James Moore - Subject Seven

“What do you think I was paying Hanson for? His company?” He took a breath to calm himself down. The anger was there again, reminding him that he hated Janus and everyone associated with the company. “Of course, he eventually clammed up and I had to use more than money to get him to talk. Be smarter than him, Daniel. Tell me everything I need to know and it doesn’t have to get as messy. See my point?”

Clarkson nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I get you. There were more. Most of them, most of them were eliminated.”

“But not all of them. You kept some, didn’t you?”

“What? No. What the hell would I want with a bunch of kids?” Clarkson shook his head. “I sold them. Me and Marty, we were in the same boat, see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was wrong, okay? It’s one thing to create them, but to just, to just throw them away? Like they never even existed? Man, that shouldn’t even happen to dogs.”

“Happens every day. Ever hear of a puppy mill?”

For just a moment Clarkson looked offended. “Well, we didn’t want any part of that, and we were the ones who got stuck with the job of disposal. Marty because he was low man on the team and me because I was supposed to handle the paper trail and get rid of the evidence. No one wanted to know what happened to them. No one wanted to deal with the details, okay? So we decided to put them up for adoption.”

Seven nodded and munched on a few fries. “And if you could make a little money, that didn’t hurt your feelings any either, did it?”

Clarkson looked down, caught in his self-righteous lies. “Yeah, okay, so maybe we made money from the deal, but the kids got to live, didn’t they?”

“Where did they go?”

“I’ve got a list.”

“How many did you send out there? How many did you put out in the world?”

“From your batch?” He squinted in thought, but Seven suspected it was for show. Clarkson was the sort that already knew the answers, or at least thought he did. “Ten.”

Seven’s heart pounded hard in his chest. Ten! The possibilities were staggering. “And have any of them shown signs of changing?”

“I don’t think so. Look, it’s not that easy. You know that. A command has to be given.”

“A command?” Seven frowned. There was something back in his memories, something about a command, wasn’t there? So much had happened since then he had trouble remembering everything sometimes.

“Okay, an Alpha, like you? You can give them a command to wake. Another to sleep. But there’s also command words. Like the ones they used on you.” Clarkson frowned. “How did you get past that?”

Seven shook his head. He didn’t need to let the idiot know about the car wreck and how much that had changed his life. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me about the others.”

“Well, they were failures, of course. There’s no proof that they were anything special. You were all failures, the only reason even you made it out was because they thought there might be potential. You especially, I mean, but none of you were considered successes. Not until later.”

“I don’t care. Tell me about them. Tell me how to reach them.”

“They all went through the same agency. It was a setup, of course. I was the agency. I have the names of their parents and the names we gave the kids.” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve got. I don’t know if any of them are like you or if they’re just normal kids. I didn’t check in on them. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. You just have to give me the list.”

Clarkson pulled out three sheets of paper stapled together and folded over on themselves. His hands shook a bit as he handed them over. Seven’s hand was steady as he took them and then looked at the contents.

After several moments of studying the short list, he slid his bag across the floor under the table between them. “We’re done.”

“We are?” Clarkson sounded surprised.

“We had a deal. You kept your end. Barely, but you kept it.”

“You can see why I was nervous…” Again the man tried to apologize and Seven couldn’t have cared less.

“You want to count that?” Seven asked, pointing to the duffel bag.

“No, I’ll trust you.” Seven almost laughed at that. Instead he nodded and finished off his burger while Clarkson made the money disappear.

“It’s really you?” Clarkson’s voice was subdued. “What… um. .. what are you going to do with them?” His eyes flickered down to the list in Seven’s hand.

“It’s really me. Be smart and keep that to yourself.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

Seven stared hard at Clarkson until the man looked away.

“I don’t know yet. I’m still thinking. It’s a lot to absorb.” Seven stood up and stretched and looked around the room. There were a few diners, but none of them paid him any attention. “You get to buy me dinner. I gave you all my cash.”

Clarkson nodded and stayed where he was. Seven left the diner and moved into the darkness. The three pages of names and addresses had just cost him fifty thousand dollars that he’d worked hard to earn-or steal.

The information was worth every penny.

Seven followed Clarkson home. It was easier than he would have expected. The man drove his car and Seven ran, following along the side roads that the informant had taken to get to the bowling alley. Not surprisingly, Clarkson hadn’t met him very far from his home. He was the sort that needed the comfort and security of his own place. Seven had never had that in his earlier life and had no need of it now.

Now he knew where Clarkson lived, and that was all he’d needed to know.

He walked back to his hotel room and settled in for a few moments before he pulled out the list Clarkson had given him and looked at the names. One family name, one first name and a gender. It could all be lies, and then he’d be screwed. He’d wanted to kill Clarkson, but first he had to make sure that the information he gave him was good. Clarkson had recognized him as Subject Seven, and that could be dangerous.

“No room for losers, Hunter, old boy. You’ll learn that soon enough.” He stood up and grabbed the tape recorder. A few quick buttons and a flip of the tape and he was ready to have another chat with the Other.

“Hello, Hunter. Here’s the thing. You work for me. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you answers about your family and about your past. That’s the way this is played. I’ll give you this much for free. Your family is alive. Or at least they were when I left them behind. They were a little upset, of course. They thought I’d killed you. In their defense, so did I.” Lies. The smile that spread across his face was pure venom, undiluted hatred. The lies came easily enough. Anything he could do to make Hunter suffer was a pleasure. “I’m going to give you a few names to check out, Hunter. I know you’re good with homework and I have other things to take care of. I want you to find out everything you can about the people I write down on the list you’ll find on the mirror. E-mail addresses, home addresses, phone numbers. I want to know everything. Are they druggies? Jocks? Cheerleaders? Sluts? Find out and write down everything you uncover. You do this for me, and we can start giving you the answers you want. And if you don’t? We’ll have a problem.”

He needed Hunter kept busy. He needed the Other distracted or he would slow things down too much.

He played back the message twice and then taped his list to the hotel room mirror.

“Daniel Clarkson.” George Mulchahy slid a piece of paper across Evelyn’s massive desk in her study. “He just paid off his car, his house and his time-share in Malibu. He also deposited fifteen thousand dollars into his savings account.”