Subject Seven (6 page)

It didn't. Not anymore. He'd long since dealt with the deaths of the others as best he could.

“Subject Three got loose and they sent a couple of guards after her. She was trying to get out and they had to, well, they had to shoot her. She didn't survive. But she was hurt before she died. She suffered is what I'm saying.”

Seven closed his eyes for a second. Deep in the recesses of his thoughts he could remember the sudden screaming pain, the way his stomach had clenched and the way Three's screams had echoed through his mind.

Daniel continued. “They watched the tapes, and they showed me the sequence. They saw how you reacted to Three's escape and death, and they knew they'd succeeded.”

“Cut to the damn chase.” Seven's voice was a rumble.

“Call it a psychic link. You don't have any of the others around right now, but back at the labs you used to respond whenever anything happened to one of the others. You would scream when they were angered, and you communicated with them. We saw it. We studied it. They cataloged the whole thing. You're the reason the program went on, Seven. You made them know they were on the right track.”

“How very nice for them.” His sneer was enough to make Clarkson flinch. “Now tell me about the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?”

“They kept ten out of the batch. There were more than that.”

“How do you know that? No one knows that but—”

“What do you think I was paying Hanson for? His company?” He took a breath to calm himself down. The anger was there again, reminding him that he hated Janus and everyone associated with the company. “Of course, he eventually clammed up and I had to use more than money to get him to talk. Be smarter than him, Daniel. Tell me everything I need to know and it doesn't have to get as messy. See my point?”

Clarkson nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I get you. There were more. Most of them, most of them were eliminated.”

“But not all of them. You kept some, didn't you?”

“What? No. What the hell would I want with a bunch of kids?” Clarkson shook his head. “I sold them. Me and Marty, we were in the same boat, see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was wrong, okay? It's one thing to create them, but to just, to just throw them away? Like they never even existed? Man, that shouldn't even happen to dogs.”

“Happens every day. Ever hear of a puppy mill?”

For just a moment Clarkson looked offended. “Well, we didn't want any part of that, and we were the ones who got stuck with the job of disposal. Marty because he was low man on the team and me because I was supposed to handle the paper trail and get rid of the evidence. No one wanted to know what happened to them. No one wanted to deal with the details, okay? So we decided to put them up for adoption.”

Seven nodded and munched on a few fries. “And if you could make a little money, that didn't hurt your feelings any either, did it?”

Clarkson looked down, caught in his self-righteous lies. “Yeah, okay, so maybe we made money from the deal, but the kids got to live, didn't they?”

“Where did they go?”

“I've got a list.”

“How many did you send out there? How many did you put out in the world?”

“From your batch?” He squinted in thought, but Seven suspected it was for show. Clarkson was the sort that already knew the answers, or at least thought he did. “Ten.”

Seven's heart pounded hard in his chest. Ten! The possibilities were staggering. “And have any of them shown signs of changing?”

“I don't think so. Look, it's not that easy. You know that. A command has to be given.”

“A command?” Seven frowned. There was something back in his memories, something about a command, wasn't there? So much had happened since then he had trouble remembering everything sometimes.

“Okay, an Alpha, like you? You can give them a command to wake. Another to sleep. But there's also command words. Like the ones they used on you.” Clarkson frowned. “How did you get past that?”

Seven shook his head. He didn't need to let the idiot know about the car wreck and how much that had changed his life. “Doesn't matter. Tell me about the others.”

“Well, they were failures, of course. There's no proof that they were anything special. You were all failures, the only reason even you made it out was because they thought there might be potential. You especially, I mean, but none of you were considered successes. Not until later.”

“I don't care. Tell me about them. Tell me how to reach them.”

“They all went through the same agency. It was a setup, of course. I was the agency. I have the names of their parents and the names we gave the kids.” He shook his head. “That's all I've got. I don't know if any of them are like you or if they're just normal kids. I didn't check in on them. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize to me. You just have to give me the list.”

Clarkson pulled out three sheets of paper stapled together and folded over on themselves. His hands shook a bit as he handed them over. Seven's hand was steady as he took them and then looked at the contents.

After several moments of studying the short list, he slid his bag across the floor under the table between them. “We're done.”

“We are?” Clarkson sounded surprised.

“We had a deal. You kept your end. Barely, but you kept it.”

“You can see why I was nervous . . . .” Again the man tried to apologize and Seven couldn't have cared less.

“You want to count that?” Seven asked, pointing to the duffel bag.

“No, I'll trust you.” Seven almost laughed at that. Instead he nodded and finished off his burger while Clarkson made the money disappear.

“It's really you?” Clarkson's voice was subdued. “What . . . um . . . what are you going to do with them?” His eyes flickered down to the list in Seven's hand.

“It's really me. Be smart and keep that to yourself.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

Seven stared hard at Clarkson until the man looked away.

“I don't know yet. I'm still thinking. It's a lot to absorb.” Seven stood up and stretched and looked around the room. There were a few diners, but none of them paid him any attention. “You get to buy me dinner. I gave you all my cash.”

Clarkson nodded and stayed where he was. Seven left the diner and moved into the darkness. The three pages of names and addresses had just cost him fifty thousand dollars that he'd worked hard to earn—or steal.

The information was worth every penny.

Seven followed Clarkson home. It was easier than he would have expected. The man drove his car and Seven ran, following along the side roads that the informant had taken to get to the bowling alley. Not surprisingly, Clarkson hadn't met him very far from his home. He was the sort that needed the comfort and security of his own place. Seven had never had that in his earlier life and had no need of it now.

Now he knew where Clarkson lived, and that was all he'd needed to know.

He walked back to his hotel room and settled in for a few moments before he pulled out the list Clarkson had given him and looked at the names. One family name, one first name and a gender. It could all be lies, and then he'd be screwed. He'd wanted to kill Clarkson, but first he had to make sure that the information he gave him was good. Clarkson had recognized him as Subject Seven, and that could be dangerous.

“No room for losers, Hunter, old boy. You'll learn that soon enough.” He stood up and grabbed the tape recorder. A few quick buttons and a flip of the tape and he was ready to have another chat with the Other.

“Hello, Hunter. Here's the thing. You work for me. Give me what I want, and I'll give you answers about your family and about your past. That's the way this is played. I'll give you this much for free. Your family is alive. Or at least they were when I left them behind. They were a little upset, of course. They thought I'd killed you. In their defense, so did I.” Lies. The smile that spread across his face was pure venom, undiluted hatred. The lies came easily enough. Anything he could do to make Hunter suffer was a pleasure. “I'm going to give you a few names to check out, Hunter. I know you're good with homework and I have other things to take care of. I want you to find out everything you can about the people I write down on the list you'll find on the mirror. E-mail addresses, home addresses, phone numbers. I want to know everything. Are they druggies? Jocks? Cheerleaders? Sluts? Find out and write down everything you uncover. You do this for me, and we can start giving you the answers you want. And if you don't? We'll have a problem.”

He needed Hunter kept busy. He needed the Other distracted or he would slow things down too much.

He played back the message twice and then taped his list to the hotel room mirror.

“DANIEL CLARKSON.” GEORGE MULCHAHY slid a piece of paper across Evelyn's massive desk in her study. “He just paid off his car, his house and his time-share in Malibu. He also deposited fifteen thousand dollars into his savings account.”

“People make money, George. Even when they don't work for us anymore.” Evelyn's voice was dry and calm. She wasn't easily shocked. If she had been, she'd surely have never gotten to where she was in the world.

George tsked under his breath and crossed his arms. His suit was impeccable and his hair was perfect and if it weren't for the atrocious glasses he insisted on wearing, he could have been called handsome, in a stuffy sort of way. He was one of the very few people who knew her that could get away with making that rude little noise in her presence. He was Evelyn's second-in-command.

Evelyn sighed and then forced a small smile. “Obviously you think I'm missing something about Dan's sudden income increase, George. Would you like to enlighten me?”

“Funny, isn't it? Dan suddenly runs across a spare fifty g's just two weeks after Martin Hanson gets hospitalized in the same city.”

That got her attention. “Really?”

George nodded. “Seems Martin was getting extra money for a while too. A look back in his records shows about one hundred and twenty-five thousand extra dollars in spending showing up around his house. New garage, finally got that little boat he was always talking about. Paid cash for it. All of it over the last six months.”

“Really? Are we sure he didn't just have a paper route somewhere?” Evelyn leaned back in her leather seat and stared at her second. There were a lot of reasons that she'd chosen him as her personal assistant, but one of the main ones was simply that he was one of the most paranoid human beings she had ever met. And that made him valuable. He just didn't trust anyone, and that especially included ex-employees who had too much information for their own good.

George made that tsking noise again, and Evelyn lifted an eyebrow and stared at him until he looked away. It was okay to get a little cheeky, but she wouldn't tolerate anyone, not even her personal assistant, getting rude with her.

Properly chastised, George looked at his clipboard. She knew it was for show. He had a mind that was too sharp to need a clipboard, which was one of the other reasons she'd hired him and kept him close over the years.

“Martin went to work for Danforth Pharmaceuticals after he left here. He didn't know that you own both companies. You've been good to him over the years, but he's also been very frugal. Martin wouldn't so much as buy a pair of dollar sunglasses on a too-bright day. You know it; I know it.”

She waved her hand for him to get to the point. “Let's not rehash old news, George. Tell me why you think something is going on.”

His eyes were unreadable behind the eyeglasses. “Twenty thousand dollars, Evelyn. Like clockwork, every month, but there's no paper trail. He's paid for everything in cash.”

“It's hardly like Martin to get careless.”

“Wasn't that why you had me relocate him in the first place, Evelyn?”

She frowned, remembering the whole sordid affair better than she liked. Martin hadn't been the only person she had removed from Janus on that day, not nearly the only one.

Thinking about the cleanup after Seven got away threatened to make her emotional again. Her hand reached up and touched the gold chain around her neck. The chain held exactly two items. One was her wedding ring. The other was the tiny tooth she had bronzed when it fell from her baby boy's mouth. She'd traded it out for a dollar bill and told Bobby that the tooth fairy had taken it. The next week Tom had the silly thing bronzed for her and carefully added a hook to let her string it through the very chain she still wore. A little something to hold close to her heart was what he called it, and she did then and she did now. Even when the hatred she felt for Seven was overwhelming, the love for Bobby was still real.