on her heel and the bite. Doctor Ramsey had been very gentle, very understanding with her, she knew - but as one of the very few men coming close to her now, he was ending up the target of her anger and resentment. Were it not for the nurse that never failed to be with him during his exam, she would have told him exactly what she thought of him in no uncertain and very blunt terms.

And yet, during those quiet moments alone when her mind would momentarily clear, she knew that he was only doing what was best for her and her recovery - and that he deserved neither her scorn nor her abuse. It was confusing to know that she wasn't thinking properly, only to slip so easily right back into the same frame of mind the next moment.

This latest hour with Claire had been a difficult one. Claire had tried desperately to get her to talk about what she'd been through, working on the notion that by talking herself through it again, by acknowledging openly the feelings those experiences had spawned, the nightmares would begin to abate. Deb had never heard anything quite so ridiculous in her life. She knew that eventually she would have to tell someone in law enforcement what had happened in painful and embarrassing detail - but until then, nobody else needed to know of her humiliation, least of all a strange woman.

She closed her eyes, but still the tears fell - the tears that had been brutally stifled while the therapist had been in the room. She wanted... she swallowed back a sob when she realized she didn't know what it was that she wanted anymore. No matter how much everyone tried to reassure her, despite knowing she had an FBI agent guarding her door and screening all callers, she couldn't feel safe with so many strangers milling about outside her door. Just living had become a nightmare from which she couldn't awaken. She turned her face to the window and looked out at the arid countryside beyond the glass.

Miss Parker motioned to Sam to stay out of the room this time and then pushed quietly through the door. At the sight of the IV apparatus at the side, the pale face and tear tracks down the side of the face, her insides knotted painfully. "Deb?" she called softly. "Are you awake?"

Deb gasped as a familiar and loved voice sounded, and she turned away from the window to find herself staring at Miss Parker - a very informally dressed and concerned looking Miss Parker. "Hi," she managed to say in a voice that could only barely register slightly louder than a stage whisper.

Miss Parker came over to the side of the bed and sat down next to her. "God, I'm so glad you're safe," she said in a shaky tone as she opened her arms to the motherless girl who hesitated and then accepted the offer of a shoulder and embrace. Miss Parker's arms closed tightly around the young woman who had been like a daughter to her for years. "I'm right here," she soothed gently as Deb once more began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," the young woman stammered between sobs. "I..."

"Hush," Miss Parker smoothed a hand against the back of her head and the long hair that had gone completely without any care whatsoever. "There's nothing for you to apologize for, for God's sake! You're alive, and you're safe - that's all that matters."

"But..." Deb couldn't let her continue to think that she was still the innocent girl she'd been - she was used now, dirty. It was the only thing she could think of now, and it was driving her mad. "He touched me... I couldn't stop him..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Miss Parker sighed and carefully tightened her embrace. "But it wasn't your fault. None of it was. And he's behind bars now, where he'll never EVER be able to touch another girl again."

"They... they caught him?" Deb pushed back a bit so she could look into her friend's face. "Really?"

"Yes, Deb. He was picked up for other things, and then held when information about what he'd done to you and Davy came up. Davy identified him - he saw..." Miss Parker's voice was tight - she wasn't at all pleased to discover some of what her son had witnessed. She paused, then continued with bitter satisfaction, "Considering some of the other things he's done lately, he won't be seeing daylight again for a VERY long time." She gave another very shaky sigh. "Oh Deb, they say he raped and murdered another girl not long after he left you and Davy in the desert. It could have been you... so easily..."

Deb shuddered and pressed herself even closer to her friend's embrace. Her mind had been so frozen by what she'd been through that she hadn't even considered how much worse it could have been for her. Suddenly the enormity of what she'd escaped overwhelmed her. "I want to go home," she whimpered. "I want my Dad."

"He wants to see you too, Deb - he gave me something to give to you when I saw you." Miss Parker scrabbled with one hand at her purse and pulled out a piece of printer paper. "He's awake now, and he's been worried sick about you, like we all have."

Deb took the paper in her hand and pressed back against Miss Parker. "I'll read it later. I'm just... I... do you mind just holding me... just for a little while?" she asked shyly.

Miss Parker's eyes closed. Deb had never been so unsure about asking for affection before. "Of course, sweetheart. I'm right here." Her arms closed around the young woman again. "I'm right here, Deb." She kissed the top of her head and then laid her cheek against her gently.

Deb closed her eyes in relief. With Miss Parker's arrival, the sense that things would be getting better had become more than just a vague dream. No doubt Sam was just outside the door guarding them both. For the first time since she woke up, Deb began to allow herself to believe that she really WAS safe. "Where's Sam?" she asked finally.

"Just outside. He didn't want to upset you again."

Deb swallowed hard. "It's just... he's so big... scary..."

"I'm sure he understands, sweetheart," Miss Parker soothed gently. "Don't worry about it."

"When can I go home?" Deb's voice was plaintive. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"I talked to the doctor," Miss Parker lifted her head and framed Deb's face in her hands. "Your infection is finally responding to the antibiotics they've been giving you," she nodded in the direction of the IV, "and you're almost ready to move to solid foods. The thing Dr. Ramsey was most concerned about when I spoke to him, however, was your emotional state. I'm supposed to meet with your therapist later this afternoon, just before I pick Davy up."

"Davy's being released?" For the first time in over a day, Deb thought of the young boy who had been with her during the black time, as she now called it.

"Later today. We're flying up to stay with Jarod for the night, and then..."

"You're leaving? Leaving me alone..." Deb tried to push Miss Parker away abruptly.

"Deb!" Miss Parker held on tight and didn't let the girl distance herself. "You were hurt a lot worse than Davy was - I don't know if Dr. Ramsey told you, but they almost lost you the first day you were here. Use your head - don't let your emotions drive you that way!"

The young woman fought for a while then relaxed into the embrace in defeat. "I just want to go home too," she cried softly.

"I know you do, sweetheart," Miss Parker breathed a sigh of relief. "And when you're released, I'll be back for you, I promise. Besides, I'm leaving Sam here - I know you're still uneasy around him, but he's been a part of our family for a very long time and cares deeply for you. You won't be alone."

"You'll come back?" Deb was astonished. "What about the Centre?"

Miss Parker took a deep breath. "Screw the Centre at this point. I have an assistant who's learning the ropes and can handle things when I'm gone." It was a big step away from the kind of control her father - either man who had claimed that position - had exercised as Chairman, but it was time for even the top of the heap to have a little freedom for taking care of family matters. "When Dr. Ramsey calls me and tells me you're ready to be released the next day, I'll have the Centre jet fly me back here so that you're released to me. We'll do then exactly what I'm going to do with Davy today - fly up to spend the night with Jarod, and then fly home the next morning."

"You promise?" The voice was very small, but hopeful.

"I promise," Miss Parker said vehemently. "But you have to promise to do something too."

"What?"

The older woman pushed Deb out of her arms and framed her face between her hands again. "You have to work with your therapist and cooperate with her. She knows what she's doing, and she can help you. When you get home, Grandpa Sydney can take over - but until then, it's Ms. Jackson and Dr. Ramsey you have to convince that you're getting better emotionally too." She smoothed the hair back when Deb's face fell. "I know. And you'll have to agree to talk to the police pretty soon - tell them your story. You'll probably have to look at some pictures and see if you can identify the men who took you - who touched you." At that, Deb's expression grew frantic. "I know it will be hard, but that's the one thing you'll HAVE to do before they'll let you come home with me."

"Can you be here... when I talk to them?" Deb asked with a shudder. "Please..."

Miss Parker pulled the young woman close again. "If that's the way you want it," she said, cringing inside, "I'll be here when you talk to them."

Deb relaxed into Miss Parker's shoulder and closed her eyes again. The exchange had exhausted her, but at least in her surrogate mother's arms she felt safe enough to doze. Miss Parker would keep the nightmares away.

~~~~~~~~

Ikeda would never know just what it was that made him awaken just a little after twelve noon, but he would be grateful to it nonetheless. He had had enough trouble acclimating himself to Delaware time as it was, he thought in frustration - the last thing he needed was a bout of insomnia that would mean he went to work that night more tired than when he'd left this morning. He rose to get a glass of water and decided to peek out the shades to check out the sound of voices outside while he drank deeply.

What he saw made him nearly choke. Konde Hiro, one of Ueda-sama's recent promotees, was standing with another Japanese gentleman questioning the manager of the motel he'd settled into as his home. He immediately put down his water and ran for the closet, jumping into his clothing from the evening before and rapidly stuffing the rest into the dress bag and suitcase he'd brought with him from Japan. He dragged both pieces of luggage into the bathroom, and then thrust both rather forcefully through the small window up high over the commode before climbing painfully through it himself. He clenched his teeth so as not to make a sound when he hit the ground hard, knowing that those who were pursuing him could be just beyond the paper-thin walls of the room next door.

He draped his dress bag over his arm and pulled out the handle on his wheeled suitcase and headed off as quickly as he could in the direction of Sydney's house, keeping himself to the back alleyways. Knowing Konde and Yakuza methods of search, he expected that after not finding their prey at the motel they would next drive up and down the streets of the small town looking for a man on foot. How they had traced his movements here to Blue Cove was anybody's guess - unless they were merely working on a hunch and going back to where he'd been a guest of Obayashi-san previously.

The trek from the motel at the edge of Blue Cove to the upscale neighborhood where Miss Parker's foster father lived was a circuitous one that normally took only five minutes to drive. This time, it took Ikeda fifteen cautious minutes of waiting until no vehicles were in sight before crossing streets and hiding in bushes and behind trees and wall until cars had long since passed to travel the distance. With a sigh he boosted his burden over Sydney's back fence from the alleyway and scaled the wooden barrier easily. He retrieved his belongings and, not at all pleased at the development, walked up to the glassed arcadia door to the kitchen to knock for entrance.

Kevin and the daytime sweeper came to his knock immediately. The sweeper's was face a study in lethal concentration as he shoved Kevin behind him - and then he caught sight of who was knocking. He holstered his weapon and headed back toward the living room while Kevin unlocked the glass. "What in the world...?"

"Please ask your uncle if it would be permissible for me to remain here for the time being," Ikeda said, entering the kitchen and then bowing deeply to the young cousin of his boss.

"He's in the den," Kevin said, pointing. "Why don't you put your stuff down and talk to him yourself?"

In fact: "Kevin? What is it?" Sydney called from his daybed.

"It is I, Green-san," Ikeda followed the voice and then bowed deeply again. "I deeply apologize disturbing your day, but..."

"What happened?" Sydney demanded. He knew better than most that Ikeda wouldn't have come if it hadn't been necessary.

"It seems my former employers have sent a team to retrieve me," the Japanese explained, deeply humiliated. "I only barely awoke before they found me in my new abode. I packed and escaped - but I had nowhere else to go except..."

"Don't worry about it," Sydney would have smiled had it not been for the severity of the situation and the danger the man had just escaped. "I can talk to Miss Parker for you about new accommodations when I talk to her next. Until then, however, you're welcome to crash on a couch in the living room."

The Japanese looked confused. "Crash?"

"I'm sorry," Sydney chided himself for using slang with a tired man for whom English was a second language. "You said you barely awoke, so I'm assuming that you would prefer to find a place where you can finish your sleep in peace."

"That would be much appreciated, Green-san," Ikeda bowed deeply yet again. "I regret the inconvenience to you and young Kevin-san."

Sydney shook his head dismissively. "I'm thinking of renaming my home the Centre Inn one of these days," he joked and then chuckled at his own humor. "I only regret I have but the one guest room - and it's currently occupied."

Ikeda could hear the humor in the older man's tone, but was too tired and rattled to be able to follow the thread of what he was saying. Perhaps Green-san could be persuaded to explain himself later on in the afternoon, when he was more used to seeing and talking to his bodyguard. "I am deeply grateful," Ikeda bowed again. "I shall try not to be any further bother to you."

"Tell Chet to come in here," Sydney told his new guest. "I'll explain things to him - maybe he can think of something to help you out after today."

"Hai."

~~~~~~~~

"The bed is still warm," Sato exclaimed, running his hand beneath the covers of the bed. "He was just here."

"He knows we're here looking for him," Konde sighed heavily. "We'll never find him now."

"Nonsense. Where could he have gone?" Sato asked scathingly. "Ikeda has no friends here in the States that we know of - no contacts outside of the Yakuza."

"How do we know these things?" Konde demanded. "It seems to me that the Yakuza doesn't know as much about Ikeda-san as they thought, considering that he just up and vanishes after failing to carry out an assigned assassination. What else could there be about the man that nobody knows?"

Sato grew silent. His colleague had a very valid point. Ikeda-san had been one of those assassins whose private life had been his own and not the property of the Yakuza bosses because of his level of training in ninjitsu and his reputation for getting the job done quickly, efficiently and with very little trouble from law enforcement. For as long as Ikeda had done as he'd been asked, nobody had ever questioned his actions. This left them now with a real dearth of information about the private man who was obviously not interested in coming home anytime soon.

"So, what do we do now?" Sato asked. "You said Ueda-sama told you not to go home without him."

"We'll just have to keep our eyes open," Konde responded with a sigh. "It seems that he must have some contact with somebody here in Blue Cove - we could settle on randomizing a schedule of coming back and seeing what we can uncover. He can't stay under his rock forever. Sooner or later, he'll have to be out in the open."

"I don't know that Mayeda had any idea that this would be a long-term assignment for me," Sato grumbled. "I'll have to call LA for approval of an extended stay here."

"Yeah, well I'll have to report back to Ueda-sama and let him know of our plans too," Konde growled back. "I wish I could talk Ueda-sama into just leaving the man go - or even hire another ninja to take care of the problem."

"That would be the logical solution to all our problems," Sato agreed. "You can suggest it to Ueda-sama and see how far you get..."

Konde gave the recently abandoned motel room another sweeping look and then stomped out. At this rate, he'd be fluent in English before he got home again - and the prospect wasn't at all a pleasant one.

~~~~~~~~

Sam eased the car back onto the freeway and settled back to do battle with the Greater Metropolitan LA freeway system with a peace of mind that was almost intoxicating. In the last few hours, he had been pried from a self-imposed corner of Hell to be returned to a comfortable place at Miss Parker's side and in the family. After standing watch outside Deb's door, he'd been called into the room and had a tearful and shy apology and reunion with Deb Broots. She'd suffered him to come close to her and put an arm around her as if she were the most fragile porcelain. Miraculously, she had leaned against him briefly before letting him know subtlely that she'd reached the end of her tolerance, and he'd moved back to let Miss Parker hug her again. It wasn't a big gesture, but for a soul that had been tortured with guilt and then outright rejection earlier, the balm of the contact was powerful medicine.

And now they were on their way back into Los Angeles and to the Yakuza headquarters to take care of business. Beside him, Miss Parker was quiet - no doubt turning over in her mind the various options available to them in regards to the disposition of one Andrew Duncan, Esquire. He glanced at her and found her face thoughtful. "You OK?" he asked just loudly enough to be heard over the traffic noise.

She glanced back at him and nodded. "Just thinking about what would be appropriate for Duncan, you know?"

"Well, Davy said that Duncan stopped Cordoba from... well, from going any further with what he was doing to Deb..." He saw her look back at him in surprise. "For what it's worth, anyway. I thought you should know. On the other side of the coin, though, when I questioned him the other day, he admitted to touching Davy while Davy was unconscious."

"Pull over!" Miss Parker said suddenly, slapping a hand over her mouth as her stomach rebelled at the thought of what had been done to both her son and her best friend's daughter. Sam quickly steered onto the shoulder and halted the car. Miss Parker barely managed to loosen her seatbelt and stumble from the car before she bent forward and lost her hospital cafeteria lunch into the tall grass. Sam reached toward the glove box and a stack of napkins he'd gotten from the fast food place he'd eaten at late last night on the way to the hospital. He watched in sorrow as she heaved a couple more times with no further success, then finally straightened and walked back to the car pale and obviously trembling.

"Thanks," she said in a shaky voice as she accepted the napkin from his outstretched hand and wiped roughly at her mouth. "It just never hit me quite like that before - I didn't..." She began trembling. "My God, Sam! Those poor kids..."

"Davy doesn't know - and doesn't ever need to know," the ex-sweeper told her gently, putting a hopefully comforting hand on her shoulder. "Deb's the one that remembers what happened to her - and that's what has her tied up in knots. Davy was lucky - he was unconscious at the time. They both were." He shook his head. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you, but you needed to know the complete score before you started making decisions, you know?"

"I know." She put her hand over her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. "If it were up to me, I'd stump-hang them both."

"Stump-hang?" Sam shook his head. "What's that?"

"That was what Daddy always thought would be the perfect punishment for a man who stepped out of line like that. You nail their Johnson down to an old stump that's been soaked in gasoline, hand 'em a dull or rusty knife and then set the stump on fire and tell 'em that if they survive, they're free."

Part of Sam shuddered in absolute horror at the picture she was painting with her calm words - while the other part of his being jumped in exultation at hearing something truly appropriate to the crime of messing with people he cared for. "There are times, Miss Parker, when I wonder whether Raines was the more bloodthirsty, or whether it really was Mr. Parker."

She tipped her head and looked at him bleakly. "When it came to those two, it was a toss-up, Sam. Trust me." She sat up straighter. "Let's get going again - we don't want to keep Mr. Mayeda waiting too long, and I want to hit someplace for something liquid to wash my mouth out with before we get there."

"Yes, ma'am." He waited until she was buckled again before easing the car back onto the freeway.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, each to his or her own thoughts. With that little revelation, Sam had imparted pretty much everything he had learned from and about the two men accused of stealing Davy and Deb. Neither of them needed or desired to rehash the details of what they'd learned any further. When Sam exited the freeway for the city streets, he stopped at a convenience store near the exit for Miss Parker to run in and buy herself a small bottle of water. He then followed her in the car around to the back of the store and waited for her to rinse her mouth and spit the water back onto a small patch of weeds by the dumpster.

It was a short drive from there to the high-rise where the Yakuza had relocated their headquarters. Sam slipped the sedan into one of the visitor parking spaces on the street in front of the building and then walked a deferential two paces behind Miss Parker up the walk, through the glass doors, and up to the desk. "Miss Parker has an appointment with Mr. Mayeda," Sam told the pretty Japanese receptionist who then picked up the telephone and held a quick conversation with someone in Japanese.

"Please take the far elevator to the eighteenth floor. You will be met," she told the pair and indicated the bank of elevators on a far wall. "The one farthest down on the left," she specified and then returned to her previous task.

Sam let Miss Parker once more lead the way to the elevator, but he summoned the car and held the door for her until she had walked inside before following and then pushed the button for the eighteenth floor. The door slid silently closed, and the elevator rose quickly and smoothly.

When the doors slid open again, they were met immediately by very muscular Japanese bodyguards. Sam remembered the process and immediately put his hands out so that he could be frisked quickly and efficiently. Miss Parker did the same and was impressed by the impersonal and almost clinical nature of the body search. Once that was finished, one bodyguard led and the other trailed along behind as the American pair were escorted down a hallway to halt in front of double doors. The lead bodyguard knocked discreetly and then pushed open the doors to allow them to enter.

This was the first time Sam was actually in Mayeda's private office - and he was impressed. Mayeda was as artistically conscious as either Mr. Parker or Lyle had ever been in their heyday at the Centre, only Mayeda's collection was of exquisite sumi-e (brush and ink) masterpieces.

"Parker-sama. We meet at last," Mayeda smiled and rose to greet his guests. Miss Parker was dressed a little less formally than he had expected, but then, he had been given the impression that this trip had been rather impromptu.

"Mayeda-san." Miss Parker bowed with the grace of long practice and mastery of the nuances of Japanese etiquette. Sam bowed too, reminded by his boss' actions. "Thank you for babysitting our problem child for us until we could take him off your hands," she said in English, so Sam wouldn't feel left out.

"It was our pleasure to be of service to you," Mayeda smoothed back in accented English, gesturing to the pair of comfortable chairs near his desk and taking his own seat again. "Have you decided what you intend to happen to this piece of excrement?"

"As much as I have a process I'd like to visit on him," Miss Parker said calmly, and Sam shuddered again, "I suppose that I will eventually turn him over to law enforcement to have his day in court. It seems he has more to answer for than just what was done to my son and friend."

"It seems a shame to waste an opportunity to take back some of what you are owed by this man," Mayeda commented dryly. "We here have done as much as we dared as far as keeping him off-balance and terrorized. He has been allowed few opportunities without a hood that prevents him from seeing anything, except for two meals a day, his mouth has been sealed with tape, and he has been allowed only three bathroom respites per day." Mayeda grinned coldly. "When last I checked, he has very little bravado left to speak of."

"I have no problem with that," Miss Parker replied coldly. "But the fact is that this man most likely will pay with his life for some of the other things he's done recently. And while I'd have him in a box with air holes and a water bottle being shipped back to the Centre for some of the more interesting projects we used to be working on, I'd hate to deprive him of his just desserts." She and Mayeda both chuckled. "And I have a few ideas that would make even his last days in legal custody unpleasant. Those who abuse children are viewed very poorly in prison - and I can see to it that word of his reputation as an abuser of small boys is well-known before he even arrives."

Mayeda smiled widely. This woman knew how to exact her revenge with the subtlety of a Japanese daimyo [ruler]. Still, that left the obvious question. "We are prepared to oblige you in whatever you intend, Parker-sama," he assured her. "What do you intend, then?"

"I'd like a moment with him alone," she said after a long pause, during which Mayeda exchanged a glance of concern with Sam that was answered with a subtle shrug. "Then we'll take him off your hands and turn him in ourselves."

Mayeda stood. "Very well, then. If you will come this way..." He gestured to a door off to the side of his office, and grunted a curt order in Japanese to the bodyguard at the back of the room to fetch the gaijin prisoner to the interrogation room. He led Miss Parker and Sam to an observation room outside the interrogation room, separated by what must have been one-way glass.

"You wait here," Miss Parker said to Sam, putting her hand on his chest to stop him when he would have objected. "This is my moment."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam answered unhappily and turned to the glass.

"Are his hands and feet bound?" she asked Mayeda.

"Just hands."

"Good." She walked through the door into the interrogation room. "Sit him down here and then remove the hood and gag. I'll take it from there."

"Do you want one of my men..."

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "I can handle myself just fine."

"I'm sure you can," Mayeda commented softly to himself as the door between interrogation and observation room closed softly. He stepped over to the glass next to Sam to see just what it was this powerful and intimidating woman intended to do with her captive.

In short order, a disoriented and stumbling figure of a man was more or less dragged into the room and thrust into the straight wooden chair. The Yakuza soldier first reached below the hood and ripped away the piece of duct tape that had been sealing the man's mouth with a tearing sound that made the skin on the faces of all present ache in sympathy. Then, barely giving the man a chance to recover from that, the impenetrable dark hood was lifted from the head and the bodyguard left the man blinking in the light, struggling to figure out where he was and with whom he'd been left this time.

Miss Parker sat quietly, her face a study in serenity. In the moments she'd arranged herself at the table, she'd reached out one last time for the façade of a man she detested. Lyle's persona was coming to fit her far too well for her liking - his objectivity and imperviousness to the suffering around him were a shield she was finding all too enticing. For all that he'd proven not to be her twin, she was coming to understand him far too well of late - and understand how his attitude and approach had been his point of strength within an organization that tended eventually to twist and break those involved with it.

Now the grey eyes that looked upon the disheveled and blinking man who had formerly been quite high in the California Centre hierarchy held the soul of a great white shark circling a bleeding swimmer. One way or the other, Miss Parker knew deep in her soul that she was looking at a walking dead man, and that knowledge gave her considerable satisfaction. "Andrew Duncan." She said the name as if it were rotten meat being spit upon the table between them.

Duncan blinked over and over, trying to focus his over-stimulated eyes on the figure of the person across the table from him. The sudden movement from total darkness to bright daylight was making his eyes water, blurring his vision. But the voice - he'd only heard tales of that voice, and was both surprised and disconcerted to find them true. "Miss Parker," he responded in a voice that was gravelly and rough from disuse and a dry throat. He didn't bother to ask for a glass of water - he knew his chances of getting even the slightest mercy from this woman was less than the survival odds of a snowball in Hell. "Where's your pet goon? I'd have thought he'd be here..."

"He is," she replied, not moving at all. "Don't worry."

With his hands still bound behind his back, he could only continue to blink and hope the tears that blurred his vision would run down his face so that he could see again. "What do you want from me that these... people haven't already taken? Blood? My life?"

"Your life is forfeit already," Miss Parker told him coldly, and the hair rose on the back of Duncan's neck to hear his fate dictated in such a voice. "What's more, I won't have to lift a finger to make it happen. You've done enough in your life that there's a gurney where they'll stick a needle in your arm that has your name on it - your name and that of your friend, Cordoba."

"So what DO you want with me?" Duncan spat at her.

"I want to tell you what would happen to you if you ever DID manage to avoid that needle," she said in a voice that echoed in the stark room as if in a tomb. "My father had a very interesting idea of what constituted justice when it came to men like you. When I was younger, I used to think his idea barbaric - but now..." She leaned ever so slightly forward. "Have you ever heard of stump-hanging, Mr. Duncan?"

Mayeda turned to Sam. "What is she talking about?"

Sam was shuddering yet again. He'd hoped she'd just been joking. "Just listen. She'll explain."

"No," Duncan answered in caustic frustration. "I've never heard of stump-hanging."

She smiled coldly - smiled widely enough that her white teeth gleamed against the healthy red of her lips. "Then let me explain the process to you." And she did, in graphic detail made all the more frightening by the serene expression on her face and lack of emotion in her voice as she did.

Mayeda listened and nodded in approval. "I'll have to remember that one," he told Sam companionably. "That is worthy to be a Yakuza punishment technique. I shall suggest it to Ueda-sama the next time I speak to him - and suggest we call it a Parker and use it only against those who commit the most grievous injury against us."

Sam closed his eyes and shuddered yet again. The idea that such a thing would actually be carried out against another man was almost nauseating. He wondered briefly if this wasn't another subtle form of repayment to the Yakuza for their help in capturing this man for her. Still, there was a part of him that had cheered her on in her description, and knowing that had sickened him even more.

Duncan's face grew white, and he pressed himself back against his bound hands and the back of his wooden chair. "You wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't I?" She allowed her face to fall back into a study of calm and serenity. "So you can think about this as you go through your trial and then sit in prison afterwards: I will be watching you and your friend. My men will be keeping track of your progress through the judicial system - yours and your friend's. The MOMENT either of you sees open daylight again, my men will take you into custody - and you WILL be stump-hung within twenty-four hours of your release for what you did to my son and my friend's daughter. Mind you, this is not a threat. This is just fair notice of what awaits you if you ever are released from prison. Do we understand each other, Mr. Duncan?"

Duncan looked up at her with eyes that were finally clear enough to see her properly, and he shuddered at the complete lack of sympathy or mercy in that horrific grey countenance. The only other time he'd faced someone with such a complete lack of humanity, it had been Mr. Lyle - this woman's twin. He no longer doubted that such things ran in the family - it was just that in such a beautiful woman it was more terrifying yet. "Y...yeah," he stammered.

"Good," she said and rose. "I will have my men take you to LAPD headquarters now. You remember what I told you." She shook a finger at him. "You or Cordoba, within twenty-four hours of release, are mine. You'd better pray that you either get the needle or die of old age behind bars."

Duncan watched her walk gracefully from the room without another word and then swallowed hard. She was right - his life was forfeit. And God help him, he'd have to pray very hard that it was forfeit to the system, and not to her.









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