his face an impassive mask.
He wanted so much to argue with her, to remind her of what was at risk, as if she didn’t already know the possible outcome. There were no choices, really. It had to be this way.
“I need to consider all of the ramifications. I know that, George. But I also need the best we have to look into this and Rafael is the very best.”
George left without another word. That was another reason she’d hired him. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.
She needed to think. Her fingers danced around the ring, the baby tooth, and she made her hand move down. Sentimentality was not required just now. She had to keep control of her emotions.
She was once again toying with her trinkets when George and Rafael came back. Rafael was a striking figure, older than he looked by several years, which meant he looked almost like an adult. Almost. His face was still young enough to fool many people, though she’d known a few baby-faced adults in her time. His hair was dark, his uniform pristine, and his eyes carried the same dark, predatory glint that marked almost all of the Doppelgangers when they were in combat mode.
“You wanted to see me, Ms. Hope?” He got directly to business. She liked that about him.
“You’ve read the reports on your predecessors, haven’t you, Rafael?”
“Yes, ma’am, per your orders.”
She nodded. “What do you remember about Subject Seven?”
Rafael responded quickly. “Subject Seven was considered the first true success, physically far superior to a regular man, with a very high IQ and the first obvious Alpha tendencies. He escaped or was abducted from his home just a little over five years ago.”
A necessary lie. They had never made clear that Seven had escaped. They had no need to plant the idea of dissent into the ranks.
“We believe we might have a lead on Seven, Rafael, and we believe he has gone rogue. But I need you to confirm that before we send a retrieval team in.”
Rafael tilted his head slightly and nodded. “What certainties are there that this is Subject Seven?”
“There are none. From what I can see in the film you’re about to watch, he appears to be using Alpha tendencies, meaning he’s leading the others without words. But I need you to be sure of that.”
“How can I be certain? Alpha abilities are unique to each birth lot.”
Birth lot, a polite way of saying the genetic batch that a Doppelganger was born into.
“True, but didn’t you once tell me there was interference when you were dealing with other Alphas?”
Rafael contemplated that for a moment. He’d been the one to point out that while he could not force his will onto a different lot of Doppelgangers, he could always tell who the Alpha was because there was a mental resistance, a sort of feedback that was like white noise whenever he tried to read them. Since he had pointed it out, several other Alphas had confirmed the same thing.
“So, go find out. Either it’s Subject Seven or one of the Doppelganger teams we sold to the military is hunting us down. If it’s the latter, we can work it out easily. If it’s Subject Seven, we might have an issue on our hands.”
“And if it’s Seven?”
“If it’s Subject Seven and you can take him down, do so.” She looked at Rafael and took his measure. Against almost anyone, he was more than a match. He’d been tested extensively in combat situations and on obstacle courses. He could easily bench-press five hundred pounds and had a reaction time that was documented at one one-hundredth of a second, ten times faster than the reaction time of a trained athlete. Still, she wasn’t completely sure if he could take Subject Seven without getting himself killed in the process. He was close to the levels they’d reached with the original test subjects, but none of the original subjects had matured to Rafael’s level. Even with the procedures they’d used to chemically age the Doppelgangers, they were still physically not as matured as Seven. They weren’t likely to be as physically powerful. “If it looks like he has the upper hand, retreat and we’ll consider our options.”
Rafael tried to hide it, but she could see the arrogance in his face. He didn’t think he could take Seven, he knew he could take Seven. “Rafael, I chose you for this because you are one of the very best soldiers at my disposal. You are an amazing fighting machine.” She could see him resist the desire to preen. Evelyn did not give out compliments lightly and he knew it. “But when he was ten years old, Subject Seven was already stronger and faster than you.”
Rafael blinked, surprised.
“Listen carefully to me. If he did escape from us, if he wasn’t abducted, then he killed over ten people the night he escaped. He injured or crippled twenty more. Do not assume that he’s weaker than you or slower than you. And just because he hasn’t been trained by us doesn’t mean he hasn’t been trained. Do not underestimate him. Do I make myself clear?”
Rafael snapped to attention, duly chastised. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Very good. Come watch this tape with me. Look for any weaknesses and help me decide what’s going on with the rest of the people with him.”
“Do you think they’re like him?”
“Not quite. Either they’re some of ours, or they shouldn’t exist.”
Intrigued, Rafael sat in one of the chairs George offered and started watching the tape.
Chapter Thirty-three
Joe Bronx
Theyentered the Stevenson Hotel through the front doors, and while a person or two might have questioned why they had wet pants and shoes, no one gave them grief.
The wound in Joe’s arm was almost completely mended. His dress shirt was gone, left in the sewer because, as Joe had learned over the years, people might not question dirty pants, but they always asked about bloodstains. The hotel room door opened just like it was supposed to. Joe Bronx walked over to the dressers and promptly began pulling out clothes as the Others stood around looking at him.
“What are you doing?” Not-Gene looked at the dress slacks, the sets of shoes and the accessories, for men and women alike, and scowled, not with anger but curiosity. His face was an open book, and that was fine with Joe. His mind was already an open book. He couldn’t exactly read all of the guy’s thoughts, but he could come close. It was one of several things that separated him from the rest of the Others. Not-Gene was curious. He was waking up more every minute, becoming a real personality instead of a puppet. Joe wasn’t sure if he liked that part.
“What are we doing,” he corrected. “We’re going out. We’re going to have a nice dinner and we’re going to party.”
“Cool.” Not-Tina smiled. Her face lit up when she smiled. The rest of the time she just looked like a girl ready to go on a killing spree. Her mind was not as much of an open book. She was like looking in on a gathering storm, her mind adrift with violent flashes of rage and overwhelming sensory winds. Somewhere in that hurricane were thoughts and emotions that were easier to read, but like the rain-drops in a storm, they seemed almost inconsequential.
“Why?” Not-Gene again. He was a downer.
“Because we can.” Joe shrugged and tossed a pair of charcoal slacks at Not-Gene, who caught them easily. “Those should fit. I had to guess, guys. We’ve never really met before.”
Not-Gene was not modest. He stripped out of the too tight clothes and quickly began to dress.
“We’re going to have a proper talk, boys and girls. You see, our counterparts, they’ve got certain impressions about us. I helped them have those impressions. I intend to make sure they keep those impressions for as long as possible.” He threw more articles of clothing and watched as the others got changed. Not-Kyrie was surprisingly shy. Not-Tina stripped down without hesitation.
He enjoyed both views.
“What do you mean?” Not-Kyrie asked the question as she slipped into a pair of shoes that looked slightly too
