CHAPTER 43
ALGAR COCKED HIS HEAD at me. “And just what was she?”
“Please tell me if I’m wrong, but I think she’s a clone. A badly done clone, but a clone nonetheless.”
“Why do you think that?”
Well, it wasn’t a flat-out “you’re wrong” so held onto the idea that I was right. “Because the Mastermind Collective has perfected cloning. Or, at least, they had perfected it. I know we destroyed their main cloning facility during Operation Infiltration, and we also stole all their manuals. Maybe Cliff’s brilliant enough to have all that memorized, but I’d wager that LaRue added at least fifty percent of whatever the process was, and I don’t think the LaRue Clone is going to be as on the ball as the Original Model. Based on The Clarence Clone and Ronaldo Two-Point-O, the clones have a strong degradation from copy to copy, at least the ones hastily created do. And these days, I’m betting every clone has been hastily made, whether due to lack of proper equipment or a safe place to complete the cloning process.”
“What do you perceive as wrong with those two clones?”
“TCC is simple. Not stupid, but he wasn’t given the memory dump. Two-Point-O got memories, which is why he’s a better cloned version. But he wasn’t given enough, in that sense, because he knew the memories weren’t his own and so rejected them. But Casey seemed like Casey, only she looked horrible.”
“How well do you know Casey?”
“Not well at all. Okay, all she had to be was unpleasant and spout whatever Cliff told her to and I’d believe it was her. Cliff knows us well—far better than Stephanie does, in that sense—and he has our playbook memorized.”
“Well done.”
“So, I’m right? She was a clone?”
“Yes. Now, what does that tell you?”
Considered why Algar felt that focusing me on an area in the Middle East would be important. We were all pretty sure that Cliff was in the Middle East, so his new hideout could conceivably be within the triangle. In fact, based on my seeing the Burj Khalifa more than once, it was a safe bet he was somewhere in the UAE, probably close to Dubai.
My brain nudged. The real thing that Algar wanted me to note was that Cliff was cloning again. Sure, the Casey Clone had looked horrific, but if I took that to its most logical conclusion, then it showed that the process wasn’t working well.
But it worked well enough to get her into the D.C.P.D. station so she could blow it up and get the DUI Dudes into one of our facilities. It probably hadn’t mattered to them which one. Wherever we’d gone, they’d have had us pinpointed and Club 51 True Believers had plenty of supporters all over the country. Even if we’d gone to the White House, my playbook said that I’d flip the prisoners onto my side and therefore take them along with me. Which was exactly what I’d done.
“I hate being so transparent.”
“It’s worse to be evil. Just saying.”
“Thanks for that. Okay, so Cliff is back in the cloning business.”
Algar nodded. “His form of uplift.”
That was absolutely a clue so I didn’t speak. Instead I thought about why Algar had said the words he just had.
Algar felt that Muddy was giving us good and accurate intel, meaning that whatever Muddy had said I could take as gospel, at least for the moment. He’d described how the Z’porrah’s current version of uplift—sold as making an already sentient race “higher” on the evolutionary scale and extending their lifespans—had backfired on the Aicirtap. And the Q’vox were terrified of what might happen to them if they were uplifted in this manner.
In point of fact, I’d noted to myself so many hours ago that we wanted to keep the Q’vox far, far away from Cliff and Stephanie, because cloning minotaurs that were billed as unstoppable when enraged sounded like a really bad idea that the League of Evil Geniuses would undoubtedly embrace.
“Wow. You’re right. I actually had the answer already.”
“And yet you persist in demanding my time and attention.”
“I like feeling special. You’re worried that Cliff will get his heinous mitts on the new aliens, the Q’vox in particular, and that will spell the end of this planet and, most likely, this galaxy.” Thought some more, specifically about what Algar had shown to be hidden at the bottom of the Persian Gulf. “Crap.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just realized what the building at the bottom of the Gulf looks like. Besides a vacation home for the Cleophese. So, um, I need to ask another question that you’re going to berate me for asking. But a girl really likes to be sure before she panics.”
“I’ll allow it.”
“You’re too kind. Muddy expects the Faradawn ship—the ship carrying however many fleeing Q’vox on it—to land in water. Muddy and everyone else would expect that water to be in the Bermuda Triangle. Only . . . if I think about what you showed me and I consider what little I saw of the Treeship, said ship possesses roots, or things that look like roots. And roots resemble tentacles. And I think the Faradawn ship is actually going to dock itself in the Persian Gulf. Is that correct?”
“Most likely, yes.”
Algar saying most likely meant one hundred thousand percent yes. “And, just spitballing here, but you also firmly feel that Cliff’s found a new base of operations in the Middle East, nice and near to this landing site, most likely in or around Dubai.”
“It’s a very welcoming country. Quite modern for the area. Lovely hotels. Amazing architecture.”
“I’ll recommend you write for their Tourism Bureau. So, do we invade the UAE, ask for their help with extradition of America’s Literally Most Wanted, or what?”
“You have a tour you need to go on,” Algar said, as if the rest of this conversation hadn’t happened. “You need to focus on that, not bothering a foreign country with America’s little problems.”
Stared at him. He stared back, expression pleasant. Resisted the urge to strangle him. Instead, took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.
Looked at the atlas again. The triangle cut through Iraq as well, and there were three other countries included inside the triangle. Fully included, which the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Iran were definitely not. Qatar, Kuwait, and . . . Bahrain. “It’s time for me to talk to our friends at the Bahraini Embassy, isn’t it?”
“It would make sense for the First Lady to visit the country from which one of her dearest friends comes.”
“Check. And we’ll manage not to insult Israel with this decision because Mossad will handle that for us in some way. So, you’d suggest that I start the tour in Bahrain, right? Just go for the gusto without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars?”
“It would seem wise.”
“Jeff needs to stay home, doesn’t he? Not because of all the official reasons, but because of Chuckie. If Jeff goes with me, then Chuckie will come with us, too. And he’ll murder Cliff or, worse, give Cliff an opportunity to hurt or kill him, because I don’t care what he or anyone else says—Cliff is the reason Naomi’s dead and there’s no way that Chuckie doesn’t still want to avenge that.”
“See? You really don’t need to come running to me to chat all the time.”
“Oh, but I enjoy the mental workout so very much. You know, I’m supposed to bring the kids with me. Sure, we’ll have full protection details on all of them, but this just took on a whole additional dimension of risk. I’m not sure they should be coming along. I don’t care about my looking like the worst mother in the world, but I do care about my kids or Lizzie getting snatched by the Crazy Eights. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Algar shrugged. “As to that, I recommend you focus on getting to sleep as soon as you possibly can. I’d also suggest eating some rich dessert prior to going to bed. It should ensure you have vivid dreams.”
And with that, Algar snapped his fingers and disappeared.