"No, not at all. I never saw him before in my life."
Raymond was silent for a while, turning on the ignition and pressing a button to lower the window on the driver's side to let the smoke out. He peered into the darkness of the car deck and, apparently satisfied that no one was there, back at Jude.
"So who else knows about this?"
A tiny alarm bell went off in Jude's brain.
"No one."
"No one at all? You've just been keeping this all bottled up by yourself?"
"Who would I tell? I mean, you have to admit, it sounds pretty crazy."
"No girlfriend, nothing?"
Jude shook his head no — a sort of halfway no.
"You said some guys were after you — following you."
"I don't know if it's one guy or two. If it's two, they look just alike — big guys with a white streak in the hair. Skyler says they're from the island. It sounds like they're some kind of enforcers. I saw them on the subway. I tell you, something about them makes my blood run cold."
Jude went to put the cigarette out in the ashtray, but saw that it was filled with coins and some kind of tablets.
"Zantac," said Raymond. "For my stomach ulcer. Days like this, I need it. Let's go outside."
They climbed the stairs and walked to the open deck at the stern. It was a magnificent night filled with lights — the blinking lights of stars, the warm glow of cabin lights on yachts and tugboats in the harbor, the tiny pinpoint lights in the skyline rising up behind like a cartoon cutout. The tiara on the Statue of Liberty glowed green.
"Raymond," said Jude. "I need to know what's going on. What can you tell me?"
"Not much."
Raymond was not looking at him, just talking off into the night.
"It's sketchy," he said. "There's a group, I don't even know the name — the name seems to keep changing. It started sometime in the sixties, medical researchers and doctors, a bunch of smart kids. Most of them were connected to Johns Hopkins, Harvard and schools around Boston, N.I.H. They centered on a brilliant researcher, one of these incredible charismatic types. You know what I mean — once you meet them and you fall under their spell, you're mesmerized. You're convinced they can do anything and that they have the keys to the universe and you're willing to give up everything and follow them anywhere.
"This guy got in some kind of trouble at some medical school. We don't know what exactly — the records are missing, which is typical of this group, by the way, it covers its tracks. We don't even know the guy's name. Anyway, he was doing some pretty far-out research, stuff involving longevity or gene mapping or molecular biology. I don't know, but apparently he was pushing the boundaries with his experiments and ran afoul of some regulations that try to control all of this, and he either got the boot or picked up his tent and moved on. And a bunch of medical people moved with him. They ended up in Arizona for a while, and got tied in with some big-money people, mostly in California. In particular, one billionaire, a guy called Samuel Billington. He had it all, but apparently didn't want to lose it to the grave — one of those eccentric types who think they're above everything, they should even be above the laws of physics. So he bankrolled them sometime in the mid-seventies before he died. A lot of good they did him."
Raymond fell silent. Jude thought he was just pausing, but it seemed that he had come to the end of what he wanted to say.
"And then what?"
"Not much to say. The trail goes cold."
"It goes cold? You mean it just stops?"
"Not so much that. There was no one to really follow it. It wasn't a high priority."
"You say you don't even know the guy's name?"
"No. We know a name he uses later — Rincon. We assume it's an alias. There are no medical school records anywhere under that name."
"But the island — you know where it is, what goes on there?"
Raymond shrugged. "It's not really an active file. There're a lot of these groups around, cults of all kinds. There's no reason for an active investigation. We've got no indication anyone's breaking any laws."
"But those guys, the Orderlies…"
"A couple of guys on a subway. Got to do better than that."
"Raymond, for Christ's sake. Skyler looks just like me. But he's younger than me."
"Yeah, I know all about the tests."
Jude was surprised by this, but kept it to himself.
"What does that tell you?" he asked.
"What's it tell you?"
Jude was frustrated by his evasions.
"Somebody made him, for God's sake. He's a clone."
Raymond didn't blink an eye.
"And I know you know that. And I know you wanted me to figure it out. Why else would you have given me the ID on the judge? You wanted me to make the connection."
"Don't be crazy. How could I know that your guy would have some kind of tattoo?"
But Jude knew that he was close to the mark.
"You want me involved, right? You want me to do your work for you — the rabbit that gets the dogs running."
Raymond straightened up and looked toward the bow.
"Listen," he said. "We don't have much time left. Here's what we've got to do. You tell me where your guy — what's his name, Skyler? — you tell me where he is and maybe at least we can put him under some kind of protection. Make sure nothing happens to him."
"No, I can't do that."
Raymond shot him a hard look. "So you really don't trust me. After all this time, all we've been through, you really don't trust me."
"It's not that, Raymond. It's for his sake. The less people know about him, the better."
Jude could tell Raymond was not buying it. But Raymond didn't leave any doubt.
"Don't bullshit me," he said.
"Sorry. I've got to do what I think right."
Raymond looked over his shoulder again. "I see we're there," he said in a tone with a hard edge. He seemed to be trying to convey the sense of just how wrong Jude was. "I gotta run."
He turned to go, but Jude grabbed him by the arm.
"Raymond, c'mon. This is my life we're talking about here. I need something to go on. I need some help."
Raymond shook his hand off. His voice dropped low. "I can't. I don't really have anything to tell you. You're in the shit. You've grabbed a monster by the tail. You don't know what kind of monster it is or how dangerous it is or how big it is or how sharp its teeth are. But you should know this — be careful, be very careful. Act wisely. Think every move through. And don't trust anyone. Anyone — no matter how close."
Then he went below. Jude watched the line of cars pull out and drive off onto Staten Island, and then he waited fifteen minutes for the return trip to Manhattan. All the way back across the harbor, leaning on the railing that was rocking softly with the boat's movements, he thought about what Raymond had said and felt angry all over again.
Jude called the clerk on the Metro desk and said that he would be out for a few days, maybe longer. The clerk asked him what was wrong, and when he said he had come down with a cold or possibly the flu, he knew he didn't sound sick. Hanging up, he was convinced the clerk's "get well soon" was sarcastic. Screw it. He had bigger things to worry about.
He packed quickly for himself and Skyler, throwing a couple of shirts and pants into a bag, and drove across town to Tizzie's place, where Skyler had been staying after refusing to return to the room on Astor Place. The two of them were waiting on the front stoop, sunning themselves as if they hadn't a care in the world. What an incongruous sight, Jude thought, as he pulled up. Tizzie waved and stood up reluctantly and reached with her arms way above her head and stretched, arching her back. She was wearing khaki shorts and a blue workshirt tied at the midriff. Coming upon her unexpectedly like that, Jude was struck by her beauty. He got out and tossed her the keys. She opened the trunk, tossed in her small duffel bag, and plopped down in the front seat. When he turned on the ignition, she promptly spun the radio dial until she found some Mozart. Skyler got in the back, and Jude drove off.