Change Agent

Wyckes noticed the gun muzzle beneath Otto’s arm too late. He tried to react, but just then realized how inferior the reflexes of this body were to his original self. It was like moving through water.

  He’d barely raised his pistol when a powerful BOOM threw him back into his leather office chair. His gun clattered to the floor.

  Wheezing, Wyckes sucked helplessly for air. It felt like a boulder was resting on top of him. He looked down to see a small hole in the chest of the biohazard suit.

  Otto approached with an automatic pistol in his hand.

  Wyckes had never seen Otto use a gun in his life. He frowned in confusion through his biohazard face mask.

  Otto leaned close. “I have always hated all life on earth. Except for you, Marcus.” He leaned closer. “But I was wrong about you.”

  Otto’s hand gripped the biohazard face mask as Wyckes still gasped for air. “My kind of life was created once. It can be re-created. I’m sure the information is in the Huli jing cloud somewhere.”

  Wyckes felt his breath failing. This body he occupied didn’t seem to have half the endurance he remembered as a young man. If he could just sit up.

  Otto unclipped the biohazard hood. “Now, before you go, I’d like you to feel my touch just once—for old times’ sake.”

  Wyckes sucked vainly for air as he felt a familiar, all-encompassing revulsion consume him.

  The last thing he felt was the horrifying touch of Otto’s bare hand against his skin as he let out one last, strangled scream.

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  Chapter 47

  Durand gazed at the sky through the open monastery window. He saw the same line of palms as always. He lay in bed, a ceiling fan circling lazily above him. It was hot, but he’d grown more accustomed to it. Somehow it felt more and more like Singapore each day.

  A moment later Hanif entered with a tray and smiled good-naturedly. “It is time, Mr. Durand.”

  Durand sat up. “What time?”

  “By my calculations, all the rewrites should have concluded. I can find no trace of XNA in your bloodstream. I believe you are—as they say—done.”

  Durand almost didn’t know what to feel.

  “The acolytes tell me you’ve been walking in the room. Recovering your balance fast.”

  Fear gripped Durand—as it had for several weeks now. He saw the flash of a handheld mirror on Hanif’s tray. He started shaking his head. “Get that goddamned thing away from me, Hanif.”

  “Mr. Durand, you must look upon yourself.”

  “And is that what it’s going to be? Myself? You don’t even know what I look like! How do you know? I can’t look in a mirror, Hanif. I can’t do it!”

  “You want to go home to your family. I know you do.”

  Durand pressed his palms into his eyes. “God. I just want—”

  “Mr. Durand. Have I not cared for you?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Are you a man of reason?”

  Durand breathed deeply, examining his increasingly familiar arms. And seeing no genetic tattoos despite his deep emotion.

  “Does one’s identity come from within our hearts or our DNA?”

  Durand murmured, “Within our hearts.”

  “And what is DNA?”

  “Data.”

  “Yes. And your current data now matches your original data.”

  Durand said nothing for several moments.

  “I did not have to know what you looked like. I had your original genomic sequence. You are a man of science. Of reason. Are you not?”

  “I was. Once.”

  He felt the handle of the mirror pushed into his hand.

  “No.” He pushed it away.

  “You must take it. Please. Look.”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Durand . . .” Hanif grabbed Durand’s chin and held the mirror up to his face.

  Before Durand realized it, he was gazing upon his reflection.

  And it was his own reflection.

  He recalled his nose. His eyes.

  He sat up, adrenaline surging. He stroked his chin. “My god . . .”

  Hanif held up Durand’s well-worn family photo from its place on the nightstand. He pointed to the man in the photo. “Do you see yourself?”

  Durand felt tears run down his face and he lowered his head. He then took one more look in the mirror. “My god.” He threw off the covers and looked again at his body. His familiar runner’s body.

  He was still bruised, and smaller in stature than he’d recently been used to, but he recalled this form. It felt comfortable to him.

  He put the hand mirror back on the tray. “How is Bryan recovering?”

  Hanif winced slightly and made a motion with his hand. “I believe he will start to come around soon.”

  Durand wasn’t liking what he’d been hearing about Frey. Hanif was being far too evasive. “Is he at least able to walk?”

  Hanif looked away. “He is in the great room on the first floor.”

  Durand remembered this was where the monks took care of disfigured children—results of Huli jing genetic experimentation.

  “I need to go see him.” Durand got up unsteadily. “I need to see if I can help him.”

  With Hanif’s assistance, Durand left the room and limped down a long staircase. They could hear children laughing outside.

  Durand moved down the tiled hallways of the monastery, and as they passed several of the children’s wards, he was surprised by the number of empty beds. “What’s happened, Hanif?”

  A young Burmese girl raced past Durand, almost toppling him. She was followed by another two girls, one limping but moving fast on a crutch to keep up.

  Hanif nodded. “Ask Dr. Frey.”

  Durand looked up to see Bryan Frey sitting at the bedside of a slightly deformed boy of about four. Frey looked exactly as he had when Durand last saw him—still in the grip of achondroplasia. Still with shortened arms and legs.

  Frey’s short fingers nonetheless performed a sleight-of-hand magic trick with a marble for the boy—whose own arms were mildly warped. The little boy laughed as Frey again produced the marble from thin air. “There you go. You might actually be able to make use of that soon enough, little man.”

  “Bryan.”

  Frey looked up, peering over old-fashioned reading glasses and finally casting a quizzical look Durand’s way. “Who are you?”

  He should have expected it, of course, but the realization still stunned Durand. Frey did not recognize him. At least not on sight.

  Hanif supported Durand. “Bryan, this is Kenneth Durand.”

  Durand put a hand to his chest. “It’s me.”

  Frey removed his reading glasses and sighed. “I’d gotten used to the old you.”

  Hanif tsk-tsked him and helped Durand to sit down on an empty bed nearby. “This is indeed Mr. Durand. I transformed him myself.”

  Frey glanced over at the burn scar still on Durand’s arm from the drone cowling from all those months ago. It was the one thing that endured. “I’ll be damned. So you are you.” He looked up at Durand’s face. “I’d say you look good, Ken, but . . .” He chuckled. “You look like a cop, man.”

  Durand examined Frey. “Why are you . . . ?”

  Frey glanced down at himself. “Oh. Why am I still me? How nice of you to ask.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. I suppose I did go through some inconvenience to get myself transformed.”

  “Just a bit.”

  Frey pulled a necklace out from his shirtfront. On the end of it was an ampoule filled with a golden liquid. “I might still one day.” He looked around at the half-populated children’s ward. “But for the moment, I’ve too much work to do.”

  Durand looked around the ward as well. The children in sight see
med markedly improved. The rest were gone. “My god . . .”

  Frey jumped down off the chair. “Follow me.”

  Durand realized he’d been hearing the laughter of children more and more over the months. It had happened so slowly that he hadn’t noticed, but he didn’t recall hearing any laughter here during his first visit.

  Hanif helped Durand move along, but Durand finally shrugged him off. “I can walk. I can walk. Thanks, Hanif.” He walked shakily alongside Frey.

  They moved out onto a wide patio. Below in the yard children were running around, some limping, others moving gracefully. Young monks in saffron robes tried to keep order, laughing as children tossed balls to one another.

  Durand felt a moment of clarity. “My god. Look at them. You fixed them.”

  Frey nodded. “Still a lot of work to do. And more arrive each day.”

  Hanif stood alongside. “The survivors of the Huli jing are coming here. Dr. Frey helps them.”

  Durand gazed out at the children. “But not yourself.”

  “I couldn’t very well help them if I was bedridden. There was a great deal to learn. Hanif has been an extraordinary help. And there’s no telling how long the Huli jing photonic cloud servers will still be up. They could go down any day.”

  Durand marveled at the scene. “How did they recover so fast . . . ?”

  “Because I didn’t need to do massive edits to them. For many it was just a single edit. It took a whole menu of edits to get you back to yourself.” He nodded at the children. “But these kids, they already were themselves. They just needed a little tweak to activate key genes.” Frey looked back to Durand. “As I said, Hanif has been most helpful.”

  They moved back inside, walking past monks performing physical therapy with healing children.

  Durand looked around in amazement. “And here I thought this change agent was going to make the world a nightmare.”

  Frey waved him off. “Only for us early adopters. In fact, your kind might soon be out of a job.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “The Treaty on Genetic Modification—soon everything that gets changed will be able to be changed back. Germ line edits won’t mean anything. No more threat of superviruses or gene drive weapons wiping us all out. In fact, I think I have a new line of work for you, Ken.”

  “How kind of you to think of me.”

  “What do you think of this? Genetic security service. Like a credit monitor—but for DNA. People deposit their original DNA for reference, and you test their DNA periodically to see if it’s changed. You’d still get to wear a suit and stick your nose in other people’s business.”

  Durand nodded. “Sounds right up my alley.”

  They stopped near the gateway to a temple, where a golden Buddha stood.

  Frey pointed. “You’ll find Thet through there. He’s usually here in the afternoons.”

  “Thet’s here?”

  “Go pay your respects. I think he would appreciate it.”

  Durand’s face grew serious.

  Frey looked away. “I expect we will not meet again, Agent Durand.” He turned. “But if we do, hopefully you’ll go easy on me.” Hanif moved to join him.

  Durand called out to Frey, “Bryan, if we meet again, I’d say the world is in big trouble.”

  Frey laughed, and then he turned a corner, Hanif on his heels.

  Durand moved slowly down into the temple, past burning candles and incense. He soon found Thet kneeling, his hands clasped before him. Smoke curling from an incense burner.

  Durand waited nearby.

  Thet soon looked up and stood.

  It occurred again to Durand that he was no longer the same man Thet knew. Not physically. He placed a hand on his chest. “Thet. I am Kenneth Durand. You know me. I’m sorry to disturb you. Dr. Frey said . . .”

  Thet nodded. He smiled weakly and approached. “It is very strange to see you . . . Mr. Durand . . . like this. But Buddhist teachings prepare us for such things. Of course you are Mr. Kenneth Durand. It is good for our eyes to meet again.”

  Durand looked to the incense burner.

  Thet gestured. “Praying. For the spirit of my sister, Bo Win.”

  Durand caught his breath. “I see.” He took another, deeper breath. An indescribable sadness came over him. “Thet, I’m sorry. I—”

  “No, no, Mr. Durand. She would be happy.” He moved to point toward the wall—then cupped his ear.

  Durand heard the children playing.

  “We all live many lives, Mr. Durand.”

  Durand nodded again. He bowed a deep wai to Thet.

  Chapter 48

  Durand stepped down from the jet and into Singapore’s familiar humidity. Several vehicles waited nearby on the tarmac of Changi International. He felt a smile come to his face as he saw his wife, Miyuki, release Mia. His daughter ran to him.

  She screamed in joy as he picked her up. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  He kissed her and hugged her close. Her fragrance brought him back to himself more than anything yet.

  Miyuki was half a step behind. She wrapped her arms around him, and he felt the wetness of her tears. They shared a deep kiss and hugged again.

  “I was worried I’d never see either of you again.”

  Miyuki held his gaze. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  “No. I’m here.” He held them tight, then tucked Mia under his arm. She giggled, and he moved at a stagger toward the others waiting for him.

  Michael Yi Ji-chang and Claire Belanger closed the distance—Yi with an almost disbelieving grin on his face.

  Claire hugged him and gave him a kiss on both cheeks. “We were elated to hear you were safe, Ken. Welcome back. It is a miracle.”

  Yi pushed aside Durand’s handshake and just grabbed him, slapping him on the back. “Holy crap, buddy. You have no idea. You’re not going to believe everything that’s happened while you’ve been gone.”

  “No, probably not. But I gotta tell you, Mike, I just want to go home right now.” He kept a tight hold on his daughter, who was still laughing.

  Yi nodded. “Of course. You ring me when you’re ready.”

  “I will.” Looking up, Durand could see Inspector Aiyana Marcotte standing next to a chauffeured car, waiting for them. An SPF security detail stood close at hand. Durand put his daughter down, and as his family approached, Marcotte opened the passenger door for them.

  “Welcome back, Agent Durand.” She extended her hand.

  He shook it firmly. “Thank you, Inspector.”

  “When you’re back on duty, Sergeant Yi will catch you up on everything we’ve been doing. You have a good partner there.”

  “Yeah, I know. Did he tell you about the whole Korean Han thing?”

  She laughed. “He did.”

  She leaned over the door as Miyuki and Mia got into the car.

  “The Myanmar raids appear to have broken the back of the Huli jing. What we discovered in Naypyidaw was truly shocking. And it all came from an anonymous tip.”

  Durand looked at her. “Did it remain anonymous?”

  Marcotte studied him. “Yes, it did. But someone deserves my thanks.”

  “Someone would say forget about it.”

  She nodded.

  Durand got into the car.

  “It’s all over the news, you know—a means for editing the living. They say it will change everything. The Post-Identity World, they’re calling it. Police work is about to get harder. I seem to remember Marcus Wyckes was down here warning us about that a few months ago. But somehow he got away.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that, Inspector.” Durand nodded toward his wife and daughter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “One more thing . . .” She leaned down. “We found Marcus Wyckes’s body in Naypyidaw.”

 
“Don’t be so sure.”

  She studied Durand’s expression. “I’m not. We also still need to find this ‘Mirror Man’ you mentioned in your report.”

  Durand gave her an exasperated look.

  She nodded. “We’ll talk more.” Marcotte nodded also to Miyuki and Mia, then shut the door behind them. She watched the car pull away, police escort lights flashing.

  Belanger and Yi came up alongside Marcotte.

  Belanger spoke to her without turning. “How do we know that’s really Ken Durand?”

  Marcotte considered the question. “He passed the debrief. Lie detectors. The family seems to think it’s him.”

  “But how do we really know?”

  Yi watched the car exit the tarmac. “Give me a day or two. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s push Ken Durand’s buttons.”

  Marcotte let a slight smile escape. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Chapter 49

  The banker tried to contain an odd sense of revulsion at her handsome young client. She spoke with a slight Russian accent. “Will you be staying in London long, Mr. Taylor?”

  “I just moved here actually.” The young man looked up from signing virtual bank documents with a jade stylus carved with dragons. His lifeless gray eyes fixed on her. He was blond with square-jawed good looks, but somehow his presence was unnerving. “My family’s originally from the UK, but I was raised overseas.”

  “Really?” She wanted this to be over.

  “After my ordeal I’d like to be closer to family. It’s the most important thing to me—a sense of belonging.”

  “Yes, of course.” A pause. “If you don’t mind my asking, what ordeal?”

  He stowed the jade stylus in his jacket pocket. “I was kidnapped. Held for months by rebels in Indonesia.”

  True shock registered on her face. “No. You are joking.”

  “My parents feared me dead.”

  They probably wished for it, she thought. “How did it happen?”

  “Being the heir to my family’s considerable business interests does have its downside.”

  “And your family paid ransom?”