“He sure looks like the artist,” I said to Ari. “It’s kind of spooky, in fact.”
As we approached, Spare14 glanced up and smiled, then scattered the last of the bread for the flock and stood. He crammed the empty paper bag into the briefcase. He stepped carefully around the feeding birds and walked over to meet us.
“O’Grady and Nathan, I believe.” He sounded British, middle class, mostly. “I’m Austin Spare Fourteen.”
I murmured a “How do you do?” and we all shook hands.
“Doubtless you’re wondering about the fourteen,” Spare14 continued. “It’s a bit difficult to explain, but I’ll try as we proceed.” He glanced around, then pointed to a nearby picnic table. “This seems to be the best we can do for seating arrangements.”
We all sat down, myself and Ari on one bench, Spare14 on the other across the table. He put the briefcase on the bench next to him, then made a tent of his fingers and considered us pleasantly.
“I’m trying to decide how to begin,” he said. “I suppose that bluntness is best. Doubtless you realize that I come from a different though parallel world.”
“I’d suspected that,” I said, “but I couldn’t be sure.”
“In many ways my world is far more technologically than yours, for reasons that are quite complex. For example, I happen to be a clone. When the great artist died, a number of his cells were harvested with permission from his kin. A full line of clones was developed from them over the years. I’m the last, I’m afraid. Genetic material weakens with time. And that is why I am Austin Osman Spare Fourteen.”
Ari’s entire body drooped into his look of extreme martyrdom.
“He’s not having a joke on you.” I’d run an SPP and could speak confidently on the subject. “I can tell he’s sincere.”
“I was afraid of that,” Ari said.
Spare14 smiled, a little ruefully. “I knew this would all come as a shock to you.”
Ari nodded. “More so to me than to O’Grady.”
“I’ll admit to being surprised,” I said. “Before we move on, I have a question. In our world the original Spare’s work was barely known. He lived in poverty, obscurity, and surrounded by cats. But in your world—”
“He was famous, successful, and quite rich, really. The cats, however, were present in abundance. I have more than a few myself.” Spare14 smiled as if the thought of owning lots of cats pleased him. “I’ll tell you something I’ve realized over the years. While doppelgängers, like clones, share their genetic makeup and their basic personalities and talents as small children, how they develop as they grow varies widely, depending on the world around them. To oversimplify, the original Spare fit very well in my world. He was sadly misplaced in yours.”
“That makes a lot of sense. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, as things worked out, I have only a modicum of my noble root stock’s artistic ability, though I did inherit a talent for police work from his father.”
“And so you’re an Interpol officer,” I said. “Not an artist.”
“Exactly. I have been for twenty some years now. I’m part of a special unit with top secret status, which is why, Nathan, you couldn’t find my data online. I’ve been told that you confirmed my standing with two of our superiors?”
“I did, yes,” Ari said.
“Good. Your caution is commendable.” Spare14 paused to open the briefcase. “Any more questions so far?”
“None that can’t wait,” I said.
Ari shrugged.
“I have three goals,” Spare14 began, “and I hope this meeting will lead eventually to reaching them. First, of course, there’s the question of the Belial entity. Second, my unit would like to liaison with O’Grady’s agency on an official and permanent basis.”
“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” I said. “Interpol or your secret unit?”
“The unit, a very specialized part of Interpol.” Spare14 glanced at Ari. “It was formed to deal with crimes that cut across deviant world levels.”
“I see.” Ari’s tone of voice implied that he regretted doing so.
“Which brings us to my third goal,” Spare14 continued. “Nathan, we’d very much like you to apply to join us. Your weapons skills are first rate. You speak a good many languages. Your relationship with O’Grady indicates a certain openness to new ideas.”
Ari opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Spare14 leaned onto the table on folded arms to get a clear view of Ari’s expressions. “You’re already a seconded officer, I believe?”
“Yes,” Ari said. “I hope you couldn’t find the name of my primary agency.”
“I couldn’t, no.” Spare14 smiled briefly. “It’s none of my affair, really. If you choose to become one of us, your standing in the unit won’t affect your first position. You’ll simply move laterally within the Interpol structure.”
“Fair enough,” Ari said. “This unit is what?”
“Trans-World Interpol X Team.” Spare14 bobbed his head in apology. “I’m afraid the acronym comes out to TWIXT. Betwixt and between, you know. More than a bit silly, but there you are. It was established long before I had any say in the matter. They added the X merely to prevent the acronym from turning into TWIT.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Spare14 sighed. “I’m afraid that some of the persons involved in its creation didn’t speak English as a first language.”
Ari was sitting very quietly, staring out across the green lawn with an expression I can only call gob smacked. I’ll admit to feeling somewhat the same myself. Spare14 rummaged in the briefcase and took out two pieces of paper, ordinary office paper covered with Times Roman printout. He handed one to me and one to Ari.
“I thought it best to give you both some notes on the unit’s function. O’Grady, you’re going to have to report to your superiors, of course. I know how hard it is to remember this sort of startling information.”
“Very considerate of you.”
“And, Nathan, you’ll need to have the data as well. Please consider our offer carefully.”
Ari made a strangled sort of noise that might have been “thank you.” I glanced at the printout, which had headings like “Function of TWIXT” and “Considerations for Recruitment,” all very ordinary in their odd little way. I folded it and put it in my shoulder bag. Ari glanced at his, then also folded it and slipped it under his jacket into his shirt pocket.
“I see you’re armed,” Spare14 said to him.
“Oh, yes,” Ari said. “Any objections?”
“None, if you think it necessary.” Spare14 paused to twist around on the bench and look behind him. “Um, is this a dangerous situation?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Ari said. “I like to be ready in case it becomes that way.”
“This particular world level,” I put in, “is currently in a state of Chaotic imbalance.”
“Yes, indeed it is.” Spare14 closed his briefcase before continuing. “That’s one reason I’m here. We at TWIXT have been considering liaising with your agency for some time. It’s the only possible point of contact with your government that we can see.”
“I’ll agree with that, for sure,” I said. “No one else would ever believe you exist. Do you have linkage with any other governments?”
“No, none directly. Only through Interpol, but even there, only two or possibly three people know. I say possibly because the third person is highly skeptical. We decided that the United States was the logical national entity to approach.”
“Why? Because of our superpower status? Or because we tend to believe all kinds of really weird crank ideas?”
“I prefer to think of it as your being open to new possibilities. In return, we can offer your agency something that you must need, that is, a police unit with cross-world capability. We have operational databases we can put at your disposal, for example, and various other support services.”
“For instance, taking suspects like Belial of
f our hands?” I said.
“Exactly, and we can ensure that they come to trial in an appropriate manner on their own worlds of origin. TWIXT operates under the same principles as Interpol. We follow the laws of whatever world or country we work in. We are not loose cannons. Nathan can tell you that.”
“True,” Ari said. “You’ll remember that I had to answer to the NCB back home when I shot Johnson.”
“Yeah, I do, and I was impressed. I need to consult with my superiors.”
“Of course,” Spare14 said. “If they’d like, I’d gladly travel to your main office for a face-to-face meeting.”
“All right, I’ll take this all under advisement. As to your other goal, I’m afraid I can’t hand over Belial without consulting with the higher-ups as well. They’ve ordered me to proceed with caution.”
“No doubt,” Spare14 said. “I understand completely. Javert has the suspect’s body in custody already. It appears to be in some kind of deep sleep.”
I had a sudden twinge of conscience. “I hope they can reunite the two halves. I’ve got his consciousness saved on a flash card. He deserves a fair trial, not an automatic death sentence.”
“You’ll have to give them that camcorder,” Ari said, “along with the card. Up to them to figure it out.”
“Which I’m sure Javert’s department can do,” Spare14 said. “They have that device that allows them trans-world travel of a sort, after all. Javert assured me that it has some property that will allow them to send the suspect back to his proper body.”
“Beam me back in, Scotty,” I said.
Both men gave me sour looks. I ignored them.
“I can tell you a little more about this species,” Spare14 went on. “We’re all very lucky that they live underwater. With their high intelligence and psychic abilities, they’d be a menace to every other world if they could move about freely. As it is, if your superiors decide to remand the suspect, Javert will have to travel in a special vehicle, a mobile water tank, in essence.”
“Is his world a deviant level of Earth,” I said, “or another planet?”
“I’m not at liberty to give details.” Spare14 paused for an apologetic smile. “Not right now, at any rate.”
The meaning was clear: only if the Agency agreed to liaison with his unit would he be allowed to share that intel.
“If they’re underwater,” I continued, “how do they get their devices to work? I know the camcorder’s not going to function soaking wet.”
“They do have air bubble chambers of some sort.” Spare14 thought for a moment. “And many of their machines operate on water pressure and the heat rising from underwater vents. You know, otherwise I don’t really know. I’ve never been there myself. I must ask Javert next time we communicate.”
Spare14 delved into his briefcase again and brought out a large paperbound book that looked just like every Civil Service crammer I’d ever seen, except this one had “Security Rating 1: Recruit” stamped in big red letters across the front cover. My hands itched, as they do when I see information I need.
“My dear Nathan, let me urge you to sit the examination.”
Spare14 gave Ari the book. I got a glimpse of the title: Examination Preparation, Grade 1, TWIXT. Ari caught me looking and turned the volume over to reveal a blank white back cover. Had we been alone, I would have kicked him.
“I suggest you read this material before you make your decision,” Spare14 was saying. “If you decide against joining us, nothing will change or happen to you. No one would believe you if you tried to reveal our existence, but you don’t strike me as the sort of man to leak intel to the unauthorized. Neither, of course, are you, O’Grady. Er, that sort of woman, I mean.”
Ari glanced my way with a small exasperated snort. I was tempted to indulge in a little aggressive questioning, but when I looked across the lawn, I saw an angel standing about twenty yards away, beckoning to me from among the eucalyptus trees bordering the meadow. I stood up and stared at both Spare14 and Ari as coldly as I could manage.
“I’ll let you discuss this in private,” I said.
Spare winced, but my sneer had no effect on Ari. “Don’t go too far,” was all Ari said.
“Just across the lawn.” I pointed at the angel. “Over there.”
I trotted off. Since I’d just seen the false image of the boy, I was suspicious of this sighting at first. I gathered Qi between my hands and coaxed it into a ball, ready to defend myself if necessary. As I got closer, I recognized St. Maurice, a tall male figure, gleaming white like new marble, in a Roman tunic and breastplate with a gladius, the Roman stabbing sword, slung from his belt. His wings stretched out in greeting, then folded neatly along his back.
“Ave salveque, magne,” I said and tossed the gathered Qi aside.
He smiled at the designation of “great one.”
“Salve.” He held up one hand in the Roman style of greeting, then jerked his thumb in the direction of the bench. “Quis magus? Et cur adest?”
Who’s the magician? he wanted to know. And why is he here?
“Non magus,” I said, then realized that if there was a Latin word for “Interpol officer,” I certainly didn’t know it. “Custos populorum—” I began.
“We can speak English if you prefer,” St. Maurice said. “Now that I’m dead, it’s all the same to me.”
“Gratias, thanks. He’s an Interpol officer, a policeman. Sort of like the Praetorian Guards. He just looks like the magician Austin Spare.”
“Ah, I see. Does he serve the Good and the Highest?”
“I don’t know. I’m assuming so. Can you find out?”
St. Maurice shaded his pale eyes with one white hand and studied the two men across the lawn. A flickering sphere of yellow light appeared above the table, then slowly descended to surround them. I saw Ari grab the sensing device from his shirt pocket. Distantly I heard a high-pitched beep. The light disappeared.
“Good enough,” St. Maurice said. “Eo credas et Judaeo etiam.”
You may trust both him and the Jew. I had no idea how he knew Ari’s ethnic identity, but considering that Maurice was both an imperial Roman and a Christian martyr, he was being remarkably open-minded about it. Maybe that, too, came from being dead. It must sort out your priorities for you.
“Gratias, magne,” I said.
“Vale, filia.”
I wanted to ask him about Cryptic Creep, but he disappeared in a quick flash of silver light.
As I walked back to the bench, I realized that Ari and Spare14 had stopped talking. They were staring at me instead.
“Is something wrong?” I said.
“I look up,” Ari said, “and you’re standing in the middle of the sodding lawn talking to the empty air.”
“I happened to be speaking with St. Maurice.”
Ari’s eyes drooped in sour resignation. I noticed that he was still holding his gadget.
“Er,” Spare14 said, “a vision?”
“No,” I said. “His scan set off Nathan’s alarm.”
Ari muttered in Hebrew and stuffed the gadget into his shirt pocket. Spare14 tried to run an SPP on me, but I deflected it.
“Ah,” I said, “you are a fellow psychic. I thought so.”
“Not a natural one.” Spare14 kept his voice level, but I could feel his annoyance at being caught out. “I followed my esteemed rootstock’s methods for years before I developed a few paltry talents.”
“This past month or so, I’ve felt someone looking my way, every now and then. Well, I’ve felt two persons, but one was malicious, and the other one, okay.”
“I was the fellow without malice, I assure you. I owe you an apology for spying, but I did need a look at you before I approached you openly.”
“Apology accepted. This kind of surveillance—is it how you gained access to Nathan’s confidential report about the Agency? Peccavis, you told me.”
“You’re a very clever woman, O’Grady,” Spare14 paused for a sigh. “And that’s all
I’m going to say on the matter.”
“Nola,” Ari said, “you’re the head of the Apocalypse Squad. I want to look into this business of joining TWIXT.” He paused. I could feel him gathering himself for a psychological effort. I waited. I knew how much macho pain it cost him when he finally asked, “Do I have your permission?”
“Yes,” I said. “If you both agree that I can file a report to the Agency on the matter.”
“Most assuredly,” Spare14 said. “I understand.”
“Nothing would stop you, anyway,” Ari said.
Spare14 dug into the briefcase again and brought out a black carrier bag, made of Kevlar or some similar material. He slid the examination book inside, then secured the zippered flap with a small combination lock.
“Here you are.” Spare14 passed the bag across the table to Ari. “Do be careful with it.”
“Of course.” Ari managed to keep from looking my way. “I’ll give your offer serious consideration.”
“And my dear O’Grady.” Spare14 leaned toward me with a smile I can only call unctuous. “I do hope you’ll give your agency a good report of our meeting? As I said, I’m quite willing to travel if necessary to lay our proposal before its directors.”
“I’ll pass everything along,” I said. “Not a problem.”
We shook hands all round, and the meeting ended. Spare14 returned to his bench in the sunshine. As we walked away, I glanced back to see him taking a bag the size of a throw pillow out of his briefcase. Birds flew down and squirrels came running to flock around his feet as he began scattering popcorn. I began to wonder if the briefcase came from the same workshop as the TARDIS. It seemed a lot bigger on the inside than on the out.
Ari and I headed across the lawn toward the general area of our car.
“So you decided to join the unit?” I said.
Apocalypse to Go Page 7
