"And I had to marry a girl whose father was a bricklayer."

Pitt said, "I don't understand why a woman of such affluence would stoop to committing petty burglary."

"When you get the answers, I hope you'll pa.s.s them on to me."

"Where is Elsie now?" asked Pitt.

"Under guard at a private clinic run by the Bureau on W Street, across from Mount Vernon College."

"Can I talk to her?"

"I see no problem from the Bureau's end, but you'll have to go through the doctor in charge of her case. His name is Aaron Bell. I'll call and clear your visit."

"Is she lucid?"

"She's conscious. You gave her a pretty hard rap on the head. Her concussion was just short of a skull fracture."

"I didn't hit her. It was her motorcycle."

"Whatever," said Helm, the humor obvious in his tone. "You won't get much out of her. One of our best interrogators tried. She's one tough lady. She makes a clam look talkative."

"Does she know her cousin is dead?"

"She knows. She also knows that Heidi's remains are lying in the clinic's morgue."

"That should prove interesting," Pitt said slowly.

"What will prove interesting?" Helm inquired.

"The look on Elsie's face when I tell her I'm the one who recovered Heidi's body from Antarctic waters and air-shipped it to Washington."

ALMOST immediately after hanging up the phone, Pitt left the NUMA building and drove over to the unmarked clinic used exclusively by the FBI and other national security agencies. He parked the '36 Ford cabriolet in an empty stall next to the building and walked through the main entrance. He was asked for his identification, and phone calls were made before he was allowed admittance. An administrator directed him to the office of Dr. Bell.

Pitt had actually met the doctor several times, not for care or treatment but during social functions to raise money for a cancer foundation that his father, Senator George Pitt, and Bell served on as directors. Aaron Bell was in his middle sixties, a hyper character, red-faced, badly overweight, and working under a blanket of stress. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and drank twenty cups of coffee. His outlook on life, as he often expressed it, was "Go like h.e.l.l and go to the grave satisfied."

He emerged from behind his desk like a bear walking on its hind legs. "Dirk!" he boomed. "Good to see you. How's the senator?"

"Planning on running for another term."

"He'll never quit, and neither will I. Sit down. You're here about the woman who was brought in last night."

"Ken Helm called?"

"You wouldn't have crossed the threshold if he hadn't."

"The clinic doesn't look highly guarded."

"Stare cross-eyed at a surveillance camera and see what happens."

"Did she suffer any permanent brain damage?"

Bell shook his head vigorously. "One hundred percent after a few weeks. Incredible const.i.tution. She's not built like most women who come through these doors."

"She is very attractive," said Pitt.

"No, no, I'm not talking about looks. This woman is a remarkable physical specimen, as is, or should I say was, the body of her cousin you shipped from the Antarctic."

"According to the FBI, they're cousins."

"Nonetheless, a perfect genetic match," said Bell seriously. "Too perfect."

"How so?"

"I attended the postmortem examination, then took the findings and compared the physical characteristics with the lady lying in a bed down the hall. There's more going on here than mere family similarities."

"Helm told me Heidi's body is here at the clinic."

"Yes, on a table in the bas.e.m.e.nt morgue."

"Can't family members with the same genes, especially cousins, have a mirror image?" asked Pitt.

"Not impossible, but extremely rare," replied Bell.

"It's said that we all have an identical look-alike wandering somewhere in the world."

Bell smiled. "G.o.d help the guy who looks like me."

Pitt asked, "So where is this leading?"

"I can't prove it without months of examination and tests, and I'm going out on a limb with an opinion, but I'm willing to stake my reputation on the possibility that those two young ladies, one living, one dead, were developed and manufactured."

Pitt looked at him. "You can't be suggesting androids."

"No, no." Bell waved his hands. "Nothing so ridiculous."

"Cloning?"

"Not at all."

"Then what?"

"I believe they were genetically engineered."

"Is that possible?" asked Pitt, unbelieving. "Does the science and technology exist for such an achievement?"

"There are labs full of scientists working on perfecting the human body through genetics, but to my knowledge they're still in the mice-testing stage. All I can tell you is that if Elsie doesn't die in the same manner as Heidi, or fall under a truck, or get murdered by a jealous lover, she'll probably live to celebrate her hundred and twentieth birthday."