My older sister is very smart. She went to a special school because she is so smart. But even that was easy for her. She began working with a tutor who pushed her to reach her potential. She came home smiling every day, and my parents and I were happy for her. Not that I was consulted. Who consults a 4-year-old? I had never even met the man.

Until today. He came home to work with her today. They went into the study, but I know all the secrets in this house, so I peek in and watch. What I see makes me feel queasy.

You see, my parents don't know, but my sister isn't the only one who's special. I have the "gift" of being able to see what people's body language means. As I've grown up, my understanding of people has only grown. Not that I can tell why people are going to do things, but I can tell what they are planning. Anyway, I've learned enough by now that just by looking at him, he might as well be pontificating on his malevolent intentions.

At least he doesn't plan to act on his plans today. But just the fact that he's at our house tells me that he's planning to act soon.

I wait for a while, until they take a break, then I scamper around to make certain that he doesn't go anywhere. When he comes toward my sister's bedroom, I know I am right. I play with a toy in the hallway, waiting for him to come nearer.

He is about to pass me when I look up at him with the innocent glance of a 4-year-old. With a shy smile, I say, "Hi."

The man smiles gently to me, but I can see the glint in his eyes that betrays that he is not half so nice. "Hello, what is your name?" he asks.

I glance down to the toy that I am still fiddling with. "Janie..." I answer quietly.

"Nice to meet you, Janie," he says with a smile intended to be comforting. I imagine I can see sharp teeth filling his mouth. He begins to continue down the hall, and in my childish voice I ask innocently, "Where are you going?"

He looks back at me in surprise, but he is ready with a cover story. "I'm just trying to find the bathroom." He tries to project uncertainty, but I can see he is proud of his professionalism.

I point in the other direction. "That way, " I tell him, and glance down again. Then, shyly, I inform him, "That's my room," pointing in the direction he was heading. It's a lie, but it will protect my sister. He wants to kidnap her.

The disaster has been temporarily averted, and he soon leaves. I dread what I have to tell my sister. She's only six, she doesn't deserve this.

That night, I sneak into Amy's room. "Amy!" I call in a harsh whisper that I am certain will wake her. "Wake up!"

Amy sits up quickly. This is not the first time I have woken her, and I always have something urgent to tell her. Groggily, Amy asks, "What?"

I start to cry softly. I don't want to tell her this. Amy reaches over and envelopes me in a hug, which only makes me cry harder. "What's wrong, Janie?"

"The man... the man..." I whisper through the tears, but I can't seem to finish my sentence.

"The man? You mean Jeffrey?" I nod, and after a pause, she asks, "Janie, tell me, what's wrong?"

"He... he... he wants to take you!" I finally get out.

"Take me? What are you talking about?"

Now I have to explain. The tears still streaming down my face, I manage, "You're smart... he's going to kidnap you!"

"How do you--" she stops herself, because she knows the answer. I have been right before, and she trusts me. "Wh--how long?" she finally manages.

This is the part I hate. "Soon. Almost certainly within two days." I pause, then speak aloud what I can see she's thinking. "You have to go before he comes for you!"

She nods, and I can see she's terrified. I can't think of anything comforting to say, though, so I just tell her what I know. She needs every bit of information she can get. Finally, she tells me to go to sleep, and I scurry to my room. I cry myself to sleep, trying not to think about the morning.

It is every bit as bad as I expected. I awake to my mom yelling, "Amy?" There is a pause, and then she yells, "Fred?"

My dad answers. "What, Martha?"

The voices get quieter as they get closer. "Have you seen Amy this morning?" "No, why do you ask?" "I can't find her..."

I will myself not to cry. How could I explain my tear-stained face when they haven't even discovered the awful truth yet? Right now, I must play my part as the bleary-eyed younger sister wondering what is going on.

I play the part perfectly, portraying my bewilderment and then staying out of the way while their panic sets in. I fiddle with a wooden block, and "A" that I keep glancing at. I wonder how far away Amy is by now. She was taking the bus or train, having taken some money that my parents wouldn't miss. I hope that she is safe.

The morning passes slowly like this, with my parents calling everyone they know and asking if they have seen Amy. Then the doorbell rings. My parents run to the door, and I follow even though I know that it is not Amy.

It is Jeffrey, her tutor. I had been expecting him. In muffled tones, my parents tell him that my sister is missing. Then he makes an offer that scares me quite badly. "I'm so sorry to hear that. If you'd like, I'll watch Janie and you can go and search the neighborhood without worrying about her. I'm sure that Amy is not far away."

My parents hardly consider this before they nod. "Thank you so much, Jeffrey."

"Oh, it's no problem," he tells them with a smile, which with his body language seems to me to be the most menacing I have ever seen.

So my parents leave, and I am left with the man who was planning to kidnap my sister in less than two days time. I continue to turn the block in my hands and glance up at him shyly, still forcing myself to play my part.

He walks over and holds out his hand. "Come on, Janie. Let's go play some games." He has not yet set down his briefcase, and I know what is coming.

He gives me many puzzles, and I merely smash them or put them in silly patterns. No normal 4-year-old could put these together, and for today that is what I am. He begins to get annoyed, but I will not help him.

"Do you know the colors?" he finally asks me. I nod, because I can't pretend to be THAT stupid. Obviously I am at least a normal 4-year-old in terms of cognitive skills. He begins to show me cards with colors on them. At first they are shapes, and he tells me to "point to the red one" or "tell me the first three colors." Then he springs a card on me that has the colors on it, but it is words written in different colors. "red" is written in blue and I begin to stumble. I can see that this was a trick. He knows how smart I am.

"Mister, I need to go," I tell him, standing and performing the familiar dance of all children when they realize that they need to go to the bathroom. He of course nods that I can go, and I run awkwardly to the bathroom.

I close the door, but then open it slowly. I will leave out the back door before he even
notices that I am gone. I creep down the hall, but as I reach the back door I am grabbed from behind. I scream, or try, but the man gags me, and a black hood is forced over my head. I squirm violently, but the hands that hold me are like iron. I feel a prick in my arm, and a moment later the world spins dizzily and there is nothing.

I awake on a couch, and for a moment I can't remember a thing. Then Jeffrey and Amy and the black hood rush back, and I sit up with a scream. I hope it was a dream, but the barren room around me is completely foreign. Other than the couch, there are only a bookcase and a desk. The light is completely artificial, a glaring fluorescent light that wears on me already.

I stand up and move to examine the door, but there isn't even a handle on this side. There is a window, but I would have to be twice as tall to see anything through it.

I would have kicked the door, or screamed, but I had seen that man. He was a professional, or at least pretended he was, and the men who had been helping him were certainly professionals. I know I'm not going anywhere and it isn't worth the hassle to try. I return to the couch and sit, curling up into a tiny ball and trying not to think about how scared I am.

They leave me waiting for a few minutes, but then a man finally walks in. I eye the temporarily open door, but remain curled up on the couch and quickly turn my attention to this man.

He is an older man, sort of distinguished looking, and by his body language I can tell he's not nearly as scary as Jeffrey was. I'm relieved, and yet I am still here in this place and so the relief can only be limited. He observes me for a short moment, then smiles and tells me with a thick English accent, "Hello, Janie. My name is Sydney and I'm going to be giving you some tests today."

I've been behaving like a good little four-year-old, but I'm tired of this game now. "Didn't I take enough tests BEFORE you kidnapped me?"

This man is certainly not easily riled. He smiles in what I'm sure is an attempt at comfort, but all I see is his calculation of how to draw me out. Finally, he says, "I know you're upset, Janie, but all we want to do is help you. We want to help you reach your potential, and help others."

I almost laugh out loud, and all I want to say to him is that he should probably try to believe what he's saying before he says it. But that would give away my secret, so I don't. Instead, I pout and say, "What potential? My sister is the smart one."

Sydney nods slowly, then tells me, "Your sister is certainly smart, but we think you have far more potential than she does." This time I can tell he is telling the truth, and I open my mouth to ask why they were planning to kidnap her if that's the case. Then I remember where I am and close my mouth. I have to think!

"What if I don't want to take the tests?" I have to ask, because I want to hear--and, more importantly, see--his answer.

What I expect is what I get. He looks down with a frown, and advises, "That kind of attitude is probably not the one you'll want to have while you're here." In his posture and his eyes when he glances up I can see what has happened in the past and what will happen to me. Not details, but I know that it is BAD and I don't want that.

I watch him for another minute, then ask, "What kind of tests?" If this weren't such a horrible place, this wouldn't be so bad anyway. I have never gotten to do the kind of puzzles that Jeffrey was showing me the other day. I would like to actually do them, but I still refuse to validate their opinions of me as smart. I especially don't want them to know what I can really do.

Sydney starts giving me tests. They begin with simple puzzles, which I again repeat the same stunt with that I pulled before. Sydney gives me a few more puzzles, waiting for me to cooperate, then stops and looks up at me. "Janie, I need you to cooperate."

"I don't know what to do!" I complain quickly. "They're fun to play with, though," I tell him with a smile.

"Janie, you're not convincing anyone with that act. How about you drop it and we see what you can really do."

I shrug, then decide he's probably right. I'm curious how smart I am, and so are they. As long as I give no hint of special abilities aside from puzzle solving and such, it shouldn't be a problem. Somehow, from looking at him, I suspect that Sydney will drag my true intelligence out of me anyway, so I might as well make it a bit more painless.

I place the pieces of the puzzle which I have been messing with for a while into their proper places. In my mind's eye I had figured out the puzzle less than a minute after it was given to me. These things are easy and I think Sydney knows it.

He continues to give me puzzles, one after another, and they get harder. A little. They never get particularly hard, and I never take more than a couple of minutes to solve them. There doesn't seem to be anything that makes them particularly hard--it's just that sometimes I need a little time to figure out how it works exactly, but that's not a big deal.

Finally the puzzles stop. "That's my girl!" he tells me by way of encouragement. I can see that he has mixed feelings about me. He seems to be happy that I am so intelligent and that he gets to work with me, and at the same time afraid. It takes me a moment of examining him to realize that what he is scared for is not himself, but me. I shudder a bit at the thought, and gives me a worried glance. "Are you okay?" I nod, and we start on a new test.

He tells me that he wants me to "pretend." He puts a special emphasis on the word, almost as though it is capitalized, a "Pretend." He tells me a lot about a man, and tells me that he wants me to "become" that man. I don't understand at all. How could I become someone else? He then asks me questions about what happened to that man when he got caught in a fire. I want to ask him for a picture of the man, because I could probably tell him how the man would react if I could see one. But without that, I am lost and I have to admit that I have no idea.

I can see that Sydney thinks that I am faking again. My first instinct is to protest, but then I hesitate, wondering if that will make me seem more guilty. I feel myself getting lost in an endless loop, never being able to figure out the answer. Finally, I ask, "Please, can we do something else?"

Sydney seems surprised that I would actually request such a thing instead of protesting my innocence and asking to have another chance. But I don't see the point in doing another one of those "pretends" because I don't understand how they work. How could I understand the why of what is happening? I can tell you what will happen, but I have no idea what the motivation is. And why should I care? Better yet, why should they care?

I begin to wonder what the point of all this is. Why would they want to know if kids could do that, pretend to be someone else? I shake my head, I have to concentrate, Sydney is explaining the next "game" to me.

For this one, he wants me to tell him what is happening in a series of pictures. Instead of looking at the pictures, I look first to him. This is another trick, I can see, just like Jeffrey earlier... was that yesterday? I realize suddenly that I have no idea what time it is, nor what day it is. For some reason that is a terribly frightening thought and I have to fight the urge to run. But I fight the urge and promise myself to keep my wits about me and not be tricked.

Sydney shows me a couple of boring pictures. A business man in the middle of a crowd, on his way to work. Sydney asks me what the man is thinking, but I profess ignorance. I can see that he is worried, probably about a presentation he must give. But I shouldn't know this and I know that.

He shows me a few more pictures that are similar, and then we reach one that chills me. It is a girl, my sister, in the midst of a playground. It takes me only a second to realize that she is afraid, deathly afraid, and that they have her surrounded. She is pretending to play happily, as though she hasn't seen them yet, but she knows, she knows.

Anger wells up in me and bubbles over. "No!" I scream. "How could you?? You said I was smarter, that *I* was smarter! You didn't have to take her! I jump out of my chair and run to the door, throwing myself against it. "Let me out of here, let me out!!"

Before I turned away from him, I could see that Sydney, for his part, is surprised at my violent reaction. But now I throw myself violently against the door and will myself to wake up from this awful nightmare. What do they want with me?

Abruptly, the door opens, and a few huge men in suits storm through it. Within an instant, they have grabbed me and are holding me still. I struggle against them, then recognize their grip from my house. These men, or people like them, were the ones who kidnapped me. I scream and struggle, scream and struggle, until I see through my anger Sydney standing in front of me, pleading with me to stop, but I am too angry to hear a word he says. Finally, he looks apologetic, pulls out a needle, and after a prick I am submerged once more beneath the level of consciousness.

This time when I awake, I am laying on a hard floor, with only a blanket and a pillow under me. I moan at the pain in my head, like a hundred jackhammers attempting to pound their way out of my skull from the inside. Finally, a moment later, I muster the initiative to sit up and glance around.

There is little here to see. A sink and toilet at the back seem to be the only things in the room aside from the blanket and pillow. The toilet makes my heart sink, because I know they mean to keep me here for a while. It is worse when I see a camera in the corner. There will be no privacy for me. I turn my back to the camera and curl myself into a ball, laying my head on my knees and trying not to cry.

It takes less than a minute before the door bursts open and two men walk in and take my arms. I scream and struggle, but of course it does no good. One of them kicks me, hard, and I calm for the moment. I am again trying not to cry, but this time from the pain. In my short life, no one has ever deliberately tried to hurt me. I can see that that is changing.

These two towering men in suits drag me down one hall after another, taking so many turns that I almost begin to suspect that we are going in circles. But I can see, after a glance, that these men are impatient and wouldn't want to do that. Finally, I see from their attitude that we are almost there, and I am relieved. I almost begin to struggle again, but the continued pain in my side reminds me of the results of that. Better to save my strength, I weakly decide. For a second I'm angry at myself for taking the easy way out, but at the same time I know it is also the logical decision so I ban those thoughts from my mind.

One of them lets me go to open a door ahead of us, but I know that getting away from one is as hopeless as two. I'm only a four-year-old, and these men were hired for their muscle. I feel utter helplessness wash over me, and I attempt to wrench myself away from the man still holding me, just so that I can know that I tried. He makes sure I will not forget with a powerful kick to my stomach, knocking me to the floor where I curl up in pain. He doesn't even wait for me to recover but carries me into the room that way and leaves me there.

As soon as I hear the door click shut, I begin to sob. I don't even bother uncurling from the ball--actually, my stomach hurts enough that I'm not entirely sure that I can.

For a couple of minutes, I lay like this, sobbing. At this point I refuse to even intellectually acknowledge how bad my situation is--I'm just crying from the pain in my stomach. When I hear footsteps approaching, I just curl tighter and try to stop my sobbing.

A gentle hand begins to rub my back, and I relax slightly, enjoying the touch. For a minute I can imagine that I am back in my room at home, and my daddy is rubbing my back before he reads me a story.

Sydney breaks the mood finally by speaking. "Janie, you need to get up now," he says, a tone of regret slipping into his voice.

I tense up again, curling into a tighter ball. Then I mumble, "I want to see my mom and dad!"

"What did you say?" he asks, genuinely unsure.

Frustration overwhelms me and I scream, "I want to see my mommy and daddy!!"

His hand is back on my back again in a moment, attempting to calm me. "I'm sorry, Janie, but you can't see them right now. We need you to help us with something, and then you'll be able to go home." This time I don't even need to look at him to know that he isn't telling the truth.

"No, I won't, you're never going to let me go home!" I sob. "Leave me alone!"

Sydney's voice takes on a new sternness. "Janie, you need to get up right now. It's time to get to work." There is such authority in his voice that I find myself standing unsteadily to my feet almost without thinking. I look to his face and see that he is worried about me, but is attempting not to show it. "Come on," he tells me, taking my hand and leading me to a chair. "Sit here, and we'll get started."

I sit, but cross my arms belligerently, sending the message that I'm not in a good mood to be working. Then Sydney sets a picture in front of me. "Take a good look at this woman, Janie." I examine her almost without thought, taking in her obvious motivations and inclinations, indicated by her posture, style of dress, expression, and other visual cues. After a moment, I look up at Sydney, my arms still crossed, waiting for him to tell me what he wants.

Sydney makes eye contact and holds it for a moment as if looking straight through and examining my brain. Then he stands and points to a model that I hadn't noticed yet, behind his desk. He motions me over and begins to explain. "This woman is in here," he points to a room on the 12th story. "In 5 minutes, these two men," here he shows me a picture of two burly men in suits, just like the ones that had dragged me to this room. I note their respective personalities and proclivities vaguely, then turn back to Sydney as he finishes, "these two men are going to come into her room and tell her that she is to come with them. What will she do?"

I had unintentionally uncrossed my arms while listening to the story he was setting up. Now, though, I cross them again and say stubbornly, "I don't know. How should I know?"

Sydney frowns, then leans toward me and whispers almost under his breath, "Please, Janie... if you don't cooperate, they're going to transfer you to Raines' care. I don't think either of us wants that."

After looking into his eyes and seeing that he was telling the truth, I sigh. "Give me the picture of her that was just taken," I order, holding out my hand. With a look of surprise, he reaches into his jacket and hands me a picture of the woman he had shown me, sitting at her desk staring at something fascinating on her computer.

I shake my head. "She won't come. She knows she's safe, that they can't make her come." Sydney nods slowly, *almost* managing to cover up his surprise at my response.

"Is there any way that these two men can get her to come with them?"

A smile twitches at the corners of my mouth. "Why don't they tell her she's coming to meet her new helper?" I enjoy watching Sydney's body language change as he absorbs what I have told him.

He nods, finally. "Very good, Janie. I knew you were intelligent!"

Miss Parker glared at her computer. She hoped someone would interrupt her so that she could glare at *them*. Sydney had disappeared for the second day in a row, and Broots was busy researching the clues from Jarod's last lair. Now she had to do the single thing she hated most. Paperwork. She needed to compose a report to the triumvirate and her father detailing the latest failure to recapture Jarod. She *hated* writing these reports.

Just before she actually began to type the report, her phone rang. She picked it up, snapping, "What?!" with even more venom than normal.

An amused Jarod's voice came across the line. "Problem?"

Parker smiled bitterly and said, "Nothing that you can't fix." She let the silence hang for a moment, then continued, "Wish you were here... Give me your address and I'll send you a postcard."

"Handcuffs included?" Jarod asked sarcastically.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to disappoint." The pause indicated that the game was over. "What do you want? Or did you just call to rub salt in the wounds?"

Jarod conveniently ignored her taunting. "Where's Sydney? He's not answering his phone."

"I don't know. Am I his keeper?" She attempted to sound like she didn't care, but in the back of her mind she was beginning to worry.

"No, I suppose not." A pause. "Oh, I sent you something." There was a click and the dial tone, and then her computer chimed to tell her that she had new mail.

She quickly opened it, and saw the only text, "Wish you were here." She opened the attachment and saw Jarod standing next to a sign. "Welcome to CA."

"That jerk! How did he do that so quickly?" She stared at the picture for a moment, looking for clues, then picked up her phone and dialed four numbers. "Broots, get up here!" she snapped. She smiled as she hung up, her bad mood slowly dissipating. There was nothing she liked better than an excuse to get away from the paperwork.

Miss Parker went back to examining the picture, counting the minutes until Broots made it to her office.

At two and one-half minutes, the door burst open. That had to be a new record! She glanced up to give her customary jibe regarding how long it had taken, but stopped when she saw it was sweepers. "What do you want?" she demanded, reaching for her phone to remind them that she was the daughter of the chairman and she was in control.

"Mr. Parker-" here his name came up to counter her sense of control, in the usual power game. "Mr. Parker has not ordered this..." Miss Parker looked up in surprise. This wasn't how it went. "However, you have been requested to come with us to SL-12."

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to refuse. I'm busy doing my job-tracking down Jarod."

The other sweeper spoke up. "We have also been instructed to tell you that this is for you to meet the newest member of the team assigned to capture Jarod."

Miss Parker had looked back to her computer in dismissal, but now she stood to her feet. "Where on SL-12?"

The sweepers turned. "Come with us."

"No." She would assert her control. She pointed to one, and ordered, "You will stay here and tell Mr. Broots where I have gone and that I will be back later." Then, to the other, she said, "And you will show me where on SL-12." The sweepers made eye contact, then split as she had asked.

Miss Parker remained silent the whole way down, making it her personal goal to ratchet the sweeper's discomfort level as high as possible. She also considered who this new member of the "team" could be. The last few had been disastrous, and she didn't expect anything less this time.

When they reached SL-12, she was surprised to see that they turned toward the area that contained some old SIM labs. What was happening down here?

Suddenly it clicked. This was where Sydney had been all day-working with a new child, probably another pretender. She was surprised and more than a little hurt that he hadn't told her.

She swept into the room ahead of the sweeper, wondering what she would find.

I look up as I hear confident strides clicking down the hall. I move back from the door, giving her space. She will want to feel that she is in control.

I gravitate toward some blocks from a previous puzzle. I fiddle with them, hearing Sydney get up to greet her.

She enters, and I see she has only one of the men with her. Even that man she dismisses summarily. Then she looks at me, and I look down to avoid eye contact.

"Parker, this is Janie," Sydney introduces.

"Oh, is *this* where you have been?" She's angry. Is it at Sydney? Some, but not all. Is it at me? No, but-- It seems like it has to do with me. I file that in the back of my mind for further consideration as she continues. "How old is she??"

"She's four." More quietly, he reminds her, "The same age as Jarod was." I perk up at the name Jarod. From Sydney's tone and her response, he is important.

"And what do you and my father think a four-year-old lab rat can help us with?"

"Parker!" he reprimands her. Then he looks to me. "What do you think she's going to do now?"

I hesitate. Sydney isn't dangerous, but Parker could be, and she won't like it if I am correct. I shake my head at Sydney, but he urges me on. I look to her, then back to Sydney. "She doesn't need my help." I could qualify this by saying that is what she thinks, but that will take the control out of her hands. Besides, I don't know what it is that he thinks I can do that she can't. Then I look to her again, and ask quietly. "Who are you trying to find?"

Parker ignores my question. Her posture indicates that she doesn't want to think of me as a person. I wonder why that is, but watch her as she asks, "What is she, a psychic?"

"No... she's not a psychic. I don't know exactly what to call her yet."

I disappear behind the desk. This way she won't have to see me. She can pretend I don't exist.

"What is she doing now?"

Sydney comes around the desk and kneels next to me. Before he even asks, I explain in a whisper, "She can do it, let her do it."

Sydney stands, and gives the woman a half-smile. "She has great confidence in you."

Suddenly, I realize. This won't work. She wants to prove herself better than me. As it is, I'm not allowing her to keep power at all. "No! I can do it! I *know*," I call out, coming out from behind the desk. I bounce in place for a moment, then yell, "Me me me!" and throw a block at her.

She dodges the block, then glares at me. "Get your pet monkey under control, Syd."

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!!" I yell as I run at her, dodging Sydney's move before he can even make it.

She will sweep her leg under me and send me to the floor. Wait for it.. wait for I-Ow! I land on my back, and the sound of my head smacking the concrete floor resounds through the room. I lay in shock, my head seeming to vibrate in synch with the blood pounding through my head.

Then I jump to my feet, and she grabs me as I expect. I scream, "No, no medicine," before she can even recommend it to Sydney. I struggle against her, but she easily contains my tiny body.

When Sydney moves toward me, needle in hand, I still. I look up at Miss Parker, clearly in control now, and smile uncertainly. "You win. Talk to Daddy for me?" I ask quietly.

Parker looks down at me, indicating with one hand that Sydney should stop. She lets my hand go, and I return to my blocks calmly. Then I look back at a confused Sydney. "My head hurts." To Parker, I say, "You didn't have to trip so hard."

She turns to Sydney. "I think she was acting," she tells him incredulously. "She's almost as bad as rat boy."

I look to her. "He ran away," I tell her solemnly, playing up my innocent young child act. She is sympathetic to me now. She knows someone like me. Well, like I am acting. I wonder who it is.

Parker nods. "Yes he did." She moves toward me, and I can tell that she is working to keep me under her control. "Do you know where he is?"

I shake my head. "You don't," I tell her, by way of explanation.

Sydney speaks up. "She can read people's body language. She knew how to get you down here after we showed her a picture."

"How will that help us catch Jarod?"

"Bring the photos of Jarod's last lair."

Parker disappears for a while, and Sydney watches me. I bash the blocks against one another, and then look up. "Who is Jarod?"