Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 5
“Self-reliance
is the only road to true freedom, and being one’s own person is its ultimate
reward.”
Patricia Sampson
Jarod reached
the end of the room and turned, a few paces carrying him to the opposite wall,
where he turned again. This had been the pattern of several days and Jarod was
beginning to look less like a man and more like a trapped animal with every day
that passed. He didn’t notice the constant movement. Instead, before his eyes
came images of people, countless people, with whom he had had contact over his
brief period of freedom. A steady stream of faces, many of whom showed grateful
expressions which had warmed his heart at the time and continued to do so now,
even when he felt as though he had no chance of ever seeing them again.
The weeks and
months stretched out in a seemingly endless stream and he shuddered inwardly at
the thought that he would have to spend the time cooped up in a small room.
As he turned
to complete another length, a different face floated into his mind’s eye. This
one had no connection with any of the other faces and didn’t belong to those
who were and would remain grateful to his memory for the things he had done for
them. This face fell into a different category and had its own special place in
his heart. The face was soon accompanied by others - all of whom had colored
his life at the Centre, in one way or another, either for the good or the bad,
starting with Raines, Kyle and Angelo and ending, finally with Kenny and Damon.
A long procession of people, many of whom had been in his life for a short time
and vanished, never to be seen by him again. The thought was disturbing, that
he hadn’t managed to keep in contact with people who had, for a time, brought
light and interest into his life.
But still
there was the one face that stood out so strongly against all the others and
meant more to him than all the rest together. The face was not young, as he
could first remember it, but had aged gracefully over the years and the hair
was swept back over the top of the head, a style that the man had worn for so
many years. Now creases dignified the face that Jarod loved to contemplate,
especially in difficult times like this. A shiver ran through the convicted man
and he moved over to the bed, curling up on it and letting the memories flow
over him in waves.
Miss Parker
watched as the door closed behind the departing figure. Her father was leaving,
to take up a position at one of the other Centre offices that had recently lost
its head of staff. It had taken him just over a week to finish up his affairs
at the Centre and she had watched as he checked through the desks and cupboards
in his office. It was almost unnerving to see it, as clean as if he had never
been there especially after so long working in the same office. She thought
back to the discussion they had had.
“But why
do you have to leave, Daddy?”
“Because the Tower
has instructed me to, Angel. It’s all right; we’ll still see each other. It’s
not as if I was leaving the States. I’ll only be in Washington, and you can
come and visit me on your time off.”
She had
considered laughing at the statement but decided that this wasn’t a good time
for an argument. “But why can’t Raines go?”
“Because
he has other projects that the Tower feels can’t be left to anyone else.” He
closed the case and, picking it up, walked over to her. “Keep me informed about
everything,” he smiled. “Sometimes you look so like your mother.” Closing his
mouth, he turned and walked away.
Broots
scanned the document and quickly converted the handwriting into text. It was
easier than typing up the report and it also meant that he didn’t have to read
the report that Miss Parker had written to her father and requested that he
send while she and Sydney were chasing another vague lead about Jarod.
It was always
a quiet office now as neither Sydney nor Miss Parker had much to say. Broots,
in his own way, was also worried about Jarod. It was natural, he had reasoned
to himself, that the fate of the man who had once saved his life and had also
given him custody of his daughter, should matter.
It was that
same daughter, though, who took up many of his main concerns. If they continued
to fail in their quest to find any sign of Jarod, that daughter could be left
without a father, or be used as what Raines was wont to call an
‘encouragement’. The door slamming behind him brought him several inches out of
his chair but Miss Parker took no notice and stormed past him into her office.
Sydney lingered for a moment by the desk.
“Still no
sign.” He sat on a nearby chair with a deep sigh.
“So that
was...?”
“An old lead,
from more than a year ago. One we must have missed.”
“Sydney,
we’ll find him.”
The older man
looked up, the beginnings of exasperation on his face. “That’s what you’ve been
saying for three months. One signal, in all that time, to let us know if he’s
alive. And we don’t even know that he is!”
Broots,
amazement dawning on his face, looked up. “You really do care about him. After
all this time, denying it. He’s the most important thing in the world to you,
isn’t he?”
Sydney got up
from the chair, shot one look of anger combined with something that Broots
could not understand at the technician, and slammed the door behind him as he
left.