"Replica03 - Another Amy - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

"Whoa!" he yelled in outrage. "Cut it out!"
Well, what did they expect her to do, let them take her without a fight? But there was no point in wasting her energy. She'd just have to go along with them and wait for the right moment to get away.
The next thing she knew, she was being pushed into a waiting car, and the towel dropped from her head. She could see now, and counted three men, including the driver. She was sitting in the backseat between the other two.
"Did you get the photo?" one of the backseat guys asked the driver.
"Yeah, no problem. It looked good. We should get some serious money for this."
She tried to make sense of his words. Money? They had to have been hired by the organization. They were taking her to them. But why did they need a photo?
Maybe they weren't from the organization but knew about it and were planning to hold her for ransom, thinking the organization would pay a lot for a live clone. They'd use the photo as proof they had her.
"You okay, kid?" the guy on her right asked.
She wasn't surprised by his concern. The organization would want her in one piece. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.
Then the man on her left spoke. "So, what does it feel like to be a movie star?"
What? They thought she was Aimee! They thought they were kidnapping Aimee Evans! She tried hard not to let her surprise show on her face. This could only mean one thing. Aimee was a clone, and the organization wanted herЧjust like they wanted Amy.
Her head was spinning. One part of her was exhilaratedЧshe'd been right about the actress!
"You too much of a celebrity to speak to us?" one of the guys asked.
"I'm okay," she murmured. She was trying to think. Should she keep up the pretense and behave like Aimee? But if Aimee didn't know she was a clone, she'd be bewildered by this. "What's going on here?" she asked, hoping to sound frightened and confused.
"Oh, give me a break," the other guy said.
Now, what was that supposed to mean?
"You know all about this," he continued.
So Aimee did know what she was. Or maybe these guys just thought Aimee knew. Amy wanted more information, but she knew she had to tread carefully if she was going to get any.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror. "You can stop acting, kid. We don't need a performance." He turned the radio on. The twangy tones of country music filled the car, and the man on her right began to sing along with Garth Brooks. Amy sank back into the seat.
She tried not to be obvious as she moved her head slightly to get a good look at the man who was singing.
He didn't look particularly ominous. He was balding, with a few measly locks of hair combed over his scalp. He wore a red-and-white-checked shirt, and his stomach hung over his belt.
The man on her other side didn't look like a serious bad guy either, more like a teen who hung out on street corners. He was younger, and skinny, with a really bad complexion and a bored look. From his pocket he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Immediately the car was filled with noxious fumes.
"Do you mind?" Amy asked. She tried to sound as haughty as she imagined Aimee would sound under the circumstances.
"Oh. Sorry." The guy rolled his window down slightly and tossed out the cigarette.
Well, that was nice, Amy thought. These guys not only didn't look like gangsters, they didn't act like them either. She tried something else. "Could you turn the radio down? It's giving me a headache."
The driver obliged. Then the fat guy offered her a bottle of mineral water. "Want a drink?"
"No, thank you." She was floored. She didn't know hoodlums could be this polite. The organization must have told them to take good care of her.
And if that was true, that meant they wouldn't dare injure her in any way. When they stopped the car, she could make a break for freedom. They'd come running after her, of course, but she had a feeling she might be able to outrun them. The fat one didn't look very athletic, and if the skinny one was a smoker, he couldn't be in very good shape. As for the driver, if she got out of the car while it was still running, he wouldn't be able to jump out and abandon it.
"Jeez, this traffic is a misery," the driver muttered. They were stuck in a jam on the freeway and going nowhere. But she couldn't risk jumping out too soon. They were strong enough to hold her down in the car. She had to bide her time and wait for the right moment. She just wished she weren't wearing the awful tank suit.
Cars were moving slowly in the lane to the left, and for a few seconds a police car rolled along next to them. But the kidnappers didn't seem dismayed by this at all. The skinny one yawned. She supposed she could have screamed for the attention of the police, but she didn't.
Maybe she wouldn't even run when the car stopped. Because now she was beginning to wonder about the people who were behind all this. The agency, the organization, she didn't know what to call themЧthose were the important ones, not these hired thugs. Getting away from these guys would be easy. Maybe, just maybe, she should go with them, meet the real enemy, and find out what they really wanted from her. Otherwise, the fear and the flight would just go on and on forever, for her, for Aimee, for the ballet dancer, and for all the other Amys out there. If the organization had a face, if she knew what they were all up against, she'd have a power she didn't have now.
The traffic was moving again. "Are we late?" the driver asked. "What time are we supposed to be there, anyway?"
"She said she'd meet us at two," the skinny one said. He looked at his watch. "It's one-forty-five now."
"We're okay," the driver said. "It's the next exit."
She . . . now Amy knew something. One of the faces would be a woman's. She looked out the window as the car moved off the freeway. She knew where they were. It was near the place where she used to take gymnastics. And now they were pulling into the parking lot of an office complex. Her heartbeat accelerated. Was this the headquarters? She'd been in one of those office buildings before. It was the time they'd tried to get her dental X rays. The so-called dentist had had an office here.
"Where are we meeting this Adams lady?" the fat man asked.
"Third floor," the driver told him. "No, wait, it's the fourth. I think."
The fat man sighed. "Hope there's an elevator."
Adams . . . she'd heard that name, just recently . . . last night, in fact. Sue Adams was the name of the magazine writer who was following Aimee Evans! Was she one of them? Was she just posing as a reporter to get close to Aimee?
"C'mon, kid." The car had pulled up to the building, and they were all getting out. This was Amy's chance to run, but she'd made up her mind. She got out of the car and went along with the men.
The lobby was empty, just as it had been when she'd come here for the dentist appointment. They went to the elevator, and one of them pressed a button. Amy could feel her adrenaline pumping. She wasn't quite sure what to prepare herself for, but she was ready for whatever she was about to face.
"So, which is it, kid?" the fat man asked. "The third floor or the fourth?"
The elevator doors opened. "How should I know?" Amy retorted.
"Aw, come on." The skinny guy groaned. "This was supposed to be all organized. You have to know where the hiding place is." He was holding the elevator doors so they wouldn't close.
Amy was totally bewildered now. "Hey, I'm the one being kidnapped!"
"Right, and we're the kidnappers," the skinny one said in his bored voice. "And you're getting kidnapped so you'll get a lot of publicity and your picture plastered in all the newspapers, we know all that. That Adams lady explained it. Now all we need to know is where she's waiting for us."
For a moment Amy couldn't speak. "That's what this is all about?" she asked faintly. "A publicity stunt?"
"Kid, we're not getting paid by the hour; we don't have all day," the man who drove the car growled. "Where are we going?" When Amy didn't respond, he looked really irritated. "What's the matter, can't you hear me under that cap?" He reached over, grabbed the cap, and yanked it off.
The men looked stunned.