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  “Transfer of consciousness. In other words, download your personality into another body.”

  Leesia choked on her drink while the others stopped in mid-motion, staring wide-eyed at Wills, who was grinning like a pundit who successfully predicted the scandal-of-the-week.

  “Are you serious?” Darai said.

  “How has it been tested?” Tawd said.

  “Let’s just say, compromises had to be made,” Wills said.

  “That smells like a class-action lawsuit,” Nwanko said. Nervous laughter.

  “The reason I brought you here is that each of you is the head of a company whose industry will likely be affected by this. At least directly—medical, pharmaceutical, and aeronautics. Companies that will be transformed once I introduce this invention to the marketplace. Which means we all need to work together to perfect the process and establish a multiphased educational, social, and promotional campaign,” Wills said.

  “You expect people to flock to an unproven method of transfer, where they’ll be in danger of getting their consciousness scrambled?” Leesia said. “It’ll never be accepted.”

  “Oh, this is just the start of a long-term project, my dear. We have yet to achieve a fully successful transfer, but I’m working on downloading to adult clones who don’t have the baggage of a past life.”

  Nwanko stood up and walked to the bar to pour another drink. “Cloning is illegal. And the Senate would never approve it.”

  “This is madness. No such thing exists. I’d have to see it to believe it,” Tawd said.

  “In time, Tawd, in time. I’m working with a senator to introduce legislation on cloning. It will be a process, as I said. First we’ll introduce a bill addressing therapeutic cloning, even as we continue conducting the experiments. Once that bill passes, it will open the gates for additional legislation. Imagine…people with debilitating diseases can start life again with a healthy body. Can you imagine the PR for that? The elderly can have the wisdom of an 80-year-old in a 20-year-old body. And does it take more than a lifetime to travel to the closest star? No problem. Stay in storage and download upon arrival. So…what do you say?”

  The guests looked warily at each other, some fidgeting. Darai was the first to speak.

  “Well, Wills, this is certainly intriguing, but I’d have to see clinical trials evidence, information that guaranteed the safety of the, uh, recipient, so to speak. I’m sure we could talk next week—”

  “There will be no next week. This is a one-time offer, that expires in ten minutes,” Wills said. “The price for investment is ten trillion. So make your decision.”

  “It would be impossible for me to make such a decision tonight. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Darai stood up, placed her drink on the table, and headed for the door. Wills pulled a lason from his jacket and fired. She arched back as her legs splayed. Her knees bent and she crashed to the floor.

  Leesia screamed as they all stood up, their faces blank masks of shock.

  “Does anyone else want to back out?” Wills said. He looked each one in the eye. “Make your decision now.”

  Nwanko shook with anger. “This is madness.”

  “Isn’t that what they say to all geniuses? Explain it any way you like, but just make sure you transfer the money. If you have to sell stock, I have a handy broker access code that we can all use, so step right up.”

  “How do you expect to explain Darai’s death? Even if we sell our stock, we could still go to the police,” Tawd said.

  “Not if you’re in danger of being implicated in it. You were on the scene. Why? I’m sure your stockholders would love to find out. In addition, let’s just say I have an army, and I know where each of your children attend school. But why make it difficult? Just transfer the money, and you’ll be free to go.”

  “Do we have your word?” Tawd asked.

  “Of course.” Wills said, smiling.

  The remaining three executives tapped up commands, sold stock, and transferred the money to Wills’ account. Then Wills shot them. Four bodies lay strewn in the office, all burnt through with a charred hole in the middle. Nicholle had seen people get shot before, but this was different. This wasn’t a pakz sale gone bad, where people knew what the deal was before it went down. These poor people had been presented with an impossible offer, then…executed.

  After he was done, Wills put on his trenchcoat and walked out of the office, leaving the bodies there. Presumably to be cleaned up by someone else.

  A dull ache filled Nicholle’s chest. “An army. He said he has an army. Wills has to be stopped, Chris.”

  “But how? We’re in no position to challenge him on anything.”

  “There’s one way. The streets. Something he doesn’t know much about.”

  Chapter 11

  “Whose body is it?”

  “Some nurse found wired on pakz. She would’ve died anyway. We filtered the blood, flooded it with medinites, added lung capacity, and cardiovascular, muscular, and optical enhancements. So we’ve bloody given her a second chance. In a way.”

  The voices flickered across Thia’s memory, barely registering as familiar. She knew these people, but their names escaped her, like a dream upon waking. When she opened her eyes, she did recognize them—Eyon Klé, the cyberneticist in the M31 Unit, and Dran Secobar, her boss. She was propped up in a bed, in a grey room with bright lights. Machinery lined the walls, manned by several white-coated lab assistants. Her bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. No chairs or tables.

  “Ah, there she is. Hello, Thia,” Eyon said. “Do you know who we are? Do you know who you are?”

  He had monochrome face and hair—both tan—with a large forehead. His eyes drooped in the corners, giving him a constantly sad look.

  “I-I—” Her voice halted. She wanted to ask why she was strapped to a bed and why she felt like she’d been strained through a cheese grater.

  “I need to tweak the speech center.”

  “Is this going to work?” Dran said. His permanent scowl deepened, hardening his features, and narrowed eyes glinted as his lips puckered in disapproval. “The other ten were less than optimal.”

  “They were dead. This one was still alive,” Eyon said, fiddling with some machinery. “We tried to erase all memories and traces of personality, but there may be some leakage. Of course, we won’t be able to tell until she’s fully conscious. There, she should be able to speak now. Thia?”

  “What did you do to me, you brain-addled quack?”

  “That’s her, all right,” Dran said.

  “You were found dead in the northeast laboratory, so we added you to the consciousness transference subject study. You no doubt heard about the enhancements we made, but it may be a little while before you’ll be able to use them.”

  “You put me in a pakz-addicted body? No wonder I feel like hell. This was the only one you could find?”

  “It’s been refurbished. We even built up muscle mass. There should be minimal adjustment. Well, except for your looks. You’re a brunette now, black hair, brown eyes, pouty lips,” Eyon said.

  “Improvement if you ask me,” Dran said. He winked.

  Thia flexed her right arm, broke the restraining trap, and grabbed Dran’s throat. Thia tightened her grip, feeling his larynx buckle. His face reddened as he struggled to remove her hand.

  “Thia!” Eyon said. He motioned to two blue-coated men, who peeled her hand away and held her down.

  Dran coughed, holding his neck. “That bitch is crazy, Eyon. Did you do a mental scan?”

  “I relied on her last review.”

  “Yeah, well, things happen. Make sure she’s sane before you let her loose. And I want a full report on my desk tomorrow morning.” Dran hurried out the door.

  Eyon gave her a one-sided frown as t
he men strapped her back down to the bed, this time with four straps for each arm. They had forgotten about her legs, she thought, but she would remain still for now, attempt to find out as much intelligence as she could.

  “Do try and be a good girl, or you may wind up like the first ten,” Eyon said.

  “I thought they’d been dead.”

  “Yes, but they were reanimated. At least for a time. But when they didn’t perform satisfactorily…” His voice trailed off, as if mentioning their fate would make it come to pass.

  “Why was I brought back to life?”

  “You’re a valued agent.”

  “That’s bull. There’re plenty of good agents who could take over without having to spend billions on a third-generation prototype.” She paused. “Hunh. I guess that’s all I am now. Talk about messed up.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re enhanced. Better than any agent we’ve got. Do you remember what happened when you, uh…?” His voice trailed off. Eyon waved the two men away, who walked back to their post and kept a wary eye on Thia.

  Flashes of images raced in her mind—a laboratory, a room filled with various devices, a woman, a man—but they blurred together in a nonlinear manner, like scenes from a movie out of sequence.

  “Not really.”

  “Do you remember your childhood?”

  She tried to think backward, but the images fizzled as she tried to focus on them—glimmers of a dark-haired mother who yelled a lot. But that wasn’t right. Or at least it didn’t seem right.

  “No. Vaguely. But not really. Like…it’s someone else’s memory.”

  “It may take time. Here. I’ll give you something to sleep.”

  Before she could react, a wave of black washed over her.

  b

  The voices again. No doubt Dran wanted to keep an eye on his investment. The fact she was conscious would probably go unnoticed for a few seconds. This time she kept her eyes closed. But…something was different.

  “Yes, and you were right. Her original neurotransmitters exhibited aberrations. But they’ve been corrected.”

  “Good.”

  “She’s conscious.”

  She opened her eyes, annoyed at their realization. Dran leaned down and spoke loudly in her ear.

  “Thia, can you hear me?”

  Dran was dressed in a different suit—grey with black pinstripes. She must’ve slept through the night.

  “I can hear you perfectly. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine. Strange of you to ask.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Because the first thing out of your mouth is usually an insult. Or like yesterday when you choked me.”

  She remembered doing it, but she couldn’t understand why.

  “You’re right, Mr. Secobar. I don’t know why I did it. Do accept my apology.”

  “Are you kidding me? Since when do you apologize for anything? Or call me Mr. Secobar?”

  “Since…“ She tried to think back to the last time she did, but drew a blank. “I can’t remember.” And that was the truth. It had fleetingly occurred to her to lie. But why would she lie?

  “That makes two of us.” He turned to Eyon, hands on hips. “I thought you said she checked out.”

  “I said I corrected the aberrations on her brain cells.”

  “Hell, we need those aberrations back. She can’t go prowling through back alleys shooting at the bad guys. She’s more docile than a kindergarten teacher.”

  “I think kindergarten teachers have to be pretty tough, actually,” Eyon said.

  Dran closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Never mind. Just get her back the way she was. I’ll just wear a steel collar.”

  “You’re the boss. I’m afraid I’ll have to put you under again, Thia.”

  “That’s all right, Doctor. Thank you for taking good care of me,” she said.

  Dran visibly shuddered. “See what I mean? The test phase is a bitch. And I want another report this afternoon.”

  b

  “Thia?”

  Someone held an eye open, shining a bright light in it. She grabbed the arm that held the light and sat up.

  “You keep shining that in my eye and I’ll shove it up your ass.”

  “Ha! There she is. Good work, Doc,” Dran said, grinning. He had on the same suit, which meant it was the same day, or two weeks later. She released Eyon’s hand.

  “I’m tired of the both of you poking and prodding me, asking dumb questions. When do I get out of here? And what the hell do I look like?”

  “I’ll get you a mirror,” Eyon said. He stepped out of the room, leaving her with Dran. One side of his mouth curled up.

  “What are you smiling at?” she said.

  An apathetic look, deposited by facial drift, came over him, which meant he was excited, but didn’t want to show it. This must be important, she thought. Whatever it was.

  “I’ll be straight with you. Wills Ryder is still behind on implementation of consciousness transference. We wanted to give him some slack, see what he came up with, then shut him down and take his data. But he’s been shopping for information on cloning and looking to legalize it. He was holed up in his Fiji lab, but he went to Baltimore for a meeting with some industry execs.”

  Pounding heart, clammy skin. But she didn’t know why. She fought it down while attempting to look nonchalant.

  “If you know where he is, why do you need me?” she said.

  “Because he disappeared, then the four executives were found dead around the state.”

  “That doesn’t exactly follow.” She recalled the name, Wills, and vaguely, the face, but there was definitely a connection. They had known each other somehow. But she couldn’t remember.

  “A source at the Port of Baltimore said a limo had pulled up to a warehouse. He got the license plate and we ran it. It was Ryder’s. So we scanned the whole area and found traces of their DNA. Bold move.”

  “Too bold.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Why did she say that? “I—he’s cautious. Usually. Unless there’s something he really wants. Then he can be ruthless.” How did she know that?

  Eyon returned with a mirror, a small, silver affair. “Here you go.” He undid the straps, casting furtive glances at her.

  “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not going to bite,” she said.

  When her arms were free, Thia snatched the mirror from him. She sat up and regarded herself. Her hair was long, down to her waist, raven black. A change from her short, red locks. She’d either cut it or wear it up. All that hair hanging about scratched her skin like a rucksack.

  Her eyes were large and brown, with barely visible lashes, but thick eyebrows. They had started to grow together, like a bridge between two islands. Her nose angled past the normal ending point, but it was not unattractive—merely an interesting anomaly. Dran had been right about the lips. Full, pouty, in an eternal pucker. The olive skin was flawless, as smooth as the fruit itself, plump and taut. Not like her previous ruddy skin.

  “Interesting,” she said.

  “Ruthless, eh? What makes you say that?” Dran said.

  “What?”

  “Wills Ryder. You said he could be ruthless. I mean, you would know. You were lovers. I had sent you to him. Remember?”

  That was it. Sketches of images danced across her mind. A deserted beach in Madagascar, a ski chalet in the Alps, a heated pool at the Hilton. An eternal promise. Revelation of subterfuge. Betrayal.

  “Bastard. He even stole back the ring,” she said.

  “What ring?” Eyon said.

  She hesitated. “Just a ruby ring I liked.”

  “An engagement ring?” Dran said.

  “No,” she lied.

/>   “Good. Can’t have my best agents running around with broken hearts. Makes for unstable relationships and unreliable intelligence.”

  Unreliable intelligence. If only they knew. She smiled in response, pushing the thoughts from her mind. Her memories were returning. But there was something different, something there that shouldn’t be.

  “This leakage, Doc. What characteristics can it take?” she said.

  “Well, you may remember things that didn’t happen to you, or you may recognize people you’ve never met. Smells or tastes may trigger memories that aren’t there. We don’t have much experience in this arena, so you’ll be able to give us invaluable information,” Eyon said.

  “I’m not connected.”

  “We didn’t want to introduce too much to your brain. Once we have you stabilized, you’ll be connected.”

  It was weird, she thought, not being connected. Not being able to tap a finger and find what you wanted, call whom you wanted. She felt detached, isolated from the mainstream. Not in the know. Keeping tabs on her informants, her contacts, her field agents—it’s what occupied her mind. Now there was just trying to piece together memories, for good or ill, even those that weren’t hers.

  And which was which? It was hard to tell, at least now, before her brain had a chance to sort through them all. Perhaps her dominant brain would push out the other memories, feelings, recollections—the ones that didn’t belong. But she didn’t hold out much hope for that. She was stuck in this body, unless this one was destroyed, and she doubted they could repeat the process. If they did, she’d be even less of herself. Someone else. An amalgamation of a pakz addict, herself, and probably some homeless bum who got kicked out by an ex-wife.

  When she’d signed up for the agency, she certainly hadn’t expected this.

  “So when will I be stabilized?”