“Excuse me,” said Darkness, suddenly appealing at their side. “I’d like a word with these gentlemen, if you don’t mind.”
The watchman leapt back with a startled cry.
“A ghost!” shouted one of the others. He threw down his musket and took to his heels. With cries of terror, the others followed him.
“And men like these managed to win the War for Independence.” Darkness said, shaking his head.
“Doc, we need your help,” Delaney said. “The Network has got Steiger. They’re holding him in-”
“Yes, yes. I know, I’m way ahead of you,” said Darkness. “I’ve already taken care of it. Steiger will meet you back at the field base on Lime Street. Priest wants you to get back there right away. Apparently, one of your prisoners has managed to escape.”
“Moffat!” said Delaney.
“Yes, I believe that was his name.”
“And he’ll go straight to Drakov,” said Delaney. “Come on. Hunter. We’ve got no time to lose.” He quickly punched up the coordinates on his warp disc and they clocked out.
“Thank you, Dr. Darkness.” Darkness said, with a wry grimace. “You’re welcome. Don’t mention it. Aaah, I don’t know why I bother…
He disappeared.
Andre came to lying on a comfortable couch. She groaned and felt the back of her head. There was a lump there and blood was matted in her hair. She blinked, her vision focusing on a pretty young woman holding a laser pistol aimed directly at her.
“Please remain perfectly still. Miss Cross, otherwise Sally will be forced to shoot you and she is a very accurate shot. Show her how accurate you are. Sally.”
Sally fired the laser and the thin beam burned a smoking hole in the couch right next to Andre’s left ear. Andre didn’t move.
“Drakov,” she said.
“Ah, you remember.” Drakov said, coming around to where she could see him_ He was dressed in flamboyant colonial finery, in black, as usual. His coat, was of black velvet with jeweled buttons, his waistcoat was black brocade shot through with gold, his breeches were black satin, and his shirt and hose were of white silk. He had silver buckles on his shoes and he wore a powdered wig. but Andre would have recognized him anywhere. That scar marring his dark. Byronic features and those unsettling, emerald-green eyes were unmistakable, as was the voice, rich and deep and resonant, a voice that stage actors would have killed for.
“Which one arc you?” she said. “Do you each have your own run number or do you all think you’re the real thing?”
“That is a fascinating question, Miss Cross.” he said, smiling down at her. “In fact, I’ve wondered about it myself on occasion, not that it makes any real difference. You see, we are all Nikolai Drakov, sharing the same genetic template. the same memories and personality. After a certain point, that is. Childhood experiences must, of necessity, vary, but at a key point in development, each replicate’s subliminal programming is triggered and from that moment on, the memory engrains of the original are manifested. All previous individual experiences are totally forgotten. Each of us shares the same memories from that point on, the same personality and past. Asking which of us is the original is pointless. We are all the same. You might say I am legion.”
Sally’s face was registering growing confusion, but Drakov proceeded as if she wasn’t even there.
“Just think of it as an exponential increase in the opportunities for our paths to cross.” he said, smiling. “You see, there you are. It’s happened once again. Actually, I quite look forward to our encounters, although I confess that each time I think it will be the last. Perhaps this time we will finally conclude our business. I feel rather confident on this occasion.”
“You always do,” she said. “But we’ve beaten you each time. And we’ll beat you once again.”
“Oh. I think not.” said Drakov. “Not this time. Miss Cross. Not this time.”
“We have Moffat, you know.” she said.
The woman called Sally gave a little gasp and her eyes went to Drakov, but only for an instant.
“Yes. I had already surmised that,” he said. He shrugged. “Unfortunate, but it is of no real consequence. He is conditioned to withstand a considerable amount of questioning, and when your friends think they have broken him, he will tell them only what he has
been programmed to tell them. Moffat has served his purpose.”
The stricken look on the woman’s face only served to underscore what Andre had already concluded. Sally and Moffat were in love.
“Master…” she said in a pleading voice, but she got no further.
“Silence,” Drakov said. He deigned to glance at her-Don’t be concerned, Sally. You’ve done your part well. My promise to you still stands. I will provide another mate for you as soon as we are finished here.”
Sally said nothing and the laser in her hand wavered only slightly, but the anguish on her face spoke volumes.