the Third Twin

55

PRESTON BARCK AND JIM PROUST ARRIVED AT BERRINGTON’S house around midday and sat in the den drinking beer. None of them had slept much, and they looked and felt wasted. Marianne, the housekeeper, was preparing Sunday lunch, and the fragrant smell of her cooking wafted in from the kitchen, but nothing could raise the spirits of the three partners.

“Jeannie has talked to Hank King, and to Per Ericson’s mother,” Berrington said despondently. “I wasn’t able to check any others, but she’ll track them all down before long.”

Jim said: “Let’s be realistic: exactly what can she do by this time tomorrow?”

Preston Barck was suicidal. “I’ll tell you what I’d do in her place,” he said. “I’d want to make a highly public demonstration of what I’d found, so if I could get hold of two or three of the boys I’d take them to New York and go on Good Morning America. Television loves twins.”

“God forbid,” Berrington said.

A car drew up outside. Jim looked out of the window and said: “Rusty old Datsun.”

Preston said: “I’m beginning to like Jim’s original idea. Make them all vanish.”

“I won’t have any killing!” Berrington shouted.

“Don’t yell, Berry,” Jim said with surprising mildness. ‘To tell you the truth, I guess I was bragging a bit when I talked about making people vanish. Maybe there was a time when I had the power to order people killed, but I really don’t anymore. I’ve asked some favors of old friends in the last few days; and although they’ve come through, I’ve realized there are limits.”

Berrington thought, Thank God for that.

“But I have another idea,” Jim said.

The other two stared at him.

“We approach each of the eight families discreetly. We confess that mistakes were made at the clinic in its early days. We say that no harm was done but we want to avoid sensational publicity. We offer them a million dollars each in compensation. We make it payable over ten years, and tell them the payments stop if they talk—to anyone: the press, Jeannie Ferrami, scientists, anyone.”

Berrington nodded slowly. “My God, it might just work. Who’s going to say no to a million dollars?”

Preston said: “Lorraine Logan. She wants to prove her son’s innocence.”

“That’s right. She wouldn’t do it for ten million.”

“Everyone has their price,” Jim said, regaining some of his characteristic bluster. “Anyway, there isn’t much she can do without the cooperation of one or two of the others.”

Preston was nodding. Berrington, too, found he had new hope. There might be a way to shut the Logans up. But there was a more serious snag. “What if Jeannie goes public in the next twenty-four hours?” he said. “Landsmann would probably postpone the takeover while they investigate the allegations. And then we won’t have any millions of dollars to throw around.”

Jim said: “We have to know what her intentions are: how much she’s discovered already and what she plans to do about it.”

“I don’t see any way to do that,” Berrington said.

“I do,” said Jim. “We know one person who could easily win her confidence and find out exactly what’s on her mind.”

Berrington felt anger rise inside him. “I know what you’re thinking—”

“Here he comes now,” Jim said.

There was a footstep in the hall, and Berrington’s son came in.

“Hi, Dad!” he said. “Hey, Uncle Jim, Uncle Preston, how are you?”

Berrington looked at him with a mixture of pride and sorrow. The boy looked adorable in navy blue corduroy pants and a sky blue cotton sweater. He picked up my dress sense, anyway, Berrington thought. He said: “We have to talk, Harvey.”

Jim stood up. “Want a beer, kid?”

“Sure,” Harvey said.

Jim had an annoying tendency to encourage Harvey in bad habits. “Forget the beer,” Berrington snapped. “Jim, why don’t you and Preston go into the drawing room and let us two talk.” The drawing room was a stiffly formal space that Berrington never used.

Preston and Jim left. Berrington got up and hugged Harvey. “I love you, son,” he said. “Even though you’re wicked.”

“Am I wicked?”

“What you did to that poor girl in the basement of the gym was one of the most wicked things a man can do.”

Harvey shrugged.

Dear God, I failed to instill in him any sense of right and wrong, Berrington thought. But it was too late now for such regrets. “Sit down and listen for a minute,” he said.

Harvey sat.

“Your mother and I tried for years to have a baby, but there were problems,” he said “At the time, Preston was working on in vitro fertilization, where the sperm and the egg are brought together in the laboratory and then the embryo is implanted in the womb.”

“Are you saying I was a test-tube baby?”

“This is secret. You must never tell anyone, all your life. Not even your mother.”

“She doesn’t know?” Harvey said in astonishment.

“There’s more to it than that. Preston took one live embryo and split it, forming twins.”

“That’s the guy who’s been arrested for the rape?’

“He split it more than once.”

Harvey nodded. All of them had the same quick intelligence. “How many?” he said.

“Eight.”

“Wow. And I guess the sperm didn’t come from you.”

“No.”

“Who?”

“An army lieutenant from Fort Bragg: tall, strong, fit, intelligent, aggressive, and good-looking.”

“And the mother?”

“A civilian typist from West Point, similarly well favored.”

A wounded grin twisted the boy’s handsome face. “My real parents.”

Berrington winced. “No, they’re not,” he said. “You grew in your mother’s belly. She gave birth to you, and believe me it hurt. We watched you take your first unsteady steps, and struggle to maneuver a spoonful of mashed potato into your mouth, and lisp your first words.”

Watching his son’s face, Berrington could not tell whether Harvey believed him or not.

“Hell, we loved you more and more as you became less lovable. Every damn year the same reports from school: ‘He is very aggressive, he has not yet learned to share, he hits other children, he has difficulty with team games, he disrupts the class, he must learn to respect members of the opposite sex.’ Every time you got expelled from a school we trudged around begging and pleading to get you into another one. We tried cajoling you, beating you, withdrawing privileges. We took you to three different child psychologists. You made our lives miserable.”

“Are you saying I ruined the marriage?”

“No, son, I did that all on my own. What I’m trying to tell you is that I love you whatever you do, just like any other parent.”

Harvey was still troubled. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Steve Logan, one of your doubles, was a subject for study in my department. I had a hell of a shock when I saw him, as you may imagine. Then the police arrested him for the rape of Lisa Hoxton. But one of the professors, Jeannie Ferrami, got suspicious. To cut a long story short, she’s tracked you down. She wants to prove Steve Logan’s innocence. And she probably wants to expose the whole story of the clones and ruin me.”

“She’s the woman I met in Philadelphia.”

Berrington was mystified. “You’ve met her?”

“Uncle Jim called me and told me to give her a scare.”

Berrington was enraged. “The son of a bitch, I’m going to tear his fucking head off his shoulders—”

“Calm down, Dad, nothing happened. I went for a ride in her car. She’s cute, in her way.”

Berrington controlled himself with an effort. “Your uncle Jim has always been irresponsible in his attitude to you. He likes your wildness, no doubt because he’s such an uptight asshole himself.”

“I like him.”

“Let’s talk about what we have to do. We need to know Jeannie Ferrami’s intentions, especially over the next twenty-four hours. You need to know whether she has any evidence that links you to Lisa Hoxton. We can’t think of any way to get to her—but one.”

Harvey nodded. “You want me to go talk to her, pretending to be Steve Logan.”

“Yes.”

He grinned. “Sounds fun.”

Berrington groaned. “Don’t do anything foolish, please. Just talk to her.”

“Want me to go right away?”

“Yes, please. I hate to ask you to do this—but it’s for you as much as for me.”

“Relax, Dad—what could happen?”

“Maybe I worry too much. I guess there’s no great danger in going to a girl’s apartment.”

“What if the real Steve is there?”

“Check the cars in the street. He has a Datsun like yours; that’s another reason the police were so sure he was the perpetrator.”

“No kidding!”

“You’re like identical twins, you make the same choices. If his car is there, don’t go in. Call me, and we’ll try to think of some way to get him out.”

“Suppose he walked there?”

“He lives in Washington.”

“Okay.” Harvey stood up. “What’s the girl’s address?”

“She lives in Hampden.” Berrington scribbled the street address on a card and handed it over. “Be careful, okay?”

“Sure. See you sooner, Montezuma.”

Berrington forced a smile. “In a flash, succotash.”