Jeremiah glanced at his watch. He had about seven minutes left to make the decision or the package would be sent and everything would be decided for him. If he did nothing, the truth would come out and Scott and the rest of them would certainly go to prison. On some level, he thought, that would be satisfying. It’s what they deserved. But he’d be implicated, too, for his role in the thing. He’d likely get off on some sort of whistle-blower protection, maybe even vindicated as a hero, but that’s not what he wanted. And for once in his life he was going to get what he wanted. He wasn’t going to let anyone decide for him. And he wanted the money. Without that, the last six months—everything he’d been through—would have been essentially for nothing. He felt like he’d more than earned the money. He deserved at least that much. More importantly, though, and the thing that tugged at him now more than anything else, was Brent. If that package was sent, they both knew Brent would be implicated right along with everyone else. He’d go to prison, too. Jeremiah wanted to avoid that. In his mind, Brent was innocent, lured into this thing by a guileless belief in the power of good science, and he had been willing to risk everything to help a friend. He couldn’t let Brent go down with the rest of them. He wouldn’t be responsible for that.

“How would this work exactly?”

“We have people in place that could gather the necessary DNA from your son as quickly as this afternoon. We could expedite the cloning process and then make the switch. You’d have your son back within seventy-two hours.”

“I don’t want him harmed. I don’t want him snatched out of his bed in the middle of the night by some thug on your payroll.”

“Nothing of the sort, Mr. Adams, I assure you. We could arrange it so you could simply collect him from his school tomorrow morning. You would bring him back here yourself, where he’ll undergo the Meld with his clone. We’ll fit you both with new identities. He would need to be told something, Mr. Adams, but we can leave that up to you.”

“And his clone?”

“We would simply return his clone back to the school a few hours later, in time to go home that same afternoon and be none the wiser. We can arrange everything, just as we did with your clone. The transition would be seamless. And you and your son would then be free to go.”

Jeremiah considered the idea for another moment. He would have liked more time to think it through, understand the finer points and implications, but he realized he didn’t have that luxury. The clock was ticking.

“Make the call, Mr. Adams.” Scott was holding out the cell phone Jeremiah had given to him. He took it and dialed Brent’s number.

Brent picked up on the first ring.