Mondschein realized that he was trembling.
“So Alvarado’s dead?”
The clone looked smug. “His reign is over. His time is finished.”
What a strange concept that was. Alvarado dead! His old enemy was really dead! Mondschein felt a flash of satisfaction and surprise—and then a curious sense of loss.
“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked, after a moment. “Assuming that it’s true, and not just some game that your master is playing with me, why do you want to take chances this way? What if I tried to expose you and bring the whole crazy system down?”
“You would not do that,” said the clone.
“Why not?”
“You have said it yourself: you want only to live out your remaining years in peaceful retirement. If you denounced me, who would believe you? And even if you were believed, would things be better in Tierra Alvarado in the wake of my overthrow? No, doctor, the status quo is your only hope. And I am the status quo.”
Mondschein nodded. “Even so, why confide in me at all?”
“So that you may protect me.”
“How could I do that?”
“You hold the key to identification, this alpha-rhythm thing. I did know that you had such a thing, though not the details of it. Others know it also. Your possession of it gives you great power here. If there were a challenge to my legitimacy, you would be the only arbiter of the truth, do you see?”
“Yes,” said Mondschein. “Yes, I do.”
“There are twenty-one other surviving clones. One of them might take it into his head to overthrow me, thinking that he could rule the country at least as well. It is quite a comfortable existence, being a clone of the Maximum Leader, but it is not pleasant to serve as his double, exposed to all the risks of public appearances. It is a much better life, believe me, to be Maximum Leader and have others double for you, than to be a double yourself, never knowing when the bullet will come. Besides which, there is the wielding of authority for its own sake. That is a highly desirable thing, if you are of the sort who desires such things, and we are. After all, we are all of us Alvarados to the core, as you know better than anyone else.”
“So you think that if one of your vat-brothers suddenly tries to say that he’s the real Alvarado, not you, then I’d be willing to come forward and test him and expose him as a clone for you?”
“So I hope and trust.”
“Why would I want to take the side of one clone against another? It’s of no importance to me which one of you calls himself President here.”
“But I am the one who calls himself President just now. I might kill you if you didn’t cooperate.”
“And if I don’t care whether I live or die?”
“You probably care how you die,” the Alvarado-clone said. “You would not die in an easy or a gentle way, that I could promise you. On the other hand, if you pledge that you will aid me, when and if the need arises, I will see to it that you live out the remaining years of your life in the most complete happiness that I can make available. It seems to me a very reasonable offer.”
“It is,” Mondschein said. “I see that it is.”
“You protect me, and I will protect you. Do we have a deal?”
“If I say no, what are my chances of leaving this building alive today?”
The clone smiled. It was the pure Alvarado-smile. “They would be quite poor.”
“Then we have a deal,” Mondschein said.
The weeks went by. June gave way to July and the year descended toward its winter depths. Often there was fog; some nights there was frost; always the dry harsh wind blew from the west. Mondschein slept poorly. He heard nothing from the Maximum Leader or any of his minions. Evidently all was tranquil in the ruling circles.
He rarely left the villa. His meals were prepared for him according to his wishes, which were uncomplicated. He had a few books. No one came to see him. Sometimes during the day he went out with his driver to explore the city. It was larger than he expected, spreading long, thin tentacles of slum toward the north and south—as in any impoverished country, everyone from the villages was moving to the capital, God only knew what for—and very shoddy everywhere except in its grand governmental district.
On two of these excursions Mondschein was granted a glimpse of the supposed President Alvarado. The first time, his car was halted at a police roadblock and he waited for half an hour in an immense tie-up until at last the President passed by in a motorcade coming from the airport, with the Director-General of the Republic of the Orinoco, here on a state visit, riding beside him in the armored bubble-roof car while the spectators who lined the boulevard offered sullen acclaim. On the second occasion, far in the outskirts, Mondschein stumbled upon the ceremonial dedication of what he was told was the Grand Sanitation Facility of the Northeast, and there was the familiar figure of the Maximum Leader on high in the reviewing stand, surrounded by fierce-eyed, heavily armed bodyguards and orating bravely into the biting wind.
At other times while traversing the city Mondschein caught sight of various of the clones going about some business of their own. It was not at all unusual to encounter one. Doubtless the populace was quite used to it. Wherever you looked you could find one or two of the Maximum Leader’s “brothers.” Five or six of them headed government ministries—a meeting of the Cabinet must have been like a hall of mirrors—and the others, apparently, simply stood by to serve as presidential doubles when needed, and lived as private citizens the rest of the time. The real Alvarado, if there still was one, could probably have passed in the streets without causing a stir, everyone assuming he was just a clone: a fine kind of shell game that could keep the whole population fooled all the time.
Colonel Aristegui came to the villa again, eventually.
“We are ready to make our move, doctor.”
“Move, then. I don’t want to know anything about it.”
Aristegui looked tense, grim, right at the breaking point. “We need very little from you. Station yourself in the crowd, and when our man asks you, is this one the real one, simply nod or shake your head. We want no more from you than that. Later, when he is dead, we’ll ask you to examine the body and confirm that it is the body of the dictator and not one of the imitations. A small service, and you will live forever in the hearts of your countrymen.”
“There’s no way I can give you the kind of information you want just by looking at him from a distance.”
“It can be done, and you are the one who can do it. This much I know.”
“No,” Mondschein said. “What you think you know is wrong. I can’t help you. And in any case I don’t want to. I told you that before, Colonel. I’m not interested in joining your conspiracy. It isn’t any affair of mine.”
“It is an affair of every loyal citizen of this country.”
Mondschein looked at him sadly. He could at least warn Aristegui, he thought, that there was no real Alvarado there to shoot, that they were all clones. But would the Colonel believe him? In any case what Aristegui was trying to do was fundamentally futile. Kill one Alvarado, another would move into his place and announce that he was the authentic article. Aristegui could bring down one or two, maybe, but he couldn’t get them all. This country was going to be ruled by Alvarados for a long time to come.
“They took my citizenship away twenty-five years ago,” Mondschein said, after a pause. “I’m here now purely as a guest of the nation, remember? Good guests don’t conspire against their hosts. Please go away, Colonel. I haven’t heard a thing you’ve said to me today. I’m already beginning to forget even that you were here.”