As they drove back through London toward Hybrid Incorporated, Neil arranged for Doctor Waites and Doctor Upton to meet them there. He was not sure exactly what Artimus’ next play was, but seeing as how both his main possibilities, lookalikes and twins, were now out of the question the easiest way to determine why they were going to Mister Grayson’s place of work was probably to try to work backwards.
Neil considered what they knew. They now had confirmation that Doctor Thomas Upton, the man they interviewed at the Yard yesterday morning and whom they were about to meet at Hybrid, was in fact the Master of the Masonic Lodge operating out of the Prospect of Whitby and not Noel Grayson as they suspected.
On top of that, it appeared Michael Grayson’s name had been used to buy a house in Belsize Park, but not by his brother. They had however been correct regarding the affair between Missus Grayson and Noel Grayson, at least that was one plus. However, it was not a substantial one. The waters were so muddy at this point Neil was unsure who was playing what angle, and what knowing anything about this sordid group of people could possibly show them.
Sordid. He let the word roll around his mind for a while, drifting back to his awakening in the back of a limo with two women. Perhaps he should limit his use of it in future.
London was still busy, even at half ten on a Sunday morning, as Neil ducked through oncoming traffic and found an empty bay to park in.
Striding toward the entrance of Hybrid Incorporated, his curiosity finally got the better of him. “I’ve been trying to think of the reason for us coming here all the way over. I have to admit, I can’t think of a one. I tried to figure out what your third possibility was, but…”
“So,” said Artimus, stopping dead on the pavement, “my trousers are getting pulled down, and to my side Dawn is chewing on your neck like a horny vampire…”
Damn it! What possible reason could there be to be back at Hybrid. It had to be something to do with the third of Artimus’ possibilities. What would come after lookalikes and twins? What possible reason would there be to be stood… “Clones!” said Neil, as Artimus started making kissy faces and gyrating his hips. “Hybrid is a genetics company and you think the bodies are those of clones.”
“It’s a long shot,” said Artimus, re-clasping his belt buckle, “but the two most obvious answers have been ruled out, so it’s all we have.”
“We still have possibility four. You did say there were four.” said Neil, grinning. “You can’t say you didn’t. Not to me.”
“Let’s just say if possibility four ever becomes a viable probability, we might as well all go home.” said Artimus, his face contorted in what looked like worry.
Neil had no idea what was spooking Artimus, so he simply followed along behind.
After pressing the buzzer and waiting a few minutes, Doctor Waites arrived and showed them in.
Ushering them quickly into the research suite, he started to walk toward his office.
“Can I ask that you and Doctor Upton talk with us next to these cases you have constructed.” said Artimus, pointing toward the two glass cubicles on the far wall. “Your office is a little cramped.”
“Of course.” said Doctor Waites, heading off to grab his colleague.
“Don’t we want to interview these men separately?” said Neil, confused. “We can’t do that in the open.”
“No.” said Artimus, coldly. “The answers I need will come from their interaction, not from their responses.”
Neil perched himself on the edge of a desk facing the strange cubicles. He would not be asking any more questions. Partly because Artimus was not in the habit of giving out answers, but mainly because he did not want to hear any more about what happened in that limo.
A few moments later, Doctor Waites led Doctor Upton out of his small office. Doctor Waites was dressed casually; jeans and a shirt. However, Doctor Upton was in full regalia; tan three piece, brogues, and matching belt.
“Thank you for assisting us on such short notice gentlemen.” Artimus began, as the men arrived. “I know Sunday’s are for family.”
“It is no problem.” said Doctor Upton, lounging on the edge of one desk with his hands draped casually over his thighs. “Anything we can do to help.”
To his side, Doctor Waites was sitting in a swivel chair. A half grin all he could muster.
“I have to admit this case has had me puzzled from the start.” said Artimus, not looking at either man and beginning to pace. “It’s been so unusual for so many reasons that I actually believed I might never get a handle on it.” He stopped, turning with an expectant smile toward Doctor Waites. “Your original deposition to us for example Doctor. If it had not been for a fortuitous thought from my colleague, I might never have realised you had no way of knowing everything you told us was a lie.”
“I haven’t lied to you once.” said Doctor Waites, as Doctor Upton snapped his head round and glared at him.
Neil could see Doctor Waites was at once concerned Artimus believed he was lying, whilst simultaneously being afraid of the anger of his colleague. Why would that be?
“And you, Doctor Upton.” said Artimus, happy his probing was giving him the desired results. “It was not until I got my players in the right hierarchical order that understood your role in all this.”
“I can assure you,” said Doctor Upton, turning with complete calm toward Artimus, “I have no role in this.”
“Of course you do, you pompous cretin.” said Artimus, with a hearty guffaw. “You just don’t realise how badly you’re being played.”
Neil watched Doctor Upton’s cold exterior momentarily crack. A quivering, forced smile replacing his stoic calm, before anger replaced that as well.
“And what could you possibly know, old man?” Doctor Upton stood as he spoke, buttoning his jacket as he tried to add steel to his posture.
“I know you are an imbecile, as I will now prove.” said Artimus, with a derisory chortle. “Doctor Waites. If you could be so kind as to explain to Doctor Upton who the men are that come here on Thursday afternoons.”
“Pardon?” said Doctor Waites, sitting up straight, his face awash in anxiety.
“The three men who come here on Thursdays, Doctor Waites. The men who wait until everyone has departed for the night before they begin their work.”
“I… er…”
“Andrew?” said Doctor Upton, swivelling to face his colleague.
“We have warned you before about withholding information Doctor Waites.” said Neil, removing his note pad. “I will not be asking again before I log a formal charge.”
Doctor Upton looked from Neil to his colleague and over to the expectant gaze of Artimus. “I do not invite them.” he said, dropping his head. “They are guests of Mister Grayson.”
“Why would Michael…” started Doctor Upton.
“Noel, not Michael.” said Artimus, nodding. “Or at least that’s what Mister Grayson’s secretary has told you, isn’t it Doctor Waites?” said Artimus, resuming his wandering and clasping his hands behind his back. “You see, as soon as I realised that orders could appear to come from a source and not actually be from that source, but still be believed as long as they are backed by hard cash, I suddenly understood how this all pieced together.”
“I don’t follow.” said Doctor Upton, one eye narrowed and the deep furrows of alarm covering his brow.
“How long have you been sleeping with somebody else’s wife?” said Artimus, not looking at the man as he spoke. “Two years or so would be my guess, perhaps a little less.” Doctor Upton stood with his mouth open, a few bleats the only sounds coming from him as Artimus continued. “You see, in order for this to work, all the pieces had to be arranged just so.” Artimus moved his hand, swaying it in graceful arcs like a conductor. “Just somewhere out in the background; in full sight, but too unimportant to notice.”
“Who are we talking about?” said Neil, unable to fathom what Artimus was doing.
“The ringleader of all this.” said Artimus, sp
inning and gesturing to everything around him. “It looked like a front because it was just too… feminine. Isn’t that right Doctor Upton?”
“I…” he fumbled, the words trapped in his mouth.
“I never thought how all of this could be linked. This workplace, Mister Grayson, Missus Grayson, the masonic angle; it just never quite hit me until I saw how you two were acting. You,” He said, pointing at Doctor Waites, “are supposed to be his,” he continued, moving his finger to Doctor Upton, “boss. Yet, your body language says quite the reverse. That means our hidden hand needed different ways of coercing you.” Grinning like the Cheshire cat, he turned to Doctor Waites “I’m afraid that means she doesn’t find you sexually attractive, my boy; which is something of an insult considering how many men she is currently satisfying.”
“Who is currently satisfying?” asked Neil, pressing.
“Just a couple more questions.” said Artimus, ignoring Neil. “On any of your work evenings out, have you ever met a girl by the name of Fiona Shaw?”
“Fiona?” said Doctor Waites, his head turned slightly. “My ex? Why…”
“Of course!” said Artimus, tutting. “Getting slow old man. Hello Andy.” He waved comically at Doctor Waites, breathing heavily and muttering something under his breath. “Fiona is in a real mess by the way, nearly slept with my colleague here. Can I ask why you broke up with her?”
“I… er…” said Doctor Waites, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
“Surely not!” said Artimus, stopping, his face wide with surprise. “You were to be a married man! Money is not everything you know. How much did Mister Grayson supposedly pay you to throw your fiancée on the scrapheap?”
“Does it matter?” said Doctor Waites, crestfallen.
Neil could see Doctor Waites was torn about what he had done. Good. Any man who did something like that deserved to be ashamed. However, why would Noel Grayson want Doctor Waites to dump his fiancée? That seemed completely illogical.
“Moving on.” said Artimus, sending Doctor Waites a look of disgust. “How easy is it to make a copy of a human?”
“Human cloning is illegal.” said Doctor Waites. “I can assure you…”
“I wasn’t asking the servant.” said Artimus, brushing Doctor Waites off, “I want the thoughts of the Master.”
Doctor Upton sighed, shaking his head before he began. “The procedure, if anyone were to try something so stupid, is actually very straightforward. Nucleonic material is extracted from one your original’s stem cells, and is used as replacement material in the foetal nucleus of your target. Then it is just a matter of implantation, birth, and maturation. No matter what the media has told you about the major differences between humans and other animals, as soon as we could clone sheep, we could clone humans. I would not be surprised to find it has been done somewhere on Earth already.”
“And if I wanted to speed up the maturation process?” asked Artimus.
“Now that’s a completely different thing. This is not the movies, where a fully-grown Apatosaurus develops from an egg to a matured twenty-tonne adult in a matter of weeks. There’s no getting around the maturation process that we know of. Say you want a clone of yourself as you are now, for example. You can do it, but it’ll take sixty five years or so.”
“It definitely could not be done in a year?” said Artimus, his face suddenly ashen.
“Not a chance in hell!” said Doctor Upton, surprised. “Were you seriously thinking that was what we were doing here? Cloning humans?” He began to laugh, heartily at first, but soon with raucous intensity.
Artimus was trembling slightly and Neil felt worried. His eyes were darting from side to side and he was licking his lips. It was clear his brain was in overdrive.
Neil went to move, as Artimus slumped into a chair and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “One last thing.” he said, looking at Doctor Waites, his voice wispy. “The men who came here to reprogram the servers. Did they ever say why?”
“How did you know..?” said Doctor Waites, his eyes wide.
“Please.” said Artimus, in a beseeching tone. “Just answer the question.”
“Each week it was a different group. Bought and paid for by Mister Grayson. Some weeks they were working on network bandwidth. Other weeks it was database feeds. To be honest, most of it went over my head. The only person who might know is Gordon Cooper, our modeller. He signed off on the upgrades after checking them on a Friday. The server farm was effectively his domain.”
“We’ve spoken with Gordon. Thanks.” said Artimus, looking increasingly like a man in shock. “That will be all gentlemen.”
As they were ushered back outside and bade both Doctors farewell, Artimus shuffled over to the car and collapsed into the passenger seat.
“To the Yard then.” said Artimus, all the confidence drained from his voice, as he handed Neil a sheet of paper. “You might want to send a couple of uniforms to pick up our culprit too.”
Neil looked at the name Artimus had written on the page. “Seriously?”
However, Artimus did not respond. Head out of the windows as Neil drove, he closed his eyes and seemed content to simply let the afternoon breeze wash over him.
Chapter 31
Nailed
Out of Time Page 30
