SWITCHED: The man who lost his body but kept his mind.

by Bernard Gallivan

  ‘What are you drinking,’ Jeannie said.

  Misinterpreting her reason for wanting to know, he said, ‘Don’t worry, Isabelle! You can have whatever you want. I’d be very surprised if I don’t have what you normally drink here. But, as you ask, I’m going to have a large brandy. Shall I pour one for you as well?’

  ‘No thank you. Not this time. I think I’d prefer a small whisky to start with.’

  ‘A whisky it shall be, then,’ said Connor with a bow. Already he was wondering when he should make his move.

  He poured the drinks and brought them across to the small coffee table next to which Jeannie sat, her shapely thighs very much on display. As he placed the drinks down, she said, ‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance, Connor, but could I have a small jug of tap water to pour into my whisky?’

  ‘Of course, my dear! I’m sorry I forgot to ask. I won’t be a moment.’

  As good as his word, he returned within a minute and sat down next to Jeannie, his knees almost touching hers.

  ‘Cheers, my dear. Drink up. There’s plenty more where that came from.’ As good as his word, he downed half his drink in one swallow.

  ‘Goodness me, Connor,’ Isabelle said, admiration in both her voice and her eyes as she sipped quietly at her whisky. ‘You drink like a real man. I can see you always get what you want.’ There was a hint of tease and a good measure of promise in her voice.

  Pleased with the impression he was making and already thinking with something other than his brain, Connor downed the rest of his brandy in another gulp and went back for a refill. When he returned he took off his jacket before sitting down.

  ‘Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable, my dear?’ he said.

  ‘What about the paintings?’ Isabelle reminded him.

  ‘Don’t worry about them. They won’t run away. Relax and enjoy your drink. We’ll have plenty of time for them afterwards.’

  When he sat down, he sat even closer to her than earlier and pressed his knee into hers leaving her in no doubt what he expected to come before.

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind then, I’ll just take my shoes off,’ Jeannie said using the excuse to move her knees from contact.

  ‘Don’t mind me. Take off whatever you want,’ Connor said with a sly grin.

  Leaning across he tried clumsily to kiss her but she pushed him gently away with a laugh.

  ‘Let me finish my drink first, Connor. As you just said, we’ve got plenty of time.’

  Pleased with the way the situation was developing, Sinclair sat back pulling at his collar as he did so. ‘Are you finding it hot in here?’ he said as he loosened his tie.

  ‘It is a trifle warm, Connor, but then, you do have more clothes on than I do.’

  Sinclair suddenly yawned. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me,’ he apologised. ‘That brandy must have been stronger than I thought. Either that or the sun got to me this afternoon.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be as right as rain in a minute, Connor. Why don’t you lay back and close your eyes for a few minutes. I always find that does the trick,’ Jeannie said.

  Five minutes later, as a consequence of the brandy Jeannie had drugged when Sinclair was out of the room fetching that jug of water, the Irish bookie was snoring like a baby.

  When Zachary had outlined his plan to Jeannie, he had no idea that his wife in the other dimension had planned exactly the same solution to her problems. Unlike his wife, however, his scheme fell far short of killing his enemy. He had other plans for Sinclair.

  When Jeannie was sure Connor would no longer be any trouble, she called Zak on her mobile.

  ‘Where are you, Zak?’

  ‘I’m just down the drive. Are you all right?

  ‘I’m fine and Sinclair Connor is sleeping like a baby. Come on up to the house and I’ll let you in.’

  Five minutes later Zachary was standing in Sinclair’s front hall. ‘The swine certainly does himself proud,’ he said as he looked around.

  ‘We haven’t got time for sight-seeing,’ Jeannie reminded him. ‘Let’s find that safe, if there is one.’ The truth was, she was much less certain about the existence of a safe that contained anything of significant value in Connor’s mansion than was her more worldly-wise husband.

  ‘Before we do anything, put these gloves on and then let’s retrace your steps and rub out any fingerprints you might have left behind.’

  Jeannie led Zachary back into the sitting room where Connor lay slumped on the sofa. The man was completely defenceless and if the roles were reversed, Zachary had no doubt that Sinclair would have taken his revenge on him. As it was, he restricted himself to looking disdainfully at the bookie while he and Jeannie went over every surface she might have touched to remove all traces of her presence.

  It took a while but they eventually unearthed the safe hidden deep inside a walk-in cupboard in the master-bedroom. Zachary’s heart gave a leap when he saw the combination lock that secured it. Taking his home-made circuit, complete with microphone and earphones from his pocket, he sat down in front of it and took a deep breath. The next few minutes would be decisive. After switching on his circuit and discovering it was not working, it took all his willpower not to panic. Trying hard to stay calm, he carefully re-examined his handiwork and soon spotted the culprit. One of his connections had worked loose during transportation. Carefully, he remade the connection and immediately was rewarded by the familiar buzz coming through his earphones. His device was primitive but much to Jeannie’s amazement, it worked. Ten minutes later, Zachary gave the dial a final twirl and the door clicked open.

  ‘My gawd, you’re a genius. Where did you learn to do that? We could make ourselves a fortune out of that little thingy if we play our cards right.’

  In fact, Zachary had not given the matter of exploiting the device any thought at all but Jeannie was right. All he had to do was approach the major safe manufacturers with his device and they would fall over themselves to buy up the copyright on it to stop it becoming more widely known. That was work for another day, however. Before they could think of making their fortune, there was the little matter of extracting retribution from Sinclair.

  It was a large safe and was crammed full of all sorts of wonderful things. There were wads of high denomination pound notes; there were stock certificates, insurance certificates and bearer bonds; there was loads of foreign currency; there were deeds to the various properties Sinclair owned, both in Britain and abroad; there were various partnership agreements showing the extent of Sinclair’s business empire, which was far more extensive than many, including HM Inspector of Taxes, imagined; finally, there was jewellery. Acting on impulse, he stuffed the partnership agreements into his rucksack.

  ‘Just look at all that money and jewellery,’ Jeannie breathed. ‘Imagine what we could do with that.’

  ‘I know it’s tempting, dear, but we agreed we would only take what is fair compensation for what we’ve lost, for our out of pocket expenses and a bit extra for all the trauma and inconvenience he’s caused. Nothing can compensate for Barry’s death, so we can’t include that. In any case, we’re not thieves.’

  ‘Come on then, let’s do it,’ Jeannie said. She had a lump in her throat. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she and Zak would get this far. To destroy so many valuable items was almost too much to bear. Only decisive action would relieve the stress she felt.

  After taking what Zachary felt was their due, which was a considerable sum because, as he had feared, while the small house in Disraeli Street was insured, the contents were not. They filled a large bin bag with the remaining bonds, certificates and jewellery. Then, going out into the back garden they found an incinerator into which they stuffed Sinclair’s wealth and in no time, they had a splendid blaze going. Zachary had no idea how much money went into the fire that afternoon, but it must have been many hundreds of thousands of pounds, he estimated. They even threw the jewels in. It was amazing how quickly such a large fortune went up in smoke. Late
r, after it cooled, they gathered up the ash, took it back to the safe and carefully placed it on the middle shelf. It gave Zachary considerable satisfaction to close the door on it. Sinclair would have the shock of his life the next time he opened his safe. He and Jeannie were only sorry they would not be present to see the man’s face when he did.

  Making sure they left nothing incriminating, they went their separate ways; Jeannie to Turnpike Lane in her hire car and Zachary to Virginia Water to release Valerie.

  She was awake when he arrived and complained of a splitting headache. Carefully releasing her hands and arms, he helped her to sit up on the bed. She was still too groggy and weak to offer any resistance and, as she was desperately thirsty, he made her yet another hot, strong cup of tea. After bringing it to her and apologising for frightening her, he reassured her that her ordeal was finally at an end. He left her to untie her feet and let himself out. Five minutes later, he was on his way back to North London.

  His very own Jeannie, and not the artificial Isabelle, was waiting when he arrived back at the Costello's house and in the privacy of the little room George and Gloria had allocated to them, they kissed long and lovingly.

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I love you, Jeannie,’ Zachary breathed in her ear. ‘You’re everything to me and I promise you we’re going to have a wonderful new life together.’

  ‘And I love you, too, Zak. I don’t know what’s come over you recently, but whatever it is, I like it. I’m so proud of the way you went against Sinclair. It was really brave of you because he’s an awful man.’

  ‘You’re the one who was brave, Jeannie. I was so worried all the time you were in that house alone with him.’

  ‘I told you there was nothing to worry about, didn’t I? You’ve got to have more faith in me.’

  ‘We’re going to have lots more faith in each other from now on. And if we do, we’ll be able to do anything we want, believe me.’

  Zachary, however, was far from finished with Sinclair and the next morning he sent off to the Inland Revenue all the partnership agreements he had removed from Sinclair’s safe. He was confident Sinclair was evading paying the correct amount of tax and guessed the Revenue would be interested to discover something about the extensive business empire the man had built up over the years. Next, he sent Valerie a letter explaining that when she had failed to turn up at the race meeting, Sinclair had picked up an attractive young woman called Isabelle whom he had taken back to his house in Banstead. He signed it “A well-wisher”. He wrote another letter to Sinclair’s wife telling her about the existence of Valerie as well as her address. He was determined to make life as uncomfortable for Sinclair as was possible.

  Unfortunately, neither Zak nor Jeannie were on hand to enjoy the scene that followed when Sinclair next opened his safe. When he saw a pile of ash where his stashed fortune should be, his screams of misery reverberated around his lovely house for minutes on end. He had no idea what could possibly have happened although he suspected it might have had something to do with the lovely Isabelle, whose existence he was not about to reveal to anyone since that would complicate his life even more.

  At the moment of his discovery, he was in blissful ignorance that not all his papers had been destroyed. He guessed his solicitors could probably recreate most of the deeds and partnership agreements, though at considerable cost and inconvenience. In fact, he believed that only the jewellery, cash and bonds were truly lost. This was a considerable loss but he hoped he might be able to make an insurance claim against the jewels. Unfortunately, his considerable cash holding was one the Inland Revenue knew nothing about. He could not even report its loss to the police. As was his way, he resolved to handle matters himself. He would send out feelers to discover who the culprit was and when he had rooted him out, he would make an example of him that would send a message to the whole world. Nobody messed with Connor Sinclair and got away with it. He was still trying to work out a suitable plan of action when, a few days later, two Tax Inspectors, accompanied by two burly police officers arrived at his front door.

  Zachary and Jeannie read about the man’s arrest the next day. Sinclair’s business affairs proved to be so complicated and convoluted, his trial eventually lasted many months. Before it was over, his wife, fearing the loss of all her husband’s ill-gotten gains, sued for divorce. She finally walked off with the family house in Banstead as well as a substantial cash settlement. For his part, Sinclair was sentenced to five years imprisonment for tax evasion. He was stripped of his assets and his business empire collapsed.

  With the money extracted from Sinclair’s safe, Zachary sent off £10,000 plus interest to be paid into the Prentice’s estate. Only then did he give himself up to the police. Much to Connolly’s frustration, he remained tight-lipped about the part he might have played in Sinclair’s downfall. He, too, was sent to trial but because he had already made full restitution of the money he had ‘borrowed’, he received a minimum, deferred sentence.

  Over the next few months, Zachary and Jeannie put their plan to exploit their safe opening device into action and with the money they received from the many safe manufacturers they approached across the world, they amassed a huge fortune. Zachary repaid with interest all the money he had borrowed from his brother following which he and Jeannie bought a lovely house in the country where they set up a small but thriving engineering business. The experience even seemed to have cured Zachary of his passion for gambling. Instead, he took up jogging and joined a health club. Zachary was now a curious mixture of the Zak from both dimensions. He refused to become the workaholic of old and gave up all his wastrel ways. He was looking forward to a wonderful life with Jeannie.

  Chapter 20

  Zak

  Zak had no idea how long he’d been laying unconscious but gradually, as if from a distance, he heard Jenny and Naomi talking. What he heard made no sense but he recognised their voices.

  ‘What made you come back here today of all days. When I paid you off, I didn’t expect to see you again.’

  He heard Naomi reply, ‘When I discovered how much you and Phil were expecting to make on this deal, I realized I'd been short-changed. You’ve been holding out on me and I want more money, a lot more.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You’ve been very well paid for what you did.’

  ‘You never told me you were intending to kill Zachary. There was nothing in our deal about me being an accomplice to murder. Much as I’ve enjoyed my assignment, if you want me to keep my mouth shut, you’ll have to pay up. I’m not greedy but I want more.’

  Listening to the two women in his life arguing, Zak realized that all this time, even Naomi had been against him. Until the moment she had coshed him, he had thought she was the one person he could rely on in his new life. He now knew that she, too, had been making a fool of him. He almost wished he were back in his old dimension. At least there, he knew who his friends were. Well, some of them, anyway. Trying to disregard the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that would only make him careless of what happened to him, he tried to concentrate on his problem.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the still prone shape of Phil over which the two women in his life were huddled. They seemed to have forgotten about him for the moment and Jenny was carefully bathing her lover’s face with a flannel while mercenary Naomi continued to press her case for more money. He had no time to lose. Once Phil was back on his feet, all would be lost.

  Even as he listened to what the women were saying, he heard a load moan come from Phil. He was regaining consciousness. It might already be too late. Phil’s moan seemed to energise Jenny who began speaking to him and trying to encourage him to respond.

  A low table stood at the extreme edge of his vision and on it was the large pot of coffee Jenny had brought in as soon as they arrived. As far as he could recall, no one had drunk from it. A lot had happened but he guessed that, probably, less than 15 minutes had elapsed since they had arrived. The coffee would still
be very hot. Could he get to it?

  He tried to form a mental picture of the sitting room. If he rolled towards the coffee table not only would he put more distance between himself and the two women, if he was quick enough he should be able to grab the coffee pot before either of them could stop him. A pot of hot coffee could prove to be a formidable weapon. Both women were attractive in their own, but different, ways and both took a keen interest in their appearances. He had to gamble that neither would risk having boiling coffee thrown in her face. It might even prove to be a match for Phil’s cosh, which still dangled nonchalantly from Naomi’s right hand. As Phil continued to regain consciousness, his movements and sounds distracted the women’s attention away from Zak. It was now or never.

  Like a spring uncoiling, he spun across the carpet in the general direction of the table. In his eagerness to get to the coffee pot in the shortest possible time, he almost overdid it and only just managed to stop himself from crashing into the table. His sudden move took both women by surprise. Having made neither sound nor movement while he was lying there, they were convinced he was still unconscious.

  Naomi was the first to react but even she was too slow. Sitting up, he grabbed the coffee pot, almost knocking it over in his anxiety. Even as his hand closed on it, Naomi came leaping across the room with cosh upraised, a thin snarl on her lovely face.

  Still on his knees, he shouted, ‘Stop, if you don’t want a face full of boiling coffee.’

  As good as his word, he made a threatening faint with the jug and Naomi stopped dead in her tracks.

  Still menacing her with the coffee, he heaved himself unsteadily to his feet, his eyes not leaving her for an instant. ‘Put that cosh down gently and kick it over to me. Then go and stand next to the window.’

  Slowly she obeyed. Picking the cosh up with his free hand, he strode rapidly across the room and ignoring Jenny, who made a defensive grab at him, he gave Phil another almighty wallop on the side of the head causing the man to lose consciousness once again.