Chapter eleven

Doomsday

Disclaimer: Jack and Jill went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water

Jack fell down a broke his crown

And Jill came tumbling after

Authors note: sorry all, there's been a major stuff up with my replies to people. I wrote them all out, and then had to reload the chapter due to all the errors, and the replies didn't get reloaded, so... sorry. I'm just to tired and irritated to write them out again. I'll do it next chapter, I promise.

Mr Lyle smiled quietly to himself as he typed up a report to the triumvirate. Things were looking good. A technician had informed him that there had been a hack into the Centre mainframe last night. He correctly assumed that it had been Jarod discovering just where Mr Broots and his daughter were being kept. The chairman of the Centre now waited with tingling anticipation for the phone call of a thoroughly broken pretender, ready to give himself up.

As in the manner of a coy fifteen year old, too vain to let someone know that he had been waiting for a call, when it did come he let the phone ring twice before he picked it up.

'Hello Bobby' said a silky, dark and dangerous voice. Lyle abruptly realised that this would not be the phone call he had anticipated. Still, he attempted to sound unfazed, to take control.

'Jarod. Ready to come home like a good little guinea pig?' His voice was at once jovial and threatening.

'This is a request that you release Deborah Broots and her father.' Jarod neither acknowledged Lyle's question nor responded to it, his dark tone both cold and impersonal.

'You will buy their freedom with yours' replied Lyle lightly.

'If you have refused to acquiesce to our request, then this is a 48 hour warning.'

Lyle let out a bark of laughter. 'You're threatening me? Hah! I believe you are aware of the fact that your buddies are at my mercy. How many toes do you want them to have when I'm done?' He was becoming slightly annoyed at how Jarod was failing to respond to his barbs.

'If they are harmed while in your care it will only make this worse for you.'

'If you try anything, then I will paint a room with their blood, specially for when you are back in chains in our basement.' Lyle's voice had become a low growl.

'If that is so, then consider this a 24 hour warning.'

There was a click. Lyle looked at the phone then hurled it across the room. It snapped on impact with the wall, dropping to the floor with wires and chips showing where the casing has cracked. Lyle let out a sound that could well have been a snarl, then reached into one of the desk draws. When he extracted his hand it was encased in a set of knuckle dusters.

Lyle had figured out a long time ago that when people made him angry and then made themselves scarce, it was perfectly acceptable to take it out on the next nearest person. In this case, that happened to be the annoying, bald computer technician. And Jarod had made Lyle very angry...

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Parker watched as Jarod hung up the phone, her anxiousness hidden well under a cool, serene mask. Her knuckles were in fact white where she gripped the desk that she perched on. The call had been routed through fifteen other phone numbers, so the three were not worried about a trace being used to find them. No, their worry was for someone else entirely.

The pretender turned to the computer, and began to type as fast as he could. It would take Lyle approximately two minutes to get to Broots' cell, or two minute and thirty seconds to get to Debbie. It took a minute and a half to fix Broots' cell. Debbie's was higher security, and took five. Hands shaking with adrenaline and fear, Jarod sat back, whilst Parker calmly watched the screen as Jarod switched it over to monitor the security feed. Sydney was equally rapt from where he stood leaning over Jarod's shoulder. They sat back to watch the results, cautious optimism warring with outright fear. If this didn't work then not only did the whole plan fail here and now, but Broots and Debbie were in very immediate danger.

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Lyle made it to the tech's cell in time to hear a heavy clunk from the door. He frowned and strode forward, ignoring the sweepers that stood either side of the door. He rapidly punched in the access code with his left hand and pulled on the door handle before he registered that the screen had flashed red at him. Suspicions beginning to dawn, he typed in the code again, slowly and carefully. The sweepers watched him warily out of the corners of their eyes; Mr Lyle was known to randomly lash out when annoyed.

The key pad beeped twice at the chairman. Slowly and deliberately, he slipped the knuckle dusters of his hand, drew his gun and, cocking it and with a fluid movement, put a bullet into the square pad of numbers. The loud shot rang down the hallways. The slightly larger sweeper on the right had flinched; the other one had only just managed to stay steady. For a moment Lyle paused and all was silence as he stared at the gently sparking mass of wires.

Then, casually, he re-holstered the gun and turned to the sweeper that had flinched. 'Open this door' he commanded quietly, yet with enough threat in his tone to make any one less than six foot tall wet their pants.

Despite his six foot six inch status, the man suppressed the urge to wet his pants. He managed with a faintly audible gulp. 'It...it's locked, Mr Lyle' he stammered.

'I noticed that Charlie' the menace was now mixed with equal amounts of sarcasm that did not bode well for the quaking sweeper. The man wished fervently to be out in the sunlight, miles from these monotonous corridors of steel and concrete. He wished to be anywhere but where he was right then. But his life depended on the mercy of the insane and thumbless man, so he pulled his screaming thoughts under control.

'I'll call maintenance. They'll have tools to cut the door open.' He managed. Lyle's smile was about as reassuring as a fin that cuts rapidly through the water towards a drowning swimmer. The mad chairman straightened the lapels on the sweeper's suit, then nodded and stalked up the corridor, towards the lift down to Debbie's cell, just to make sure. Behind him the sweeper sagged against the wall, while his partner patted him on the shoulder in sympathy.

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The three escapees waited until they Lyle returned to his office, having equally failed to budge the door into Debbie's cell. Timing it precisely, Jarod pressed the enter key on the computer. There were no cameras in the chairman's office, but that did not matter. Jarod knew exactly how long it took to get from place to place in the Centre; he had relied upon the knowledge many a time to avoid getting caught as he searched for relevant information in the very office which Lyle now inhabited.

Counting to three under his breath Jarod nodded to Parker. She quickly typed in a number for him. With his broken fingers bound together he could barely hold the phone to his ear. Sydney noted this. Since discovering the words burned into his back, Jarod had gone back to the point of almost ignoring his injuries. Despite their grand plan for revenge, Sydney was determined that he would step in if the pretender pushed it too far. The problem with Jarod was, he was very good at pretending that he was OK. There was a click as Lyle picked up. Jarod drew in a deep breath...

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'Hello Bobby.'

Lyle clenched his jaw as he held his mobile phone to the ear. He had sat down in his desk chair when the phone had rung. Now he regretted answering it. He was beyond angry. Now was not a good time for a verbal jousting match with Sydney's little experiment. Still, he had little choice.

'Turn the lights back on' Lyle growled down the phone The pretender's voice annoyed him. It did not betray the weakness it should have after Lyle extensive torture sessions.

'And give maintenance the chance to use their power tools on the cell doors?' replied Jarod lightly, with a mocking undertone.

'Aren't you worried about all those poor people on life support in the renewal wing?' taunted Lyle.

'Oh come on Bobby. Both you and I know that there's a back up generator for the medical machinery. Now, about our deal.'

'I will not bargain with you Lab Rat. Turn yourself in and I will release the technician and his daughter. Although I must say, Debbie is really enjoying her lodgings.' This time it was Jarod's turn to clench his jaw, but he did not let it show in his voice.

'The Centre is very vulnerable Mr Lyle. There's no end of ways I can make you uncomfortable. Release them now, or I will see just how much you can put up with.'

'For a genius, you do seem to be quite thick. You are only making this worse for yourself. Hand yourself in, ready to sim for us, and I will forget your indiscretion.'

Jarod simply gave a dry laugh and hung up. Sitting in the dark Lyle swallowed hard.

TBC...