“I’m afraid you’ll have to get tomorrow’s paper to read the full letter,” the editor said.
The anchor smiled but persisted, “Any chance you can give us an idea of what it talks about?”
“Let’s just say it talks about Judgment Day, the Lord Savior, and them having just begun their work.”
“And the complete letter will be in tomorrow’s Boston Globe?” the anchor asked.
Kate muted the TV and returned her attention to Luke on the phone. “Unbelievable,” she said.
He sighed again on his end. “The world’s officially gone crazy.”
“Religious fanatics. Aren’t they the most dangerous people on this planet?”
“They’re up there on the list, that’s for sure,” Luko said. “Anyway, I was just calling to wish you good night. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. “Good night, Luko. Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Kate. I... I...” he said, letting a heavy pause fill the airwaves.
Oh, no. What is he about to say? Don’t voice it for the first time over the phone.
“What?” she asked, hopeful he wasn’t going to say he loved her.
“Want to grab dinner with me some day this week?”
A wave of relief went through Kate’s mind. “Sure, we’ll play it by ear. I don’t know what my schedule will be like. I’m meeting with the FBI tomorrow morning. I don’t know if they’ll keep me on the case or if I’ll go back to patrolling.”
“Okay, keep me posted. Good night, Katie.”
“Good night, Luko.”
She turned the volume back on to see if there was anything else worth listening to, but the channels were all regurgitating the same information.
So Juliet, Mr. C, and Mr. S are religious fanatics? Hard to believe based on how Robbie described Juliet, but he probably didn’t get to know her that well.
All Kate needed now was to prove that Kenny was somehow connected to these religious fanatics. She needed records.
Chapter Forty
August 3, 2015
Kate Murphy
Roxbury Police Station, Boston
“Listen up, folks,” Agent Lack said in a booming voice, silencing the thirty or so people that crowded into the conference room.
A table stood in the middle of the space, holding a laptop computer, projector, three donut trays, a box of muffins, and two pump-action coffee dispensers. Most attendees were unknown to Kate, probably all FBI, except for Capt. Cranston, Detective Lt. Fuller, and his team of detectives. Stephany, the brown-haired female agent she’d met a few days ago, Wang, and herself were the only women present. Kate felt a little out of place—and Fuller’s current gaze in her direction made it clear she didn’t belong here—but Agent Lack had requested for her to be present. The door squeaked, and Kate saw Luke squeeze in just before Lack resumed.
“We’ve confirmed that the Ohio sheriff is our leak to the press, so we know what the media got. They’ll be tracking every little detail, so keep your mouth shut. We can’t afford to lose any element of surprise if we manage to pinpoint these peoples’ location. And, this also applies to the severed dick in the cardinal’s mouth. I’ve heard the giggles.”
More laughs and giggles uttered around Kate.
Is that how the cardinal’s body was mutilated?
She smiled. It was hard to feel bad for a pedophile, especially one in a robe.
“This detail hasn’t been released to the public, and it needs to stay that way. We still don’t know if it was committed by a clone or not, but it fits in nicely with the cloners’ latest letter to the editor. Here’s where we stand,” Lack said then nodded at a short brown-haired man holding a remote.
The PowerPoint slide changed into a map of the Northeastern United States.
“The red areas are pockets that could potentially match the location of the Colony,” Lack continued. “We’re going through satellite pictures and eliminating as many as we can, but it’s tough. We couldn’t trace any past locations from Robertson’s cellphone. We’re going through land title records for anything that could remotely match the clone’s description of the place.”
He nodded again, and a new slide appeared.
“This is Juliet, or JJ, as described by the clone and rendered by the sketch artist.”
Another nod, another slide.
“We had nothing in our database, but it’s amazing what you can find nowadays with Google’s image search. Meet Juliet Jackson,” Lack said, this time showing a real picture of her. She was a beautiful woman. The sketch artist had done a great job capturing her delicate, pointy nose and her full lips. Her close-set, sultry eyes made her appear curious and sensual at the same time. Her strawberry-blonde hair looked similar to Kate’s, explaining why Robbie had bonded with her in the first place.
Lack changed slides again, this time showing a picture of Juliet standing up. Their hair was similar, but their bodies were definitely on two opposite ends of the spectrum. Kate was athletic, her hips narrow; she’d never been able to fill more than a B-cup bra, while Juliet was the picture of pure, raw sex-appeal. Sensuality was oozing out of her like honey out of a comb.
Lack switched to another image of her, then another. The last photo was of her standing in a very short dress with a deep neckline. An old brick building was in the back, along with groups of young adults, books in hand.
“Harvard University, 1980,” Lack continued. “Once we got her full name, we tracked down her story. A brilliant woman. Well educated, a degree in medicine, with a master’s in fertility. Graduated at the top of her class.”
Another nod, another slide.
“Here’s what she looks like today, or at least that’s the most recent picture we found. She’s fifty-six years old, married to Stéphane Moissonneau, whom we believe to be Mr. S.”
Another nod. This time the slide showed a man who Kate recognized based on what she’d seen the sketch artist draw, but this was a much younger version of him. He looked like a man in his mid-twenties. His hair hadn’t started to bald or turn gray.
“Doctor Moissonneau was born in France. His parents immigrated to America when he was eleven. He’s now fifty-four. Also a graduate of Harvard Medical. We assume that’s where they met. Their marriage certificate was signed in Boston in 1981. Master’s in biology and doctorate in genetics. He was involved in helping map the human genome way back in the project’s early days. Doctors we spoke to thought very poorly of him. They said he’d published a research paper that discredited him as a scientist, and then he lost his medical license because of some experiment he’d done. Something related to his paper. We got a copy of that research paper, all one hundred and twenty-one pages of it,” he said, holding up a thick pile of sheets clipped together by the largest paper clip Kate had ever seen.
“It’s filled with gibberish and fancy medical terms I don’t understand. I have no intention of reading it.” He waved it in the air, then said, “Thompson or Purdy, if you can read this, be my guest.”
He threw the thick report onto the table before continuing, “At the time, he was working at a university. When his peers and colleagues turned their backs on him, he disappeared from the map. Left without warning or even picking up his last paycheck. Hasn’t been seen since then. His drivers’ license hasn’t been renewed in decades. No credit cards in his name, but his family’s filthy rich and back in France now. He’s got access to plenty of money.”
A nod, then the slide changed once more, this one showing the sketch artist’s third representation.
“As for Mr. C, no luck so far, but we’ll keep looking into the background of both JJ and Mr. S. We’re hoping some dots will connect somehow. We believe he’s English, but could be Australian, Irish, or god-knows-what.”
Lack brought a cup of coffee to his mouth, sipped, smacked his lips, and exhaled loudly before continuing his brief.
He nodded again to request the next slide. “I’m sure all of you have read o
r heard about the editorial letters in the Boston Globe. If you haven’t read the latest one yet, here it is.”
The PowerPoint slide now displayed the letter:
If you’ve misused your power, misled others, or accepted bribes to promote a misguided soul’s evil plans, it’s time to repent of your sins. Judgment Day is coming.
We’re among the crowd. We’re watching. We’re ready to act. We’ve only just begun. Once we clear out the trash in this part of the country, we’ll move on to another part, then another.
We will not harm those who pursue their true path, those who respect and model our Lord Savior. But we are following His orders and have created our army. We’re ready to wipe the world clean of all evils.
You know who you are, and we’re watching you.
Get ready for Judgment Day.
- SJC
After a minute of silence, Agent Lack continued. “Both letters were signed SJC, and so far the public seems to believe the signature to be religious in some way, but it’s pretty clear the initials stand for Stéphane, Juliet, and some male name starting with a C. Makes it freaking difficult to find. Let the crowd believe it’s Saint Jesus Christ or whatever. Fine by me. Any questions so far?” Lack asked.
Kate looked around. Most agents were also scanning the room with their eyes and remaining otherwise motionless, except for Luke. He slid between agents, approached the table, then took the thick report. “I’ll have a read. I speak genetics.”
“And you are?” Lack asked.
Before Luke could even open his mouth, the gray-headed, bearded man she’d seen with Luke before answered. “He’s the DNA lab supervisor. I asked him to join us. He knows more about the topic than Purdy and me combined.”
“What he said,” Luke said, smiling at Lack.
“Fine. This information is on a strict need-to-know basis, but if you can make sense of this crap, give me a summary in plain English.”
“Will do,” Luke said before retreating to the back of the room with the report.
An agent directed a question at Lack. “How did you get a recent picture of her but not him? Are we sure they’re still married?”
Lack responded, “Yes, as far as we know. She seems to be the public one. I suspect that, even at her age, she has her ways of getting information out of men.” Muffled giggles rumbled across the room. “She must be the one who travels to and from the Colony to take out money, pick up supplies, whatever they don’t have access to there.”
“When was she last seen?” another person asked.
“Her most recent picture was from a fundraiser, about six months ago. Waterfront, here in Boston.” Lack turned his attention to the man holding the remote. “Lockheart, could you bring that image up? It should be saved in the same folder.” He waited for a few seconds, then continued once the fundraiser picture appeared on the wall behind him. “We’ve put out a BOLO on her, so we can surveil her and hopefully follow her back to their Colony.”
“Do they own any land?” yet another asked.
“We checked. Nothing under these names, but who’s to say they don’t use other names?” Lack replied. “We’re going to send these pictures out to various law enforcement agencies throughout the Northeast to see if anyone recognizes them. One of them has to have seen her. And they’d remember her for sure.”
“What about Robertson, the clone? Where is he now?” Kate asked.
“We had to let the fucker go. Nobody pressed charges, and we had no legal grounds to hold him or force him to go through the DNA tests we wanted to run. But we’ve got two guys surveilling him as we speak, and, Murphy, you’ll go and join them as soon as we break here, just in case he goes split-bonkers-latent on us. If he does, he may save us hours’—if not days’—worth of research when he starts talking again.”
“Yes, sir.” Kate hadn’t done much surveilling, but it’d certainly beat patrolling. She was looking forward to hanging out with FBI detectives. “How do I get ahold of your guys?”
“Lamoureux here will fill you in,” Lack said, nodding his chin toward a thick-chested, grumpy-looking man across the room from her. Kate’s eyes met his for a brief nod.
“How about DNA harvesting. What do we know?” another agent asked.
Lack shook his head. “Nothing.”
“How many originals do we have that were cloned for sure?” someone else asked.
“Four. What we know about them is on the wall in the next conference room.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “We tried to find a commonality among them, but couldn’t. We moved on to pinpoint the location of the Colony instead. Feel free to dig up more dirt. It’s worse than the proverbial needle in the haystack.”
Another man spoke up: “The picture of her, six months ago, did we ask the organizer of that fundraiser? He must have her contact info if she was invited.”
“We checked and were told she wasn’t invited. She crashed the party,” Lack said, looking behind him at the picture that was still up.
“Senator Russell is in that picture,” Kate said. “I bet he’s got Juliet’s contact info. Probably not where his secretary or wife could find it, but maybe on his phone?”
Lack nodded thoughtfully. “Worth a shot. Hardwell, follow up on that.”
“How about future victims?” Capt. Cranston asked. “Any thoughts on who will be next?”
“Fuck,” Lack said with a laugh. “Show me a politician who isn’t crooked, and I’ll shit my pants right here, right now. Every freaking power-hungry guy in this town is probably on these crazy bastards’ list. I don’t mean any disrespect, Captain Cranston, but there’s no way your team can protect them. The list is just too fucking long: judges, mayors, senators, CEOs, priests… who knows who else? If these people have bloody shit on their shoes, they have to watch their backs.”
Agent Lack reached for a donut on the table and bit into it. The room remained quiet for a few seconds longer. Probably sensing everyone’s eyes watching him chew, he looked up. “Get to work,” he said, his mouth half-full, his hand waving them out of the room.
Kate headed to meet Lamoureux, but he raised his index finger, making her stop a couple of feet away from him. He pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and then dialed a number.
“Where are you? Sending the bait over.”
“The bait?” Kate asked, lifting a brow.
“That’s your role,” Lamoureux said. He pulled out his notepad, scribbled something, then ripped out a page. “They’re sitting in a black Ford Taurus, near this intersection.”
He handed her the paper.
“What if they move before I get there?”
“Better hurry.”
Kate hesitated for a second before asking, “Could you write down the number you just called?”
He shook his head, let out an annoyed breath, then grabbed the piece of paper out of Kate’s hand. He added a series of numbers without checking his phone, and then returned the paper to Kate.
“Thanks,” she said, hurrying out of the room. She was pretty sure the numbers he wrote were just random ones from the top of his head to appease her.
Jackass.
Luke was waiting for her by the door at the back of the room.
“Gotta run. Talk later,” she said, not even feigning a smile. She was still annoyed at Lamoureux and his more-than-likely fake number.
Luke’s only reply was, “Okay,” with a disappointed look in his eyes.
Fuck.
No time to worry if she had hurt his feelings, somehow, again. He knew how busy she was. He’d heard the same stuff she’d heard. There wasn’t a second to waste.
Kate ran downstairs to grab a set of patrol car keys but found that all of them had been checked out. “Where are the other keys?” she asked the shift supervisor.
“They’re being maintained.”
“I need a ride.”
“Capt. Cranston took you off patrols for the week. I don’t have an extra car for you.”
“Fuck! Can y
ou radio for a pick-up here? Please? I need to get to Winthrop.”
“Ooh la la, pretty Murphy is playing detective and needs a ride,” a voice said behind her.
Kate spun around and saw Smitty mocking her.
“Smitty, what’s wrong with you?” she asked, annoyed. “The FBI asshole is already fucking with me. If I don’t get there soon, I’ll be led down a rabbit hole. They hate me even more than you could possibly despise me right this second.”
The sergeant stared at her for a couple of seconds, looked at Smitty, then reached down to the radio behind him. “Unit 4, swing by the station for a pick-up. Front door.”
A few seconds later, an affirmative response was heard.
“Thanks, Sergeant. I appreciate it,” Kate said.
She hurried to the front door. No way she was going to miss this one and have to beg for another pick-up.
Chapter Forty-One
August 3, 2015
Luke O’Brien
DNA Laboratory, Maynard, MA
Luke returned to his lab, thick research paper securely locked in his briefcase.
He was annoyed at the way Kate had ignored him earlier this morning. She hadn’t even taken the time to smile at him or touch his hand.
Nothing.
Maybe it was the stress of the situation.
Maybe she doesn’t like public displays of affection.
Whatever.
One day he’d figure her out. But for now, he had to focus his energy on the paper at hand: Reproductive cloning in primates: resetting the nucleus without damaging the spindle protein.
The idea both excited and repulsed him. Through his Ph.D. research, he’d read up on the subject. And now, because of Kate and this cloning case, he had spent even more time investigating where science stood and how it could have leaped from science-fiction into reality.
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