They were in a small grey room. There was a metal table in the middle and metal chairs on either side. It looked like a police examination room.
Stafford grabbed his arm and they jumped again.
“They've got some kind of field,” said Stafford when they reappeared in a white corridor. The lights seemed to come from everywhere and they cast no shadows. “I can't jump more than about twenty-metres. Do you know where you need to go?”
John wiped his mouth. He was glad he hadn't eaten before he left or he'd be leaving little piles of evidence everywhere they landed. “Is there some kind of record room?”
Stafford thought about it. “Not a room. It's all on the network.”
“Timothy?”
“Yes sir, I'm on it sir.”
“What about a lab?”
Stafford nodded and grabbed hold of John again. He flinched but didn't try to fight it, he was uncomfortably aware that he would have to use the same method to get out again.
It took three more jumps to reach the main lab by which time John had found something he could throw up. He caught the thick bile in a tissue and put it in his pocket to dispose of later.
“You don't have long,” said Stafford. “This is the main lab.”
John nodded. “Thanks Staff.”
“Get a move on. I'll wait here.”
John walked away from the strange amphibious creature. His legs felt weak and his head was spinning but he could deal with that later, firstly he had to try and justify the risk he'd put his friend to.
He was in a wide open space that was about twenty-metres high. There were three doors on the bottom level and an open metal staircase that led to three more doors above. He had no idea what he was looking for so went to the first door.
It wasn't locked which was a surprise but he didn't know what security measures they had bypassed by jumping in. Full retina scans, DNA tests and vocal recognition would keep anyone without the ability to jump away.
The room beyond the door was long and thin. A single bench ran along the middle with bottles and beakers on top. He walked further into the room and his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He was trained to be able to walk without making a noise but about half-way through the room he realised he didn't need to be quite so careful as the floor was carpeted. It struck him as strange that a lab would have carpet on the floor.
The walls along the first half of the room were white and had shelves full of scientific equipment neatly arranged on them. About half-way down the room, the same place the carpet started, the shelves stopped and the wall colour changed from clinical white to pink.
A few more steps took him to the end of the room where he found a bed and in the bed he found a little girl sleeping. He bent to look at her face and saw a thirteen year old with blond hair, she looked exactly as Sandra and Sabrina must have looked at that age.
7
He checked the other five rooms and found exactly the same; a lab at the front and at the back a little girls bedroom. In each there lay a perfect replica of a teenage Sandra / Sabrina.
Stafford was waiting where he'd left him. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he said.
John shrugged, he wasn't really sure what he'd found, more questions mostly. “Lets get out of here.”
He grabbed Stafford and braced himself for the nausea but they didn't move.
“Come on,” he said.
“I'm trying,” said Stafford.
“Sir?”
“What is it Tim?”
“Sir I've managed to get into the network. They have the security feed on the same hub.”
“So?”
“Sir, they know you're here. Security guards are on their way.”
“Shit,” he said.
“What is it?” asked Stafford.
“How do you fancy working for me?” said John, aware that his friend was about to lose his job.
Before Stafford could answer the door opened and a single man walked through. Except he wasn't a single man, or at least he wouldn't stay one for long.
At the BHI they called them splitters but that wasn't their latin name. They were human looking but they had the ability to split themselves into multiple bodies if they needed to fight. It meant that a single splitter could divide into ten separate versions of himself and take on ten men. They were also ridiculously strong.
Stafford was still trying to jump but they must have done something to the room to stop him. Maybe if they could get past the splitter and out of the room they could get away.
The splitter split. It was like a prism had been held up before John's eyes but each of the bodies was perfectly solid and of equal size to the original.
“You take the five on the left, I'll take the five on the right,” said John.
Stafford looked nervous, his big mouth drooped and his giant eyes widened. John realised that without the ability to jump he didn't really know how to fight. But they didn't have any choice.
The ten identical men in black stepped forwards and when they spoke the voice came from all of them at the same time. “We don't need to make this difficult,” they said. “We just want to talk.”
John looked at Stafford and nodded. They ran forwards and as they did the ten men moved towards them, closing together so that they wouldn't be able to take them down one at a time.
It was like running into a wall made of fists. John was punched on both sides of the face at the same time, crushing his jaw. He managed to punch one of them in the stomach and he doubled over, another stepped forwards and he tried the same trick but he dodged and kicked him in the gut.
Thanks to the enhancements made by the BHI John was quick and strong but taking on five people was too much even for him. They ganged up on him and rained down punches and kicks in a perfectly co-ordinated sequence. He dodged what he could and shielded his face but he couldn't find the space to fight back.
“Sir?”
A fist in his back knocked the air from his lungs and he couldn't answer Timothy back.
“I have disabled the lock down on the room,” said Timothy. “Stafford should be able to jump now.”
It was like music to his ears. He glanced across the sea of bodies and saw Stafford buried beneath the men in black. Then his head was grabbed and his neck twisted and he lost sight of him.
There was no way he was going to be able to get across to Stafford.
“Okay,” he choked.
The men kept hitting him.
“I give up.”
They kept hitting him for a moment longer and then he was grabbed from behind and his arms were pulled up behind his back. On the other side of the room they had grabbed Stafford as well. The ease with which they had done so suggested that they could simply have grabbed them whenever they wanted. The splitter had just been playing with them.
The men pushed them together in the middle of the room. John waited until they were close enough to touch and then turned to Stafford. “Get us out of here.”
Stafford understood what he meant and with a last burst of strength, and thanks to his flexible bones, he pulled an arm free. He grabbed hold of John and they vanished.
Three versions of the splitter were touching John when they jumped but a splitter had a limited range. They were still with them when they landed in the corridor behind the room, through the open door he could see the other splits looking around in confusion. They were gone when they landed for the second time.
Three more jumps took them outside and Stafford let go of him.
“Fuck!” said the amphibian.
John dusted himself down and picked himself up.
“Fuck!” said Stafford again.
“It's not so bad,” said John, trying to sound upbeat.
“Not so bad? Are you kidding me? My wife is going to kill me.”
“I didn't realise you were married.”
Stafford nodded, “two years next month.”
They stood in silence for a moment. John remembered the o
ffer he had made Stafford of a job but he wondered if there was enough work to support them both.
“Fuck man, what am I supposed to do now?”
“Come with me,” said John. “We'll figure something out.”
8
At home things didn't get any better. As they reached the end of the street Timothy chimed in his ear: “sir, your visitor is still waiting for you.”
He nodded but didn't say anything. Stafford was walking beside him, head down, no longer caring whether anyone saw him. “She's going to kill me, we were supposed to be saving up for a holiday.”
“A holiday?” said John with surprise.
Stafford rounded on him, “what, you don't think people like me go on holiday?”
John raised his hands in defence. “Easy Staff, I didn't mean anything by it.”
Stafford looked like he wanted to punch him but then seemed to deflate. “Did you mean it? About the job.”
John didn't have the heart to tell him that business was slow. Maybe, he thought, it was time to branch out. Up until now he'd only been taking on easy captures like the class 5. It was easy money but not exactly rewarding. Maybe there were more mysteries like this one to investigate.
“Sure I did,” he said. “You and me buddy.”
Stafford's mouth widened into a toothless smile. At least John thought it was a smile. “Maybe it will be okay,” he said, sounding a little better anyway.
“It will,” said John.
They reached the house and John fumbled in his pocket for his key. He approached the door and felt a cold chill. Something wasn't right.
“Did you hear something?” he said.
Stafford didn't reply.
He turned around to check on his friend but he was no longer there.
9
“Tim?”
“Sir?”
He stood on the doorstep to his house, the keys still in the door, looking into the road for a sign of Stafford. “Is my visitor still here?”
“No sir.”
“Shit.” Something really strange was going on and he didn't like it. “Did you get a visual?”
“No sir, no visual.”
“Crap.” He turned back to the door but now he was nervous about going inside. “Run a sweep of the house,” he instructed Timothy.
A moment passed. “It's empty sir,” came the reply.
He couldn't stay on his doorstep all night so he pushed open the door and crept into the dark hallway. He withdrew his pulse gun and set it to charge. His sensitive hearing picked up movement but he couldn't tell what it was and Timothy had said there was no one in the house so maybe it was just a mouse under the floorboards.
“Where have you been?” said a soft voice.
He spun around and almost pulled the trigger. He was glad he didn't though. Marla stood in the doorway to the front room dressed in a slinky black negligee with two glasses of champagne in her hands.
“That's the second time this week you've nearly shot me,” she said. Somehow she managed to make it sound seductive.
“How did you get in here?” he said as he re-holstered his gun.
“Me and Timothy have an understanding,” she said. “Come join me; the champagnes cold and I'm hot.”
He smiled and followed her into the living room where soft music was playing from hidden speakers. He sat down on the sofa and she sat beside him, pressing herself to his side.
She handed him a glass of champagne, “cheers,” she said and clinked her glass against his.
He sipped the icy cold bubbles and looked at her. She had her long dark hair loose over her shoulders and the top of her breasts were visible. Her long legs were uncovered and curled up beneath her.
He stood up. “I'm sorry Marla.”
She looked at him with confusion.
“I can't do this right now.”
She put down her glass and stood up. Concern in her eyes. They had known each other long enough for her to realise something was wrong. “What is it?”
He told her what had happened, about the twins, about what he figured were probably clones and about Stafford. By the time he was done they were sitting on the sofa again, the champagne forgotten.
“Sounds like a mess,” she said.
He nodded.
Marla sighed and sucked her top lip the way she always did when she was thinking. “You know what you have to do right?”
“Is the chief of police advising me to pay Franklin a visit?”
“Not officially. Officially I'm telling you you're crazy and that all of this is in your head. Officially I'm telling you to seek medical help and to stay as far away from Franklin as possible.”
“And unofficially?” he said.
“I can't think of anyone else who could help.”
“The guys bat shit crazy,” he said. He'd already considered going to see Franklin but it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. The guy was a paranoid conspiracy nut.
“Maybe,” she said. “Depends on your perspective. The average person on the street would consider you 'bat shit crazy'.”
“You're not saying you believe Franklin are you.”
She looked at him for a long moment, daring him to call her out on it if she did. After a moment she shook her head. “Look, maybe half of what he says is crazy,”
“Just half?”
“Do you want my help or not?”
He could tell that she wasn't finding the banter much fun any more. He dialled it back. “Sorry, carry on.”
She eyed him suspiciously but continued. “Maybe most of what he says is crazy, but you know as well as I do that some of it isn't. If anyone can help you figure out what's going on it's him.”
She was right, she generally was, he nodded. “Are you coming with me?”
“If you want me to?”
“Might keep me from strangling him.”
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
Upstairs he got a pulse gun for her and a jacket. He wasn't expecting trouble from Franklin but the night was far from over yet.
Marla drove them in her new Hybrid. It was practically silent. John marvelled at the low state of consumer technology when compared to some of the kit the BHI had been working on. There was still a slow burn between something being invented and being made available to the rest of the world.
The journey took less than ten minutes. The streets were practically empty and streaked with white light. It looked like a painting.
She parked on the next street. “It wouldn't do for someone to see the chief of police hanging out around here,” she said by way of an explanation. “Questions would be asked.”
Remembering how quick she'd been to knock him down over the Franklin thing he simply smiled and nodded.
Franklin's flat was at the top of a run down apartment block. The sign telling them that the lift was out of order was covered in ballpoint graffiti. They had used spray paint on the walls.
It was a long way up. As they crossed the dark landing on each floor John found himself patting his jacket to make sure he still had his gun.
“Did you call ahead?” he asked as they reached the top floor. It was the first time either of them had spoken since entering the building. His voice echoed around the stark walls and made him feel conspicuous
Marla must have felt it too because when she replied it was in a whisper. “He doesn't have a phone. But he'll know we're coming.”
As confirmation of this the door in front of them swung open. The looked at each other and walked into Franklin's place.
Franklin's flat was as strange as the man himself. The walls were papered in thick layers of silver foil and there were video cameras pointing down from the corners of each room. The floor was also silver foil. He had once explained this was to keep the aliens from taking over his mind. John hadn't the heart to tell him that no alien he had ever met was interested in taking over a persons mind and that if they were a little bit of silver foil was not going to do much to stop them.
“John, Marla!”
They found Franklin in what had once been his front room but had since been turned into a rudimentary Faraday cage. He was sitting in the middle of a large double seater sofa and filled most of it. There were empty Star Burger wrappers strewn about the place like scatter cushions.
What was it about conspiracy and fast food that went so well together, wondered John.
“Take a seat, take a seat,” said Franklin, beaming.
They perched on stools opposite the fat man.
“How's the family tree going?” said Franklin.
He was just showing off how much he knew but it disconcerted John to realise it all the same. He would have words with Timothy about the security of his network later. “It's going,” he said.
“Have you found out any more about Bridgette?”
John shook his head. He didn't want to get into it with Franklin.
“And Marla, congratulations on your promotion.”
John glanced across and saw her fake a smile but she didn't say anything.
“Let's get down to business Franklin,” he said.
Franklin smiled and held out his hands.
“I assume you know why we're here?”
“Let's pretend I don't,” he said.
John sighed and went through it all over again with Franklin nodding along to it like he already knew everything that was being said.
“So you want me to tell you what exactly?” said Franklin.
“Who's behind this?” said John, “Who killed Sandra? Who took Stanford?”
Franklin nodded, of course these were the questions he had been expecting to be asked. “Well you already know that Coblance has some involvement.”
“Look, Franklin,” he said getting to his feet. “I don't really have time for this. A woman is dead and a friend is missing. I need you to tell me everything you know and I need you to tell me now.”
He was close to walking across the room and punching Franklin in his stupid fat face but he managed to resist the urge.
“You have been to see the husband, of course?” said Franklin.
“Who's husband?” said John through gritted teeth.
Three Stories Tall Page 11