When Darwin had joined us at the waterfall end of the pool, hot water cascading down on our submerged shoulders, washing away the tension of the last few weeks, James spoke up.
“Okay, now that we’re in clothes that the CIA never touched, and sitting under a white noise generator… what do we know?” He turned to me, as he always has.
“Everything that’s happened over the last three weeks has been bullshit.”
“Everything?” Alex drawled, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Well… our training wasn’t completely bunk, and Charles really was brought up at the time we saw him, but let’s see… they didn’t knock us out, they killed us. The body identified to us as Charles Darwin is the one I’m wearing now; it just had to put on a little weight in the tank. We weren’t given anything like the real story and I still have no idea who actually calls the shots in this program, though I suspect the Professor has a lot of influence, and I’m pretty sure the US government has no idea this is going on.” I took a deep breath.
“For what it’s worth, Crenshaw’s a CIA man. I’ve… encountered him before.” She said no more.
“How do you know they killed us?” James asked.
“Feel behind your neck, right up against your skull. Remember when they unplugged our friend here?” I indicated Darwin. “Plus it makes more sense that they’ve got one crazily complicated scheme for turning people into supersoldiers, rather than two. They didn’t put Darwin through the tests we got because they didn’t want to show us how similar the results were. Is Crenshaw competent?” I directed this last question to Alex, who immediately gave a wry smile.
“He’s a stuffed shirt with a rich dad. Likes to think he’s something out of a James Bond novel, though.”
“I figured as much. He should have taken us in a blacked-out van to some little anonymous warehouse and told us nothing. Instead he let the Professor browbeat him. That means we probably have a way of circumventing the listeners, if we can only find it.”
“How do you figure that?”
And so James and I told her the story of the pigs.