Replica (40 page)

“Don’t be childish, Thea,” he said. “You know I can manually override this door.”

There was no response, although Nadia supposed it was unlikely there were speakers in the door.

“Can she actually hear you?” Nadia asked, curious despite herself. The equipment surrounding Thea’s “examining table” obviously included both speaker and microphone, but what was in the electronic equipment of the door?

“I see no reason why not,” the Chairman said, scowling at the door. “She’s obviously made unauthorized modifications to the door mechanism, and she has shown a tendency to enjoy eavesdropping. She has created ears where none existed before.”

“So she’s conveniently locking you out when you intend to shut her down?” Nadia asked with undisguised skepticism. If she were an unscrupulous bastard like the Chairman, she supposed she’d try to stall, too.

The Chairman ignored her and pounded on the door again. “Thea, open this door immediately!”

If he was stalling, then he was doing a pretty good acting job. He looked like he was about to take out his gun and start shooting again.

The Chairman hit the door one more time. “Fine!” He stalked down the hallway toward the room they had just vacated. “I’ll be right back.”

Nate and Nadia shared puzzled glances, wondering what the Chairman was up to. Nadia half expected him to shut the door and lock himself in the interrogation room, but after only a few moments, he emerged again holding a metal key on a chain. Nadia shuddered when she saw the blood on his hands and realized he must have taken the key from Mosely’s body.

If the Chairman was bothered by the blood that both literally and figuratively stained his hands, he didn’t show it. He flipped open an unmarked panel set in the door itself, rather than in the wall beside the door. Under the panel were a pair of keyholes. The Chairman plugged the bloody key into one of the holes, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar to get to a chain he wore around his neck. He slid the chain over his head and inserted the key into the second hole. Then he turned both keys simultaneously and Nadia could hear something heavy moving inside the door.

“Thea can meddle with electronics,” the Chairman said, “but she can’t physically alter the door itself. I originally had the manual override put in in case of loss of power, but I suppose it has other advantages.”

The door made a final clicking sound, and the Chairman pushed it open and stepped inside. Nate and Nadia followed.

Nadia had been expecting a room full of whirring electronic equipment, kept uncomfortably chilly to counteract the heat that equipment generated. Instead, she walked into a wall of damp heat that reminded her of the tropics.

The room was relatively small, only about ten by ten, and three walls were covered with shelves on which sat the expected whirring electronics. But scattered amongst the electronics were a variety of vats and jars, filled with a red fluid that bore a disturbing resemblance to blood. Fleshy red tendrils seemed to grow out of the jars like ivy, reaching out to the electronics and burrowing into ports and vents. A sound like the steady beating of a heart filled the room, and when Nadia looked closely, she could see the faint pulse traveling through the tendrils. She shivered, despite the heat.

“Thea isn’t just a machine,” the Chairman said. “It is her biological components that make her what she is. She is a living, intelligent creature.” He pulled the gun out of his pocket, but didn’t raise it. “I can’t just turn her off like a computer. To shut her down, I’ll have to kill her. Is that what you want me to do, Nadia Lake? Will you sit astride your high horse and order the death of a living being? Or did you get your fill of death when I executed Dirk Mosely on your command?”

“I didn’t command you to shoot him!” Nadia protested automatically. But if she was perfectly honest with herself, she knew there was no way her demands could have led to anything but death for Mosely. Even if he’d been arrested, he would have had to go to trial for his crimes, and a conviction would have led to execution. No matter how bad a man he had been, she knew she was going to bear that scar on her conscience for the rest of her life.

She looked around at the combination of flesh and electronics that surrounded her. Thea was indeed alive, and her abilities were awe-inspiring. If she’d been created and nurtured by someone who had a steady moral compass, she could have been an instrument for good in the world. But she’d been shaped by a power-hungry dictator with only the barest regard for human life. She had a personality of her own, and it was one that mirrored the Chairman’s, treating people like expendable game pieces. She could never be trusted to have humanity’s best interests at heart.

“Do it,” Nadia said.

The Chairman gave her a look of pure loathing, then raised his gun hand and pointed at one of the jars. He was sweating, though that might have been just the tropical heat of the room. He hesitated a long time, darting quick glances in her direction as if expecting her to change her mind any second. The lights dimmed briefly, and Nadia wondered if that was Thea’s version of a flinch. She raised her hands to cover her ears and was peripherally aware of Nate doing the same beside her.

The Chairman pulled the trigger, and the jar exploded, sending shards of glass and thick, coppery-smelling fluid into the air. A shrill alarm sounded, and a fleshy lump spilled out of the shattered jar and onto the floor. The lump had grooves and wrinkles reminiscent of a brain, though the shape was all wrong. The Chairman’s hands were covered with bloody fluid, but he barely seemed to notice. He turned to another jar, pulling the trigger once more. Then he repeated the process over and over, and with every biological component he shot, more of the electronic equipment went dark. The veins that connected the jars to the electronics stopped pulsing, and blood, or something very like it, formed a lake on the floor and coated everything.

Nate and Nadia retreated from the room, but not before they, too, were stained with Thea’s lifeblood, their shoes soaked in it. The Chairman didn’t stop shooting until every jar and vat was shattered, changing clips calmly when necessary. Then he stood there in the still, darkened room, covered in blood from head to foot, and wept.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nadia
stared at her reflection over the sink and wondered if her family would even recognize her. She’d scrubbed off all the blood and other fluids that had stained her skin and hair. Her clothes had been ruined, so now she was wearing a bright-orange prison jumpsuit—necessary camouflage, since she was supposedly being released from prison. The bright orange leached any hint of color from her pale skin, and she had a bad case of raccoon eyes with no makeup to brighten them up.

Despite showering in water as hot as she could bear, she was still shivering, and her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, though she didn’t think she had been. It was hard to be sure. She was so dazed by everything that had happened, by everything she had seen and everything she had done, that she felt like there were holes in her memory. Big, deep potholes that could swallow her whole if she let herself venture too close to their edges.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Nadia?” Nate called. “Are you all right in there?”

No, she was definitely not all right. But she was alive, and she hadn’t been tortured. She hadn’t betrayed Dante and the resistance, and she’d convinced the Chairman to destroy Thea and her sickening research project. Maybe once she got out of the Fortress and back to her own home, she’d have a hope of recovering.

“Nadia?” Nate asked again, and the door rattled. She’d locked it, of course, not trusting that the ordeal was truly over.

“I’m fine, Nate,” she lied. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then opened the door.

Nate had showered in another restroom down the hall. Nadia had hidden away so long that his hair had dried and was even more unruly than usual thanks to a lack of hair product. He frowned fiercely at the sight of her prison jumpsuit. She didn’t like it much, either, but it was a necessary part of the cover story they had concocted to explain the day’s events without revealing anything about Thea. She had supposedly been taken directly from her family’s home to Riker’s Island, and the Chairman had listened in when Mosely questioned her. During the questioning, she revealed that she’d learned Mosely was Nate’s true killer, though she was a little fuzzy on what his motivation was supposed to have been. Mosely had been shot trying to escape, and Nadia was being released and exonerated.

The Chairman had originally insisted that the charade be further strengthened by having Nadia reunited with her family at the Riker’s Island processing center, where inmates were taken in and released, but Nate had categorically refused to entertain the possibility. Nadia didn’t much care where the big reunion occurred, as long as she got out of the Fortress. They were now two floors above the sub-basement, where Thea had resided, but that wasn’t anywhere near far enough away for her tastes.

Nate put his arms around her in a hug. She gratefully hugged him back, reveling in his warmth, wishing it would sink into her flesh and chase away the chill.

“We aren’t safe,” she whispered into his chest. “If your father ever manages to track down the recordings…”

She let her voice trail off. They both knew what would happen if she ever lost her leverage. The Chairman was usually a cold and dispassionate man, but she had clearly broken through that shell. The way he had looked at her when he’d stepped out of Thea’s room had spoken of a soul-deep hatred and a promise of revenge. She didn’t know how much of that hatred spilled over onto Nate. Maybe now that the Chairman could no longer create a Replica he would not stoop so low as to murder his own son. But Nadia wouldn’t put it past him, and she didn’t think Nate would, either.

“I know,” Nate said, lowering his head until he was whispering directly in her ear. There was no one around to hear, not at this moment, but after what they’d been through, she figured paranoia was natural—and smart.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. But that’s a problem to worry about later.”

He pushed her away a little, but only so he could look down into her eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair off of her cheek, tucking it behind her ear in an undeniably tender gesture. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you yesterday. I was selfish, and judgmental, and otherwise completely out of line. Can you forgive me?”

Nadia’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was standing intimately close to him, staring into his eyes. He had touched her with affection, and there was unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He loved her, she realized, in his own way. It wasn’t the romantic, fairy-tale love she’d have wished for in the man she was destined to marry. Not the kind of love he had with Bishop. But it was love nonetheless, and she would have to settle for it until she found a Bishop of her own someday.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said, dropping her gaze and taking a step backward, not wanting him to read her thoughts.

Nate interpreted her withdrawal differently, not knowing the thoughts and emotions that were swirling through her head.

“You mean you’re
trying
to forgive me,” he said. “But I guess that will take some time.”

She glanced back up at his face to make a hasty denial, then stopped herself. He was right. They’d just been through an unspeakable trauma together, a trauma that made everything else that had gone on between them seem trivial. But none of the things they’d said to one another had gone away, and they were both still hurting. For now, all was peaceful between them, but there was still a storm waiting to be reckoned with.

“I’m sure the same goes for you,” she responded quietly.

He smiled sadly. “Probably so. But we’ll work it out, somehow. We might not be able to go back to what we were, but maybe we can become something new and better.”

“I hope so.”

And considering how dismal her future had looked just a handful of hours ago, that was a very cheering thought.

EPILOGUE

A
shower, a change of clothes, and a stiff drink had done wonders for the Chairman’s equilibrium, and he felt like himself once more. Fury still roiled in his gut: fury that he’d let a pair of teenage do-gooders outmaneuver him, fury that his own son was so completely out of his control, fury that he’d had to set his plans back by weeks, if not months, to keep those idealistic idiots from ruining everything.

The Chairman took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing that pulsing fury back down. Nothing good ever came from explosions of temper, and he’d made a long and storied career out of maintaining his calm when others around him cracked. Now was not the time to allow emotion to get the best of him. His will was more powerful than his rage.

Steadied, the Chairman made his way down the hall of the Fortress’s basement, telling himself not to think about the carnage that was even now being cleaned up by security forces on the level below. At the end of the hall were the three labs that held Replication units. The Chairman stopped in front of the first one and discovered that his palms were sweating. He was confident Thea had understood what needed to be done, had understood the message he had been trying to give her when he typed in his passcode outside her door. He had typed “play dead” instead of the complex string of numbers and symbols that was his real passcode. Then he’d given her as much extra time as he could, pretending she was preventing him from entering her room.

Nerves still buzzing with apprehension, the Chairman pushed the door open.

A lab tech was hovering over the Replication unit, holding the coffinlike lid open while he inspected the contents. At the sound of the door opening behind him, the tech gently set the lid down and turned around.

“How is she?” the Chairman asked, pleased that his voice sounded as calm and steady as ever. The fate of his entire state might rest on the tech’s answer, but you would never know it from the Chairman’s expression or manner.