Cerberus: A WOLF IN THE FOLD (37 page)

 
He knew this, and knowing this, his psych charts said, he
had to
take the risk. Add to that the knowledge that one Lord had already been done in, a Lord he obviously respected and feared—and you had the clincher.

 
I couldn't help but think that Dumonia had had a lot to do with my decisions. I'd been seeing him—and he'd made sure it would be him—about Sanda and Dylan before I ever made the Project Phoenix move, and then I'd done nothing until just the right psychological time—for Laroo. Then and only then had I been willing to take the ultimate risk and had done so practically without hesitation, and with Dylan's full support. I couldn't help wondering how many little pushes and suggestions I'd gotten from him even before I ever heard of him.

 
It really didn't matter now, though. Now everything would come together—or it would all come apart. Either way, I had no doubt he was protected. And I suspected that if we
did
fail there was a cruiser even now prepared to come in close to Cerberus and fry Laroo's
Island
to a crisp and us with it.

 
Dylan and I spent almost a full week in the Castle, mostly enjoying ourselves, although always under the watchful eyes of guards and scanners. She was fascinated by the broad, green lawn, something she frankly had never even conceived of before, and by the museums of stolen goods, many of which I could take pleasure in explaining both the history and something about the culture they came from.

 
When we first arrived we were taken to Dr. Merton, who ran some tests to verify our psych commands and blocks, as expected, and had done so. Unlike the first time I'd come to the Castle, I wasn't bluffing now, and they confirmed it.

 
We also revealed, without really knowing or understanding what it was we were describing, the .type of equipment necessary for the deprogramming process. Merton checked the mformatiRn ovefWith interest; obviously understanding it, and assured us that it could be assembled quickly.

 
Finally, though, and without any real warning, a big transport landed on the front lawn. Out stepped five people as before, only these were far different. Dylan surveyed them curiously from the window.
A teenage boy and girl.
A tough-looking woman pushing forty, with short gray-brown hah".
A short, wiry man of very dark complexion.
And finally, a young executive type in full dress suit and black goatee.

 
"He has quite a collection," I said approvingly. "Nobody there I recognize, from last time or any other time."

 
"They walk alike," Dylan noted. "Even the women walk just like the men."

 
"I see what 'you mean. They're good actors.
Damned good."

 
"How will we know which one is the real Laroo? Or if
any
of them are?"

 
"That's simple," I replied. "The real one will be the one left alive and kicking at the end."

 
We were summoned by National Police to the downstairs lab complex, and left immediately. All five of the newcomers, plus Merton and Bogen, awaited us in the lab, where seats had been provided—five seats.

 
"They even cross their legs the same," Dylan whispered, and I had to suppress a laugh.

 
We stopped. The goateed businessman proved the spokesman this tune.

 
"Well, well. Qwin Zhang, I hadn't intended that we meet a second time, but you made it unavoidable."

 
"I'll make it worth your while," I promised him.

 
"You better," he growled. "I don't like people who make themselves indispensable. You should understand that."

 
I nodded. "You have a choice. We can call this off and all go home."

 
He ignored the comment and looked over at Dylan.
"A pleasure.
I trust all is satisfactory with you now?"

 
"Extremely," she responded with that old confidence. I could almost read her mind, and I loved her for it. Wagant Laroo would be a pantywaist in a bork hunt.

 
"You understand there'll be some, ah, tests first?"
f
We
both nodded. "We're ready when you are," Dylan told him. "The truth is
,
we no more understand this than you do." She looked them all over. "Who goes first?"

 
"None of us.
Yet."
He nodded at Bogen, and the security man went out. Two technicians wheeled in a device that was pretty much what we'd described several days before to Merton. It was a hybrid, and obviously had been knocked together, but if Merton thought the thing would work, well, I was willing to trust the expert.

 
The machine looked essentially like three hair driers on long, thick gooseneck poles leading into a rear electronic console. They brought it in, and with Merlon's help fitted it against the instrument cluster that was a permanent part of the lab. Cables—lots of them—were taken from the top rear of the console part and plugged into the instrumentation, and switches were thrown. Merton checked the whole thing out,
then
nodded. "It's ready."

 
I looked at the gadget and couldn't shake the feeling that I was about to be electrocuted. According to Merton, it was a variation of the basic psych machine itself, although without a lot of the electronics and analytical circuits. In effect, it would allow Dylan and me, if we concentrated, to send impulses from our own minds to a third. What we were going to do could have been done by computer, of course, but then they wouldn't have needed us. Chairs were brought in and placed under the gadget, and the helmets or whatever
were
adjusted to hover just over each one.

 
"Now what?"
Laroo demanded.

 
"We need a robot," I told him. "First we feed the signal into the robot,
then
you slide a mind in there any good old Cerberan way."

 
"Merton?" he said expectantly.

 
The doctor walked over to one of those booths and opened it, obviously prepared for this. The robot inside didn't look.like a cadaver this time, but was fully propped and animated. Still, it had a totally vacant look that would be impossible for a human being to duplicate.

 
Dylan and I both gasped * the same time. "Sandal*' she breathed.

 
No, it wasn't Sanda, but it
was
a perfect facsimile of Sanda's current, and Dylan's old, body.

 
"I see I haven't underestimated the old boy," I muttered. "What a rotten trick."

 
Laroo—all the Laroos—looked at us with smug satisfaction. "I thought that if you were going to try any funny business, you'd be less likely with somebody you both know and like," he told us.

 
"You're going to kill her after this works!" Dylan accused. "You know I can't be a party to that. I
won't
be."

 
One of the Laroos stopped, thought a moment, and I thought I could see his eyes divert to his side. For a moment none of the others moved. Then, interestingly, I saw the teenage girl very naturally reach up and scratch her nose. Goatee paused a moment, then pretended to consider things while glancing idly at the ceiling. Finally he said, "All right. But for reasons you obviously understand, you're making a test
very
difficult—and I will not proceed without one."

 
I shrugged. "Don't look at me.
I'm
not the one who insisted that the psych inhibitors remain on."

 
"It wouldn't matter. I wouldn't do that kind of thing anyway," Dylan snapped.

 
Laroo sighed, and thought, again. Finally he said, "Leave us for a minute, both of you. Just wait outside."

 
"Stuck you, didn't I?" Dylan stated smugly. I nudged her to keep her from baiting him further. Paranoia, psych profile, or not, Laroo was psychotic enough to call the whole thing off if we pushed him far enough. We left and stood outside.

 
"Don't bait him," I warned her. "There are some things more important to him even than this."

 
She just nodded and squeezed my hand. We didn't have long to wait, and were soon called back in by Dr. Merton.

 
"All right," Laroo said, "let's start one step at a time. First we'll just try and clear a neutral body, so to speak. Then I want Merton to check it over, see what can be done, what we can learn. Will you go that far with me?"

 
We looked around and found that the robot Sanda had been replaced in its booth. I looked over at Dylan and shrugged. She sighed. "What choice do we have?
All right."

 
The robot body produced was impressive.
A huge bronze giant of a man with great, bulging muscles.
If any one of them looked the part of a superior human being, this male body did.

 
It too was as blank as you could conceive, and had to be helped to the chair by Merton and two assistants.

 
"I gather they don't have much basic programming when they arrive," I commented.

 
"Activate, deactivate, walk forward, walk back, stand, and sit—that's about it," Dr. Merton told us. "They don't need much else, although in a pinch I can feed in some basic additional commands. When you're putting a complex human mind in there, you don't need much."

 
I could see her point. I took the seat next to the thing and Dylan sat next to me as Merton pointed out which helmet was which.

 
This point was the most nerve-racking to me personally, since I knew Laroo was as close to totally evil as anyone I had ever met and I hardly trusted him a moment.

 
The helmets came down and I felt clamps and probes fit into place.

 
"All right," Dr. Merton said. "You're all set, just like you told me. Do whatever it is you do."

 
I relaxed, took a couple of deep breaths, heard Dylan doing much the same, then concentrated—no,
willed—
the transfer.

 
I felt a momentary dizziness, or disorientation, and then it was over. So quick I could hardly believe it.

 
"That's it," I told them. "Dylan?"

 
"I guess so.
If that funny feeling was it."

 
The assistants nicked switches retracting the probe helmets and gently lifted them off our heads—all three of us. I got up, as did Dylan, and we stared again at our giant. He looked as blank as ever.

 
Laroo looked over at Merton.
"Anything?"

 
"Well, we recorded
something,"
she told him. "Who knows what?"

 
Realization came suddenly.
Countermove,
I thought. Laroo's move, really. Merton had* created the Merton Process, by which I was here—and in four other places, too.
A process that didn't transfer but
recorded
and
duplicated
information in the brain I If she had the key from both our minds, then Laroo no longer needed us at all.
It had been a major mistake on my part. I fervently hoped that this hadn't been overlooked by Dumonia or Security.

 
Two assistants came up with a crazy-looking vertical hand truck, and as we watched, the giant was told to stand, then tilted forward, the platform slipped expertly under, then tilted back so it could carry the thing, which remained rigid. They wheeled him out a side door as we watched, Merton following.

 
"Where are they going?" I asked curiously.

 
"First we'll hook him up to some analytical equipment to see if the change took—or if it did, whether or not we can see it at all." Laroo told us.
After—well, one step at a time."

 
Several nervous minutes passed, after which Merton reappeared. "Nothing I can measure has changed in the slightest," she told us. "As far as I can see, everything's the same."

 
Laroo sighed. "All right, then. We have to try a live test. Is Samash prepared?"

 
She nodded, went to a wall intercom, and called somewhere. I could recognize Bogen's
voice,
and the surprise when she said Samash. But in less than a minute an unconscious figure was wheeled into the lab, one that looked nothing like the giant In fact he was the oldest man I'd ever seen on Cerberus, although he was probably no more than in his middle fifties.

 
"Samash is a technician here on the island," Laroo told us. "He's very loyal and not very bright, but he's handy. And you can see
,
he's more than overdue for a new body."

 
"Some new body," Dylan noted.

 
"Well, now he'll look the part"

 
"Is he—drugged?"