Chapter 10: Patience
Lyle glanced down at his wristwatch and then watched from behind the one-way mirrored glass as the scientist in the lab slowly injected the quaking subject with the new drug that had truth-serum properties on top of its hallucinogenic – as well as other, less beneficial – side-effects. He had always found it interesting and informative to be there when the inevitable overdose testing began, seeing the various ways the powerful pharmaceuticals the Centre was developing took hold of the human test subjects had become a favorite pass-time in the years since his association with the Centre had become official. What was more, Mr. Raines now depended upon his attendance to these tests for first-hand observations, which then would play a large part of determining whether or not the research team involved earned a bonus for a completed project. After all, as Chairman, Mr. Raines was expected to keep at least a façade of plausible deniability between his Tower office and knowledge of these more nefarious uses of Centre research.
The otherwise innocuous-looking executive with the cold and glittering ice-blue gaze watched with mouth slightly open in avid expectation as the thin man's eyes rolled back into his head and then sagged against the firm hold of the sweepers. With a gesture, the scientist directed that the man be deposited upon a gurney and strapped into place, and the sweepers didn't delay in implementing those orders even as the first hints of a full-fledged convulsion made every extremity of the unconscious man twitch.
Lyle looked down at his watch. The drug had taken only thirty seconds to render the subject unconscious, only forty-five seconds to induce convulsions. As the twitching and thrashing grew more violent as each moment passed, Lyle turned and gave a satisfied nod to the scientist who had stayed at his side through this phase of the testing. "Very effective," Lyle told him with a smile. "Was the injection intramuscular or intravenous?"
"Intramuscular, sir," the scientist beamed, thrilled to be receiving such open approval from his superior. "One of the directives on this drug was that it had to be effectively administered by other than medical personnel and through covert means. Simple subcutanious absorption was the goal. "
Behind the one-way glass, the test subject continued to thrash and flail futilely against the broad, padded leather restraints, the movements getting even more violent as time passed. A trickle of white foam erupted from between his lips and then was sprayed across the room and onto the researchers as the head began flew back and forth in a movement that looked violent enough to be causing whiplash. Unintelligible moans and cries began to erupt from the man's lips, as if the air were being forced through the vocal cords without any conscious control at all.
He couldn't help it. Lyle's mind immediately substituted the anonymous test subject's face for another's that he wished could undergo the same process. A wash of pleasure made his body tingle at the thought of Mr. Raines flailing on the table like a fish out of water – or Jarod. His smile grew wider. Yes, this would be something to visit upon that damned Pretender if and/or when they ever caught him again, although getting permission to subject Jarod to this particular treatment might be a little difficult. This new drug had a documented side effect of residual paranoia and a tendency to petit mal seizures, and Mr. Raines would have his Pretender back in good health and ready to pick up his duties where he'd left off to escape.
No, Raines would be the more satisfying subject of those two. After all these years of being the cause of pain, what better consequence than to be brought low during a drug testing phase. Few would deserve it as much as Mr. Raines…
Or Miss Parker…
The smile grew wider still, and more predatory. Miss Parker had been a thorn in his side and a potential rival when the time came to choose someone to run the Centre after Mr. Raines was no longer in the picture. A propitious dart, duly prepared with a healthy overdose of this drug, would take care of her quite nicely… Then again, a propitious dart, duly prepared with a strong sedative and a team of sweepers loyal to him and him alone, could provide him with days and weeks worth of quality entertainment and pleasure.
His mind smoothed itself over his latest view of his twin sister's tall, slender, long-legged figure; and the lower part of his body twitched in healthy appreciation. He'd not been raised thinking of her as off-limits, and even now, with their relationship defined officially as "twins", he couldn't help letting his mind wander down to a familiar fantasy of the two of them together: hot, sweating, blood-pounding, animalistic…
No! He frowned suddenly. The orders from his African bosses had made matters very plain to him a long time ago. Miss Parker was not to be harmed – not to be touched – least of all by HIM. If she continued to disappoint, there would be ways to deal with her that didn't include his participation, but the Triumvirate reserved the right of discipline when it came to his sister.
Raines knew this; it was the reason the old man hadn't already had her boxed up and shipped down to the Renewal Wing for reprogramming. Old Man Parker's blackmail – the threat that information would reach the proper people to destroy the Centre should anything happen to his "Angel" – had outlived the old man himself. The Triumvirate was reluctant to test whether the old man had been lying when he'd told them that he wouldn't need to do anything, but that it was Parker's continued wellbeing that kept all those secrets locked away from public exposure, not anything anybody did. As a result, they had ordered Raines and Lyle to leave her alone for the most part. To push her to excellence and to demonstrate what should be the spirit of the Centre, yes, but not to harm.
Besides, Miss Parker had a loyal contingent about her. Despite any dysfunctional interpersonal relationships among the team that had ostensibly been responsible for the debaucle of NOT being able to recapture the escaped Pretender, the loyalty factor had never been open to debate. Broots, Sydney and Sam were very obviously, very firmly on Miss Parker's side in just about every scrape the two of them had squared off in; no doubt the three stooges would step in and protect her even to their own disadvantage, if the situation warranted it. Add that to the directive to keep hands off from the Triumvirate, and tackling Miss Parker was unfeasible at best, unwise at any time.
No, Lyle decided, when and if the time came that HE'D be in the position of authority around here, it would be Mr. Raines who would be strapped to a gurney and watching with horror as the syringe slipped into his arm. The old monster deserved it for everything he'd ever visited on a Centre associate, and most especially for a lifetime of abuse and neglect of a sensitive and intelligent young boy named Bobby.
He couldn't forgive – hell, he couldn't forget – the 'helping hand' that Raines had lent his already abusive foster father the moment he hit his teenaged years. The woodshed, with the manacles hanging from chains and the agonized memories of being strung up and beaten until bloody with just about any tool at hand, had been Raines' idea. Until then, Lyle Bowman had been content to just use his fists and his feet, punching the stomach until Bobby had been driven to his knees, then kicking any further rebellion from the boy. Raines had introduced the idea of belts and pipes and other, even more horrific, tools.
Raines had also worked his magic on Sara Bowman, eroding her ability to stand up to her husband when she thought he was going too far with the physical discipline of their one and only foster son. Psychosis had been very carefully and deliberately introduced until the poor woman wasn't sure exactly WHAT she was seeing or hearing at any point of time. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been yelling at dogs that only existed in her mind.
Luckily, Raines hadn't been the only one keeping track of his development during those long, dark, lonely, painful adolescent years. After killing his best friend, he'd quietly stolen every last dime his foster mother had in her purse and headed for the big city, where Obanda N'kende had somehow found him and convinced him to come to Africa. Away from the horror of Raines' idea of training, Lyle had bloomed and flourished. The Triumvirate had taught him business administration and the art of the assassin. A few years of apprenticeship in Cambodia had instilled an obsession with the taste of human flesh and the incredibly complex and satisfying ritual hunt that came before the meal. The Triumvirate, he knew, was quietly hoarding evidence of his complicity in those acts as proof against the day that he rebelled against THEM.
He'd been returned to the Centre a new man, no longer merely psychotic but rather carefully and very deliberately sociopathic, a man the Triumvirate could oversee in the bosom of the Centre administration. He'd faltered in establishing himself; there had been missteps that had nearly cost him his position with the Triumvirate and, when Jarod had gotten a hold of him, nearly cost him his freedom and his life. But he'd been smart – as he'd been bred to be – and he'd not only survived but prospered.
And now he was chafing under Raines. Again.
"So what do you think?"
The scientist's voice broke through the reverie and made Lyle almost jump in surprise and shock. Lyle glared at the man at first, and then shrugged. Now that he'd been brought back to the present moment, he could see that the test subject was limp and moaning weakly on the gurney, a medical technician listening with an intent look on his face. The test subject gave a sudden, huge gasp and then collapsed back. The technician began working feverishly, pounding on the man's chest and calling for the crash cart.
"I think that your report on this phase of the testing process will be very interesting reading," Lyle replied very pleasantly. "I'm sure the Chairman will be pleased to see your diligence and attention to detail."
The scientist, a short and spare man with thinning mousy hair, round wire-rim glasses and a drooping mustache, puffed up in excitement. "All the other tests have gone exactly as expected. I think Inversion will fit the description of desired results precisely."
"As I said," Lyle nodded blandly, beginning to move away from the one-way glass toward the door, "your report should prove riveting. Be sure to have it on my desk by the end of the day." He spared a look for the still form on the gurney beyond the glass. "And be sure to dispose of the body in the regular way."
Walking from the observation room, Lyle hid a very contented, internal smile. By making the directions to the scientist very specific – that the report needed to land on HIS desk by the end of the day – he was circumventing Raines' role. Inversion, or whatever the project name was on this wonderful new drug, needed to fade in the mind of the Chairman. That way, when Lyle figured out a way to help Raines experience its effects for himself, there would be no chemical footprint to trace.
A friend in the computer lab could take care of many of the interal memos and files pertaining to the project: a conveniently disposable friend.
Lyle turned and faced the elevator door as he waited to be closed into the tiny box-like vehicle to take him from the depths of the Centre's underground facility and let him free again where the light from the sun was bright and uplifting. The day of his liberation and his ascension to the position of authority that was his by right of birth and training would be soon at hand.
All he had to be was patient.
He could do that.
A/N: And with this, we come to the end of our intimate "Glimpses" into the minds and hearts of our favorite characters. I hope you have enjoyed them. Thank you to Nancy, Nans and Doranwen for your wonderful reviews.