Mindgames – Part 12
by Pangur Bàn
Rating
(PG, PG13, R) : PG13
Spoilers : probably
Disclaimer: Steven Long Mitchell & Craig W. Van Sickle created the characters of the television series "The Pretender." This fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes (chiefly my own, admittedly.) No profit is being made here. No infringement is intended.
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Grace's connections were less than ideal, but she planned to use the time wisely. Airports were wonderful places to watch people, and two of her layovers afforded her enough time to observe security practices. Of course, Centre security was bound to be a far tougher nut to crack, but she was in any case able to manipulate security personnel around in harmless but definite ways. Still a little edgy about her ultimate task, she nevertheless settled in to the last leg of her trip, Chicago to Wilmington. Wholly aware that napping was impossible, she feigned sleep in order to fend off attempts at conversation, preferring light meditation.
She had reviewed the information Angelo had given her. He had responded to her request just as she had hoped. By telling him that she would go in Tim's place, Angelo was willing to tell her how to find the records he had stashed in multiple locations in the air vents of the Centre. It would be physically challenging to retrieve them, she realized, but saw no choice. Harder still would be deciding which records to take and which to leave behind. Angelo's images had been crystal clear, however, and she had a pretty good idea of where to find his most precious stashes. She would take all she could manage, and hope for the best. Grace had no illusions that this was more than a one-shot affair; this raid would not be repeated.
*** *** *** *** ***
Jarod and Tim deplaned in Wilmington. The flight attendant had been unable to find out for them the status of Grace's flight. Jarod looked quickly for the arrivals and departures monitor. Locating Grace's flight listing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Fourteen minutes to arrival, Gate 9. They still had time.
The pair hurried to the gate, pushing their way through the crowd of travelers and relatives waiting to meet the arrivals or depart themselves. A few annoyed stares didn't bother them – they wanted to be sure to see her coming off the plane.
They had brought nothing with them except the laptop and the Halliburton DSA case. Jarod's vehicle sat in Missoula, taking up two parking spaces, where they had left it to rush for the lone jet sitting on the tarmac. Looking out the window now, he wished he had grabbed the folding umbrella from under the seat. The weather in Delaware was sleety and cold. They peered out at the grey skies, straining to see the silhouette of Grace's plane.
It rolled up to the gate a few minutes ahead of schedule. The crowd surged closer, everyone apparently expecting to see their party deplane first.
Grace was one of the last passengers to leave the plane. For a brief moment, Jarod wondered if she hadn't missed her flight, or worse, if they had missed her in the crowd. It was Tim who caught sight of her first. "There," Tim said.
Jarod rose on the balls of his feet, the extra inch or so of height not at all useful, but he saw her an instant later. Her head was down as she picked her way through the parties who clotted the area with hugs and tears. "Grace!" he called.
Grace's head jerked around in surprise. Surprise turned to astonishment as she saw them. She couldn't prevent the wide smile of delight, in spite of the nearly instant realization of why they were here. Stymied by a family reunion practically surrounding her, she could only wave in acknowledgement and backtrack several feet in order to get past the crowd.
Tim slipped between a large grandmother who was busily trying to gather in all of her grandchildren at once and a surly businessman who was scowling at the file he was reading. Grace dropped her bag and grabbed him out of the crowd. The kaleidoscope of images washed over her in joyous colors, giving her a touch of vertigo, but she held on as for dear life. Tim was laughing into her shoulder. "Where have you been? We've been waiting for minutes!"
She laughed back. "I can't believe you're here! How on earth did you get here ahead of me?!"
Jarod finally caught up to them, shepherding his two cases carefully after initially banging a few thighs and tossing apologies over his shoulder. He set them down and looked at her.
Tim released her and stepped back. Jarod and Grace regarded each other for a moment; then he opened his arms. She stepped forward into them.
"I'm sorry," they said softly and simultaneously.
Grace shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Jarod squeezed her tightly. "The important thing is that we found you in time."
The arrival crowd was thinning out, and the three of them made their way down the concourse. They found a mostly quiet seating area and claimed a corner.
"Grace, we know what you are planning to do," Jarod said. Grace looked at her knees briefly, then back up. She nodded almost defiantly. He continued, "We can't let you do this..." She opened her mouth but Jarod finished, "...alone."
Grace shut her mouth again. Looking from one of them to the other, she saw they were determined. She sighed and surveyed the area pointedly. "We shouldn't talk here." The other two agreed. Jarod went to the car rentals counter, leaving the bags with his two friends.
Tim reached for her hand. Not only was he glad to have her back again as his protector, but oddly protective of her as well. He and Jarod had talked on the journey across the country. He understood that Grace was willing to take on this enormous risk on their behalves, and that understanding had awakened in him the urge to do the same for her. Jarod had convinced him that this was a risk that either they should all take together, or none of them at all. Family, he had said, sticks together.
"Tim, are you doing all right?" Grace asked, looking at him intently. Tim's smile, which hadn't completely left his face since he saw her, widened considerably. "I'm okay. You felt that, didn't you? Here, and on the phone, too."
"Angelo has been pretty active recently, hasn't he?" she asked. Tim nodded. "He's been trying to keep me safe. I didn't particularly want to come out, anyway. It's been lonely without you, Grace."
"You've had Jarod there," she said, a bit surprised.
Tim's expression was sardonic. "He's been kind of preoccupied."
"Preoccupied?"
"Well, until today he was kind of... he was busy being..."
"Angry with me," Grace supplied. Tim nodded. "And with himself," Tim added.
Grace smiled at the young man's insight, but didn't comment on it. "I missed you, too," was all she said.
*** *** *** *** ***
The small car moved through over the city streets delicately. The sleet was beginning to freeze, and all of Jarod's attention was focused on getting them safely to a hotel. Once ensconced, they discovered they were hungry and ordered room service. Then they got down to business.
"So," Jarod took the lead, "how should we do this?" Unwilling to talk about it, Grace joked. "However you want to split the pizzas is fine with me, but I get some of the mushroom." Jarod paid up with a smile, but his face was serious. "I mean the Centre, Grace."
She said quietly, "I know. Let's not talk about it until after we eat, okay?" She was answered almost immediately by a knock on the door. All three froze, relaxing only a little when they heard the call, "Room service." Even so, Jarod motioned the others out off to the side as he checked, then opened the door warily.
They looked at each other gravely as they sat down to their meal. It was as if merely being in the same state as the Centre was generating a tangible danger, inherent in everything they did. All three realized that while this was paranoia, it was not unwarranted.
"You can't do this alone, Grace," Jarod said.
She closed her eyes. "I don't know that we have a choice here. I'm not sure if I can cover anyone else."
"Cover?" Jarod wanted her to explain what she had in mind.
Tim handed them each a slice of pizza. None of them ate more than a bite or two – their appetites seemed to have disappeared when they heard the knock on the door.
Slowly, Grace explained what she had been doing in Spokane. Jarod saw how ashamed she was of her actions, but saw also that she was determined to follow through with her infiltration of the Centre.
Tim was honestly puzzled at her dilemma. He did not understand why she felt regret at using her abilities as she had. She hadn't done anything illegal, nor had anyone been hurt, or even put in danger. She was a good person, after all, trying to do a good thing – to stop the Centre from hurting them or anyone else, ever again.
"It's more than that, Tim," she attempted. "Part of it is because I've never liked being able to do these things. These abilities are so closely linked with all the bad things that have happened to me, and to those I love, that I guess I blame them, in a way."
"But that's like blaming your eyes because you saw something bad," he reasoned.
"You're right, in a way. But in a way, so am I. I don't think it's right to push people around, whether it's with your hands or..." she looked at Jarod, "... with your mind. Just because you want to get something good done doesn't mean you have the right to do something bad to accomplish it." Damn it! This was a conversation she didn't want to have with herself, let alone with these two.
Jarod had been watching her as she tried to explain the ethics of this, as she saw them, to Tim. He finally spoke up. "Grace, you don't have to do this. We can find another way."
She looked at him honestly. "Do you really believe that?"
Jarod's answer was honest. "No."
Grace barely nodded. "Neither do I."
The conversation paused for several minutes. When Jarod spoke, his voice seemed loud.
"Well, then, like I said: How do we do this?"
*** *** *** *** ***
Grace had to admit that Jarod was being reasonable. If truth be told, it was in large part due to her relief that he was no longer so hurt and angry with her that he wanted nothing to do with her. In addition, three pairs of arms could carry away far more than she alone could have. And Tim/Angelo could certainly navigate the air vent system far better than she
Still, she did not relish the idea of their returning to the very place that had held them captive for so long. There was very little chance that she would be recognized on sight as anything other than an intruder. The other two, by contrast, would immediately be recognized – if she failed to prevent it.
They decided to try a few practice runs in public, much as she had in Spokane by herself. They made several trips to public places - the hotel lobby, the malls, a bus station – to try to get a feel for the situation.
At first Grace thought it would not be possible. To pick up on multiple targets when they were all focused on (or rather, not focused on) her was one thing; but multiple points of focus to shield – the three of them – immediately proved to be exponentially more difficult. As soon as she would focus on Jarod's observers, Tim's would take note of him. When she'd shield Tim, she herself would be detected. Mounting frustration threatened to turn to despair.
They sat at a small table in a food court, quietly discussing the crux of the problem. Jarod watched Grace pull of a corner of her soft pretzel and toy with it, dissatisfied. "Is there any chance that Tim can do this too?" he asked.
Tim looked up, his mouth full of taco. Grace shook her head. "I really doubt it. He's shown no tendencies toward projecting empathetically, only absorbing." Tim nodded.
Grace took a deep breath. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I think I really do have to go in alone."
Both men shook their heads. "No way," said Tim, dropping his taco.
Jarod agreed. "We do this as a team. The three of us."
"The three musketeers," Tim said.
"All for one," Jarod began.
"And one for all," the two of them finished together.
Grace had been slowly shaking her head as they spoke, but stopped in mid-shake.
"One for all?..." she repeated to herself. "One for all..."
"Come on," she ordered, leaving the table in a rush. Jarod and Tim looked at each other and shrugged. Tim rose first. Jarod lingered for one more bite of his doughnut before he trotted to catch up.
Grace was standing thirty feet away, in the middle of a junction of busy corridors. People were swerving to miss her. She was making faces at them, and getting no reactions. Tim grinned at Jarod.
"Hey, watch out!" A loud teenage boy and his girlfriend were trying to get past the two of them. "Move it." Jarod and Tim stepped aside.
Grace was motioning to them to come to her. They picked their way through the various traffic streams. It was tough going at first; busy holiday shoppers were everywhere, laden with packages and pressed for time. As they approached Grace, however, people seemed to be moving out of their way for them, even though it meant more crowding and jostling among themselves to do so. The last ten feet were smooth sailing.
"Stay close," Grace said.
They stood next to her, watching the approaching hubbub part around them and reconvene behind them. It was fascinating; after a few minutes of this, they started to note patterns, currents in the human rivers. Tim made faces; Jarod spoke aloud. No one noticed.
Jarod was delighted. "It works if we're close to you," he said.
Grace nodded, not wanting to get too distracted from her task. To her it felt like the man who is running around, trying to keep all the plates spinning on top of their sticks. A nudge here, a nudge there, which one next?
"Try moving out from me, slowly, she said.
They experimented for almost an hour, figuring out how far they could be separated. Finally Grace called it quits. "Guys, I have to stop," she said. "My head's spinning." Like those plates, she thought.
Tim and Jarod led her to a bench where they sat, flush with success.
"Grace, this is amazing," Jarod kept repeating.
Tim merely smiled. "I knew she could do it."
Grace just wanted to go to sleep.
*** *** *** *** ***
Two days later, they found themselves approaching Blue Cove under gunmetal-grey December skies. The threatening weather was well suited to their collective mood. All three were resolved, in spite of their understandable edginess.
"It seems bigger than last time," Grace said. Tim shivered perceptibly.
It was evening. The Centre never slept, but like most places of business, the brunt of activity took place during the day. Now, after eight o'clock, there were fewer people to deal with.
They would rely largely on Tim's direction. Angelo was close at hand, edgy and apprehensive, but cooperative. He would let Tim lead.
Jarod pulled up to the main building. There were no extra words. All three got out and moved directly to the front door, staying close together and walking quickly. Their experience had shown them that they could reliably be shielded if they stayed within ten feet of Grace. They were taking no unnecessary risks. There would be enough risk to come soon enough.
Gaining entry to the building was simple enough. The security guard simply let them in, not questioning who they were. They were sure to be picked up by the security cameras; there was nothing they could do about that. Their concern was to get in and out before anyone had a chance to evaluate what the cameras saw.
The elevator took them down to SL-10 without incident. The elevator doors opened to reveal two Centre employees standing in the corridor, chatting easily. They turned their heads toward the new arrivals. No one to concern ourselves with, Grace projected, and the gossipers turned back to their conversation, hardly missing a beat. The trio moved past them without incident.
Opening an office door at random, they slipped inside. They looked at each other silently, each still a little unable to believe what they had just done. There was no time for discussion, though. Jarod and Tim moved a chair under the air vent grille in the upper wall. Tim's fingers quickly undid the screws without benefit of the screwdriver Jarod was unsheathing from a jack knife. Tim swung the grill upward and in a flash was gone. Jarod raised his eyebrows and tipped his head with a smile. Grace didn't respond; she was concentrating on reaching for minds in the area, scanning for threats. Tim was beyond the "cone of silence," as they had nicknamed it, and unprotected by her. She and Jarod were relatively free to move about the office, but took no chances. They sat quietly, waiting for Tim's return.
*** *** *** *** ***
Jarod itched to do something. Hacking into the Centre's mainframe would be a huge risk, and was not what they were there to do. Roaming the corridors was also unnecessarily dangerous. But sitting and waiting, in the very belly of the beast, was nerve-wracking. His fingers found themselves folding sheet after sheet of paper into intricate origami figures. After a while Grace looked over and saw the menagerie on the desktop in front of Jarod. She smiled, understanding his nervous energy. He smiled back a little sheepishly.
"Maneki neko," she suddenly said. At Jarod's puzzled look, she explained what she had found out about the cat figurine Angelo had given her.
They were startled to hear Tim's voice from behind them. "Here," he whispered, and then disappeared before they turned their heads.
Jarod and Grace retrieved the first batch of records from the air vent. According to their plan, Tim would visit four different cache points to retrieve the most important documents and DSA's. There was of course much more to be had, but more than that they could not handle. Jarod began rifling through the files, more for something to do while they waited for the next delivery than to try to absorb it all. That would come later.
Ten minutes later Tim was back with another deposit. Another five minutes' wait brought a third lot. Jarod and Grace worked to pack up the records and receive the last of them when Tim should return.
It was almost fifteen minutes before he was back. "Here," came the whisper. Jarod stood on the chair to hand them down to Grace. The last double-handful of files slipped from their hands and spewed onto the floor. Jarod hopped down to help Grace gather them. "Tim, get down here," he said over his shoulder.
There was no reply. Jarod looked up. "Tim?" He stood and looked into the vent. It was empty. "We said four trips. Where the heck did he go?"
Grace straightened up. She reached for him with her mind. Her face blanched. "Sydney," she whispered.
"What?" Jarod paled himself.
Grace looked at him, more afraid than she'd been all evening. "Sydney's office. He wants to get something from there."
"Damn!" Jarod looked about as though he would see a solution. He stooped to finish gathering the documents, stuffing them any which way into the backpacks they had brought.
"Jarod..." He looked at Grace as she stood above him. "He's Angelo now."
Jarod thrust the backpack at her and shouldered the other two himself. "Come on." Grace didn't have to ask where.
They hurried through corridors, avoiding people as best they could, blanking themselves out from the rest. Jarod rapidly outpaced her, pulling dangerously far ahead. Her call of "Jarod, wait!" went unheeded by him. It was, however, noted by two security guards. Attracted by her call, they turned the corner to see Jarod slide to a stop in front of Sydney's office. The office door was, unfortunately, locked. There was no time for finesse. Jarod put his shoulder to the door, mustering all of his adrenaline-laced strength to pop the latch. The pain of the maneuver never even registered.
Angelo looked up from his crouch over Sydney's desk. He had rummaged through the desktop and was now pulling at locked drawers.
"Angelo, what are you doing?" Jarod said urgently.
"Hold it!" came the command from behind them. Grace saw the security guards enter the office with guns drawn. Jarod and Angelo were too far away from her. Abandoning any attempt to shield herself, she stopped dead in her tracks. She concentrated furiously, putting all her efforts into trying to snag the security guards' minds to blind them to her friends.
Jarod and Angelo saw the guards' expressions melting from fierce excitation to blank unconcern. Angelo spotted the object of his search at last, made for the other side of the room. "Angelo, come on!" Jarod shouted. Angelo darted to the shelves, and turned to join his friend advancing warily on the guards who still pointed their guns at them.
Grace was shaking with effort, unable to move from her spot. She never heard the guard coming up behind her. She only knew her head exploded with light as butt of the pistol connected with the base of her skull.
In Sydney's office, the guards shook off their stupor to see Jarod and Angelo only feet from them, Jarod reaching for one of the guns. They reflexively fired on the advancing threats.
Jarod was thrown backward several feet, the hole beneath his breastbone insignificant in comparison to the exit wound under his right shoulder blade. He opened his mouth to protest, but gagged on blood.
Angelo crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He fell awkwardly, striving vainly to protect the prize he was clutching to his chest.
More security arrived to find the one of the shooters checking their victims while the other covered his partner. The guard on the floor looked up. "Both dead," he said.
They rolled Angelo over. "What the hell is that?" the standing shooter asked. His partner poked at the object with his gun. "A busted statue. Looks like a cat." He picked up one of the larger pieces – the head and one raised paw. "Piece of junk now," he said.
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Grace slowly and painfully became aware that she was prevented from falling forward by the ropes that held her to the chair. Her head was jerked up by a rough hand cruelly grasping her hair. She squinted her eyes, trying to focus. It was no good. Blurred shadows were all she saw.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get these records? Who is helping you?" The questions were making no sense. She struggled to concentrate on the words, but nothing came. "Answer me! Who are you? Who is helping you?" A brutal slap snapped her head to the side, and she blacked out again.
When she reawakened, she stayed still, her eyes shut. She was now lying on an uncomfortable bed of sorts, listening to the voices she felt she should recognize.
"We must find out who was helping them. The Tower wants answers. The other two can't tell us now," said voice number one, wheezing and malevolent.
"Too bad those guards got trigger-happy." Voice number two was female.
"They were doing their job. Actually, they were doing your job, Miss Parker." Aha.
"My job right now is to make sure my father gets the information he needs. And if the illustrious Mr. Raines can't produce it, I will," she threatened. "Let me know when she wakes up. And - don't knock her out again, this time."
Grace heard footsteps retreating, and footsteps approaching. Opening her eyes a slit, she saw Raines near her bed. She grabbed his arm.
"So," he hissed. "You're awake."
"Where are they?" Grace demanded hoarsely.
"You'll get no help from them. Your friends shouldn't have tried to escape. The guards don't like that. You might want to keep that in mind, or we'll have to dispose of a third body."
Grace was silent, but her mind cried out in pain and disbelief. Raines disengaged her hand from his arm. "Who are you? Who else are you working with? Where is Sydney? We know he was with you in Milwaukee. Where is he?"
Grace said nothing. She looked at the man who had been her warden all those years ago. She felt for his mind, needing to know if he were telling the truth about Jarod and Angelo. In a flash, she saw it all. The broken bodies being carted off, Raines' fury at having missed a golden opportunity to present both Jarod and the empath, hog-tied, for the pleasure of the Triumvirate and for his own play for power. Stunned grief dissolved into a red rage. She gripped his mind with a vengeance – for it was vengeance she would have.
"You want to know who I am? Look at me. Look at me!" she ordered. Raines looked at the woman lying before him, but saw the image she would have him see – a young girl from decades ago. He froze in understanding, even as he tried to deny it.
"You! No – it can't be. It's not possible!"
Grace tightened her grip on his mind, squeezing tightly, wrapping him in searing pain. Raines gripped his head and fell to his knees, writhing and fighting for breath as his fingers tore at his own temples.
Unstoppable now, she spun images in his mind faster and faster. Ripping and shredding as she went, she slashed at the very fabric of his thoughts. Raines' mind was quickly laid to waste, the damage permanent and absolute.
It was over in a matter of minutes. Blood ran freely from both of their ears and noses. The door opened to admit a guard, who pulled his gun as he entered, seeing his superior on the floor. Grace turned her attention tiredly to the newcomer. One last task, she thought, before I'm done.
The large guard saw the woman lying on the table as she told him to see her; she was a threat, she had taken down Raines, and was now going to hurt him. He fired again and again into her body, stopping only when the impotent clicks of his weapon awoke him from the haze he hadn't realized was surrounding him. By then other security had arrived and surveyed the scene in confusion. They saw nothing but Mr. Raines, crumpled and catatonic on the floor, and the female prisoner, her body macerated by the unforgiving close-range power of the bullets. Her face, oddly enough, held the only serene expression in the room.
fin.
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