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The man has the nerve to laugh.
“What’s so damn funny?” Marks says.
“Neither of you get it. And, Mr. Jones, we thought you were the smart one.”
My blood runs cold. “What the fuck did you say?”
“Deaf as well as dumb?” He squints and delivers a hard smile. “I said we thought you were the smart one.”
We thought you were the smart one—I’ve heard those words before from someone I trusted.
Cocking my gun, I say, “Like where the hell are they?”
“They?” Mark aims his gun at Salk, but his eyebrows squish together. “Ash, what’s going on?”
“This ass is working with Bashur.”
Mark, keeping the gun pointed at the leader, asks, “How do you know?”
“Bashur said those same words to me. When you and me left the safe house the first time, remember I made a phone call?”
“Shit.”
At that moment, the hall fills with Riza. Took them long enough.
“Sorry to disappoint you fellas,” I yell out. “Your leader here is, like, leaving with us.”
Rifles, locked and aimed, raise. I pull the man in front of me like a shield.
“Don’t be stupid. If you shoot, I’ll shoot, and this man dies. He’s a fucking traitor, and he’s getting you to do his dirty work.”
A few guns lower a bit.
“Look behind you. See all those kids out there? Those are clones. That’s what he’s planning on doing to Americans. Think about your own families. Any of you have younger siblings? Any of them scheduled to get that damned vaccine?”
Some soldiers start holstering their pistols.
“Your brothers and sisters and maybe even your children will get that crap shot into their veins, making them sick and regressing them into fucking toddlers.”
More guns lower.
“Those kids go to a Center for Human Advancement where they’ll be, like, killed and replaced with a clone.”
Eyebrows scrunch together. Whispers flitter back and forth.
“Doubt me? Look out the fucking door!” I shout. “There are at least a hundred kids out there who look and act the same way.”
A dark-haired soldier steps forward with his hands up. “Where are you taking him?”
Good question. I only thought about Salk getting us through the gate alive. We’ll take him to my step-grandfather’s headquarters. Let him figure out what to do with the heartless leader there. “He’s got to answer for his crimes, but right now I need him to save my wife. Salk is working with a faction to take over the country.”
A skinny, pimply-faced soldier asks, “How do you know he’s responsible for anything?”
“There’s a SIM card with proof of, like, everything. And if you want more proof, go on the DarkNet and see it for yourself.”
The soldiers start questioning each other.
Mark’s mouth opens, but I cut him off. “If you find any of the doctors or staff here, lock them up and call the United Nations. Tell them you have possible war criminals. If they need more info, tell them I’ll be in touch.”
I make a mental note to discuss this with Steve when I see him again.
The dark-haired soldier says over his shoulder, “Let them through.” He looks back at me. “If you need help getting those kids out of here, we’ll be happy to assist you.”
“Thank you.”
“For what it’s worth, please tell whomever is in charge that the soldiers stationed at North Woods helped you.”
“Will do. And you are?”
“Sergeant Wilkins,” the man says.
As I push Salk forward, soldiers jostle him and spit in his path.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“We have been here before. We turned neighborhoods into communities. We can do it again. We must take back what was once ours and then some.”
—from the Honorable M. Raman Bashur,
Kurdish political & religious thinker
A small group of Riza soldiers follows us to the back fence. Sergeant Wilkins is true to his word and arranges for additional transportation to help with all the clones. I shove Salk toward Fletcher and Niang.
“Restrain him. He’s going with us. I have to call Steve.” They take the leader off my hands, and I scroll through my phone.
“Asher?” My step-grandfather sounds stressed.
“Yeah, Steve. We have the Helix and the clones.”
“Clones?” His voice comes across uncertain. “How many?”
“Like, a little over a hundred.”
“Damn. I’ll have Taft arrange a plane for them,” he says in a quiet and tense voice. “Take the kids to the airstrip at Metro.”
“Steve, we have Salk. He’s working with Bashur.”
“This just keeps getting worse.” Static hits my ear as he exhales. “Zared wants to speak with you. Hold on.”
Mark comes over to me. “What’s going on?”
“Steve is arranging a plane for the kids. The drivers are to take them to Metro.”
“A commercial flight?” Mark’s lips press together in a slight grimace. “Won’t that draw some suspicion? You know, a few buses full of kids who all look alike.”
Hunching my shoulders, I say, “We have to trust, like, he knows what he’s doing. Hang on.”
“Ash?
“I’m here, Zared. What do you have?”
“You were right about the bookshelf. Rihana has a digital journal. The damn thing looks just like a regular book. It was next to a bright blue one, hiding in plain sight.”
Leaning against the SUV, I shake my head. That’s my girl. She once told me sometimes plain sight is the best place to hide things. Wish I had remembered sooner.
“What’s in it?”
“It’s locked. I’m still trying to crack the code.”
“Try 06082018.”
The line goes silent for a minute. “That’s it. Hey, what’s important about that date?”
“It’s the day we met, and also the day my paternal grandfather kicked me out of his house.” It was info no one knew, not even Mark.
“Oh. Stay on the phone.”
“I’m here if you need me.” I turn to Mark. “Zared found Rihana’s digital journal. The clue was the location of it.”
“Has he found anything yet?”
“No.” I look inside the SUV. “I doubt if he’ll speak, but I’ve got an idea. Mark, use your phone and get some streaming video. Anything to help citizens get the point of what’s happened here.”
“On it.” He jogs away from the vehicle.
“Zared? Do you have anything yet?”
He sighs. “Trying to figure out what the 135 means.”
“Don’t make it so difficult. It’s not a date. Try searching for time stamps.”
“Give me a second… Hey, Ash, tell me if any of this means anything to you.”
Zared starts reading an entry he found:
Habib is being stubborn again. Apparently, Raman has been talking to him. I did not know they were even friendly. Habib agrees with Raman. He thinks I should not stay married to Aza. But Habib never approved of our marriage. How do I get him to see he is wrong?
A heavy weight settles on my chest as I realize what it means. “Z, can you pull up the footage again from Bashur?”
“What are you looking for?”
Watching Niang help the kids onto the buses, I say, “Clues. Key in on the other people who were in the room with Rihana.” I turn to Fletcher, who’s sitting in the passenger seat. “Got that tablet?”
He passes it to me. Tapping on the screen, I view the clip. The person holding the gun comes on screen, and I say, “Pause it, Z. Now blow it up.”
I’m looking at a pale hand with a deep jagged scar. The person is wearing a ring. I’ve seen that piece of jewelry and the disfigurement before.
“What is it, Asher?”
“Check out the ring and the scar.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zared excl
aims. “How did we miss that?”
No time for worrying over what we didn’t catch. “Just tell Steve to check the premises. I mean every inch of the place.”
“They’re on the compound?”
“Yeah. Look at the background behind Rihana.” I want to kick myself for not seeing this sooner, but when your heart’s involved, you make mistakes. Hopefully, mine won’t get my girl killed. “Is Habib, Rihana’s brother, there?”
When Zared received his security clearance, he was introduced to Rihana’s family. He had to know every person with permission to enter the compound.
“Haven’t seen him all morning,” Zared responds.
Not good. The Fakhoury family was brought to my grandparents’ place for safety. No one is supposed to leave without an escort. “This is what I want you to do. Gather his wife and kids and get them ready for transport.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Just do it,” I shout into the phone. “Have Steve call me.”
I can’t believe we missed all those damned clues. Everything has been right in front of us, and we didn’t notice it. Bashur did an amazing job throwing us hollow bones, and we gobbled them up, starved for any intel. Accessing the recorder on my phone, I enter the SUV.
Salk sits calmly looking out the window. How can he appear so relaxed like he’s not guilty of shit? He doesn’t even seem nervous. With all the evil he’s committed, I expected the man to squirm or at least bargain with us.
He glances at me. “Are you satisfied?”
I won’t be satisfied until his ass is sitting in a jail cell or at the bottom of a pit. I’m not picky, either will do. “Not yet. Once you confess your crimes, I might be happy.”
His gravelly voice surrounds me in the car. “What makes you think I’ll do that?”
“Because I’ll make sure your reputation is more than tarnished.”
“And how do you hope to achieve that? You’re a disgraced former lieutenant. Have you forgotten your time as a juvenile delinquent? Just who do you think the public will believe, me or you?”
I ignore his attempt to derail my purpose.
“If shaming you publicly doesn’t it do, I’ll turn you over to those soldiers out there—those men and women with kids or siblings who’ve endured your experiments. I’ll let them beat the holy fucking shit out of you. And when they’re done with your sorry ass, I’ll conduct my own experiments on you.”
“You talk a lot of shit for someone your age.”
“I have the New Order to thank for teaching me. You might remember that when I start torturing your flabby ass. I learned my job very well.”
Salk barely flinches as he says, “Do you think I’m afraid of you or the U.N.? This is a great opportunity for the New Order.” When I don’t respond, he jerks his head toward my phone. “Shall we make your little recording?”
I hit the record button and hold the camera toward him. “State your name.”
“Jonathan Salk,” he says flatly.
“Occupation.”
“One of the leaders of the American Republic.”
“I am Captain Asher Jones of Riza. Today I and a team of soldiers freed a basement of clones being held in North Woods prison. The teens’ only crime was possessing DNA the New Order wants. Yes, our government is guilty of human cloning. Leader Salk, is this true?”
“Yes.” His gaze never wavers.
“Were you behind it?” I’m trying my hardest to stay calm, but anger simmers just beneath the surface.
“Yes.”
“Is it true that once the humans are cloned, your scientists kill the original?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any remorse for your actions?”
“No.” His attitude is so nonchalant. I want to punch the man just to get some sort of emotion from him.
“You heard that, citizens. One of our illustrious leaders is behind cloning humans and has no remorse for his despicable actions. The lives of countless children have been lost, and he doesn’t care. Do you really want someone like this and his friends running the country?”
Turning off the recorder, I step away from the vehicle and call Zared. “I have an upload for you.”
—
Minutes later after the recording has been sent, Salk says, “You don’t understand, son.”
“Get it straight. I’m not your son. I had one father and because of you and your cronies, he’s dead. I understand way more than you think. Monsters like you shouldn’t be allowed out of their cages.”
Salk’s eyebrow lifts. “Such a hothead. You should really see someone about that temper.”
“Look, I’m not here to trade insults with you.” I stare the man down.
Even an intense stare doesn’t phase this man. He simply shifts on the seat and holds his wrists up. “Can we do without these?”
“I don’t think so. If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Do you know why we came into power?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because our predecessors fatigued citizens. They were fed up with bickering without decision making. They were tired of useless individuals getting into politics—men and women who had no idea how things should work. Cloning the right people makes sure we populate the country—the world—with intelligence. People who know how to lead and who can truly make a difference.”
“And how long before you tell those people what to think?” My body stiffens. “Make sure they do what you want them to do?”
“Not long at all.”
My head rocks back. “What are you talking about?”
A satisfied look crosses his face. “First, a few facts? Humanity is on a precipice. Look at the violence and hatred around the world. All because people can’t appreciate the differences in each other. In all honesty, we are all by-products of faulty evolution. Instead of improving, we’re devolving—mere animals.”
“You’re blabbering,” I warn.
“No, you’re not listening. For the first time in history, we have the chance to control evolution. No more haphazard reproduction. We can determine the best outcomes before they even happen.”
“You’re fucking insane!”
“No. What’s insane is doing the same things over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’ll see.”
“I’ll see what?”
“We’ve already replaced some important people with our perfected clones. It’s only a matter of time before things change for good in this world.”
Cringing at his words, I scrub a hand over my face. Let the United Nations deal with this idiot and team of mad scientists. “What is Bashur’s part in this?”
The man laughs. “I let him think he had a part to play. There’s no place in this country for men like him. Bashur wants power he’s not entitled to.”
I snap, “What, because of his religion?”
“Of course not. This isn’t about religion or race. Bashur’s rhetoric stands against him. I want inclusiveness. He doesn’t. He’s a Purebred who can’t see things differently.”
Inclusiveness? At one point, I thought all the leaders were Purebreds. Turned out Venter—Zared’s father—faked his status. If the wrong citizens had discovered his duplicity, he’d never have made it to Washington.
Salk smiles. “You thought I was a Purebred. Personally, I speak seven languages. I’m the product of unique breeding—Greek, Egyptian, and French. I’ve studied all over the world. I do not possess the narrow-mindedness of a Purebred.”
His too-round, bald head and pale skin don’t hint at his heritage.
He leans forward and sneers. “It’s time Hybrids have a chance to rule this country. Back in 2019, the antiquated U.S. Constitution made sure a foreign-born man like myself would never rule. The country had to fall in order for me to be possible.”
“News flash,” I say. “You lost.”
“Don’t be so sure. There are others like me waiting to lead.”
“I’ll make sure they never do.”
&
nbsp; “It’s nice to have lofty goals even if they are irrational. Believe what you will, Mr. Jones, but who will run your country if the New Order falls?”
His final words linger in my head as my phone buzzes.
Salk lifts his restrained hands and points toward my jacket. “I wish you would answer that. I so detest ringing phones.”
Just to spite him I’d like to let it ring for all eternity, but it could be about Rihana. “Yeah, Zared?”
“We found Rihana.”
My breathing stops. I’m waiting for the bad news. “What’s wrong?”
“We have a potentially explosive situation here, man.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“When you’re in charge, there’s no time to think about yourself.”
—from “Reflections on Riza” by Lt. Asher Nicholas Jones
Raking a hand through my hair, I fight for composure. I inhale deeply and exhale, my eyes fixed on Salk. “What do you mean by explosive?”
“You…” Zared starts, and then Steve’s voice cuts in. “Hang on, man.”
“Asher, we have a situation here,” Steve says.
“That’s what Zared said. Like, what’s going on?”
“We were way off about Bashur’s motivations.”
My heart beats frantically. I suspected there was more to what he was up to. Now I’m waiting for the confirmation. “What is it?”
“We thought this was simply about Bashur’s wanting to marry Rihana.” Steve pauses for a beat or two. “Do you know what happened to his wife and child?”
“Vaguely.” Rihana told me something about Bashur losing his family in a skirmish with militants. I never asked the details. “What has that to do with what’s going on now?”
“This is about revenge. It goes back to the skirmish back in Kandahar. Years ago, my team was sent over to extract a political leader, not from this country. The man was hiding in the same neighborhood Bashur lived in.”
I swallow hard. Is this a case of history repeating itself? My mind automatically flashes back to a cold day in New Detroit…
“Sergeant Jones, I trust you and your team will bring Private Carter in?” said my commanding officer.
“Why me? I’m not in command.”