by M A Gelsey
“You can’t just walk away from this thing they built, Michael. That’s not how it works.”
“And what if I do? They’ll kill me?”
She didn’t answer immediately. He knew she was wondering the same thing he was. “Harlow might,” she said finally. “If he thought you’d turn on him.”
“He doesn’t have to worry about that,” Bob said, not without bitterness.
“You need a vacation,” Jane said. “That’s all.”
“That’s not the problem.” He was weary. His sister could argue for hours, days. It never ended until he told her what she wanted to hear.
“I’m serious, Michael. Some things are developing. Harlow needs us.”
Bob’s head had started to throb, just behind the temples. “Fine.”
Jane looked suspicious at his abrupt change of tone. “So you’ll forget about all this nonsense?” She always double checked, even after winning an argument.
“You’ve convinced me.”
“I hope you’re not lying to me, Michael.”
I hope so too.
43: MIRA
The next morning Mira woke to the sound of a woman’s voice. Blearily, she opened her eyes and looked around for the source. Jack was standing naked in front of the television, drinking coffee and watching a news report about Senator Pryce withdrawing her support from the bill that would ban human cloning. Mira had only a moment to admire the view before Jack noticed she was awake and slid back under the covers with a grin. He leaned over to kiss her, but she pulled back.
“I’m sure I’ve got really horrible morning breath right now,” she muttered.
“I don’t care,” he said, and that was that.
It was slower and sweeter in the morning, beginning in bed and moving into the shower despite it really being too small for two people. Afterwards Mira was tempted to go back to sleep, but they had a briefing with Warren in an hour and Jack convinced her that the time could be better spent tracking down a good breakfast. They ate at a diner around the corner from Mira’s apartment, and arrived at their meeting with Warren together.
Warren cast a suspicious glare in Jack’s direction, and Mira tried not to blush. Surely Warren noticed Jack’s rumpled clothes (the same ones he had been wearing the day before), but mercifully he didn’t deign to comment. Mira hoped he’d assume Jack had spent the night with someone else. She had told Jack that she didn’t want the rest of them to know, and he didn’t argue. Once they were all assembled, Mira cleared her throat.
“There wasn’t much opportunity for me to question Smith last night,” she began. “But he did mention one potentially useful piece of information. He said he’d be going out of town for a few days, and that he’d call me when he got back next week.” She half-glanced in Jack’s direction and silently cursed herself for it. “It’s possible that there’s going to be another auction, and that Smith will once again be the one to escort the auctioned clones to overseas buyers. It might even be worth trying to tail him.”
Warren grunted. “Not sure we have the resources,” he muttered. “I’ll put in a few calls.”
“I can try to get his flight information,” Liesel volunteered. “It’s difficult because he always travels under different names but the clones —”
“—might not,” Warren finished for her. He looked impressed, a rare sight. “Good, very good. John, you’ll assist Liesel.”
Ever the team player, John nodded, but Warren barely glanced his way. Instead he turned to glower at Jack. “Got anything to contribute here, Sterling?”
Jack scowled, but didn’t otherwise allow himself to be provoked. “I was Mira’s backup last night with Smith,” he said. Mira bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “And I was thinking I could go down to D. C. to meet with Senator Pryce. We know Harlow strong-armed her into killing that anti-cloning bill. If we can get her to turn on him —”
“We’ll accomplish very little,” Warren snapped. “We already have a witness to that little exchange, remember? And revealing that will likely hurt Pryce more than it will Harlow. I want to nail the bastard, and to do that we need some charges with teeth. Not some wimpy bullshit about bribing a member of congress when we both know that’ll never stick.” Warren had worked himself into a rant, and broke off panting as though he’d just run a marathon.
“Fine,” Jack said. “I’ll keep tabs on the clone shelters then. See if there’s a spike in adoptions. Presumably they’ll be smart enough to only do a few from each one, so they don’t draw too much attention. Still, their records might reveal a pattern.”
They all took Warren’s lack of criticism as approval. Jack gave Mira the smallest of winks. Mira looked away from him, again telling herself to get a grip.
“Harlow’s also got a meeting with Edgar Prime coming up — there was an email this morning confirming it. He told me he’s got a plan to convince the Clone Advocacy Network that their time would be better spent elsewhere, but he hasn’t shared it with me.”
Warren waved this off impatiently. “Most likely he’ll just try to impress upon the boy how dangerous the black market is, and how ill-advised they are for meddling with it. Let’s just hope they’re smart enough to take the hint. Idealistic college students can be remarkably pigheaded about these things.”
“But if they don’t —” Mira started.
“—you’ll be in the loop to pick up the pieces,” Warren finished. “This isn’t our primary concern. Harlow’s a ruthless bastard, but he’s not stupid. Anything too overt from him will arouse suspicion, and the last thing he wants is to have investigators sniffing around in connection with an attack on Edgar Midas’s clone or one of his friends. Harlow wouldn’t be so bold.”
Mira disagreed, but saw no purpose in arguing this point further; the look on Warren’s face told her that he wouldn’t be convinced. She felt a deep sense of trepidation for the unsuspecting CAN students, and it was with this in mind that she tried one more approach.
“But if we warned them —”
“Out of the question.” The others agreed with Warren, even Jack. The idea that she’d be reduced to sitting on the sidelines waiting for the hammer to drop filled Mira with bitterness, but she was a professional. She knew how to follow chain of command.
44: EDGAR PRIME
The subway car rattled and swayed, but Edgar Prime was too preoccupied to notice. His meeting with Harlow was set for later that afternoon, and Edgar Prime was already feeling deeply uneasy about it. Don’t be paranoid, he told himself for the thousandth time. No harm in hearing him out.
To further complicate matters, Luken had refused point blank to take part in Noela’s plan at the last CAN meeting. He and Noela had a huge fight over it, but they eventually reached a detente, and had left it up to CAN members whether or not they wanted to participate in what they all agreed would be their most dangerous initiative to date.
There were only a handful who had agreed to work with them: Zelda Lisner with her mass of strawberry blonde curls, Carter Riggs, a slightly chubby boy with wiry dark hair and several days of stubble, Victor Healy who had the worst acne that Edgar Prime had ever seen, and Noela’s younger brother Omar, who shared her reddish hair, olive skin, and freckles. It was Omar who had volunteered to go undercover with a hidden camera. Noela’s mouth had tightened slightly when he offered himself for this task, but she didn’t try to dissuade him; Edgar Prime knew she felt hypocritical for wanting someone other than her brother to take on that particular danger — she’d sooner do it herself, but she was known to be the co-founder of the CAN and they couldn’t risk anyone recognizing her.
Edgar Prime nearly missed his subway stop, but realized just in time. He walked around the corner into Illyria Cafe, where Noela was already waiting for him at a corner table, looking uncharacteristically solemn.
“Do you trust Harlow?” Noela asked without preamble. “If we go through with this, we’ll be putting a lot of faith in him.”
Too much, Edgar Prime though
t. “We don’t really have a choice, do we? It could take years for us to get access otherwise.”
“You’re right. And anyway, this is too important for us to ignore.” She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “ I just wish we knew why he’d offer to help us.”
“I’ll try asking him about it later,” Edgar Prime promised. He was as curious as Noela about Harlow’s motivations.
She nodded at that. They sat in silence for a few moments; Noela stared out the window, seemingly watching the pedestrians go by but really, Edgar Prime thought, considering their predicament. She took a gulp of her steaming black coffee and immediately spat it back out, cringing.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed. “That is way too hot. Fucking fuck, fuck.” Her eyes watered and she grimaced.
“I’ll get you some ice,” Edgar Prime said, springing up to ask the barista for a cupful. When he returned she popped a cube into her mouth, still clearly irritated at herself for burning her tongue.
“Have you talked to Luken?” Edgar Prime asked, hoping to distract Noela until the pain subsided.
Her face darkened into a scowl. “No. But I’ve known Luken for a long time and he’s always been stubborn. I’m not worried about it.”
“How did you two meet?”
She shrugged. “In college, at some stupid party our freshman year. We started talking and realized we lived in the same dorm. Then one thing led to another, and within a few weeks, we were best friends.”
“Just friends?” Edgar Prime didn’t know what made him think otherwise. Perhaps something in the way she said his name — affection mixed with exasperation.
She gave him a look as she began sucking on a second ice cube. “Not exactly. But that’s all we are now.”
Edgar Prime waited for her to elaborate; when she didn’t, he let the subject drop.
“I should go,” he said. “Don’t wanna be late.”
“Keep me posted on Harlow.”
“Of course.” Edgar Prime got up and left the cafe, heading for the subway. Better not fuck this up.
Edgar Prime had never visited the building where Harlow worked before. He was greeted by an elegant blonde receptionist, and almost immediately led back to Harlow’s large corner office. Everything was meticulously designed (apparently courtesy of Harlow’s fourth wife, an interior decorator); all wood and leather and clean geometric lines. Expensive, yet understated.
“I’m sorry for having my assistant do that whole cloak-and-dagger routine,” Harlow said as Edgar Prime took his seat. “But you know how I appreciate dramatic effect. And more importantly, I wanted to see how serious you were before I revealed myself. We’ve all got reputations to uphold, after all.”
Edgar Prime nodded, unsure of how to respond to that.
“Can I offer you a cigar?” Harlow pulled two out of his desk drawer and held them up.
“No, thank you,” Edgar Prime said.
Harlow shrugged, and set about cutting and lighting his cigar. The longer the silence stretched on, the more uncomfortable Edgar Prime became, but he was determined not to allow Harlow to rattle him. Finally, after taking a puff and blowing foul smelling smoke in Edgar Prime’s direction, Harlow spoke. “Don’t you want to know why I asked you to come here, Prime?” He seemed amused by the situation.
“Yes,” Edgar Prime managed, choking back a cough. He wondered whether Harlow had told Dr. Midas about this meeting.
“Call me sentimental, but the article your friend Arthur Blair wrote about those clone advocacy people really got to me. So here we are.”
Edgar Prime’s eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. Since when was Harlow interested in the greater good?
Harlow chuckled at Edgar Prime’s silence. “Why so surprised, Prime? Once upon a time, I helped a promising young scientist who was convinced he could make history by producing the world’s first human clone if only it were legal.”
“But that was an investment,” Edgar Prime said before he could stop himself. He didn’t know why he was arguing this point with Harlow, when he’d already agreed to help. “This is different.”
“Is it?” Harlow asked. “Bad publicity is bad for business, and the black market is starting to get traction in the media. Better to stomp it out before it starts affecting our profits.”
Edgar Prime didn’t buy it, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with an alternative explanation for Harlow’s actions. He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice with only moderate success.
“And you think the Clone Advocacy Network really has a chance to do that?” Edgar Prime asked.
“Why not? Your friends sent a message about their hidden camera idea. That might help motivate law enforcement to look into the matter a bit more expediently. If a group of teenagers can infiltrate the black market, they’ll look like buffoons if they don’t at least manage a raid before the end of the year.”
“And how would you even get us access?” Edgar Prime asked.
Harlow laughed again. “You know, for such a smart person you can be remarkably naive, Prime. Corporate espionage is part of the game! Access is the easy part.”
“Then why not take care of it yourself?” Edgar Prime challenged. “Why trust us with something so important?”
Harlow just smiled. “Are you interested, or not?”
45: ANNABEL
Annabel spent the whole of the all-too-brief return flight from JFK with tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She knew that Ms. Durant noticed but was too tactful to say anything. Luckily, Annabel managed to compose herself before de-planing in Boston, because no sooner had she stepped into the waiting area than she ran into Veronica and Phineas Hawthorne.
“Annabel, darling!” Veronica cried. She threw her arms out wide as if initiating an exaggerated embrace, forcing a grinning Phineas to step back from her side in order to avoid being smacked in the face.
Annabel froze, too stunned to say anything for a second. She felt rather than saw Ms. Durant tense next to her. Veronica and Phineas looked much the same as the last time Annabel had seen them: she was all blonde hair and 60s retro fashion (today her dress and nails were turquoise), and he was gray-haired, twinkle-eyed and clad head-to-toe in black. Annabel noticed that Phineas had swapped his diamond ear-stud for an ruby.
“Veronica, Phineas, hi. Good to see both of you,” Annabel said, recovering herself. She allowed both of them to hug her briefly.
“What on earth are you doing here, darling? With Helena too — how are you, my dear? Didn’t see you there at first. Looks like retirement suits you.” Veronica said.
“We’re just getting back from a spa weekend in The Hamptons,” Annabel lied, half-glancing towards Ms. Durant.
“Charming, charming. You ladies and your beauty routines, I must say they baffle me. I don’t understand half of what goes on at such places.” Phineas chortled at his own feeble joke, while Veronica rolled her kohl-lined eyes at him. “I’m sure Rex missed you terribly.”
“Where are you off too?” Annabel asked, ignoring his last comment.
“Tuscany,” Phineas said, patting his flat belly as if in anticipation of all the food and wine he would soon enjoy. “Got a time share with some friends. I asked Rex if you’d care to join us but he turned me down, the old fuddy-duddy.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” Annabel said. It was news to her that she’d been invited to visit Tuscany, and had it been her decision she most certainly would have taken the opportunity, even if it meant sharing a villa with Phineas and Veronica. This knowledge made her return to normalcy (such as it was) even less welcome than before. There was a moment of silence interrupted by an announcement on the intercom that first class passengers for the 3:50 flight to Tuscany could now board, prompting a startled squeal from Veronica.
“That’s us! Must dash! Wonderful to see you again, Annabel. And you too of course, Helena.” Veronica hugged her again, followed by Phineas, then they were off, rushing to the adjacent gate. Ms. Durant se
emed irritable for the remainder of their trip, but did not explain why, nor did Annabel ask. When Ms. Durant finally dropped Annabel off at the house, she was filled with trepidation. Just as she feared and expected, Rex was there waiting to greet her with a wet kiss and a bone-crushing hug that soon turned into something else as he led her upstairs to their bedroom for what he called a “proper reunion”.
A few days later, Annabel found herself sitting on the balcony and staring out at the gentle waves of the bay as they rocked the boats moored in the harbor the way a mother might rock her infant. The air was warm and sticky, but there was a nice breeze that smelled of salt and lifted Annabel’s hair off her neck. Nothing at all had changed, and yet everything had.
Since returning from New York, Annabel’s days and nights had been characterized by an overwhelming sense of listlessness. Things she had previously enjoyed: practicing yoga, her online college courses, walking into town now held little appeal. She still did them as before, but in a rote manner, deriving no pleasure from anything. At first, she thought of Javi frequently, wondering what might have happened if they’d met under different circumstances, if they’d had more time, if she’d been brave enough to lean over and kiss him, an idea that simultaneously enticed and repelled her. After all, he wasn’t handsome the way Leon Floros was handsome, wasn’t the type of man she liked to imagine herself with. But nonetheless, there had been a pull of some sort. An attraction.
It was only after a week had passed that she realized it wasn’t Javi she was mourning, not really. It was freedom. She had never really had any control over her life, having spent her first eighteen years closely supervised and regulated by Ms. Durant, the remainder by her husband. But for a day, she’d been able to do what she wanted, go where she wanted, when she wanted. For a day, she’d been free. It was almost unbearable to go back to the way things were before.
