Story.Short, page 16, Lee Skidmore's SciFi Site copyright 1996: Story.Short, page 16

"You don't need to kill me, you know. A big city full of cops wants to do that for you."

"I did mean for them to get you, but I really think I like this better. Thanks for thinking of it."

"Oh sure, anything to oblige. I'm a servant of the people."

"Funny guy, should have kept your nose out of my business. You got a lot of people thinking I wouldn't keep their secrets anymore. Because of you I have to give all this up, forced to go live in some rat-hole of a country."

"I'm sure you'll suffer a whole lot," said Johnny, "Come on, you've got to tell me. Where did the body with my bullet come from?"

"All right, it might be fun to tell you. Sit down."

Johnny stepped towards an office-type swivel-chair facing the TV wall's control panel. Du Quesne said, "No, not there. On the floor, hands in front." As he lowered himself to the floor, Johnny said, "It's a clone, right?"

"You think you're a pretty hot detective don't you? Lousy idea, a fourty year old clone."

"No? It's got to be a clone. No other way to get a match. Even if you paid someone to take grafts before you killed him, it wouldn't pass the DNA scan of a morgue ID."

"Some detective you are, no wonder you're in so much trouble", chuckled Du Quesne. He was my brother. My twin brother. Just like me in every way, except one."

"Brother? You don't have a brother. . .Or at least you don't now," said Johnny, suddenly real respectful of the evil this man could do, "You mean to tell me you have a brother no one knew about. Plus, you want me to believe that you killed your own brother just to cover your tracks. That's unbelievable."

"No loss. He was a moron. Some childbirth accident. Been vegetating in my home village since we were born. My parents left him there with my mother's sister to take care of him. Well paid to keep quiet about it."

"I get it, with the anti-immigration laws of the Duncan administration, your parents couldn't get into the country with a retarded child," said Johnny. He stammered, faltering as the full force of what he was hearing hit home. "I. . .I. . .Good God, he's still your brother."