Constance (Constance #1)(80)

“Clones still die. She just found a way to prolong life a little. She never solved immortality.”

“Yes, and thank God she jumped off that roof before she did. Otherwise, we . . .” Butler drifted off midsentence as a car came around the nearest tower, circling them before rolling to a stop some twenty feet away. Nothing happened. Both cars sat there idling like awkward teenagers at a school dance. Butler took one long last swig from his flask and put it in the seat pocket. Then he combed his fingers nervously through his hair as if he were about to do an on-camera interview.

“So . . . ,” Con said. “We going to go talk to them or what?”

“In a minute, in a minute,” Butler said. Like a lot of academics, he appeared to prefer theory to practice and wasn’t particularly eager to get out of the car.

“I mean, we came all this way.” Con couldn’t help herself.

“Please. Stop,” Butler implored, but he took the hint and finally got out of the car. Con followed after him. He opened an umbrella and walked out between the two cars to where the headlights crosshatched brightest. Con stood a short distance away in the rain. Huddling beneath a black umbrella with the founder of Children of Adam seemed to be asking for trouble.

“The moment of truth,” Butler muttered.

Con hoped he was right. The truth was the best she could hope for out of this.

The passenger door of the other car opened, and it was a testament to the seductiveness of Butler’s arguments that Con was genuinely surprised when it wasn’t Vernon Gaddis who opened it. Instead, Dr. Brooke Fenton, CEO of Palingenesis, got out of the car, cinching her raincoat tight against the rain. Butler glanced toward Con, registering his own surprise at having had it so wrong.

“Hello, Doctor,” Butler said, turning his attention to Fenton, his voice dipped in acid. “This feels long overdue.”

“You brought the girl, I see,” Dr. Fenton said.

“Good to my word as always. I must admit, I’ve spent years speculating about your identity. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect that it would be the CEO of Palingenesis.”

“What are you talking about?” Dr. Fenton said.

Caught up in the pageantry of his own performance, Butler was slow to understand her confusion. “Let’s not be obtuse with one another, shall we? Not after so long. Just tell me why? What’s your angle?”

“I’m just here for the girl,” she said.

Maybe it was only from having dealt with her, but Con didn’t think Dr. Fenton was playing dumb. She looked mystified, brow furrowed as if she were trying to follow a conversation in a language she only half knew. Either she really was playing dumb, which made no sense at this point, or Dr. Fenton genuinely didn’t know what Franklin Butler was talking about.

“She’s not your anonymous donor,” Con said to Butler.

“I most certainly am not,” Fenton said, indignant at the very idea.

Butler gave them both a puzzled look and asked Fenton what she was doing here.

“Because you called me.”

“I did what?” Butler said.

“You said you had the girl. You said you would release her for ten million. That is why I am here.”

He paused, the idea filtering leisurely through his mind like a coin rattling down a Plinko board. Con began to laugh.

“What is so funny?” Dr. Fenton demanded.

“You both got played,” Con said.

They both stared at her incredulously.

“What are you talking about?” Butler asked.

“Your anonymous donor struck a deal with you and sent Fenton in their place.”

“No, I spoke directly to him on video,” Fenton said.

“Well, you got deepfaked good,” Con said.

Fenton was shaking her head like something unpleasant had landed in her hair and was nesting there. “What? No. Impossible. I have anti-deepfake software installed. It would have known if it was a simulated video call.”

“Well, apparently you need an upgrade, Doctor,” Butler said, warming to Con’s theory. “Because we’ve never spoken before.”

“Then who?” Fenton demanded.

Butler glared at Con, his turn to gloat. “My guess would be Vernon Gaddis.”

“You’re insane. Gaddis is the one who took her out of Palingenesis in the first place. He’s been stymying my efforts to bring her back ever since. Why on earth would he tell me where to find her now?”

“I haven’t the faintest,” Butler admitted. “That’s why I asked for this meeting, but the old bastard outmaneuvered me yet again. He got to remain in the shadows, get us to do his dirty work for him, and he saved himself ten million dollars. Assuming you have my money, that is.”

“I have the money. Are you willing to turn her over to me?”

“I’m not his prisoner,” Con said, feeling it was important to make that clear even as they haggled over her.

“Yes, I see that,” Dr. Fenton said. “What exactly am I paying you for? What’s stopping me from simply taking her?”

“It’s a long drive back to DC, Doctor,” Butler said, favoring her with a friendly smile and letting the implications of his threat settle like fine ash. “Do you have my money?”

“Of course I have it,” Dr. Fenton said. “Now do you wish to make a deal or are we simply here to enjoy the rain?”