If it had not been horribly obvious that Mr. Raines was already dead, Miss Parker would have strangled him herself. That had been her intention when Broots brought her the file coded Retribution.

Eyeing the body slumped across the desk, she glanced up and found her brother Lyle watching her, from the doorway. His statement was oddly thoughtful, even mildly curious in a detached sort of way. It was as if he was waiting to see how she would react, as if her response to the sight of a dead body here was merely an interesting Centre puzzle.

Lyle regarded her with that unwavering statement of polite interest. " Did you kill him?"

The shock of the question left her momentarily speechless. "Someone beat me to it," she spat. Then Parker got the distinct impression that he would not have been especially troubled if she had admitted to murdering Mr. Raines.

"You, perhaps?" Her eyes narrowed as she watched her brother walk closer to her.

"I wonder what Dad will say," he said, ignoring her question.

"What about the Triumvirate?" Parker hissed. " No one will be above suspicion."

She reached behind her back and pulled out her cell phone, her brother casting her a quizzical look. "Daddy, we have a problem, seems that someone has killed Mr. Raines. He's very dead. His office, Lyle's with me." Looking her brother, she informed him, "Daddy's on his way along with team of cleaners." Their eyes locked on the dead form of Raines.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Parker stood in the doorway of Mr. Raines' office flanked by a team of four cleaners, his blue eyes surveyed the scene.

"Lyle?" he said, gruffily.

"I don't have a clue," as he threw his hands up into the air. "Ask Parker, what happened here?"

"Angel," her father started toward his daughter,concern replacing curiousity.

"I was in my office with Broots and Sydney, until an hour ago. Miss Parker folded her arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Where were you, Lyle? You never did answer my earlier question, about killing him."

"Hey, I was alone at home " Lyle smirked," Asleep."

"Too bad. It would be easier to prove if you weren't," Miss Parker smiled," I've been warning you for months about the dangers of not having a more active social life. Now you see the risks of being celibate for extended periods of time."

"Right, Parker. A person never knows when he's going to need a good alibi for murder." Parker rolled her eyes.

"Enough!"

"Sorry, Daddy," she said softly, as she watched the cleaners disect the office, bagging, tagging and packing up Mr. Wheezie's belongings. "My office, both of you, now," Mr. Parker looked from one to the other, and watched them walk out the office doors.

As they walked down the corridor, Mr. Parker had realized that he had not handled that well. And as soon as the trio entered his office, his daughter turned on both of them. Her blue-lagoon eyes gleaming with anger, and he could have swore that even her auburn-brown hair had turned an even more fiery shade.

"Perhaps I should explain," he said gently.

"Please, it would be really nice for once to know what the hell was going on around here. " She narrowed her eyes and her smile got colder.

"Angel, please. . . you misunderstood."

"Misunderstood, seems to me that Lyle expected to find Raines dead. From the statement on his face, I see that I'm right."

"Sis," Lyle started, his voice patronizing," It's like this. . ."

"I'm waiting," her foot started to tap as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Someone's was threatening Raines. He was receiving cryptic emails, odd little gifts, and day before yesterday, someone took a pot shot at him."

"And you are finally telling me this because. . . ." she glared at the two men.

"We have reason to believe that it was Jarod," the male voice from the door spoke, softly.

Miss Parker wheeled around to see Mr. Cox standing in the doorway. "Oh, please," her smile returning, "Jarod kill Mr.Raines. You need to get out of your dungeon, because the formaldehyde fumes must have addled your thought processes."

"Angel, we have very good reason to believe that it was. . ."

"Daddy, spare me," she glared at the men, straigtened her shoulders, then walked to the door pushing them open with both hands. Mr. Parker, Lyle and Cox watched her exit.

"She's going to be trouble." Lyle stated as he reached for his cell phone.

The children of the River Heights Boarding School were now safe and justice had been meted out to the man responsible for murdering one of them. The murder was now being investigated throughly by the police. Jarod inserted the key into the lock of the loft apartment, and went immediately to his desk and sat down in the chair were he checked his messages. His viewscreen gave him a page of headings, and he read them over, amazed that he had fallen so far behind, put this lastest pretend had been rather involved. He found that he had missed a meeting of the Virologist Society, failed to respond to three invitations, including one from Argyle to attend his father's birthday. He would have to make that one up to Argyle or he would never hear the end of it. As he continued to scroll down a email caught his name. He clicked on it and read. What he read stopped him cold. Jarod sat forward in his chair as Angelo's face appeared on the screen, his voice frantic.

"Trouble coming. Retribution at hand."

Jarod reached for his cell phone and dailed.

"This is Sydney."

"Sydney," Jarod said.

"Jarod, Raines is dead. Murdered. According to Mr. Cox, you're responsible. It isn't safe. The triumvirate is sending a special investigator. Be careful and seek refuge wisely."

With that the call terminated and Jarod sat there in his room, stunned.

Hours later, the discomfort Jarod had felt beginning to grow when he'd heard Sydney's voice earlier had only continued to grow. A run, his favorite pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese pizza and a search through the Centre mainframe had failed to make him feel any better, and he'd finally determined that what he needed to do was try and reach Angelo. So he moved back to his computer and began typing in the myriad of e-mail addresses Angelo used to communicate with him. The text of the message was a simple one: 'Angelo, who wants Retribution?'

Jarod didn't know if his friend was in any position to respond, but without knowing who might be in danger, the pretender found himself something he had rarely been -- helpless.

Miss Parker entered her small house later that day after work, exremely tired and hungry from dashing to and fro inside the Centre. Her Porsche was parked neatly outside, another piece of proof that she was a stuntman at heart. As soon as she was in her house, her blazer, shoes and hair band were off and tossed to the side. She moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge, her stomach growling like a Bengal tiger on the prowl. She pulled out a half eaten box of cookie dough, and slammed the door to the fridge closed. Then, after searching for a spoon, she seated erself on her couch and began to ponder over the days events.

'What proof do they have on Jarod? What if he did do it? What the hell is going down in the center? I wonder how many calories per serving this ice cream has?'

She shrugged, brushing aside her questions and digging into her ice cream.

"I see you've given up your diet.." A deep male voice behind her commented.

"Shit!" Miss Parker cried out and jumped off the couch, her ice cream flying onto the floor. Her hand went straight to her gun and she pulled it out, safety coming off, finger cocking it.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She hissed.

"Whoa!" Jarod cried, backing up quickly, his hands in the air.

"I'll repeat the question again," Parker managed, through clenched teeth.

"What are you doing here, in my home?"

"Parker, calm down, please. I'm just as worried,if you could say, about Raines' death."

Miss Parker began pacing, running her hand through her hair. "Jarod, Daddy said that you killed Raines."

"You know I would never do that, even after everything the Ghoul has done to me," Jarod stated flatly.

Parked in an inconspicous black car halfway down the road, the two men observed Miss Parker's house through high-powered binoculars. Grinning slightly, Cox turned to Lyle, who was seated in the passenger seat.

"Well, look what we have here. I think that your father will be very pleased to know that the prize of the Centre is at his Angel's house, right this second."

Lyle's response to the comment was to nod toward the house, "I wouldn't make any assumptions."

Cox turned back to the building in time to see Miss Parker start the engine on her Porsche and back it out of the driveway, tires screeching. Watching until she disappeared, he turned toward his companion, "So, what are you waiting for? Go check out the house." Annoyed at the tone of the command, Lyle pulled out his automatic and released the safety; making a point of aiming the muzzle in Cox's direction. Slipping from the car, he moved stealthily through the bushes and up the slight incline. Cox's eyes narrowed as he watched the Chairman's son meld with the night, then, reached for his gun.

Parker's mind was reeling with what Jarod had told her. She wasn't sure if she was furious with her father for leaving her out of the loop or scared to know that someone had managed to steal a Centre project that her mother had vetoed, four months before she died. A project known only as Retribution. The only consolation was the fact that Lyle and Cox were both in for bitter disappointment. If they had been planning on capturing Jarod in her home, they were shit out of luck. She chuckled slightly as she eased the Porsche into to a parking space. She walked in to the dimly lit bar, this was one of the seamier bars outside of Blue Cove. Jarod knew what he was doing when he picked this spot to meet at. It was a place where people came to get lost.

She made her was to the back and found the booth already occupied.

"Twenty minutes, not bad, Miss Parker, but I still made it here first," Jarod grinned," First round is on you."

"Lyle and Cox?" she inquired, as she slid into the booth opposite him.

"Napping on the job, rather lazy if you ask me," he replied as he sent the bartender a careles wave, which resulted in a waitress to appear.

"What'll you have?"

"Stolichnaya," she told the waitress as Jarod leaned back in the booth, stretching out his legs underneath the table.

"The same," he muttered, ignoring Parker's look of shock and surprise. He waited until the waitress left before speaking again. "Raines wasn't the only one. There have been three other deaths of Centre personnal, all murdered. The first was sub-staion Africa, the second was sub-station Europe, and the third sub-station South-America. All of them, at one time or the other invovled in the project known as Retribution. The triumvirate sent a Mr. Zedekiah to investigate."

"Let me worry about some special investigator, later. Right now, I want to know what you know about Retribution."

"It's payback time, Miss Parker, only it was to be used on the enemies of the Centre, not Centre personnel."

"So someone with a grudge against the Centre is using one of it's own plans to exact revenge."

"Yes and with me as the prime suspect."

"Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"So, what do you propose, Jarod?"

"A partnership, you and me."

Jarod was a little hurt when Miss Parker threw back her head and laughed loudly, startling several other customers, who glared at her for interrupting their alcohol soaked moping.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." Miss Parker started, but trailed off in in a fit of giggles. Jarod tightened his mouth and narrowed his gaze.

"What's so funny?" he asked angrily. Miss Parker wiped tears fro her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

"Well it's just... you know..." Parker gestured expansively, "What makes you think that just because a few people involved in a project I have nothing to do with have died, that we should team up? I mean, hello, newsflash, I have been after your ass for the last four years." Miss Parker told him, then sniggered to herself a bit more. Jarod waited until the waitress had delievered their drinks before leaning over the table to whisper to Miss Parker fiercely.

"It was something your *mother* was against! And just because you had nothing to do with it doesn't mean you're safe!"

"Just because Raines and a few so-called doctors are dead doesn't mean that the killing is going to stop, Miss Parker," Jarod hissed, angered that he would have to convince her to join him to stop this. Parker leaned back in the booth, a small smile on her lips. There was an rivalrous ungenerous part of her that was enjoying the hell out of seeing Jarod squirm.

"You're paranoid! Don't push me, Jarod. I've had a very bad day."

"You're right," he replied, "You're absolutely, right. . . . And it's going to get worse." He swallowed his drink, rather quickly, and then stood to leave when she ended the mind game.

"This is a working relationship," she said and she watched him sit back down.

"I'm all for working together," he grinned.

"Not so fast wonder-boy, there are a few ground rules," She leaned forward, her goal, information, and placed her hands, palms down on the table," I want all the information that you have, all of it. So by my calculation, it's your turn, talk!"

"Not here," and he slid a piece of paper across the table to her," Tomorrow night, nine o'clock sharp." She glanced at the address, then looked up to find him gone but a tip on the table for the waitress. "I hate when you do that!" she muttered then quickly finished her vodka and left.

"Shit," Miss Parker muttered as she climbed in her Porsche. There were two things she had no desire to do at the moment. The first was to drive in the cold, nasty rain that had begun to fall. The second was going back to the Centre to have Broots dig around some more regarding the murders. She was going to have to do the first if she wanted information about the second, because Jarod had piqued her interest, especially now that she knew that her mother had found Retribution distrubing. She then turned her thoughts to Jarod. Digesting what she had learned about him, by spending an hour with him, actually talking. There was violence in him, ordered and controlled, or so it seemed. Then it hit her, it was trained, but still violence. Yet he had only taken a life, once, but he risked his own. He believed in law and order and justice. It was drizzling when she pulled into the parking lot, her eyes seeking and finding Broots car.

Pulling the door closed, the technician inserted the key with one hand and juggled an unzipped canvas bag of papers with the other. When he heard the bolt click into place he turned on his heel and let out a low scream.

"Miss Parker!" he gasped, crouching in front of her to pick up the spilled papers, "Don't do that!"

"You should be more aware of your surroundings, Broots," she answered, with an evil smile, "You'll live longer."

"Yeah... um, right," he stood and stepped to the right, in hopes of going around her, but the brunette matched his movements. Letting out a defeated sigh, he looked up at her, "I'm not done for the day, am I?"

"Nope."

"Debbie's not going to like this," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back toward the door.

"She's young, she'll get over it."

"What do you want me to do?" he piled his belongings on the nearest desk.

"I want to know everything there is about Project Retri.."

"Mr. Broots, you may leave," a deep voice interrupted, "Your daughter will be worried."

Miss Parker spun in her spot, ready to read the riot act to whoever it was that dared interrupt her, let alone give orders to one of her team. Her blazing blue eyes were met with an emerald green gaze and a sleepy smile that momentarily caught her off guard. His hair was jet black, a direct contract to his pale complexion, and a diamond stud sparkled in the lobe of his left ear.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Mr. Zedekiah."

Part 2

Writers:
Shannon
Trish
Michelle
Shannon
Niceole
Monica
Andrea
Lisa
Trish
Mandy
Shannon
MIchele
Lisa