Resolutions – 12

Putting Things in Motion

by MMB

Mei-Chiang looked up from her paperwork as her boss came toward her. "Good morning, Miss Parker."

"And good morning to you, Mei-Chiang," Miss Parker replied, stopping at the side of her secretary's desk. "Sam told me yesterday that you are going to be going through some major changes in your life. Congratulations."

Mei-Chiang blushed behind a strategically placed hand. "Yes, ma'am," she replied in embarrassment.

"Oh! Let me see!" Miss Parker reached out for the hand and bent down over it to examine the ring Sam had given his bride-to-be. She looked up into the almond eyes that just couldn't quite stop sparkling with happiness and grinned. "This is lovely!"

"Thank you," Mei-Chiang nodded gratefully. "He said it was his mother's."

Miss Parker's brows raised a bit. Sam had always been particularly closed-mouthed about his family and his background — this was the first sign that the trend might be loosening just a little. "I really am happy for the both of you," Miss Parker told her gently. "And I'm sure that HE'S happy — he was positively glowing when I saw him yesterday."

Mei-Chiang blushed just a little more deeply. "Will it be too much trouble if I asked to leave work an hour or so early today? Sam wants us to go into Dover and apply for the marriage license and get blood tests…"

Miss Parker straightened and patted the Chinese woman on the shoulder companionably. "You take as much time as you need. There isn't anything that needs desperate attention, and everything else can wait until morning."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Miss Parker hefted her briefcase again. "Now, if you wouldn't mind getting your fiancé on the phone for me, please — and then a cup of coffee along with my list of appointments for the day…"

"Yes, ma'am," Mei-Chiang said, reaching for her phone already. "I'll be right in with your coffee."

Miss Parker walked toward her inner office door and heard her secretary announce into the telephone, "Mr. Atlee, Miss Parker would like to speak to you, could you please hold?" and walked through her door with a contented smile. There would be no problem with those two working at the Centre together, she could tell. She had just seated herself when the intercom buzzed with "Miss Parker, Sam is on three for you."

"Thank you," she responded and picked up the telephone. "Sam. Good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Parker. What can I do for you?"

"I talked to Sydney last night about the scientist in charge of the Black Hole project, and he tells me that THIS man deserves watching. He's a product of the Old Centre and actually enjoyed the work he was doing on Black Hole…"

"Oh, wonderful," Sam commented dryly. "JUST what we need…"

"Tell me about it," she replied in a similar tone. "Anyway, Sydney is of the opinion that if Ziegler were approached by military contacts interested in convincing him to restart the project quietly, he'd go along with them. I want surveillance on the man starting immediately. Call Berlin and have them assign him a couple of sweepers, tell him there's been a threat — whatever — just get people with him. And have a bug put in his phone line there and all his private and Centre lines here. If he gets contacted, I want to know about it — if he's already been contacted and starts making reports, I need to know about that even faster."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam noted down his instructions so that he could work on it immediately after the call was concluded. "You did hear that Stiller made another run at Doctor Mitchell last night — called her and threatened her again, then broke into her house."

"We have him?"

"Blue Cove PD has him at the moment, but yes, ma'am." Sam sounded thoroughly satisfied.

"Good. I want a man watching the PD to make sure nobody springs him either," she directed, and nodded thanks to Mei-Chiang who had quietly brought her the coffee and day's schedule she'd requested.

"I had Chip call Colonel Fox last night to let HIM know of the developments here. It's possible Fox will want him in military custody."

"Colonel Fox we can trust," Miss Parker told him, "but nobody else. Where's Doctor Mitchell now — back at home?"

"No, ma'am. She's still not feeling very secure — the idea that Stiller might make bail or get sprung somehow and come back at her again has her pretty well spooked. She stayed at the apartment again last night, and even wanted the sweeper to stay with her again."

Miss Parker nodded. "If I had a cut around the base of my neck from this guy, I'd be spooked too, Sam."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Give her whatever she wants. If it means she wants a personal sweeper for the time being, assign her somebody."

"I intended to, Miss Parker."

Miss Parker smiled. "I do enjoy having a Chief of Security that thinks like I do."

"Have a good day, Miss Parker," Sam chuckled. "I'll let you know when everything's in place for this Ziegler fellow."

"Thanks."

"There is a Colonel Fox to see you, sir," Captain Jenkins announced promptly at nine in the morning.

"Send him on in," Admiral Samson said and then closed the file that he'd been reading while waiting for the Air Force officer to come to a halt in front of his desk.

Fox stood stiffly at attention and saluted sharply. "Colonel Theodore Fox, reporting as ordered, sir!" he stated formally.

"At ease, Colonel. Sit down," Samson waved at him. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be appreciated, sir," Fox replied, startled.

"Jenkins, another cup of coffee for the Colonel," Samson stated to the Captain still standing at the door waiting to be dismissed.

"Yes, sir." Jenkins disappeared.

"Now," Samson leaned forward with his hands folded on his desk, "I assume you brought all the evidence you have to date with you?"

"Yes, sir." Fox opened the satchel he had placed at his feet and pulled a cassette player, a videotape cassette and several file folders from it.

"And start from the beginning," Samson suggested. "Becca told me as much as she remembered of your tale, and it sounded a little convoluted to me."

"Yes, sir. It IS convoluted, sir," Fox started, then paused as the Captain re-entered the inner office and put a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "Thank you," he nodded at the man.

"That will be all, Jenkins," Samson told his secretary.

"Yes, sir." The Captain saluted and spun on his heel and left the room, pulling the door firmly closed behind him.

"As you were saying…"

Fox proceeded to tell his story once more, starting from the call he'd received from the Centre administrator and ending with the call he'd received the night before, detailing the arrest of Stiller. He'd played the audiocassette of all three taped phone calls to Doctor Mitchell and handed over a copy of the folder he'd gotten from Tyler just the day before that detailed all the projects the Centre had returned to the Pentagon.

"So let me get this straight," the aging Admiral said finally, rising from his seat and stepping over to the window of his office, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar, "aside from this Stiller fellow, we have the names of three military men and a Senator, acquired either by phone tap or as claimed by the Centre as inquiring after these canceled projects. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And we have your testimony that archived materials are missing from the secured facility, and anecdotal evidence claiming that the whole she-bang has been removed."

"Yes, sir."

"I would like you and your assistant to take another trip to the secured archive and check the contents of the boxes supposedly from the Centre against the list of projects in this folder." The dark face glanced up at him sharply. "I'm assuming you kept a copy of this list?"

"Yes, sir."

The Admiral sat back down behind his desk and turned to his computer. After fiddling with it for a while, he grumbled, "Damned technology…" and then began typing. He stopped typing and hit a button, and immediately his printer began to whirl. "This will authorize you as my deputy and give you permission to allocate resources to place surveillance on General Curtis, Colonel Harris and Captain Lewis, complete with phone taps. Get what you need and get it in place as soon as possible." He handed the completed document across the desk to Fox.

"What about Stiller, sir? Do we leave him in civilian custody, or request that JAG take over jurisdiction?"

"The woman he was trying to get to — is she safe?"

Fox nodded. "The Centre has her in a secured location with her phone calls forwarded."

"Then let's see what our friends will do when they find out he's in jail. I'm betting they'll cut him loose and hang him out to dry, but I wouldn't bet money on it. If they DO make an effort to spring him, we'll have another paper trail to follow up with — not to mention HIM to follow as well."

"Yes, sir. I'll call the Centre and let them know of our intentions."

Samson raised a finger. "You report to me now, Colonel — not your former C.O. Until we've got a bead on just exactly who all is involved, nobody else is to know about this. You get your ass in a sling, I'll bail you out. But we keep this as low-key as possible."

"What about my friend at JAG, sir?"

"Let me handle bringing JAG into things, Colonel."

"Yes, sir!"

Samson settled back into his chair and toyed with the file folders in front of him. "I wonder just what it is about the Centre that these people feel just can't be allowed to disappear…"

"Read the descriptions of the projects, sir," Fox suggested. "It will make you wonder just how that organization managed to stay in business in the first place."

"I intend to," Samson promised the Air Force officer grimly. "Is there anything else we need to discuss right now?"

Fox sprang to his feet immediately. "No, sir!"

"Then you are dismissed, Colonel. And good luck to you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Fox saluted, spun smartly on his heel and, with his satchel tightly in hand, left the office.

Samson thought for a long moment before pushing his intercom button. "Jenkins? Get me Admiral Weston over at JAG, will you?" He sat back in his chair comfortably and waited to be informed that his call was read. Better get the lawyers involved right away, he told himself — but get them involved quietly at first…

"Good morning, Grandpa."

"Good morning, ma petite." Sydney smiled up at Deb as she walked through the kitchen door. "You look like you slept well last night."

She shrugged. "I had a nightmare, but I got past it."

Grey eyebrows shot up the forehead. "You got past it?"

Blue eyes met his solidly. "I went and talked to Kevin for a while, and after a while I was able to go back to bed and sleep again."

What was it that Parker had said — that it WAS her life. Sydney knew that if anything else had happened despite his long and earnest talk with Kevin, it would come out in their therapy sessions sooner or later — sooner, if it was bothering her. "Kevin was able to help you?"

"He offered to help me downstairs so I could talk to you, but I didn't want to bother you again." She turned and got herself a bowl from the cupboard for some cereal. "We sat and talked for a while."

He knew she was waiting for him to ask what they'd talked about — there was just the slightest touch of defiance in her tone and stance — so he decided to let the subject rest until or unless it came up again later. "Are you going in to see your father today then?"

Deb blinked down into her bowl on the counter. He WASN'T going to pry? "I was thinking about it," she answered, walking over to the fridge for the milk. "Is this the day you go in for your physical therapy?"

Sydney shook his head and sipped at his coffee. "No, that's tomorrow afternoon." He gazed at her back. "If you want to save gas, you could ride in with us then."

"That's what I was thinking," she admitted, carrying her bowl back over to the table and taking her customary place. "I was also thinking that I might call Janet and Karen and see what they're up to — maybe go visit with them for a while."

He nodded. "That might be a good way to spend your afternoon today," he agreed. "You haven't seen them for a while."

"I know." She took a couple of bites of her cereal, aware that her grandfather seemed unusually comfortable with long silences between them. "Are you mad at me?"

Sydney blinked. "What possible reason would I have to be mad at you, Deb?"

"Because I went into Kevin's room last night…"

"Oh, that." He put his coffee cup on the table. "Did anything happen while you were there that you think I would disapprove of?"

"No…"

"Then don't worry about it." He watched her eat thoughtfully for a while. "I'm not trying to put a crimp in your social life, ma petite — nor am I trying to keep you from spending time with Kevin."

"I know…" She thought for a while. "Miss Parker talked to me."

"I know. I asked her to," he told her.

"When…" She stopped, thought about it for a while, then looked up again. "When will I know I'm getting better?"

"When you don't have to ask the question," Sydney told her gently. "When you start sleeping through the night without the nightmares — and suddenly, one day, you realize that you haven't had one for a while." He picked up his coffee again. "Incidentally, which nightmare was it last night?"

"The one where he found me here…" she said softly.

He nodded. "You're still not feeling entirely safe here. That's understandable."

"But you and Kevin and Mr. Ikeda are here…"

"This is where it all started," he reminded her gently. "When you have your home broken into, it inevitably causes a feeling of violation because that wonderful sense that you're safe behind your own closed doors has been taken away." He looked at her gently. "Even I have a hard time occasionally with that now. After all, it was MY home from which you were stolen, you know — and I was here when it happened and was unable to prevent it. And Miss Parker feels much the same about her place now too."

"Does it go away — this feeling of being insecure?"

"Eventually," he replied, "but like much of this whole thing, it will take time."

"Time..." She said the word as if it were something disgusting and then put her spoon down and sagged her chin into the palm of her hand. "Everything takes time, you say, and yet all I seem to have is time and nothing to fill it with. What am I going to do with myself, Grandpa? I can't just sit around the house all day — you and Kevin have all that stuff to go through. When I just sit around, all I do is stew and fuss about… that. I need something to DO. I HAVE to start moving on with my life."

Sydney nodded sympathetically. "I can appreciate that, Deb. What about maybe asking Mrs. Macy at the library if you could do some volunteer work in the afternoons? You KNOW she always needs help filing books away again — and frankly that would be a lot easier on you right now than dealing with the public working a counter at Oggie's."

Deb brightened up immediately. Why hadn't SHE thought about that? "You're right!" she started smiling again. "I'd forgotten how much fun I used to have doing that. And so what if there's no paycheck — at least I'd be doing something other than just sitting around the house getting in everybody's way…"

"Now Deb, you're not getting in everybody's way," Sydney chided her gently. "No tearing yourself down, remember?"

She looked contrite. "Yes, sir," she said and then brightened. "Maybe I can go over after lunch?"

"Go where?" Kevin asked as he finally stumbled into the kitchen in search of the coffeepot and some liquid wakefulness.

"Deb's discovered something to occupy her time at last," Sydney told his sleepy protégé. "Filing books at the library. It's a quiet place and, like she said, it would give her something to do. And good morning to you, sleepy-head."

"Good morning." Kevin rubbed his face with his hand and then poured himself some coffee. "Sounds like a good idea."

Sydney watched the two of them as Kevin took a seat next to Deb and brushed his hand against hers almost as if by accident. Their eyes met, and Sydney knew immediately that something HAD happened the night before — there was a much more evident mutual fondness in their expression. And then it was as if it had never happened — Kevin dropped his gaze to his coffee cup and then raised it to his mentor. "We get into a new box today," he announced tiredly. "Here's to more eyestrain."

"Thrills," the psychiatrist shook his head absently, his mind far from contemplating the possible contents of this new box of old data.

He wouldn't bring his observation of their behavior to his therapy session with Deb this morning, but rather he would wait and watch to see just where this new connection between the two seemed to be leading. At least Kevin seemed to be taking more of a lead in the relationship now — Sydney smiled at the way Deb looked as if she wished he'd pay her just a LITTLE more attention than he was at the moment. Good! His talk with his protégé seemed to have borne the kind of fruit he was hoping for — and he could breathe a sigh of relief.

For now, at any rate...

Phil Baldwin closed his office door quietly and carried the folder he'd paid handsomely to acquire over to his desk where he could study its contents in comfort. His contact in the IRS hadn't been thrilled at the assignment he'd given her this time, but she had come through for him in record time. The list of current employees and officers of the corporation known as The Centre was in his hands, along with a more detailed summary of each of the key corporate personnel.

Chairman: Miss Melissa Parker, he read. Nothing out of the ordinary here – her father had been the Chairman at the Centre before he had allegedly committed suicide. Her tax history was spotless. Evidently someone had tried once before to get something on her, because there was an investigator's report detailing her rather wild ways while younger, a single brush with the law about eight years ago – and then nothing.

Executive Assistant: Cody Tyler. Tyler was a colorful character, having held down any number of different jobs in his short working life before ending up as a morgue assistant at the Centre at the time of the bombing… Morgue Assistant? Since when does a research and development think tank need an on-site morgue? Baldwin noted down the information and moved on.

Chief of Security: Sam Atlee. Now here was some interesting information – all of it ultimately useless due to its age. Sam had run with a very rough crowd in his youth, and had been looking at prison time for strong-arming shop owners in Brooklyn when the Centre had evidently recruited him as part of their short-lived community outreach efforts. Since then, he had lived quietly and without any problem at all in Blue Cove – without even a parking ticket to his name.

Chief of Technology: Lazlo Broots. Baldwin looked at a picture of the man and grimaced. This was the quintessential computer geek – too flighty and meek-hearted to have anything in his background worth investigating. Divorced, father of a single daughter. Nope. There was nothing worth digging into here.

Baldwin leafed through the remaining pages – Head of Bio-Chemistry, Head of Psychogenics – and closed the folder with the description of the corporate officers in disgust. For a firm that had spent the better part of the last thirty years at the literal beck and call of the super-patriots, there was very little to hold over the heads of the current administration. Obviously, the house cleaning that had just taken place at the Centre had been very thorough.

Well, he reasoned, maybe they haven't had the opportunity to get rid of Lyle's Chinese girls after all. He ran his finger down the long list of clerical staff until, suddenly, he found them: Ping Xing-Li and Hsu Mei-Chiang. Both women were still on the payroll and – surprise, surprise – had just received healthy pay hikes within the last week. Curious, he ran his finger across so that he could see their current positions, and his eyes widened even further. Both women were in positions that would allow them access to privileged information: the Hsu woman was the executive secretary to the Chairman herself, the Ping woman executive secretary to the Executive Assistant to the Chairman.

It wasn't much, but it seemed that it was all they had to go on. Baldwin reached out for his personal phone book and looked up the name and number of a friendly representative for the Immigration and Naturalization Service. If the Centre hadn't taken care of these women's status as yet, then he finally had something tangible. He knew for a fact that Lyle didn't like to register his Chinese women properly so that they wouldn't be missed when he decided to indulge his obscene appetites. The disruption of having INS swoop in on the Centre and haul away two such highly-placed employees would be enjoyable to watch – and give Senator Burns a reason to call this Miss Parker and see if she weren't willing to be a little more reasonable.

If not, then… Well… The Centre had a reputation – one that obviously had outlived the administration that had earned it. There was plenty in the group's file about activities the Centre had undertaken on their behalf in years past that could be hauled out and handed over to investigative committees that could threaten the very continued existence of the Centre.

The little accountant smiled while he waited for the phone to be picked up at INS and as an afterthought brought up the Centre website. Sometimes in the shadows WAS the seat of power! He relayed his anonymous tip to the secretary of his friend, then hung up and began to type carefully. There HAD to be a backdoor into the server — and from there into the Centre mainframe. He'd done this all too often…

"Remember, this is your one call – make it count," the Blue Cove police office told Stiller as if he were an idiot.

"If you don't mind," Stiller said, staring at the policeman until the man moved far enough down the wall that he couldn't be said to be blatantly listening in on the conversation. Stiller dialed a number from memory.

"General Curtis' office," came the quick and efficient response.

"This is Colonel Stiller – I need to speak to the General immediately."

"Yes, sir," the major who was Curtis' secretary and assistant answered and put Stiller on hold briefly.

"I told you never to call me here!" Curtis boomed into the telephone only moments later.

"I know, but I'm in a bit of a bind," Stiller explained, deliberately not paying attention to his superior's ire. "The doctor's house last night was a set-up, and I got arrested when I went to see about convincing her to work with us one last time."

"You did WHAT?"

"Now I'm stuck in this little hick town's jail – and I want out of here before some magistrate decides to hold me over for trial!"

Curtis thought for a moment. "These Centre people are smarter and more savvy than we gave them credit for – and that being the case, I'll bet they're watching to see if anybody comes and tries to spring you or make your bail."

"General, I can't be here," Stiller warned him. "You need me to get Veracity back on-track."

"Your landing yourself in the hoosegow in the process isn't very confidence-inspiring, Danny. You were supposed to scare the lady – intimidate the snot out of her – not break into her house and get yourself caught."

"General…"

"I'll have to get back with you," Curtis told the angry officer curtly. "I'm going to have to run this past the committee – and you'll have to make due with whatever it is that they decide."

"You can't just leave me here like this…" Stiller was outraged. "I'm an officer in the United States Air Force, for heaven's sake. At the very least, I deserve to be taken to a military lock-up."

Curtis knew the man had a point, but his getting himself caught put the whole operation of getting projects restarted into serious jeopardy. "I'll do what I can for you, Danny, but you're going to have to hang tight for a while. Don't talk to ANYBODY – I'll have one of my men come by and visit you within a day or so to let you know what the committee decides."

"General!!"

"Good luck, Danny." Curtis cut off the howl of dismay from the other end and hung the telephone up quickly.

This was a helluva note. So much of their current emphasis was wrapped up in getting Veracity and Black Hole finished and usable in the near future – before the President started doing anything more overt in certain parts of the Middle East and Asia.

He shifted in his chair and pulled his wallet out of his pocket and then dug behind identification cards and credit cards for the business card with telephone numbers written on the back. He picked up the telephone and dialed the top number on that card and then waited.

"Harry? It's Doug. We have a problem."

Becca Ashland kicked her shoes off and stretched out her legs on the comfortable couch in her office, the official Senate directory in hand. She opened it to the "B" section and quickly skimmed the biography of Harold Burns, Senator from Florida. The more she read, the more she frowned – Burns. Where had she heard that name before? She rose and padded out her office door. "Jenny? Take a peek in the files for me and see if we have anything on Harold Burns and bring it into the office if we do?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She settled back on the couch and resumed her study of the directory listing. So Burns was on the Senate Armed Services Committee – well, that made sense, if he were a part of some quiet third-column patriot effort within the military itself. How much better to know of an investigation BEFORE it went anywhere than to be on the Committee that instigated such things nine times out of ten? He was also on the Senate Appropriations Committee – again, logical considering the kinds of projects that Colonel Fox had been speaking of the day before would have needed an immense amount of running capitol to keep financed.

A thought occurred, and she checked. The only two Senators in common for both Committees were Harold Burns and a George Canfield from Montana. Becca's eyes narrowed. Canfield had been an outspoken opponent of hers on environmental issues dealing with exploring for vital resources within some of the national forests in his state. She had expected him to side with her on protecting the environment – but evidently he had decided that the state needed the extra jobs and influx of money that such exploration and subsequent development might have meant. She had suspected that he had taken the stand as a favor to lobbyists who had helped him get elected – not that such a think were illegal. However, when nearly the majority of his constituents opposed such a move, to push on with his extreme view had stood out at unreasonable and highly questionable.

"Here you are, ma'am," the secretary said after knocking softly and coming into the office with a folder. Ashland opened the folder and immediately remembered why the name 'Burns' had stuck in her mind. An environmentalist for Greenpeace had been protesting the actions of a manufacturing firm owned by Burns' brother had disappeared and later been found floating facedown in the swamp half-eaten by alligators. Burns had tried to use his DC influence to have the incident ruled as an accident – Dade County officials, however, had perversely left the case open as a possible homicide.

She rose again and went over to her desk to punch up the voting history of both men in the recent roll calls and frowned. Both men had voted to deny an investigation into allegations of human rights violations within the Guantanamo prison where the remaining Taliban prisoners from Afghanistan were still being held. Both men had VISITED the prison with military dignitaries twice within the last year – during a time frame that coincided with some of the alleged human rights violations.

"Ma'am?" her secretary popped her head through the door. "Admiral Samson is on line one for you."

"Thanks, Jenny." Ashland rose to her feet and padded over to her desk. "Gregory. What's new?"

"I gave your Colonel Fox everything he wanted," the gruff voice told her. "And I told Admiral Weston at JAG what we're looking into, and he did a little checking for himself. Seems as if our three military men have all had issues with authority and official policy for quite a while."

"Looks like our Senator has too," she answered. "I'm putting together a list of associates of our Senator for my FBI associate to investigate very quietly – to see if anything pans."

"We're going to want to keep this one close to the vest, Becca," Samson warned his friend. "From what Fox told me happened to that Centre scientist, we may find that we're dealing with dangerous, violent men."

"I'm fairly certain we are, Greg," she replied. "And I'm not sure that we're going to be wanting to confer about this over open phone lines for much longer."

"Getting paranoid on me in your old age, sweetheart?" Samson's voice held a note of humor.

"Only an old warhorse like you would be too stubborn to get paranoid on this one," she retorted with a smile. "Humor me, willya?"

"Tell you what," Samson said after thinking for a while. "There's a bar on 8th – the Grey Goose. I like to stop there for drinks after work on the way home. If you have anything for me, be there when I get there at six-thirty. How's that?"

"Alright," Ashland said, nodding. "I'll be making a habit of stopping for a glass of wine at the Georgetown Inn at about seven in the evening from now on. If you need me, come there at seven-fifteen after waiting at the Grey Goose for me." She chuckled. "I know it's crazy, but I feel like a damned spy."

"Let's just hope that we're being over-cautious," Samson said soberly.

"Doctor Jarod? There's a Mr. Rizzo from Child Protective Services on the line for you," Cindy announced as Jarod led his latest client back to her mother in the waiting room.

"I'll take it in my office," Jarod announced, then with a wave at the child and her mother, retreated to his office. "Let me take this call first," he told Charles Downing, the young psychiatrist who would be replacing him eventually, "and then we'll consult on the next case."

"Sure thing." Charles rose to his feet and gave Jarod the privacy he needed.

Jarod sat down at his desk and picked up the phone. "Mr. Rizzo. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, this is a case of me doing something for you, Doctor," Rizzo's voice came across the line strongly and with an upbeat tone. "There have been some changes in the family court schedule, and I have convinced the judge in your case to move your hearing up to Thursday."

"That's wonderful!" Jarod exploded with excitement. "How on earth…"

"Don't get too excited yet. The judge in your case has taken note of the accelerated pace at which your petition has made it through the system and expressed some concerns. He wants to interview both you and Ginger, separately and together, in chambers before going into the full hearing. Essentially that means that you'll both need to be at the courthouse for most of the morning. Is that going to be a problem?"

"It won't be once I speak to my receptionist," Jarod told the worker with a huge smile on his face. "This is wonderful news!"

"I'll call up the clerk and make sure that you have the allotted time scheduled with the judge then," Rizzo said. "How's the little girl?"

"Starting to talk again," Jarod announced with pride. "She isn't always clear in what she's saying, but it's getting better everyday."

"That's wonderful!" Rizzo thought back one more time to the semi-catatonic child that he'd handed over to this man not all that long ago and was amazed at the progress that she'd made once she'd been handed over to someone willing to give her the love and care that she deserved. "Before you leave California after the adoption is finalized, will you do me a favor and bring her by the office?"

"Is that Sanchez woman still working for you?" Jarod asked cautiously.

"Actually, no… She didn't receive a very good probationary report from me as the result of our visit with you, and her application for a full position with us was denied." Rizzo didn't sound too sorry about the news. "And the reason I'm asking is that there were a couple of other gals here in the office that were VERY upset at Ginger's condition when she was brought in the last time – I'd like them to see that she's getting better at last."

"I'll see if I can talk Ginger into it," Jarod promised. "I'll let you know though."

"I appreciate it, Doctor. Hopefully I'll see you toward the end of the week."

"Thanks again." Jarod hung up the phone and walked out of his office with a whoop of victory.

"Doctor Jarod!" Cindy grinned at him when he swooped over the desk and gave her an unexpected hug that set the beads in her hair clicking together. "What's this for?"

"They've moved my court date up — THIS Thursday! Sprite's almost mine at last!"

"That's wonderful, Doctor Jarod, but…" Cindy looked at him carefully. "I've never heard of an adoption going through THIS fast before. My aunt adopted a little boy about ten years ago, and it took over eight months for all the paperwork to go through and to get on the court calendar. You've only been at this a few weeks…"

Jarod calmed down a little. "I know, Cindy. I think my fiancée called in a few favors and cut through most of the red tape for me. And now it seems this Rizzo with CPS has done his own share of tape snipping."

"Well," she said with her hand on her hip in a jaunty pose as she sat behind the counter, "it couldn't happen for a nicer little girl." Then she sobered again. "That means you'll be leaving us soon, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "Guess so." He bent and gave her another, gentler hug. "I'll miss you, you know…"

Cindy smiled but then began to fuss in embarrassment. "Hush now, Doctor Jarod. You know you want to get back to that pretty lady and boy of yours — I've seen how you moon over that picture on your desk every once in a while."

Jarod began to chuckle. "You know, if you ever decide you want out of California, I could use someone like you back in Delaware…"

"And leave Doctor Ethan alone?" Her wide, dark face was a portrait of horror. "I don't think so. And I won't tell him that you tried to seduce me away from him either."

Now Jarod did let loose a laugh. "You're one in a million, Cindy. I AM going to miss you!"

"I'll miss you too, Doctor Jarod — but it'll be OK, because I'll know you'll be with your pretty lady and boy. You'll bring your little girl in to say goodbye before you go, though, won't you?"

"You bet." Jarod headed back to his office, pausing long enough to gesture at the very tall and thin man who would be taking his place to follow him. Saying goodbye to the life he'd built here for himself and his family wouldn't be easy. But what waited for him on the other side of the continent would more than make up for it — at last, a family of his own, with a wife and children. It was the one thing that he'd never been able to find here, and he knew why: Missy. He'd never ever fallen OUT of love with her — and now he didn't need to.

Sam stepped through the door of Miss Parker's outer office and smiled at Mei-Chiang. "Are you almost ready to go?" he asked, working desperately to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Almost," she put a finger up to restrain him a little while she reshuffled papers on her desk and then pushed the intercom button. "Miss Parker, I'm almost off for the day. Is there anything else you needed?"

Instead of merely answering the intercom, Miss Parker came quickly through the door. "I meant to give you this after I saw the lawyer this morning — and I think you'll need it where you're going." She handed the young Chinese woman a wad of papers, on the top of which was a green identification card from INS. "This makes you a completely legal resident."

Mei-Chiang's eyes shone. "Thank you, Miss Parker. I don't know what to say…"

"Consider it an early wedding present," Miss Parker told her with a gentle smile and then a wink up into the eye of her Security Chief. "Now, get out of here before the court closes in Dover and you have to drive in all over again tomorrow." She looked up at Sam one last time as he waited for Mei-Chiang to retrieve her purse. "Everything set in Berlin?"

"Yup," he answered with his eye still on his bride-to-be, then remembering and looking at his boss to find her smirking at his distractedness. "As of an hour ago, we have him completely covered there, and everything's set for when he gets back tomorrow."

"Good." She nodded to the both of them. "I'll see you both in the morning."

"Good night, Miss Parker," Mei-Chiang said as Sam captured her hand and slipped it into the bend of his elbow. "And thank you again."

"You're very welcome," she replied and watched Sam carefully usher Mei-Chiang out of the office with a satisfied smile. It was clear that the man was absolutely besotted with her and would do just about anything in the world for her. Suddenly missing Jarod very much, she headed back to her office — she'd have to call him tonight, as soon as she could be sure she wasn't interrupting him at work. She sat down at her desk and held out her left hand and watched the play of the light in the diamond that Jarod had given her. Absently she reached out her hand for the telephone when it rang. "Yes… Parker."

"Miss Parker," Broots' voice sounded in her ear.

"Broots!" Her face immediately broke into a delighted smile. "It's been a while since I've talked to you. How are you doing?"

"Getting ready to be out of this damned cast," the technician growled impatiently. "But I wasn't just calling to yak. I was working on some security routines this afternoon and saw something rather peculiar over our Internet connections."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Our website recorded a hit from a terminal in West Virginia — somewhere on the Naval base there — and the person on the other end was trying to find a back door into our mainframe." Broots paused for effect. "Needless to say, he didn't get very far."

"A military hacker?" Parker leaned back in her chair in surprise.

"He did give my new encryption schemes a good run for their money — but they held." Her technician's voice was clearly impressed. "This guy was GOOD — not as good as Jarod used to be, but…"

"No idea of an actually identity?"

"No, of course not," Broots shook his head. "All I got was an IP address that traced back to a router at Norfolk — a physical firewall. I just thought I'd give you a heads-up — before I put a few more technicians on the lookout for future incursions."

"Thanks," she said sincerely. "Thank God you work for us!"

Broots chuckled. "How's my little girl doing?"

"Better," Miss Parker said, grateful to be able to relate some good news to the bedridden man. "She's evidently conquered a couple of her demons AND her fear of Kevin. I have a feeling you'd better get used to seeing him around from now on."

"Oh?" Broots sounded concerned. "Should I be worried?"

"Syd and I have done what we can to hopefully reduce your worry down to a dull ache," she told him frankly. "Syd talked to Kevin, I talked to Deb."

"And…" Clearly he wanted to hear more. "Damn it, Miss Parker…"

"Hang on, Scooby, I'll tell you everything, just keep your panties on. Deb reached a crisis point the other day, having a flashback while she was at your place watering the back yard after arguing with Syd. In the end, Sydney had to go rescue her…"

"You said she was getting better…" Broots cried accusingly.

"It was the kind of break she needed, Broots. She remembered everything that happened in California — and she hadn't before — and Kevin was the one who kept her calm on the phone until Sydney got to her. Syd says she's finally reconciling herself to not being the one at fault for what happened…"

"She blamed herself?" The father was aghast.

Miss Parker nodded. "That happens, Broots. But she also found out that Kevin wasn't going to hurt her anymore — and the two of them have been spending some time together."

"And you and Sydney felt that you had to talk to them…"

"Sydney said that they spent that thunderstorm yesterday up in the tree house necking."

"They did WHAT?"

She couldn't restrain her chuckles anymore. "Broots! Calm down! She's twenty-one years old, and he's an adult too. And like I said, I talked to her — reminded her that she still has a lot of ground to cover before she wants to get TOO involved with a man."

Broots growled, "If he touches her, I'll…"

"Trust me, Broots, if he does touch her, it won't be because she didn't want it," she interrupted. "What did you think would happen when she went off to Amherst like she was going to before everything happened, huh?"

"I don't have to like it…" he grumbled back.

"They're good together, Broots — you know that. She could do a whole lot worse."

"Well…" He had to admit, if Miss Parker was actually giving HER approval, then maybe things weren't quite as bad as he thought. "What does Syd say?"

"Sydney and I agree," she told him honestly, "both that they're good together and that all they need to do is be careful."

"If you're sure…"

"No wonder you're bald," she teased him gently. "God help me if I let Jarod get this bad with Ginger when she gets older…"

"Ginger?" Now her friend was thoroughly confused. "Who's that?"

Miss Parker looked down at her left hand again and then at the picture of herself and Jarod and their family that sat on her desk. She touched the glass over the face of her little girl. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Right now, all I have IS time, Miss Parker," he reminded her. "And from the sounds of it, I haven't heard all the news from California yet, have I?"

"Nope," she said softly. "Do you mind if I bend your ear a bit?"

"Do I ever?"

She smiled softly. In the years since Jarod vanished, Sydney, Broots and Sam had become more than just colleagues and a friends — they'd been trusted confidantes and ultimately much, much more. In Sydney, she'd found a father she could love and respect and who loved her back unconditionally and absolutely. In Sam, she'd found a protective big brother, a little taciturn at times but with a hidden sense of humor that could crack her up like no other. In Broots, she'd found the little brother she could tease mercilessly one moment and depend on completely in the next to help her understand things and who had finally moved beyond the crush he'd had on her. These three men WERE her family — for years, the only people she'd had to lean on and trust. And they were more her family than those who had actually been her flesh and blood had ever thought of being.

She had long since realized how much she had missed having Broots beside her to help her think through the events of her life since the bombing. She'd had Sydney and Sam —and Jarod, to a greater or lesser extent — but Broots' absence had been like a gaping hole in her life that ached whenever she allowed herself to think about it. But with him on the other end of the line now, she suddenly didn't feel quite so lonely as she had just a few minutes earlier. "Thanks," she told him even more softly. "I've missed you. Nobody cringes or jumps when I bark half as well as you do…"

His voice softened as well. "Talk to me, Parker. Who's Ginger? What else is going on that I don't know about."

And she leaned back in her chair, cradling the receiver to her ear, and told him — everything.

Tyler walked out of his office with his brief case and paused by his secretary's desk. "I would have thought you'd be on your way home by now," he said in surprise.

Xing-Li shrugged. "I still have a few things to finish up with here, and then I'll go…"

"Come on," Tyler shook his head and held out his hand. "It can wait until morning. You've more than earned your keep for the day. Call it quits"

She looked up into her boss' eyes and saw that he thought he was doing her a favor and then nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir," she agreed softly and pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk to retrieve her purse.

"You're looking a little glum," Tyler commented as he watched her slow and sure movements. "Anything wrong?"

"No, sir," she looked up at him in surprise. "Everything is well, thank you."

"Then why no smile of relief that another day at the salt mine is finished?"

She looked away and then carefully locked her desk. "It's nothing, sir."

"Is it something I did? Or something I didn't do?" Tyler pried very carefully and held open the annex door out into the evening air.

"No, sir, of course not!"

"Then what?"

She glanced up into his face and saw that he wasn't just going to drop the subject. "It's selfish, really," she offered vaguely. "I know better."

"Than what? You're not making any sense…"

"Xing-Li!" a voice called from the direction of the construction site. The pair turned and saw a white-coated figure raise a hand and then head in their direction.

"Lauren…" Tyler heard his secretary breathe almost in relief.

Xing-Li was right. Lauren Mitchell walked briskly across the gravel and then the grass to get to them. "I'm glad I saw you," she told the Chinese woman. "I forgot to ask you last night if you'd like to have dinner with me — especially now that you're without a roommate."

"I'd like that," Xing-Li smiled, and suddenly Tyler understood what was going on. Miss Parker had told him about the sudden engagement of her Chief of Security — obviously the lady in question was now living with Sam, leaving Xing-Li alone in that dismal little apartment building.

"Do you ladies need a lift?" He decided that he could at least offer the two of them a ride back to the building.

"I have my car with me today, Mr. Tyler, but thank you for the offer," Doctor Mitchell smiled at the young Texan. Oh, if he was just a few years older, she told herself with a deep breath of appreciation. The Centre's Executive Assistant was definitely easy on the eyes.

Tyler watched the two walk away chatting easily with a slight feeling of loss. He'd promised himself that he would be trying to draw Xing-Li out of the shy shell she was hiding herself in. He had hoped to at least get to know her a little better that evening — their quick exchange on the way out of the annex had been the longest private conversation he'd had with her to date. She was pretty, prettier even than Mei-Chiang, and he was intrigued by her gentle manner. Another time, perhaps — especially now that he knew that she was feeling lonesome during her off-hours.

He dug in his pocket for his keys and absently wondered how his dating his secretary would fly with Miss Parker.

Sydney put the platter with the leftover roast from the night before back in the fridge for supper sandwiches and then moved carefully through the house until he was standing in the arch of the living room. Kevin was standing by the picture window, looking out — waiting for Deb, he knew. "She's still not home yet?" he asked his protégé gently.

Kevin shook his head and sighed.

"She'll be back soon, my boy," Sydney soothed, knowing nothing he could say would help. "She's off with her girlfriends for the afternoon."

"I know," he sighed again. "It's just that…" He moved around and then sat down on the couch so that he was facing his mentor. "Why is it that when I think of her, I get all shaky inside?"

"That's the first rush of attraction, Kevin. Some people call it a 'crush' — probably because of the way it makes us feel inside. Sometimes that shaky feeling lasts a lifetime and becomes a part of a deep and abiding love. Sometimes it doesn't last much more than a few days or a week, until another pretty face catches our eye."

"How do you tell when it's going to be one rather than the other?"

Sydney moved into the room and settled himself into one of the easy chairs that he found he could climb out of easiest. "There's no way to tell at the beginning which way things are going to go." He watched the emotions running amok and unchecked across Kevin's face. "This is different than what you felt about her when you first met her, isn't it"

Again the young Pretender nodded. "I'm having trouble concentrating today. If I'm not careful, I catch myself daydreaming about being with her."

"I'm not surprised," Sydney told him gently. "Your time in the tree house has probably got your libido nicely churned up."

"She came to my room last night," Kevin confessed with a touch of chagrin.

"I know — she told me," his mentor informed him with a smile, then leaned forward to take the young man off the hook as quickly and effectively as possible. "I'll tell you what I told her: if you didn't do anything that you think I would have disapproved of, don't worry about it."

"Am I in love with her?"

Sydney blinked. "If you're asking if there's such a thing as love at first sight, I can't say that there isn't — but you have to realize that it is very rare…"

"It isn't that. It's that… All I think about is her — the way she feels, the way she smells…" He ducked his head and blushed. "How I felt when I was kissing her…" He looked up again. "And how I don't want to have to share her, or know that she's with anybody else."

"That's jealousy, and that isn't such a great idea," Sydney warned. "Deb has many friends — some of them other young men like you, and some of them have known her much longer than you have. You can't expect her to forget people from her past, Kevin."

"I know. But I keep thinking of my promise to Tyler."

Sydney settled back in the chair. "Uh-huh. I was wondering when that was going to come up again." He steepled his fingers under his nose. "What are you going to do about that promise?"

"I don't know." Kevin sounded very torn. "How can I be just a friend when Deb reaches out to me in… that way… when Tyler isn't around? What am I supposed to do, turn away?"

"Don't you think that depends on HOW you respond when Deb reaches out to you?" Sydney asked gently. "For example, last night, when she was in your room, did you deliberately try to kiss her or embrace her?"

"No!" Kevin was aghast. "After our talk…"

"Then you DID keep your promise to Tyler, didn't you?" Sydney reminded him.

"What about in the tree house?"

"Was that her idea, or yours?"

"Hers," Kevin admitted. "But I went along with it…"

"Give yourself room to be human, Kevin. Having a pretty young lady kiss you out of the clear blue sky would be hard to resist for any man." Sydney's smile was a companionable one.

"It was storming…"

"You know what I mean," the psychiatrist grumbled good-naturedly, cursing what was apparently a common Pretender trait of taking words literally at the wrong time. "The next question will be what you will do if Deb decides she wants to spend time with Tyler."

"She said she loved me," Kevin complained very softly.

Sydney nodded. THAT was what had happened last night that he'd sensed that morning. "I thought something had happened. You two seemed just a little more in tune this morning."

"If she loves me, would she spend time with Tyler?" Kevin insisted.

"Perhaps, if she sees him as nothing but a friend," the older man answered, knowing the answer would be an uncomfortable one for his protégé. "Then again, what about that girl in the park — the one who you say called you a geek…"

"And a prude…" Kevin added distractedly.

"You saw her again?"

"A couple of days ago."

"How do you think Deb would feel if you spent some time in the park with her — this girl who calls you names?"

"But it wouldn't be…"

"Think of it from Deb's perspective — and see whether there is any substantive difference between that and any time she might decide to spend with Tyler as another friend like her girlfriends today." Sydney watched as the young Pretender slouched on the couch as he spun the scenarios through his head quickly. "If you truly do love her, Kevin, you won't stand in the way of her continuing to be friends with whomever she pleases — and if she truly loves you, she won't stand in your way either. Jealousy is a love-killer because, in the end, we don't OWN those we love. They aren't possessions — love can only be given freely, not coerced."

Kevin's clear blue eyes had listened closely to his mentor's words. Now he wanted to know — the man spoke as if from experience. "Have you ever been in love, Sydney?"

"Oh, yes." Sydney's face grew soft as he thought of Michelle as he'd last seen her on a weekend visit to Albany. "Yes, I have."

Something about the way his mentor replied made Kevin stop. "ARE you in love with someone?" he rephrased his question.

Sydney looked his protégé directly in the eye. "Yes, I am. I have been for a very long time."

"Where is she? Have I met her?"

"No, you don't know her. She lives in New York, not far from our son, who is a university professor up there."

"Are you married to her?"

"No."

The answer astonished the young Pretender — didn't his mentor just say that they had a child together? "Why? Why isn't she here, with you? Doesn't she love you?"

"It's complicated," the older man hedged. "We were thinking about marriage when she left me, pregnant with a son I never knew about. I didn't find her again for many years — until long after our son was grown — and by then she had married another. He's now dead… but she still grieves for him. She loves me, yes, but it is more of a memory than a living love. We have been apart too long." He fell silent, and Kevin knew that he had pried into his mentor's life as far as he wanted to.

"I love Deb," Kevin announced with care. "I'm pretty sure of it. And she says she loves me — and I believe her."

"I hope it all works out well for you, then," Sydney said, then groaned as he used the arm of the easy chair and his crutches to drag him to his feet again. "I think I'm going to head back into the den until Deb gets home. Call me when you two are ready to eat, and I'll finish getting the meal out."

Sydney hobbled back toward the den, where he could indulge in thoughts of Michelle without having to answer questions to which he really didn't know the answers. Maybe he'd call her that evening — it had been a while since he'd heard her voice.

Too long.

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