Balancing The Scales - Part 12
by MMB

The soft-leaded pencil moved quickly and steadily across the large blotter paper that Randy had taken from the Chairman's office, with the indentations in the paper soon becoming legible white lines against the grey. Randy smiled widely - considering the information his janitor friend had given him about the change in Centre administration, the markings made a great deal of sense: "Raines: SL-25-86 Grey: SL-17-72 Gautier: SL-17-73". These must been the 'room assignments' given after Raines had been removed from his position, although he had no idea who the other two people mentioned might be. There was also a notation: "MP - Mon @ 9". Charlie and the sweepers in the lounge may well have had it right - it did indeed look as if Miss Parker would be the next CEO of the Centre.

The Yakuza-trained janitor tipped his wrist and looked at his watch. It was after eight in the morning already - and Tanaka-sama was not known for sleeping late into the day. He reached for his cell phone and brought up the first number on his memory dial and hit connect, then waited.

Not surprisingly, Fujimori-san was the one who answered. Tanaka-sama's head enforcer had the responsibility of screening all of his boss' calls. "Mushi-mushi."

"This is Obayashi Ryoshi. I have been posted to the Centre in Delaware for the past few..."

"I remember you, Obayashi-san," Fujimori cut off the young man's words rudely. Obayashi Ryoshi had almost cost Tanaka-sama a trip to Japanese prison, and had been sent into virtual exile as a mole in the Centre after losing a pinky for his idiocy. "What do you want this early on a Saturday morning?"

Randy's eyes narrowed. He didn't like Fujimori much more than the older man liked him - especially since it had been the older man that had been responsible for both elements of his punishment for not knowing his informant had been a mole for the Tokyo Police Department all that time. "I have information that I think Tanaka-sama would be very interested in..."

"Give it to me, then, and I'll decide how important it is," Fujimori snapped at him.

"The administration of the Centre has changed. It appears that Raines-san has disappointed his African bosses and has been removed from his position as Chairman and taken to a cell deep in the underground facility. It is rumored that he will be taken back to Africa when they leave, and those same rumors say Miss Parker..."

"What?!" Fujimori almost dropped the little device. "Raines-san is no longer in charge of the Centre?"

"I'm telling you, Fujimori-san, the place is absolutely crawling with a literal army of Africans, the head of the Triumverate himself is temporarily running things, and security there is tighter than that around the Emperor's bedroom at the Imperial Palace." Randy's chest expanded. He had been right - his information had been important. If he played his cards right...

"And you're SURE that Raines is locked up somewhere in the underground complex?"

"Hai! The notation came from the Chairman's office itself." The young Yakuza exile took a deep breath. "And the rumor is that Miss Parker will be the one chosen to replace him."

Fujimori's eyebrows rose. "Parker-san, eh? I would imagine so, since Lyle-san had his... unfortunate accident..." He heard the snort of amusement from the other end of the line. "Very well, Obayashi-san. You've served Tanaka-sama very well this morning. I'll pass along your information myself - and see to it that you are properly rewarded for your diligence to your less-than-optimal assignment. Perhaps the time has come to take you back into the fold."

"Domo arigato gozaimashita [Thank you so very much], Fujimori-san!" Randy bowed deeply with the cell phone pressed against his ear. "It is my pleasure to serve Tanaka-sama in this."

"Stay close to this cell phone," the Yakuza enforced advised him emphatically. "We may need to take advantage of your being 'on-site' soon."

"Hai! I am Tanaka-sama's servant in all things," Randy bowed again as he heard the man on the other end of the line disconnect. He snapped his phone closed with a victory arm-pump. Osaka, here I come, he thought to himself, then drained his tiny cup of green tea with a flourish.

After he got a good morning's sleep, that is...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fujimori closed the cell phone gently and laid it down ever so carefully on the desk. This was NOT good! Tanaka was going to be quite upset with the news. He sighed softly - there was no way around it, HE was going to have to break it to him that his precious revenge was now more than a little compromised. He rose and carefully straightened his suit, brushing a small piece of lint from his lower jacket lapel then moving to in front of Tanaka's bedroom door and knocking softly before entering.

Tanaka looked backwards over his shoulder from inside the walk-in closet, where his valet was in the process of choosing a fresh sports jacket for him from the abundant selection within. "Fujimori-san. Ohayo gozaimasu. [Good morning.]" When he didn't get an immediate response from his second in command, he turned around and faced the man - only then noting the dour expression on his face. "Merciful Gods, Fujimori-san! You look as if you were about to lose your own pinky!"

"You may wish that," Fujimori replied softly, "when you hear what I have to report."

Tanaka looked at his man sharply, then with an abrupt gesture dismissed his valet. The man bowed deeply and, with eyes discretely averted, made quick tracks for the bedroom door, closing it firmly and quietly behind him on his way out. "Now," the Yakuza boss began, "what is this news?"

Fujimori did a single slow blink, steadying his mind for what could well end up being a major explosion. "Tanaka-sama," he said and bowed deeply, "I regret to inform you that I heard from our man at the Centre's Delaware facility just a few minutes ago." He paused, knowing how much Tanaka's revenge meant to him.

"Yes, AND?" the younger man prompted impatiently.

"It seems that Raines-san has run seriously afoul of his Triumverate masters - and they have removed him from his position as the Chairman of the Centre. According to the information we have, he is currently inhabiting a cell somewhere towards the bottom of the underground complex." Fujimori paused again as he saw Tanaka's face blanch. He knew exactly where the man's thoughts were headed: five hundred thousand US paid to take out the Centre Tower and the man in its top office completely wasted with the man now confined several stories BELOW ground. "My insider also reports that the chances are very good that Miss Parker will be replacing him."

"What?!?!?" Now Tanaka DID explode. "I don't want HER hurt at all! She's had no part in the less honorable affairs the Centre has dealt us lately!"

Fujimori bowed very deeply. "I understand."

"No, you don't." Tanaka began to pace in agitation. "Parker and I were... close... many years ago, when my father was still in charge of things. She is..." Tanaka stopped. His memories of the one summer between university and Yakuza training that he'd spent in the arms of the beautiful Chairman's daughter were among his most prized mental possessions. Their fathers had arranged for them to meet, and then tacitly approved of the sequence of events between them when nature and youthful hormones had taken over. He'd met her again about a decade ago - a more self-possessed, competent and lethal woman he'd never met in his life. She had been magnificent - but with quiet grace and exquisite Japanese manners, she'd politely turned down his every attempt to rekindle their relationship. He admired her, genuinely liked her. He did NOT wish her ill, at all!

"I understand," Fujimori repeated, still bowing abjectly.

He WOULD understand, Tanaka suddenly remembered - Fujimori had been the bodyguard assigned to him by his father during that golden summer. He shot the older man a look that told him that he realized that Fujimori did, indeed, understand - it was as close to an apology as he would get. "I don't want her hurt." Tanaka's voice was soft and very, VERY firm.

"Hai." Fujimori straightened. "We'll have to get in touch with Winwood-san, then - tell him our plans have changed and he's to back off." His gaze followed Tanaka as the younger man continued to pace the room like a caged animal. "We'll lose our five hundred thousand US," he mentioned, knowing it was his job to recall the fact to his boss.

"The Centre has certainly cost us a great deal lately, hasn't it?" Tanaka asked rhetorically, obviously not really wanting a response. He gestured his capitulation. "Call Winwood. Call him off. Tell him he's welcome to keep the money on the condition that he agree that it constitutes our putting him on retainer. I'm sure we can use a man with his talents elsewhere in this country at some point in time."

"Hai, Tanaka-sama, good thinking. And what about our man in the Centre?"

"Tell him to keep his ear to the ground and report all developments as soon as he can." Tanaka walked back into his walk-in closet and pulled a sports jacket from the rack himself and donned it. "And call Ikeda-san. I want an assassin en route to Delaware by the end of the day. When the Africans go to take Raines with them, we'll have him anyway."

"Hai!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The time had come for Damien to move his theatre of operations from New York City to somewhere much closer to his target. He had his blueprints of the Blue Cove complex, courtesy of another ex-cellmate, Nicky Gularte, and his uncanny ability to weasel just about anything out of tired public servants. He had his explosives, and sufficient hardware to make sure that it all went at the proper time and brought the Centre Tower tumbling down from Raul. His bag of money was significantly lighter than it was when that Japanese fellow had delivered it, but he felt confident that he was well on his way to laying claim to another gym-bag just like it within the next few days.

The three one-hundred dollar bills in his wallet would be sufficient to pay off the rest of his hotel bill, with enough left over to put gas in his car that would get him most of the way to Dover. The hotel clerk didn't blink an eye at the cash payment, and Damien was on his way down to the parking garage in no time with forty-five dollars to spare.

The explosives, remote controllers and master switch were in a suitcase of their own, which was fairly hefty, as was his suitcase filled with toweling, glasses, ashtrays, and just about anything in the room that hadn't been either bolted, nailed or glued in place. Then there was the bag of cash. Damien was not physically challenged, but the three pieces of luggage were bulky and made walking difficult.

Then he was reaching into his pocket to extract the keys to his car, forgetting entirely that he'd thrust his cell phone in the same pocket, worried that he'd forget it on the night stand. Being overburdened and trying to juggle too many things at once took its toll, for the keys caught on the small antenna of the device and pulled the cell phone from his pocket as well. Once free of the material, the phone fell away from the keys and hit just so, then bounced as if it had a mind of its own and landed directly in front of a departing car. The crunch of its demise beneath the tire was muffled.

Damien swore, loud and long, then shrugged and continued on his way to his car. He had all the most important phone numbers, including one to use in contacting the Japanese, written in his little black book. And he wouldn't need to be in contact with THEM again until the job was done, and he was ready to collect the rest of his money.

And he could always get another cell phone in Dover.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Davy stirred when his nose began to itch and then roused when simply wiggling it back and forth wasn't resolving the problem. The little boy blinked sleepily then shifted against his pillow when he found his face full of his mother's dark hair, some of which had managed to get under his nose. He blinked yet again when his shift brought him up against another body on the bed - this one snuggled up behind his back. He turned carefully and found himself face to face with his sleeping father.

No wonder he was feeling so warm and cozy! He settled back into his pillow for a long moment, just enjoying the fact that he had been snuggled into his mom's back, with his dad snuggled into his. Never had he felt like he so completely belonged, or that he had a real family with both a mom AND dad who loved him.

Still, he was awake now and needed to go to the bathroom. Moving slowly so that he wouldn't awaken either adult, he slipped out the top end of the covers and scooted to the foot of the bed and gained his feet. He turned and looked back in time to see his father, obviously missing the warmth of the body he'd been snuggled up to all night, shift in the bed until he was spooned against his mother's back and then put an arm across her to hold her in his sleep.

Davy smiled. THIS is how moms and dads were supposed to live together - at least, this was what his friends and the TV had told him ever since he could remember. He quietly opened the door and slipped out of his mother's room and padded silently down the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he'd returned to his own room, gotten dressed, and decided to follow the really good smells down the stairs to where he could hear the sound of voices below. Speeding down the stairs, he found Grandpa Sydney and Sam and Kevin already up and drinking their coffee with the very nice old man they'd told him to call Uncle Ben.

"Hey, Davy!" Kevin called to him as he saw the little boy at the bottom of the stairs.

Sydney looked over his shoulder and immediately reached for the pitcher of orange juice. "About time you got up," his grandfather smiled at him and pushed the now-filled juice glass to a place next to him at the table. "You're hungry, I'd expect..." he said with his eyebrows raised, making it a question.

"Scrambled eggs, please!" the boy handed his plate to Kevin, who proceeded to give him a healthy helping of eggs and then a slice of toast before handing the plate back to him. "Thanks."

"They're really very tasty," Kevin told him excitedly, still finding himself continually surprised at the incredible variety of tastes and textures of food his new friends were introducing him to. Life seemed so much more interesting now that he was no longer condemned to exist solely on a 'maximum nutritive supplement" that tasted even worse than it looked.

"Sleep well, Buddy?" Sam asked him before he could get his first, fully-loaded fork into his mouth.

Davy stuck the fork in anyway and nodded enthusiastically with a full mouth. He swallowed quickly. "No nightmares this time. Mommy and Daddy kept them away all night for me."

Sydney nearly choked on his sip of coffee. He shot first a hasty frowning glance up at Sam to keep the sweeper from making a single comment before he could get some clarification. "How did they do that, Davy?" he asked in a very neutral tone of voice.

"I heard them last night when they got here - the sound of voices kinda woke me up. I wasn't sleeping very good anyway, so when everybody was in bed, I went to Mommy's room, to make sure she was OK. She let me sleep with her. And when I woke up this morning, Daddy was there too, taking care of me from the other side." Davy's wide, dark eyes were without guile as he gazed at his grandfather for a moment. "I think the nightmares were scared when they found both of them with me, because they never showed up. They're still asleep, though," he informed the group innocently, then returned his attention to his food and bent to shovel in more eggs, oblivious to the reactions of his grandfather and family friends.

Sydney and Sam exchanged a knowing look, and Sam decided that this was going to be one of those times when he kept his nose completely out of things. If Miss Parker and Jarod were beginning to put together the framework for a family around Davy, who was he to disapprove? From the look on Sydney's face, he knew the older man would probably be thinking the same thing - even though Sydney might have more right to at least pry a little. HE, however, could take a more proactive approach to distancing himself from the entire situation for a while. "Hey, Kev, if you're finished with your breakfast, how about you and me do a little self-defense sparring? About time you started to learn a few moves..."

Kevin started slightly, as if realizing there was something going on below the surface of everybody's words that he couldn't quite grasp. "That sounds good, Sam," he nodded then tossed down the rest of his coffee. "Whenever you're ready..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Miss Parker knew that Sydney's eyes had been on her ever since she had come down the stairs, leaving Jarod still in bed fast asleep. Davy had been just finishing up his juice and milk and getting ready to join Debbie and Broots in shooting some hoops against the inn's garage. "Hi, Mommy," he greeted her with a huge smile.

"Sleep well last night?" she asked gently, accepting a cup of coffee from Ben from across the table.

"Yeah," the boy nodded. "Can I go out with Debbie and Uncle Broots?"

"Sure you can," she agreed easily. "Have fun, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom!" Davy threw back the rest of his milk and gathered his dishes together to carry out to the kitchen on his way out the door.

"I think I'll go get started loading the dishwasher," Ben diplomatically drained the end of his coffee and quietly collected the few dishes that had been left behind by others who had already eaten before. His hands full, he walked toward the back of the inn and the kitchen.

Miss Parker reached for the covered bowl that held the scrambled eggs and brought it toward her plate so she could help herself. She covered the bowl again, and then accepted the covered plate of buttered toast from Sydney, who passed it to her from where it had sat on the table out of reach. She gave him an appraising look as their hands touched lightly, then sighed. "OK, Syd, out with it."

"What?" The grey eyebrows climbed the forehead. "What do you expect me to say?" Sydney asked quietly.

"Look, if you disapprove, I'd rather you just came straight out and told me..."

"Disapprove of what, Parker?" Sydney asked pointedly. "Have you done something I should disapprove of?"

"Sydney..." she complained in a small and soft voice.

"If you went out drinking night after night and wrapped your car around a telephone pole again, I'd disapprove - and I promise, you'd hear about it. If you brought home a different man every night in front of Davy, I'd disapprove - and I promise, you'd hear about it. If you were deliberately cutting and cruel to everyone you spoke to, I'd disapprove - and I promise, you'd hear about it. Have you done any of these things?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she retorted in a sour voice, then sipped at her juice to sweeten herself up again.

"Yes, I do." Sydney gazed at her evenly. "What's more, I know a good deal of the history behind you two. AND I know that the two of you share a son you both love very much. Am I leaving anything out?"

She gave him a look of mild frustration. "You must be feeling better, Freud - you're back to being awfully difficult and obtuse when you want to be..."

Sydney leaned toward her and put his good arm carefully around her shoulder. "Look, Parker, I know that neither of you are walking into anything this important blindly - and that in many ways, your relationship has been on this path all along. All I WILL say to you is the same thing I told Jarod several days ago: whatever decision you make, make it together - and choose what you both feel is in everybody's best interest, not just Davy's, or yours, or his."

"That's what we're trying to do," she responded in that soft and small voice again.

"And that's why I don't disapprove." He kissed her cheek and moved back again. "But - answer me this: are you in love with him?" he asked gently.

"Yes." Her answer was virtually a whisper.

"And is he in love with you?"

"Yes." Jarod's voice came from behind the two of them, making both turn to look at him. Then the Pretender moved to the other side of Parker and took a seat and began dishing up his own breakfast. "Well, did we scandalize him?" he asked her with a wry smile on his face as he glanced at her sideways.

"No, we didn't," Parker admitted in chagrin. "Just about the time a person thinks they have their parents - or surrogate parents, as the case may be - figured out..." She shot Sydney a look of mild exasperation.

Sydney chuckled softly and then watched his former protégé with some interest. Now that the both of them were here, and the three of them were by themselves for the moment for a change, he felt more comfortable asking at least general questions. "So I take it you've reached some sort of decision about...?" He waved his index finger back and forth between the two of them.

"A partial one, at least," Jarod admitted, snagging two pieces of toast from the plate before covering it again. "We still have the question of what we're going to do when everything here is said and done - the issue being how her life and my life don't seem to want to move in the same directions at all. Especially now."

The psychiatrist nodded slowly. "You still feel you have a life you want to go back to?"

"At the very least, I left a lot of loose ends that I'll have to go back and tie up - IF I intend to return to Delaware eventually," Jarod stated around his bite of egg.

"And I can't just walk away from you or Broots," Miss Parker continued the thought after a long sip of coffee. "Or the Centre, perhaps, it seems."

"No!" Sydney shook his head vehemently. "Don't you DARE use me as an excuse to keep you from being happy, Parker. Do you hear me? I won't have it! If you REALLY want to hear me sound disapproving..." He glowered at her in fond indignation instead of finishing the statement. "And as far as the Centre is concerned, you've been wanting to be shed of it for the better part of the last twelve years. Don't tell me you'd stay..."

Jarod put up a restraining hand. "Time out, Syd! Parker and I haven't told you all our news," he informed the older man. "I think we were both probably waiting until we could tell everybody at once..." He glanced over at Miss Parker, who nodded.

Now it was Sydney's turn to put up a restraining hand. "OK - I can wait for the news until Sam and Broots and Debbie join us. But," and he frowned at Parker again, "you listen to me, Parker: if your life would be happier with HIM," he nodded at Jarod, "then you go and BE with him. Nothing says I can't come and visit you from time to time... maybe often enough to make myself a nuisance..."

Jarod snorted into his coffee cup. "As if you stood a snowball's chance in Hell of managing that one, Syd..."

"It isn't that easy, Syd," Miss Parker responded, feeling unexpectedly grateful for his implicit permission to pursue her own life but an almost paranoid sense of panic at the idea of living without her surrogate father nearby. It had taken her far too long after the faked suicide of her mother to find and grow accustomed to the constant love and affection of a parent - and she had no intention of doing anything to threaten that bond.

Sydney reached out a hand and stroked back his surrogate daughter's hair. "Yes, it really IS that easy," he contradicted gently. "Be happy, Parker. You deserve it so much..."

"We'll figure it out," Jarod told the two of them confidently, then stuffed the rest of his toast into his mouth. "This isn't something that we need to rush into, or decide NOW."

The back door to the inn slammed closed several time, and the trio in the dining room could hear the excited and very breathless voices of Davy, Debbie and Kevin imploring Ben for water. Sam and Broots, who looked more amused than winded, came through the kitchen and joined their friends at the table. "What is it that they say about youthful exuberance and energy not being a match for age's wisdom?" Broots grinned sweatily and reached for the thermal coffee pitcher to pour himself and Sam another helping of caffeine. "Take it from me: they LIED!"

"Wore you out, did they?" Sydney queried with a chuckle, watching Sam use his shirt sleeve to wipe his brow.

"Healthy kids make sweeper's training seem like a walk in the park!" Sam shook his head. "Between self-defense, a quick jog around the place and then joining Deb and Davy's basketball game, I've had a better workout than I've had in quite a while." He looked over at the computer technician with open approval. "Remind me not to give you a bad time about being out of shape."

"Something for me to keep in mind?" Miss Parker asked Jarod with amused and elevated eyebrows.

"Well, we're all here now pretty much," Sydney snagged the coffee pitcher and refilled his own cup. "So, what's the news you bring us?"

"Yeah," Sam added. "Like why the Hell Raines took you, Miss P, and what happened then?"

Jarod gave Miss Parker a visual go-ahead, pointing both hands at her by way of introduction. She swatted at him, then turned to face the two who had missed the greater share of the action at the Centre. "Well, it seems that Mr. Lyle stole the Redux vial with intentions of using it to buy his way into the Yakuza," she began, "not knowing that Syd and Sam here had already stolen the real vial and replaced it with one full of lab rat embryos. It also seems that Mr. Raines used some of those lab rat embryos himself before Lyle took the vial, in order to take one more stab at creating another Davy."

"Damn them!" Sydney growled under his breath and took a long sip of hot coffee to keep from saying more.

"Evidently, that effort didn't pan out either - because Mr. Raines had me taken in order to attempt to harvest at least a little more genetic material from me for one last try."

Sam sighed long and loudly. "You've GOT to be kidding!"

Miss Parker shook her head. "I'm not. I was literally out on the operating table when everything came screeching to a halt. You see, our efforts had finally had the desired effect. The Triumverate - with Ngawe himself at the head - invaded the Centre en masse. The moment Ngawe found out, thanks to Broots' efforts in part, that Raines had had me taken for something decidedly against directives, he sent a couple of his human brick walls to remedy the situation."

"You shoulda heard him chew Raines out while we were awaiting word on your condition, Miss Parker," Broots added. "I've been waiting for years to hear someone - ANYone - ream that ghoul a new asshole; and now I can die happy, because Ngawe's the next best thing to a Roto-Rooter I've ever heard!"

"I'd have liked to have heard that one myself," Sydney commented wistfully. "I've had to put up with him so much longer than the rest of you..."

"There are always the video archives," Jarod gave a mischievous grin.

"So, Raines is finally deposed?" Sam cut through the chatter with his question. "In other words, did our plan really work?"

"Yes." Miss Parker nodded firmly. "Raines is currently residing in a cell somewhere down on SL-25. And," she drew in a breath to steady her voice, "Ngawe has offered me his job. I have until Monday..."

"YOU get to be Chairman?" Sam gaped, then began to smile VERY widely. "Oh, that's rich!"

Sydney simply looked at Miss Parker, his eyes wide with both understanding and concern. No wonder she was trying to tell him that walking away from the Centre might not be quite so easy for her anymore! Here was a chance for her to do the one thing her mother had wanted to do all those many years ago: return the Centre to being a place that benefits mankind, rather than the cesspool it had become. "Are you thinking of taking the job?" he asked very softly.

Miss Parker's grey gaze met his chestnut steadily. "I'm still thinking about it. There are a lot of things to consider."

"Not the least being that the vial that Lyle stole and gave to the Yakuza wasn't Redux, like he promised, but lab rats," Jarod finished the job Miss Parker had started. "When they discover that they've been duped by the Centre yet again, they are NOT going to be very happy campers." He looked at the two suddenly VERY concerned faces at the table. "And we all know how healthy it is to have the Yakuza unhappy with us, don't we?"

Broots saw the same look of startled apprehension spread to Sydney and Sam. "Yeah," he commented dryly as he refilled his coffee cup. "That's what we thought too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tommy Tanaka was livid - and worried. Fujimori-san had spent the last three hours trying to reach Winwood-san by cell phone, only to be continually told that "the customer is out of range or has their cell phone turned off." Ikeda-san had been dispatched to the hotel to bring the bomber-arsonist back with him for a quick conference, only to return empty handed and tell of Damien's having checked out bright and early that morning without leaving the slightest clue or word as to where he was heading to next.

Here he was, Tommy Tanaka, the third generation head of an entire crime syndicate - powerful beyond the dreams of many - and completely at wit's end on how to defuse a situation that he himself had taken great pains to set properly into motion. Even IF he had wanted to continue on the path to revenge on Raines himself, there was now no way to get word to Winwood that his new target was deep underground. He would still dearly love to see that Tower - symbol of the Centre's pride and arrogance - reduced to rubble; that much hadn't changed. But the chance that the same action that demolished the Tower would kill the one person who at least was neither an enemy nor a competitor in the Centre made that gesture far too costly for him to consider any longer. The Yakuza did NOT need to end up at war with the Triumverate itself. It was bad for business.

Frustrated, he called both Fujimori and Yoshikata to meet with him for an early lunch. "Alright," he began in Japanese as the waitress served up the miso soup and tiny dishes of the day's tsukemono, salt-pickled cabbage, "Winwood-san gave us a rough timeline of how long it would take him to accomplish this task for us. Do we remember that timeline?"

Yoshikata waved a bite of tsukemono caught between his hashi [chopsticks] about as he spoke. "He said it would take a day to get his supplies together."

"That would have been yesterday and maybe part of today," Fujimori commented. "Then he was going to need a day - maybe two - to plan what he needed to do. This is the point he must be at now." He picked up the bowl of soup and sipped at the scalding liquid carefully. "Now if I were planning to take out a building, I'd probably move to somewhere closer to it, in case the opportunity presented itself to actually 'case' the place. Perhaps Winwood-san has gone to Delaware..."

"But Blue Cove is too small a village for him to be able to stay without causing comment eventually," Tanaka waved empty hashi around to make his point. "So provided we've figured out what he's up to, we can assume that the moment HE figures out that he'd stand out in Blue Cove, he'll relocate somewhere else. He'll be close - but not TOO close."

"Dover, perhaps?" Yoshikata suggested around a mouthful of tsukemono.

"Dover is the most likely place, but finding him still isn't going to be easy," Fujimori reminded the others. "Dover isn't exactly a small place. And other than the fact that we know he probably doesn't own property there - because otherwise he would have heard of the Centre before, it IS a prominent local employer - he could be anywhere. He could be in a hotel, a motel, an inn, or he could even be staying with friends in the area."

"The gai-jin have a saying about trying to find a needle in a pile of dried grass," Tanaka said, washing down the end of his cabbage with some of the delicate green tea.

Fujimori debated correcting his employer's metaphor and decided against it. Tanaka's mood was precarious; and even mangled, his meaning had been conveyed clearly. "So where does that leave us?" he asked deferentially. "What course of action do you want us to take, Tanaka-sama?"

All three men fell silent and waited patiently as the waitress distributed the picture-perfect dishes with the sushi and sashimi arranged artistically among them, then bowed and retreated, pulling closed the wall to the private table. "First, we move closer to the Centre ourselves - make reservations for us in Dover," Tanaka directed Yoshikata.

"What about calling Parker-san - warning her of a potential bomb threat?" Fujimori suggested as he stirred the soy sauce into his wasabe.

"That still leaves us bombing the Tower and pissing off the Triumverate in the process," Tanaka shook his head vigorously. "Besides, if the call were anonymous, she'd have no reason to believe it - and if we told her who we were, it would be tantamount to declaring war on the Centre. No," he dipping a piece of octopus into the wasabe and popped it into his mouth then spoke around it. "We need to handle this ourselves - move into a position where we can prevent Winwood from setting any of his explosives, as well as put our assassin into play to take out Raines."

"And if we can't find Winwood beforehand?" Fujimori asked the unaskable.

Tanaka thought for a moment, chewing his octopus carefully. "We call Parker, warn her to evacuate the Tower, and stay on track to kill Raines. If Winwood brings the Tower down and kills Parker, however..."

His associates nodded, knowing exactly what he intended for their hired man if the bomber took out the wrong person, however accidentally. One way or the other, they would ONLY be out five hundred thousand US.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The afternoon sun against his skin was soothed and cooled by the gentle summer breeze, and Kevin had never felt so alive and so contented. For as long as he could remember, he had hoped and dreamed of being in a place like this - and being free to enjoy it. But now that he was really here, he continued to harbor just the smallest fear that something would wake him up from this dream of paradise and haul him back into a world bounded by the thick four walls of the house that had been his home his entire life.

But even his most vivid dreams could never have prepared him for the exhilaration of walking the narrow strand of beach with a pretty girl at his side, the both of them letting the cold water of the ocean wash at their ankles below politically rolled-up pants legs. Deb had been the one who wanted to walk the beach and issued the invitation for him to join her. He'd seen both Jarod and Sydney nod quiet approval, and Broots had lifted his head from his conference with Miss Parker just long enough to warn them not to get too wet. Davy had piped up, asking to come along, but Sam had challenged the boy to some one-on-one basketball to distract him away from two young adults who obviously would prefer to be alone.

There had been few words between them for the past few minutes, however. "What are you thinking about?" he asked his companion quietly, noting the distracted look on her face. "You've been so quiet..."

"College," she replied and then sighed. "Daddy said that we should be able to go home after this weekend - that it will be safe for us to go home. That means that I'm not going to miss my first term at college after all."

"Is there a college close by that you're going to?" he asked, suddenly getting the hint that she was contemplating a move and not liking it much.

"No, not close." Deb shook her head. "I've been accepted at Amherst. I leave in a week to get settled into my dorm before the term starts." She stared out across the moving water to the horizon. "I've been looking forward to it for months now, ever since I was accepted. But..."

"A week!" Kevin sagged. He was just getting to know her - his first and currently his only friend roughly his own age. It seemed that freedom had an added dimension he'd never considered before: everybody else was free too - and they could leave, just like he could.

"But, you know, I'll be back some weekends and for vacations," she added quickly, looking sideways and seeing his disappointment, and then slipping her hand around his elbow. "And there are always phone calls... Besides, I'm sure you'll soon have lots of friends."

The sandy-haired young man stared out at the moving water that stretched as far as his eyes could see. "I don't even know where I'm going to go when this weekend is finished," he said simply. "My home is gone. I never really want to see Vernon again, but he's the only person I know really well - and he's gone now too. I don't even know if I have any family..."

Kevin's blue eyes looked down at his feet, and he kicked at some of the surf scum that floated in the shallow water from the last wave. He had come to enjoy the sense of cohesiveness of the people around him, coming to depend very much on that security to sustain him in what was a very big, very intriguing but very frightening world with WAY too many choices and opportunities and traps to comprehend easily. Deb's pending departure from that close circle threatened every fiber of security he'd managed to cobble together in the past few days.

Deb watched the emotions float randomly over her young companion's face with some concern. The truth was that she found this incredibly innocent and bright young man far more interesting than she had thought she might - and the thought that she'd have to leave him behind to take up her education was distressing. She was just getting to know him, after all!

She snuggled her hand more firmly around his arm and hugged it to her. "Hey! We still have two more days here, and several days at home after that," she reminded him. "If we spend all that time fussing about things that can't be changed, we'll lose any chance to have fun together. Next week will come next week. Let's just enjoy ourselves now, and not let what will happen ruin things, OK?"

Kevin felt her move closer to him and looked down into her face to find her ice-blue eyes looking up into his anxiously. "This is just all so new - and things are moving so fast..." He found himself getting lost in her eyes. It was a heady and thoroughly confusing sensation, akin to dizziness but in an emotional sense rather than a physical one.

Deb couldn't help it; she leaned in closer until she could finally rest her head against his arm. She felt him hesitate, then very carefully move his arm from her custody to wrap it around her shoulder and pull her closer to him. She snaked her arm around his waist and held him back. And together they stood looking out over the ocean and letting the water wash their feet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jarod came out onto the lawn and breathed in deeply of the soft summer afternoon. He could see Sydney standing near the edge of the lawn near the head of the cliff path to the beach. He found it amazing that the older man was up and about as much as he was, considering he'd been shot only days before. The dark-haired Pretender walked sedately across the lawn and joined his former mentor on the embankment.

Sydney noticed Jarod's approach and waited until he had joined him before he pointed down onto the beach at the two young people standing so close to each other. "I asked Deb if I needed to report Kevin as a new hazard to Broots two days ago. She thought I was just giving her a bad time." The psychiatrist paused and watched as the two began walking again along the very edge of the water, quite obviously holding hands. "I saw this coming, in a way. She's drawn to the kind of intelligence he possesses - she can't help it, considering the family she's surrounded with - and he's completely bemused by the first girl he's ever met up close and personal." Sydney glanced at his former protégé, who was watching as well. "He reminds me of you sometimes, very much."

"I know. It's odd - there are times I look at him and see myself twelve years ago, looking out at the world with eyes that never dreamed of actually looking upon it. Kevin reminds me how far I've come since then." Jarod looked sideways at his former mentor. "He also taught me a very important lesson, Sydney. He taught me to be grateful that I had you in my life all during that dark time. At least I always was fairly sure that you cared - that poor boy never even had that."

"I know," Sydney nodded. "We've talked about that at lot since he finally began to open up to me a little. I think I intimidated the hell out of him at first when I turned out not to be a carbon copy of that poor excuse for a psychiatrist that pretended to mentor him." He grimaced as he felt the beginnings of aching starting in his wounds despite his pain medication, and then turned away from the ocean view to begin walking slowly back towards the inn. "Sorry, Jarod, but I'm going to have to head in and sit for a while. I needed the fresh air and to move about a bit before I rusted into a permanent sitting position, but I'm afraid I'll probably pay for it in a little while."

Jarod slipped a supportive hand under Sydney's arm. "Fresh air and exercise, my ass, Syd. I'm not blind; I can see what you're doing. You're watching over Kevin the way you used to watch over me when I was troubled - and yes, I did notice, even if you didn't think so. Right now you're standing back ready to help if asked, or ready to jump right in if there are any signs of a stumble. AND you're not taking proper care of yourself in the process, as usual." He frowned at his mentor. "You keep this active, and those wounds will take longer to heal. You know that..."

"And you're a worry-wart, you know that?" Sydney made a wry face; Jarod knew him all too well. "I can't help it. I can see where that idiot Grey made all his mistakes with that boy - and how Kevin suffers dreadfully from his lack of self-esteem and assuredness because of it - and I want to help." The older man gazed knowingly into the face of the man who was like his son. "Besides, you knew very well that once the two of us got shoved together and started talking, that was where things would likely end up, now didn't you? That's why you did it."

The chocolate eyes were warm. "Yeah, I had a hunch," Jarod admitted. "Face it, you're a frustrated mother hen. And never having had kids of your own - not that you knew of anyway - you poured all of that frustrated energy into first me, and then Miss Parker, and then started playing 'Grandpa' to Debbie and Davy. Now Kevin needs as much of that paternal influence as he can get from you, and he needs it badly. Even though he's been emotionally deprived and neglected, what little social contact he did have sowed the seeds of a very ethical person in him, where he could just as easily have been given cause to become another Alex. Those seeds just need a little watering, a little nurturing, to sprout into a fine young man. You're just getting set to be surrogate father to another lost soul."

"Perhaps." Sydney glanced over his shoulder at the retreating embankment, but only momentarily before the stitch at his side drew his head back around. "But Debbie's influence is going to be a major player in his life too, I see. Now that I watch them together, I see much of what I used to see between you and Miss Parker all those years ago." He nodded in satisfaction as he let Jarod maneuver him into a comfortable wooden chair near the inn's French doors. "You two always were good together. Those two will be too, eventually."

"You're quite the romantic, Syd. I never realized that side of you before," Jarod grinned as he took the chair next to Sydney's.

The greying head turned in his direction indulgently. "I dare say there are a lot of things you never had a chance to realize about me. We never had the opportunity to explore those areas of life together."

"Until now, that is," Jarod said, turning his eyes to the broad expanse of lawn they had just walked across and the ocean stretching out in the distance. "I did need to break away, to be something other than a Centre escapee perpetually on the run. But I'll always regret that I had to break off OUR ties to do it." He glanced at the older man at his side, who was sitting back in his chair with his feet up on the wooden footstool. "I'm glad I came back. I missed you terribly."

Sydney put out a hand and patted Jarod's fondly, then left his hand in place. "What's brought on this sudden fit of reminiscence?" he asked gently.

"Listening to Kevin talk about Vernon, and meeting the slime myself, for one," Jarod stated simply, taking a hint from his mentor and stretching his legs out on his chair's footstool in a mirror action to Sydney's. His eyes were caught by movement at the edge of the lawn, and he watched Kevin put a hand back and help Deb up that last, big step. "He needs you, Syd. He is SO lost right now..."

"I've been thinking about that," the psychiatrist mentioned in a musing tone. "Now that you seem to have relocated to Miss Parker's on what appears to be a fairly permanent basis, I'll have my guest room free again. I'm thinking that a certain young man who doesn't have anywhere to go when we return to Blue Cove could use a place to land."

"I'm thinking that a certain young man will probably jump at the chance you'd be offering him," Jarod said with a nod. "And I approve. Maybe he can help you stay quiet and heal faster." He watched the two young adults meander along the edge of the cliffs, still speaking quietly to each other and once more holding hands. "That walk on the beach looks like a good idea. I think I'm going to go kidnap Parker and get her to walk with me."

Sydney snickered. "Remind her that she needs to recuperate too."

"Oh yeah, like I have a death wish!" Jarod shook his head and moved to regain his feet. "I got her to sleep most of Thursday afternoon and night after her near-brush with Raines and his genetics experimentation - and even that was pushing it a bit."

"Then one good reason for her not to take the Chairman's job is her tendency to be a workaholic," Sydney suggested with concern in his eyes. "You might remind her that she doesn't need another ulcer."

Jarod blinked. "You really don't want her to take the job, do you?"

The psychiatrist beckoned him closer. "Ultimately, the decision is hers - and I'll support her in whatever choice she makes. But just between you and me, and I'll deny it right and left if you tell her I said this..." He paused, and Jarod nodded acquiescence. "You're right, I'd really rather she not take the job. She's wanted to be free of that place for the better share of her life, and now is her best chance to make that break. She deserves to be free. I know she wants to finally finish what her mother was trying to do, but what Catherine wanted more than anything for Parker was for her to be happy. I don't think the Centre will give her that happiness."

Sydney looked down at his hands, "I'm getting too old now to be able to continue protecting her from herself in that place much longer. This latest folly of getting myself shot has me seriously thinking of retiring. So, talk her out of it, please? You're probably the only one who can." He looked up at his former protégé imploringly.

Jarod straightened, put a comforting hand on Sydney's shoulder and squeezed gently, then headed for the interior of the inn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Damien flipped back and forth between the huge pages of blueprints for the Centre. He was impressed and more than a little daunted, because this place was more secure than some government facilities he knew of. Several problems presented themselves almost immediately. He first had to find a way to get through the gate and across the sprawling lawn to the nearest potential access point. Next was the problem of getting safely and undetected from that access point to inside the facility itself without setting off all kinds of alarms that were probably in place to prevent just that or worse. Finally, he had to get OUT after setting all his explosives so that he could bring the Tower down on William Raines and not take himself out in the process.

He'd found his access point, however. There was an access grate to the ventilation system in the ground level of the parking structure. All he'd have to do was get inside the ducts without being observed. Once in, he could crawl through the system until he found an opening into a room - preferably an unused room. Then, with any luck, he should be able to blend in with the rest of the employees and workers there to go wherever he needed to.

His route out was almost as plain. He'd return to the parking structure the way he came in, then sneak a ride out in somebody's trunk. If worst came to worst, however, and that route were blocked, then his next best bet was to head for the elevators and go below into the lower sublevels, find another unused room, and then await the rescue efforts that would be inevitable after the Tower was demolished. The chaos of rescue efforts would give him the opening he needed to simply walk away with very little chance of being challenged.

Damien rose from his studies and fetched the small bottle of Jack Daniels from the paper bag. He opened it and took a swift gulp of the burning liquid. How to get through that damned security gate outside, though! THAT was the major obstacle to his getting his job done on time now. The only think he could think of was to case the cars going in and out of the gates starting on Sunday and figure out where one of those employees lived. With luck, he could climb into a trunk and make it through the gates, simple as pie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Have you thought any more about what you're going to say to Ngawe on Monday?"

Miss Parker glanced into Jarod's face, then back out across the ocean. "Thought about it, yes - quite a bit. I still don't know what I'm going to tell him, though. God!" She ran her fingers through her dark hair, holding it back out of her face when the summer breeze would keep brushing tendrils into her eyes and mouth. "Part of me want to take charge and turn the Centre around completely, while another part of me entirely wants to run away from the place screaming."

"What ties you to the Centre, other than the fact that your family has been in charge of the place ever since it was founded?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"The idea that I could help make a big difference now," she said honestly, turning herself into the wind and seeing that Jarod was aware of her change in direction before beginning to walk the water's edge. "I'd like to make the Centre live up to its potential as a place where good things happen. It doesn't have to be this shadowy, nefarious think tank that makes the KGB look like the Girl Scouts, you know..."

"You're preaching to the choir on that one," he admitted with a nod.

"On the other hand, I've been wanting to do something ELSE with my life ever since a certain genius decided to slip his tether and take off on his own," she continued with a sideways glance. "Because it was about then that I started to see the Centre for what it was: monstrous. I've never been in a position to just walk away and know that my skin would stay intact before."

"Do you think you can trust Ngawe to let you walk away?" he asked, voicing a fear that had come to him over the course of the last day.

She shook her head. "I honestly don't know, Jarod. I want to..." She looked over at him as he walked beside her, his hand clasped behind his back. "What about you? Have you thought about whether you're going to come back here for good, or do you want to return to your life in California?"

"Except for worrying about what might happen if you take the job and the Yakuza decide to come after the Centre for messing with them once too often, I've thought of little else." He glanced over at her. "The only thing that I'm sure of is that I don't want to lose you or Davy."

"Have you spoken to Ethan about this?"

"I already know what HE'D say, Parker. Remember, he wasn't all that thrilled that I decided to come back in the first place. Frankly, I think he'd just as soon I do whatever is necessary to get you to come back with me and leave Delaware and the Centre and all the bad memories behind once and for all."

"I can't leave Sydney, Jarod." Miss Parker's voice was firm on that point. "For the same reasons you couldn't leave your family until your dad was gone, I can't just up and leave Sydney - no matter how loudly he growls at me."

"He's thinking of retiring, Parker," Jarod informed her gently. "Getting shot has taken a lot out of him."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself as the late afternoon breeze took on a decided chill. "But I can't imagine life without Sydney in it. He stepped into my life when I was... a mess... and became every bit the kind of father I'd always wanted to have. He's our son's grandfather - maybe not by blood, but by everything else that counts. He's MY father, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm not going to move away very far."

The tall man moved closer to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into him protectively. "For whatever it's worth, I feel much the same way. He raised me, remember? I love him as much as you do. But I also know that he's thinking about taking on another surrogate: Kevin. He won't be alone..."

Miss Parker looked into his face, obviously not all that surprised. "Going to mentor another Pretender, only out of sequestered life and into the world at large this time, eh?"

"And hopefully in the process undo some serious emotional and psychological damage done by the jerk who was responsible for him before now," Jarod finished the thought. "He told me in so many words that now that I've relocated to your place, he's thinking of giving the guest room to Kevin when we get home."

"I'm glad," she nodded and looked back out over the ocean again. "But I still can't leave him, Jarod." She took a deep breath of the clean, ocean air and then looked up at the Pretender's face, hers filled with apprehension. "And, I suppose, that means that my decision is made. I might as well take the job, since I'm going to be here anyway... Now all I need to know is whether or not I'll have you with me."

It was Jarod's turn to stare out at the ocean, and he was silent a long time. He had told her the night before that they were taking a step that couldn't be taken back with a change of mind. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave Sydney - he'd watched her struggle in vain to win her 'Daddy's' approval for years. As much as the older man would have complained and wanted to have himself left out of the equation, he had become an vital and necessary part of her world. To force her to separate herself from someone so important to her would be to do her an injury she might never recover from. Miss Parker, it seemed, was a 'package deal' that came with son and surrogate father - not that that was such a bad thing...

With brutal honesty, he admitted to himself that another important consideration was that he was far more likely to fit comfortably within her world than she would be able to fit into his. His mother and his sister would distrust Miss Parker on sight - she was, after all, the woman assigned to capture him all those years ago. Ethan and Jay would be more accepting; they knew her, after all. But it would be an uncomfortable fit with her living with people who couldn't trust her and pining for her surrogate father as well. No, if they were to fashion themselves into a family unit, it would be far more easily accomplished here, where everything started. And with that, Jarod knew his decision was made as well.

"I'll have to go back to California for a while, to break the news to Mom and the rest and then try to transition my patients into Ethan's care permanently - including that little girl I told you about. That's going to take a while to get accomplished. She's going to be a hard little one to walk away from." He tightened his arm around Miss Parker. "Are you sure there's no way I can talk you out of taking the job?"

She shook her head against his upper arm. "No, I don't think so. 'Daddy' trained me for this job for years, only he never imagined that I'd use all that training to undo all the secrecy and underhanded dealings it took him years to set up. And I can't leave Sydney."

"We just won't tell Sydney that he's a goodly portion of the reason behind your decision," Jarod smiled down at her. "Maybe he'll be willing to show me what goes into being the head of this Psychogenics Department before he closes down his office."

Miss Parker could hear the resolution in his voice and lifted her startled eyes to his. "You mean you'll..."

"If you'll have me," he stated, brushing his lips against her forehead. He smirked impishly as she began to smile at him. "I do believe you've finally caught yourself a Pretender, Miss Parker."

She slipped out from beneath his arm to throw her arms around his neck. "About damned time!" she growled at him playfully and then pressed her lips to his firmly.

Jarod's arms wound around her immediately and pulled her tightly against him as he quickly made their kiss as fiery and passionate as it had been three nights earlier. She moaned softly as she once more tasted him as he kissed her deeply then tore their lips apart to rain smaller kissed over her cheek and ear and down the column of her throat.

Then he pulled back and looked at her fondly. "I suppose we should be getting back up there. We'll need to tell some people what we've decided."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Where are you taking me?" Vernon demanded again in a whiney voice. He had grown accustomed to the solitude of the cement room into which he'd been thrust days earlier, with only a few books to keep his mind occupied against the monotony. Now here were two of the hulking African security men, hauling him up roughly by the upper arm and getting ready to drag him out between them if he didn't plant one foot in front of the other in rapid succession.

But the Africans either weren't in the mood to answer his questions or were ordered to silence. Their faces remained bland and neutral as they followed their orders and escorted the psychiatrist between them into the elevator car for a very long ride upwards again. After exiting the elevator, only the sight of the tall windows lining one side of the corridor leading to an etched glass door told the man finally that he was being led back to the Chairman's office at the top level of the Tower itself.

Inside the office, there were only a few Africans - including the ever-present duo of consultants behind the carved desk at which Ngawe sat so placidly and comfortably. The elderly man waved at one of the more comfortable chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat here, doctor. We would rather have you up close, where we can see you more clearly."

Vernon's escort offered him no choice. They held him by the upper arms until he had positioned himself in front of one of the chairs, and then they rather rudely pushed him into a seated position. "What is this all about?" he demanded, impervious to his status as subordinate.

"We are aware of the nature of many of the simulations that you put your charge through during your tenure in the Dover annex," Ngawe started, his voice firm and unfriendly. "We are also aware that several of the simulations that you have run over the years have involved scenarios that were intended to investigate ways and means to keep certain Centre projects from coming to our attention." He leaned forward, and there was little patience in his expression. "We also note that you have not filed this week's report as yet. We would, therefore, be interested in knowing the topic of the simulations you were involved in running prior to the destruction of that facility..."

"Destruction?" Vernon paled. The sweepers had told everyone at the house that there had been sanctions ordered, but he had always considered that they had been probably lying or at most stretching the truth. Evidently they had been telling the God's truth.

"Doctor..." Ngawe called the man's name several times before breaking through the shocked look. "About those simulations..."

The psychiatrist gathered his scattered wits and concentrated, then shot a sharp glance at the elderly man behind the desk. Yes, Mr. Raines' final simulation - the one he and Kevin had been working through the moment the sweepers had burst in and told them of the sanctions - had been one designed specifically to keep a new phase of a eugenics experiment from being exposed and shut down. Only in the past day or so had he learned that all such projects, not to mention all Pretender-related projects - including Shadow - were SUPPOSED to have been shut down years ago.

Vernon's face grew very wary. "We didn't get a chance to finish the last one," he hedged, "and I didn't have either the time or opportunity to make my weekly reports on any of the work done last week."

"We don't really care what you did or did not report officially," Ngawe spat, all traces of the geniality he had used when dealing with Miss Parker or even that African-American sweeper Willy having evaporated. "We want to know precise details. What specifics were you given to work with regarding Redux?"

"We were asked to pinpoint possible locations for continuing the project far from Triumverate oversight," the grey-haired psychiatrist admitted reluctantly, "and assess the potential ramifications of discontinuing the strategy of having Yakuza co-funding and co-management of the projects."

"We understand that many of your simulation projects dealt with the Yakuza and their dealings." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir." The honorific stuck in Vernon's throat. This ancient and foreign paper-pusher held absolute authority over his future, and the idea rankled badly.

Ngawe heard the reluctance. "You are not pleased to be going through this experience, are you, doctor?"

"I'd rather be back in my Sim Lab with my Pretender... sir," Vernon admitted sharply. "We..."

"We don't think that calling another human being "mine" is such a very good idea," Ngawe interrupted him. "In the first place, you didn't OWN anybody. That was the biggest problem with the Pretender Project to begin with - it turned incredibly talented individuals into slaves who couldn't even be allowed lives of their own in violation of international law. In the second place, what you'd rather be doing is not our concern. By working for Mr. Raines, you were actually working for us - and where you go and what you do from now on, considering the unethical nature of your previous endeavors, is entirely up to US. You would be well served to keep that in mind. "

Vernon gulped, the uncertain nature of his future thrown into his face in a manner he could neither deny nor ignore. Still, he couldn't bring himself to call the older man behind the desk 'sir' again, so merely nodded acquiescence with a face slightly paler and more apprehensive than before.

Ngawe settled back into his chair, satisfied that he'd put this pretentious scientist a little bit more securely into his place - or at the very least, communicated just how tenuous his current situation might be. "Now, tell me what you had discovered about the Yakuza, and what were the findings about discontinuing dealings with them?"

"Shadow said that they would most likely be very unhappy with the Centre," Vernon sighed and began to report orally what he'd not had a chance to report in written form. "The likelihood of reprisals was high. They ranged in nature from merely serious, such as in the assassination of those persons seen as instrumental in obstructing Yakuza goals, to dire, such as the sanction of all personnel at a satellite facility or even a direct attack on the Centre itself - all depending upon the level of insult perceived by Tommy Tanaka, the head of the branch of Tokyo Yakuza with whom most of the business has been conducted."

The elderly man behind the desk nodded as he listened. "This is as we suspected. And you say you had no chance to report these findings to Mr. Raines?"

"No... sir." The psychiatrist couldn't see his way past offering the honorific again.

The head of the Triumverate smiled inwardly at having obliged the man to subsume himself yet again to Triumverate authority, then sobered. "Are you aware of any other projects that you were required to run simulations on to discover ways and means of keeping discrete from Triumverate discovery?"

Vernon swallowed hard. "We were rarely given actual project names. Just general details and stages of development. Actually, the simulations regarding the Yakuza were all at Mr. Raines' direct orders, and all within the last week. They landed on my desk on Monday, marked 'Expidite & Report on Friday'. By Friday, if what you say is correct, the house I and my..." He gulped at the furrowed brow at the possessive and thought quickly. "...Shadow occupied had been destroyed."

"You are aware that the sanctions on that house and its personnel came directly from this office?"

"That was the assertion of the men who ordered us to evacuate."

"Do you know who those men were?"

Vernon sighed. "One of them was the sweeper you took into custody with me - that fellow Willy. The other one, I haven't seen for a while now, since we dropped off Shadow at that man's house."

Ngawe leaned forward. "What man's house?"

The psychiatrist shook his head. "I heard the name, but I don't remember now." His mind sorted back to that brief encounter, and he decided that bringing the name 'Jarod' up to people who didn't want to have anything to do with the Pretender Project would probably be counterproductive. So would mentioning 'Sydney Green'. The elderly man obviously already had him pegged as something less than either intelligent or capable - who was HE to prove otherwise?

Ngawe gestured again, and the hulking escort stepped forward. "Thank you for your... candor, doctor. You and Mr. Gautier will be leaving us in the morning. Do not be surprised when you undergo some inoculations early in the morning - we do not need you to fall ill the moment you reach Africa." He gestured again, and the escort once more had Vernon by the upper arms and was dragging him erect.

"Africa?! I can't... I mean... What am I going to..."

With a wave of his hand, the man who was the Triumverate dismissed the psychiatrist, not even bothering to watch as the escort 'helped' the gibbering man from the office. He turned to his two associates. "So there is a threat of Yakuza reprisals on account of Mr. Raines' perfidy?"

"They would not dare act against the Triumverate, sir," Malamdo offered quickly. "We hold as much financial interest in them as we do with the Centre. We just haven't been quite as... obvious... in making our relationship plain as we have here lately. It hasn't been necessary before."

"But if they think they are acting only against the Centre - or against Mr. Raines himself - they MIGHT just try one of those things, especially if they interpreted the deal falling through as a personal slight," Ngawe insisted. "Contact our man within the Yakuza. Let's see if we can find out what this Tanaka fellow is up to right now. Whether we like it or not, Shadow's simulations have been quite accurate so far; and considering that, we would be unwise to ignore his warning."


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