CLONER : a Sci-Fi Novel about Human Cloning (A Captivating Story about Reproduction Outside the Womb and Identical Humans) (39 page)

‘That’s really what you think happened?’

The darts turned into daggers. ‘Absolutely. There’s no other way to explain it.’ He stared intently at the monitor, then looked at Lisa again. ‘But this time we’ll make doubly sure. If you’ll bear with us, we’ll do another ultrasound in a month or so. The foetus will have moved position. No question of the same thing happening again.’ He wrote something on his notepad. ‘We’ll do our best not to waste your time. Take samples now for all the other tests, and repeat those, as well. Can’t be too careful, can we?’

Why did that sound like a threat? ‘Not the amniocentesis,’ Lisa said quickly, assertive, positive.

‘No, certainly not that, my dear. I do agree.’ Almost on the defensive. ‘By that time it wouldn’t be useful, in any case. The results would be too late for possible termination.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll send the results to your GP as soon as the lab returns them.’

‘I mean I don’t want the amniocentesis at all.’

‘Is that wise? You are, after all, in your late thirties.’

‘That’s for me and my husband to decide. There is one other point, Mr Parslow.’

‘Yes?’

‘I did feel you saw something - unusual - last time. I was quite sure of it. Not medically unsound, of course. Just...’

The eyes had veiled; he tried to smile, but merely twisted his mouth. ‘There’s nothing in the notes, Mrs Wildmore. As I remember it there was no problem whatsoever.’

‘Not a problem. I just thought you might have seen something out of the ordinary – ’

‘Nothing at all.’

Lisa wondered just how he could maintain that in the face of what had developed, but decided there was no more to be gained by prodding him. He’d simply put her down again. ‘I rather hope it’s only one, this time.’

Parslow, evidently relieved, actually grinned at her. ‘Well, I’m certainly not making any rash predictions,’ he said. ‘But there’s a sporting chance.’ There was a pause as he walked towards the window, his back to her. ‘What are you taking now? Any medication at all?’

‘I don’t believe in drugs, particularly when I’m pregnant.’ She felt composed, assured. ‘I don’t smoke. And I won’t bother with alcohol for the next few months. Just wholesome food, grown without any artificial stimulants.’

‘Very commendable, if you can find it.’

‘I’ve taken up vegetable gardening.’

‘Not too much of the heavy work, remember.’

‘If I feel overdone, I drink herb tea, made from dried roots or leaves. Grown on a local farm.’

‘Indeed. Herb tea?’ Parslow’s quick eyes showed interest. ‘What sort of herbs?’

‘Lady’s mantle is my favourite at the moment,’ Lisa told him. ‘Just the leaves. Very important during pregnancy.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Dandelion if I need a diuretic.’

He was watching her attentively. ‘An interesting idea.’

She paused, wondering whether to let him know, then decided she might as well get his opinion. ‘And valerian root tea if I’m overwrought. No chemicals of any sort, you see.’

The doctor rubbed a smooth, strong chin. ‘It isn’t quite as simple as that, you know.’ A chair was placed beside her. ‘I really think I must warn you against relying too much on folklore.’

‘You don’t approve?’

‘I think you’re playing with unknowns here. It’s fashionable to think that plants are “natural” and can’t do you any harm. We know that’s wrong, of course. Some are known killers - hemlock, for instance, and belladonna. The green nightshade berries can be deadly, they contain powerful poisons - scopolamine, hyoscyamine and atropine, among others. I’m afraid natural isn’t equivalent to safe.’

‘I know that, Mr Parslow.’

‘All matter is made up of chemicals; we can’t escape that. A number of the well-known drugs we use are synthesised from plants. But for every discovery of useful drugs from such sources, like aspirin or digitalis, we need to sift hundreds of plants or other organisms to find another safe one.’

‘But – ’

‘I really don’t want to preach, but it is important for you to bear some facts in mind. Natural plants contain any number of chemicals. They’re in the tissues and juices of the plants. What bothers me is not the beneficial ingredients in some of the herbs - I don’t deny there are pharmacologically active ones - what bothers me is that the dosage is uncontrolled.’

‘You mean I don’t know how much I’m taking?’

‘Exactly. Neither how much, nor how little, or exactly what. On the other hand, if the desired ingredient is isolated, purified in the laboratory, it can be administered in properly calculated doses. That’s what we do with modern drugs.’

‘But the new drugs are much more powerful, and the drug companies make enormous profits.’

‘There has to be a financial benefit, the research has to be funded.’ The green had turned to a dark emerald. ‘It would be much wiser if you stuck to proven vitamins and minerals. For what it’s worth, that’s what I’d recommend.’

‘So you think what I’m doing is dangerous?’

‘Mostly I’d think it was harmless. The valerian needs to be taken in strict moderation. I’m sure you already know that.’

‘Yes,’ Lisa said softly. ‘I do.’

‘I’d certainly prefer to prescribe a mild sedative.’

‘Like thalidomide, you mean?’

‘Below the belt, Mrs Wildmore. Tests are far more stringent now. Mine certainly are.’ He looked at her, his pupils pinpoints of power. ‘I expect you’ve heard from Lady Carruthers.’

‘Diana is expecting twins?’ Lisa asked, an image of the split in her womb surfacing.

‘I would never discuss a patient,’ Parslow said severely. He smiled; a genuine, warm smile. ‘What I thought she might have told you is that Flaxton have just made a substantial grant available to me. They are funding my team of embryologists. We’re observing the effects of particular chemical signals on DNA.’

DNA - Dinnay! She saw the pebbles Janus had written in the sand at Brean -
that
was why he’d shown her the coloured screens from Alec’s disks, that’s what they symbolised. The DNA of a particular person - he’d found the description of
his
DNA.

‘Mrs Wildmore? Are you all right?’

Lisa pulled herself together. ‘Of course, Mr Parslow. I was just taking in what you were saying.’

Flaxton
were funding Ian Parslow’s research? She felt trapped, hemmed in. Had they obtained a sample of Janus’s tissue, tested his DNA and found that he was a cloner? Where they now using Parslow to get samples from her new foetus? Perhaps he’d worked out a way to obtain the cells he needed in spite of her refusal to have the amniocentesis. Was
that
why he was asking her to come back for a second set of tests? She would, of course, refuse.

‘That’s Flaxton’s special field,’ the doctor continued, unaware of her thoughts. ‘These are exciting times.’

CHAPTER 35

‘Do we really have to go?’

Alec turned slowly, adjusting his silk tie in the mirror, his suit immaculate. ‘One minute you say I’m having a secret affair with Geraldine, the next you refuse to join in when you’re invited. The girl’s eighteen, her parents are giving a special party at the Bath & West, and she particularly wanted you and the children to be there.’ He turned, evidently exasperated. ‘Now what’s wrong with that?’

There wasn’t really anything wrong with it. Geraldine had taken immense pains to make herself appear sympathetic and friendly since the accident on the Tor. She’d offered to spend free time with Janus. She seemed to be prepared to put up with the problems he experienced accommodating to his broken leg, and she’d taken endless trouble to help him adjust to coping with his cast.

Janus, Lisa had noted with interest, had steadfastly refused all overtures of friendship. ‘Don’t like Gerry,’ he’d said to Lisa on virtually every occasion that the girl appeared. ‘Won’t play with Gerry.’ And to the girl herself he’d said: ‘Don’t want you here. Go away.’

In spite of this Geraldine had insisted on playing, or trying to play, games with him. To distract him when the pain was at its worst, she’d explained to Lisa. And Janus had suffered her there when he was in too much discomfort to fight her. The girl had gone even further. She’d volunteered to help him with the exercises the doctors had prescribed to keep the child’s body fit.

Stranger still, it seemed to Lisa that the girl’s interest in Alec had decreased. She talked of several younger men and of a special boyfriend. Nevertheless, Lisa wasn’t fooled into thinking of her as a simple little helper at the school.

Geraldine’s interest in Janus, Lisa had worked out for herself, was to keep tabs on him. In other words, as long as Janus was in a cast, as long as he was known to have that plastic splinter in his leg, he wasn’t a threat to anyone.

Should the situation change, well then that would be different. Flaxton would hear about it right away, and take what action was necessary. They were playing a waiting game. And Lisa took care to ensure they understood that Janus was no longer a danger to them. She went out of her way to discuss everything about Janus’s medical condition with Geraldine, even inviting her to accompany her and Janus to the check-ups at the hospital.

What Lisa didn’t tell anyone, though she was acutely aware of it, was that the only way she could prevent that awful bloating, those first tell-tale signs of imminent cloning, was to keep the child to a strict diet of food produced by means other than organic. It was ironic that she, of all people, should now insist that Janus eat produce grown with artificial fertilisers. Controlled, as Ian Parslow had put it.

A very special set of circumstances had brought Janus about. She was sure she now knew how to contain his terrible attribute, how to stop his ever cloning again. He had a permanent pin in his leg; that solved the tagging problem. All she had to do was control his diet, make sure his energies were fully used. Perhaps Gilmore could be persuaded to prescribe a chemical diuretic to discharge any accumulations of extra fluid.

‘You want us to meet you at the Bath & West at four?’ Lisa brought herself back to the present.

‘Three-thirty, Lisa. The Fitch-Templetons particularly asked me to make sure that you get there on time. They have some special treat planned, and it’s supposed to start at four.’

Alec walked over to his wife, his still-handsome features composed, his still-trim figure impressive in his suit, his still-brown hair reasonably plentiful. A good-looking successful man; the father of her children. He had a presentation box in his hands. So he was giving Geraldine something special; evidently the flame wasn’t entirely quenched.

‘I thought we might give Geraldine a string of amber,’ he said. ‘She really has been splendid about Janus. Perhaps we can persuade Jansy to make the presentation.’ He held the box out to her, smiling.

Lisa opened it. A string of iridescent opals blinked up at her, a matching pair of earrings at the side. These were in a different class from a string of amber. Did Alec think she couldn’t tell the difference?

Opals - known for their mythical powers. Stones of tragedy, of death. Some king of Spain, she remembered, had presented an opal ring to his wife on their wedding-day, and she’d died soon after. Did Alec know that?

‘I think you gave me the wrong box,’ Lisa said coldly, handing it back.

His eyes smiled love at her. ‘This one’s for you. To match your delicate complexion.’ He came towards her, taking the necklace from the presentation box and putting that behind him. He held the milky stones up in his hands. ‘May I?’

‘Oh, Alec.’ She melted; how could she have doubted him? ‘They’re lovely, really beautiful.’

The iridescent stones curved round her slender neck, showing its delicacy. Her skin, translucent and with the sheen of country life, glowed back the gemstones.

‘Put on the earrings as well,’ Alec suggested.

She placed the teardrops on the lobes of her ears. Soft wavy gold wisped over them.

‘I’ll put my hair up,’ Lisa said, holding the slippery mass behind her. The face in the mirror smiled back at her, the blue eyes dark with sparkle.

‘You look a million,’ Alec murmured into her ear. ‘Sorry I’ve got to go. Geraldine’s necklace is here.’ He held another package out to her. ‘See if you can get Jansy to give it to her for all of us. And don’t forget, three-thirty sharp.’

This time the opals had done their work even before they were presented, Lisa thought sadly. Her little Jiminy was dead already.

‘You and Jeffers in the back, Seb.’

‘It’s my turn to sit in front, Mummy.’

‘It’s easier for Mummy to arrange Jansy’s cast in the front,’ Lisa explained again. ‘It’s coming off soon. Then you can take it in turns, as we used to do.’

The little boy said nothing, but Lisa could feel him think of Jiminy.

‘Here we go, then, Jansy. You hold the present for Gerry, will you? Remember what we practised. When it’s our turn to give her our presents you give her this. From all of us.’

‘No!’ The little boy took the box and threw it hard against the floor of the car. The gold wrapping paper, so carefully arranged, split at a corner.

She saw Jeffrey scramble down to pick up the box, then gently stroke his brother’s hand, holding the box away from him and offering it to her. Could Jeffrey feel his brother’s pain? She took the box and handed it to Seb to hold.

Janus sat unresponsive, stone-faced, staring out of the windscreen. The two boys in the back began to chant numbers.

Lisa strapped the children into their seats. Her heart pit-pattered as she thought of the last time she’d driven them alone. Brean Sands. Her little Jiminy had been with them, then. Sleeping in the back, already showing the signs of the unexpected unheralded illness lurking within him. Why hadn’t she known? Could she have saved him if she hadn’t been so taken up with Janus?

He sat, the child who had at one time been so aggressive, silent and docile. His leg was hurting him, she knew. The break, though mending brilliantly according to the doctors, was giving him constant pain, sapping his strength. He was no longer raucous. He’d become thinner, almost skinny. Had the accident on the Tor been a real accident? Lisa could not stop herself from wondering. There was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Who was the redhead who’d seated Jiminy on the slick blue anorak? That’s why her little boy had slipped to his death that day. Whatever the doctors said, who knew how long he might have lived?

Was he the young man Seb had talked about? What had he been doing there? Had he given James a push? Why would he? Unless, of course, he’d mistaken James for Janus. Was that possible? Was the young man a hired assassin, paid to kill the cloner before the world found out about him, before he could clone again?

Grief had prevented Lisa from thinking properly about the accident, and the grave digging episode which had gone before it. Why had the grave been empty? Not because Multiplier had hastened decomposition, she now realised. It was because someone had removed the corpse and replaced it with loam. As Alec had pointed out there was no dip, no indentation, no slippage of soil; that meant no body had decomposed. Nor was there clay, like the second spit between the other two fruit trees. Alec had dug up only good black earth.

Someone must have removed the body. That could only be someone who worked for Flaxton, someone who realised what was going on, someone who knew how to replace a body with soil. That’s why the fruit tree leaders had been broken; that’s why there were unexpected bits and pieces in the soil. It all made sense now.

‘It’s a Flaxton lorry, Mummy.’

Lisa, distracted, pulled herself together. She had been driving fast, oblivious of what was happening around her. The narrow roads could only safely be navigated by one car at a time. She’d have to pull in at a stopping place to allow the distinctive yellow lorry, with its black Flaxton logo, to pass her.

‘That’s the second one today.’

‘Second what, Seb?’

‘Second yellow one, with the pirate sign.’

‘Pirate sign?’