by Ray Green
‘We-ll,’ she mused, her head tilting to one side and her brow puckering in a thoughtful frown, her lips forming a slight pout, ‘I guess that would be OK.’ After a second or two, her pensive expression gave way to the professionally-honed smile once more. ‘Sure – just give me a moment.’
She dialled the number, while Stephen anxiously waited. After about twenty seconds she placed the handset back in its rest.
‘I’m sorry, there’s no answer.’
‘Dammit!’ he hissed, under his breath, slamming his hand down on the counter in an involuntary gesture which made a surprisingly loud bang.
Her male colleague, standing a few feet to her right, turned towards the sound. ‘Everything alright, Kirsty?’
‘Sorry,’ sighed Stephen. I just—’
‘It’s OK, Rod,’ she said, ‘everything’s fine.’
The man stared at Stephen for a few seconds, before warily turning back to face the guest he had been dealing with.
She placed a reassuring hand on Stephen’s arm. ‘Look, I think I’d better call the manager. Maybe he can help you.’
She moved away from Stephen and picked up another phone from a desk by the back wall. She dialled a number, turning away so that her back was towards him. When she began speaking she had lowered her voice; he could only make out brief snatches over the general background noise in the hotel lobby.
‘… this guy … claims he’s a … yeah, his wife. No … says he lost it … an accident … Well, yeah … his head’s all …’
Stephen gave up trying to discern what she was saying. He gazed, once more, at the banner advertising the conference, this time noticing some open double doors just behind it, flanked by two men in dark suits. As Stephen looked beyond the doors he could see that there was some kind of black-tie function going on in the room, with men in tuxes and women in elegant evening gowns gathered in small groups, chatting and sipping cocktails.
A memory stirred. The pre-conference party! It was a gathering to allow conference attendees to meet and mingle before the conference proper.
The cogs churned for a few seconds, before a dawning realisation settled: I’m supposed to be in there!
The two gatekeepers were ushering a few more guests into the room. Stephen’s gaze remained fixed on the scene, but his brain was only dimly registering what his eyes were seeing: all his mental faculties were now fully occupied with trying to process these new memories which were coming back to him.
But then, suddenly, the sight in front of him shook him back to full consciousness with a jolt. The woman waiting to be admitted to the room looked instantly familiar. The long, slightly wavy, blonde hair tumbling down her lightly-tanned back, laid bare by the deeply plunging cut of the back of her long, black evening gown; the willowy figure; the elegant walk, as the man on the door ushered her through.
‘That’s her!’ he gasped, but the receptionist, still intent on her phone conversation, seemed not to hear him.
Without further thought, he rushed over towards the double doors. One of the men at the door raised a restraining hand.
‘Excuse me,’ said Stephen, ‘I’m supposed to be in there.’
‘Do you have your ticket?’ enquired the man.
‘I … er, well, no … I’ve lost it.’
The man eyed Stephen up and down. The borrowed, slightly ill-fitting jacket and open-necked shirt were hardly in keeping with the general dress code in the gathering beyond the doors. The bandage binding his head probably didn’t help, either.
‘Well, can you tell me you name, sir?’
‘Yes, of course … Stephen Lewis … Doctor Stephen Lewis, Oxford University. I’m here with my wife. I’ve just seen her go in.’
‘OK … let me just check the guest list.’ He raised the clipboard he was holding and ran his finger slowly down the sheet of paper attached to it. ‘Yes, I have it here … Doctor and Mrs Stephen Lewis.’
‘Thank you,’ sighed Stephen. ‘Now if you can just—’
His path was blocked by the other man, a shorter, stouter figure, probably in his fifties, and almost completely bald. He wore round, wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘Could you perhaps, show us some I.D. Doctor Lewis?’
‘I don’t have any,’ snapped Stephen, his exasperation now starting to bubble over. ‘And perhaps you can tell me who you are?’
‘Derek Schultz, Head of Hotel Security,’ he replied, his voice calm and level, in contrast to Stephen’s rather agitated tone.
He was a good eight inches shorter than Stephen but appeared anything but intimidated as he looked up at him through the thick lenses of his spectacles. The name suggested German heritage, but the accent was pure Floridian.
‘Look, I’m sorry to have raised my voice like that. I’ve been involved in … an incident. I was attacked by some thugs in the street. That’s how I got this injury’ – he pointed to the bandage around his head – ‘and it’s how I lost all my papers. My wife’s in there somewhere. She doesn’t know what’s happened … I have to speak to her.’
The man regarded him through narrowed eyes for several long seconds. ‘You will appreciate, Doctor Lewis, that we have to be extremely careful about ensuring we check carefully that—’
‘Wait!’ cried Stephen. ‘Look, there she is: the tall woman with her back to us in the black evening gown.’
The man’s gaze followed Stephen’s pointing finger, turning back to face him again once he had also seen her. ‘That is your wife?’
‘Yes, and she hasn’t seen me for four days. I’ve been in hospital … she’ll be worried sick.’
Schultz’s round face puckered in a sceptical frown, his lips pursed as he appeared to weigh up what Stephen was saying.
‘Look, why don’t you just take me to her? She’ll be able to identify me and we can clear all this up.’
Schultz exchanged a brief glance with the man on the other side of the door. Some sort of unspoken signal seemed to pass between them before the shorter man’s expression softened.
He released a weary-sounding sigh. ‘OK, Doctor Lewis, let’s go and see your wife.’
‘Thank you,’ breathed Stephen.
The other man laid down his clipboard on the table alongside him. ‘Shall I come with you?’
Schultz waved a dismissive hand. ‘No, stay here on the door. I’ll take Doctor Lewis over to his wife.’
Emma still had her back to them as she chatted to two other women. As Stephen and Schultz approached them, Schultz cleared his throat, noisily, to attract her attention. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Lewis …’
She turned around, looking expectantly into the security chief’s face.
‘I have someone here to see you.’
She turned her gaze towards Stephen. The relief he felt at seeing her beautiful face once again, and finding that she was unharmed, was almost overwhelming. Tears sprang, unbidden, from the corners of his eyes as he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders.
‘Emma, thank God you’re safe.’
She recoiled, shaking herself free from his hands. ‘I’m sorry … do I know you?’
The words hit him in the solar plexus like a pile driver.
Chapter 5
‘Emma,’ he gasped, wracked by confusion, ‘what’s the matter? Is this some kind of joke?’
Her brow furrowed as she inclined her head to one side. ‘A joke?’ she said. ‘I … er … I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand. I think there must be some mistake here.’
He couldn’t quite process what he was hearing; it was unreal – like some sort of weird dream. ‘Emma … please don’t do this. You’re scaring me.’
She looked enquiringly at the security chief, whose expression was a bizarre mix of concern and bewilderment. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t know this man.’
‘Emma … I’m your husband, for Christ’s sake. Why are you doing this?’
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘My husband?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I really don’t know what
you are talking about. My husband is right here.’
She turned and took a few paces towards a group of four men who were engaged in their own conversation, apparently oblivious of the drama playing out just a few yards away. She tugged at the sleeve of one of the men.
‘Stephen, I think you’d better come over here.’
He excused himself and came over, facing Stephen directly. He was tall and of muscular build, his physique not unlike Stephen’s own. He was probably about the same age, too.
‘What’s going on here?’ he said, glancing alternately from Stephen to Schultz, his expression wary. The accent was English.
Stephen’s head was spinning wildly now. He grabbed Emma’s shoulders. ‘Emma what the hell is this all about? Who is this guy?’
‘Hey back off, mister,’ the newcomer growled, grabbing Stephen’s arm and lifting it from Emma’s shoulder, forcing himself between the two of them. ‘I’m her husband. Who the hell are you?’
Schultz placed the flat of his hand against Stephen’s chest, gently pushing him back. He raised his other hand high in the air and made a rapid beckoning gesture. Two very large men in black suits materialised from somewhere at the back of the room and began weaving their way between the other guests.
‘He’s lying,’ protested Stephen. ‘He must be forcing her to say these things.’ He pointed an accusing finger at the stranger. ‘Who are you … really?’
‘I’m her husband, Doctor Stephen Lewis.’
‘This is crazy … I’m Doctor Stephen Lewis.’ He looked in desperation at Schultz. The two heavies were now right behind him, waiting for instructions. ‘Look, I can prove it.’ He held up his left hand. ‘We have matching wedding rings, see?’ He turned to face Emma. ‘Show him … show him your ring.’
She sighed, raising her eyebrows and giving a small shake of her head. She held out her hand to display … a two-tone band of white and yellow gold … with no inset stones.
‘But that’s impossible … we both had matching rings. That’s not your wedding ring. It must be … I … What’s happening here?’
The imposter placed his own left hand on Emma’s wrist, revealing that he, too, was wearing a two-tone band, identical to that which graced her ring finger.
Stephen felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, squeezing hard as he struggled to process what was happening.
Schultz gave a brief nod, and the two heavies stepped forward, each taking one of Stephen’s arms.
‘No!’ cried Stephen. ‘I don’t know what this guy’s game is, or how he’s forcing Emma to say these things, but he’s not Stephen Lewis.’
‘I’m so sorry to have bothered you Mrs Lewis. It won’t happen again,’ said Schultz.
‘No … Emma, you have to tell them,’ cried Stephen. But she merely took a step backwards, sending him a pitying look.
They led Stephen away.
***
One hour later, he was ensconced in the hotel security office. Schultz was sitting, arms folded, on the edge of a desk looking down upon Stephen, who was slumped in a low armchair. Behind the other desk in the room sat one of Schultz’s minions, evidently waiting for instructions. More ominously, in the corner, sat a police officer – thankfully, not the unhelpful bastard who had interviewed Stephen in the hospital.
‘Look,’ murmured Stephen, still reeling from the deeply unsettling and totally inexplicable encounter he had just experienced, ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on out there, but that guy is not me.’
‘Well, self-evidently he is not you,’ replied Schultz, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘but the question is, who exactly are you?’
A spear of anger lanced through the fog of fear and confusion which had gripped him. ‘I am Doctor Stephen Lewis,’ he insisted. His head was now pounding with an overwhelming ache.
‘So why does the lady—’
‘My wife,’ he interrupted.
‘Of course,’ replied Schultz, his voice dripping with ill-concealed scepticism, ‘… so why does your wife not recognise you? Why does she insist that the other man – the man you say is an imposter – is actually her husband, Doctor Stephen Lewis?’
Stephen hung his head, shaking it despondently.
‘Come on, help me here … help me understand,’ pressed Schultz.
Stephen lifted his head, making eye contact with the security chief. ‘They ... they must be somehow forcing her to do this.’
‘Forcing her … hmm … and why, exactly, would they be doing that?’
‘I … I don’t know,’ he admitted.
‘And who, in any case, are “they”?’
Stephen shook his head, helplessly; he had no answers.
‘Well?’ prompted Schultz, evidently losing patience fast now.
‘Look,’ pleaded Stephen, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but if I could just have a few minutes alone with her, maybe I could find out what—’
Schultz shook his head, firmly. ‘Out of the question, I’m afraid. I can’t risk another scene like the one we just had.’
Suddenly, an idea came to Stephen. ‘Do you have CCTV covering your reception desk?’
‘Well, yes … of course we do.’
‘Then go back and check the footage for last Thursday … March 2nd. You should be able to see Emma and me checking in. That will prove who I am.’
Schultz’s lips formed into a thoughtful pout as he stroked his chin for a few seconds. At length he turned to his colleague seated at the computer on the other desk. ‘OK Leyton, just check it will you? Last Thursday.’
‘Sure … just give me a minute or two.’
‘Thank you,’ sighed Stephen.
The police officer, who had said very little so far, was evidently getting restless. ‘Look, do you still need me here? Has anything criminal actually taken place?’
‘Just bear with us for a little longer if you don’t mind,’ said Schultz. Stephen thought he could detect a hint of irritation in the security chief’s voice; whether it was directed towards him or the police officer wasn’t entirely clear.
Several minutes passed in silence while his colleague located and examined the relevant recordings. ‘OK, got it,’ he eventually announced.
Stephen and Schultz moved over and crowded round the laptop; the police officer didn’t bother.
‘It’s right here,’ continued the security guy. ‘Mrs Lewis checked in at 8.05 p.m.’
Sure enough, there was Emma at the counter, smiling as she chatted to the receptionist. But she appeared to be on her own, apart from the bell boy hovering behind her with her luggage. Where the hell was he?
‘Looks like she checked in on her own,’ added the security guy, somewhat superfluously.
‘No, I have to be there somewhere,’ insisted Stephen. ‘Just wind back and forward a little.’
Schultz gave a weary nod.
They searched the footage from ten minutes before Emma approached the desk to ten minutes after she took her key card and headed for the elevator. There was no sign of Stephen.
‘OK,’ began Schultz, ‘I think we’ve seen enough—’
‘No, wait … look, maybe I arrived later. I already told you my memory’s all screwed up. Maybe Emma got here ahead of me.’
‘Look, I think we’ve done everything we possibly can. Maybe your head injury has caused more severe effects than you realise.’
‘Please …’ pleaded Stephen, ‘just check it will you? I know I’m pretty mixed up right now, but I do know who I am, and I know my wife … and I’m afraid that she’s in some kind of trouble. I don’t know who that other guy is, but he’s not Stephen Lewis.’
Schultz fixed him with a steady gaze, his eyes narrowed and head tilted slightly to one side. He said nothing for several seconds, but eventually relented. ‘OK,’ he said, turning to the man at the laptop, ‘fast forward through as far as midnight on Thursday.’
‘On it,’ he replied, shuffling closer to the screen as h
e set about his new task.
The policeman had evidently had enough by now. ‘Look, I got other work to do, so are you gonna press any charges here or not?’
Schultz turned to Stephen. ‘Can you assure me that you won’t cause any more trouble once we’ve finished these checks?’
‘You have my word,’ said Stephen.
‘Then I think we can deal with this without any further help from the police.’
‘Thank you,’ breathed Stephen, a wave of relief washing over him.
The police officer huffed and puffed, clearly irritated that his time had been wasted, but he left without further comment.
As the two of them sat in silence, waiting for the other man to complete his checks, Stephen experienced a weird flashback. He was back in his lab at Oxford, deep in conversation with another man, bespectacled, and round-faced, his bald pate flanked by dense strips of grey hair either side. Of course!
He jumped to his feet. ‘Yes, that’s it!’ he cried.
‘What? What is it?’ responded a startled Schultz.
‘There’s another way I can prove who I am. Call the University of Oxford Medical Sciences Division. I have a colleague and good friend based there: Doctor Henry Parker. Let me talk to him; he’ll vouch for me.’
Schultz looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost 9 p.m. now: it’ll be the middle of the night in England.’
Stephen’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
‘Hey, boss,’ interjected the other security guy, ‘I think I’ve got something here. A Doctor Stephen Lewis arrived just before midnight, to join his wife who had already checked in earlier.’
‘Thank God,’ breathed Stephen.
He and Schultz both moved over to look at the computer screen. The freeze-frame clearly showed the face of the man at the counter. It wasn’t Stephen: it was the same man who had been with Emma earlier that evening – the man claiming to be him.
Chapter 6
‘This is impossible,’ Stephen cried, pressing his palms against his temples. ‘That guy is not Stephen Lewis. You have to let me talk to Emma alone and find out what’s happening.’
