The Gemini Experiment

by Brian Pinkerton

  “You need to listen to me carefully. I have to tell you three things.”

  Tom looked at her, confused.

  She continued. “Number one, the booth is bugged. They’re listening to everything we say.”

  Tom felt his skin grow prickly. “What? Who?”

  She fought to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know. I can’t say. I – I can only say what they told me to say.”

  Tom started to turn his head and she told him to stop.

  “You can’t see them. But they can see you. Don’t look at Cooper. Just look at me. Number two, they need to talk with you. For five minutes, in secret, without Cooper knowing. They want to ask you questions. I don’t know what it’s about. There’s somebody in the men’s room waiting to see you. You need to answer their questions, then come back and not say another word about it. Act casual and don’t draw attention. They promised no one will get hurt if you do these things.”

  Tom stared into her eyes. They grew watery. Her voice trembled as she said, “The third thing…outside the diner, there’s a sniper…aimed.…” She glanced over at Sofi. Tom felt his chest tighten. Emily continued, “They can hear us, they can see us. If you get Cooper involved or refuse to follow their instructions, they’ll.…”

  Emily covered her face and turned away. Tom felt an ache in his throat. His entire being trembled with outrage. Somebody had used his family to lure him out of the mansion. They had threatened to harm his family to get what they wanted.

  Who are these sick bastards? He looked out the window. He could see a dingy white van parked in such a way that the rear of the vehicle faced the diner. He was being watched from behind tinted glass and dark curtains.

  Damn you, whoever you are.

  Sofi continued to happily color the animals on her children’s placemat. If she heard the word ‘sniper’, she didn’t understand it. It made Tom sick to even imagine a gun pointed in her direction.

  “I’ll do whatever they want,” said Tom clearly, for the benefit of the bugging device tapping their conversation. “I’ll talk. I’ll tell them anything they want to know.”

  The waitress returned with Tom’s Coke and a water for Emily.

  Tom stared at the Coke. After the waitress left, he said plainly, for all who were listening, “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

  Emily shut her eyes and pressed her lips together. She tried to control herself from tearing up in front of Sofi.

  “I’ll be right back,” Tom said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Tom stood up. He resisted the urge to look back at his family, or out the window at the white van, or at Cooper. He faced the far end of the diner and began a slow, casual stroll.

  He could feel his heart beating in his chest, uncertain of who he would find or what they would demand. He reached a turn that led down a skinny, poorly lit corridor. As he advanced, he knew he was slipping out of view.

  He hoped Emily could keep her composure in front of Sofi. He wanted this ordeal over with. He wanted them extracted from this horror.

  Tom found the entrance to the men’s room and stopped, feeling a sudden chill. He stared at the door, wishing he could look through it. He heard noises inside.

  Abruptly the door opened.

  Tom pulled back into the shadows.

  A young, chubby Hispanic boy emerged. The door closed behind him. Tom stepped out of the darkness and startled the boy with a hard whisper to get his attention: “Hey.”

  The boy stopped in his tracks and turned. After taking in Tom’s presence, his mouth fell open in a surprised gape. It was a strange, bug-eyed reaction.

  “Can you answer a question for me?” Tom whispered.

  The boy said nothing, staring at him.

  “Is there somebody in there?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Who is it?”

  The boy, still staring, said, “You are.”

  Tom felt icicles in his veins. He stepped backward, stunned.

  The little boy scampered off.

  Tom’s mind raced. This could only mean one thing. His replica was waiting to surprise him. The replica was here, now, of all places. But why? Giamatti had told him the Russians were in possession of it. What would the Russians need with the real Tom Nolan? Why would they want Tom to meet up with his identical twin in private, in secret, without anyone knowing? It was bizarre yet—

  Tom’s moment of realization sent a shudder down his spine. They want to make an exchange.

  Tom feared there was no conversation waiting to be had. Just a simple, quick swap that would eliminate and replace him.

  What better way to get inside Giamatti’s inner circle – and closer to its secrets – than to consume Tom’s identity and waltz back to the mansion with the perfect cover?

  Tom continued to stare at the door in horrified silence.

  Now what?

  If he rushed back and explained the plot to Emily or Cooper, then Sofi might be killed. The diner would erupt in carnage. He was trapped. Nothing would ensure their safety except for a successful exchange of Tom Nolans.

  Tom struggled to determine his next action. Then he realized: If I return now to the booth, how will they know if the switch has been made…or not?

  He remained standing undisturbed in the back of the diner for another minute, the longest minute of his life, heart pounding like a punching fist.

  Then he walked back down the corridor that led into the front of the restaurant. Fully aware that multiple sets of eyes were watching him – and the booth was bugged – Tom Nolan returned to his wife and daughter, concentrated on his words, and imagined how the conversation might go if he was impersonating his impersonator.

  “I’m back,” he announced. “I had the conversation. It was fine.”

  “Oh thank God,” said Emily with a large sigh of relief.

  Sofi was eating her french fries, lifting them up at one end, dangling them into her mouth like a bird.

  Tom sat next to Sofi, playing it light but not too light. “They just wanted some information. I gave it to them. They let me go. It was exactly how they described it to you.”

  “What did they want to talk about?” Emily asked.

  “It’s better we don’t get into it. Basically it’s no big deal.” Tom felt the perspiration under his arms. He thought about his every word traveling to careful listeners in the white van. He worried about his replica hanging out in the bathroom, waiting for his arrival. At some point the replica would grow impatient and emerge or send someone a text.

  “Sofi seems happy,” Tom said. “Look, I hate to do this, but I really should get back to Giamatti. They don’t like for me to be out in public too long.”

  “But you haven’t been here very long.…”

  “I know, just a precaution,” said Tom in a pleasant, reassuring voice. He casually reached over and took one of Sofi’s crayons. He wrote on a corner of her placemat, a message for Emily:

  LEAVE NOW.

  Emily looked at him with a sudden look of terror. Tom nodded discreetly. Still holding the crayon, he quickly scribbled over his words to conceal the message. Then he said, “I’ll go take care of the check. Good to see you. We’ll do this again someday soon. Bye, Sofi.”

  “Bye, Daddy.”

  Tom stood up and turned his back on them. He saw Cooper in the nearby booth reading the sports section of the newspaper. Tom walked over to the cash register, where the frumpy waitress met up with him after a few seconds.

  “Could I have the check?” Tom asked.

  “Certainly.” She rang up his order. “That will be…twelve dollars and fifteen cents.”

  Tom lowered his voice. He manufactured a tone of menace. “Listen to me. I’m not paying. I have a gun. Give me all the money in your register.”

  She stared at him. “You’re serious?”

 
; “Yes. Give me all your money and don’t draw attention. Do it. I’m crazy and I have a gun.”

  He indicated under his shirt somewhere.

  Standing nearby, an African-American cook cocked his head, hearing the exchange. He slowly backed into the kitchen. Tom saw him reach for his cell phone before he slipped out of view.

  Good.

  The waitress handed Tom a wad of bills and he casually stuffed them into his pocket, as if accepting change. “Thank you,” he said. He added with a snarl, “You better sleep with one eye open.”

  She gave him a strange look.

  Tom knew his acting wasn’t good, but it was good enough. He turned away from the counter. He saw Emily encouraging Sofi to finish her final few fries so they could leave. He walked over to Cooper and interrupted his study of baseball box scores.

  “Ready to go now,” Tom said. Sweat was running a river down his spine. He kept casual.

  “Sure,” said Cooper. He slowly folded his newspaper. “That was quick.”

  “Sofi just needed to see that I’m all right.” Tom did his best to hold back his exasperation at Cooper’s slow movements. Hurry up!

  “Well, it’s good not to linger,” said Cooper. “After all, you’re still a wanted man.”

  “You can say that again…” Tom said.

  Tom and Cooper departed from the diner. As they walked to Cooper’s car, Tom turned and faced the white van, well aware that its occupants were watching him and assuming he was one of them.

  Tom gave them a subtle thumbs up and a wink. All is going according to plan, comrades!

  Tom and Cooper climbed into Cooper’s car. Cooper started the engine. “Hold on for a second,” said Tom.

  He watched Emily and Sofi emerge from the diner. They got into the silver SUV. Sofi clutched her paper placemat with the colored animals.

  Almost immediately, a stocky, beady-eyed woman in her fifties stepped out of the white van. Tom did not recognize her. She headed for the diner entrance. The van’s engine abruptly coughed to life. The vehicle quickly moved across the lot, circling the diner and disappearing behind it.

  “Is everything okay?” Cooper asked, watching Tom study the scene around him.

  Tom held his response. Emily drove off with Sofi. They got on the main road. Seeing them disappear, Tom let out a sigh of relief. He told Cooper, “Let’s get out of here as fast as possible. Quick!”

  Cooper threw the gear shift into drive, spitting up gravel.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s happening?”

  Tom responded, “I have a Russian twin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Inside the white van, three shadowy figures huddled together listening to the audio coming from Emily Nolan’s booth while watching the movements of a small cast in the diner’s windows. Wearing headphones, they crouched in silence, hidden from view by tinted glass, exchanging nods of satisfaction as the overheard dialogue followed its expected path.

  ‘Tom Nolan’ returned from the men’s room delivering a calm voice of reassurance, telling his wife he had engaged in a brief conversation and provided the information requested of him. Given the general tension of the circumstances, he recommended they conclude their visit and go their separate ways for now, promising another get together soon.

  He left the booth to pay the check and then joined up with Cooper. As he walked the gravel lot with Cooper toward Cooper’s car, he made a slight head turn toward the van, acknowledging its occupants with a subtle wink and ‘thumbs up’ gesture.

  Yefim chuckled. Alina stated, “We did it. He’s in.” The Stick said nothing, continuing to watch through narrow eyes.

  Tom Nolan’s wife and daughter left next. The wife was clearly upset, trying to control her emotions. She looked toward the white van and simply frowned. The little girl appeared unfazed, oblivious. They climbed into the silver SUV together. The Stick issued a command.

  “GO.”

  The rear doors of the van split open and Alina emerged. The doors slammed shut behind her and she headed for the diner’s entrance, feet crunching on the gravel.

  Yefim scrambled from the back of the van to the front, sliding behind the steering wheel. He powered the engine and quickly reversed out of the parking space. The van shot forward, advancing along a narrow path that circled the diner and ended in a weedy, junk-filled alley behind it. The van came to an abrupt stop. Yefim and The Stick quickly climbed out.

  The Stick carried a black folded-up canvas bag under one arm. Yefim yanked open the building’s rear service door. The two men entered the back of the diner.

  At the front of the diner, Alina quickly created a scene to capture everyone’s attention. She found the diner’s workers already clumped together, buzzing about something at the service counter. The only customers in the restaurant consisted of the same Hispanic woman and her two boys, digging into their meal.

  “I was here earlier, I think I left my phone,” Alina said in her best American accent. “It’s in one of these booths, I’m sure.” She raised her voice in urgency. “Please help me find it.”

  The workers responded slowly, sluggishly, as if coming out of a collective trance. If Alina’s mission was to create a distraction, they already appeared distracted.

  “Do you remember where you were sitting?” asked the pudgy waitress with the horn-rimmed glasses. “We haven’t seen a phone.”

  “It was one of these booths.” Alina searched a random booth while keeping an eye on the corridor that led to the bathrooms. If Yefim and The Stick encountered any surprise interruptions, the body count would immediately rise.

  So far, the path was clear. Yefim and The Stick quickly moved through the cluttered storage room. They reached the corridor that led to the bathrooms.

  The Stick confronted the door that read MEN with a simple, universal icon for a male figure.

  “We go in, we secure the door,” The Stick said under his breath. “We bag the body. We move fast.”

  Yefim nodded.

  “Ready?” said The Stick.

  Yefim nodded again.

  They pushed forward, slamming the door open with a bam.

  Inside the men’s room, Tom Nolan stood at the sink, facing them. He wore a look of shock.

  “You’re alive?” Yefim said, abruptly stopping in his tracks.

  “That idiot didn’t finish the job,” said The Stick. He began to reach for his gun.

  Tom Nolan spoke up immediately in alarm. “No, no, no! I’m Alex.”

  “Alex?” said Yefim.

  “Alex?” The Stick said.

  “Where’s Nolan?” Alex asked.

  “He was in here!” Yefim said.

  “No he wasn’t,” said Alex.

  The Stick exchanged a glance with Yefim. His eyes blazed with fury. “Something went wrong. There was no switch.”

  Alex erupted into panic. “He’s getting away?” He quickly moved past them. He rushed out of the bathroom and nearly knocked over Alina, who had arrived on the scene.

  Alex dashed to the front of the diner. As he reached the long elbow of red booths, a bell jingled. Two police officers burst through the front entrance.

  Behind the counter, the black cook immediately pointed to Alex and shouted, “There he is!”

  Stunned, Alex froze in his tracks. He looked at the cook, then at the gathering of diner employees staring at him, and then at the two police officers rushing him.

  “What the fuck,” he said in a small voice.

  “Don’t move,” commanded a police officer, gun drawn. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  * * *

  As soon as Cooper’s car transitioned from the gravel parking lot to the smooth pavement of the main road, Tom unloaded. He revealed the attempted switch and his narrow escape.

  Stunned, Cooper took it all in. “I had no
idea. I failed you.”

  “They’re very clever,” said Tom. “So we have to beat them at their own game.”

  “That added touch of robbing the diner – sheer genius,” Cooper said.

  Police sirens soared in the distance. Tom rolled down his window to revel in the sweet sounds of justice.

  “They’re headed to the diner to arrest me – him – us. Once they ID him, they’ll pin him with everything Louis did, everything I did.…”

  “We’ve got to alert Giamatti.”

  “We need to protect my family,” Tom said. “I have a bad feeling that it’s not over.”

  * * *

  Inside Crossroads Diner, Alex took on two officers of the Waukegan Police Department. His attack was met with a brief spit of gunfire that did nothing to stop him.

  Alex took full advantage of his new strength and resilience, absorbing bullets and delivering blows, quickly shedding any concerns about the arrival of the law. The beatings became fun, a sport he could easily win.

  He smashed officer number one’s head on a booth table, messing up the clean surface with a sloppy spill of red that could have been ketchup, but wasn’t.

  Officer number two weighed maybe two hundred pounds – an easy lift from the ground and toss through a window. The loud shatter sent the rest of the diner occupants scattering. Workers fled into the kitchen and the Spanish family made a run for the door, leaving behind half-eaten food and spilled drinks.

  The police officer who had been briefly gifted with the miracle of flight stirred back to consciousness outdoors. Alex met with the officer before he could return to his feet, pulled him up and threw him again – through another fresh window – this time back inside the diner. The glass cuts from two smashed windows messed up his face bad enough that he stayed still.

  Alex felt good, pumped, like a superhero.

  The white van roared to the front of the diner to pick him up, kicking up a cloud of dust. Yefim gripped the steering wheel. The Stick sat straight in the passenger seat, stone faced. The rear doors opened and Alina waved Alex in.

  “Come on,” she said. “We have to go.”