Replica

Nadia looked up to meet his gaze again, and although what she saw there made her shiver inside, she was pretty sure that this time she kept her fear from showing on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mosely,” she said in her most practiced Executive voice. “I know how urgent it is, and I’ll work harder at getting Nate to talk to me.” The promise made her feel vaguely nauseous, and she wasn’t sure how she would force herself to do what she was being asked, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she had to make sure Mosely left this meeting satisfied.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I’ll do what I can. But you have to remember, Mr. Mosely, you’re working with an amateur here. I don’t have any way of making Nate talk to me if he doesn’t want to.” Which was true enough. And it was possible he wouldn’t want to talk to her about whatever he was doing to try to find Bishop. It wasn’t as if he would think she could help him.

“Still not good enough,” Mosely said. “I have evidence that Nathaniel visited the Basement last night.”

Nadia’s jaw dropped open. “What?” She knew Nate had been to the Basement before with his friends—it was a rare Executive teenage boy who hadn’t—and she suspected he and Bishop had gone there as a couple, but she couldn’t imagine even someone as reckless as Nate going to the Basement alone.

Mosely chuckled at her shock. “I take that to mean he didn’t tell you he was planning to go poking around.”

“Certainly not!” Going to the Basement with a group of his friends and a legion of bodyguards was one thing, but she’d never have guessed he’d go there alone. He had to have been in disguise. Nadia couldn’t even imagine what would happen to an Executive of his stature if the Basement predators got their hands on him.

Of course, the Basement was the only place Bishop could possibly be hiding. He’d been born there, and no doubt still had contacts there. Not to mention that the average Basement-dweller wasn’t overly eager to cooperate with authorities and turn fugitives in.

“Scrip that is registered to him has shown up there,” Mosely continued. “I don’t like the idea of our Chairman Heir traipsing around the Basement unobserved and alone. Paxco has already had to swallow an enormous expense in creating this Replica; the last thing the state needs is to be forced to do it again.”

“If you think I can talk Nate out of going to the Basement, you don’t—”

“No, of course not,” Mosely interrupted. “You’ve already proven how little influence you have on him.”

Nadia’s face went hot, and she hated that she couldn’t contradict him.

“Besides,” Mosely continued, “while it might be … uncomfortable to think of our Chairman Heir putting himself in harm’s way, I suspect it is our best chance of finding Mr. Bishop. I have, of course, interviewed many of my contacts in the Basement in hopes of locating him, but I haven’t yet learned anything of great import.” He gave her a dry, cold smile. “Basement-dwellers are, as I’m sure you know, rarely forthcoming with authority figures.”

Nadia hugged herself, remembering the ease with which Mosely had threatened her with Riker’s Island. If he could wield such threats against an Executive, who knew how gruesome a threat he could wield against a powerless Basement-dweller? Had those he’d “interviewed” survived the encounter?

Mosely laughed, his eyes sparkling with genuine amusement, and Nadia realized she was once again wearing her emotions on her face, something she couldn’t seem to keep from doing in Mosely’s presence.

“I think I’ve given you a rather exaggerated impression of my depravity,” he said, still smiling. “I won’t hesitate to do whatever is necessary to find the man who killed our Chairman Heir, but torturing random Basement-dwellers would be counterproductive. Someone who knows nothing about Mr. Bishop’s whereabouts would happily, desperately make something up under torture just to make it stop. I have no moral objection to torture, but to be a practical and efficient use of my time and energy, it must be used judiciously. Which means I need to have some idea who might have information. And that’s where Nathaniel comes in. Friends of Mr. Bishop’s might talk to him more candidly than they would to me or my men.”

Nadia frowned. “But he would have been in disguise when he went, right? Even Nate isn’t reckless enough to waltz into the Basement at night by himself if he thought anyone would recognize him.”

“True.”

“So why would anyone talk to a complete stranger about Bishop?”

Mosely shrugged. “They might if the price was right. And even if no one does, it would be informative to know whom he chooses to contact, since I believe he knows more about Mr. Bishop’s previous life than he has revealed to anyone.”

Nadia looked away, hoping to hide the chill of revulsion Mosely’s statement inspired. He might have stopped short of torturing random Basement-dwellers for information, but anyone Nate contacted would be in serious danger if Mosely found out about it.

“I bet you’re wondering where you fit into this picture,” Mosely said, and Nadia reluctantly forced herself to face him once more.

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slim envelope. “Naturally, you will do your best to persuade Nathaniel to tell you as many details of his trip to the Basement as you can manage. Especially names of people he’s spoken to.” He opened the envelope and slid a tiny disc out of it, smaller than the nail on Nadia’s pinkie. “This is a tracking device. It will give us real-time information on Nathaniel’s location at all times. You will find a way to plant it on him—I’d suggest in his wallet, or something else he habitually carries with him—and the next time he goes to the Basement, we will know. And we will follow.”

He held the device out to Nadia, but she didn’t reach for it, could only stare as her stomach shriveled. Recounting things to Mosely that Nate told her in confidence was a terrible enough betrayal, but planting a tracking device on him … She couldn’t. Especially when she considered what would happen to all the people Nate talked to when Mosely got hold of them.

Mosely’s free hand darted out and grabbed Nadia’s wrist. She reflexively tried to pull away, but he squeezed so hard she couldn’t help crying out.

“Don’t be a fool,” he said as he forced the tracker into her palm and then squeezed her fingers closed around it. “We both know you have no choice.”

Nadia shook her head. “I can’t,” she breathed, hardly able to force any sound out of her mouth.

“You will.” Mosely let go of her wrist and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Do we have an understanding?”

Dread coiled in Nadia’s gut, cold and tight and hard. Mosely’s eyes were dilated, his nostrils flared. If ever Nadia had doubted that he enjoyed his work, the look in his eyes now proved it. Any sensible person would back down while she had the chance, and Nadia had always been a sensible person.

Which was why she was almost as surprised as Mosely when her fingers opened and the tracker rolled off her palm and onto the floor. Her chest was too tight and her mouth too dry for her to voice her refusal, but he got the message just the same.

“You are an ignorant, foolish child,” he told her, then drove his fist into her stomach and let go of her chin.

Nadia would have screamed at the sudden, shocking pain, if she’d had any air left in her lungs. Instead, she made a strangled sound and fell to her knees, both arms wrapped around her middle as she bent in half and tried without success to breathe.

“I don’t need to take you to Riker’s Island to hurt you,” Mosely said. “And I can hurt you in ways that won’t leave any marks. You’ll never be able to prove I laid hands on you. And who would believe a spoiled teenager over Paxco’s chief of security?”

If Nadia could breathe, she would have screamed for help. No matter how scared everyone was of Mosely, they certainly wouldn’t stand idly by and let him hit her in her own home.

Mosely squatted in front of her. “But maybe you’re one of those martyr types. Maybe now that you’re no longer ill and feverish, you figure you should stand by your quaint little principles, no matter what the consequences to yourself.”

A little air found its way into Nadia’s lungs, and she managed a whimper of sound. Barely enough for Mosely to hear, never mind the household staff.

“But what about your loved ones, Miss Lake? Are you willing to risk them as well?”