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  “Where is the chief medical officer on this case?” Lafferty barked. She could imagine him like one of those shepherds from the night Monty disappeared. It fit.

  “He continues the research into some anomalies from the prisoner.”

  “The suspected clone?” He snorted, derision obvious as he shifted his body, all but turning his back on her.

  She didn’t snap or throw the coffee mug at him, despite the temptation to do so. “Cloning of this sophistication isn’t possible at this time. Sir.”

  “According to your absent medical specialist.”

  “According to the leading scientists of our time, sir.”

  A head rose from the other end of the table. “Professor Bales, am I to infer from that statement that you have consulted with an outside source?”

  “No, not at all. I speak of conventional knowledge, according to the sources at the Homeland Research and Security Department.”

  That was too close. Of course, she’d done the research, using her underground sources. She wanted to find her boss as soon as possible. They didn’t need to know that.

  “What of the blood found in the cell? Definitively identified as Agent Montgomery’s?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She addressed the matronly appearing woman partway down the table. “Not enough to consider him mortally wounded. The pillowcase is missing from the cot, we assume it was used to bind his wound since no blood trail led from the cell.”

  The tapping of fingers on screens filled the silence.

  “Directly before the power blackout, we believe Agent Montgomery deduced the prisoner had succeeded in smuggling an unknown item into her cell, concealed in her heavy hair braid. It did not set off metal detectors and passed a hand inspection pat down. Yet, it showed up on the MRI reading. He headed for the elevator before the alarms went off.”

  “Isn’t it more likely that Agent Montgomery colluded with the prisoner to facilitate her escape, disabling the security system from within?”

  She glared at the weasel-faced civilian consultant.

  “No, it is not.” She calmly collected her tablet. “Now, if there is nothing further, I have an investigation to continue.”

  “Actually, I do have something to contribute.” Weasel stood and nodded to the table. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Alfred Hammer, head of Hammer Industry. I do computer security for HRSD and developed the safeguards that keep our systems free of interference. After this incident occurred, I ordered a complete sweep of the system and found a parasite bug. It superseded normal paths and substituted results.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” Hermione let the papers drop back to the podium.

  “Security deemed it a need to know situation until we’d uncovered who planted the program.” He clicked a remote and a photograph of the prisoner was displayed. “Through no fault of this investigator, she is hampered by false information. This woman is actually Hadasa Jefla, a native of Syria and a known terrorist. She only recently came to our attention.”

  Hermione listened with a growing coldness spreading down her spine. The rodent lied. She’d learned to trust her instincts, despite all the evidence he brought forth, she didn’t buy it. She’d watched the interrogation of the rescued woman and no bloody way did she come from Syria.

  Then he said that the tracing of who planted the bug came back to Samwise Montgomery. If looks could kill, the man speaking would have dropped dead. She reined in her temper, embracing the flood of cool, calm, control.

  Alfred Hammer faked all of it. Hermione didn’t know why, but she would find out.

  “So, as you see. It’s obvious that Agent Montgomery worked in collusion with this agent. We believe a new type of electronic pulse was used to shut down the facility, as well as render the people on watch unconscious.”

  “And the blood?” She asked, amazed at how even her voice sounded.

  “Planted to leave the impression that he’d been injured. This way when he reappeared he’d be accepted back into the department and continue as an inside agent.”

  The matron peered with curiosity at Hammer. “Why would the false DNA record trace back to a long dead writer of romance novels, of all people?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps to broaden the mystery?” He shrugged. “Any living person would have been easy to trace.”

  “Actually, it would have been simpler to replace the record of a woman who fit the description and didn’t create so much suspicion. It’s just a coincidence that this woman is a visual match to the author?”

  Hermione watched the back and forth with fascination.

  “She doesn’t resemble the dead author that closely. Those records were altered.” He again used the keyboard to change the display. This time the author pictures had been altered.

  Ha, got you! Hermione had found and bought several of the still existing paperbacks. They’d been pricey, being so rare. But the photo in the back of the books did not match the one Hammer claimed as the author. He could change the computer images, he couldn’t change the paper.

  A cover-up. His entire presentation meant nothing. Other than that the man had contacts she couldn’t touch at present. She’d pull back and find a way around all of this. She knew the team and they’d stick with her.

  She fiddled with her equipment again. “If you would see a copy of these new files sent to the office, I will adjust my investigation to the new facts. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to refocus my team.”

  She didn’t wait for permission, but left the room. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she put a call into Drum.

  “Hey, some new facts have come to light. They don’t jibe with the computer facts. I assume you have followed your regular filing process?”

  Drum answered in the affirmative.

  She smiled, wanting to dance a few steps. Drum had paper copies of everything as well as isolated electronic files at home, in his safe room. They had a new place to begin operations, find Monty and solve the mystery of that woman.

  As she walked, she considered what she’d learned. Hammer, the Pentagon’s golden boy, lied and planted false information. For the government or did he have his own program? A scheme that included sacrificing an honorable man and his career? She hoped her boss survived this plot.

  She shook her head, his given name was Samwise? And she thought her parents were insane to saddle her with the Harry Potter name. Sometimes, she thought fans were totally nuts. At least they hadn’t named him Frodo.

  *****

  It took days for them to get him a pair of pants. At first, they brought him a Hawaiian shirt with huge lime green surfboards and parrots in a pink so brilliant it nearly gave him a headache. Whoever had lost it must have been a very large person, but it was too short to provide him a sense of modesty. He looked at Ria and sighed. “They care if I modify this?”

  “I think I’d prefer you to.”

  “It’s pretty bad, but at least it’s better than hauling a pillow around.” He examined the shirt, which felt more like plastic than fabric. He didn’t like the texture, stiff and slightly oily. But it tore easily. Eventually, he had a strip of fabric long enough to tie around his waist and provide him coverage. Ria patently waited, saying nothing.

  She bent and picked up the bit of scraps that fell, setting them on the table near the doorway. He finally stopped her. “Am I covered, I can’t tell for certain.”

  She walked around him then reached out and tugged at a section near the back. “Now you are. I really didn’t care, nor do the Aleena.”

  “I care.”

  “Would you be more comfortable if I found something to wear?” she innocently asked.

  “I wouldn’t presume to…” He sighed. “Your hair, could you undo the braid, at least?”

  “My nudity bothers you.”

  “It distracts me. I am a man and having you nude isn’t something easy to ignore.”

  She seemed to consider his words, then glanced down at the colorful wrap and h
e swore she blushed. Then simply pulled her braid to the front and quickly set it free, spreading it across her torso. “I am sorry, I forget that men have reactions they can’t always control.”

  “Oh, I’m in control, just distracted.”

  “I will do my best to ignore your parrots. Are you ready for a tour?”

  He blinked, realizing she’d just cracked a joke. Though she didn’t seem aware of it. Upon reflection, it was the second in minutes. This woman had a sense of humor.

  “Yes, I’m ready. Are they really going to let me wander around with only you as escort?”

  “Why not? Agent…I’m sorry, Sam…where could you go? You’re welcome to explore. I can tell you what you won’t find. There are no escape hatches or doors to the surface. Scout ships are in areas impossible for either of us to enter, as are strategic areas like the command center. I can show you where food is harvested, a medical center, art gallery, library, viewing rooms and a gathering hall, for example. What would you like to see first?”

  He reached out and snagged the bowl of food cubes and gestured toward the exit. “Show me what you enjoy.”

  She tilted her head at him. “Are you certain your head is fine? You don’t need any further rest?”

  “I’m fine, Ria.” He popped a cube into his mouth. They’d walked about the ship before, but found mostly corridors. She’d explained that doorways changed according to the need of the crew. Maybe this time he’d actually be shown something. Their first forays ended too soon, with his head pounding.

  She turned and led the way out of her room.

  The hallway curved and it appeared they walked in a circle before another opening appeared. It wouldn’t have surprised him if this was a trick, regardless of Ria’s statement that the Aleena didn’t lie. Then they turned into the new chamber and he nearly stumbled. The room held less light and it felt hollow. She took his hand and led him to a bench. “This is the viewing area. I doubt there is much to see but perhaps this will show you I’m telling you the truth.” Her hand tapped the bench top at her side and the lights faded even more.

  Then the wall before them began to glow, but not the same. He stared, trying to decipher what he saw. Then he realized, it was water. Illuminated from a hull, speeding through it. He stood up and moved closer.

  “You can touch it.”

  He reached out and touched that wall. Beneath his fingers it felt soft and icy cold. He pressed and it gave, causing him to take a step back.

  “You can’t push through it.” Her voice came from behind him. “I sometimes see schools of fish, if we’re in shallow waters. I’ve seen whales in the northern seas. It’s best when we’re near the surface and natural light filters down. This is a viewing room in an upper level.”

  He looked down and could see the curve of something massive below him. If this were an optical trick or illusion of some sort, he had to admire their ingenuity. Suddenly, a shape the size of a small whale darted to the level of the floor and paused. He stared at a face, looking at him from a viewport.

  “That is a scout ship. One like it found me as I sank. It shadowed the cruise ship, listening in on the noise. The Aleena are very curious.” She moved to stand next to him. “That is S’bita.” She waved and a limb rose to return that wave, then the ship darted away. “He must be on a mission. Or he’d entertain us with tricks. He’s very good at handling his scout.”

  Sam felt the floor tilt underneath him for a moment. Breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth. And again. Again. He regained control to see her studying him.

  “You did that before. A trick to handle shock?”

  “One way of looking at it.”

  He saw her chest rise then fall. “Too bad I didn’t know about it.”

  Before he could reply, she’d turned and taken a seat again. “I find it restful and peaceful here. The lower level viewing rooms sometimes offer a chance to watch retrieval missions. I’ve seen sunken ships carefully explored and shipping containers lifted into the hull.”

  “They loot sunken ships?”

  “They recycle what is beyond retrieval for the rest of you. They don’t loot. Nor will they disturb the long dead. They have always collected bodies, it’s how they learned anatomy, but it isn’t like they are sifting through the ruins of the Titanic.”

  “No, we only did that once. At the request of our human contact. My father commanded then.” Sam watched the new figure enter the room. This one looked more human than not. His voice was lower pitched, with a smooth chest, even showing the hint of a ribcage and musculature. The light grew as he stepped closer.

  “Ria, I hope you don’t mind if I interrupt your tour.”

  “Not at all T’talin. This is the head of the vessel, Sam. T’talin, Agent Sam Montgomery.”

  “Captain T’talin.” Sam held out his hand. This time what took his felt like an actual hand, albeit the texture didn’t feel quite right.

  “Agent Montgomery. And thank you, though captain is a title which denotes a more total control then I wield.”

  Sam studied the Aleena. This one didn’t have cat eyes, which made it easier to meet his gaze without the sense of watching a movie. “Consider it an honorary title, then. What are your intentions regarding my status?”

  “Ah, very direct.” The alien tilted his head. “To be as forthright, I’m not certain. We are entering very delicate and unknown territory. My inclination is to return you to the surface as soon as possible, but after observing you for some days, I would like your professional opinion regarding a difficulty with our human contact.”

  “Yeah, about that.” He knew they hadn’t survived beneath the surface so long without someone on shore pulling strings. Perhaps now he’d learn something of value.

  “If you would come with me, both of you, please? I’m on a break and need to feed myself.” He turned and gracefully gestured to the door.

  Ria took several steps, then paused. “How can I be of help? Will you finally reveal my presence to him?”

  “You are always helpful, N’sila. From the strident tone of his summons, our human mentor already knows of you.”

  She bowed her shoulders and wrapped arms around herself, standing very still. Sam wondered what disturbed her so much. T’talin patiently waited, while Sam took a step toward her.

  “No, please. Let her process. You see, our mentor advised letting her die when we first reported her survival. In fact, he made quite clear that to continue trying to revive her was a waste of time. She had no value.”

  “Who is this sterling representative of the human race?” Sam ignored T’talin’s words and put a hand on Ria’s back. He could feel the small tremors running through her spine, but she still didn’t move. “You ignored him, so why does it matter so much?”

  Her shoulders began to shake. Without considering what did, Sam pulled her into an embrace and stroked her head. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.”

  He looked over her head to see T’talin watching closely. The captain lifted his hand and touched her head. “What Agent Montgomery says is true. Yes, it was the first time we disobeyed him and that is important, but your life carried more weight than his wishes.”

  She took a deep breath; Sam felt it at his chest. Then another, and another, before pulling away. “Thank you. I can see his face and hear his words. He thought nothing of me. In fact, he truly didn’t like me. It felt personal.”

  “You saw it?”

  “The records are available to anyone, Agent Montgomery,” T’talin offered explanation.

  “He didn’t just want me dead, he wanted them to throw me back into the shipping lanes and make certain I was found. But make it look like I’d been caught in the propellers.” Her face appeared calm again, no grimace or frown. Only her eyes showed fear, wide and brimming with tears.

  “Well, I agree, that sounds personal. You spit in his soup at some point?” Sam tried to lighten the mood.

  She snorted. “I think I knew him, or knew of him.”
r />   “Who?”

  “Alfred Hammer.”

  “The head of Hammer Industries?” Sam studied her face. “He’s only in his forties, how could he be involved? He’d have been…in his twenties at the time you tried to kill yourself.”

  “His father.” T’talin replied. “Come, to the dining room.”

  Ria reached for his hand and they followed the alien down another long corridor until they entered a room set up with many tables. There were a dozen Aleena scattered about. Some looked more human, some less. Sam concentrated on the facts he’d just learned.

  Alfred Hammer was hip deep in all of this. As they walked, T’talin explained that the senior Hammer did the Aleena a service nearly a century earlier, saving the lives of two adolescents caught in a storm after taking a scout out to explore.

  “He cautioned my predecessor to remain hidden, stating the humans weren’t ready for our presence on their planet. His argument carried weight and a partnership began. He provided us with information and assisted us with learning more of the language, provided access to technology we had acquired but didn’t fully understand and encouraged our exploration of the ocean. He provided updated charts of the shipping routes and warned us when large military exercises took place. In return, our scientists took on projects for him. This relationship appeared equitable to us.”

  T’talin recited the history with enough detail that Sam could follow without needing a specific timeline. Ria chimed in now and then with her estimate of the actual dates.

  “In 2020, the old man died,” she added.

  “Yes, and his son took over. Then the open flow of information grew one-sided. As I trained as ship’s commander, I found myself questioning our loyalty to the family. His son requested we explore the ruins of the Titanic and retrieve a steel container for him. We did so. The next time he didn’t request, he ordered and I resisted. The commander at the time, L’andgs, didn’t offer any protest. But the item he wanted couldn’t be found.”

  “What ship did he want you to desecrate this time?”

  “A submarine.”

  “A Chinese submarine,” Ria explained. “He can show you the name. I don’t read Chinese.”