With this segment of Chapter Ten of Repairing the Legacy, we continue the serialization of Repairing the Legacy. This is a rough draft work in progress and may not reflect the final form. Time period: set after the ending of The Martiniere Legacy main trilogy. I’m breaking longer chapters into sections for readability. This is the third part of Chapter Ten. There will be five parts to this chapter.

New to the series? Chapter order:

Return of the Prodigal Son (2 parts)

Conversations and a Dinner (2 parts)

Dancing into Change (2 parts)

Sisterly Compromises (3 parts)

Conspiracies at the Rodeo (3 parts)

Passing the Baton (4 parts)

Research Complications (3 parts)

Chasing After Shadows (3 parts)

Fifth Anniversary Present (3 parts)

MARIAH

September, 2064

GABE

Step one.

Donald met with Gabe, Ruby, Kevin, Serg, and Justine at the Double R that evening.

“Mariah had a definite pattern of contact with both Zingter principals and Zingter indentureds,” Donald said. “It appears that one of the Zingter principals was working with her to move indentureds across the border to Mexico. And that Zingter principal is tied to Mariah’s just-captured killers.”

Gabe winced. “Mariah and this Zingter principal weren’t going through the established contract challenge protocols set up by the Markey Administration?”

“Some contracts slide through the challenges,” Kevin said. “Usually the sleaziest ones that end up being hard to break.”

“The contract challenge piece matters, but what’s more important is the Zingter principal who was Mariah’s primary contact for moving indentureds, and who has also been connected to Mariah’s killers,” Donald said. “Terence’s daughter Natalie. She has approached the Rescue Angel before, wanting to be involved.”

“Natalie—Weimer?” Kevin asked. “Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Natalie Braun-Weimer, yes,” Donald said. “She used the Braun name in approaching us.”

“Weimer in her contacts with Swait Secure,” Kevin said. “Blatant, with no subtlety. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’d incorporate her into anything confidential. Our assessment was that she was a crude attempt to infiltrate our organization.”

“The same here, yes,” Donald said. “I sent out warnings to all my people to avoid anything but the most superficial connections.”

“So why would she use Braun in approaching Rescue Angel, but Weimer with Swait Secure?” Justine asked, resting her chin on her clasped hands. “Braun would be a major red flag for both me and Donald—the connection is well-known.”

“She didn’t strike me as the brightest person in the world.” Kevin grimaced. “It’s a cliché to talk about the rich clueless white girl, but that’s exactly how this woman came across to me. And she was racist as fuck.”

“How old is she?” Ruby asked.

Justine flicked her a file. “Here’s the details.”

Gabe rolled his chair over to scan the file along with Ruby.

“She’s young,” he said, thinking out loud. “Barely in her twenties. That could explain some of the lack of subtlety. Especially if Terence and his father Frank followed Walter’s pattern in dealing with women of their family. Keep them pregnant, keep them confined, don’t educate them.”

That brought him a hard scowl from Justine. “I understand that, Gabriel. It would fit how Zingter handles their indentured contracts, and Terence’s role in taking over our father’s political positions. But—” she stabbed at the air with an index finger. “Unless Mariah was in cognitive decline, she’d also see the red flags in Natalie Braun-Weimer’s behavior. I can’t believe that she would be that naïve on purpose.”

“Mariah may have seen the red flags, and thought that she might be able to expose something involving Zingter.” Ruby frowned. “Gabe, did you notice this piece?” She highlighted a section of the file. “Who her husband is? His connections? There’s something hinky here.”

Gabe brought it up. “Berendt Weimer is a minor programmer in the Zingter labs,” he murmured. “Surprising that she’d marry someone like him. They married when they were seventeen and they’re both twenty—you’re right, they’re both too young to have the degree of responsibility their bios claim. Not even Mike would be working at this level in the labs when he reaches that age and he’s a fucking genius—” He pulled up Weimer’s picture and data. Inhaled sharply. “Oh fucking hell. Weimer’s father Reinhard works in regenerative organ cloning. For Zingter.”

He skimmed through files. Where was a picture of Walter Braun at Berendt’s age?

There. He exhaled with relief. Significant difference between the two. All the same, he flipped through other pictures of Terence Braun, and Reinhard Weimer.

Not a clone.

But still—he took another hard look at Natalie Braun-Weimer, just in case. Something about her looked familiar.

And then it struck him. He pulled up a picture of Natalie’s mother Mathilde. No. Terence’s mother Katrin. Not quite.

“Gabe, what is it?” Ruby asked.

He ignored her, frantically searching through the files for a picture of his sister at the same age.

It hit like he’d been kicked in the gut when he found the picture and flicked it up for all to see. “Tine. Donald.”

“What—” Justine gasped at the two pictures. “How the hell?”

“There were twelve clones before Mike,” Gabe said harshly. “He’s almost ten years old. She’s ten years older than Mike. How many clones a year did Philip create?”

Donald joined them. “Clone, or cosmetic surgery?”

“Why would they do cosmetic surgery?” Justine asked. “Walter Braun died before we divorced, dear. Terence would have been a baby then, and he wouldn’t have an interest in replicating me. Would he?” She tapped her chin, voice going cold and hard when she spoke again. “And just how the hell would they get their hands on my genome to clone me? To my knowledge, I’ve never had it charted.”

Donald expanded the pictures. “It’s not a clone, dear falcon. Small differences. Look at the nose.”

“She didn’t go through abuse.” Justine absently touched her nose where Philip had broken it when she was fifteen.

“Shade of eye color. That won’t be affected by surgery or beatings.” Donald snapped up pictures of Mike and Philip at age ten. “Look at Mike and Philip. Much more congruence.” He frowned. “But I should have seen a resemblance between her and you, dear one.”

“Not a clone but genetic manipulation,” Ruby said. “We’d need a sample to confirm it, but if they were able to get their hands on some of Philip’s genetic material, then that could account for the resemblance. Or your genetic material, Justine.”

“It would have needed to be before 2044 if they were using mine,” Justine said, tapping her chin again. “Could they—no. I became Director of Security in March of 2044. Plenty of access for a sample, but not enough time to create Braun-Weimer.”

“There is the incident of 2037,” Donald said. “When Hallock broke your thumb while you were downloading the data about the Electric Born and Heaven’s Reach. Let me call up your treatment records, see if it would be at all possible for Greg Hallock to have taken a sample during that blowup.”

“How would he have carried it?” Serg spoke up for the first time. “I made certain that Hallock was clear before I took him to my father for a memory wipe.”

“Eliminate that possibility? I still want to keep it on the table, but—” Justine’s voice trailed off as she studied the larger pictures of her and Natalie Braun-Weimer. “I think you’re right, Ruby. Genetic engineering. But why?”

Gabe exchanged a glance with Ruby, thinking about that file describing Mike’s cloning that had popped up out of nowhere in July.

He lifted a brow and raised his chin. Mike was upstairs at the moment.

Ruby’s brow raise matched his. She glanced up, and nodded. Then she pursed her lips thoughtfully. She rolled her lips into a tight line and nodded again, sharper than before.

“Biometric accesses, Justine,” she said. “I don’t know if the difference in eye color could throw things off but—if it’s close enough—” Her voice trailed off.

Now it was Justine and Donald’s turn to exchange glances and expressions.

“I’ll take care of it,” Donald said. “I can refine your accesses to be tighter to avoid potential security breaches, my dear.”

“Nothing says that the genetic manipulation was successful,” Ruby said. “It may be an ongoing project.”

“So why was she working with Mariah? Is this a trap?” Gabe decided to shift the discussion.

“That’s a good question,” Donald said. “Clearly we’re not going to know the answer to that until we talk to Natalie Braun-Weimer ourselves.”

“I’m working on that even as we speak,” Justine said.

#

Step Two.

“Where do you want to interrogate Braun-Weimer?” Justine asked the next morning, as Gabe came into the Double R’s kitchen. She was settled into her favorite workspace, the green Formica and chrome kitchen table.

“You’ve run her down already?” Gabe poured himself a cup of coffee.

“In the custody of JSM Corp operatives, supervised by Shanice,” Justine said. “Just need to tell them where she goes.”

Gabe sat across from her. “Ruby will be down in a minute. Let’s ask her what she thinks. I’m inclined to bring her here, but only after she’s been scanned for tracking devices. Still. Ruby’s property. Ruby’s call.”

There was the cliff house on the coast. But it wasn’t as isolated as the Double R, and it wasn’t set up to receive direct transport of someone in custody. And taking Braun-Weimer to Moondance would defeat the purpose of keeping this action separate from Brandon.

“What’s my call?” Ruby asked as she entered the kitchen, heading for the coffeepot.

“We have Braun-Weimer,” Gabe said. “Do we question her here—or somewhere else? Where is she now, Justine?” That might give them a third option.

“Chicago.”

Then no, nothing there. Bran and Kris had a condo in Chicago, but again—that brought them into this mess.

Ruby leaned against the counter, sipping from her coffee. “Can’t do Donald’s Nameless Island because that’s taking her out of the country. Don’t think we should do it in Los Angeles or any of the other big cities where we have facilities, for security reasons and avoiding snoopy authorities. Don’t want to do it at the cliff house.” She sighed. “So. Here. Not really a choice.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I promised you we wouldn’t do much Martiniere business at the Double R.”

She shrugged. “Family business, Gabe. It makes sense.” Her voice hardened. “Besides, we have secure lab facilities on site, unlike other locations. We can answer the question of cloning versus genetic engineering very easily, and if she thinks she wants to take off? Easily discovered and captured.”

“All right,” Justine said. “Sending the message now.” She tapped on her virtual keyboard, then dismissed it, rising to join Ruby by the coffeepot. “She’ll be here in two hours.”

#

Step Three.

The minute Gabe set eyes on Natalie Braun-Weimer, he knew she wasn’t Justine’s clone. Braun-Weimer was shorter and heavier-boned.

But that face—even though Braun-Weimer carried more weight than his sister, it was a close facsimile.

“About fucking time,” Braun-Weimer snarled as she faced Gabe and Ruby with Shanice L’Étoile, Justine’s security chief, standing close by. “You keep yourself pretty well isolated, Gabriel Martiniere.” Her face shifted slightly, more than just the normal play of muscles. Gabe tensed, uneasiness pulsing through him. L’Étoile edged even closer to her.

“I have my reasons.” He kept his voice unreactive and flat.

“It shouldn’t have taken Mariah Meyers’s death to bring you out,” she said.

“So what do you know about that?” Ruby asked.

Instinct made Gabe grab Ruby and spin her away just before Braun-Weimer spat.

“Kiss Protocol!” he bellowed. Oh God, had she infected Justine’s people? Damn it, that meant Heaven’s Reach was involved!

No, thank God, they were all gloved. But not masked—shit. Wait.

L’Étoile yanked a membrane over Braun-Weimer’s face. “Second layer, everyone!” she yelled. “We engaged Kiss Protocol from the beginning, sir. Orders.”

“I suspected this likelihood, Gabriel,” Justine said. “And protection against all contaminants—including the Kiss from Heaven’s Reach—is standard protocol for my security. It’s a transparent membrane.”

“Take her to the labs and start running checks,” Gabe said grimly. “We’re not going to get anything useful out of her for at least another six hours.” Depending on when she’d been injected with the Kiss, of course—so two hours plus however long Justine’s people had Braun-Weimer in their custody—was this the twelve hour or the twenty-four-hour version?

And damn it, why weren’t Ruby and I given those protective membranes?

As L’Étoile and her staff herded Braun-Weimer toward the labs, Gabe let himself start trembling. If he hadn’t been aware of that subtle facial movement—oh dear God, Ruby—

“Gabe. Gabe. I’m all right.” Ruby’s voice quavered. She had also read about the effects of the Kiss potion developed by Heaven’s Reach—he’d handed her the file about Kiss effects and protective measures himself after they remarried, just in case. Now Gabe was glad he’d done that. She knew the risk.

He enfolded Ruby in his arms, holding her tight.

Heaven’s Reach allied with Zingter. Definitely a worst nightmare scenario.

Oh God, if Ruby—

No. He didn’t want to go there. Even in his imagination.