been kidnaped, and Scheele was suspected. There was also evidence that Scheele might be involved in a possible kidnaping and abuse of Elena Marquez—Mrs. Bo Haugen—and of William Harford, and the denial of their civil liberties. We were carrying out the Harford investigation on a contract with the U.S. Department of Justice.
Sheriff Nyberg wanted to know more about the evidence; the judge would ask. Rather than tell him he'd gotten the information from a psychic, Joe took refuge in the confidential status of the Harford case. He didn't mention that I was sitting across the room from him just then, either.
The whole damned situation felt like something from Alice's rabbit hole. It was Joe who said that, after he'd hung up.
Nyberg pulled it off; he got the search warrant. Judge Santos had always been sympathetic toward the problems of law enforcement. And Prudential's reputation must have helped, and mine; he mentioned my work on the Ashkenazi murder case. Anyway, less than two hours after Tuuli's call, two sheriff's department floaters lifted from their pads, loaded with officers that included a SWAT team. And Carlos, who'd caught a shuttle for Santa Barbara at the Larchmont Station.
* * *
Needless to say, I stayed in L.A. But from another point of view—a clonal point of view—I know what happened, beginning with the next time I woke up. I was still on the gurney, had been drifting in and out of dreams I don't remember, until finally I was fully awake. I wondered if I was wired, maybe to an EEG, because a couple of minutes later the same guy came in. Taking out a pair of heavy scissors, he cut the tape that held my head down. 'Congratulations,' he said, 'you won the wake-up lottery. Time to go for your interview.'
While he wheeled me down a corridor, I asked myself what I'd do if they took me off the gurney. They wouldn't, but if they did . . . I got a brief image of kicking the seeds out of everyone there, starting with Scheele, and if they shot me, what the hell? I'd be back at Prudential or wherever the real me was. But I knew they wouldn't let me loose.
The room I got wheeled into was an office. Two guys were there waiting. One was Scheele; I recognized him from his college yearbook. His hairline had receded a bit, and he wore a ponytail now—they were back in style—but he was Charles Scheele. And grinning like someone pleased at how clever he was. The other was the muscle. He didn't look like anyone I'd care to mess with, even if I was at my best. Good Old Billy wasn't in the same league.
'Mr. Seppanen!' Scheele said. 'Welcome! I've looked you up. You're quite the Sherlock Holmes.'
'And you're quite the Arne Haugen,' I told him.
He laughed. 'I'm having more fun than Arne Haugen had.'
'Not with me, I hope.'
He laughed again. 'Preferably not. I do want information from you though.'
'I suppose we clones are sort of disposable, eh? Question us, then kill us. Ash the remains and fertilize the garden with them.'
'My my, Mr. Seppanen. May I call you Martti? You have a creative imagination. No, there are no bodies to dispose of. Not clonal bodies at any rate. If you were to die, you'd simultaneously dematerialize. As a matter of fact, you'd dematerialize after a bit anyway, though with someone of your mass, it might take six or seven weeks.'
'What am I then? Some kind of holo?'
Still grinning, he shook his head. 'No, you're quite material.'
'But—then how would I dematerialize?'
'I haven't worked out the details yet; it's not that important. Basically though, it's part of the process. Have you heard of Linyetski's work on teleportation?'
'C.K.F. Linyetski at the University of Birmingham? The guy who teleported a block of iron, sort of?'
Scheele looked surprised, and mentally I thanked Vic Merlin for bringing it up. Actually I had remembered, from when it made the news, but I hadn't remembered the name. And I wanted to interest Scheele, keep him talking. What I learned, I'd take home with me.
'Correct,' he said, 'and I'd been working on the same principle. As others had: Schondienst's work on matrix theory had made it seem distinctly possible. But the actuation?' He laughed again. 'Theory is the first challenge, actuation the second. Teleportation seems to result in problems of stability. With Linyetski's work—which still has practical applications, you know—the instability is immediate. With my work it is delayed, the lag period being a function of mass. A second and happier discovery is that the original is not displaced. As I believe you know. Instead, a duplicate is created at the reception point. I must confess that both developments were entirely unexpected, the serendipitous results of incomplete theory. I'd intended only a simple teleport.
'And when dematerialization occurs, whether by, ah, termination or due to time, the duplicate—you for example—is not reduced to its constituent atoms and molecules, as with Linyetski's block of iron. You simply— disappear! And I have no idea what becomes of you. There aren't even gases given off; I've checked. What I would never have expected is what I have named 'the snapback effect,' with the clonal consciousness returning to the original. I learned of it only after, ah, delivering a number of clones to customers. Had I been aware of it sooner, I'd have done things a bit differently.'
He peered curiously at me. 'A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Seppanen.'
'That's more than they're worth,' I said. Actually I was wondering why he'd tell me all this. He must know I'd take it with me. But it wasn't something I wanted to point out.
'Perhaps you're wondering why I'm telling you all this,' he said, then laughed at my expression. 'Ha! Caught you, didn't I? But believe me, you won't tell anyone, because your original will die while driving home this evening!'
My guts shriveled.
'Yes, Mr. Clonal Seppanen, your original will die on his way home, with a little help from—your humble servant. Among other things, I've made myself quite the expert in explosives.' He made a sweeping bow. 'And your memories will have no one to home on. They will cease to exist, just as your clonal body will. But if you are sufficiently cooperative, your remaining weeks can be more than pleasant. Would you like to spend some time with
