The Third Twin

  "And you modestly said, 'If you only play a little tennis, you're probably not in my league.' "

  "That's the code. If one of us says the first line, the other has to say the second."

  "Done."

  Mr. Oliver came back with his toolbox. He rolled Harvey over and started to tie his hands in front, binding the palms flat against one another but leaving the pinkie fingers free.

  Steve said: "Why not tie his hands behind his back?"

  Mr. Oliver looked bashful. "If you'll excuse me for mentioning it, this way he can hold his own dick when he has to take a piss. I learned that in Europe during the war." He started to bind Harvey's feet. "This guy won't cause you no more trouble. Now what are you planning to do about the front door?"

  Jeannie looked at Steve, who said: "I busted it pretty bad."

  "I'd better call a carpenter," Jeannie said.

  Mr. Oliver said: "I got some loose timber in the yard. I could fix it so we can lock the door tonight. Then we could get someone to do a better job tomorrow."

  Jeannie felt profoundly grateful to him. "Thank you, that's so kind."

  "Don't mention it. This is the most interesting thing that's happened to me since World War Two."

  "I'll help you," Steve offered.

  Mr. Oliver shook his head. "You two have a lot to discuss, I can see that. Like whether you're going to call the cops on this guy you have trussed up on your carpet." Without waiting for an answer he picked up his toolbox and went downstairs.

  Jeannie collected her thoughts. "Tomorrow, Genetico will be sold for a hundred and eighty million dollars and Proust will be on the presidential trail. Meanwhile I've got no job and my reputation is shot. I'll never work as a scientist again. But I could turn both situations around, with what I know."

  "How are you going to do that?"

  "Well ... I could issue a press release about the experiments."

  "Wouldn't you need some kind of proof?"

  "You and Harvey together make pretty dramatic evidence. Especially if we could get you on TV together."

  "Yeah--on Sixty Minutes or something. I like that." His face fell again. "But Harvey wouldn't cooperate."

  "They can film him tied up. Then we call the cops, and they can film that too."

  Steve nodded. "The trouble is, you probably have to act before Landsmann and Genetico finalize the takeover. Once they have the money, they may be able to ride out any bad publicity we generate. But I don't see how you can get on TV in the next few hours. And their press conference is tomorrow morning, according to The Wall Street Journal."

  "Maybe we should hold our own press conference."

  Steve snapped his fingers. "I've got it! We gate-crash their press conference."

  "Hell, yes. Then maybe the people from Landsmann will decide not to sign the papers, and the takeover will be canceled."

  "And Berrington won't make all those millions of dollars."

  "And Jim Proust won't run for president."

  "We must be crazy," Steve said. "These are some of the most powerful people in America, and we're talking about spoiling their party."

  The sound of hammering came from below as Mr. Oliver began to mend the door. Jeannie said: "They hate black people, you know. All this bullshit about good genes and second-rate Americans is just code. They're white supremacists all dressed up with modern science. They want to make Mr. Oliver a second-class citizen. The hell with them, I'm not going to stand by and watch."

  "We need a plan," Steve said practically.

  "Okay, here goes," Jeannie said. "First we have to find out where the Genetico press conference is being held."

  "Probably a Baltimore hotel."

  "We'll call them all, if necessary."

  "We should probably take a room in the hotel."

  "Good idea. Then I sneak into the press conference somehow, and stand up in the middle of it and make a speech to the assembled media."

  'They'll shut you up."

  "I should have a press release ready to give out. But then you'll come in with Harvey. Twins are so photogenic, all the cameras will be on you."

  Steve frowned. "What do you prove by having me and Harvey there?"

  "Because you're identical you'll have the kind of dramatic impact that should cause the press to start asking questions. It won't take them long to check that you have different mothers. Once they learn that, they'll know there's a mystery to be uncovered, just as I did. And you know how they investigate presidential candidates."

  "Three would be better than two, though," Steve said. "Do you think we could get one of the others there?"

  "We could try. We could invite them all and hope that at least one will show up."

  On the floor, Harvey opened his eyes and groaned.

  Jeannie had almost forgotten about him. Looking at him now, she hoped his head hurt. Then she felt guilty about being so vengeful. "After the way I hit him, he probably should see a doctor."

  Harvey came around fast. "Untie me, you fucking bitch," he said.

  "Forget the doctor," Jeannie said.

  "Untie me now, or I swear I'll slash your tits with a razor as soon as I'm free."

  Jeannie stuffed the dishcloth in his mouth. "Shut up, Harvey," she said.

  Steve said pensively: "It's going to be interesting trying to sneak him into a hotel tied up."

  Lisa's voice came from downstairs, greeting Mr. Oliver. A moment later she came in, wearing blue jeans and heavy Doc Marten boots. She looked at Steve and Harvey and said: "My God, it's true."

  Steve stood up. "I'm the one you picked out of the lineup," he said. "But he's the one who attacked you."

  Jeannie explained: "Harvey tried to do to me what he did to you. Steve came by just in time and broke the door down."

  Lisa went over to where Harvey lay. She stared at him for a long moment, then thoughtfully drew back her foot and kicked him in the ribs as hard as she could with a Doc Marten toecap. He groaned and writhed in pain.

  She did it again. "Boy," she said, shaking her head, "that feels good."

  Jeannie swiftly brought Lisa up-to-date with the day's developments. "A lot happened while I was sleeping," Lisa said in amazement.

  Steve said: "You've been at JFU a year, Lisa--I'm surprised you never met Berrington's son."

  "Berrington never socializes with academic colleagues," she said. "He's too much of a celebrity. It's quite possible nobody at JFU has ever met Harvey."

  Jeannie outlined the plan for disrupting the press conference. "We were just saying we could feel more confident if one of the other clones was going to be there."

  "Well, Per Ericson is dead, and Dennis Pinker and Murray Claud are in jail, but that still leaves three possibilities: Henry King in Boston, Wayne Stattner in New York, and George Dassault--he could be in Buffalo, Sacramento, or Houston, we don't know which, but we could try them all again. I kept all the phone numbers."

  "So did I," Jeannie said.

  Steve said: "Could they get here on time?"

  "We could check flights on CompuServe," Lisa said. "Where's your computer, Jeannie?"

  "Stolen."

  "I have my PowerBook in the trunk, I'll get it."

  While she was out, Jeannie said: "We're going to have to think very hard about how to persuade these guys to fly to Baltimore on short notice. And we'll have to offer to pay their fares. I'm not sure my credit card will stand it."

  "I have an American Express card my mom gave me for emergencies. I know she'll consider this an emergency."

  "What a great mom," Jeannie said enviously.

  "That's the truth."

  Lisa came back in and plugged her computer into Jeannie's modem line.

  "Wait a minute," Jeannie said. "Let's get organized."

  58

  JEANNIE WROTE THE PRESS RELEASE, LISA ACCESSED WorldSpan Travelshopper and checked flights, and Steve got the Yellow Pages and started calling all the major hotels to say: "Do you have a press conference scheduled tomorrow for Genetico Inc
. or Landsmann?"

  After six tries it occurred to him that the press conference did not have to take place in a hotel. It could be held in a restaurant or a more exotic location such as on board a ship; or they might have a big enough room at Genetico headquarters, just north of the city. But on his seventh call a helpful desk clerk said: "Yes, that's in the Regency Room at noon, sir."

  "Great!" Steve said. Jeannie looked questioningly at him, and Steve grinned and made a thumbs-up sign. "Could I reserve a room for tonight, please?"

  "I'll connect you with reservations. Please hold on for one moment."

  He booked a room, paying with his mother's American Express card. As he hung up, Lisa said: "There are three flights that would get Henry King here on time, all US Air. They leave at six-twenty, seven-forty, and nine forty-five. Seats are available on all of them."

  "Book a seat on the nine forty-five," Jeannie said.

  Steve passed Lisa the credit card and she tapped in the details.

  Jeannie said: "I still don't know how to persuade him to come."

  "Did you say he's a student, working in a bar?" Steve said. "Yeah."

  "He needs money. Let me try something. What's his number?"

  Jeannie gave it to him. "He's called Hank," she said.

  Steve called the number. No one answered the phone. He shook his head disappointedly. "Nobody home," he said.

  Jeannie looked downcast for a moment, then she snapped her fingers. "Maybe he's working at that bar." She gave Steve the number and he dialed it.

  The phone was answered by a man with a Hispanic accent. "The Blue Note."

  "May I speak to Hank?"

  "He's supposed to be working, you know?" the man said irritably.

  Steve grinned at Jeannie and mouthed He's there! "It's very important, I won't keep him long."

  A minute later a voice just like Steve's own came down the line. "Yeah, who's this?"

  "Hi, Hank, my name is Steve Logan, and we have something in common."

  "Are you selling something?"

  "Your mother and mine both received treatment at a place called the Aventine Clinic before we were born. You can check that with her."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "To cut a long story short, I'm suing the clinic for ten million dollars and I'd like you to join in the suit with me."

  There was a thoughtful pause. "I don't know if you're for real or not, buddy, but either way I don't have the money for a lawsuit."

  "I'll pay all the legal costs. I don't want your money."

  "So why are you calling me?"

  "Because my case would be strengthened by having you on board."

  "You better write me with the details--"

  "That's the problem. I need you to be here in Baltimore, at the Stouffer Hotel, tomorrow at noon. I'm holding a press conference ahead of my lawsuit and I want you to appear."

  "Who wants to go to Baltimore? Like, it's not Honolulu."

  Get serious, asshole. "You have a reservation on the US Air flight out of Logan at nine forty-five. Your ticket is paid for, you can check with the airline. Just pick it up at the airport."

  "You're offering to split ten million dollars with me?"

  "Oh, no. You get your own ten million."

  "What are you suing them for?"

  "Breach of implied contract by fraud."

  "I'm a business student. Isn't there a statute of limitations on that? Anything that happened twenty-three years ago--"

  "There is a statute of limitations, but it runs from the time of discovery of the fraud. Which in this case was last week."

  In the background, a Hispanic voice shouted: "Hey, Hank, you got about a hundred customers waiting!"

  Hank said into the phone: "You're beginning to sound a little more convincing."

  "Does that mean you'll come?"

  "Hell, no. It means I'll think about it after I get off work tonight. Now I have to serve drinks."

  "You can reach me at the hotel," Steve said, but he was too late: Hank had hung up.

  Jeannie and Lisa were staring at him.

  He shrugged. "I don't know," he said frustratedly. "I don't know if I convinced him or not."

  Lisa said: "We'll just have to wait and see if he shows up."

  "What does Wayne Stattner do for a living?"

  "He owns nightclubs. He probably already has ten million dollars."

  "Then we'll have to pique his curiosity. Do you have a number?"

  "Yes."

  Steve called it, and got an answering machine. "Hi, Wayne, my name is Steve Logan and you may notice that my voice sounds exactly like yours. That's because, believe it or not, we are identical. I'm six feet two, a hundred and ninety pounds, and I look exactly like you except for hair color. Some other things we probably have in common: I'm allergic to macadamia nuts, I have no nails on my little toes, and when I'm thinking I scratch the back of my left hand with the fingers of my right. Now here's the kicker: We're not twins. There are several of us. One committed a crime at Jones Falls University last Sunday--that's why you got a visit from the Baltimore police yesterday. And we're meeting tomorrow at the Stouffer Hotel in Baltimore at noon. This is weird, Wayne, but I swear to you it's all true. Call me or Dr. Jean Ferrami at the hotel, or just show up. It will be interesting." He hung up and looked at Jeannie. "What do you think?"

  She shrugged. "He's a man who can afford to follow his whims. He may be intrigued. And a nightclub owner probably doesn't have anything pressing to do on a Monday morning. On the other hand, I wouldn't take a plane on the strength of a phone message like that."

  The phone rang and Steve picked it up automatically. "Hello?"

  "Can I speak to Steve?" The voice was unfamiliar.

  "This is Steve."

  "This is Uncle Preston. I'm putting your dad on."

  Steve did not have an uncle Preston. He frowned, mystified. A moment later another voice came on the line. "Is anyone with you, is she listening?"

  Suddenly Steve understood. Mystification gave way to shock. He could not think what to do. "Hold on a moment," he said. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "I think this is Berrington Jones!" he said to Jeannie. "And he thinks I'm Harvey. What the hell do I do?"

  Jeannie spread her hands in a gesture of bewilderment. "Improvise," she said.

  "Gee, thanks." Steve put the phone to his ear. "Uh, yeah, this is Steve," he said.

  "What's going on? You've been there hours!"

  "I guess so...."

  "Have you found out what Jeannie's planning to do?"

  "Uh ... yes, I have."

  "Then get back here and tell us!"

  "Okay."

  "You're not trapped in any way, are you?"

  "No."

  "I suppose you've been fucking her."

  "You could say that."

  "Get your goddamn pants on and come home! We're all in bad trouble!"

  "Okay."

  "Now, when you hang up, you're going to say it was someone who works for your parents' lawyer, calling to say you're needed in D.C. as soon as possible. That's your cover story, and it gives you a reason to hurry. Okay?"

  "Okay. I'll be there as fast as I can."

  Berrington hung up and Steve did likewise.

  Steve's shoulders slumped with relief. "I think I fooled him."

  Jeannie said: "What did he say?"

  "It was very interesting. It seems Harvey was sent here to find out what your intentions are. They're worried about what you might do with the knowledge you have."

  "They? Who?"

  "Berrington and someone called Uncle Preston."

  "Preston Barck, president of Genetico. So why did they call?"

  "Impatience. Berrington got fed up with waiting. I guess he and his cronies are waiting to find out so they can figure out how to respond. He told me to pretend I have to go to Washington to see the lawyer, then get back to his house as fast as I can."

  Jeannie looked worried. "This is very bad. When Harvey doesn't show up, Berr
ington will know something's wrong. The Genetico people will be forewarned. There's no telling what they might do: move the press conference to another location, step up security so we can't get in, even cancel the event altogether and sign the papers in a lawyer's office."

  Steve frowned, staring at the floor. He had an idea, but he hesitated to propose it. Finally he said: "Then Harvey must go home."

  Jeannie shook her head. "He's been lying there on the floor listening to us. He'll tell them everything."

  "Not if I go in his place."

  Jeannie and Lisa stared at him, aghast.

  He had not worked it out; he was thinking aloud. "I'll go to Berrington's home and pretend to be Harvey. I'll reassure them."

  "Steve, it's so hazardous. You don't know anything about their life. You wouldn't even know where the bathroom was."

  "If Harvey could fool you, I guess I could fool Berrington." Steve tried to sound more confident than he felt.

  "Harvey didn't fool me. I found him out."

  "He fooled you for a while."

  "Less than an hour. You'd have to stay there longer."

  "Not much. Harvey normally returns to Philadelphia on Sunday evening, we know that. I'll be back here by midnight."

  "But Berrington is Harvey's father. It's impossible."

  He knew she was right. "Do you have a better idea?"

  Jeannie thought for a long moment, then she said: "No."

  59

  STEVE PUT ON HARVEY'S BLUE CORDUROY PANTS AND LIGHT blue sweater and drove Harvey's Datsun to Roland Park. It was dark by the time he reached Berrington's house. He parked behind a silver Lincoln Town Car and sat for a moment, summoning his courage.

  He had to get this right. If he was found out, Jeannie was finished. But he had nothing to go on, no information to work with. He would have to be alert to every hint, sensitive to expectations, relaxed about errors. He wished he were an actor.

  What mood is Harvey in? he asked himself. He's been summoned rather peremptorily by his father. He might have been enjoying himself with Jeannie. I think he's in a bad mood.

  He sighed. He could not postpone the dread moment any longer. He got out of the car and went to the front door.

  There were several keys on Harvey's key ring. He peered at the lock on Berrington's front door. He thought he could make out the word "Yale." He looked for a Yale key. Before he could find one, Berrington opened the door. "What are you standing there for?" he said irritably. "Get in here."

  Steve stepped inside.

  "Go in the den," Berrington said.

  Where the fuck is the den? Steve fought down a wave of panic. The house was a standard suburban ranch-style split-level built in the seventies. To his left, through an arch, he could see a living room with formal furniture and no one in it. Straight ahead was a passage with several doors off it which, he guessed, led to bedrooms. On his right were two closed doors. One of them was probably the den--but which?