Ryoval did not recognize him as not-Naismith. Ryoval was barely seeing him at all. He seemed to be looking through him. The Baron began to stride up and down in front of him, pouring out his plans like a nervous lover, elaborate plans for vengeance that ranged from the obscene to the insane to the impossible.

It could be worse. Ryoval could be making these threats right now to that thin little, vague-eyed, bewildered cryo-amnesic, who would not know even who he was, let alone why these things should be happening to him. The thought sickened Mark. Yeah. Better me than him, right now. No shit.

He means to terrorize you. It's only words. What was it the Count had said? Don't sell yourself to your enemy in advance, in your mind. . . .

Hell, Ryoval wasn't even his enemy. All these gaudy scenarios had been tailored for Miles. No, not even for Miles. For Admiral Naismith, a man who didn't exist. Ryoval chased a ghost, a chimera.

Ryoval stopped beside him, interrupting his whispered tirade. Curiously, he ran a moist hand down Mark's body, fingers curving in precise anatomical tracing of the muscles hidden beneath the layer of fat. "Do you know," he breathed, "I'd planned to have you starved. But I think I've changed my mind. I believe I'll have you force-fed, instead. The results could be even more amusing, in the long run."

Mark shivered sickly for the first time. Ryoval felt it, beneath his probing fingers, and grinned. The man had an appalling instinct for the target. Better he should keep Ryoval focused on the chimera? Better we should get the hell out of here.

He took a breath. "I hate to burst your bubble, Baron, but I have some bad news for you."

"Now, did I ask you to speak?" Ryoval's fingers traced back up, to pinch the flesh around his jaw. "This isn't an interrogation. This isn't an inquisition. Confession will gain you nothing. Not even death."

It was that damned contagious hyperactivity. Even Miles's enemies caught it.

"I'm not Admiral Naismith. I'm the clone the Bharaputrans made. Your goons grabbed the wrong guy."

Ryoval merely smiled. "Nice try, Admiral. But we've been watching the Bharaputran clone at the Durona Clinic for days. I knew you would come for him, after what you did to try and get him back the first time. I don't know what passion he inspires in you—were you lovers? You'd be amazed how many people have clones made for that purpose."

So. When Quinn had sworn no one could possibly be following them, she'd been right. Ryoval hadn't been following them. He'd been waiting for them. Swell. It had been his actions, not his words or his uniform, which had convicted him of being Naismith.

"But I will obtain him, too." Ryoval shrugged. "Very soon."

No, you won't. "Baron, I really am the other clone. Prove it to yourself. Have me examined."