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Instead of taking the tube back, I took a cab. It was faster, and I wanted to get there about the same time as the two men delivering Worley. It cost me fifty for the fare and tip and another seventy for the cabby to step on it, but it was worth it. I made it just as I saw the two men carrying a large trunk into my building.
I hid in the alley across the way and waited until they came out again, got into their car, and drove away. Walking across the street I hoped it was the last time I'd see them. They deserved to pay for killing Dangler, too, but I'd have to be satisfied to sick the BIT on them after my plan was complete. For now my targets were Worley and Sanders.
I tried to force myself to calm as I walked across the street, entered my building, and made my way to the stairs. I could have taken the elevator, but I needed more time to get myself under control. While I was understandably angry, I couldn't afford to let it get to me. If I did I was afraid I might kill Worley myself and that would ruin everything.
By the time I'd reached the fourteenth floor where my apartment was, I was breathing heavily and too out of breath to be angry anymore. I waited until I could breath right again, then walked into my apartment.
The startled look on Worley's bloodied, beaten face was worth everything I'd gone through. His left eye was swollen half shut, but his right eye was opened wide when I came in, turning into a thin slit of hatred. I could only imagine what was going through his thoughts. I smiled while he gurgled and struggled in his bonds, which held quite well.
"You shouldn't fight it," I said. "You'll only hurt yourself. Your men do good work, don't you think?"
He stopped briefly, then wiggled and grunted with even more energy. I tut-tutted, shaking my head and sat down at the kitchen counter, looking at the papers the two men had left, and the gun next to it. The papers were memos, letters, and copies of emails between Sanders and myself explaining the whole project. A couple were even signed by me. Very convincing. No doubt any evidence of the real Worley Exponent project would have ceased to exist as soon as these papers had been found.
I picked up the gun, then stepped toward Worley, making sure I waved it around in a threatening manner. I considered leaving it at that, not saying another word. I could have, and my plan would still have worked, but I had to find out some things.
Worley coughed, then spit on my shirt as I removed his gag. "Which one are you? Lawson or Thompson?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" I asked. I was finding it interesting that Worley in this position seemed so pathetic, so naked. I was in control of his destiny rather than the other way around, and I felt powerful. It was hard to believe I had been afraid of this man.
"You'll never get away with it," Worley said as I pulled the gag off. "No one will believe you're me."
"I figured that out right away," I said. "That's not why you're here."
"Then what do you want? To kill me?"
"Yes," I said, noticing his face slack perceptibly. It was good to know he could be scared. But he recovered quickly and his face hardened.
"Then get it over with," Worley said. "Either way, you're dead."
"You, too, but you're going to die because of me, but not by my hand. I won't be the one pulling the trigger. I'll leave that for justice to take care of."
"The BIT can't do a thing to me. I'm not a dupe. I have rights, unlike you. They'll be a trial and I can afford to hire the best."
"I'm sure you can," I said calmly. "But who said anything about the BIT doing it?"
"What?"
"It doesn't matter," I said. "I just have one question. Why?"
Worley set his mouth into a tight line.
"Come on," I said. "You said it yourself. I'm a dupe. Nothing I say or do means anything. I can't be used as evidence against you, and I'm sure you're thorough enough that there's no other proof, so why not tell me? I'll be terminated anyway. After this you surely want some payback, don't you? What better than to tell me why I'll die?"
Worley frowned, then nodded. "Okay, you're right. The reason for your existence is nothing more than as an experiment. I'm the best and most efficient executive in the company. Imagine if we could duplicate that. If we could have an army of only the best employees. We'd rule the financial world. So, yeah, you're nothing but a rat in an experiment. How does that make you feel?"
Not good, I had to admit, but it made sense. Still, there was more. "That's how you sold it to Sanders, but you had your own agenda, didn't you?"
Worley smiled. "Yeah. Sanders is a jerk, and I'm more qualified than he is and I'm more willing to do the rough stuff. Everyone on the board knows it. With him out of the way, Victory would be mine. I just couldn't resist." He paused, then continued. "Look, there's no reason you can't be a part of this. Let me go, and you can be rich, too. What do you say?"
I laughed. It wasn't even tempting. "You'd just kill me as soon as I let you go."
"No, it's just a business deal for me," he pleaded, but I didn't respond. Instead I put the gag back on as he continued trying to convince me. Then I put the gun back on the counter and walked out of the apartment, leaving a disposable cell phone on the floor just outside the door.
Immediately after, I called the BIT as myself and told them I had important information about Dangler and to meet me across the street at Harold's Bar and Grill. Then I walked to the end of the hall where a window overlooked the street in front of Harold's and waited until the BIT showed up. In order to make sure they stayed close for a while, I quickly called them, apologizing for not being at the bar and asked them to wait for me, explaining that I had been unavoidably delayed. They agreed.
Then I called Victory and asked for Sanders. When I identified myself as Worley they put me through right away. My conversation was short and sweet. I told Sanders to come alone to Thompson's apartment or I was going to expose him to the BIT. I stressed again not to bring anyone with him or Worley's goons would make him pay. I didn't wait for much more than the start of an argument, then I hung up, hoping that he, too, would be afraid enough of Worley to follow instructions.
Forty five minutes later I thought I'd blown it when the BIT agents walked out of Harold's and headed toward my building. They would be sure to find Worley and the papers in my apartment, which would have been fine, but I wanted Sanders, too. Then the elevator dinged and Sanders stepped off, and I knew that luck was on my side. The timing would be perfect after all.
Peeking around the corner, I watched as Sanders came to my apartment door. When he was standing in front of it, reaching for the doorknob, I hit the send button, my phone calling the disposable one. It rang and and Sanders jumped, then he instinctively reached down and picked it up.
"Hello?" he said.
"Mr. Sanders, this is Thompson. Inside of my apartment you're going to find three things. The first is Fred Worley, tied up. The second are copies of papers implicating you and me in the duping. The third is a gun that you will use to kill Fred. If you refuse, I'm going to take the originals and turn them into the BIT. If you agree, I will destroy them, disappear, and we can both go on with our lives."
"How do I know I can trust you?" Sanders asked.
"I'm a Dupe and you can prove it. You think I want to die? Besides, you have money and power that I don't. I can't fight you that way. I just want to be free."
There was a moment of hesitation, then Sanders responded. "All right, it's a deal, but just so you know, Worley had it coming, and he's not the first man I've killed."
"I take it that means you think even less of killing a Dupe."
"Yeah, so you better not cross me. You're Worley's Dupe, but that doesn't mean you have to cross me, too."
"I assure you Mr. Sanders, I'm not Worley." Then I hung up. No, Mr. Sanders, I'm not that stupid.
The elevator dinged just as the shot rang out, and I watched in utter amusement as the two BIT agents ran into my apartment, stun guns drawn. In the confusion that followed it was no problem to slip out unnoticed
.
Now, no one was looking for me. I was no longer a Dupe without a future. I was finally free to do what I wanted, not what someone else had determined for me. I was free to start a life of my own.
A Case of Identity Page 5
