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Gabriel!
It's still hot. I'm still dusty. We're still working on that tomb in the Valley of the Kings - we discovered a chamber behind a wall of rubble. Guess what was in it? An undamaged image of Hatshepsut! It's amazing and, of course, made me think of you. Attached is a pic.
--V.

Lunch with Sara had been interesting so far, Jarod thought, and the pasta putanesca was quite good, too. They were seated in a fairly isolated section of the little hole-in-the-wall place Sara had suggested. As they ate, they talked a bit about Italian food and being on the job, but had avoided the main issue of his mother's murder. Sara leaned forward, and Jarod wasn't sure he liked the look in her eye.

"I think you know we've hit a dead end with your mother's case," she said. "But I think you know that, too. So, are you going to be honest with me or am I have going to have to arrest you for obstruction?"

Jarod wasn't sure if she was guessing or if she had found something to link the case back to The Centre, but he found that he did want to be honest with her. His instincts told him to trust Sara and to tell her the truth about everything. Although Jarod often told people about how he had been taken from his family, he rarely mentioned his past with The Centre - that knowledge could get people killed. But he knew that Sara wouldn't let this case go. That was the kind of cop she was and that could get her killed. Perhaps if he told her the truth about his past, she would understand the danger to herself and her partner. With a furtive look around, he made sure no one could hear their conversation.

"What I tell you has to be off the record and you can't pursue it. These people will kill you if they think you know too much."

"I can take care of myself."

Jarod shook his head. "They will kill you and your partner and whoever else they think might know too much. And they will get away with it. They always do."

Sara studied his face for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Have you ever heard of The Centre?"

Jarod watched her brow wrinkle a little in concentration. She said, "Yeah. Big corporation. Some kind of think tank, right? They sponsor stuff on PBS, I think."

"Yes, about ninety percent of what they do is legit and for the betterment of mankind. But that other ten percent more than makes up for all the good they do. Kidnapping, murder, extortion, drugs, mind control, torture, terrorism, you name it, they've had a hand in it…or, at least, in planning it." Jarod noted that she was still listening attentively, even as farfetched as the story sounded. The Centre counted on truth sounding so ludicrous, that no one would believe it could be true. "They stole me from my parents when I was four years old and kept me prisoner for thirty-three years."

"Why you?"

"I'm what they call a Pretender." Jarod always found this hard to explain. "My genetics are different than most people. I have an extremely high IQ, but because of that -or maybe in addition to that - I can become whoever I want to be, with the proper preparation. I can put myself in other people's frame of mind to understand their motivations and simulate their actions. I can master any profession, if I set my mind to it."

Sara's right eyebrow went up. "So you are some kind of genius, but they kept you prisoner for over thirty years?"

Jarod focused on the plate of food in front of him. "You have to understand…for most of the time I was there, I had no reason to leave. I was told that my parents were killed and that I was special, that I had to stay there in order to help people, that the real world was too dangerous for me, and that the good I could do was worth my personal sacrifice. I believed for many years that my work was helping people."

Jarod glanced up briefly and noticed Sara fiddling with her bracelet, then he focused again on his plate. She asked, "Why did you finally break out?"

Jarod looked at Sara again and replied bitterly, "I learned the truth." Jarod took a deep breath. "I learned that my work…they used my work to hurt people. They murdered a friend right in front of my eyes to show their power over me…and…" he paused. There was just so much. "I couldn't stay there anymore…I ran away five years ago."

Sara continued to fiddle with her bracelet, looking lost in thought. After a moment, she said, "You escaped and now they want you back?"

Jarod nodded. He knew The Centre wanted him back for reasons other than being a Pretender, and he knew the reasons were in the Scrolls, but he didn't dare say anything about the Scrolls to Sara…at least, not yet.

"I know it's hard to believe…" he began, but Sara cut him off with a snort.

"After the last few months," she said, "you'd be surprised what I'd believe." She took a sip of her drink then said, "You're not a Fed."

"No," he replied honestly.

She looked a little surprised by his honesty. "Why shouldn't I arrest you for impersonating an officer of the law?"

"If you did, they would know and find a way to take me back." Jarod looked at her quite seriously. "And if you do, then you might as well shoot me right now, because I'm never working for them again."

"Why did they kill your mother?"

Jarod thought about that a minute. "I'm not sure. I was warned once that they would never let me get close to her. I think she had answers about why they took me and why they want me back so badly."

Sara's brow furrowed in confusion. "You mean, they don't want you back to do more…Pretending?"

She was smart, Jarod had to give her that. What could he tell her? That The Powers That Be at The Centre believe in mystical scrolls and that Jarod was the key to some prophecy? Jarod, himself, did not really believe in that. He opted for a half-truth. "I don't know. I just find it hard to believe that they want me back for that alone. You'd be surprised at the amount of money and manpower they've spent hunting me. Significantly less than what I brought in, but still…" Jarod shrugged. "I was really only looking for my mother…for answers about who I am and about my past."

Sara seemed lost in thought and Jarod stayed quiet. Finally, she said, "So you knew who was behind your mother's murder and you were jerking our chain all this time?"

There was a little anger in her tone, and Jarod couldn't really blame her for that. "I knew it was The Centre. I was hoping to narrow it down to who specifically pulled the trigger or issued the order."

"And what were you going to do with that information?"

Jarod ducked his chin, not meeting her eyes. "I'm not sure."

"Revenge?"

"I don't know." Jarod sighed. "But I had to know who and maybe that would lead to why."

Sara stared at her drink for a long time, before saying, "You've been out for five years - why haven't you stopped them? There must be some evidence of their crimes…"

Jarod shook his head. "The Centre covers its tracks very well. And they are too well connected politically." Jarod hesitated. How could he explain his relationship with Sydney and Parker and his need to protect them?

Sara seemed distracted for moment, her hand at her bracelet again, and then said, "You're protecting someone."

Jarod was a little surprised. She was good. He nodded, but he wasn't about to explain. He wasn't comfortable telling Sara about Sydney and Parker - it was too personal and Sara was still, essentially, a stranger to him.

Sara looked at him expectantly, but Jarod kept silent. The waitress came over at that moment with the bill, cleared away their plates, and after some polite conversation, left them alone again.

Sara started to rummage around her jacket, but stopped when Jarod said, "Lunch is on me. It's the least I could do."

Her eyebrows went up in mild surprise. "Well. Thanks."

Jarod paid the bill and they headed out. As the cold air from outside hit them, Jarod tightened his coat around him. When they stepped outside, Sara looked around as if looking for someone, but then started walking towards their car which was less than two blocks away.

Sara said, "We can't tell Jake about you or The Centre."

Jarod tilted his head slightly. "You don't trust him."

Sara shrugged. "We haven't been partners very long. He's a nice enough guy, but I don't really know him. And this case…it's personal to him somehow. He won't let it go."

Jarod studied her a moment. "I'm not sure you will either."

Sara smiled at that. "Yeah, well, at least I have some answers. I don't like it, but I'll live with it." The wind picked up a little and she shivered. "Officially, we've hit a dead end, and Jake will eventually accept that."

They took a few steps and then she asked, "Do you think you'll ever find out who ordered the hit?"

Jarod shook his head. "They are very careful with Z3 files - those contain contract hit orders. There are no electronic copies and the paper copies are only seen by the person who issued it and the person who carried it out. They're stored in a secret vault and even I don't know where it's located."

She nodded, accepting his answer and they continued to walk in a comfortable silence.

Jarod liked Sara, despite her brashness. He liked her honesty, her courage, her resilience. There was a sadness about her, a vulnerability that she hid well, that Jarod wanted to understand and alleviate, but he wasn't even sure why he wanted to do that. Sara's bracelet was a touchstone she used to help her think, like Parker had her ring. With sudden clarity, he understood: Sara reminded him of Parker. He almost laughed at what Parker would say to that. On the surface, the jean-clad, blue collar cop was the polar opposite to his fashionista Parker. But their lives had surprising parallels - the loss of a parent, the need to live up to their father's ideals, the loss of someone close to them, driven by their jobs, few but extremely loyal friends. He grinned. And a penchant for leather.

His cell phone rang with the ringtone "Raider's March" from Raiders of the Lost Ark, the one he had assigned to Gabriel Bowman. He turned away from the Sara, before answering.

"Yes?"

"Hi, uh, is this Jarod?"

"Yes."

"Hi. It's Gabriel Bowman. I have some info for you. Is this a good time or do you want to come by later?"

"Now is fine. Just a sec." Jarod covered the mouthpiece and said to Sara, "Go ahead, if you want. I'll catch up in a minute."

Sara looked at him curiously, her hand fiddling with her bracelet then started walking down the block towards the car.

To Gabriel, Jarod said, "What have you learned?" He walked away from Sara, putting a few more feet between them.

"The legend says that the scrolls have a power than no man should encounter and that the fate of whoever dares defile the scrolls will be filled with eternal damnation. A hundred years ago, a cryptkeeper on Carthis named Parker allegedly found the scrolls. He was going to leave Carthis with them and, in exchange for their power, he had to sacrifice his family. That night, he set fire to his cottage killing his entire family. The next day, he left Carthis without the scrolls and started a new life in the States. He started a secret order who were obsessed with the scrolls and the prophecy contained within them. He also started a think tank that grew to become The Centre. You ever heard of it? "

"I'm familiar with it," Jarod said dryly.

Gabriel was silent and Jarod wondered if Gabriel had guessed that Jarod already knew the cryptkeeper's story.

Gabriel finally asked, "Are you a Parker?"

Jarod laughed bitterly hard at that. "No."

"Well, I couldn't find anything more about the prophecies, but I'm still working on it. I'm following up on a lead that the scrolls may be on their way back here to New York. I'll call you when I know more."

"Thank you." Jarod closed the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked ahead to see that Sara had already crossed the street to the next block and was leaning on their car waiting for him. Sara suddenly stood on alert, focusing on Jarod then to his right. She broke out into a full run, her hand going to her weapon. Jarod looked to his right and spotted her. Parker. He didn't stop to think -- he just ran - away from both Sara and Parker.

As he turned into an alley, he looked back just long enough to see Sara tackling Parker. For a brief moment, he considered staying to see how that played out, but kept running instead. Jarod hadn't seen Sydney or Broots, but Sam was probably nearby. As if thinking about the Sweeper had conjured him, a black Town Car screeched to a stop at the other end of the alley and Sam stepped out of the driver's side. The sight of the Town Car and the Sweeper triggered Jarod's memories of his mother in the morgue. Anger like Jarod had never felt made him lose all sense of reason. With a deep, guttural yell, Jarod ran even harder towards the Sweeper.

Sam didn't know what hit him.