Chapter 12 – Payback's a Bitch
Lyle rolled over and sighed heavily, incredibly satisfied for the early hour of the morning. Beside him in the bed, the tiny Chinese woman moaned softly but didn't awaken. It was just as well. The thrill of the kill wasn't necessarily enhanced for him by instilling terror in his victims, but rather in his ability to take and do whatever he wanted to them while they were alive – and then taking that tenderest, most tasty portion of them once they were dead and having his ritual meal.
Normally he didn't do his hunting this close to Blue Cove, but today was a special day. Today was the day that Mr. Raines had told him that his poor, 'lost' twin sister began doing for-profit SIMs for the Centre – and doing them with a skill at Pretending almost as great as that of the dear, departed Jarod. Lyle chuckled coldly, wondering how that egotistical bastard would have reacted to find out that not only was Parker just as good at Pretending as he was, but was a willing subject in whatever Centre experiments were visted upon her. He hoped Jarod was looking up at them from his spot in Hell and suffering all the more.
He'd been pissed at first – Mr. Raines had appropriated his good idea and run with it without giving him the least amount of credit for it. It had been a disappointment to find out they'd had to put Jarod down when the drug treatment for him turned out to be inadequate to the task of keeping him docile – pissed because they hadn't offered HIM the job of putting the Pretender down himself. But as it turned out, Parker was a much better subject – probably as the result of the minute doses of Formula 837A they continued to give her in the fruit juice she drank for lunch – and she would be able to get the Centre back into the black economically while her progeny was being raised and trained. Hell, they'd taken enough genetic material from Jarod this time – before he'd been put down – that they could erase her memory and present her to herself once more pregnant over and over again. How many more Super Pretenders could they get this way – and all while the mother finally made herself genuinely useful to the Centre?
Mr. Raines had been understandably pleased with himself – even to the point of stepping outside the Centre Tower for the first time in months to treat himself, Lyle, Willy and Ndewe Otandi, the current Triumvirate representative in residence, to a delicious and very expensive steak dinner at the best restaurant Dover had to offer. Lyle had nearly choked on his whiskey at the sight of William Raines trying to be a gracious dinner host – the sentiment the old ghoul managed to emote was so totally bogus as to be bordering on pathetic – and yet, the others had bought it! Were they REALLY that blind?
Ah well, Lyle mused, running his hand over the long, black, silky hair that spilled onto the pillow in such profusion. That old bastard wasn't long for this world – especially now that the Centre was poised to reclaim its former prominence in the fields of pharmaceutical and biogenic research. The sale of 837A to the Saudi's being accomplished would get the Centre out of debt almost entirely – so that when Raines had HIS 'accident', Lyle would inherit an up and coming concern.
God, but he'd be glad to be out from underneath that idiotic monster!
Lyle heaved himself out of bed and peeled back the blanket and sheeting from his latest victim and then sighed at the sight of such human perfection. Her limbs were so in proportion to her size – neither too slender nor too plump. She'd been a dancer – graceful, strong, young – he'd had his eye on her since he saw her in the topless bar months ago, writhing about that pole in a way that would make any man horny. No doubt the meat he'd harvest from her would be tastier and more tender than he'd had in a long time.
He briefly debated whether or not the drug he'd given her would last long enough for him to take her one more time before he killed her – his libido had been necessarily undernourished of late – but decided against it. He did have to report in to work SOMEtime that day. Besides, he usually ended up climaxing during the next part of this ritual anyway – he didn't need to dally any further.
He reached beneath the bed for the plastic sheeting that he always kept stored there, along with the framework that fit into carefully hidden slots on the headboard and footboard. It only took fifteen minutes to turn a relatively normal-looking bedroom into a plastic-lined dissection chamber. He then brought out the bucket and tubing assembly that would take care of the greater share of the blood and set it aside.
The final item he dragged out from beneath the bed was his kit – the box that held the scalpels and cleavers that would finish the job begun with the hunt. All he'd need at the moment was the scalpel, so he removed that and pushed the box back under the bed and draped the plastic so that it wouldn't get splattered.
Taking a deep breath, he rolled his victim onto her stomach so that her left arm hung limply over the edge of the bed – and paused to give one last, fond, caress of her firm, smooth buttock. Then he carefully ran the scalpel over the fold lines in the wrist and let the spray of blood begin to paint his naked body with bright crimson splatter as he bent to take his first taste of blood before arranging the tubing to collect the blood for later. Already he was hard again.
And he could look forward to a special meal that evening too when he let HER life essence into HIM. It was this that kept him alive and alert – this sacrament of living essence.
His future looked bright, and life was good!
oOoOo
Darting across the Centre lawn toward the little ventilation shaft in full daylight was a lot more nerve-wracking than doing it in the middle of the night, Sydney decided as he watched the sweeper patrol amble past where he and Debbie were hiding in the thick underbrush. Debbie had donned a green outfit deliberately meant to blend into the green of the grass, in keeping with the plan. Sydney, whose job it was to simply wait in the shack until all who were supposed to be rescued were out, was merely in olive drab overalls supplied by Jarod, who waited next to him.
"Now!" the Pretender announced with a vehement whisper, and the three darted across the short expanse of lawn into the shadow of the little shack. Jarod slipped around the corner and undid the lock. "Come!" he hissed, and the three of them slipped into the shack as quickly as they could.
"Now you know what you're supposed to do?" Sydney asked Debbie as Jarod pulled open the vent and shone the light of his powerful flashlight down the dark tunnel.
"Yes, I know what I'm supposed to do," Debbie replied in a voice that showed that she was starting to get tired of the insistence Sydney was putting on her abiding by the plan. "You've made me go over it HOW many times now?"
"She'll be fine," Jarod soothed his mentor, a little taken aback at the protective way the old psychiatrist was dealing with Broots' daughter. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that Sydney was acting very much like an over-protective grandfather. "You've drilled her to the point that she knows the plan inside and out."
"I'm still not convinced that she should be anywhere near this place," Sydney retorted, yet relented as he saw that he was getting nowhere with either Jarod or Debbie. "I made a promise to your dad," he told her in frustrated explanation, "that I'd take care of you as if you were my own."
"You've done a good job," Debbie told him, a little less frustrated with him now that she understood his motives. She moved over to him and hugged his waist. "I couldn't have wanted for a better guardian – honest."
Sydney's arms closed tightly around her. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't convince himself that it had been a mistake to let her into his life as much as he had – and it was impossible now for him to imagine her not continuing to be a part of his life. "I just don't want you to get hurt," he murmured at her.
"I'll be fine," Debbie reassured him. "Sam will be with me the whole time – he'll keep me safe."
"But what if Sam gets ordered to leave you alone with Raines and Lyle – what if he isn't allowed to stay with you?"
"That's why Broots' calling the police and reporting Willy's kidnap of his daughter will happen before Sam calls Willy so that it can be Willy that hauls her in the front door of the Centre," Jarod reminded his old teacher. "That way, the eyewitness testimony of even other Centre employees will bear out Broots' allegation."
There was a quick knock on the door of the shack, and then Sam slipped through the door wearing a perspiration-dampened sweatshirt, pants and sneakers rather than his regular formal attire. He gave the impression of having just ducked in after having run laps – his cover for having found Debbie lurking on the grounds. "Hi there, Squirt," he greeted his soon-to-be-'captive' with a huge grin. "Long time, no checkers."
"Hi, Sam," she grinned back at him.
"Are you ready?" Sam aimed his question at Jarod.
"I'm just waiting on Broots, and his information as to exactly where Miss Parker is…" There was a noise in the ventilation ducts – the sounds of a very unhappy child. Jarod's answer was cut off as the Pretender bent immediately to the duct and reached in to pull out a six year old boy – followed very closely behind by Angelo, with Broots bringing up the rear.
"Lemme go!" the youngster yelled, battling against Jarod's strong hold on him. "Lemme go!"
"Stop now!" Angelo frowned at his young companion. "These are friends – make you safe now."
Meanwhile, Broots had homed in on his daughter and had grabbed her up into a tight hug. "Hi, Sweet Pea."
"I've missed you, Daddy," she murmured into his shirt.
"Who the Hell is THIS?" Sam grumbled at the empath – a man he still wasn't entirely sure he could trust completely not to be a madman ready to lead them down the path to disaster.
"My God!" Sydney gasped as he got a good look at the boy's face. "That's the Parker boy – Miss Parker's little brother!"
"You stay Sydney," Angelo was pointing at the old psychiatrist. "Wait here. Bring your sister."
"Sissy?" The boy frowned. "But I haven't seen her for ages – I was starting to think…"
Angelo shook his head. "Raines stop her. Make sad."
Jarod was finally able to let the youngster go as he stopped struggling. "Angelo…"
"Get all out now – before end," Angelo told his old friend with clear understanding of the situation. "We go now – get Daughter."
"She should be finishing up in the Sim Lab in about…" Broots tipped his wrist so he could look at his watch. "…an hour or so – and then will be escorted back to her space in the Renewal Wing. I've left all the documentation that the police need to find in the top drawer of my desk. All you have to do, Sweet Pea…"
"Is to make sure that the FBI guys hear about them when they come to my rescue – got it," Debbie nodded.
"Any idea of Parker's physical or emotional state?" Jarod asked brusquely.
"I spoke with the sweeper in charge of escort duty the other day," Sam piped up. "She's holding up – but they're putting her through a lot of stressful stuff in the Sim Lab that can't be good for either her OR the baby."
"Angelo made loop for cameras yesterday," Angelo tugged on Jarod's sleeve. "Ready to feed after back. Switch near grate."
Jarod took a moment to sort through his old friend's jumbled statement and then nodded. "Good thinking. How long a loop is it?"
"Ten – maybe fifteen minutes."
Jarod's gaze met that of his mentor's, and he began to smirk. "That should be more than enough time. We should be long gone by the time they notice she's missing – and with any luck, they'll be too busy to notice for a while after that as well."
"I thought Broots was going to call in to the police…" Sydney complained while putting a gentle hand on the strange youngster's shoulder to pull him closer and out of the way of the others. The lad looked up into the kindly, worried face and tensed slightly, but allowed the restraint.
"I will, the moment Debbie and Sam take off," Broots promised.
"OK, Squirt – now remember, you're supposed to be fighting me…" Sam reminded her sternly. "I've caught you messing around in the bushes here. So make it look good – and don't worry about hurting me."
"I can do that," Debbie grinned at him and then waved at Sydney. "See you soon," she promised. She blew a kiss at her father. "Love you, Daddy…"
"Love you too, Sweet Pea. I'll see you soon." Broots didn't sound a whole lot happier about the next few hours than Sydney had, but stood his ground, knowing it to be necessary.
"Debbie…" Sydney called gently, but didn't move as Sam whisked Debbie from the shack.
"That's my cue," Broots grumbled and slipped from the shack himself, heading for the underbrush and the extra car that would take him back into town to play the distraught father in his own house reporting someone had snatched his daughter.
"C'mon, Angelo," Jarod was pushing his friend back toward the ventilation duct. "No time to lose."
"Be careful!" Sydney called after his former student and the empath as both folded themselves and disappeared down the dark, metal tunnel once more. He snapped the grate closed and then found himself pinned by a pair of bright and wary grey eyes that seemed very familiar. "I guess I'm taking care of you for a while," he stated lamely, then grimaced at how much that reminded him of his initial greeting to Jarod, all those years ago. "What's your name?"
"They call me Master Parker," the lad replied coolly.
"What? No first name?" Sydney was appalled once more at the way the Centre branded its victims in such a way.
The boy's face folded into a frown. "What's a first name?"
Sydney sighed. He had a hunch that Miss Parker wasn't going to be the only one needing intensive therapy once this was all over.
oOoOo
"Here he comes," Sam whispered in Debbie's ear.
"Lemme go!" she screamed immediately and began to struggle against the hands that held her tightly. She squeaked when he lifted her bodily into the air, but then lashed out with her feet in an attempt to kick at his legs in order to make her struggle look all the more real. "Put me down, you big…"
"What have we got here?" Willy smiled coldly at the two of them. His face lit up as he recognized the girl in Sam's grasp, and he gazed up into the placid face with astonishment. "Do you know who you've managed to catch, Jerry?"
"No, sir," Sam answered in a flat voice, "Just that I found her skulking in the bushes while I was running my laps."
"We've been looking for you for a while, young lady," Willy told Debbie as he put a hand on the top of her head. He laughed when she tried to toss her head and get away from his touch. "Bring her. You'll have to explain how you found her, but I think Mr. Raines will be most pleased with you."
"You're the senior sweeper here, sir," Sam countered. "If she's that important, maybe it would look better if YOU brought her. I can come along and explain – no problem."
Willy eyed Sam cautiously, but quickly relaxed. There had always been a pecking order within the sweeper corps – and this move by 'Jerry' was a tried and true way of currying favor from a direct superior in order to move up the ranks. Visibly, to the rest of the Centre denizens, it would be HE who finally made the capture he'd been assigned – which was as it should be, given that it was HE that Mr. Raines had given the task, along with that do-nothing Lyle. That would score points for him – points that he would then be obliged to share to a certain extent with 'Jerry' in his next assignment. "Fine by me," he shrugged. "Give her here."
Debbie struggled harder, and the frantic efforts became more real as Willy's hands closed painfully tight around her upper arm. "You realize that I can just as easily put your lights out," he bent and whispered coldly into her ear. "Keep it up, and that's exactly what's going to happen."
Debbie shot a thoroughly terrified look at Sam, whose brief gaze showed sympathy and encouragement before shuttering into neutral disdain. With a chill, Debbie understood Sydney's vehement objections at last, and knew that this was no longer just a fun game. These people played for keeps – and she was now nothing more than a trophy.
oOoOo
"…a big guy, black, good looking and he dragged her into this big, black sedan," Broots was explaining to the police officer, hands flying before appearing to remember something. "I took down a partial license plate…" He patted his shirt breast pocket and dragged out a small scrap of paper with enough of the license plate numbers of one of the Centre sedans that tracing the car wouldn't take long. "I can't believe that he'd do such at thing in broad daylight!"
"And you're SURE that she didn't get into the car willingly?" the officer asked politely.
"She was kicking and screaming – no, she wasn't going willingly," Broots answered in the frustrated sarcasm of a frantic father. "Now – are you going to do something – or do I have to call in the FBI?"
"Just a moment," the officer urged restraint and walked back to his cruiser to radio in the report and a request for a license trace. Broots stood at the curb in front of his house, his arms folded and tapping his foot nervously. Getting the police to discover the Centre's supposed involvement, which would necessitate the involvement of the FBI was a critical point in the plan – and this was the make or break moment. His nervousness was no mere show – Debbie by now was in Willy's hands.
The police officer came back with a slightly pale face. "We've traced the car you say was involved, and we're calling in the FBI ourselves on this one," the officer reported. "We'll be in touch as soon as we know anything more."
"Please, hurry…" Broots urged with a voice near hysteria.
The officer climbed back into the squad car and peeled rubber taking off down the street. Broots stood at the curb and watched for a long moment before turning back to his house with drooping shoulders. It was done. Now came the hardest part: waiting.
oOoOo
Mr. Raines grimaced coldly at Debbie, still very much in Willy's custody. "You have been a very difficult person to track down, young lady," he wheezed at her, and then gasped as he pulled another breath. "You could make it easier on yourself by telling us…" he pulled on the oxygen tank once more with a choking gasp, "…where Sydney is."
"I don't know," Debbie answered defiantly, struggling slightly in Willy's grasp.
"That isn't the best answer," Willy scowled and tightened his hold on her until she yelped. Maybe a bruise or two would convince her…
The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Raines," the secretary began.
"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed!" Mr. Raines shouted back.
"There is a group of FBI agents wanting to speak to you about a kidnapping…"
"Help me! I'm in here!!" Debbie screamed at the top of her lungs, seeing her chance to do her part to bring the mess down about the ears of the man who was hurting her – and his boss, the one who had ordered all the bad things for Miss Parker and her father.
There was the sound of a scuffle outside the etched glass that matched the angered, stifled yells that Debbie was making while Willy's hand covered both her mouth and nose so that she couldn't breathe – but suddenly six men with guns broke through. "Let the girl go," one FBI agent demanded quietly of the tall sweeper, bringing his service revolver around to bear. "NOW!"
Debbie drew in a huge, labored breath into aching lungs as Willy's grasp on her arm and his hand over her face suddenly fell away. She then whimpered, "Sam," and scampered to the side of her friend.
"There's nobody by that name here," Mr. Raines wheezed triumphantly as he rose in outrage at the interruption, only to have the actions of the second sweeper steal his confidence with a few words.
"You're safe now, Squirt," Sam said, opening his arms and gathering Debbie to him protectively. "I'll take you home to your dad as soon as these agents say I can." He smiled coldly at Mr. Raines' stunned expression.
"They were telling me that they were going to do horrible things to me," Debbie began to cry as she spoke to the agent from the safety of Sam's arms. "They said they had this drug that would make me forget everything…"
The agent in charge turned to stare at a dumbstruck Mr. Raines. "Oh really?"
"Yeah," Debbie continued. "My dad said he'd found some things out and was going to blow the whistle on them about that and some other stuff – I think that's why they were taking me, to keep HIM quiet." She glared at Mr. Raines. "Daddy said that he had all he needed to turn them in somewhere on or in his desk…"
"Certainly you aren't going to believe the word of a teenager…" Willy began, only to have the agent in charge gesture to one of his subordinates to put the black sweeper in handcuffs.
"The story's easily enough to check out," the agent in charge remarked and pulled out a cell phone. He dialed a number that he took from a notebook and waited. "Mr. Broots, we have your daughter safe and sound… Yes, sir, she's fine. She's telling us a story about your having found… Yes…" The agent listened carefully, looked up once to stare sharply at Mr. Raines, and then noted more information in the notebook. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks. Yeah, we'll bring her back to you very soon, sir." He turned to another agent. "Take Phil and head to SubLevel 15, Room 12. There should be a desk in the corner, off and away from the rest – the documents we want will be in the upper right drawer."
"You don't have a warrant…" Mr. Raines began to growl.
"Actually," the agent in charge pulled out a folded sheath of paper, "I do. When my superiors in Washington found out what corporation I was investigating, they gave me carte blanche to investigate any hint of wrongdoing that I had presented to me. Seems there has been a steady stream of anonymous information about the Centre into the DC office for years – just nothing urgent enough to act upon until now" He handed the paper to the gaunt man behind the desk. "I think you'll find everything in order and legal." He turned to the agents. "Go – and report back if you find anything."
Mr. Raines sank back into his chair weakly. Just a glance at the warrant in his hand told him that the chances of the Centre escaping this raid unscathed were virtually nonexistent. And from the sounds of things, the agents in his office were but a small part of the army that had descended upon the Centre.
Debbie looked at the old man with satisfaction, and her gaze met and held his while his flinched away from hers. She snuggled closer under Sam's protective arm. Jarod had been right – it felt GOOD to know that justice would finally be done, and that she and her dad wouldn't have to live in fear of what could happen to them anymore.
oOoOo
The sounds of chaotic voices in the corridors was coming closer, and Angelo nudged Jarod. "Now," the little empath said and reached up to turn on the loop that would be fed to the surveillance monitor down the hallway at the security desk outside the Renewal Wing. Jarod gave the ventilation grate a gentle shove, and it fell open.
On the bed nearby came the sounds of stirring, and suddenly Parker's dark head raised up to watch two men emerge from the tiny space – one the odd little man from the day before, the other a tall and handsome man with dark hair and gentle, chocolate eyes. "Parker," the second man called to her gently and softly. "Are you awake?"
"Do I know you?" she responded, shrinking back from his hand held out to her.
"We've known each other since we were children," Jarod replied unhappily. "I'm Jarod." He'd hoped that seeing him would have been all she would have needed to trip over into the memory recall disorientation – but it looked like it was going to take more than that after all. She continued to look at him with a mixture of confusion and wariness that he remembered all too well feeling himself at one time.
"This Friend," Angelo introduced with a smile. "Here to take you to safe place. Come now."
"Are you my husband?" she asked next, rising from her bed in her Centre fatigues, still dressed from the tiring SIM. Without taking her eyes from the tall, handsome stranger, she slipped her feet into her rubber-soled slippers.
Jarod's eyes filled with tears as he realized the reason for her question – they had told her that she was carrying her husband's child. Of course she would have accepted her condition much easier if she thought she'd been married, widowed, and pregnant. "No," he answered and then took her hand carefully in his. "But we'll have plenty of time to talk things out later. We have to go NOW."
"In THERE?" she gaped, pointing at the air conditioning vent.
"That's right," Jarod told her. "It's perfectly safe – just follow me and do what I do."
"What about Greg and Fran – what will they think? They took care of me…" she hesitated. "What will Byron say?"
"They OK – you go now!" Angelo urged in a slightly more pressing tone. "MUST go now."
Parker gazed steadily into chocolate eyes that looked as if they were begging for her trust and could feel something deep inside her wanting to do just that. "All right," she relented and moved over to the vent. "What do I do?"
"I go first," Angelo said and proceeded to fold himself so that climbing into the vent looked easy. He moved back into the darkness and then called out. "Now you."
Parker mimicked the actions of the odd little man who had visited her the night before, and soon she too was in the dark, metal tunnel. Ahead of her, Angelo suddenly turned on a flashlight, and the beam bounced almost painfully inside the shining metal duct. "Follow." As he began down the tunnel and she began to move to follow him, she could hear Jarod climbing into the vent behind her and closing the grate. Knowing she had no choice now but to move in the direction they wanted her to go, Parker took a deep breath to calm herself and crept along the tunnel on her hands and knees, totally lost and disoriented now as the tunnel turned first this way and then that.
When Angelo slipped from sight ahead of her, and she found herself poking her head into a vertical shaft that seemed to have no top and no bottom, she gasped and shrank back. "You can do," she heard Angelo say, and poking her head out again, she saw that he was on a ladder to the side of the opening, up far enough that there was room for her to clamber out onto the ladder.
"We go up to ground level here," Jarod urged from behind her. "You can do it – you've done things like this before."
"You were with me when I did, I take it?" she asked as she carefully pulled her body from the opening and onto the ladder to begin the long climb.
"No, but another of our friends was – he said you were magnificent." Jarod could remember Broots telling of her climb out of the boiler shaft to the Centre lobby so many years ago.
"I don't remember," she sighed and kept moving one hand and foot over the other.
"You will eventually, I promise," Jarod stated reassuringly, not entirely sure now that he could keep the promise as soon as he had hoped. "I'm right behind you now."
The climb was arduous, and she was genuinely winded by the time she reached the top and could slip into another metal tunnel after Angelo. At this level, she could hear the sounds of chaotic voices again – many men shouting orders and others protesting those orders. "What's going on?" she asked, worried.
"Diversion," was all Angelo would say.
"Keep moving," Jarod urged from behind. "It isn't all that far now."
She continued crawling for several hundred yards more – much further than she would have classified as 'not all that far,' until all of a sudden she could see the end – and that Angelo was climbing through another vent opening into a room of some sort. With a sigh of relief – and a promise to herself NOT to do this very often – she pushed ahead and was grateful for the hands that reached in toward her and then helped her extricate herself.
"Parker!" Sydney growled gratefully and pulled her roughly into his arms. She was painfully thin – despite her pregnancy, she'd lost a considerable amount of weight – and was breathing harder than he'd ever seen her breathe before. "Thank God you're all right!"
Parker suffered the embrace with patience, figuring that maybe THIS older man who was clasping her so protectively to him was actual family to her. It had been so long since she had known the feeling of actually belonging somewhere. "Are you my father?" she asked plaintively when he put her back so he could look into her face again.
Sydney's face fell. "I wish I were," he admitted, and then hugged her tightly again. "It doesn't matter - you are the daughter I wish I'd had," he stated firmly, "and I've been worried sick about you."
It was better than nothing, and Parker allowed herself to relax into this older man's embrace gratefully. "I just want to belong somewhere," she murmured sadly.
"You belong with us," Jarod told her gently, and she could feel his hand on her shoulder as she lay against the older man.
"Sissy?" Parker wasn't allowed to relax for long before there was a tug on her sleeve. She looked down into intelligent grey eyes that looked up into hers longingly. "Sissy? Do you remember me?"
She glanced at the older man. "This is your little brother, Parker," Sydney explained quickly and simply. "We got him out too."
This was family – REAL family – for the first time in the little time she could remember. "Hey there, little man," she tried to smile bravely and opened her arms to the boy in much the same way the older man had opened his to her. "We're safe now," she told him and then gazed around her. "Right?"