The Last Hope

by C. C. Jameson

  “This case has gone fucking crazy. Did you hear the latest?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “That senator Robertson told us he was about to kill. Remember him?”

  “Senator Russell?”

  “Yeah,” Rosebud said, nodding. “Apparently the job got done this afternoon.”

  “Robertson couldn’t have done it; he’s dead.”

  “Dead? Didn’t know. But a woman’s our main suspect. How did Robertson die?”

  “Poisoned.”

  “Crazy world. Still can’t wrap my mind around this fucking cloning situation. Don’t know if I should feel bad for a dead clone or bad for their evil victims with all of the nasty shit they did to others. Anyway, I’m taking off. Going to the pub with Wang and the others. Wanna join us for a beer?”

  That idea sounded awesome right about now.

  “You guys going to be there long?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. A few beers, unless all hell breaks loose.”

  “Sounds good,” she said with a smile. “See you there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, updated transcripts back in Agent Lack’s hands, and with her official dismissal off of the FBI case, Kate walked into the Pleasant Pheasant.

  She was surprised when Detective Fuller approached her, two beers in hand and a neutral expression on his face. It wasn’t a smile, but it was definitely better than his regular look. She took it as a semi-seal of approval or something to that effect.

  He handed her one of the beers.

  “Listen, good work, Wallflower. The Feds are on their asses. Just a handful of farms to pick from now. They’ll find them tonight.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “Well, I only wish they would have allowed us to stick around to see the resolution of the case, but whatever. Not our jurisdiction. At least—”

  Kate heard Rosebud call out her name and she turned around. He was pointing at an empty chair between him and Wang. Kate wanted to hear more from Fuller, learn what the FBI had uncovered since she last spoke to Lack, but Fuller changed topics.

  “I’m not much for chitchat,” he said. “Go and join them, but I just wanted to say that if you want to apply again to be a detective, I’ll write a recommendation letter for you.”

  Kate was taken aback. Surprise and pride made her heart pound in her chest. “Thank you, Detective,” she said.

  Fuller walked away, leaving Kate with an irrepressible smile on her face. She took out her phone and texted Luke, inviting him to join them at the pub.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  August 5, 2015

  Agent Cameron Lack, FBI

  Roxbury Police Station, Boston

  Cameron Lack got off the phone and addressed the dozen of agents who stood around him in the conference room. “We’ve got them,” he said, allowing himself to smile briefly.

  The room filled with claps and loud cheers, which attracted a few straggling FBI agents back into the room. Once the group’s excitement receded, Lack turned to the map behind him and circled the Colony’s location.

  “This is where Juliet turned off,” he said. “Rodriguez and Palmer are standing by a few miles down the road. We don’t know how many clones they have in there, but it could be in the hundreds, so our two agents will not go in on their own.” Lack turned to Peterson. “Can you get a SWAT team organized and deployed in a couple of hours?” he asked him.

  “Sure. That shouldn’t be a problem,” Peterson said.

  “Then make it happen,” Lack ordered before returning his attention to the map. “We’ll need to use the element of surprise, but we don’t know how their buildings are set up. Robertson said the clones were kept underground most of the time. Maybe this entire section between the house and the farm buildings is developed underground,” he said, once again circling an area in the blowup aerial photograph. “It could even be larger than that. We may have thousands of acres to cover. There could be tunnels or multiple floors. We don’t know what security measures they have in place either. Rodriguez said a couple of guard dogs barked at their car when they drove by.”

  Cameron closed his eyes for a second and brought his hand to his face, moving it down across his cheeks, feeling the strong stubble that had grown out.

  “Clark,” Lack said. “Now that we know the exact location, see if we have previous aerial views of the site. There could be images of the underground structure being built. Who knows?”

  Clark nodded and headed out.

  “Lamoureux,” Lack said, making eye contact with him. “Go help Peterson and brief the SWAT team leader. Make sure they have tranquilizing darts to take care of those dogs and have a small reconnaissance unit look at those buildings first. Be mindful of security cameras or alarm systems and disable them if possible. We need to cover all potential exits if we want to catch them. Once they report back on the structures, we’ll helicopter the team in and raid the place. Our number one priority is to catch JJ, Mr. S, and Mr. C. Number two is to capture all evidence of cloning: computers, blood samples, you name it. The team can’t just barge in there and destroy everything. The clones themselves will be our third priority. Any questions?” he asked, addressing the entire room.

  Silence was his only answer.

  A couple of hours later, the SWAT team leader was on his way to the Colony.

  Agent Lockheart had hooked up the feed from the SWAT team leader’s camera to the television screen in the conference room and had just finished testing the audio, as well. The television wouldn’t relay the communication between the SWAT leader and his team, only the private feed between the team leader and the temporary FBI headquarters at the BPD station.

  “Agent Croft, this is Agent Lack. Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Croft said.

  “What did the reconnaissance unit uncover?”

  After a few seconds of static mixed with various sounds one could expect from a flying helicopter, Croft’s voice became clear again. “The woman and her husband are in the house. No visible sign of Mr. C. Four dogs have been taken care of. No alarm systems. A few cameras, but none close to the main house. There’s a trapdoor hidden underneath a tractor in one of the farm buildings.”

  “Good,” Lack said. “What’s your plan of attack?”

  “The house will be our initial target,” Croft said, his voice once again partly masked by a layer of white noise. “We’ve located three entrance points. The helicopters will drop us off two miles west of the house. We’ll proceed on foot to maintain the element of surprise. We’ll explore the underground area once we clear the house.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll be watching you,” Lack said before correcting himself. He had no idea what Croft looked like. The screen only showed the inside of the helicopter. “Or at least we’ll be watching what you’re looking at. Good luck.”

  After relaying boring images for over an hour, the SWAT team leader’s camera finally showed something exciting. The farmhouse was about two hundred feet ahead. The building was lit from the outside with a bright lamppost. It was a two-story structure, recently built or renovated in a modern style.

  As the men approached, Lack could see a few silhouettes peeling off from the group.

  Probably on their way to surround the building.

  A few minutes later, the team leader was close enough for his camera to relay images of JJ and Mr. S. arguing in a kitchen. A large stainless steel fridge was in the background. No curtains protected their privacy. Plates and glasses were being thrown around.

  At least they’re not paying attention to what’s going on outside their house right now.

  “Lack,” Croft’s voice crackled. “We’re going in.”

  “Go ahead,” Lack replied, anxious to see if Mr. C was in there as well.

  Over the next minute, the leader ran toward the house, making it difficult to focus on the images he was broadcasting without becoming nauseated.

  Two minutes later, the team had cuffed the couple and were pr
oceeding to search the rest of the house. Lack wished he could have been there in person to see the expression on their faces or hear what they had to say. He’d have to wait until the team reported back to find out.

  About five minutes of a televised house tour later, Croft radioed back in, “A dead woman was found in a bedroom. I’m heading upstairs so you can get a visual.”

  Twenty seconds later, a half-naked woman akin to a younger JJ appeared on-screen.

  Looks like they cloned themselves as well.

  “We found expired passports from various countries on the desk here,” Croft said, walking toward it.

  “Fantastic,” Lack said when he realized the photos matched the drawing produced by the sketch artist for Mr. C. “Bag those, please.”

  Finally making progress on figuring out his identity.

  “No sign of Mr. C, but we found the entrance to the underground level. I’m heading there now.”

  Lack’s excitement grew with each step the team leader took, but Lack wasn’t prepared for what the camera displayed once Croft exited the elevator.

  The control room was impressive. However, it was nothing compared to the extensive space he walked into next. It was filled with semi-transparent blobs with wires and tubes protruding out of them. It was straight out of a science-fiction movie. Lack couldn’t even see the walls limiting the room. He had to pinch himself, close his eyes, and reopen them a second later to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

  “Are you watching this?” Croft asked in an incredulous voice.

  “Yeah,” was all Lack could muster. He had no other words.

  No noise could be heard in the conference room as Croft explored the rest of the cloning incubation area; his images obviously surprised every one of the FBI agents that stood around with Lack. Other SWAT team members appeared in front of Croft’s camera at times, making it a little easier for Lack to believe he was staring at live footage.

  Ten minutes later, reality having sunk in a little more, Lack asked Croft, “Where are the clones themselves? Was there another level accessible from the elevator?”

  “No, only kitchen and this level, but hold on,” Croft said before going silent. “One agent reported seeing a door out of this room. I’m on my way. Maybe that’s where the clones are kept.”

  “Good.”

  Croft’s camera relayed more and more of the growing clones in their semi-transparent blobs.

  How many eggs do they have in there?

  Man, some of them are huge! They look as big as my nephew, Teddy, and he’s two years old!

  “I’m at the door,” Croft’s voice chimed in again. “It’s locked from this side; it makes sense that the clones would be on the other side, unable to escape. Just got a report that there’s another door as well, unlocked.”

  “Go to the unlocked one first. Maybe Mr. C is there,” Lack ordered.

  “Roger that.”

  A few minutes later, the stream of images from the incubation area was gone. Now, Croft was broadcasting another section of the house. Upstairs was a large bedroom, a luxurious bathroom, and a den. A spacious wine cellar occupied the lower floor.

  “Whoa,” Lamoureux said out loud, surprising Lack. “Certainly wouldn’t mind having that in my house.”

  “Nothing here. Mr. C is not in this part of the house,” Croft reported.

  “Maybe he’s with the clones,” Lack suggested. “Get that door unlocked.”

  “Someone spotted keys in the control room. We’ll try them first before breaking the lock.”

  Five minutes later, Lack and everyone in the conference room finally understood the extent of the cloning situation. After having cuffed the person manning what appeared to be another control room, Croft’s camera focused on the dozen of images being relayed via the live security footage airing on the console. Some of the screens were dark, but the majority displayed inconceivable images: several groups of clones were walking down the halls. Others were playing, reading, showering... They appeared to range from three to twenty years of age.

  Fuck! How many are there? A thousand?

  “Um,” Croft started. “Do you want us to arrest them all?”

  “Hold on before you storm in,” Lack said. “Can you check the camera feeds and see if you can spot Mr. C?”

  Ten minutes later, they had gone through three cycles of images from the control room screens. There still wasn’t any sign of him.

  “Okay. Go ahead. I’m ordering a bunch of buses. We’ll...” Lack stopped his sentence in its tracks.

  We’ll what? Take them to Fenway Park for processing?

  There are too many of them.

  “No,” Lack resumed. “Croft, lock them up in whatever rooms you find. Check every washroom, hallway or whatever space you encounter for any sign of Mr. C. We’ll have to keep the clones there for now. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  October 14, 2015

  Kate Murphy

  George Hudson’s Law Office, Boston

  Mindy, the receptionist, escorted Kate and Luke to George’s office. He smiled and greeted them both when they came in.

  George pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit down.”

  “Did you hear anything?” Kate asked, taking a seat.

  “Yes. It’s looking good for Kenny, all things considered.”

  He shuffled through the loose pieces of paper lying on his desk and picked up a yellow sticky note.

  “November 23rd is Kenny’s court date. I believe we’ve got everything we need to release him. I’ve got the FBI case number and a copy of the records found on site showing that his DNA was used to create a clone in September 2006. Based on the computer files uncovered by the FBI, Kenny’s blood sample was stolen, along with a bunch of others, in June 2003.”

  George read off of another sheet in Kenny’s file. “FBI records indicate that Juliet had volunteered to help collect blood in various clinics in and around Boston. The evidence points to her having stolen small vials of these samples for her personal use.”

  George looked up, summarizing the rest from memory. “From the sound of it, Juliet did a few of these stints in Massachusetts and in surrounding states, enough to steal over 7,300 samples. We’ve got everything documented. I’m certain the judge will release him as soon as he hears the new information we have on this case. Kenny’s already served almost four months and, by then, he will have served five months. But all things considered...”

  What things considered? That’s the second time in less than three minutes.

  “What else is there to consider?” Kate interjected, annoyed. “He’s innocent. He’s been cloned. He’s stuck in prison.”

  George looked at Kate, then Luke, then Kate again.

  George’s inquisitive eyes worried her. He tilted his head, and then finally spoke. “His health.”

  “What do you mean his health?” she asked.

  “You don’t know?” Luke asked.

  “What don’t I know?” Kate asked, her anger now directed at Luko.

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Kenny’s sick. Really sick.”

  “What? How would you know?”

  “When I looked at—”

  George interrupted Luke. “Maybe we should let Kenny announce it to Kate.”

  “Announce what? He’s not here right now, and both of you obviously know something I don’t,” Kate said, standing. “Tell me. Now!”

  “Your uncle’s dying of cancer,” George said, solemn as a pope.

  “What?” Kate fell back into her seat.

  “He has acute myeloid leukemia,” George continued. “He found out last year, at least that’s what he told me. He decided not to seek treatment. Something about how his wife suffered through chemo, and he didn’t want to impose that emotional and financial burden on you. I looked into his disease after he told me, and the odds of survival aren’t great, especially for the elderly.”

  Kate blinked a dozen times, and then finally reme
mbered to breathe. She couldn’t believe Kenny had kept this a secret from her.

  She turned to Luke. “How did you find out?” she asked him.

  “He gave a blood sample when they arrested him. Not sure why he didn’t just do the mouth swab like most people.”

  Kate smiled weakly. “He’s got a really bad gag reflex.”

  “They took a drop of blood—probably off his finger—and, out of habit from my Ph.D. research, I always look at the cells first before doing the DNA sample. Something was wrong with his blood: not enough red cells, lots of blast cells. I didn’t know what disease he had exactly, but I knew it was something bad. I just assumed you knew.”

  She hung her head. “Well, I didn’t.”

  The silence weighed heavily for a minute until Luke broke it.

  “How long does he have to live?” he asked George.

  “When I met him, after the arrest, he told me he had six to nine months max. The doctors were pretty certain he wouldn’t see another winter.”

  “You’re saying that all things—including his health—considered...” Kate prompted.

  “I’ve requested that his case be prioritized, possibly moved to next week,” George said. “The judges will consider it, but there’s no guarantee they’ll approve my request. One could argue that those who’ve already spent years in prison for a crime we now know they didn’t commit could get prioritized over your uncle’s case.”

  “Can’t a judge issue a pardon to all of these people right away?”

  “Everything has to be documented, and proper procedures still have to be followed.”

  Kate slammed her hands down. “You’re telling me my uncle could die in prison while waiting for his court date? Even though we’ve got all the evidence needed to free him right now?”

  Luke reached over and squeezed her hand. “We can’t fight the system,” he said. “George and everyone are doing everything they can. Kenny will make it, and he’ll clear the Murphy name, just like you told me he wanted to do.”