Have a look."
From past experience she knew it was pointless to ask how he'd gotten hold of the original papers. Stephan worked on a need to know basis—and generally, that meant the less every one knew, the better. She doubted even Gabriel was privy to all his secrets.
Not that Gabriel himself worked on a caring, sharing basis.
Not with her, anyway.
She leafed through the information inside the folder. They included the genetic tests on both Wetherton and the clone, the coroner's report, and Wetherton's medical history.
"Wetherton had cancer," she said, looking up. "Incurable."
"Which the current version no longer has."
She threw the folder back on the desk. "If you know he's not the original, why release the press report saying he was?
And why not simply kill him?" Which is what they'd planned to do originally, before he'd been declared human.
"Because we wanted to know why he was cloned. And where he was cloned."
"But not who had cloned him?" Did that mean they suspected that the ever-present, but never found, evil they called Sethanon was behind Wetherton?
"We find the where and we'll find the why. But there is only one suspect as to the whom."
"The military is experimenting with genetics. They might very well be playing in the cloning minefield, you know. There's no reason why Wetherton can't be their boy."
"No, there's not."
His voice made it sound doubtful, and yet she had a vague notion she'd hit the nail on the head. That for some weird reason, he just didn't want to acknowledge it. "And what about the replacement parts industry? Have you checked to see if they have started developing fully-formed beings, or is that just too obvious?"
His expression became briefly annoyed. "We never overlook the obvious."
Of course not. She smiled slightly. Irritating Stephan might be akin to prodding a lion with a very short stick, but when she got even the slightest reaction, it was oddly satisfying.
"The black market trade in clones is booming," she said.
Of course, it was fueled mainly by humanity's desperation to cheat death. An incredible number of people seemed willing to pay the exorbitant prices the marketers charged and take the risk of attempting a cloning miracle—a new body in which to live when their own was no longer of use.
But humanity was more than just a brain; it was also heart and soul. Medical science might be able to transfer flesh and brain matter, but how could anyone transfer a soul? Even if they could pin down what a soul actually was?
Not that rules ever stopped anyone, especially when there was huge money to be made.
And somewhere along the line, someone had succeeded in at least achieving part of the impossible—fully fleshed, viable clones who looked and acted like the original. Wetherton, and her ex-partner, Jack Kazdan, were proof of that.
"His source is not black market. We're sure of that."
She studied him for a moment, then changed tactics.
"Wetherton's just been made minister for Science and Technology, hasn't he?"
He nodded. "Two years ago he was trying to shut down many of the science programs, stating the money could be better spent on the health care system. Now he's in charge of the whole lot."
"Why hasn't anyone questioned this sudden change of heart? Surely the press has noted it."
"Noted a political back flip?" Amusement touched his lips again. "You're kidding, right?"
Point made. Back flips by politicians were such an everyday fact of life that even the press had got tired of them.
And the public at large simply ignored them, except when the flips directly affected their pockets.