Then Sir Walter and I slipped through the building walls and shot back to Carcassonne with nothing to show for our afternoon’s work.
What do we do now? I asked as we journeyed. Do we go back to sneaking around Geneses offices? I was really hoping to suggest San Francisco.
Before you joined me in France, I paid visits to several offices. In Tokyo, I discovered the video which I sent to you. In the Paris and Berlin offices, I found nothing of interest. Helmann’s Moscow office revealed a rather disturbing interest in cloning technology.
Clones? I interrupted. Like, clones?
Human reproductive cloning, yes. He seems both fascinated and repulsed by the idea. I do not know which impulse will win out. The Catholic Church frowns upon the idea.
Huh. All I could think of was Star Wars and the clone army Emperor Palpatine created, which seriously creeped me out as a kid.
In San Francisco I discovered his recent obsession with acquiring real estate. And I remain persuaded that understanding his intention in this area is deeply important.
Okay, I wrote. So we try somewhere else. Flip for it, huh?
Flip?
Flip a coin, dude. Heads, Barcelona—tails, London.
What a … unique means whereby to make decisions of great import.
We didn’t talk the rest of the way. When we got back, the house smelled like pesto, the one dish my sister knows how to cook.
“I found basil taking over the pots in your little greenhouse,” said Mick. “It’s so warm in there, you could have a garden year–round.”
I felt a moment’s guilt, thinking how my sister had been pulled away from her little garden in Las Abs. Over dinner, we discussed the visit to Montpellier.
“It was just weird,” I said.
“Weird in what sense?” asked my sister.
“It was like those guys weren’t alive or dead.” I frowned. “Like they were in some different state of existence.”
“Mon Dieu,” whispered Sir Walter, holding his fork half–way between the bowl and his mouth. “My cousin was fascinated in the eighteenth century by Doctor Mesmer.”
Mick shook her head. “Mesmer?”
“Mesmer, like mesmerize?” I asked.
“Exactement!” said Sir Walter, fork still hovering in mid–air.
“I think you’re on to something,” I said.
“WHAT?” asked my sister, so loudly that Sir Walter’s fork dropped from his grasp. “Sorry,” she murmured.
I turned to my sister. “Hypnosis! What if the sleepers had been hypnotized?”
“That would explain the sound sleeping,” said my sister. “So, how do you wake up someone who’s been hypnotized?”
Excerpted from the private diary of Girard L’Inferne.
Circa 2007
I am informed that a descendant of Elisabeth yet lives. I have investigated ten generations of Elisabeth’s offspring and I find diligent, entrepreneurial souls who leave a legacy of self–sacrifice. They are uniformly intelligent; of tendencies to mental illness, they show none.
From her genes, then, will I offer the reward of longevity to my servants in the Glorious New Order. Well, my dear Helisaba, you could not bear me a child while you lived, but your descendants shall live as princes in the New World Order. Princes who will serve and obey.
Chapter Twenty–One
* * *
CORPOREAL FORM
· SAM ·
As I crossed the threshold, two things happened: the overhead lighting dimmed slightly, and Hans looked up, clearly startled by the change in lighting. And then something even stranger happened. It was as if someone had flipped a switch allowing me to hear inside Hans’ head. Radio–Hans was broadcasting severe distress at the moment: Father has discovered me!
Hans jumped up from the microscope and towards a computer.
Quickly, he closed pages on the screen.
I caught another transmission from inside Hans’ mind as he scanned his computer screen: It is neither Father nor Fritz … As I “heard” these bits, I could feel relief rushing through him.
“Greetings,” he said.
He was greeting me?
“This is a surprise,” he said aloud. “Judging by the precise amount of warm air you have displaced, I believe I must be in the presence of Miss Samantha Ruiz. Or perhaps you would prefer Señorita Ruiz?”
As he spoke, I caught an odd subtext—an unpleasant sensation as he uttered the word “Señorita.”
“To what, I wonder, do I owe the extreme pleasure of your appearance?” Hans laughed softly. “Or rather, your lack of appearance?”
Well, this wasn’t turning out at all as I’d planned. So they had a method for detecting the presence of ripplers? I recalled Helmann asking for a “temperature sweep” of the building. The change of lighting must have been the cue that alerted Hans. I slid inside the wall to see if the lights would change again. Sure enough, the lights returned to full power in the room I’d left.
Hans clicked through screens monitoring the building’s other rooms. He was searching for me. Radio Hans told me he was angered by my disappearance.
I stepped back into the room and the lights dimmed. I felt Hans’ elation at my return. My ability to “hear” him was certainly improved. Must have been all the nights I’d spent listening to Christian.
“Come, now, you’ve traveled so far. How are we to converse if I alone have vocal chords?” He chuckled, but the way he presented himself on the outside didn’t match what he felt on the inside. “Perhaps we could share a cup of hot chocolate together? There were so many things I wished to say to you but was unable to as a result of the abruptness of your departure.” His voice was smooth and soothing; his emotions were sharp, dangerous.
It was similar to the first time I’d overheard his thoughts. Aloud, he’d calmly asked Helmann’s forgiveness. In his mind, he’d raged in self–defense. It seemed I couldn’t hear all of his thoughts like I could Christian’s. Perhaps I only overheard Hans’ thoughts if they were charged with high levels of emotion.
“Miss Ruiz?” He paused. “Samantha? Let me first offer to you my deep regret for the, ah, methods I employed upon your last visit.”
Radio Hans made clear he didn’t feel any regret.
He continued. “However, I am most happy to report that all of my hopes and plans are now well underway.” His emotions agreed with his spoken words this time. “Perhaps it is the cameras that make you hesitate? Allow me one moment. They don’t record sound, you know.”
During the time it took him to say these things, he’d risen, turned out the hall and room lights, and dashed around the four corners of the room. I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I could hear him moving.
The lights came back on. “There we are,” said Hans. He pointed to cameras in the corner. He’d placed sticky–notes over the lenses.
Why had he turned off the lights to do this? In a flash, I realized he didn’t want his associates to know he’d stopped the video feed. Before I could think through the implications any further, he addressed me once more.
“Will you now honor me with your corporeal form? There are so many things I could tell you, my dear, if you would but ask it of me.”
That convinced me. If Hans really was changing the course of Helmann’s plans, didn’t I owe it to Will, Mick, and Sir Walter to find out everything I could?
I came solid. “What can you tell me?”
Hans rose and strode towards me.
“Stop right there!” I ordered.
He halted and held his arms wide, smiling. “I mean you no harm,” he said aloud.
But Radio Hans said otherwise. He absolutely meant me harm.
“Tell me about your father’s plans to erase half of humanity,” I demanded.
He didn’t reply right away. Not aloud. But from his mind I caught more than just an emotion this time. I heard a full sentence: More than half—we rid the planet of five billion! I felt his glee as he thought this. So much for Hans the hum
anitarian.
Hans spoke, head tilted to one side. “Do you recollect what use my father is making of your egg?”
“You said he wanted a kid. You said it would distract him so that you could run things.”
From Hans’ mind, I caught a flash of anger, quickly extinguished, as he turned from me. He indicated the microscope I’d seen him peering into when I arrived. It was set up to look at something inside what resembled a four foot tall thermos. “In here lie wonders, Samantha! Come, come—have a look!”
“Is my egg in there?”
His mouth stretched wide. I’m sure it was meant to be a grin, but it reminded me of Helga’s feral smile. “So much more than that!”
Without realizing it, I’d crept forwards, almost within reach of Hans.
“It is a perfect copy of you,” he said. His arm stretched towards me, a casual gesture.
I recoiled.
“Oh, come now, my dear,” said Hans, “Have I not already obtained all I desired from you?” He turned back to the device. “Herein lies your double. Will you not have a look?”
In that instant, he reached for my arm and his grip was like iron. Immediately, I rippled away.
Radio Hans got louder now that I was invisible. And none of it was pretty. Filthy half–breed … Spaniard–tainted … Blood of Moors and Mayans …
He despised me.
His voice, however, spoke in tones of infinite calm. “Do you still fear me?” He shook his head sadly, as if in regret. “You have just proven how safe you are, even when within my reach. Do you see in my hands anything with which I could harm you?” He held his hands wide for my viewing. As he did so, I saw a flash of an image, courtesy of Hans–vision: his jacket pocket was stuffed with needles, weapon of choice for Geneses employees, apparently. I thought I’d seen a revolver and a knife as well.
I couldn’t let myself get near him.
“She will be raised as a queen, you know,” said Hans, “This tiny replica of yourself. She will never know loss, or grief, or lack. Imagine that, Samantha. A version of yourself who never suffers the ache of her mother’s death.” He lowered his voice. “Yes, my dear, I know of that tragedy.”
Because you caused it! I thought.
Suddenly it occurred to me to wonder whether the “radio” worked both ways.
I know what you did, you bastard! I sent the thought as clearly as I could towards Hans.
“I confess, I have considered creating a second–self of my own,” said Hans.
He didn’t seem to notice my silent messages; I tried one last time: You’re evil! I hate you! Do you hear that?
He couldn’t—I would have caught some flare of emotion if he’d heard me insulting him like that.
He spoke again. “They say that twins have no need for anyone else—that they inhabit together a private and complete world. Would not that level of companionship be marvelous?”
Two of Hans was not something the world needed.
He gazed again into the microscope, ignoring me for the moment.
And then, seeping slowly inside me, I felt the mystery and wonder of being in the presence of my own self, in a Petri dish. All that I was. All that I could be. It was terrifying and tantalizing: who would I have been without seeing my mother killed before my eyes? Without believing, as I had for years, that it was my fault? I saw myself with Gwyn’s easy laughter, Sylvia’s confidence. I could have been so different.
My heart went out to this tiny duplicate Sam. And the thought of what I’d come here to do filled me with dread. But that Sam, the one in the thermos, would be brought up by Helmann, author of the dark experiments in the black book. I could not allow that. Not in a million years. Not for anything.
“All of your cells, busily replicating themselves,” said Hans. “While you yourself stand invisibly here. You feel the immensity of what we carry out, do you not? Perhaps there might be a place for you in the future I imagine.” He sighed. “But we will never know if you refuse to come solid and converse like an adult.”
His anger pushed through with that last barb, but I felt his yearning as well: he really wanted me back.
And now I wanted the same thing. I realized that I could get him to think the truth even if he spoke nothing but lies aloud. I came solid.
“Here I am,” I said. “Tell me, Hans, one more time: what is your dream for the future?”
I stood well back from him as he began repeating what he’d told me the day he’d kidnapped me. But this time I didn’t pay attention to his words. I focused on what was playing on Hans–vision instead.
Destruction. Deaths of millions. Of billions.
His true feelings didn’t “play” for long; they came as flashes of emotion—brief, intense, and then gone, like sparks quickly stamped out.
I interrupted him, trying to coax forth another burst of truth. “What do you want most in all this?”
He paused, clearly irritated by the interruption. But I got what I wanted. I saw images from his mind, sharp and clear: Hans, standing over his father’s grave; Hans, behind a podium as head of Geneses. And one more image.
My clone, dead at his feet.
I caught it all in that instant. He feared his father meant to supplant him by creating a child with Elisabeth’s blood who would rule at his side. Hans was jealous of me.
My mind was spinning. He’d seemed so eager to protect me last fall, telling his sister to stay away from me. But that was the thing—he’d only just realized why his dad wanted me. He’d only just realized that a Sam–clone spelled the end of all his dreams.
While I was working through these thoughts, Hans had crept up on me. He’d reached inside his coat. Lightning–fast, he sprang at me, a knife glittering in his outstretched hand.
Chapter Twenty–Two
* * *
MESMERIZED
· WILL ·
I jolted awake early the next morning, just as the stars began to wink out before dawn. I’d realized something important. Throwing off my covers, I ran down the hall to get Sir Walter up. His room lay empty. I ran to Mick’s room, about to pound the door. But then I realized there was a fire blazing in the living room. I wasn’t the only one up early. I flew into the living room where Mickie and Sir Walter sat talking.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” asked my sister.
“The pass–phrase is for them!” I said. “The dudes who were hypnotized!”
Mick looked at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for more.
“Yes,” murmured Sir Walter. “But, of course.”
I explained to Mick that Pfeffer and Franz wanted to get a pass–phrase from Helmann so they could start “releasing angels,” whatever that meant.
“Did the sleeping guys look like angels?” asked my sister.
“They look like Helga,” I said. “I mean, like boy versions.”
“Like members of the so–called Aryan race?” said my sister.
Sir Walter nodded.
“Maybe it’s a good thing you couldn’t wake any of them,” said Mick, looking worried.
“Our next step must be to discover the pass–phrase,” said Sir Walter. “This is indeed a matter of grave urgency.”
“Yeah, that’ll be easy enough,” I said, shaking my head. “What was that you were saying about Helmann keeping important info to himself?”
Sir Walter ignored my comment. “Pfeffer seemed to think he might know the pass–phrase, or a hint as to its nature.”
Mick turned pale. “If you feel you need to go back to Rome …”
I shook my head. “It’s crazy thinking we can guess it. Franz wasn’t exactly encouraging to Pfeffer that either of them could guess it.”
“His hesitation was not as to the ease with which the phrase might be found,” said Sir Walter. “Franz warned against trying to use it without their father’s permission. I think Pfeffer had a pretty shrewd guess what the pass–phrase might be.”
“That ‘three little words’ thing?” I asked.
Sir Walter
quoted Pfeffer. “‘Three little words that changed my life will soon change the world.’”
“Oh, no,” murmured Mick, looking like she was going to be sick. “Oh, man …”
“Mademoiselle, are you ill?”
“Mick?” I crossed to my sister and knelt before her.
She sat still, staring into the blazing fire.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. Then I turned to Sir Walter. “She knows the password, but she’s afraid we’ll use it if she tells us.”
“Of course I’m afraid,” she snapped. “But I’m not going to let my fear stand in the way.” She deflated, sagging into the couch. “I know what’s at stake here, Will. Give me a little credit.”
Sir Walter looked expectantly, giving my sister a minute to pull it together.
“Get the black book Pfeffer stole,” she said.
Chapter Twenty–Three
* * *
SHE HAD SPIRIT
· Sam ·
A month ago, I wouldn’t have escaped. Heck, this morning, I wouldn’t have made it. But all my practice at evading a sharp jab with a needle paid off. I rippled away before Hans reached me. The lights dimmed instantly.
He stumbled through the air that had been me. I slipped back inside the wall, instinctively seeking cover even though I was invisible.
He looked up as the lights came back full power. And then, finally, he allowed his inside feelings and the outside expression of them to exist in harmony.
It was not pretty.
He grabbed a chair and hurled it across the room. The computer suffered the same fate. He cleared a long counter, smashing each item against an opposite wall. Finally, after shoving everything off his desk in one large swipe, he paused. Hands on hips, he gazed about the room.
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