“I warned you not to try to cuff her,” said Jack. “She knows Dimac.”
“That I know,” said Sam, sipping further bourbon. “We located the official licence for her hands and feet. Registered here! But no matter. There is no Toy City Suit Company. No Dumpty Plaza.”
“It’s in England,” said Jack.
“Which part?” asked Sam.
“The whole shop,” said Jack.
Sam didn’t smile. But then who would?
“Which part of England is the shop in?”
Jack thought hard. “The south part?” he suggested.
“The south part,” said Sam. And he said it thoughtfully.
“Next door to the Queen’s palace,” said Jack.
“Right,” said Sam, and he plucked at his shirt collar. And, leaning back, he thumped at the air conditioner. Further strange noises issued from this and then it fell silent. Sam took to mopping his brow once more. “There is no Dumpty Plaza in England,” said Sam. “There is no Dumpty Plaza anywhere. And as for the fabric of this trenchcoat, there appears to be no such fabric.”
“Could I see a solicitor now?” Jack asked.
“Soon,” said Sam. “When you have answered my questions to my satisfaction.”
“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work,” said Jack.
“Tell me again about this bear,” said Sam. “This …” and he consulted the notes he had taken down (before his Biro ran out), “this Eddie.”
“A valuable antique toy bear,” said Jack, as this was his present stratagem. “Stolen from my client by an employee of the Golden Chicken Corporation. I tracked the bear to the headquarters of this corporation. I was interviewing two suspects.”
Sam did further big deep sighings. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Because you are a private eye, sent here from England to recover –”
“The Queen’s teddy bear,” said Jack. “Like I told you.”
“And the Golden Chicken Corporation stole the Queen’s teddy bear?”
Jack made a certain face. It wasn’t perhaps the best stratagem that he’d ever come up with, but he was committed to it now. “Which is why I am here, undercover,” said Jack. “With no identification.”
Sam did further shakings of the head. And further noddings, too. “I wish,” said he, “I just wish that for one day, one single day, everything would just be easy.”
“Listen,” said Jack, “you’re not going to believe me no matter what I tell you. If I were to tell you everything and the whole truth and nothing but the truth, you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t believe a word.”
“But you won’t tell me the truth.” Sam leaned back in his chair and all but fell from it. “Because no one tells the truth. No one. Take my wife, for instance …” Sam swivelled round in his chair, rose and gazed through the window. Outside, LA shimmered in the midday sunlight, high-finned autos cruised along the broad expanse of thoroughfare, palms waved drowsily, birds circled high in the clear blue sky.
“My wife,” said Sam. “I gave that woman everything. Treated her like the Queen of England, I did, me. She wanted dance classes, I got her dance classes. She wanted voice tuition, I got her voice tuition. She wanted singing lessons, I got her singing lessons. I paid for that woman to have plastic surgery, breast implants, nail extensions. And what does she do? Becomes a Goddamn movie star is what she does. Signs that contract and dumps yours truly. Is that fair? Is that just? Is that right? I ask you, fella, is that right?”
Sam turned to gauge Jack’s opinion on the fairness and rightness of all this.
But Jack was nowhere to be seen.
The handcuffs he had been wearing lay on Sam Maggott’s desk, their locks picked with a paperclip.
Now, it’s never easy to escape from a police station. Especially during the hours of daylight. And especially when naked.
And Sam set off the alarm, which had police all running about. And Sam opened his office door and shouted at the feisty young policewoman and the troubled young detective who was smoking a fag and chatting her up. And all the other policemen and -women in the big outer office. And he berated them and ordered them to reapprehend the naked escapee at once, or heads would roll and future prospects be endangered. And police folk hurried thither and thus, but Jack was not to be found.
Jack eased his naked self along the air-conditioning duct. The one he’d climbed into from the police chiefs desk, through its little hatch, which he had thoughtfully closed behind him. He was uncertain exactly which way he should be easing his naked self, but as far away from the office as possible seemed the right way to go.
“I don’t bear the man a grudge,” said Jack to himself as he did further uncomfortable easings along. “And I do think his wife treated him unfairly. But even though I am a youth, in the early bloom of my years, I am drawn to the conclusion that life is not fair and the sooner one realises this and acts accordingly, the less one will find oneself all stressed out in later years.
“I think that I will remain single and use women purely for … OUCH!” and Jack snagged a certain dangling part upon a bolted nut.
And as chance, or coincidence, or fate, or something more, or less, would have it, at that very moment, and many miles south of Jack, and many floors beneath the desert sand, Eddie Bear was having trouble with a nut.
“Nuts?” said Eddie, taking up a nut between his paws and peering at it distastefully. “Nuts? Nuts? That is what you’re offering me to eat?”
The other Jack grinned into Eddie’s cage. “That’s what bears eat in the wild, isn’t it? Nuts and berries.”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Eddie. “I never associate with such unsophisticated company. I’d like a fillet steak, medium rare, sauted potatoes –”
The other Jack kicked at Eddie’s cage. “Eat up your nuts,” he said, “like a good little bear. You’re going to need all your strength.”
Eddie’s stomach grumbled. And Eddie’s stomach ached. Eddie didn’t feel at all like himself. He wasn’t feeling altogether the full shilling, was Eddie Bear. “What do you want from me?” he asked. “Why have you brought me here?”
“You have to pay for your crimes,” said the other Jack.
“I’m no criminal,” said Eddie.
“Oh yes you are. You and your companion shot down one of our spaceships. Murdered the crew –”
“Self-defence,” said Eddie. “Your accusations won’t hold up in court.”
“Would you care to rephrase that?”
“No court involved, then?” said Eddie.
“No court,” said the other Jack. “No court and no hope for you.”
“What are you?” asked Eddie. “What are you, really?”
“I’m Jack,” said the other Jack. “I’m the Jack this side of The Second Big O. I’m the Jack in this world.”
“An identical Jack?” said Eddie. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, we’re all here, human counterparts, reflections of your world – or rather your world is a reflection of ours. We’re all here, even you.”
“The murdering me,” said Eddie, peeping through the bars of his cage. “The me who murdered the monkeys and the band and the orchestra?”
“And all the rest, soon. The contents of your world will be sucked into ours. For our use.”
“But for why?” asked Eddie Bear. “To be produced as giveaways for promoting the sale of fried chicken? That’s as mad as.”
“You eat up your nuts,” said the other Jack. “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t make me have to ram them down your throat.”
And with that the other Jack turned to take his leave.
“Oh, Jack,” said Eddie.
The other Jack turned.
“When my Jack gets here, as he will, he’ll really kick your ass.”
And in his air-conditioning duct, Jack snagged his ass on a pointy something. And whispered, “Ouch!” once again.
Jack could hear lots of sounds beneath him. The sounds of the alarm and the sounds of shouting and of running feet. And if his hearing had been a tad more acute he would have been able to discern the sound of gun cabinets being opened and pump-action shotguns being taken from these cabinets and loaded up with high-velocity cartridges. But there is only so much that you can hear from inside an air-conditioning duct.