The Clone who Didn't Know (The Genehunter) by Simon Kewin Page B

organization who believe you’re not beyond redemption.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Who do you think?’
    So this was Kelly trying to help him? ‘And what, I stop genehunting and you let me live out my remaining days in peace and happiness?’
    ‘That would be such a waste of your talents. No, we want you to track down someone for us.’
    ‘You want to employ me as a genehunter? Are you fucking kidding? You’re clONE. That’s insane. That’s against every rule you have.’
    ‘Still, we’ll release you on the condition you do this for us.’
    Simms studied the three of them, waiting for the punch line, the sting, the laugh. Nothing came. It looked like they actually meant it.
    ‘Tell me who you need.’
    The man spoke again now. ‘We’re not entirely sure who he is or what he is. He’s definitely alive. We think he’s lost, confused, vulnerable. He may need our help. Here’s the deal: help him and you help yourself.’
    ‘And if I refuse?’
    ‘You know what we really like to do to genehunters,’ said the man.
    ‘I thought I did.’
    ‘And we’ll be watching you, of course,’ said the leader. ‘If you hunt anyone else, even for a molecule collector like Lund, we’ll assume our agreement is at an end and come for you. And next time there won’t be a hidden jump node to catch you when you fall.’
    Was this some game they played before killing their targets? He could make out nothing on their faces and got nothing from their brains.
    ‘OK,’ he said, still expecting them to start laughing at their fine joke. ‘It’s a deal.’
    No one even smiled. Instead, the older woman sent him details on their target. Just like any regular client except for the not offering payment part. He was more used to dealing in musicians than scientists but, hell, he’d take it.
    They untied him and led him outside, through the clashing heat of the Arizona sun to the jump node he remembered from his previous visit. Before he stepped in, he turned to the woman walking behind him.
    ‘Give Kelly a message from me.’
    ‘Kelly?’
    ‘Come on, no games. Just give her the message.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Tell her she needs to reply to me. Tell her I want to talk about Eloise.’
    ‘Who is Eloise?’
    ‘Eloise is none of your damn business. Give Kelly the message and tell her to respond next time I ping, OK?’
    Simms turned and stepped into the node. His last conscious thought was that the world had gone insane if you couldn’t rely on highly-trained death squads to kill you.

     
    Simms placed the drinks on the table in front of Devi.
    ‘So, couldn’t keep away, huh?’ he said. He sat down next to her in their shadowy corner of the Double Helix. Which wasn’t hard to do because all the corners were shadowy. ‘Or did you blow all your money from Lund on well-endowed fleshbots already?’
    Devi sipped her scotch and smiled at Simms. ‘Had to come and see if you were surviving, didn’t I? You’ve been getting weird on us. Almost moral . Figured you must be ill.’
    Simms knocked back a mouthful of Scotch, thinking what to say. He’d been trying to make some progress on the clONE case for two days and had gotten nowhere. He’d asked her here for help. Not for a lecture.
    ‘I traded you the Zombies of Death DNA for hard information,’ he said. ‘It made perfect business sense.’
    ‘Is that right?’
    Simms sat back, trying to find the right words. The warm bite of the Scotch cushioned him from reality. His plugins reacted by implementing the intoxication-handling rules he'd set up, locking out wild or dangerous behaviour. He let them run. They generally knew what they were doing.
    A gentle hubbub of low voices filled the air in the Double Helix. No one near, no one paying them any attention. Mac standing behind the bar watching over everything like a fond parent. They were safe here. Neutral territory.
    ‘A lot of shit going on,’ said Simms quietly.
    ‘Forty Days. You said.’
    ‘That’s just the start of it,