Morte et Liberté

(Death and Freedom)

PART FOUR

The rough sea crashed against the rugged cliff, spray flying up hundreds of feet, as though trying desperately to reach the foot of the slender lighthouse perched on the edge of the headland.

Jarod peered through the drizzle out to the misty horizon as he cycled along the muddy coast road of the island. Since his escape he'd taken on hundreds of different jobs, often dangerous and exciting, but he found the quiet simplicity of the postman's life strangely satisfying.

He reached the lighthouse and stood his bike up against the wall. Cheerfully he squelched up to the door and knocked loudly. As it opened, Jarod's grin widened as he looked through the rain into a familiar face.

"Hello, Jarod," Sydney smiled back.

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In the cosy, round living room, Jarod and Sydney sat at a little wooden table, wine glasses raised.

"To escape," Sydney toasted.

"Escape," Jarod replied, "And retirement."

"Yes, finally. I always knew they would never allow me to retire, even before you escaped... the disadvantage of knowing too many secrets."

"You're better off dead. No one will be hunting you."

"I'm sorry Jarod, but I do believe that Parker will never stop trying to recapture you. My death won't have changed that. As much as she wants to find the truth about her mother, her pride won't allow her to just let you go."

"That's probably a good thing. The Centre doesn't encourage 'live-and-let-live' policy. She'd be... removed."

Sydney nodded in sombre agreement.

"No, she'll never stop chasing me," Jarod mused again, a half-smile playing across his face. Sydney smiled at his protégé, knowing the Pretender enjoyed the cat-and-mouse games more than he'd ever admit.

"There are still years of secrets to be uncovered within the Centre. Parker and Broots will have to continue that search without me, but I think their, ah, grief will be short-lived." Sydney smiled... he didn't doubt Miss Parker's intellect for a second, she would realise the truth soon enough, and keep it to herself.

"But you're safe now," Jarod continued, "So maybe it's time you had these back." He took out a smooth, silver briefcase and handed it to an astonished Sydney.

"The simulations--!"

"You can look after them better than I can, and I can't really use them as a bargaining chip anymore. They're your life's work."

Sydney took the case gently, handling it like fragile bone china. "You know, these discs are almost the only record that I even exist."

"Me too."

"The irony is, when you escaped with these, I thought it the end of my career, my life, but here your being on the outside was the only way I could get out too. Thank you, Jarod."

"That's what family are for."

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The weather was beautiful in Blue Cove, sunlight striping through the willow trees in the cemetery. Miss Parker stood before the grave, her father beside her, Broots hovering anxiously behind and with Mr. Raines off to one side, scowling about in tense anticipation of the ambush.

The sweepers were among the trees, waiting, ready to pounce.

Parker looked over at Raines, who nodded the go-ahead. She cleared her throat and took out a slip of paper from her jacket.

Her eulogy was simple, to the point and not overly sentimental. They were not the words Parker would have chosen had this been a genuine funeral, had she not been surrounded by Centre officials who more than likely found Sydney's death merely convenient. No one there, with the possible exception of Broots, and Jarod, if was indeed lurking in the shadows, would ever have guessed her real thoughts about the 'dear departed', the man who had been her sole comfort after her mother's murder, who had supported her, advised her and infuriated her for years...

She looked to the edge of the cemetery, half holding her breath in anticipation of action, but, in truth, she knew Jarod was too smart to fall for such a trap, knew the tactics of his pursuers too well to believe the funeral was all that it appeared.

Brigitte slipped out of her hiding place and came over to Mr. Raines with a sullen pout to her model features. She showed him a bouquet of flowers with a card from Jarod, cursing under her breath. Miss Parker felt a glow of satisfaction as Raines glared contemptuously at her. She would have to thank Jarod for that sometime. The plan abandoned, all eyes turned back to the grave. Parker looked briefly at the coffin, then out to the trees.

"Rest in peace, Sydney."

As the so-called mourners dispersed, Miss Parker and Broots returned to their sleek black car. As soon as she shut the door her cell phone beeped an incoming message.

"Very moving. Thank you."

She smiled and wordlessly showed it to Broots before erasing it.

"Think he'll be alright?" Broots asked quietly.

Miss Parker smiled, "Well, he's gone to a better place."

THE END