CHAPTER SEVEN
March 16 2001
"One of us is there," said Frederick, his nose sniffing the tell tale gas fumes left by the Centre van. Rachel had driven for miles, darting in and out of traffic, following her foster son's lead. Ever since she witnessed the ambulances take out the people from the apartment, and ever since she talked to the woman about the man who found her cat, and got a description, Rachel knew something was wrong.
The police could not find the landlord, but one of the other tenants said that he saw a black van drive up with the lettering of a small furnace-cleaning firm on its side. He was going to telephone the company right away and make a complaint. Rachel agreed to do it for him, and found out that the firm did not make calls that late at night.
It was at that moment that Frederick pointed down the street. "He's there."
Jarod, thought Rachel. That was the only one it could be. "How far?"
"Two hours," he said, as he put his face out of the window and sniffed the air. He indicated this way and that, leading Rachel on what seemed to be a wild ride until she came upon a section of houses, largely abandoned, and devoid of most human activities. The sign said that a new complex was going up soon.
"There," said Frederick indicating a house that must have been there since the nineteen hundreds.
Suddenly Rachel's car cut off a black car that drove from the road, and parked in front of the older but remodeled two or three story house. The attic seemed blacked out. Even the outer fire escape ladder that should lead up to it lay on the ground as if someone had deliberately cut it. There were also no guardrails, nothing for a person to grab a hold of and hold on. If he got on the roof in a storm, he would just fall to the ground and die in the process. .
Before she could stop him, Frederick leapt out the car and ran around to the back, just as the black car turned up the lane. His sister sensed something as well and followed him as well as the three younger kids, but just as Rachel was about to stop them, three men got out of the other car. Two of them were tall and heavy set, the kind one expected in either a wrestling ring or working as bodyguards. One of them was black, his head shaven bald, and the other man had closely cropped black haired, pale eyes, and coarse features, face a cross between broad and angular, not particularly handsome, but it was the third man, the shorter one with the brown hair that frightened Rachel the most. He had strange eyes, almost reptilian, not in color but in purpose. Satan when he was disguised as the serpent in the Garden must have had similar eyes.
She parked the car, walked up to the front door, and finding it unlocked, walked in, her gun drawn. It appeared empty and a flight of stairs led past a small empty living room, a kitchen, and a bedroom. Still she checked them and finding no one inside, carefully climbed the steps leading to the attic.
Knocking on the door, she held out her badge. "Rachel Burke VCTF Profiler, I'm looking for a Jarod Wilkes."
Just as the door swung open, the three men came behind, shoving her aside, the black one's order was redundant. "Move aside," he snapped.
Rachel did not step back as if to go back down the steps. Rather, her eyes on the three, and estimating that one shot would get the leader, she slipped into the room toface a striking dark haired woman who wore a white blouse, with frills down its deep V neckline, a short skirt, and high heels that suited her figure and her long legs.
Behind the woman stood Jarod, obviously a prisoner by his handcuffs, and dressed entirely in black, tee shirt, black jeans, and shoes. He showed no fear or anger, just a type of defiance directed at the two heavies and the smaller urbane man who came in and shoved aside an older man, and a nervous balding younger man who stuttered and sat quickly in a chair.
Meanwhile, the black one drew his gun and faced Jarod while the smaller one had a smirk on his face as he addressed a woman with the dark hair and high-heels. "I'll take Jarod back to the Centre, now, sis. Good thing the man at the other apartment block was very talkative."
"Lyle I knew it was you," she said with deceptive sweetness.
"How did you know? We were very quiet. Oh by the way, we have improved the security on Jarod's- ah- 'room' so that he can't escape and…"
That was the last thing he said before he found himself thrown backwards.
There were five of them, children, rushing up the steps, with predatory looks on their faces. The older two looked to be teens, and the other three, about two or three years old. .
The black one yelled at the children in the manner of one always obeyed. "Stop that this instant!"
That was the last thing he said for the older boy sprang on him, snapping his neck so fast that Rachel could not see the movement, but Jarod had already looked in that direction.. It's as if he knew this was coming, thought Rachel.
At almost the same time, the other henchmen suddenly toppled down the stairs as the form of the girl became clear. "Margaret," whispered Rachel seeing the still bloody cutlery knife in the girl's hand.
"I'll get you for this, Miss Parker," Lyle said and half ran, half tumbled down the steps.
A few minutes later, Rachel heard the car drive away and then turned to the occupants of the room.
"Who are those children?" asked Miss Parker. "No one is that strong or able to overcome my brother and his henchmen, correction late henchmen."
"1-6rs," said Rachel, "a new species according to certain scientific journals. I believe, however, they are in reality another variation of humans since both they and regular humans are compatible and the children of the unions are fertile. Saying that they are Dominants, and we are humans, however, will suffice. I have been investigating several homicides that don't fit into the regular serial killer category. That's what I want Jarod for."
"Well come on in. I'll let you borrow him. Someone had better watch those children," she said, "You can call me Miss Parker."
"Miss Burke then," said Rachel, "the younger three are mine. Their father is a 1.6r, but doesn't know about it yet. What do you mean, 'I'll let you borrow him?'"
"Jarod belongs to me," said Parker in a calm manner. "We have to get going. Jarod come on!"
He tried to escape, but Sydney and Broots came behind. Both were armed.
As they walked down the steps to the cars, Rachel explained to Miss Parker and the others about 1.6rs and their differences from humans, socially speaking. "They like to dominate. I don't know about their social habits, because most humans, that's us, never get the chance to live with them or survive."
"They'll kill us?"
"According to a certain Walker Attwood, a respective member in the Intelligence community," said Rachel, "their motto is 'We will rule in the Kingdom of Man.:' They already have a Chosen one. "
"Who is he a kind of Christ?"
"Think of ruler, dictator, boss of bosses, chief, leader, king, emperor."
"I heard of these 1.6rs," said Sydney, "don't they have some Aztec background?"
Aztecs?" asked Broots. "The kids look part Jewish to me."
"You mean the rumor that they do many ancient Indian rites? No. They are mostly Caucasian," said The Profiler.
"Then it must have been a result of an experiment done by the Nazis to create a super race."
"Someone didn't get their facts straight, Sydney," said Miss Parker, "I heard the species developed in Oaxaca, Mexico, possibly due to a localized mutation."
"Actually, you are all wrong. The 1.6rs were the result of an Allied experiment, trying to duplicate what humans were when the heroes such as Hercules and villains such as Cain lived. It was to counteract the Nazi creation of a super Aryan race, but the Allied Force defeated the Axis before they were born. Since there were no records kept, no one knew," said Rachel. "Walter Attwood received several discs as of the truth, but was unable to release them until their authenticity had been verified."
"Maybe the unusual high temperature in Mexico created the same results. Depends on what stories you hear," said Sydney.
The children sat in Rachel's back seat as if nothing had happened.
"I'll follow you," she said.
"Right." Miss Parker shoved Jarod in the front seat besides her. She handcuffed his hands together. The Pretender was still fuming, saying something about Mr. Lyle that was very unpleasant. .
They drove towards an undisclosed location, a house hidden in the trees.
Miss Parker pulled a gun, and forced Jarod out the car. Although Rachel did not see this, she sensed something was wrong. She did not want to say anything.
"Now what's this about?" asked Miss Parker.
"I don't think it involves you."
"If it's about Jarod, it involves me." She showed Rachel the certificate and a contract.
Rachel could not believe it. The contract gave all rights to the Centre and none to the Pretender. The Centre listed Pretenders as property. There was an explanation of why, that the Pretender gene made them able to become anyone, that they could act out a situation and be everyone in that scenario. It was as if their personality switched depending on who they were supposed to become, and listed the differences between them and the rest of humanity. They were a valuable resource and the intelligence procured from their brain could be rented out. If need be, any Pretender could be sent out to various clientele, either in a box with air holes in the cargo section of an airplane or hooded and chained in either the trunk or the back seat of as car, depended on whether the windows were visible or invisible from the outside..
Rachel was shocked. The Centre and that included Mr. Lyle, and Miss Parker would receive a certain sum of money for that particular Pretender's services. She looked at the certificate, made to look like a bill of sale with the word "gift" over it in bold letters. Underneath it was Mr. Parker's signature witnessed by a couple of other Centre staff members. It gave Jarod to Miss Parker.
"See, one of my father's last wish." said Miss Parker and grabbed back the documents.
"I thought that was illegal!" Rachel explained and then spotted the box in the back seat from a supplier to law enforcement agencies. "You needed four of them to keep him helpless?"
Miss Parker smiled and walked over to Jarod. "What are you planning Miss Parker?" he asked.
"I plan to make sure that you don't escape. You'll be too busy doing thing for me to keep your brilliant mind exercised, and whenever I want you like the last time, you are going to let me do it or," she pulled her gun, "good-bye Jarod."
A few minutes later, she pushed him into the house.
It was the type usually designed as a safe house, rather run down. The furniture looked Sally Ann and bargain basement. Someone had lived here, probably renters. Miss Parker spotted a Lego block in the corner. "Be sure to mail this off to the Hansons," she said to Broots, "and enclosed this." She handed him a couple of hundred dollar bills.
"I'll try to help you," said Rachel to Jarod who sat in a chair.
"You mustn't. The Centre lied. All the time, I assumed it was a budgetary mix up that I did not get a salary, but then I always knew that was not the truth. They never intended to pay me for my services. They even set up Sydney as mentor and teacher so I would not get wise. The Centre owned me even when I fled. Now why are you here?"
Rachel explained about the murderer, that the killer was the son of someone who orphaned by AIDS, comparing it to the Bubonic Plague. "Children bringing up children. Does she mind if we talk?"
"I suppose if there is nothing about helping me escape." Before Miss Parker could object, he asked, "What are 1.6rs and why did you mention me and them in the same breath? Is that a new name for Pretenders?"
"That is what Pretenders were before being medicated by parents or authority figures. 1.6rs are Dominants, or Homo Dominant, the scientific designation. Their brain pattern registers point six above humans. Do you recall any change in your behavior either recently or in your childhood that is not due to a head injury?"
"The year before Lyle recaptured me, I felt like killing those who I considered unworthy, but I stopped just before that part. I had those feelings when I was a child before, —. Those are my children, aren't they?"
"The triplets, yes, but I'm not sure about the older two."
"I suspect the others are mine as well, but when I tried to back track to the time of their supposed conception, I felt as if someone drilled a thousand nails into my head. I attributed that to extensive brainwashing done by Dr. Raines. I find I'm starting to remember things from my childhood that I had forgotten, when I lived with my Mommy and Daddy."
Rachel questioned Jarod further about his home life and found out what she suspected. A doctor must have given his mother a prescription to calm down her son. She did not think either him or his nurse told the Centre about Jarod, unless by misunderstanding an advertisement on helping uncontrollable children. All they needed to do was to get the parents to give their children up voluntarily. Only in Jarod's case and others, the Centre took the children by force.
Rachel suspected that as soon as Jarod had been recaptured, Lyle and Raines drugged his food once more so he was back to supposedly normal. She walked over to Sydney who gave her the first time period Jarod was away from the Centre, and when he started to become more violent, comparing with the second time after Lyle's torture. The second time was shorter or was it?
She thumbed through the pages containing reasons of Dominant superiority, the use of weapons and scientific equipment, who was expendable in the human race, and who was not. There was a paragraph on dominance relating to mating and ownership. Rachel had to read this twice, as it compared kissing on the mouth to possession. If a Dominant kissed a human female first on the mouth, he was her master, thus a Dominant avoided showing that type of affection if he was just going to seduce her and go away.
The rule also applied in reserve as to what occurred between Jarod and Miss Parker. Dominants, a relatively new species, were well aware of this situation. It explained much of their lack of emotion. If you believed that when someone of a different sub-species kissing you; you were bound to him or her for life, you would avoid anything that approached that. She could not imagine the absence of affection other than a smile and wondered what would happen if children were involved. Rachel soon found what she was looking for. It was a small paragraph relating to Dominants raised by ordinary humans.
Because 1.6rs exhibited the traits normally found in serial killers, that is, violence, rage, utter superiority, it was felt that a non- addictive drug for which they would create a tolerance for would make them more pliable, that is more human. (They succeeded in the former, but not the latter, but that information was sketchy.) However, unlike the usual serial killer types which often had a pattern in choosing his victims, and could be controlled by social engineering, that is, keep him away from red headed women, prostitutes, etc, the 1.6r showed no pattern. The drug suppressed not only Jarod's desire to dominate by any means necessary, but also his ability to sense something was wrong and when it finally happened, as when he sensed his incoming capture, it was too late.
Rachel now was certain what Miss Parker did to Jarod when she saw her being a bit too familiar with the Pretender. She walked over to Miss Parker who pulled her hand away "I have to make a phone call. I'll give you the number," the Profiler told her.
Miss Parker then cut Jarod's bonds and what little Rachel heard did not sound too hostile.
Jarod snapped, "I didn't ask to be handcuffed and for you to take possession of me. I will not…."
"I don't care how you feel, you're good at pretending, so pretend"
"I certainly am not going jump through hoops for you Miss Parker,"
"Oh yes you will Jarod. You just proved it a short while ago."
Rachel did not want to hear Miss Parker refer to Jarod in that matter so she waited until her call went through and talked to a Doctor Ed Tate since Attwood was not there. However, the doctor was able to give her the information that she wrote on a pad. After she hung up, she went over to Jarod and gave him the note. "I'll need this equipment." .
"We can get that at the Centre," said Miss Parker snatching it from him.
"I doubt it. This looks like military. What do you want, Rachel?"
"You called her Rachel!" Miss Parker spoke in that sweet tone that spelled danger.
"We were on a case together, Miss Parker," said Jarod, "Nothing happened."
"You call Huey, Duey, and Louisa nothing?" she asked, pointing to Rachel's children.
"I had no idea how they came about. Sydney kept me in the dark on the Centre's orders, I might add and medical diagrams are no help either."
"What we did is how you make children. Much better than a test tube and a small cup, isn't it, Jarod?"
Jarod could not contain his surprise. "Holding makes children?"
"And putting your—I'll have to explain the details further and stop looking at me that way. Oh you think all that's needed to make children is for the Centre to combine DNA in the lab! Next thing you're going to get on your hands and—Jarod stop with that half grin."
"Do you intend to keep up with this procedure until the doctor says, 'Congratulations Miss Parker, you're pregnant' and give me a rest until the next time. Is that what I am to you?" he asked and his eyes saying, Please say yes, Miss Parker. I want a son, no not just one son, as many sons and daughters that I have on my fingers and toes. He could already see the children in his mind's eye, playing together, hunting together, not realizing that to Miss Parker he was just a means to an end, just something to use, so great was the desire to produce.
Miss Parker came over and whispered in his ear. "You better believe it Jarod. You're just property. I've had enough trouble chasing you that now you have to pay hard so get ready for a lot more suffering, Pretender!"
He shook at her words and his eye grew cold. He then walked away and spoke to Rachel. "You'll need at least a Pentium 4 or an Athlon." He named a certain software program. "You can get that at the Harvard University, Oxford, or Cambridge. It will have to be altered."
"If any of the children are Dominants," the profiler said, "we have to take them from your Centre. You cannot raise them properly. Dominant children mature earlier than we do A Dominant is the only one who can control their desire to—"
"Run amuck and kill us all?" asked Broots.
"Yes."