So Much For a Holiday
For all those that asked so nicely for this sequel, here it is. For those that threatened, demanded, yellled, niggled or otherwise... :D... don't hurt me. Please?
This is a sequel to 'pretend squared.' There aren't to many overt references to that story, and this one pretty much stands alone, execpt, for later, when... well, you'll see.
(ps. Daisyz, why should Parker be following meekly after Jarod out of the Centre? Lets give her a bit more credit than that shall we)
'Daddy, I'm taking leave.' Miss Parker stated it as she swept into her father's office, long since having discovered that people unprepared for conversations gave ground more easily.
'Angel. Good to see you.' Her father, however, never got to the point, buying himself time to think of ways to wheedle around her.
'I'm taking a holiday.' She re-stated, so he wouldn't be able to distract her with pleasantries.
'Is this about that Willard fellow Angel? He's dead now, there's no need to worry about him.'
No, no need to worry. Thought Parker grimly. Thanks to him, you're chairman of the Centre, and Raines is safely in a state jail.
'I know Daddy, but its not about him. I've had about five days off since I first started chasing Jarod, and two weeks without me on the pursuit team won't make a difference to the final outcome.'
Mr. Parker smiled disarmingly, looking like a harmless old man, and raised both hands in a gesture of mock defeat. 'Whatever you say Angel. I never could refuse my beautiful daughter anything.'
'Thankyou Daddy. I'll be gone from tomorrow.' She swept out, not letting him add any conditions on to her brief freedom. As she descended into the sub levels to tell Sydney and Broots, there was a smile on her face not unlike the one that hones in on swimmers, cutting smoothly through the water. A path cleared miraculously for her, even in the busiest corridors.
oo00OO00oo
Jarod eyed his mobile phone warily. It was ringing. He had bought it yesterday, and it was ringing. It just wasn't possible that anyone had the number.
He stared dumbly at it in indecision for another two rings, then curiosity, ever his weakness, overcame him. He reached out one hand, answered the call, and held the phone to his ear. Surprise and amusement battled for control of his feelings when he heard the voice on the end of the line.
'Did you know that some tribes in the Kalahari Desert, rather than setting the whole tribe out to try to flush out and bring down prey, will just set one hunter on it, and follow it until it collapses from exhaustion?'
'Definitely more efficient than the other way of hunting… if the single hunter has the endurance and the skills to keep up with the prey. Sometimes it could take days.' He admired how well she had emulated his style of phone greeting, but purposely avoided falling into her standard mode of reply.
'It's amazing the things you learn when you've got a bit of time to yourself. I finally found the space to just sit down and flick through the TV channels.'
'Ah yes. This would be about the two week vacation that you demanded from your father yesterday.'
'OK, I'll tell you how I found your phone number if you tell me how you knew that.'
'I'll can find out myself. Happy hunting.' Jarod hung up on her, amusement having won. She was good, and he sometimes didn't give her enough credit for that. Little reminders like this actually helped him to keep on his toes.
Smiling, he stood and moved around his hotel room, gathering his things, and trying to ignore the tiny nagging doubt in the pit of his stomach, warning him like a splinter of foresight, wedged into the security of the present.
oo00OO00oo
'Mr Broots, I would like you to keep a track of my daughter. Just to make sure she is safe. Nothing too invasive, but keep me up to date on where she is.'
'Yes Mr Parker.' Gulped Broots to the back that had already turned to leave the room. It was taken for granted that he would acquiesce with the request, no further contact was required. That didn't mean he wasn't suddenly wracked with conflict.
It was his job and the safety of him and his daughter if he did not track Miss Parker whilst she was supposed to be on holiday. On the other hand, if he tracked her, and she found out, it was his balls, and then his tongue and then his life, but at least Debbie would be safe.
Broots contemplated. But he had never… well… not without some serious pressure from a more immediate authority (ie. Miss Parker, breathing down his neck)… disobeyed a direct order from the chairman. And without Miss Parker here to protect him now, he had very little choice. She would understand. At least, he hoped so.
He leant forward over his keyboard and began to tap away, just to see how far back he could stay from her whilst still keeping Mr Parker happy. Hopefully all it would involve would be some photos of her house from satellite, to prove that she was still around the place, and not in South Africa, meeting with the Triumvirate.
So this was the evidence he placed on Mr Parker's desk three days later. The odd photo of Miss Parker's car entering and leaving her driveway, the lights in the house turning on and off. That satisfied the old man, and kept Broots safe for another day or two.
That is, until Broots noticed that there wasn't one clear image of Miss Parker herself in any of the photos, only evidence of her movements. He didn't mention it to Mr Parker, but it piqued his curiosity, and he began to delve a little closer, using the world of technology.
Whereupon he discovered some very clever traces of… he didn't know what. They were very clever. They could not be re-constructed to make anything. It could not even be determined from them what was there before them. They were simply slight anomalies in the binary code for things such as Miss Parker's online accounts, and her phone bills.
Broots wasn't sure exactly what she'd done, but he realised three things. She'd disappeared. She'd done it on purpose. And he was in serious trouble if Mr Parker found out.
He sat staring blankly at his monitor, twisting his fingers around one another, and eventually came to a conclusion. She'd said the holiday would only last two weeks. He only had to hide it for another eleven days. But hide it he would. Not a soul would know. Except for Sydney of course. That decided, Broots sighed in relief, wiped the traces of his searching of the computer, and went back to his usual occupation- tracking Jarod.
oo00OO00oo
Jarod shut his laptop and stared blankly at the opposite wall for a few moments. She was gone, vanished, disappeared. A shiver ran down his spine, and he glanced behind himself, just to check that she wasn't actually standing behind him. How could she have dematerialised, just like that? No, it couldn't be true. That was it- he'd overlooked something.
He checked again.
She was definitely gone. Back to staring in disbelief at the wall. Then, as though he'd been hit by an electric prod, he jumped off the bed he was sitting on, moving fast as he packed his things and fled from his new motel. Behind him, crushed into tiny fragments, was the phone she'd rung two days ago, lying useless in the bin.
Jarod was two states away before he stopped to think and plan. His first instinct when something wasn't right was to run. He was good at running. It kept him safe… he corrected that in his mind- it had kept him safe up until now. There was no doubt in his mind that Miss Parker was hunting him. For some reason, she had decided that it was time to turn around the game of chasey they had played for five years. Jarod has always assumed that the Centre were already throwing everything they had at him. And now… suddenly, Miss Parker was solo, out in the field, and after him. Which meant that all the prior rules were off. So much for a holiday.
So, he reasoned, she'll be trying to anticipate what I'm doing. And what my first instinct was, was to run. So, no more blind running. His brilliant intellect was the one thing that the Centre couldn't match him in. That was his advantage, now that Miss Parker was chasing him using a method he himself had admitted as being 'more efficient.'
Having decided all this, Jarod got down to the serious planning. There was nothing wrong with running; he'd just have to do it carefully. The other option was to go to ground, which he quickly discarded, as it often left no quick escape routes.
Since she'd be trying to anticipate his actions, he rolled a dice to pick his location, and then took a roundabout route, calling in a few favours and not so much as using public transport.
By the time he had made three such moves, he was feeling slightly safer. Miss Parker had not caught up with him once and he decided he had panicked just a bit too fast. Having hardly seen daylight in three days, and since he was down in the warm south, he thought maybe it was time to go out and catch some local life. Blending in with a crowd, rather than sitting cooped in his hotel room was actually safer anyway.
Twilight was falling as Jarod wandered along the beach front, smiling at all the teenagers, drinking, dancing, living and having fun. A massive bonfire had been lit further down the beach, and silhouetted figures danced around it to the music of a percussion band, provided by a foursome of friends, that laughed as they watched the dancers. Jarod meandered that way, standing with the rest of the crowd that watched the dancing. It was clearly school holidays or something, but the crowds still contained all ages of people. Someone dragged an esky up to the watchers, and the pretender handed him a fiver, receiving a beer in return.
The bonfire's flames licked the starry sky and the sea lapped the beach, as the many feet pounded across the warm sand. Jarod's eyes were caught by one scantily clad dancer. Her long brown hair was given fiery highlights by the flames as she swung her hips fluidly to the beat, gluing his eyes to her lithe form. He drained his beer, hardly taking his eyes off her. Enchanted, he was stepping into the circle to join her, when she tossed a look over her shoulder at him and he finally caught a glimpse of her face. His jaw dropped in shock. The look on Miss Parker's face was one of mischievous triumph.
Parker watched as Jarod turned and slipped away through the crowd, quickly disappearing in the darkness. She didn't bother to try and follow him. His expression had been priceless. This was going to be fun.
oo00OO00oo
Jarod didn't stop this time. His life became a series of dingy hotels, and spare bedrooms of old friend's houses. When, five days later, his new mobile phone rang, it took no effort to determine who it was. And yet, despite his better judgement, he answered it, feeling butterflies stir in the pit of his stomach.
'I've discovered an interesting fact about seals.'
'What might that be Miss Parker?'
'As a fish swims through the water, it leaves a trail of electromagnetic disturbance behind it that is clearer the harder it swims. Seals can track this trail, and when a fish realises that it has a seal closing in on it, the harder it swims to get away, the more it tightens its own noose.'
'I see you're putting your holiday to good use. Did we get that one from the discovery channel?' Jarod couldn't help the patronising tone he adopted. Miss Parker's sudden prowess in getting his phone number (and appearing in front of him) was unnerving.
'Whatever you want to think labrat. Oh, and how's the weather in Michigan?' There was a click as she hung up. Jarod's breathing escalated. She was good. She was too good. At this rate, she'd have him in a day.
It was time to put to use the only other thing that the Centre couldn't emulate, other than his intellect. He could disappear completely with a pretend. There was no way she could hunt Jarod if he wasn't Jarod any more.
Thinking carefully about the ways she could possibly have traced him, he dismantled his new phone and flushed the pieces down the toilet before packing his meagre belongings once more. This time, however, he didn't flee the hotel room immediately. He waited a good two hours, in case she was watching out front, then slipped discretely out the kitchen entrance, dressed as a waiter.
From there, Jarod went into a pretend as a plain clothes policeman- a job with no uniform, that could allow him to blend in anywhere, at the same time as keeping him in thick crowds, should he so wish. It was the first time ever he hadn't used the first name 'Jarod' in a pretend. He bought a new phone, but carefully protected it, fixing it so his new number didn't even appear to the phone company.
After the second day, he was starting to feel safe again. He worked at his new job, not being too brilliant, but no being too slow. He didn't use anything of electronic origin, and kept a cap on at all times to avoid his face being seen from satellite photos. He has changed every single article of clothing and immersed himself in water for half an hour to rid himself of any possible bugs planted on him. There was simply no way she could have followed him.
And then…
He was walking on the way to check up on a police snitch when his phone started to ring. 'No, no, no' moaned Jarod quietly. Stepping out of the flow of people, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.
'Miss Parker' he greeted her before she could say anything. 'No' replied a confused voice, 'this is sergeant Munroe. Are you feeling alright detective?'
'Yes, fine, sorry.' Jarod had to work hard to hide the relief from his voice. He had forgotten that he had given commanding officer his number. 'Right. I was just ringing to remind you about the Turon case'
'Yes sir.' Replied Jarod, knowing nothing else needed to be said. The officer hung up and Jarod replaced his phone, feeling slightly foolish for being so paranoid. He had made very sure that Miss Parker couldn't follow him, so why was he expecting her around every corner?
He continued on the way to where the snitch liked to do business, feeling nervy, but hiding it well. Turning down an alley and leaving the flow of the side walk, he pushed through a dilapidated fence, and stepped toward the mock counter that had been set up, over which Jimmy the snitch traded all sorts of illegal goods, and peddled information to anyone that paid him enough or threatened him even more than that.
'How's life been Jimmy…' Jarod's challenge started off loud and confident, then trailed off to nothing as he saw that Miss Parker was leaning on one of the alley walls, her gun held casually to the small and dirty head of Jimmy to keep him silent. The snitch shot Jarod an apologetically terrified look.
'His life isn't so good, but yours is about to be infinitely worse.' Her voice was silken, smug, knowing she had him.
Jarod fell back a step, stomach coiling in fear, and mind working furiously, but all he said was; 'Come on Miss Parker. I saved your life last week. Besides, I thought you were meant to be on holiday.' His tone was almost pleading.
'And I thought you were a genius.' Jarod realised that any sort of appeal to her better nature wouldn't get very far at the moment. She was still holding a gun to Jimmy's head, keeping him firmly rooted both in himself and to the spot. Jarod's pretend didn't care if the weaselly little snitch got shot, but Jarod cared. So he stayed put, and proceeded warily.
'Apparently not. How did you find me?' Jarod knew he shouldn't ask, as it betrayed weakness, but he couldn't stand it anymore.
'Jarod, you should know that the best hunter of all doesn't chase or track. The best hunter waits.'
'Because they know where the prey will be?' Asked the pretender meekly.
'Always' replied Miss Parker, her smile meaning danger to somebody.
'So, there's not much point in me running, is there then?' Stated Jarod, testing the waters.
Parker shook her head, smiling sweetly.
TBC…