Subject Seven by James A. Moore Read Free Book Online Page A

also command words. Like the ones they used on you.” Clarkson frowned. “How did you get past that?”
    Seven shook his head. He didn’t need to let the idiot know about the car wreck and how much that had changed his life. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me about the others.”
    â€œWell, they were failures, of course. There’s no proof that they were anything special. You were all failures, the only reason even you made it out was because they thought there might be potential. You especially, I mean, but none of you were considered successes. Not until later.”
    â€œI don’t care. Tell me about them. Tell me how to reach them.”
    â€œThey all went through the same agency. It was a setup, of course. I was the agency. I have the names of their parents and the names we gave the kids.” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve got. I don’t know if any of them are like you or if they’re just normal kids. I didn’t check in on them. I’m sorry.”
    â€œYou don’t have to apologize to me. You just have to give me the list.”
    Clarkson pulled out three sheets of paper stapled together and folded over on themselves. His hands shook a bit as he handed them over. Seven’s hand was steady as he took them and then looked at the contents.
    After several moments of studying the short list, he slid his bag across the floor under the table between them. “We’re done.”
    â€œWe are?” Clarkson sounded surprised.
    â€œWe had a deal. You kept your end. Barely, but you kept it.”
    â€œYou can see why I was nervous . . . .” Again the man tried to apologize and Seven couldn’t have cared less.
    â€œYou want to count that?” Seven asked, pointing to the duffel bag.
    â€œNo, I’ll trust you.” Seven almost laughed at that. Instead he nodded and finished off his burger while Clarkson made the money disappear.
    â€œIt’s really you?” Clarkson’s voice was subdued. “What . . . um . . . what are you going to do with them?” His eyes flickered down to the list in Seven’s hand.
    â€œIt’s really me. Be smart and keep that to yourself.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do with them?”
    Seven stared hard at Clarkson until the man looked away.
    â€œI don’t know yet. I’m still thinking. It’s a lot to absorb.” Seven stood up and stretched and looked around the room. There were a few diners, but none of them paid him any attention. “You get to buy me dinner. I gave you all my cash.”
    Clarkson nodded and stayed where he was. Seven left the diner and moved into the darkness. The three pages of names and addresses had just cost him fifty thousand dollars that he’d worked hard to earn—or steal.
    The information was worth every penny.

    Seven followed Clarkson home. It was easier than he would have expected. The man drove his car and Seven ran, following along the side roads that the informant had taken to get to the bowling alley. Not surprisingly, Clarkson hadn’t met him very far from his home. He was the sort that needed the comfort and security of his own place. Seven had never had that in his earlier life and had no need of it now.
    Now he knew where Clarkson lived, and that was all he’d needed to know.
    He walked back to his hotel room and settled in for a few moments before he pulled out the list Clarkson had given him and looked at the names. One family name, one first name and a gender. It could all be lies, and then he’d be screwed. He’d wanted to kill Clarkson, but first he had to make sure that the information he gave him was good. Clarkson had recognized him as Subject Seven, and that could be dangerous.
    â€œNo room for losers, Hunter, old boy. You’ll learn that soon enough.” He stood up and grabbed the tape recorder. A few quick buttons and a flip of the tape and he was ready to have another chat