The Third Twin Page 0,177

breath was coming fast and she struggled to speak normally and project her voice. "All the women were wives of army officers." She searched the audience for Steve but could not see him. Where the hell was he? He was supposed to be here - he was the proof!

Caren Beamish said in a shaky voice: "This is a private function, please leave immediately."

Jeannie ignored her. "The women went to Genetico's clinic in Philadelphia to have hormone treatment for subfertility." She let her anger show. "Without permission they were impregnated with embryos from total strangers."

There was a buzz of comment from the assembled journalists. They were interested, Jeannie could tell.

She raised her voice. "Preston Barck, supposedly a responsible scientist, was so obsessed with his pioneering work in cloning that he divided an embryo seven times, producing eight identical embryos, and implanted them in eight unsuspecting women."

Jeannie spotted Mish Delaware sitting at the back, watching with an expression of faint amusement. But Berrington was not in the room. That was surprising - and worrying.

On the platform, Preston Barck stood up and spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for this. We were warned there might be a disturbance."

Jeannie plowed on. "This outrage has been kept secret for twenty-three years. The three perpetrators - Preston Barck, Senator Proust, and Professor Berrington Jones - have been prepared to go to any lengths to cover it up, as I know from bitter experience."

Caren Beamish was speaking into a hotel phone. Jeannie heard her say: "Get some goddamn security in here right away, please."

Under the tray, Jeannie had been carrying a sheaf of copies of the press release that she had written and Lisa had photocopied. "All the details are in this handout," she said, and she began to pass them around as she continued speaking. "Those eight alien embryos grew and were born, and seven of them are alive today. You'll know them, because they all look alike."

She could tell from the journalists' expressions that she had them where she wanted them. A glance at the platform showed Proust with a face like thunder and Preston Barck looking as if he wanted to die.

About now, Mr. Oliver was supposed to walk in with Harvey, so that everyone could see he looked just like Steve and possibly George Dassault as well. But there was no sign of any of them. Don't leave it too late!

Jeannie carried on speaking. "You would think they were identical twins - and in fact they have identical DNA - but they were born to eight different mothers. I study twins, and the puzzle of the twins who had different mothers was what first started me investigating this shameful story."

The door at the back of the room burst open. Jeannie looked up, hoping to see one of the clones. But it was Berrington who rushed in. Breathlessly, as if he had been running, Berrington said: "Ladies and gentlemen, this lady is suffering from a nervous breakdown and has lately been dismissed from her job. She was a researcher on a project funded by Genetico and bears the company a grudge. Hotel security has just arrested an accomplice of hers on another floor. Please bear with us while they escort this person from the building, then our press conference can resume."

Jeannie was knocked for a loop. Where were Mr. Oliver and Harvey? And what had happened to Steve? Her speech and her handout meant nothing without evidence. She had only a few seconds left. Something had gone terribly wrong. Berrington had somehow foiled her plan.

A uniformed security guard strode into the room and spoke to Berrington.

In desperation, Jeannie turned to Michael Madigan. He had a frosty look on his face, and she guessed he was the kind of man who hated interruptions to his smoothly organized routine. All the same she tried. "I see you have the legal papers in front of you, Mr. Madigan," she said. "Don't you think you should check out this story before you sign? Just suppose I'm right - imagine how much money those eight women could sue you for!"

Madigan said mildly: "I'm not in the habit of making business decisions based on tip-offs from nutcases."

The journalists laughed, and Berrington began to look more confident. The security guard approached Jeannie.

She said to the audience: "I was hoping to show you two or three of the clones, by way of proof. But ... they haven't showed up."

The reporters laughed again, and Jeannie realized she had become a joke. It was