Title: Taking the Moment.
Author: Mandy
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Category: S
Spoilers: Mid-fourth season.
Key words: UST.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Genesis.
Summary: Seven years after the events in 'Genesis', Jarod is once again the
target of a rival company's interest. Miss Parker is deployed on a secretive
retrieval mission in order to help Jarod, going undercover in the Whitsundays -
half a world away from help.
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah blah no infringement intended, no profit gained.
Taking the Moment.
Jarod wasn't sure, at first, what had woken him. He was careful to keep
his breathing even, not allowing the tension he felt to tighten his body in any
way that could give him away, listening for any noises to warn him of danger.
When he heard nothing, he dared to open his eyes a crack, searching the darkened
motel room for any movement.
When a figure stepped out of the darkness to lunge at him, Jarod rolled to
the side, dropping to the floor as his assailant fumbled on the bed. Jarod made
a desperate bolt for the door, but by then the figure had recovered, bodily
throwing himself at the Pretender.
Gasping for air, Jarod stumbled back and fell, grappled on the floor with
the man. He managed to sneak in a couple of good hits, and was rewarded for his
efforts by a fist to his jaw. He spat blood onto the carpet, giving a soft cry
of rage as he redoubled his efforts, pushing the man to the floor and raising
his fist, crashing it down on the man's masked face again and again. He was
holding the man up, his fist pulled back, ready to strike again when the door
burst open, several more masked figures piling into the room.
Jarod struggled as they grasped him by his arms, growling in fury,
kicking, biting and scratching as he was pinned down. He managed a vicious kick
to one of his attackers, and the man stumbled away with a muttered curse.
Desperate, Jarod began to yell hoarsely as he was held on the floor, futile
calls for help. He knew it was all in vain when one of the figures raised a
needle and jabbed it into his thigh.
Six Months Later
The Whitsundays
East Coast Australia
Seated carefully in a small speedboat, Miss Parker pressed a handkerchief
to her mouth, doing her best to suppress a faint sense of queasiness as the boat
skipped across the waves. The man at the helm turned to give her a brief,
curious look, before focusing back on the island that they were gradually
drawing closer to. The man sitting opposite her offered her a smile, lighting a
cigarette and lounging back on the leather seat.
Feeling hot, nauseous and nervous, Parker turned her head to gaze at their
destination - Laredii Island. Approximately three square miles of tropical
paradise, a privately owned island off the Australian coast. She had flown far
too many hours to reach her destination, connecting flights from St. Louis to
Los Angeles, Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand, Auckland into Melbourne,
Australia, and finally the trip from Melbourne to Brisbane had been her last
commercial flight. A small craft had been waiting in Brisbane, flying her the
final distance to a tiny airstrip in Bowen, where she had landed just two hours
ago.
Having spent more time in the air than she cared to recall, Miss Parker
had lost all sense of time and space, unsteady on her feet and dizzy with
exhaustion. Yet she kept her back straight, carefully smoothing the crumpled
skirt of her linen suit with shaking hands. Beside her sat one small case of
luggage and a Halliburton briefcase, holding all the identification she would
need to complete her identity change, from Miss Parker of the Centre to Ms Lila
Mark, the new head of Security for Laredii Industries.
In the six months since Jarod had disappeared off the face of the planet,
Miss Parker had been working very hard. The fact that he had been abducted was
immediately evident; Parker and her team had come across the motel room he'd
been taken from just twenty-four hours after he was gone. The blood on the
carpet had been identified as Jarod's, and signs of a scuffle were obvious. It
had taken almost three months for Broots to track down who was responsible -
Laredii Industries.
Laredii Industries was not new to the Centre. In fact, Miss Parker
remembered several attempts on their behalf to poach business from the Centre,
but they had simply not been advanced enough to be any threat. Until, that is,
they had managed to catch the Centre's lost trophy - Jarod.
Three months ago, Miss Parker had insinuated herself into Laredii
Industries' St Louis office. Her father and the Triumvirate had provided her
with a complete identity; she was Lila Mark, an embittered ex-Centre Cleaner,
eager to trade Centre secrets for a high salary and a corner office.
Back in Blue Cove, Lyle was heading up the 'public' investigation into
Jarod's disappearance, keeping up appearances. His was a faltering, fumbling
investigation, providing enough cover for her to slip under the radar unnoticed.
Parker, in just three months, had proved herself useful and power-hungry
enough to impress the Director of Laredii Industries, and was now headed to
their private compound in the Whitsundays to oversee security.
Staring across the clear blue waters, Miss Parker pushed her hair off her
face in a nervous gesture. She was aware that her mission here was dangerous,
and the outcome was sketchy at best. She recalled her father's parting words to
her.
"Jarod must be retrieved from Laredii at all costs - dead or alive."
Somewhere on Laredii Island's three-square miles, Jarod was being held
captive. Broots had been unable to discover anything more than the fact that
the Pretender was alive - what state he was in remained to be seen.
****
"Ms Mark?"
Parker looked up at the clipped English accent as she stepped onto the
small dock, almost slipping. The man who had escorted her to the island
steadied her, and she gave him a quick nod of thanks. The woman who had
addressed her gave a cool smile, holding her hand out.
"Ms Mark, I'm Larissa Dalton... welcome to my island."
"Pleased to meet you," Miss Parker murmured politely. The man picked up her
bags and followed as they began to walk up the dock. Parker took the
opportunity to study the English woman.
Dalton was a few inches shorter than Parker, and possessed the kind of
curvaceous figure that she had always envied. Dalton was deeply tanned, her
long blonde hair almost white from the sun. She wore a khaki t-shirt and
shorts, a concession to the heat, making Parker even more conscious of how hot
and uncomfortable she felt.
"St Louis sent over a list of your credentials... very impressive, Ms Mark,"
Dalton said easily. They stepped off the small wooden dock and onto the clean
white sand, and Miss Parker immediately regretted her three-inch heels.
"I take pride in my work," she drawled thickly, "The Centre didn't seem to
appreciate that, so I turned to somebody who would."
"Very wise, and very profitable!" Dalton said with a laugh. Miss Parker smiled
slightly, concentrating on keeping her balance as they walked up the beach.
Soon enough they left the beach, pressing on into the thick tropical
foliage, and Parker was relieved to find there was a boardwalk to make walking
easier. As they walked she could see beautiful rainbow-coloured birds that
clung to the trees, chattering noisily, and yet more that flittered from branch
to branch. She gave a soft gasp as one swooped past her face, and Dalton
laughed.
"Rainbow lorikeets. They own the place..." Dalton explained.
"They're beautiful," Parker said softly, and Dalton shrugged.
"They're okay. It's the cockatoos you have to watch out for - bossy bastards.
We have a few storage huts for equipment on the east side of the island, and
they rip the wood right off the sills if we don't leave seed out for them."
Miss Parker knew a little of Australian fauna, mostly from what she had
seen in documentaries. She recalled cockatoos as being fat white birds, often
close to a foot in height, with great yellow crests on their heads. Somehow she
couldn't imagine such a cuddly-looking bird doing damage, but she also recalled
their wicked hooked beaks.
"You'll have your own rooms within the compound, but you're free to roam the
island on your down time. It's rather isolated here, but Marco makes a trip to
the mainland at least three times a week, and there are a couple of smaller
boats for staff leisure, fishing and diving on the reef. We have jet skis for
our men - tourists sometimes try and land their boats here," Dalton said.
They were approaching a low building of glass and steel. Miss Parker knew from
her brief that, like the Centre, most of the compound's floors were below
ground. At the front entrance, Dalton pushed open the heavy doors to lead the
way inside, a sparsely decorated and thankfully air-conditioned lobby.
"I'll show you to your rooms, you must be tired. We'll reconvene at say... 0900
tomorrow morning," Dalton said, checking her watch. She led the way through the
lobby and down a corridor of glass, the rainforest pressing in at them.
They reached another, smaller room, with several doors leading off it. Parker
knew that the ground floor of the compound was laid out in a ring; around five
of these such lobbies connected by glass corridors. Dalton showed her to a
small yet comfortable suite, the man she assumed to be Marco leaving her luggage
before they both made a quiet retreat. Miss Parker stared around her rooms - a
small sitting room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, large glass windows providing
views of the rainforest on every side.
The furniture was simplistic, a small table with two chairs, a desk, a sofa and
a coffee table. In the bedroom there was a queen-sized bed with a bedside
table, and in the bathroom was a sunken bath. The glass walls would make her
feel like she was bathing outside, Parker mused. There was no television, just
a small stereo, a telephone and one shelf lined with books - all classics. Miss
Parker unpacked with no small feeling of discomfort, disconcerted by the lack of
normal walls - even the dividers between the rooms were made out of frosted
glass. Anyone could look in on her and her actions with ease, and maybe that
was the point.
She made a quick scan for surveillance devices, relieved when she found nothing.
Unpacking quickly, Parker pulled a satellite phone out of her briefcase and
dialled, wedging the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she hung up her
suits. She was about ready to drop from exhaustion, but needed to check in with
her father first.
"Angel! You're at Laredii?" her father asked immediately, and Parker sighed.
As usual, he hadn't bothered to even ask how she was.
"Yes Daddy, I'm here. Daddy, there isn't really that much security surrounding
the island, surely the Centre could just come in and-" she said impulsively, but
her father cut her off.
"Nonsense!" he boomed down the line, "There is no way that the manpower needed
could infiltrate the Whitsundays before they got Jarod out of there."
It was an argument they had had before. Miss Parker had wanted Centre
sweepers to descend on Laredii Island and simply take what they wanted, but Lyle
had provided a resented voice of reason. He had pointed out that a large group
of non-military armed agents would have great difficulty passing through
customs without attracting enough attention for Laredii to notice. The fact
that they didn't even know for sure if Jarod was in the compound, nor
what security surrounded him, made such an attempt suicidal.
One agent, Lyle had gone on to explain, working from the inside out, would
have a much better chance of locating Jarod, assessing his condition and making
an informed decision on how to proceed made much more sense. Grudgingly, Miss
Parker had agreed, but was nevertheless surprised when her father had decided
she would be that agent. Yet despite her protests, he had decided that as the
Centre's most highly trained agent in the field of security, there was none
better.
"Have you seen him yet?" her father asked, breaking Parker out of her reverie.
"No, I only just got here," she said softly, and could almost imagine her
father's impatient expression.
"Well, call us again when you have something," her father harrumphed.
"All right, Daddy, I lov-" Miss parker stopped when she realised she was
speaking to the dial tone.
****
Early the next morning, Parker was roused from sleep by an unfamiliar
shrieking. It was just after dawn, and to her annoyance she realised that the
birds were the ones making the noise, and miserably wondered if this was how she
would begin everyday.
She changed from her nightgown into shorts and a shirt, pulling on running
shoes and venturing from her rooms. She saw several guards on her way to the
front entrance, and did her best to ignore them. She made her way down to the
beach, tying her hair up and beginning a steady jog up the shore.
The day was hot already, and Miss Parker worked up a sweat within minutes.
She kept her breathing even, ignoring the slight strain in her legs and the
occasional slip of her runners on the sand. She ran half a mile up the beach
and turned, wiping the sweat from her brow as she ran back. The sun was burning
down on her, and when she made it back to the boardwalk she bent over, breathing
heavily.
Back in the compound, a man wearing just shorts was standing in the lobby,
slathering sunscreen onto his chest. He caught sight of Miss Parker and smiled,
an intrigued glint entering his eyes.
"G'day," he said in an Australian accent, holding out his hand, "I'm Ken
Jackson."
"Lila Mark," Miss Parker said, shaking his hand and pushing some stray strands
of hair out of her eyes. Jackson looked her over curiously.
"You look pink. You need sunscreen if you go out there - the hole in the ozone
layer means you fry in about five minutes," he remarked conversationally,
"You're the new security head?"
"Yes, although it seems fairly much under control here," Parker said with a
smile. Jackson shrugged.
"We have a new subject, he's tried to make a few breaks. We need you to tighten
up this joint," Jackson said with an easy grin, and Parker was startled by how
freely he spoke of Jarod. Amateurs, she thought wryly.
"I was informed of the circumstances, but I'm not exactly sure what this
'acquisition' everybody is speaking of is," Miss Parker said evenly. Jackson
gave her a wink, watching with interest as she stretched.
"I'll leave that up to Dalton, she'd have my hide if I let slip about something
I shouldn't," he said. Parker raised a brow at him.
"What exactly do you do around here, anyway, Mr Jackson?" she asked archly, and
he chuckled, tucking his tube of sunscreen into his pocket and heading for the
door.
"Security - always suspicious. I'm a doctor, Ms Mark, no need to worry about
me," he called over his shoulder, and then disappeared out into the rainforest.
Parker shook her head in bemusement, heading back to her rooms for a shower. In
her experience, it was the doctors who were the most trouble.
****
Just after three, Parker headed back into her rooms, feeling hot and
tired. Dalton had dragged her around the whole damned island, showing her every
nook and cranny, but not the parts she'd really been interested in - not the
floors underground, nor where Jarod was being kept.
Laredii Island was an efficiently run island, tourists kept away with the
men on jet skis, and the perimeter of the rainforest had electrified wire
running all through it - almost invisible in the foliage. The only space clear
of the wire was the entrance to the beach via the boardwalk, and surveillance
cameras monitored the whole path at all times. There had never been any
breaches of the island - nobody knew about it, except for Laredii itself and,
the Centre of course. The Australian government thought that Laredii Island was
owned by a private millionaire with good security, and were happy as long as
taxes were paid.
In fact, the only reason that Miss Parker had been brought in at all, so
far as she could figure, was to ensure that Jarod wouldn't escape. As Jackson
had already mentioned, their newest subject had already made several attempts.
The irony of it was killing her. She had saved Jarod seven years ago,
began hunting him four years ago, lost him six months ago and was now attempting
to save him again. It seemed that she could never define exactly what her role
in his life was.
Parker headed straight for the shower, feeling hot and sweaty from her day
out in the sun. Stripping off, she stepped under the cool water, tipping her
head back under the spray. She grabbed a bar of soap, scrubbing the sweat from
her body. Just between her breasts, under her breastplate, was the faintest
white mark, barely discernable unless you were looking for it. Miss Parker ran
her fingers over it lightly. It was where a mob kid had stabbed her eight years
ago, the event that had started a sequence of events that wound up with her as
head of Security a year later, protecting Jarod from a kidnapping attempt.
She'd had the scar removed with laser technology almost four years ago.
Rinsing off the soap suds, Miss Parker studied the two other prominent
scars on her body - an entry wound just above her heart, from when she had taken
a bullet for her father, and a glancing scar across her left shoulder, from when
Joe's bullet had grazed past her. She kept the scars to remind her of the
mistakes she had made, but supposed she'd have those removed someday too.
Someday.
Parker emerged from the shower, wrapping a towel around herself and
flicking her wet hair off her neck. Wandering back into the bedroom, she
grabbed her satellite phone and dialled.
"Broots here," came the cheerful answer.
"Broots, it's me. Do you have anything more on Laredii's layout?" Parker asked.
"Oh yeah, hold on," Broots said, and she could hear him rummaging around, "Lucky
you, Miss P, hanging out on a tropical island. You must be wearing the biggest
smile right now."
Unable to resist a little needling, Parker lowered her voice to a sultry
murmur, "Well actually, at the moment, I'm only wearing a towel."
There was a long silence, before Broots made a soft choking noise.
"Huh, I mean, um... Well, I managed to get some information out of an old
janitor who was on Laredii Island until about a year ago. From what he saw,
there are about three subterranean levels, and they have laboratories and some
kind of prison cells!" Broots whispered excitedly.
"Sounds like the Centre," Parker said darkly.
"Exactly..." Broots said.
"Good work. I'll check in again tomorrow to see what you've got," she said
decisively, and ended the call.
Dalton had arranged a four o'clock conference with Jackson to discuss
strategies, and, she assumed, to inform her about their stolen Pretender.
Hopefully, that would lead to a revelation of his whereabouts.
****
Jarod pricked his ears at the sound of movement somewhere near him. In
frustration he rattle his chains, feeling bitter fury settle on him like a
shroud. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been since he was captured, but
he was sure it had to be months now.
At first, he had thought the Centre had him. He had woken up, his head
pounding, in a small cell. The taste of filtered air was a dead giveaway to the
fact that he was underground, and naturally he had assumed he was back in the
sub-levels. Yet his continued demands of his keepers to see Sydney or Miss
Parker had been met with wry smiles, and it hadn't taken long to figure out it
he was not in the Centre.
When the man named Jackson had attempted to initiate tests with him, Jarod
decided he was somewhere near or in Australia. More than one of his handlers
had Australian accents like Jackson, and almost everyone sported a deep tan and
smelled of saltwater, which suggested the coast or an island.
Jarod rattled his chains again, tugging in futility. After his first
attempt at escape, he had been moved from a relatively comfortable cell with a
bed, toilet and light to a small cell with just a toilet. After his latest
escape attempt, he'd been placed in what was essentially a pit, and had ankle
and wrist shackles attached to the wall. There was a catwalk running around and
across his pit, with a ladder that lowered in when his handlers wished to gain
access.
Jarod heard the door to the cavernous room clang open, and the soft murmur
of voices. Angrily he gave one last shake to his chains, then sat sullenly on
the floor facing the wall, determined to ignore whoever it was. Since he had
woken up here, Dr Jackson and his like had tried to tempt, coerce and blatantly
bribe him into revealing more about himself and his abilities, but Jarod had had
adamantly refused to participate in any of their studies. As a result, he had
been beaten on more than one occasion.
"...As you can see, we've had to take a little more extreme measures than we
prefer," said a voice that Jarod recognised as Dalton's. He heard the metal
grate of the ladder sliding into place.
"Unfortunately, we haven't been able to make any progress with the subject so
far, he's been extremely unhelpful," Jackson said, and Jarod scowled. He could
hear the hollow sound of someone climbing down the rungs of the metal ladder.
"Have you had any experience with Pretenders, Ms Mark?" Dalton asked, followed
by more sounds of people descending the ladder. Three, he guessed. Jarod idly
wondered who the new addition to the team was.
"Not personally," a familiar voice said, "But the Centre does provide excellent
training in... persuasion techniques."
Jarod's eyes widened as he realised whom Ms Mark must be. And unless Miss
Parker had defected from the Centre in his absence, which he seriously doubted,
she was here undercover. Most likely sent by the Centre on a rescue mission.
Jarod almost laughed aloud at the irony of it all.
"Won't you stand up and face our guest, Jarod?" Dalton called mockingly. Jarod
leapt to his feet and rounded on her, straining against his chains and growling,
so Dalton took an involuntary step back, laughing nervously.
"He's quite a fine specimen," Miss Parker said calmly, and raked her gaze over
Jarod's bare chest approvingly. She raised her eyes back to his, and he could
see the warning there.
"Who's this Dalton? Another puppet for your game?" Jarod snarled, playing
along. He quite liked this new development.
"This is Ms Mark. She will be working with you and Jackson from now on," Dalton
said coolly. Miss Parker began to walk towards him, and Jarod jerked his chains
in a display of anger.
"I wouldn't get too close, he's quite violent," Jackson said, and touched his
hands to his ribs. Jarod had cracked a few of the Australian's ribs in a
scuffle a few weeks ago, and now he smiled manically.
"I'm not worried," Parker said softly. She stopped when she was just out of his
reach, "While I never had access to the Pretender Project, I do know a bit about
it. That should help with your studies, Dr Jackson."
Jarod had the sudden desire to laugh. He could barely believe that Miss
Parker was standing in front of him, looking as cool and as professional as
ever, masquerading to be someone else. He could see no other reason for her
being here than to aid him. That must be tearing her up inside, Jarod thought
gleefully.
"Another hotshot on our hands I see," Jarod murmured, "Just how far do you think
you can go on the corporate ladder pushing a lab rat around?"
Parker's eyes flared with amusement, and Jarod could see she was
suppressing a smile. He felt a sudden moment of tenderness for her; she was
probably risking her neck by being here, and for him.
"I think I'll have a lot of fun with this one," Parker purred, and gave a
predatory grin.
"Good luck, I've had nothing but trouble," Jackson said with a snort.
"It's all in how you handle them," Parker said, turning to face them, "A little
give, a little take. Is it really necessary to have him in chains? He's got
some rubbing on his wrists."
"As we outlined before, he's made some escape attempts..." Dalton said, and
Parker shrugged, taking out her gun.
"It's okay. *I'm* here now."
****
As she wrapped some bandages around his wrists, Parker studied Jarod
carefully. She had taken him up to the nurse's station, just one floor below
ground. Seems as there was no actual nurse in the station, she was now
bandaging Jarod's wrists herself while Jackson and Dalton stood back and watched
- Dalton had her gun.
Jarod was not in good shape; that was clear. For all his bravado, he had
lost a lot of weight. He had a patchwork of bruises all over his body, and a
cut over his right eye, and was sitting very stiffly. She caught his eye as she
finished bandaging his wrist, and he gave her a long, adoring stare. For a
moment she couldn't figure it out, until she heard the soft whispering of the
pair behind her.
"Look at him. One kind word in his direction and he's a puddle at her feet,"
Dalton hissed, and Parker heard Jackson snicker.
"Maybe he just doesn't go blondes, Larissa," he whispered back, and Miss Parker
bit her lip to hide a smile.
A moment later she turned away from Jarod coolly, retrieving her gun from
Dalton, who checked her watch. Parker smiled tightly, "If you have somewhere to
be, Miss Dalton, I can take Jarod back downstairs."
Dalton hesitated for a moment, casting a sidelong glance at Jackson,
before she apparently made up her mind. She gave Parker a quick nod, "Thankyou,
Ms Mark, Jackson and I have work to do. I'll see you in the morning."
Miss Parker and Jarod rode down in the lift in silence, mindful of the
camera in the corner. But on the way back to the pit, Parker stopped Jarod with
a hand on his arm, whispering, "There's no camera's here, we can talk."
"Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing here?" Jarod hissed.
"The Centre sent me, of course," Miss Parker said flatly, "I'm here to get you
out."
"I'm fine, I would have gotten out by myself sometime," Jarod said, and she
laughed scornfully.
"Because you've been doing such a great job so far. I bet you don't even know
where you are!" Parker said softly. She could tell by the look on his face that
he didn't, and softened, "Jarod, I am the best person you've got right now.
Laredii are amateurs, and sooner or later they're going to bumble their way into
your death. It suits the Centre to retrieve you, so don't go looking a gift
horse in the mouth."
Jarod relaxed quite suddenly, leaning back against the wall, grinning
lazily.
"I think you just like saving my ass," he said huskily. Parker gaped at him.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"Seven years ago," Jarod said, and she froze. He knew. Goddamn him, he knew.
"You're a job, Jarod, just a job. Hunting you or saving you, I'm only looking
after the Centre's best interests. Time to go," she said, and began walking
down the corridor. Jarod chuckled, falling into step behind her.
"You just keep telling yourself that..."
****
Back in his pit, Parker attached just one cuff of the ankle shackles to
him, testing it carefully. Jarod grinned at her again.
"For someone who says she's helping me, you sure are being careful with those
chains," he murmured. Parker looked up sharply.
"Cameras, Jarod," she said through her teeth. Jarod leaned forward, so his face
was only an inch away from hers.
"I short circuited it a few weeks ago," he said, and Miss Parker rolled her
eyes.
"Trust you, Houdini," she muttered, and gave the chain another yank.
"So, Laredii, you said. Australia, I presume?" Jarod mused, and Parker nodded,
"I was investigating them before they got me. How long has it been?"
"Six months. We realised you were gone when we got more than two minutes of
peace," Miss Parker deadpanned, straightening up. Jarod chuckled, as she looked
him over, "They've really done a number on you, haven't they?"
He shrugged, "Nothing I can't take. How long before we make a break for
it?"
"I don't know, I still have to check in with Daddy," she said softly.
"Did you check in with Daddy last time?" Jarod asked, and Miss Parker stiffened.
"What is it that you think you know, Jarod?" she asked, and Jarod tilted his
head thoughtfully.
"I know that in September 1993 somebody attempted to kidnap me, and you saved my
life," he said.
"Sydney said you didn't remember," Miss Parker said evenly. Jarod shrugged.
"I didn't. I don't, not really. It's all kind of blurry, but I worked it out,"
he said.
He had strange, fleeting memories of being beside the pool, a woman stroking his
back and helping him sit up, whispering assurances to him. It was a moment of
kindness during his hour of need, and not something he could easily set aside or
forget.
"Gee, you're just so damn clever," Miss Parker said sarcastically, "I told you
before. You're a job, Jarod, nothing more."
"Sure Miss Parker, whatever you say," Jarod said with a smile, and she glared at
him.
"Whatever, Jarod. Just be ready, okay?"
Without another word she headed over to the edge of the pit, climbing up
the ladder without a backward glance. Jarod grinned to himself, and sat down,
feeling infinitely more hopeful than he had at the beginning of the day.
****
"Nobody fucks with the Centre on my watch, understand?" Miss Parker growled.
She twisted the knife and Joe's hand clenched, the gun firing. Parker cried out
with pain, the bullet hitting her left shoulder. Joe was shaking beneath her,
and the gun dropped from his hands.
Joe coughed, his blood flecking onto Parker's face. His eyes were wide
and he was sweating, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Miss Parker
ignored the pain in her shoulder and bruised body, her blood flowing freely over
both of them. She jerked the knife again. Joe twitched slightly and coughed
again, then finally was still.
Miss Parker awoke with a gasp, fighting off the remnants of the dream.
For a moment she was disorientated, and clutched at her gun where it lay under
the pillow. She stared around her small bedroom, at where branches tapped at
the glass, green and shadowy in the dawn light, and slowly felt her heart rate
returning to normal. Tiredly she climbed out of bed, pulling on her shorts and
shirt in preparation for her morning run.
Out on the beach, her feet pounding in the sand, she turned the situation
over in her head. Jarod was in a pit, with a leg iron shackled to him, and
while the camera in the room wasn't working, there was one directly outside the
door, and one in the lift. There were three over the boardwalk outside the
compound, swinging slowly from side to side, and the boardwalk was the only exit
to the beach.
Parker jogged almost halfway round the island before she paused for a
break, resting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. She looked down to
where gentle waves broke on the perfect white sand, then up to where sand met
rainforest. She took a swig of water, thinking carefully. The dock was on the
west side of the island, closest to the mainland. She now stood on the east
side, and because Laredii was the outermost island in the Whitsundays spread,
there was nothing between the east side of the island and the Pacific Ocean -
except the protection of the Great Barrier Reef, of course.
She straightened up, still breathing heavily, and drank more water from
her bottle. Shielding her eyes, she peered into the depths of the forest,
wondering just how far in the electrified wire was rigged.
"Lose something?" A voice called, and Miss Parker turned to see Jackson jogging
up the beach behind her. She shrugged.
"I thought I saw something moving around in there," Parker said. Jackson
grinned, and she tossed him her water bottle.
"Feel like going for a swim?" he asked, squirting water into his mouth and over
his face. Parker opened her mouth to tell him she didn't have a suit, then
realised that was probably his intention.
"Thankyou, no. I need to be getting back," she said, and Jackson grinned,
tossing her the bottle.
"I'll keep you company," he said cheerfully, and easily they began jogging back
at a reasonable pace.
"Are you from around here?" Miss Parker asked conversationally.
"No," Jackson said, "Melbourne originally. I was working out of Monash Uni, but
they, ah, didn't quite like where my research was headed. I found Laredii to be
more... accommodating."
"I've heard some interesting things come out of Monash," Parker remarked,
puffing slightly, and Jackson nodded.
"Yeah, great medical facilities. Australian research has gone a long way in
areas like cancer," he said, sounding proud. There was a short silence between
them before Jackson changed topics, "Do you dive at all Ms Mark?"
"Scuba?" Miss parker asked in surprise. Jackson nodded and she shrugged, "Sure,
I did a course once, but that's going back ten years or so."
"We have some equipment here, how about I take you out tomorrow, give you a
refresher course on the reef?" he asked.
"I'd like that," Miss Parker said with a smile. Scuba gear changed everything.
"I'd like you to assist during a session with Jarod today. He's seems quite
taken with you," Jackson said, sobering slightly.
"For all his brains, his mind's still firmly ensconced in his shorts," Miss
Parker said with a soft laugh.
"You seem to inspire that in men, Ms Mark," Jackson said with a wink. She
ignored him, taking another swig from her bottle, deciding that Jarod's
deception was working to both their advantages.
****
Author: Mandy
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Category: S
Spoilers: Mid-fourth season.
Key words: UST.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Genesis.
Summary: Seven years after the events in 'Genesis', Jarod is once again the
target of a rival company's interest. Miss Parker is deployed on a secretive
retrieval mission in order to help Jarod, going undercover in the Whitsundays -
half a world away from help.
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah blah no infringement intended, no profit gained.
Taking the Moment.
Jarod wasn't sure, at first, what had woken him. He was careful to keep
his breathing even, not allowing the tension he felt to tighten his body in any
way that could give him away, listening for any noises to warn him of danger.
When he heard nothing, he dared to open his eyes a crack, searching the darkened
motel room for any movement.
When a figure stepped out of the darkness to lunge at him, Jarod rolled to
the side, dropping to the floor as his assailant fumbled on the bed. Jarod made
a desperate bolt for the door, but by then the figure had recovered, bodily
throwing himself at the Pretender.
Gasping for air, Jarod stumbled back and fell, grappled on the floor with
the man. He managed to sneak in a couple of good hits, and was rewarded for his
efforts by a fist to his jaw. He spat blood onto the carpet, giving a soft cry
of rage as he redoubled his efforts, pushing the man to the floor and raising
his fist, crashing it down on the man's masked face again and again. He was
holding the man up, his fist pulled back, ready to strike again when the door
burst open, several more masked figures piling into the room.
Jarod struggled as they grasped him by his arms, growling in fury,
kicking, biting and scratching as he was pinned down. He managed a vicious kick
to one of his attackers, and the man stumbled away with a muttered curse.
Desperate, Jarod began to yell hoarsely as he was held on the floor, futile
calls for help. He knew it was all in vain when one of the figures raised a
needle and jabbed it into his thigh.
Six Months Later
The Whitsundays
East Coast Australia
Seated carefully in a small speedboat, Miss Parker pressed a handkerchief
to her mouth, doing her best to suppress a faint sense of queasiness as the boat
skipped across the waves. The man at the helm turned to give her a brief,
curious look, before focusing back on the island that they were gradually
drawing closer to. The man sitting opposite her offered her a smile, lighting a
cigarette and lounging back on the leather seat.
Feeling hot, nauseous and nervous, Parker turned her head to gaze at their
destination - Laredii Island. Approximately three square miles of tropical
paradise, a privately owned island off the Australian coast. She had flown far
too many hours to reach her destination, connecting flights from St. Louis to
Los Angeles, Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand, Auckland into Melbourne,
Australia, and finally the trip from Melbourne to Brisbane had been her last
commercial flight. A small craft had been waiting in Brisbane, flying her the
final distance to a tiny airstrip in Bowen, where she had landed just two hours
ago.
Having spent more time in the air than she cared to recall, Miss Parker
had lost all sense of time and space, unsteady on her feet and dizzy with
exhaustion. Yet she kept her back straight, carefully smoothing the crumpled
skirt of her linen suit with shaking hands. Beside her sat one small case of
luggage and a Halliburton briefcase, holding all the identification she would
need to complete her identity change, from Miss Parker of the Centre to Ms Lila
Mark, the new head of Security for Laredii Industries.
In the six months since Jarod had disappeared off the face of the planet,
Miss Parker had been working very hard. The fact that he had been abducted was
immediately evident; Parker and her team had come across the motel room he'd
been taken from just twenty-four hours after he was gone. The blood on the
carpet had been identified as Jarod's, and signs of a scuffle were obvious. It
had taken almost three months for Broots to track down who was responsible -
Laredii Industries.
Laredii Industries was not new to the Centre. In fact, Miss Parker
remembered several attempts on their behalf to poach business from the Centre,
but they had simply not been advanced enough to be any threat. Until, that is,
they had managed to catch the Centre's lost trophy - Jarod.
Three months ago, Miss Parker had insinuated herself into Laredii
Industries' St Louis office. Her father and the Triumvirate had provided her
with a complete identity; she was Lila Mark, an embittered ex-Centre Cleaner,
eager to trade Centre secrets for a high salary and a corner office.
Back in Blue Cove, Lyle was heading up the 'public' investigation into
Jarod's disappearance, keeping up appearances. His was a faltering, fumbling
investigation, providing enough cover for her to slip under the radar unnoticed.
Parker, in just three months, had proved herself useful and power-hungry
enough to impress the Director of Laredii Industries, and was now headed to
their private compound in the Whitsundays to oversee security.
Staring across the clear blue waters, Miss Parker pushed her hair off her
face in a nervous gesture. She was aware that her mission here was dangerous,
and the outcome was sketchy at best. She recalled her father's parting words to
her.
"Jarod must be retrieved from Laredii at all costs - dead or alive."
Somewhere on Laredii Island's three-square miles, Jarod was being held
captive. Broots had been unable to discover anything more than the fact that
the Pretender was alive - what state he was in remained to be seen.
****
"Ms Mark?"
Parker looked up at the clipped English accent as she stepped onto the
small dock, almost slipping. The man who had escorted her to the island
steadied her, and she gave him a quick nod of thanks. The woman who had
addressed her gave a cool smile, holding her hand out.
"Ms Mark, I'm Larissa Dalton... welcome to my island."
"Pleased to meet you," Miss Parker murmured politely. The man picked up her
bags and followed as they began to walk up the dock. Parker took the
opportunity to study the English woman.
Dalton was a few inches shorter than Parker, and possessed the kind of
curvaceous figure that she had always envied. Dalton was deeply tanned, her
long blonde hair almost white from the sun. She wore a khaki t-shirt and
shorts, a concession to the heat, making Parker even more conscious of how hot
and uncomfortable she felt.
"St Louis sent over a list of your credentials... very impressive, Ms Mark,"
Dalton said easily. They stepped off the small wooden dock and onto the clean
white sand, and Miss Parker immediately regretted her three-inch heels.
"I take pride in my work," she drawled thickly, "The Centre didn't seem to
appreciate that, so I turned to somebody who would."
"Very wise, and very profitable!" Dalton said with a laugh. Miss Parker smiled
slightly, concentrating on keeping her balance as they walked up the beach.
Soon enough they left the beach, pressing on into the thick tropical
foliage, and Parker was relieved to find there was a boardwalk to make walking
easier. As they walked she could see beautiful rainbow-coloured birds that
clung to the trees, chattering noisily, and yet more that flittered from branch
to branch. She gave a soft gasp as one swooped past her face, and Dalton
laughed.
"Rainbow lorikeets. They own the place..." Dalton explained.
"They're beautiful," Parker said softly, and Dalton shrugged.
"They're okay. It's the cockatoos you have to watch out for - bossy bastards.
We have a few storage huts for equipment on the east side of the island, and
they rip the wood right off the sills if we don't leave seed out for them."
Miss Parker knew a little of Australian fauna, mostly from what she had
seen in documentaries. She recalled cockatoos as being fat white birds, often
close to a foot in height, with great yellow crests on their heads. Somehow she
couldn't imagine such a cuddly-looking bird doing damage, but she also recalled
their wicked hooked beaks.
"You'll have your own rooms within the compound, but you're free to roam the
island on your down time. It's rather isolated here, but Marco makes a trip to
the mainland at least three times a week, and there are a couple of smaller
boats for staff leisure, fishing and diving on the reef. We have jet skis for
our men - tourists sometimes try and land their boats here," Dalton said.
They were approaching a low building of glass and steel. Miss Parker knew from
her brief that, like the Centre, most of the compound's floors were below
ground. At the front entrance, Dalton pushed open the heavy doors to lead the
way inside, a sparsely decorated and thankfully air-conditioned lobby.
"I'll show you to your rooms, you must be tired. We'll reconvene at say... 0900
tomorrow morning," Dalton said, checking her watch. She led the way through the
lobby and down a corridor of glass, the rainforest pressing in at them.
They reached another, smaller room, with several doors leading off it. Parker
knew that the ground floor of the compound was laid out in a ring; around five
of these such lobbies connected by glass corridors. Dalton showed her to a
small yet comfortable suite, the man she assumed to be Marco leaving her luggage
before they both made a quiet retreat. Miss Parker stared around her rooms - a
small sitting room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, large glass windows providing
views of the rainforest on every side.
The furniture was simplistic, a small table with two chairs, a desk, a sofa and
a coffee table. In the bedroom there was a queen-sized bed with a bedside
table, and in the bathroom was a sunken bath. The glass walls would make her
feel like she was bathing outside, Parker mused. There was no television, just
a small stereo, a telephone and one shelf lined with books - all classics. Miss
Parker unpacked with no small feeling of discomfort, disconcerted by the lack of
normal walls - even the dividers between the rooms were made out of frosted
glass. Anyone could look in on her and her actions with ease, and maybe that
was the point.
She made a quick scan for surveillance devices, relieved when she found nothing.
Unpacking quickly, Parker pulled a satellite phone out of her briefcase and
dialled, wedging the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she hung up her
suits. She was about ready to drop from exhaustion, but needed to check in with
her father first.
"Angel! You're at Laredii?" her father asked immediately, and Parker sighed.
As usual, he hadn't bothered to even ask how she was.
"Yes Daddy, I'm here. Daddy, there isn't really that much security surrounding
the island, surely the Centre could just come in and-" she said impulsively, but
her father cut her off.
"Nonsense!" he boomed down the line, "There is no way that the manpower needed
could infiltrate the Whitsundays before they got Jarod out of there."
It was an argument they had had before. Miss Parker had wanted Centre
sweepers to descend on Laredii Island and simply take what they wanted, but Lyle
had provided a resented voice of reason. He had pointed out that a large group
of non-military armed agents would have great difficulty passing through
customs without attracting enough attention for Laredii to notice. The fact
that they didn't even know for sure if Jarod was in the compound, nor
what security surrounded him, made such an attempt suicidal.
One agent, Lyle had gone on to explain, working from the inside out, would
have a much better chance of locating Jarod, assessing his condition and making
an informed decision on how to proceed made much more sense. Grudgingly, Miss
Parker had agreed, but was nevertheless surprised when her father had decided
she would be that agent. Yet despite her protests, he had decided that as the
Centre's most highly trained agent in the field of security, there was none
better.
"Have you seen him yet?" her father asked, breaking Parker out of her reverie.
"No, I only just got here," she said softly, and could almost imagine her
father's impatient expression.
"Well, call us again when you have something," her father harrumphed.
"All right, Daddy, I lov-" Miss parker stopped when she realised she was
speaking to the dial tone.
****
Early the next morning, Parker was roused from sleep by an unfamiliar
shrieking. It was just after dawn, and to her annoyance she realised that the
birds were the ones making the noise, and miserably wondered if this was how she
would begin everyday.
She changed from her nightgown into shorts and a shirt, pulling on running
shoes and venturing from her rooms. She saw several guards on her way to the
front entrance, and did her best to ignore them. She made her way down to the
beach, tying her hair up and beginning a steady jog up the shore.
The day was hot already, and Miss Parker worked up a sweat within minutes.
She kept her breathing even, ignoring the slight strain in her legs and the
occasional slip of her runners on the sand. She ran half a mile up the beach
and turned, wiping the sweat from her brow as she ran back. The sun was burning
down on her, and when she made it back to the boardwalk she bent over, breathing
heavily.
Back in the compound, a man wearing just shorts was standing in the lobby,
slathering sunscreen onto his chest. He caught sight of Miss Parker and smiled,
an intrigued glint entering his eyes.
"G'day," he said in an Australian accent, holding out his hand, "I'm Ken
Jackson."
"Lila Mark," Miss Parker said, shaking his hand and pushing some stray strands
of hair out of her eyes. Jackson looked her over curiously.
"You look pink. You need sunscreen if you go out there - the hole in the ozone
layer means you fry in about five minutes," he remarked conversationally,
"You're the new security head?"
"Yes, although it seems fairly much under control here," Parker said with a
smile. Jackson shrugged.
"We have a new subject, he's tried to make a few breaks. We need you to tighten
up this joint," Jackson said with an easy grin, and Parker was startled by how
freely he spoke of Jarod. Amateurs, she thought wryly.
"I was informed of the circumstances, but I'm not exactly sure what this
'acquisition' everybody is speaking of is," Miss Parker said evenly. Jackson
gave her a wink, watching with interest as she stretched.
"I'll leave that up to Dalton, she'd have my hide if I let slip about something
I shouldn't," he said. Parker raised a brow at him.
"What exactly do you do around here, anyway, Mr Jackson?" she asked archly, and
he chuckled, tucking his tube of sunscreen into his pocket and heading for the
door.
"Security - always suspicious. I'm a doctor, Ms Mark, no need to worry about
me," he called over his shoulder, and then disappeared out into the rainforest.
Parker shook her head in bemusement, heading back to her rooms for a shower. In
her experience, it was the doctors who were the most trouble.
****
Just after three, Parker headed back into her rooms, feeling hot and
tired. Dalton had dragged her around the whole damned island, showing her every
nook and cranny, but not the parts she'd really been interested in - not the
floors underground, nor where Jarod was being kept.
Laredii Island was an efficiently run island, tourists kept away with the
men on jet skis, and the perimeter of the rainforest had electrified wire
running all through it - almost invisible in the foliage. The only space clear
of the wire was the entrance to the beach via the boardwalk, and surveillance
cameras monitored the whole path at all times. There had never been any
breaches of the island - nobody knew about it, except for Laredii itself and,
the Centre of course. The Australian government thought that Laredii Island was
owned by a private millionaire with good security, and were happy as long as
taxes were paid.
In fact, the only reason that Miss Parker had been brought in at all, so
far as she could figure, was to ensure that Jarod wouldn't escape. As Jackson
had already mentioned, their newest subject had already made several attempts.
The irony of it was killing her. She had saved Jarod seven years ago,
began hunting him four years ago, lost him six months ago and was now attempting
to save him again. It seemed that she could never define exactly what her role
in his life was.
Parker headed straight for the shower, feeling hot and sweaty from her day
out in the sun. Stripping off, she stepped under the cool water, tipping her
head back under the spray. She grabbed a bar of soap, scrubbing the sweat from
her body. Just between her breasts, under her breastplate, was the faintest
white mark, barely discernable unless you were looking for it. Miss Parker ran
her fingers over it lightly. It was where a mob kid had stabbed her eight years
ago, the event that had started a sequence of events that wound up with her as
head of Security a year later, protecting Jarod from a kidnapping attempt.
She'd had the scar removed with laser technology almost four years ago.
Rinsing off the soap suds, Miss Parker studied the two other prominent
scars on her body - an entry wound just above her heart, from when she had taken
a bullet for her father, and a glancing scar across her left shoulder, from when
Joe's bullet had grazed past her. She kept the scars to remind her of the
mistakes she had made, but supposed she'd have those removed someday too.
Someday.
Parker emerged from the shower, wrapping a towel around herself and
flicking her wet hair off her neck. Wandering back into the bedroom, she
grabbed her satellite phone and dialled.
"Broots here," came the cheerful answer.
"Broots, it's me. Do you have anything more on Laredii's layout?" Parker asked.
"Oh yeah, hold on," Broots said, and she could hear him rummaging around, "Lucky
you, Miss P, hanging out on a tropical island. You must be wearing the biggest
smile right now."
Unable to resist a little needling, Parker lowered her voice to a sultry
murmur, "Well actually, at the moment, I'm only wearing a towel."
There was a long silence, before Broots made a soft choking noise.
"Huh, I mean, um... Well, I managed to get some information out of an old
janitor who was on Laredii Island until about a year ago. From what he saw,
there are about three subterranean levels, and they have laboratories and some
kind of prison cells!" Broots whispered excitedly.
"Sounds like the Centre," Parker said darkly.
"Exactly..." Broots said.
"Good work. I'll check in again tomorrow to see what you've got," she said
decisively, and ended the call.
Dalton had arranged a four o'clock conference with Jackson to discuss
strategies, and, she assumed, to inform her about their stolen Pretender.
Hopefully, that would lead to a revelation of his whereabouts.
****
Jarod pricked his ears at the sound of movement somewhere near him. In
frustration he rattle his chains, feeling bitter fury settle on him like a
shroud. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been since he was captured, but
he was sure it had to be months now.
At first, he had thought the Centre had him. He had woken up, his head
pounding, in a small cell. The taste of filtered air was a dead giveaway to the
fact that he was underground, and naturally he had assumed he was back in the
sub-levels. Yet his continued demands of his keepers to see Sydney or Miss
Parker had been met with wry smiles, and it hadn't taken long to figure out it
he was not in the Centre.
When the man named Jackson had attempted to initiate tests with him, Jarod
decided he was somewhere near or in Australia. More than one of his handlers
had Australian accents like Jackson, and almost everyone sported a deep tan and
smelled of saltwater, which suggested the coast or an island.
Jarod rattled his chains again, tugging in futility. After his first
attempt at escape, he had been moved from a relatively comfortable cell with a
bed, toilet and light to a small cell with just a toilet. After his latest
escape attempt, he'd been placed in what was essentially a pit, and had ankle
and wrist shackles attached to the wall. There was a catwalk running around and
across his pit, with a ladder that lowered in when his handlers wished to gain
access.
Jarod heard the door to the cavernous room clang open, and the soft murmur
of voices. Angrily he gave one last shake to his chains, then sat sullenly on
the floor facing the wall, determined to ignore whoever it was. Since he had
woken up here, Dr Jackson and his like had tried to tempt, coerce and blatantly
bribe him into revealing more about himself and his abilities, but Jarod had had
adamantly refused to participate in any of their studies. As a result, he had
been beaten on more than one occasion.
"...As you can see, we've had to take a little more extreme measures than we
prefer," said a voice that Jarod recognised as Dalton's. He heard the metal
grate of the ladder sliding into place.
"Unfortunately, we haven't been able to make any progress with the subject so
far, he's been extremely unhelpful," Jackson said, and Jarod scowled. He could
hear the hollow sound of someone climbing down the rungs of the metal ladder.
"Have you had any experience with Pretenders, Ms Mark?" Dalton asked, followed
by more sounds of people descending the ladder. Three, he guessed. Jarod idly
wondered who the new addition to the team was.
"Not personally," a familiar voice said, "But the Centre does provide excellent
training in... persuasion techniques."
Jarod's eyes widened as he realised whom Ms Mark must be. And unless Miss
Parker had defected from the Centre in his absence, which he seriously doubted,
she was here undercover. Most likely sent by the Centre on a rescue mission.
Jarod almost laughed aloud at the irony of it all.
"Won't you stand up and face our guest, Jarod?" Dalton called mockingly. Jarod
leapt to his feet and rounded on her, straining against his chains and growling,
so Dalton took an involuntary step back, laughing nervously.
"He's quite a fine specimen," Miss Parker said calmly, and raked her gaze over
Jarod's bare chest approvingly. She raised her eyes back to his, and he could
see the warning there.
"Who's this Dalton? Another puppet for your game?" Jarod snarled, playing
along. He quite liked this new development.
"This is Ms Mark. She will be working with you and Jackson from now on," Dalton
said coolly. Miss Parker began to walk towards him, and Jarod jerked his chains
in a display of anger.
"I wouldn't get too close, he's quite violent," Jackson said, and touched his
hands to his ribs. Jarod had cracked a few of the Australian's ribs in a
scuffle a few weeks ago, and now he smiled manically.
"I'm not worried," Parker said softly. She stopped when she was just out of his
reach, "While I never had access to the Pretender Project, I do know a bit about
it. That should help with your studies, Dr Jackson."
Jarod had the sudden desire to laugh. He could barely believe that Miss
Parker was standing in front of him, looking as cool and as professional as
ever, masquerading to be someone else. He could see no other reason for her
being here than to aid him. That must be tearing her up inside, Jarod thought
gleefully.
"Another hotshot on our hands I see," Jarod murmured, "Just how far do you think
you can go on the corporate ladder pushing a lab rat around?"
Parker's eyes flared with amusement, and Jarod could see she was
suppressing a smile. He felt a sudden moment of tenderness for her; she was
probably risking her neck by being here, and for him.
"I think I'll have a lot of fun with this one," Parker purred, and gave a
predatory grin.
"Good luck, I've had nothing but trouble," Jackson said with a snort.
"It's all in how you handle them," Parker said, turning to face them, "A little
give, a little take. Is it really necessary to have him in chains? He's got
some rubbing on his wrists."
"As we outlined before, he's made some escape attempts..." Dalton said, and
Parker shrugged, taking out her gun.
"It's okay. *I'm* here now."
****
As she wrapped some bandages around his wrists, Parker studied Jarod
carefully. She had taken him up to the nurse's station, just one floor below
ground. Seems as there was no actual nurse in the station, she was now
bandaging Jarod's wrists herself while Jackson and Dalton stood back and watched
- Dalton had her gun.
Jarod was not in good shape; that was clear. For all his bravado, he had
lost a lot of weight. He had a patchwork of bruises all over his body, and a
cut over his right eye, and was sitting very stiffly. She caught his eye as she
finished bandaging his wrist, and he gave her a long, adoring stare. For a
moment she couldn't figure it out, until she heard the soft whispering of the
pair behind her.
"Look at him. One kind word in his direction and he's a puddle at her feet,"
Dalton hissed, and Parker heard Jackson snicker.
"Maybe he just doesn't go blondes, Larissa," he whispered back, and Miss Parker
bit her lip to hide a smile.
A moment later she turned away from Jarod coolly, retrieving her gun from
Dalton, who checked her watch. Parker smiled tightly, "If you have somewhere to
be, Miss Dalton, I can take Jarod back downstairs."
Dalton hesitated for a moment, casting a sidelong glance at Jackson,
before she apparently made up her mind. She gave Parker a quick nod, "Thankyou,
Ms Mark, Jackson and I have work to do. I'll see you in the morning."
Miss Parker and Jarod rode down in the lift in silence, mindful of the
camera in the corner. But on the way back to the pit, Parker stopped Jarod with
a hand on his arm, whispering, "There's no camera's here, we can talk."
"Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing here?" Jarod hissed.
"The Centre sent me, of course," Miss Parker said flatly, "I'm here to get you
out."
"I'm fine, I would have gotten out by myself sometime," Jarod said, and she
laughed scornfully.
"Because you've been doing such a great job so far. I bet you don't even know
where you are!" Parker said softly. She could tell by the look on his face that
he didn't, and softened, "Jarod, I am the best person you've got right now.
Laredii are amateurs, and sooner or later they're going to bumble their way into
your death. It suits the Centre to retrieve you, so don't go looking a gift
horse in the mouth."
Jarod relaxed quite suddenly, leaning back against the wall, grinning
lazily.
"I think you just like saving my ass," he said huskily. Parker gaped at him.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"Seven years ago," Jarod said, and she froze. He knew. Goddamn him, he knew.
"You're a job, Jarod, just a job. Hunting you or saving you, I'm only looking
after the Centre's best interests. Time to go," she said, and began walking
down the corridor. Jarod chuckled, falling into step behind her.
"You just keep telling yourself that..."
****
Back in his pit, Parker attached just one cuff of the ankle shackles to
him, testing it carefully. Jarod grinned at her again.
"For someone who says she's helping me, you sure are being careful with those
chains," he murmured. Parker looked up sharply.
"Cameras, Jarod," she said through her teeth. Jarod leaned forward, so his face
was only an inch away from hers.
"I short circuited it a few weeks ago," he said, and Miss Parker rolled her
eyes.
"Trust you, Houdini," she muttered, and gave the chain another yank.
"So, Laredii, you said. Australia, I presume?" Jarod mused, and Parker nodded,
"I was investigating them before they got me. How long has it been?"
"Six months. We realised you were gone when we got more than two minutes of
peace," Miss Parker deadpanned, straightening up. Jarod chuckled, as she looked
him over, "They've really done a number on you, haven't they?"
He shrugged, "Nothing I can't take. How long before we make a break for
it?"
"I don't know, I still have to check in with Daddy," she said softly.
"Did you check in with Daddy last time?" Jarod asked, and Miss Parker stiffened.
"What is it that you think you know, Jarod?" she asked, and Jarod tilted his
head thoughtfully.
"I know that in September 1993 somebody attempted to kidnap me, and you saved my
life," he said.
"Sydney said you didn't remember," Miss Parker said evenly. Jarod shrugged.
"I didn't. I don't, not really. It's all kind of blurry, but I worked it out,"
he said.
He had strange, fleeting memories of being beside the pool, a woman stroking his
back and helping him sit up, whispering assurances to him. It was a moment of
kindness during his hour of need, and not something he could easily set aside or
forget.
"Gee, you're just so damn clever," Miss Parker said sarcastically, "I told you
before. You're a job, Jarod, nothing more."
"Sure Miss Parker, whatever you say," Jarod said with a smile, and she glared at
him.
"Whatever, Jarod. Just be ready, okay?"
Without another word she headed over to the edge of the pit, climbing up
the ladder without a backward glance. Jarod grinned to himself, and sat down,
feeling infinitely more hopeful than he had at the beginning of the day.
****
"Nobody fucks with the Centre on my watch, understand?" Miss Parker growled.
She twisted the knife and Joe's hand clenched, the gun firing. Parker cried out
with pain, the bullet hitting her left shoulder. Joe was shaking beneath her,
and the gun dropped from his hands.
Joe coughed, his blood flecking onto Parker's face. His eyes were wide
and he was sweating, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Miss Parker
ignored the pain in her shoulder and bruised body, her blood flowing freely over
both of them. She jerked the knife again. Joe twitched slightly and coughed
again, then finally was still.
Miss Parker awoke with a gasp, fighting off the remnants of the dream.
For a moment she was disorientated, and clutched at her gun where it lay under
the pillow. She stared around her small bedroom, at where branches tapped at
the glass, green and shadowy in the dawn light, and slowly felt her heart rate
returning to normal. Tiredly she climbed out of bed, pulling on her shorts and
shirt in preparation for her morning run.
Out on the beach, her feet pounding in the sand, she turned the situation
over in her head. Jarod was in a pit, with a leg iron shackled to him, and
while the camera in the room wasn't working, there was one directly outside the
door, and one in the lift. There were three over the boardwalk outside the
compound, swinging slowly from side to side, and the boardwalk was the only exit
to the beach.
Parker jogged almost halfway round the island before she paused for a
break, resting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. She looked down to
where gentle waves broke on the perfect white sand, then up to where sand met
rainforest. She took a swig of water, thinking carefully. The dock was on the
west side of the island, closest to the mainland. She now stood on the east
side, and because Laredii was the outermost island in the Whitsundays spread,
there was nothing between the east side of the island and the Pacific Ocean -
except the protection of the Great Barrier Reef, of course.
She straightened up, still breathing heavily, and drank more water from
her bottle. Shielding her eyes, she peered into the depths of the forest,
wondering just how far in the electrified wire was rigged.
"Lose something?" A voice called, and Miss Parker turned to see Jackson jogging
up the beach behind her. She shrugged.
"I thought I saw something moving around in there," Parker said. Jackson
grinned, and she tossed him her water bottle.
"Feel like going for a swim?" he asked, squirting water into his mouth and over
his face. Parker opened her mouth to tell him she didn't have a suit, then
realised that was probably his intention.
"Thankyou, no. I need to be getting back," she said, and Jackson grinned,
tossing her the bottle.
"I'll keep you company," he said cheerfully, and easily they began jogging back
at a reasonable pace.
"Are you from around here?" Miss Parker asked conversationally.
"No," Jackson said, "Melbourne originally. I was working out of Monash Uni, but
they, ah, didn't quite like where my research was headed. I found Laredii to be
more... accommodating."
"I've heard some interesting things come out of Monash," Parker remarked,
puffing slightly, and Jackson nodded.
"Yeah, great medical facilities. Australian research has gone a long way in
areas like cancer," he said, sounding proud. There was a short silence between
them before Jackson changed topics, "Do you dive at all Ms Mark?"
"Scuba?" Miss parker asked in surprise. Jackson nodded and she shrugged, "Sure,
I did a course once, but that's going back ten years or so."
"We have some equipment here, how about I take you out tomorrow, give you a
refresher course on the reef?" he asked.
"I'd like that," Miss Parker said with a smile. Scuba gear changed everything.
"I'd like you to assist during a session with Jarod today. He's seems quite
taken with you," Jackson said, sobering slightly.
"For all his brains, his mind's still firmly ensconced in his shorts," Miss
Parker said with a soft laugh.
"You seem to inspire that in men, Ms Mark," Jackson said with a wink. She
ignored him, taking another swig from her bottle, deciding that Jarod's
deception was working to both their advantages.
****