Suppressed Memories Part 4

 

Sydney's heart nearly stopped as he viewed the scene. Lyle, his body battered by the waves, was still visible as his jacket prevented him from being dashed over the edge of the waterfall and down into the lake below, but it was on the figure of Jarod that Sydney's eyes were frozen, crumpled on the ground, blood running down his face. The psychiatrist had always known that the younger man wouldn't die passively of an illness - that wasn't in his nature - but Sydney had never thought that he would be there to see the death actually occur. His feet were frozen to the ground and his breath stopped in his throat. His son, however, had run forward and now, his face red from exertion, Nicholas looked up. "He's alive! I can feel a pulse."

 

The words galvanized Sydney into action and he ran forward to sink on his knees beside the pretender.

 

"Get Lyle's body. Check he's dead." Sydney didn't recognize the voice as coming from his throat. His hands quickly checked Jarod's arms, legs and head to be certain that there were no other injuries except for the wound to the arm and the knock to the back of his head. Although his hands were rapidly covered in dirt and blood, Sydney never noticed, concentrating instead on trying to revive the unconscious man.

 

"Come on Jarod, please. Look at me. Wake up. Please!"

 

Broots and Nicholas, having dragged the corpse from the beating of the waves, now approached the two figures and Nicholas opened the first aid case that he had grabbed when Miss Parker had run up to the house. With deft fingers he wrapped a dressing around the bleeding arm and then, after Broots had wet a handkerchief in the river, gently washed the Pretender's face with the cool cloth.

 

Standing, Nicholas led his father to the water and washed the worst of the grime off his hands. Wiping a streak of blood from the older man's forehead, Nicholas murmured comforting words into the ear of the still visibly shocked man.

 

"It's okay, Dad. He'll be fine. It's nothing - a surface wound. They always bleed a lot. He'll need a couple of days to get over the headache and then..."

 

"But what if he ends up like Parker?" Sydney's secret fear finally burst from him in an anguished cry of fear.

 

Broots' voice could be heard at that point. "Syd, can you come here?"

 

His feet moved faster than Sydney had known possible and he looked down at the face, in which the man's eyes were beginning to move under the closed lids.

 

"Jarod?"

 

The hand under his moved, tightening its grip on his fingers, and Jarod's tongue slid out of his mouth to moisten his pale lips, before he managed to speak.

 

"Syd-ney?"

 

"Yes, Jarod. I'm here."

 

"Is..." The eyelids slowly lifted and, even as he winced in pain, Jarod tried to sit up. Broots, however, restrained him. "Is Lyle...dead?"

 

"Yes, Jarod." Nicholas spoke matter-of-factly.

 

"Good." His eyes slipped shut and his hand went limp in Sydney's.

 

"Jarod?" The whisper was filled with panic.

 

"Dad, it's okay," Nicholas assured him. "It's just the concussion. He'll sleep it off and be fine. You know that."

 

Sydney stared at the ground for several seconds, trying to control his emotions but Broots, getting to his feet as he looked over at Nicholas, brought him back to the present.

 

"We need to get him back to the house somehow."

 

"Stretcher?" Nicholas' tone was abrupt and business-like.

 

"We could make one..."

 

"We don't have a choice."

 

*           *           *           *

 

Michelle had been trying to concentrate on the book she was reading but her eyes had continually strayed to the path down which Sydney and the others had vanished. She looked at the corner of the room, where Miss Parker was watching television but even that could not hold her attention. Finally she saw the group coming through the trees.

 

"Parker, go up to your room for a while, please."

 

"Do I have to?"

 

"Yes please, now." The woman, living in the mind of the little girl, stumped up the stairs, muttering under her breath. Michelle, meanwhile, moved to the front door and threw it open. As the group approached the house, her instinct had been that Nicholas was the one injured but, seeing him carrying one end of the stretcher, her relief made her feel guilty. It wasn't her fault that Nicholas was more important to her than Jarod could ever be, despite the pretender's connection with Sydney, and it was natural that she should be relieved that it was not her son who lay on the stretcher. But the guilt was unavoidable.

 

Sydney's face was now covered in a mixture of sweat, blood and tears. Nicholas had not had a chance to properly remove it all and his father had been too intent on bringing Jarod back to the house to worry. Michelle held open the door and allowed the group to pass through.

 

"Where?"

 

"The bedroom."

 

Broots nodded and he and Nicholas maneuvered the stretcher up the stairs. The awkward moment of moving the still figure onto the mattress was completed with surprising ease and, fortunately, allowed easy access to the injured arm. Jarod had made no sound as Broots and Nicholas had done it, still lying with his eyes closed, and Sydney had been unable to help, his emotions leaving him only able to clutch at Michelle's hand like a man drowning in the ocean clutching at a rope.

 

*           *           *           *

 

Sydney sat on a chair in the corner of the room and stared at the still man on the bed. The concussion, he knew, was unlikely to fully wear off for some time and it had only been two hours since they had carried him up from the riverbank. He found it painful to look at the various bruises that were leeching around from the back of Jarod's head and disfiguring his face. The blow had been a hard one and the rock that had pierced the skin left a gash that had really required stitches, but without the necessary equipment, he had only been able to bandage it tightly and hope that would be enough. That was one of the negative parts of their situation, the inability to alert themselves to other peoples' presence by something as simple as calling a doctor. Sydney wondered how Jarod had managed to survive for so long on his own with those restrictions. He recalled Broots saying something about it during the first months of their hunt for him, but Miss Parker had brushed aside the comment, as she had any suggestion of sympathy for the escapee. Now Sydney glanced over at the technician who sat in the corner as he got to his feet and walked over to the bed.

 

"Jarod?" He gently shook the Pretender's shoulder.

 

Broots stared at the doctor from his chair in the corner. "What are you doing?"

 

Sydney looked at him. "Making sure he'll to wake up. With concussion, especially after being unconscious for as long as he has, we need to make sure that he'll come around. If he won't wake or is badly disoriented, then we need to get him to a hospital, regardless of the consequences."

 

"Or?"

 

Sydney sighed and looked up as Nicholas walked into the room. "Jarod might die. Concussion can be fatal."

 

Broots stared at the floor and Sydney walked over, sitting down as Nicholas took his place beside the bed. With little real medical knowledge, the technician's feelings had been based purely on Jarod's outward appearance and, comforted by having overhearing Nicholas' comments by the river, he had not imagined the potential danger of the injury.

 

"Jarod." Nicholas leaned over the bed and shook the Pretender slightly harder than his father had done. "Come on, Jarod, wake up."

 

The injured man groaned softly and moved his head on the pillow. Nicholas had earlier shut the blinds but the light streaming in around the edges of the curtains provided illumination. Jarod's eyelids slowly lifted and the younger man smiled.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

Jarod smiled faintly in response, swallowing thickly. "Like…crap."

 

"Do you know who I am?"

 

"Nicholas."

 

"Okay, great. And the day?"

 

Jarod's brow furrowed briefly in concentration. "Friday."

 

"Do you know where you are?"

 

His eyes roved around the room. "House. Parker."

 

"Well done. Do you hurt anywhere?"

 

"Arm."

 

"Anywhere else?"

 

"Head."

 

"Is that it?"

 

Jarod thought for a moment. "Uh huh."

 

"Do you want anything for it?"

 

His head moved slightly from side to side.

 

"Okay, just relax. We're going to look after you."

 

The Pretender sighed, his eyes closing immediately and Nicholas turned from the bed to the other two men in the room. "It looks good. If we keep doing that for the next few hours, he should be fine."

 

Broots cleared his throat nervously. "You didn't say that he could..."

 

Sydney glanced at Broots and nodded reluctantly. "I know. Some people recover from that sort of thing very easily and it seemed better to wait until we saw what happened. He was also very alert during the conversation by the river and that was a good sign."

 

Broots looked at Nicholas. "And how did you know what to do?"

 

Nicholas smiled. "When you teach kids, it's a good idea to know enough to treat them if something goes wrong. It's much easier to get a good job with solid first aid qualifications."

 

"What's this?" Sydney indicated the glass that Nicholas had set in front of him when he entered the room, and which his son had just forcibly placed in his hand.

 

"Something for your headache," the young man stated firmly.

 

"How do you know that I...?"

 

"Dad, you still look as pale as when we came back two hours ago. Just drink it, it'll do you good."

 

*           *           *           *

 

April 13, 1970, 7am.

""I saw the Lord before me at all times. He is near me, and I will not be troubled. And so I am filled with gladness, and my words are full of joy. And I, mortal though I am, will rest assured in hope, because you will not abandon me in the world of the dead; you will not allow your faithful servant to rot in the grave. You have shown me the paths that lead to life, and your presence will fill me with joy." (Acts 2:25-28) If I am to die then I shall hope to do so bravely, facing my accusers and basking in the glow of the light of God."

 

Sydney's head jerked up from his chest, the diary fell to the floor and he found himself breathing rapidly. He couldn't go to sleep. He had to stay awake in case Jarod woke and needed something. With a start, he saw the figure sitting in the other chair of the room, but the dimness of the lamp and his own weariness made distinguishing features difficult. The other man spoke in Nicholas’ voice.

 

"Dad, go to bed. I'll stay here for a few hours and then Broots said to wake him up to take his turn."

 

"How's Parker?"

 

"Fine. But there was one point this afternoon..."

 

The psychiatrist was instantly alert. "What happened?"

 

"She...looked at me and her eyes were - different. Older, I think. I can't really explain. Then she spoke, and her voice was different too. More mature, like that of an adult rather than a child."

 

Sydney nodded slowly. "I think... we might be reaching the end of the road. If she can gain control - even for short periods - then integration could be finally within reach."

 

"Integration?"

 

"The joining, or unity, of the personalities. It's the final step, the last piece of the puzzle."

 

"And that would mean...?"

 

Sydney looked at his son as he got up to check the man on the bed. "Once Jarod gets over this, we can start planning the next move."

 

*           *           *           *

 

"Sydney?" The younger man slowly opened his eyes to look at his former teacher, who was leaning over the bed, his voice soft with compassion and understanding.

 

"Yes, Jarod. I'm here."

 

"I did it again - I killed someone." The tears began to roll down Jarod's cheeks as he looked up. "I killed a man."

 

The older man sat on the edge of the bed and gently wiped away the tears. "And if you hadn't, we would all have been killed."

 

Jarod looked up from the pillow. "What?"

 

"There was a slip in Lyle's pocket from the Triumvirate. It was an execution order. Both Raines and Mr Parker signed it. Lyle, under their directive, was coming to kill us all."

 

The Pretender visibly tensed, his eyes wide. "Then we need to get out of here!"

 

"Shh! Calm down." Sydney placed one hand on his shoulder to restrain him, as the younger man struggled to sit up. "We've organized that already. Nicholas, Debbie, Angelo and Michelle have moved into a building a few miles from here."

 

"Hunter's Lodge?"

 

"That's the one."

 

Jarod closed his eyes for a moment, initially in relief, but squeezed them tight as a wave of nausea swept over him. Sydney, seeing his muscles tighten, placed his hands over the two fists. "Let me get you something for that."

 

"No," the younger man ground out from between clenched teeth.

 

"Jarod, you don't have to a hero now. Just be happy in the fact that you've saved the lives of eight people and stop worrying."

 

"But I - "

 

"Jarod, look at me!"

 

The face that the Pretender slowly turned to Sydney was pale apart from the discoloration that was spread across it, and his eyes were almost black. The doctor leaned over him, his eyes anxious but speaking gently.

 

"You've done so much for all of us, especially Parker. I want you to stop worrying. Let me help you to get rid of the worst of the pain."

 

He held out both arms and Jarod leaned into the reassuring embrace, recalling the few times that Sydney had comforted him as a child. Sydney felt the tears soak through his shirt and the tremors shake Jarod's body as the emotion came pouring out. Four years of suppressed grief and anger, as well as feelings kept hidden away of his time at the Centre, were released in those minutes of emotion and Jarod, sitting up again, felt as if a weight had been lifted from him.

 

"Th...thank-you Sydney."

 

Sydney stood up and straightened the blankets after turning the pillow so that it was cool when Jarod lay back down against it.

 

"Don't try to hide that again, Jarod. You don't have to be alone now. Share the pain with us - it makes the burden easier to bear."

 

*           *           *           *

 

"As I start counting back from three, Parker, I want you to slowly begin waking up. Three...you're feeling more awake...two...and one." There was a long pause before he leaned forward. "Parker?"

 

The figure opened her eyes and focused on at the man who sat in a chair beside the bed. "Sydney." Her eyes wandered around the room before coming back to him. "Thank you, Sydney. For everything."

 

"How do you feel?"

 

"In control. Whole. I've...never felt like that before. It's so..."

 

There was another pause.

 

"Do you remember that we discussed the diary?" Sydney proposed.

 

"Yes."

 

"You wanted to read it then. Do you still want to now?"

 

"I want to."

 

"And it won't..."

 

"She's gone. No, not gone. Part of me. And I won't let her take control again. Her memories are part of me, and her feelings are, too, but she isn't a separate entity anymore and I won't let her become one."

 

Sydney picked up the red plush diary from the floor beside his chair and put it on the bed. Then he rose from the chair. "Call me if you need anything."

 

"Sydney?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Where's...can I see Jarod?"

 

"Not right now. I think it would probably be better for both of you if you waited a while longer." Sydney's imagination conjured up the image of Jarod with bruising on his face and he was thankful for Broots' suggestion that the two be kept apart for a while. The affect on either of them seeing the other was difficult to judge, but he knew that the event would probably not be pleasant.

 

*           *           *           *

 

Jarod's eyes scanned the pages that lay on his lap. The sun streamed in through the window and warmed him. He closed his eyes for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of peace.

 

"What should I look for?" Broots queried from his seat opposite the Pretender.

 

Jarod's eyes ran down the list that he was making on a piece of paper. "Try KGB and détente at this stage."

 

"What have we got?"

 

Jarod smiled as Sydney walked into the room, asking the question at the same time as he sat down on the end of the bed. "Some answers but more questions. Seems kind of typical for the Centre."

 

"How do you deal with all of the dead ends?"

 

Jarod looked at the balding man as he put forward the query. "Well, for all the dead ends, there are usually a few useful bits and pieces, and I think there'll be some in this circumstance as well. It's just a matter of patience."

 

"I know this sounds kind of strange, but what are you looking for?"

 

Jarod looked up and smiled at Sydney's son. "It's not that strange. I've been hunting for a connection between the Centre and the activities during the Cold War. You know what that was?"

 

"Of course. Conflict that divided Europe. Communists against the rest. Berlin Wall. So what?"

 

"There wasn't just the physical confrontation. Most of the war was conducted secretly, through various organizations and plans. The biggest potential nasty, of course, were the big nuclear weapons stockpiles that both the US and USSR had. There were a few tense situations, mostly during the fifties and sixties, when it seemed like the world would explode in a mushroom shaped cloud, but it was always avoided. Although the Americans won't admit it, the Russians really won the secret underground war. They knew about virtually every spy that the West placed in the Communist-controlled areas whereas the Russian spies once in a while even managed to gain high-ranking positions in the American government. Admittedly many of them were unmasked, but some retained their positions and continued to feed information through right through to the end."

 

Jarod picked up a sheaf of papers and waved them in the young man's direction with a grin on his face. "This is proof of what the Centre was involved in for so long. They were using one of their branches there to collect information to feed to the CIA." He picked up another bundle. "And accessing secret information from inside the American government files to feed to the Russians. I'd guess that the KGB found out what they were doing and possibly held the Centre's people in Russia for a ransom of sorts. Then, when the Centre offered information was may have been useful, they released their prisoners and started paying." Jarod looked at the three men, all of whom sat staring at him. "They had their hands neatly in both tills and made a nice fortune out of it."

 

The psychiatrist gasped in horror. "But...the Centre was a fertility organization and research corporation!"

 

"Sorry Sydney, but that was only the work they were doing with NuGenesis. This was the real stuff. There's no money in fertility, but there's plenty to be had in the spying game."

 

"How did they do it?" Nicholas demanded. "Most of that information must have been very confidential!"

 

"Of course, but it had to be stored somewhere. Computers were still relatively new at that stage and not many people had ones powerful enough to hack into secret files. You had to have a lot of money for that - and to pay reconnaissance pilots to make copies of the photos they took to pass along to your colleagues on the other side of the Iron Curtain."

 

Jarod inhaled sharply as he looked at the next page. "And this appears to be a complete listing of NATO nuclear sites in every country of the world. Look at this - site, amount, everything. All uncovered by the Centre and other organizations working with it and all handed over to the Soviets - lock, stock and launch pad."

 

"And what did the Centre get out of this?"

 

"Money and plenty of it. Enough to finance NuGenesis and also for..." Jarod's voice trailed off as he looked at the page in front of him.

 

"For what, Jarod?"

 

The Pretender’s lips trembled for a moment before he steadied them, but Sydney, at least, could see the pain in his eyes when he looked up. "Project Prodigy."

 

Jarod, one hand on the part of his arm that Lyle had shot, sat staring out of the window to where the tree were losing their leaves in the last days of autumn. The room had remained silent after Jarod had voiced his discovery until Broots called up another page on the computer in front of him.

 

"What's this?"

 

Jarod glanced at the screen. "It's the methods by which the Centre accessed their information. Access codes, passwords, all of that information."

 

"And whose signature is that? There, on the bottom."

 

Jarod stared briefly at the screen and then fell silent. Sydney gently touched him on the shoulder. "Jarod?"

 

"It...it's Kyle's. Raines must have been using Kyle to access the information. And then he made a child accept all of the guilt for it. If these documents had ever been leaked to the FBI or the CIA during that time, Kyle would have..." Jarod's voice stuck in his throat and he seemed unable to breath as his eyes fixed on the signature of his dead brother. Sydney glanced at Jarod's face and shut the lid of the laptop, bringing Jarod out of his reverie.

 

"Was the FBI, or the CIA, getting any advantage out of this?"

 

"Not as complete as the one that the KGB, and before them the MVD, got. Oh, the Americas were told details about a few of the smaller nuclear sites, and a couple of the smaller spies were uncovered. But usually only the ones that the KGB had no further use for, both in terms of sites and people. That would always be the end of their careers in any case."

 

"And their families?"

 

"Were usually tortured and generally imprisoned as traitors. Some were killed. It depended on the position of the person. Don't forget that the Soviets, with a very complete record of every citizen, had a much better chance of learning about the spies. Often the role of the Centre was just to provide solid evidence that the person had been involved in actions against the Soviet Union. But that was really more than enough..." 

 

*           *           *           *

 

Sydney slowly opened the door and found Parker lying on the bed with the diary open on her chest.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

She sniffed and wiped her eyes before she sat up. "I can't believe how much she went through. Have you read this?"

 

"Parts of it."

 

"This is the bit I can't believe. The last entry."

 

“April 13 1970, 8am.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; I will fear no one. The Lord protects me from all danger; I will never be afraid. When evil men attack me and try to kill me, they stumble and fall. Even if a whole army surrounds me, I will not be afraid; even if the enemies attack me, I will still trust in God...In times of trouble he will shelter me; he will keep me safe in his temple and make me secure on a high rock. So I will triumph over my enemies around me. With shouts of joy I will offer sacrifices in his Temple; I will sing, I will praise the Lord. (Psalms 28: 1-6)"Oh, God, protect me. I am afraid. I trust in You but I am still afraid. Help me not to be afraid until the last moment of my life and then to give myself to you happily when that moment has arrived."

 

Miss Parker looked up at the man standing in the doorway, a sad expression on his face as he saw the pain in her eyes. "She knew, Sydney. Somehow she knew. How did she know?"

 

*           *           *           *

 

The moonlight illuminated the figure on the bed, caught in one of his frequent nightmares, and the visitor approached the bed nervously. Turning, he threw one arm sideways and the light clearly showed the bruising that even several days of treatment had not managed to remove. The intruder couldn't restrain a gasp. She had known nothing of the injury, apart from being told that Jarod was unwell, and had been too wrapped up in her own concerns to bother. Her eyes traveled over his figure, his chest wrapped in one of the all too familiar black t-shirts of which he seemed to have an abundance, and she reached down and tugged on another of the identical garments. The sound, however, had broken the disturbed sleep and Jarod's eyes opened, focusing on the figure that stood in the middle of his room.

 

"Parker?"

 

She moved towards the bed but stopped while still out of reach.

 

"They never told me that you..."

 

He smiled. "What did they tell you?"

 

"That you were...sick. I guess I was..."

 

"A little too busy. It's okay. I survived without you for a few days and you obviously did the same. I'm glad to see you - as you, I mean."

 

"But it's...not me."

 

"Well, you're more you than you were before, if that makes sense."

 

"Could you not do that?"

 

He puckered his brow in confusion. "Not do what?"

 

"Practice your pretender skills on me and find out what I'm feeling before I feel it."

 

His dimples deepened. "So you admit that I was right?"

 

"Yes...I mean, no!"

 

"You never did know your own mind too well, Parker."

 

"I know it better than I did...thanks to Sydney - and you."

 

He shifted over slightly on the bed, giving her space to sit down. "I don't bite, you know."

 

Moving over, she sat gingerly on the edge. Her attempt at remaining outwardly calm, however, was shattered when he grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her. It was the closest he had been and she could feel his strength, even as she lowered her head to prevent him seeing her face.

 

"Warmer?"

 

"Thank you."

 

He accepted the statement without comment but began to wonder why she had come to visit him in the dead of night.

 

"Why did you...?" They both spoke simultaneously and their laughter broke the tension slightly.

 

"You first," the man offered.

 

"Okay...why did you help me, that night? I mean, it's hardly a secret what I would have done to you if I'd been..."

 

"In your right mind? But you weren't. And that was, admittedly, probably lucky for me."

 

His eyes traveled over her face and Miss Parker found herself blushing under the intentness of his gaze. "I did it because, despite everything we've been though, you're still the little girl who was my friend for all those years, even if other people did try to interfere."

 

"Sydney showed me that SIM. Jarod, I had no idea..."

 

He put up a hand and brushed the hair away from her face. "It's okay, Parker. I understand."

 

"But you came in when...you didn't have to."

 

"I couldn't let you be treated that way. I've spent the last four years helping total strangers, so doesn't it make sense that I'd also help you? I couldn't leave you at his hands."

 

"Jarod, I...do you know...anything?"

 

Jarod's eyes left her face and stared out of the window. "He...he's dead, Parker."

 

"What?" She started but the firm grasp of his hands prevented her from getting up off the bed. His eyes swung back to her face.

 

"Parker, I didn't do it. I promise. When we...left, he was drunk. I think he heard the door slamming behind us, but he tripped coming down the stairs from the bedroom. I called the police soon after we got to the first house and they told me he was dead and, due to the level of alcohol in his blood, that his death wasn't suspicious. It was an accident, pure and simple."

 

Miss Parker stared at him for several seconds before bursting into tears. He wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through the injured area, and waited until the storm of tears had abated. When she pulled back, he looked down at her.

 

"I was...so scared that he would come after me. All day I've been thinking that I heard him coming back and - oh, Jarod."

 

He rocked her gently until finally the tears had exhausted her. This time, looking up, she remained passively lying in his arms.

 

"No, Parker. And, if we can, we're going to get rid of the other nightmares, too."

 

Bending down, he brushed her forehead gently with his lips but, as he tried to draw back, she used one hand to keep his head down and kissed him hard on the mouth. He initially tried to draw back, but her hand prevented her from doing so and, when the kiss ended several moments later, they had both been willing participants in it. Jarod couldn't help smiling as he straightened up.

 

"What is it?"

 

"In all of the years I've been running, I never imagined..."

 

"What?"

 

"The Ice Queen..." He smiled again.

 

"Jarod, I'm not the person I was. Please tell me that you can see it. I don't want to be that, a prisoner to my nightmares. I want to be my own person."

 

She looked up at him and then, as he slipped further over the bed, she lay down, her head on his chest and her body pressed up against his. He tucked a blanket around her and curled his arm around her shoulders while she clung to him. In this way the rest of the night passed.

 

*           *           *           *

 

"Sydney, have you seen…" the technician began nervously. "I can't find Parker."

 

"What?!"

 

Sydney jumped up from the seat in the kitchen and rounded on the man. "Where have you looked? Did she leave a note? Did anyone see her leave?"

 

"Dad."

 

Sydney turned and looked at Nicholas as he also stood up, his voice calm.

 

"Don't you think that perhaps you should look around before you go jumping to conclusions? She wouldn't have any reason to leave, at least not without saying goodbye anyway. I don't think that panicking is going to help."

 

"Do you have a suggestion?"

 

"That we split up and search the house," answered Nicholas calmly. "And then the grounds, if she's not inside. She may simply have gone for a walk. Or ask Jarod, he might know."

 

Broots tapped gently at the Pretender’s door and then pushed it open, poking his head into the room. Open-mouthed, he stared for several seconds before slowly pulling the door closed again and turning to face the two other men in the hallway with him.

 

"Well?"

 

"She's, um, there."

 

"With him?"

 

The answer came slowly. "Yes."

 

Nicholas stared at his father for a moment before bursting into silent laughter. "I did wonder if there was anything..."

 

"I can't believe it of him...or her..."

 

Nicholas took his father's arm and half-led, half-dragged him down the hall. "Dad, they're adults, not the children you knew at the Centre. Having got rid of so many of their negative emotions, they're even more likely to be able to get involved in a successful relationship like that."

 

Sydney stopped and stared at his son with wide eyes before suddenly joining in the amusement.

 

*           *           *           *

 

Miss Parker opened her eyes and stared out of the window through which the sun was streaming. Being so close to winter, the light contained little warmth and she shivered before moving closer to Jarod's sleeping form. His arms tightened slightly around her and she couldn't help thinking how incredible their lives had become. Only months ago the situation would have been unimaginable for either of them, and several years before that neither would have believed that anything would ever have ended their friendship. She moved and felt Jarod sharply inhale. Sitting up, she watched as his eyes flew open and he began to rub a bandaged area on his arm.

 

"I'm...sorry. I didn't know."

 

He smiled ruefully. "It's okay. I'll survive."

 

"What happened?"

 

He looked at her but said nothing.

 

"Please tell me, Jarod. It hadn't happened a few days ago."

 

"I got it at the same time as these facial decorations."

 

"How?"

 

"I...got shot."

 

"What?!"

 

"Not too badly. It's more like a friction burn really. The bullet grazed my arm and I fell backwards and knocked myself out on a tree branch."

 

"Who shot you?"

 

There was a pause.

 

"Lyle."

 

"He was here? Why didn't you tell me? Is he...?"

 

"Parker."

 

"But he'll come back and..." Her voice was rising, mirroring the terror that was building inside her.

 

"Parker, listen to me."

 

His words, sharply spoken but still with soft tone that he had adopted since he first brought her to his lair, broke through the hysteria and she looked down at him, eyes wide in a pale face.

 

"Parker, he's dead. Lyle is dead."

 

"He's...?"

 

She looked at him for several seconds and burst into tears of relief, similar to those that she had shed the previous evening.

 

"Parker, are you all right?" The cultured tones from the doorway made both turn to see Sydney standing there, a tray in his hands.

 

The woman nodded as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly got up off the bed. Still wrapped in the blanket, she sat down in one of the chairs and took the mug Sydney offered.

 

"What now?"

 

"I want Parker to join the others." Jarod leaned back against the pillows that were piled behind his head as he spoke.

 

Her eyes widened. "What?!"

 

"Parker, I..."

 

"Jarod, no. I don't want to leave. I want to stay - with you."

 

"Parker, listen to me. Lyle found out that we're here. I don't know exactly how, but I can guess. Nicholas, Michelle, Angelo and Broots are staying in a house some distance from here. I want you to go and join them."

 

"But...what about you?"

 

"I'll be going as soon as I'm well enough to move around. I'm not at the walking stage yet - it's still a day or two away."

 

"And Sydney?"

 

"Well, after a lot of arguments," Jarod grinned up at his former mentor, "he stayed to take care of us. I want you to go there and then, when we're together again, we can leave and go somewhere else - somewhere safe."

 

"But they haven't come yet."

 

"They will. I figure that they'll give Lyle a week to finish everything and get back to the Centre. Which gives us another three days. And then they'll arrive and kill us all. So please, Parker, will you go?"

 

*           *           *           *

 

"What else?"

 

"Détente, Glasnost, Perestroika..." Jarod offered in rapid succession.

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Pe-re-stroi-ka. Okay, search...Whoa! More than fifty references on each!"

 

"Any connections?"

 

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean..." The technician fell silent and Parker, sitting at the foot of the bed where Jarod lay and whose confusion had been increasing during the conversation, now looked up. He noticed her expression and laughed.

 

"Sorry, Parker. I forgot that you haven't been privy to the conversations we've been having over the past few days. All of the terms are associated with the Cold War. Détente was an attempt, begun in 1973, to relax tensions between Russia and America. It succeeded for several years but finally collapsed in 1981."

 

"Jarod?"

 

The Pretender looked over at the technician. "Yeah?"

 

"There's a major section here. Do you want it?"

 

"Let me see."

 

Broots handed over the pages and Jarod skimmed them. "I thought as much." He looked back at Parker with a half-smile. "The Centre, of course, wasn't too happy about the possibilities of friendlier relations, fearing that the end of the Cold War would also be the end of the extra pocket-money they were receiving. The main reason for détente's collapse was a piece of important knowledge. The Russians found out about the tensions regarding the Vietnam War and also the resignation of Nixon in 1974 over the Watergate scandal. The Centre had passed information on to the KGB, explaining the political and social situation in America following these events and Russia then increased their aggression, invading Afghanistan in 1979 among other activities. Although détente continued for several years after that, it was never as successful as it had been and was finally abandoned in the years leading up to the start of Reagan's presidency in 1981."

 

"And the Centre?"

 

"Handed on everything they could get - which was a lot - and then forgot to shred the evidence. It was found in 1990, but a big cover-up meant that most people never got to see it."

 

"That's the information on Glasnost and Perestroika."

 

Jarod took the papers with a nod at Broots and rapidly read through them.

 

"And they were?" Parker prompted.

 

"Programs instigated by Mikhail Gorbachev at the end of the 1980's, around '86 and '88 respectively. Glasnost means 'openness' and was referring specifically to the Russian press. The Centre, of course, was terrified that the information might reveal the extent of their games. Perestroika was a campaign to reform Russian production and the Soviet economy. Its success was only limited but the Centre was concerned that these programs could end their deals and tried to interfere. Unfortunately for them, though, they'd already begun to lose credibility with the Russians and so were passed over."

 

"Why? What caused the change?"

 

"Several factors. One of the spies that the Centre informed on to the Americans had a much larger role than the Centre anticipated. This particular person also dragged his entire network of fellow informers down with him." Jarod tapped a second sheaf of pages. "A second reason was to do with the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. The information that the Russians received suggested to them that America's determination on the nuclear issue decreased after JFK's election as President in 1961. The Soviets moved nuclear arms into Cuba, with whom they'd formerly signed a treaty, and waited for the American response. It was much more aggressive than the Russians had been led to believe."

 

"And the Russians blamed the Centre?"

 

"Partly, yes. The Centre passed on many scientific discoveries too, particularly nuclear-related ones. One of their suggestions contributed to Chernobyl. Soviets have long memories and, as of that time, Centre information became of much less value. Consequently, they were paid less for it."

 

"Not a popular move."

 

Jarod looked over to Sydney with a smile. "What do you think?" He looked down at the papers that he still he held in his hand. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if..." his voice faltered as his eyes ran over the page.

 

"What is it?"

 

The Pretender looked up and smiled in an infuriatingly superior manner as he folded the page and slipped it into the pocket of the jacket that Miss Parker had insisted on him wearing when sitting up to stop him from feeling the cold. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, my dear."

 

Miss Parker tossed her head. "Well, fine. I didn't really want to know, but you never can bear not to share information anyway, so I guess all I have to do is wait. You'll tell me eventually." She got up from the bed and left the room.

 

"Really, Jarod, that wasn't very nice."

 

Jarod tried to look guilty and failed. "Oh come on, Syd. It's so nice to be able to bait her and get a familiar response again. It's like old times."

 

"So you want to go back to the way things were?"

 

Jarod thought over the past four years. "Well...not really. Besides, she'll come back. Parker's natural curiosity won't let her stay away."

 

*           *           *           *

 

Jarod looked up from the computer as Parker entered the room. As she came over to the bed, he smiled. "I was hoping you'd reappear."

 

She sat down. "What was it - that information?"

 

"I can't tell you now - but I promise you'll know later."

 

"Jarod."

 

"Yes?"

 

"You're so infuriating - did I ever tell you that?"

 

He pretended to think. "Hmm, I have this recollection - I believe, once or twice."

 

She picked up a pillow, about to hit him, but the bruises that were still visible on his face stopped her. "Do they still hurt?"

 

He looked confused. "Huh?"

 

"The bruising. Does it still hurt?"

 

"Only when I get hit with a pillow or something," he retorted.

 

"Don't do that!"

 

"What?"

 

"Work out what I'm thinking!" she protested.

 

"I didn't have to - I know you well enough and when your eyes stray towards the pillows, let along pick one up... well, let's just say I don't need to be a genius to figure it out."

 

"For that, you do deserve it."

 

"But you wouldn't hit me," he smiled knowingly.

 

She was torn between the desire to kill him or to kiss him, but he kissed her first and the other urge suddenly vanished.

 

*           *           *           *

 

The muffled thud from the room overhead drew the attention of both occupants in the kitchen.

 

"Jarod."

 

The expression came from them simultaneously as they ran up the stairs. Reaching the room above, they found the man lying on the floor. As Sydney helped him back into bed, Parker stood glaring at him.

 

"Let me guess. You were so frustrated that you decided to try and walk."

 

He looked up, his face flushed with a combination of pain and annoyance. "Very clever. I couldn't possibly imagine how you worked that one out." He grimaced as pain throbbed in his arm and a blinding headache made him squeeze his eyes shut. Parker had thought of a sharp retort but the comment vanished from her mind as, leaning over the bed, she could feel the tense muscles in the hand that she was holding. Sydney, who had slipped from the room as soon as Jarod was back on the bed, now reappeared with a half-full glass in his hand.

 

"Give that to him and wait." The words were so soft that she could hardly hear them and knew that Jarod would have missed them completely. Then the older man was gone and she was alone with the Pretender. She looked down at him and gently brushed the hair away from his face.

 

"Jarod. Hey, come on."

 

His darkened eyes and gritted teeth showed that the pain was not diminishing, but when she held the glass to his lips, he slowly swallowed the contents. She put it on the table beside the bed and then eased several of the pillows out from behind him until he was lying flat. As she smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead, murmuring softly, she could see the drug beginning to take effect.

 

"Parker?" The word was slurred and the effort of speaking brought the flush back to his face.

 

"Yes, Jarod?"

 

"I meant...what I said - before."

 

She leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Jarod?"

 

"Mmm?" He lifted drugged eyes to her face.

 

"I love you, too."

 

As Parker gently pulled the blanket over his sleeping form, she turned to see Sydney leaning against the doorframe, a look of curiosity on his face. "What was that all about?"

 

"Just a little - therapy."

 

"For you or for him?"

 

She smiled but refused to be drawn on the subject. "How long is he going to be like that?"

 

"A couple of hours. He's refused everything I've tried to give him so far and this chance for his body to have a break will help the healing process."

 

"So we can get out of here - when?"

 

"Hopefully the day after tomorrow."

 

"And he'll be well enough?"

 

"Oh, yes. A little shaky, perhaps, but after a couple of days of being spoilt - and I somehow don't think he'll object to that as much as he usually would - he should be fine."

 

"And the others?"

 

"When they called this morning, they said everything's fine but Debbie's getting a little bored." He raised an eyebrow expectantly and she smiled.

 

"Maybe if - "

 

"I could drive you around there now."

 

*           *           *           *

 

When Jarod finally opened his eyes, he saw her sitting in the corner of the room and glancing through the papers he had left on the table.

 

"Morning."

 

"Not quite. It's actually just after seven o'clock this evening. Hungry?"

 

He began to pull himself up but the pain that flashed through his arm prevented it and he barely restrained a gasp as he sank back against the pillow. "I could do with something."

 

She leaned over and pressed a small button on the desk. A faint ringing could be heard downstairs and Jarod looked at Parker with raised eyebrows. "When was that put in?"

 

"Earlier today. Broots designed it and I spent some time over there and brought it back with me."

 

"It's a shame that I won't be needing it much longer."

 

Parker stood and put several pillows behind his head. "You'll get up when we say you can and not before."

 

Jarod tried to look meek and failed. "Yes ma'am. Who put you in charge?"

 

"Sydney, actually."

 

"I realized that she was the person most likely to make you behave," commented the man himself, from the doorway.

 

"It's never worked before, but I guess there's a first time for everything."

 

"Well, I think circumstances have changed in recent times." Sydney smiled when neither Jarod nor Miss Parker were able to meet his eye. "Of course, I could be wrong."

 

*           *           *           *

 

Jarod awoke and looked out of the window. Thick clouds covered the stars and he wondered if the predicted storms were about to arrive. In a way it would make things easier. A storm would prevent their enemies from getting to them quite so fast. He wasn't willing to voice his concerns to the others about the potential dangers of the Centre again but it had been six days since he had... since Lyle had died, and he wondered a little that none of the other Centre employees had arrived to bring the group back to Blue Cove.

 

He felt Parker's body curled up against him and his thoughts went back to the activity of that day. The others had all expressed surprised at the speed with which he had managed to regain his ability to walk, but to Jarod it had seemed almost infuriatingly slow. When he had attempted to increase his speed, however, it had only resulted in him nearly falling and it had taken both Nicholas and Sydney to prevent him from doing so. Still, by the end of the day, he had begun to get used to the movement and was at least able to walk without support.

 

A crash of thunder at this point made him jump and his sudden movement disturbed the figure next to him.

 

"Are you okay?" she murmured.

 

"Fine." He stroked her hair as he spoke. "I was already awake, but the thunder startled me."

 

"Mmm." There was silence, during which Jarod thought she might have dropped off again, but the sound of her voice, seconds later, told him otherwise.

 

"Jarod?"

 

"What?"

 

"Have you ever thought what you'll do, when all this is over?"

 

"I often thought what I'd do if...when the Centre stopped looking for me. Where I'd go. Those plans, though, never involved you. Or anyone else associated with the place, for that matter."

 

She smiled but, in the dark, knew that he couldn't see it.

 

"What about you?"

 

"It didn't matter, as long as I was as far away as possible. It's funny the way that things change. My image of the future always had you being returned to the Centre and me being given the freedom to finally leave." She raised herself onto one elbow and looked down at his face, just visible as the lightening flashed. "But you know what the weirdest thing was?"

 

He reached up and gently ran a finger down her cheek. "What?"

 

"When I saw the boy in the Centre, I couldn't imagine sentencing him to a life of what I knew you went through. Yet I never had any qualms at the thought of returning you there."

 

Jarod's voice was soft in a mixture of understanding and emotion. "You gained something for yourself by bringing me back. What good would it have done to leave him there, to suffer like I did? None. But by trying to take me back, you were saving yourself..." His voice trailed off and he turned away from her, staring into the darkness of the room. She lowered herself to lie on his chest.

 

"Jarod, we'll find them. Remember all the promises you made to me? Well, this is one I'm making to you. We will find your family. I promise."

 

*           *           *           *

 

Jarod moved across the room and sank down into the chair. The last few details moved across the screen and he quickly saved them onto a disk and slipped it into the pocket of his carryall. He turned off the laptop and carefully packed it away. That was everything and they could finally be reunited at the new house. In the week since the accident, Jarod had uncovered all available facts on the details with which the Centre had been involved during the Cold War, and there were times during which he wanted to confront his old captors with all that he had discovered.

 

The only items not packed were the two guns. He hadn’t brought Parker's with him to the first lair, all those months earlier, and his and Lyle's guns were now their only defense against capture by the Centre. He held the cold metal of his weapon for several minutes before slipping it into its holster and strapping the belt around his waist. He knew, despite his recent weakness, that he would have the strength to use it, should the situation arise.

 

He read again the page that contained the information he refused to share with the others. He didn't want them to be aware of it, preferring to produce it at the proper moment. Folding the paper, he returned it to his pocket and stood up. The three bags were piled up in the middle of the room and he began the methodical and habitual search of the room to ensure that he had left nothing behind. It amused him briefly to think that it wouldn't be Miss Parker who would be searching this time and that she, in fact, was one of the fugitives. His eyes suddenly narrowed. The situation had become much more tense now than it had ever been before and he wished, not for the first time, that they had all been able to leave before Lyle arrived. Their enemies were angrier, or would be once they knew what had happened, and thus more dangerous than they had ever been. Jarod knew it would take all of his skills and knowledge to get them all out alive.

 

Jarod's mind flashed back to the other occasions when he had left his lairs: the glee with which he prepared the red notebooks and left out the clues, well aware of the confusion with which they would invariably be greeted. And by which time, of course, he would be happily settling into a new situation, getting to know his workmates and working out the finer points of the new pretend. He found it incredible that the best feelings that he'd experienced in his life had almost all happened within a space of four years. He wondered now if those feelings were about to be supplanted by others.

 

Dragging his mind away from those thoughts, he glanced around for a final time, checking that everything was okay. It saddened him slightly to know that he could never come back to this house which, for him at least, held so many memories. Then, as he was about to leave the room, a noise drew him to the window. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the man cautiously approaching the house. It was a figure familiar to the Pretender and Jarod was heartily thankful that Sydney had decided to go and visit the others for the day. He wished now, though, that Parker had decided to go with them. Even as he extracted the gun from his pocket, he hoped that she wouldn't decide to come downstairs. Jarod was still uncertain of what her reaction to her father would be.

 

He checked that the gun was properly loaded as he silently descended the staircase.

 

"Jarod, I know you're there," a familiar voice suddenly called. "I only want to know where my daughter is. I haven't come to bring you back to the Centre, I promise."

 

'Like hell,' Jarod thought silently as he got to the foot of the stairs. Being so intent on the figure approaching the house, he completely missed the sound of steps behind him and it wasn't until a hand reached out and pulled his hair, forcing his head backwards, that he knew he wasn't alone.

 

Part 5

 

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