Replaceable: An Alan Lamb Thriller by J.W. Bouchard

supplies they would have needed to succeed in such an operation probably wasn’t obtained legitimately.”
    “You think it was stolen?”
    Alan nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”
    Lucy’s gaze went to the elevators on the far side of the bullpen.
    “You like him don’t you?” Alan asked.
    “Who?”
    “Our mad scientist friend.”
    “Marvin?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “I don’t know what would make you say that,” Lucy said, but Alan noticed that she wouldn’t allow her eyes to meet his. Not quite.
    “Just an observation.”
    “We’re co-workers,” Lucy said. “Nothing more, nothing less. He seems like a nice person. I’m not as gifted an empath as some of my friends, but he has a gentle aura about him. And he seemed very nervous. Being around him made me anxious.”
    Alan studied her. He found he couldn’t read her anymore. Couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not.
    “We’re supposed to have built in lie detectors,” Lucy said. “Empaths. Mine doesn’t always work, but it does most of the time. I can usually tell when people are lying or being deceitful. Their emotions give it away.”
    “I was reading your body language. The way your eyes kept shifting from his eyes to his mouth. The way you kept wetting your lips. Those are generally unspoken tells when someone is interested in another person.”
    “Sometimes I don’t think you know me at all,” Lucy said.
    “He was interested in you, too.”
    “Is that right?”
    “I think so. He was a little jittery. Makes it hard to judge as accurately, but that would be my educated guess.”
    “Well, I’m telling you that your professional opinion is wrong.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    “Do you think he’s right? About them using clones?”
    Alan hadn’t decided that just yet. For all the advances in the various fields of biology, mapping the human genome, and manipulating DNA, he hadn’t heard any rumors of anyone perfecting the art of human cloning, let alone growing them to adulthood and using them to commit criminal acts. It sounded more like science fiction than science fact. The fact that he was even entertaining the idea proved Lucy was wrong. He knew how to keep an open mind.
    “I don’t know,” Alan said. “It seems like a longshot. But I do know one thing. It gives us a place to start.”

 

    Chapter 9
    It was well into the evening by the time Alan pulled into his space at the Patriot Inn.
    Guy Bernard was standing against the railing on the second-story walkway watching the events unfold on the lower level of the building across from them.
    Before exiting his car, Alan glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Bruno talking to two Latino men outside a room in the adjacent building. Alan wasn’t in the mood to involve himself in any drama, even if it was as removed as viewing it from a distance, but Guy Bernard was the man he needed to talk to.
    He got out of the car, stopped at his room long enough to throw his suit coat onto the bed, and then climbed the rickety wooden stairs to the second floor.
    Guy wasn’t alone. Two men stood with him. Alan recognized them as the motel’s two full-time maintenance men.
    One was in his fifties. Thinning white hair, narrow frame, shorter than his counterpart, who appeared to be slightly younger, and despite his age, appeared to be the more dangerous of the two.
    Both of the men that comprised the entirety of the Patriot’s maintenance crew were named Bob. Bob Doherty was the larger of the two, and was also the foreman. The other man’s name was Bob Nice. Alan most often heard these men referred to by their nicknames: High Bob and Biker Bob.
    Biker Bob was easily the surlier of the two. He was in his late forties and balding, but looked the older of the two men, which Alan attributed to years of drug abuse and heavy drinking. He had once belonged to one of the more notorious biker gangs in the area, but had given up that life when he had gotten married and started