Constance (Constance #1)(30)

“It’s a free bench,” Con replied, trying to sound calm. She held her backpack tightly in both hands.

The two women sat side by side, looking straight ahead. Eventually, Fenton cleared her throat. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, and that you will likely never look on me as a friend, but I believe we can help each other.”

“Why? Because those men you sent to my apartment last night missed me?”

“Men?” Fenton looked compellingly puzzled. “What men?”

“Save the Meryl Streep for someone else, I’m not buying it. I don’t trust you.”

“That’s too bad, because you are in a lot of trouble, Constance.”

“Alright,” Con said, rising. “If we’re at the threats part of the conversation, I’m out of here.”

“I’m not threatening you,” Fenton said. “There was something wrong with your revival.”

“Yeah, I heard. I’ve got real bad lag.”

“No, symptoms of extreme lag are psychological in nature. This is something else. This is physiological. We found an anomaly.”

“What kind of anomaly?” Con asked, sitting back down on the bench.

“An absence. The log of your download registered a cluster of voids. When we compared it against your stored upload, it didn’t match.”

Con didn’t know what any of that meant other than that it sounded calculated to scare her. Knowing that did nothing to stop it working on her. “What is it?”

“The only thing we know for certain is that it wasn’t an error on our end.”

“You don’t think it was an accident,” Con said, thinking back to her conversation with Detective Clarke. What had happened to her original in Virginia?

“Too many things had to go wrong for you to be sitting here today. And I’m afraid human error can’t account for all of it. Someone wanted you out of Palingenesis very badly.”

“Who?” Con asked, although she knew the answer before Fenton answered. Vernon Gaddis. It wasn’t lost on Con how similar a story he had told this morning. “Why would Vernon Gaddis sabotage his own company?”

“He’s not trying to sabotage Palingenesis; this is about he and I. Vernon has had a difficult time these last few years. You’re familiar with the tragic loss of his wife? It cost him dearly in so many ways, but he has never gotten over having to step down as CEO.”

“The way I heard it, you used the plane crash to force him out and try to take control of Abigail Stickling’s research laboratory.”

“The board forced Vernon out, and they were right to do it,” Fenton countered, the resentment in her voice unmistakable. “He thought he could maintain control through me. His little protégé. He actually called me that once to my face. What he really wanted was a puppet. And when I exhibited the least little hint of autonomy, he accused me of betraying him and attempted to have me removed. And as for your aunt’s lab, you’re damn right I tried to seize control. Can you imagine anything more corrosive for a cutting-edge technology company than to be held hostage by its own research division? Abigail wielded the promise of her inventions like a weapon. She would tease the board with her latest breakthrough and then scurry back to her lab, saying it wasn’t ready yet. Or the timing wasn’t right. No one dared cross her. The company found itself in the untenable position of begging for scraps from itself. It was madness.

“Vernon Gaddis and Abigail Stickling created something truly revolutionary and came to think of it as an extension of themselves. As far as they were concerned, they were Palingenesis and it couldn’t survive without them. They insisted on maintaining an unhealthy amount of control. But when the company needed to grow, their egos wouldn’t allow it. It happens so often, it has a name: founder’s syndrome. Vernon has spent the last few years resolidifying his hold on the board and undermining my stewardship of the company at every opportunity. I don’t know how Vernon did it, but he tampered with your revival and snuck you out of Palingenesis. To what end, I don’t know yet.”

Con had to admit it was one hell of a compelling story. But then again, so was Vernon Gaddis’s version. One of them was a gifted liar. Either way, Con didn’t know enough to guess which one was telling the truth, so better not to believe either.

“Why me?” Con asked.

“No offense, but you’re poor,” Fenton said. “What I mean is that unlike every single other clone in that facility, you aren’t worth at least half a billion dollars. You don’t have a team of lawyers at your beck and call. It makes you perfect.”

“What is it you want from me?” Con asked, cutting to the chase.

“I need to make an upload of your consciousness so I can find out what Vernon did to you.”

“Why not just try and grab me again?”

“I didn’t try to grab you again, because I didn’t try and grab you last night. There would be no point. An unconducive emotional state would make it impossible to image your consciousness. A consciousness can only be uploaded with a client’s consent. So I’m here asking for yours.”

Interesting. That explained why Fenton was going with a charm offensive. It also put Con in somewhat of a unique position.

“So now we know how I can help you. How are you going to help me?”