Chapter 11 – Race Among The Ruins
"So let me get this straight," Letira rose as gracefully as a gazelle from her seat and began pacing back and forth between her older colleague and the massive desk. "You're telling us that someone has been systematically removing the top corporate officers of the Centre from their posts as a prelude to a potentially hostile take-over attempt. You're also expecting me to believe that you're merely 'sitting in' as Miss Parker's representative until she is healed enough to take up her responsibilities as Chairman – ChairPERSON – in due time." The turbaned head turned to gaze evenly and skeptically at the man behind the desk. "Have I summarized things adequately?"
Jarod nodded. "That summarizes the current situation rather nicely."
"And what do you want of us?" Mbala leaned forward, his colorful shoulder drape falling unheeded over his knee.
"My associates and I need time – time to gather evidence and see if our suspicions are justified, time for Miss Parker to get out of the hospital and back on her feet to take over the job that is rightfully hers, and time to ensure the Centre remains a profit-making enterprise," Jarod listed patiently. "And finally, we need time to get the local authorities involved properly, to make sure this individual will never be able to threaten Centre or Triumvirate agendas again."
"You intend to bring in the police?" Letira asked with raised brows. "Isn't that a bit dangerous, considering the kinds of activities that have been taking place here for so long?"
"It would only be dangerous if we intended to continue in those less than legal activities," Jarod stated firmly. "Miss Parker is adamant that she has no intention of pursuing projects that oppress or imprison others against their will – up to and including those projects involving ME," he added with a satisfied finality. "The Pretender Project – among others – will be permanently shut down."
"Some of those projects have been and are financed with OUR money," Letira told him in her musically accented tones. "What about them?"
Jarod merely shrugged. "I'm not going to be the one making those decisions. I'm only here as a placeholder and a lightning rod for the time being. You'll have to talk to Miss Parker about the specifics and particulars of any one project you wish her to continue."
Mbala had been listening carefully to the man that the Centre had spent so much time and so much money trying to chase down, impressed with the way this Pretender had moved with such assuredness and confidence into his position – and he heard very clearly what Jarod had said in such dismissive tones. "What do you mean, you are a 'lightning rod'?"
Jarod leaned back in the amazingly comfortable leather chair and steepled his fingers in front of his chest. "It's really very simple. If the man we suspect of being responsible for several murders and other… mischief… that has created the Centre's current power vacuum truly has done so in order to attempt to place himself in the Chairman's seat, then my taking that prize away from him is going to… shall we say… piss him off royally. He will be forced to act again, more precipitously than before, because this development will not have been foreseen." He smirked. "Men who are angry make mistakes – especially when forced to act without careful planning ahead of time – and we're now on the lookout for his kind of tactics. Catching him in the act of trying again would go a long ways toward convincing the local authorities to take responsibility for him over the long haul."
The elderly African gentleman nodded with a half-smile of approval on his face. "And you want time to set a trap, correct?"
Jarod's smirk grew wider. "Something like that."
Letira walked up to the dark sweeper who had been present at all of the meetings she'd ever attended at the Centre. "And tell me, Mr. Bodyguard Sweeper Whatever – will the Centre infrastructure go along with this scheme?" Willy's eyes moved to hers briefly and then looked away again nervously. "Come on," she insisted, running a finger just beneath the lapel of his jacket, allowing her voice to become just a little more musical and alluring. "Tell me if you think your fellow sweepers will be willing to take orders from the man they were all supposed to be trying to capture for all those years?"
"Yes, ma'am," Willy finally offered in terse tones, still not looking at her. "We've already talked to most of them – they'll play along."
"They don't like uncertainties, ma'am," Sam added quietly. "They know Miss Parker."
"That still doesn't explain what you want from US," Mbala stated flatly.
Jarod leaned forward to put folded hands in front of him on the blotter. "Having the Triumvirate apparently approve my appointment to the Chairmanship would give me the time I need to accomplish my goals – and set my trap."
"What's in it for us?" Letira asked pointedly, sinking back into her seat next to her colleague.
Dark eyebrows rose on the Pretender. "I'm surprised you'd have to ask, Miss Balenge. When it comes down to the bottom line, the stability of the Centre is good for business and so, good for the Triumvirate. And right now, I represent the forces of stability."
"He seems very sure of himself," Letira muttered to Mbala in Swahili.
"I AM certain of myself," Jarod interjected in the same language, earning himself a surprised and self-conscious glare. He switched back to English with a shrug. "Tell me, do you want to continue to deal with a Parker family legacy here at the Centre, or an outsider?"
"You don't consider yourself an outsider?" she retorted.
"Letira," Mbala cautioned with a hand to her arm, "The scrolls…"
"To the contrary, I'm about as inside as you can get," Jarod replied easily. "I was raised here, I know how the system works from the inside out – and where the vulnerabilities are that can be exploited from the outside. The prophecy in the scrolls aside, the one advantage that my occupying this chair offers you that the alternative does not is: I don't intend to make this a permanent entry on my résumé." His smile was grim. "In the not-too-distant future, I will want out once and for all. My unchallenged right to walk away and not have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life will be my price for keeping the Centre out of interloper control."
"There are TWO Parkers," Mbala reminded the Pretender pointedly. "If Miss Balenge agrees, then you shall have Triumvirate support to your claim to the Chairmanship - and we shall convince our people in Africa to go along with this – on one condition. When you step down, you will hand over authority to a JOINT Parker Chairmanship."
"Agreed," Jarod replied reluctantly.
The two Africans leaned their heads together and spoke quickly in whispers to each other for a long time, occasionally raising their tones to almost audible tones, until finally they straightened. "We are agreed. You shall have your Triumvirate approval for assuming the role of Chairman pro-temp." Mbala rose and extended his hand over the table, and Jarod shook first his hand and then Letira's. Letira put her hand carefully in Mbala's elbow, and the pair walked leisurely from the room, pulling the glass doors closed after them.
"Do you really think Miss Parker is going to agree to share authority with Lyle when you step down? She's gonna have your guts for garters for that one," Sam leaned forward a little and whispered into Jarod's ear as the Africans took their leave.
"I know," Jarod admitted to the sweeper. "But I had to agree to that to win the rest of the prize. Right now, Miss Parker doesn't need to know about that part of things. By the time comes for me to hand things over, you never know what Lyle's circumstances will be." Already his mind was turning over ways in which to circumvent that part of his gentlemen's agreement with the Triumvirate – without getting himself killed in the process.
oOoOo
"Have you ever even been IN this place before?" Officer Ryan asked Miller as he was waved through the front security gate after receiving instructions on where to park.
Miller shook his head. "I don't think many people from the department have," he replied, unable to resist the temptation to stretch his neck in appreciation as the full effect of the Tower came into view around a rather dramatic turn in the driveway. "Damn, this place is huge!"
Ryan refrained from response. She was still reeling from being dragged away from her desk once more by Miller when the call had come into headquarters from the Centre, implying that the Centre itself was now taking an active interest in the homicides, inasmuch as two of their top-level operatives had been implicated. Miller himself had been very casual about it – she'd already had a fairly active role in the investigation so far, he'd told her as he'd hurried her out to the car, she might as well stick it out to the end.
A black-suited man who reminded Miller more of Secret Service agents than a security man pointed to a spot at the curb and then came over to meet them as they climbed from the police cruiser. "The Chairman sends his regards and has asked me to accompany you to the Tower."
Somehow, the way the man said "the Tower" made the shivers run down Miller's spine. Still, he gave a nod to his erstwhile partner and set about following the security man. The landscaping in front of the massive main building was impressive and very restful, with the sound of water splashing rhythmically in the fountains and the tasteful arrangement of steps and greenery and buffed stainless steel and glass. The security man waved a laminated pass at the guard just inside glass doors and then ushered them into the vaulted lobby and in the direction of a bank of elevators.
Once inside the polished wood and stainless steel car, the security man inserted a key into the control panel and turned it, whereupon another panel slid to the side exposing three more buttons. The trip up didn't take long – what this Tower lacked in height, it more than made up for with architectural majesty both inside and out. When the elevator deposited them at the requisite floor, they had only to walk down a short hall lined with several more of the somber, black-suited security men.
A young woman at a massive secretary's desk pushed at an intercom button as she saw the trio coming closer, announcing their arrival. "You can go on in," she smiled and rose to open the etched glass door to the inner office.
The interior of the office was tastefully decorated, but the massive desk in the corner dominated the entire room. A relatively young man sat at the desk, with two obviously security-minded associates ranged on either side of him, standing back and out of the way but remaining very aware of everything going on in the room. Miller's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in the face of the man sitting behind that desk. "You look very familiar," he said cautiously.
"I'm not surprised," the dark-haired man said congenially as he rose and extended his hand. "My name is Jarod Bailey, and today I'm the Chairman of the Centre. You probably saw me this morning at police headquarters, visiting my client – Doctor Sydney Green."
"YOUR client?" Miller was shocked. "What about that Miss Parker?"
"Have a seat," Jarod gestured gracefully and seated himself at the same time. "Miss Parker was injured in an auto accident last night and will be hospitalized for a while – making a change of attorney necessary. As I am also an attorney, and as I am a personal friend of Doctor Green, I offered to handle the case myself."
"That's…" Miller began, stunned by the easy explanation, "…rather remarkable, don't you think? We hear a lot about the goings on here at the Centre, but until now, I don't think I've met anybody who's actually met the Chairman – or seen the Chairman anywhere other than in this office…"
"Yes, well…" Jarod folded his hands on the blotter, "that situation is about to end, and is part of the reason I called you here. I have a feeling that my ascension to this position may have something to do with a set of murders that you've been investigating…"
"You KNOW something about those murders?" Miller was incensed, "and you haven't said anything until now?"
"You weren't listening," Jarod replied patiently. "I said that my getting my position MAY have something to do with the murders – I suspect, I don't know. Not yet, at any rate. It's part of the reason why I wanted to be on Sydney's defense team as well."
"Perhaps it would help if you told us how you came to be suspicious in the first place, and how or why you started to make connections between the murders in Dover and whatever it is that happened here?" Ryan surprised both herself and her erstwhile partner by being both practical and vocal.
Jarod nodded. "I'm in the process of transferring that reason into the custody of the Blue Cove coroner as we speak," he stated quietly, "for, you see, we had a murder here in the Centre earlier today."
"Here!" Ryan exclaimed in surprise.
Miller, however, was beginning to appreciate the way that this Chairman thought. "I see. Your immediate predecessor, I take it?"
"Exactly," Jarod replied. "William Raines has – had – been diagnosed with emphysema years ago, and he's needed to have oxygen on a twenty-four, seven basis for a long time. So when he suddenly is found unconscious in his office and dies in the medical facility downstairs of carbon monoxide poisoning…"
"You have a medical facility on the grounds capable of making such a determination?" Miller asked with eyes narrowed again.
Jarod looked at the detective evenly. "The Centre is a completely self-contained community, Detective, with doctors and pathologists capable of doing virtually the same job the public officials have to do, but with a minimum of distractions. We have a fully functional morgue too, for that matter – so that the body, which is being transferred into the care of the local coroner, has been stored properly. All the documentation of the autopsy will be available to the medical examiner when the time comes."
"How many times in the past did the medical examiner HERE bypass the civilian authorities?" Miller growled. The idea that this place had been putting itself above the law was entirely in character with everything he'd ever seen or heard of the place – and it spoke of potential problems.
"I'm not sure, and I don't think that to be germane to the issue here and now," Jarod replied archly. "The fact is that the Centre is now cooperating fully, and we are willing to present our suspicions in regards to this and the other murders in Dover. We assumed that the Dover Police Department would want to arrest and prosecute the man responsible. Perhaps we were mistaken…"
"Of course we would want…" Miller blustered.
Ryan leaned forward, her blonde hair brushing her shoulder. "What led you to make this connection, Mr. Bailey?"
"Ah!" Jarod put up a single forefinger. "I told you that I just took over this position. The fact is that normally I wouldn't have been in any position to even speak for the job, but for the fact that most of the other top echelon of Centre executives has been removed from the picture over the last few days for one reason or the other. Doctor Sydney Green, psychiatrist with a very long history with the Centre and the authority to speak to the psychological fitness of any candidate for the job, is in jail for the murder of a woman you haven't even identified yet. Lyle Parker, son of the previous Chairman and in direct line to take over here, is also in your jail facing the possibility of similar charges. Miss Parker, Lyle's twin sister, is now lying in a hospital bed after being tricked into driving to aid a friend and having an accident – an accident involving a head-on collision with another vehicle that resulted in her being the sole victim."
Miller had his notebook out and was taking notes. He looked up skeptically. "You have an interesting set of coincidences on your hands, to be sure. But I don't see…"
"We have now started to accumulate physical evidence," Jarod added, "that calls into question the coincidental nature of recent events. We have the oxygen tank that was tampered with and filled with carbon monoxide. We have the intercom system that connected my desk with that of my secretary – this one is a replacement – that has the wiring tampered with so that the person here in the office couldn't call out for help. We have the tape from Miss Parker's answering machine; with a voice claiming to be that of one of her close friends claiming his daughter is missing. We also have the answering machine itself, which was pulled from the wall and left on the floor when it was discovered that Miss Parker had taken the tape with her when she left…"
"Why on earth would she have done that?" Ryan asked, captivated by the story at least.
"Because this was the third time she would have been responding to something that she'd either seen or heard – only to turn around and have the proof vanish practically under her nose," Jarod replied frankly. "When I spoke to her in the hospital this morning, she told me that she'd not wanted to take any chances."
"Was the answering machine handled so that any prints…" Miller began with a frown of worry.
"My security men are professionals, Detective," Jarod answered with some pride. "The machine has been handled properly – as has the tape. And then there's this…" He dug into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out the button-eye and handed it to the detective.
"What's this?"
"It's a piece of evidence your forensics team left behind at the motel room where your people found Sydney," Jarod replied grimly, and Miller looked up very sharply. "I have some experience as a private investigator myself, so I took a look around, personally. Like I say, Doctor Green is a longtime personal friend of mine – and someone I know couldn't have done what the evidence seems to say he did."
"Are you as sure about Lyle Parker as you are about Sydney Green?" Ryan asked pointedly.
"No, I'm not," Jarod admitted, "but that comes from my personal past history with the man more than any evidence to the contrary."
"You still haven't told me what this is," Miller pointed to the button.
"According to my friend, this is an eye – the kind that taxidermists use when mounting animals." Jarod put the button down on the blotter. "And there is only one man who at one time had the kind of security clearance here at the Centre to get away with a great many things without causing much comment who also practiced taxidermy as a rather unusual hobby."
"Just what exactly do want of us," Miller asked finally. "You seem to have all the answers so far – why don't you just present the evidence when it comes time to arraign your friend on murder charges and blow the prosecution's case right out of the water?"
"Because to do that, I'd have to break several laws, not to mention our evidence wouldn't have a chain of custody validation or the proper warrants to make them presentable." Jarod leaned back in his chair. "I'm more than willing to continue the investigation, Detective, don't get me wrong. But I'd rather continue it in concert with the police department rather than in competition. I don't want any of our evidence to be thrown out of court for not having followed procedure."
"The Dover Police Department normally doesn't investigate its cases in concert with outside agencies not direction law enforcement related," Miller told the Pretender calmly.
"The Centre doesn't normally conduct its investigations in concert with anybody else," Jarod stated equally calmly. "But in this instance, I can see only good coming from our collaboration. IF I'm right, we've had three murders so far. Seems to me that bringing justice to the family and friends of those people – and making sure that the person responsible doesn't get a chance to do it again – should be more important than who does the investigating."
"You realize that much of what you've presented to us today wouldn't be admissible in court…" Miller pointed out.
"This evidence only suggests a direction in which to look," Jarod replied. "If we work together from this point on, however, the evidence will be unassailable – because since we would be acting as agents of the police from this point onward, we would be held to the same legal limitations that you folks are."
"We'd need a judge's permission," Ryan looked her question to Miller.
"It would be unprecedented, that's for sure," Miller replied.
"Three people are dead – how many more need to die?" Jarod asked somberly.
"I'll have to get back to you," Miller answered very thoughtfully.
"That's all I can expect," Jarod said, rising. "I just wanted to present my case and see whether you thought there was enough there to perhaps warrant doing whatever it would take to… what? Deputize certain Centre operatives?"
"Let me get an appointment with a judge, and then I think I'll let you do the selling of this crazy idea," Miller rose too, and Ryan rose finally as well. "Even if nothing comes of this, I appreciate your taking the time to try to bring us in on what you've discovered so far."
"Thank you both for coming and listening to my rather outlandish proposal without laughing me out of the room." Jarod once more shook hands with the two police officers. "My man will escort you back to your car. Please do stay in touch."
"And you too, Mr. Bailey," Miller waved as he turned to leave the office.
"What do you think?" Sam asked the Pretender, relaxing his posture.
Jarod shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see," he said with some resignation. "But in the meanwhile, there are a few things we could be doing…"
oOoOo
Siskele Mbala leaned toward Uluru, one of his clerical aides. "Have we dealt with this man before? His name is familiar…"
"Yes, sir," the aide replied immediately, her notebook open and her finger slipping down a page to rest just below the last name of the man who had asked for an appointment with the Triumvirate delegation. "He was a close associate of Mr. Charles Parker prior to the unfortunate incident that lost us access to the scrolls. But after the botched attempt to disrupt that conference with the bomb on the subway, he was fired, I understand…"
Letira smoothed her skirt primly over her lap. "The question I have is what this man would want to speak to US about."
"Perhaps Jarod was right about an interloper trying to take over things here – and this is the man responsible. In which case, it's likely that this man is unaware that another has already filled the Chairman's post and is seeking our approval to his application for the job," Mbala answered with a graceful shrug. "Either way, we won't know for sure until we let the man in and hear what he has to say." He turned to the clerical aide. "Send the man in, but call Ketonga and Idin – and have them stand by closely. I do not trust this man."
"Yes, sir," Uluru answered and moved through the hotel-like suite that the Centre had assigned for their use to the foyer, where the man with the astonishingly blue eyes was waiting expectantly. Along the way, he stopped by the kitchen and muttered a few words into Ketonga's ear that had the man quickly downing the contents of his mug and tugging on the arm of his associate to head toward the luxurious sitting room.
Once she was sure that her employers had ample security in place, she walked gracefully to the foyer. "Please follow me, sir," she directed with her musical English and led the way through the suite to the sitting room. "Mr. Cox, sir, madame," she announced with a slight bow and then headed for the edge of the room to take notes and observe the proceedings.
Mbala gazed at the newcomer with amusement. "Mr. Cox," he began without rising. "We are wondering what your business would be with us."
"I'm truly honored that you have agreed to see me," Cox began with his words lightly accented from his years of education in London and Cambridge. He extended his hand.
"We are very busy, Mr. Cox," Letira told him in an inflexible tone. "Perhaps you should get to the point of your visit." She didn't like the man's servile and manipulative attitude, or the way in which he had his hands folded so very carefully in front of him now. She wondered if he knew the level of insult that was implied in the refusal to shake hands.
"I'm not sure that you are aware of the events that have gone on in the Centre today," he began again, not at all encouraged by the arrogance of the woman. When he'd been with Mr. Parker during a meeting with a Triumvirate delegation, there hadn't been a woman involved.
"Of what events are you speaking?" Mbala asked very neutrally.
"It seems that the Chairman of the Centre was found dead in his office this morning," Cox announced with a slight note of triumph. "And both of the logical candidates for Mr. Raines' successor are currently unable to take up the leadership of this great corporation."
"Indeed!" Letira led the man further into his proposal, thoroughly disgusted at the crass spark of greed that was starting to shine behind his gaze. "And how is it that you know this, but we don't?"
"I was a confidante of the previous Chairman," Cox told her in a slightly miffed tone. ""I was privy to many things that go on here – and I was able to develop contacts within the Centre hierarchy who would keep me abreast of any news."
"Why should you concern yourself with the demise of the Centre Chairman or the availability of the Parker twins to take over the position?" Mbala's gaze was sharp and bore straight through Cox's.
Cox's hands moved in a graceful arc before resting once more folded in front of him. "I don't want to see the Centre become adrift or unstable. And inasmuch as I have been involved with the upper management of the Centre previously, I thought that I would offer you my services as an interim Chairman."
Letira could see that her colleague was on the brink of telling the man that his job was already filled, and she wanted to play with his intentions and aspirations just a bit more before disappointing him bitterly. "Do you have management experience, Mr. Cox?" she asked in a sweet and deceptively interested voice.
The slow, knowing smile that spread across the man's face definitely gave Letira the idea that she was dealing with a man who could be even more ruthless than Mr. Raines had been in his life. This man had killed to get to this point, to this meeting, and he'd be willing to kill again, if necessary, to achieve what he wanted. For a brief moment, she found herself feeling almost sorry for Jarod in having to face off with this man – for coming out on top would by no means be a foregone conclusion.
Belatedly she turned her attention to his answer to her question. "I have worked for several private foundations during my career," he replied easily. "I can provide you with a set of references, if you think that would help confirm my story."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Cox," Mbala asserted finally, shooting his colleague a withering glare for her efforts. "The Centre is already in very capable hands. An interim Chairman has already been appointed and received our approval."
Cox's jaw dropped open in shock. "Wh… who?" he finally managed to squeak.
"A man by the name of Jarod Bailey." Mbala gave a satisfied grin of his own at last. "I believe you know of him, at least…"
"Jarod…" Cox breathed, his eyes narrowing. "How…"
"How is not your concern," Mbala was tired of the game and wanted this dangerous man out of his suite and out of his hair. The game was Jarod's from here on out – best that Jarod take over the job and deal with this man as quickly as possible. "The fact remains that the Centre is not in danger of any instability in the foreseeable future. Your offer is appreciated, but entirely unnecessary."
"But Jarod is…"
"Imminently qualified, don't you think?" Letira smiled in cold sweetness at him. "After all, he grew up at the Centre, knows about as many of their secrets and procedures as anyone there would." She gestured toward the door. "I trust you know your way out, Mr. Cox."
Those incredibly blue eyes were snapping with an icy fire that she'd never seen the like of before. "Thank you for at least seeing me," he said in a very soft voice. "I appreciate your time." His gait was a little stiff and jerky, as if he'd received an electrical shock rather than an informational one.
"Call the Tower," Mbala ordered Uluru immediately after the man had passed through their suite door and the aide had returned to them. "Inform the Chairman that the news of his ascendancy has been passed along to the man he suspects – and that the responsibility for what happens from here out is his."
"Yes, sir," Uluru nodded and headed for the door.
"I don't envy Jarod's task," Letira commented as she settled down and smoothed her skirt over her knees.
"Neither do I, my dear," Mbala replied. "I guess now we're going to get a chance to see whether all those hundreds of millions of dollars US the Centre spent over these years trying to catch that man were worth it."
"Do we really intend to honor the agreement that he be allowed to go free without fear when this is all over?"
Mbala smiled a very soft smile. "We shall have to see when the time comes. Much will depend on whether, when this is all over, we have a Parker sitting in the Chairman's office, or that man there."
oOoOo
Jarod hung up the phone and looked up into Sam's face. "The game's afoot," he announced grimly. "Cox now knows that I'm sitting where he wants to be."
"Now what?" the sweeper asked, not at all pleased.
"Now we start making it easier for him to get to me," the Pretender replied thoughtfully. "We start by making sure that Miss Parker is OK with my moving into her summerhouse for the time being – until she gets home from the hospital at the very least."
"But Cox already knows how to break in over there," Sam complained.
"True – but he won't be expecting some of my little toys to be there too now," Jarod leaned back in the comfortable chair. "Parker never did install motion detectors there – I'm surprised you didn't try to convince her…"
"Ever tried to win an argument with Miss Parker?" Sam asked rhetorically, thinking back on the long and vehement argument he'd had with her over that very subject over a year ago. "I'm lucky I didn't come away with any scars."
"Well, she's going to get them now," Jarod announced firmly, "and I'll show you where I want them placed. We're trying to catch a very perceptive and devious man – so we're not going to be contented in putting the detectors in the usual, expected spots. I want some where he'd NOT expect to find them – until he trips over it."
"Something tells me we're going to be playing a very dangerous game," Sam growled.
Jarod nodded silently. /You have no idea, my friend,/ he thought to himself.
