Chapter Two

Author's note: Um, yes, late. I'm claiming mid-year exams, and scrupoulously quick updating on my last story against that one. Also, I love my reviewers very much. Although, thanks to the new story hit counter, I know that about half a percent of the people reading the story are reviewing the story. 'cough cough'

bloodymary2: Writers like beggars? But they harrass you and ask you for money. Oh... you mean the kind that harras you for updates. Well, yes.

pretender fan: Sigh, what will I do with you? Grin.

Momo20: Well, we can't all be american (thankfully)

Angus Hardie: She might, she might not. Cue evil cackle from the author.

Bucky: It was the please that did it for me. Here you go.

Rev2004: 'Hey... you updated' What's that supposed to mean? Anyway, yes, there will be a twist. Or maybe there won't be, and that will be the twist. Twisted minds, twisted childhoods... Some more manic cackling. Ah... Enjoy.

Mr Parker opened the door in his office, walking without needing to look after years of taking the same path. Coffee held in one hand, newspaper in the other, it wasn't until he glanced up to check for fresh papers on his desk that he realised there was another person in his room.

When he realised who it was, he jumped, spilling hot coffee on his hand.

'Ah! What the hell?' Swearing, he threw the newspaper on the floor, put the coffee on the desk, wiped his hand on his expensive suit, and drew the small gun that he kept in a holster inside his jacket.

Jarod looked down the shaking barrel of the gun and raised both hands, not making any sudden movements and trying to appear non-threatening.

'What do you want?' Demanded Mr Parker, badly shaken at the appearance of the Centre's greatest prize in his office. It was Monday morning, and not, he felt, a fair time to play tricks on an old man.

'I give up.' Offered Jarod helpfully.

'What?' Stuttered the chairman.

'I'm giving myself in. I'll do whatever you want.'

All Mr Parker could do for a couple of moments was blink stupidly at the man in the black leather jacket. He had not got to be the head of the Centre for nothing though, and he quickly recovered enough to hit the intercom on his desk, not taking his eyes off the pretender. 'Yes sir?' came the voice of his secretary.

'Order two sweepers up here please.'

Jarod smiled at him encouragingly as they waited for them to arrive. He made no fuss as he was escorted down to the sub levels and was made secure. Alerting Sydney as to the pretender's return, Mr Parker finally had time to contemplate the meaning behind this sudden and compliant re-appearance. Miss Parker was due back from her holiday in five days, and the old man strongly suspected that his daughter had something to do with this. It was just the exact connection that eluded him. He returned to his office to deal with the paperwork that was no doubt even now piling up, but he was frowning in thought.

oo00OO00oo

Five days later, Jarod had performed several profitable simulations, and sudden disasters were failing to occur. He worked calmly with Sydney, doing whatever was asked of him. He had bought the DSA's in with him, all present and accounted for and Mr Parker was giving himself ulcers trying to work out just what exactly the pretender was playing at. That subject, however, was the only thing Jarod was not being open and helpful about. Sydney was quiet and closed up as he assisted Jarod with the sims. The only thing he knew that Mr Parker didn't was what Broots had told him, but that didn't help him draw any conclusions. That, and that Jarod was having screaming nightmares routinely every night.

Sydney mulled over this puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together, even as he explained the next sim to Jarod.

'You need to be careful with this one Jarod. I've got Broots here so he can monitor your heart rate and blood pressure whilst we do the sim- if you get into too much trouble, we're ending it.'

'You worry too much Sydney.'

'Indulge me.'

Jarod sighed, but with a smile playing about his lips, and obligingly held his hand out so Broots could slip the finger clip on that would do the actual monitoring. The monitor display instantly lit up with a steady heart beat of 60 and a blood pressure of 120 over 90.

'You've kept in shape' commented Sydney, as he began to set up the sim side of things.

'I did a lot of running' replied Jarod amiably. Sydney ignored the good-natured jibe at the Centre, not yet sure how exactly he should take Jarod's sudden reappearance and compliance.

'If your heart rate doubles from that, we'll stop the sim. OK…' Sydney paused, giving his protégé time to mentally change track. Jarod had already been briefed on the sim, and would complete it with minimum prompting.

'Who is Peter Wallace?' Asked Sydney

'He ran a training school for freedom fighters in northern Europe.' Jarod's voice had become emotionless, and his face was blank save for faint indications of deep thought.

'Why?'

'Wife and kids, easy lifestyle, he was bored, he didn't see how his life was significant.'

'Is it religion based?'

'On the surface. He needed a reason, but even radical Islam holds the lives of children to be sacred. He doesn't follow that precept, he's just using religion for a cover.'

'What is the real reason?' Sydney circled in on the persona they wanted Jarod to take, making him start to think more deeply about motives and personality. Jarod paused, analysing and drawing in the relevant information.

'He wanted purpose, and was frustrated, that he couldn't simply believe in a god to find purpose. He used the cause, but not the substance.'

'What's he planning to give him purpose Jarod?'

'He…' Another pause, and pain flickered across Jarod's formerly blank features.

'Heart rate is 80' called out Broots. Sydney nodded to him. 'He what Jarod?'

'He doesn't want to simply bomb, it's too clichéd. He wants to be known, he wants to have purpose. He read a book once, where an retreating army poisoned all the wells by throwing cow carcasses in, so when the villagers returned, the army had still won.'

'Is he going to poison the water source Jarod?'

'Heart rate is 85.'

'He's going to poison everything.'

'How?'

'Heart rate is 90.'

'Old missiles, old warheads. Material enough, for a dirty bomb, exploded over Moscow. Chernobyl, with children, with a whole city. They won't die straight away Sydney. Radiation sickness at the quickest will be a couple of hours. Then the cancers, mutations, the sterilisation of people and soil.' Agitation was thick in his voice.

'When Jarod?'

'Soon. Safer to do it soon. Sooner started, the sooner the whole world will know. Then they'll know his devotion. No one that doesn't believe would do something like that in the name of Allah.'

'Where?'

Jarod looked dully at the map of the former USSR that was being projected across one wall. Broots watched the heart monitor worriedly.

'Several possible locations that are tactically useful. Here, here, here, or here.'

'Which one?'

'None of them. He's not sane like that. Here.' Jarod pointed to a point, and Sydney, having derived all the required information, quickly ended the sim, bringing the lights up to full and snapping Jarod out of it. The pretender's heart rate began to drop again, and he visibly calmed.

'Thankyou Jarod. We'll be able to stop him now.'

Jarod snorted derisively, the first time he had shown any real cynicism towards the Centre since he had come back in. 'Tell them to price that information to sell- haggling will result in the worst nuclear disaster since Hiroshima.'

'I will.' Sydney assured him, producing the DSA of the simulation and turning to head out the door, on the way to present it to Mr Parker. He nearly ran head on into Miss Parker, who had been leaning in the doorway, watching the end of the sim.

'Miss Parker! How was your holiday?'

'Excellent. Did you miss me?' She didn't so much as glance at Jarod, whose eyes were glued to the floor.

'I expect we'll have to get used to it. Where are you going now?'

'I'm moving back up to corporate. Daddy made a most flattering job offer, so I decided to stay with the Centre.'

Sydney glanced from Miss Parker to the pretender, and narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. That Miss Parker hadn't commented that Jarod was suddenly sitting calmly back in the Centre only underlined her involvement in this whole thing. Broots too was looking from Jarod to Miss Parker, then back to the heart monitor, his expression anxious, although he wasn't contemplating anything to do with plots.

Miss Parker didn't comment on the unspoken questions hanging in the air, just nodded once to her two ex-colleagues and turned and left the room that she had never really entered. Sydney watched her leave, then noticed the heart monitor, which Broots was now checking for malfunction. It read 160 beats per minute, although it was now slowing once more. Jarod was still looking at the floor, with his expression something akin to nervous fear. Sydney stowed the issue away as just one more Centre strangeness that needed to be untangled. The difference with this one was that two people very dear to him seemed to be perpetrating it, and he just hoped they had more reason for it than Peter Wallace had for his planned attack.

TBC…(and the next chapter gets really fun, so I won't take as long to update)