Disclaimer: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and TNT. (Even though they aren't going to air anymore re-runs – the bastards.) The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creation. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Admitting Hope pt 10
By Phenyx
02/20/2006
"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come." – Anne Lamott.
This place looked like something out of a movie Jarod had seen once. The film had been about a character named John Clayton, a man who'd been raised in the jungle by apes. The orphaned Clayton had spent his childhood alone, fighting in the wilderness for survival. He'd known of nothing but the jungle until he was an adult and a Belgian soldier led him from the wilderness and into civilization.
Jarod had liked that movie. He'd felt an empathy for the main character, understood the confusion and frustration Clayton had suffered as his new life clashed so dramatically with his old one. But the film's ending had been disappointing. Clayton had left his new life behind, abandoned a beautiful girl who loved him and returned to his solitude in the jungle.
That wasn't the happily ever after Jarod had been hoping for.
Evidently the movie had been an adaptation of a novel, the first in a series of books. But Jarod had never read any of them. The character's decision to return to the jungle and the danger of his childhood had left Jarod feeling bereft and uninterested.
But the café in which Jarod stood bore an uncanny resemblance to the tavern in that movie where John Clayton had seen his first drinking glass and had learned about matches. The building was made entirely of wooden planks, sturdy but plain. The large room was shuttered, blocking any natural air circulation and leaving the place stuffy and dark. A thick blanket of chaf smoke hung in the room, making Jarod feel a bit light-headed.
For more than an hour, Jarod had hidden among the shadows of the darkened café. On the table at his side stood a nearly untouched glass of tej, the honey wine popular in this part of Ethiopia. For the last thirty minutes he had watched a lean, middle-aged black man sip at a cup of chai.
With a mental sigh, Jarod decided that the man, Yusus Eyessus, had indeed come alone. Pushing away from the wall, the pretender silently made his way across the room. His approach went unnoticed so that the other man flinched in surprise when Jarod spoke.
"I hope the abruptness of this meeting caused you no difficulties?" Jarod asked in Amharic.
The other man's eye's narrowed accusingly. "It would have been easier to meet in the city."
"Moyalé is a fine city," Jarod drawled. He dragged a chair to one side before sitting down. He wanted to be able to see the entrance as he spoke.
"The capital is nicer," the other man grumped. "With higher quality establishments to choose from."
Jarod switched to English as he replied, "Your comfort isn't really my top priority."
The icy tone in Jarod's voice made the well-dressed man squirm in his chair. "What do you want?" The black man's English was heavily accented but clear and precise. The British education Jarod knew he'd been given was evident in his speech.
"It is time for that favor you owe me, Yusus," Jarod told him.
"What kind of favor?" If a black man could be described as going pale, this guy was doing it.
Jarod smiled. "I just need some information. That's all."
The other man fidgeted again. "In our business, information can be dangerous… and very, very expensive."
"I had noticed."
They stared at one another for a long moment.
"I'll get everything? The negatives too?" The other man asked.
Jarod nodded. "Just answer a few questions and it's all yours."
The other man frowned. Jarod could almost see what he was thinking. What Jarod was offering was of great value. It was the proverbial "ace" the pretender had been hiding up his sleeve. Should Jarod ever find himself trapped behind the walls of the Triumvirate compound, this tidy bit of blackmail could have ensured his escape.
It had taken three years for Jarod to find this weakness within the Triumvirate, another six months to properly exploit it. A beautiful thing it had been too, the trap he'd set for Yusus Eyessus. Perfectly planned, perfectly executed, perfect in every way. It was extortion as an art form and Jarod was its Picasso. Handing it over now was no small thing.
Some selfish part of Jarod's soul resisted this. That small wicked voice inside resented the surrender of so valuable a grip on one of the Triumvirate councilmen. Especially since no one would ever know that he'd done it.
The dark-skinned man nodded once in agreement. "Ask your questions."
Jarod thought for a moment. "There is a contract out on Miss Parker's life."
Eyessus shook his head. "Not possible," he blurted.
"I've seen the Z-3 file myself," Jarod argued. "There have been multiple attempts on her life."
The deep frown on the other man's face made Jarod anxious. He immediately altered what would have been his first question, instead asking, "Why does that surprise you?"
"Miss Parker is too valuable an asset," Eyessus said. "She can not be allowed to leave The Centre. She is the key to everything. She must be protected at all costs."
Jarod struggled to hide his shock. "But I thought I was the key."
The other man sighed and rubbed thoughtfully at his forehead. "Well, yes. You are the answer. She is the question."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Jarod growled. His confusion was quickly turning into frustrated irritation.
"I'm not sure precisely," the other man continued. "It has to do with the Parker family and a set of ancient scrolls. I've never seen them myself. That privilege is reserved for the most powerful of the Triumvirate board."
Jarod did not respond. He wasn't about to tell this man that Jarod had seen those scrolls. Nor was he going to mention that no living Triumvirate member had. For a fleeting moment, Jarod wished he had seen what had been written on that parchment. But then Jarod remembered the look on Mr. Parker's face, the madness that had filled his eyes when he'd read the scrolls.
Every clue seemed to lead back to those scrolls, back to the Parker family and Miss Parker in particular. Those scrolls had sent men into madness, burning their children or flinging themselves to their deaths. The more Jarod learned about the scrolls the more he found his own life to be entwined within them. The thought frightened him.
"The Triumvirate wants Miss Parker alive, just as they want me alive," Jarod murmured.
The other man sipped at his cup before continuing. "If your accusations are true, if someone is trying to remove Miss Parker, the Triumvirate must be warned. They will want her safeguarded."
"She won't like that," Jarod warned. "She prefers to take care of herself."
"Miss Parker's preferences have no impact on what must be done," Eyessus argued. The man's dark face clouded with a frown. "She will need to be sheltered from harm," he said thoughtfully. "Just as you once were." The man's dark eyes glared at Jarod across the table. "Just as you should still be."
"Over my dead body," Jarod growled. Anger began to race through Jarod's veins. This Triumvirate poppycock wanted to lock Miss Parker away. He wanted to put Jarod back in his cell, all under the guise of "protecting" them both.
"But your dead body is exactly what we are trying to prevent."
Jarod hissed a breath between gritted teeth. He felt unclean suddenly, as though his skin had acquired a thin coating of spittle. He hated dealing with the devil this way.
"People wind up dead everyday," Eyessus said. "Even without a contract out on their heads. Crossing the street, stepping into a convenience store, riding an airplane. Any of these can be dangerous. You need to be sheltered from that danger."
"I'm willing to take the risk in order to enjoy my freedom." Jarod replied.
"But surely you understand our"
Jarod interrupted the other man's debate. "I don't understand and frankly I don't give a rat's ass. I'm here about Miss Parker's life. The life she leads in the real world, not locked away in a cold Centre cell."
Nearly visible waves of rage radiated from Jarod. The tone of his voice didn't rise, but instead grew quiet and dangerous. "I don't want to listen to your Triumvirate propaganda," Jarod continued. "Just answer the questions."
The other man eyed Jarod warily for moment and bowed his head in agreement. With a glance at his watch he said, "I must leave soon or my absence will be noticed."
"One last question," Jarod demanded. "Who is Eidolon?"
Jarod watched as Eyessus straightened with shock.
"Where did you hear that name?" the black man gasped.
"It is the code name used to initiate the Z-3 file," Jarod said.
Grabbing his cup, Eyessus gulped down the last of his drink and slammed the container back onto the table. He immediately stood up, pulling his sunglasses from his shirt pocket as he prepared to leave.
"You know the name," Jarod said. "Tell me."
"Give me my payment." The Triumvirate council member was obviously stunned. His hands were clenched into angry fists.
Jarod wordlessly retrieved a large folded envelope from the waistband at the small of his back. He pushed the packet across the table.
The other man took the envelope and examined its contents before giving Jarod a stern gaze. "How do I know you haven't made copies of these negatives?"
Jarod shrugged. "You'll have to trust me."
Eyessus scoffed.
With a meaningful glance at the beige packet the other man held, Jarod said, "Your wife is a lovely woman. Her dedication to improving literacy has helped to educate many children. I have no wish to disrupt those efforts. She is a great lady, caught up in dangerous game."
Eyessus nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately, once joined this game is not easily abandoned."
"A fact I know intimately," Jarod agreed.
The envelope disappeared under the black man's silk shirt. "Your problem will be dealt with, Pretender. Eidolon will be dealt with."
"Who is he?"
With a shake of his head, Eyessus told him, "The fool insists upon trying to bend the prophecy to his will. Without his brother to restrain him, he has become more bold." The man's dark eyes bored into Jarod's. "He tries to foist his bastard son into power."
"Raines," Jarod gasped. "Raines is Eidolon."
"I must go," Eyessus said. "There will be no reason for us to ever meet again. Understood?"
The other man had turned away when Jarod called, "Wait! Yes, I understand and I swear you will never hear from me again. But please tell me, what will they do to Mr. Raines?"
With his back still to Jarod, Eyessus answered. "He has threatened something of great value to us. Now we will return the favor."
Jarod sat at the table only long enough to watch the Triumvirate council member leave the café. As soon as the other man was out of sight, Jarod jumped up and left the building. He wanted to get as far away from this place as fast as he could.
-
End part 10
