DISCLAIMER: "The Pretender" and its characters belong to NBC. No financial reward will be obtained by the author for writing it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ADULTS ONLY PLEASE - this is not a nice story. If it seems long and contrived that's because I was enjoying it too much and well..yes, I got a little carried away. If it seems downright cruel (it is) blame Terri - she made me mean. I was really decent once, honestly.
Thanks Terri. For patience, advice, and for fixing my bungles.

SUMMARY: An old enemy from a previous pretend returns to take revenge on Jarod.

RATING: PG-17, non-consensual m/m sex

Blake

By Taz

Jarod smiled happily as he stood aside to allow a young family of five to exit the elevator first. A blonde girl of about six was arguing with her older brother. Another boy, this one about three, was jumping up between his parents as they swung him by his arms out of the doors. The giggles and squeals from the youngest child went straight to Jarod's heart. "That's a happy young man you've got there." He said to the mother.

She smiled at the compliment and at the handsome man who'd given it. "Thanks. You want him?"

Jarod frowned, stunned by what he thought was a genuine offer. His better sense kicked in quickly, though, and he grinned again as the mother, her husband, and their three noisy charges made their way down the corridor. He was still grinning to himself as he pushed the button for the fifth floor. Just as the door was about to close a tall, darkly attractive woman slipped into the lift with him and stabbed at the same button. She glanced at him quickly and shrugged. "I never trust the lights," she said by way of explanation. Jarod merely raised his eyebrows, amused.

As he waited for the lift to find the fifth floor he thought about what brought him to the hotel. Almost a year earlier Jarod had come across a bereft woman named Wendy Dawson and helped her locate and reclaim her two stolen children. Jarod had posed as an arms dealer in order to gain access to young Ryan and Rebecca in their father's heavily guarded mansion. The father - Desmond Blake - was a hard and heartless man who treated his own children as little more than possessions. He'd even told the children their mother was dead. There had been one sympathetic soul in the children's life: a woman named Emma who had been the children's nanny and a good friend of Wendy's. She had been frightened, but Jarod had persuaded her to help him return the children to their mother. Separated from his own parents as a child, Jarod had found it particularly satisfying to reunite the family.

He'd arranged new lives and identities for Wendy, the children and Emma. Although Blake had been sent to jail thanks to Jarod, there was still the danger that the violent man may have paid others to hunt his family down and harm them. Jarod hated the need to upset their lives, but he assured them all that it was necessary for their safety. Things had been going along fine but two days earlier Jarod had received a call from Emma wanting to meet him. She said she'd returned for a friend's wedding and wanted to see Jarod while she was in town. He was looking forward to catching up on the children's and Wendy's progress.

A short time later the lift door opened and he waited for the woman to exit first. It was a beautiful hotel, new and decorated in tasteful shades of maroon and pale gray. There were expensive paintings along the walls of the hallway and Jarod appreciated several of them as he checked numbers on the doors he passed. 30....32......34....36. He stopped and tapped at the door. When no one answered he tried again, a bit harder. "Emma? It's Jarod," he called. There was a moment of silence, and then he heard the distantly familiar voice.

"Come in Jarod."

He tried the door and finding it unlocked, walked in. Jarod found a tastefully decorated living area complete with more paintings and tourist leaflets sitting on the television. There was a large metallic laundry trolley on wheels behind the door and a camera on the coffee table, but still no Emma. "Emma?" He froze. A young, pretty woman with dark skin and long, curly hair was being forced through another door. Emma. Her hands grasped the powerful forearm of her captor, which was locked about her throat.

She was quite plainly terrified. Tears ran from reddened eyes and her voice was weak as she locked eyes with Jarod, "I'm so sorry Jarod."

The door opened again behind Jarod and the woman who had earlier rode with him in the lift entered the room, a silenced gun in her right hand. Another man was with her: big, bearded, in an expensive suit. Both trained their weapons on the increasingly alarmed pretender. Two more grim-faced men entered from yet another door and each grabbed one of Jarod's arms, forcing them painfully up behind him. It all happened incredibly fast. Jarod noted with a grim sense of alarm that these people knew exactly what they were doing.

"Nice of you to join us Jarod."

Jarod forced his eyes from the terrified Emma to the man holding her. He was somewhere in his forties, of a height with Jarod but perhaps thirty pounds heavier. Jarod recognized Desmond Blake, knew the man far more than he wanted to. He'd seen Blake deliberately knock his own man unconscious in a fit of temper. He was a very powerful, very dangerous man. Jarod forced himself not to struggle against the men holding him and narrowed his eyes, piercing the other man with obvious contempt. "Do I know you?"

The other man smiled and released Emma, then shoved her backwards into an armchair without sparing her a glance. "You've forgotten me already Jarod? I'm hurt." He walked slowly up to the glaring man and stepped in close, "You sent me to the Vasquez Penitentiary for what I have to admit was not the best six months of my life."

"It was supposed to be for a bit longer than six months," Jarod growled.

"Ah. You do remember me." Blake was under no illusion that Jarod didn't. "I remember you very well Jarod. In fact I've thought of little else since we last met." He paused, studying the younger man, "Want to know what I've been planning?"

"No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Blake's smile widened, "You're right. I couldn't have you dying of curiosity could I?" Obviously, other methods of dying were still options.

Jarod glanced at Emma with concern. He knew that Blake had a grudge with and was ready to deal with that; it was a hazard of the stings he regularly pulled against powerful and morally bereft opposition. However, he didn't want Emma to suffer for something he had instigated, especially when he had urged her to help him in the first place. He kept eye contact with Blake, pouring hate into his expression and hoping Blake would concentrate on him and forget about Emma.

"I heard you were dead," he said, realizing as he spoke that it that it wasn't the first time he'd uttered those lines.

Blake stepped back from his victim and retrieved a cigar from his pocket. He made use of an expensive looking silver lighter then took his time savoring the taste of the cigar.

He smiled contentedly and blew a cloud of smoke directly into Jarod's face. Jarod coughed reluctantly, taking a step back. The men at his sides reacted by pulling his wrists vertically up behind his shoulder blades, a sudden yank that made him gasp. Blake nodded at the woman and she produced a set of handcuffs then stepped in close. She snapped them onto Jarod's wrists and his guards allowed him to lower his arms behind him. Jarod eyed his enemy suspiciously. He was becoming more concerned at their predicament; he'd been in handcuffs many times in his life, but usually he'd been the Centre's prisoner. He knew the Centre wanted him alive if possible, and there had always been the knowledge that he would have time to escape again. This time though he was the prisoner of a very dangerous man who had no reason to keep him alive at all. Except, perhaps, to kill slowly. Jarod was about to speak again when Blake raised a hand, cutting him off. The larger man carefully sat his cigar on the ashtray beside him, then spun incredibly quickly and punched Jarod in the gut full force.

Jarod dropped to his knees gasping. He saw Emma rising to come to him and shook his head. She subsided back into her chair, face white. Blake hadn't finished. He threw another punch at Jarod's face, then again at his midsection. Jarod tried to turn his back as he curled his face into his body, trying to gain some protection from Blake's continuing blows. Fortunately, the attack didn't last long.

Blake hardly worked up a pant. He forced himself to stop before knocking his victim unconscious. He wanted to destroy his captive's arrogance and see fear take its place, and he wouldn't see that in the younger man if he was out cold. He waited for Jarod to stop gasping before kneeling down beside him. "You shouldn't assume everyone's as thorough as you Jarod," he said calmly. "It took four months before my people found the Warden's price. Another two months to stage my death. That was the easy part. You know what was hard?"

"Finding mourners at your funeral?" Jarod gasped.

Blake smiled and slowly traced a hand over Jarod's face. "Tracking you down. You're a very hard man to locate Jarod. Any idea why that might be?" He waited for an answer, interested to see how far Jarod would go to save his life. But Jarod was apparently too busy pulling himself back together to answer. Blake rose again and nodded to the men beside Jarod. They pulled him to his feet and held him there as he swayed.

Jarod was fighting to get past the pain in his face and torso. He needed to start thinking of a way out of this situation or both he and Emma would soon be dead. The trouble was that he couldn't see any way out. Not with so many against them, and his wrists restrained behind him. Then he looked at Emma, who was frozen in place on her chair. She was visibly shaking, tears running down wet cheeks. Jarod felt his anger return and he almost managed to straighten up. "What are you waiting for Blake? You've got us outnumbered five to two and gosh, I seem to be tied up at the moment. This would be about your odds wouldn't it?" His tone hardened, "Almost as good as terrorizing small children."

Blake had been about to take another puff at his cigar, but paused at Jarod's words. The fact that he hadn't yet been able to locate his children or his useless ex wife still drove him crazy some days. The other thing that drove him crazy, and had done during those six months in prison, had been the image of Jarod gloating at him back at the hangar, when Jarod had trapped him in his own car. He had spent many days and nights imagining all the ways he could wipe the arrogant smirk clean off Jarod's face.

He gave Jarod his calmest cold look, then smiled evilly. He waved his hand towards the female heavy and she placed her silenced weapon in his palm. He noted Jarod didn't even flinch, but that didn't worry him. He figured he knew which of Jarod's buttons to press. "Emma," he said gently, "come here." He saw Jarod stiffen. Emma hadn't moved so Blake took her arm and pulled her out of the chair.

Jarod's face went cold as he realized what was going to happen. "Blake don't. Please. She didn't want to help. I made her do it." One of the guards at his side hooked an arm around Jarod's throat and tightened it until Jarod became silent.

Emma was trembling all over and she couldn't take her eyes off the gun as Blake raised it to the side of her head. "Desmond? I'm sorry. Please." Her words were so soft they were hard for anyone to understand even in the quiet of the small room.

"That's all right Emma." Blake said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you. Pass me that cushion sweetheart." He waited while she reached down and took a cushion from the chair then passed it to him. Her eyes were wide with fear; it was obvious she didn't believe him.

"No," Jarod whispered.

Blake held the cushion over Emma's chest, and holding her by the throat, put his gun against the cushion and pulled the trigger. Emma took one gasp and sank to the floor.

Jarod felt his legs give. He dropped to his knees as the arm around his neck loosened. All he could see was the blood that was already soaking the pillow, and Emma's deathly still face. He couldn't speak. Visions of Kenny being killed by Damon assaulted him, and then images of himself persuading Emma to help him thwart her employer. He was crushed by horror - and guilt.

Blake watched Jarod the whole time. An utterly satisfying feeling was creeping into him. He found that he liked it very much. He stepped away from the body as if it was rubbish and gestured to the bearded guard. "Get rid of that before it stains the carpet." He saw the man nod but didn't watch as his instructions were carried out. He was too busy watching his remaining victim.

The female guard rolled the forgotten laundry trolley over and the bearded man lifted Emma's body easily, then dumped it in. He glanced back at Jarod who was still kneeling and staring at the floor, obviously in shock. "They should make these things bigger," he said. It was the first any of the guards had spoken since Jarod had entered the room. The woman dumped a pile of clothes into the trolley and then opened the outside door a fraction, checked no one was nearby, then motioned her partner and the trolley through.

Jarod became aware of his own peril again as if waking from a dream. Someone forced a thick ball of cloth into his mouth, then tied the ends behind his head. He felt his ankles being bound together and knew that the cuffs had also been tied to the ankle rope. He forced his eyes up. Blake was crouched in front of him close enough to touch if he'd leaned forward. "It's been fun Jarod," Blake said, savoring the moment. "Time to die now."

The outside door opened again and the bearded man returned with the trolley. Jarod was lifted bodily and he struggled against them. The thought of falling on top of Emma's body was panicking him beyond rational thought. They let him drop inside with no more care than they'd taken with the fresh corpse. Jarod's head hit the metal side hard but he was too overwhelmed with visions of Emma being dumped in there to care. It was only the realization that they'd removed her corpse that stopped him from vomiting into the gag. He swept panicked eyes up to see Blake staring at him from above. He fully expected the gun to appear and finish him off while he was still in the trolley. The blood certainly wouldn't stain the carpet in here.

Blake's expression was blank as he studied Jarod lying helpless in the trolley. No arrogance now, he noted. No smug grin, no smartass remarks. Of course, the last would have been difficult with the gag, but he doubted Jarod would have been up to it anyway. He was looking forward to what was coming next when his cell phone beeped and he removed it from his pocket. "Blake. What is it?" He listened a few minutes, then nodded to one of his cohorts. The other man took a pile of rumpled sheets and dropped them into the trolley, completely hiding Jarod from view. "I'll be right there," Blake said into the phone before shutting it off. He looked to the man with the trolley. "You know what to do. Change of plans for me so I'll meet you back at the ranch." He kicked the trolley and said curtly to his companion, "Make it good."

Talia Wise led the way to the elevator, her companion pushing the laundry trolley between them. They passed a few people on the way but were ignored after a quick smile or nod. There was nothing remarkable about them that anyone would remember, and if the bound man inside the trolley was able to make any noise at all it would easily have been covered by the rattling wheels. She made sure they got the elevator to themselves, though. If someone were to discover their cargo in the quiet of the lift things could get messy. Her companion - Jason Cole - had suggested they drug their victim to keep him quiet, but Blake made it clear he wanted the man aware of what was happening to him. Neither Talia nor Cole were surprised. Their boss was well known for his sadistic personality traits. It made them very careful around him.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Talia stepped out into the dimly lit carpark. Cole pushed the trolley out behind her and then followed towards a white van parked in a far corner. The bearded man from the room appeared and slid the rear door open, checked that no one else could see what was happening, and nodded to his companions. Talia pulled the sheets out of the trolley and threw them into the van. The two men reached in and pulled Jarod out roughly, then dumped him quickly through the open door. Cole checked there was nothing left in the trolley, then pushed it into a far corner to be collected by the hotel staff. Seconds later the van was pulling out of the carpark with its four passengers.

Jarod fought to control his breathing behind the thick gag. He knew they wanted to inspire fear in him, but the knowledge didn't help. It was working all too well. He was lying on his side, head pressed against one side of the wall of the van. Facing the wall, he couldn't see what was happening around him, but he felt them entering the van with him and heard the door shut. Then the van was moving, reversing slowly, then forwards, then angling upwards out of the underground carpark. He was still seeing Emma sinking to the floor in the hotel room. Her eyes had been on Jarod the whole time. Wide, terrified eyes. Jarod squeezed his own eyes shut and told himself he needed to put the image away. If he didn't concentrate on his own predicament he was not going to survive long enough to mourn properly or avenge Emma's death.

Jarod slowly managed to force his breathing to somewhere approaching normal. The gag was large and dry in his mouth and didn't help. He moved his wrists, testing how tight the woman had fastened the handcuffs. She'd done a good job of course; he should be flattered they weren't underestimating him. The ropes around his ankles were a little looser but all that meant was that if he managed to free his feet he could kick at them before they tied him up again and beat the shit out of him. He didn't think that would be conducive to escaping.

It was fairly dark in the windowless van despite the light outside. He could hear a conversation going on up the front but couldn't make out what they were saying. He concentrated on the noise of traffic and trying to work out where they were taking him.

Cole glanced back at their silent passenger and saw that the man had calmed down somewhat. That was good. They didn't want him hyperventilating or having some sort of fit on them. He remembered that had happened once several years ago when he was with his previous employer. The hostage had only been around thirty but the strain had obviously been too much and he'd had a heart attack anyway. There wasn't much they could do, other than the CPR they'd tried unsuccessfully to revive him with. Cole figured this one was tougher than that.

He remembered thinking almost a year earlier that the guy was probably a meaner bastard than Blake. That was when Jarod had pretended to be an arms dealer. It had been an enormous shock to find out just how good an actor the man really was. They'd managed to find his face and name on a number of newspaper articles both from before the incident with Blake and after. The guy was about as close to an arms dealer as Cole himself was to a kindergarten teacher. What else had become clear, though, was that Jarod had incredible balls to do the things he was doing, and to people as powerful as he'd been doing it to. Cole was amazed that no one had caught up to him before Blake had. It was yet more evidence Jarod was incredibly clever or ridiculously lucky. Cole didn't believe in luck.

He reached under the glove box of the van and pulled out a set of three coke cans. "Bowman, you want a coke?" he asked the bearded man driving.

"When we're out of town." Bowman replied, watching the traffic alongside as he changed lanes. "We stopping at the Glory?"

"Yup. Blake's going to be busy for a couple of days anyway so there's no rush."

"Shame we couldn't have the girl in the back instead then. Pretty piece that one."

Cole nodded grimly, "Not any more." He turned to the only female of their group, "Talia, you want a Coke?"

She looked up from her lazy perusal of the bound man, "Yeah, thanks Jason." She reached and took the can she was offered. "Speak for yourselves, I'd rather have this one here. I'm planning on enjoying this."

Cole smirked and threw the driver an amused look. Bowman just raised his eyebrows. "Don't let us stop you," he said.

Talia set the unopened can down on the floor of the van and moved over to Jarod. She saw that his eyes were closed but he was frowning - probably trying to work out what was happening, she thought. She reached for the gag then thought better of it. They were still in the city and he could make things awkward for them if he yelled loud enough. Instead, she ran a hand through his hair, smiling as his eyes flew open at her touch. She expected to see fear, but surprisingly there was only anger in the glare he directed at her. This was going to be interesting.

"Hi there, Jarod. Enjoying your last hours?" she prodded. His expression didn't change, though it was hard to see with his face against the wall of the van. She checked that his handcuffs were still secure, then checked the rope around his ankles before grabbing a shoulder and hip and turning him completely over onto his other side. The move placed him in the middle of the van and she had to shuffle backwards to make room. She knew it must have hurt his hands when he rolled on the cuffs but noted he didn't show it. She wondered how far his resolve went, but wasn't really interested in testing it with pain. That was Blake's domain and she had no doubts he intended to play a long time with this one.

She tilted her head to one side, studying Jarod like a new pet. Hmm, definitely a good thing it was Jarod and not the woman Blake wanted to target. He was tall and lean, but obviously well muscled under the warm blue shirt he was wearing. She touched his face gently, tracing his cheekbones, sliding a thumb over the eyelids, finally running a hand under his chin before withdrawing it. It was a shame about the gag, but on the other hand she knew it was turning her on. In her mind it reduced him to the helplessness of a tied animal, not even able to talk his way out of anything they might decide to do to him.

Jarod forced himself not to move. He was well aware there was nothing he could do to stop whatever she had planned and he wasn't about to encourage her by struggling. She was touching him in ways he'd often wished Parker would. In ways Nia had. If he wasn't tied like a calf at a rodeo or expecting to die in a matter of hours he could easily have enjoyed the physical attention he had so lacked in his life. However, he knew what this woman felt for him wasn't affection, it was something cruel and dark and wrong. He closed his eyes again, not caring how she would interpret it. She could enjoy herself without his taking part, at least not mentally.

Talia saw the eyes close and guessed what he was up to. She smiled, knowing how little that defense was going to work for him. She reached for his waist and pulled the shirt out of the waistband of his jeans then slid her hands up, making lazy circles over his chest. His eyes remained closed but she could see the tension in his face as he fought to keep calm. She raked nails over his chest, wishing she could easily remove the blue T he was wearing under the shirt. She settled for teasing his nipples with her teeth through the fabric as she worked her hands down.

Jarod was no longer trying to control his breathing, he was just trying to breathe. When he felt her undoing his belt he couldn't keep his eyes closed any more. She saw him looking and rewarded him with a smile, then leaned into him and began nipping and licking his neck. Jarod strained his head away from her, protesting even through the gag, as she finished with the belt and unzipped his jeans. She had a moment of difficulty pulling them down but persevered until everything she wanted was available. He was breathing in big gasps, trying to take in air around the gag. She was tempted again to remove it but didn't.

Jarod turned his face into the carpeted floor of the van, still trying to deny what was happening to him. He'd pictured some pretty awful things happening to him should one of his pretends go wrong but none of his predictions had ever involved anything like this. He felt her leaning into him, pushing him further onto his back. At the same time she was leaning against his legs and the handcuffs were being pulled down painfully by the rope connecting them to his ankles. He tried to concentrate on that pain as one of her hands slid under his waist and both sets of fingers began tracing circles around his buttocks. Her mouth had moved down from his neck to his waist, licking and kissing in equal quantities. She lingered a long time at the hollow below his hip bone before gazing up at his face again.

Talia pulled her arm back from under his waist and cupped his face in her hand gently. "Just relax Jarod. I know what I'm doing," she whispered as her hand moved back to the dark hair at his crotch and nimble fingers began playing with his balls. She wasn't surprised to find his manhood hard even with the distraught look on her reluctant partner's face. Enjoying herself immensely, she began stroking the length of his shaft and tracing the tip lightly.
Bound the way he was, there was a limited amount of things she could do at this point but she'd already decided on a course of action as she squirmed her face lower.

The van bumped suddenly and she steadied herself against Jarod's body. "Careful Bowman, it's not very comfy back here," she protested hoarsely to the driver.

"They're fixing the road up," Bowman replied from his seat, braking the van rapidly. A rotund middle-aged man dressed in fluorescent orange safety attire was holding a stop sign just ahead. "Better have a Coke shower and knock it off Talia, we might need you."

Talia saw Jarod staring at her, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face. She leaned down and kissed him abruptly on one cheek. "Never mind. Wait for me?" she asked, grinning. She didn't wait for an answer she wouldn't get but pulled his clothes back on as quickly as she could manage, then moved to crouch behind the two men at the front.

Jarod swallowed dryly. He felt a terrible mixture of relief and humiliation. Somewhere there his conscience demanded he acknowledge another emotion - shame that his body had been all too obvious in what it had wanted to happen. He knew he would be thinking about Talia and her touch for a long time as he fought once again to settle his reactions enough to satisfy his lungs.

"You'd think they could save it for the weekend," Bowman complained moodily.

Cole shrugged. "They'd never get anything finished if they did that."

"Check my route again would you?"

The other man opened the glove box and withdrew a small road atlas, quickly locating their position and tracing the route they needed to take. "Take the next right and we'll be on our way out." He smirked at Talia who had appeared between the two men. "Having fun?"

She grinned, "Heaps. Poor guy doesn't get out enough."

"Quick, huh?"

"I may have to educate him a little tonight. I like to finish what I start."

Cole shook his head, grinning. "What do you think Bowman? Should we ask Blake not to kill the girl so quick next time? Talia's having all the fun."

The bearded man wasn't paying attention however. He was looking ahead out his side window, "Uh oh."

"What is it?" Cole asked before seeing the problem: a cop approaching the driver's side. He looked behind him at Talia and said quietly, "Get back and cover him just in case." He had a thought and added, "And Talia? I don't mean with your body."

Talia nodded quickly and moved back, careful not to rock the van as she did so. She took a dark-handled knife from the strap at her calf and held it against her prisoner's throat, saying nothing.

Bowman lowered his window and smiled warmly at the approaching police officer. "Officer," he said.

The uniformed man was young and bored, obviously not expecting anything unusual from the people in the van. "They're having some problems here I'm afraid Sir. You're going to have to take a detour down Duke street there."

"I don't see any detour signs," Bowman growled. He ignored the warning glare from the man seated beside him.

"Thanks for your cooperation," the police officer said, not really paying attention. He kept walking behind the van to the next car pulling up behind.

Bowman grumbled to himself and changed gears, then turned into the street the officer had indicated. Beside him he saw Cole smiling at his impatience, then open the road atlas to find an alternative route. If they didn't have their reluctant cargo, he would have been tempted to give the cop a hard time just for the satisfaction of rubbing him up the wrong way. He really did have to work on his temper.

Talia pulled back from Jarod and put the knife away. He watched her warily until she settled, her back resting against the front passenger seat. She finally took her can of Coke and opened it then took a long drink, watching him thoughtfully. The van really wasn't very comfortable anyway, she thought. The Glory motel would definitely be better.

Jarod lost track of how long he'd been tied in the van, but the pain in his shoulder and side told him it had been hours. The gag had been removed shortly after they'd cleared the city and he had fallen asleep after a while, exhausted by his ordeal and lulled by the van's engine. That he'd managed to sleep at all surprised him; it wasn't the way he'd intended to spend his last hours on earth. Then again, neither was being bound hand and foot in a van with homicidal strangers.

The van bumped slowly over a gravel road. He could hear something flicking at the roof and correctly guessed they were on a narrow road overhung by trees. It was almost pitch black in the back of the van so he knew the sun had set some time ago while he slept. A few moments later the vehicle came to a halt and the engine stopped. He felt Talia moving to his side and heard the van door opening at the same time. A moment later his legs were free. He straightened them and rolled onto his back, luxuriating in the sudden freedom of movement. She didn't remove the handcuffs but it was still a vast improvement.

Jason Cole stretched his legs before opening the back of the van. There was a fair bit of light from the moon though it was still dark inside the vehicle so he had to strain to make out Talia cutting the ropes at their captive's ankles. He watched as the relieved man stretched his legs then craned his back, realizing with amusement that whatever he himself was feeling was nothing compared to the discomfort Jarod must have put up with. "Out Jarod."

Jarod hesitated a moment before obeying, then worked his way out of the van. He had to lean back against the vehicle once he was out; his legs were still coming to terms with their newfound freedom. "Where are we?" he asked, looking around.

"Some place quiet and isolated," Cole replied. "That's all you need to know." He nodded to Talia, who had come out behind Jarod. She'd obviously gotten sick of being in the back of the van as well. Next time he'd try to talk Blake into letting them use a sedan with tinted windows. This was just too slow and uncomfortable. He prodded Jarod in the back with his gun. "That way."

Jarod walked in the direction his captor indicated as the three of them followed. They were in a small clearing scattered with old rubbish someone had dumped. There were signs people had been cutting firewood and a small pile of beer bottles sat below one tree. The moon was almost full and the clearing was quite well lit. It gave Jarod a surreal impression of what was happening. They'd brought him here to die in someone's rubbish pile.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with anger as he turned on them. "All right I'm here," he snarled, "Get on with it."

The bearded man - Bowman - sounded amused. "He's in a rush to die Jason, don't you think?"

"Unusually so," Cole returned good-naturedly. "What did you do to him Talia?"

"Boys I'm shocked," she quipped. "Just what sort of girl do you think I am?"

"How about a sick one?" Jarod interrupted angrily.

"Oh Jarod, that wasn't nice." She smiled sweetly, "Looked to me like you were enjoying it."

"Someone was." He gave her his best beady, superior look. "It must be sad having to tie your partners up first."

She stepped in close to him, whispering suggestively, "You should try it before you can it Jarod. Oh, too late. Maybe in your next life?" She'd barely said her piece when Jarod threw a leg out and kicked her behind the knee, dropping her like a brick. He turned immediately to run towards the trees but Cole was there before he'd moved two steps. The other man punched him in the stomach then forced him down on his knees in the dirt.

"That'll be enough I think, Jarod." He waited while Bowman took his place at Jarod's other shoulder and Talia was on her feet again. Then he removed his gun, carefully checked the ammunition, and raised it to the side of Jarod's head. He waited a few minutes, watching the moment sink into his victim's awareness. He saw Jarod had gone pale but was still in control of himself. "Any last words?" He took the safety off.

Jarod's mind was tumbling with possibilities and consequences. There was a chance he could save his life by telling them about the Centre and that he might be worth something to them, but he doubted they'd believe him. It was a pretty unbelievable story anyway and given the current situation they'd guess he would say anything to save his life. Besides, another suspicion was screaming for attention and he was growing more and more convinced of it as the seconds passed.

Blake would not have him killed without being here to see it.

All that time dreading the end in the van had been stupid. All he had to do was sim Blake to realize what was happening, but he'd been too off balance to put to use what he'd been doing most of his life. This was just another one of Blake's mind games.

Cole watched Jarod's eyes narrow and the man gave his supposed executioner a look of pure contempt. "I don't scare that easily," he said quietly. "You'll have to try something else."

Cole glanced at Bowman, who was looking surprised but impressed, and Talia, who merely looked amused. For a moment, he considered hitting the man then quickly changed his mind. Fair enough, he figured, score one to Jarod. Instead he put the safety back on his weapon and slipped it inside his jacket, then shrugged to his friends. "Anyone hungry?" He led the way back to the van.

Jarod let his head drop, hoping to look like he was recovering from the close call. When all three had turned away, though, he dropped his bound hands lower and felt for the metal object he'd deliberately placed himself near. It was a small piece of wire, possibly a paper clip, but hopeful whatever it was. He rose to join his captors, pushing the wire into the sleeve of his shirt as he did so. An opportunity always came - he just had to wait for it.

************************
Wednesday 7:50 PM

Half an hour later Bowman was whining again as he pushed the doors of the van open from the inside. He'd taken his turn in the back with their prisoner and the discomfort hadn't done anything for his mood. He reached back into the van and grabbed Jarod's foot, yanking and then pulling the bound man towards the door. Jarod kicked in an effort to make the burly man let go but Bowman reacted furiously, leaning in and backhanding him heavily across the face. Jarod's head was slammed to the floor and he gasped, staring angrily back at Bowman.

"You get the Hell out of there now before I forget my orders!" he snarled, latching hold of Jarod by his shirt this time.

"Paul that's enough." Cole had appeared. He made a point of looking around the carpark even though nobody else was nearby. He knew Bowman's temper was his Achilles heel, and there had been problems with it in the past, but Bowman wasn't stupid. He just needed a firm hand reminding him when the time wasn't right to let it go. Bowman swore to himself but nodded almost imperceptibly before reaching again for Jarod. This time he gave the man a chance to come without being hauled out. Jarod did, watching Bowman through slitted eyes. Cole leaned into the van and picked up the discarded gag. Bowman grabbed Jarod from behind, his right arm wrapped around the other man's throat.

"Do I need to use this Jarod?" Cole asked, raising the cloth.

"No." His mouth was still dry from the last episode.

"Good. Just remember, if you yell and someone comes - we will kill them before we kill you. Understand?"

"Perfectly."

Cole nodded and pocketed the cloth just in case. He nodded to Bowman then reached inside the van for their gear. Talia had already opened the door of the motel room and Bowman pushed Jarod through it. Inside was a smallish but neat room with two single beds and a double. A family room. At the back was another door, which was obviously the ensuite. Although they hadn't let him drink anything Jarod was wondering when they were going to let him do something about his needs. The ensuite was reminding him it had been a while. Cole and Bowman had both taken advantage of the stop at the clearing but no one had bothered to offer Jarod the chance.

"I'm first,' Talia said, obviously having thoughts along the same lines. She disappeared inside.

Bowman shoved Jarod further into the room and turned to close the curtains beside the outside door. The fourth member of their party finished locking up the van then came in behind, dumping overnight bags on the floor and closing the door. He saw that Jarod had backed up against a wall watching them. The flush of the toilet answered where Talia was, which reminded Cole what he'd been about to say to his prisoner. "All right Jarod, your turn," he said as Talia came out.

"Better not take the cuffs off Jason. I'll give him a hand," Talia said cheerfully, deliberately putting emphasis on the last word.

Cole had his hand on Jarod's arm and felt his prisoner balk at her words, "Knock it off Talia. The poor guy hasn't got over your last effort yet. You'd be standing there half the night."

"That's all right, I can cope."

Cole shook his head, smiling. He made it a point not to get too close to the people he worked with, but he'd heard a few stories about Talia's enthusiastic love making and he figured Jarod didn't stand a chance. "Thanks, but I don't think Jarod could." He steered his prisoner towards the small ensuite then checked it before allowing Jarod in. There was only a tiny window nowhere near large enough to afford an escape. "Turn round." He pushed Jarod face-first against the wall and unlocked the handcuffs, then took them and stood back. By the time Jarod turned around Cole's gun was pointed at Jarod's chest. "Do your business, do as you're told and we won't have any problems."

In the main room, Bowman lowered himself onto the double bed, which creaked under the big man's weight. "I've got the double," he told Talia before she could beat him to it.

"Paul you know I've got plans for that bed."

Bowman nodded and hooked a thumb at the top of the bed, grinning. "Ensemble. Nowhere to cuff him to."

Talia looked and saw that all three beds were the same. She made a face at her companion who was chuckling, "Damn."

Jarod washed his hands and dried them, then started to walk out of the ensuite. "Stop right there," Cole said. "Lie down on the floor on your stomach, hands behind your back."

"My shoulders are killing me," Jarod protested. "There are three of you; I'm not going anywhere."

Cole cocked his head to one side, "Huh. You know what? Blake and I did a lot of reading about you after he got out of prison. We chased down every Jarod we could find in the newspapers, and it turned out a lot of the descriptions in those stories matched yours. You know what else? Everywhere we looked someone was being put into jail. I don't think we'll be taking any chances. Get down."

Jarod accepted the decision without further argument. The comforting sharpness of the wire was still buried in his sleeve and his captors would be more relaxed with him handcuffed. He lowered himself to the floor slowly then rested both hands behind his back. Cole kept his gun aimed and used the other hand to snap the cuffs back on his prisoner. He leaned a knee onto Jarod's back as he did so, making it more difficult for the man to surprise him. Then he made a decision before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Jarod felt the weight on his back increase and suppressed a groan at the pain caused by Cole's knee. He felt the cuffs go on but was surprised when Cole didn't immediately step back. What the Hell was he doing anyway?

When Cole was done he put the weapon away again and tugged Jarod up by the arm. "Smart man. We'll get on fine," Cole said. He pushed Jarod back into the other room, pulled a chair out from the inbuilt desk and pressed Jarod onto it. He saw that Talia was leafing through a local business guide. "Find anything?"

She looked up, "Chinese, Mexican or pizza?"

"How about fish and french fries?" Bowman said.

Talia gave him a disgusted look. "We've had that the last two times Paul. How about a change? Something with a little more nutritional value."

"French fries are potato."

"I'll vote pizza," Cole interrupted. "Just get a lot, though. I'm starving."

"Pizza it is!" Talia happily found the number in the book and rang it, ordering three large pizzas with Pepsi and dessert. She considered the garlic bread but decided all that garlic breath in the van might not be a good idea for her stomach. She looked at Jarod, sitting silently in his chair and watching them, "Hope you like pizza Jarod?" He ignored her.

Bowman removed his jacket and tossed it onto the bed behind him, then pulled a pack of cards from inside it, "Anyone for a game while we're waiting? I'm short of cash."

Talia pulled her gaze from Jarod and sighed, "Yeah, might as well. Deal me in." Cole nodded as well and they made themselves comfortable while they waited for their meal to arrive.

Around eleven Bowman threw the latest of a run of weak hands in then yawned, scratching absently at his crotch. "That does me. I was broke before, now I'm bankrupt." He grabbed the empty pizza boxes at the end of the bed then tossed them down beside the rubbish bin.

"Just as well," Cole said, folding his cards and tucking the notepad listing his winnings into a pocket. "We'd better get some sleep anyway." He glanced at Jarod who'd been nodding in his chair but was now fully awake and watching them again. Cole didn't like the way the guy seemed to take everything in. He wondered if the people Jarod had put in jail realized what sort of opposition they'd been up against. He reached into his overnight bag and pulled out another length of rope that he threw at Bowman. "Take care of our friend. I'd hate to miss him in the morning."

Bowman grunted and reached for Jarod, pulled him out of the chair and onto the floor. There were only three beds and he sure as hell wasn't sharing the double. He felt the man tense but then allow the rough treatment. Good, he was smart enough to go with the flow. In a few moments Bowman had tied his ankles again, then took the rope up around the cuffs. Someone was going to wake up very sore in the morning. "Nightie night," he said, patting Jarod's face roughly.

Jarod wriggled back against a wall, trying to find the least uncomfortable position he could manage.

Cole emerged from the ensuite to the sound of the toilet flushing. They hadn't fed Jarod and only given him a little water so he figured he should be right for a while. He pulled the gag out of his pocket as he was getting undressed and considered using it. They probably should of course, but the Glory Motel was almost vacant at this time of year and he doubted Jarod was going to endanger other lives, given his earlier warning. Besides, Cole's previous respect for the man was growing fast and he figured he could cut the guy a break. There'd be enough pain when Blake got hold of him. He threw the gag onto the floor beside Jarod's head as a warning, then tugged his change of clothes out of the bag.

Talia got changed in the ensuite. She knew enough not to wear anything too tempting to her co-workers on these jobs, but she usually had something light and silky in there just in case she met someone interesting. Jarod definitely qualified. She emerged wearing a hot, low-cut satin top and matching satin briefs, neither of which looked like the price tag reflected the amount of material involved. She acknowledged her companions' appreciative looks with seductive, puckered lips and a wink.

Bowman wolf whistled his opinion, "Now when was the last time you saw Talia dressed like that Jason?"

Cole chuckled and saw that Jarod was staring at her as well. He saw the man gulp nervously and had to laugh. "Hey Jarod, you want to come along on all our jobs in future? She only wears flannels for us."

Talia lay down in front of Jarod on the floor, beaming at him. He was looking almost ill, but despite that his eyes were glued to what the silky top wasn't quite covering. "How nice of you to wait for me Jarod." She ran a hand over his butt and down to his crotch, squeezing gently. She was aware that Cole and Bowman were watching, mesmerized, but it was frankly just turning her on more. She wriggled in closer to his face and held his head, then took his mouth in hers. She was glad Cole had decided against the gag.

Jarod was too stunned at first to do anything. By the time his brain kicked in and he pulled his head back she had already swept her tongue into his mouth. She held his head firmer and pressed her mouth into his as he tried to pull away. She was concentrating on the electric tingles sweeping her body as she explored with her tongue. Suddenly she squealed and jumped back as Jarod bit down.

Cole and Bowman burst into immediate laughter. Talia was clutching her mouth with her hands, looking for all the world as if she'd been hit by a truck and didn't know it. It was some time before either of the men could stop laughing long enough to ask if she was all right. It was obvious it hadn't been a hard bite, or there would be blood instead of shock on her face.

"Still feeling randy Talia?" Cole quipped finally, grinning ear to ear.

Talia growled and started toward their prisoner, obviously furious. Cole grabbed her arm and stopped her. He remembered how dangerous Talia could be when she was seriously angry.

"Now hang on there. We're not here for this." She pulled away from Cole, still glaring at Jarod, but didn't move towards him. "Let's just do our job Talia. That's what we're getting the big bucks for." He waited until she turned away, then sighed. Between Bowman's temper and Talia's libido he'd be lucky to get Jarod to Blake in one piece. The guy had a definite knack for getting under people's skin. He wondered how many more people would like to beat the crap out of him.

"Talia you take first watch, since you're so lively, and leave him alone this time." He waited for her nod before getting ready for bed. By morning, he figured she'd be over it.

An hour and a half later Talia was sitting on the edge of one of the single beds, playing Solitaire with Bowman's pack of cards. There wasn't much light in the room but she checked Jarod frequently from where she sat. He'd gone to sleep soon after Bowman and Cole had. She glanced irritably at her two male colleagues. Bowman was lying on his back, snoring loudly. Cole was obviously dead to the world too. At least he didn't snore. She counted off the remains of the pack in her hand and realized that once again she was unable to complete the game. Things just were not going her way today. She was feeling grumpy, on edge and downright unsatisfied. To top it off there was no way she was going to get to sleep with Bowman snoring that loudly. Her eyes fell on the gag that was still sitting on the floor beside the bound man. She smiled slyly. What Cole didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She scooped up the thick cloth and pressed closer to Jarod, already becoming excited at the thought of what she planned to do. As she started to secure the gag, she caught a glimpse of something flash towards her before a freight train hit and then blackness.

Jarod smiled and raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Well what do you know? Sydney was wrong. You really can hit a woman." He checked that the two men were still sleeping soundly before undoing the rope around his legs.

Day Two
Thursday 6:10 am

Cole came awake as soon as the dull thumping registered through his dreams. Years of experience told his sixth sense something was very wrong and he stayed motionless for a moment, listening. His hand crept under the pillow and fastened around the reassuring handle of his gun. Light was streaming through the thin curtains - that shouldn't be. Talia should have woken him at three to take his shift. He rolled suddenly from the bed and dropped to the floor between his bed and the double where Bowman still lay. His gun immediately found the place where Jarod had been lying the night before.

There was still a bound form there but it wasn't Jarod. Talia Wise lay handcuffed and gagged in exactly the same position Jarod had been. Her ankles were tied together with the same rope, and the handcuffs tied to her ankles. She stopped banging her head against the side of the desk and tried to say something through the gag. Cole doubted it was something he wanted to hear. Bowman was rising behind them and swore colorfully when he saw Talia.

Cole was sorely tempted to leave her there as punishment, but he needed information so he reached down to remove the gag. He cut her off angrily before she could begin to attempt an explanation. "How long Talia?"

She recognized his tone and put aside what she'd been about to say. "About one."

Bowman swore some more, towering furiously over the woman. "He could be anywhere by now. Blake's not going to take this well. Why can't you keep your damn hands to yourself Talia? Jason told you to leave him alone!"

"I wasn't anywhere near him," Talia replied evenly.

"Yeah right. We all believe that one. Blake's going to take this out of someone's hide and it sure as hell ain't gonna be mine."

Cole continued to stare at Talia. He was inclined to agree with Bowman; whatever happened it had been her responsibility and there would be payment made when they got back. For now though they had to get out of the motel before Jarod found some way to get the police onto them. He placed his gun on the bed and passed Bowman a knife, not failing to note Talia's eyes widening at the sight. "Cut her loose Bowman," he told the big man, "we have to get out of here."

Bowman took the knife, still glaring at Talia, "Then what?"

"Then we go find Jarod."

********************
Thursday 7:10 am

The sun was well above the horizon as he stretched inside the barn he'd described to his friends. It would be midday before they arrived, but Amanda and Malcolm assured him they were on their way and that they'd avoid driving into Glory itself. Jarod remembered the barn from a previous trip through the area, though he had been a little worried that it might not still be there. It was painted a particularly unattractive shade of red that he'd described to Amanda as slightly lighter than crusted blood. She hadn't been terribly thrilled at the comparison.

Jarod hadn't fancied his chances of staying hidden in the small town of Glory. Blake's men had removed his wallet so catching a taxi or hiring a car weren't options. He'd tried hitching for a couple of hours in the dark, then when that proved unsuccessful the only thing he could think of was to make a public phone call to the nearest friends he had. He badly wanted to avoid involving any more innocents, especially after what had happened to Emma, but it would only be a matter of time before Cole and his people began sweeping the town. He had to be out when that happened. The ideal solution would have been to attack the men while they were sleeping, but both had put their weapons under their heads and he couldn't take the risk of one of them getting the drop on him. He'd almost woken both men several times just leaving the room.

Jarod was already planning what to do once he got safely out of the area. He'd need access to his funds before going after Blake again. He'd need details about how the warden had been paid off; he'd need to trace the funds Blake had managed to raise. Now that he knew Blake was out there he was confident he could find him. It was just a matter of time before he'd be seeing Blake behind bars again. He considered Talia and her companions and resolved to run background checks on them; he didn't doubt his own abduction wasn't their first, nor their worst crime.

Jarod rubbed his eyes. He was used to getting by on little sleep, however he was still looking forward to stretching out on a nice soft bed that night. Even his room at the Centre was starting to look attractive. He began rubbing his aching neck then stopped abruptly. His fingers found something small, round and foreign under the collar of his shirt. He tugged at it and it came away easily. He studied the small metal device, his mind turning back to when Cole had lingered against his back in the ensuite. It was a tracking device.

Jarod swore abruptly to himself and bolted off the bale he'd been sitting on. He turned to the open rear door of the barn, glancing back towards the main exit with growing paranoia. How long did he have? It depended on how long Cole and his friends slept, and perhaps on how long Talia had been unconscious. He was still working out his chances as he hurried out the door.

"Hello again Jarod," Cole said calmly, gun tapping against his own shoulder lightly.

Jarod stopped dead. Talia was standing to his right, legs wide in firing stance, both hands gripping her gun. Her aim wasn't moving an inch from Jarod's chest. Bowman's hulking form appeared at his left and slightly behind. Jarod didn't bother working out the odds. He shot his left arm out and up, slamming the back of his fist into the big man's face. Talia was too close and although Jarod wasn't an expert fighter, he was desperate. He kicked out fiercely, heard a bullet shoot past his head before his foot sent the gun flying. He was catching his balance when another slug hit the ground in front of his feet, forcing him to a halt.

Cole was mentally ticking off the lessons he was going to give his two companions when they got back to Blake's house. "I don't want to shoot you Jarod but I will," he warned, gripping his weapon double-handed now. Jarod's expression flicked from anger through pain to resignation. When he dropped his hands to his sides Bowman grabbed them from behind and wrenched up. He didn't stop when Jarod yelled in pain, nor when Talia retrieved her gun and struck the pretender hard across the face with it, drawing blood from a cut along his right cheekbone.

"That's for tying me up!" she growled.

Cole finally decided his companions had the man under control and approached him, pulling a small plastic case from his pocket.

"You said you looked into some of my past activities Cole," Jarod said quickly. "I needed money to do all those operations, lots of it. How much is Blake paying you? I could make it worth your while to let me go."

Blake paused, interested, "Go on."

"Name what you want. For all three of you. I'll agree to get the funds and deposit it in accounts Blake won't be able to find. All you have to do is tell Blake you lost me."

Cole looked at Talia and Bowman to see what their reactions were. The idea was interesting, and he'd have to tell Blake about the possibilities before he killed Jarod, but there was no way they'd take the offer. Blake wasn't someone you crossed lightly. Jarod should have known that by now.

"Blake would probably kill me just for letting you escape," he said.

"Then tell him I'm dead. Or better yet don't go back to him. You can't tell me you haven't realized just how dangerous it is working for that monster?" Jarod was referring to an incident he'd witnessed in Venezuela. Blake had no more respect for his own men that he did for his children, or his ex-wife. He was betting more than one of Blake's hired hands had met their maker on Blake's orders.

Cole had to admit the man made a good argument. He'd been ordered to punish and even remove fellow employees before, and he was wondering more and more often when Blake would send someone for his own life. It wasn't a good idea to fail Blake's orders, nor take too much interest in Blake's business dealings. Too much knowledge could get you killed.

However, Cole had a firmly established sense of professional pride. When he decided to leave Blake it wouldn't be in the middle of a job, and he certainly wouldn't risk anyone else knowing he was doing it. He opened the plastic case and withdrew a bottle and syringe, "Sorry Jarod. You're right by the way. I'm tempted. But it's not going to happen." He began drawing the liquid up into the syringe. "This will make it easier on all of us. I should have done it in the first place. Blake will just have to accept that he can't have everything his way." Jarod struggled afresh against the big man holding him, his eyes locked on the needle as it penetrated his arm. The drug took effect quickly and he sagged against the man holding him.

Cole checked that Jarod was unconscious but still breathing, then spoke to Bowman with the last of his patience. "Bring him."

***************************
PART TWO

They pulled him through a corridor, bare feet trying to break himself against their strength. Images and memories of terrible fear from his past assaulted him. The shocking familiarity of what was happening, the dread of what he feared at the end of this passage, overwhelmed his mind. He was bare-chested, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. Two large men he didn't recognize dragged him by his arms as he fought and kicked at the one on his right. The other reacted by swinging him into the wall and punching him in the back. While he was stunned from the blow they dragged him along again down the dark hallway to a door whose image flickered in his mind - from sane paneled timber to cold metal and back again.

It opened inwards to more blackness. A window allowed moonlight to enter but other than that, there was no light. He sensed rather than saw the presence of others watching in the darkened corners of the room. The two men holding him pulled him towards a large silver object at the center. He began the vocal protests then, just as he had in his dreams and in fragmented memories, "NO! NO! NO!" As they always did in his nightmares, in his memories, they ignored him.

A third man - also a stranger - grabbed his legs as they lifted him onto the metal table. It took three of them to hold him down, still yelling at them to stop. Terrified. A fourth appeared from the shadows and began to strap him down. Wrists, ankles, waist. Padded restraints so familiar, so dreaded. A door in the silver object was opened and they slid him in still yelling and struggling futilely. The door closed at his feet and he froze, heart pounding, eyes frantically finding one of the small observation windows he knew would be there. Faces drifted into view, peering in at him with cold, detached interest. One looked familiar and he knew it should inspire more fear in him but he was too frightened to identify it and he doubted he could be more afraid. The close confines of the capsule pressed in on him. He could see the men outside talking to each other but heard nothing. His own breathing was unnaturally loud, the smell of his own fear unmistakable. Then the hissing began, and he screamed.

Day Three
Friday 6:00 am

Jarod woke suddenly, hands clutching at air, wide and frightened eyes slow to come to reality. He was lying on a low bunk, still clothed in the black jeans and blue shirt he'd been wearing when they abducted him. He was in what looked like a jail cell. There was a simple toilet, a sink and low cupboard, the bunk and nothing else. He closed his eyes, willing the last of the dream away. It had been so real he could feel the sweat still drying on his skin.

After a moment he dropped his feet over the side of the bunk and sat up unsteadily. Both arms were sore. He knew without looking there'd be more than one needle hole; they'd kept him unconscious the rest of the trip. He discovered he was underground, though not in the Centre. Beyond the metal cage were neat rows of wine shelves stocked almost to capacity. Out of some sense of inappropriate curiosity he noted the vintage and saw that whoever had him was considerably well off. He could see steps leading upwards but wherever they led was out of his range of sight. There was a square box of some sort at the base of the steps that looked like it might have numbers on the front.

He got to his feet, gripping one of the bars for support. The affects of the drugs were slowly receding but still making him queasy. He went to the sink then searched through the cupboard. Inside were soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, a battery-operated razor, a handtowel, a few other items, and what he needed: a cup. He didn't know for sure when he'd last drank but it seemed like days. He filled the cup, swallowed the tasteless water immediately, then filled it again. He downed that one too, then took another cupful and sat down again on the bed with it. There was nothing else to do now but wait. For Blake.

Friday 9 am

Desmond Blake waited for his bodyguard, Bryant, to unlock the cellar door. He'd been looking forward to this meeting for days, since first capturing Jarod back at the hotel. Cole and his team had reported their experiences on the trip back and the effort to scare Jarod into thinking he was being executed. Blake was actually glad it hadn't worked. He would have hated to miss it if it had. There had been business to take care of and always would be. Blake was a businessman first and foremost. Extracting vengeance on Jarod was definitely pleasure and would have to wait for his spare time. That was all right as far as Blake was concerned; he'd spent a good year imagining and planning for this and he didn't mind taking his time with it. Jarod wasn't going anywhere.

Bryant entered the cellar first and Blake followed. A second bodyguard - Tony Harris - came in behind. "Wait here," Blake instructed him. The other man nodded and took a position behind the door.

Jarod was standing against the bars at the side of his cage, thinking. When he saw he finally had company he was relieved, despite knowing it wouldn't be friendly. "Blake," he said flatly, "I see you brought your friends again."

Blake smiled and stopped outside the cell. "Welcome to my home Jarod," he spread his arms out, "What do you think?"

"Needs windows. I could work on that if you like."

"I don't think so. You may not be here long enough."

Jarod didn't bother replying to that. He knew basically what Blake intended, and it wasn't going to be over quickly. Instead, he ran his hand over the bars, "You did all this for me? I'm flattered."

"Don't be. I didn't. I bought this place a few months ago from a previous associate. He already had the cell built in. I didn't ask him what it was here for, but I knew straight away what I was going to do with it."

"How sweet. Always thinking of me."

"Isn't it?" He walked around the cell wall till he was within inches of Jarod, "Do you have any idea what I'm planning to do to you?" He waited a few minutes but Jarod refused to answer. Blake wasn't accustomed to being ignored; he slammed his hand against the bars, "Do You?"

Jarod cocked his head to the side, studying Blake in exactly the same way he had so long ago in Venezuela. The man hadn't changed much. Lost a little weight maybe, though not muscle. He still had the look of a madman barely containing his fury simply because he didn't feel there was any real reason he had to. Blake was power mad and very dangerous, but Jarod had seen enough like him not to be intimidated. Not even here. He broke eye contact and stepped away from the side of the cage. "You're a parasite Blake. You live off the fear and anger of others. You have to surround yourself with bodyguards to feel safe. The only family you had has run away, and the only friends you have are paid to put up with you. You should have stayed in prison."

Blake flicked a hand to his companion but spoke to Jarod, voice low, "You think you've figured me out, don't you? Think you know me inside out?" He paused, noting the confirmation in his prisoner's eyes, "Well then .. You may be in for a surprise."

"I like surprises."

"Oh I don't think you'll like mine. You see, you'd be surprised what I know about you Jarod." He caught the flicker of concern, quickly squashed, "Having pleasant dreams?"

While Jarod was looking at Blake in surprise, Bryant took a pistol from inside his suit and covered him with it. Blake stepped back to the box Jarod had noticed earlier and pressed a number of buttons, hiding the combination from Jarod's view. There was an audible click from the cell door. "Come out," Blake told him.

Jarod pushed the cell door open and stepped out, still wondering about Blake's words. Blake took handcuffs from a nail on the side of a wine shelf and closed them around Jarod's wrists himself. "Come with me," he ordered.

Jarod glanced at the bodyguard's gun still aimed at him and obeyed, glad that at least his hands were in front this time. He didn't feel quite so helpless. Blake led him up the steps through the cellar door, picking up the second bodyguard along the way. Jarod recognized Tony Harris from the hotel room but the other guard was new. As he kept pace with Blake, he studied the guards and the house, looking for weaknesses and possibilities.

It was obviously a large and expensive house. For Blake to have managed the funds necessary to buy this place in the time since he'd been out of prison seemed unlikely. There had to have been resources elsewhere he could call on to manage this and to set up shop again. They passed through an inside courtyard complete with trickling fountain and Japanese garden. An old man glanced their way, saw Jarod wearing the cuffs, and scurried away. As they moved through the house they saw several more servants and each time, they disappeared from view without being prompted. Obviously, they knew when it was in their best interests to vanish. Jarod filed the information away.

"You're wondering how I managed to buy this place?" Blake said suddenly from where he walked beside Jarod, "Pretty spectacular isn't it?"

"How much blood did it cost Blake?"

"Ooo very little actually. You see I've diversified since that little episode in Venezuela. My time in jail turned out to be beneficial in many ways. Gave me time to think, led me to some important contacts."

"Drugs," Jarod said with contempt.

Blake nodded, "Worth a fortune too, and less risk involved. Of course the big money's still in the arms; I'm just covering all options." They left the house through a large arched doorway, emerging into a beautifully landscaped area complete with enormous inbuilt swimming pool and table and chair setting. A young woman was carefully vacuuming the pool but when she saw Blake and company she looked towards him, waiting for instructions. When Blake indicated she was to go she removed the long metal pole with vacuum attached, leaving it alongside the pool for later use. She slipped into the house without a word.

"Your - people - are well trained," Jarod commented.

Blake smiled and reached down for the pole. He dropped the end into the pool and began moving it slowly across the bottom. "Remember that," he warned.

"All right Blake, I'm here. I'll bite. What are you planning?"

Blake fiddled with the end of the pole, pulling a narrower length out and locking it, adding another couple of meters to its reach. He ignored Jarod's question and continued sweeping, "I thought about you a lot in prison Jarod. At first, you were all I thought about. You and Wendy and Emma." He noticed Jarod stiffen, "I have a very faithful employee at the Phoenix airport by the way. She's had photos of Wendy and Emma ever since you had me arrested. I can't tell you how happy I was when she rang to say she'd spotted Emma on an incoming flight. Of course, it would have been better if Wendy had come back, but I knew Emma would be able to contact you. You like to keep in touch with people you help, don't you Jarod?"

"I don't know where they are."

"Oh I think you do. But don't worry, we'll get to that later." He walked slowly around the end of the pool, sweeping. He had to lean towards the water to maintain his grip on the lengthened pole. Obviously a good half of the pool was very deep. The two men behind Jarod stepped forward and he followed Blake closer to the deep end. "Do you like swimming Jarod?"

Jarod glanced nervously at the water, "When I get the chance."

Blake raised an eyebrow and made a point of perusing Jarod's lean body, "I'll bet you're pretty good at it." He crouched down at the pool's edge and pulled the vacuum towards himself. In a few minutes he had it out of the water, carefully trying to avoid splashing himself as the water poured out. He pressed a knob at the end and the vacuum attachment slipped off leaving him with the lengthened pole. He rose to his feet and said quietly to Jarod. "Why don't we find out just how good?"

Jarod took a step back in alarm but there was nothing he could do. Blake swept the pole up and into his victim's stomach, then swung the long end away while the other man was still doubled over and slammed the handle into Jarod's forehead. The force of the hit sent waves of pain through his skull. He was already falling when Blake kicked him into the pool.

Jarod sank quickly, stunned by the blow. His survival instincts kicked in seconds later and he struggled against the fuzziness in his mind, pawing at the water with cuffed hands. He fought his way to the surface by kicking furiously with his legs. He'd taken in water when he'd fallen and his body was slow to react from the head wound. He knew he couldn't keep himself afloat for long.

Blake watched expressionless as Jarod gasped, but when he saw him start to kick towards the edge he swung the pole out and butted the end into Jarod's shoulder, hard. Jarod went under again, then came spluttering to the surface. Blake crouched, watching the man struggle to keep his head above water. Blood was running thinly from a cut above his eye. "Care to tell me where they are Jarod?" Jarod twisted and kicked away then tried to make for the shallow end. Blake stood quickly and swept the long pole out, placed the end on Jarod's neck where it joined his shoulder, and pushed down. He held the pole down a few moments then let it up again. Jarod surfaced and gulped air, obviously exhausted. Frightened eyes found Blake and he arched his back up and kicked, trying to float on his back out of Blake's reach. Blake walked around the other side of the pool then slowly pushed the pole against the exhausted man's chest. Jarod went under, cuffed wrists gripping the pole, but struggles fading quickly.

The two bodyguards watched impassively. They'd been told what Blake intended to do and were ready to act on his word. Blake waited until Jarod stopped moving and went slack, then withdrew the pole. "Get him out," he said.

Bryant pulled his shoes and jacket off then dived into the pool. Harris ran to the side and between them they soon had the limp man out of the pool and slumped on his side on the paving. Blake stood back watching, tapping the water out of the pole. Jarod hadn't been out long so by the time Harris was about to flip him onto his back to give him the quick breaths to jump start his system Jarod was coughing up water.

Blake clicked the pole back into the vacuum attachment then set it down for his cleaner. He crouched beside Jarod, took the chain of the cuffs in his hand and pulled up until he had his attention. "Emma already told me where Wendy is. You think you know me? You have no idea what I'm capable of. You're here for one reason Jarod: to suffer. Get used to it." Then he dropped the chain, turned and went back into the house. Jarod closed his eyes, too exhausted to do more.

Ten minutes later Jason Cole watched as Bryant and Harris half-dragged their prisoner into his cell and dropped him, coughing, onto the concrete floor. Cole caught Bryant's attention and threw the man a small handcuff key. "Get those wet clothes off him. Blake won't want him sick."

Bryant shot him a look that clearly said he knew how Blake wanted him - broken and bloody, then bent to carry out his orders.

*********************
Friday 10:30 am

Miss Parker ran a finger over the top frame of one of the room's oil paintings. She studied the finger briefly, mildly surprised to find a small amount of dust there. "You just can't get good help these days," she murmured. "Even in a place like this."

Broots was shuffling backwards from under the room's elegant vanity. "Uh, nothing under here Miss Parker," he said, narrowly avoiding hitting his head.

"You got that right."

"Miss Parker?"

"Never mind." She leaned over and pulled drawers out of the inbuilt robe, shuffling the obligatory bible aside in her search. Nothing. She pulled out the other four drawers, then craned to see onto the top shelf.

Sydney appeared at the bedroom door and leaned against it, watching her with mild amusement, "You don't seriously expect to find anything Miss Parker do you? The police have already been over it thoroughly, and there has been another guest in here since Miss Thompson."

Parker bit off the rude remark she would have given Broots to the same question, and instead gave Sydney a resigned look. "I know Syd. But I also know that one of the hotel employee's positively identified Jarod's photograph. He was here."

"Jarod would never have hurt that woman, Parker. You know that."

She nodded, also acknowledging what was hanging in the air between them. Emma Thompson's body had been found stuffed in a rubbish bag at the local refuse ground, a bullet through her heart. The police forensic report said she'd been killed at close quarters, and they'd found fabric stuffing inside the entry wound. Broots had connected the face to the incident in Venezuela almost a year earlier, and from there they'd followed the police investigation back to the room Emma had rented before her death. Once the police had done their bit, the Centre personnel came in with photos of both Desmond Blake and Jarod. So far, no one had recognized Blake, but they'd had two witnesses that said they'd seen Jarod. Parker supposed it was a good thing Jarod made such a favorable impression on people; if he'd been short, ugly and fat, their job would be much harder.

Parker rubbed her forehead and looked at Sydney, "I do know that Sydney." She approached him, "But you and I also know that Desmond Blake isn't dead, and we know that Jarod was here the day Emma Thompson disappeared." Her voice softened, "I'm sorry Syd, but we may not find him alive this time; he may have just ticked off one too many people."

Sydney saw that Broots was looking between them anxiously as if the thought hadn't occurred to him that Jarod might actually be in serious trouble. Jarod just didn't get into serious trouble as far as Broots could see, he was just too smart. Then again, there'd been that incident with Lyle at Dry River.

Sydney met her gaze calmly. If he was concerned, it didn't show in his face, though Miss Parker thought she knew him better than to be fooled by that. "No one positively identified Blake as being here," Sydney said. "We have no reason to suspect Jarod even knows Miss Thompson is missing."

"Come on Syd, he knows. Broots here sneezes and Jarod knows. Why hasn't Jarod contacted you lately Syd? Got an answer for that?"

Sydney held her gaze a few moments, trying to come up with some logical reason why Jarod hadn't been in touch following Emma's death. He didn't want to think of them finding his young friend in a plastic bag on some municipal pile of rubbish. He dropped his eyes and turned away, "No Parker I haven't," he said finally.

Miss Parker cursed quietly to herself. She was damned if this was the way three long years of searching was going to end. She turned on Broots, who was staring after Sydney with that blank, vacant-faced look of his. "What did you think you were doing Broots?"

"Uh....searching the other bedroom?"

Parker glared at him as if she'd rather put a bullet through his skull than dignify him with an answer. Broots shot out the door without another word.

************************
Friday 12:15 PM

They came for him again just hours after leaving him naked and alone. He recognized Bowman from the hotel, and the other bodyguard named Harris. Blake came behind, holding a long black cloth and twisting it in his hands. Jarod stepped back from the door of his cell, knowing it was pointless trying to resist them but unable to stand still as they came. Blake moved in front of the keypad and entered the sequence. "Time to be sorry Jarod," he said. "Time to pay."

Bowman swung the door open and went in after him. He backed up further, only to have Bowman slam him face-first into the bars. He yelled more in fear than pain. Bowman grabbed him in the chokehold he seemed to favor, and turned him so that Harris could attach the handcuffs in front. He thought Bowman would let go then, but the big man held him tightly, forcing his head back and making breathing difficult. Jarod was gasping, trying to keep wide eyes on Blake as he approached.

Blake entered the cell, a cruel, tight smile fixed on his face. He caressed his prisoner's cut cheek gently, smiling, and then dropped his hand over the other man's chest and abdomen. Jarod made a desperate noise in his throat and began pushing back against Bowman, trying to move away from Blake despite the arm at his throat. He felt desperately exposed and helpless. How many of the victims he'd helped or avenged felt like this?

Blake laughed and stood there a moment, pointedly examining Jarod, totally aware of what he was doing to the other man. Then he approached again and leaned into Jarod's ear, whispering, "Not yet." He smiled as the other man shuddered, then brought the black cloth up and secured it over Jarod's eyes.

"NO!" It was more than just the fear of the moment, but also the past fear of having a hood over his head when he'd been abducted as a child. "Blake, no!"

Desmond Blake tied it hard against the younger man's head, then nodded to Bowman to let go. Jarod's hands immediately went for the blindfold but Blake struck him hard on the side of his head, and he stopped, bound hands still raised in front of his face. Blake gripped the chain of the cuffs and pulled the blinded man out of the cell. Then he followed behind as Bowman and Harris gripped their prisoner's arms and led him behind the rows of wine bottles and through another door.

Jarod felt the air become colder as he walked. They seemed to pass through a short passage, then through another door that creaked as it opened, thudded when it closed. The air smelled stale here. He was pushed from behind and stumbled a few steps, hands raised for fear of slamming into a wall or other obstacle. He knew better than to remove the blindfold; Blake and the two men were still there. He could hear them moving around him, doing something he couldn't discern. Then hands were at his wrists and he felt the touch of a rope before his hands were pulled upward over his head and held there. They'd tied him to something overhead.

Blake waited until the two bodyguards had done their job and Jarod was standing tethered to an overhead beam in the middle of the small, dimly lit room. Bowman and Harris stepped back against a wall and waited quietly until they were needed again. Blake walked slowly around his victim. In his hand he flicked a long, slender dressage crop idly at the floor. His children had never owned a dressage whip, but Blake was an accomplished rider in his own right and he'd taken up the hobby after leaving prison. He admired the way the elegant crop bent at the slightest flick of his wrist. Transferring the whip to his other hand, he reached to touch Jarod's back. Jarod jerked at the sudden touch but said nothing. Blake smiled and repeated the touch, then walked around the other man, sliding his hand around Jarod's waist as he did so. When he got to his captive's front he stepped in closer, held the other's waist against himself, and whispered again, "I told you not yet."

Jarod could feel the coolness of his own sweat. He was fighting to keep control of his body and not shake or otherwise betray the fear. When Blake let go of him and stepped back he breathed a fraction easier. There was a long moment of silence and he strained to hear what Blake was doing. Then something sharp hit him on the chest. He gasped, immediately realizing what Blake intended. Another quiet whish and the whip bit him around his ribs. Blake circled, getting into the rhythm, watching his victim's face and body react to the bites. He walked quietly, struck randomly, studied Jarod's face for signs of where the man next expected the lash, and then hitting elsewhere. The dressage whip hadn't been made with pain in mind, but it was being applied now to furless skin, and with increasing force.

Blake thought as he struck. He thought of the thousands he'd lost when Jarod had deceived him, thought of the millions he'd paid for missiles never sold, thought of his own children being taken from him. He thought of the man before him who had made a fool of him in front of his own men and the business associates who'd heard of it. Blake's anger rose and he pulled back hard, then struck viciously forwards with the whip. Jarod yelled with pain as a red ribbon appeared at his hip. Blake didn't pause. He continued to throw his arm into the whip's action, venting his fury on the helpless man, watching blood drip as the cuts multiplied. He didn't stop until the rage left him and he was standing, his arm sore and the whip broken. Then he threw the whip to the ground and stepped up against the bloodied figure.

Jarod's blindfold was wet from tears. He felt Blake's hand grasp his chin and lift it, felt one thumb brush moisture from his face. "Do you begin to see?" Blake said quietly, "Now do you understand?" He paused, then rubbed the growing ache in his own shoulder. "Cut him down and take him back to the cellar," he said to the watching men, "I'll continue this later."

***********************
Day 5
Sunday 11am
The Centre Tech Room

Broots rubbed his eyes. They'd gone way past tired to extremely sore hours ago. Miss Parker had him on the computer tracking down anything that might lead to Desmond Blake's new abode. So far nothing. The guy was obviously going by another name and he'd covered his tracks pretty well. He'd find something eventually of course; if he could track Jarod he could find Blake, but it was going to take time. It didn't help that Miss Parker was pacing the floor behind him and leaning over his shoulder every ten minutes or so.

"Come on Broots, what are you waiting for - your scalp to re-forestate?" she badgered, peering at the screen.

"I'm working as fast as I can Miss Parker. Uh, do you think you could step just a little further back? You're kinda blocking the bits of the screen I need to see."

She turned her best cold stare on him, then obligingly moved out of his path. She forced herself to sit at another desk and was soon drumming her fingers on the wood, wishing she hadn't been quite so good about giving up the cigarettes. It took her a few moments before she realized Broots had stopped work and was looking pointedly at her drumming fingers. "Agghh!!" she jumped to her feet, frustrated, as the tech bent back to his work.

"Sydney!" she said with relief as the gray-haired man entered, "Any news?"

"None. Our sweeper team turned up empty at his old lair again. It really wasn't likely we'd missed something the first time."

Broots spoke up from his work, "Maybe he's away? Maybe he's gone too far south, or he's too busy?"

Parker slowly shook her head, "Too busy to drive me up the wall? I don't think so. The only good news we've had so far is that his body hasn't been found."

Sydney raised an eyebrow, "Miss Parker, you almost sound concerned for Jarod."

"Sydney the day I'm concerned for Jarod is the day Broots here gets accepted into Mensa."

"Well actually-" Broots began.

"Shut up," Parker snapped. "Just track Blake. I've got a gut feeling we're running short of time in this race." She leaned down, nose-to-nose with the tech, and said quietly, "And I don't like to lose."

Broots nodded and diligently faced the screen. Sydney settled himself in a chair to wait as he always did, with infinite patience. Miss Parker went back to breaking in the office floor, fingers rubbing compulsively the cigarette that wasn't there.

*******************
Day 6
Monday, Noon

He was sitting on the floor against his cell wall, shaking. They'd finally given him loose black trousers to wear but nothing else. He guessed they were either showing some degree of humanity or they didn't want him to get too used to being exposed. The whipping had been three days ago. The time since then had become a jumble of painful images separated by short spells in the cell for recovery, before being dragged out again.

The welts on his body weren't deep, but Blake hadn't been too fussy about where he'd hit, and others were deep enough to still be bleeding. He didn't know whether to be grateful the crop had broken or not; Blake had switched to electric shocks instead, which were even more painful though they didn't leave the cuts.

They would come for him and order him out, then cuff his hands and cover his eyes before escorting him to the other room. He didn't beg at first, not because he didn't want to, but because he knew they wouldn't stop even if he did. He did scream though, and he did beg Blake to stop eventually, quietly, when he was almost unconscious anyway. Then they let him drop to the floor and dragged him back to his cell. They never left him there for long.

Sometimes they left the blindfold on; sometimes he got to see what pleasure Blake was about to take. The last time they'd taken him they'd just left him standing with his hands pulled above his head, blindfolded, waiting for over an hour for pain that never came. He could hear Blake walking around him, knowing that any moment his anger would come and there'd be a shock or a whip or a fist, but this time nothing happened. So he had stood there, wrists bleeding from the cuffs pulling on his weight, ears straining to hear what Blake was doing over the noise of his own frightened breathing.

He heard the main cellar door open but stayed where he was. He didn't have the energy or the desire to get up. There really didn't seem much point.

Jason Cole descended the steps with a tray of food. He'd been leaving this task to Dick Bryant, however their prisoner wasn't eating and Cole had opted to see for himself how determined Jarod was about it. He studied the man carefully as he neared before sliding the tray under the cell door. If Blake wanted his prisoner broken Jason figured he'd done a pretty good job of it. He'd been present during two of the shock treatments and he was appalled at what Blake was doing to a man Cole frankly admired. Cole had heard of fingers being broken, burns inflicted, fingernails being removed, but there was something different going on here. Blake seemed to want to destroy Jarod without diminishing him physically, and it made Cole uneasy.

"Your meal's there," he said. Jarod didn't respond, his face hidden against his knees. "Jarod, you have to eat." Jason waited a few minutes but it was obvious the other man had no intention of moving. Cole moved to the side Jarod was leaning against and knelt beside him, "I know there doesn't seem much point in eating, but ....I don't think he's going to keep you here forever. Blake hasn't done this before. He's up to something. If you want to get through this you're going to need food."

Jarod raised his head to look at Cole through the bars, "If I'm going to get through this, I need help."

Any further conversation was halted by the cellar door opening again. Cole rose to his feet to meet Blake descending the stairs, a small, middle-aged woman trailing him. "No success I see Jason," Cole said, glancing at the plate.

"No Sir."

"Very well." Cole banged against the bars to get Jarod's attention, "I understand you don't like Cecily's cooking Jarod?"

Jarod used the bars to pull himself to his feet, "I seem to have lost my appetite." It was true in fact, despite having barely eaten the whole time he'd been a prisoner.

Blake smiled, laughed softly, "Maybe we can get it back." He took a gun from his shoulder holster and ran it over the woman's frightened face, "Does this scene look familiar to you Jarod?"

He gripped the bars in front of Blake and the woman, "No. Please no." Blake stopped the movement and merely waited, holding his weapon motionless against her face, watching the other man patiently. Jarod locked hate-filled eyes with him for a long moment, then reached down for the tray.

Blake smiled happily and put his gun away, all traces of tension gone. "There you see Jason? You just need to know which buttons to push." He prodded the still-frightened woman towards the steps, "And Cole, stay and make sure he finishes it or I'll have to bring Cecily down here again."

Cole nodded. He waited until the door closed behind Blake and the poor cook, then pulled a chair over to sit on. Jarod was eating the food all right, but his expression bespoke a spirit far from broken. Cole didn't know if he was glad to see it or not, but he knew Blake had, and Blake would not let it go.

****************
They dragged him protesting along the black corridor again. His struggles were weaker this time, as if the previous nights were wearing him down. This time his naked back burned, though he didn't know why. They reached the door and it opened silently. They pulled him inwards, towards the metal tomb at the center of the room. Through hazy eyes he saw a man step from the shadows, a man that shouldn't be at the Centre he'd grown up in - a man of new nightmares. Blake.

They strapped him to cold metal but this time he stopped protesting. His eyes were glued to Blake, and to the familiar face beside him, just visible in the dim light. A face from the past but with a mustache and longer hair.

They pressed the needle into his thigh then shoved him in, slamming the door behind him. His eyes found the window again, and there was fear in them, but somehow his mind was able to think through the dream-haze: why would a dream face age? Then the cold hit, and then darkness.

************************
Day 7
Tuesday 7:50 am

He woke not in the cellar where he expected to, but on soft carpet. He was curled on the floor, his wrists cuffed behind his back, a computer desk above him. Desmond Blake was sitting a few feet away watching, idly playing with a perpetual motion toy. He pushed the metal ball at one end of the figure down and the silver rider and horse began rocking quickly up and down, perched perfectly balanced on the center cylinder.

Jarod looked around the room, found they were in Blake's study or library. One wall was filled to the ceiling with books; a large picture window dominated the other side. It was morning. He straightened his back, wincing at the burning sensation, and realized why that had seemed so out of place in his 'dream'. It hadn't been a dream. They'd been drugging him, taking him at night and making him relive a nightmare only he should remember.

"How did you know about the Centre?" he asked simply.

Blake didn't pretend to misunderstand, "A man in my position hires from all walks of life Jarod. I can't be fussy about where a man comes from as long as he's willing to do the job and keep his mouth shut." He settled the toy on his desk, "Guthrie wanted out of the Centre and friends of mine took him in, well before I met you. He kept his mouth shut, too, for a long time. Until he recognized your photo when I started looking for you. Then he told me all sorts of things about his time at the Centre. And about you."

Jarod fought a wave of dizziness and sat up, leaning against the desk, "What was he? Security?"

Blake smiled slowly and rose, walked to him and leaned down, "Maybe he was one of your clients."

"I didn't have clients," Jarod growled.

Blake shrugged, "Doesn't matter who he was." He grabbed Jarod by the arm and pulled him up to his feet, away from the desk, "Do you know who I was?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I know exactly what you were and what you are. You're worthless Blake, no matter how many villas and cars and swimming pools you own. Nothing's changed."

Blake backhanded him savagely across the face. Jarod crashed to the floor, blood dripping from the opened wound on his cheekbone. "I was on top of the game before you came along Jarod," he snarled. "I was the one to get the merchandise on time, no questions asked. I had respect, I had history, hell I even had family. Then you came along. You set me up you bastard! Set ME up. ME. Took my children away from me, sent me to prison. Did you think I was going to forget about you? Did you think that would be the end of it?!"

He stayed bent over on his knees, knowing that if he rose Blake would likely send him down again, but he couldn't help the sneer of disgust. "I hardly thought of you at all."

Blake swung his arm back, brought it down, but stopped inches from Jarod's face. He breathed deeply a few moments, bringing himself back under control. "I bet you've been thinking about me a lot the last few days, though, haven't you?" He studied the long bruises and welts on Jarod's back, then lifted his foot and pressed it down on one of the deeper ones, making the other man gasp and the wound bleed afresh. Blake drew back, then walked around his prisoner. "I spent six months in prison Jarod. How long have you spent at the Centre?" He crouched in front of Jarod's face, savoring the moment, wanting to see his reaction, "Then ask yourself - how long WILL you spend there?"

Jarod didn't know how to react. Returning to the Centre had been his nightmare for years, but not even the Centre could rival Blake's treatment. He'd escaped from the Centre in the past and the Sims gave him some measure of freedom with which he might escape again. It would be one nightmare into another, but perhaps not a permanent one. "You're going to give me back to the Centre," he stated.

"Not give you back - sell you back. You see as fun as this has been I am, and always will be, a businessman first. The bonus of it is that you'll be in a prison worse that I was in for the rest of your life." He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in, "That sure beats six months doesn't it?"

************************************
Tuesday 10:00 am
The Centre, Chairman's Office

"Here she comes," Lyle said, leaning back in his chair in his father's office. Mr. Raines stood to one side, wheezing heavily and waiting. Mr. Parker was behind his desk, a printout and photo sitting atop it in front of him.

Miss Parker made her usual entrance, not knocking. She gave her brother a disdainful look and ignored Raines entirely. "You wanted to see me Daddy?"

"Yes Angel," her father replied amiably, coming out from behind the desk, "We've had some news about Jarod."

Miss Parker was suddenly alert, concerned they might have found a corpse, but neither her father nor Raines looked disappointed. In fact they looked satisfied, perhaps a little excited. "Good news?"

Lyle laughed softly, "Not for Jarod."

Mr. Parker shot him a look and reached over to his desk. He handed the photo to his daughter and waited for her to absorb what it showed.

It was a picture of Jarod standing handcuffed with Blake beside him, grinning. Jarod was refusing to look at the camera, but she could see the dark hollows under his eyes, a cut along his right cheekbone, and bruises on his face and arms. He was wearing a dark T-shirt so she couldn't see if any more damage had been inflicted there, but would have laid big money on betting it had.

Mr. Parker watched his daughter's reaction without surprise. He knew she'd developed a strong, if unusual, emotional bond with the pretender and he'd expected her to be affected by this. Even he felt some pity for the man, though he told himself it was merely concern that their property had been damaged. He handed her the piece of paper and spoke as she read it, "This came in on email four hours ago. Blake wants to exchange Jarod for three million."

Raines butted in. "Three million we shouldn't have to spend if you'd done your job Miss Parker."

Miss Parker ignored him. "You're going through with it?"

Her father nodded, "The Tower has approved the amount. If we can get Jarod back and working again he can pay for himself quickly enough."

"You make him sound like office equipment Daddy." Her father glanced at her but didn't reply. She knew already that Jarod had never been much more than that to her father. A money-spinner, and while loose, a liability.

Lyle snatched the photo from her and grinned at it. He'd already seen it of course, but he liked to look. "Thing is Sis, from the looks of this photo and Blake's reputation...... We need to make sure our property's in working condition when we pay for it." He gave her his most charming smile, "We hear Desmond Blake has a wicked temper, and we all know how Jarod loves to get under people's skin."

She grabbed the photo back and turned to her father. "You want me to handle the exchange."

"Exactly. Er, you and Lyle. The funds will be here shortly, then we just have to wait for Blake to contact us again with the details for the meeting. I know I can count on you Angel." His daughter nodded, still looking at the photo, and exited the office.

"Are we really planning on going through with this?" Lyle asked when she was gone.

Mr. Parker didn't look away from the door, "For the moment."

"I could arrange two cleaner squads to be at Blake's compound well before the deadline."

Raines looked at Lyle appreciatively, a smile forming on his angular features. Mr. Parker pulled his thoughts from his daughter back to the task at hand. "Send three."

********************
Day 7
Tuesday 2 PM

He was thinking of Miss Parker, of her voice mostly. In the cat-and-mouse game they played with each other he heard her more often than he saw her. He knew without a doubt that she cared for him even if she would never admit it. If there was no Mister Parker, no family bond to claim her loyalty he was sure they would have been together long ago. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he'd lied to her about not being her brother, back when he and Angelo were rescuing Davey. He didn't have to wonder really. He was a Pretender, it was his job to simulate how people would feel, what they would do. If he had lied....she wouldn't have continued to chase him...but there would still be no life for them together. He couldn't lie to her anyway. She'd been told too many half-truths and outright lies in her life; he couldn't add to them.

Strange to be thinking of Parker now.

The cellar door opened but this time he ignored it. Let them come; he wouldn't give Blake the satisfaction of resisting them.

Jason Cole came down the steps behind Bowman and Harris, stopping at the control box to punch in the security code. The two other men waited for the click of the bolt before swinging the door open. Jarod didn't look at them, nor did he resist as Harris turned him around and cuffed his wrists in front.

"What? No blindfold today?" Jarod said.

Cole motioned them out and the two guards tugged their prisoner behind them, "Not this time. We're just going to get rid of the blood. The exchange is tomorrow and Cole wants you looking half respectable."

Jarod allowed them to pull him to another wall, where a hand-held showerhead was hooked into its bracket well up the brickwork. He stood calmly as Bowman tied the cuffs to an eyebolt. "Clumsy of me to bleed all over myself," Jarod quipped. "Tomorrow. The Centre's agreed?"

"It didn't take much to persuade them. I worked out the details for the exchange myself." He nodded to Bowman who gave Jarod a warning look then pulled the loose black trousers off him. The big guard tossed the clothing to one side and turned the tap on, stepping out of the way as the cold water hit. Jarod turned to the wall as Bowman took a big sponge and swiped the dried blood from his prisoner's torso and limbs. Cole watched, glad that this would be Jarod's last night with them and that he'd survived despite Blake's harsh treatment. The Centre wanting Jarod back had undoubtedly saved the pretender's life; Blake wouldn't have contained himself forever, no matter how long he wanted to prolong Jarod's suffering.

Cole's cell phone bleeped and he drew it out, "Cole here." He listened a few moments. "Yes sir. I'll be right there." He started up the steps. "I have to go see to something. Clean him up then lock him back in, Bowman. No rough stuff either, we don't want trouble tomorrow."

"No problem Jason." Bowman replied, stepping back and letting the spray of water finish the job.

Jarod did as he was told. He even found himself beginning to relax, thinking how odd it was that he was actually looking forward to the Centre collecting him. There'd be a way out somehow, he just had to get out of this place. Away from Blake. Then he'd come back and close the bastard down again. He'd make sure there wasn't any fake death this time. A bit of Blake's own medicine was definitely called for and he was coming up with scenarios with ease.

"That'll be enough Mr. Bowman, Mr. Bryant." Blake's voice. Bowman leaned over and turned the tap off.

Jarod froze, sudden fear replacing thoughts of retribution.

Blake came down the steps with his hands in his pockets, watching Jarod. "Wait outside," he said to his men. "Don't come in unless I tell you to." Bowman and Harris left obediently without a word. Blake waited until he heard the cellar door close and still waited, watching Jarod standing motionless with his face to the wall, dripping. He let the pretender work it through in his mind, let the significance of his presence there alone sink in. He didn't really doubt that Jarod knew this had been coming, but he also guessed the man thought he was safe when the Centre agreed to the exchange. Blake had long since decided they'd get their property and he'd get his three million, but he hadn't finished with Jarod yet.

"Did you bring your whip?" Jarod asked, breaking the long silence.

"Did you want me to?"

Jarod tugged on the thin rope securing the cuffs to the bolt. Bowman had knotted it between the cuffs so he couldn't untie it, but the knot didn't look tight and he thought there was a chance it might pull free. He didn't want to face Blake tethered to a wall.

"You look a little concerned Jarod," Blake said, noting his actions. "You're not afraid of me are you? No. Of course not; you're the cool one. The man in control. The one who calls the shots." He leaned into Jarod's face, "Aren't you?"

Jarod looked at him for the first time, coldly. "I'm afraid of you Blake. You wanted me to fear you? You've succeeded." He didn't feel the need to elaborate on that bit of understated truth. He pressed on, pride and anger getting the better of him, "Just don't expect anything else. You're very good at inspiring fear. Don't look for respect."

For a moment it looked as if Blake would swing his fist, but then he visibly relaxed, a sly smile growing. "I'm not a greedy man Jarod," he began, changing the subject, "Look at me. A year ago I was in a miserable jail in Venezuela living with the cockroaches and eating with pond scum."

"Peer pressure's a terrible thing," Jarod said, interrupting.

Blake ignored him, "Now here I am back in business and about to be three million better off. Thanks to you."

"What do you want Blake? Applause?"

"You just don't know when to shut up do you? Have you looked at yourself lately Jarod? You're chained naked to a wall in a modern day dungeon, you're covered in bruises and cuts, and tomorrow you're being sold back to the monster house that created you."

"And it drives you crazy doesn't it? You've done all that and you still don't feel like you've won."

"We've been through this before. I won."

"No, you just had more help."

Blake gritted teeth, just barely holding himself in. "You know what else all that help means?"

"What?"

"It means I can do whatever I want with you. In my cellar. In my house. In my world. And not one of those men you so accurately portray as mere employees will lift a finger to stop me. I guess I'll just have to settle for fear." His voice turned to a snarl, "I am so good at it after all." With that he slammed a fist into Jarod's unprotected side, then into his face, knocking him into the wall heavily. Jarod hit the right side of his head hard against the brick and staggered. Blake was coming for him again and he wrenched hard at the handcuffs, desperately trying to pull free.

Blake's next two blows took him in the midsection. He crashed to his knees, bending over in agony as far as the short rope and cuffs would allow him. Blake grabbed his wrist in one hand and kicked savagely underneath, throwing him back against the wall again, now sprawled on the wet concrete with his arms stretched above him. He could feel the blood running from the side of his head, knew it and the double image of Blake were the result of the same impact. Two Blakes with anger-distorted faces came for him, two thick knives glinted in the reflection of the room's one fluoro.

He managed to gasp words in a hoarse, desperate tone, "You won't get your money if you kill me."

Blake cut the rope holding the cuffs, allowing Jarod's arms to drop in front of him, "I don't plan on killing you. Now shut....up!"

He tried to scream for help as the gag went in. He knew Bowman and the others wouldn't try to stop their employer, but Blake had sent them from the room, and maybe if someone came and saw what was happening Blake's fit would be circumvented. But the madman had rolled something large into the black cloth and Jarod's cries were muffled. No one would hear him. He shot his fists up instead, twisting so that he could strike the other man in the nose, hoping to drive the bone back into brain tissue. Blake was faster, his senses not dulled by injury or pain. He blocked the move, then grabbed the wrists and yanked, standing up as he did so. He took the chain and held on as he kicked in red-raged fury. All Jarod could do was twist on the floor in the pool of water, rolling himself up as much as he could against the onslaught.

He became aware that the water was growing red as Blake's assault finally stopped. He was lying on his right side, gasping, his whole body aching with pain. He was no longer seeing double, but his vision had become a blur accompanied by throbbing. He could not see Blake. He dared to hope it was over.

Then the hands were gripping him again, throwing him onto his chest, his arms stretched helplessly in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, screaming into the gag as Blake descended on him and penetrated without concession.

Blake drew back, thrust down again. Kept ramming, kept at him. Venting fury and frustration and dominance into an act he'd learned in a cell - because of this man. Stared at the tears, savored the screams, allowed the moment to claim him just as it tore at the soul of his victim. When he climaxed he barely stifled the cry of exultation. Then he dropped his weight on the still form and panted from the exertion.

When a few minutes had passed he lifted himself off. Jarod still hadn't moved. Blake dressed himself again and took his time about it, pulling his dignity around him again like a cloak. When he was ready he walked around the other man to where the face was lying in the mixture of water and blood. He crouched. Moist brown eyes opened slowly. "Now.... we're done," Blake said quietly. He went up the steps, out to his men.

Jason Cole tucked his phone back inside his pocket as Blake approached. The details for the exchange had been finalized, everything was going to plan.

"Jason."

"Yes Sir."

"Go put our guest back in his cell. Is everything set for tomorrow?"

"All done. A Mr. Lyle said they'd be expecting him in working condition and they'd be making sure before they paid up."

Blake glanced back where he'd come from, "That won't be a problem. I'm going to get changed. Meet me after dinner in my study and brief me on the exchange. Bring everyone involved. I don't trust the Centre."

"Yes sir." Cole headed off to the back of the house. He paused when he saw Bowman and Harris standing outside the door. If Jarod wasn't in his cell the guards should have been down there with him. He couldn't quite make out what was in their expressions as he pushed past them.

He found Jarod lying on his stomach near the shower wall. He was covered in blood and barely conscious. Cole carefully undid the knot of the gag then eased it out. "Can you hear me?" There was no response. Cole examined him carefully, wanting to find out where all the blood had come from before he moved him. The head wound was bleeding badly, so were the whip cuts that had been reopened. He turned him over carefully, swore at the new large gash over Jarod's hip, which was bleeding profusely, and another on his leg. There were large bruises everywhere, especially at his stomach and ribs. There was also no doubt what else had been inflicted on him.

Cole rose to his feet and went up the steps to the door, "Bowman go get a first aid kit, a towel, a jug and some clean cloths from Anna. Move! Tony come with me." He led Harris back down, wondering how in the world they were going to go through with the arranged trade now.

Jarod could feel the cold slickness of water and blood covering the side of his face that he'd been lying on. He could hear voices coming from far away but he couldn't make out the words, and couldn't concentrate enough to think about them. His eyes kept closing by themselves. He could feel his hands sitting on top of his stomach where Cole had left them, still joined together by the cuffs. He tried to move them, couldn't even budge the fingers. He knew something had happened to him. The images were there, just under his awareness, waiting for him to access them. He heard movement somewhere above, someone descending the stairs. He was cold. So cold. His eyes closed again and this time he didn't try to open them. When darkness offered a safe retreat, he accepted gratefully.

Tony Harris stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Jarod. "Holy shit."

"Save the expletives for later Tony, we need to get him off the floor."

Harris walked the last few steps and gazed down at the man they'd not long ago been cleaning up, "What the f--- did Blake do to him? Is he alive?"

"He'd hardly be pumping blood out like that if he wasn't." He took the other man's hand and pulled him down, then placed his palm over the gash at Jarod's hip where most of the blood was originating. "Press down there and don't let up." He pulled his jacket off, rolled it into a lump and placed it under Jarod's head in the red water. Then he pulled a large handkerchief from his trouser pocket and pressed it against the swollen cut above Jarod's ear, glad that at least the cloth was clean. He carefully lifted one of Jarod's eyelids, confirming that the man was completely unconscious.

"Shit Cole, Blake's gone crazy. I thought we were supposed to be trading this guy tomorrow."

"We were. Just keep that pressure up. Damn it, where's Bowman?" He moved his free right hand carefully over Jarod's ribs, feeling for the give that would indicate broken bone.

"He's gonna need a doctor," Harris said unnecessarily. Cole ignored him so he pressed on obstinately, "Jason?"

Cole shot him a look that shut the other man up immediately.

The cellar door opened and Bowman came down carrying a large red first aid kit and the other things he'd been asked to bring. The big man stopped when he reached the unconscious man, unknowingly copying Harris' earlier statement, "Shit."

Cole swore at him and grabbed the box, "I think we've established that." He pulled a large elasticized bandage from the kit and began wrapping it around Jarod's bruised ribs, getting Bowman to lift him slightly to get underneath. Jarod's head lolled as they did it and Cole was glad the man was completely out for the time being. When he had the ribs tightly bandaged he closed the kit and took a position at Jarod's shoulder, "We're going to lift him onto the cot."

"What about these?" Harris asked, indicating his bloodied hand and the other cuts.

"It can't be helped; I want him off the wet floor before we deal with those." He waited as the other two took position, then they lifted together and the three of them carried the battered body into the cell and onto the cot. Bowman brought the other items in and Cole set to work. "Harris put the pressure on again. Bowman put warm water in that jug." He waited for the water, then dipped a cloth in and cleaned around the hip wound before dosing it with disinfectant. It would obviously need stitches. Then he took a large bundle of gauze pads, packed them against the tear and covered all of those with a large adhesive square. "Harris start cleaning him up. You need to get the blood off so we can see where it's all coming from."

Harris looked startled, but grabbed another of the cloths and dipped it in the water before setting to his task. Bowman finally seemed to kick himself out of his stunned state and changed the water as Cole set to work on the head wound. He was growing increasingly worried by Jarod's pallor and shallow breathing. Cole had first aid training and experience, but he'd known from the start that this was beyond him. When he had the swollen cut cleaned and dressed he hunted out his cell phone and dialed it swiftly as he decided which injury to tend to next. "Bryant get down to the cellar now," he said into the phone, barely waiting for the acknowledgment before turning it off. "When he gets here tell him to finish dressing the worst of them."

Harris looked alarmed, "Where are you going?"

"To talk to Blake." He nodded to Jarod. "He needs a doctor."

"Blake won't go for it."

Cole shot him a look that made Harris blanch. "Then I'll make him go for it. Keep working."

He ran up the steps and hurried through the lower floor to Blake's study. Blake was there, as Cole had expected. He'd showered and changed and was downing a glass of something from his personal bar. Cole struggled to hide his own disdain as he entered the room, "I need to get a doctor for Jarod."

"No."

"He's in a bad way Blake."

Blake sipped his bourbon, "I've finished with him."

"The Centre hasn't. I arranged the exchange for tomorrow. What do you think the Centre's going to do when they find out what you've done?" Cole waited, keeping his impatience and anger tightly contained. "We need to postpone the trade and we need a doctor. You don't want to cross the Centre Blake; they're too powerful."

Blake peered into his drink, his whole countenance one of casual disinterest. Just as Cole was about to prompt him again he looked up, "All right, contact them. Tell them he tried to escape and he's been injured. Get them to send a doctor if they want to check on him but I want it done here. They don't get him till I get payment."

"What if they don't agree? They're going to be suspicious."

Blake took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Cole, "Then convince them." He set the glass down and stalked to the other man, all illusion of calmness gone, "Take care of it Cole. Just remember who arranged this deal and who's going to be responsible if we don't come through on our end." He lowered his voice to a menacing growl, " Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

*****************
Tuesday 9 PM

Dick Bryant drove the black SAAB slowly through the big iron gates of Blake's compound. In the rear seat Miss Parker sat silently, expertly absorbing details of her host's security. Sydney sat beside her looking as unruffled as always. If she didn't know him better she'd think he was out touring, not stepping into an extremely dangerous situation that would soon be exploding around them. Her own adrenaline had been working overtime since Bryant had collected them from the Flagstaff airstrip. During the long drive since she hadn't been able to stop thinking about what condition they'd find Jarod in.

The car came to a halt in front of the impressive entrance of the house where three of Blake's men waited. Parker and Sydney were both searched thoroughly before being escorted inside.

A tall, brown-haired man in a tailored suit appeared, "You must be Miss Parker and Dr. Green," he said, extending his hand toward Sydney.

Sydney ignored it but Parker intercepted the hand and brought out one of her dazzling smiles, "Mr. Blake. I believe you have something that belongs to us."

"I agreed to allow a doctor. Why did the Centre send you?"

Parker smiled, "I'm here to make sure no more accidents happen. We had an agreement Blake: if you've damaged Centre property there will be repercussions."

"He crashed a motorcycle while trying to escape. There's no permanent damage."

Parker turned from the window she'd been gazing through, "There will be no more ...accidents."

Blake held her gaze for a long moment, judging how far he could push this woman. "Of course not." He stepped back as Jason Cole appeared behind him. "Jason here will show you to your property. When you're satisfied we'll talk."

Parker didn't bother answering. Syd was already following Harris up the steps to the second floor. When they reached a room with another guard standing outside Cole opened the door and led them in.

Jarod was lying unconscious on a single bed. Sydney hurried to the bed, immediately taking in the bruises and cuts on his head. He gently pulled the blanket down, revealing extensive bruising from his hips and disappearing under bandages around the ribs. There were numerous cuts and welts, many of which were bleeding slowly. Three patches covered what he guessed were deeper cuts. They'd pulled the loose black trousers on again but Sydney could see the discoloration and cuts descended past the waistband. He looked up at Blake's man, as angry as Parker had ever seen him, "This was no accident," he growled.

Parker stood at the end of the bed, eyes glued to Jarod's battered frame. She'd wanted to inflict damage on Jarod more times than she'd insulted Broots, but this was making her physically ill. "Will he be all right Syd?" She asked softly.

Sydney turned his glare from Cole to Parker, then her concern registered somewhere inside him and he looked back at Jarod, his manner losing its hostility. "I don't know yet. I need to make a full examination." He lifted one of the adhesive pads and examined the gash underneath, then studied the shape of the welts. He'd have to turn him over at some point and check his back where he suspected there would be more and probably worse. Someone had done a good job of bandaging the ribs but he'd change those bandages for fresh ones and check for himself what damage there was. He pulled the leg of one of the trousers up and saw a bandage there, surrounded by more bruising. The wrists, too, were bruised and swollen. There were deeper bruises and cuts on the outside of the wrists than on the inside, suggesting there'd been pressure on them, probably over a period of time. He carefully lifted the waistband of the trousers and confirmed what he already knew; Jarod had been naked when the lashes had struck. He turned again to Cole, who met his eyes. Sydney thought for a moment that he saw compassion there.

He spoke to Parker. "He's been beaten and whipped. I'll need to spend some time with him, close some of these wounds." His tone hardened as he glared at the other man, "I want *him* out."

Parker tore her eyes from Jarod and opened the door, waiting for Cole to move, "Let's go."

"My orders are to-"

"Your orders are to do as *I* tell you. I think we both know just how precarious Blake's position is." She watched as he accepted that, surprisingly without a great deal of consideration. "I want to talk to Blake. Now."

Cole nodded and walked past her. Parker took another look at Sydney reaching over Jarod then forced herself to follow, closing the door quietly behind her.

***************
Tuesday 11:00 PM

He opened his eyes slowly, groggily. He was aware of the softness of the surface he was lying on and that the pain he remembered didn't seem to be nearly as severe now. There was a haziness to his thinking and his vision that he associated with being on drugs. Painkillers.

"Jarod, can you hear me?"

He turned his head slowly towards the soft, familiar voice. The sight of Sydney sitting beside him was almost too reassuring. He wondered vaguely if Blake was pulling another trick on him. "Sydney?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

His voice was quiet and throaty but it worked. "Like Raines in the morning. On a really bad day." He saw Sydney smile half-heartedly. "Where am I?"

"Desmond Blake's house." Sydney saw the other man tense at the name, "He's downstairs. Don't worry; we're getting you out of here. Miss Parker is here."

Jarod shivered and squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden memory. He gasped and turned away from his mentor, hands gripping the sides of the bed like claws. Sydney closed his eyes a moment, then reached out and placed a hand gently on Jarod's right one, gripping as the other man shuddered. The attack lasted minutes, then slowly the trembling stopped and Jarod opened his eyes to find such understanding sadness in Sydney's own eyes that he almost lost control. "Sydney I.." He didn't know how to say it, how even to start.

"I know Jarod." He took Jarod's hand in both of his, "He's not coming near you again."

"You can't trust him." He tried to rise but could barely lift his head from the pillow. "He's not sane. He won't go through with the deal."

"Neither will the Centre. Blake and his people know too much. All we have to do is wait and it'll all be over. All of it." He took the uninjured side of Jarod's face in his hand and turned him so that their eyes met, "Blake will be dead Jarod. Do you understand? You're safe."

Jarod wanted to be held, wanted Sydney's comfort against the pain in the worst possible way, but didn't have the strength to ask for it. He turned his face away instead and let the tears fall silently into the pillow.

***************
In the darkness of the eastern side of Blake's property two shadows in black balaclavas slipped through a jagged cut in a metal security fence. One lifted something to his face and spoke quietly into it, confirmed he and his partner were inside, and then vanished silently into the shadows with his companion.

At the southern end another pair confirmed their own entry. One dropped onto the ground while the other slipped across to cover. When two of Blake's guardsmen appeared around a corner both fell abruptly to the ground, killed instantly. The two intruders pulled the bodies aside and reported that two targets had been neutralized.

At the gatehouse a black-clad figure withdrew his knife from yet another unfortunate guard and pressed the button to open the gate. Two dark vans with their lights off rolled past. Three minutes later the house lost power.

*****************
Miss Parker finished assembling her 9mm and stepped over Jason Cole's inert body and the heavy brass sculpture she'd hit him with. She paused to kick him and he made a noise that told her he was still alive. Good. Let her father's assassins do that job. Hers was to find Blake. She set off through the dark.

*************
Blake was in the courtyard. He knelt down beside Talia Wise's body and pocketed her weapon. He'd already found Bowman and Guthrie in the men's kitchen area, both shot through the heart. He crouched, listening. Thinking. The Centre had betrayed him, gone back on the deal. They wouldn't be here to take prisoners and they certainly weren't going to leave witnesses. There would be no more deals now. He was a walking dead man.

'No. Not yet.' He melted into the shadows.

*************
Sydney eased Jarod's bandaged right wrist through the sleeve of the shirt. They'd discovered Jarod's own clothes in a neat pile on a chair and Jarod had used much of his limited energy changing into the black jeans. The pretender was sitting up on the bed, leaning against the wall and looking like death warmed over. Sydney had wanted him to stay lying down until the Centre people could come with a stretcher, but Jarod wanted to be dressed. Sydney knew enough to understand why.

He reached to touch the other's face and Jarod jerked back in alarm before he realized what he'd done and forced a smile for Sydney's sake. "I'm sorry. It's going to take a while...before I can trust again."

"You're going to need to talk about it Jarod. When we get back I'll schedule sessions together. I can help you."

"Back to the Centre." He took a deep breath and looked away from Sydney, trying to hide the weariness and resignation. "Not exactly what I would have prescribed myself."

"You'll be safe there Jarod. The things you do on the outside, they create enemies. Every time Miss Parker and I came across the results of one of your crusades I could see the danger in what you do. How many times have these people nearly caught you out?" He didn't wait for an answer, "Blake won't be the first to track you down. The next one will likely have you killed as soon as they find you." He placed a hand on Jarod's knee, "The Centre will protect you."

Jarod could almost hear the unspoken 'It's where you belong' that hung in the air between them.

************
She hadn't found Blake and neither had any of the cleaners. In the almost pitch blackness the man had the advantage of knowing the building and where to take cover. It was likely he was hiding somewhere until they gave up on him, hoping they'd think he'd slipped out somehow. Parker swung her gun up instantly, checked her target, and stopped. Two of the Centre's men. They acknowledged her presence and one shook his head, indicating they still hadn't found Blake. Then they disappeared through a door, still searching for Blake and for any others still alive in the blackness.

Parker briefly considered continuing the search herself, but she'd always put a lot of faith in her gut instincts and they'd been niggling at her for some time now. She made up her mind and turned back towards the stairs.

She was relieved when the cleaner she'd sent to guard Jarod's room was still standing there. She opened the door and went in, found Jarod awake and sitting at the end of the bed, fully dressed. Sydney stood nearby saying nothing. She knelt in front of the injured man and found herself inordinately pleased that he met her eyes and the spark in his eyes that drove her crazy was still there despite the beatings. "Good to see you're still among the living," she said softly.

"Just." He leaned forward slightly, getting a smile from somewhere. "You took your time."

"Traffic's a bitch." They sat facing each other for a long moment. She couldn't bring herself to say how sorry she was he'd been hurt, but she knew she didn't have to. He was the Centre's prize pretender; he knew. Finally she reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of cuffs.

"Parker he can barely walk," Sydney protested.

She studied Jarod's face and noted the pain there, the way he paled even further at the sight of the handcuffs. Finally she nodded and put them away again, "All right. Don't make me regret it. But we have to get you out of here now."

"Blake?" Jarod asked.

"We haven't found him yet. We're also not completely sure of numbers; we had to initiate before we had all the information."

*To save me.* "Thank you."

She straightened and pulled on her ice, "Well don't send out for flowers yet; we have a plane waiting in Phoenix and your ticket is stamped 'Blue Cove'. Can you walk?" She waited as Sydney helped him up, but when it was apparent that he'd need help to walk she called the waiting cleaner in and had Jarod supported between them. Then she led the way from the room, her weapon held two-handed in front of her, followed by the three men.

The house was still deathly silent. It would take the rest of the night for the cleaners to search the place thoroughly for survivors, then clean up the mess and ensure no paper or electronic information was left that implicated the Centre. Still, that was what cleaners did, and they were good at it. They'd had a lot of practice.

They were at the foot of the stairway about to turn towards the western exit when the cleaner supporting Jarod's right side grunted and fell. Parker whipped around searching for the shooter and was suddenly thrown against the wall by someone big and very strong. He turned her towards the others, left arm wrapped around her throat, right hand holding his own 9mm at the side of her head. "Drop it."

Blake. She gave a mental acknowledgment to her prior gut feeling and made a point of being obvious about it as she engaged the safety and slowly opened her fingers. When the 9mm was on the floor she kicked it with her foot to the side.

"What now?" Parker asked calmly.

"Now you're going to get me out of here."

She sneered, "Try again."

Jarod was fighting to keep himself upright but he managed, pushing Sydney's arm away as he tried to help. "Blake, this has nothing to do with her. You know it."

He locked gray eyes with Jarod, a slow smile growing. He pressed the barrel of the silencer further into Parker's skin, "Surely you're not offering to trade places Jarod? I don't recall you enjoying my company the last time." He saw the pretender pale, felt his hostage still. "What? He hasn't told you? My dear you should try him, he even screams pretty."

She watched for Jarod's reaction; he wouldn't meet her eyes. Sydney looked as if he was about to hurl himself against Blake regardless of the gun. There was a terrible sick feeling in her stomach as she digested what it all meant, but she forced it down. They had to get out of this mess; they'd deal with anything else later. "Lyle," she said to Jarod, "how's the knife wound?" She saw acknowledgment there a split second before she threw her elbow back and flung herself aside.

Blake took seconds to recover before spinning on her. He was squeezing the trigger when pain exploded in his chest and his own shot went wild. Another bullet hit him and slammed him backwards into the wall. His arms dropped to his sides and he felt himself slumping down to the floor as Jarod staggered towards him, a hostile and totally alien look marring his features as he continued to fire into Blake's torso. It was the last thing Blake saw before he died.

Parker rose slowly and slid her hand along Jarod's outstretched arm. He continued to fire, wild eyes locked on the bloodied mess of Blake's body. When she reached his hand he finally stopped and she gently removed her weapon from his grip. She tried to summon up something to say, something to take away the pain. Sydney would know the right words, but then Sydney was looking too stunned to come up with anything. So instead she relied on her quiet sarcasm. "I think you got him."

He looked slowly from Blake to her. The rage was disappearing and she could see his eyes were growing moist, whether from what he'd just done, or reaction from the past few days/week. Perhaps both. For once he didn't seem to have anything to say.

Parker transferred the gun to her left hand and touched his face. She caught Sydney's surprise out of the corner of her eye but ignored him and touched Jarod's lips lightly with her own. She told herself it was for his sake, that he'd need that comfort after what he'd been through, but there was that in her that acknowledged it was for herself as well. He watched her silently, gratefully, and didn't ask for anything more.

She stepped back, "Time to go."

***************
There were four dark vans parked on the gravel when they emerged from the house. Parker could make out shapes moving in the gardens and she kept her gun extended, knowing they would be her own people mopping up, but not taking any chances. She noted that Jarod was able to walk with only Sydney to lean on and made a mental note to get the handcuffs back on him before he recovered enough to get clever. A waiting cleaner opened the back door of the closest van and she swept it with her weapon just to be sure. "All right, let's move it people."

Sydney started walking Jarod towards the van but Jarod stopped uncertainly and backed up a step. "Jarod?"

He was breathing heavily, shaking his head and staring at the open rear door. He backed another step, then another.

Parker was pacing between the front of the van and the rear, nerves on edge and still dividing her attention between Jarod and the dark around them. Never one to tolerate delays of any sort, she was fast losing her limited temper. "Jarod get in the damn van!"

Two of the cleaners took her words as orders and closed in on him. He panicked as one grabbed his arm, throwing his fist at the man's jaw. The other responded by hitting him in the stomach and then forcing him to the ground. In seconds both cleaners were crushing him into the gravel and forcing his arms behind his back. Sydney was yelling at them to stop but they ignored him, bringing out handcuffs and closing them tightly around his wrists.

Jarod went crazy. He screamed, fighting to get to his feet as the two men held him down. One of the cleaners shot Parker a worried look as blood began to appear on the white gravel.

Parker had realized their mistake but it was too late now. If they took the cuffs off he'd likely try to run and injure himself further. She turned to the old man instead, "God Sydney, do something before he kills himself."

He grabbed his bag from beside the van and pulled a case from it. He tried to ignore the younger man's struggles as he measured out a low dosage, put the bottle on the ground and checked the syringe for bubbles. Then he put a firm lid on his own emotions and knelt beside the injured pretender. "Hold him still."

Jarod saw the syringe coming and renewed his struggle. One leg flung out to the side, sending the bottle flying against the van's side and shattering the glass. Then he felt the needle sinking into his bicep and he felt his muscles weaken. His eyes lifted, expecting to see Jason Cole, and instead found the man he'd considered a father for most of his life. Sedating him. "Sydney.....?"

Sydney couldn't speak as he gently rubbed Jarod's arm until the brown eyes closed. Then he rose and spoke quietly, his heart aching. "Put him in. Gently." Then he added angrily, "And take the damn cuffs off."

Parker watched in silence as they hoisted him up and inside the van. At least they'd brought a stretcher, knowing he was injured. "I'm sorry Syd. I had no idea."

Sydney put the syringe back inside his bag and closed it then moved to climb in beside his patient. "Let's just get him home."

*******************
PART THREE

Day 8
Wednesday 9 am

The two vans weaved their way slowly around the mountain bends. Dawn had come and gone and they'd been able to pick up their pace but still progress was slow. The occupants of the second van had long since stopped complaining about the pace; if the old man up ahead insisted they go slow for his patient Miss Parker was obviously willing to accommodate him. There had already been a few humorous observations among the cleaners about the way she looked at their injured captive. No one doubted she was glad enough to prolong the trip.

They'd left the other two vans for the rest of the assault force. By now the stately home would be spotlessly clean and empty. The other teams would leave separately and return to base via different routes in order not to draw attention. Miss Parker and her group would be given an escort as far as possible, then be left to change vehicles and make their own way back. It was a tricky business this withdrawal from a cleanout operation and when the target location had been so isolated there was much more risk of exposure.

The driver of the second van rubbed his eyes and glanced at the man in the passenger seat. He'd been asleep there since they'd left, his head buried into the side of the seat. One of Miss Parker's personal sweepers no doubt. Not used to the night work. The driver shrugged, thinking that the man would have a wicked sore neck for his morning's sleep when he woke up. He smiled. Good.

Sydney sat propped with his back against the driver's seat. His old bones were having difficulty with the hard floor of the van but he had no intention of letting Jarod wake up with just cleaners for company. Miss Parker was sleeping in the passenger seat up front, her head resting against the window. A sweeper Sydney found vaguely familiar was driving the car and another sat at the back of the van watching silently. Even Sam was better company than this.

Jarod began mumbling to himself and Sydney leaned over, placing his hand on the younger man's forehead to still him. The struggle at the house had opened one of the earlier wounds and Sydney had been forced to re-stitch it in the van. He eyed the straps built into the stretcher, wondering for the tenth time whether to put them on or not. He didn't want Jarod waking to find himself strapped down, but neither did he want him becoming violent and injuring himself. The safest way would have been to sedate him for the entire trip, but Jarod had removed that option back at the house by shattering Sydney's supply. He hoped instead that being away from the scene of his abuse would be enough.

Jarod swallowed and opened his eyes. He blinked to clear them, bringing one hand to his head. Sydney smiled, betting there was a headache to go with the frown. "Good morning."

He kept blinking, rolling his head to the side and taking in where he was and the movement of the van. There was a moment of vertigo and he closed his eyes till it passed. "It is?"

Sydney smiled and reached behind him. He brought a sports bottle with straw to Jarod's mouth and gently lifted the other man's head to take a sip.

"Where are we?"

"About eleven miles north of Flagstaff, on our way back to Phoenix Airport."

"Miss Parker?"

"Up front catching some sleep." He paused, "You seem better."

"Really? I don't feel it." He eyed the sweeper who was watching more closely now that Jarod was awake. "Nice of you to bring company. Any chance of asking him to slip out the back for us - while we're moving?"

Sydney's smile widened, "Jar-od, behave yourself. Let's just pretend you're happy to be here shall we?"

"I'm happy to be away from there. You took a big risk coming in after me Sydney. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He looked up to where Miss Parker was stirring, probably woken by their voices. "Miss Parker insisted on being the one to go in with me by the way."

"She's very loyal."

Sydney lowered his head, smiling at what they both knew, "Yes she is."

"Is he awake Syd?" she asked, craning around.

"Yes he is," Jarod replied, surprising himself with how glad he was to hear her voice.

Parker looked at him and fought the urge to go back there and check him out for herself. Instead she settled for a long optical examination before he grew uneasy and turned away. She was about to say something cutting when she saw him shiver and stopped herself. She glanced at Sydney, who obviously hadn't missed it.

"We'll be making a rest stop soon." She said quietly, then turned back into her seat. She cast a disdainful look at the driver. "That is if Mario Andretti here can get us there before the close of the millennium."

**************
Wednesday 11:30 am

He insisted on being allowed to use the facilities when they stopped. One of the sweepers stayed nearby, steadfastly ignoring the glare as he passed. When all the men had finished and he headed back towards the vehicle, he felt the two sweepers tense beside him, obviously expecting a repeat performance of his last entry. Jarod set his jaw firmly and ignored them. He'd been preparing himself for getting back into the van and he knew he could handle it. He was just glad he hadn't had to go back into the cellar once he'd woken; he knew it would be a long time before he could stand the sight of a shower again.

Sydney met him at the van, obviously apprehensive. "I could talk to Parker about letting you ride up front."

Jarod grinned at the vision of Miss Parker fuming on the hard floor in the back of the van, or even worse, driving it in her current temper. "Hold that thought Sydney. When I want to be killed by Parker in erupting Vesuvius mode I'll let you know." He placed both hands on the sides of the van and pulled himself in, grimacing as his body protested. He moved towards the front and sat on the stretcher. Sydney followed, already dreading the ache in his bones from rest of the trip.

Miss Parker left the rundown diner verbalizing an imaginative torrent of insults at the lack of intelligence of the morons she'd encountered inside. Her hunt for Jarod had forced her into one seedy location after another, and it seemed to her that for every seedy motel there was an equally repulsive seedy motel owner. In fact she'd begun to suspect that Jarod deliberately researched the worst accommodations in the country just for the twisted pleasure he no doubt got in forcing her to use them. She even figured he had a little red notebook with photos of the motel managers and comments like 'leers while farting' and 'eats snot with gusto' written beside them. She brightened momentarily at the thought that those days were now over, before remembering the events that had brought them here. She'd even put up with the cretins from that notebook if she could reverse the last week.

She saw that everyone was already inside the van when she got there. The second vehicle would be somewhere out of sight behind, far enough not to be associated with this one but close enough to catch up when called to. She'd forgotten Jarod might object to entering the van again but obviously it hadn't been a problem. Either that or Sydney had been quick with his needle.

"Let the fun times roll." She said cynically as she settled back into the passenger seat. She glanced behind, saw Jarod sitting up and talking with Sydney. Her driver started the engine and was about to reverse up when someone called Parker's name from outside the van. She looked out, saw a policeman walking directly towards her. "Police," she said quietly to them in warning.

Jarod stopped listening to Sydney, his eyes shifting to the sweeper who'd become suddenly alert.

Jarod could hear Cole's voice: "Get back and cover him just in case." He swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the stretcher, staring at Sydney. Then he heard Talia's voice: "Just relax Jarod. I know what I'm doing."

Parker wound her window down and waited for the cop to approach. His manner wasn't hostile, in fact he was waving something at her: her purse. She'd left it inside. "There you go Miss," he said cheerfully, "You want to keep a better hold of that now. No telling who's gonna pick it up next time."

She grabbed the purse as quickly as she dared, "Thank you officer. I'll remember that." Then she said "Go," under her breath and the van reversed.

Sydney watched Jarod as he paled, recognizing the glazed look of eyes that weren't seeing what was happening in the here and now.

He felt the van reversing, then angling upwards. Heard their voices, fought for breath.
Then Blake's voice: "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Jarod threw himself into Sydney, knocking the older man back against the wall of the van. He was heading for the back door when the sweeper hit him hard enough to stun. Sydney was back suddenly and together they forced Jarod back onto the stretcher.

The van was picking up speed. Parker checked the mirror on her side door and saw that they'd left the policeman ambling unhurriedly back towards the diner. She swore and craned around the seat to see the sweeper virtually lying on top of Jarod to keep him down. The crazed man was kicking frantically, panicked, but the sweeper was too high on his body to be dislodged. Sydney was desperately trying to get the restraints on while holding his arms down at the same time. Parker squeezed into the back and helped, pulling the soft ties tight as Sydney held his limbs still. When at last they had him secured the sweeper lifted off, rubbing one leg. Jarod was still staring at him, gasping.

"Parker we have to stop." Sydney was panting heavily himself.

Parker kept watching Jarod, still astonished at how rapidly he'd lost control. "Can't you sedate him again Syd?"

"He broke the bottle back at the house. Miss Parker, please."

She closed her eyes and thought it through, finally nodded to him. "All right. I got some information from that excuse for a diner back there. There are cabins about a mile up. We'll hire one a night or two, at least until we can get a decent town car to come pick us up. Will that do?"

"It'll have to, won't it?"

********************
Wednesday 1:00 PM

By the time they booked and located the cabin Jarod was calm again. He asked to have the restraints removed and was gently but firmly denied by Sydney who insisted he wasn't going to re-stitch any wounds a third time. Sydney stepped out of the back of the van nursing his back. He was both amused and pleased to see the cleaner who'd stayed in the back with him was rubbing his own neck. At least Sydney couldn't blame it all on his age.

The cabin looked to be the size of a small house. There were a few low steps and a porch surrounding the two visible sides. The trees and undergrowth had been cut back as a prevention against fire, but still it nestled into the scenery in a pleasant and non-obtrusive way. There was one gravel road winding up to it and since it was the last cabin in the owner's holdings there was no road continuing on. That meant there wouldn't be any through-traffic either. Perfect for a group wanting to remain alone and unnoticed.

Miss Parker shot a disgusted look at the cabin and pulled out her phone. She had to report their location and tell her father what was happening. She also had to come up with an excuse that didn't involve sparing Jarod the trauma of a long van trip. Parker pride had kept her in good stead for many years and she didn't doubt it would get her through this particular conversation.

Jarod lifted his hands as far as they would go in the stretcher's restraints, then dropped them in exasperation. "Sydney. Do you think I could come out now?" he asked, hating the need to ask.

The sweeper who'd been driving stopped Sydney before he turned to go back inside, "Sir we can take care of that." He waited till Sydney nodded and stepped back, then he signaled to the other sweeper and stepped up into the van. Jarod saw that they fully intended to lift him out still strapped to the stretcher and envisaged twenty-four hours of being tied prone before the Centre's car arrived. It wasn't a comfortable vision.

"I can walk," he said, knowing they'd ignore him anyway. He raised his voice, "Sydney tell them." He saw his mentor look away uneasily and began to feel angry. "Sydney I'll be all right out of the van. Let me up."

"They're not worried about you hurting yourself." Parker interrupted, appearing beside Sydney and smiling at Jarod smugly. "They're just following my orders."

"You can't honestly think I can run anywhere the way I am at the moment."

She kept watching him, eyes bright with amusement. "No," she said happily, and held a set of handcuffs out by a long slim finger, "but it sure is fun making sure."

Sydney frowned at the cuffs, concerned they might trigger another episode, "Parker I don't know if-"

"That's the choice Syd," she interrupted, "The stretcher or the cuffs. Jarod?"

He tilted his head down. "I'll walk. Thank you." He waited impatiently as Parker nodded to the sweeper and the soft restraints were replaced by cuffs. When his ankles were unstrapped he slid out of the van onto the gravel and fought another attack of vertigo by leaning back against the metal.

Parker watched him, silently coming to the conclusion that he really wasn't up to trying anything yet. With the amount of bruising and blood loss she was surprised he could stand let alone walk. Then again, Jarod always was full of surprises. She looked away at the sound of another vehicle coming up the road. It was the second van. "Take him inside Sydney." She allowed one of the sweepers to go with Jarod but stopped the second. "You come with me. I'll be damned if I'm driving one more mile in one of these oversized Matchbox Noddy-mobiles."

Sydney led the pretender into a comfortable living area complete with wood fire and simple but comfortable furnishings. There was a small kitchen to one side and a timbered hallway leading to the rest of the cabin. Jarod started towards the kitchen but the remaining sweeper held his arm, looking to Sydney for permission before releasing him. Jarod took a deep breath and stepped away. The relief he felt at being rescued from Blake was fast being replaced by depression and anger at still being a prisoner. Although he knew he was in no danger he also knew they weren't about to let him go. Even Sydney would be convinced he was safer back at the Centre under lock and key. Jarod had enjoyed freedom too much to accept being the Centre's possession again. He also didn't like the way Sydney was watching him so closely, as if he was more determined than ever to keep him in sight.

"Where do you want me Sydney? On the floor or in the shower?"

Sydney's face reflected confusion for a moment before the implications of the question sank in and his jaw dropped, "Jarod, how coul-"

Jarod raised his hands in front and stepped back as Sydney approached, "Just don't come near me Sydney. I've had enough."

"You know I would never hurt you. I know you're angry, you have every right to be after what you've been through, but-"

"You're damn right I do!" He swung his bound hands up in warning at the sweeper, who was closing in. Sydney waved the man back. "I don't need your protection Sydney and I certainly don't need the Centre. Whatever happens to me is my responsibility not yours. I release you from it. Just stop telling yourself you're doing THIS," he shoved the handcuffs up at his mentor angrily, "for my own good. You're doing it to get your science project back and that's the only reason. I represent over thirty years of your life's work . I'm running around out there unmonitored and you can't keep tabs or have any control over me. THAT's why you're here Sydney. You just won't admit it. "

Sydney stood and took it as he had so many angry phone calls from the young man in the past, but Jarod's words had hit home too deeply for Sydney to handle; he was growing angry too.

"That's right. You DO represent a lifetime of work. For nearly three years I've been visiting location after location where you've been putting yourself at risk doing ridiculously dangerous things! For what? You race cars, you do extreme sports, you do stunt work for God's sake Jarod. If that sort of thing wasn't bad enough you taunt men like Desmond Blake! Of course I want you back where you can't put yourself in jeopardy. I will have you back. Through any means necessary."

The two men were glaring at each other when Parker entered. The atmosphere was thick with hostility and for a moment she was too surprised to say anything. Neither of them would break eye contact with the other. "Well. I can see we're all getting along just fine," she said brightly. "I've sent the other van on. There'll be a town car here tomorrow morning." She brought a hand up to tentatively touch the patch above Jarod's right ear. He flinched as she did so and she dropped her hand instead. "Sydney he's bleeding again."

Sydney looked at her, then absorbed the pain and exhaustion in Jarod's face. He realized he'd let Jarod's own distress affect him badly and once again he'd given the other cause to resent him. "Jarod I'm sorry."

Jarod took another deep breath and looked anywhere but at his mentor. "I'm not. Some things just had to be said."

"Would you rather Miss Parker redressed it?"

Jarod looked away, suddenly too exhausted to remain standing. He settled into one of the hard armchairs instead, put his head back and closed his eyes. "Do what you want Sydney." Then he added sardonically, "I'm all yours."

Parker watched as Sydney contained the hurt and picked up his medical supplies. She could almost see the barrier between them that hadn't been there since Jarod had first escaped nearly three years earlier. It would take time for Jarod to recover from what had been done to him, both physically and emotionally, and Sydney was the one who could most likely help him deal with it. If he was shutting Sydney out there would be no one else at the Centre he could turn to.

She knelt down in front of him and placed one hand on his arm, "Jarod, Sydney is only trying to help," she told him gently. Jarod opened his eyes but the anger was still there.

Sydney took Parker's arm and moved her out of the way. His manner was as un-Sydney-like as Parker had ever seen him. "No, he isn't," Sydney said firmly.

"Syd?"

"His injuries need treatment Parker. I was too gutless before. Williams, come here and hold him while I get his shirt off."

Jarod was looking from Sydney to the sweeper in shock. Miss Parker moved aside, every bit as stunned as Jarod. "Sydney what are you doing?"

Williams came round one side of Jarod and took hold around his neck as Sydney began pulling the shirt out from his waistband. "I'm doing my job." Sydney said coldly. Parker watched as Jarod became increasingly agitated. He tried to rise and was pulled firmly back down by the sweeper. He began to breathe heavily, pushing away from Sydney and protesting in a quiet, frightened voice, "No, no, no, no, no." He drew his legs back and kicked out, catching Sydney high on the thigh. The sweeper jerked his neck in warning and gripped tighter till his vision swam and he stopped struggling.

Parker stepped in angrily, "Sydney that is enough!"

Sydney ignored her. He reached behind him and pulled the thick coffee table forward until it was lodged just under Jarod's knees, effectively stopping him from kicking. Then he took advantage of the pretender's momentary lack of oxygen to pull the shirt over his head and down over the cuffs. He wrenched his bag of supplies to the side and pulled out antiseptic and cotton wool, then began dosing the cuts. Jarod was shivering, obviously frightened by Sydney's behavior. His eyes were glued to Sydney's but the older man steadfastly refused to meet them. When he'd done the cuts he could reach on Jarod's front Sydney indicated to the sweeper to incline him forward. Jarod's hands gripped the arm about his throat and he pulled against it, unable to speak. Sydney shifted his position and checked under the dressings. Several were dark with blood and needed changing immediately. There was another wound he hadn't originally stitched because Jarod had been close to waking back at the house and he hadn't wanted him to wake to find someone working at him. He took a small sterile clip from his bag, opened the packet and applied it to the wound instead of stitches. When he'd tended to all of the wounds on the back he shifted his attention to the head wound.

Parker stood through it all unable to move. She saw Jarod's unbelieving eyes find hers as if asking for help, but all she could do was stare back. This wasn't the Sydney she knew. Sydney would never do this to Jarod. Not Sydney.

The old man pulled the shirt back over Jarod's head then turned to her, his face a mask of contained anger. "Leave now Miss Parker."

"Why?"

He reached for Jarod's belt, intending to treat the hip wound next, then the leg and the others. His eyes were still on Parker. "Just leave." Jarod began to buck, his knees hitting the table cruelly, a desperate moan beginning in his throat.

Parker backed out towards the door, then turned and bolted.

He was in the dark again. Blind. Waiting for it to start, drowning in the fear. Knowing nothing he said would make him stop, but knowing he would beg anyway.

"Hold him still." God, that was Sydney's voice. A hand tugged at his belt.

"Nnnooooo, nnoooo." They were going to hurt him, tie him, hit him. He twisted in the chair, swinging his hands around. Handcuffs. Dark room. Blood. Pain. "Nnnooooo." Strong hands at his throat, tightening. Others pulling at his jeans. "No!"

Sydney's face dodged to the side but the cuffed hands struck him a glancing blow anyway. "Williams, damn it." Sydney let go of the jeans and gripped the flailing wrists, forcing them down. Jarod arched off the chair. Williams was desperately trying to hold him down but he was afraid of damaging his captive's throat permanently or even breaking his neck. Sydney seemed to be past caring.

He felt the arm at his throat slacken a moment and he wrenched sideways. The move took Williams by surprise and Jarod's upper body was suddenly free. He staggered, pushed against the other man in his desperation to get away.

You have no idea what I'm capable of.

Blake.

Then Sydney was before him. Kind, gentle Sydney who'd been the only father he'd ever known. But Sydney was gripping him, stopping him from escaping. No. Sydney wouldn't. Not Sydney. Something hit him, hard, in the jaw. His head flew back and he yelled in sudden pain. He felt his legs buckle.

Sydney lowered him to the floor. Williams grabbed the handcuffs and pulled them over his prisoner's head, then leaned onto his arms. The older man pulled the jeans off quickly while he could, avoiding looking into his young friend's dazed eyes.

Jarod felt the tug and began shaking uncontrollably. He forced his eyes down to the man undressing him and saw a terrible fluctuating image of Blake and Sydney, his torturer and his mentor the same. He was gasping in terror but his body wouldn't obey him. It was locked somehow, a shivering terrified mess, a bundle of nerves magnifying every touch the Blake/Sydney creature made. The pressure on his arms shifted and he howled with renewed pain. Blake/Sydney said something to the other man, then reached behind him and
retrieved ....... A knife. A double knife, two images weaving before him, Blake gripping the bone handle and bringing it closer. I don't plan on killing you. Jarod screamed, tossed his head from side to side, begged the Blake creature. "Please no, no, no, no. Please. Please. No."

Sydney glanced at Williams, who was white-faced. If the cleaner hadn't guessed what had happened at Blake's house he certainly knew now. Sydney wiped sweat from his face onto his sleeve and forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing. He poured antiseptic into the wool and carefully removed the patch at Jarod's hip. The stitches were still closed and he said a silent thank you to whatever god would still listen to him. Jarod was no longer struggling against them. He was lying, trembling all over, breathing in fast, shallow pants. Sydney stared at the cuts and for a moment could not move. He cursed, cursed himself and the monster who'd done this. There were other cuts. Lower cuts. He took a shuddering breath, then steeled himself. He couldn't stop. If he backed out now it would be for nothing.

Jarod's pleading had become quiet but he didn't stop. He could almost seek solace in the words, as if somehow they were shielding him from what was happening. His eyes were open, staring past the man at his head, seeing instead the blackness of the small dark room where they'd tied him. Felt the lashes, the thumps of Blake's fist against his body. Sudden jerks of electricity that stopped the voice in his throat. Williams leaned closer, trying to catch the soft words. "Please.....stop....please... Blake....no..." Williams looked back to Sydney, who was obviously listening, but was too busy to say anything. Williams gulped, his mouth dry.

Sydney spoke quietly, "I have to turn him over." He waited for the pale-faced cleaner to lift off the outstretched arms, then rolled the shivering man onto his stomach. Jarod shuddered, his head twisted, eyes frantically trying to see behind him.

He barely felt the moisture on his body, but the taste and smell of blood filled his senses. His arms were useless, cuffed and stretched before him as pointless as his pleading. He knew he was shivering, he felt every touch on his hypersensitive skin, every movement of the man behind him. His neck hurt but he had to see, he had to know the visage of the creature that came for him. The muscles of his eyes ached with the effort but he found the Blake creature, found him, watched him, begged him, and the Blake creature became older, grayer. The creature was Sydney.

The vision of brick and water faded away, was replaced by timber and a dry, wooden floor. The man leaning over him wasn't Blake, he wasn't even angry. His tired mind focused on Sydney's strained features. His mentor had paused in his administrations, aware that Jarod had stilled, could see the realization in the brown eyes. Jarod knew what his mentor was doing, that he was treating injuries that needed care, but even Sydney's touch was unwelcome... and there had been no permission given.

"please......Sydney.... please stop."

Sydney knew that Jarod was lucid but he squeezed his eyes shut against his own name. He didn't stop.

******************
Wednesday 4pm

When she came back three hours later the living area was empty. She put the box of supplies she'd bought onto the kitchen bench and went looking for the others. She found Jarod lying cuffed to a bed in one of the rooms. He was staring up at the ceiling, motionless. A bowl, spoon and glass were empty beside the bed and Williams the sweeper was sitting on a chair in one corner. If she'd ever seen a sweeper look like he'd seen everything then here he was. Williams looked like he still couldn't figure out what the hell had happened. She resisted the urge to go to Jarod and instead turned to seek out Sydney.

The next room was empty; it had obviously been left for her. At the end of the hallway the last door was closed. She pushed it open slowly to find the gray-haired man lying on his bed, sobbing quietly. "Sydney?" She walked in, more mystified than ever. "Sydney please. What's going on?" She touched him gently and he sat up, still not looking at her. She knew the appropriate response, had known it when Broots' daughter Debbie had hugged her, but it didn't make it any easier. Still she held him and let him hold her, quietly, for a long time.

******************
"So, are you going to talk or do I have to bring Raines in and have him re-follicate Broots in front of you?"

Sydney drew back, finally mustering his dignity about him. She could almost see the doctor's coat go on. "I've been lying Parker. I've been telling myself and everyone else for years that I'm objective when it comes to Jarod. "

She smiled, "That's all right Sydney. I don't think anyone believed you."

"I did. At least I used to. Since Jarod escaped I've become less convinced. I've even met him several times privately when I could have turned him in. Did you know that Parker?"

"I guessed you might have."

"Well I did. If I'd been objective, if I'd been the scientist I'm supposed to be he would have been back by now. This wouldn't have happened to him."

"Sydney this thing with Blake, it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was Parker. Don't you see? I liked Jarod being free. You said it yourself often enough - I loved him being out there defending the Little Guy." He rose off the bed, " I always figured he'd have his run, live some of the life I'd denied him, and then come home like some dog that's gotten bored wandering the streets. How could I have been so stupid Parker?"

"You weren't stupid Sydney. You were just....being a parent."

"But I'm not. I'm not his parent, and he can't ever be free. I raised him to be what he is Parker, and he's never going to be safe out there. I let my own feelings stop me from bringing him in. I even let them stop me from treating his injuries properly, just to spare myself the look in his eyes when I hurt him. I let him down."

"He wouldn't think so Sydney. He's been hurt badly, that's why he's angry. Give him time and he'll be all right. He's Jarod. Jarod's always been strong."

"I should have turned him in long ago Parker. I could have. I put my own love for him before his best interests."

"No Sydney. You're talking as if he's a child, or an animal. Jarod isn't either; he makes his own choices in life and if those choices place him in danger then he has to face the consequences. " She waited a few moments. Sydney was quiet, she hoped beginning to accept her argument. "He's going to need you now Sydney, more than ever. Be the doctor, treat his wounds and keep him safe, but be his friend too. Because when we get him back to the Centre he's going to need you, not a doctor, and certainly not Raines." She rose and went to the door.

"Parker." She looked back. "If we have no responsibility for him...... shouldn't we let him go?"

"I said the lab rat's responsible for his own actions Sydney, I didn't say he wasn't Centre property."

She left Sydney to think it all out for himself and went back into Jarod's room. The pretender had drifted off into a restless sleep. Williams was nodding in his chair. "Go get something to eat and get some sleep. I'll watch him for a while." She waited till the man had gone then pulled the chair up to the bed. She had a few issues of her own to argue out with herself, and she settled down to do it as she watched him dream.

************
Day Nine
Thursday 7 am

When she woke she was in a very comfortable bed in the second room. After a moment of confusion she knew that Sydney had relieved her some time in the night. She remembered looking back into the dark and seeing him standing over Jarod, a hand reaching out in comfort to rest on the sleeping man's shoulder. She rubbed tired eyes and blinked slowly until the brightness wasn't quite so annoying, then got up, grabbed her things and headed for the shower.

She felt immensely better afterwards, dressed to kill and face and hair just so. She went looking for the men and was alarmed to find the bedrooms and the living room empty. She was fast becoming angry when she shot out the front door onto the porch and found Williams standing to one side, aborting the move for his gun when he saw that it was her. Jarod was sitting on one of the wooden porch chairs. His hair was still damp and he'd changed into a soft denim shirt and new jeans. Obviously Sydney had thought to bring the change of clothes. His wrists had been rebandaged but she saw that the cuffs were still there; Sydney wasn't taking any chances.

"Miss Parker," he said, plainly amused. "Looking for someone?"

She closed her eyes briefly then shot Williams a dark look and turned to Jarod, smile fixed firmly in place. "You look....better."

"I had a good night's sleep. Must have been the company."

She studied him, wondered if he knew Sydney had been there as well. From the look on his face she decided he didn't. "Shaving must have been difficult with those on."

"Well actually it made for a totally new experience." He tilted his head, smiling wider, "You should try it some time. Sorry to disappoint you -- Sydney decided he could allow me a few seconds without them."

"Speaking of whom, where is Sydney?"

The amusement disappeared from his face. "Walking, dealing with his devils. He could be a while."

She frowned, knelt in front of him, "Jarod despite what he did you know that Sydney cares for you. He only did it-"

"I know why he did it." He turned the glare away from her, towards the road where Sydney had appeared. "It just isn't a good enough reason any more."

Parker thought for a moment, wanting to find something to say that he'd respond to. She gave up, thrust both hands into the air with a frustrated cry and reentered the cabin. She rummaged through the few cupboards, slamming them behind her and looking for the coffee she'd purchased the previous night.

"Where the Hell did Williams put the damn coffee?!" Then she spotted it, sitting in plain sight on the bench in front of her. She snatched it and twisted the cap off, glad Jarod hadn't been in the room to point it out. The door opened again while she was boiling the water and Jarod stepped through closely followed by Williams. Sydney appeared behind them, his face expressionless.

"We heard a car coming. Must be our lift," Sydney told her.

"That's a relief. The thought of spending any more time with you two re-enacting the building of the Berlin Wall was making me nauseous." Sydney ignored her and went down the hallway to fetch his things. Parker saw that Jarod was standing quietly, staring out the window as their car appeared through the trees. She wondered if he was thinking about Blake, Sydney, or what would happen to him once they reached their destination. "Williams go out and make sure it's our car."

"Yes Miss Parker."

She waited till he'd gone, then brought out a second mug. "There's no rush you know. If you need more time I can get it. I may be able to have you detained somewhere less traumatic than the Centre until you can deal with it."

"I'll never be able to deal with being at the Centre."

She didn't bother to tell him he didn't have any choice in the matter. Instead she poured the coffee silently, thinking.

The door flew open suddenly and Parker jumped. Instead of Williams the man she remembered as Jason Cole stood there, his arm raised and pointing a semi-automatic directly at her. She glanced at Jarod, saw that he was standing motionless with his eyes glued to Cole. She swore at herself for leaving her own Smith and Wesson back in the bedroom. Their only hope now was Sydney.

"Come into the room. Slowly." Cole waved the older man in from the hallway and Parker gritted her teeth. Damn.

"How did you get out of there?" she asked, totally calm.

Cole shrugged, "It wasn't hard. One of your goons thought I was dead and I got the jump on him. Then I just swapped clothes and came out with you."

She was incredulous, "You were in the other van all along?!"

He smiled, "Thanks for the lump on the head by the way. Hurts like blazes, but it did save my life. Keep your hands where I can see them." He waited until she brought them back on top of the bench, then waved the gun to bring her out.

She was thinking it through as fast as she could, trying to get a handle on the situation before it got worse. "You got away undetected. What are you doing here?"

"That's the point isn't it? If they don't know I survived by now they will very soon. I came for him." He tilted his head towards Jarod.

Sydney shifted, moving in front of the handcuffed man protectively. "Didn't you notice what happened to Blake? The Centre doesn't deal with people like you."

Cole raised the gun to point directly at Sydney's head, "That's fine, because I have no intention of dealing with the Centre." He held out his other hand, "The handcuff key."

Sydney paused, his mind working the pieces together. After a long minute he reached inside his suit and withdrew the key then put it in Cole's hand. "Thank you." He held it out again, "Jarod."

Jarod took the key and awkwardly unlocked his own cuffs. Cole stepped back, covering both Parker and Sydney as Jarod took her hand and clicked one loop around her wrist. "You're working together?" She asked.

Jarod tugged her gently towards a thick timber support pole and cuffed both wrists around it. She noted that he squeezed the cuffs tight past even her capacity to squeeze through. "I made him an offer once. I guess he's finally decided to take me up on it."

Sydney could see his only hope of re-establishing a relationship with Jarod slipping through his fingers. "Jarod can you trust him?"

"Now that's funny coming from you Sydney." He pulled the cord from the wall phone out of both of its sockets and pulled the old man's arms roughly behind his back. His face held anger and pain as he tied the knots. "Thanks for the medical treatment. I think I can manage by myself from now on." He stepped back, done. Cole was already heading for the door.

"Jarod?" Sydney said quietly, "Where will you go?"

"I don't know yet, but...... I won't be in touch." He looked at Parker, saw that she was already working at the cuffs. Parker had chased him and even shot at him but she'd never lied to him. He turned back to Sydney, "At least not with you." Then he followed Cole out the door.

A few minutes later they heard a car engine start, then the fading sound of its engine as it followed the road back down the slope. Sydney stood staring at the door, not even trying to release himself. He knew that either Parker would get free or Williams, presumably unconscious, would wake up and come release them. He was more concerned for Jarod, and a relationship irretrievably broken. So many times Jarod had reached out to him for love, for a father's kind words. Now it was too late to reach back.

The End.

Now, if you didn't like it you really shouldn't have gotten this far.
If you did like it then tell me so or I'll be very sad and sit in a corner and keep any further tales to myself. All right, myself and she-knows-who.
Feedback please to: tazgone@yahoo.com.au