Identity X

by Michelle Muckley

  Ben was aware of every movement and every person around him as he passed from the main street into one of the quieter side streets. He called Hannah three times, but the calls didn’t connect. The side streets were filled with small cafes and little shops, the kind that Hannah liked to nose around in on trips to the coastal villages in the early days of their marriage. Before the research had taken over their lives. Without any conscious thought he was following Ami’s advice and staying out of sight. Her other instruction, don’t trust anybody, had positioned itself uncomfortably at the forefront of his mind. She hadn’t even requested that he extend any trust to her. She virtually begged him to meet her and then told him not to trust anybody. She even knew his wife’s name. He knew he had never told her that.

  He knew this because Mark had been right. Ami did have feelings for him, and he knew it. He could see it in every single thing that she did in the laboratory. When he was discussing results with Phil, he would see her staring through the glass partition watching him. Watching his lips as they handled each word. She would tap her beautiful hands against the glass of his office door, hands which never seemed to be inflicted with a scratch or blemish. She would offer coffee or to collect his pastrami sandwich from the shop below. She would ask for help with procedures that he knew she understood. She listened as he spoke about his dedication to his research, kicking off her shoes to tuck her feet up underneath her legs when there was nobody else there. He had courted her attentions and had given her every reason to believe that her flirtations were far from foolish. He had allowed her to massage his ego. She was a carer who tended to him, offering attention in ways that he had forgotten that he needed. By asking for nothing, she gave him everything, and in doing so made him feel like a king. She never argued her point. She accepted. She never demand his time. Instead, she gave hers. When Ben told Mark that his work came first it was the truth. But he knew that on a handful of occasions when work was over he had still found himself sat in the office with Ami long after everybody else had returned to their lives. He had never dismissed her then. Was it so easy to dismiss her now?

  Ben decided not to approach the mall from the main entrance. He knew there was a side entrance and that it led directly to the lifts where he would be able to approach the first floor without being seen in the corridors. Even though nobody but Mark knew he was coming here he had to be careful. He slipped in quietly where the side corridor was virtually empty, the only exception a few weekday shoppers. He watched from the shadows as the lift arrived. He waited for the doors to open and made a quick dash inside. The elderly woman next to him eyed him suspiciously as he snuck inside, and she clung to her shopping bag. He realised from her reaction that he must be starting to look strange and act suspiciously, so he reminded himself of the need to go unnoticed and to blend in. He smiled at the old woman, and she smiled back because she was polite and that’s what a woman of her generation was supposed to do. He pressed the button for the first floor and waited, and when the doors opened he slipped out first.

  The first floor cafe was visible from his vantage point just behind the lift shaft. He stood with his back to the wall, concealed within the green foliage of the abundant planters. He scanned the cafe, and found Mark sitting at a table just outside. The cafe was surrounded by ornate and oversized planters, the same as the one he was stooping behind, and that was another reason that he had considered this to be a good place to meet. He had correctly anticipated that it would be quiet on a weekday, and with the greenery blocking the view it would give them plenty of space to speak privately. Mark was too visible though. They would have to change seats. He scanned the room for anything suspicious, although he knew he had no idea what that might actually be, and after deciding that everything seemed to be safe he took the first step out from behind his cover when the telephone that he was still clutching in his pocket began to buzz. He snatched it out and with urgent, fumbling fingers, answered the call. It was Ami.

  “Ben, stay behind the lift.” Ben looked over his left shoulder, and then his right. He felt as if he had been touched by a ghost, there one minute, gone the next.

  “Ami, are you...” She didn’t let him finish.

  “Shut up, there’s no time for this. They are tracking this call. Look behind the plants on Mark’s left. Recognise him?” Ben looked out from behind the lift and took a second glance. This time he saw what Ami was referring to. A man, blond hair, wearing nothing but black. He was sitting motionless with his legs crossed, his feet weighed down by heavy black boots. It was the same set of boots from the rooftops earlier on that morning. His stare was fixed ahead at the entrance to the cafe, but tucked behind the foliage to camouflage his presence. Just the sight of him made Ben’s arm throb again, and he pressed at it with the palm of his hand. “He won’t kill you here, but they will take you.”

  “Does he have Hannah?”

  “Sshh, listen. Do exactly as I say. Call Mark. Tell him there is a change of plan and you are across the city. Tell him to meet you at Twenty Second Street. Then hang up. I told you once, trust nobody. But do this, and then trust yourself. The next move is up to you.” She hung up the telephone, not leaving him time to answer.

  She spoke at such a rate that the words slipped from her tongue as if oil-coated, and he could barely comprehend all that she had said. But he was sure that Ami was trying to warn them, and she knew things he couldn’t explain. Like how she knew where he was. He had to take her advice. He held up his telephone and tried to tuck himself deeper into the foliage of the leaves, and then dialled Mark’s number. His palm was sweaty and damp as he stayed behind the cover like a soldier peering out through the bushes, just keeping Mark’s table in view. He did as Ami had told him to do and kept the call short. He gave Mark the exact instructions as Ami had relayed to him, and cut the call without explanation. With any luck Mark would walk away and lead the other man away with him.

  Beads of salty sweat trickled into Ben’s mouth as he watched the man dressed all in black. The shooters interest had been spiked, that was for sure. Ben watched as Mark put his telephone back down on the table. He looked confused and angry as he rested his forehead into his hands. He looked to be breathing heavily and seemed frustrated, momentarily bubbling over into a flash of anger as he struck his fist against the cold plastic of the cafe table. A few people witnessed his outburst, and they turned to look his way. One of them was the shooter. He was watching Mark and waiting for him to make a move.

  Mark stood up, but he didn’t leave. Instead he clicked his fingers, and the shooter stood up and walked over to him, obedient as a pup to the call of his master. They stood together talking for a moment, and Mark picked up his phone again. Ben could feel his phone buzzing in his hand. It was Mark.

  Ben silenced the telephone and stared at the screen. Had he really just seen Mark talk to the shooter? Mark had been his friend for years. It had been Mark who Ben had called on the night when the doctors explained to his mother that they should not expect his father to survive the night. The pneumonia was severe, and he was weak. It was only a month before Ben’s eighteenth birthday. Mark had waited in the corridor, surrounded by the pungent smell of perfume that his mother sprayed to mask the smell of human waste. Losing his father had been a long, slow lesson for Ben, and Mark had lived it with him. It was the first time that they both had tangible proof that life never stays the same, and that nothing and nobody lasts forever.

  Ben wanted to answer the call and tell him that he knew he had double crossed him, but he was no fool. He knew that if he answered that call Mark would know he was here. So Ben slid the telephone back into his pocket, and folded his body into the shadow of the lift. He watched as Mark, followed by the would-be killer, left the café. They walked towards the lift, and Ben felt his pulse quicken. They came within a metre of Ben, a concrete wall the only thing between them. He could hear their mumbled voices from where he crouched.

  “I’m going to go to Twenty Second Street. Did you find her yet?”
Mark spoke to his killing machine with venomous words, spitting them out like a bad taste. Ben had never heard this hateful tone in Mark’s voice. Mark was the one in control here. He wasn’t scared at all.

  “No, Sir. We are still looking.”

  “She’ll find him. Find her, and follow her. That’s how we’ll find him.”

  “Yes, Sir. What about Catherine?” Ben pressed his hands against the solid concrete panel that separated them from him.

  Who is Catherine?

  “She wasn’t to know. Leave her to do her job.” With that, Ben heard the ping of the lift as the doors opened. The two men walked inside, and their words became muffled. Ben heard the doors close and his legs buckled beneath him as the immediate danger passed, and for the second time today he found himself sat on a cold concrete floor contemplating what the hell was going on. Ami was right, he really couldn’t trust anybody. The only person that had helped him so far was Ami. He had no choice but to call her.

  “Yes?” She waited for him to speak.

  “Ami, I’m ready to meet you.” He already understood that he would receive no explanation over the telephone.

  “Good. Meet me at the park behind Seventy Fourth. I’m waiting.”

  SEVEN

  Ben had never been to Seventy Fourth Street before, or the park behind it. A narrow side street lined with coach houses led to the park. It was a dead end, surrounded by an old regal building that had been left to its own devices. It had once been a grand old place, but after a period without attention and much like love, it became less than precious, riddled with cracks, and had now been forgotten about altogether. He didn’t much care for being here, and couldn’t for the life of him think why Ami would arrange to meet him in this place. The thought that this dead end could be a trap rose poisonously in his mind, inserting doubt upon doubt, cairns set to lead him in the wrong direction. He quashed his hesitation because he had no other option, and so despite his fears, steeled himself for the moments ahead.

  He turned from Seventy Fourth Street into the narrow lane. Above him were rows of poorly constructed coach houses, abandoned and no longer in use. Old newspapers covered the windows in several layers, the deepest of which were peeling and yellow from the heat of the sun. Before him he saw the beautiful regal building, decorated with ornate iron balustrades. Underneath rows of purple Paulownia trees there was a series of benches, all rickety and rotten. The park opened out to the left and right, a T shape with the narrow lane that led up to it.

  On his first look he couldn’t see anybody. He was standing beneath the trees, heavily laden with early flowers. There was no wind here, and it felt warmer surrounded by the height of the buildings. He was hit by an overwhelming desire to bring Hannah here, and to sit with her on the benches beneath the blossoming trees. In his vision they wouldn’t speak, only sit, needing nothing more than each other’s company and the sight of Matthew playing at their feet. In his visions Matthew remained an eternal toddler, short of words and rich in love and awe for his father. He realised his reflections were always from the past, every vision born of a time before Bionics.

  He was snatched back into reality as he heard Ami whisper his name. As he turned in the direction of the voice he saw her standing in the corner of the square. She was tucked into the shadow of the great building, and she motioned for him to sit. He sat as instructed onto a bench, but his eyes never once left her face.

  Ami waited hesitantly for a moment, seconds ticking by at a pace which felt as if time had become stationary. He could see her indecision in her first cautious steps, and in the way that her eyes darted left and right, occasionally looking back over her shoulder. For a moment Ben was sure that he had seen a man dart back into the shadows of the building behind Ami. But as she approached he focussed on her presence, remembering why he was here, pushing everything else aside. Just before she sat down next to him she took a deep and fortifying breath, and he wondered why it was that she looked so apprehensive. Surely it should be him that was nervous.

  Her long casual hair that he had admired on so many occasions was wrapped neatly into a bun behind her head, and she was wearing a long Macintosh that swung open freely. For the first time that he could remember she was wearing trousers. She appeared different from his memory, beautiful still, but rather than the softly painted vision that he kept close in his mind, it was a harder edged reality in which she appeared focused and dangerous.

  “Ben, there isn’t much time. You have to listen to me carefully.”

  “Hang on, Ami.” This was his first chance to try to find out what the hell was going on, and if there wasn’t much time he sure as hell wasn’t going to hand it straight over to her. “Before you start, I need to ask you something.”

  “No, Ben. You need to listen.” This woman looked like Ami, but now he could detect a slight accent in her voice that had never been there before. It reminded him of Mr. Saad, the man who was trying to fund his continued research programme.

  “No, Ami, wait. I have to ask you some things.”

  “There will be a time for your questions but it isn’t now. At the moment your questions will get us both killed.” He didn’t interrupt her again and he sat with his hands in his lap, his muscles limp and helpless. “Ben, everything that has happened to you over the last few hours was not supposed to happen. It should already be over. We are only lucky that it is not.” Ben’s mouth dropped open in shock. Lucky? He didn’t feel too damn lucky. “You should already be dead.”

  “I know that. Somebody tried to shoot me at the lab.”

  “I’m not referring to the lab. You were never supposed to wake up today. They started it much quicker than I anticipated. If I had known I would have found a way to tell you at the bar.”

  “What bar? What did they start? Who are they?” Ami wasn’t making much sense to him. “Is this about Mark?”

  “Ben, who do you think you work for?”

  “Bionics.”

  “You work for the government. Bionics is just the public face of the Office of Scientific Weaponry Development. OSWED.”

  “The government?”

  “Yes, but not the one you see on the television, or in the newspaper. It’s the same one, but it’s the side of it that nobody knows about.”

  “Ami there is only one government,” Ben scoffed nervously.

  “That’s what I just said. There is the government that you see, the one that stands up and leads the country with clean hands. They can deny everything without ever having to lie because not even they know the truth. They are public puppets.” She took a long swallow and then met his eyes with hers. “Then there are the rest of us. The people that nobody knows about. The people that do what you might call dirty work.”

  “Ami, you’re a scientist.”

  “Correct. But I don’t work for you. I work for OSWED. They are supposed to be the people that keep you safe. It’s supposed to be about intelligence and development. They believe it is what makes your Great Country so great.” Ben could hear a certain level of sarcasm coming through in her newly accented voice. “We work outside of standard military intelligence. We don’t exist, at least as far as the rest of the world knows. That counts for the rest of the staff at Bionics.”

  “You’re telling me that I work for a secret government agency, and that all of the staff I work with knew nothing about it except for you? What have you done with them? What happened to my research, Ami?”

  “Start paying attention Ben. You’re the only one that doesn’t know anything about it. Why do you think the lab and all of the staff have disappeared? The mission was complete. Your theory had been proven and NEMREC worked.” She saw the surprise on his face, the inability to understand as his mouth hung open. She wished that she could spare him the details, but she had to be honest. If ever there was a time it was now. “You were already supposed to be dead.”

  “What the hell?”

  “They knew how good you were. They targeted you. They knew you would succeed so
they started to control everything about you. They wanted your brilliance in the palm of their hand, and they did everything they could to get it. Your friends, your wife, your whole life. It’s a set up Ben. It was all about getting NEMREC. Now you have achieved that, they don’t need you anymore.”

  “You’re saying my whole life is a fake? That’s bullshit, Ami!” He was up and off the bench now, arms flailing like compliant branches in the wind without any control over their own movement. “I have a wife. A son.”

  “It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth. It’s the first truthful thing you have heard in years. You discovered how to change people’s DNA, Ben. You know what they can do with that kind of knowledge.” She was up on her feet now too, trying to make contact with him reaching out for his arms as he span around, propelled by the inertia of disbelief.

  “I’m trying to cure disease, Ami. Not make weapons for your government.”

  “Your government, Ben. You might not be trying to make weapons, but OSWED are. They want the ability to change DNA, to build a stronger army. An elite force. They don’t want to manufacture pharmaceuticals to cure Huntington’s disease like you do. They want to make a stronger army and build weapons. They want people to be their weapons, and you have given them everything they need.”

  “And you?” He was stood still staring straight at her. “Why are you helping me if you work for them?” She sat down onto the bench, her head bowed. For a moment he thought he could see tears forming in her dark almond eyes.