SWITCHED: The man who lost his body but kept his mind.

by Bernard Gallivan

  The telephone in his room had all manner of useful facilities built in, one of which was to store in its memory the telephone numbers of the last ten callers. Acting on impulse, he made a note of Naomi’s telephone number.

  By now, in a thoroughly troubled and depressed frame of mind, he tried unsuccessfully to take his mind off his mounting problems. He tried watching an utterly boring film on television and when that proved unsuccessful, he tried reading a book on the recent history of his new dimension. That was no better so he tried cooking a meal. Finally, giving in to the inevitable, he spent another sleepless night worrying about his predicament. He almost wished he were back where he had come from, notwithstanding the police and Connor Sinclair.

  While Zak visibly wilted under the unaccustomed pressure of expanding his business empire, Phil appeared to thrive on it. It seemed to Zak that the man grew in stature and confidence with each passing day. While Zak arrived bleary eyed after yet another sleepless night, Phil positively bounced into Galviston Ford looking ever more handsome and debonair. When Thursday morning arrived, Zak was probably at his lowest ebb since his arrival in the dimension. After less than a week in his new role and much against his better judgement, he was about to double the size of his business; his wife had left him; he was friendless; and there was no one he could confide in or with whom he could discuss his problems.

  When Phil came into his office with the good news that everything would be ready for signing the following day, Zak was sorely tempted to open up his heart to this man he had grown to like and respect. Phil was uniquely placed to understand what he was going through. He and his wife had already gone their separate ways so he would understand Zak’s fears for his marriage as he would also understand Zak’s business worries. Phil must have experienced similar concerns when his own marriage turned sour and he must also now have similar business worries. After all, if the deal proved to be a bad one and Zak’s business suffered a nasty setback, whatever else happened, Phil, as the driving force behind it, would be out of a job; not that he allowed such fears to show on his face.

  ‘You look dreadful, Zachary; isn’t your new accommodation up to standard?’ he said.

  ‘No, the suite’s fine. It’s not like home, of course, but it’s certainly comfortable enough. It’s the worry that’s making me lose sleep,’ Zak said glumly.

  ‘Let me put your mind at rest then. I’ve got everything under control on the acquisition front. All you need do is sign the contract when the solicitors bring it in tomorrow. So, you can forget that side of things. By this time next week you’ll have doubled your business empire and there’ll be no stopping you.’

  ‘What about my marriage, though? It’s probably because I’ve been spending so much time on my business that my marriage is now on the rocks. Having two businesses to run will only makes matters worse.’ Zak was as despondent as he sounded.

  ‘Once again you don’t have to worry. Women love powerful men. Jen will be falling over herself to get back with you once this deal is completed. You see if I’m not right. You’ll wonder what all the fuss was about in a few weeks time when you and she are relaxing at pool side in the South of France.’ Phil had a big, encouraging grin on his face.

  ‘I wish I could believe that,’ Zak said, a half smile on his face. ‘Anyway, thanks for trying to cheer me up. You don’t know how much I’d like to explain everything to you. Who knows, you might even understand,’ he said hopefully.

  ‘Of course I’ll understand. Why don’t you try me?’ Phil beamed at him. It was clear he was on a high.

  Zak hesitated a moment longer before taking the plunge.

  ‘Do you believe there are other dimensions besides the one we live in, Phil?’

  ‘I don’t think I catch your drift, Zachary. Is this something to do with the business or your marriage?’ He looked perplexed.

  Zak ploughed on. ‘It has everything to do with both. What would you say if I told you I’m not who you think I am?’

  Phil began to look uncomfortable. ‘I don’t suppose any of us are exactly what we want others to think we are.’

  Zak shook his head impatiently. ‘I’m not talking about attitudes or impressions. I’m talking about being a completely different person.’

  ‘I don’t follow you.’ By this time Phil was definitely looking out of his depth and before it was too late, Zak realized he would be making a big mistake if he carried on.

  Beating a hasty retreat he forced a smile on his face and laughed.

  ‘That had you going for a minute, didn’t it? I bet you thought I was losing my marbles.’ He chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you were thinking it might even be your opportunity to take over the whole shooting match.’

  ‘No, honest, Zachary, the thought never entered my head.’

  Where another man might have laughed at the suggestion or even joked that, indeed, that had gone through his mind, Phil’s vehement denial suddenly sounded strange and unexpected.

  ‘Forget it, Phil. Can’t you take a joke? Zak teased.

  ‘Of course I can. It’s just that you looked so serious. Anyway, I’ve got plenty more to do before tomorrow, so I’ll see you later.’ Embarrassed, Phil hurried out.

  Zak looked speculatively at his Financial Director’s back as the man left his office. For the first time since arriving, he felt a twinge of uneasiness about the man. I suppose I did catch him somewhat off balance asking him about other dimensions out of the blue like that, he thought. If I’d been him, perhaps I’d have thought I was going soft in the head as well. Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, he got back to work.

  Try as he might to concentrate, during the rest of the day, Naomi’s insinuation about Jenny was never far from his mind. So it was no surprise that he decided, one way or another, he had to find out the truth and since it was Thursday already, that evening would be the ideal time to start. In any case, anything was better than hanging about in his hotel room worrying.

  Pretending he needed to work late, he made sure he was the last to leave that evening and when he left, instead of taking his own, new, shining car, he took an old, second-hand car someone earlier in the day had left in part exchange for the new car they had purchased. The part-exchange car was in need of a good clean and was ideally suited to Zak’s purpose. Unlike his car, it was inconspicuous.

  After leaving his showrooms, he went back to his hotel for a quick bite to eat and to prepare a flask of coffee to keep him company while he waited. He then changed into warm clothes and put on a loose jacket with a high collar. He hoped the latter would provide an extra layer of cover for what he was about to do. Even so, he didn’t like the idea of spying on his wife while she went off to play Bridge with her friends. Deep down he was sure he would be wasting his time. Almost certainly, Naomi had spoken maliciously when she made her accusation and he would prove it that very evening.

  Zak was waiting at the end of the road, tucked well down in his seat when Jenny roared by in her neat red sports car. He waited until she turned onto the main road at the end of the street before starting after her but by the time he turned onto the main road she was nowhere to be seen. There was a roundabout some two hundred yards ahead and cursing her speed as he raced towards it. As he entered the roundabout he gave a quick glance to the left and was just in time to spot a red blur at the end of the road. Braking sharply, and much to the consternation of other drivers on the roundabout, he did a one and a quarter turn and went racing back along what would have been the first left hand exit. The old car was unresponsive, smelly and had uncertain brakes but finally he was in luck when some traffic lights stopped Jenny. Of course, they turned red again just as he came up to them but, ignoring the danger, he jumped them, causing yet more hooting in his wake. It was difficult keeping Jenny in sight and he was thankful on more than one occasion that her car was so distinctive a colour because otherwise he would certainly have lost her. Eventually, she turned into a quiet road in the south of the city and stopped outs
ide a house halfway along it. Without a glance to left or right, she hurried up the short drive and knocked. The door opened just as Zak drove slowly passed.

  He almost crashed the car when, involuntarily, his arms jerked at the sight of the face he glimpsed before it disappeared behind Jenny’s head as the pair kissed. It was a face he knew well and his mind was in complete turmoil as he drove to the end of the road where he forced himself to stop. Suddenly, he found he was quite incapable of continuing. The face he had just seen kissing his wife belonged to Phil Williamson, his Financial Director.

  Chapter 10

  Zachary

  When he arrived in Kings Cross Station, Zachary, who had visited London many times before, was struck by how seedy and run-down the place looked compared with the clean and well-ordered station he remembered. Gone were the integral shopping malls and the beautiful indoor tropical garden; instead, hoards of passengers stood around guarding their luggage and anxiously watching the huge electronic departures notice board. Where he remembered passengers sitting serenely at tables drinking refreshments or eating carefully prepared meals while they waited for their train to be announced, here was a hotchpotch of overpriced take-away food stalls and the only seats provided were cunningly located immediately beneath that electronic notice board so that their users were unable to see the many minor dramas played out on that great screen. Not a single table was in sight. It was at once depressing and threatening.

  Nor was it any better outside. Filthy, litter-strewn streets, a vast hubbub of fast-moving traffic and dejected-looking people stretched as far as the eye could see. He was amazed at how crowded it was and how many foreign faces there were among the passers-by. What had happened to the London he knew? For a moment, totally at a loss to know where to start, he stood just outside the main entrance looking confused. The reality that was end-twentieth century London in this new dimension made him feel thoroughly inadequate and miserable.

  Suddenly, a voice sounded in his ear. ‘Looking for a place to stay, guv?’

  Zachary turned to see a scruffy, ferret-faced man smiling a gap-toothed smile at him. Instinctively, Zachary recoiled in panic, which caused the smile on the man’s face to disappear; instead, a look the man hoped would pass for one of kindly concern appeared.

  ‘You a stranger in London, guv?’

  Zachary nodded.

  ‘Well don’t you worry mate. Landed on your feet meeting up wiv me, you ‘ave. Expensive place is London and a lot of thieves about as well. You keep a tight hold of your wallet if you don’t want to lose it.’

  Without thinking, Zachary’s hand moved automatically to feel where his wallet, bursting with the money his brother had given him, nestled in an inside pocket. The little man nodded appreciatively.

  ‘That’s right, mate, you make sure you keep it safe. Now, if you’re looking for somewhere to stay for a few days and you don’t want to be ripped off, I know just the place for you. It’s clean and comfortable and it won’t cost you an arm and a leg like some places I could name. It’s near all the sights, too.’

  The man obviously took him for a tourist and it was this that brought Zachary out of his panic attack. He was here because he had a job to do and he still had no clear idea how he would set about it, but staying in Central London was definitely not part of the plan. He needed to get away from this shifty-looking scoundrel who was already reaching for his holdall. Quietly but firmly, Zachary drew his bag to one side and out of reach of his ‘friend’s’ clutching hand. The next thing to do was to disengage himself politely from this fellow who, while he almost certainly was a crook of some sort had, so far, done nothing to cause offence.

  ‘Thank you for trying to help me but I’m not staying in London. I’m on my way down to Croydon.’

  Immediately a look of disappointment swept over the man’s face. ‘You could ‘ave said that straight orf,’ he snarled, already beginning to move away to find another likely customer.

  ‘Do you know the best way to get here?’ Zachary called after the man’s rapidly disappearing back.

  ‘What do you take me for, a bleedin’ information service or somefin’? The man called his coarse reply over his shoulder just before the milling crowd swallowed him up. All pretence of friendship had disappeared.

  But Zachary’s enquiry had not fallen entirely on deaf ears. A tough-looking young man had been pushing by at the precise moment Zachary’s earlier friend had given him such a dusty and unfriendly reply. He stopped immediately in front of Zachary and demanded:

  ‘Where did you say you want to go, mate?’

  Having lived so long in a dimension where people were much more reserved and respectful of other people’s personal space, and in Edinburgh where such attitudes were often taken to extremes, Zachary was initially taken aback by the intrusion, but he was a fast learner and hesitated only for a moment. In any case, it appeared that the young man was genuinely trying to be helpful. Zachary gave a returning smile and told him where he wanted to go.

  The young man might have worked for the railway company; either that or he lived in or near Croydon because he proved to be a mine of information and quickly spelled out the options. After thanking the young man, Zachary headed off in the direction indicated. As he walked, Zachary wondered, did no one care what the place looked like?

  The train to East Croydon proved to be dingy but comfortable and three quarters of an hour later Zachary brought the other Zak’s body back home.

  His first priority was to find some cheap lodgings and after tramping the streets for a few hours, he settled for a room in West Croydon. His new landlady was an unmarried West Indian girl wanting to make some extra money to help bring up her two young children. Her house was in a tiny side street and was tidy and cheerful inside. The owner was half his age and her name was Olivera. Her two children aged four and two, were called Kingsley and Madonna. Zachary later discovered that Olivera’s first boyfriend, who was also Kingsley’s father, had disappeared without trace as soon as he realized Olivera was pregnant. The second boyfriend, Madonna’s father, was presently in jail for a whole string of aggravated burglaries and was not due for release for another year.

  ‘He’s a good boy, really,’ she confided, ‘and he can’t do too much for me and the kids. But he don’t have a job so that’s why he goes thieving, see.’

  The explanation seemed entirely satisfactory to her and Zachary, with enough troubles of his own, decided not to delve any deeper into Olivera’s somewhat complicated family life. He was mindful that the forces of law and order were bound to be closing in on him, not to forget the threat posed by Sinclair and his heavies. But the truth was, he had no idea just how tight that net had already closed.

  Up in Edinburgh, Max’s boy’s were still kicking their heels and feeling fed up with all the hanging about. Like their boss, they too were amazed there’d been no further nibbles from Zak Storie and thinking he may now be using a new name to go with his disguise, they spent hours going through videotape after videotape, all to no avail.

  ‘I reckon the slimy bastard’s done another runner,’ Wild Bill confided to Leo Snell.

  ‘Yeh, dun a runner,’ came the reply.

  They were men of action and the hanging about played on their nerves. Leo was desperate to get back to the gymnasium where he trained every day while Bill was missing his girl friend. Bill rang his boss to report his suspicions but Connor was not convinced.

  ‘Come on! He just won two hundred and fifty quid, didn’t he? I say we give him a couple of days more to stick his head above the parapet. If you still haven’t heard anything from him by then, come on back. In the meantime, keep looking.’

  Leo was not pleased when Bill passed the message on. Already he could feel his muscles beginning to soften but neither man dared disobey their boss. Tough as they were, they knew there were plenty more where they came from. Fortunately, there was only one Connor Sinclair, for which the rest of humanity could be extremely grateful.

  Nor was Ch
ief Inspector Connelly pleased, either. After getting within yards of his quarry, Storie had since disappeared without trace. It was almost as if he were no longer in Edinburgh. It seemed unlikely, but Connelly wondered if Storie knew just how close the police had come to catching him. The Lothian police were now watching all stations and airports but, so far, without success. There was only so much they could do and already he’d received complaints about the amount of valuable police time the surveillance was taking up. Connelly hoped Storie would ring his wife a third time and that the call could be traced quickly enough for the police to get men to wherever Storie happened to be at the time. It was a tall order, but what else could he do?

  Zachary spent the following morning in Croydon's public library in Katherine Street reading all the recent newspaper articles relating to the murders he was supposed to have committed. He examined the nationals as well as the local newspapers and from them gleaned lots of new information about the crime, as well as about himself and his previous dubious lifestyle, none of which was flattering. Although he had no idea who was passing information on to the press, it seemed that various of his ‘close friends’ were falling over themselves to cash in on his misfortune. The press stories served one useful purpose, however; they provided him with a valuable list of names. This included those of the detectives involved in the enquiry as well as that of the finance company his alter ego had been working for when he temporarily diverted the funds intended to buy peace of mind for the late Prentices. There were also other useful addresses, including an address out in Streatham where the Prentices’ once lived.