handwriting thing?”
“Yeah. And more pictures. Plus he showed me the article. A year before I was born, Einstein’s brain was stolen from Dr. Thomas Harvey at Princeton. He had it in two jars. Jessup let me see a newspaper clipping on it. The brain was mysteriously returned the next month—it was thought to be some kind of college prank.”
“Back up. How did he find you?”
“Oh. Our Birth Certificates. Every person has a birth number. He got in touch with the Cook County Clerk and looked up the person whose birth number came right before his. That was me.”
“He already knew he was Edison?”
“Edison?” Roy snorted. “Am I the only one here thinks this is all crazy?”
Bert ignored him. “Last year he picked up a book on Edison and was surprised at the likeness. He wondered if he might be a relative.
So he began to study him, gather information. He discovered his handwriting was identical to Edison’s. Then he found a newspaper article about Edison’s grave being vandalized, a year before he was born.”
Tom reasoned it out. “Someone robbed the grave for a DNA sample.”
“That’s what he figured. So he paid to have a lab test his DNA, and then went to Edison’s grave and...”
Roy turned around again. “He dug up Thomas Edison?”
“It was the only way to be sure. Jessup figured since he had a 7 on his foot, there must be six others. He knew if he was a clone, then he really wasn’t born at Rush-Presbyterian Hospital, so those birth records were fake.”
Tom filled in the rest. “So he assumed they were all sent to the local registrar as a batch, and the birth numbers would be consecutive.”
“Right. The registrar assigns birth numbers in the order they’re received. So Jessup began to search through newspapers from a year before he was born, looking for famous people whose graves had been disturbed. That’s how he found the Einstein article, and took a guess that since my name was Albert, I might be Einstein.”
Tom nodded. It fit perfectly. “The man who dropped the babies off—he insisted they keep their first names.”
“My parents told me that too. Lucky, I guess. They wanted to name me Shlomo.”
“So Jessup found out Jefferson’s grave was disturbed.”
“Yes. Along with Abraham Lincoln’s and Robert E. Lee’s. And coincidentally, number 1 and number 2 are named Abe and Robert.”
“And he was planning on telling me?”
“After the tests came back. A few years ago, there was a sample of DNA taken from Jefferson, to prove if he ever fathered illegitimate children. Jessup tracked down the sample and was having the results sent to him. Then he was going to approach you.”
“What were the other names? On the birth certificates?”
“I can’t remember them all. I think there was a Jane, and maybe a Will.”
Tom stopped at a red light and rubbed his eyes. Were they even his eyes? Or were they the eyes of a man who died two centuries ago?
“If— if— I buy into this cloning thing, and I’m Jefferson and you’re Einstein, we still have a big problem. Jessup is dead, that cop who is supposedly Robert E. Lee was killed last year, and both of us are next on the list. So who the hell is doing this?”
Bert frowned. “Tom, that guy who tried to kill me. You said he was Jack the Ripper?”
Tom nodded. “He called himself Saucy Jack. The Ripper called himself that in a letter to the police. He also mentioned he was a hundred year old mystery revealed. But the clincher was the echolalia.”
Bert raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“It’s a speech impediment, when you repeat back what was just said to you. A famous Ripper suspect by the name of Joseph Barnett had this disorder. He was a fish porter who dated the last woman the Ripper killed. Most enthusiasts think Dr. Francis Tumblety was the Whitechapel killer, but I think there are too many holes in that theory.”
Roy shook his head. “It was Tumblety. The guy kept jars of female uteri in his
“Yeah. And more pictures. Plus he showed me the article. A year before I was born, Einstein’s brain was stolen from Dr. Thomas Harvey at Princeton. He had it in two jars. Jessup let me see a newspaper clipping on it. The brain was mysteriously returned the next month—it was thought to be some kind of college prank.”
“Back up. How did he find you?”
“Oh. Our Birth Certificates. Every person has a birth number. He got in touch with the Cook County Clerk and looked up the person whose birth number came right before his. That was me.”
“He already knew he was Edison?”
“Edison?” Roy snorted. “Am I the only one here thinks this is all crazy?”
Bert ignored him. “Last year he picked up a book on Edison and was surprised at the likeness. He wondered if he might be a relative.
So he began to study him, gather information. He discovered his handwriting was identical to Edison’s. Then he found a newspaper article about Edison’s grave being vandalized, a year before he was born.”
Tom reasoned it out. “Someone robbed the grave for a DNA sample.”
“That’s what he figured. So he paid to have a lab test his DNA, and then went to Edison’s grave and...”
Roy turned around again. “He dug up Thomas Edison?”
“It was the only way to be sure. Jessup figured since he had a 7 on his foot, there must be six others. He knew if he was a clone, then he really wasn’t born at Rush-Presbyterian Hospital, so those birth records were fake.”
Tom filled in the rest. “So he assumed they were all sent to the local registrar as a batch, and the birth numbers would be consecutive.”
“Right. The registrar assigns birth numbers in the order they’re received. So Jessup began to search through newspapers from a year before he was born, looking for famous people whose graves had been disturbed. That’s how he found the Einstein article, and took a guess that since my name was Albert, I might be Einstein.”
Tom nodded. It fit perfectly. “The man who dropped the babies off—he insisted they keep their first names.”
“My parents told me that too. Lucky, I guess. They wanted to name me Shlomo.”
“So Jessup found out Jefferson’s grave was disturbed.”
“Yes. Along with Abraham Lincoln’s and Robert E. Lee’s. And coincidentally, number 1 and number 2 are named Abe and Robert.”
“And he was planning on telling me?”
“After the tests came back. A few years ago, there was a sample of DNA taken from Jefferson, to prove if he ever fathered illegitimate children. Jessup tracked down the sample and was having the results sent to him. Then he was going to approach you.”
“What were the other names? On the birth certificates?”
“I can’t remember them all. I think there was a Jane, and maybe a Will.”
Tom stopped at a red light and rubbed his eyes. Were they even his eyes? Or were they the eyes of a man who died two centuries ago?
“If— if— I buy into this cloning thing, and I’m Jefferson and you’re Einstein, we still have a big problem. Jessup is dead, that cop who is supposedly Robert E. Lee was killed last year, and both of us are next on the list. So who the hell is doing this?”
Bert frowned. “Tom, that guy who tried to kill me. You said he was Jack the Ripper?”
Tom nodded. “He called himself Saucy Jack. The Ripper called himself that in a letter to the police. He also mentioned he was a hundred year old mystery revealed. But the clincher was the echolalia.”
Bert raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“It’s a speech impediment, when you repeat back what was just said to you. A famous Ripper suspect by the name of Joseph Barnett had this disorder. He was a fish porter who dated the last woman the Ripper killed. Most enthusiasts think Dr. Francis Tumblety was the Whitechapel killer, but I think there are too many holes in that theory.”
Roy shook his head. “It was Tumblety. The guy kept jars of female uteri in his
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