clones.”
“Yes, I saw that in the police report,” Cardston replied.
“Two were beaten to death, one was shot.”
“Yes, that was also in the report.”
“They entered Harris’s room at 08:05,” said Watson.
“Oh-five?” asked Cardston. “Strange. The other attacks began precisely at 08:00, but this one was five minutes later. Are they sure they entered at 08:05?”
“The door lock automatically made a time stamp when it was opened at 08:05. It’s part of the hotel’s security protocol,” said Watson. “They use it to prevent maids from robbing guests.”
“Maybe the clock in the door was off,” said Cardston.
“Freeman had the police check that. The clock is accurate.”
“Interesting,” said Cardston.
“We know Harris entered the room thirty-two minutes before the assailants,” said Watson. “There’s a security feed showing him entering the hotel lobby, and a security time stamp at 07:33.
“There is a lot of blood in the room. We know that some of it came from Harris,” said Watson.
Cardston paused. He looked down, his eyes jetting back and forth. Watson thought he was probably looking over the report he had received, the one that seemed to have all the answers, the one generated by the New Olympian police.
“How do you know it was his?” asked Cardston.
“Freeman . . .” Watson began.
Freeman, who was in the room but out of the camera, put up a hand to stop him.
Watson changed in midsentence. “The police analyzed it for adrenal levels.”
“The combat reflex,” Cardston said. “Good thinking.”
Liberator physiology was human, but it included a unique gland that dumped hormones into their blood when their systems hit high levels of stress. The hormone dumps were called the “combat reflex.”
The reflex made them clearheaded and deadly in battle, but it also proved addictive, leading to massacres, some involving civilians. The engineers who had designed the current model of military clones had removed that gland and replaced it with a gland of a very different sort.
“Some of the blood was laced with adrenaline and testosterone, so we know Harris was there,” Cardston said. “I’m not sure I would have thought of that.”
Watson started to respond, but Freeman spoke over him. He said, “All we know is that Harris was there and that he lost a lot of blood.”
Cardston said, “Freeman?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was shot?” asked Cardston.
Freeman said, “Possibly.”
“How about security feeds? Did you check with hotel security? Do they have anything?”
“We checked the video feed. It doesn’t show how the clones entered the building or how Harris left.”
• • •
After they ended the call to Cardston, Freeman and Watson met with Mark Story, the chief of the New Olympian police in Mazatlán, a white-haired man with the polished demeanor of a politician.
Story said, “I heard somebody attacked the Pentagon this morning. Obviously, if there is anything I can do, my entire department is at your service.”
Freeman seemed content to let Watson do the talking.
Watson said, “We appreciate that, Chief Story.”
“I heard about an attack on a prison.”
“Sheridan Federal Correctional,” said Watson.
“Both attacks happened at the exact same time that the clones attacked Harris. Do you think they’re related?” asked Story.
Freeman remained silent.
Not the exact same time,
thought Watson. He’d seen military precision. If it had been a synchronized attack, he had no doubt that Harris’s door would have opened at the exact same time the grenade exploded in the Pentagon and the gunship fired in Oregon.
He said, “It’s too early to tell.”
“Can I get you coffee or tea?” Story asked, then he thought a moment, and added, “I can get you something stronger if you like.”
“I’m fine,” said Watson.
Freeman didn’t answer. He seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.
They sat around Story’s
“Yes, I saw that in the police report,” Cardston replied.
“Two were beaten to death, one was shot.”
“Yes, that was also in the report.”
“They entered Harris’s room at 08:05,” said Watson.
“Oh-five?” asked Cardston. “Strange. The other attacks began precisely at 08:00, but this one was five minutes later. Are they sure they entered at 08:05?”
“The door lock automatically made a time stamp when it was opened at 08:05. It’s part of the hotel’s security protocol,” said Watson. “They use it to prevent maids from robbing guests.”
“Maybe the clock in the door was off,” said Cardston.
“Freeman had the police check that. The clock is accurate.”
“Interesting,” said Cardston.
“We know Harris entered the room thirty-two minutes before the assailants,” said Watson. “There’s a security feed showing him entering the hotel lobby, and a security time stamp at 07:33.
“There is a lot of blood in the room. We know that some of it came from Harris,” said Watson.
Cardston paused. He looked down, his eyes jetting back and forth. Watson thought he was probably looking over the report he had received, the one that seemed to have all the answers, the one generated by the New Olympian police.
“How do you know it was his?” asked Cardston.
“Freeman . . .” Watson began.
Freeman, who was in the room but out of the camera, put up a hand to stop him.
Watson changed in midsentence. “The police analyzed it for adrenal levels.”
“The combat reflex,” Cardston said. “Good thinking.”
Liberator physiology was human, but it included a unique gland that dumped hormones into their blood when their systems hit high levels of stress. The hormone dumps were called the “combat reflex.”
The reflex made them clearheaded and deadly in battle, but it also proved addictive, leading to massacres, some involving civilians. The engineers who had designed the current model of military clones had removed that gland and replaced it with a gland of a very different sort.
“Some of the blood was laced with adrenaline and testosterone, so we know Harris was there,” Cardston said. “I’m not sure I would have thought of that.”
Watson started to respond, but Freeman spoke over him. He said, “All we know is that Harris was there and that he lost a lot of blood.”
Cardston said, “Freeman?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was shot?” asked Cardston.
Freeman said, “Possibly.”
“How about security feeds? Did you check with hotel security? Do they have anything?”
“We checked the video feed. It doesn’t show how the clones entered the building or how Harris left.”
• • •
After they ended the call to Cardston, Freeman and Watson met with Mark Story, the chief of the New Olympian police in Mazatlán, a white-haired man with the polished demeanor of a politician.
Story said, “I heard somebody attacked the Pentagon this morning. Obviously, if there is anything I can do, my entire department is at your service.”
Freeman seemed content to let Watson do the talking.
Watson said, “We appreciate that, Chief Story.”
“I heard about an attack on a prison.”
“Sheridan Federal Correctional,” said Watson.
“Both attacks happened at the exact same time that the clones attacked Harris. Do you think they’re related?” asked Story.
Freeman remained silent.
Not the exact same time,
thought Watson. He’d seen military precision. If it had been a synchronized attack, he had no doubt that Harris’s door would have opened at the exact same time the grenade exploded in the Pentagon and the gunship fired in Oregon.
He said, “It’s too early to tell.”
“Can I get you coffee or tea?” Story asked, then he thought a moment, and added, “I can get you something stronger if you like.”
“I’m fine,” said Watson.
Freeman didn’t answer. He seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.
They sat around Story’s
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