Chapter 6 – Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

Many years ago, when it had been fashionable, Sydney had smoked cigarettes. He'd been young – the majority of the psych and pre-med students at Yale at the time had smoked, and he'd wanted to fit in. Of course by the time he'd worked at the Centre for a year or more, the dry air in the sublevels had started to react with the smoke he filled his lungs with in the evenings, and he'd been forced to quit or risk developing bronchitis. He'd tried cigars and a pipe – but the fact was that tobacco smoke and ultra-dry ventilated air in rapid succession over the course of a day was raising Hell with his respiratory system, and so he'd set aside his one vice reluctantly. True to the adage that there is no more vehement non-smoker than a converted ex-smoker, he had worked hard to dissuade Miss Parker of her habit when they had been thrown into the hunt for Jarod together. The day she had announced that she'd finally quit, Sydney had quietly rejoiced.

Not in many, many years had he been so tempted to buy a pack of cigarettes and light one up again – but tonight was something else. Sydney had waited until it was dark – waited until the dishes were done and Debbie was engrossed in a television drama and Jarod was busy on his laptop again – and then he'd wandered out into the back yard to be alone and think. For the past three days, he'd not allowed himself to think, to muse or even to wonder. For the past three days, he'd kept his focus on Debbie – keeping her spirits up and keeping her from disrupting Jarod's necessary work. Now, with Jarod's plan on the table and with very little by way of an alternative to its huge risk, he couldn't afford not to take the time to review and reflect on things.

The plan itself was audacious and daring – and more than a little dangerous to all concerned. Jarod had contacted someone INSIDE the Centre, who was now feeding him detailed information about 'Jerry Silva's' work schedule and living quarters and free-time activities. This same contact – the same one who probably had been the one to assist Jarod in staying ahead of Miss Parker's team all along – would be present and accounted for when the time came to get Sam out of the Centre so his tampered memory could hopefully be set aright again.

But this contact couldn't do everything alone. No, both Jarod and Sydney would have to make their way into the Centre and be there to help subdue probably one of the strongest men the Centre had ever hired – and then haul him out again without being detected. Even Debbie would have a part in this drama – already armed with a learner's permit to drive, she would be at the wheel of Jarod's SUV, ready to take them all back down a little-known cow path near a virtually unsecured edge of the Centre property the moment the men had Sam loaded into the car.

Sydney put his face in his hands. It had been years since he'd been as torn as he was in that moment. To put one person – two people – he held dear in mortal danger, including risking his own neck, in order to begin a rescue attempt on two – three – other people he also held dear was to ask for almost too much of him. The more he thought about it, he could see that this was a trap – all carefully planned to get Jarod in precisely the place they wanted him in. What was more, he couldn't know what kind of danger any rescue attempt would call down upon Miss Parker's head or Broots' if things came out into the open too soon. He did know all too well the penalty for disloyalty among sweepers, however – if caught; Sam's destiny was an extremely short and final one.

What was more, it was finally sinking in that after decades of being one of the ultimate survivors at the Centre by never completely taking sides in anything, he had hightailed it away from the Centre like a chicken the moment it had become clear that his own neck was on the block. He'd walked – no, not walked, run – away from Miss Parker, and Broots, and Sam… just left them there… What did that say about him as a responsible, trustworthy human being? Jarod had made a point over the years of his freedom of telling him how he couldn't trust him – how Sydney's betrayals and/or not standing up to defend him had made him leery of putting too much faith in him anymore. Maybe Jarod was right…

"You've been pretty quiet tonight," Jarod's voice sounded behind him, and suddenly Sydney had company sitting down on the bottom back porch step next to him. "What's up?"

Sydney looked out over the dark yard and then up into the moonlit sky. "I'm discovering that I'm not a very brave man," he admitted with ruthless honesty, "and I worry that your plan is too dangerous. I don't want to jeopardize anything…"

Jarod sat and considered his former mentor's statements. "I don't know about your bravery, Sydney," he replied at last, "but I'm very aware of how dangerous what we're planning to do is. Tell me that you don't want to help Miss Parker and Broots get away from the Centre and whatever is being done to them – or that you think your taking part will endanger the overall plan – and I'll rethink the logistics with your participation left out."

The Belgian cringed. "That's not what I meant…"

"But that's what it boils down to," Jarod pressed. "How much is it worth to you to get your friends out of there and maybe help put a stop to something that has the potential to be truly monstrous? How much are you willing to risk? Could you live with yourself if you stood by and watched whatever it is that they want to do to them without trying to stop it – the way you stood by and let them do what they wanted to me all those years?"

"I never just stood by… I didn't know…" Sydney cried, cut to the quick by the accusation.

"Well, not knowing isn't a luxury you have this time," Jarod's voice was implacable. "You know exactly what's going on in there – and you know that Miss Parker and Broots are caught up in the middle of it. You can either help, or know that you're standing aside and leaving them to their fate."

"I never said I wasn't going to help you," Sydney's voice was small.

"I know," Jarod replied a little more kindly. "But I had to make you see that we really don't have any choice – and that your bravery or mine under the circumstances has very little to do with it. People we care about are trapped in there – trapped by sweepers and by a drug that has probably robbed them of any sense of who they really are. The only way they'll get free of that trap is for you and me and Debbie not to let the risks keep us from shooting for the benefits. We may succeed, and we may fail – but we know what happens if we do nothing. All I need to know is whether you're in, or whether you're out."

Sydney didn't hesitate. "I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't do something." He glanced at his protégé. "You know I couldn't."

Jarod nodded, not letting slide that he was breathing a sigh of relief. "I was counting on it, actually."

Sydney looked back up at the sky. Jarod was right to boil this down to its most basic elements – and to point out that there really was no choice for any of them in the matter. Trustworthy or no, his help was needed if they were going to successfully extract Sam – who was probably the least-well guarded of the missing three. Once his memory had been restored, Sam could be sent back into the Centre to continue to play the part that Raines had set out for him, pending acquiring enough information to extract Broots and eventually Miss Parker.

This was not a time for him to be second-guessing himself or his own abilities. Broots' and Miss Parker's very wellbeing depended upon his talents as a psychiatrist, to find the memory key that would unlock Sam's subsumed personality – for without that, they were undoubtedly doomed. There could be no standing in the shadows or on the sidelines for him anymore – he had to declare himself on one side of this conflict or the other, and then live with the consequences of his actions. For once his survival didn't depend upon maintaining an incredible sense of balance while sitting on a razor-edge fence and leaning slightly to one side or the other.

"I really didn't know what they were doing, you know, back then…" Sydney insisted after his long moment of mental discipline. "They always waited until I was gone…"

"C'mon… You're an intelligent and observant man, Sydney – you HAD to know something," Jarod shook his head. "Every time you came back from one of your trips or vacations, I was a basket case – and a couple of times, I was even in the Renewal Wing. Surely you must have wondered what was going on after that happened once too many times. But you never said a word…"

Sydney's eyes closed slowly and painfully. Jarod was right again – he had guessed early on that something would invariably be up the moment he went on vacation or participated in some seminar or conference. And yet, he'd said nothing – not to Jarod; not to Mr. Raines, whom he suspected of tampering with his Pretender at every opportunity; and not to Mr. Parker, his direct superior, the man who had given Jarod to him over Raines' strident objections. "I'm so sorry," he murmured finally.

"It doesn't help," Jarod replied coolly, "but it doesn't matter anymore either. What you did or didn't do for me is in the past and can't be undone. The question is whether you can do better for Miss Parker – whether you've learned from your mistakes so that nobody else suffers while you stand by and say nothing again."

Sydney finally looked long and hard at his former protégé. Jarod had matured a great deal during his years of freedom – freedom from the Centre and freedom from even his well-meaning manipulation. This wasn't a naïve man-child dumped out into a world he only barely understood anymore. No wonder he hadn't been calling so often – he was finally learning to fit in, to understand the larger world outside the Centre walls – and without any expressed emotional ties between the two of them to hold them together, Jarod had no reason to maintain contact anymore. "Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?" he asked his former student mournfully.

"I don't know, Sydney," Jarod answered truthfully. "Let's see how this next day or two goes, shall we? Let's see if things have really changed enough with you that I can see a reason to reconsider."

Sydney nodded and fell silent again. That was about as fair a proposition as he'd heard in a long while. If he wanted Jarod's forgiveness, he'd have to earn it – and to do that, he'd have to walk into the fire with his eyes wide open and pray to a God he could no longer believe in that he stood even half a chance of walking out the other side again in doing for Miss Parker and Broots what he hadn't been able to talk himself into doing for Jarod.

And if he could finally earn Jarod's forgiveness, there was a very slim, outside chance that he'd be able to begin to forgive himself.

oOoOo

"It's been four days – what do you mean, you still can't find them?" Raines was infuriated, and for the first time in a very long time, Willy was catching the brunt of that temper.

"Face it, Jarod and Sydney must have gone to ground somewhere," Lyle tried to smooth things over. "Our men aren't going to catch wind of them if they stay huddled down in the same place and don't come out."

"We're reaching the end of our most fertile window in 'Contingency' for the next month or two," Raines countered peevishly. "I want 'Contingency' moved into phase three before that window closes and we have to sit and wait for the next one."

"We'll find them, sir," Willy reassured his boss, his voice filled with as much confidence as he could muster, "even if we have to start a house-to-house search here in Blue Cove."

"What if they aren't IN Blue Cove?" Raines asked, his watery blue eyes snapping. "What if they're in Dover, for example?"

Lyle and Willy exchanged a glance. "We've got men stationed outside most major grocery stores – figuring that they'll have to come out for supplies eventually. But be reasonable – we can't do house-to-house searches in Dover or anywhere that we don't own the town lock, stock and barrel. It would cause too much comment – and that, we don't need." Lyle's voice was firm. "We've been looking for Jarod for almost ten years – I don't think we're going to find him with Sydney in less than four days."

"We need him – NOW – or we'll have to wait for another month!"

"Considering what we have planned, keeping Jarod on ice for a month or so – however long it takes until we know we have what we need – isn't going to be a problem. Have you considered we could retrain him and put him back to work…" Lyle was warming up to a plan he'd had for a while.

Raines shook his head. "It's one thing to give a normal person 837A – we have absolutely no indication what affect it would have on a trained Pretender. Jarod's value is no longer in the work he could do for us – that ability has been tainted and ruined now by too many outside influences. His sole value is in supplying the building blocks with which we can create more of him. Once we know we have that…"

"I'd like to try…"

"No." Raines' voice was as final as the tomb. "Find him, and let's get everything we need from him. After that, he's expendable. And as for Sydney…" Raines' eyes closed, and when they opened again, they were cold as ice. "He's a security risk at best, a traitor at worst. Once we have Jarod, we have no need for him. But if we find him before we find Jarod, we do to Sydney what we've done to the rest of them – and force Jarod to come for them all. Then we get rid of the ones we can do without – starting with Sydney."

Lyle grinned. He had no love for the eccentric and brilliantly obstructionist psychiatrist either. "I'll handle that one myself," he said.

"Find them!" Raines yelled at both the men in his office. "Don't come back in here until you have them!"

Willy and Lyle glanced at each other and turned in unison to walk through the etched glass doors. "We're going to need a plan," Willy said quietly as he kept to Lyle's side on the way to the elevator.

"Come down to my office," Lyle invited. "We'll discuss how to handle this there."

oOoOo

Jarod steered the mini SUV over the bumps in the rutted road with care and then pulled to a stop behind a tall stand of trees, underbrush and bushes. "You understand what you're supposed to do?" he asked Debbie for the second time.

The girl nodded. "I stay here and wait until either you or Sydney or both of you come back with Sam; or I wait until sunrise, and when nobody comes, I then drive to the Dover Police Station and explain everything there. I'm to ask for Officer Downing – and wait until I can speak to him directly."

"That's right." Jarod got out from behind the steering wheel so that Debbie could have the room to climb in. He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. "Are you going to be able to do this?"

Debbie nodded again with a somber look on her face. "I've got your watch, with the alarm set for five o'clock tomorrow morning, in case I fall asleep. I'll be OK – I can be strong for my dad."

"Good girl." Jarod turned to his mentor, whom he could hardly see against the darkness of the foliage surrounding the SUV. "You ready, Sydney?"

"Whenever you are," came the rejoinder. "Hang in there, Debbie – we'll be back as soon as we can."

"I will, Sydney." Debbie looked from one dark shadow of a man to the other. "You two be careful – and good luck!"

"C'mon." Jarod nudged Sydney, and the two black-clad men hurried off along the edge of the Centre property.

"Are you sure that you can trust the Dover Police to play cavalry, if the need arises?" Sydney asked skeptically. "How can you be sure that they aren't mostly in the Centre's back pocket – and willing to overlook just about anything…"

"I know Downing – I helped him out a while back. He knows about the Centre too – he's been in the department long enough to have seen things and had questions that he'd been ordered never to look for answers to. He'll see to it that Debbie stays safe."

"How far is it?"

"It isn't how far, it's getting from over here in the trees to that shed over here." Jarod's barely visible finger pointed out at a small wooden structure about halfway across the manicured lawn between the trees and the main Centre structure. "We'll be out in the open for a while – and we'll have to pray that they haven't put more security on over here."

"Do we run, or do we crawl?" Sydney eyed the little building with trepidation.

"We run – but not yet." Jarod grabbed his mentor's arm and pulled him forward again. "It's closer to the trees up a little farther. The less yardage we have to cover quickly, the better."

Sydney suited his pace to keep up with Jarod. "What's in the building?"

"Access to the Centre," Jarod answered darkly. "Some of the ventilation system machinery – which means some of the ductwork."

"To the sublevels, you mean."

"Exactly. That's where we'll meet up with my contact – who'll know exactly where Sam is right now and have the supplies we'll need to subdue him quickly."

Sydney refrained from commenting, knowing that Jarod was placing an immense amount of trust in this unknown contact, yet unwilling to be quite so cavalier about it. Jarod stopped moving suddenly, making Sydney nearly walk into the back of him before halting himself. "Here," the Pretender said. "On the count of three…"

"Jarod…"

"One… Two… THREE!"

Both men broke from their cover at the edge of the trees and dashed across the lawn and into the shadow of the little structure. "Quiet!" Jarod whispered harshly as he leaned against the wooden siding, listening to see whether an alarm had been raised.

Sydney leaned hard against the building's side, working hard to keep from panting aloud and praying that his heart wouldn't break through his ribs before it slowed back down again. Going with Miss Parker on the occasional trek to one of Jarod's lairs hadn't required much in the way of physical exertion for a while now – and even two days a week in the Centre gym for the last three months hadn't made much headway in restoring his physical stamina to what it once had been.

"C'mon," Jarod whispered and grabbed at him again, and Sydney pushed away from the sturdy wall to follow his protégé around the front of the building to the door. Jarod tinkered with the lock for only a couple of moments before he was pulling it out of the loop, moving the hasp aside and pushing the door open. Both men slipped into the building quickly, and then Jarod closed the door behind them.

Now what? Sydney didn't even voice his question – because Jarod had unhooked the flashlight from his belt and had the beam on the floor despite there being no windows to the outside. The huge fan and motor assembly stood in the middle of the floor like a boulder of sharp, square metal, thrumming at a very low register. Jarod moved with the ease of familiarity to the assembly and pulled open a grate. "We go through here," he directed, then stepped through in to the confined space. "Close the grate after you," he cautioned Sydney before moving too far ahead.

Sydney had never been inside the ventilation system – nor had he realized just how easily a normal person could begin to feel claustrophobic in such a setting. He had to fight an urge to turn back – to get to a place where the metal walls weren't closing in on him and he could stand erect again – in order to continue to follow the flickering of Jarod's flashlight. He couldn't understand how the sound of their footfalls couldn't help but attract attention, but Jarod seemed to be completely unfazed by the noise they were making.

Not only that, but Jarod seemed to know exactly where they were going – not even hesitating to make the proper choice when they came to junctions, but turning left or right or moving straight ahead with confidence. He was moving smoothly and quickly – although slowly enough that he wouldn't have to try to turn around in the narrow passage and rejoin his slower cohort.

Then he saw Jarod pause at last, and then disappear into the metal floor as they reached the first vertical drop. Luckily, there was a lightweight aluminum ladder mounted in the side of the shaft – so that both men could simply climb down the ladder the way they would to get down from a tree. Sydney hadn't the slightest idea that such conveniences had ever been put into place in a system that technically WASN'T for crawling around in.
"How much further?" he whispered harshly down the shaft.

"Just a bit more," was the reply up the shaft in return, and then the pool of light that was Jarod paused again and vanished to Sydney's right. The vertical drop was finished, and they were once more moving laterally. Ahead of Jarod, Sydney suddenly saw another light source, and he began to breathe just a little easier – despite being thoroughly winded. How the Hell they were going to get Sam up that shaft with them was beyond him!

Jarod vanished from ahead of him into what must have been a larger area, and the sound of soft voices echoed back at Sydney. He pushed ahead and finally stuck his head out into a multiple fan assembly area, where he came face to face with a grinning Angelo. "Hi, Sydney," the empath greeted him shyly and then turned his attention back to Jarod. "Sam working out in gym," he informed the pair succinctly.

"How many others are there?" Jarod inquired quickly.

Angelo shook his head. "Too late for company or coaches. Sam alone."

Jarod turned to Sydney with the beginnings of a smile. "Luck's on our side, it seems."

"How the Hell are we going to get him to come with us?" Sydney worried aloud at last. "Do you intend to have him chase us back through the ventilation system without having called for backup first?"

"Sydney silly," Angelo commented to Jarod with a chuckle.

"Sydney practical," Jarod corrected gently. "No worries, Sydney. Part of the reason Angelo's here is to deliver a syringe with one of my concoctions in it – you remember Rohypnol – it has the street name of 'Roofie'... It tends to make a person VERY suggestible and compliant – and the mixture I have here is very quick-acting as well." He scowled as a thought occurred to him. "You know, Sydney, if I had known back then how many women would end up victims of assault as a result of…"

"Damn it, Jarod, if I had known what was being done with your research I'd have burned my notes myself!" Sydney rejoined bitterly. "You don't seem to understand that what the Centre did with our work was as much a betrayal of my research as it was of yours."

"Not argue!" Angelo looked back and forth from one man to the other with a pained expression on his face. "Both right – BOTH betrayed! Not important now - Sam important now."

"He's right." Sydney took a deep breath, both to calm his breathing as well as his outrage. "We can argue this point later, back at your safe house. Right now, we should keep our minds on what we're here to accomplish. Distraction – and unnecessary conflict – can only disrupt our concentration and lessen our chances of getting out of here in one piece."

Jarod glared at him, and then backed down and nodded curtly. Angelo was right, although it was a hard concession to make. Sydney had been betrayed too – as much as he hated to admit it – and either way, it wasn't important at the moment. They had to stay focused on Sam, and getting him dosed and then out of the Centre without calling too much attention to their activities. He looked back down at his old friend. "Any idea how long he's going to be in the gym, Angelo?"

Angelo's red head nodded vigorously. "Sam upset about something – will be there for a while. You have time." He waved for the others to follow. "Come on – need to go."

Jarod glanced at Sydney as Angelo headed off and ducked into another long metal tunnel. "After you," Sydney gestured broadly and gracefully, still stinging from Jarod's criticism.

The Pretender just nodded, his dark eyes glinting in the reflection of the flashlight beam against metallic walls, and then dove into the duct behind Angelo. Sydney sighed and moved to follow the others, wondering if maybe having the chance to spend time with Jarod again WASN'T going to be such a grand opportunity after all. Jarod's bitterness against the Centre and against him personally had apparently festered badly over the years – there was a deep vein of anger and resentment that was beginning to swell and threaten to burst in his direction. He'd known that eventually these things would need airing – but not imagined the potential for hurt as well as healing it would hold.

oOoOo

"What about the cameras?" Jarod asked very softly, peering over Angelo's shoulder and through the grate at the sight of Sam – or more properly, Sam's back – as the sweeper sat at the weight table hefting an eye-popping collection of weights in rhythmic pulls of his arms.

"Looped." Angelo pointed, and Jarod grinned and patted his friend on the shoulder. None of the cameras had their evil red lights on – meaning that the feed going to the surveillance monitors at this point was NOT what was going on at that moment.

"Locker room too?"

The red hair flopped as the question earned another vigorous nod.

Jarod backed up a bit. "What's the word?" Sydney demanded, wishing he could have seen just a little.

"We take this vent to the right, let ourselves down into the locker room so we can come up behind Sam without his hearing us. I can have the Rohypnol in him before he knows what's happening."

Sydney backed up, as requested, so that Jarod and Angelo could once more take the lead. "What then?"

Jarod shrugged as his friend pushed past him to lead the way down the ventilation shaft toward the locker room. "Then, when he calms down, we get him into these vents, and head out the way we came in." He could see that Sydney was thinking that he was making this sound a whole lot easier than it was going to be in actuality – and his old mentor was right about that. He gestured. "Follow me."

The locker room, like the gym, was empty as the vent in the side of the wall slowly opened on hinges to allow three men to slowly emerge. Jarod opened the little pouch and pulled a pre-loaded syringe from it, took the needle-guard off so that he could make sure to clear the air from the injection, and then put the guard back on and put the syringe between his teeth. Angelo stood at the door to the gym, peering through the window, and then signaled.

Silently, the three made their way across the polished hardwood floor to where Sam still sat with his back to them, pulling the weights up and down in a steady rhythm. Jarod held the needle guard in his teeth, then nodded for Angelo and Sydney to suddenly grab both of Sam's arms as the needle sank into the soft flesh of the sweeper's neck. The two at Sam's side held on for dear life as the strong sweeper attempted to rise from his exercise station and break free. Meanwhile, Jarod sheathed the syringe quickly and slipped it into his pocket so he could stuff the greater portion of a clean shop rag into Sam's mouth to stifle the yells and then lend his weight to leaning on Sam's shoulders and holding him almost immobile until the drug took effect – which wasn't going to be long.

He'd assessed Sam's weight and general health into the dose, which he'd made on the generous size. He'd also banked on Sam potentially growing more violent as the drug took effect, so the dose had included a mild sedative that wasn't enough to knock the man out but enough to control any urges that three normal-sized men wouldn't be able to handle. As it was, this was going to be a very long ten minutes or so – although the effects of the sedative would probably kick in a little more quickly.

Sure enough, Sam began to relax within five minutes, and gazed around him dazedly. Jarod obligingly removed the gag so that the sweeper could once more communicate. After all, they'd need his cooperation to get him out of here. "Who are you guys?" he demanded in an almost drunken voice after a few sputters to take care of the dryness of his mouth and clear it of lint.

"Friends," Angelo told him gently, daring to let go of the arm that was as thick as a tree trunk. "Here to help."

"Help what?" Sam asked, turning in confusion to stare at Sydney. "Hey! Don't I know you…?"

"Yes, you do," Sydney replied with equal gentleness. He looked up into Jarod's face. "Do you think we can…"

"Yes," Jarod replied and slipped beneath one of Sam's arms as he signaled for Sydney to follow suit. "C'mon, big fella – time to go."

"Go where?" Sam slurred, struggling to his feet.

"Somewhere safe," Angelo reassured him and went before the others to open the locker room door for them. "In there," he pointed to the ventilation duct.

"Why?" Sam wanted to know, his brows furling together. "Are you guys even supposed to be here?"

"This is a drill, Jerry," Jarod said quickly. "We need to know if you can make it to the surface and out of the Centre in case of an emergency while under the influence. Now, Angelo will lead the way…"

"Hokay." Sam shook his head. Many things of late that had been happening to him and around him hadn't been making a lot of sense – but Mr. Raines had told him to just go along with things and everything would be explained to him later on. This must be another one of those instances – using people that had just a hint of familiarity to them to get him to do things he wouldn't normally do. Obediently, he ducked his head and reconciled himself to being nearly crushed by the tightness of the fit of the duct around his husky body.

"You go first," Jarod told Sydney as Sam's hulk vanished into the duct. "I'll bring up the rear – and protect the three of you…"

"Jarod…"

"Go, Sydney! Sam needs you more than he needs me right now!" Jarod pointed to the open grate. "If we want to rescue Miss Parker and Broots, you've got to unlock what's in his head. You're the shrink – I only Pretend to be one from time to time. Now get going!"

Sydney swallowed his protests at the logic behind Jarod's instructions, and he folded his body so that he could once more fit into that claustrophobic little tunnel. As he moved slowly down the duct behind Sam, he could hear Jarod clambering into the vent behind him and the click of the grate snapping shut once more. Then it was a simple question of following the moving feet of the man in front of him – through the fan assembly again and into the next network of metal vents until each of them had pushed through into the vertical shaft and was clambering up the ladder again.

Angelo's voice could be heard as he reached the top of that long ladder, urging Sam to keep coming and that they were almost out. But as he continued down that last stretch of metal ductwork, he couldn't hear the sound of Jarod moving behind him. The duct was too small for him to turn around in – so he continued forward until he finally was pushing out the grate in the little building near the edge of Centre property. Then he crawled out as quickly as possible and then turned about and stuck his head back in. "Jarod!" he yelled. He stood up quickly when he got no reply and stared at Angelo. "Where did he go?" he demanded, as if the little empathy could know such a thing.

"Gone for Daughter," Angelo murmured sadly. "They'll find him."

"We've got to stop him…" Sydney cried and reached for the vent opening to start back into the system once more.

"No, Sydney," Angelo said with a shake of his head. "I go – I watch. You go with him," he jerked his head at Sam, "help HIM. And watch for email." Angelo turned to Sam. "You go with Sydney now – he knows next step in this drill, OK?"

"OK." Sam's voice was definitely slurred and sleepy. He wasn't in any shape to argue – all he wanted to do was get somewhere where he could lay down and sleep.

"Go now," Angelo urged Sydney, taking the psychiatrist and pulling him so that Sam could lean on him. "Go quickly."

Sydney could do little but shoulder Sam's weight and push out through the door. "Don't forget to lock again," Angelo called to him as he climbed back into the ventilation system. Sydney turned and carefully replaced the hasp on the loop and secured the lock without pushing it closed again. He was no lock pick – and they were going to have to be able to get back into the Centre somehow when the time came to liberate Broots and then Miss Paarker, and now probably Jarod as well. He then shouldered Sam's nearly insensate weight and moved the two of them first into the trees and then along the perimeter of the property until the path that he and Jarod had come down presented itself.

"Where's Jarod?" Debbie demanded frantically as Sam was slumped into the back seat of the SUV and Sydney climbed into the passenger seat beside her.

"He'll be OK," Sydney told her – and himself – firmly. "Go!"