Falling Sideways (41 page)

‘Simple.' She shrugged. ‘I don't love
him
. And you may be so dim you can't tell the difference, but—'

‘Meaning,' he interrupted, ‘that if you don't love him . . .'

‘All right, yes,' she snarled irritably. ‘Though I still can't think of a single thing about you that's even remotely attractive, so it's got to be programming and stupid DNA tricks. Sort of like soya-bean-substitute veal.'

‘You do love me.'

‘Yes. For crying out loud, don't go on about it.'

David didn't know what to say. In fact, he was so caught up in the ensuing maelstrom of strong emotions that he almost failed to notice the door flying open and the place suddenly filling up with massively armed and armoured policemen.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

B
loody hell, David thought, as they slammed him up against the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back, she really does love me! Who'd have thought it?

His feelings must have seeped through onto his face, because one of the policemen demanded to know what he was smirking about.

‘She loves me,' David replied. ‘Isn't that amazing?'

‘No accounting for taste,' the policeman replied. ‘Now shut your face and keep still, or I'll blow your head off.'

‘What? Oh, right. Sorry.'

Me, he thought, as they dragged him backwards through the door, she actually loves
me
, not just the face or the voice or even the whole ensemble put together. Otherwise she'd have loved that other me, too; but she didn't. That's so incredibly wonderful . . .

Then he surfaced; just in time to notice that they were about to throw him into a black van with no windows, along with the girl of his dreams and the other him. He frowned. If he allowed himself to be carted off and locked up in some cell, it could seriously disrupt his plans. ‘Hang on,' he said, ‘what do you think you're doing?'

‘Shut up and get in the ark ark rivet.'

He hadn't actually meant to do it. Instinct must've grabbed the wheel and taken control. Terribly sweet of instinct to be so concerned on his behalf, but he had the feeling that it'd just made things significantly worse—

Thunk.
He heard the noise of the rifle butt hitting the back of his head, even had time to identify it before the Sandman grabbed him by the hair and swept him away to Dreamland—

(He'd never quite trusted sleep, even when he was quite small; indeed, his childhood had been populated by nightmare monsters who snatched teeth from under his very pillow or scriggled down his chimney clutching sinister sacks and laughing like maniacs. Always at the back of his mind there'd been this feeling that sleep was out to get him; and now he knew why—)

‘Turn them back!'

His eyes snapped open, and showed him a huge purple face, only an inch or so from his own. It was frightened and very, very angry, both at the same time. David sensed that this was probably a highly dangerous combination.

‘Did you hear me?' the face snarled at him. ‘Turn them back. Now.'

Behind the face, he saw plain brick walls painted government light blue. Recent experience told him exactly where he was. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage; but when you wake up in a room painted that particular shade of blue from floor to ceiling, it's a safe bet that you're in the shit again.

‘Are you a policeman?' he asked.

‘Yes,' the face growled. ‘And don't try it. Just don't. This room is under
total surveillance
.' He was right; the face was extremely frightened. ‘You even think about turning me into anything, we'll flood the room with knockout gas and bash you to a pulp while you're asleep. You got that?'

Curious sensations these. Not so long ago, he'd learned that someone really loved him. Now here was someone who was actually afraid of him. Remarkable. He raised an eyebrow.

‘What on earth are you talking about?' he said.

The face drew back and scowled at him. ‘Don't you come that with me,' it said. ‘We know all about you, what you did. We got it on video.'

‘Got what on video?'

‘You,' the policeman hissed, ‘turning them other officers into frogs. In this very bloody room. So don't you—'

‘But that's impossible. You can't turn people into frogs.'

The policeman shot him a look of pure hatred. ‘No,' he said. ‘I can't, but you can. And if you do—'

‘No, I can't.'

‘Yes, you
can
.' He could almost hear the click as the policeman clawed back his self-control from the edge. ‘Like you did to Sergeant Hoskins when he arrested you. We got that on video, an' all.'

David shook his head. ‘I'm sorry,' he said, ‘but there must've been a mistake somewhere. Changing people's shape just isn't possible. It'd be – well, magic.'

‘So you can do magic,' the policeman roared at him. ‘Big fucking deal. Now turn them back.'

‘No, I can't.'

‘Yes, you
can
!'

David smiled placidly. ‘Prove it,' he said.

The policeman's face turned the colour of a choice Victoria plum. ‘Didn't you hear me?' he said furiously. ‘We got it all on video.'

David nodded. ‘And George Lucas has got miles and miles of film of space battles,' he replied. ‘Somehow, I don't think it'd stand up in court, though. Sorry, but you're going to have to do better than that.'

‘All right.' The click he thought he'd heard earlier was replaced by the most deafening creaking sound made by the tension-strain of the end of the policeman's rope. ‘All right, let's make a deal. What'll it take to get you to turn them back? I can talk to the judge.'

‘I bet you can,' David replied. ‘And when you start trying to prove I can do magic, I expect
he
'll want to talk to
you
. Can I see my lawyer now, please?'

The policeman stood up sharply, turned away and walked to the door. David couldn't see his face, but he was sure he heard a distinct sniffle. It made him feel a trifle guilty. After all, the man was only doing his job; or, to put it another way, obeying orders.

Carefully, so as not to startle him, David reached out into his mind and made a few delicate adjustments. He didn't change much: a few misapprehensions about frogs, a few strange beliefs about so-called magic powers, a fresh perspective on the Van Oppen murder, which hadn't in fact taken place. Nothing major.

The policeman turned round and stared at him.

‘Can I go now, please?' David asked.

‘Huh?' The policeman frowned, reaching for a memory that wasn't there any more, like someone trying to scratch an itch in a missing limb. ‘Yes, I suppose so. In fact, come to think of it, I don't know what you're doing here in the first place. You haven't done anything wrong, have you?'

‘Me?' David shrugged. ‘Don't think so.'

‘Thought not. Right,' the policeman went on, ‘you can be on your way, sorry to have troubled you.'

‘No problem. And the others—'

‘Others. Oh, you mean the young lady.' The policeman's forehead wrinkled like folded corduroy as he scrabbled desperately for a whole bunch of stuff that wasn't there any more. ‘And the bloke who looks like you. Yeah, they can go too. I'll tell the sergeant.'

‘Thanks,' David replied. ‘Have a nice day.'

Outside the police station, it was chilly and fresh, with a hint of rain in the air. David and his mirror image looked at each other for a moment in silence. Then David said, ‘You aren't really me, are you? You're the clone.'

The other him shrugged. ‘Yes, well,' it said. ‘You stitched me up, I thought I'd do the same for you. I'm sorry.'

‘It's all right,' David replied. ‘I asked for it.'

‘Thanks. And thanks for getting me off the hook with them. You could've left me there.'

David shook his head. ‘We David Perkinses must stick together,' he said, with a slightly forced smile. ‘So, what're you going to do now?'

‘Emigrate,' the other him said forcefully. ‘I was thinking of British Columbia.'

‘I've heard it's nice there,' David replied neutrally. ‘Or there's another possibility you might consider.'

‘Oh?'

David nodded. ‘Nice place,' he said, ‘so I've heard. You'd like it there, I'm sure.'

‘Why are you sure?'

‘Well.' David thought before answering. ‘If I were you – and I am, almost – I'd like it. I'd like it a lot. Really.'

‘Fine. So why don't
you
go there, and
I'll
stay here. With,' the doppelgänger added, ‘that absolutely stunning girl I saw you with, just before we got arrested. Is that the famous Philippa Levens, by any chance?'

David smiled at his double, thinking all the while that, if anything, British Columbia was too good for him. ‘Sort of,' he replied.

‘Sort of? Oh, you mean she's a clone, too? Ah well, that's all right, then. Plenty to go round.'

David's smile broadened, revealing more of his teeth. ‘Nicely put,' he said. ‘Actually,' he went on, ‘that's one of the great attractions of this place I was telling you about.'

‘Really?'

‘Oh yes. They're absolute wizards at cloning; run you up anybody you like; exact copy, molecule-perfect, while you wait. Don't even need to have a DNA sample, they've got a bit of pretty well everybody on file, it's sort of like the British Library, only with people. All you've got to do is go up to a government official and ask.'

‘Is that right?'

‘Would I lie to you?' David asked. ‘Come to that,
could
I lie to you? After all, you're me.'

The doppelgänger reflected for a moment. ‘So basically I could go there and order anybody I liked, just like a drive-through McDonald's.'

‘Exactly,' David replied, ‘only with less waiting, and no compulsory free soft furry toy. Try it and see.'

‘All right,' the doppelgänger said confidently. ‘After all, no disrespect to Ms Levens, but if I could have an exact replica of any girl in the history of the world . . . Helen of Troy,' he added. ‘Marilyn Monroe. Liz Hurley. Cleopatra. You do see my point, don't you?'

‘Absolutely. Why settle for time-crossed true love when you can have really hot chicks?'

The other him looked at him oddly, like a paranoid mirror. ‘I can't read your mind any more,' he said. ‘What're you doing?'

‘Oh, nothing. I think I may have a bad cold coming on, that's all. So, do you want to try this place I've been telling you about?'

‘You seem very keen indeed to get me to go,' the other him said suspiciously.

‘Of course. I want the very best for clones of me; you know, give 'em the start in life I never had, and all that.'

The copy thought for a moment. ‘I believe us,' he replied. ‘We have an honest face.'

‘Honest Dave,' David said. ‘It must run in the family. I should get some cards printed.'

‘Hm? Oh, I see. Don't give up our day job. Well, if this mysterious place of yours is so absolutely wonderful, why are we hanging about? Let's go there at once.'

‘Sure.' David hesitated. ‘How are we going to do that, exactly? Have you got any money?'

‘What? No.'

‘Neither have I,' David said. ‘And that's a bit awkward, this being Hammersmith and the, um, the way of getting to this other place being in Watford—'

‘Watford? Where we just were, in John's shed?'

‘That's right. Rather a long walk, I'm afraid.'

The other him scowled. ‘Bugger that,' he said. ‘I say we go right back in there and demand a ride home in a police car. After all, they brought us out here, they should damn well see to it that we get back.'

David shook his head. ‘There's a certain degree of logic in that,' he said. ‘But if you think I'm going back in there of my own free will, you're dozier than we look.'

‘All right,' grumbled the doppelgänger, ‘so what do you suggest?'

‘I haven't the faintest—' David started to say; then something caught his eye. A beat-up old yellow van had drawn up on the opposite side of the road, and the driver was waving at him. ‘Why don't we cadge a lift?' he said.

‘A lift? Who the hell with?'

David smiled. ‘Honest John.'

Of course, there was no way of knowing whether the driver of the van was John himself in person or one of his duplicates. But it was John's van, and the driver was wearing John's old warehouse coat and scuffed-up brown lace-up shoes, and John's deceptively vacant-looking grin; and when he said ‘Hello', he sounded pretty much like him. Close enough for jazz, David decided. ‘What are you doing here?' he demanded.

‘Philippa sent me to get you out,' John replied. ‘I told her not to be so daft, you'd get yourself out in your own good time. But she insisted.'

David raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty confident, weren't you?' he said. ‘More confident than I was, anyway.'

John laughed. ‘Oh, I knew you'd be able to cope. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have called them in the first place.'

Here we go again, muttered a large part of David's instincts. He managed to ignore them. ‘You called the police?'

‘'Course. After all, had to get all that stuff sorted out, otherwise they'd have been after you the rest of your life. Whole bloody country would've been overrun with frogs.' He paused. ‘You
did
get it sorted out, didn't you?'

‘Well, yes,' David admitted. ‘But it was a close shave at times. Next time you feel like solving my problems, tell me first.'

‘Close shave be buggered,' John replied scornfully. ‘Can't have taken you more than two minutes to get yourselves out of there.' His grin widened, to the point where his face was in danger of unzipping at the back. ‘Anyhow,' he said, ‘nice to see you two getting on so well together.'