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Chapter or Story
Truth and Consequences - by MMB
Chapter 9: That Sinking Feeling
Waiting had to be one of the most uncomfortable ways to pass time that Kevin had ever experienced, especially waiting alone in unfamiliar surroundings for someone - he didn't know who - to come for him. He'd never felt so alone and helpless, with several members of his informal “family” removed from him for one reason or another. But it was the renewed loss of Sydney that was the most troubling. The last time the mentor had landed in the hospital, Kevin had been given the responsibility for watching his house and taking care of Davy while both Miss Parker and Jarod worked at the Centre. This time there would be no Davy to fill his time - and the house that had been a warm and friendly security blanket no longer felt very safe to him.
He barely noticed that he'd been joined in the waiting area until a sniffle called his attention to something other than his insecurities. Curled up into a tight ball in a corner chair, sandals left on the floor while feet were tucked in close on the seat of the chair and head leaning on her propped-up knees, was a young woman with long, flowing dark hair. Her clothing was clean but faded - her denim pants had been cut into shorts and the hem unraveled into an uneven white fringe, and what he could see of her tee shirt was white. Her hair sported more than one thin braid that Kevin guessed was meant to be strictly ornamental - one of those braids had a seagull feather caught in the rubber band at the end.
Kevin couldn't help staring. He'd never seen such a creature before, except perhaps on one of those television shows that Sydney eventually had to sit down and explain patiently to him. Her face, although partially hidden by her long, dark tresses, had an expression of sadness and defeat that resonated with his own mood at the moment.
As if she could sense that she was being watched, slowly she turned her head until her wide and dark eyes met Kevin's. "What?" she asked in tired frustration as she wiped away a tear before it slid very far down her cheek, "your mother never taught you it's impolite to stare?"
Her biting remark caught him off-guard. "I... I never knew my mother," Kevin admitted as he looked back down into his magazine again. "I didn't mean to stare." He found his place in the article and began reading again until he got the vaguest impression that he was being watched. He raised his gaze and connected with that of the young woman. "Now you're staring at me," he reminded her pointedly.
"I was just trying to figure out if you were jerking my chain or not," she retorted. "You got nice, new clothes, you look well-fed - you don't look like no orphan. Least-wise, no orphan I'VE ever met..."
"I didn't say I was an orphan. I said I never knew my mother." Kevin didn't know why this young woman's attitude was making the hackles rise - maybe it was that she was constantly challenging or goading him, something he wasn't used to at all.
"Same difference," she tossed at him impatiently.
He shook his head. "Not hardly," he retorted and returned to his magazine, deliberately ignoring her.
The emergency entrance doors swung inward, and a rather scruffy-looking young man in tattered jeans and a grease-stained leather jacket walked into the waiting area and right up to the young woman. "Hey, Crystal, I just heard..."
"The suits aren't telling me anything, Scooter," the young woman complained in a bitter and whining tone.
The scruffy young man sauntered dangerously up to the ER admissions desk and the nurse manning the computer terminal. "Hey lady!" he barked, slapping an open hand on the top of the monitor and making the whole desk shudder and brought Kevin's head up in a near panic. "What's the news on Cricket?"
The nurse flashed a thoroughly irked expression that she quickly buried behind a mask of pure professionalism. "Cricket?"
"Tamara Linde - the girl I came in with about two hours ago," the young woman - Crystal, Kevin had heard her called - explained, sliding her feet into her sandals and rising to walk over to join her friend.
The nurse typed into the computer and then read the display. "She's been transferred to Intensive Care in fair condition. You can come back tomorrow..."
"I wanna see her now," Crystal whined, making Scooter stiffen again.
He slapped the top of the monitor. "We want to see her."
"Hospital regulations..." the nurse began.
"Screw the regulations, lady. C'mon, Crystal," Scooter sneered at the nurse. "We can find our way to Intensive Care on our own."
"I'm sorry, but..." The nurse had picked up the phone receiver. "Security to ER waiting, please..."
Scooter barely had a chance to bring up a warning index finger to shake in the nurse's pale face before two burly uniformed security men had barreled into the waiting area. "Time to find somewhere else to hang, fella," the larger of the two officers said as they caught Scooter between them. "You too, miss - come along now." The second officer crooked a finger at Crystal.
She flounced over to where she'd been sitting and retrieved her small fringed leather purse from under the chair, catching once more Kevin's eye watching her movements closely. "Did we give you a good show, Little Orphan Andy?" she sneered at him angrily, then tossed her head and walked defiantly back to her friend. The second officer snagged her arm, and then the security men proceeded to lead the scruffy pair from the room.
Kevin looked over at the nurse at the desk in wonder and shock, to find that she'd already gone back to work as if nothing at all had happened. The young Pretender looked over at the clock on the wall and hoped that whoever was coming for him would get there soon. He didn't want to stay in this place one more minute longer than he had to.
~~~~~~~~
"Well, would you look at that!"
Jennifer Sawyer jumped at the sound of her superior's voice from directly behind her, and she looked up from her charting. "Christ! You scared me Dorothy!"
"No, I mean it," the older nursing supervisor pointed at the empty chair sitting in the corridor. "Didn't that black fellow have his bodyguard or someone sitting there all the time lately?"
Jen wrinkled her brows in thought. "You're right." She shrugged. "Maybe somebody told him to cut it out? I've seen a couple of orderlies almost trip over the tall one's legs a few times..."
"But he was there earlier - just a couple of hours ago, I think," Dorothy insisted. "And I've watched these guys. They don't TAKE breaks."
Jen shrugged and looked back down at her charting. "So..."
"Do me a favor..." Dorothy began.
"Make up your mind, will ya? You wanted me to do the charting, I'm doing the charting. If you want me doing something else, then YOU get to finish the paperwork," the younger RN said in mild frustration.
"So I'll finish the charting," Dorothy responded, both hands on her younger co-worker's shoulders to move her away from the desk. "Go down and check up on that Ngawe guy - make sure he's OK. That missing guard makes me think something's wrong down there."
"If you're so bothered about it, why don't YOU go?" Jen complained as she got to her feet. She'd known better than to wear new shoes to work that night - and she was paying for her mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around much.
"Just check up on the guy - you don't have to hold his hand or take his pulse or nothing," Dorothy waved her co-worker on down the corridor, slipping into the chair that Jen had just vacated.
Jennifer shot her supervisor a withering glare and then walked slowly toward the empty chair and the door in front of which it sat. She paused and listened for a moment, not hearing a sound coming from the room - and she didn't know whether to be encouraged or apprehensive. With a last backward glance toward the nurse's station for courage, she pushed the door open and stepped into the semi-lit private room.
"It's about time someone came to check up on us!" came the decidedly unpleasant autocratic voice from the bed. "We would have thought someone would have noticed his absence outside our door before now."
Jen blinked and then followed the man's pointing finger to stare dumbfounded at the missing bodyguard - the front of the man's jacket and shirt covered with blood. The nurse put a shaking finger to the pulse point and then pulled back at both the lack of pulse and lack of warmth. She began to back out of the room, an internal shaking building slowly.
"Wait a minute! What are you going to do about us? Don't leave us here like this..."
Jen walked back to the nurse's station and took a deep breath as she reached across the desk for the telephone. "Security to Medical Ward, STAT."
Dorothy stared up at her. "What is it?"
The younger nurse just shook her head and dialed the telephone again. "This is Nurse Jennifer Sawyer at Dover Memorial. I would like to report a murder..."
~~~~~~~~
Tyler steered his coupe into the parking lot near the emergency entrance to the hospital and shut off the engine with a sigh. The call from Miss Parker had caught him halfway down the coastal highway toward the Centre and then had him make a U-turn to make the connector to Highway 1 and Dover. Her order had been clear: bring Kevin back to the Centre from the hospital.
She'd also taken a little time to explain a few things that Deb had only alluded to earlier that evening - no, the previous night. She informed him that Kevin had only very recently been freed from an entire lifetime of very limited contact with others, and had padded the information with a sincere request to cut the young man a little slack. While he would have like to have asked a lot more questions, he got the impression that he needed to just get himself to Dover as quickly as possible and pick up the bothersome young man who had acted so belligerently before. He'd also have to diligently swallow whatever negative feelings he had so that he could drive safely back to Blue Cove and the Centre.
Tyler pushed through the double doors and looked around. There he was, curled into a tightly folded and defensive posture in the waiting area. Then Kevin looked up from the magazine he was trying to read with a look of such apprehension and desperate hope that Tyler was taken aback. It was obvious that the young man, while outwardly appearing normal, really HAD just had a healthy piece of what little stability he'd been able to construct in his life torn away from him rather violently. Miss Parker had had a good reason to ask him to cut the man some slack - and Tyler could see no reason not to anymore.
Then Kevin's eyes landed on Tyler, and the young Pretender's first reaction was for his whole face to light up like a frightened child finding a friendly face, only later to dim a bit when it finally penetrated WHO had come to get him. Tyler understood the reaction, and decided to do something about it.
"Hey there," Tyler walked into the waiting area toward Kevin. "All your paperwork done here? Miss Parker sent me to pick you up and bring you back with me to the Centre."
"I... don't know..." The sandy-haired young man walked over the ER admitting desk. "Do I have anything I need to do..."
The middle-aged nurse punched a few buttons on her computer, then shook her head. "Nope - looks like you have everything squared away. You take care of yourself now."
"I guess I'm ready." Kevin hunched his shoulders a little defensively, still remembering the argument at Sydney's just a few hours ago.
"C'mon then. My car's just outside." Tyler led the way out to the coupe and unlocked the door to let the younger man in. "Wait a minute..." he said suddenly, turning to face Kevin in the light of the parking lot street lamp. "Look - let's clear the air between us. And I might as well start, since it's my suggestion." The Texan looked down for a moment, then directly into wide blue eyes. "I said a few things back at the house that I'm not proud of, and I want to apologize."
Kevin blinked, then knew what he had to do - Sydney had explained this to him a long time ago, way back when they had first met. When someone apologized, they at least deserved to have it acknowledged. And after thinking about it a moment or two, he knew he owed Tyler one in return. "I'm sorry too - I guess I was just upset..."
"We both were," Tyler said steadily. "I have a feeling we both care a lot for Deb Broots."
The sandy-haired Pretender's gaze was caught and held by Tyler's directness, and Kevin felt the strength in that statement that suddenly gave him common ground with this virtual stranger. "I think you're probably right," he admitted carefully.
"Then we need to work together to get her back and not fight with each other in the meantime, don't you think?" Tyler suggested in a very matter-of-fact tone. He extended his right hand. "No hard feelings?"
Kevin looked from the hand into Tyler's face, then slowly nodded and put his hand out to let Tyler shake it with a firm yet steady grip. "What can I do to help then?" he asked as Tyler finally began to move around to the other side of the car.
"Miss Parker, when she called me to come get you, called you a Pretender," Tyler mentioned as he turned the key in the ignition, "but she didn't say much about what a Pretender is or does. Tell me about that. What does it mean? Maybe when I know what it is that you can do, I can help y'all find something that would fit your talents..."
Kevin took a deep breath and, for the first time in his life, tried to explain himself to someone who had no clue about what he'd been trained to do.
~~~~~~~~
Gillespie groaned as he rolled over in bed to stare at the clock - it was now four forty-five. He'd only been home for half an hour after one of the longest days in his professional career. He propped himself up and reached for the receiver. "This had better be damned good or a matter of life or death..." he began in as threatening a voice as he could muster through his fatigue.
"Dover PD here," announced a brisk voice on the other end. "We were informed by hospital personnel that you had an interest in a patient by the name of Ngawe?"
Gillespie was awake immediately. "Yes. What's happened?"
"There was a murder at the hospital tonight - one of Mr. Ngawe's associates was found dead in Mr. Ngawe's room. Ngawe is bellowing to be released into the custody of his own security people and generally raising hell, and the killing looks VERY suspicious."
The FBI agent shook his head. It never rained but it poured. "I suppose Ngawe isn't talking either."
"You got it," the police officer on the other end agreed. "I was told to defer to you as to how you want this situation handled."
Gillespie dragged a hand down his face and tried to force his exhausted mind to push through to clarity. "OK, here's what I want you do to: call Michelson at the office and have him down there ASAP to oversee moving Ngawe to another private room - but under no circumstances do I want that man loose. Tell him to call it protective custody, call it whatever he wants, but I want that man where I can find him. Process the forensics of the crime scene, interview whoever it was that found the body and have all the preliminary reports on my desk in the morning as soon as humanly possible."
"Anything else?" asked the officer.
"Yeah," Gillespie grumbled. "Pray that nothing ELSE happens between now and about eight o'clock - or I'm going to be a VERY unhappy camper!!" He hung up the phone with some force and flopped back into his pillows. He was starting to have moments when he wished he'd never even heard of a place called the Centre...
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker rose and walked the few steps to the utilitarian little window in the office she now called hers and stared out across the way to where halogen lights still kept the area that used to be the Centre Tower lit so that work could continue around the clock. For the first time, she missed the view from her former office that looked out across the broad expanse of manicured grass toward the ocean. That view, in daylight hours, might have held some small chance of comforting her - where this night time scene from Hell just rubbed in the sense of imminent disaster that had hung over the Centre like a black cloud. That black cloud had spawned a tornado - one that had ripped away her little boy and a girl she loved like a daughter...
She stiffened and shoved that emotion down brutally. Getting weepy would not save Davy or Deb. Lyle's success, if one could call it that, had come from his never allowing the events of his life to knock him off-track of his goal - and the only way she knew for sure she could survive this was to continue to emulate that single-minded determination. The long and stable reign of Mr. Parker – “Daddy” - had also been accomplished through putting the Centre ahead of absolutely everything else, family, ethics, morality... HER purpose, however, was twofold: to get her son and friend back safely while at the same time protecting the Centre from obvious marauders. Each purpose served the other. It was all depending on her now - this time it would be she whose responsibility it would be to hold the family together, not Jarod - and she couldn't waver. At least she had Tyler and Sam...
Before he had left her to go check on their “research project,” as they now called Flores, Sam had quietly informed her that Jarod knew some of what was going on. She wasn't all that surprised. Ethan would have known something had happened - no doubt she'd been broadcasting her emotions at full volume there for a while. Of course he would have taken that knowledge to Jarod, knowing he'd want to know what was going on back here too.
Jarod. For the briefest moment, she allowed herself to resent his need to go back to California and try to make things “right” before settling down with her and finally starting a life together as a part of a family. She needed him HERE at her side - needed him worse than any of his former Pretend beneficiaries had ever needed him - and where was he? Three thousand damned miles that-a-way, and for God's sake thinking of adopting another child!
Once more she stiffened and shoved the emotion aside. She'd gotten along in life pretty damned well in the last seven years without that Lab-rat - and she was a Parker, damn it! Jarod had his fires to put out in California before he could come home, and she could stand on her own again until then. Besides, she had Sydney - his voice in that brief call from the hospital had sounded not all that damaged - and she had Sam, just as she had had all along. She had a more than ample support system, especially once Broots was awake and back in the swing of things. If he ever would be again...
NO! She stalked back to her desk and sifted through the paperwork that was ever piling up, not really seeing anything. She couldn't afford emotions - she had to stay strong for Davy and Deb. She had to stay strong for the Centre. She couldn't afford to be Miss Parker right now. She had to be Lyle. She had to be Daddy.
But it was hard - SO hard - to be something or someone she detested so much...
Exhausted as if she hadn't had any sleep at all before any of this latest nightmare began, she put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes. Maybe the façade would be easier to maintain if she had a little rest...
~~~~~~~~
Sam was finding it fascinating to watch through the glass window of the infirmary as each drop hit Flores' face. It was more than apparent that the Hispanic was no longer laughing at the idea of single drops of water falling on his face - the man looked positively fatigued and apprehensive as the next drip gained volume. Sam could have sworn that he'd heard at least one moan of desperation while he'd stood there watching.
He had to give her credit - when Miss Parker put her mind to it, she made a much better, much more creative Inquisitor than he did. He'd have never thought to try this ploy out, much less trust that it would actually produce results. And other than perhaps a slightly red area on the bridge of the nose, this would even less of a mark than those electrodes of his from earlier in the day had.
"Hey Sam! Hold up!"
The ex-sweeper turned and saw Tyler walking briskly down the hall toward him with Kevin in tow. With a single backward glance at the infirmary window, he hurried to meet them far enough down the hall that neither would have any idea what was going on. "About time you two made it." He eyed Kevin critically. "How's the cheek, kid?"
"Just three stitches," the young man answered stoically. "The doctor said that nothing was broken."
"Say, do you think Miss Parker would go for letting Kevin be my assistant for a while?" Tyler asked with a glance at his companion. "We got to talkin' in the car, and he explained what all he used to do and all... Seems to me we could use someone with that kind of talent on this right now."
"I want to help, Sam," Kevin piped up, adding his voice to Tyler's. "Sydney's in the hospital for a day or so. Give me something to do - please!"
Sam looked back and forth, then shook his head in amazement. "I gotta admit, after watching you two take after each other, the LAST thing I expected was for you to shake hands and make buddies."
"We're doing it for Deb," Kevin explained quickly. "Our fighting doesn't get her home any faster - but our working together might, Sam. Please..."
"OK," the Security Chief agreed, "I'll clear it with Miss P. in case she objects - and YOU get to explain to Sydney why you're back working for the Centre again," he told Kevin specifically. "But for now, why don't we got get us some coffee and start thinking things through a bit."
"None for me, thanks," Tyler put up a negating hand, then stifled a yawn, "I don't know about y'all, but I need me some shut-eye in the worst way! I think I'm going to crash in my office for a while."
Sam gave Kevin another glance too. "Yeah, I suppose... And you look like you're just about ready to fall in too, kid. Why don't you take the couch in my office for the time being. I'll get you both up at about eight, so we can dig right in."
"Fine by me." Tyler waved his hand tiredly at the other men and began ambling off in the direction of his office.
"This way," Sam indicated that Kevin should follow Tyler. "Mine's the second door to the left past Tyler's. You go on in and settle down - I have a few things to check on first." He watched to make sure Kevin was comfortable before shutting off his office light and closing the door quietly. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair thoughtfully, then headed for the little office at the end of the hall and pushed the door open.
Miss Parker had beaten them all to the punch - she was fast asleep already, sprawled across her desk in a position that looked definitely uncomfortable. Sam shook his head at her, then walked over to her quietly and gently picked her up in his arms and carried her over to her own couch to lay her down in a more comfortable position. "Jarod..." she murmured softly as she felt his touch leave her even through her dreams.
"Not tonight, ma'am," he answered softly and took off his jacket and covered her so that she could be warm. He shut off her office light so that she could rest, then headed back toward his office. They were all tired, and tired people made mistakes. He'd crash at his desk for a little while, then be up in time to rouse the others.
Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.
~~~~~~~~
Otamo Ngawe was furious and was letting everybody know it. "We demand to be allowed to call my people to provide security for..."
"Patience, Mr. Ngawe," the nurse at the side of his wheelchair said, patting his shoulder solicitously. "We're going to get you situated in another room, and THEN you can call..."
"But we don't want to remain in this place one second longer! We wish to be released immediately!" the elderly African fairly bellowed.
"Mr. Ngawe, my name is Harlan Michelson, and I'm an agent of the FBI." The tall man in the unseasonable trench coat handed the African a folded piece of paper. "As of right now, you have been placed in the protective custody of the United States government as a material witness to at least two crimes. We will be seeing to your security needs for the time being." The agent nodded at the nurse. "Go ahead and get him settled."
"We wish to talk to our ambassador, NOW!" Ngawe called back to the agent over his shoulder as he was whisked briskly down the corridor and away from the carnage that was his former private room. "This is an outrage!"
"To have a man murdered in your room - how terrible for you!" the nurse was chirping as she set the brakes on the wheelchair next to the fresh hospital bed. She motioned for the orderlies who had accompanied her to lift the disabled man into bed and then remove the wheelchair. "Did you see who did it?" she asked in innocent curiosity.
Ngawe opened his mouth to answer her without thinking, then suddenly slammed his jaw shut and folded his face into an icon of stubborn silence.
"Oh, that's true - you should be telling that to the police, not me," the nurse chirped again, smoothing the bedclothes down and just generally fussing.
"That will do. Thank you." Ngawe growled, obviously dismissing her.
The nurse frowned. "Well! You don't have to be that way!" she huffed and spun on her heels and headed for the door, almost running headlong into the federal agent.
"Since there are no signs that your man was killed elsewhere and then moved into your room," Michelson said as he drew out a small notebook and pen, "I was wondering if you saw or heard anything that would give us an idea of who killed him?"
"We saw and heard nothing," Ngawe said slowly and clearly, as if to a child. "We were asleep. We awoke to find this man in our room, already dead."
"Indeed." Michelson wrote briefly in his notebook. "If that's the case, why didn't you summon help?"
"Our page button had been moved out of our reach," the African growled, still angry at that little piece of indignity.
"Then the killer was very close to you - and didn't touch you at all?" Michelson asked in obvious disbelief.
"We were asleep, so we would assume so."
Michelson nodded, knowing full good and well that he was hearing hot air. This wily and impolite man knew far more than he was willing to admit. "I'm sure my superior will be wanting to interview you later in the morning. Do you need me to reach for the telephone for you?"
"Yes, please." Ngawe hated having to be polite to this government maggot, but it would be the only way short of having to endure that terminally cheerful nurse again, that he would be able to call out to his people.
The Yakuza had gone too far this time, threatening him in his own bed. There would be Hell itself to pay now.
~~~~~~~~
Flores was miserable. Again.
He had laughed at the idea of a simple drop of water being strong enough to break a man - but hundreds if not thousands of drops later, the bridge of his nose hurt like hell. Each drop now was like a sharp little tap-hammer stinging away at his ability to concentrate. Worse, the water had pooled in his eye sockets, eventually run down his neck and spread through his clothing, so laying there was warm only under the duct tape. He was still feeling the effects of the cramping in his legs from time to time - and if he wasn't careful, tightening a muscle could send the whole calf muscle back into agonized cramps made worse by the fact that he could not move to relieve the cramping. The final indignity was that he had to go to the bathroom, and the continual dampness was NOT helping those matters at all. If someone didn't come soon and help him out, his bladder would eventually burst.
If someone didn't come soon... Hell, he was convinced he'd been completely forgotten! He was exhausted, not being able to sleep at all with that dripping into his face. He couldn't see to the windows to see whether the sun had started to come up yet. How many hours had he lain here, forgotten?
The real kicker was that he honestly didn't know all that much more than he'd already told them. An important part of his instructions to Duncan as they had planned the kidnapping had been the relative disconnection between them - that their only contact was to be by telephone, and even that only rarely. Duncan had been told to take the hostages back to California in order to make it more difficult to mount a rescue effort - but that was all the further he'd wanted to know particulars. Duncan would call when he had the hostages safely stowed, and not until then. Of course, his cell phone had been one of the things the sweepers had confiscated first...
Would Miss Parker and that demon Sam Atlee believe him when he told them what little more he knew? Probably not, but he'd certainly like a chance to try to convince them...
He heard the sound of the door of the infirmary opening. "About time," he rasped. "Are you ready to hear what I have to say?" He received no immediate answer, but discerned movement in the peripheral vision that was drowned with past droplets. "Who is it?" he demanded, blinking his eyes as quickly as he could to drive some of the pooled water away only to have to watch as the droplet above grew pendulous.
Suddenly, a sandy-haired young man's head popped into his line of sight - a young man with wide blue eyes that took in the Hispanic's situation with some amazement. "What..."
"Just stop the dripping, son," Flores urged desperately as yet another drop splattered between his eyes. "Please..."
Kevin eyed the arrangement of metal cabinetry and tubing that had been constructed very carefully to allow the water to drip with rhythmic precision right between the man's eyes. The spot where the drips where impacting the skin was red, and the man's eyes showed how desperate he was to have his situation altered. The young Pretender thought through the possible effect of having been subjected to this kind of treatment for any length of time, and came away impressed with both the ingenuity of the ploy and some alarm that anyone would actually DO this to another person. Tipping his head, Kevin studied the line from drip back and then reached for the drip controller.
"Don't touch that, Kevin!" Sam barked at the young man from the door, and Kevin's hand froze.
He turned and looked at the trusted family friend in concern. "What is going on here, Sam? What are you doing to this man?"
"They're trying to drive me insane!" Flores spat. "Use your head for something besides holding your ears apart, kid, and turn the damned dripping OFF!!"
Sam found the blue eyes glaring at him accusingly. "Is that true?" Kevin gaped. "I thought... You're hurting him? Why... you're no better than any of the others... than Vernon..."
Sam simply shook his head tiredly. What a helluva way to start the morning. "Maybe we ARE hurting him, but we feel we have reason this time. For what it's worth, this is the man who ordered the kidnapping, Kevin. He knows where Davy and Deb are. We're trying to convince him to tell us so we can get them back quickly."
Sam watched Kevin's face cloud over abruptly to the point that when the young Pretender looked down at Flores again, he was livid. "You... hurt..." Kevin's hands turned into claws and he lunged at Flores, reaching for the throat. Only quick thinking on Sam's part and then a firm grasp on Kevin's arm managed to keep the young man from starting to throttle the man on the board.
"Kevin! Kevin! We need him - we need him to tell us where they are, where Duncan took them!" Sam wrestled the young man's arms back to his sides. "What did you think you were doing?"
"He hurt... everybody..." Kevin snarled, more angry than he'd ever been before in his life. "Sydney, me, Miss Parker..."
"Yes," Sam agreed carefully. "And that's why we're going to leave him alone until he's willing to talk to us."
"NO!!" Flores howled, and then sputtered as the next drip splattered onto his face. "At least give me a bathroom break..."
Kevin stared down at the man, all the sympathy for his situation completely evaporated. Suddenly, this was too good for him. "You deserve this," the young man pronounced coldly.
Sam put his hand on the young Pretender's shoulder. "Guess that makes you as bad as the rest of us, doesn't it?"
"He hurt Deb and Davy," Kevin was thinking through the situation. "I guess sometimes a person has to do things they wouldn't otherwise when they have a good reason."
"You're learning, kid, you're learning," Sam's hand on his shoulder patted him gently. "Welcome to the Centre School of Hard Knocks. C'mon - let's go get you and me some coffee and get the rest of us up. Today's going to be a busy day."
"What about ME?!" Flores whimpered as the sound of footsteps faded in the direction of the doorway. "You can't just walk away and leave me alone again..."
"Just give us a good scream or two when you've had enough," Sam tossed back casually. Sooner or later, one of us will hear you and see what you're ready to give us."
Another drop pinged into the bridge of the man's nose, and Flores was whining. "OK! OK! I'll tell you what I know - I swear it. Just turn the damned water off. God!"
Sam turned, then motioned for Kevin to stay on the other side of the room and walked halfway back. "Well? Talk."
Previous experience told Flores that he'd have to talk first before he stood any chance of being freed from his intolerable situation. "California," the Hispanic gave up at last. "I told Duncan to take them back to the West Coast, where it would be harder for you folks to find them. Only he knows the exact location, though. That was supposed to be the beauty of it," he whimpered as he watched another droplet begin to loom again. "Nobody but he would know exactly where he was or when he'd do things. He wasn't SUPPOSED to move to make the snatch for another day or so... Now please..."
Sam's heart dropped to his shoes. "California! How the hell was he getting them to California?!"
"He has a friend with a private jet - I... I gave him access to enough money to rent it for as long as he needed it," Flores' voice was getting higher in pitch as the droplet grew heavier and heavier above him. "That's how he got here. But I don't know where he landed, or what part of California he was going to fly to when he went back... Please... Oh for God's sake..."
"California's a damned big place, asshole," Sam snarled, darting forward to push his face into Flores' field of vision. "You have to know more than that. You know Duncan - where would he take them?"
"ARGH!" Flores felt the drop hit his forehead like a tiny hammer that resounded through his entire skull. "Shit! I don't know him as well as you'd think. He came to my office about four years ago from Las Vegas - before that, he was Stu Berringer's assistant..."
"Wrong, dipstick," Sam growled. "He was just a sweeper in Las Vegas..."
"No, no..." Flores watched the next drop begin to build. "Berringer kept him listed as a sweeper, but knew Duncan came to him having plenty of connections and recommendations. When Raines... saw the potential for profit from West Coast mob dealings, It was he who had Berringer transfer Duncan to me." Flores' eyes grew wide and desperate. "God, that's all I know, I swear it! Please, please..."
"What do you think, Kevin?" Sam asked the young Pretender. "Does it make sense?"
Kevin processed the information they'd just been given for a long moment. "It's a logical fail-safe technique to keep one person from knowing ALL the information - so the odds of Flores' NOT knowing exactly where they took Davy and Deb are pretty good." He really hated the fact that he could appreciate the creativity of the plan that had hurt so many he cared about.
"What do you mean - Davy and Deb?" Flores demanded, then whimpered as the next drop thundered onto his face. "He was supposed to snatch Dr. Green..."
"What can we say - he missed," Sam grinned tightly. "Kevin here and Sydney put up a fight - that's how he got that," he pointed to the bandage on the young man's cheek. "Evidently they could hear that we'd figured out what was happening and were burning rubber on our way to stop them - so they snatched a girl instead."
"Shit!" Flores swore and began watching with dread as the next drop began to form. "In that case, Duncan may not be staying with the plan anymore. I can't tell. Honest to God, that's all I know. Now please..."
"What do you think - should we let him go?" Sam asked Kevin.
The young man shook his head. "You weren't just going to let him walk away, were you?" the Pretender asked in astonishment.
"No way! But we could cut him loose, let him pee before he soils himself and stinks to high heaven - and then lock him up until the feds ask for him."
"The “feds” - who are they?" Kevin asked.
"Law enforcement agents. Since he just admitted to a kidnapping plot that crosses state lines, that takes this into federal jurisdiction." Sam could see Kevin still didn't understand. "The guys in suits who were asking all the questions last night - THEY'RE the feds."
"Oh." The young man thought for a bit. "And you don't think they'd approve of this, if they saw it?"
Sam chuckled. "Probably not. Technically, torture is illegal."
"Hell, no, they wouldn't approve," Flores whimpered as the next drop splattered. "Where did you grow up, kid - on the Moon?"
"That's enough out of you, if you want to get out of here with your wits intact." Sam growled now. "I'm gonna let the kid decide - so you MAY want to reconsider the wisdom of pissing him off right now." He turned back to Kevin. "Well?"
Kevin's face clouded with repressed anger. "Let him up - but only so that we can turn him over to these “feds,” as you call them."
Sam nodded. "OK, kid - you can help me with him then." He went to the drip controller and waited until the last drop had fallen before shutting off the flow of water. The two of them then moved the bookshelf unit back and away from the exam table. "Take a scissors and cut that tubing up and throw it away," Sam said as he retrieved a scalpel from a drawer, "while I let this low-life loose."
Flores was lying very quietly on the backboard now, completely depleted in his relief from the endless, maddening dripping. For all his blustering and lust for power, he'd never before run seriously afoul of his Centre superiors - although he'd often stood aside and watched with pleasure as others had fallen victim to the iron hand of Raines or his lackey Lyle. Something told him he'd never get another chance to try for the brass ring and the fancy corner office of a newly rebuilt Centre - nor would he ever be able to watch another man tortured for information again without flinching. The electrodes to the leg, followed by simple drops of water, had broken him very effectively - he felt like the spineless, ball-less worm Miss Parker had accused him of being. Too late he appreciated Berringer's exhortation to not jump at the first and obvious solution - his impatience had gained him nothing but grief.
Sam started cutting the bands of duct tape at the ankles and slowly worked his way up the man's body. He paused long enough to examine where the electrode had been attached to the man's legs, finding only two small reddened areas that were much faded from the day before. In another day, it would be impossible to tell that anything had happened down there. Satisfied, he continued cutting at the edges of the tape, and Kevin slowly destroyed the makeshift water torture chamber device.
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker roused, as much because it was starting to be uncomfortable for her to be on her right side as from the sunbeam that had finally found her face. She frowned as she realized that she wasn't still at her desk, but rather on her couch - she didn't remember getting up and coming over to lie down...
The jacket over her shoulders fell back as she worked at sitting up, and she smiled as she picked it up and saw the size and breadth of shoulders it was meant to cover. Sam - good old dependable and conscientious Sam - it must have been he that had taken care of her. He must have come back after checking up on Flores and found her out at her desk...
Flores. With a mental thump, the events of the previous night impacted her memory with force of a jackhammer. She sat up straight on the couch and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping to get the worst of the sleepy disarray under control. She looked down at her wristwatch and blinked. It was almost eight in the morning already - hopefully enough time for the water torture device to have had some effect.
She rose to her feet and brushed at her clothing to get the majority of slept-in wrinkles straightened away, then took off down the corridor heading for the ell that held the infirmary. She rounded the corner just in time to see Sam and Kevin leading a very bedraggled-looking Flores away from her toward the holding rooms. "Hey!" she called out as she broke into a power walk. Sam hauled back hard on Flores' arm to bring the little procession to a halt to wait up for her. "I didn't tell you that you could let him go..."
"He gave us what we wanted," Sam said quietly. "We know where Duncan took them, more or less..."
"More or less?" She frowned. "We don't let insects walk the corridors for a mere “more or less,” Sam..." Her voice was cold, and her eyes flicked up to meet Flores' in a look that chilled him straight to the bone.
"We do if the lack of precise knowledge was part of the plan," he told her calmly, facing that cold wrath evenly. "About all we'd accomplish by leaving him where he was would be to turn over a blithering idiot to the feds when the time came - and having him aware of what happens to him from here on in would seem to me to be a far more fitting end."
Kevin watched as Sam and Miss Parker spoke, not missing the quiet tone of desperation in her voice and the firm sense of purpose in his. He had stayed very close to Sydney in his time away from Vernon - watching these two powerful personalities square off and disagree without coming to blows was fascinating.
Finally Miss Parker gave a tiny nod that conceded the point, then passed her gaze very fleetingly over Kevin. "Why'd you bring Kevin into the picture, then?"
"He brought himself in," Sam admitted. "When I went to check on Flores, Kevin was already there. Flores had him almost convinced to turn the drip off." The Security Chief flashed Kevin a supportive grin. "All I had to do was explain the situation, and Kevin was ready to kill him right there."
"You people are going to pay for this," Flores hissed. "I'm going to tell everyone what you did..."
"With what proof to back you up, asshole?" Miss Parker snapped. "If I know Sam, there will be little if any evidence of anything except your guilt by the time we call in the FBI to haul your sorry ass away. Am I right?" She turned to her Security Chief.
Sam shrugged. "The marks on his legs are almost gone - and I had Kevin cut up the tubing while I freed our cockroach. We moved everything back where it was - so that if he does talk, it will end up a case of “he says, she says.” And considering everything else we have to offer, we KNOW whom the authorities will most likely believe." Sam's dark eyes glittered malignantly and glared into the Californian's. Flores wilted inside, knowing that the ex-sweeper had a very good point.
"Then put the bug back in his box, and meet me in my office. Where's Tyler?"
"Crashed in his office after bringing Kevin in."
Miss Parker whipped her head around to look at Kevin. "You know where that is?"
"Yes," the young Pretender responded immediately.
"Good. Go get him up and bring him to my office. Sam, take care of pest control - I'll go get coffee. We have a busy day ahead." The three stood looking at each other until she clapped her hands together sharply to break the trance. "Today, gentlemen..."
Kevin flinched at the gesture, then headed off towards the offices. Sam shook his head at her in a gesture of caution, then hauled hard at Flores' arm again in the opposite direction.
~~~~~~~~
Ikeda looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, gauging his appearance critically. This was the morning that would set the rules for the rest of his life, and he was determined to make the best impression possible. His suit was of the most expensive cut and fabric, tailored specifically for him by one of the master tailors in Yakuza employ. Not a hair was out of place, and he had used a light cologne that wouldn't detract or overpower.
Satisfied that he was presentable, he turned the light off and walked over to the bed to slip his toiletry bag into his duffelbag and zip the whole thing together again. He eyed he room - his evening's habitation had left few marks on the room at all. Only covers thrown back and a dent in the pillow - and two damp towels and a bath mat - gave evidence that anyone had been in the room. He had touched very little else, caution having been drilled into him so long ago that it was mere habit now.
The elevator ride was spent in focusing his mind on his breathing and his surroundings - and deliberately not speculating on the meeting ahead or possible outcomes. Worry could have no place in his mind right now. Either Miss Parker would see him or she wouldn't; either she would accept his offer of loyalty or she wouldn't. His presentation was stark - he had relieved her of the burden of William Raines and made her rise at the Centre a reality, and he had been the one to kill the person who, if his suspicions were correct, had been responsible for the explosion at the Centre. He had already inadvertently done her service - only she would know whether that would be enough for her to take him in as a new Centre operative or not.
The elevator delivered him back to the lobby of the hotel, and he walked with determination over to the concierge to request a taxi take him to an auto rental agency. With stony calm, he waited as the hotel employee nodded congenially and began making phone calls on his behalf. Soon the man was smiling at him. "The taxi will be here any moment now, and your car will be waiting for you when you arrive."
Ikeda gave the man a proper bow, then remembered his American manners and dropped a five dollar bill onto the desk in front of the concierge before walking toward the double glass door at the front of the lobby. He could make no mistakes at this late date. He was ronin.
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker leaned back in her chair and watched as the three others in her office helped themselves to the donuts she'd also brought with her from the cafeteria. None of them looked all that rested that morning, but there was work to be done. "OK, Sam - tell us what we got from Flores."
"California," he said after swallowing a bit of pastry. "Duncan was to take them to California and then call Flores when he had them settled."
"My God!" Miss Parker gasped, feeling the distance between herself and her son like an arrow in the chest. "WHERE in California?"
Kevin shook his head. "He didn't know." As Miss Parker's face began to cloud from disbelief to anger, he quickly added, "it was part of the plan, his not knowing, meant to keep Duncan safe as long as possible."
"But we have one possible avenue of more information," Sam added. "Berringer. Duncan was evidently more than just a sweeper in Las Vegas - Berringer and he were closer than we suspected. It was Berringer who shipped Duncan to LA, on Raines' orders."
"Then we need to lean on Berringer now," Tyler commented firmly, "find out what HE knows. Maybe he has some idea where Duncan would think of taking them."
"We still have him on ice with the others," Sam reminded them all.
"On ice?" Kevin frowned.
"We have them here at the Centre - a little on-site hospitality - because they were leaning toward helping out Flores force Miss Parker to sign over the Centre to him," Sam explained patiently, then glanced at his boss. "Was Jarod this dense about slang and pop-culture when he first got out?"
Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "You don't know the half of it," she quipped dryly.
"You mean, this was all part of a blackmail attempt to make you give up your job?" Kevin was moving beyond surprise now. "Why?"
"Because they LIKED doing the kind of stuff that kept you cooped up in one house for your entire life, and then selling your work to criminals," Miss Parker snapped. "There was profit in it, and a great deal of power in throwing that money and the influence it bought around." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Look, we'll give you a history lesson some other time, when we don't have two of our own in trouble, OK?"
"Sorry," Kevin backed down immediately.
"I'm gonna make use of Kevin's talent to help think some of this through, once you get Berringer's information," Tyler told his boss firmly. "Y'all need to make use of all your resources - and right now, we can use a problem-solver like him."
"We need to call Jarod," Sam said quietly. "He's closer to the action as far as Davy and Deb are concerned - AND he's another problem-solver. I say we give him the same information that we give Kevin, and see what our geniuses can come up with."
"I'll do that later today, when we have more information," Miss Parker told Sam firmly.
"He's waiting for me to call around noon..."
"Then call him - tell him I'll call him this evening and lay it all out for him. Tell him I need him THERE..." She closed her eyes. As much as she wanted him home NOW, she really DID need him on the other side of the country. "He may have to be the one to go after Davy and Deb when the time comes."
Sam frowned but didn't say anything. There was no way in Hell he was going to let that Lab-rat do the rescue job without having him along - NONE! But Miss Parker didn't have to know that...
The intercom buzzer suddenly broke the silence that had followed Miss Parker's statement. "Miss Parker, a Mr. Katsuhito Ikeda to see you," Mei Chiang announced.
"OK," Miss Parker sighed. "Sam, lean on Berringer. Tyler, get Kevin set up with a space of his own - desk, the whole works - and then coordinate with Sam when there's word. We'll meet again at three o'clock for updates. Got it?" She looked around the room, and saw three nodding heads. "Then I'll see you all later." She punched her intercom button. "You can send in Mr. Ikeda."
Sam held the door while Tyler and Kevin exited. He then waited until the Japanese man had moved in through the door before closing it behind him again.
Miss Parker rose and bowed just the proper distance that a person in authority would bow to a complete stranger. "Mr. Ikeda."
Ikeda, on the other hand, bowed deeply - the bow of a subordinate to authority. "Miss Parker," he said in accented but clear English. "I am honored that you would see me."
She seated herself and gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk that her assistants had left. "What can I do for the Yakuza?" she asked, making a quick and assessing study of her guest and recognizing the signs.
"I am here on my own business, not that of my former employers," Ikeda corrected in a calm tone. "While they do not know it yet, I have resigned my association with the Yakuza."
The grey eyes narrowed. "Transfers of loyalty aren't exactly looked upon with favor, Ikeda-san," she replied in a sharp tone. "And I have enough to handle right now that I do not need the Yakuza looking upon me with frustration."
"I understand this," Ikeda replied. "As a matter of fact, I am fully aware of your situation. I had a hand in creating it, as a matter of fact." He gazed quietly and peacefully into her surprised gaze. "My former position with the Yakuza was as assassin. One of my last assignments was to rid the world - and you, I believe - of having to deal further with a William Raines."
Miss Parker sat back in her chair in surprise. "YOU... killed Raines?" she gasped. "Why?"
"Tanaka-sama must have felt that the contract was necessary," he replied. "I didn't make a habit of questioning my assignments. I merely did as requested - until now."
"Oh? Your coming here is in lieu of fulfilling another assignment?" The eyebrow was lifted dangerously.
"My coming here is because my former employers have lost sight of what it means to be Yakuza," Ikeda said proudly. "They tremble at threats and think that assassination of key players will intimidate. They are fools who spend the lives of their people frivolously." He drew in a breath. "I was sent back to America to silence a man who holds a great deal of power - over you, over the Yakuza. I could have killed him last night, but I didn't."
"Who were you sent for this time?" she asked, afraid of the answer.
"Otamo Ngawe," the assassin said in his clear, quiet voice. "I warned him that he and the man in charge of the Yakuza are playing a foolish game - and told him that the next assassin sent would finish what I was sent to do."
She leaned forward. "Why in the Hell did you do that?" she demanded. "Ngawe is ruthless, and right now, he seems a bit unbalanced. You may have done nothing but escalate things."
Ikeda remained unruffled. "I put the truth where it needed to be," he insisted calmly. "And now I have come to ask for sanctuary in your organization, as perhaps a small return on the service I did for you by removing Raines and the man responsible for that." Ikeda's finger pointed out the window at the construction where the Tower once had stood.
"That too, eh?" Miss Parker sighed, leaned back again and then viewed her guest cautiously. "The police are turning this whole part of the world upside down looking for you, you know. You left bodies all over the place. For a Yakuza assassin - ninja-trained, I'd imagine - your work is sloppy."
The Japanese drew himself together. "I left only one body, Miss Parker - that of the man who did this," he pointed out the window again. "I watched Raines' body be taken back inside the Centre. So I did not... as you say... leave bodies all over the place."
"You didn't kill the gardener?" she asked curtly.
"No. I had no reason to," he replied evenly. "I never even saw a gardener. I kill only when necessary - or when it is my job. I left the body of the bomber because what he'd just done was bound to attract a great deal of attention. If there was another body, it was there before I arrived."
She gazed into the dark eyes of her visitor and realized that, sitting before her in utter serenity, was one of the most dangerous men she'd ever hope to meet. Lyle, with his morbid habits and unpredictable tempers had been dangerous, as had Raines and his paranoias and mad-scientist schemes. But this man, completely calm, completely present in the moment, and completely balanced and sane, was like Death itself paying her a social call - asking HER for help.
"If I were to consider your request," she began, folding her fingers together at chest-level, "what would you be offering in exchange? I am trying to turn the Centre from an American version of the Yakuza into a completely legitimate research and development institution. What use would your skills have in this endeavor?"
Ikeda blinked and thought for a moment, letting his mind explore the vast possibilities the question opened for him. "Certainly not all within your organization will be pleased at the change in philosophy you're suggesting," he answered with eyes slightly narrowed. "They will try many interesting and dangerous tactics to sway you from your path. My skills may be needed to answer some of those moves. As a ninja, killing was not the only thing I was trained to do well."
Miss Parker sat forward slowly. "What do you know of what happened last night?" she demanded in a low and dangerous tone.
"The only thing I know happened last night," Ikeda replied, "was that I visited Ngawe-san in his hospital room and left him with a message - and a dead bodyguard. If something else happened, then I'm not aware of it." He narrowed his eyes again. "If I may ask, what DID happen, Parker-sama - and what would you wish me do? I am your servant."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"With all due respect, you said it yourself when our conversation was first beginning. Transfers of loyalty are not viewed favorably by my former employers - and having tweaked the nose of Ngawe-san in his own bedroom, as a free agent my remaining lifetime would be a very limited one." He stood. "I am willing to use all my training and skills at your command, Parker-sama, for my life is forfeit otherwise. You can trust me because your trust is all that stands between me and the grave. If I must enter that void, I would rather do it in your service."
Miss Parker observed him standing in front of her desk, obviously waiting with extreme patience for her answer, hardly believing her luck. This was a resource too good to let slip through her fingers, and it had fallen into her lap and answered questions at the same time. She reached for her intercom. "Mei Chiang, will you have Tyler and Sam come back in here please?"
"Sam informed me that he would be out of touch for a short time, Miss Parker," the voice of her receptionist announced quietly. "I think he said that he was going to be doing an important interview and needed not to be disturbed. Do you wish me to have a sweeper fetch him anyway?"
"No," she shook her head. Sam was leaning on Berringer, as planned - and he needed the space to do the job properly. "Keep paging Sam's office in regular intervals, however. When Sam returns, have him get Tyler and come to my office." She waved her hand at her visitor. "Sit down, Mr. Ikeda, and make yourself comfortable while I think this through. I think I very well may have a use for your services."
Chapter 9: That Sinking Feeling
Waiting had to be one of the most uncomfortable ways to pass time that Kevin had ever experienced, especially waiting alone in unfamiliar surroundings for someone - he didn't know who - to come for him. He'd never felt so alone and helpless, with several members of his informal “family” removed from him for one reason or another. But it was the renewed loss of Sydney that was the most troubling. The last time the mentor had landed in the hospital, Kevin had been given the responsibility for watching his house and taking care of Davy while both Miss Parker and Jarod worked at the Centre. This time there would be no Davy to fill his time - and the house that had been a warm and friendly security blanket no longer felt very safe to him.
He barely noticed that he'd been joined in the waiting area until a sniffle called his attention to something other than his insecurities. Curled up into a tight ball in a corner chair, sandals left on the floor while feet were tucked in close on the seat of the chair and head leaning on her propped-up knees, was a young woman with long, flowing dark hair. Her clothing was clean but faded - her denim pants had been cut into shorts and the hem unraveled into an uneven white fringe, and what he could see of her tee shirt was white. Her hair sported more than one thin braid that Kevin guessed was meant to be strictly ornamental - one of those braids had a seagull feather caught in the rubber band at the end.
Kevin couldn't help staring. He'd never seen such a creature before, except perhaps on one of those television shows that Sydney eventually had to sit down and explain patiently to him. Her face, although partially hidden by her long, dark tresses, had an expression of sadness and defeat that resonated with his own mood at the moment.
As if she could sense that she was being watched, slowly she turned her head until her wide and dark eyes met Kevin's. "What?" she asked in tired frustration as she wiped away a tear before it slid very far down her cheek, "your mother never taught you it's impolite to stare?"
Her biting remark caught him off-guard. "I... I never knew my mother," Kevin admitted as he looked back down into his magazine again. "I didn't mean to stare." He found his place in the article and began reading again until he got the vaguest impression that he was being watched. He raised his gaze and connected with that of the young woman. "Now you're staring at me," he reminded her pointedly.
"I was just trying to figure out if you were jerking my chain or not," she retorted. "You got nice, new clothes, you look well-fed - you don't look like no orphan. Least-wise, no orphan I'VE ever met..."
"I didn't say I was an orphan. I said I never knew my mother." Kevin didn't know why this young woman's attitude was making the hackles rise - maybe it was that she was constantly challenging or goading him, something he wasn't used to at all.
"Same difference," she tossed at him impatiently.
He shook his head. "Not hardly," he retorted and returned to his magazine, deliberately ignoring her.
The emergency entrance doors swung inward, and a rather scruffy-looking young man in tattered jeans and a grease-stained leather jacket walked into the waiting area and right up to the young woman. "Hey, Crystal, I just heard..."
"The suits aren't telling me anything, Scooter," the young woman complained in a bitter and whining tone.
The scruffy young man sauntered dangerously up to the ER admissions desk and the nurse manning the computer terminal. "Hey lady!" he barked, slapping an open hand on the top of the monitor and making the whole desk shudder and brought Kevin's head up in a near panic. "What's the news on Cricket?"
The nurse flashed a thoroughly irked expression that she quickly buried behind a mask of pure professionalism. "Cricket?"
"Tamara Linde - the girl I came in with about two hours ago," the young woman - Crystal, Kevin had heard her called - explained, sliding her feet into her sandals and rising to walk over to join her friend.
The nurse typed into the computer and then read the display. "She's been transferred to Intensive Care in fair condition. You can come back tomorrow..."
"I wanna see her now," Crystal whined, making Scooter stiffen again.
He slapped the top of the monitor. "We want to see her."
"Hospital regulations..." the nurse began.
"Screw the regulations, lady. C'mon, Crystal," Scooter sneered at the nurse. "We can find our way to Intensive Care on our own."
"I'm sorry, but..." The nurse had picked up the phone receiver. "Security to ER waiting, please..."
Scooter barely had a chance to bring up a warning index finger to shake in the nurse's pale face before two burly uniformed security men had barreled into the waiting area. "Time to find somewhere else to hang, fella," the larger of the two officers said as they caught Scooter between them. "You too, miss - come along now." The second officer crooked a finger at Crystal.
She flounced over to where she'd been sitting and retrieved her small fringed leather purse from under the chair, catching once more Kevin's eye watching her movements closely. "Did we give you a good show, Little Orphan Andy?" she sneered at him angrily, then tossed her head and walked defiantly back to her friend. The second officer snagged her arm, and then the security men proceeded to lead the scruffy pair from the room.
Kevin looked over at the nurse at the desk in wonder and shock, to find that she'd already gone back to work as if nothing at all had happened. The young Pretender looked over at the clock on the wall and hoped that whoever was coming for him would get there soon. He didn't want to stay in this place one more minute longer than he had to.
~~~~~~~~
"Well, would you look at that!"
Jennifer Sawyer jumped at the sound of her superior's voice from directly behind her, and she looked up from her charting. "Christ! You scared me Dorothy!"
"No, I mean it," the older nursing supervisor pointed at the empty chair sitting in the corridor. "Didn't that black fellow have his bodyguard or someone sitting there all the time lately?"
Jen wrinkled her brows in thought. "You're right." She shrugged. "Maybe somebody told him to cut it out? I've seen a couple of orderlies almost trip over the tall one's legs a few times..."
"But he was there earlier - just a couple of hours ago, I think," Dorothy insisted. "And I've watched these guys. They don't TAKE breaks."
Jen shrugged and looked back down at her charting. "So..."
"Do me a favor..." Dorothy began.
"Make up your mind, will ya? You wanted me to do the charting, I'm doing the charting. If you want me doing something else, then YOU get to finish the paperwork," the younger RN said in mild frustration.
"So I'll finish the charting," Dorothy responded, both hands on her younger co-worker's shoulders to move her away from the desk. "Go down and check up on that Ngawe guy - make sure he's OK. That missing guard makes me think something's wrong down there."
"If you're so bothered about it, why don't YOU go?" Jen complained as she got to her feet. She'd known better than to wear new shoes to work that night - and she was paying for her mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around much.
"Just check up on the guy - you don't have to hold his hand or take his pulse or nothing," Dorothy waved her co-worker on down the corridor, slipping into the chair that Jen had just vacated.
Jennifer shot her supervisor a withering glare and then walked slowly toward the empty chair and the door in front of which it sat. She paused and listened for a moment, not hearing a sound coming from the room - and she didn't know whether to be encouraged or apprehensive. With a last backward glance toward the nurse's station for courage, she pushed the door open and stepped into the semi-lit private room.
"It's about time someone came to check up on us!" came the decidedly unpleasant autocratic voice from the bed. "We would have thought someone would have noticed his absence outside our door before now."
Jen blinked and then followed the man's pointing finger to stare dumbfounded at the missing bodyguard - the front of the man's jacket and shirt covered with blood. The nurse put a shaking finger to the pulse point and then pulled back at both the lack of pulse and lack of warmth. She began to back out of the room, an internal shaking building slowly.
"Wait a minute! What are you going to do about us? Don't leave us here like this..."
Jen walked back to the nurse's station and took a deep breath as she reached across the desk for the telephone. "Security to Medical Ward, STAT."
Dorothy stared up at her. "What is it?"
The younger nurse just shook her head and dialed the telephone again. "This is Nurse Jennifer Sawyer at Dover Memorial. I would like to report a murder..."
~~~~~~~~
Tyler steered his coupe into the parking lot near the emergency entrance to the hospital and shut off the engine with a sigh. The call from Miss Parker had caught him halfway down the coastal highway toward the Centre and then had him make a U-turn to make the connector to Highway 1 and Dover. Her order had been clear: bring Kevin back to the Centre from the hospital.
She'd also taken a little time to explain a few things that Deb had only alluded to earlier that evening - no, the previous night. She informed him that Kevin had only very recently been freed from an entire lifetime of very limited contact with others, and had padded the information with a sincere request to cut the young man a little slack. While he would have like to have asked a lot more questions, he got the impression that he needed to just get himself to Dover as quickly as possible and pick up the bothersome young man who had acted so belligerently before. He'd also have to diligently swallow whatever negative feelings he had so that he could drive safely back to Blue Cove and the Centre.
Tyler pushed through the double doors and looked around. There he was, curled into a tightly folded and defensive posture in the waiting area. Then Kevin looked up from the magazine he was trying to read with a look of such apprehension and desperate hope that Tyler was taken aback. It was obvious that the young man, while outwardly appearing normal, really HAD just had a healthy piece of what little stability he'd been able to construct in his life torn away from him rather violently. Miss Parker had had a good reason to ask him to cut the man some slack - and Tyler could see no reason not to anymore.
Then Kevin's eyes landed on Tyler, and the young Pretender's first reaction was for his whole face to light up like a frightened child finding a friendly face, only later to dim a bit when it finally penetrated WHO had come to get him. Tyler understood the reaction, and decided to do something about it.
"Hey there," Tyler walked into the waiting area toward Kevin. "All your paperwork done here? Miss Parker sent me to pick you up and bring you back with me to the Centre."
"I... don't know..." The sandy-haired young man walked over the ER admitting desk. "Do I have anything I need to do..."
The middle-aged nurse punched a few buttons on her computer, then shook her head. "Nope - looks like you have everything squared away. You take care of yourself now."
"I guess I'm ready." Kevin hunched his shoulders a little defensively, still remembering the argument at Sydney's just a few hours ago.
"C'mon then. My car's just outside." Tyler led the way out to the coupe and unlocked the door to let the younger man in. "Wait a minute..." he said suddenly, turning to face Kevin in the light of the parking lot street lamp. "Look - let's clear the air between us. And I might as well start, since it's my suggestion." The Texan looked down for a moment, then directly into wide blue eyes. "I said a few things back at the house that I'm not proud of, and I want to apologize."
Kevin blinked, then knew what he had to do - Sydney had explained this to him a long time ago, way back when they had first met. When someone apologized, they at least deserved to have it acknowledged. And after thinking about it a moment or two, he knew he owed Tyler one in return. "I'm sorry too - I guess I was just upset..."
"We both were," Tyler said steadily. "I have a feeling we both care a lot for Deb Broots."
The sandy-haired Pretender's gaze was caught and held by Tyler's directness, and Kevin felt the strength in that statement that suddenly gave him common ground with this virtual stranger. "I think you're probably right," he admitted carefully.
"Then we need to work together to get her back and not fight with each other in the meantime, don't you think?" Tyler suggested in a very matter-of-fact tone. He extended his right hand. "No hard feelings?"
Kevin looked from the hand into Tyler's face, then slowly nodded and put his hand out to let Tyler shake it with a firm yet steady grip. "What can I do to help then?" he asked as Tyler finally began to move around to the other side of the car.
"Miss Parker, when she called me to come get you, called you a Pretender," Tyler mentioned as he turned the key in the ignition, "but she didn't say much about what a Pretender is or does. Tell me about that. What does it mean? Maybe when I know what it is that you can do, I can help y'all find something that would fit your talents..."
Kevin took a deep breath and, for the first time in his life, tried to explain himself to someone who had no clue about what he'd been trained to do.
~~~~~~~~
Gillespie groaned as he rolled over in bed to stare at the clock - it was now four forty-five. He'd only been home for half an hour after one of the longest days in his professional career. He propped himself up and reached for the receiver. "This had better be damned good or a matter of life or death..." he began in as threatening a voice as he could muster through his fatigue.
"Dover PD here," announced a brisk voice on the other end. "We were informed by hospital personnel that you had an interest in a patient by the name of Ngawe?"
Gillespie was awake immediately. "Yes. What's happened?"
"There was a murder at the hospital tonight - one of Mr. Ngawe's associates was found dead in Mr. Ngawe's room. Ngawe is bellowing to be released into the custody of his own security people and generally raising hell, and the killing looks VERY suspicious."
The FBI agent shook his head. It never rained but it poured. "I suppose Ngawe isn't talking either."
"You got it," the police officer on the other end agreed. "I was told to defer to you as to how you want this situation handled."
Gillespie dragged a hand down his face and tried to force his exhausted mind to push through to clarity. "OK, here's what I want you do to: call Michelson at the office and have him down there ASAP to oversee moving Ngawe to another private room - but under no circumstances do I want that man loose. Tell him to call it protective custody, call it whatever he wants, but I want that man where I can find him. Process the forensics of the crime scene, interview whoever it was that found the body and have all the preliminary reports on my desk in the morning as soon as humanly possible."
"Anything else?" asked the officer.
"Yeah," Gillespie grumbled. "Pray that nothing ELSE happens between now and about eight o'clock - or I'm going to be a VERY unhappy camper!!" He hung up the phone with some force and flopped back into his pillows. He was starting to have moments when he wished he'd never even heard of a place called the Centre...
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker rose and walked the few steps to the utilitarian little window in the office she now called hers and stared out across the way to where halogen lights still kept the area that used to be the Centre Tower lit so that work could continue around the clock. For the first time, she missed the view from her former office that looked out across the broad expanse of manicured grass toward the ocean. That view, in daylight hours, might have held some small chance of comforting her - where this night time scene from Hell just rubbed in the sense of imminent disaster that had hung over the Centre like a black cloud. That black cloud had spawned a tornado - one that had ripped away her little boy and a girl she loved like a daughter...
She stiffened and shoved that emotion down brutally. Getting weepy would not save Davy or Deb. Lyle's success, if one could call it that, had come from his never allowing the events of his life to knock him off-track of his goal - and the only way she knew for sure she could survive this was to continue to emulate that single-minded determination. The long and stable reign of Mr. Parker – “Daddy” - had also been accomplished through putting the Centre ahead of absolutely everything else, family, ethics, morality... HER purpose, however, was twofold: to get her son and friend back safely while at the same time protecting the Centre from obvious marauders. Each purpose served the other. It was all depending on her now - this time it would be she whose responsibility it would be to hold the family together, not Jarod - and she couldn't waver. At least she had Tyler and Sam...
Before he had left her to go check on their “research project,” as they now called Flores, Sam had quietly informed her that Jarod knew some of what was going on. She wasn't all that surprised. Ethan would have known something had happened - no doubt she'd been broadcasting her emotions at full volume there for a while. Of course he would have taken that knowledge to Jarod, knowing he'd want to know what was going on back here too.
Jarod. For the briefest moment, she allowed herself to resent his need to go back to California and try to make things “right” before settling down with her and finally starting a life together as a part of a family. She needed him HERE at her side - needed him worse than any of his former Pretend beneficiaries had ever needed him - and where was he? Three thousand damned miles that-a-way, and for God's sake thinking of adopting another child!
Once more she stiffened and shoved the emotion aside. She'd gotten along in life pretty damned well in the last seven years without that Lab-rat - and she was a Parker, damn it! Jarod had his fires to put out in California before he could come home, and she could stand on her own again until then. Besides, she had Sydney - his voice in that brief call from the hospital had sounded not all that damaged - and she had Sam, just as she had had all along. She had a more than ample support system, especially once Broots was awake and back in the swing of things. If he ever would be again...
NO! She stalked back to her desk and sifted through the paperwork that was ever piling up, not really seeing anything. She couldn't afford emotions - she had to stay strong for Davy and Deb. She had to stay strong for the Centre. She couldn't afford to be Miss Parker right now. She had to be Lyle. She had to be Daddy.
But it was hard - SO hard - to be something or someone she detested so much...
Exhausted as if she hadn't had any sleep at all before any of this latest nightmare began, she put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes. Maybe the façade would be easier to maintain if she had a little rest...
~~~~~~~~
Sam was finding it fascinating to watch through the glass window of the infirmary as each drop hit Flores' face. It was more than apparent that the Hispanic was no longer laughing at the idea of single drops of water falling on his face - the man looked positively fatigued and apprehensive as the next drip gained volume. Sam could have sworn that he'd heard at least one moan of desperation while he'd stood there watching.
He had to give her credit - when Miss Parker put her mind to it, she made a much better, much more creative Inquisitor than he did. He'd have never thought to try this ploy out, much less trust that it would actually produce results. And other than perhaps a slightly red area on the bridge of the nose, this would even less of a mark than those electrodes of his from earlier in the day had.
"Hey Sam! Hold up!"
The ex-sweeper turned and saw Tyler walking briskly down the hall toward him with Kevin in tow. With a single backward glance at the infirmary window, he hurried to meet them far enough down the hall that neither would have any idea what was going on. "About time you two made it." He eyed Kevin critically. "How's the cheek, kid?"
"Just three stitches," the young man answered stoically. "The doctor said that nothing was broken."
"Say, do you think Miss Parker would go for letting Kevin be my assistant for a while?" Tyler asked with a glance at his companion. "We got to talkin' in the car, and he explained what all he used to do and all... Seems to me we could use someone with that kind of talent on this right now."
"I want to help, Sam," Kevin piped up, adding his voice to Tyler's. "Sydney's in the hospital for a day or so. Give me something to do - please!"
Sam looked back and forth, then shook his head in amazement. "I gotta admit, after watching you two take after each other, the LAST thing I expected was for you to shake hands and make buddies."
"We're doing it for Deb," Kevin explained quickly. "Our fighting doesn't get her home any faster - but our working together might, Sam. Please..."
"OK," the Security Chief agreed, "I'll clear it with Miss P. in case she objects - and YOU get to explain to Sydney why you're back working for the Centre again," he told Kevin specifically. "But for now, why don't we got get us some coffee and start thinking things through a bit."
"None for me, thanks," Tyler put up a negating hand, then stifled a yawn, "I don't know about y'all, but I need me some shut-eye in the worst way! I think I'm going to crash in my office for a while."
Sam gave Kevin another glance too. "Yeah, I suppose... And you look like you're just about ready to fall in too, kid. Why don't you take the couch in my office for the time being. I'll get you both up at about eight, so we can dig right in."
"Fine by me." Tyler waved his hand tiredly at the other men and began ambling off in the direction of his office.
"This way," Sam indicated that Kevin should follow Tyler. "Mine's the second door to the left past Tyler's. You go on in and settle down - I have a few things to check on first." He watched to make sure Kevin was comfortable before shutting off his office light and closing the door quietly. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair thoughtfully, then headed for the little office at the end of the hall and pushed the door open.
Miss Parker had beaten them all to the punch - she was fast asleep already, sprawled across her desk in a position that looked definitely uncomfortable. Sam shook his head at her, then walked over to her quietly and gently picked her up in his arms and carried her over to her own couch to lay her down in a more comfortable position. "Jarod..." she murmured softly as she felt his touch leave her even through her dreams.
"Not tonight, ma'am," he answered softly and took off his jacket and covered her so that she could be warm. He shut off her office light so that she could rest, then headed back toward his office. They were all tired, and tired people made mistakes. He'd crash at his desk for a little while, then be up in time to rouse the others.
Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.
~~~~~~~~
Otamo Ngawe was furious and was letting everybody know it. "We demand to be allowed to call my people to provide security for..."
"Patience, Mr. Ngawe," the nurse at the side of his wheelchair said, patting his shoulder solicitously. "We're going to get you situated in another room, and THEN you can call..."
"But we don't want to remain in this place one second longer! We wish to be released immediately!" the elderly African fairly bellowed.
"Mr. Ngawe, my name is Harlan Michelson, and I'm an agent of the FBI." The tall man in the unseasonable trench coat handed the African a folded piece of paper. "As of right now, you have been placed in the protective custody of the United States government as a material witness to at least two crimes. We will be seeing to your security needs for the time being." The agent nodded at the nurse. "Go ahead and get him settled."
"We wish to talk to our ambassador, NOW!" Ngawe called back to the agent over his shoulder as he was whisked briskly down the corridor and away from the carnage that was his former private room. "This is an outrage!"
"To have a man murdered in your room - how terrible for you!" the nurse was chirping as she set the brakes on the wheelchair next to the fresh hospital bed. She motioned for the orderlies who had accompanied her to lift the disabled man into bed and then remove the wheelchair. "Did you see who did it?" she asked in innocent curiosity.
Ngawe opened his mouth to answer her without thinking, then suddenly slammed his jaw shut and folded his face into an icon of stubborn silence.
"Oh, that's true - you should be telling that to the police, not me," the nurse chirped again, smoothing the bedclothes down and just generally fussing.
"That will do. Thank you." Ngawe growled, obviously dismissing her.
The nurse frowned. "Well! You don't have to be that way!" she huffed and spun on her heels and headed for the door, almost running headlong into the federal agent.
"Since there are no signs that your man was killed elsewhere and then moved into your room," Michelson said as he drew out a small notebook and pen, "I was wondering if you saw or heard anything that would give us an idea of who killed him?"
"We saw and heard nothing," Ngawe said slowly and clearly, as if to a child. "We were asleep. We awoke to find this man in our room, already dead."
"Indeed." Michelson wrote briefly in his notebook. "If that's the case, why didn't you summon help?"
"Our page button had been moved out of our reach," the African growled, still angry at that little piece of indignity.
"Then the killer was very close to you - and didn't touch you at all?" Michelson asked in obvious disbelief.
"We were asleep, so we would assume so."
Michelson nodded, knowing full good and well that he was hearing hot air. This wily and impolite man knew far more than he was willing to admit. "I'm sure my superior will be wanting to interview you later in the morning. Do you need me to reach for the telephone for you?"
"Yes, please." Ngawe hated having to be polite to this government maggot, but it would be the only way short of having to endure that terminally cheerful nurse again, that he would be able to call out to his people.
The Yakuza had gone too far this time, threatening him in his own bed. There would be Hell itself to pay now.
~~~~~~~~
Flores was miserable. Again.
He had laughed at the idea of a simple drop of water being strong enough to break a man - but hundreds if not thousands of drops later, the bridge of his nose hurt like hell. Each drop now was like a sharp little tap-hammer stinging away at his ability to concentrate. Worse, the water had pooled in his eye sockets, eventually run down his neck and spread through his clothing, so laying there was warm only under the duct tape. He was still feeling the effects of the cramping in his legs from time to time - and if he wasn't careful, tightening a muscle could send the whole calf muscle back into agonized cramps made worse by the fact that he could not move to relieve the cramping. The final indignity was that he had to go to the bathroom, and the continual dampness was NOT helping those matters at all. If someone didn't come soon and help him out, his bladder would eventually burst.
If someone didn't come soon... Hell, he was convinced he'd been completely forgotten! He was exhausted, not being able to sleep at all with that dripping into his face. He couldn't see to the windows to see whether the sun had started to come up yet. How many hours had he lain here, forgotten?
The real kicker was that he honestly didn't know all that much more than he'd already told them. An important part of his instructions to Duncan as they had planned the kidnapping had been the relative disconnection between them - that their only contact was to be by telephone, and even that only rarely. Duncan had been told to take the hostages back to California in order to make it more difficult to mount a rescue effort - but that was all the further he'd wanted to know particulars. Duncan would call when he had the hostages safely stowed, and not until then. Of course, his cell phone had been one of the things the sweepers had confiscated first...
Would Miss Parker and that demon Sam Atlee believe him when he told them what little more he knew? Probably not, but he'd certainly like a chance to try to convince them...
He heard the sound of the door of the infirmary opening. "About time," he rasped. "Are you ready to hear what I have to say?" He received no immediate answer, but discerned movement in the peripheral vision that was drowned with past droplets. "Who is it?" he demanded, blinking his eyes as quickly as he could to drive some of the pooled water away only to have to watch as the droplet above grew pendulous.
Suddenly, a sandy-haired young man's head popped into his line of sight - a young man with wide blue eyes that took in the Hispanic's situation with some amazement. "What..."
"Just stop the dripping, son," Flores urged desperately as yet another drop splattered between his eyes. "Please..."
Kevin eyed the arrangement of metal cabinetry and tubing that had been constructed very carefully to allow the water to drip with rhythmic precision right between the man's eyes. The spot where the drips where impacting the skin was red, and the man's eyes showed how desperate he was to have his situation altered. The young Pretender thought through the possible effect of having been subjected to this kind of treatment for any length of time, and came away impressed with both the ingenuity of the ploy and some alarm that anyone would actually DO this to another person. Tipping his head, Kevin studied the line from drip back and then reached for the drip controller.
"Don't touch that, Kevin!" Sam barked at the young man from the door, and Kevin's hand froze.
He turned and looked at the trusted family friend in concern. "What is going on here, Sam? What are you doing to this man?"
"They're trying to drive me insane!" Flores spat. "Use your head for something besides holding your ears apart, kid, and turn the damned dripping OFF!!"
Sam found the blue eyes glaring at him accusingly. "Is that true?" Kevin gaped. "I thought... You're hurting him? Why... you're no better than any of the others... than Vernon..."
Sam simply shook his head tiredly. What a helluva way to start the morning. "Maybe we ARE hurting him, but we feel we have reason this time. For what it's worth, this is the man who ordered the kidnapping, Kevin. He knows where Davy and Deb are. We're trying to convince him to tell us so we can get them back quickly."
Sam watched Kevin's face cloud over abruptly to the point that when the young Pretender looked down at Flores again, he was livid. "You... hurt..." Kevin's hands turned into claws and he lunged at Flores, reaching for the throat. Only quick thinking on Sam's part and then a firm grasp on Kevin's arm managed to keep the young man from starting to throttle the man on the board.
"Kevin! Kevin! We need him - we need him to tell us where they are, where Duncan took them!" Sam wrestled the young man's arms back to his sides. "What did you think you were doing?"
"He hurt... everybody..." Kevin snarled, more angry than he'd ever been before in his life. "Sydney, me, Miss Parker..."
"Yes," Sam agreed carefully. "And that's why we're going to leave him alone until he's willing to talk to us."
"NO!!" Flores howled, and then sputtered as the next drip splattered onto his face. "At least give me a bathroom break..."
Kevin stared down at the man, all the sympathy for his situation completely evaporated. Suddenly, this was too good for him. "You deserve this," the young man pronounced coldly.
Sam put his hand on the young Pretender's shoulder. "Guess that makes you as bad as the rest of us, doesn't it?"
"He hurt Deb and Davy," Kevin was thinking through the situation. "I guess sometimes a person has to do things they wouldn't otherwise when they have a good reason."
"You're learning, kid, you're learning," Sam's hand on his shoulder patted him gently. "Welcome to the Centre School of Hard Knocks. C'mon - let's go get you and me some coffee and get the rest of us up. Today's going to be a busy day."
"What about ME?!" Flores whimpered as the sound of footsteps faded in the direction of the doorway. "You can't just walk away and leave me alone again..."
"Just give us a good scream or two when you've had enough," Sam tossed back casually. Sooner or later, one of us will hear you and see what you're ready to give us."
Another drop pinged into the bridge of the man's nose, and Flores was whining. "OK! OK! I'll tell you what I know - I swear it. Just turn the damned water off. God!"
Sam turned, then motioned for Kevin to stay on the other side of the room and walked halfway back. "Well? Talk."
Previous experience told Flores that he'd have to talk first before he stood any chance of being freed from his intolerable situation. "California," the Hispanic gave up at last. "I told Duncan to take them back to the West Coast, where it would be harder for you folks to find them. Only he knows the exact location, though. That was supposed to be the beauty of it," he whimpered as he watched another droplet begin to loom again. "Nobody but he would know exactly where he was or when he'd do things. He wasn't SUPPOSED to move to make the snatch for another day or so... Now please..."
Sam's heart dropped to his shoes. "California! How the hell was he getting them to California?!"
"He has a friend with a private jet - I... I gave him access to enough money to rent it for as long as he needed it," Flores' voice was getting higher in pitch as the droplet grew heavier and heavier above him. "That's how he got here. But I don't know where he landed, or what part of California he was going to fly to when he went back... Please... Oh for God's sake..."
"California's a damned big place, asshole," Sam snarled, darting forward to push his face into Flores' field of vision. "You have to know more than that. You know Duncan - where would he take them?"
"ARGH!" Flores felt the drop hit his forehead like a tiny hammer that resounded through his entire skull. "Shit! I don't know him as well as you'd think. He came to my office about four years ago from Las Vegas - before that, he was Stu Berringer's assistant..."
"Wrong, dipstick," Sam growled. "He was just a sweeper in Las Vegas..."
"No, no..." Flores watched the next drop begin to build. "Berringer kept him listed as a sweeper, but knew Duncan came to him having plenty of connections and recommendations. When Raines... saw the potential for profit from West Coast mob dealings, It was he who had Berringer transfer Duncan to me." Flores' eyes grew wide and desperate. "God, that's all I know, I swear it! Please, please..."
"What do you think, Kevin?" Sam asked the young Pretender. "Does it make sense?"
Kevin processed the information they'd just been given for a long moment. "It's a logical fail-safe technique to keep one person from knowing ALL the information - so the odds of Flores' NOT knowing exactly where they took Davy and Deb are pretty good." He really hated the fact that he could appreciate the creativity of the plan that had hurt so many he cared about.
"What do you mean - Davy and Deb?" Flores demanded, then whimpered as the next drop thundered onto his face. "He was supposed to snatch Dr. Green..."
"What can we say - he missed," Sam grinned tightly. "Kevin here and Sydney put up a fight - that's how he got that," he pointed to the bandage on the young man's cheek. "Evidently they could hear that we'd figured out what was happening and were burning rubber on our way to stop them - so they snatched a girl instead."
"Shit!" Flores swore and began watching with dread as the next drop began to form. "In that case, Duncan may not be staying with the plan anymore. I can't tell. Honest to God, that's all I know. Now please..."
"What do you think - should we let him go?" Sam asked Kevin.
The young man shook his head. "You weren't just going to let him walk away, were you?" the Pretender asked in astonishment.
"No way! But we could cut him loose, let him pee before he soils himself and stinks to high heaven - and then lock him up until the feds ask for him."
"The “feds” - who are they?" Kevin asked.
"Law enforcement agents. Since he just admitted to a kidnapping plot that crosses state lines, that takes this into federal jurisdiction." Sam could see Kevin still didn't understand. "The guys in suits who were asking all the questions last night - THEY'RE the feds."
"Oh." The young man thought for a bit. "And you don't think they'd approve of this, if they saw it?"
Sam chuckled. "Probably not. Technically, torture is illegal."
"Hell, no, they wouldn't approve," Flores whimpered as the next drop splattered. "Where did you grow up, kid - on the Moon?"
"That's enough out of you, if you want to get out of here with your wits intact." Sam growled now. "I'm gonna let the kid decide - so you MAY want to reconsider the wisdom of pissing him off right now." He turned back to Kevin. "Well?"
Kevin's face clouded with repressed anger. "Let him up - but only so that we can turn him over to these “feds,” as you call them."
Sam nodded. "OK, kid - you can help me with him then." He went to the drip controller and waited until the last drop had fallen before shutting off the flow of water. The two of them then moved the bookshelf unit back and away from the exam table. "Take a scissors and cut that tubing up and throw it away," Sam said as he retrieved a scalpel from a drawer, "while I let this low-life loose."
Flores was lying very quietly on the backboard now, completely depleted in his relief from the endless, maddening dripping. For all his blustering and lust for power, he'd never before run seriously afoul of his Centre superiors - although he'd often stood aside and watched with pleasure as others had fallen victim to the iron hand of Raines or his lackey Lyle. Something told him he'd never get another chance to try for the brass ring and the fancy corner office of a newly rebuilt Centre - nor would he ever be able to watch another man tortured for information again without flinching. The electrodes to the leg, followed by simple drops of water, had broken him very effectively - he felt like the spineless, ball-less worm Miss Parker had accused him of being. Too late he appreciated Berringer's exhortation to not jump at the first and obvious solution - his impatience had gained him nothing but grief.
Sam started cutting the bands of duct tape at the ankles and slowly worked his way up the man's body. He paused long enough to examine where the electrode had been attached to the man's legs, finding only two small reddened areas that were much faded from the day before. In another day, it would be impossible to tell that anything had happened down there. Satisfied, he continued cutting at the edges of the tape, and Kevin slowly destroyed the makeshift water torture chamber device.
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker roused, as much because it was starting to be uncomfortable for her to be on her right side as from the sunbeam that had finally found her face. She frowned as she realized that she wasn't still at her desk, but rather on her couch - she didn't remember getting up and coming over to lie down...
The jacket over her shoulders fell back as she worked at sitting up, and she smiled as she picked it up and saw the size and breadth of shoulders it was meant to cover. Sam - good old dependable and conscientious Sam - it must have been he that had taken care of her. He must have come back after checking up on Flores and found her out at her desk...
Flores. With a mental thump, the events of the previous night impacted her memory with force of a jackhammer. She sat up straight on the couch and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping to get the worst of the sleepy disarray under control. She looked down at her wristwatch and blinked. It was almost eight in the morning already - hopefully enough time for the water torture device to have had some effect.
She rose to her feet and brushed at her clothing to get the majority of slept-in wrinkles straightened away, then took off down the corridor heading for the ell that held the infirmary. She rounded the corner just in time to see Sam and Kevin leading a very bedraggled-looking Flores away from her toward the holding rooms. "Hey!" she called out as she broke into a power walk. Sam hauled back hard on Flores' arm to bring the little procession to a halt to wait up for her. "I didn't tell you that you could let him go..."
"He gave us what we wanted," Sam said quietly. "We know where Duncan took them, more or less..."
"More or less?" She frowned. "We don't let insects walk the corridors for a mere “more or less,” Sam..." Her voice was cold, and her eyes flicked up to meet Flores' in a look that chilled him straight to the bone.
"We do if the lack of precise knowledge was part of the plan," he told her calmly, facing that cold wrath evenly. "About all we'd accomplish by leaving him where he was would be to turn over a blithering idiot to the feds when the time came - and having him aware of what happens to him from here on in would seem to me to be a far more fitting end."
Kevin watched as Sam and Miss Parker spoke, not missing the quiet tone of desperation in her voice and the firm sense of purpose in his. He had stayed very close to Sydney in his time away from Vernon - watching these two powerful personalities square off and disagree without coming to blows was fascinating.
Finally Miss Parker gave a tiny nod that conceded the point, then passed her gaze very fleetingly over Kevin. "Why'd you bring Kevin into the picture, then?"
"He brought himself in," Sam admitted. "When I went to check on Flores, Kevin was already there. Flores had him almost convinced to turn the drip off." The Security Chief flashed Kevin a supportive grin. "All I had to do was explain the situation, and Kevin was ready to kill him right there."
"You people are going to pay for this," Flores hissed. "I'm going to tell everyone what you did..."
"With what proof to back you up, asshole?" Miss Parker snapped. "If I know Sam, there will be little if any evidence of anything except your guilt by the time we call in the FBI to haul your sorry ass away. Am I right?" She turned to her Security Chief.
Sam shrugged. "The marks on his legs are almost gone - and I had Kevin cut up the tubing while I freed our cockroach. We moved everything back where it was - so that if he does talk, it will end up a case of “he says, she says.” And considering everything else we have to offer, we KNOW whom the authorities will most likely believe." Sam's dark eyes glittered malignantly and glared into the Californian's. Flores wilted inside, knowing that the ex-sweeper had a very good point.
"Then put the bug back in his box, and meet me in my office. Where's Tyler?"
"Crashed in his office after bringing Kevin in."
Miss Parker whipped her head around to look at Kevin. "You know where that is?"
"Yes," the young Pretender responded immediately.
"Good. Go get him up and bring him to my office. Sam, take care of pest control - I'll go get coffee. We have a busy day ahead." The three stood looking at each other until she clapped her hands together sharply to break the trance. "Today, gentlemen..."
Kevin flinched at the gesture, then headed off towards the offices. Sam shook his head at her in a gesture of caution, then hauled hard at Flores' arm again in the opposite direction.
~~~~~~~~
Ikeda looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, gauging his appearance critically. This was the morning that would set the rules for the rest of his life, and he was determined to make the best impression possible. His suit was of the most expensive cut and fabric, tailored specifically for him by one of the master tailors in Yakuza employ. Not a hair was out of place, and he had used a light cologne that wouldn't detract or overpower.
Satisfied that he was presentable, he turned the light off and walked over to the bed to slip his toiletry bag into his duffelbag and zip the whole thing together again. He eyed he room - his evening's habitation had left few marks on the room at all. Only covers thrown back and a dent in the pillow - and two damp towels and a bath mat - gave evidence that anyone had been in the room. He had touched very little else, caution having been drilled into him so long ago that it was mere habit now.
The elevator ride was spent in focusing his mind on his breathing and his surroundings - and deliberately not speculating on the meeting ahead or possible outcomes. Worry could have no place in his mind right now. Either Miss Parker would see him or she wouldn't; either she would accept his offer of loyalty or she wouldn't. His presentation was stark - he had relieved her of the burden of William Raines and made her rise at the Centre a reality, and he had been the one to kill the person who, if his suspicions were correct, had been responsible for the explosion at the Centre. He had already inadvertently done her service - only she would know whether that would be enough for her to take him in as a new Centre operative or not.
The elevator delivered him back to the lobby of the hotel, and he walked with determination over to the concierge to request a taxi take him to an auto rental agency. With stony calm, he waited as the hotel employee nodded congenially and began making phone calls on his behalf. Soon the man was smiling at him. "The taxi will be here any moment now, and your car will be waiting for you when you arrive."
Ikeda gave the man a proper bow, then remembered his American manners and dropped a five dollar bill onto the desk in front of the concierge before walking toward the double glass door at the front of the lobby. He could make no mistakes at this late date. He was ronin.
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker leaned back in her chair and watched as the three others in her office helped themselves to the donuts she'd also brought with her from the cafeteria. None of them looked all that rested that morning, but there was work to be done. "OK, Sam - tell us what we got from Flores."
"California," he said after swallowing a bit of pastry. "Duncan was to take them to California and then call Flores when he had them settled."
"My God!" Miss Parker gasped, feeling the distance between herself and her son like an arrow in the chest. "WHERE in California?"
Kevin shook his head. "He didn't know." As Miss Parker's face began to cloud from disbelief to anger, he quickly added, "it was part of the plan, his not knowing, meant to keep Duncan safe as long as possible."
"But we have one possible avenue of more information," Sam added. "Berringer. Duncan was evidently more than just a sweeper in Las Vegas - Berringer and he were closer than we suspected. It was Berringer who shipped Duncan to LA, on Raines' orders."
"Then we need to lean on Berringer now," Tyler commented firmly, "find out what HE knows. Maybe he has some idea where Duncan would think of taking them."
"We still have him on ice with the others," Sam reminded them all.
"On ice?" Kevin frowned.
"We have them here at the Centre - a little on-site hospitality - because they were leaning toward helping out Flores force Miss Parker to sign over the Centre to him," Sam explained patiently, then glanced at his boss. "Was Jarod this dense about slang and pop-culture when he first got out?"
Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "You don't know the half of it," she quipped dryly.
"You mean, this was all part of a blackmail attempt to make you give up your job?" Kevin was moving beyond surprise now. "Why?"
"Because they LIKED doing the kind of stuff that kept you cooped up in one house for your entire life, and then selling your work to criminals," Miss Parker snapped. "There was profit in it, and a great deal of power in throwing that money and the influence it bought around." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Look, we'll give you a history lesson some other time, when we don't have two of our own in trouble, OK?"
"Sorry," Kevin backed down immediately.
"I'm gonna make use of Kevin's talent to help think some of this through, once you get Berringer's information," Tyler told his boss firmly. "Y'all need to make use of all your resources - and right now, we can use a problem-solver like him."
"We need to call Jarod," Sam said quietly. "He's closer to the action as far as Davy and Deb are concerned - AND he's another problem-solver. I say we give him the same information that we give Kevin, and see what our geniuses can come up with."
"I'll do that later today, when we have more information," Miss Parker told Sam firmly.
"He's waiting for me to call around noon..."
"Then call him - tell him I'll call him this evening and lay it all out for him. Tell him I need him THERE..." She closed her eyes. As much as she wanted him home NOW, she really DID need him on the other side of the country. "He may have to be the one to go after Davy and Deb when the time comes."
Sam frowned but didn't say anything. There was no way in Hell he was going to let that Lab-rat do the rescue job without having him along - NONE! But Miss Parker didn't have to know that...
The intercom buzzer suddenly broke the silence that had followed Miss Parker's statement. "Miss Parker, a Mr. Katsuhito Ikeda to see you," Mei Chiang announced.
"OK," Miss Parker sighed. "Sam, lean on Berringer. Tyler, get Kevin set up with a space of his own - desk, the whole works - and then coordinate with Sam when there's word. We'll meet again at three o'clock for updates. Got it?" She looked around the room, and saw three nodding heads. "Then I'll see you all later." She punched her intercom button. "You can send in Mr. Ikeda."
Sam held the door while Tyler and Kevin exited. He then waited until the Japanese man had moved in through the door before closing it behind him again.
Miss Parker rose and bowed just the proper distance that a person in authority would bow to a complete stranger. "Mr. Ikeda."
Ikeda, on the other hand, bowed deeply - the bow of a subordinate to authority. "Miss Parker," he said in accented but clear English. "I am honored that you would see me."
She seated herself and gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk that her assistants had left. "What can I do for the Yakuza?" she asked, making a quick and assessing study of her guest and recognizing the signs.
"I am here on my own business, not that of my former employers," Ikeda corrected in a calm tone. "While they do not know it yet, I have resigned my association with the Yakuza."
The grey eyes narrowed. "Transfers of loyalty aren't exactly looked upon with favor, Ikeda-san," she replied in a sharp tone. "And I have enough to handle right now that I do not need the Yakuza looking upon me with frustration."
"I understand this," Ikeda replied. "As a matter of fact, I am fully aware of your situation. I had a hand in creating it, as a matter of fact." He gazed quietly and peacefully into her surprised gaze. "My former position with the Yakuza was as assassin. One of my last assignments was to rid the world - and you, I believe - of having to deal further with a William Raines."
Miss Parker sat back in her chair in surprise. "YOU... killed Raines?" she gasped. "Why?"
"Tanaka-sama must have felt that the contract was necessary," he replied. "I didn't make a habit of questioning my assignments. I merely did as requested - until now."
"Oh? Your coming here is in lieu of fulfilling another assignment?" The eyebrow was lifted dangerously.
"My coming here is because my former employers have lost sight of what it means to be Yakuza," Ikeda said proudly. "They tremble at threats and think that assassination of key players will intimidate. They are fools who spend the lives of their people frivolously." He drew in a breath. "I was sent back to America to silence a man who holds a great deal of power - over you, over the Yakuza. I could have killed him last night, but I didn't."
"Who were you sent for this time?" she asked, afraid of the answer.
"Otamo Ngawe," the assassin said in his clear, quiet voice. "I warned him that he and the man in charge of the Yakuza are playing a foolish game - and told him that the next assassin sent would finish what I was sent to do."
She leaned forward. "Why in the Hell did you do that?" she demanded. "Ngawe is ruthless, and right now, he seems a bit unbalanced. You may have done nothing but escalate things."
Ikeda remained unruffled. "I put the truth where it needed to be," he insisted calmly. "And now I have come to ask for sanctuary in your organization, as perhaps a small return on the service I did for you by removing Raines and the man responsible for that." Ikeda's finger pointed out the window at the construction where the Tower once had stood.
"That too, eh?" Miss Parker sighed, leaned back again and then viewed her guest cautiously. "The police are turning this whole part of the world upside down looking for you, you know. You left bodies all over the place. For a Yakuza assassin - ninja-trained, I'd imagine - your work is sloppy."
The Japanese drew himself together. "I left only one body, Miss Parker - that of the man who did this," he pointed out the window again. "I watched Raines' body be taken back inside the Centre. So I did not... as you say... leave bodies all over the place."
"You didn't kill the gardener?" she asked curtly.
"No. I had no reason to," he replied evenly. "I never even saw a gardener. I kill only when necessary - or when it is my job. I left the body of the bomber because what he'd just done was bound to attract a great deal of attention. If there was another body, it was there before I arrived."
She gazed into the dark eyes of her visitor and realized that, sitting before her in utter serenity, was one of the most dangerous men she'd ever hope to meet. Lyle, with his morbid habits and unpredictable tempers had been dangerous, as had Raines and his paranoias and mad-scientist schemes. But this man, completely calm, completely present in the moment, and completely balanced and sane, was like Death itself paying her a social call - asking HER for help.
"If I were to consider your request," she began, folding her fingers together at chest-level, "what would you be offering in exchange? I am trying to turn the Centre from an American version of the Yakuza into a completely legitimate research and development institution. What use would your skills have in this endeavor?"
Ikeda blinked and thought for a moment, letting his mind explore the vast possibilities the question opened for him. "Certainly not all within your organization will be pleased at the change in philosophy you're suggesting," he answered with eyes slightly narrowed. "They will try many interesting and dangerous tactics to sway you from your path. My skills may be needed to answer some of those moves. As a ninja, killing was not the only thing I was trained to do well."
Miss Parker sat forward slowly. "What do you know of what happened last night?" she demanded in a low and dangerous tone.
"The only thing I know happened last night," Ikeda replied, "was that I visited Ngawe-san in his hospital room and left him with a message - and a dead bodyguard. If something else happened, then I'm not aware of it." He narrowed his eyes again. "If I may ask, what DID happen, Parker-sama - and what would you wish me do? I am your servant."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"With all due respect, you said it yourself when our conversation was first beginning. Transfers of loyalty are not viewed favorably by my former employers - and having tweaked the nose of Ngawe-san in his own bedroom, as a free agent my remaining lifetime would be a very limited one." He stood. "I am willing to use all my training and skills at your command, Parker-sama, for my life is forfeit otherwise. You can trust me because your trust is all that stands between me and the grave. If I must enter that void, I would rather do it in your service."
Miss Parker observed him standing in front of her desk, obviously waiting with extreme patience for her answer, hardly believing her luck. This was a resource too good to let slip through her fingers, and it had fallen into her lap and answered questions at the same time. She reached for her intercom. "Mei Chiang, will you have Tyler and Sam come back in here please?"
"Sam informed me that he would be out of touch for a short time, Miss Parker," the voice of her receptionist announced quietly. "I think he said that he was going to be doing an important interview and needed not to be disturbed. Do you wish me to have a sweeper fetch him anyway?"
"No," she shook her head. Sam was leaning on Berringer, as planned - and he needed the space to do the job properly. "Keep paging Sam's office in regular intervals, however. When Sam returns, have him get Tyler and come to my office." She waved her hand at her visitor. "Sit down, Mr. Ikeda, and make yourself comfortable while I think this through. I think I very well may have a use for your services."
