******************
 12:23 am
 The Centre
 Blue Cover, Delaware
 ******************

 Sydney stood patiently in the hallway outside the tech room watching Miss Parker verbally shred the unfortunate man in charge of night security.  The two of them had stepped off the elevator on SL 5 only to be confronted by a group of nervous and uncomfortable looking sweepers. The men had made several attempts to usher them out of the area with comments about ‘no authorization’, ‘restricted access’ and ‘proper channels’. She bulldozed her way through them, striding off down the corridor with Syd trailing along behind, and pointedly ignored everything they’d said.

 Upon reaching the tech room, they encountered the team leader who stood in front of the entrance and steadfastly refused Miss Parker admittance. He repeated what the sweepers had said earlier about restricted access and was about to say more when she cut him off.

 Eyes blazing, one hand on her hip while driving her index finger squarely into the chest of the 6’4” man with the other, she was the very vision of a Valkyrie out for someone’s soul.

 “I don’t give a sweet goddamn what you think you incompetent git! What I want to know is how the hell someone got past your Centre-trained and supposedly lethal ass to kill my technician!”

 The man, though clearly worried about infuriating the chairman’s daughter further, was indignant at the accusation of incompetence. “Miss Parker, I assure you we made the same security sweeps that we always do. Nothing was overlooked. Nothing was forgotten. It had to be...” the man’s eyes darted back and forth suspiciously, checking to see who was within earshot, then glanced up to the security camera behind her.

 Without bothering to follow his gaze she snapped her fingers, regaining his attention. “Forget the camera. I’ll get...” -- Broots, oh God Broots, they’ll pay for this I promise you--  “...someone to take care of it. Now start talking.”

 The big man shifted uneasily, but complied. “Night security is grunt work around here, but I take it seriously. I answer to Sam, and he takes it seriously. He wants to know how long it takes to walk the corridor, check the locks, and enter the anti-tamper codes. He wants to know the average time it takes for one of my guys to take a leak.” He gave her a hard, assessing look before he continued. “We don’t sluff off on my shift Miss Parker, partly because Sam would kick my ass if we did – but mostly, because I respect the man. I’ll talk to you because I know he respects you.”

 He paused a moment, then went on a bit more quietly than before. “I did what we’re supposed to do if an emergency comes up – I called Sam, and then I called Mr. Lyle. He told me to keep a lid on it, not to touch anything and he’d be here shortly. What that tells me is that you aren’t supposed to be here Miss Parker - you and the doctor aren’t supposed to know. More than likely there will be a ‘special briefing unit’ here very shortly to let us know the ‘official’ version of what happened tonight.”

 “Oh, I can see it now.” Her voice, barely a hiss of a whisper carried a venomous bite. “An ‘officially’ natural death. Though I suppose the inability to continue living after having been murdered can be considered natural enough.”

The sweeper glanced at the floor, running a hand through his close cropped sandy hair, then looked back up at her and continued. “This had to be an inside job, Miss Parker – and I don’t know how I’m going to convince them that none of us called you. They’re going to be looking for someone to fry.”

 She pursed her lips, frowning. He was right. And they both knew it would be him. If she didn’t come up with something in the next few minutes, chances were he was going to be down in the Centre morgue with Broots – oh, God that hurt - by daybreak.

 “Miss Parker,” Sydney’s gentle voice was like a lifeline in a stormy sea. She turned to him with a grateful look.  “If I might have a quick look at...the body... perhaps I could discover something that might later be concealed or even destroyed.”

 “Go,” she directed and the sweeper moved, allowing him to enter the tech room. She turned her attention back to the man before her.

 “You’re Darren aren’t you?” He nodded. “Okay Darren, this is what happened tonight...”
 

 ***

 Sydney walked into the tech room and saw Broots lying on the floor next to his computer chair. As he walked over to the body, he glanced up briefly at the camera on the wall. The red standby light was on. Anger welled up. This was from inside and from on high. As he knelt beside his friend, he felt something that had become all too often a sensation associated with the Centre – deep, soul-rending loss. His mind was on automatic, years of practice making this distasteful procedure into something he could bear to complete.

 The body was on the floor, splayed out, already in the beginning stage of rigor mortis. There didn’t appear to be any signs of a struggle, only a few scraps of paper on the floor, nothing significant. There were no ligature marks on the wrists– no confinement or handcuffs – but there were some abrasions on the fingers. There were no marks around the neck.  Ah, what was this? Contusions on the forehead and face.  Sydney puzzled over that a moment and played out the possible scene in his mind. Broots sitting at the desk working. An assailant enters. Attacks from behind. Head into the keyboard. But what was the method of the murder? No bullet holes, no ligature marks...

Sydney begin a careful examination, starting at the top of Broots' head, working down around in his ears, his nose, to his chin and throat, Sydney stopped when he came to the tiny, almost invisible puncture mark at the base of Broots’ skull.  “Oh, my friend, I hope it was quick and painless.”

Syd opened his black bag and removed a syringe. After uncapping it, he inserted the needle into the site of the original injection and drew 10 cc’s of the spinal fluid, now cloudy and contaminated with blood. He carefully labeled the specimen and stored it in a special container before walking over to the grate on the other side of the room. Angelo sat there, rocking on the spot muttering to himself.

 “Angelo.”

 “Dead, dead, dead, dead-- ”

 “Angelo, look at me.”

 The savant turned his gaze on Sydney, still rocking, his fearful eyes darting to and fro.

 “Angelo, I need you to hold on to this for me. Can you do that? I’d like it back when I come into work tomorrow.” Syd handed Angelo a heavy duty plastic box in which lay the specimen wrapped in several ‘chemical ice’ sheets that cooled down to –5 C when the polymers in them were twisted and broken. It would keep the sample fresh for at least 12 hours.

 “Hold on to Death. Angelo hold on to Death.” He nodded at Sydney, then scampered off down the ventilation shaft.

 Sydney returned to the body and repeated the procedure, this time taking the sample from lower down the spinal cord. After labeling it, he stored it in a more conventional fashion then rose to his feet, collected his bag and left the room.
 
 
 

 Miss Parker raised an eyebrow at him as he walked into the corridor to where she and the sweeper stood waiting “Anything?”

 He nodded slowly, heavily. “Most definitely murder Miss Parker.”

 “And exactly how are you so certain of that yet-to-be-determined fact, Doctor?”

 Parker crossed her arms and took a quick steadying breath before turning to face her twin. He walked right by her and stopped in front of Sydney.

 “What’s that?” He asked belligerently, indicating the sample container in Sydney’s hands.

 “I just examined Mr. Broots” Sydney explained, “and found an injection site at the base of his skull. I thought perhaps a sample of the fluid in the area might reveal a clue as to what the killer-”

 Lyle grabbed the sample out of Syd’s hand. “It's probably nothing Syd - could have been a spider bite. But, I’ll see that this gets to the lab tonight since I’m going to be down here briefing the sweepers anyway,” he supplied easily.

Parker opened her mouth to object but Lyle raised a finger. “Really, Miss Parker, I insist... unless you can give me a good reason why I shouldn’t get this to the lab right away?” Lyle smirked as she ceased her protest.

 “Nice of you to find the time to drop by,” she commented, her tone glacial.

 “Yes well, I was... otherwise occupied when the call came,” Lyle’s boyish smirk, far more irritating than Jarod’s ever could be, grated on her as badly as his fake sincerity act. “I got here as soon as I could.”

 Images of mutilated Asian woman flashed briefly through her brain. “Nothing life threatening, I hope?”

 “Nothing that couldn’t wait. Now, Sister dear, what exactly are you doing here?” The question was phrased innocently enough, but she caught the meaningful glance he shot at Darren and the veiled threat in his tone.

“Trying to find out who killed Broots.” She tried to sound detached. Showing Lyle that Broots’ death mattered to her, that it hurt her, would be just more ammunition for him. She was failing miserably however, she could tell by the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

 “It’s a terrible tragedy the little computer geek is dead,” Lyle began, pacing slowly up the corridor as though thinking contemplatively about the situation. “He wasn’t such a bad guy, even though he had about as much fashion sense as a blind monkey...” He turned, rested his elbow in his gloved hand and tapped his bottom lip with the index finger of his other. “What puzzles me, Sis, is why you think it’s a murder. I mean, who knows? Poor guy could have had an aneurysm, or a heart attack. It happens.” The tapping stopped, but Lyle’s look suddenly grew cold and menacing, demanding an answer. “And I’m certainly curious about how you found out, since my sweeper crew were under strict instructions to contact no one and it obviously wasn’t me. Care to fill me in?” His tone communicated it wasn’t optional.

 Crossing her arms, Parker cocked an eyebrow at Lyle. “Actually... no.”  Turning away dismissively, she took a step towards Sydney. The sudden weight of Lyle’s hand on her shoulder stopped her cold. She glanced down at the offending appendage, then glared over her shoulder.  “I suggest you remove your hand from my body immediately or all you’re going to be left with is a bloody stump.”

 Lyle lingered a moment, a deliberate act of dominance over the situation. Finally withdrawing the hand, he folded his fingers together. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. There has been a breach of security here. I need to find it and fix it. You will cooperate.”

 She turned her head away from him and tried to control her roiling emotions. In the moments before Lyle had arrived, while Syd was busy examining... the body... she had informed Darren that a late night call from Jarod had sent her back to the Centre looking for a hidden file. Stumbling upon Broots’ death had been entirely accidental. By the time Lyle could get around to acquiring her cell phone records, she could have a phony call from some backwoods payphone number added. She could give the whole story to Lyle right now. But he was pushing her, taunting her, trying to antagonize her – and she was tired, tired of Lyle, tired of Centre machinations, but mostly tired of losing the people she loved.

 In that moment, Miss Parker lost her battle with self-control. She dropped her hands to her sides, fists reflexively clenching and unclenching. Widening her stance slightly, she took a half step back. Shifting her balance forward, she put her powerful legs and all her upper body strength into a perfectly executed uppercut that caught Lyle neatly across the jaw. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet and sent him crashing into the far wall, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. She rubbed her knuckles then walked over to inspect her handiwork.

 “Lyle,” she spoke in a deceptively mild voice, as if scolding a recalcitrant child, “Don’t threaten me.  And don’t ever touch me. But mostly, Brother,” she laced the last word with considerable scorn, “don’t ever tell me what to do.” With that she crooked a finger at Syd and walked down the hall past Lyle without a backward glance.

 Lyle watched her leave, his good hand cradling his jaw, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, and hatred burning in his soul. She was so goddamned smug, even with her pet geek laying dead in the next room. Well, that wasn’t going to last much longer, he’d see to that. If the death of the computer nerd wasn’t enough to bring her back in line, then he had the Triumvirate’s authorization to go on to the next step...
 

 **************
 2 Weeks Earlier
 The Tower
 **************

 Mr. Parker sat along side Mr. Cox at the long table in the dimly lit room and glowered at his son. His daughter had really gotten her twin in a state, and this time he wasn’t sure if he could save her.

 “That’s ridiculous,” he blustered, the false bravado that had served him well for so many years once again covering his many insecurities. “My Angel is loyal to the Centre,” he argued. “If she was doing anything with Jarod, it would have been with the ultimate goal of bringing him back where he belongs. And I simply refuse to hear anymore about it.” He spoke with authority, as if that would be the final thing said on the matter.

 Unfortunately, the remaining members of the Triumvirate who sat unseen in the shadows had other ideas. They wanted to hear in depth Lyle’s accusations and charges. They questioned him at length about the false online identity with which he had started up a ‘chat room friendship’ with Mr. Broots.

 “Damn strange if you ask me,” Mr. Parker had muttered, but no one had listened.

 Lyle explained how as “Chick-a-dee” he’d chatted about all sorts of inane things with Broots, or “He-Man”, eventually leading the conversation around to work. “chick-a-dee” made comments about ‘her’ boss being nasty, and ‘He-man’ had replied in kind. After commiserating about what taskmasters their respective bosses were, “chick-a-dee” had taken it one step further. ‘She’ intimated that her boss had broken company policy and dated a high-ranking employee from  a competitor. ‘He-Man’ had replied that at a New Years party he’d seen his boss with someone against whom his company was planning a hostile takeover.

 “Doesn’t prove a damn thin,” Mr. Parker insisted when Lyle was done giving his presentation.

 “I’m sorry, Dad,” Lyle spoke in a voice that sounded like he was anything but. “But it seems obvious that her focus is gone and her loyalty has been compromised. We can’t have anyone, including family, running around like a loose cannon. She has to be taken care of.”

 “If I might make a suggestion?” came a soft question.

 “Yes, Mr. Cox?” invited one of the voices from the shadows.

 “Perhaps Miss Parker needs a warning of some kind. Something to remind her that she needs to be focused on the task at hand.”

 Lyle shook his head in disagreement. “She had a reminder like that, Cox. It didn’t work.”

 “Yes, but Mr. Gates was from outside the Centre and was threatening to remove her from it. This should be much closer to home. And of course, if it doesn’t work, it can’t be said that we didn’t try everything to help her get back on track before we had to do something more... permanent.”

 The voice from the shadows spoke again. “We approve of that plan, Mr. Cox. You are so directed to carry it out. One month gentlemen. If there is no appreciable change in the quality of Miss Parker’s work, and more specifically, the attitude with which she approaches it in that time, her termination order will be issued from your office, Mr. Parker. Is that understood?”

 The chairman hung his head in defeat. “Yes, Ma'am.”
 

Part 3