Seth smiled. “Ah, the mysterious Deep Blue, at last. Or maybe I should be calling you the Man of the — well, no, you’re not the Man of the Hour anymore. What do they call former presidents, Mr. Duncan?”
“Not sure what you’re talking about. You can call me Deep Blue for now,” came the electronic response.
Queen was stunned. Blue’s identity as former President of the United States, Tom Duncan, was a closely guarded secret, and on the few times the man had appeared in public as Deep Blue, he had worn a tactical battle suit with a helmet and a tinted faceplate. He had been out of sight in the hallway when they had discovered the Ridleys in Ops, and Blue’s own checks of the computer system had revealed that although they had entered the room, they had not accessed any of the cameras in the base. There was no way they could have seen Deep Blue’s face. The fact that Ridley — Seth — had Deep Blue’s operational callsign, and that he even knew of Deep Blue’s existence, was bad enough. That they knew his true identity meant that somewhere, someone else knew it too, and the original Richard Ridley had gotten his hands on the information somehow. Queen imagined Blue’s mind was reeling right now, but the electronically altered voice remained flat.
“You haven’t introduced your companions, Seth.”
“Quite right. My brothers Enos and Jared were not created quite as well as I was. Jared cannot speak, and Enos is mostly deaf.”
Queen tried to discern some distinguishing mark so she could keep the three clones straight, but they were all even wearing the same white linen suit.
Deep Blue’s voice came over the speakers again. “So we are to understand that the three of you were created by Richard Ridley — the original — when he briefly had access to the mother tongue? When he was trying to enslave the world? Why would he do that?”
Seth smiled again. “Which? Why would our Creator make us or why would He try to enslave humanity?”
“Can I shoot him now? Dumb and Dumber can answer the questions. This one is raising my hackles.” Rook stepped forward, leveling a.50 caliber Magnum Desert Eagle at Seth’s face.
“Stand down, Rook,” Deep Blue said. “We might need all three of them alive.”
“These guys aren’t even really alive,” Rook said. “They’re just animated heaps of clay. Shooting them in the head would be like shooting a rock, only more fun.”
“Agreed,” Deep Blue replied. “But let’s see what they have to say for themselves.”
Rook stepped back.
Seth smiled at the reprieve.
“But if I don’t like what I hear in response to my next question, you can start cutting off his fingers.”
Rook smiled. “Then I’m going to make a Kmart run. Pick up a Play-Doh Sweet Shoppe. Make me some Ridley-clone ice cream cones.”
The smile vanished from Seth’s face. Queen smiled softly, looking at Rook. Then she turned back to Seth. She knew the question Deep Blue would ask, and she wanted the answer just as badly as everyone else.
“Is Richard Ridley alive?” Deep Blue asked.
“We wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Seth said.
“Where is he?”
When the voice came through the speakers, even though Queen knew the modulator both disguised Deep Blue’s voice and removed any traces of emotion, she still thought the question sounded stern.
Seth’s face darkened as he looked at the floor. “He is being held prisoner.”
“Where?” The volume of Deep Blue’s voice increased with his urgency. It was clear that he thought he’d have to fight for the answer to this question. The truth was less dramatic and deprived Rook of the pleasure of knocking out a few teeth.
“A former Manifold facility in North Africa.”
“Bullshit,” Queen spoke up. “He’s dead and buried.”
Seth looked up at her and sneered. “He is immortal. He could live forever with the mother tongue, even without His genetic enhancements.” Seth looked hard at her. “I know our Creator lives because we three are still alive.”
“Explain,” came Deep Blue’s voice over the speakers.
“If He were to die, the command He gave in the mother tongue, the command that granted my brothers and me life, would end. We would return to the inert elemental materials from which we were formed. As all things do in time. But we yet live. So you see, Richard Ridley lives, too.”
“Assuming we believe you, that Ridley is alive and being held prisoner, why are you here?” Deep Blue’s voice buzzed.
“That should be obvious,” Seth said. “We want you to liberate Him.”
Enos nodded vigorously on Seth’s right. Jared sat stone still, unsmiling.
“You have gotta be kidding me,” Rook said.
“I’d sooner put Willie Nelson’s greasy hair between my legs and light it on fire,” Queen joined in.
Seth grinned, finding humor in the visual. “Nevertheless, I suspect you will all aid us in this endeavor.”
Queen leaned forward, hands on her knees, all trace of humor gone. “Richard Ridley is a megalomaniac who raised and loosed an ancient horror on the world. He extinguished countless endangered languages by murdering their last remaining speakers. He brought chaos and hellfire to the world in the form of giant golems, and he personally attempted on more than one occasion to kill members of this team and our loved ones. Sometimes in very painful ways. If there is such a thing as the Devil, your creator is the closest I’ve ever seen to him. Why would we possibly want him free?”
Seth turned to face his two brothers, then turned back to face the members of Chess Team. All three brothers smiled. This time, the smile was wicked.
“I haven’t told you who holds Him prisoner, or why. As dangerous as you might believe our Creator to be, there is a man who is even more troubling. That man holds Ridley Prime prisoner. That man… He is a threat to every man, woman and child on this planet. That man’s megalomaniacal schemes for world domination make Ridley Prime’s ambitions appear miniscule by comparison.
“Why would we come here and ask Chess Team to help us liberate our Master? Because our Creator, Richard Ridley, is the only man alive who can save the world.”
TEN
King held his fire until the darkness moved. He fired two shots, then waited. Asya held her fire beside him. The booming of the gun inside the tight confines was excruciating, and they needed to conserve their limited ammunition. Plus, he didn’t know if bullets would even affect the things.
And they were things. He’d had enough experience with the unexplainable to recognize it when he saw it, or in this case, didn’t see it.
Only two fluorescent bulbs were still lit at King’s end of the connecting cross-tunnel. He briefly considered making a rush into the dark for the side tunnel, but dismissed the idea. He knew what waited for them in the dark.
“The Forgotten,” he said.
“What?” Asya shouted. They were both suffering from the hearing loss associated with him firing his weapon in these tight confines.
“The Forgotten,” he said louder.
“The wraith-like things that serve Hercules?” Asya asked. She’d been briefed on the team’s previous missions, their enemies, allies and all the strangeness they’d encountered over the years.
From the shadows in the hall in front of them, they heard a guttural growl, as if in affirmation.
“They don’t like light,” King said, his Yarygin still aimed down the hallway at the blackness. Of the two bulbs still lit along the ceiling, the second one was flickering. He hadn’t noticed it with all the others on before, but now with just the two, its erratic behavior was obvious. It flickered and strobed, tossing its light around the confined space of the white-washed hall. Then it extinguished. Only the lights in their room and the one tubular bulb just outside the doorway remained. The light extended to about ten feet past King’s outstretched arm and pistol, then met an unnatural wall of blackness, where it was absorbed.