Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the basic storyline; they belong to others. I'm not making any money off of this and no infringement is meant.
Author's note: Well, this is it. The reason I was so reluctant to continue the previous story because this one was sitting in my imagination and refusing to leave me alone. I sincerely hope all those who do me the honor of reading this story will truly enjoy it.
The things I do…
Chapter 1
By Callisto
Jarod's lair
Green Lake, WI
He rolled over, his arm automatically reaching out to embrace his companion, only to find the space next to him cold and empty. His hand felt the cold sheets as his mind disconsolately processed the memory of their agreement. It had only been a couple weeks but he missed her to his core. The soft, silkiness of her, from her hair to her now familiar contours was a source of contentment, desire and strangely enough, freedom. He lifted her pillow and brought it up to his nose, trying to detect the faint remnants of her perfume.
The argument they started was innocent enough and in front of his family. They artfully began bickering about something small, when inspiration hit him and Jarod slid in a sly comment which he knew would regally irk Parker. His accomplishment was better than he had anticipated. He watched with growing alarm as her gray eyes darkened with genuine anger. The ensuing bitter exchange struck at some home truths and ended up with Parker stomping away in a huff and out of his life. Sighing deeply, he got up naked and depressed and padded barefoot into the bathroom. He wasn't prepared for the depth of his loneliness and it wasn't something he wanted to get used to again.
Parker's lair
Cleveland, OH
She had been up for a couple hours, unable to get a full night's rest. The argument she and Jarod had gotten into persisted in sending hot volcanic waves of bile rumbling through her sensitive stomach. Lying still, she began to wonder what he was doing and how he was feeling, when her inner-sense abruptly decided to answer the questions buzzing around in her mind. Soft, insistent whispers reassured her that he was not only miserable but shared her loneliness. Then unbidden, the voices continued to talk, finally giving her the information she had been seeking for the past week. Slowly rising from her bed, all thoughts of loneliness were forced aside as the last piece of the puzzle slid effortlessly into place. Her mind whirled at the possibilities, carefully taking note of the explicit warnings she was given. She quickly got into the shower to get ready for the day, allowing her half-brother, Ethan, a few more minutes sleep before she would awaken him with a completed plan.
In the next room, Ethan laid in bed, already awake as he listened to the noise of his sister's shower. He relaxed his body completely under the covers, happy to have this time alone with his sibling. It had began simply enough. Jarod had emptied one of his traveling bags, searching for a disc he had stashed there. Ethan had wandered into the room and was looking at the mess that was Jarod's traveling life when he spotted the corner of a photograph. The second his fingers brushed against the photocopy, Ethan became mesmerized. The photo of Catherine Parker and her friend Margaret standing in front of the now defunct Boston bar hypnotized Ethan. The voices had immediately began speaking to him, telling him to actively search for Margaret and warning that any attempts to extricate her would end up in springing the trap cleverly placed around her.
As he stared up at the ceiling, the voices began speaking to him again, this time shattering his sense of peace and contentment. He knew his sister received the answer she had been seeking but according to the voices he would need to find the reassuring words to explain to Jarod what he didn't agree with himself.
Once Parker emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, she padded as quietly as possible into the kitchen to start preparing their breakfast only to be surprised that Ethan had anticipated her by having the food already laid out. Parker smiled happily at her youngest brother's solemn face knowing he had gotten the same message as she.
"Good morning. Judging from that unhappy look on your face, you already know about my plan," she said amicably.
"I know whatever you've been told that it's going to be dangerous and the risks too high," replied he somberly.
"I realize the risks are high but this is going to be the best opportunity for us to actually grab her. It's not enough to merely find her; she needs to be returned to her family as well. That alone makes the risks acceptable."
"Is this martyrdom a result of your argument? All you have to do is go back to him, he's as miserable as you are right now," Ethan said earnestly.
"I know," she answered quietly as a particular segment of her quarrel with Jarod replayed in her mind. When it appeared as though she were going to win the argument he casually mentioned she should at least be grateful that he had returned to rescue her from the Centre. "He could have said almost anything, except that. The last time I waited for someone to rescue me, I was twelve and my mother had just faked her suicide. Just thinking about it pisses me off all over again," she said heatedly as she tried to shake off her impotent anger. Recalling the reasons they agreed to do this calmed her raging emotions.
"Speaking of which, our mother was taken from me far too soon, I don't want to lose you, too. There has got to be a better way."
"You hear the same messages I do. You've found her, now it's up to me to make sure they're all reunited. Don't worry, the Centre won't hurt me, they can't afford to," she said in a reassuring voice.
"I called Dad, told him that we're close to finding her. He's agreed to stand by until we've made a move to get her out. I think that should buy us at least another couple days before he decides to join us," Ethan said sorrowfully. He loved his sister more than he dared to admit and hated what she was planning but knew she was right; this was the only way.
Broots residence
Powell River, BC
Walking stiffly onto the wrap-around porch, Broots stretched and took a long sip of coffee from his homemade mug. He had spent the last few hours on the Internet checking up on the status of the three projects that were his sole responsibility. The suburb of Vancouver where he and Debbie had found their new home was much like the one they left back in Delaware. What had surprised Broots was the comparative ease in which he adapted to taking care of a toddler once again. Fortunately, Patrick was great company and Broots found himself becoming increasingly fond of the boy. Patrick fit into the Broots household as though he were born there. It was agreed between him and Sydney that the child should remain with Debbie since the boy had become extremely attached to her.
The air here was crisp and clean, birds were singing in the numerous trees on and around Sydney's property. A sense of contentment seeped gently into his spirit as he looked around the scenic perimeter of yard. Sydney had brought his home just outside of the town site of Powell River and overlooked the town and river from a gentle rise. The older man explained it was a replacement of the cabin he was forced to give up once they left the Centre.
The sounds of the others stirring recalled Broots from his reverie, turning he reentered the house and walked into the kitchen to start up breakfast. He was looking into the larder trying to figure out what to fix when Sydney cheerily joined him. Together the two bachelors prepared breakfast for Debbie and Patrick, talking companionably. All thoughts of the Centre and their former lives had receded momentarily into the recesses of their minds.
Downtown/Flats District
Cleveland, OH
The rarified air of the museum had a chemically pleasant smell. Small and large groups of people wafted through the rooms in undulating tides. Uniformed school children wandered among the works of art with varying degrees of interest. Most were more interested in harassing each other rather than paying attention to what the guide was talking about. All thoughts of their upcoming test covering this field trip were carelessly pushed aside. The reverberation of numerous whispered conversations created a wave of sound all its own. In the mist of this sea of sound and pockets of humanity were a few detached individuals slowly cruising the rooms. One was an optimistic pickpocket, another a couple engaged in a clandestine rendezvous, sprinkled in were a few genuine art lovers and three lone wolves. The latter continued to wander aimlessly amongst the crowds, attempting to appear inconspicuous. But for one watching their every move, the three dark suited men stood out like drag queens at a Mormon picnic. The vigilant observer was uncomfortable in the disguise but succeeded in blending in with any of the groups assembled in the modernistic building.
A small disturbance involving a loud argument between the afternoon adulterers distracted the security guards and most everyone else in the room, creating a fortunate opportunity for the observer to slip unnoticed from the main room through an unmarked doorway. The dark hallway was narrow and close causing the small backpack to smack lightly against the wall. Pausing briefly, the wig and hot body padding were hastily discarded. The light tread quickened impatiently until finally reaching the widened end of the corridor that offered choices of three separate directions. Without pause the observer veered to the left and wider hallway. It was at the second to the last doorway where the observer paused and listened patiently. All was quiet as the observer reached out and tried the knob.
She had been working almost non-stop cataloging the latest shipment that came in from the current artiste-de-jour. The paintings were an eclectic mix of what appeared to be finger paintings and obscene depictions from a clearly disturbed mind which momentarily caused her to side with the reactionary politicians who reviled this form of self expression. Shaking her head in disgust, she returned to the task at hand. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't hear the door behind her open slowly. It was the hairs on the back of her neck rising that gave her the first inkling that she was no longer alone. She was bending over a crate and removing the raffia-like packing material when she felt a presence behind her.
"Would you mind handing me that clipboard? The packers loaded this one in the wrong way, not that I blame them. It's impossible sometimes to tell which way is up with these paintings," she said amicably to her guest.
The clipboard appeared at her elbow and she took it from the outstretched hand. With her back still to her guest, Margaret assessed the situation in her mind. If the guest were an adversary, she would never have handed her the clipboard. Margaret breathed in the perfumed scent of her guest but remained on her guard. In her right hand she clutched the scissors she had used to cut the bindings on the packaging.
"You won't have a chance to finish that, it's time for you to leave now," the uninvited guest said softly.
Slowly straightening up, Margaret tensed at the sound of the familiar voice. She couldn't immediately place where she had heard it before. "Really? Why is that?"
"I'm here to get you out of this place unharmed. You've been under surveillance for some time and the eyes on you don't give damn about collateral damage."
"Who are you?" Margaret asked tightly refusing to turn and face this interloper as her suspicious of the woman's identity began to mount.
"I'm not here to hurt you. It's about time you returned to your family, they've been worried sick," said the familiar voice whispered casually.
"You're trying to use me to trap my family. How much more misery must you heap on us? We have already suffered enough, let me go!" Margaret stated with a rising voice.
"You're right about being the bait in this particular trap. There's a small army out there keeping tabs on you, waiting to catch a certain lab rat. If we're lucky, I'll be able to smuggle you out of here without them seeing," the voice replied calmly. "Put this on your head—now," the voice ordered, an expensive scarf appeared at Margaret's side but she made no move to take it. Her hesitation didn't go unnoticed. "Drop the scissors and put on the scarf, your hair is like a beacon and the last thing you want to do is attract the attention of the sweepers outside," the woman's voice stated patiently. The muzzle of a pistol tapped lightly on the older woman's spine encouraging her cooperation. "Oh, yeah, it's silenced." The perfume from the scarf quickly enveloped her senses as she wrapped it around her hair. The scent reminded her of a beloved friend's adult child. A person she had run into for the first time almost a year ago in Scotland. The same child who had been twisted and corrupted by an organization bent on her family's destruction.
"We're going to walk out of this back door and into the walkway between the buildings. I'll leave the walkway and head out towards the sidewalk. They're going to spot me the second I step in the alley; that's when I'm going to make a run for it. When you see them following me, wait a few seconds and walk in the opposite direction down the alley, there will be a blue compact at the end of it waiting for you. The driver will take you to your family. Don't fight me on this, I won't be coming with you."
"Why should I trust you? You've been poisoned by Centre lies your whole life. All you're trying to do is to use me to capture my son. I won't help you harm my family," Margaret said with feisty conviction, as her still unseen captor roughly forced her outside through the rear door.
A softly muttered oath escaped the woman's lips as she whispered rebuffs to herself. "Ethan's right, I'm out of my mind to do this. The things I do for him and he says he rescued me. The next time I run into Wonder-rat, he's going to get a personal sample of my left hook. Well, at least I know this is his mother, he's just like her, hard-headed and blind."
While the woman continued voicing her stream of conscious thoughts, Margaret found herself being herded unceremoniously towards an alley, just as they were nearing the entrance both women spotted a dark suited man, whose entire demeanor shouted 'The Centre!' The woman stepped forward from the darkened walkway into the alley and was immediately spotted by a sweeper. She broke into an all out sprint down the alley and towards the street. Another sweeper noticed the woman as she neared the busy street, leading the men away from the older redhead in the byway. Margaret glanced behind her in the walkway and saw a mountain of discarded boxes and garbage blocking the narrow strip. Turning to watch what the sweepers were up to she saw four muscle-bound men surround Catherine Parker's mirror image and were about to take her into custody when one of them suddenly dropped to the ground. More muffled shots began to ping around the walls of the alley as the remaining four ducked for cover. A black, expensive-looking Lincoln Town car pulled up to the mouth of the alley and the three remaining minions pulled their fallen comrade, along with their captive into the car which took off before the rear door was completely shut.
Margaret stayed in the darkened byway for several minutes until reassured the sniper had moved on with the Centre's kidnappers. She cautiously stepped from her hiding place and stared at the spot where Miss Parker had been abducted, digesting the clues which the younger woman supplied, wondering if she should trust her. It was the blaring of a car horn which recalled her thoughts as Margaret stared at the blue compact at the end of the alley. Her first reaction was to run in the opposite direction but she remembered what Parker had said. Perhaps it was the younger Parker's resemblance to a dear and beloved friend or perhaps her own judgment played a larger role. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to trust her instincts and hesitantly approached the vehicle. An anxious looking young man was impatiently beckoning her to get in the car and to make his point further, leaned over and opened the passenger-side door. Margaret took a deep breath and joined him in the car which took off the minute she sat down.