Prototype (23 page)

I
t was not my intention to lie to the American people,”
Declan says to an off-camera interviewer. He links his long fingers across the knee of his gray suit pants.
“I’ve only ever wanted to protect my wife’s privacy.”

The camera switches to a brunet man in a navy-blue suit. He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes.
“From more than half your board?”

“The board would have been all over me about taking Emma public. Was it a gamble? Yes, but she’s all I care about. She was dying and the process was untested. Time ran out and Arthur did the only thing he could. When she pulled through, I immediately set to work looking for a subject to satisfy the board.”

“And the visit to the now deceased doctor in San Francisco? You claimed this was all about her illness, but obviously . . .”
The man trails off and lifts his palms.
“You lied, Mr. Burke.”

Declan rests an elbow on the chair’s arm and rubs his chin. A muscle pops in his jaw.
“Yes. I lied. The truth is, the resistance is studying my wife. They want the cloning process for themselves.”

“But there are hundreds of documented clones. They could pick up any one of them off the street. Why your wife?”

“Because she
is
my wife. Until she’s home and safe, they will always use her against me.”

The interviewer nods, seemingly appeased for the moment.
“Let’s talk about Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.”

Declan’s face hardens.
“That subject is not up for discussion.”

“Mr. Thomas, your CFO, is suing for custody of his daughter. Your wife. According to our outside sources, he has not only the right but the sympathy of the courts.”

Declan stands and buttons his suit jacket.
“This interview is over.”

 • • • 

Miles faces a wall in Noah’s office, where he points at a satellite video over Colorado. Barely visible through the mountain foliage is an L-shaped building.

“It was smart, really,” Miles says. “Hiding it on our turf. So to speak.”

Noah stands in front and at an angle to me. He is stripped down to his white shirt and pants, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms. To his right, Reid has propped a leg on a chair and rests his elbows across his knee. Both men stare at the enlarged computer screen in silence.

Miles glances at me over his shoulder. “It’s not even in Burke’s name, which is why we couldn’t find it in any of his assets.”

Noah tucks his hands into his pockets. “Whose name is it under? Travista’s?”

“Mine,” I say. “I never gave it any thought, but Declan once had me sign a bunch of paperwork. Financial in nature. He said he wanted to protect me if anything happened to him. He was making sure I was set up and would not have to remarry or work.”

I had trusted Declan at the time and never read a single line. Had I not been so naïve, I could have saved us all the trouble of finding the facility’s location.

Reid drops his foot to the floor. “What you’re saying is, technically, nobody owns the building.”

Noah’s head snaps in Reid’s direction and his hands come free of his pockets set in fists. He does not say a word, though. What can he say? Reid is absolutely right.

“Thank you for that kind reminder, Major,” I say. “But that is not the real problem here.” Everyone sets their full attention on me. “If the government catches wind of this asset, knowing I am a clone, they will seize the property and everything inside.”

“But it’s on the wrong side,” Reid says. “They can’t.”

“I am not talking about the east’s government. It is the west that concerns me. Everyone is guilty of wanting to get their hands on this information. Even if they refuse to use the facility, they could sell Dr. Travista’s data. No one is above making a profit.”

Reid nods and catches everyone’s eye at least once before saying, “So we need to blow a hole in the ground.”

Noah stares at the computer screen but seems to be looking past it. “We’ll hit the facility after the Alexandria raid.”

“I thought the goal was the cloning facility?” Reid says. “Do we even
need
to do the raid now?”

I step past Noah. “The goal is to ruin Declan Burke. Destroying the facility is not enough. When the government finds out he has been breaking the law by cloning these girls . . .”

Noah takes my hand. “We go after both.”

Reid lifts his computer tablet from the desk. “I’ll get started on the details.”

“Trumble, go with him,” Noah says, clinging tight to my hand. “Thanks for the hard work. You really pulled through.”

Miles nods and winks at me on his way out.

We watch the two leave and do not move until the door slides shut behind them. Noah releases me to shut the wall monitor off.

“I cannot believe it is almost over,” I say.

Noah sits in his chair with a heavy sigh and a
skritch
of springs. He really needs a new chair. “We’ll hit them in a couple weeks. Then no more Declan Burke.”

My stomach flips. No more Declan Burke. No more hiding. Not that there will be any sort of normalcy, but I can walk into a casino without worry of capture. I can remove my mask at a masquerade ball and drink champagne. Maybe I can even do it at Noah’s side.

That is where the fantasy ends, because my brother and parents know who I really am. Noah can never be seen in public with me. And if my parents are truly fighting for custody of me, then I am in for a whole other battle.

“What did Phillip say?” Noah asks.

I sit across from him and pull my knees to my chest. “It is too early to know anything just yet, but he got what he required to start running some initial tests. I need tomorrow off to sit through the more in-depth examination.”

“I signed off on his request an hour ago.” He leans forward. “He also asked for some really expensive nanorobotics.”

Dr. Malcolm did not mention anything about using nanites, and the idea does not sit well with me. “I know nothing about that. Should I be worried?”

He gives me a firm shake of his head. “Not at all. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope so.” I reach up and finger the patch taped over my heart. It is linked to a monitor and will shock my heart if it stops beating, alerting Dr. Malcolm immediately.

Noah drops his gaze to his desk and begins fiddling with a tablet stylus. “What did he say about the blackout?”

“He suggested it might be due to exhaustion, but honestly, I do not think he has a clue yet.”

“Okay, well, until he figures this out . . .” He pauses to glance up and back. His Adam’s apple bobs heavily. “I have to consider removing you from active duty.”

The blow rockets me out of the chair. “What?”

“I said I was considering it. And this isn’t just about your safety, but that of everyone around you. What if that wasn’t an isolated incident?”

I am glad I decided to keep the full extent of my problem to myself, but I guess it does not matter. No doubt he wanted a way to keep me from going on the raid, and he found it. “You—”

A knock sounds on the door. Noah is quick to allow whoever it is entrance. Anything to avoid my argument.

A young girl with strawberry-blond waves enters wringing her hands. I recognize her as one of the caregivers in the day-care center.

Noah stands and darts around the desk. “Amber? Is Adrienne all right?”

“Dr. Toro asked me to come get you. Adrienne’s running a pretty high fever.”

My heart lodges in my throat and I am out the door before Noah. Only a moment passes before he catches up to me, and we hurry to the hospital wing together. I push through the swinging door with Noah’s hand on the small of my back. My gaze lands first in the corner where She floated in a tank of water, and a tightness wraps around my chest.

Noah walks around me. “How is she?”

I follow the sound of my daughter crying—a pitiful, miserable moan—and find Sonya rocking and crooning to her. Noah stops beside them and lays a hand on Adrienne’s forehead. Her cheeks are bright red.

“Fever is 102.1,” Sonya says, doing a bouncy rock. “I gave her some medicine. Should come down soon.”

Noah has not moved to take Adrienne, and I stand frozen watching the three of them together. I know better, but the scene knocks me into last week, when the three of
them
were the family and I was the outsider.

Adrienne begins dry heaving and Sonya immediately shifts her out of the cradled position. No sooner is she upright than she is throwing up all down the front of Sonya’s pressed white blouse. Sonya and Noah are practically statues until Adrienne begins wailing.

I run to a cabinet where Sonya keeps towels—after so many months in the tank, I have an intimate knowledge of where just about everything is. When I have passed a couple over, I open another cabinet and find a pair of clean black scrubs for Sonya to change into.

I hand Noah the scrubs and reach for Adrienne. My little girl takes one look at me and turns into Sonya, clinging and screaming. This seems to wake the two of them out of their shocked stupor while simultaneously sending me reeling.

Sonya rocks Adrienne and stares right at me as she says, “It’s okay, baby girl. I’ve got you.”

There is no doubt about that, is there? She has my family exactly where she wants them. Meanwhile, I stand here bleeding out from invisible wounds inflicted by my own flesh and blood.

Noah passes me the scrubs with a frown and takes our screaming child out of Sonya’s arms. Adrienne kicks and throws her head back, but he does not let that stop him. Sonya’s hands follow the girl over as if wanting to steal her back.

I place the fresh garments in her outstretched hands instead. Her glare leaps over to me, and if her animosity was not clear before, it is now.

Noah cradles Adrienne against him, heedless of the mess coating the front of Adrienne’s clothes. “Come on, Emma.”

At this, Sonya’s attention shifts back to him, her nostrils flaring. “But—”

Noah cuts her off with a look. “I know how to monitor a fever and handle the stomach flu. She’s fine.” He takes my hand. “Let’s go.”

 • • • 

“The nation sits in stunned silence this evening,”
the newsman says, his expression somber.
“Lydia Farris, Arthur Travista’s third successful clone, was found dead in her Richmond home this afternoon. No word yet as to her cause of death.”

T
he following days pass almost too quickly, and with no further mention of removing me from duty. Miles and I spend our mornings devising a way to get to the server room deep inside the Alexandria WTC. I then spend the afternoon with Dr. Malcolm hooked up to monitors while he asks me questions the same way Dr. Travista used to, mapping my brain. If he has any idea what is going on, he keeps it to himself, much to my and Noah’s frustration. Neither of us has broached the subject, but Lydia’s death hovers like a black cloud. Another unexplained clone death blamed on the resistance.

As for the blackouts, they have occurred on a near daily basis, and I have been lucky so far to hide them from Noah. Only one happened in front of Leigh, and she thought I was having a fainting spell, then asked if I was pregnant. The others happened while I was alone in my room, and none have required the activation of my heart monitor.

Just shy of a week out from the raid, I spend some much-needed time in the gym sparring.

Foster swings at my head and I block with my forearm. “That all you’ve got, Wade?”

I grit my teeth and avoid another punch, then come back swinging. “I thought this was supposed to be realistic. My opponents do not usually talk.”

He snatches my shirtfront and gets in my face. Those shining gray-blue eyes dart back and forth between mine. Sweat drips from his nose. “You want realistic? Then stop worrying about hurting me. Fight. Back.”

He is wrong about one thing: My focus has been less about hurting him and more about our witnesses. They watch me everywhere I go, judging my every move. It is time to start forgetting about them.

I push him away and let the crowd surrounding us blur around the edges. My following attack puts him on the defensive more often than not. I do not know who is more surprised: me or him.

The sparring ends when I jump and kick out with both feet, hitting Foster square in the rib cage. I fall hard, my skin slapping the mats, knocking the air from my lungs. I dart a look in his direction and find him sprawled on his back, chest heaving. Claps erupt from the group surrounding us.

The round is over.

Leigh helps me to my feet. Her face is red from her own recent round. “Nice, 2.”

Foster reaches out to shake my hand. Our palms are sweaty and slide. “Savor the moment. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

I laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He turns with a smile and claps twice. “Good work, everyone. Same time tomorrow.”

“Let’s go before he changes his mind,” Leigh says, and leads me into the locker room.

The three other women in our group are already in the showers. Steam escapes the tiled corners leading into the far room. At our lockers, Leigh strips from her top and shorts without hesitation. I have seen the long, thin scars covering her abdomen and back for a while now, but the idea behind them still makes me uneasy. The first time she caught me looking, she said, “Not everyone escapes the WTC with invisible scars,” and left it at that. I refuse to ask for details, because I can imagine just fine on my own.

Leigh grabs two towels and hands me one. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you doing okay? Physically, I mean.”

I am honestly surprised it has taken her this long to ask. It has not exactly been a secret where I spend my afternoons. Be that as it may, I have not devised a response in preparation.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says when I take too long to respond.

We enter the shower area and the pale yellow tile is slick with humidity. “I am not avoiding the question,” I tell her, and glance at the others, who laugh and chat as if we do not exist. “I just do not have an answer.”

Leigh flips the nozzle to a stall that stands out of earshot of the others. “But you are seeing Dr. Malcolm for a reason?”

I turn on a shower beside her. Cold water splashes up to warn me against getting under too soon. “Yes,” I say, and scratch my head automatically. I cannot feel the nanites now residing there, but the idea gives me chills just the same. It has been two days since their insertion, and Dr. Malcolm is hopeful the tech will yield results he has not yet discovered on his own.

She steps out of her remaining clothes, partially guarded by a half wall between us, and steps under the spray. “Are you going to make me play twenty questions?”

“I agreed to let him run some tests for his clone study.”

“Won’t that be a moot point in a few days?”

“Not if something goes wrong with the existing clones.”

She nods, appeased, and I soak my head under the hot water, rubbing the grime of sweat from my face.

“Sonya’s leaving today?” I hear Leigh ask from under the rush of water.

I lean out and stare up at the silver showerhead. Heavy drops of water well up and fall from the bottom. The tension in my shoulders increases. “Yes.”

“She took the breakup awfully well.”

“I would not say that. We have had a few moments.” The last being five days ago in the hospital wing with Adrienne. I can still picture her face as Noah and I walked away. How heartbroken and alone she looked.

“Yeah, but she hasn’t beaten the crap out of you, or made it hard on Tucker. The people around here respect her. If they thought she wanted his life to be hell, they’d find ways to make it so.”

“I hate this entire situation. I wish things could be different.”

Leigh takes the shampoo bottle off the tiled wall between us. “Why? You’re getting your family back together and won’t have her around giving you the evil eye.”

“I know. I just keep thinking about Adrienne. She will miss Sonya. But once she leaves, I will not have to look over my shoulder every time Noah holds my hand.” I smile at the prospect. It will be a relief to not have to worry about sparing her feelings.

“Should we be expecting wedding bells in the near future?”

“He has not asked.” The idea makes butterflies wing through my stomach. We talk of a future, but neither of us has mentioned renewing our marriage.

“Ask
him.
What are you waiting for?”

The idea brings me up short. I
should
ask him. He will say yes. I know he will. But there is only one thing left in my plan to prove to Noah I am not going anywhere.

“I have to do something first,” I say. “Can you help me?”

 • • • 

Miles lifts my left hand off our shared desk. His nose squishes up as if he smells something horrid. “What the fucking hell did you do to yourself?”

The brand
did
smell at first but does not now. A spray of antiseptic and burn recovery healed the damaged skin, and my hand is as good as new. Except for the luckenbooth staring back at us. I cannot wait to see Noah’s face when I show him.

I steal my hand back. “This is none of your business.”

He grunts and returns his attention to his four screens. Behind a forced cough he says, “Lucky bastard.”

“Excuse me?”

He grins but does not look at me. “Mind your station, Wade.”

I roll away and flip on my four monitors. Miles and I are examining every inch of the Alexandria WTC for weak points and have to report later today. Except my heart is not in it. I feel a little glowy and happy and have a burning need to see Noah. But he is upstairs in his big office with windows overlooking a perfectly sunny day.

I grin.
Lucky bastard, indeed.

I open a chat window on one screen and find Noah on the available list. I click his name and a white box appears.

“
THINKING OF YOU,
” I type.

“
DETA
ILS.
”

“
IT WILL HAVE TO
WAIT.
”

“
TEASE.
”

I look at the hearts permanently marking my hand and smile. “
I HAVE
A SURPRISE FOR YOU.
”

Miles peeks around and tries to read my chat screen. “Sexting again, Wade? Really? I expect better from you.”

I push him away and laugh. “Stop it.”

He grins. “I thought we agreed you’d invite me next time.”

I roll my eyes and read Noah’s response. My screen blinks as if ready to go out, but then returns to normal. “
CAN’T WAIT. LUNCH?
”

“
HOLOGR
AM ROOM?
” I want to show him the brand on our beach.

“
I’LL BE THE
RE
.
NW.
”

I smile and can almost hear him say the phrase we have said since our night at the apartment: “No words.” We could say “I love you,” but in the end, they are only three little words. For us, there are none.

“
NW,
” I type, then close the window.

When lunchtime approaches, I practically fly from my station. “See you later,” I tell Miles.

“Slow down, Wade. Should I be worried about a fiery inferno erupting in a second?”

I laugh and shoot him a wave over my shoulder. I thought most of the morning about it and have decided to ask Noah to marry me today. Now. I do not want to wait. A hologram room is not very romantic, but is a step up—quite a few, actually—from his proposal years ago in a command center during a fight in front of hundreds of witnesses. And anyway, the location does not matter.

I am so lost in thought, planning my little speech, that when I turn a corner too sharply, I run directly into Sonya. I am beginning to apologize when she grabs my shoulders in a tight grip.

Her eyes are wide and frantic. “I was just coming for you.”

I blink.
Me?
“Why?”

She tugs me in the direction from which she just came. She is practically running. “It’s Noah. He’s hurt. Come on.”

Any questions I have lock in my throat and I stop trying to hinder her progress. I race behind her, my heart
thunk
ing against my sternum. I cannot live without him and pray to whoever is listening that he is okay.

Moments later she darts into Noah’s empty hub office. I had assumed she was leading me to the hospital wing. Not once did I think she would bring me to this room when he was working upstairs today.

I pause in the doorway. “What are we doing here?”

She opens the panel to his teleporter, climbs inside, then motions for me to hurry up. “What the hell are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

Trepidation sinks like lead in my stomach. If we need a teleporter to reach him, we had been closer to the ones in the command center when I ran into her.

“He could die while you’re standing there,” she says, which is all it takes to yank me forward.

I climb in and inhale her too-sweet vanilla scent. She punches in an untraceable code—
Why does she need that?
—and the scent of spearmint envelops the tube. Noah’s concrete office dissolves, and wood floors, each slat a varying shade of brown, take its place. We face a glass wall. A sunken living room. A small kitchen. A bedroom open to an unmade bed.

And Declan Burke.