Chapter 26

Dr. Pascal rushed to the helipad, which had been built on the forward end of the ship with its edges cantilevered over the bow. By the time she climbed the ladder up onto the flight deck, the helicopter had touched down.

After being cleared by a crewman, she approached the craft cautiously. The craft was an AgustaWestland AW109, a modern design with retractable wheels and a four-blade rotor. During her residency, Elena had flown in one setup as an air ambulance, but the helicopter in front of her bore the logo of an Indian construction company.

As the engines shut down, Elena made her way to the aft door, knocking on it and stepping back. It slid open, revealing Kurt Austin, Joe Zavala, and a young man she didn’t recognize lying on a stretcher.

She hadn’t seen Kurt since the three of them had served on a NUMA training vessel in the Bahamas a year ago, but she and Joe had dated for several months afterward, going on a series of adventures before life got too busy as both of them picked up new assignments.

She hugged Joe as he climbed out. “I always knew you’d drop back into my life, Joe Zavala. Never thought it would happen literally, or in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Tell me this isn’t some stunt to win my affection.”

“Can’t say I’m above stealing a helicopter and flying halfway around the world for a date,” Joe replied. “But, sadly, we’re here on business.”

She grew concerned. “Did you really steal this thing?” Suddenly, she thought better of asking. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. And come up with a believable lie for the captain.”

Kurt climbed out and gave her a quick hug. “Unfortunately, any lie we come up with is probably going to be easier to swallow than the truth.” He turned back to the young man on the stretcher, sliding him toward the door.

Dr. Pascal looked him over briefly. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Joe drugged him.”

“At Kurt’s orders,” Joe insisted.

She felt for a pulse, checked his blood pressure, and then opened one of his closed eyes. “He’s mildly sedated, but stable,” she said. “He’s also dehydrated and looks like he’s suffering from a case of exposure.”

During their death-defying moments in the Bahamas, she’d learned that Kurt and Joe were often mixed up in dangerous events despite their rather ordinary job descriptions. She instantly assumed this was a similar case. “Is he a criminal?” she asked. “Did you kidnap him?”

“No,” Joe said. “We saved him from a group of assassins.”

“Then why did you drug him?”

“It was the only way to get him on the helicopter,” Kurt said. “On account of the fact that he’d never seen one before and was terrified of the noise it made.”

She was confused and intrigued. “Let’s get him inside.”

They carried Five down from the helicopter pad and into the ship, avoiding the captain on their way to one of the examination rooms. When Joe presented the medication used to sedate him, Dr. Pascal estimated he would wake up in an hour or so. She hooked up an IV to help him rehydrate. Once it was in place and dripping, she turned on Kurt and Joe. “All right, let’s cut to the chase,” she said. “Who is he and why did you bring him here?”

Kurt explained his odd name, how they’d found him, and the events in India, culminating with their escape from the shipping yard. Joe followed by pointing out the difficulty of getting him safely out of the country and the need to steal the helicopter, which they took from an airport on the coast outside of Porbandar.

“I’ve been following you on Instagram,” Joe continued. “I saw the work you did after the earthquake in Pakistan and realized you were probably heading south from Karachi. After a quick stop at an internet café, we were able to locate the ship through the charity’s website.”

She allowed a smile to show through. “You’ve been keeping track of me on social media?”

“Not in a creepy way,” Joe insisted. “Just admiring your adventurous spirit.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, grinning. “Why not just call Rudi and get help from NUMA?”

“For the same reason we asked you to keep quiet about our approach,” Kurt said. “We have reason to believe someone has hacked NUMA’s communications network. Calling in help would have been like pointing a giant arrow in our direction. Which is why it’s imperative that your captain not report our presence here.”

The captain had appeared in the doorway. “I suppose I could be convinced of that,” she said, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m not unaware of NUMA’s reputation. It’s half the reason I was glad to bring Dr. Pascal on board.”

Kurt nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the captain said. “For now. But I won’t put this ship in danger.”

“Nor would we ask you to,” Kurt said. “With a little luck we can be off the Akeso and transferred to a NUMA vessel in twenty-four hours. Until then we need your help.”

“To do what?” the captain asked. “I heard Dr. Pascal say your patient is fine.”

Kurt walked over and closed the door. “I need you to examine him further,” Kurt insisted, with great seriousness in his voice. “Down to the cellular level.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t remember having a mother or father, but he does have a large number of brothers, who look exactly like him. He remembers nothing of his childhood, and he doesn’t have a belly button. Which means he never had an umbilical cord. Which I’m assuming is almost unheard of.”

Dr. Pascal heard the words and felt a slight wave of confusion as she processed them. The captain seemed suspicious, but didn’t get the implication.

Dr. Pascal took a pair of scissors and cut through the patient’s shirt from bottom to top. The skin and musculature of his stomach appeared smooth and uninterrupted where his navel should have been. There was no sign of surgery or scarring. No sign of deformity. What she did find was a series of scarred-over indentations along both sides of his body. Evenly spaced and long healed. She didn’t have the slightest clue what they were, but they reminded her of injection sites.

“I asked him how old he was,” Kurt continued. “He didn’t know what that meant. We asked him how many brothers he had. He didn’t know, but he did say that in his ‘batch’ there were ten.”

“What’s with the tattoo on his neck?” the captain asked.

“He says that’s his designation. If you look closely, you’ll see that the bottom number ends in five.”

She studied the number, the first part looking oddly familiar to her. It read: 6.28318, but she couldn’t place it right away. The second part of the number under a horizontal dash contained the indications Kurt was talking about: 16.21.5. “You think this is his name?”

“ He thinks it’s his name,” Kurt said. “I think it’s his number. I think it lists him as subject number five, from batch twenty-one, version sixteen, or something like that. I think he only took it as his name because it’s the only thing that distinguishes him from any of his identical brothers.”

As she listened to Kurt’s words, Dr. Pascal began to understand the terrible conclusion he had come to. Across from her the captain’s face turned grim and cold. She seemed to understand now as well. Still, it was hard to accept. “Are you trying to say this man is the product of an experiment?”

Kurt made it clear. “I’m saying he was grown in a laboratory, not born from a woman. I’m saying he’s a clone.”