Chapter 9 - The Third Child
For six months, I had worked beside my sibling without knowing it.
That thought was more frightening than the guns.
Nathaniel Cross stood twenty feet away, surrounded by six armed members of my own task force. Mercer was wounded. Marcus was bleeding. Renner had only a few rounds left. Dr. Shaw had betrayed us at least once, possibly twice. Sienna stood pressed against my shoulder.
And somewhere among the people facing us was Subject 7-C or 7-D.
My brother.
Or my sister.
“Who is it?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Cross recovered first.
“Charles is manipulating you.”
“He showed us four babies.”
“A photograph proves nothing.”
“You looked terrified.”
Cross's jaw tightened.
“That transmission compromised this facility.”
“That isn't why you're afraid.”
Sienna stepped forward.
“You know who the fourth child is.”
Cross looked at her.
For the first time, I saw something strange in his expression.
Affection.
Not the calculated warmth he had always shown me.
Something older.
Almost paternal.
“Put the weapons down,” he said. “Both of you.”
“No,” I replied.
“Clara.”
“You don't get to use that voice anymore.”
“What voice?”
“My mentor's.”
Pain crossed his face.
Whether genuine or performed, I couldn't tell.
“You think everything between us was false?”
“I think you recruited your niece without telling her she was your niece.”
“I was protecting you.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently lying is the official language of Harbor Glass.”
Behind Cross, Agent Naomi Pierce shifted her weight.
Tiny movement.
Most people wouldn't notice.
I did.
Naomi had worked with me since the second week of Operation Harbor Glass.
Thirty-one.
Former financial-intelligence analyst.
Quiet.
Brilliant.
Terrible coffee.
She had once spent fourteen hours helping me reconstruct transfers through three shell companies.
Her age was close enough.
Too close.
I looked at her.
She noticed.
“Commander?”
Cross turned slightly.
Naomi's confusion seemed genuine.
Or practiced.
“What's your date of birth?” I asked.
Her eyebrows rose.
“What?”
“Answer.”
“September 8, 1993.”
Sienna whispered, “Could be changed.”
Every birth date could be changed.
That was the point.
I looked at the others.
Daniel Cho.
Forty-five.
Too old.
Rebecca Sloan.
Thirty-three.
Possible.
Thomas Keene.
Thirty-eight.
Unlikely, unless everything was fabricated.
Eric Danner.
Twenty-nine.
Possible.
Luis Ortega.
Forty-one.
Probably not.
Then I realized I was making the same mistake again.
Assuming appearances were evidence.
Margaret had worn Eleanor's face.
My own birthday was false.
A file could change age.
Surgery could change appearance.
Harbor Glass had spent decades manufacturing identities.
Any of them could be the fourth child.
Cross raised one hand.
“Clara, listen to me.”
“No.”
“If Charles wanted you to know who the other child was, he would have told you.”
“Unless he couldn't.”
“Or unless revealing the name would ruin his manipulation.”
“Then you tell me.”
Cross said nothing.
Exactly.
A warning alarm began pulsing.
Mercer looked toward the server racks.
“The purge is accelerating.”
One screen flashed:
ARCHIVE INTEGRITY: 61%.
Then 58%.
Cross's attention snapped toward the terminals.
“Naomi, stop it.”
Agent Pierce moved toward the console.
I watched her.
She entered credentials.
Denied.
Again.
Denied.
Then the screen displayed:
SECONDARY BIOLOGICAL AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED.
Everyone stared at Sienna and me.
Cross took a step forward.
“There.”
His voice became softer.
“That is why I need you.”
“To stop the deletion?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Shaw laughed.
Cross looked at her.
“You find something amusing?”
“You still think Charles is deleting the archive.”
Cross froze.
Mercer turned toward Shaw.
“He isn't?”
“No.”
“Then who is?”
Shaw looked toward the dark screens.
“The archive itself.”
Silence.
Sienna frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Charles built a dead-man protocol.”
Cross shook his head.
“No.”
“You never found it, Nathaniel.”
“You're bluffing.”
“Ask Anna.”
His face changed.
Shaw smiled sadly.
“Oh, that's right.”
Cruel.
Personal.
“She died before she could tell you.”
Cross crossed the room in three strides and struck Shaw across the face.
Marcus raised his gun.
Cross's agents raised theirs.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Everyone froze.
Shaw wiped blood from her lip.
Then laughed.
“You still hit like a frightened boy.”
Cross's composure fractured.
“What did Anna tell you?”
“Everything.”
“What did she change?”
“You'll never know.”
He grabbed her throat.
I aimed at him.
“Let her go.”
Cross looked at me.
For one second, I didn't see the attorney general.
I saw a brother grieving a sister thirty-two years later.
Then he released Shaw.
“Anna trusted the wrong people.”
Shaw rubbed her throat.
“She trusted you first.”
Cross looked away.
That sentence hurt him.
Good.
The archive fell to 49%.
“What happens at zero?” I asked.
Shaw answered.
“The identities disappear.”
“Files?”
“Everything.”
“Then why does that matter if the people still exist?”
“Because some of those people don't know who they were.”
I thought of myself.
Sienna.
Maybe hundreds more.
“Harbor Glass is the only record?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can't let it disappear.”
Cross looked at me.
“Exactly.”
I hated agreeing with him.
“How do we stop it?”
“Authenticate.”
“With both of us?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“The archive opens.”
“To you?”
“To us.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Clara—”
“You've spent thirty-two years looking for this. I'm not handing it to you because a countdown makes me nervous.”
“People will lose their histories.”
“And how many will die if you get the list?”
Cross didn't answer.
The archive dropped to 43%.
Marcus came beside me.
“We need another option.”
Mercer spoke from the floor.
“There is one.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The authentication can be isolated.”
Cross's face changed.
“Daniel.”
Mercer ignored him.
“Clara and Sienna authenticate locally. We sever the external connection first.”
“Can we access the archive without Cross?”
“Yes.”
Cross raised his weapon.
“No.”
Renner immediately aimed at him.
The room became a circle of guns again.
Mercer looked at me.
“Server rack twelve. Physical network bridge.”
Naomi Pierce stood closest.
I looked at her.
“Disconnect it.”
Cross said, “Don't.”
Naomi hesitated.
There.
Not obedience.
Conflict.
“Naomi,” I said.
She looked at me.
“You joined Harbor Glass because your father went to prison after exposing procurement fraud.”
Her face changed.
“You told me that on our third operation.”
“Commander—”
“You said institutions protect themselves before they protect the truth.”
Cross stared at her.
“Pierce.”
She looked at him.
Then at me.
The archive reached 39%.
Naomi pulled the network bridge.
Every monitor flickered.
Cross shouted, “No!”
The facility went offline.
Archive integrity stopped.
38%.
Mercer exhaled.
“Good.”
Cross stared at Naomi.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
She slowly drew her weapon.
But she didn't point it at us.
She pointed it at Cross.
“I think I do.”
My heart accelerated.
“Naomi?”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“I've been waiting for Charles to contact you.”
Cross whispered, “Don't.”
Naomi looked at me.
“My birthday isn't September 8.”
Sienna grabbed my hand.
Naomi continued.
“I don't know my real birthday.”
Cross raised his gun.
I fired first.
The bullet struck the floor beside his foot.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Naomi's voice shook.
“Cross found me when I was sixteen.”
I stared at her.
“What did he tell you?”
“That my parents died in a house fire.”
Cross said, “They did.”
Naomi shook her head.
“You showed me the photograph, Nathaniel.”
“What photograph?” I asked.
Naomi reached beneath her collar.
A chain.
A tiny pendant.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Anna Cross holding four newborn babies.
The same image Grandpa had shown us.
Except this version had handwriting on the back.
A.
B.
C.
D.
And beneath C:
NAOMI.
Sienna began crying.
I couldn't move.
Naomi looked at us.
“I think I'm Subject 7-C.”
My sister.
Thirty-two years separated in false families.
Working beside me.
Cross closed his eyes.
“Naomi, please.”
She looked at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew all these years.”
“I saved you.”
“From Charles?”
“Yes.”
“Or from the truth?”
Cross didn't answer.
Naomi's weapon trembled.
“What happened to 7-D?”
Cross looked toward me.
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Anna took him.”
“Took him where?”
“Out of Harbor Glass.”
“Then how do you know he died?”
“Because I found the body.”
I no longer believed bodies.
“Whose body?”
“A child's.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Cross's face hardened.
“He was four years old.”
Sienna covered her mouth.
Naomi lowered her weapon slightly.
“What was his name?”
Cross whispered:
“Gabriel.”
The name seemed to mean something to Dr. Shaw.
I saw it immediately.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“Shaw.”
She looked away.
I stepped toward her.
“Gabriel is alive.”
Cross spun.
“What?”
Shaw said nothing.
“You knew?” Cross demanded.
Still nothing.
He grabbed her.
“Where is he?”
Shaw smiled.
“You really never figured it out.”
Cross's face drained.
“Figured out what?”
She looked at me.
“Subject 7-D didn't escape Harbor Glass.”
“Then where is he?”
“He stayed inside it.”
The meaning arrived slowly.
Someone embedded in the program.
Someone close enough to monitor Cross.
Close enough to know about the archive.
Close enough to manipulate investigations.
I looked at Marcus.
No.
Age wrong.
Renner.
Too old.
Mercer.
Thirty-four.
Possible.
Mercer saw me looking.
His expression changed.
“No.”
Shaw laughed.
Cross turned toward Mercer.
Daniel Mercer slowly backed away.
“Don't.”
“Daniel?” I whispered.
“I am not Gabriel.”
“What's your real date of birth?”
He said nothing.
“Daniel.”
“I don't know.”
The room went silent.
Cross raised his gun.
Mercer raised his hands.
“Wait.”
Cross looked furious.
“You.”
“I swear I didn't know.”
“Your blood.”
“What?”
“We test your blood.”
Mercer shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Shaw wants you to think it's me.”
Shaw smiled.
“Do I?”
Something was wrong.
Too easy.
CLUE.
SUSPICION.
MISDIRECTION.
Grandpa's method.
I looked at Shaw.
“You said Gabriel stayed inside Harbor Glass.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't say he worked for it.”
Her smile disappeared.
Good.
“What does stayed inside mean?”
No answer.
“Shaw.”
Then the facility speakers activated.
Static.
A man's voice.
“You always were the fastest one, Clara.”
Not Grandpa.
Younger.
Familiar.
I had heard it hundreds of times.
Marcus turned toward the ceiling.
Renner whispered, “No.”
Cross looked terrified.
I knew the voice.
Detective Paul Renner.
Except Renner was standing beside me.
I looked at him.
He looked equally shocked.
The voice continued.
“Paul, don't take this personally.”
Renner's face went white.
“What the hell?”
“Your identity was useful.”
Every screen activated.
A photograph appeared.
Paul Renner.
Age thirty-two.
The face was similar.
But not identical.
Then another photograph.
A young man after reconstructive surgery.
Final identity assignment:
PAUL DAVID RENNER.
Original identity:
GABRIEL CROSS.
Subject:
7-D.
Sienna stared at the detective beside us.
“You're our brother.”
Renner shook his head.
“No.”
Cross whispered, “Gabriel.”
Renner looked at him.
“I don't remember any of this.”
The voice from the speakers laughed.
“Of course you don't.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who remembers for him.”
A camera above the server rack rotated toward us.
“Clara, Naomi, Sienna.”
Pause.
“And Gabriel.”
Renner stared upward.
“Who are you?”
The voice answered:
“The real Paul Renner.”
Silence.
The man beside us—the detective who had signed my warrant, taken my father's money, and spent years investigating Harbor Glass—was not Paul Renner.
He was my missing brother.
And somewhere outside the facility, the original Paul Renner was still alive.
The speaker crackled again.
“Now that the four of you are finally together, we can begin.”
Every door in the facility locked simultaneously.
A red countdown appeared.
00:10:00.
Sienna whispered:
“Begin what?”
The real Paul Renner answered.
“The part where only three of you leave alive.”