Rosa flung the question down like a gauntlet. But before Regan could answer, Max Thump strode into the room from a side door. Rosa couldn't help wondering how long he had been standing there listening on the other side. She recognised him immediately from the scanned news reports, despite the fact that he was now dressed conservatively in grey trousers and navy blue blazer open over a cream shirt, instead of the silver lame jumpsuit he had been wearing in the photo.

Max Thump managed to look relieved and concerned at the same time as he hurried across the floor to Rosa, ignoring Regan and Richard.

He took both her hands in his and looked earnestly into her face.

"My dear! I am so happy to see you alive and well. I'm afraid there's been a terrible misunderstanding. Please have a seat and let me explain."

Silently, Rosa allowed herself to be led over to a leather couch at the side of the room. Max Thump sat down next to her, still clasping her hands.

A misunderstanding, huh? This should be interesting! thought Rosa.

"Far from kidnapping you, Dr Jason was protecting you. His job was to keep you safe."

"Really? Safe from whom?" Rosa couldn't help asking.

Thump sighed and looked away. "From my brother. As you know, Ron has always been something of a recluse. He's always hated any sort of publicity, but I think he's getting worse, quite paranoid, in fact. When he found you at the Beaufort Clinic, he jumped to the conclusion that you were there to spy on him. He was holding you prisoner preparatory to handing you over to the police, when my men rescued you.

Unfortunately, when we got you back here, it was evident you had suffered some sort of head injury so I arranged for Dr Jason to keep you under his care until you recovered."

Rosa had so many questions, her brain was spinning. She needed time to think. She stalled. "Beaufort Clinic?" The name had a faint familiarity.

"It's a private Clinic. My brother goes there from time to time to rest and recuperate."

"I'm sorry, but I need a few more answers," said Rosa, drily. "What was I doing there? Why exactly did you come to my rescue?"

"Why?" Thump raised an eyebrow. "Because you work for me of course." He smiled. "You're my best security operative. I sent you there to spy on my brother."

~~~

Bill Cartwright photographed everything in the Research Laboratory that he thought would be of interest to Q and his team, and then everything else that he wasn't sure about for good measure. He checked that the corridor remained empty more than once as he worked.

Eventually he finished and moved toward the door. Sorry Bond, he apologised mentally. Your rescue isn't my top priority. Not tonight it ain't.

He was on his way out, reluctantly deciding that transmitting the photographic evidence was his first priority and that he'd have to come back the next night for Bond, when he saw a screen flickering in an alcove off to the side.

Cartwright slipped into the alcove and stared at the screen. It appeared to be a security monitor, showing the building's interior, room by room, nine images fitting on the screen at a time. He watched as images of sleeping guests scrolled past, a kitchen, a lounge, the reception desk, more bedrooms. That was interesting. He knew that the Clinic catered for a maximum of twenty patients at a time, yet he was certain he had seen more occupied rooms than twenty. Did they monitor their staff as well?

He paid more attention to the rooms, trying to discover if they were for staff or patients. It was hard to tell, they all looked the same. As he looked, one of the patients turned over in his sleep, allowing Cartwright a glimpse of his face.

Cartwright froze. It couldn't be. But he was as certain as he was standing there, that the face he had just seen belonged to the man in the second glass capsule. He stared as the rooms scrolled past again, frustrated that he couldn't get a clearer view.

My God! That next one! Was that Bond?

A cold sliver of ice trickled down his back. He knew he was jumping to conclusions, but he also knew he was right.

Clones. The Clinic was developing clones. He wondered which were the real people. Those in the glass capsules or those in the bedrooms?

Given the suicides and mental health breakdowns of discharged 'patients', it was evident that they were still perfecting the process, but.... How close were they to completion? His mind leapt to the frightful possibilities, the damage that could be done. Most of the Clinic's patients, though not key figures themselves, were close enough to senior ministers, up to and including the Prime Minister, to pose a real threat.

Now more than ever, he needed to get the evidence—and his conclusions—to MI6. But he'd be back.

~~~

Rosa was still feeling her way, her brain racing as she tried to process the information she'd been given. One thing, if she was a security operative, that certainly made sense of her martial art skills and other talents.

"And you say Dr Jason works for you, too?"

"Yes," said Thump. "At least, I certainly thought so," he added, cautiously.

"I think you might need to re-examine his loyalties," said Rosa. "He was definitely holding me prisoner."

Thump looked uncomfortable for the first time.

"Umm... I don't think we need to worry about that any longer. That blow to the throat... er. Don't worry," he hastened to reassure her. "I've already taken care of it." He frowned. "I'll have someone investigate further. Perhaps he'd switched teams and was working for my brother."

For the first time, Max Thump turned to look at Regan, who was sitting watchfully behind his desk. "I think it's time I paid the Beaumont Clinic a visit, don't you?"

"If you think that's wise, sir." It wasn't quite a question.

Thump turned back to Rosa and Richard. "We'll all go," he said decisively. "Richard? Look after... er, what name are you using at the moment, my dear?"

"Rosa Tabula."

"Right. Look after Rosa, will you, Richard? Make sure she's kitted out. We'll fly up this evening, the three of us. It's time I had a look for myself at what's happening there."

Rosa felt uneasy about the plan, but with no memory and no other obvious alternatives, it seemed as good an idea as any. She looked sideways at Richard and smiled to herself. Hmmm. Definitely cute. Perhaps she could get some more information out of him while he was looking after her.