Page 25 of Origin in Death

  Eve paced the length of the glass. There wasn't so much as a mur­mur from inside. And the women sat, relaxed. "We ID them through prints first, request they voluntarily provide DNA samples, test those. We're going to make damn sure what we're dealing with. We can start that before the observation team arrives."

  Putting it into order in her head, Eve shrugged out of her coat. "Let's separate them while we're running the ID. They won't like that."

  As she expected, she saw the first crack in composure when she re­turned and ordered Peabody to escort one of the women from the room.

  "We want to stay together."

  "Routine. You'll need to be identified and questioned separately at this time." She tapped one of the two remaining on the shoulder. "If you'll come with me."

  "We're here to cooperate. But we want to stay together."

  "This won't take long." She took her Avril out and into a small par­lor where she'd placed an ID kit. "I can't question you until I verify your identification. I'm going to ask you to submit to print scan, and to give me a DNA sample."

  "You know who we are. You know what we are."

  "For the record. Do you agree?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you the Avril Icove I spoke with after Wilfred Icove Jr.’s murder?"

  "We're the same. We're one."

  "Right. But one of you was there. One was at the beach. Where was the third?"

  "We can't be together physically often. But we're always together ~

  "That's starting to sound like Free-Ager pap. Prints verified is Icove, Avril. DNA. Hair or spit?" she asked.

  "Wait." Avril closed her eyes, drew a breath. When she opened her eyes again there were tears. She picked up a swab, coated it with her own tears, handed it to Eve.

  "Neat trick." Eve inserted the swab into her portable scanner. "Art all your emotions manufactured?"

  "We feel. We love and hate, laugh and cry. But we're well trained."

  "I bet. We broke Icove's code on his personal logs. This is going to take a few minutes." She let the scanner hum, studied Avril. "What about your children? Did he create them?"

  "No. They're only children." Everything about her softened. "Conceived in our body. They're innocent, and have to be protected. If you give us your word you'll protect our children, we'll believe you."

  "I'll do everything I can to protect the children." She read the scanner. "Avril."

  All three were tested. According to scanners and readouts, all three were the same person.

  Eve joined the observation team, which included Reo. Once again, she had Peabody remain in the room with the reunited women.

  "DNA matches. No question to the ID. What we've got in there are all legally, biologically Avril Icove."

  "It should be unbelievable," Tibble commented.

  "What it is, is fraught with legal minefields," Reo put in. "How do you question a witness and/or suspect when you have three who are the same ?"

  "By using the fact they're coming here as a single unit," Eve said to Reo. "That's their stand, so we use it."

  "Physiologically that may be true. But emotionally . . ." Mira shook her head. "They haven't had the same experiences, they haven't lived the same lives. There will be differences between them."

  "DNA samples. One gave me a tear. Rolled it out on command. The other two went with saliva. Number one was showing off. But all three made identical requests that the children be protected."

  "The relationship between mother and child is one of the most pri­mal. While only one gave birth . . ."

  "Two kids," Eve interrupted. "We don't know, unless they agree to an exam, if two of the three gave birth."

  A fresh flicker of horror ran over Mira's face. "Yes, you're right. If. . . in any case, with the intimate connection between these women, their primal instinct toward the children could very well be just as intimate."

  "Could they communicate telepathically?"

  "I can't say." Mira lifted her hands. "Genetically, they're identical. It's likely their early environment was as well. But at some point they were separated. Identical siblings are known to have a unique bond, to sense each other's thoughts. Even those separated by years of time or miles of distance have proved to have this connection. It's also possible they might be sensitives. That this quality was either inherent in the cell used to create them or evolved due to their extraordinary circum­stance."

  "I need to get started."

  They looked up, as one, as Eve entered the room. For form she walked to a recorder, engaged.

  "Interview with Avril Icove regarding the unlawful deaths of Wil­fred B. Icove, Sr., and Wilfred B. Icove, Jr. Mrs. Icove, have you beer. informed of your rights and obligations?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you understand these rights and obligations?"

  "Yes."

  "It would make it easier, for the purposes of this interview, if you would speak one at a time."

  They glanced at each other. "It's difficult to know what you expect from us."

  "Let's shoot for the truth. You." She pointed to the woman at the corner of the table. "For now, you can answer. Which one of you lived at the location where Wilfred Icove, Jr., was murdered?"

  "We've all lived there, at one time or another."

  "Through your choice or because you were directed into this situation by your husband or father-in-law?"

  "It was the arrangement our father dictated. Always. Choice? It isn't always an option."

  "You call him your father."

  "He was the father. We're his children."

  "Biologically?"

  "No. But he made us."

  "As he did Deena Flavia."

  "She's our sister. Not biologically," Avril added. "But emotional'. She's like us. Not us, but like us."

  "He created you, and others like you, through illegal procedures."

  "He called it Quiet Birth. Should we explain?"

  "Yeah." Eve sat, kicked back in the chair. "Why don't you?"

  "During the wars, the father became friends with Jonah Wilson, the noted geneticist, and his wife, Eva Samuels."

  "First, what's your relationship to Eva Samuels? You have the same maiden name."

  "There's no relation. We're not of her. The name was a convenience for them."

  "Were your biological parents those listed as such on your official data?"

  "We don't know who our parents were. But it's doubtful."

  "Okay, go on. Icove, Wilson, and Samuels hooked up."

  "They were very interested in each other's work. Though the father was, initially, skeptical and wary of Dr. Wilson's more radical theories and experiments-"

  "Even then, you see," the second Avril continued, "there were ex­periments. Though he was skeptical, he couldn't deny his fascination. When his wife was killed, grief took him. She was carrying their daughter, and both were lost. He tried to reach them in time, to get to her body. But nothing was viable. He was too late."

  "Too late to attempt to preserve her DNA, and potentially re-create her."

  "Yes." The third Avril smiled. "You understand. He couldn't save his wife and the baby she carried. For all of his skill and knowledge, he was helpless, as he'd been to save his own mother. But he began to see what could be done. How many loved ones might be saved."

  "By cloning."

  "Quiet Birth." The first took over again. "There were so many dead, so many lost. So many in pain. So many children, orphaned, injured. He intended to save them. Was driven to."

  "By extraordinary means."

  "They, the father and Wilson, worked in secret. The children, after all, so many of the children would never have real lives. They'd give them better. They'd give them the future."

  "They used children they found in the wars?" Peabody demanded. "They took kids?"

  "This appalls you."

  "Shouldn't it?"

  "We were a child in the war. Dying. Our DNA was preserved, our cells taken. Should we have died then?"

  "Yes.
"

  They looked back at Eve. And each nodded. "Yes. It's the natural order. We should have been allowed to die, to stop being. But we weren't. There were failures. And the failures were destroyed, or used for further study. Again and again, day after day, year after year, until there were five who were viable."

  "There are two more of you?" Eve asked.

  "There were. We were born in April."

  "Back up a minute. Where did he get the women who were im­planted?"

  "There weren't any. We weren't developed in a human womb. We weren't given even that gift. The wombs are artificial, a great achieve­ment." Now her voice hardened, and the anger simmering under it flashed into her eyes. "Every moment of development can be moni­tored. Every developing cell can be engineered, adjusted, manipulated. We have no mother."

  "Where? Where is it done?"

  "We don't know. We don't remember the first years. It was eraser Drugs, treatments, hypnosis."

  "Then how do you know what you're telling me?"

  "Will. He shared some of this. He loved us, was proud of what we are. Was proud of his father and the achievements. Some we knew from Deena, and some we learned when we began to question."

  "Where are the other two?"

  "One died at six months. We were not able to sustain. The other.

  They paused, linked hands. "We learned the other lived for five years. We lived five years. But we weren't strong enough, and our in­tellect wasn't developing according to the required levels. He killed us. He injected us as you might a terminally ill pet. We went to sleep, and never woke. And so, we're three."

  "There's documentation of this?"

  "Yes. Deena obtained it. He made her very smart and resourceful. Maybe he miscalculated the range of her curiosity, her ... humanity. She learned she'd been two, but one hadn't been allowed to develop past the age of three. When she told us, we couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. She ran away, she wanted us to come, but..."

  "We loved Will. We loved the father. We didn't know how to be without them."

  "She contacted you again."

  "We were always in contact. We loved her, too. We kept her secret. We married Will. It was so important to make him happy, and we did. When we got pregnant, we asked only one thing of him and the father. One thing. Our child-any children we would have together-would never be re-created. They'd never be used this way. They gave their word."

  "One of us had a son."

  "Another a daughter."

  "And a third carries a daughter."

  "You're pregnant?"

  "The child was conceived three weeks ago. He didn't know. We didn't want him to know. He broke his word. The one sacred thing. Eleven months ago, he and the father took cells from the children. It has to be stopped. Our children must be protected. We've done-and will do-whatever it takes to stop it."

  EVE ROSE, WALKED TO THE BAR, PROGRAMMED

  coffee for herself and Peabody. They were speaking one at a time now, but with the same unity. One pick­ing up the recitation where the other left off. "Want anything?" she

  asked them.

  "We'd like water. Thank you."

  "How'd you find out they'd broken their promise?"

  "We knew our husband, and knew something was wrong. While he was out of the house, we checked the logs in his private office, and found the records on the children. We wanted to take them, take our babies and run."

  "But it wouldn't protect the ones they'd create. Create, then alter and perfect. Test and evaluate."

  "They grew inside us, warm inside us, and they'd take that and make replicas in the cold lab. In his notes Will said it was a precaution only, in case something happened to the children. But they aren't things to be replaced. In all our years, it was the only thing we asked, and he couldn't honor his promise."

  "We told Deena, and we knew it had to be stopped. They'd never stop, as long as they lived. We'd never learn all we needed to learn un­til they were dead and we had more control."

  "So you killed them both. You and Deena."

  "Yes. We planted the weapon for her. We believed she wouldn't be identified. Or if she was, we'd get to all the records first; we'd be able to shut down the project. And we took the children away, safely away, then came back for Will."

  Eve worked with their rhythm, and in a strange way found it effi­cient. "You drove Deena to the school to kill Samuels."

  "She was like us, taken from Eva Samuels's DNA, and designed to continue the work. She's Eva, replicated. You know that."

  "Eva helped kill us and Deena when we weren't perfect enough. She terminated others. Many others. Do you see us? We're not allowed a flaw, no physical or biological flaw. This is the father's directive. Our children have flaws, as any child does, should. We knew they would take what they were and alter it."

  "They gave us no choice, not from the moment they made us. There are hundreds who had no choice, who were trained every day for up to twenty-two years to become. Our children will have a choice."

  "Which one of you killed Wilfred Icove, Jr.?"

  "We're the same. We killed our husband."

  "It was one hand that held the knife."

  Each held up an identical right hand. "We're one."

  "Bullshit. You've each got a set of lungs, a heart, kidneys." Eve tipped a water glass so drops fell on the left hand on the one nearest her. "Only one of you has a wet hand. One of you walked into that house, into the kitchen, prepared a nice, healthy snack for the man you in­tended to kill. One of you sat down beside him where he lay on the sofa. Then stuck a knife in his heart."

  "We were one to them. One of us would live in the house, mother to our children, wife to our husband. One would live in Italy, in the Tus­can countryside. The villa's large, the estate beautiful. As is the chateau in France where one of us would live. Every year, on the day of our be­coming, we would be switched. And the other of us would be given a year with our children. We thought we had no choice."

  Tears glimmered now in three pairs of eyes. "We did what we were told to do. Always, always. One year of every three to be who we were made to be. Two years to wait. Because we were what Will wanted. and what the father deemed he could have. He made us to love, and we loved. But if we can love, we can hate."

  "Where's Deena?"

  "We don't know. We contacted her when we agreed to cooperate with you. We told her what we intended, what had to be done, and that she should disappear again. She's good at it."

  "The school has a second generation."

  "Of many. Not us. This was what Will requested of his father. But we know there are more of our cells preserved somewhere. In case."

  "Some have been sold."

  "Placement. He called it placement, yes. Made-to-order generated * great deal of money. It required a great deal of money to continue the project."

  "Were all the . . . the base for the project... all from the wars? Eve asked.

  "Children, some adults who were mortally injured. Other doctors, scientists, technicians, LCs, teachers."

  "All female."

  "That we know of."

  "Did you ever ask to leave? The school?"

  "To go where, and to what? We were taught and trained and tested every day, all of our lives. We were given a purpose. Every minute was regimented and monitored. Even what was called our free time. We're imprinted to be, to do, to know, to act, to think."

  "If so, how do you kill that which made you?"

  "Because we were imprinted to love our children. We would have lived as they'd wanted us to live, if they'd left our children alone. Do you want a sacrifice, Lieutenant Dallas? Choose any one of us, and that one will confess to it all."

  They linked hands again. "That one will go to prison for the rest of our lives, if the other two are free to go, to take the children away where they'll never be touched or observed. Where they'll never have to be stared at, pointed out. Be objects of fear or fascination. Aren't you afraid of us, of what we are?"

&nb
sp; "No." Eve got to her feet. "And I'm not looking for sacrifices, either. We're breaking from interview at this time. Please remain here. Peabody, with me."

  She went through the door, secured it, then went straight into the observation area. Reo was already on the 'link, having an avid conver­sation in undertones.

  "They'd know Deena Flavia's location," Whitney said.

  "Yes, sir. They know where she is, or how to find her. Certainly they have contact information. I can separate them again, go at them indi­vidually. With the confession on record, I can get a warrant to have them tested, find out which, if any, is pregnant. If so, that one would be the most vulnerable. Peabody could soft-pedal with them, one on one. She's good at it. Next hit is to push on locations for the labs specifically used for the project, where they've put whatever data they've already taken, and who, if anyone, is on Deena's termination list. They're not done. They haven't accomplished everything they were after, and they're oriented to succeed."

  She glanced at Mira for confirmation.

  "I agree. At this point they're giving you what they want you to have. They want your help in shutting this down, and your sympathy. They want you to know why they did what they did, and why they're willing to sacrifice themselves for it. You won't break them."

  Eve lifted her eyebrows. "Want to put money on it?"

  "It has nothing to do with your interview skills. They are the same person. Their life experiences are so minutely different it barely regis­ters. They were created to be the same, then trained and given a rou­tine that ensured they would be the same."

  "One hand held the knife."

  "You're being literal," Mira said impatiently. "In a very real sense, that one hand belonged to all of them."

  "They can all be charged," Tibble pointed out. "Conspiracy to mur­der. First degree."

  "Never get to trial." Reo shut her 'link. "My boss and I are in agree­ment on this. With what we just heard in there, what we know, we'd never get this to stick. Any defense would whoop our asses long before we got to a murder trail. Frankly, I'd like to defend them myself. Not only a slam dunk, but I'd be rich and famous by the end of it."

  "So they walk?" Eve demanded.