Jenna Black - Replica

“Look,” Bishop said, “no one likes this, but if we don’t do something and do it fast, we’re all going down. If Nadia’s willing to do it, then you have to let her.”

It was Nadia’s turn to let out an undignified snort. “Nate doesn’t get to ‘let’ me do anything. It’s my decision.”

Nate finally noticed that the bug wasn’t in her hand anymore, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m your future husband, and I forbid you to do this.”

Nadia couldn’t help laughing. “You don’t honestly think that’s going to work, do you?”

Nate let go of her wrist with a grunt of disgust. He made a gesture as if to punch the side of the van again in frustration, then thought better of it. “I hate this,” he muttered with feeling.

Nadia didn’t exactly love it herself. There was already so much riding on her shoulders she could hardly bear up under the weight. Now she would add Nate’s life and the lives of Dante and Bishop and anyone in the resistance they might implicate if they were questioned to the list of responsibilities she carried. The fate of so many rested in her ability to converse with Dirk Mosely tomorrow as if she didn’t know exactly what kind of a monster he was or who held his leash, and her ability to plant a bug on him without him noticing.

“What do I have to do?” she asked, pulling the little box out of her pocket again and opening it to inspect the tiny bug.

Dante gave her a nod of approval. “It’s heat activated. Hold it in your hand for a minute or two to warm it up, and it’ll start transmitting.” He took the box from her and carefully lifted the foam out, revealing a strip of thin, translucent tape underneath. “Peel the backing off one side of the tape and stick it to your hand. Then peel off the other side,” he put the foam back in, “and stick the bug to it like so.” He put his hand briefly down on top of the bug to demonstrate. “The other side of the bug is sticky. Way stickier than the tape. You’ll have to be careful not to let it touch anything—including your hand—until you’re ready to put it on Mosely.”

Nadia nodded and took the box back, trying not to think about all the million ways this could go wrong.

“Obviously,” Dante continued, “it’s best if you can stick it to his skin somewhere. But it would be easier and safer to stick it to his jacket and hope he keeps wearing it until he gives the Chairman his daily update.”

Nadia nodded again. She could find some excuse to grab hold of Mosely’s jacket, surely. Maybe in the course of an impassioned plea to release her from her obligations.

I can do this, she told herself, hoping to make herself believe it.

“And what do you want me to tell him?” she asked aloud. “How much truth is too much?”

“Tell him about getting the tracker and the stupid note,” Bishop said. “The idea that you’ve heard from me will give him a real hard-on.”

“Hey!” Nate said, giving Bishop’s foot a light kick. “Watch your mouth around Nadia.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. Bishop had tamed the gutter mouth that came with living in the Basement, but this was far from the first time he’d let something coarse slip out, and it wasn’t exactly shocking.

“It’ll make him drool,” Bishop continued smoothly. “Maybe it’ll even make him think I might contact you again so he might think you make good bait.”

Nadia supposed that was meant to be comforting. There would always be more threats Mosely could raise, more ways he could keep her under his thumb. But she couldn’t allow herself to think about consequences.

“All right. I’ll tell him that. I might also suggest that you’re going to want to warn Nate about me, give him hope that he might be able to intercept you if you do.”

“Well,” Dante said, slapping his hands on his thighs. “That’s settled.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late and I should get you two back if we’re done here.”

“We’re not quite done,” Bishop said. “Nate, when I told you what we heard on the night of the reception, I said that Mosely and the Chairman were talking about someone named Thea. I thought maybe you might have recognized that name.”

Nate nodded grimly. “I do.”

“Who is she?”

Nate let out a deep breath. “I need you all to promise me that this information won’t leave the van, at least not for now. If I answer your question, I’ll be spilling state secrets.”

“State secrets that might help the resistance?” Dante asked with an eager gleam in his eyes.

“And this conversation is now officially over,” Nate said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You want a ride home?” Dante countered. “Or would you rather walk?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Bishop said. “No one’s walking.” He turned to Nate. “I guarantee it won’t leave this van. Tell me who Thea is.”

But Nate shook his head. “I trust you, even though I probably shouldn’t, but I don’t trust him.” He jerked his chin toward Dante. Nadia wasn’t sure if this was a sign that Nate was finally being cautious enough, or if it was just further evidence that he didn’t like Dante.

“I outrank him,” Bishop said, giving Dante a meaningful look, “and I say he’s not going to run his mouth to anyone.”

“I don’t care. I don’t feel like sharing secrets with him.”

“You trusted me enough to get in a van with me and let me take you to the Basement without any proof I was taking you to Bishop,” Dante pointed out. “I’m one of the good guys here.”

Nadia believed him, or at least believed he believed what he was saying. But she didn’t know enough about the resistance or anyone who was in it to be convinced they were really the good guys. She’d studied enough history to know that even revolutionaries with good intentions often ended up doing terrible things. She couldn’t blame Nate for being reluctant to talk around him.

“Then why don’t you prove you’re a good guy?” she challenged before Nate said something to escalate the hostility. “Don’t insist Nate tell his secrets to someone he’s known less than twelve hours.”

The chagrin on Dante’s face said he didn’t like it, but he reluctantly exited the van, slamming the doors behind him more vigorously than necessary.

Nate stared at the doors through which Dante had exited with a look of distaste.

“That guy’s a total dick.”

“Watch your mouth around the lady,” Bishop said mildly, and Nate responded by flipping him the bird.

“So who is Thea?” Nadia prompted, her curiosity rampaging. She didn’t know anyone named Thea, couldn’t think of anyone in the upper echelons of Paxco named Thea, so she couldn’t help wondering how state secrets could be involved.

Nate hesitated. “Promise me you won’t tell Dante. This is just between the three of us.”

“I promise,” Nadia said without hesitation. Bishop was slower to agree, but he eventually nodded his acceptance.

“All right,” Nate said. “Thea isn’t a ‘who,’ it’s a ‘what.’ It’s the name of the AI that invented Replicas.”

There had long been rumors that the Replica technology was beyond the scope of human invention. As soon as Paxco had unveiled its miraculous technology, every state and nation in the world had rushed to try to duplicate it, and no one had come close. Religious fanatics claimed it was the work of the devil and a sign of the End of Days. The nuttiest of the conspiracy theorists suggested that the government of Paxco had made a pact with aliens. But the most reputable scientists had posited that perhaps in its research into biomedical engineering, Paxco had created a true AI, an artificial intelligence. Something that started out as a product of mankind’s devising but had since grown into something more, something other. Something with the capacity to understand the human brain and body in a way that humans themselves could not.