The Switch

by Sandra Brown

  "Because I don't want to be contaminated."

  "Then it's true. You do plan to do me bodily harm with that ridiculous six-shooter."

  Surprise being on his side, he reached into the pocket of Chief's jacket and removed the pistol, which he then tossed to Hancock. "There's an X-ray machine—the kind used in airports, except much more sensitive—mounted inside that doorframe," he explained to her, pointing toward the double doors through which she and Hancock had entered.

  "It registers on monitors in my bedroom, in Mr. Hancock's computer cabinet over there, and in the security center. So you see, there was no way you could possibly sneak it in." He

  touched her cheek. "Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?"

  She swatted aside his hand. "I didn't come here to kill you. I want you to live."

  "Really? I thought for sure you had it in for me. Now I'm intrigued. Do go on. Please."

  "I want you to be publicly exposed for the fiend you are. I want to see you convicted of your crimes, and then I want you to live a long time behind bars, so that you'll have thousands of days to think about the evil things you've done."

  Chuckling, he hitched one hip over the corner of his desk and indolently swung his foot back and forth. "That's an awfully harsh sentence, Melina. What have I done to deserve it?"

  "You ordered my twin's murder."

  "Ah, sweet Gillian. I'll concede that her death was a terrible waste. I've seen pictures of her."

  "Gordon's disgusting photographs?"

  "Along with snapshots of her that Jem Hennings took. I was particularly fond of one in which she was clowning for the camera. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, which I thought was very fetching."

  Frustrated by his seeming unflappability, she shouted, "You killed her!"

  His gaze was steady and mildly reproving of her raised voice. "That was her doing, not mine, Melina."

  "You're saying she chose to be brutally stabbed?"

  "To her wretched misfortune, your sister's moral character didn't equal her outward beauty."

  The same could be said of him, but she didn't want to sidetrack him by pointing that out. "You killed her because she spent most of that night in Colonel Hart's company."

  "How delicately put," he said with that same belittling hint of amusement. Then, all trace of a smile disappearing, he added, "Gillian made a bad choice."

  "Choice? Okay, let's talk about choice. Where was her choice when she was inseminated with your sperm?"

  "What difference did it make to her? She was using an anonymous donor anyway."

  So her conjecture had been correct. She'd clung to a thread of hope that she had been wrong. It nauseated her to think of the women he had debased. She almost envied their not knowing. Knowing made it worse. Perhaps.

  She wanted to strike him, hurt him. Badly. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. It was only by an act of will that she contained her fury. "Dale Gordon. You're responsible for his death, too."

  "I regret losing him. His devotion to me was unshakable." "Which you exploited in order to talk him into killing himself."

  He waved his hand negligently, as though the life of that pathetic man was of little or no consequence outside the context of what it had meant to him.

  "You hoped the investigation into Gillian's murder would stop with his suicide."

  "You wouldn't let it lie, Melina," he chided gently. "While I admire your tenacity and your devotion to Gillian, you've made a real pest of yourself this week."

  "Those goons you sent to my house—"

  "Joshua and his assistant."

  "Who are they?"

  "Loyal disciples. Good soldiers."

  "Not that good," she scoffed. "Chief and I managed to escape them. More than once."

  He didn't take the derisive criticism well. His leg was still lazily oscillating, as though he didn't have a care in the world. But the muscles of his face looked less mobile than they had earlier. His smile had gone a little stiff, his eyes several degrees colder.

  He said, "You got lucky. Especially Colonel Hart." "Why the attempt on his life?"

  "Why do you suppose, Melina?"

  "As punishment for sleeping with Gillian."

  "Punishment which he deserved. Gillian was honored—" "I'd hardly call it an honor," she said scornfully.

  "She had been chosen for greatness."

  "Meaning that she had been selected to bear you a child?" "Precisely," he said.

  "But Chief was intimate with her."

  "He desecrated her."

  "He cared for her."

  "He fucked her."

  That first chink in his armor, which she had noticed moments ago, widened even more. She could use that jealous anger to her advantage. She would prod it like a sore tooth.

  Leaning toward him, she smiled. "And she loved it," she whispered. "She told me that she couldn't get enough of him. His mouth. His penis. He was strong, hard, virile. She said that he was the best lover she'd ever had, that he knew how to give a woman pleasure. She couldn't wait to make love with him again. She said that if she did conceive that day, she hoped the father was Christopher Hart and not the sperm donor."

  He came off the desk like a shot, his face now ruddy with wrath. "She deserved to die."

  "Do you kill them all after they've borne you a child?" "Only the ones who turn out to be cunts like Gillian." "And the rest?"

  "They continue living their lives, never knowing." "Candace Anderson."

  "For one."

  "And it doesn't bother you that the Andersons grieve for their son and pray for his safe return?"

  "How selfish of them."

  "Selfish?" she exclaimed incredulously.

  "Their son is thriving here."

  "Without his parents." "I am his parent."

  That was going nowhere. She took another tack. First she had used his jealous anger to get answers. Now she would appeal to his monumental ego. "How did you devise such a brilliant plan?"

  "By accident, actually." Composure restored, he resumed his place on the corner of the desk. "For years the Program was limited to women who came here to the Temple to live and work. But the numbers weren't large enough. Then I happened on to an article about the use of artificial insemination to propagate endangered species. Of course, it's been successfully used for decades to breed livestock."

  She thought she might be sick right there on his expensive Oriental rug. "So you applied the technique to human beings."

  "The technology was there. I just had to find among my followers the personnel with the knowledge and skill in andrology."

  "And the depravity to switch sperm."

  He didn't contradict her, adding, "Along with enough cunning not to get caught."

  "How many women have been..." Unable to complete the question, she swallowed hard.

  "Inseminated by me? You would be staggered by the number. Not all conceived. Of those who did, not all went to full term and delivered. But our percentage of miscarriages is agreeably low. We've got a dormitory of healthy children who attest to our success."

  To hear him boast, one would never guess that he was referring to human beings. "Do you do it all from here?"

  "We have two other compounds, one in Europe, another in Asia." He winked at her. "Of course, the semen is collected wherever I am."

  "How is it preserved? Shipped?"

  "Expertly. It's all very scientific, I assure you."

  "If Gillian had lived to have your child, you would have kidnapped it like you did the Andersons' baby?"

  "It would have been brought here, nurtured, loved." "That's what a mother is for."

  "We have wet nurses, Melina. The babies aren't deprived anything, not even breast milk."

  "They're deprived of their mothers, their true identities, their families."

  He was shaking his head. "I become their family, and I am sufficient to meet all their needs. The women who bear them are biological necessities. Nothing more. When my scien
tists are able to successfully replicate the uterus outside the body, the mothers will become obsolete. That would streamline the Program considerably."

  He assumed a wistful expression. "I'll confess to developing a fondness for the mothers, because they perform an essential service. But the children don't belong to them. They belong to me, to the ministry."

  Except for his extraordinary good looks, he appeared as normal as any other man. His voice was distinguished by its remarkable resonance, but it was otherwise normal. His mannerisms were polished but not so different from those of anyone else. But he wasn't normal; he was deranged. He didn't rant and foam at the mouth. He didn't screech like a fanatic. But every word he spoke was absolutely insane.

  "You are a lunatic."

  Rather than take umbrage, he smiled ruefully. "That's been a misconception about most men of greatness, Melina. Can you think of a single historical figure who made a breakthrough in science or medicine or architecture or religion or politics who wasn't ridiculed? Name a single genius who wasn't initially misunderstood and labeled a lunatic. I can't let the skepticism of small minds dissuade me from my purpose."

  "Which is what? To people the world with little Brother Gabriels?"

  He laughed. "My dear, you have a wonderful way with words. Your phraseology oversimplifies, but you've captured the essence of the plan."

  "Your new world order."

  "I see you've listened to my sermons," he said, looking pleased. "In a few years, my children will be ready to assume their positions in the world. They'll have unlimited power and means, the likes of which have only been dreamed of by previous world leaders. Governments will be ruled by them. The world economy will be theirs to manipulate. They'll direct global commerce. Communication will be under their control.

  "Art and culture will be molded around their ideas and creations. They will determine what the general public reads and sees and hears and thinks. They will dictate where wars are waged, who thrives, and who is vanquished. Coinciding with this movement, there will be a spiritual upheaval, a universal revolt against established religions."

  "Ah! That's where you come in."

  "Out of that ecumenical chaos, there will arise one world religion."

  "You."

  "Me."

  His self-confidence was so unmitigated it was chilling. "You actually believe that you're capable of bringing about this new world order?"

  "I am bringing it about," he said complacently. "Masses of people are impatient for it. They're eager to embrace it, to embrace me. But it's not yet time. And until the time is right, we must work toward our goal in secrecy, Melina.

  "Can you imagine the worldwide bedlam that would erupt if my plans were exposed prematurely, before the children are old enough to assume the positions for which they're being so carefully cultivated?"

  "Couples like the Andersons would storm this place." "You see my point."

  "Women who had conceived by any means of artificial insemination would panic."

  "Exactly."

  "They'd be terrified of the risk of accidental incest."

  "Not a possibility yet," he said. "The first generation of children haven't reached puberty. But we've prepared for it. There's already in place a tagging system that will prevent brothers and sisters, or sons and mothers, from coupling in the future."

  Closing her eyes briefly, she shuddered. "My God."

  "In any event," he continued blandly, "no good purpose would be served by informing the public before the optimum time."

  "Except that it would stop you."

  "And I can't allow that to happen." He clasped his hands on his knee and, sighing, said, "Consequently, I'm faced with the dilemma of what to do with you."

  She squared her shoulders. "You won't kill me."

  He arched one golden eyebrow in a silent query.

  "As you've demonstrated, you're not stupid," she said to him. "Too many people know that I was coming here to confront you."

  He cracked a wide smile. "Not a problem. We've got a contingency plan for that. Right, Mr. Hancock?"

  "That's correct, Brother Gabriel."

  Nervously she glanced at Hancock, who stood between her and the door.

  "You see, Melina, like Gillian, you made a serious miscalculation. A bad choice, as it were. That unfortunate choice ordained your dispensability."

  "What about the Program?"

  "In what regard?" He was being deliberately obtuse. Furthermore, he was enjoying it.

  "I thought you planned for me to take Gillian's place." "That was the plan. But, to my great sorrow—genuinely, my great sorrow—we've discovered that you and Gillian were not, in fact, identical."

  "But we were."

  "No," he said, drawing out the word. "There was a difference. And, as it applies to the Program, that difference is immense, I'm afraid." His beautiful eyes turned sad and sympathetic. His mouth turned down at the corners. "You, Melina, are of no worth to me whatsoever. You, my dear, underwent a hysterectomy."

  CHAPTER 40

  "Jem Hennings didn't know about that, did he?" Brother Gabriel continued with the same taunting inflection. "Like a good sister, Gillian never discussed your medical history." Lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, he said, "Your female problems."

  She kept her expression impassive, although his insulting tone made it difficult.

  "Gillian never told Mr. Hennings about those pesky ovarian cysts that beset you when you were only twenty-seven. Thankfully they turned out to be benign. Following the surgery, you were no worse for wear. Except, of course, that you no longer had reproductive organs."

  "How did you... how..."

  "How did I know? Hennings was a good man, but on this one point he failed to do his homework. He was so eager to replace Gillian, you see. Mr. Hancock conducted a more thorough background check on you."

  He reached for her hand and pressed it between his own. "I assume you barged in here believing that you could barter your life for a contribution to the Program. You reasoned that I would be reluctant to harm you since you had been selected to bear one of my children in Gillian's place. Unfortunately. . He raised his shoulders in a sad, sympathetic shrug.

  "When Agent Tobias arrives—and we know he soon will, probably accompanied by the Dallas homicide detective, possibly even Colonel Hart—they'll find the compound in an uproar. A crazed woman, erroneously believing that I was somehow connected to her sister's murder, managed to breach our security.

  "Although misguided and emotionally distraught, this young woman was extremely resourceful. She got as far as my private quarters, where she threatened my life with a firearm far too large and unwieldy for her small hand. But determination gave her strength and, for several terrifying minutes, enabled her to hold me at gunpoint. However, when she was ultimately cornered and ordered to relinquish the pistol, she put it to her own head."

  He let all that sink in before continuing.

  "After the mess is mopped up, the authorities will be given unrestricted access to the Temple. If you're very nice, Melina, I'll let you in on a little secret. Mr. Hancock has recorded every document in a code only he can decipher. Shh, don't tell." He even held his finger to his lips and winked at her.

  She was in the company of madness.

  "But to the FBI and anyone else who peruses the records," he continued, "they will seem to be those of a law-abiding American with no criminal tendencies whatsoever. We don't take the allowed tax exemption granted to churches. We pay our taxes. The ministry is not anti-government. As you see, I advocate patriotism." He motioned toward the American flag in the corner of the room.

  "Yes, they'll find children and their mothers living together happily in a communal setting, which is of their choosing and which breaks no laws. They'll see that our school is fully accredited and indeed is superior to most public schools. Within the compound is a medical facility.

  "I, of course, will lament Dale Gordon's descent into insanity and grieve over the tragic chain o
f events that a former disciple set into motion, which, to my horror, culminated in your ghastly suicide."

  "Peace and love," she said quietly.

  "Precisely, Melina."

  Again, his complacent smile made her want to strike him. Instead she withdrew her hand from between his and took a step back. "You've forgotten a few things."

  "I don't think so, but I'll be happy to listen to your observations."

  "Tobias and Lawson know that you were in close contact with Dale Gordon. Chief heard Jem admit that they worked for you."

  "Explainable. Hennings and Gordon devised this plan themselves. They had warped my message, perverted it to fit their vision of a new world order. Joshua and—"

  "Joshua?"

  "The man who impersonated Tobias. He was hired by Hennings. I knew nothing about it. Obviously they had a disagreement, probably over his fee. He turned on Hennings and killed him."

  "Joshua may tell a different story."

  "Joshua is uniquely skilled to transform himself and avoid capture. He has before. He will again."

  "Say Jem and Dale Gordon had hatched this plan," she said. "They could hardly implement it without your cooperation. You had to send them sperm."

  "I had sent specimens to Gordon for analysis."

  "To—"

  "Check for genetic abnormalities I didn't wish to pass down. He was doing tests in his spare time, at my request. I'm speechless to discover what was happening to these specimens once I sent them."

  She tugged on her lower lip. "The children here."

  "The mothers will truthfully claim that I sired many of them. Fathering children outside of wedlock might be considered a sin by some, but I consider it a holy responsibility. It's certainly not an indictable offense."

  "But they'll run DNA tests on the others that will prove they're yours."

  "What others?" he asked innocently.

  "The Andersons' baby. The other kidnapped children who were brought here. The—" She stopped suddenly. Then, remembering, she said slowly, "The ones on the buses."

  He glanced at Mr. Hancock. "Is she referring to our production buses?"

  "It would seem so, Brother Gabriel. They're the only buses I know of."