No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) Read online

  Elvis shrugged. “Of course there is always that chance. The mere fact that Judyta hasn’t yet miscarried is a very good sign for CGM. Nonetheless that doesn’t mean there won’t be problems down the road for both her and the child even if it survives the birthing process. But just the birth alone could be a huge watershed for science.”

  I stood and started to pace. I needed to clear my mind, to look at this as coolly and objectively as possible. This was science and I had to remove my emotions and look at it in terms of the hard, cold facts. If I were to fully understand what I was up against, I needed to know exactly how the procedure worked.

  “All right, so give it to me as simply as possible,” I said. “How does one create a clone? I mean, you said they probably used skin cells from Al-Asan.”

  Xavier leaned forward in his chair. “Theoretically, it’s a fairly straightforward procedure. A healthy, unfertilized egg is harvested from a female and the nucleus removed. Cells are then taken from the person who wants to be cloned. Typically those are skin cells, and at least one of the cells must contain all forty-six chromosomes.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then the new cell with its nucleus is inserted into the egg,” Xavier explained. “Chemical or electrical stimulation is used to divide the egg, just as if it had been fertilized naturally. Once the embryo is stable, it can be implanted into a uterus where it grows and develops.”

  “It sounds easy,” I said. “What about that Scottish sheep, Dolly, who was cloned back in 1996? Didn’t she turn out okay?”

  “Not exactly,” Elvis answered. “At first she looked all right, but scientists later found arthritis in her leg, which is a rare condition in sheep before ten years of age. She also showed signs of premature aging and lived shorter than the average life span of a sheep.”

  I rubbed my temples to try and stave off the headache that was starting there. “So Al-Asan paid forty million dollars to get himself a clone. How did CGM keep the money all hush-hush?”

  Elvis shrugged. “Someone doctored the financial records. It seems to be the corporate rage these days.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Does this mean it was a straight profit for CGM?”

  “Not exactly,” Xavier answered. “More like a long-term investment. Think of the potential income that could be generated for the company in the future.”

  I grimaced. “Break down the financial costs for me.”

  Elvis steepled his fingers together. “First CGM would have to find a half-dozen young, healthy women to donate eggs. Not all eggs are viable. Only about one-third of them would turn out to be usable embryos. To find just the right ones could get expensive.”

  “But it wouldn’t matter what nationality, eye color or IQ of the woman donating the egg because all of her genetic material is removed during cloning,” I said.

  “Right. Then they’d have to find excellent candidates in superb physical shape to carry the babies to term since it would be a high-risk pregnancy.”

  “Just to see if there were a difference, they chose seven women of differing ages and nationalities. Except the women didn’t even know just how dangerous the risks were going to be,” I said.

  “Exactly. Once the eggs were fertilized with Al-Asan’s genetic material, they’d be implanted into the women’s uteruses,” Elvis continued. “The mothers would be monitored very closely because of the extremely high risk for miscarriage, abnormally large fetuses, severe birth deformities or any number of other problems we can’t even begin to imagine.”

  I tried unsuccessfully to ignore the constant churning in my stomach. “Okay, so that’s why the women had to sign the contracts promising to see specific doctors in certain locations. And that’s probably why CGM spread the women out across the different continents so that there would be less of a chance they’d attract attention if things started to go wrong. And naturally CGM never told the women they were part of a reproductive cloning experiment.”

  Xavier nodded. “Additionally, I’d guess that CGM would keep a large reserve of cash to protect the doctors and scientists who worked on Project Acheron. They’d want to be compensated if it ever became known they were involved in cloning human beings. They would certainly risk losing their licenses, not to mention their reputations.”

  We fell silent for a moment, thinking over the magnitude of what we’d uncovered.

  Then Xavier spoke up. “You said Basia called you on your new cell phone. How did she get your number?”

  “Lars Anderson,” I replied. “Her new Swedish karate instructor. He’s helping her for some reason. I know he is in this up to his neck, so I marched over to his studio this afternoon and told him I needed to reach Basia and left my new cell number. He played dumb, but lo and behold, a couple hours later she called me. I guess it worked.”

  “Backspace a nanobyte. Did you say karate instructor?” Xavier looked flabbergasted. He seemed more shocked by the idea that Basia would take karate than the fact that CGM was cloning human beings. Actually, if I really thought about it, it was a close call in terms of shock factor.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” I said. “But for some reason Basia signed up for karate lessons shortly before she disappeared. Lars has a karate studio over in Laurel and clearly knows more about her whereabouts than he is letting on.”

  “He’s Swedish?” Elvis murmured. “And Basia and Judyta just happen to be in Sweden. Well, at least we have a connection.”

  “Yeah, but what? I had my brother Beau check him out in the police files and he’s clean. He became a naturalized American citizen last year and has run the karate studio for three. No tickets, no warrants, no obvious skeletons in the closet.”

  “Everyone has something to hide,” Elvis said firmly.

  “Maybe Basia and Judyta are staying with his family somewhere in Sweden,” Xavier offered.

  “Too easy,” I said. “Slash is on to Lars and you can bet he’s already used all his resources to check out that possibility.”

  “That means we still don’t know their connection,” Elvis said. “You say Basia never mentioned Lars before, and we all agree that the mere thought of Basia doing karate is astonishingly absurd.”

  “I might point out that she didn’t mention Finn Shaughnessy either,” Xavier said.

  “Well, not before she disappeared,” I replied. “But afterwards she warned me not to trust him. In Finn’s defense, though, I think it’s just because he’s connected to CGM. She didn’t know his particulars. Personally, I think he’s as much a victim in all of this as we are.”

  Neither Elvis nor Xavier looked particularly convinced, but I pressed on. “Okay, let’s forget about Finn and karate lessons for now and focus on the big picture.”

  “Good idea,” Elvis agreed. “Shall I give it a shot?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay, so here’s what we know. Mashir Al-Asan, a Saudi prince, underwent a cloning procedure via CGM’s clinic in Genoa, Italy, last December. Cloned fetuses were implanted in seven women of varied nationalities. As far as we know, six of the seven have turned up dead and executed, none having successfully given birth. One of the women, Judyta Taszynski, is still alive and, as far as we know, healthy and pregnant. Presumably she is hiding somewhere in Sweden, being protected by her cousin Basia, and a naturalized Swedish-American karate instructor. Why and from whom they are protecting her is a mystery. Now the NSA, FBI and possibly the CIA and Vatican intelligence are all vested in finding Judyta Taszynski for reasons we can only speculate upon.”

  I nodded. “Okay, that sums it up fairly well, except don’t forget to mention that two of Al-Asan’s bodyguards were murdered in Genoa at the same time the implantation took place. The hit was possibly a robbery gone bad, or if the CIA is to be trusted, possibly conducted by followers of überterrorist, Samir Al-Naddi. A high-ranking Yemeni intelligence officer has also taken an intense interest in the whereabouts of Judyta.”

  “I’m with you guys so far,” Xavier said. “It also seems clea
r the NSA has sanctioned your participation in this, but for some reason you’re being played blind.”

  “Except for the guiding hand of Slash,” I said. “You know, this really bites. I mean, how do we even know for sure that Slash is working for the NSA? What if he is really still with Vatican intelligence and just cooperating with the NSA?”

  Elvis shook his head. “Despite his connection to the Vatican, which I’d venture to say is a lifetime commitment, he’s definitely working for the NSA.”

  Xavier nodded vigorously. “Yeah, Lexi, he’s in. While we were working on the program to hack into CGM, he was in and out of places that one only goes if they are part of the NSA. Besides, if he weren’t NSA, he’d never have got our message in the first place. He’s the real deal, Lexi. You can take it to the bank.”

  I had high regard for the twins’ opinions, not to mention their gut instinct. If they thought Slash was NSA, then that was good enough for me.

  “Then how do we figure Slash into this?” I asked.

  Elvis rubbed his chin. “My guess is that Slash and his team already knew or suspected CGM was cloning humans, but they needed a smoking gun.”

  “They needed you,” I said, suddenly understanding. “Slash must have failed in his attempts to get in. Jeez, how could I be so stupid? They used me to get to you guys. For an expert hack.”

  “Um, we went to him, Lexi,” Xavier pointed out.

  “Maybe they planned it that way.”

  “Either way, there’s no sense in crying over spilt milk,” Elvis said. “They’re in and we’re in. At this point we know they desperately want you to lead them to Judyta.”

  “But for what end purpose?” I murmured.

  “You’ve got to decide how to play Slash,” Xavier warned.

  “I’ve got a feeling Slash is going to be a problem,” I said glumly. “I think we made a big mistake bringing him in on this.”

  “You wanted speed and he was instrumental in helping us get in,” Elvis said bluntly. “Xavier and I could have done it alone, but with Slash we made time in a big way. If I remember correctly, that was a priority at the time.”

  “It was,” I said, sighing. “Clearly I had no idea of the scope of the problem. Now I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  Xavier took a swallow of his beer and leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you ask me, I’d say Basia should save her own skin. I’d urge her to go to the nearest American Embassy and ask for help.”

  “She won’t do it,” I said flatly. “She won’t abandon her cousin. Besides Judyta wants to keep the baby.”

  Xavier whistled. “Do you think she’d change her mind after she heard the baby contained none of her own genetic material?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I think she should have the opportunity to choose.”

  The twins fell silent and I tried to settle the chaotic swirl of thoughts in my head. Typically I’m the kind of person who needs quiet time to ruminate and reflect in order to figure things out. Unfortunately the luxury of uninterrupted thinking time didn’t seem in the cards for me anytime soon.

  “Did either of you happen to notice any mention of anything to do with terrorism, Yemen or anything like that when looking through the Acheron file?” I asked the twins.

  “No, but it’s a huge file and we’ve only scanned it,” Xavier said. “We’ll keep looking.”

  Elvis shook his head. “Lexi, this is one hell of a mess. Still, it seems to me that you have a lot more to fear from the brass at CGM than just about anyone else. The execs are likely to go to extreme measures to protect themselves if they discover you’re on to their profitable little secret.”

  I shivered. “You don’t have to warn me. I’ve already had enough experience this past week with guns and threats of bodily harm to last me a lifetime. I’m only sorry I dragged you guys into this.”

  Xavier shrugged. “In my opinion, there are greater forces at work here. Either way, I’m okay with it. The question is what are you going to do now?”

  I honestly had no idea. “Well, maybe things will become clearer if I approach this logically and analytically—like a math equation, I guess. The problem is the shifting and hidden variables. It seems like everyone has a personal agenda—the FBI, NSA, CIA, Yemen government, Al-Asan, CGM and possibly even Vatican intelligence. And that’s not to mention Basia and Judyta herself. Who knows who else is vested in this? But what is the common denominator?”

  Elvis and Xavier looked hard at me in silence.

  I held up my hands. “Okay, other than me, what is the common denominator?”

  Xavier lifted the bottle of beer to his lips and took a swallow. “Honestly, I’m not seeing one. But if we pick it apart, I guess I’d say that on one end, the U.S. government and the Vatican definitely want to put an immediate stop to the cloning.”

  “Yeah, but I’d venture a guess that their primary goal is to keep it quiet,” Elvis offered. “I mean, think about it. If Judyta’s pregnancy actually comes to term, the knowledge of a successful human cloning could potentially be more dangerous than the attempt itself.”

  I could see where they were going with this. Once the scientific breakthrough had been made, the floodgates would open. Any ethical, moral and religious concerns would be drowned in scientific excitement.

  “Okay, now on the other end of the spectrum, where does a royal Saudi prince with a desire for a clone and the Yemeni government fit in?” Xavier asked.

  “Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Elvis commented.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I don’t get it. Why don’t U.S. authorities just go in and shut down CGM? That would certainly put an immediate stop to the cloning attempts.”

  “That might have worked months ago,” Elvis said. “But now it’s too late. CGM has already implanted the clones. What’s left is to track down everyone and acquire, or perhaps even suppress, the evidence.”

  That sounded pretty darn ominous to me. “Okay, I can see why no one wants it to get out that human cloning is taking place, the Vatican included. But I just don’t buy the idea that the U.S. government, and especially not the Vatican, is systematically hunting down innocent women and executing them because they carried or are carrying, a clone of a Saudi prince. After all, the women weren’t even informed of Project Acheron.” I sighed. “Jeez, I just don’t have a clue here. What am I going to do?”

  Elvis put a hand on my arm. “You have to do the only thing you can do, Lexi,” he said. “You have to play your advantage.”

  I looked up hopefully. “I have an advantage?”

  “Of course. You’re the only link between all of these groups and Judyta Taszynski. Basia isn’t going to trust anyone but you, and every player in the game knows it.”

  “Then why did someone try to shoot me in front of the disco club?”

  “Apparently someone wants to stop you from revealing Judyta’s whereabouts.”

  “CGM?”

  “That’s the most likely candidate.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. Elvis was right. I did have an advantage and it was a big one. But how was I supposed to use it? This whole situation had gone so far beyond the scope of my expertise that it was breathtaking. I was nothing more than a junior techie who liked chocolate éclairs, doing crossword puzzles on my lunch break and drinking Diet Coke for breakfast. Excitement for me meant answering the final Jeopardy question correctly while eating my nuked dinner off a tray. Human cloning, terrorists and people with guns were for experienced field agents or movie stars, not a desk-jockey, geeky computer nerd/mathematician like me. Yet here I was. So what was I going to do about it? Whine and mope, or do something useful?

  Think, Carmichael, think.

  I resumed pacing and chewed at my fingernails. “All right, if I’m to use my so-called advantage to help Basia, I need to know exactly what I’m up against. Slash isn’t talking and the NSA is apparently playing me blind in this. So that leaves me with only one
course of action. I’ve got to stop being a doormat and start making things happen the way I want.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Elvis smiled encouragingly.

  “What do you have in mind?” Xavier asked.

  My heart pounded furiously and I wondered if real field agents nearly had a heart attack each time they were about to embark upon a dangerous and daring course of action.

  “I’ve got to figure out a way to bring all the involved parties to the table, minus Judyta, of course,” I said slowly. “It’s kind of like when James Bond leads the good guys to the bad guys and then they have it out on a deserted island surrounded by lots of sharks.”

  The twins stared open-mouthed at me, so I smiled. “Just kidding. About the shark part, at least. But I really mean it about bringing everyone together. I’ve got a gut feeling that things will break wide open if I can initiate a surprise confrontation between all the parties involved. If every player is forced to show his or her hand, maybe I’ll have enough data to determine who is out to help Judyta and who wants to hurt her.”

  “Sounds iffy,” Xavier said doubtfully. “So many things could go wrong.”

  “These days, iffy is the story of my life.”

  “Actually, I approve,” Elvis said, tapping his chin. “It gives you some measure of control.”

  Yeah, like I felt even remotely in command of this situation. But Elvis was partially right. It did give me at least the illusion of control. Either way, I preferred that a heck of a lot more than being manipulated every time I turned around.

  Snatching a piece of paper and a pencil from a nearby table, I started to write. Elvis and Xavier peered over my shoulder. I scrawled:

  Ss =R* · M · C · N · F · Ic · V† · St · Yi

  “S will equal the percentage for success of all parties meeting in Sweden at the same time,” I explained. “First, we make a variable for each national and international agency interested in finding Judyta and estimate the probability for each to follow me to a showdown. I figure that to be relatively high.” I scratched some more figures down. “Second, I’ll insert a calculated psych average that people will do the expected under predictable circumstances.”