“That’s good. I admire that. Dolce far niente-I’ve never been able to achieve it. Much too driven. Too excitable. Do you find that?” “Only where men are concerned.”
“That’s us, in a nutshell,” Beatrice said, and sighed. Elizabeth had to smile. Whether arrogantly or ignorantly, she realized, this woman had given her her life-flesh from her flesh-and now she had saved it. And the man at the window, shooting occasional glances back at them, was husband and lover to both. That’s nothing, she thought; Beatrice is both my mother and my twin. “If I live through this-” “-you’re going to write a book,” said Beatrice, anticipating her thoughts. “Yes.”
Beatrice touched her hand. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, really, but I do know you will live through this. I promise you. How can you promise me anything? thought Elizabeth. “We’re going to see to it. Peter and I.” “Not just keeping your options open?”
Beatrice shook her head vehemently “I swear, no. “I needed to ask.”
“You don’t have to take my answer on faith. Think about yourself: are you a devious person?”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I haven’t had your education.” Beatrice laughed. “You’re right-the worst criminals are the educated ones!” Then she grew serious. Her gray eyes bore into Elizabeth’s and Elizabeth felt something deep inside herself click. A key into a lock, a modem achieving uplink, a puzzle accepting a last, long-lost piece-that’s how it felt to her. “I don’t want your body for my brain, Elizabeth. I think the whole idea is obscene.” “Now you do?”
“I won’t insult you with excuses.
Elizabeth moved her hand away, ostensibly to brush her hair from her face, but mostly because she was uncomfortable with such closeness. What fate had these two contrived for them now? What was waiting in New York? She felt the fear creeping back, but oddly, this time it wasn’t quite as threatening. Now at least she had someone to talk to. “How many people is this Wolfe guy planning to clone?” she asked. “As many as he pleases. If he gets his way,” Peter said, this time joining in. “And who chooses the subjects? Him?”
“Until he’s in full control, he’ll have to accept advice. Check the guest list at the White House for the past few years. “That’s a frightening thought.”
Beatrice nodded. “Then there’s the matter of spare parts, of course. “I read something about that. I thought it was science fiction- bodies warehoused just for you.” “It was yesterday’s science fiction. Which is today’s realityproprietarily cloned harvest bodies, all higher brain functions removed, just waiting until you need a kidney or a lung or a heart or a bone marrow transplant.” “Or specialty units of killer soldiers,” said Peter, really into it now “Cloned from genetically manipulated eggs that favor extreme aggression. Or how about dulled-down, worker-bee laborers who will happily work for Third World wages? And then, when cryogenic technology catches up, they’ll deep-freeze world heroes, hold them for fifty years until history has a chance to evaluate them-discard the ones who don’t stand the test and clone the ones that do.” “And once all this looked good to you?” Elizabeth asked. Beatrice shot her a look. “I was never that kind of visionary.” “That was Wolfe,” said Peter. “He never asked should we?’ It was always just can we?”‘ “Well,” Beatrice said, “the fact is that I was willing to bend a few moral rules when it came to Peter and me.” Peter nodded. “That’s the scary part. What we did, despite misgivings.” He got up and went to the rest room. Elizabeth watched him with concern, then looked back to Beatrice, who was looking even more grim now that Peter was gone. “We have to put a halt to this, Elizabeth. And we need your help.” “Why should I help you?”
“Good question,” Beatrice said, without sarcasm. “First of all, if it weren’t for our protection, you would now be in a semi coma on your way back to Vieques to have your brain scooped out. Second, because you didn’t really want to leave Peter.” Elizabeth began to protest, but Beatrice reached out and touched her hand. “I know you. I know your feelings. They’re mine, too.” “Listen,” said Elizabeth, her eves flashing, “just because our DNA is identical, it doesn’t entitle you to read my mind.” “It doesn’t take a mind-reader. You can’t take your eves off him.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, then didn’t. Or couldn’t. Beatrice nodded, as if a pupil had finally understood a mathematical equation. “Now, did Alex Davies ever mention New York?” “No.”
“He didn’t hint about other people who might be in danger?” “We were only in his car for a few minutes before we crashed. We were being chased and shot at. Conversation was pretty much limited,” “And the e-mail?”
“It was just a bogus invitation for a free hotel room in Vieques. Absolutely nothing personal.” She glanced up as Peter rejoined them, “And when you didn’t show up at the hotel, did he try to e-mail you again?” “No,” said Elizabeth.
“Are you sure? Have you checked?”
“No, I haven’t checked,” Elizabeth admitted. Peter pointed down the aisle. “There’s a guy up there with a laptop: 26B. And there’s an empty seat next to him.” He looked at them both. “Worth a try,” Beatrice said.
Nothing like being double-teamed, thought Elizabeth. “This is all we’re asking you to do,” said Beatrice. “When we get to La Guardia, you’re free to go your own way. Not that we’re recommending it.” Some people lead normal lives, thought Elizabeth. Thanks to molecular biology, I’m not one of them. She left her seat and went down the aisle to row 26, where a pink-faced man was playing Tetris on his laptop. She went past him, then pretended to double back. “Is that a Toshiba?” she asked.
“Sure is,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Happy with it?”
“The best.”
“What kind of modem do you have?”
“Fifty-six baud,” the man said. He put the game on pause and looked up. Scoped how pretty she was. “Wanna check it out? Sit.” He held out his hand. “Darlington-Frank Darlington.” She shook his hand and sat down beside him. “Heidi Boone,” she said. “Is it true those things can check e-mail over airplane telephones?” “Oh, yeah, sure is. Duck soup. Want to check your e-mail?” She shook her head demurely. “Oh, I couldn’t. It would be a long-distance call.” “No, it’s just a local.”
“To Switzerland?”
“Sure.”
“No way.”
“Waay,” he said, taking out a patch cord. He plugged one end of the cord into the laptop and the other into the telephone on the seat back in front of him, then logged onto AOL and clicked on MAIL. Elizabeth gave him her address, SwissMs at the International Access branch of CompuServe.com, and he passed the laptop over. Her hand shook as she checked her messages. “Don’t be scared, Heidi. It won’t bite,” Darlington said. To afford her some privacy, he picked up a copy of Business Week. There were a dozen pieces of mail for Elizabeth, including three from the Helvetica Agency. But the last was from IslandMan.
Subj: C8
Date: 99-03-24
From: IslandMan@AOL.com
To: SwissMs@Int lAccessCornpuServe.com
Re: Phillip C. Kenner // 10 West 65th Street
Apt. 7E // New York, NY 10023
(212) 724-1386
d.o.b. Aug. 2, 1966
YOU HAVE TO WARN THIS GUY, HE DOESN’T CHECK HIS MESSAGES. GOOD LUCK, AD
PS: IF YOU’RE READING THIS I’M MIA, SO TOO BAD WE
DIDN’T GET TO HANG. I THINK WE WOULD HAVE HIT IT
OFF. YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WITH BALLS, THEY’RE JUST
BRAINS ON A STALK. FUCK GRAMPA WOLFE AND VIVE LA
REVOLUTION !
PPS: DELETE THIS MESSAGE AND DON’T GET DELETED
YOURSELF. IF BEATRICE IS WITH YOU SHE’S OK, IF NOT
SHE’S NOT. PETE JR. IS FLAKIER THAN BETTY CROCKER
BUT ANY PIE IN A STORM. DON’T TRY AND FLY SOLO,
YOU’LL END UP IN A SHOEBOX. THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA.
She read the message twice over, memorizing it, then deleted it from the screen and from RECEIVED MAIL. “Thank you, this was so great of you,” she said and returned to her seat. Darlington went back to his game, a little disappointed. Elizabeth turned back halfway up the aisle to make sure that he had. Rapt, Peter and Beatrice listened as she gave them Phillip Kenner’s address, omitting Alex’s postscripts. “So Alex is alive. Thank God.”
“We’re going to warn Kenner, right?” said Elizabeth. At the “we,” Beatrice and Peter exchanged looks. “We have to do more than that,” Peter said. “If Wolfe suspects that Kenner’s been warned, he’ll move on him immediately.” “So what do we do?” said Elizabeth.
“Blow the whistle,” said Peter, “on the whole damn operation.” “How? They’ll just deny everything.”
“Not if we have the clone,” Beatrice said. Elizabeth’s eyes grew wider. “Take him to Mike Wallace, if we have to,” said Peter. “As soon as we see him, we’ll know whose clone he is, and we’ll challenge them to do a DNA comparison on both men. “But Wolfe will claim the clone is that person’s identical twin,” said Elizabeth, “from a frozen embryo.” Then she interrupted herself, even more intrigued. “No, wait, he can’t do that. They didn’t have freezing technology that advanced when he was born, did they?” “Bright girl,” said Peter, with a nod at Beatrice. “Don’t patronize,” said Elizabeth.