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Chapter or Story
Truth and Consequences - by MMB
Chapter 4: Shifting Sands
"Hi, Em, it's me."
"Jarod!" His sister's voice was joyous. "You're here already! Ethan wasn't sure what time you were getting in - or where."
"I was on a private jet that came straight into Monterrey," he told her, holding the receiver against his ear with his shoulder as he began the process of unpacking. "Mom's here, and from the sounds she's making in the kitchen, I think lunch is on its way. You game?"
"Sure! And how about we all have a welcome home dinner for you at my place around seven?"
"Sounds good to me." Jarod paused. "Mom's lost weight, Em. Is everything OK?"
"It will be, now that you're back safe and sound," Emily told him firmly. "Getting her to eat at all while you were gone was a major battle. Even Jay couldn't convince her to eat more than just a few bites at any one sitting. I worry about her, Jarod."
"Me too, Em. We may need to see about getting a grief councilor for her, to help her get over Dad's death."
"Nonsense. I'm sure a lot of what has bothered her will fall away now that you're back," she said, thoroughly convinced. "God, it will be good to have the whole gang around the dinner table again! You should have heard the cheering when we saw the news reports of the bombing of the Centre! Good riddance of bad rubbish!"
A vision of Broots, lying in a pool of his own blood, filled Jarod's mind. He decided to park on the edge of his bed for the rest of the call, and hang onto the phone manually before he dropped it. "Em, people I know and care about were hurt in that bombing - one is still in a coma."
"Oh..." Emily had the good sense to rein in her enthusiasm. "I didn't think about that... I'm sorry, Jarod."
"I know," he replied with a hint of bitterness. "Nobody over here, except maybe Ethan, ever bothers to think that I have people I care about over there - that I was THERE when it happened and had to stand and worry and wonder for hours and hours about who was dead, or who was..."
"Jarod," she finally heard the pain in his voice, "I am sorry - I shouldn't have been so flippant. And you're right, we don't think about the people over there that YOU care about - mostly because YOU didn't think of them at all for all this time. Or at least we thought you didn't."
"Well, you were wrong." He pulled his glasses off and tossed them on the taut bedspread, then ran his hand over his face. "Look, it's been a long day for me already, and I'm probably just tired. I'll see you in about a half hour for lunch here?"
"Sure thing." Emily's voice betrayed that she had heard something - something that she wasn't sure of. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" Jarod put his glasses back on. "Bring Sammy along too - I'm sure that kid has probably grown like a weed while I was gone."
"He's missed his Uncle Jarod," she smiled as she thought of her little boy, and the smile was audible. "Just wait until I tell me you're home..."
"Oh, let it be a surprise, Em," Jarod urged with a mischievous smirk. "Just don't tell him WHERE he's going to lunch." He found himself genuinely looking forward to seeing the littlest member of his family - and then his smile lost a little when Davy's face from the night before floated in his mind. Suddenly he had a rush of homesickness, one he deliberately set aside until later. "See you in a bit, then."
"You too," she agreed quickly. "God but it's good to have you back!" She said her farewells and disconnected.
"Jarod," Margaret's voice called from the kitchen, "I could use your help here for a moment..."
Jarod threw the phone down on the bed and buried his face in his hands.
This was his life, his family, reaching out to him to take him back into the fold - to ease him back into that comfortable niche he'd occupied for so long now. He'd worked hard to find them all and put this family together properly. It had been difficult to make a place where they all could be more or less together within their individual spaces - where they could be together and still live their own lives. A minor fortune, all of it courtesy of the Centre funds he'd squirreled away over the years, had been spent to purchase the several homes along this lane to house them all with enough space in between to preserve sanity. He'd spent years building a successful psychiatric practice, helping children cope with small and large disasters in their lives. He'd gotten a great deal of satisfaction from watching as, one by one, they grew strong enough not to need his help any longer.
Almost every person he'd ever dreamed of and fantasized being with for the greater part of his life - almost every possible facet of a life of freedom he'd always wanted for himself and them - was here.
And THIS was what he was going to turn his back on.
He'd promised.
Shit.
~~~~~~~~
Deb handed the bucket of popcorn to Kevin while she grabbed the drinks and straws. "Through there," she directed him with her nose, and Kevin followed at her side as she led him into the theatre. Somewhere, not too terribly far behind them, she knew the nameless and silent guardian Miss Parker had set over them both would be making his way into the theatre behind them - no doubt to sit fairly close so as to continue his vigil despite the dark and flickering projector light.
"There are no tables!" Kevin looked around at the stadium-style seating. "Where are we going to put this stuff?"
"We're going to hang onto them," Deb explained patiently, leading him down to approximately the middle of the theatre and then heading for center seats in that row.
"Is that a television screen?" He asked next, watching her use her rear to pull the seat down even as she seated herself and then carefully following suit.
"Projection screen," she shook her head as she handed him his drink. "Look up there..." she turned and pointed, and he followed her finger to the holes high in the back wall of the hall. "Up there are the film projectors."
Kevin looked at the barely visible lenses of the projectors that almost poked through the holes, then back at the screen, estimating the distance involved. "It's going to be terribly out of focus," he complained, looking over at her in confusion.
"Trust me," Deb smiled at him. "It will be fine. Oh, and when we get done with this stuff, we can just put it on the floor until we're ready to leave."
"Sydney doesn't like it when we leave things on the floor," Kevin remembered his new mentor's grumbling the several times Davy had walked off and left a glass and plate on the floor near where he'd been playing in the den.
Deb chuckled. "Grandpa's been after Davy again, eh?" She chuckled louder when Kevin nodded. "He's been trying to train that kid for years - hasn't worked yet..." She smiled at Kevin. "We're not going to leave our stuff - we'll pick it up when the movie's finished and throw it away on our way out. Here..." She stripped one straw of its protective paper and thrust it through the hole in the top on his drink.
Kevin looked from the straw into Deb's face, confounded. "What's THAT for?"
"It's called a straw," Debbie sighed. There was just so much Kevin didn't know or understand - sometimes it caught her very much by surprise. "You suck on it, and you get your drink - and there's less chance of spilling."
The lad carefully put his lips around the straw as Deb demonstrated and then sucked - and then his eyes widened as both a stream of ice-cold liquid squirted into his mouth and his nose was assailed by a tingling. "This is a carbonated drink?" he asked in a slightly louder and surprised voice.
"Hush," Debbie put her hand on his arm to calm him. "Yes, that's 7UP - haven't you ever had any before?" She smirked as he shook an amazed face. "Cool, huh?"
"Very cold - and tingly," he agreed readily, cautiously trying the drink again and deciding it was a pleasant change from water and the milk and tea Sydney had been giving him.
"No, Kevin," Deb sighed again and then explained. "COOL. Among us young folks, it means “interesting,” “fun,” “exciting,” “enjoyable.” Get it?"
Now it was Kevin's turn to sigh. There was just so MUCH to learn. "I'm working on it," he managed, then propped the popcorn on his lap and sampled it. "This is very good too."
"I can see I'm going to have to seriously introduce you to junk food," Deb chuckled at him, "because I know Grandpa won't do it for you."
"Junk food?"
"Shhhhh!" she put her finger to her lips as the house lights began to dim. "It's starting."
As the previews began to flash across the huge screen in front of him, Kevin sank back into the comfortable seat. "Cool!" he tried the expression, leaning toward Deb.
"Just wait," she whispered back. "This is just advertisement for stuff that's coming. Wait until we get to the main feature..."
Kevin sucked happily at his drink and popped a few more kernels into his mouth. The size and volume of the projection invaded two of his senses and gave him almost the same feeling as when he'd run more complicated SIMs. But THIS was enjoyable - pure entertainment, with no mentor steering his thoughts or perceptions. "Cool!" he muttered to himself again.
~~~~~~~~
"Unka Jarod!" the child squealed in delight and bolted from his mother's side to be swung up easily into an embrace.
"It's Sir Samuel," Jarod yelled in response, swinging the boy high in the air and making him squeal again in happiness. "My God but you've grown!"
"I'm gonna be five next week," the little boy reminded his favorite uncle with a very familiar-looking Russell smirk. "You're going to be at my party, aren't you?"
"You betcha!" Jarod hugged his nephew and then put him back down on his feet and reached out to Em while the little boy ran for the kitchen and the good smells wafting out. "Hey there," he greeted her with a warm and tight hug.
"Hey there yourself," she replied, her hug tight and warm and quick. "Must be nice to get back home, huh?"
Jarod was glad he was still hugging her, because she missed the quick and reflexive grimace. "It's good to see everybody again," he answered instead. "Mom has everything put together in the kitchen."
He would have begun leading her off toward the back of the house, but she tightened her arm around his waist and held him in place. "Jarod, I meant it when I said I was sorry about before..."
"I know, Em, I know," he hugged her again and then let go. "It's OK - it's just going to take me a bit to shift gears, you know?"
"Shift gears?"
"Yeah." Jarod breathed out in mild frustration. "From being with people who look at you folks with acceptance because you ARE my real family, to you folks who look back at them with nothing but resentment and suspicion every time they're mentioned."
Em stopped again, her face curling with mild outrage. "That's not fair, Jarod."
"Isn't it? Seems like a fairly reasonable assessment to me."
"We didn't lock you up for decades, or chase you from one end of the planet to the next..."
"No, but now Mom would like to be able to tell me who I can be on good terms with and who I can't - who I can go visit and who I can't, who I can defend and who I can't. Who I can love and who I can't." Jarod gave full voice to his frustration at last. "Tell me, Em, why is the way folks HERE want to control me and the way I want to lead my life any more acceptable?"
"Jarod!"
He threw up his hands and walked away. "I don't want to discuss this right now. Let's just have a nice lunch, OK?"
"No." Em grabbed his hand and jerked, pulling him about and leading him back out the front door, which she closed behind her. "Alright, Jarod - talk to me. What's going on here? What went on back there?"
Jarod glared into eyes that were just as dark, just as intelligent, as his own, and then looked down with a sigh of concession. "What has Mom told you?"
"Not much," Em replied, leaning back against the side of the house, "but I know that she's been really unhappy lately and complaining about how you're so willing to run off to help out these other people who locked you..." She stopped as she saw that continuing to describe the people he'd been with in Delaware in such negative terms was NOT going to sit well. "Well, how you're so willing to run off to be with these others when your real family needs you."
"What about Ethan? What has he told you?"
His sister shook her head. "Ethan's been pretty busy running your practice all by himself, Jarod. I don't think I've had more than one or two times to really talk to him since you left - and he wasn't telling me much at all. Besides, I've been busy trying to keep Mom from going off the deep end with Dad dead and you gone and still keeping my deadlines with my newspapers." She put a gentle hand on his arm. "What IS going on that I don't know about?"
"Then you didn't know that I found out that I have a son - that Parker and I have a son?"
Em's hand dropped from his arm, and her mouth dropped open in complete shock. "You... what?"
Jarod sighed and leaned against a stucco pillar. "Parker had adopted the boy, thinking that he was her little brother, after her... Mr. Parker... died. We found out that he was ours while we were digging for evidence against the Centre. Raines and Lyle and Mr. Parker... created... Davy from our genetic material. They had a whole collection of fertilized eggs left over too, on ice, just waiting to be..."
"Oh God! Jarod!" Emily was aghast.
"Do you understand now? I have a son - a very sweet eight-year-old boy that I love more than anything - and I..." How was he going to tell her about his new relationship with Miss Parker.
"I think I see it now." Em wasn't of Pretender stock for nothing - her mind had raced ahead of her brother's words. "You told me once that you'd always been soft on her." Jarod's dark eyes flitted up to hers warily, then he lowered them again and nodded. "I take it the feelings are reciprocated now?"
"I've asked her to marry me," Jarod told her softly. "We agreed - when I get back from..."
"From here," Em finished for him. She gazed at her brother, finally understanding him. "And Mom knows this?"
Jarod nodded, his shoulders slumped. "She's been rather bitter about it - brings it up every chance she gets and can't stop dumping on Parker." He looked up at his sister a little guiltily. "I guess I was working under the assumption that you'd probably do the same thing - and I dumped all my frustrations with Mom on you. I didn't mean to."
"Well," Em folded her arms across her chest, "I can't say I'm really thrilled at your decision, but it IS your life..." She noted his look of surprise when he glanced back up at her. "I'm not totally unsympathetic to those people, Jarod - especially if you have a son with one of them. I don't know that I wouldn't do the same thing you intend to do, if I were in your shoes."
Jarod sighed in relief. "Thanks, Em. I really wasn't looking forward to arguing with you about this all the time I'm here."
"It won't be me you'll have to argue with," Em told him knowingly, "it will be Mom and Jay. And you have to admit, they both have damned good reasons for their attitudes."
"I know," Jarod nodded. "Sydney was explaining Mom to me just the other day - I can see Jay's reasons too. It doesn't make it any easier..."
"And Sammy will be crushed when he finds out that you're moving away..." she added, hearing her son's cackle of laughter from inside the house. "I suppose we'd better get back in..."
"Yeah..." Jarod nodded again. "Hey Em - do me a favor, though?"
"What?"
"Let's just keep this a nice lunch, OK? Let's not ruin Sammy's mood quite yet."
Em shrugged. "If Mom takes it into her mind to..."
"Then let's both ask her to shut up." Jarod's dark eyes were pleading. "Let me have at least one day before the real fight begins. Please?"
Em nodded and then reached out to give her brother a gentle hug. "I'm still glad you're back here with us," she said softly as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and opened the door for her.
"And I'm still glad to see you too," he answered just as gently. "I missed you."
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker looked up as both Tyler and Sam entered her office after having Mei Chiang announce them. They weren't quite smirking, but their increased good mood had to be caused by something other than the take-out Chinese they'd had for lunch. Sam looked particularly pleased with himself, so she addressed herself to him. "You boys look inordinantly please with yourselves. Wanna share?"
Tyler laid a thick bound folder on her desk, and Sam a small tape recorder. "We got two transcripts," Sam smiled at her in deep satisfaction. "The Torzulo people looked, but our Pakor friends did a good job of putting 'em undercover." He punched the button on the tape player.
"Stu - good ta see ya," spoke a nasal baritone voice.
"Eddie! Thanks for coming on such short notice." That was Berringer - Miss Parker recognized those tones almost immediately. "This is Gil Flores, the guy I was telling you about..."
"Gil," Santini greeted the newcomer. "This is Tony Rumano, my assistant - and that there is Gino." There was a grunt that could have been either one of the named Torzulo people. "Now, maybe you'll tell me what this whole mess is about?"
"There's been a turn-over in administration at the Centre..." Flores began.
"Oh, yeah, I'd imagine - considering the building they just lost..." Santini chortled.
"And old man Parker's girl has taken over..."
Now Santini's chortle grew louder. "Now THERE'S a babe I wouldn't mind “doing business” with, eh boys?"
"Do you mind?" Flores snapped.
"Gil!" Berringer obviously tried to smooth the situation. "This isn't the time for tempers, know what I mean?"
"So the babe's running the show. What's the problem?" Santini spoke, all of his humor evaporated.
"She's going to be shutting down most of our elite business contacts and jobs, that's what," Flores complained in a whiny tone. "That means Stu can't do stuff for you, and I'm stuck doing legit stuff on my end - no more Yakuza contracts, nuthin."
"The business Stu and I do tends to be ME doing for HIM lately, not the other way around," Santini sounded thoroughly unimpressed. "And I couldn't give a rat's ass about your contracts with other players."
"Yeah, but I know that there are a lot of offices across the country that you'd probably like to get info from - build your empire. If we could get rid of Miss Parker and I took over, you'd have access to a coast-to-coast operation." Flores had the voice of a salesman now, pitching for all he was worth. "Just think of the increased revenues you'd get - the increased influence you'd have - if you would just help me remove a certain “babe” from her position in Delaware."
Miss Parker looked up at Sam, her eyebrows soaring high on her forehead in what Sam used to consider the “red flag zone.” The ex-sweeper knew that were Flores in the room with them, he'd be needing diapers for the next week from the ass-reaming - not to mention be occupying a cell at the local jail.
"So... What do you want me to do?" Santini was trying very hard to sound uninterested, but his voice just couldn't hide his excitement.
"I need... diversions. Problems. I want to take her out with a domino effect of internal business failures and other difficulties." Flores sounded as if he knew exactly what he was intending.
"What kind of problems and diversions and difficulties?" Santini asked pointedly. "You want me to kill a few operatives, crash a few parties, kidnap a few kiddies - what?"
"Stu, give him the list." There was the sound of paper rustling, and then things got quiet for a while.
"Some of this is government-related," Santini's voice sounded a little less than enthusiastic. "We mess with this, and we have the Feds on our case."
"Make it look like internal incompetence, and you won't have the Feds on your ass at all - SHE will," Berringer piped up finally. "And have a few of the contracts for some of the other syndicates fall apart, and she'd have her hands full just staying alive, much less running the Centre. Take for example that Yakuza shipment coming into the docks at Long Beach day after tomorrow - if the security the Centre is providing should fail, and the feds get their hands on ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
"Shit!" What had been enthusiastic now sounded downright doubtful. "Yakuza and mob stuff - no problem. Hell, you can sabotage your own contracts without needing my help. But you've got stuff here listed as research being done for Interpol, Mossad, the CIA - with all the necessary security measures to boot. What the hell kind of resources do you think I have? My family is in racketeering and drugs - not counter-intelligence and industrial sabotage..."
"Yeah, but just think at the business opportunities you'd open if you helped us here - we could get you INTO the information industry in a big way." Flores was really pushing with his sales voice.
"I dunno..." Santini's voice was extremely cautious. "I'll have to take this back to my bosses - let them decide. This is too big for me to OK on my own. There's simply too much we'd be risking just to put you in the driver's seat at the Centre."
"Eddie, we need to start moving on this as soon as possible - BEFORE she catches wind of what we're up to." Berringer added. "She's off-balance now - she just took over and had the shit bombed out of the headquarters. Wait too long, and she gets control of things, and we're all outta luck."
"I done told you, I'm gonna kick this one upstairs," Santini snapped. "I'll be in touch."
Sam clicked off the player. "There was a little more, none of it important."
Miss Parker reached out and carefully opened the bound report - that began with a series of surveillance photographs, complete with date and time stamps, of all the men attending. She took a deep breath and paged through the transcript wordlessly, pausing here and there when her brow would furl. Finally she looked up. "Opinions, gentlemen?"
"The feds would eat that stuff up," Tyler drawled easily. "And considering the folks involved, I'll bet there would be RICO cases galore set in motion the minute we turn that tape and pictures over."
"I have to call Mayeda first," Miss Parker reminded them. "I can play him the tape, so he knows that Flores intends to double-cross him anyway - that might smooth ruffled feathers so that we don't lose so much face by backing out of our agreements. That actually, he ends up losing very little by taking back deposits paid."
"Then you had best call Mayeda," Sam suggested somberly. "I don't know how long we're going to want to sit on this before we get the feds involved, frankly - a week may be pushing it, depending on what Santini's bosses' decision is. That first Yakuza shipment Flores mentioned is due in only a day or so from now."
She nodded reluctantly and pulled the tape player toward her and started the tape rewinding. "You getting a handle on the amount and kind of business running through the LA and Vegas offices yet?" she aimed at Tyler.
"Getting there," he replied, "but not ready to report yet."
"Well, don't take too long," she warned, then nodded. "Sam, keep a tail on both our mutineers - I want to know their every move, who they talk to, what they talk about, whether it's Centre-related or not. And keep working on a separate take down of the LA office - in case we decide we want to do a bit of cleaning ourselves before we turn things over to the government."
"Got it." "Yes, ma'am."
"That will be all for now," she dismissed them, then punched her intercom button. "Mei Chiang, I need you to get me Mr. Masaji Mayeda in Los Angeles on the line."
Then she settled back in her chair and stared at the report while she waited. Her next conversation was NOT going to be enjoyable or profitable at all.
~~~~~~~~
"What I don't understand is how the heroine could be so intelligent one minute, and then completely inept the next," Kevin objected. He followed Deb back into the brightly lit lobby of the theatre and chucking the empty popcorn bucket and drink cup into the nearest trash container. "I mean, it just isn't logical that she be so coordinated that she could make that one leap - and then trip over a little branch..."
"Those are called plot devices, Kev - part of the story was keeping her constantly on the very edge of disaster. If she could run without falling all over herself, she'd have escaped easily." Deb was grinning. Kevin had been totally swept into what had been, to her, a rather formula movie plot. "We wouldn't have had half the movie we did if that had happened."
"But I thought movies were supposed to mimic real life," he shook his head, "not take liberties with reason."
At that, Deb laughed out loud. "I'll have to take you to some of the REALLY stupid stuff that gets put out, if you think THIS was 'taking liberties with reason.'"
"You mean it can be even less reasonable?"
Deb latched herself to Kevin's arm and pressed herself close to him. "Then again, maybe we can just rent “Dumb and Dumber” and show you THAT way..."
"There's a movie entitled “Dumb and Dumber”?!" Kevin gaped at her.
She just shook her head and pulled him in the direction of her car, out of a corner of her eye seeing their guardian standing on the sidewalk outside the multiplex, watching over them still. She shook her head, not even wanting to think about WHY she and Kevin had their own personal bodyguard. Instead she hugged Kevin just a little closer.
The afternoon had been as much fun as she'd hoped. With a happy smile she decided it was just as well she wasn't going to Amherst immediately. She had a babe in the woods to educate - and it would take time and careful planning to accomplish that AND to thoroughly scandalize her lovable but old-fashioned grandfather in the process.
"C'mon. I want to stop at the hospital and check on Dad before we head home," she told him as she pondered just what kind of junk food she'd want to entice him with next, and then grinned evilly as the ideal candidate occurred to her: Ding-Dongs!
~~~~~~~~
"Miss Parker - this IS a surprise," Mayeda answered his phone with raised eyebrows and accented English. "Two conversations in one day is..."
"This isn't a social call," she interrupted him brusquely in Japanese. "Something has come up that warranted me calling you to bring you up to speed with not a lot of time to react."
"Excuse me?"
"Listen to this..." She brought the tape player up to the mouthpiece of her handset and pushed the play button so that Mayeda could hear what her people had taped earlier that day.
~"So... What do you want me to do?"
~"I need... diversions. Problems. I want to take her out with a domino effect of internal business failures and other difficulties."
~"What kind of problems and diversions and difficulties? You want me to kill a few operatives, crash a few parties, kidnap a few kiddies - what?"
~"Stu, give him the list."
~Paper rustled, and then things got quiet for a while.
~"Some of this is government-related. We mess with this, and we have the Feds on our case."
~"Make it look like internal incompetence, and you won't have the Feds on your ass at all - SHE will, And have a few of the contracts for some of the other syndicates fall apart, and she'd have her hands full just staying alive, much less running the Centre. Take for example that Yakuza shipment coming into the docks at Long Beach day after tomorrow - if the security the Centre is providing should fail, and the feds get their hands on ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
"Shit!" Mayeda spat angrily. "Those ronin want to..."
"Shhh! Listen!" Miss Parker stopped the tape and then ran it back so that the taped conversation could pick up just before it had been interrupted.
~"... ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
~"Shit! Yakuza and mob stuff - no problem. Hell, you can sabotage your own contracts without needing my help. But you've got stuff here listed as research being done for Interpol, Mossad, the CIA - with all the necessary security measures to boot. What the hell kind of resources do you think I have? My family is in racketeering and drugs - not counter-intelligence and industrial sabotage..."
~"Yeah, but just think at the business opportunities you'd open if you helped us here - we could get you INTO the information industry in a big way."
~"I dunno... I'll have to take this back to my bosses - let them decide. This is too big for me to OK on my own. There's simply too much we'd be risking just to put you in the driver's seat at the Centre."
~"Eddie, we need to start moving on this as soon as possible - BEFORE she catches wind of what we're up to. She's off-balance now - she just took over and had the shit bombed out of the headquarters. Wait too long, and she gets control of things, and we're all outta luck."
Miss Parker pressed the stop button on the tape player and put it back down on her desk. "Heard enough?"
"Quite." Mayeda's voice was very tight, very controlled - very angry. "I recognize Flores' voice - who were the others?"
"Stewart Berringer, another Centre supervisor, and Eduardo Santini, consiglieri to the Torzulo crime syndicate based out of Las Vegas." Miss Parker pronounced the names carefully.
"You have my full attention, Miss Parker. I assume there is a reason for you to share your internal power struggle..."
Miss Parker closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Mayeda might only be a lackey of the Tokyo Yakuza, but he was a dangerous man to cross. Now was not a time for her to lose her temper. "When we spoke earlier, I gave you my assurance that I would see to it that the Centre fulfilled all existing contracts with your organization. This information has just come to me - and I see now that I may not be able to keep my word."
Mayeda leaned back in his chair. She had balls of steel, this new Centre Chairman, to be so bluntly honest. "I see that. What are you suggesting?"
"First of all, how much money is involved in the inventory they're talking about?" She pulled a legal pad toward her and took a pencil from her cup.
"Two million US," he replied after running his fingers quickly over a calculator.
"How much money have you deposited towards contracts that are still outstanding?" she asked next, writing down the number he'd already given her.
"One moment, dozo..." He fired off a quick order to someone else in the room with him, and then she heard him shuffling papers on his end. "Almost..." he said and then gave a sigh. "Twenty-five million, three hundred fifty thousand US. Why?"
Miss Parker took a deep breath. Her offer was taking a big risk - both financially and reputation-wise. "Because I am proposing to refund all deposit monies that you have given either Lyle, Raines or Flores - with interest - on the suspicion that those contracts will be sabotaged. I'm also prepared to reimburse you the value of the inventory, in case you can't prevent it from being confiscated. If the Centre cannot honorably discharge its contracts to you, at least it can see to it you lose very little money." She closed her eyes so as to be able to focus her entire attention on the Japanese voice that would answer her proposal. "It is the only honorable thing to do."
Mayeda was silent for a long moment. "This is very short notice on some of these..." he said cautiously.
"I know, but it couldn't be helped," she countered. "I only got the information I just gave to you less than a half hour ago myself."
"What rate of interest?"
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It will be a reasonable one, Mayeda-san. But I would suggest that you make a concerted effort to make any information about your operation that you may have passed to Flores invalid as soon as possible. He is obviously trying to instigate a dispute between the Centre and the Yakuza, and he'll use any information he has on hand to do just that."
"Point well-taken, Miss Parker. The information we've provided this may over the years has been considerable, however. We won't be able to just “fold our tents and vanish into the night,” as the Arabs often said." He removed his glasses and tossed them on the desk in front of him. "Do you have any idea of a time frame?"
"No, and frankly, I'd expect the first problems to surface relatively soon, considering."
"I agree." Mayeda was quiet for a moment. "Looks like you have an internal war on your hands."
"I'm dealing with it, and will deal with it," she assured him in what she hoped was a tight and confident tone. "But I will be using the kind of assistance that your organization does NOT want to have sniffing up its tree. When I call them in, I cannot be responsible for any information about your organization discovered in the locales that will be raided - including the Centre's Los Angeles office. Furthermore, I don't know how long I will be able to hold off calling them in. That's another reason I'm talking to you now - so that you have a head's-up long enough beforehand that you can take corrective measures as much as possible."
Again Mayeda was quiet for a long moment, pondering the serious ramifications of the warning that he was having poured into his ear. She must be desperate, he decided, to be considering calling in law enforcement so quickly - desperate or cagey like a fox in letting the law enforcement personnel run all the risks rather than her own people. He had a suspicion it was the latter. "I'll need a definite window of time," he bartered.
"I can only give you two days for sure - any more than that will have to be considered good karma."
"Two days!" Mayeda glanced about his office wildly. Completely relocating and reorganizing in that short a time was not impossible, but certainly a daunting prospect.
"It's the best I can give you for certain." Miss Parker's voice told of her understandable inability to be flexible on that point.
"Tanaka-sama was very wrong to have done what he did..." Mayeda offered after a short time to appreciate both her situation and the one she was putting him in - no, not her, the situation in which the ball-less Flores had put him in order to get at HER.
"His argument was with Lyle and Raines, not me," she informed him coolly. "My argument, therefore, would be with him - were he still alive - and not you."
"Your offer is accepted," Mayeda said suddenly. He'd clear it with Tokyo somehow. "Deposit thirty million in the account that I will be sending you by fax, and we will consider ourselves repaid in full."
"Done." Miss Parker settled back into her chair with a heavy sigh. "Thank you."
"I wish you luck, Miss Parker," Mayeda replied, bowing in his chair to the telephone. "You are a worthy Chairman. Sayonara."
Miss Parker held the handset to her chest in utter relief. She had two days that she'd have to sit on her hands before calling in the FBI - and it had cost her thirty million dollars - but one potential troublemaker had been defused before the trouble even began. Feeling almost as if she'd climbed from the bottom of the sublevels all over again, she punched a few buttons and put the phone back to her ear.
"Tyler? Bring me information on all of Mr. Raines' hidden accounts. We're going to have to dig deep by the end of the day..."
~~~~~~~~
Jarod steered the rental car into the parking lot next to the professional building in which he'd nestled his offices and nosed the Saturn into the space that had his name painted on the curb. He'd had Em drop him at the rental agency after the tense lunch where he'd endured without comment the frustrated glares of his mother and the excited chatter of his nephew, feeling the need to get out of the house before he broke something valuable. And, he reminded himself, he'd promised Ethan that he'd show up at the office in the latter part of the afternoon.
His office was on the ground floor of the two story building, taking up the entire west side of the building on that level. He pushed his way through the front door and looked around. The waiting area had a play area set up over in the corner, where one mother kept watch as her children crawled through the maze that was the play house while another sat a short distance away, reading a magazine. Their backs were to him, so he couldn't be sure who was waiting and turned his attention to the receptionist's desk.
"Doctor Jarod!" Cindy smiled widely, the golden beads of her latest corn-rowed hairdo swinging and clattering softly together with every movement of her head. "I thought I heard Doctor Ethan say that you were back!"
"Where is he?" Jarod smiled back at her and gestured with his nose toward the offices.
Cindy looked down at the schedule, then back up at him with ebony eyes. "He's just finishing up with Ginger - he should be through in just a minute or two." The attractive girl reached below her desk and hauled up a wicker basket full to overflowing with mail. "This ought to keep you out of trouble until he's finished," she chuckled at his dismayed expression. "They like you."
"Too much, it seems," he replied, taking the basket and heading down the hallway towards his own office. He opened the door and stepped in, then looked around his own private sanctum. "Physician, analyze thyself," he mumbled to himself. Only now that he had returned from Delaware and reacquainting himself with Sydney and his former mentor's tastes could he begin to recognize the subtle ways in which he'd unconsciously emulated the older Centre psychiatrist. The walls of the office were warmly paneled in rich wood and one wall covered with a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with children's books, books on psychological disorders of children - and toys of all shapes, sizes, for all age levels and levels of complexity. Now he could see that he'd consistently been duplicating Sydney's office in the Sim Lab to a great extent.
He'd long since recognized Sydney's influence on his eventual choice of profession, but justified it away by focusing on the idea of undoing the damage others had done to his young clients as a kind of vicarious atoning for the Centre's acts upon him. He just hadn't realized before how thoroughly he had assimilated the very essence of what made Sydney something that wasn't a Centre monster - the man's warmth and presence, even through a very substantial façade of neutral professional objectivity, had become an essential part of him too. No wonder, when his own Dad had died, he'd felt moved to re-establish connections with the man who'd filled his father's shoes for so long.
The sound of a door opening, and his brother's gentle professional voice flowing smoothly into the hallway interrupted his musings, and he went to lean casually against the doorjamb as a little girl in long, dark braids and play clothes and her guardian were ushered out to make another appointment. Jarod frowned - the little face that he remembered so well had lost whatever little animation it had gained under his treatment. He glanced up, saw that Ethan had caught sight of him and was waiting, patiently, to see what would happen when Ginger noticed that her own doctor had returned.
"Don't I even get a smile hello?" Jarod asked quietly so as not to startle the child.
Ginger, her dark eyes wide and thoroughly shocked, whipped her head around at the sound of the familiar voice. Jarod watched as the emotions tumbled and crashed behind that dark and silent gaze, and then the little girl walked over to him and hugged his leg.
With a lump in his throat, he lifted the girl in his arms. "I told you that I'd be back," he reminded her gently, only to have the thin arms wrap themselves around his neck and the little head land lightly on his shoulder. Jarod gazed down into the face of the rather plain woman who had been appointed the child's latest foster parent. "I take it we're not talking anymore?"
"We're not doing a lot of things anymore," Mrs. Thatcher responded in her amazingly deep and gravelly voice. "Frankly, I'm getting ready to talk to the case worker about having her committed. I can't be watching her all the time, and I have better things to do than have to take care of her as if she were an invalid."
Jarod's brow folded as Ginger's arms around his neck tightened. "This isn't something you should be discussing in front of her, Mrs. Thatcher. She understands every word you say, even if she doesn't respond..."
"I was just telling her the same thing," Ethan spoke up finally, moving from his own casual lean against his office doorjamb. "She has enough abuse and abandonment issues already..."
"Look, I'll tell you what I told Doctor Ethan. I've got four other foster kids running me ragged between soccer practice and group therapy. She may be quiet, but she's perfectly capable of getting into trouble if I don't keep my eye on her every minute of every day..." Mrs. Thatcher's spiel sounded both rehearsed and melodramatic. "She needs more care than I can give her."
"Obviously," Jarod agreed dryly. "Make your next appointment with Doctor Ethan, Mrs. Thatcher. Hopefully by the time I see you next, I may have a solution for you that doesn't put Ginger in an institution."
Mrs. Thatcher's eyes widened. "You're not resuming her treatment, Doctor Jarod?"
"No." Jarod wrapped the little girl tightly in his arms. "What I'm thinking of requires that I not be the psychiatrist handling her treatment any longer. You go make the appointment - I'll have her with me in my office when you're ready for her." With that, Jarod carried Ginger back into his office and parked himself on the edge of his desk, shifting her weight to his lap.
"Look at me, now," he directed the girl gently, letting her weight shifting to his lap draw her head away from his shoulder and down onto his chest. "Ginger. Look at me." Dark eyes finally lifted to his, eyes that were swimming with tears. "You have to hang in there and do your best for Mrs. Thatcher for a little while longer. Promise me you'll be as good as gold for her for me."
Ginger gave a shuddering sigh and settled her head back against his chest. Jarod clasped her close. "It will be OK," he told her in a soft whisper as little hands tried to clutch at his shirt.
"Come on with you now," Mrs. Thatcher's impatient voice flooded the office suddenly, and Jarod felt the child on his lap flinch.
"It will be OK," he told her again as he lifted her up to give her a tight hug. "Be a good girl, and I'll see you soon."
Mrs. Thatcher had to practically drag the girl through the waiting room and out the door because Ginger kept her head turned and her dark eyes trained on Jarod as he stood next to the receptionist's desk.
"That damned bitch shouldn't be in charge of anybody's little girl," Cindy grumbled very softly into her appointment book, then turned a face that had hints of pink blush beneath the dark skin of her cheeks up to Jarod. "Well, she shouldn't!"
"Relax, I'm not disagreeing with you," Jarod reassured her just as quietly. "Listen, tell Ethan I'm in my office sorting through the mail when he's finished with this patient. Are there any more appointments for the day?"
Cindy looked down. "Nope - Claire is the last one."
"Good." Jarod headed back down the hallway to his sanctum and closed the door this time. Things on this front had deteriorated significantly in his absence. If this child were to be saved from the heartless foster care system - and her current and equally heartless foster mom - he'd have to put things in motion a lot sooner than he'd planned.
~~~~~~~~
Flores put the new bottle of tequila down on the little table of his hotel room next to the nearly empty one from the night before and sat down heavily. He was still tired from the night of drinking he'd indulged in the night before, and not at all buoyed by the events of the day. Stu had made it seem as if Santini would jump at the chance to help them take out Miss Parker's misguided administration of the Centre - but NO, he had to take the proposal to HIS boss and pass the buck for decision-making.
Still, he had a few aces up his sleeve that Stu had probably forgotten about or disregarded as trivial. He picked up the telephone and dialed.
"Bueno," [Hello?] answered the Hispanic voice on the other end.
"Hola [Hi] Miguel. It's Gil Flores." Flores grinned - Miguel was as dependable as clockwork. It was nearly four o'clock in Los Angeles - which meant he was at his favorite bar collecting protection money from his runners.
"Hey, Gil! What's shaking?" Rodriguez always enjoyed dealing with his old gang buddy, who never failed to make anything he did worthwhile.
"Got a little problem I was hoping maybe you could give me a hand with," Flores began with a hopeful tone.
There was a moment of silence on the other end, probably as Rodriguez drained another bottle of his favorite imported Mexican beer. "Whatcha need?"
"Look, I got this puta gringa [white bitch] of a boss, and I need a little protection for what's mine - know what I mean?"
"You mean you don't work for Doctor Death and the Man-eater anymore?" Rodriguez asked with absolute seriousness.
Flores shook his head. "No, man, they're history. And now I gotta deal with this bruja [witch] who wants to take away most of my action. Man, she's gotta go!"
"You want me," Rodriguez' voice was shocked, "to stand up to the Centre? What happened - this bruja not give you no respect?"
"I don't want you to stand up to the Centre, hombre - just keep an eye on the storefront for me for a little while, while the bruja has me by the cojones [balls] here on the wrong side of the world. AND I need you to get in touch with Ernie for me."
"Shit, hombre - Ernie had his ass caught up in a sting two weeks ago. He's doing time at County for a while." Rodriguez wasn't happy about his pet enforcer being behind bars at all. "Tell you what, I can watch the store for you - but that's about all I can do right now, hombre. La policía has been rough on us lately."
"Oye, cabrón [Listen, asshole] - you owe me."
"Tu madre [Screw you]. I've been doing small jobs for you for a while now, and I ain't seen nothing green to show for it. As far as I'm concerned, we're even. But..." and Rodriguez moderated his tone a bit, "we'll watch your place for you - providing you make it worth our while NOW..."
"Fine!" Flores threw his free hand up into the air. "Nine o'clock at the docks in Long Beach tomorrow night, there will be a ship from Singapore unloading. You get some strong muchachos [boys] and take custody of Lot 83. And watch out for any Japanese hanging about - don't let 'em see you with their dope."
"Dope?!" Rodriguez' ears perked up immediately. "What kind of dope and how much?"
"The kind of stuff that you cut and sell on the streets for six times what you pay for it, ése. [fella] Lot 83 is about four hundred kilos worth. Does THAT make your vigilance on my behalf worth your while?"
Rodriguez' respectful silence more than answered Flores' question. Instead: "You expectin' trouble, hombre?"
Flores shrugged. "That's up to the puta - and she isn't taking me into her confidences right now. Keep it low-key - I don't want anybody to know the place is being watched."
"You one crazy cabrón, ése. When you comin' home?"
"Soon as I can get free of the bruja, hombre," Flores grumbled darkly. "God-damned bruja..."
~~~~~~~~
The light knock on the office door as it opened brought Jarod's head up from the job of reading through those pieces of mail that were still timely enough or important enough to need immediate review. "So," the younger man moved easily into his brother's office and plunked himself on the couch next to the wall and sprawled lazily, "Mom said she was going to make lunch for you."
"She did," Jarod replied, setting the letter from an old university aside for later. "I called Em, and she and Sammy were over too."
"It's good to see you, bro," Ethan smiled at his older brother widely. "I know it won't last, but it will be good to have some company here in the shrink trenches again." He gazed across the desk evenly. "How's my sister and her boy doing?"
"Fine," Jarod nodded, stretching back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "I think she's gonna make it as Chairman."
"Did you talk to Em this noon?"
Jarod saw that his brother wasn't missing much - he hadn't really had a chance to relax back into his California life at all. "Yeah. She helped me keep Mom from bringing it up at lunch. I figure that best we discuss this at supper tonight, when ALL of us are there."
"You're a glutton for punishment," Ethan shook his head. "Mom and Jay will try to gang up on you, with Em probably tempted to throw in with them half the time. I'll have to sit back and keep my mouth shut because I know too much of what's going on." His eyes twinkled. "I know that you're good for Parker, Jarod. In the days since the Centre blew, she's been broadcasting “Happy” all over the map."
"Believe me, I'm happy with the way things worked out too," Jarod exclaimed fervently. "I mean, who wouldn't? Davy's a good kid any man would be proud to call son, and Parker..." His words dropped away, and Ethan smirked.
"Oh, you've got it BAD, big bro," he warned facetiously. "Every time you think of Parker, you get all gooey-eyed..."
"I'll show you gooey-eyed," Jarod crumpled some of his junk mail and tossed it across the desk at his brother on the couch.
"How's Sydney?"
Now his older brother simply nodded contentedly. "Healing, finally."
"What do you mean? I know Parker was worried, but maybe now you'll tell me. What happened?" Ethan minimized the emotions he'd felt - the fact was that there were several times when Parker's worry combined with mental images of Sydney had been almost overwhelming.
"He was shot - he was at the Centre stealing a vial of embryos from which they'd made Davy. A diversion went wrong," Jarod winced - but Ethan didn't know Angelo, "and shots were fired. One went through his upper gut. Eventually he had to have surgery to take care of the cause of peritonitis."
Ethan half-closed his eyes and nodded. "That would explain her worry," he agreed.
"What about you? Em said she hadn't been able to talk to you much..."
"I'm in fine shape, if you hadn't noticed..."
Jarod shook his head - Ethan's sense of humor took getting used to again. "I mean do you have time in your schedule tomorrow to bring me up to speed on our caseload - and discuss if you intend to keep this office open when I'm gone or want to join somebody else's?"
His younger brother stretched tiredly and sat up. "How about we have breakfast at your place early and get most of this talked out while we're both still VERY fresh."
"Sounds like a plan," Jarod agreed. "Right now I'm jet-lagged to the gills."
"Just think," Ethan reminded his brother pointedly with twinkling eyes, "you used to dash back and forth across the continent and hardly notice the time change."
"We all get older," Jarod retorted, wadding up and chucking a credit card application at his brother, hitting him in the cheek. "Some of us get wiser - but evidently not all of us..."
The paper wad sailed back in the opposite direction.
~~~~~~~~
Sonny Tanaka moved smoothly along in line with his fellow prisoners from the exercise yard back toward the cellblock. It was routine - something he'd been doing every day since he'd been sent here over nine years previous - to spend his hour slowly walking the perimeter of the exercise yard, staying safely away from the electrified fencing, and plotting his revenge. Nine years, now, he'd been waiting for Tommy to figure out a way to spring him from this hell-hole. Nine years, now, he'd been patient.
Tanaka rounded a corner and suddenly found himself pulled violently out of line and into a darkened corner - whether it was a guard or another prisoner, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that one moment he was walking back to a clean cell and supper afterwards, and in the next moment he was lying on the floor, gasping out his last breath from the killing stab wound that had pierced his heart as if it had had a bullseye tattooed on it.
It took the authorities ten minutes to figure out he was gone and then find him. By then, of course, all that was left of Sonny Tanaka was a body with a very surprised look on its dead face. Of a weapon and motive, there wasn't a single trace. The body was loaded unceremoniously onto a gurney and rolled down to the morgue for processing, and notice was sent out to the various police databases that Sonny Tanaka was no more.
Tokyo had the news within two hours.
~~~~~~~~
"What?"
"Good God - don't tell me you've started answering the phone like that again," Jarod groaned and stretched out on his couch, handset carefully tucked against a shoulder. "I could have sworn Sydney would have taught you better manners in the last few years..."
"My God but this brings back memories, although I appreciate it that you're not waiting until three in the morning before you call anymore," Miss Parker sighed, quickly wiping her hands on the dishtowel and moving to sit at her kitchen table. After the day she'd had, the sound of his voice in her ear was a balm. "How was your trip?"
"Smooth as silk - I think we skirted a storm over..."
"Jarod..." she stopped him tiredly.
"What?"
"Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "I suppose everybody there is thrilled to have you back?"
"Thrilled that I'm back, yes. Not so thrilled to find out I'm not staying, though Em isn't making a big fuss about it. I still have to face Jay and Nathan, Em's husband, tonight - and my mom." He doubted Nathan, who doted on Emily shamelessly, would raise much by way of commotion. Jay and Margaret, on the other hand...
"Well, just be glad your intrigues are straight-forward, and not the scheming and plotting I'm having to deal with here." She leaned her chin in her open hand. "Sam and Tyler are running themselves ragged trying to anticipate the moves those two renegade supervisors might pull and defuse them before they cause trouble."
"Did you get the security arranged for Sydney and the others?" Jarod asked quickly.
"They've all got 24/7 protection," she assured him.
"What about you?"
"What about me?" she countered. "I still have my Smith & Wesson here at the house, you know..."
"I know I'D feel better if you had a sweeper assigned to you," he urged her carefully, knowing better than to push too hard. "Humor me - please?"
"I'll think about it," she told him tiredly. "So... What are you up to tomorrow?"
"I'm not exactly sure yet - a lot will depend on whether Ethan or Jay wants this house." Jarod took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with the side of his hand. That conversation would have to somehow get mixed into what would probably be a tense time around the dinner table tonight. "So anyway, I might be contacting a realtor in the morning, or I might not. I'm also going to have to put out feelers for a new psychiatric partner to team up with Ethan. He's been burning the candle at both ends trying to take care of a double case load - and that just can't continue. I'll probably start seeing patients myself tomorrow, just to make things flow more smoothly in the interim."
"Sounds like a full day," she sighed into his ear. "Sydney told me to keep my days full and busy, so that the time would go quickly."
"He's right, you know," Jarod's voice smiled at her. "How's Davy doing tonight?"
"Syd had him straightened right out by the time I got home," she chuckled. "I guess Davy must have been quite the handful, because after Davy apologized to me profusely for being such a twerp, he told me in confidence that he made his Grandpa mad."
"Hoo-boy!" Jarod whooped softly. "I take it Sydney's never really gotten angry at him before?"
"Uh-unh. And I can remember how Syd scared ME the one and only time he ever got mad at ME." Even now, the memory of that quiet and lethally hard voice was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. "I'd have felt sorry for Davy except that I had been so angry at him myself this morning..."
Jarod was chuckling. "Yeah - I remember the few times he REALLY got mad with me too. Not something I would want to repeat, even now." He paused and rolled onto his side, the phone now caught by the pillow against his ear. "God, I miss you."
"I know, Jarod. I can't tell you how much I miss you!" she exclaimed in a voice that cracked slightly. "I know I'm being selfish, but PLEASE don't take too long out there."
"I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise," he repeated yet again, his eyes closed. "I tell you - I'm going to have a hard time getting to sleep tonight without you next to me."
"Me too," she told him, a tear dropping rebelliously onto a cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too, Missy," he replied, his free hand to the bridge of his nose to try to stem his own tears. "I'll call you tomorrow night about this time - how's that?"
"I'll be waiting to hear from you," she promised softly. "Take care of yourself."
"You too."
"Talk to you later, then."
"Yeah..."
"Jarod..."
"What?"
"Hang up."
"I love you."
"I love you too. Good night." Miss Parker was the one to finally disconnect - and the change in what had been an established pattern of behavior was not lost on her.
"Good night, my love," Jarod murmured into the dead handset, then jumped when it began to ring almost immediately. "What? Hello?"
"Jarod, Em's almost got dinner served over here," Margaret announced in a peevish tone. "I've been trying to call you for a while now. Who were you talking to for so long?"
He sighed. "I'll be there in just a few, Mom," and he hung up.
Chapter 4: Shifting Sands
"Hi, Em, it's me."
"Jarod!" His sister's voice was joyous. "You're here already! Ethan wasn't sure what time you were getting in - or where."
"I was on a private jet that came straight into Monterrey," he told her, holding the receiver against his ear with his shoulder as he began the process of unpacking. "Mom's here, and from the sounds she's making in the kitchen, I think lunch is on its way. You game?"
"Sure! And how about we all have a welcome home dinner for you at my place around seven?"
"Sounds good to me." Jarod paused. "Mom's lost weight, Em. Is everything OK?"
"It will be, now that you're back safe and sound," Emily told him firmly. "Getting her to eat at all while you were gone was a major battle. Even Jay couldn't convince her to eat more than just a few bites at any one sitting. I worry about her, Jarod."
"Me too, Em. We may need to see about getting a grief councilor for her, to help her get over Dad's death."
"Nonsense. I'm sure a lot of what has bothered her will fall away now that you're back," she said, thoroughly convinced. "God, it will be good to have the whole gang around the dinner table again! You should have heard the cheering when we saw the news reports of the bombing of the Centre! Good riddance of bad rubbish!"
A vision of Broots, lying in a pool of his own blood, filled Jarod's mind. He decided to park on the edge of his bed for the rest of the call, and hang onto the phone manually before he dropped it. "Em, people I know and care about were hurt in that bombing - one is still in a coma."
"Oh..." Emily had the good sense to rein in her enthusiasm. "I didn't think about that... I'm sorry, Jarod."
"I know," he replied with a hint of bitterness. "Nobody over here, except maybe Ethan, ever bothers to think that I have people I care about over there - that I was THERE when it happened and had to stand and worry and wonder for hours and hours about who was dead, or who was..."
"Jarod," she finally heard the pain in his voice, "I am sorry - I shouldn't have been so flippant. And you're right, we don't think about the people over there that YOU care about - mostly because YOU didn't think of them at all for all this time. Or at least we thought you didn't."
"Well, you were wrong." He pulled his glasses off and tossed them on the taut bedspread, then ran his hand over his face. "Look, it's been a long day for me already, and I'm probably just tired. I'll see you in about a half hour for lunch here?"
"Sure thing." Emily's voice betrayed that she had heard something - something that she wasn't sure of. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" Jarod put his glasses back on. "Bring Sammy along too - I'm sure that kid has probably grown like a weed while I was gone."
"He's missed his Uncle Jarod," she smiled as she thought of her little boy, and the smile was audible. "Just wait until I tell me you're home..."
"Oh, let it be a surprise, Em," Jarod urged with a mischievous smirk. "Just don't tell him WHERE he's going to lunch." He found himself genuinely looking forward to seeing the littlest member of his family - and then his smile lost a little when Davy's face from the night before floated in his mind. Suddenly he had a rush of homesickness, one he deliberately set aside until later. "See you in a bit, then."
"You too," she agreed quickly. "God but it's good to have you back!" She said her farewells and disconnected.
"Jarod," Margaret's voice called from the kitchen, "I could use your help here for a moment..."
Jarod threw the phone down on the bed and buried his face in his hands.
This was his life, his family, reaching out to him to take him back into the fold - to ease him back into that comfortable niche he'd occupied for so long now. He'd worked hard to find them all and put this family together properly. It had been difficult to make a place where they all could be more or less together within their individual spaces - where they could be together and still live their own lives. A minor fortune, all of it courtesy of the Centre funds he'd squirreled away over the years, had been spent to purchase the several homes along this lane to house them all with enough space in between to preserve sanity. He'd spent years building a successful psychiatric practice, helping children cope with small and large disasters in their lives. He'd gotten a great deal of satisfaction from watching as, one by one, they grew strong enough not to need his help any longer.
Almost every person he'd ever dreamed of and fantasized being with for the greater part of his life - almost every possible facet of a life of freedom he'd always wanted for himself and them - was here.
And THIS was what he was going to turn his back on.
He'd promised.
Shit.
~~~~~~~~
Deb handed the bucket of popcorn to Kevin while she grabbed the drinks and straws. "Through there," she directed him with her nose, and Kevin followed at her side as she led him into the theatre. Somewhere, not too terribly far behind them, she knew the nameless and silent guardian Miss Parker had set over them both would be making his way into the theatre behind them - no doubt to sit fairly close so as to continue his vigil despite the dark and flickering projector light.
"There are no tables!" Kevin looked around at the stadium-style seating. "Where are we going to put this stuff?"
"We're going to hang onto them," Deb explained patiently, leading him down to approximately the middle of the theatre and then heading for center seats in that row.
"Is that a television screen?" He asked next, watching her use her rear to pull the seat down even as she seated herself and then carefully following suit.
"Projection screen," she shook her head as she handed him his drink. "Look up there..." she turned and pointed, and he followed her finger to the holes high in the back wall of the hall. "Up there are the film projectors."
Kevin looked at the barely visible lenses of the projectors that almost poked through the holes, then back at the screen, estimating the distance involved. "It's going to be terribly out of focus," he complained, looking over at her in confusion.
"Trust me," Deb smiled at him. "It will be fine. Oh, and when we get done with this stuff, we can just put it on the floor until we're ready to leave."
"Sydney doesn't like it when we leave things on the floor," Kevin remembered his new mentor's grumbling the several times Davy had walked off and left a glass and plate on the floor near where he'd been playing in the den.
Deb chuckled. "Grandpa's been after Davy again, eh?" She chuckled louder when Kevin nodded. "He's been trying to train that kid for years - hasn't worked yet..." She smiled at Kevin. "We're not going to leave our stuff - we'll pick it up when the movie's finished and throw it away on our way out. Here..." She stripped one straw of its protective paper and thrust it through the hole in the top on his drink.
Kevin looked from the straw into Deb's face, confounded. "What's THAT for?"
"It's called a straw," Debbie sighed. There was just so much Kevin didn't know or understand - sometimes it caught her very much by surprise. "You suck on it, and you get your drink - and there's less chance of spilling."
The lad carefully put his lips around the straw as Deb demonstrated and then sucked - and then his eyes widened as both a stream of ice-cold liquid squirted into his mouth and his nose was assailed by a tingling. "This is a carbonated drink?" he asked in a slightly louder and surprised voice.
"Hush," Debbie put her hand on his arm to calm him. "Yes, that's 7UP - haven't you ever had any before?" She smirked as he shook an amazed face. "Cool, huh?"
"Very cold - and tingly," he agreed readily, cautiously trying the drink again and deciding it was a pleasant change from water and the milk and tea Sydney had been giving him.
"No, Kevin," Deb sighed again and then explained. "COOL. Among us young folks, it means “interesting,” “fun,” “exciting,” “enjoyable.” Get it?"
Now it was Kevin's turn to sigh. There was just so MUCH to learn. "I'm working on it," he managed, then propped the popcorn on his lap and sampled it. "This is very good too."
"I can see I'm going to have to seriously introduce you to junk food," Deb chuckled at him, "because I know Grandpa won't do it for you."
"Junk food?"
"Shhhhh!" she put her finger to her lips as the house lights began to dim. "It's starting."
As the previews began to flash across the huge screen in front of him, Kevin sank back into the comfortable seat. "Cool!" he tried the expression, leaning toward Deb.
"Just wait," she whispered back. "This is just advertisement for stuff that's coming. Wait until we get to the main feature..."
Kevin sucked happily at his drink and popped a few more kernels into his mouth. The size and volume of the projection invaded two of his senses and gave him almost the same feeling as when he'd run more complicated SIMs. But THIS was enjoyable - pure entertainment, with no mentor steering his thoughts or perceptions. "Cool!" he muttered to himself again.
~~~~~~~~
"Unka Jarod!" the child squealed in delight and bolted from his mother's side to be swung up easily into an embrace.
"It's Sir Samuel," Jarod yelled in response, swinging the boy high in the air and making him squeal again in happiness. "My God but you've grown!"
"I'm gonna be five next week," the little boy reminded his favorite uncle with a very familiar-looking Russell smirk. "You're going to be at my party, aren't you?"
"You betcha!" Jarod hugged his nephew and then put him back down on his feet and reached out to Em while the little boy ran for the kitchen and the good smells wafting out. "Hey there," he greeted her with a warm and tight hug.
"Hey there yourself," she replied, her hug tight and warm and quick. "Must be nice to get back home, huh?"
Jarod was glad he was still hugging her, because she missed the quick and reflexive grimace. "It's good to see everybody again," he answered instead. "Mom has everything put together in the kitchen."
He would have begun leading her off toward the back of the house, but she tightened her arm around his waist and held him in place. "Jarod, I meant it when I said I was sorry about before..."
"I know, Em, I know," he hugged her again and then let go. "It's OK - it's just going to take me a bit to shift gears, you know?"
"Shift gears?"
"Yeah." Jarod breathed out in mild frustration. "From being with people who look at you folks with acceptance because you ARE my real family, to you folks who look back at them with nothing but resentment and suspicion every time they're mentioned."
Em stopped again, her face curling with mild outrage. "That's not fair, Jarod."
"Isn't it? Seems like a fairly reasonable assessment to me."
"We didn't lock you up for decades, or chase you from one end of the planet to the next..."
"No, but now Mom would like to be able to tell me who I can be on good terms with and who I can't - who I can go visit and who I can't, who I can defend and who I can't. Who I can love and who I can't." Jarod gave full voice to his frustration at last. "Tell me, Em, why is the way folks HERE want to control me and the way I want to lead my life any more acceptable?"
"Jarod!"
He threw up his hands and walked away. "I don't want to discuss this right now. Let's just have a nice lunch, OK?"
"No." Em grabbed his hand and jerked, pulling him about and leading him back out the front door, which she closed behind her. "Alright, Jarod - talk to me. What's going on here? What went on back there?"
Jarod glared into eyes that were just as dark, just as intelligent, as his own, and then looked down with a sigh of concession. "What has Mom told you?"
"Not much," Em replied, leaning back against the side of the house, "but I know that she's been really unhappy lately and complaining about how you're so willing to run off to help out these other people who locked you..." She stopped as she saw that continuing to describe the people he'd been with in Delaware in such negative terms was NOT going to sit well. "Well, how you're so willing to run off to be with these others when your real family needs you."
"What about Ethan? What has he told you?"
His sister shook her head. "Ethan's been pretty busy running your practice all by himself, Jarod. I don't think I've had more than one or two times to really talk to him since you left - and he wasn't telling me much at all. Besides, I've been busy trying to keep Mom from going off the deep end with Dad dead and you gone and still keeping my deadlines with my newspapers." She put a gentle hand on his arm. "What IS going on that I don't know about?"
"Then you didn't know that I found out that I have a son - that Parker and I have a son?"
Em's hand dropped from his arm, and her mouth dropped open in complete shock. "You... what?"
Jarod sighed and leaned against a stucco pillar. "Parker had adopted the boy, thinking that he was her little brother, after her... Mr. Parker... died. We found out that he was ours while we were digging for evidence against the Centre. Raines and Lyle and Mr. Parker... created... Davy from our genetic material. They had a whole collection of fertilized eggs left over too, on ice, just waiting to be..."
"Oh God! Jarod!" Emily was aghast.
"Do you understand now? I have a son - a very sweet eight-year-old boy that I love more than anything - and I..." How was he going to tell her about his new relationship with Miss Parker.
"I think I see it now." Em wasn't of Pretender stock for nothing - her mind had raced ahead of her brother's words. "You told me once that you'd always been soft on her." Jarod's dark eyes flitted up to hers warily, then he lowered them again and nodded. "I take it the feelings are reciprocated now?"
"I've asked her to marry me," Jarod told her softly. "We agreed - when I get back from..."
"From here," Em finished for him. She gazed at her brother, finally understanding him. "And Mom knows this?"
Jarod nodded, his shoulders slumped. "She's been rather bitter about it - brings it up every chance she gets and can't stop dumping on Parker." He looked up at his sister a little guiltily. "I guess I was working under the assumption that you'd probably do the same thing - and I dumped all my frustrations with Mom on you. I didn't mean to."
"Well," Em folded her arms across her chest, "I can't say I'm really thrilled at your decision, but it IS your life..." She noted his look of surprise when he glanced back up at her. "I'm not totally unsympathetic to those people, Jarod - especially if you have a son with one of them. I don't know that I wouldn't do the same thing you intend to do, if I were in your shoes."
Jarod sighed in relief. "Thanks, Em. I really wasn't looking forward to arguing with you about this all the time I'm here."
"It won't be me you'll have to argue with," Em told him knowingly, "it will be Mom and Jay. And you have to admit, they both have damned good reasons for their attitudes."
"I know," Jarod nodded. "Sydney was explaining Mom to me just the other day - I can see Jay's reasons too. It doesn't make it any easier..."
"And Sammy will be crushed when he finds out that you're moving away..." she added, hearing her son's cackle of laughter from inside the house. "I suppose we'd better get back in..."
"Yeah..." Jarod nodded again. "Hey Em - do me a favor, though?"
"What?"
"Let's just keep this a nice lunch, OK? Let's not ruin Sammy's mood quite yet."
Em shrugged. "If Mom takes it into her mind to..."
"Then let's both ask her to shut up." Jarod's dark eyes were pleading. "Let me have at least one day before the real fight begins. Please?"
Em nodded and then reached out to give her brother a gentle hug. "I'm still glad you're back here with us," she said softly as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and opened the door for her.
"And I'm still glad to see you too," he answered just as gently. "I missed you."
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker looked up as both Tyler and Sam entered her office after having Mei Chiang announce them. They weren't quite smirking, but their increased good mood had to be caused by something other than the take-out Chinese they'd had for lunch. Sam looked particularly pleased with himself, so she addressed herself to him. "You boys look inordinantly please with yourselves. Wanna share?"
Tyler laid a thick bound folder on her desk, and Sam a small tape recorder. "We got two transcripts," Sam smiled at her in deep satisfaction. "The Torzulo people looked, but our Pakor friends did a good job of putting 'em undercover." He punched the button on the tape player.
"Stu - good ta see ya," spoke a nasal baritone voice.
"Eddie! Thanks for coming on such short notice." That was Berringer - Miss Parker recognized those tones almost immediately. "This is Gil Flores, the guy I was telling you about..."
"Gil," Santini greeted the newcomer. "This is Tony Rumano, my assistant - and that there is Gino." There was a grunt that could have been either one of the named Torzulo people. "Now, maybe you'll tell me what this whole mess is about?"
"There's been a turn-over in administration at the Centre..." Flores began.
"Oh, yeah, I'd imagine - considering the building they just lost..." Santini chortled.
"And old man Parker's girl has taken over..."
Now Santini's chortle grew louder. "Now THERE'S a babe I wouldn't mind “doing business” with, eh boys?"
"Do you mind?" Flores snapped.
"Gil!" Berringer obviously tried to smooth the situation. "This isn't the time for tempers, know what I mean?"
"So the babe's running the show. What's the problem?" Santini spoke, all of his humor evaporated.
"She's going to be shutting down most of our elite business contacts and jobs, that's what," Flores complained in a whiny tone. "That means Stu can't do stuff for you, and I'm stuck doing legit stuff on my end - no more Yakuza contracts, nuthin."
"The business Stu and I do tends to be ME doing for HIM lately, not the other way around," Santini sounded thoroughly unimpressed. "And I couldn't give a rat's ass about your contracts with other players."
"Yeah, but I know that there are a lot of offices across the country that you'd probably like to get info from - build your empire. If we could get rid of Miss Parker and I took over, you'd have access to a coast-to-coast operation." Flores had the voice of a salesman now, pitching for all he was worth. "Just think of the increased revenues you'd get - the increased influence you'd have - if you would just help me remove a certain “babe” from her position in Delaware."
Miss Parker looked up at Sam, her eyebrows soaring high on her forehead in what Sam used to consider the “red flag zone.” The ex-sweeper knew that were Flores in the room with them, he'd be needing diapers for the next week from the ass-reaming - not to mention be occupying a cell at the local jail.
"So... What do you want me to do?" Santini was trying very hard to sound uninterested, but his voice just couldn't hide his excitement.
"I need... diversions. Problems. I want to take her out with a domino effect of internal business failures and other difficulties." Flores sounded as if he knew exactly what he was intending.
"What kind of problems and diversions and difficulties?" Santini asked pointedly. "You want me to kill a few operatives, crash a few parties, kidnap a few kiddies - what?"
"Stu, give him the list." There was the sound of paper rustling, and then things got quiet for a while.
"Some of this is government-related," Santini's voice sounded a little less than enthusiastic. "We mess with this, and we have the Feds on our case."
"Make it look like internal incompetence, and you won't have the Feds on your ass at all - SHE will," Berringer piped up finally. "And have a few of the contracts for some of the other syndicates fall apart, and she'd have her hands full just staying alive, much less running the Centre. Take for example that Yakuza shipment coming into the docks at Long Beach day after tomorrow - if the security the Centre is providing should fail, and the feds get their hands on ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
"Shit!" What had been enthusiastic now sounded downright doubtful. "Yakuza and mob stuff - no problem. Hell, you can sabotage your own contracts without needing my help. But you've got stuff here listed as research being done for Interpol, Mossad, the CIA - with all the necessary security measures to boot. What the hell kind of resources do you think I have? My family is in racketeering and drugs - not counter-intelligence and industrial sabotage..."
"Yeah, but just think at the business opportunities you'd open if you helped us here - we could get you INTO the information industry in a big way." Flores was really pushing with his sales voice.
"I dunno..." Santini's voice was extremely cautious. "I'll have to take this back to my bosses - let them decide. This is too big for me to OK on my own. There's simply too much we'd be risking just to put you in the driver's seat at the Centre."
"Eddie, we need to start moving on this as soon as possible - BEFORE she catches wind of what we're up to." Berringer added. "She's off-balance now - she just took over and had the shit bombed out of the headquarters. Wait too long, and she gets control of things, and we're all outta luck."
"I done told you, I'm gonna kick this one upstairs," Santini snapped. "I'll be in touch."
Sam clicked off the player. "There was a little more, none of it important."
Miss Parker reached out and carefully opened the bound report - that began with a series of surveillance photographs, complete with date and time stamps, of all the men attending. She took a deep breath and paged through the transcript wordlessly, pausing here and there when her brow would furl. Finally she looked up. "Opinions, gentlemen?"
"The feds would eat that stuff up," Tyler drawled easily. "And considering the folks involved, I'll bet there would be RICO cases galore set in motion the minute we turn that tape and pictures over."
"I have to call Mayeda first," Miss Parker reminded them. "I can play him the tape, so he knows that Flores intends to double-cross him anyway - that might smooth ruffled feathers so that we don't lose so much face by backing out of our agreements. That actually, he ends up losing very little by taking back deposits paid."
"Then you had best call Mayeda," Sam suggested somberly. "I don't know how long we're going to want to sit on this before we get the feds involved, frankly - a week may be pushing it, depending on what Santini's bosses' decision is. That first Yakuza shipment Flores mentioned is due in only a day or so from now."
She nodded reluctantly and pulled the tape player toward her and started the tape rewinding. "You getting a handle on the amount and kind of business running through the LA and Vegas offices yet?" she aimed at Tyler.
"Getting there," he replied, "but not ready to report yet."
"Well, don't take too long," she warned, then nodded. "Sam, keep a tail on both our mutineers - I want to know their every move, who they talk to, what they talk about, whether it's Centre-related or not. And keep working on a separate take down of the LA office - in case we decide we want to do a bit of cleaning ourselves before we turn things over to the government."
"Got it." "Yes, ma'am."
"That will be all for now," she dismissed them, then punched her intercom button. "Mei Chiang, I need you to get me Mr. Masaji Mayeda in Los Angeles on the line."
Then she settled back in her chair and stared at the report while she waited. Her next conversation was NOT going to be enjoyable or profitable at all.
~~~~~~~~
"What I don't understand is how the heroine could be so intelligent one minute, and then completely inept the next," Kevin objected. He followed Deb back into the brightly lit lobby of the theatre and chucking the empty popcorn bucket and drink cup into the nearest trash container. "I mean, it just isn't logical that she be so coordinated that she could make that one leap - and then trip over a little branch..."
"Those are called plot devices, Kev - part of the story was keeping her constantly on the very edge of disaster. If she could run without falling all over herself, she'd have escaped easily." Deb was grinning. Kevin had been totally swept into what had been, to her, a rather formula movie plot. "We wouldn't have had half the movie we did if that had happened."
"But I thought movies were supposed to mimic real life," he shook his head, "not take liberties with reason."
At that, Deb laughed out loud. "I'll have to take you to some of the REALLY stupid stuff that gets put out, if you think THIS was 'taking liberties with reason.'"
"You mean it can be even less reasonable?"
Deb latched herself to Kevin's arm and pressed herself close to him. "Then again, maybe we can just rent “Dumb and Dumber” and show you THAT way..."
"There's a movie entitled “Dumb and Dumber”?!" Kevin gaped at her.
She just shook her head and pulled him in the direction of her car, out of a corner of her eye seeing their guardian standing on the sidewalk outside the multiplex, watching over them still. She shook her head, not even wanting to think about WHY she and Kevin had their own personal bodyguard. Instead she hugged Kevin just a little closer.
The afternoon had been as much fun as she'd hoped. With a happy smile she decided it was just as well she wasn't going to Amherst immediately. She had a babe in the woods to educate - and it would take time and careful planning to accomplish that AND to thoroughly scandalize her lovable but old-fashioned grandfather in the process.
"C'mon. I want to stop at the hospital and check on Dad before we head home," she told him as she pondered just what kind of junk food she'd want to entice him with next, and then grinned evilly as the ideal candidate occurred to her: Ding-Dongs!
~~~~~~~~
"Miss Parker - this IS a surprise," Mayeda answered his phone with raised eyebrows and accented English. "Two conversations in one day is..."
"This isn't a social call," she interrupted him brusquely in Japanese. "Something has come up that warranted me calling you to bring you up to speed with not a lot of time to react."
"Excuse me?"
"Listen to this..." She brought the tape player up to the mouthpiece of her handset and pushed the play button so that Mayeda could hear what her people had taped earlier that day.
~"So... What do you want me to do?"
~"I need... diversions. Problems. I want to take her out with a domino effect of internal business failures and other difficulties."
~"What kind of problems and diversions and difficulties? You want me to kill a few operatives, crash a few parties, kidnap a few kiddies - what?"
~"Stu, give him the list."
~Paper rustled, and then things got quiet for a while.
~"Some of this is government-related. We mess with this, and we have the Feds on our case."
~"Make it look like internal incompetence, and you won't have the Feds on your ass at all - SHE will, And have a few of the contracts for some of the other syndicates fall apart, and she'd have her hands full just staying alive, much less running the Centre. Take for example that Yakuza shipment coming into the docks at Long Beach day after tomorrow - if the security the Centre is providing should fail, and the feds get their hands on ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
"Shit!" Mayeda spat angrily. "Those ronin want to..."
"Shhh! Listen!" Miss Parker stopped the tape and then ran it back so that the taped conversation could pick up just before it had been interrupted.
~"... ALL that inventory of pirated software..."
~"Shit! Yakuza and mob stuff - no problem. Hell, you can sabotage your own contracts without needing my help. But you've got stuff here listed as research being done for Interpol, Mossad, the CIA - with all the necessary security measures to boot. What the hell kind of resources do you think I have? My family is in racketeering and drugs - not counter-intelligence and industrial sabotage..."
~"Yeah, but just think at the business opportunities you'd open if you helped us here - we could get you INTO the information industry in a big way."
~"I dunno... I'll have to take this back to my bosses - let them decide. This is too big for me to OK on my own. There's simply too much we'd be risking just to put you in the driver's seat at the Centre."
~"Eddie, we need to start moving on this as soon as possible - BEFORE she catches wind of what we're up to. She's off-balance now - she just took over and had the shit bombed out of the headquarters. Wait too long, and she gets control of things, and we're all outta luck."
Miss Parker pressed the stop button on the tape player and put it back down on her desk. "Heard enough?"
"Quite." Mayeda's voice was very tight, very controlled - very angry. "I recognize Flores' voice - who were the others?"
"Stewart Berringer, another Centre supervisor, and Eduardo Santini, consiglieri to the Torzulo crime syndicate based out of Las Vegas." Miss Parker pronounced the names carefully.
"You have my full attention, Miss Parker. I assume there is a reason for you to share your internal power struggle..."
Miss Parker closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Mayeda might only be a lackey of the Tokyo Yakuza, but he was a dangerous man to cross. Now was not a time for her to lose her temper. "When we spoke earlier, I gave you my assurance that I would see to it that the Centre fulfilled all existing contracts with your organization. This information has just come to me - and I see now that I may not be able to keep my word."
Mayeda leaned back in his chair. She had balls of steel, this new Centre Chairman, to be so bluntly honest. "I see that. What are you suggesting?"
"First of all, how much money is involved in the inventory they're talking about?" She pulled a legal pad toward her and took a pencil from her cup.
"Two million US," he replied after running his fingers quickly over a calculator.
"How much money have you deposited towards contracts that are still outstanding?" she asked next, writing down the number he'd already given her.
"One moment, dozo..." He fired off a quick order to someone else in the room with him, and then she heard him shuffling papers on his end. "Almost..." he said and then gave a sigh. "Twenty-five million, three hundred fifty thousand US. Why?"
Miss Parker took a deep breath. Her offer was taking a big risk - both financially and reputation-wise. "Because I am proposing to refund all deposit monies that you have given either Lyle, Raines or Flores - with interest - on the suspicion that those contracts will be sabotaged. I'm also prepared to reimburse you the value of the inventory, in case you can't prevent it from being confiscated. If the Centre cannot honorably discharge its contracts to you, at least it can see to it you lose very little money." She closed her eyes so as to be able to focus her entire attention on the Japanese voice that would answer her proposal. "It is the only honorable thing to do."
Mayeda was silent for a long moment. "This is very short notice on some of these..." he said cautiously.
"I know, but it couldn't be helped," she countered. "I only got the information I just gave to you less than a half hour ago myself."
"What rate of interest?"
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It will be a reasonable one, Mayeda-san. But I would suggest that you make a concerted effort to make any information about your operation that you may have passed to Flores invalid as soon as possible. He is obviously trying to instigate a dispute between the Centre and the Yakuza, and he'll use any information he has on hand to do just that."
"Point well-taken, Miss Parker. The information we've provided this may over the years has been considerable, however. We won't be able to just “fold our tents and vanish into the night,” as the Arabs often said." He removed his glasses and tossed them on the desk in front of him. "Do you have any idea of a time frame?"
"No, and frankly, I'd expect the first problems to surface relatively soon, considering."
"I agree." Mayeda was quiet for a moment. "Looks like you have an internal war on your hands."
"I'm dealing with it, and will deal with it," she assured him in what she hoped was a tight and confident tone. "But I will be using the kind of assistance that your organization does NOT want to have sniffing up its tree. When I call them in, I cannot be responsible for any information about your organization discovered in the locales that will be raided - including the Centre's Los Angeles office. Furthermore, I don't know how long I will be able to hold off calling them in. That's another reason I'm talking to you now - so that you have a head's-up long enough beforehand that you can take corrective measures as much as possible."
Again Mayeda was quiet for a long moment, pondering the serious ramifications of the warning that he was having poured into his ear. She must be desperate, he decided, to be considering calling in law enforcement so quickly - desperate or cagey like a fox in letting the law enforcement personnel run all the risks rather than her own people. He had a suspicion it was the latter. "I'll need a definite window of time," he bartered.
"I can only give you two days for sure - any more than that will have to be considered good karma."
"Two days!" Mayeda glanced about his office wildly. Completely relocating and reorganizing in that short a time was not impossible, but certainly a daunting prospect.
"It's the best I can give you for certain." Miss Parker's voice told of her understandable inability to be flexible on that point.
"Tanaka-sama was very wrong to have done what he did..." Mayeda offered after a short time to appreciate both her situation and the one she was putting him in - no, not her, the situation in which the ball-less Flores had put him in order to get at HER.
"His argument was with Lyle and Raines, not me," she informed him coolly. "My argument, therefore, would be with him - were he still alive - and not you."
"Your offer is accepted," Mayeda said suddenly. He'd clear it with Tokyo somehow. "Deposit thirty million in the account that I will be sending you by fax, and we will consider ourselves repaid in full."
"Done." Miss Parker settled back into her chair with a heavy sigh. "Thank you."
"I wish you luck, Miss Parker," Mayeda replied, bowing in his chair to the telephone. "You are a worthy Chairman. Sayonara."
Miss Parker held the handset to her chest in utter relief. She had two days that she'd have to sit on her hands before calling in the FBI - and it had cost her thirty million dollars - but one potential troublemaker had been defused before the trouble even began. Feeling almost as if she'd climbed from the bottom of the sublevels all over again, she punched a few buttons and put the phone back to her ear.
"Tyler? Bring me information on all of Mr. Raines' hidden accounts. We're going to have to dig deep by the end of the day..."
~~~~~~~~
Jarod steered the rental car into the parking lot next to the professional building in which he'd nestled his offices and nosed the Saturn into the space that had his name painted on the curb. He'd had Em drop him at the rental agency after the tense lunch where he'd endured without comment the frustrated glares of his mother and the excited chatter of his nephew, feeling the need to get out of the house before he broke something valuable. And, he reminded himself, he'd promised Ethan that he'd show up at the office in the latter part of the afternoon.
His office was on the ground floor of the two story building, taking up the entire west side of the building on that level. He pushed his way through the front door and looked around. The waiting area had a play area set up over in the corner, where one mother kept watch as her children crawled through the maze that was the play house while another sat a short distance away, reading a magazine. Their backs were to him, so he couldn't be sure who was waiting and turned his attention to the receptionist's desk.
"Doctor Jarod!" Cindy smiled widely, the golden beads of her latest corn-rowed hairdo swinging and clattering softly together with every movement of her head. "I thought I heard Doctor Ethan say that you were back!"
"Where is he?" Jarod smiled back at her and gestured with his nose toward the offices.
Cindy looked down at the schedule, then back up at him with ebony eyes. "He's just finishing up with Ginger - he should be through in just a minute or two." The attractive girl reached below her desk and hauled up a wicker basket full to overflowing with mail. "This ought to keep you out of trouble until he's finished," she chuckled at his dismayed expression. "They like you."
"Too much, it seems," he replied, taking the basket and heading down the hallway towards his own office. He opened the door and stepped in, then looked around his own private sanctum. "Physician, analyze thyself," he mumbled to himself. Only now that he had returned from Delaware and reacquainting himself with Sydney and his former mentor's tastes could he begin to recognize the subtle ways in which he'd unconsciously emulated the older Centre psychiatrist. The walls of the office were warmly paneled in rich wood and one wall covered with a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with children's books, books on psychological disorders of children - and toys of all shapes, sizes, for all age levels and levels of complexity. Now he could see that he'd consistently been duplicating Sydney's office in the Sim Lab to a great extent.
He'd long since recognized Sydney's influence on his eventual choice of profession, but justified it away by focusing on the idea of undoing the damage others had done to his young clients as a kind of vicarious atoning for the Centre's acts upon him. He just hadn't realized before how thoroughly he had assimilated the very essence of what made Sydney something that wasn't a Centre monster - the man's warmth and presence, even through a very substantial façade of neutral professional objectivity, had become an essential part of him too. No wonder, when his own Dad had died, he'd felt moved to re-establish connections with the man who'd filled his father's shoes for so long.
The sound of a door opening, and his brother's gentle professional voice flowing smoothly into the hallway interrupted his musings, and he went to lean casually against the doorjamb as a little girl in long, dark braids and play clothes and her guardian were ushered out to make another appointment. Jarod frowned - the little face that he remembered so well had lost whatever little animation it had gained under his treatment. He glanced up, saw that Ethan had caught sight of him and was waiting, patiently, to see what would happen when Ginger noticed that her own doctor had returned.
"Don't I even get a smile hello?" Jarod asked quietly so as not to startle the child.
Ginger, her dark eyes wide and thoroughly shocked, whipped her head around at the sound of the familiar voice. Jarod watched as the emotions tumbled and crashed behind that dark and silent gaze, and then the little girl walked over to him and hugged his leg.
With a lump in his throat, he lifted the girl in his arms. "I told you that I'd be back," he reminded her gently, only to have the thin arms wrap themselves around his neck and the little head land lightly on his shoulder. Jarod gazed down into the face of the rather plain woman who had been appointed the child's latest foster parent. "I take it we're not talking anymore?"
"We're not doing a lot of things anymore," Mrs. Thatcher responded in her amazingly deep and gravelly voice. "Frankly, I'm getting ready to talk to the case worker about having her committed. I can't be watching her all the time, and I have better things to do than have to take care of her as if she were an invalid."
Jarod's brow folded as Ginger's arms around his neck tightened. "This isn't something you should be discussing in front of her, Mrs. Thatcher. She understands every word you say, even if she doesn't respond..."
"I was just telling her the same thing," Ethan spoke up finally, moving from his own casual lean against his office doorjamb. "She has enough abuse and abandonment issues already..."
"Look, I'll tell you what I told Doctor Ethan. I've got four other foster kids running me ragged between soccer practice and group therapy. She may be quiet, but she's perfectly capable of getting into trouble if I don't keep my eye on her every minute of every day..." Mrs. Thatcher's spiel sounded both rehearsed and melodramatic. "She needs more care than I can give her."
"Obviously," Jarod agreed dryly. "Make your next appointment with Doctor Ethan, Mrs. Thatcher. Hopefully by the time I see you next, I may have a solution for you that doesn't put Ginger in an institution."
Mrs. Thatcher's eyes widened. "You're not resuming her treatment, Doctor Jarod?"
"No." Jarod wrapped the little girl tightly in his arms. "What I'm thinking of requires that I not be the psychiatrist handling her treatment any longer. You go make the appointment - I'll have her with me in my office when you're ready for her." With that, Jarod carried Ginger back into his office and parked himself on the edge of his desk, shifting her weight to his lap.
"Look at me, now," he directed the girl gently, letting her weight shifting to his lap draw her head away from his shoulder and down onto his chest. "Ginger. Look at me." Dark eyes finally lifted to his, eyes that were swimming with tears. "You have to hang in there and do your best for Mrs. Thatcher for a little while longer. Promise me you'll be as good as gold for her for me."
Ginger gave a shuddering sigh and settled her head back against his chest. Jarod clasped her close. "It will be OK," he told her in a soft whisper as little hands tried to clutch at his shirt.
"Come on with you now," Mrs. Thatcher's impatient voice flooded the office suddenly, and Jarod felt the child on his lap flinch.
"It will be OK," he told her again as he lifted her up to give her a tight hug. "Be a good girl, and I'll see you soon."
Mrs. Thatcher had to practically drag the girl through the waiting room and out the door because Ginger kept her head turned and her dark eyes trained on Jarod as he stood next to the receptionist's desk.
"That damned bitch shouldn't be in charge of anybody's little girl," Cindy grumbled very softly into her appointment book, then turned a face that had hints of pink blush beneath the dark skin of her cheeks up to Jarod. "Well, she shouldn't!"
"Relax, I'm not disagreeing with you," Jarod reassured her just as quietly. "Listen, tell Ethan I'm in my office sorting through the mail when he's finished with this patient. Are there any more appointments for the day?"
Cindy looked down. "Nope - Claire is the last one."
"Good." Jarod headed back down the hallway to his sanctum and closed the door this time. Things on this front had deteriorated significantly in his absence. If this child were to be saved from the heartless foster care system - and her current and equally heartless foster mom - he'd have to put things in motion a lot sooner than he'd planned.
~~~~~~~~
Flores put the new bottle of tequila down on the little table of his hotel room next to the nearly empty one from the night before and sat down heavily. He was still tired from the night of drinking he'd indulged in the night before, and not at all buoyed by the events of the day. Stu had made it seem as if Santini would jump at the chance to help them take out Miss Parker's misguided administration of the Centre - but NO, he had to take the proposal to HIS boss and pass the buck for decision-making.
Still, he had a few aces up his sleeve that Stu had probably forgotten about or disregarded as trivial. He picked up the telephone and dialed.
"Bueno," [Hello?] answered the Hispanic voice on the other end.
"Hola [Hi] Miguel. It's Gil Flores." Flores grinned - Miguel was as dependable as clockwork. It was nearly four o'clock in Los Angeles - which meant he was at his favorite bar collecting protection money from his runners.
"Hey, Gil! What's shaking?" Rodriguez always enjoyed dealing with his old gang buddy, who never failed to make anything he did worthwhile.
"Got a little problem I was hoping maybe you could give me a hand with," Flores began with a hopeful tone.
There was a moment of silence on the other end, probably as Rodriguez drained another bottle of his favorite imported Mexican beer. "Whatcha need?"
"Look, I got this puta gringa [white bitch] of a boss, and I need a little protection for what's mine - know what I mean?"
"You mean you don't work for Doctor Death and the Man-eater anymore?" Rodriguez asked with absolute seriousness.
Flores shook his head. "No, man, they're history. And now I gotta deal with this bruja [witch] who wants to take away most of my action. Man, she's gotta go!"
"You want me," Rodriguez' voice was shocked, "to stand up to the Centre? What happened - this bruja not give you no respect?"
"I don't want you to stand up to the Centre, hombre - just keep an eye on the storefront for me for a little while, while the bruja has me by the cojones [balls] here on the wrong side of the world. AND I need you to get in touch with Ernie for me."
"Shit, hombre - Ernie had his ass caught up in a sting two weeks ago. He's doing time at County for a while." Rodriguez wasn't happy about his pet enforcer being behind bars at all. "Tell you what, I can watch the store for you - but that's about all I can do right now, hombre. La policía has been rough on us lately."
"Oye, cabrón [Listen, asshole] - you owe me."
"Tu madre [Screw you]. I've been doing small jobs for you for a while now, and I ain't seen nothing green to show for it. As far as I'm concerned, we're even. But..." and Rodriguez moderated his tone a bit, "we'll watch your place for you - providing you make it worth our while NOW..."
"Fine!" Flores threw his free hand up into the air. "Nine o'clock at the docks in Long Beach tomorrow night, there will be a ship from Singapore unloading. You get some strong muchachos [boys] and take custody of Lot 83. And watch out for any Japanese hanging about - don't let 'em see you with their dope."
"Dope?!" Rodriguez' ears perked up immediately. "What kind of dope and how much?"
"The kind of stuff that you cut and sell on the streets for six times what you pay for it, ése. [fella] Lot 83 is about four hundred kilos worth. Does THAT make your vigilance on my behalf worth your while?"
Rodriguez' respectful silence more than answered Flores' question. Instead: "You expectin' trouble, hombre?"
Flores shrugged. "That's up to the puta - and she isn't taking me into her confidences right now. Keep it low-key - I don't want anybody to know the place is being watched."
"You one crazy cabrón, ése. When you comin' home?"
"Soon as I can get free of the bruja, hombre," Flores grumbled darkly. "God-damned bruja..."
~~~~~~~~
The light knock on the office door as it opened brought Jarod's head up from the job of reading through those pieces of mail that were still timely enough or important enough to need immediate review. "So," the younger man moved easily into his brother's office and plunked himself on the couch next to the wall and sprawled lazily, "Mom said she was going to make lunch for you."
"She did," Jarod replied, setting the letter from an old university aside for later. "I called Em, and she and Sammy were over too."
"It's good to see you, bro," Ethan smiled at his older brother widely. "I know it won't last, but it will be good to have some company here in the shrink trenches again." He gazed across the desk evenly. "How's my sister and her boy doing?"
"Fine," Jarod nodded, stretching back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "I think she's gonna make it as Chairman."
"Did you talk to Em this noon?"
Jarod saw that his brother wasn't missing much - he hadn't really had a chance to relax back into his California life at all. "Yeah. She helped me keep Mom from bringing it up at lunch. I figure that best we discuss this at supper tonight, when ALL of us are there."
"You're a glutton for punishment," Ethan shook his head. "Mom and Jay will try to gang up on you, with Em probably tempted to throw in with them half the time. I'll have to sit back and keep my mouth shut because I know too much of what's going on." His eyes twinkled. "I know that you're good for Parker, Jarod. In the days since the Centre blew, she's been broadcasting “Happy” all over the map."
"Believe me, I'm happy with the way things worked out too," Jarod exclaimed fervently. "I mean, who wouldn't? Davy's a good kid any man would be proud to call son, and Parker..." His words dropped away, and Ethan smirked.
"Oh, you've got it BAD, big bro," he warned facetiously. "Every time you think of Parker, you get all gooey-eyed..."
"I'll show you gooey-eyed," Jarod crumpled some of his junk mail and tossed it across the desk at his brother on the couch.
"How's Sydney?"
Now his older brother simply nodded contentedly. "Healing, finally."
"What do you mean? I know Parker was worried, but maybe now you'll tell me. What happened?" Ethan minimized the emotions he'd felt - the fact was that there were several times when Parker's worry combined with mental images of Sydney had been almost overwhelming.
"He was shot - he was at the Centre stealing a vial of embryos from which they'd made Davy. A diversion went wrong," Jarod winced - but Ethan didn't know Angelo, "and shots were fired. One went through his upper gut. Eventually he had to have surgery to take care of the cause of peritonitis."
Ethan half-closed his eyes and nodded. "That would explain her worry," he agreed.
"What about you? Em said she hadn't been able to talk to you much..."
"I'm in fine shape, if you hadn't noticed..."
Jarod shook his head - Ethan's sense of humor took getting used to again. "I mean do you have time in your schedule tomorrow to bring me up to speed on our caseload - and discuss if you intend to keep this office open when I'm gone or want to join somebody else's?"
His younger brother stretched tiredly and sat up. "How about we have breakfast at your place early and get most of this talked out while we're both still VERY fresh."
"Sounds like a plan," Jarod agreed. "Right now I'm jet-lagged to the gills."
"Just think," Ethan reminded his brother pointedly with twinkling eyes, "you used to dash back and forth across the continent and hardly notice the time change."
"We all get older," Jarod retorted, wadding up and chucking a credit card application at his brother, hitting him in the cheek. "Some of us get wiser - but evidently not all of us..."
The paper wad sailed back in the opposite direction.
~~~~~~~~
Sonny Tanaka moved smoothly along in line with his fellow prisoners from the exercise yard back toward the cellblock. It was routine - something he'd been doing every day since he'd been sent here over nine years previous - to spend his hour slowly walking the perimeter of the exercise yard, staying safely away from the electrified fencing, and plotting his revenge. Nine years, now, he'd been waiting for Tommy to figure out a way to spring him from this hell-hole. Nine years, now, he'd been patient.
Tanaka rounded a corner and suddenly found himself pulled violently out of line and into a darkened corner - whether it was a guard or another prisoner, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that one moment he was walking back to a clean cell and supper afterwards, and in the next moment he was lying on the floor, gasping out his last breath from the killing stab wound that had pierced his heart as if it had had a bullseye tattooed on it.
It took the authorities ten minutes to figure out he was gone and then find him. By then, of course, all that was left of Sonny Tanaka was a body with a very surprised look on its dead face. Of a weapon and motive, there wasn't a single trace. The body was loaded unceremoniously onto a gurney and rolled down to the morgue for processing, and notice was sent out to the various police databases that Sonny Tanaka was no more.
Tokyo had the news within two hours.
~~~~~~~~
"What?"
"Good God - don't tell me you've started answering the phone like that again," Jarod groaned and stretched out on his couch, handset carefully tucked against a shoulder. "I could have sworn Sydney would have taught you better manners in the last few years..."
"My God but this brings back memories, although I appreciate it that you're not waiting until three in the morning before you call anymore," Miss Parker sighed, quickly wiping her hands on the dishtowel and moving to sit at her kitchen table. After the day she'd had, the sound of his voice in her ear was a balm. "How was your trip?"
"Smooth as silk - I think we skirted a storm over..."
"Jarod..." she stopped him tiredly.
"What?"
"Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "I suppose everybody there is thrilled to have you back?"
"Thrilled that I'm back, yes. Not so thrilled to find out I'm not staying, though Em isn't making a big fuss about it. I still have to face Jay and Nathan, Em's husband, tonight - and my mom." He doubted Nathan, who doted on Emily shamelessly, would raise much by way of commotion. Jay and Margaret, on the other hand...
"Well, just be glad your intrigues are straight-forward, and not the scheming and plotting I'm having to deal with here." She leaned her chin in her open hand. "Sam and Tyler are running themselves ragged trying to anticipate the moves those two renegade supervisors might pull and defuse them before they cause trouble."
"Did you get the security arranged for Sydney and the others?" Jarod asked quickly.
"They've all got 24/7 protection," she assured him.
"What about you?"
"What about me?" she countered. "I still have my Smith & Wesson here at the house, you know..."
"I know I'D feel better if you had a sweeper assigned to you," he urged her carefully, knowing better than to push too hard. "Humor me - please?"
"I'll think about it," she told him tiredly. "So... What are you up to tomorrow?"
"I'm not exactly sure yet - a lot will depend on whether Ethan or Jay wants this house." Jarod took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with the side of his hand. That conversation would have to somehow get mixed into what would probably be a tense time around the dinner table tonight. "So anyway, I might be contacting a realtor in the morning, or I might not. I'm also going to have to put out feelers for a new psychiatric partner to team up with Ethan. He's been burning the candle at both ends trying to take care of a double case load - and that just can't continue. I'll probably start seeing patients myself tomorrow, just to make things flow more smoothly in the interim."
"Sounds like a full day," she sighed into his ear. "Sydney told me to keep my days full and busy, so that the time would go quickly."
"He's right, you know," Jarod's voice smiled at her. "How's Davy doing tonight?"
"Syd had him straightened right out by the time I got home," she chuckled. "I guess Davy must have been quite the handful, because after Davy apologized to me profusely for being such a twerp, he told me in confidence that he made his Grandpa mad."
"Hoo-boy!" Jarod whooped softly. "I take it Sydney's never really gotten angry at him before?"
"Uh-unh. And I can remember how Syd scared ME the one and only time he ever got mad at ME." Even now, the memory of that quiet and lethally hard voice was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. "I'd have felt sorry for Davy except that I had been so angry at him myself this morning..."
Jarod was chuckling. "Yeah - I remember the few times he REALLY got mad with me too. Not something I would want to repeat, even now." He paused and rolled onto his side, the phone now caught by the pillow against his ear. "God, I miss you."
"I know, Jarod. I can't tell you how much I miss you!" she exclaimed in a voice that cracked slightly. "I know I'm being selfish, but PLEASE don't take too long out there."
"I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise," he repeated yet again, his eyes closed. "I tell you - I'm going to have a hard time getting to sleep tonight without you next to me."
"Me too," she told him, a tear dropping rebelliously onto a cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too, Missy," he replied, his free hand to the bridge of his nose to try to stem his own tears. "I'll call you tomorrow night about this time - how's that?"
"I'll be waiting to hear from you," she promised softly. "Take care of yourself."
"You too."
"Talk to you later, then."
"Yeah..."
"Jarod..."
"What?"
"Hang up."
"I love you."
"I love you too. Good night." Miss Parker was the one to finally disconnect - and the change in what had been an established pattern of behavior was not lost on her.
"Good night, my love," Jarod murmured into the dead handset, then jumped when it began to ring almost immediately. "What? Hello?"
"Jarod, Em's almost got dinner served over here," Margaret announced in a peevish tone. "I've been trying to call you for a while now. Who were you talking to for so long?"
He sighed. "I'll be there in just a few, Mom," and he hung up.
