I got out of the cab. My muscles felt sore. I was worried about the fighting that would ensue with the Colonel probably unleashing a full assault on Chao Toufa. Then it hit me again that Larry was really dead. It was hard to accept, especially as I knew there was a doppelganger out there. Should I confront him? Should I expose the truth? I had my exchange with Russ recorded and I had enough friends in the media to ensure that the message would get out there. But my mind kept on going back to Plath’s hair. It was real. She could grow hair. No one in the past 25 years could grow hair. How was this possible? How much did Larry know? Was this what had been haunting him? Was he trying to expose the truth? Or cover it up? Is that what got him killed?
No matter how I spun it, it depressed me to think that hair was the reason he had died. This should have been a cause for celebration among the people of the world. Someone could grow hair again! But I had the feeling there was something darker connected with this whole mess. Did Chao Toufa have the most realistic hair in the world because it was real? No wonder the Colonel couldn’t figure out the formula. But if they did have real hair, why hide it? Why hadn’t anyone else known about it? And why was Russ keeping Plath as a slave?
I bought a ticket and leaned against the wall, my thighs sore. My hands were shaking. I was exhausted. I needed a long, long rest. I hadn’t slept since the day before the convention. But I didn’t feel safe going back home. I had to find out what Dr. Asahi had learned from that hair sample, even though I had a pretty good idea what she’d found.
I thought about the Great Baldification. Everyone at that moment realized there was no God. I didn’t mean a Creator or a spiritual being that brought cosmic order. I meant the genie we’d hoped would save mankind from itself. It was a wakeup call, but all these years later, most people still hadn’t heard the alarm.
9. The Faceless
I.
I ordered a drink at the station bar after I arrived in Shanghai because I couldn’t stop shaking. A hard shot of whiskey didn’t help. If it hadn’t been for the armor, I’d be a cripple or worse. I asked the bartender for an er guo tou that was almost 60 % proof. That gave me a buzz and calmed my nerves momentarily.
I called Rebecca.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
I didn’t know how much I could trust her or how to broach the topic of the conversation I’d overheard her having with — I didn’t even know who she’d been talking to.
“There’ve been a lot of developments,” I said, keeping vague.
“Developments?”
I’ve been shot at, I found out Larry is dead, and there are people who can still grow hair. “Can I see you, right now?”
“Of course,” she replied.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
The communication ended and I grabbed a taxi. As soon I got in, I passed out.
Honestly, I didn’t remember how I got up to her unit. All I knew was when I got through the door, I headed for the bed and passed out again. I dreamt the whole time about running away from someone who was trying to shoot me.
II.
I woke up and found I only had my underpants on, bandages around where I’d been shot. I felt groggy and my head was a murky maelstrom. Two more days of sleep was what I needed. Rebecca was standing next to the bed, nudging me softly.
“How long have I been out?” I asked her.
“Four hours. Some guys came by and wanted to see you.”
“What did they look like?”
“You can see for yourself. They look like they have masks on. I told them you weren’t here but they’ve been persistent.”
I looked through the door camera and saw four of the faceless men waiting at the door, goons that looked identical to the one I’d seen driving the Colonel’s limousine in Beijing. Who were these men before they’d signed on to become anonymous brute force for strangers? Some of them might have been soldiers like me without family fighting their way for every inch. Did their lovers cringe when they saw their blank faces that barely moved? Seeing them talk was like seeing sock puppets.
“Is there another way out of the building?” I asked.
“No. Who are they?”
“Friends from Zhang Zhang.”
“That’s the hair company that just got attacked,” she said.
“They think I’m involved in that,” I told her, looking at the camera view again.
“Are you?”
“Of course not. The Colonel — that’s their owner — thinks I have some say in what happens.”
“According to the news, it’s been bloody retribution out there,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Chao Toufa had several of their facilities attacked. More than eighty people have been killed in explosions.”
I looked at Rebecca and she appeared so vulnerable in her t-shirt and trainer pants. “I shouldn’t have come here.” My leg felt like a broken pylon. “Where’s the armor?”
“Sorry. I took it off.” She eyed the bruises on my body. “What happened?”
“I got shot.”
“By who?” she asked, startled.
I stood up and started putting on my armor. “Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”
“Uh, sure,” she replied.
“Do you love Larry?”
Her body took on a defensive slant. “Why do you ask that?”
“A yes or no would be great.”
“It’s a complicated situation.”
Should I show all my cards or balk? “I know the real Larry is dead,” I said. “I know the Larry you took me to see is an impostor.” Even as the words came out, they sounded like a joke. I didn’t believe them, or didn’t want to. Was there really a difference? “I overheard you talking to him in the bar,” I said, even though I hadn’t been sure it was him.
“Nic—” she started, confirming my suspicion.
I cut her off. “What do you guys want from me?”
“Who says we want anything?”
I’d been a fool for thinking she had been kind to me out of the goodness of her heart. “Does it have something to do with the package Dr. Asahi sent?”
“I don’t know what’s in the package.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. What was in it?”
I slowly put my leg into the armor but had to do it carefully as fast motion was causing cramps. “You may not believe this, but there are still people who can grow hair. Chao Toufa is somehow connected to them, but I don’t know how.” If she wasn’t trustworthy, if she was working for Chao Toufa, it would only be a matter of time before she betrayed me. Then again, it wasn’t like I had much of a chance even if she wasn’t a traitor. I needed information and revealing what I knew seemed the best way.
“That’s impossible.”
“That’s what I thought too. But it’s real,” I said.
“Is that why Dr. Asahi was so desperate for me to find you?”
“Dr. Asahi?”
“After Larry’s death, they couldn’t find you so they asked me to look for you. But after they used the new Larry to replace the old one, they lost interest.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you love Larry?” I asked again.
“Not the real one,” she answered. “His name used to be Harold Lew before all the surgery. He used to be an actor. We were friends until Larry — the real Larry — died. Then Harold and me became lovers.”
“I know Harold,” I answered, recognizing him as a minor actor in some of our films. He did have a resemblance to Larry, although he was a few inches taller. Image facilitation could have easily fixed physical differences.