Sims (55 page)

“That still doesn't help us,” Sinclair-1 said. “If indeed his corpse was, as you so elegantly put it, a ‘crispy critter,' the NYPD would have had to look into his DNA in the course of identifying the body. Even after he's reduced to ash, his RFLP profile will remain in the department's database.”

Voss frowned. “What's R-F—”

“Restriction fragment length polymorphisms,” Sinclair-1 said. “A way of testing for the differences in the banding pattern of DNA fragments from different individuals. DNA fingerprinting, in other words.”

“We know all about his RFLP in the database,” Luca said. “Ever hear of hacking a computer? Hardly anyone's better at it than my people. We'll have someone else's RFLP—yours, if you want it—in that computer before sunrise.”

“I get it,” Voss said, nodding. “I'm not hearin a word of this talk of illegalities, of course. Matter of fact, I ain't even in this here room right now. But if I were, even a genetics cretin like myself can see what'll happen: They'll hold up this Strickland boy as the father for all the world to see, but when it comes time for matchin up the DNA, there'll come a cropper. They'll go to the NYPD computer and—Lordy, Lordy, will you look at that—no match. And when they look to exhume the body—”

“—they'll be nowhere,” Luca interrupted. “Because Craig Strickland will
be nothing but a pile of dust. A pile I will personally scatter over the Hudson River.”

“And without DNA backup,” Voss cried, slapping his thighs, “the hoax angle from our flacks will start lookin mighty acceptable to the Great Un-washed. I like it! I like it very much!”

Luca had been watching Sinclair-2. His sunny disposition appeared to be fading. Rapidly. Good. He'd taken the bait.

“So,” Luca said, clapping his hands. “That leaves one more matter to discuss: Who's delivering the sim's baby?”

“Deliverin?” Voss said. “Deliverin how?”

“This sim, this Meerm or whatever she's called, is going to be giving birth. Who's going to handle that?”

Sinclair-1 slapped his palm on the table. “Excellent point.” He jumped to his feet. “If, as you say, this OPRR woman and that lawyer Sullivan have the sim, they're not going to handle the delivery on their own. The baby is too important. They're going to seek out expert help.”

“You mean some sort of obstetrician?” Voss said.

“Not just any OB. They'll want one experienced with sim births. And if I was looking for a sim OB, there's only one place on earth with a staff that fits the qualifications.”

“The Natal Center!” Luca said. Damn it! He should have thought of that himself. “They could be approaching someone on the staff right now.”

Sinclair-1 pointed to Luca. “Send a notice to the entire Natal Center staff—MDs and assistants alike—warning them that they might be approached, and to report any feelers that might come their way.”

Voss said, “And you might want to remind those folks that they're eligible for the five-million reward.”

“Excellent point,” Sinclair-1 said.

“We'll check out any Natal employees who're out sick or taking an unplanned vacation,” Luca added.

But all this was going to require more manpower. He'd have to go to Lister for it. But that was okay. Canvassing the Natal Center was a good tactical move, and Luca would present it as his own idea.

Sinclair-2 suddenly shot from his seat and began pacing. He looked jittery. I do believe we've hit a nerve, Luca thought.

The CEO stared at his brother. “What is it, Ellis? You have something to add?”

Sinclair-2 stopped at the window and stared out at the hills. “I just thought of something. Something terrible.”

“Oh?” Sinclair-1 smiled. “Finally realized what that baby will do to our stock?”

“I'm not worried about the stock,” he said. “I'm far more worried about what this baby will do to
us
, Merce—you and me. Personally, not financially.”

“I'm not following.”

“What if Meerm's baby is a girl?”

The CEO looked puzzled. “Girl, boy, what difference does it make? Its very existence is the threat.”

“Competition, Merce.” Sinclair-2 turned from the window and stared at his brother. His eyes looked haunted. “Inter- and intragenomic competition. Think about it.”

It's finally happened, Luca thought. Sinclair-2 has completely lost it. Even his brother can't figure out what he's talking about.

He glanced at the CEO then and was struck by the change in his expression. His King-of-the-World look was fading—the perpetually raised eyebrows had sagged, the condescending half smile had fallen into a frown. But his eyes . . . his eyes told the whole story, narrowing and then widening into what Luca could only describe as abject horror. His mouth opened, his jaw worked, he took a step backward, almost lost his balance, and fell into his chair where he sat staring at his brother. His gray complexion made him look more dead than alive.

“What's wrong?” Voss said, upset as well, but only by his boss's reaction. He seemed as much in the dark as Luca. “What did he say? What's wrong with it being a girl?”

The CEO was incapable of speech. Sinclair-2 answered for him.

“Not your concern, Abel. This is a personal matter between us.”

“It
is
his concern!” Sinclair-1 blurted, getting some of his color back. “It's
all
our concern!” He turned to his brother. “Ellis, for the love of God, if you're involved in any way with the people who have the sim, do something! Stop them!”

Sinclair-2 shook his head. “I can't stop anything. I don't know Meerm's whereabouts. It's beyond you, it's beyond me. It's up to Zero now.”

Sinclair-1's brow furrowed. “Zero? What's zero?”

“Not what. Who.”

“You don't mean . . . ?” Sinclair-1 blinked. “
That
Zero? But he's dead.”

Sinclair-2 stared at his younger brother. “Not quite.”

The two words seemed to hang in the air between them. Portero caught Voss's eye and the big man shrugged, obviously as confused as he.

“You liar!” Sinclair-1 blurted, his face purpling. “You traitor!”

Sinclair-2's voice remained flat. “You're amazing, you know that? But the fact remains, Zero's in charge, not me, and I'm afraid events have built to a point of inevitability now where no one can stop them.”

“
Nothing
is inevitable!” Sinclair-1 screamed. Now he seemed to be the one losing it. “Not until I say so! There's still a fifty-fifty chance it's a male! But no matter what it is, I want it born
here!
” He pointed with both hands, jabbing his index fingers toward Luca and Voss. “So get out there and find that sim, goddamnit!”

Normally Luca wouldn't have allowed the twit to speak to him that way, but now he was clearly off his head, so Luca turned and led Voss into the hall. As soon as the door closed behind them, Voss grabbed his arm.

“You have any idea what that ruckus was all about?”

Luca shook his head. He was as baffled as the fat man.

“I been with this company since the git-go,” Voss said, sweating, eyes darting about like caged birds, “and I ain't never, ever seen Mercer Sinclair lose his cool like that.” He shook his head. “Boy baby, girl baby—what the hell does it mean?”

“Haven't a clue,” Luca said, turning and moving away.

He had things to do. The first was to pry more manpower out of Lister for his trap; another was to find out what had so unnerved the Sinclairs. Something about inter- and intragenomic competition. Sounded like heavy shit, not the kind of stuff they'd taught him in Special Forces. But it might turn out to be important. It might be
way
important. And right now he needed all the help he could get.

MINEOLA, NY

One hell of a day.

Patrick lay awake in the dark in the smaller of Betsy Cannon's two extra bedrooms, and thought about the changes Meerm's baby would bring. He had no doubt that the child's pedigree, despite all the challenges and smokescreens SimGen would throw up, eventually would elevate sims to the
status of “persons.” That one change in designation would tumble SimGen and send the world's labor and financial markets into chaos. The simple realization that he'd occupy a pivotal position in the eye of that oncoming storm would have made sleep difficult; knowing that a cadre of ruthless men were on the prowl, looking for him and Romy and Meerm to prevent that from happening made it impossible.

Zero had departed late this afternoon after a protracted debate as to whether or not Kek should stay here for security. They finally decided against that. Zero was the only one who could control him. What if Kek decided he wanted to go outside? Who was going to stop him? If he were spotted, that would blow their cover. Better to keep all nonhumans away from Betsy's.

After a light dinner, they'd all turned in early. Romy was in the next bedroom down the hall, Meerm was on a cot in Betsy's bedroom, Tome and Kek were with Zero at his home, wherever that was, God was in His heaven, and not one damn thing seemed right with the world.

He jumped as he heard the bedroom door open.

“It's only me.” He recognized Romy's whisper. “Didn't mean to frighten you.”

“Just startled me,” he said. Then she startled him even further him by slipping under the covers and huddling against him. “Hold me, Patrick.”

“Gladly.”

He wound his arms around her. She was wearing some sort of long T-shirt. He didn't know what she had on under it, if anything.

“No, I mean, just hold me,” she said. “Nothing more. I don't want to be alone tonight, Patrick. I need a friend.”

“That's me,” he sighed. He was about to add, Friend to the friendless, but bit it back. She was trembling, as if chilled. So he said, “Tough day, huh.”

“Believe it.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

And then she said, “I feel lost, Patrick. I used to have some pretty hard and fast ideas about right and wrong, up and down, latitude and longitude, but now everything's been twisted out of shape. Like one of those computer programs that let you distort a photo or a famous painting, you know, push it and pull it this way and that until it bears only a passing resemblance to the original. That's how my world feels. That's how my life feels. That's how
I
feel. Like I don't even know myself anymore.” A harsh little laugh. “Not that I ever did.”

“You loved him, didn't you.”

He heard a soft sob and felt her head nod against his shoulder.

“Do you still?”

“I don't know,” she whispered. “I think I was in love with an image I'd concocted. But now that the mask is off . . .”

“Let me ask you something,” Patrick said. “If he'd taken off the mask and revealed a face horribly disfigured by birth defects or an accident, how would that have changed things?”

He marveled at the way his thoughts were running. He should have been searching for the best angle to wedge himself between Romy and Zero; instead he was looking for a way to ease her pain. As much as he wanted her—and right now, with her bare legs warm against his, that was very, very much—comforting her seemed even more important.

“Not at all. It wasn't a physical attraction. I see where you're going, but it's not the same. A disfigured man would still be a man. Zero isn't . . .”

“A man? What's your definition of a man, Romy?”

“A male
Homo sapiens
.”

Patrick sensed himself clicking into attorney mode, felt the well-oiled teeth of his rhetoric and advocacy gears meshing. He'd always prided himself on an ability to mount a convincing argument for either side of an issue, even one he didn't particularly care for. Like this one.

“But before today, when you thought of both Zero and me as male
Homo saps
, you gravitated more toward him than me. Why?”

“I didn't know you, Patrick. And I didn't trust you. At least not at first. But you've got to admit you've changed.”

“How?”

“Well . . . ,” she said, drawing out the word, “you've gone from a man with no commitments to one who believes in something and is willing to put himself on the line for it.”

“Romy, Zero has been committed since day one, from the roots of his hair down to his toenails, and that was what you responded to. But it went beyond commitment, didn't it. He demonstrated high intelligence, integrity, decency, courage, dignity, a reverence for life that matches, maybe even exceeds, your own. Those are traits you admire in humans. They're what make you value a human, and until this morning you'd thought you could find them only in a human. But this is a new world, Romy, where the definition of ‘human' is being revised—and let me tell you, when we take Meerm's baby public, it's going to undergo a total rewrite.”

Listen to me, Patrick thought. I'm making his case and killing my own.

But he was on a roll, high on his rhetorical momentum, and couldn't stop himself.

“As for Zero, he says he's a mutated sim. Well, it looks to me like he mutated in the
Homo sapiens
direction, big time. He's more human than a lot of
Homo saps
I know, and we both know
Homo saps
who look more apelike than he does. Meerm's baby is going to upgrade the sims from ‘product' to ‘person,' from the Pongidae family to Hominidae, but as far as I can see, Zero is already there. A new species of Hominidae—
Homo zero
. So what else do you want from the guy? What else does he have to do to deserve you?”

He felt her stiffen. “It's not about deserving me. I'd never—”

“Then decide what makes a guy worthy of your love—his genome or his values.”