Tuesday afternoon

“Is that all of it?” Miss Parker turned an intense gaze on Sophia as she pointed to the desk.

“Everything that I could find,” the secretary said sadly. She’d called down to Renewal to find out about her boss’ condition – and the physician on duty had had very little good news for her. “The appointment books from my desk, all the papers from his In and Out boxes, everything current…”

Miss Parker looked up sharply as Broots pushed through the etched glass doors suddenly without knocking – and then turned back to the secretary with a gentle nod. “Good. You might as well take the rest of the day off – there really won’t be any need for you to be here until there’s someone to sit in the office.”

Sophia’s face fell just a bit. “I hope you’ll consider me as your secretary when you move into here,” she stated softly, knowing the time to put such thoughts forward was before they would be normally needed. “I know what Mr. Raines had on his agenda…”

“I’m sure that you’ll be an important part of whatever happens here in the near future,” Miss Parker stated with a glance at Broots to keep him from commenting further. “I’ll keep you informed as to what is going on.”

“Thank you, Miss Parker,” Sophia said and looked around the office a bit before letting herself out through the glass doors.

“I can’t believe that anybody would actually MISS Mr. Raines,” Broots sidled closer to the tall brunette and kept his voice soft enough that it couldn’t be overheard outside the office doors.

“She doesn’t miss HIM, you ninny,” Miss Parker snapped, her mind only partly focused on Broots’ statement, “but rather her position within the Tower. With Raines gone, her ability to lay claim to the title of ‘secretary to the Chairman’ is in jeopardy.”

“Oh…” Broots hadn’t thought of that – the politics of the clerical pool was far outside his normal range of understanding.

Miss Parker stepped forward and backhanded his shoulder hard. “Focus, Broots. We’re here for the hard drive from Nosferatu’s terminal – and to properly lock away that and all of his calendars and files until another Chairman has been appointed. Or until Raines comes back…”

The balding computer tech flinched, both from the sharp blow and the idea that Mr. Raines might actually be coming back, and hurried to the desk to move the flat-screened display from the small desktop terminal. “Right, Miss Parker,” he agreed and put his attention on the screws that held the case together. “What are we going to do with all this stuff, once we have it all?” he inquired as he worked.

Miss Parker had moved behind the desk and was flipping through the appointment calendar, taking note of which companies and governmental agencies were represented by the names on the pages. “The file cabinets here will be locked and a guard placed on them. For the stuff we’re taking with us – the current data and the computer’s hard drive – there’s a safe down in the SIS office on SL-18,” she answered – her mind once more only partly on the conversation. “As head of SIS, I’m the only one who has the combination to that…”

Broots looked up at her, his smile wide. “That’s convenient, isn’t it? You’re the next in line to be Chairman, aren’t you?”

Grey eyes regarded him with shock. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Oh, come now, Miss Parker,” Broots returned his gaze to his work as he carefully disconnected the data cable and reached for the power plug on the little hard drive. “Who else would…” The technician’s gaze returned to her face suddenly – and Broots looked a little pale. “You don’t suppose that Mr. Lyle…”

Miss Parker’s gaze was just as shocked. “I don’t know…”

“Just how DOES the position move from one person to another anyway,” Broots continued to follow his own line of thought. “How did Raines get appointed Chairman so quickly after your father…” He stopped talking and focused on working the mounting screws, knowing the subject of Mr. Parker’s demise was still a very tender subject with his prickly boss.

“It seems my ‘father’ left written instructions as to who he wanted to succeed him,” Miss Parker’s shoulders were hunched for a moment – and then she began to leaf through the papers piled on the desk in earnest. “Mr. Raines would have been required by company policy to have a similar set of instructions. They’re probably in here somewhere…”

Broots slipped the hard drive out of the mounting brackets and directly into a silver static protection sleeve that he’d brought up with him from his workstation. He pressed the adhesive edge against itself to seal it in and then put the little package on top of some of the paperwork that Miss Parker was looking through. “What if it isn’t?” he asked in concern. “Didn’t your father…” He stopped himself. “Isn’t there a safe in this office somewhere…”

“You’re right,” Miss Parker exclaimed, straightening and pointing her finger at him. “There IS – and it stands to reason that such a document would be stored in the safe.”

“Where is it?” Broots asked breathlessly.

Miss Parker moved the massive leather chair out from behind the desk and pointed down. Broots looked down to see, beneath the plastic runner on which the chair had moved back and forth, a recessed metal handle. “The thing is,” she continued, “I was never told the combination to it – this safe was supposed to be for the Chairman alone. Nobody in the Tower had the combination.”

Broots eyed her with expectation. “Who does, then?”

“I know the Triumvirate does,” she answered simply.

“And so we wait until the Triumvirate sends a representative with the combination to open the safe and tell us who our new boss is going to be?” Broots was hard-pressed to believe it. “Don’t the stockholders have any say?”

“The stockholders are really only just a way to give us an air of legitimacy, Broots,” Miss Parker shook her head at his naïveté. “The majority of the public stock is held by members of the Parker family – Lyle, myself and Raines – and we make the decisions that everyone else has to live with. The Triumvirate holds about half of what’s left, with the actual stockholders holding the rest…”

“But Raines is…”

“I know.” Miss Parker’s eyes glittered. “It opens a new and very interesting door of possibilities, doesn’t it?”

Broots’ eyes grew wider. “Are you considering…”

“My mother always thought that the Centre could be a place to do incredible good,” Miss Parker said softly. “Maybe now I’ll get the chance to do what she never was given the chance to – turn this place around.”

“Mr. Lyle won’t be very happy about that…” Broots warned.

“Mr. Lyle will just have to live with it, if I’m the one Raines picked to follow him,” Miss Parker said archly. “We’ll just have to make sure that is what the papers in the safe say.”

“Miss Parker!”

“What?” she snarled at him. “Do you WANT Lyle in charge?”

“N..n..no,” Broots backpedaled quickly. “But… how are you going to…”

Miss Parker began to smile. “I have an idea…”

Broots sighed. Every time she said something like that, things never quite worked out right – and half the time, she ended up getting hurt. He could only hope that this wasn’t going to be another one of those times.

~~~~~~~~*

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lyle,” the uniformed guard at the gate greeted the driver of the black Centre van and waved the vehicle through the moment the barrier had been lifted.

Lyle breathed a deep sigh of relief as he finally entered Centre grounds – where not even local law enforcement dared intrude. “At last,” he commented more to himself than to anybody else and then turned to his companion. “How are our passengers doing?”

Willy glanced into the darkness behind the driver’s seat and then straightened, shrugging. “All still out like a light – just the way we want them,” he replied expressionlessly. After drugging each one, he’d taken the time to secure hands and feet – just in case one of them had a high tolerance to the sedative he’d been using.

“Good.” Lyle guided the van into the parking structure and then around a corner to a loading dock, and then backed into an open space. “Get some sweepers down here to transport the goods to Mr. Cox’s lab – I have business to attend to above.”

“Didn’t Mr. Raines put YOU in charge of this?” Willy asked incredulously.

“What of it?”

“Then it’s YOUR responsibility to make sure the goods are delivered to Mr. Cox’s lab.”

Lyle’s head turned slowly and he regarded the African-American that had been his boss’ right hand man with narrowed eyes. “You do realize that with your lord and master in Renewal, I’M the one in charge now?”

Willy’s gaze didn’t flinch. “I haven’t seen Mr. Raines draw up any document that leaves you in his chair in case of illness…”

“This isn’t illness, you idiot!” Lyle burst out laughing. “From the sounds of it, the old ghoul is probably being kept alive by machines at this point.”

The dark face split into a snarl. “That’s still your boss, MR. Lyle – and he’s still alive.”

Lyle merely chuckled and shook his head. “I should have guessed. You can’t get your mind wrapped around the idea that things are going to be changing around here, can you?”

“You hope,” Willy scoffed. “For all we know, Mr. Raines has regained consciousness and is in full control of the Centre as we speak.”

“How much do you want to bet that he’s flat on his back in Renewal and unconscious?” Lyle challenged.

Willy shook his head. “I know better than to bet. I’m just saying that it’s too early for you to be wanting to count your chickens.”

“We’ll know when we get up to his office, I guess, won’t we?” Lyle said calmly.

“AFTER we deliver these warm bodies to Mr. Cox,” Willy replied, reminding the man he’d love to have in a dark alley alone and unarmed of the task that faced them in the immediate future.

The two glared at each other for a long moment, and then Lyle relented. “C’mon,” he growled, pushing the driver’s side door open, “let’s get things arranged here so that I can go make sure that everything’s safe and secure above.”

Willy nodded solemnly and opened his door too. Mr. Lyle wasn’t going to get out of his sight – in case the wily younger man had any ideas of usurping his boss’ authority and power while Mr. Raines was incapacitated. Having Lyle at the head of the Centre, sitting in the Tower office making decisions for the entire organization, wasn’t a pleasant thought – and Willy wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do if Mr. Raines really were on death’s door, or already gone.

~~~~~~~~*

Broots hadn’t stopped staring.

Miss Parker had claimed that she didn’t have the combination – but after she’d stopped grinning like a Cheshire cat, she’d admitted she’d watched her father get into the safe a number of times as a child. With that, she dropped to her knees and spun the dial as if she knew what she was doing – and lo and behold, the handle moved when she grasped it.

“Oh man,” Broots fussed nervously. “If Mr. Lyle or Mr. Raines ever finds out that you…”

“Now how are either of them going to know anything if YOU DON’T OPEN YOUR MOUTH?” Miss Parker barked at him from the floor. “Here – be a help and not a hindrance.” She reached into the hole in the thick cement and drew out a red document case bearing the Centre’s distinctive logo. “I’ll bet you dinner at the Saddle and Spurs Steak House that this is what we’re looking for.”

“No takers.” Broots took the folder from her so that she could push herself to her feet again – and then was more than willing to hand it back to her. “Here,” he said emphatically as she snatched it from his fingers. “I don’t want it.”

Miss Parker moved to the easy chair in front of the desk to sit down before smoothly unwinding the ribbon from the twin spindles that held the document case closed. She smiled grimly and pulled the single sheet from the thick cardboard. “I was right,” she said after a moment perusing the neatly typed words.

“What?” Broots was almost afraid to ask.

“The bastard wanted to hand the Centre to my darling brother,” she snarled, looking up at her computer tech in disgust. “And you know what that will mean, don’t you?”

The balding man nodded and swallowed hard. “We’re so screwed…”

“Not necessarily. O ye of little faith…” Miss Parker reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter, which she held up triumphantly. “The Triumvirate might THINK Raines left instructions – but there are a lot of things that Raines was SUPPOSED to do that he conveniently forgot.” Her grey eyes narrowed. “Right?”

“You intend to destroy that and then challenge Lyle?”

“It’s either that or hand the Centre over to him on a silver platter,” she scoffed and then hissed, “Of course I’m going to challenge Lyle. And when the time comes, I intend to take control.” She strolled calmly toward the private restroom. “And I can only do that if THIS disappears.”

Broots watched from a distance as she set the document on fire – and then held it over the gaping toilet bowl until the ashes fell of their own weight into the water – dropping the last little bit of paper only just before her fingers were singed. She pushed the lever to flush the toilet – and the deed was done.

“What now?” he worried at her.

“Now the fun really starts,” she responded seriously, sending a shiver down Broots’ spine.

~~~~~~~~*

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lyle bellowed the moment he exited the elevator and found himself looking at his sister and her trained monkey as they affixed cautionary tape across the etched glass doors. Next to them stood two burly sweepers, their arms filled with small boxes holding all sorts of papers.

“My job: sealing the Chairman’s office, pending the reading of the letter of recommendation for next Chairman,” Miss Parker responded, straightening and turning to face him, “as specified in the Centre protocols. If you read your handbook more often than you read your Chinese cookbook, you’d know…”

“You know as well as I do that I’m the person who is most qualified for the Chairman’s position,” Lyle insisted pointedly, walking down the corridor until he was standing toe to toe with her. “The Triumvirate and the stockholders…”

“…have nothing to do with the process of succession, and you know it,” Miss Parker shrugged with narrowed eyes. “As the head of SIS, it is my job to secure the office of the Chairman and all of his files and papers – ESPECIALLY the paper designating his choice of successor.” She nodded to the sweepers next to her. “These men witnessed my opening the private safe and removing all the papers it contained – these papers will be taken and deposited in another safe pending the next stockholder’s meeting, when the Triumvirate will read Raines’ instructions.” She gestured, and another pair of sweepers came up and stood on either side of the taped doorway. “And these two men, and those who replace them, will make damned sure that nobody goes in or out of this office until the Chairman’s position is filled officially.

Lyle seethed. This is what happens when I’m sent out of town at the wrong damned time, he thought angrily. “And just exactly WHEN is this meeting going to take place?”

“What do you think?” Miss Parker answered derisively. “The earliest we could get all our stockholders together with the Triumvirate representatives would be a week from today.”

“A whole week?!” Lyle gaped. “And just who is to make the decisions in the meantime?”

She looked at him and knew that this had NOT been expected. Lyle had thought that he’d be able to waltz into the position without any real challenge or competition. No doubt he’d thought that he’d be able to just waltz into the Chairman’s office and sit down in the big chair without the least vetting process. “Don’t be stupid, Lyle,” she tossed at him in a mocking tone that made her brother flush with fury. “There is nothing critical happening that requires Tower oversight for the time being – so department heads can continue to exercise their authority until THEY have someone to answer to.”

“You’re preventing me from assuming my position…”

“I’m preventing you from usurping the Chairmanship,” she agreed with a hiss. “The Triumvirate and stockholders – which includes you and me, if you remember – will be the ones making the final decision.”

“The stockholders are powerless wimps that you know and I know are there only for show,” Lyle spat at her. “It takes strength and will to take the job – and that’s where I have you beat.”

“You think so?” Miss Parker’s expression turned hard. “I trained for the job my entire life – and I’ve sacrificed for the Centre. I’ll be damned if I’ll let some Triumvirate-nursed Bobbie-Come-Lately to steal MY inheritance out from under my nose. It’s the reason why I was re-appointed the head of SIS – and I’ve done a good job keeping the Centre safe. I’ve even managed to keep your… ‘activities’… from besmirching the Centre when you get careless.”

“I’m not some Johnnie-Come-Lately,” Lyle stormed, riling even more at the play on his former name. “I’m your twin… and I know where all the skeletons are buried. It was I who helped Raines arrange for most of the on-going projects for the last couple of years – since Daddy Dearest decided to go swimming off the coast of Africa.” He smirked. “I’m the best qualified to run this place – and I’m a Parker.”

“You may be my twin, but you are the YOUNGER twin,” Miss Parker reminded him sharply. “Like it or not, Lyle, I’m older than you.”

“Age has nothing to do with it…”

“That’s right!” she exclaimed, throwing her hand in the air. “The only thing that matters is what Raines designated – and that will be heard for the first time at the stockholder’s meeting next week. You and I will just have to cool our heels until then.”

Lyle simmered, but didn’t dare air some of the things he wanted to say to her. Broots, the perpetual geek and honest observer, had been standing to one side very quietly taking in the entire conversation; and while the assembled sweepers may not have been hired for their intelligence, but they too could make witnesses. “We’ll just have to see how things go over the next week, then, won’t we?” Lyle forced himself to use his smooth, sane, corporate executive’s voice.

Miss Parker’s eyes narrowed again. It wasn’t going to take the voices in her mind to start screaming at her to know that this was a declaration of war between the two of them – with the Centre itself as a prize. “Indeed,” she nodded, forcing her own voice back down to a more civilized tone. “And may the best man – or woman – win.”

The smile that slowly spread across Lyle’s features was enough to chill the blood. “I’m sure he will,” he commented knowingly and then turned away.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Miss P,” Broots whispered as the elevator door closed behind the younger Parker twin.

“Neither do I, Scooby,” Miss Parker shook her head and then turned to the sweepers. “Follow me and bring this stuff down to the SIS office. We’ll lock it up – and then place a 24/7 guard on that too, pending our stockholder meeting next week.”

The sweepers bearing the boxes didn’t say a word, but fell in behind Miss Parker as she headed to the elevator. Broots followed along behind, wondering just how Miss Parker was going to be able to convince the Triumvirate to select her over her ambitious and unscrupulous brother. His eyes couldn’t miss the stiff, determined way she was carrying herself – and felt a shiver run down his spine. The Parker twins were at war – and something told him that this would not be just a case of massive political maneuvering within the organization.

With Lyle involved, the likelihood was that blood would flow eventually. Broots could only hope that it wouldn’t be his own – or Miss Parker’s.

~~~~~~~~*

The mattress beneath him was thin and lumpy, and the air had a decidedly cold touch to it. More importantly at the moment, Hank Kellogg’s head ached far too wretchedly for him to want very much open his eyes to see whether it was dark or light out wherever it was that he’d ended up. He moaned and put a hand to his head, finding the act of trying to think clearly much harder than normal. It took several moments for him to piece together his last conscious memories – and then the enormity of what had happened to him sank in fully.

He’d been kidnapped! Snatched from the streets of New York in broad daylight and brought to God only knew where for some unknown reason – and Hank was as sure as he was of his own name that the unknown reason was probably not one he’d like. Had he had the slightest idea that trying to interfere with those businessmen-types hassling old Booger would have landed him a face full of chloroform, he might have thought twice about it. Certainly the others had been watching with the dead eyes of those whose lives had seen one too many outrages, with none raising either a stink or a hand to lend an assist – why could he have not taken the hint?

With a groan of pure agony, Hank opened his eyes and then blinked in disbelief. He was in some sort of cell – featureless cement walls completely lacking in windows surrounded him on all sides. The room was narrow – wide enough to accommodate the rough cement slab on which the mattress lay as a bed; a small table with a chair were placed near the door and the toilet and commode were at the far wall. The door had been painted a grey that matched the color of the concrete, making it almost invisible. The light – what little there was of it – was coming from a small lamp on the table. There was no way of telling how long he’d been here – or whether it was daylight or night outside these cold walls.

Briefly he wondered whether enough time had passed for Jarod to start to worry. He’d missed the previous night’s call because of the discussion he’d been having with Booger in the dorm room – if another night had fallen, he would have missed two nights and Jarod would know something was wrong. In the bottom of his stomach, he was glad that he’d made the arrangements with his slightly eccentric friend – but something told him that he might have been taken out of range of his friend’s rescue attempt.

Hank pushed himself slowly up until he could slid his legs over the edge and let them hang limply. He felt as if he’d been mugged – and he had, in a way. Chloroform had a nasty tendency to linger for a while – and he knew it would take time for him to regain complete control of his muscles so that he could walk without leaning or assistance.

The grey door suddenly flew open and thudded dully against the cement wall – and two very large, very muscular, very intense-looking men squeezed through the narrow doorway and took very firm control of Hank. “Come with us,” the one muttered in a voice that told Hank that the order was more matter of form – there would be no discussion, no plea for explanation heard nor fulfilled.

Hank, his head feeling like it was ready to explode and fall into pieces on the floor, could only hang limply between the two as they dragged him out the door and down an apparently subterranean hallway toward whatever awaited him.

~~~~~~~~*

Tuesday Night

“And you say you haven’t talked to him in the last two days?” Jarod asked, his voice being very fiercely disciplined to a tone of mild concern.

“He told us that there would be days that we wouldn’t hear anything,” Virginia Kellogg answered patiently. “Why?”

Jarod closed his eyes. The absolute last thing he’d wanted to have to do is tell a mother that her son had gone missing. “Because I didn’t hear from him last night either – and he told me that he’d be calling before eight at least every other night,” he answered – technically telling her the truth without adding the subtext. The moment she looked at her watch, she’d get the message. “I’ll call the shelter and make sure he’s checked in for the evening – and call you back.”

“Please do.” Virginia was starting to catch onto the implications of Jarod’s concern. “I’ll be waiting by the phone here.”

“You’ll be hearing from me.” Jarod hung up and immediately pulled out the notebook that had the number Hank had given him days earlier written down. It was already nine o’clock in the evening – according to the rules of the shelter, all the residents would have to be inside by now. He waited anxiously for the phone to ring on the other end.

“Dignity Shelter…”

“Hello. I’d like to speak to Hank Kellogg – he’s a resident in the shelter…” he said in an innocuous, business-like tone.

“Just a moment,” the man’s voice on the other end said, and there was a background sound of the rustling of paper. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have a Hank Kellogg registered as being with us tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Jarod insisted.

“His name isn’t on the list,” the man was adamant – and yet there was the sound of paper rustling again. “He hasn’t been on the list for the last three nights.”

“Damn,” Jarod hissed to himself, and then addressed his remarks to the man on the phone. “Thank you.”

He put the receiver down and rubbed his mouth and chin thoughtfully. Hank was in trouble – he just knew it. He’d had a bad feeling about it when the call hadn’t come through the night before – but it had taken this long for him to get off-duty and away from the hospital…

He had three days to find Hank and pull him out of whatever morass he’d managed to get himself into before he had to be back at the hospital for another seventy-two hour stretch. As an afterthought, he turned to the telephone again and dialed another number from memory.

“Hello?”

“Sanchez? This is Jarod.”

“Jarod!” The pretty resident’s voice sounded relieved. “Have you heard from Hank?”

“No, and that’s what I’m calling about. I’m going to go out looking for him.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Are you sure that’s such a wise idea? New York City’s a very large place…”

“I’m very aware of that,” he told her easily. “And I have a few resources that might be able to help me figure out what’s going on. But I’m going to need you to run interference with Dr. Bennett for me – in case I don’t make it back in time…”

Sanchez sighed. “First Hank gets his butt in a sling, and now you’re saying you might end up in the same pickle. He’s gonna be so pissed – you might lose your position…”

“I’d rather lose a position than a friend,” Jarod replied intensely.

“I know – but you’ll be my second friend out there,” she reminded him pointedly. “I haven’t go so many friends that I can afford that many at one whack, you know?”

Jarod smiled. There had been a time a year or so back when he’d seriously considered dating the fiery native of New York’s Spanish Harlem – only to be put off by the very close and protective nature of her father and three older brothers. “You aren’t going to lose another friend, Maricela,” he soothed. “I’m going to find Hank.”

“I’ll do what I can with Bennett,” she promised softly. “Take care of yourself, amigo.”

“You too,” Jarod said and then disconnected the call. The Dignity Shelter was across town – and most likely would be locked up tightly. He could sleep some – and then he’d have to be up and about early to get there in time to talk to some of the other residents.

Maybe they had seen something.

~~~~~~~~*

Sydney was both appalled and flabbergasted. “You did WHAT?” he boomed at Miss Parker, very glad that he’d agreed to her invitation to visit in her home now rather than find out about her news at work.

“I burned it, Syd,” she replied calmly, brushing an imaginary mote of lint from the knee of her dark suede trousers. “And before you open your mouth to ask me what the Hell I was thinking, I’ll ask you what I asked Broots: did you WANT Lyle to be in charge?”

“Of course not, but…” The Belgian found it difficult to remain seated on the couch next to his colleague, and so rose and began to pace. “To burn Raines’ directive…”

“Look, Syd, I’m not here to ask for permission – or even forgiveness,” she spoke up in a firm tone that made him pause in his trek back and forth and gaze at her sharply. “What I’m here for is a psychological profile of Lyle – what can I expect of him, now that I’ve leveled the playing field a bit?”

Feeling the weight of her focused attention land on his shoulders, Sydney forced himself to sit back down next to her. “You can expect the unexpected – you know this,” he informed and then chided. “Lyle is unpredictable – and more than capable of taking advantage of seemingly insignificant details to give himself an edge. What’s more, he was ‘in the loop’ of many of Raines’ hair-brained schemes. God only knows what he’s going to drag up from the depths of the Centre sublevels and throw at you.”

“Like Hydra’s Teeth…”

Sydney threw his hands out. “Hydra’s Teeth or any one of a dozen covert projects that probably have been going on below your radar as head of SIS,” he replied. “Did you ever find out what Hydra was all about?”

Miss Parker shook her head. “Not yet – but now that we’re finished with the security update, we can focus on using those trap doors into the high-security files that Broots and Angelo put in place to find out more.”

“If Angelo is given access to some of the information, it’s possible that he can intuit what it’s all about,” the psychiatrist suggested. “Then the only problem is getting Angelo to express himself intelligibly.”

“I want this, Syd,” she stated suddenly and with a quiet vehemence that made Sydney’s attention snap immediately to her. “I want to take my place as Chairman here. This is my chance to take what the Centre has become and turn it around – to finish my mother’s work…”

“Parker…” A gentle hand landed on her knee in a rare display of intimacy. “Your mother died trying to prevent what was going on here – and at least one of the players responsible for her death is at least marginally still in the game. You told me once that you wanted out…”

“I know, but if I can change the Centre instead…” Miss Parker insisted back, grey gaze diving deeply into a very worried chestnut. “Please say that you’ll help.”

The silvered head slowly shook back and forth. “You shouldn’t even feel you have to ask, Parker,” Sydney replied in a soft voice. “Of course I’ll do what I can – but I can’t help it if part of what I do will be to warn and to voice concerns over what I see as traps and patches of quicksand…”

“That’s what I need from you, Syd,” she answered, and in an even rarer display of familiarity, covered his hand with hers. “I need your insight, your ability to get information out of Angelo – whose help I will need a great deal – and your concern. I need you watching my back.”

“I’m on your side, Parker, and I’m glad to have your back – but you do realize you’re playing for keeps, don’t you?,” he warned then. “Are you ready to do whatever it takes to win, no matter what?”

The grey gaze narrowed to a hard determination as she pulled her hand away. “With these stakes, you better believe it.”

~~~~~~~~*

Lyle’s prowling had finally led him to the hallway in front of Mr. Cox’s laboratory on SL-25. Knowing Mr. Cox, the lab would be in full operation at this hour of the night – the good doctor, if that was truly what he was, had an unhealthy preference for the nighttime hours to conduct certain phases of his experimentation. Through the closed swinging doors, he could hear the sound of a voice raised in complaint and pleading. That both raised his spirits and gave him an idea. He pushed through the doors.

Mr. Cox looked over at the doors to see who his late-night caller was. “Mr. Lyle,” he smiled coldly. “You’re just in time to watch the beginnings of our human testing.” He pointed to a man on a gurney who was now clad only in a hospital gown, his arms, chest and ankles securely strapped down to prevent both escape and injury. The man’s eyes were wide and horrified, and apparently pleading with the white-garbed man standing closest. “This one seems to be the one under the least influence of intoxicants – so I thought we’d start with him.”

“Fine,” Lyle shrugged and found himself a tall stool on which to perch his bottom while Mr. Cox went about the process of filling several syringes with the contents of a number of small bottles. “How long do you expect before you’ll know if your process is a success?”

“The initial dosing is to induce hallucinations that renders the subject vulnerable to psychological suggestion,” Mr. Cox sounded as if he were giving a lecture to a student. “There are a number of tests that I’ll be conducting in about an hour to see if the optimum level of suggestibility has been reached yet. Depending on the stage of the process, there are a number of other injections – and I’m hoping that the entire process shouldn’t take much more than twenty hours max.”

“And if the subject doesn’t respond to the process as expected?” Lyle asked blandly.

“I have, on rare occasions, needed to repeat the primary dosage,” Cox tapped on the side of the syringe and then squirted a small amount of the clear liquid into the air to eliminate air bubbles. “I’m hoping that starting with the least chemically compromised individual, I won’t have that worry at least this time around.” He opened an alcohol swab package and wiped perfunctorily at the inside of the man’s elbow. “Are you here to observe?”

Lyle nodded and let a touch of pride and satisfaction touch his voice. “I’m going to be taking over this organization soon,” he informed Mr. Cox. “I think it’s time I start paying attention to some of these projects – oversee them personally.”

“As you wish,” Mr. Cox shrugged and slipped the needle into the man’s vein. A quick pull brought a tiny amount of blood into the syringe, and then he was easing the chemical into the man’s body slowly and carefully.

“How soon will the drug take effect?”

Mr. Cox eyed his test subject with a studied eye and caught the beginnings of muscle tightening in the neck. “Right about now…”

~~~~~~~~*

It was a skill that she hadn’t used for a very long time – and one that would take some practice to recapture. Miss Parker eyed the signature at the bottom of the requisition forms from several years back and then the signatures she’d just made at the top of the page of clear notebook paper. The top loop of the capital R of Raines was too wide in each of them – too round, she realized and tried it again.

The next set of attempt wasn’t bad – but the slant of the L’s in William was too much this time. Another adjustment…

Miss Parker’s brow furled as she slowly and carefully made a third set of attempts. How often she’d done this in the months between her mother’s death and being shipped overseas to boarding school! Her grades in school had slipped badly, and notes had been sent home to her father regarding her poor attitude and study habits that had required his signature. The signature at the bottom of those notes had taken her about an evening’s work to perfect to the point that, when presented with the signed notes, her father had frowned and grumbled about not remembering signing them.

In the boarding school, she’d made spending money – GOOD money – by forging the signatures of the head master on passes to town and for special privileges for her classmates as well as herself from time to time. Her skill had been such that, once more, the head master had scratched his head and wondered that he didn’t remember signing the passes – but that it MUST be his signature. It had been twenty years since last she’d tried.

The fourth page of attempts had virtually flawless forgeries. She held the two papers up to the light, comparing flow and slant and letter form in each of the efforts – and smiled. She had it! She signed the notebook paper again, just to make sure – again holding the original and the copy up to the light to see if they matched, and again being pleased that the copy was so true to the original.

With that, she reached for the clean piece of onionskin letterhead paper – the kind that Raines had used to record his wishes for the future of the Centre. No doubt Sophia remembered typing up the letter for him – so as many of the details of the letter as possible would have to be the same. The wording had been very specific – almost formulaic – and very easy to remember. The only change would be the person specified as the suggested next Chairman, where she would fill in her own name.

Now she was glad she hadn’t had the heart to clean out the attic of the summerhouse yet. Digging into her mother’s personal belongings up there was still a form of sacrilege – but the typewriter hadn’t required digging. It had been in its old case right there by the door, right where her mother had left it. All it had taken was a new ribbon, courtesy of the office supply store managed by the same man that had been in charge as when her mother had bought the typewriter in the first place.

Miss Parker patiently inserted the paper into the typewriter and began the job of recreating the document she’d destroyed earlier – recreating it but for one small adjustment. Getting this document into the folder and into the SIS safe wouldn’t be all that difficult. Getting it from there back into the safe in the Chairman’s office might be a little more tricky – but not impossible. All that would be needed would be a propitious moment.

She eased the paper from the typewriter and patiently began signing a name other than her own to it, keeping in mind all the subtle changes that needed to be considered to make the signature appear genuine. When finished, she held the new “official” document up to the light next to the original and smiled in satisfaction. He may not know it yet, but Lyle had just gone down by one point in the contest that was to come.

Whatever it was going to take – no matter what – was exactly the length to which she intended to go. She WAS going to win, and she WAS going to be Chairman. There could be no other acceptable outcome.

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