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"Was he the only one?"
"No."
"Then who else?"
"One of the men behind the man."
And thanks to the accident, I couldn't remember a goddamn thing. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Because he was there to give instructions, and because he likes a hot bit of tail."
"I'm gathering he prefers his tail lifeless."
My voice was dry, and Misha smiled again. "Feisty is not a preferred option - but it just might hook him where subservience hasn't."
I raised my eyebrows. "That a piece of advice?"
"A dangerous one, but yes."
"Also useless if you don't give me a name."
"All things come in time, Riley."
I was betting it was going to be a long time before I got the name, though. "So why was he there passing on instructions rather than the big man himself?"
"Because it is safer."
But safe from what? Certainly not us, because we had no idea who he was. Not yet, anyway. I studied him for a moment, then said, "If your boss is so dangerous, why are you here now?"
He raised an eyebrow. "If I answer honestly, I want another two hours with you."
Like I had a choice? Like I'd even know if he was being honest? I shrugged. "Whatever."
"The reason is twofold. First, I've long been at odds with my lab-mates and our so-called leader. Their vision has never been mine."
Meaning the leader of this little crew wasn't a lab-mate? Then who - or what - was he? "And their vision is?"
"As I said before, originally it was a quest for perfection. The desire to create the perfect humanoid, one possessing the most desirable characteristics from all branches of humanity."
"I'm guessing that changed when your master of creation died in the fire."
He nodded. "Now it's more a quest for domination and power."
It was on my lips to ask for his name, but he wouldn't answer a direct question. "Did a brother from a previous batch of clones take over?"
"No. We were the first batch to have survivors into adulthood."
"Then who?"
He raised an eyebrow, a smile touching his thin lips. "His son."
I frowned. "One of your later clone-mates?"
"No. His naturally born son."
That wasn't in any of the records I'd read. And obviously not in the records Jack had read - unless, of course, he did know about the son, and just hadn't told me. Given Jack played his cards seriously close to his chest and I was only a liaison, not an actual guardian, that was all too possible.
"There's no record of said son," I stated.
