by Brian Parker
Included amongst the papers was a list of politicians, business owners and even a few local celebrities that had been cloned, some with their permission in the early days when they thought it was a way to preserve their health, others without. According to the document, all had been replaced and were dependent upon the mayor’s people to give them their injections, which ensured they would do whatever the mayor directed. The list stopped one week before I rescued her from the warehouse in Easytown so there was no telling how many more had been cloned and replaced in the time since.
Kelsey had even managed to get a picture of the mayor having sex with a television news anchor while he slit her throat. She’d put a handwritten note along with the picture stating she bribed one Joseph Kleer—the same thug that stole the clones and was later perforated with a few hundred rounds of 5.56 millimeter—into taking the picture, stating it was the real woman, not a clone.
The most damning evidence, and I assumed what ultimately got her cloned and replaced, was a series of messages to Mayor Cantrell stating that she knew he was involved in the torture and murder of multiple humans that he told investors were clones—which is why the ones I’d rescued had their memories wiped. They were the real people, replaced by clones, and they were sold into the torture tourism business for the entertainment of a twisted segment of our population.
Brubaker took the documents without serving the warrant and told me I had a week before he’d be back. Three days later, uniformed cops showed up and stood guard outside my hospital room door. Judge Hennessey had granted a petition for the removal of Mayor Cantrell signed by a majority of the city council and withdrew the warrant against me until an independent investigation was complete. The mayor disappeared ahead of the warrant, so someone on the court staff had tipped him off.
Then, surprisingly, Andi called me. Police officers who showed up to remove the crime scene tape from my apartment had plugged her back in and she was pissed at the mess. During the “investigation” they’d torn my place apart, looking for any evidence that would have told them where I’d gone when I slipped their net. I had her document everything for an insurance claim and then hire a cleaning company to do what they could. I also required new furniture since they’d “searched” through my couch cushions and mattress with a knife.
Assholes.
Once my apartment was restored to a semi-normal state, Teagan moved out of the hotel in Slidell and into my place temporarily while they repaired her apartment. It was the least I could do since I’d dragged her into this mess.
Sadie visited me in the hospital as well and I told her about Kelsey’s involvement in the scheme. She took the news hard, questioning how the person she’d been could have done such things. Kelsey knew about the illegal cloning and tried to get a piece of the action, first by attempting to blackmail Tommy Voodoo, then the mayor. It didn’t work out for her. Instead, she got her memory wiped and now Sadie would have a lifetime of therapy for it—or a lengthy prison sentence.
I felt bad for her. The woman I’d rescued and gotten to know was not the woman who did those things. But, it a jury probably wouldn’t differentiate between Kelsey Bloomfield and Sadie. The public would demand justice for the crimes the other woman had helped to facilitate.
Now I was home, doing mundane things like ignoring my toilet computer and trying to avoid hitting my head on anything accidentally.
When I came out of the bathroom, Andi started immediately. “You really should view the video that Mr. Young sent right away, Zach.”
“Hold on, Andi. I want to get a cup of coffee first. Can I do that, please?”
“Of course, boss. I apologize for my exuberant behavior.”
“Eh,” I grunted. “Let’s remove exuberant from your vocabulary. Nobody uses that word.”
“Understood. Removing the word ‘exuberant’ from my speech patterns.”
“I like the word,” Teagan murmured from underneath the covers. She slid them down so just her face showed. “It’s a sophisticated word that should be brought back. It sounds so much more educated than excited or cheerful.”
I smiled at Teagan, her hazel eyes seemed more green than brown this morning. “I stand corrected, Andi. You may continue the use of the word.”
“Understood. Reinstating the word ‘exuberant’ to my speech patterns.”
“So, you can teach an old dog new tricks, huh?” Teagan teased.
“Maybe for the right person, that old dog is willing to learn a few tricks.”
“Okay,” she responded, flipping the covers open completely to reveal her nude body. “You can come back over here.”
“I really must insist that you watch the video,” Andi pressed. “You will both be pleased.”
I took one long, wistful glance at Teagan and sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry, Teagan. I want nothing more than to spend all day in bed with you.”
“I get it,” she answered. “I’ve got class in a couple of hours anyways—and I’ve missed way too much lately,” she added. “How long is the vid?”
“Four minutes, thirty-two seconds.”
Teagan slipped on one of my t-shirts that she’d adopted while I was gone and we went into the kitchen for coffee.
“Ugh,” I groaned, staring at the large mound of old case files on the table. “I’d forgotten about those.”
The cleaning crew hadn’t been able to recreate my elaborate filing system of stacking case files in certain places across the entire surface of the dining room table. It would take me hours, maybe even days to fix it.
“Maybe you should get a filing cabinet,” Teagan suggested.
“No way. I knew exactly where everything was the old way.”
“But how often did you have anyone else eating over here?”
She had a point. Her stay was temporary, but hopefully she’d be coming over more often. Without the table, the options were standing in the kitchen, which I often did, or eating on the couch. Neither of which were exactly civilized.
“I’m not asking you to change your whole way of life, Zach. Please don’t think that.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” I guess I’d taken too long to respond to her. “I was just thinking about where a cabinet would go.”
“How about right there in the corner next to your gun safe?”
I glanced at the safe. There was enough space for an upright filing cabinet that wasn’t being used.
“Sounds good. Andi, can you order a filing cabinet that will fit beside the safe?”
“Metal or composite? Three or five drawer? Lockable or not? Do you require an additional alarm system?”
“Uh… Composite, five, yes and no?”
“We’re in luck, boss. There’s one in stock, in town. It will be here by 3 p.m.”
“Whoa,” Teagan exclaimed. “That was crazy.”
“That’s why I have her,” I replied. “Let’s see this vid you’re so exuberant to show me, Andi.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, Chris Young’s message displayed on the wall:
Zach, you need to watch this. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been on site when my cameraman recorded it. This is the raw footage from our live feed yesterday and I haven’t had the opportunity to edit or prepare the voiceover yet, which we’ll broadcast on the megavid screens throughout town this afternoon. But, since you have so much invested in this case I decided to let you get the first look.
Ignore the rocket comment. I was obviously dazed and we’ll edit that out. Your troubles are over!
Cheers,
Chris
After a couple of seconds passed to allow me to read what he’d typed, the vid began playing. It showed several marked state police cars and what I assumed were unmarked cars parked in a vee formation blocking the entrance to the parking lot outside what looked like a large hotel. I didn’t recognize the place.
In the video, Chris said, “Are we live? Are we— Hello, this is Chris Young. I’m coming to you live from the prestigious Windmere Resort & Spa in
Gramercy, about fifty miles west of New Orleans. As you can see, the Louisiana State Police, the Gramercy SWAT team and members of the FBI have been called to this location because of a potential hostage situation.
“We have word that the New Orleans mayor, Mayor Derek Cantrell, is involved. You may remember that Mayor Cantrell was recently removed from office after he was implicated in the so-called torture tourism ring, kidnapping and murder, and the illegal manufacture of human clones. He’s been missing since being relieved of his office.
“Our sources say that Mayor Cantrell is inside the Windmere Resort & Spa and may be a hostage.” He put his finger to his ear and nodded. “No, I’m being told that the mayor may be the one who took the hostages, not the other way around.”
The video cut between scenes and it was obviously later in the day, the sun beating down onto the police officers on the perimeter.
“So, if you can see behind me, the building is laid out almost like an uppercase H-design when viewed from above. As you can imagine, a building this large is exceptionally hard for police officers to raid and secure since there is so much space to hide and so many potential exits. Additionally, we don’t know where the hostages are being held at this time. If I had to guess—”
The camera shook and then fell to the ground as a massive explosion took out the top two floors of the far right wing of the front building. One moment everything was seemingly peaceful, the next, it had gone to shit.
Large chunks of burning drywall and roof shingles rained down around the prone cameraman. “Get up, Danny!” Chris said.
“Gail, are you getting this? There was some type of explosion at the Windmere Resort & Spa. We’d been following the developing story of Mayor Derek Cantrell, the recently removed mayor of New Orleans, when the building exploded.”
He pointed to the missing floors. “As you can see, it was a massive explosion. It looks like it destroyed the top two floors of the resort. We don’t know yet whether the explosion came from inside the resort or if the police fired some type of rocket at the building. It’s too early to tell.”
The camera focused on officers opening a clamshell trailer. Once the roof and sides were out of the way, a drone similar to what the NOPD used lifted skyward. It circled the building multiple times and I knew it was scanning. I didn’t know what type of equipment it was equipped with, so it could have been scanning for people or more explosives.
Chris remained silent for the first pass and then continued talking. “As you can see, Gail, the police have released a drone. We’re being told it’s an EOD drone—that’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal—that is searching for more explosives.”
The camera zoomed out to show police officers running forward. “The drone must have cleared the building,” Chris stated, “because officers are now moving in.”
Chris and his cameraman advanced several feet until they were stopped by a uniformed officer. “We’re being told that we can’t go any closer, Gail. This is as close as the state police are going to allow us to go. There’s—hey! Look over there, the SWAT team appears to have two people in custody.
“Can you? Yeah, zoom in on that.” The camera zoomed in and I recognized the mayor. He was in handcuffs between two cops. Behind him, a giant bear of a man was also in handcuffs. Neither looked like they’d gone down without a fight.
“That’s Mayor Cantrell! He was probably trying to use the explosion as a distraction to escape on the opposite end of the building.
“Can you see this, Gail? It appears that New Orleans Mayor Derek Cantrell is in custody after a dramatic chain of events. We don’t have positive identification yet, but from what we can tell, it certainly looks like him. Of course, if you remember my exclusive report on illegal cloning last week, the FBI will still need to conduct DNA testing to determine if he’s a clone. If he is a clone, then the real Derek Cantrell may still be on the run.”
The video ended and I glanced at Teagan, who stared openmouthed at the blank wall where the video had played.
“Um, that did not play live yesterday,” she managed to say.
“They’re keeping it under wraps,” I answered. “Smart. That way, they make sure they’ve got the real Cantrell and not a clone.”
“Are you ready to watch Chief Brubaker’s message?” Andi asked. “It correlates directly with what you are discussing.”
“Yeah. Go ahead and play it back.”
“Forrest, this is Brubaker,” the chief’s gruff voice echoed over my apartment’s speakers as his craggy face filled the wall. “Your AI tells me that you’re still sleeping. Good. Get some rest now because we have a giant backlog of cases that Cruz couldn’t handle on his own. Seems there’s some new type of killer robot wars happening between rival gangs and civilians are getting caught in the crossfire.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about the standoff in Gramercy by now. DNA evidence confirms that the real Derek Cantrell is behind bars. The DA’s office had a field day with the evidence you provided and subpoenaed Biologiqué International’s network servers and every computer still functioning. It seems there was a massive amount of damage to the local network the other night by unknown vandals.
“One more thing. There’s been a string of deaths among prominent people in the city. Seems they’re all dying of some type of inoperable kidney failure. They go in to the hospital and ten, twelve hours later they’re dead. Some of them were on Bloomfield’s list of known clones, most of them aren’t. Seems like without the juice from Cantrell, they shrivel up and die. The department has taken a few of them into custody and provided the injections that will keep them alive.
“They’re singing like birds as long as we give them their daily shot of life. We recovered four cases of the stuff in Cantrell’s home, but we’ll have to lean on your pal, Ladeaux, to get the manufacturing process turned back on for that serum—it’s going quick.”
He paused to spit out a bit of chewed tobacco, which echoed around my living room and caused Teagan to blanch.
“Oh yeah, before I forget,” Brubaker’s message continued. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch. Thomas Ladeaux has decided not to press charges against you for breaking and entering his building, destroying his property, restraining security personnel and setting his cloning business back by several months and an untold amount of money. The DA is also dropping the two murder charges against you since the video only shows the Paladin in Slidell, not you. Saint Michael must be watching after your sorry ass.”
He cleared his throat and continued, “In all seriousness, I’m glad you’re alright and that none of those bullshit charges against you panned out. I’ll see you Monday at the precinct.”
The message ended and Andi said, “You have four more days until Monday, Zach. I recommend you get as much rest as possible. Studies show that rest and decreased activity are key factors in the healing process.”
I took a long sip from my coffee and then set the mug back on the coffee table. “I’m sick of lying in bed, Andi. I need to do something.”
Teagan grabbed my hand and interlocked her fingers in mine. “You could take me out to dinner tonight. We still haven’t had our official first date yet.”
“We had that picnic,” I stated.
“Oh, no you don’t, mister. You’re gonna take me someplace nice. I’m sure that New Orleans Hero Cop Zachary Forrest can get us reservations somewhere last minute while I’m in class.”
I groaned at her use of Chris Young’s term. “I’m not gonna live that one down, am I?”
She threw her leg over mine and then straddled me. “Maybe in time—but you’re gonna have to work it off.”
I met with Sadie a couple of days after I learned of the mayor’s arrest. The police department had allowed her to return to her home in Lakeshore, a posh neighborhood that only the very rich could afford. They’d completed their search and hadn’t found anything at the house.
“How are you holding up?” I asked. She’d been devastated when I’d originally told her t
hat she was implicated in the torture tourism case.
“As well as can be expected, I guess. I’ve been put through a battery of medical and psychological tests, but they can’t find any trace of my memories from my time at Biologiqué International. Since my mind was wiped by those sick bastards, the district attorney has decided not to seek criminal charges against me, although there may be a civil case in the future by families of the victims.”
“No jail time,” I stated. “That’s huge. Congratulations!”
“Thanks.”
She frowned and fretted with a string on her pant leg. “It’s just… What kind of a person would do that stuff? Condone the torture and murder of anyone, let alone potentially hundreds of people. Am I a monster?”
I shook my head. “No, you’re not. In fact, you’re not even Kelsey Bloomfield anymore. You’re Sadie, the strong, independent woman who’s been through a fuck-ton of shit. You just happen to have the same name as that other person.”
I paused to arrange my thoughts and put my experience dealing with murderers, rapists and thieves every day for more than a decade into words that would mean something to her. “A monster doesn’t ask whether they are a monster. They accept it, they revel in it. Being evil defines them. That’s not you. You, the person who you’ve been made into today, is not like that. You have a completely blank canvas to paint your masterpiece on. You can be anybody that you want to be.”
The nod of her chin was barely noticeable. “I don’t want to be like that. I want to help people, not hurt them. I just don’t understand how I—how Kelsey could have gone down that road. I remember her childhood. It was totally fine, there wasn’t anything bad that happened to her that would have made her turn out the way she did.”
“Sometimes people start out gradually, a faked report here, a lie about a project there, and then before you know it, they’ve slid completely down that slope to become so mired in their lies and misdealings that they’ll grasp at whatever comes along. Maybe that’s what happened to her. Maybe she turned a blind eye to one illegal cloning or needed money for something and eventually it became commonplace. Then, when she tried to blackmail the mayor, she ceased to exist, and then you were born.”