### Contents

  1. Building a relationship with my readers is the very best thing about writing...
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One

## Guide

  1. Contents
  2. Start of Content

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For Gisela, Tomas, Jazmin and Ignacio. For Mom, Dad, and my Bro.

... and through it all my eyes are on You and it is well with me.

## CHAPTER ONE

REX'S LABORED BREATHING seemed in time with the pounding rain. The effect was almost hypnotic, and as Tomas held the old dog he felt like he was drifting through some strange in-between place, somewhere outside of his usual existence. He wanted to be as present as he could for this, but all he could do was wait, hold Rex, and wish there was something else he could offer his friend.

It had been coming for a while, of course. Rex was nearly sixteen and his life had been great. All it had ever taken was Tomas or, in happier times, Laura, to walk through the front door for Rex to come bounding over, tail wagging. But he hadn't been bounding in a long time and his tail hung limp now.

Outside the window, sheets of rain obscured the skyscrapers, covering the city in grey static. Inside the apartment it wasn't much different. With the lights down, everything felt grey. Everything had for a long time. Tomas held Rex closer and closed his eyes. He kissed the dog on the head. Rex stirred a little, then his labored breathing returned and Tomas wondered why he wasn't crying. Maybe the ability to feel strong emotions had been worn out of him. Maybe that happened, with age. He was only in his early thirties but looking in the mirror he was starting to wonder at what point he had stopped seeing a kid. For so long he had been surprised whenever anybody referred to him as sir; it had felt wrong, like he was impersonating an adult, somehow. But that feeling had gone, and maybe that meant he really had grown up. For whatever that was worth.

The first fingers of sunrise crept through the window. Tomas barely noticed. Rex had stopped breathing. His alarm was going off, telling him to get up, to go to work. He didn't move. He just sat there and held his dog as morning brought the world around him to life and still he stayed right where he was.

## CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS LATE. The digital clock that hung above the main spread of cubicles at the Binder News Online Offices was like a constant threat to everyone who worked there. There was no missing it when you were late, just like there was no missing how much time you still had.

He wondered if symmetry was the word to describe the office space. Square cubicles jammed together, identical desktop computers on everyone, worked by people all in the same white shirt and grey pants. From above it might have almost looked like some kind of modern art installation. From the ground, it looked a lot more like the last thing he wanted to be dealing with that day.

But he made his way through the narrow aisle the same as ever, keeping his head down and his shoulders hunched, hoping nobody noticed or questioned his time of arrival. Nobody did. The constant clacking of keys was the only sound as he settled in at his own desk. He stared at the blank monitor and took a breath. Sterile, clean air, perfect room temperature. Probably somebody's dream to work in a place like this.

He glanced beside him. Melina, he was fairly sure, was just pretending to type. He'd learned to notice the signs. Biting her lip to try and look like she was concentrating despite her glazed eyes making the truth abundantly clear. Or else the fact that there were no breaks in her typing at all, no pauses for thought or slight lull between words. Or even the all-important clack of the space key. She glanced at the clock above her desk, the one they all had, like a miniature version of the looming monster Tomas had noticed on the way in. Her eyes then moved to the ring of roving security cameras in the center of the ceiling, all shifting and darting in different directions as they tried to catch out someone doing something wrong. Tomas wasn't sure of the point – there weren't many rulebreakers in this office. But then, he guessed fear was a pretty effective way to keep everyone in line. As depressing as that thought was.

Melina had stopped typing. She leaned back. Her finger tapped the desk in front of her. Tomas pretended to focus on his own screen as Melina hit the blue button beside her keyboard. Above, her clock switched into a countdown from fifteen as she pushed her chair back and left. Tomas watched the numbers for a few seconds. 14:56. 14:55. 14:54. 14:53.

Tomas hit his own identical button. His clock became a countdown too. He pushed his chair back, waited for a moment, stretched, then stood. Nobody else looked up. They would only pay attention if he wasn't back by the end of his fifteen minutes. Then there might be something to see.

Taking his time, Tomas walked down the aisle. He knew where Melina was going, but he couldn't see her ahead of him anymore. He picked up the pace a bit. He reached the door to the patio and pushed it open. Outside it was cold and windy, the smell of last night's rain almost overpowering the acrid city scent.

Further along the patio, Melina was leaning against the balcony, talking into her phone. Tomas turned instead to a clump of people – friends, he supposed – standing together, discussing whatever they discussed on their brief break over a cigarette. In their identical clothes they almost looked like a ring of clones. He knew these people; had known them for years, gone for drinks after work, chatted about office gossip and their jobs, yet it was always hard to remember which name belonged to which person. Tomas blamed the uniforms. He walked over to join them, trying to keep from glancing at Melina as he did.

One of the guys (Tomas thought his name was Daniel) smiled politely at Tomas before returning to what he had been saying. 'Anyway, you know what the regulating system is like. Everything gets readjusted and then you're back to waiting for your chance again.'

'But there are opportunities, right?' one of the other guys said.

'I heard Marcos Zlasky got promoted,' Tomas said, trying to sound like it meant nothing to him either way.

Daniel laughed. 'Oh yeah, he's the benchmark alright. Famous for finding some pictures of groupies having sex with Rams players.'

Another worker laughed. 'For Marcos to find them they must have had neon signs pointing in their direction.'

Daniel shrugged. 'Neon or not, he found them, and now he's making more money than any of us.'

'I have to report today,' Tomas said.

Daniel gave him a sympathetic look. 'Never fun. I had mine last week. Got extended another year though.'

Tomas glanced over at Melina. She seemed to be crying. 'What about Melina?'

'Out of your league man,' someone muttered.

'She reported yesterday.' Daniel glanced at her. 'Sorry to say Tomas, but two years twiddling your thumbs means you might have missed your chance. Unless some miracle comes along, there'll be a different person at her desk tomorrow.'

She was crying, then. Tomas resisted the immediate temptation to go over to her. Not that resisting was very hard. Nervousness had been making sure of that for a long time.

'Her problem is that she was never willing to look the other way,' Daniel said. 'Which you have to do sometimes if you want to go far. But she thought she was too perfect to get her hands dirty and, well.' He shrugged and winked at Tomas. 'We'll see how perfect your girl is tomorrow.'

Tomas did his best to look unconcerned and not give away the thrill he felt at hearing Melina referred to as his girl. Or the sadness that followed.

He took his time returning to his desk. There was no point in spending a second longer there than he had to. It wasn't the day for him to focus or get much done. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. But still, he had to at least seem reasonably on top of things when his time to report came. Sitting at his desk, he probed his feelings, trying to work out if he felt particularly anxious about what was to come, or what he planned to bring up with Len, his boss. But he didn't, really. He didn't feel much of anything. Maybe that was for the best.

His time came. He got to his feet, glanced at Melina, who was still pretending to work, then made his way towards Len's office, at the far end of the space behind a glass wall. He knocked at the door and waited.

'Come in,' Len called.

Len Hopper was more or less the cliché of someone who worked in news. Broad, balding and unshaven, Tomas wasn't really sure how someone so seemingly lazy had risen through the ranks, but whatever the case here he was, squeezed in behind a desk, squinting as he read Tomas' name from a clipboard.

'Tomas Martini,' he barked, extending a fleshy hand. Tomas took it as he sat. 'How's the family?'

Tomas didn't have family and Len knew it. 'Fine.'

'Good, good.' Len scanned the clipboard. 'Now, how do you feel you've been going?'

Tomas took a deep breath. 'Well, I've been working hard on what I think could be a pretty massive story. Investigating North and Clean; you know them?'

Len nodded. 'The cleaning company, yeah. My wife loves them, so I'm gonna guess they're monsters.' He laughed loudly.

Tomas managed a smile before pushing on. 'Anyway, since I've been researching their branches they've kept growing. And the bigger they get, the more obvious some of their less-than-palatable practices become. Namely, contaminating everything they touch.'

Tomas waited for a reaction. Len's eyes were on the clipboard.

'There are more than twenty studies proving it,' Tomas said.

'Any scientific evidence?' Len asked. 'Something watertight? It has to be credible if you're gonna screw with something my wife loves this much.'

'Well...' Tomas tried to think of the best way to phrase it. 'What I've got are some non-profit collaborating studies–'

'What I mean,' Len interrupted, 'is do you have anything other than the word of a group of student idealists?'

'North and Clean know how to keep people from talking,' Tomas said. 'It's been harder than I thought, but I think there's enough there to go on.'

'But not enough to publish,' Len said.

Silence hung in the air.

'Alright.' The boss nodded. 'Could be good. Could be interesting. You think you can see it through?'

Tomas nodded.

'Then push on with it,' Len said. 'But remember; it's got to bring in money. If it doesn't bring in money, it's no good. We want advertisers to be crawling all over this, understood?'

'Understood,' Tomas said.

'As you were then.'

Tomas stayed where he was for a moment. That could have gone a lot worse, but...

Len raised an eyebrow. 'Yes?'

'Sir with, with all due respect,' Tomas stammered, 'I mean, this story... it could be big, right? Huge. A career maker. I was wondering what my chances are of becoming...' He knew how weak it was going to sound before the words left his mouth. 'Um, of becoming senior partner.'

For a moment Len said nothing. Tomas braced himself.

'A career maker has to make a career first,' Len said. 'And we're not in the business of counting chickens before they've hatched, understood? This story could be big, yes, but right now it's just air. Until you have something on the record that you can use, something that pins them to the wall and blows everything wide open, you haven't earned that position. You're on the right track. My advice is to stay there.'

'I just...' Tomas swallowed. 'I mean, it's been two years sir. And I've done good work for you in that time. Something to motivate could... I guess what I'm asking is how long you think it might take?'

'Don't make the mistake of assuming we're better off up here,' Len said. 'Piece of advice kid; learn to enjoy where you are. You're one of the lucky ones. Not many people have the opportunities you do, Carlos.'

'Tomas.'

'Sure.' Len smiled. 'Point is, go watch some documentaries on Africa. That's where you'll find your motivation.'

Tomas was confused and said as much.

Len sighed. 'You could be over there, starving in the dust. Instead, you're here at Binder News Online, air conditioning and all.' Len spread his arms. 'Living the fucking dream kid. Think about the families your investigation could help. Focus on that. A promotion will come when the time is right.'

Tomas nodded. 'Okay. Sorry if I seemed disrespectful. Thank you, sir.'

'You're a superhero Carlos,' Len said.

Tomas didn't bother to correct him as he stood and left the office.

## CHAPTER THREE

HE COULDN'T HELP but think just how much the pet cemetery resembled the office. All the gravesites and stones, placed neatly next to, behind and in front of each other in a sprawling grid. He looked at Rex's headstone, already standing over the hole the two workers had just finished digging. He looked at the next grave over. A bigger headstone.

The two workers stood there, waiting for his instructions. Tomas said nothing. He turned his attention to where Rex lay, covered by a blanket. Part of him still expected his old friend to bound to his feet and come running over to greet him, tail wagging, ready to lick his face however many times Tomas told him not to. It probably hadn't helped that Tomas' protests were always through laughter. He smiled.

'Sorry I'm late.'

He took a moment before turning. Laura stood behind him, wrapped in a coat. Tomas glanced up at the turbulent grey sky. It struck him then that it was cold. He hadn't noticed. He was still dressed in his work gear.

They considered each other for a moment. Laura seemed thinner in the face, Tomas thought. But she was still beautiful and when she hugged him it was as warm and certain as he remembered. It was hard not to miss her then, even as she was right there.

Laura let him go and looked towards Rex's blanket. She wiped away a tear. 'I'm sorry,' she said again.

'Don't be,' Tomas replied. He nodded to the workers. One of then walked over and lifted Rex up. Tomas watched the shape under the blanket. Waiting for movement that was never going to come.

'He was a happy dog,' Laura said.

'He did wag his tail a lot.'

'He did. Thanks for calling me.'

Tomas said nothing. There wasn't a lot he could say to that. The way Laura phrased it made it sound as though she hadn't expected he would. But she had loved Rex and they had loved her. She deserved to say goodbye.

She reached into her bag and took out some dog toys. Tomas recognized them; the ones that had always been at her place for when Rex was over. He was somehow both bewildered and touched that she'd kept them.

Rex had been placed into the grave. Laura walked over and put the toys in after him. She paused there, kneeling. If she said something, Tomas couldn't hear it. He stayed where he was. He had said his goodbyes. All night holding Rex through his last hours, feeling the breathing get weaker. His eyes prickled. He looked away.

Across the cemetery stood a redhead woman. She seemed to be observing him. Tomas waited for her to look away. She didn't. She also didn't appear to be standing in front of any particular grave. That was odd. A few raindrops fell. Tomas barely felt them.

'Never thought this was where we would be a year ago.' Laura had rejoined him.

'Rex was old.'

'I mean...' She trailed off, searching for the words. 'It just... only seeing each other because of this. It's... weird.'

He wondered if she'd meant to say sad.

'Anyway, he was a great dog Tomas. The best.'

Tomas nodded. The redhead woman was still there. He looked at Laura. 'I guess we don't have any more excuses to see each other.'

She looked momentarily taken aback. Tomas wondered if he'd sounded somehow snarkier than he meant to. He went to apologize but Laura smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

'We'll think of something,' she said. Then she turned and walked for the exit.

Tomas didn't watch after her. He looked back towards the grave. It had almost been filled in now. It occurred to him that he would never see Rex in the flesh again. A pang went through him. He closed his eyes.

'Your best friend?'

He looked to the side. The redhead woman was standing there, watching the grave. Up close she was strikingly beautiful.

'Yeah,' Tomas said. 'I hope we'll see each other again, somehow.'

Why had he said that?

The woman didn't seem thrown or pitying. She just nodded. 'It's always hard, saying goodbye to animals. Even though you know their lives are short, you become so... accustomed to them always being there. To having that friend who just loves you unconditionally, who never knows where you've screwed up or how you've disappointed yourself. None of that matters to them. And then that goes and... it's sad.'

'Are you visiting your dog?' Tomas asked.

'No,' the woman said. 'Just needed somewhere to think clearly, you know? Somewhere away from everything.'

Tomas raised an eyebrow. 'And you chose here? Isn't that a bit weird?'

'Maybe,' she said. 'Sometimes unconventional places are the most peaceful because nobody expects to find peace there. Where's your sadness?'

'Excuse me?'

The woman looked at him. 'You're holding back, aren't you?'

Tomas just gaped at her. She was right, of course, but the fact that she knew, let alone said something about it... she was strange. Very strange.

'Don't worry,' the woman said. 'There are a lot of things our soul has to learn, and we learn at our own pace. You can't tell another person how to grieve. It all depends on what place you're looking from. Anyway. You have my condolences. He's gone somewhere else, and he's not in pain.'

'I know,' Tomas said. Then, meaning it, 'thank you.'

The woman smiled. 'You don't know though, do you?'

He didn't know what to say to that. So he just stood there as the woman turned and left and the rain started falling heavier.

He looked back at Rex's grave. He suddenly felt very tired.

Standing down the road from the rundown little house, Tomas went over the script in his head again. He knew it wasn't going to be much help; planning in these situations never was, but he felt that he could go in with more confidence if he at least convinced himself that he knew what he was doing. He mouthed the words to himself a few more times, then put his hands in his pockets and walked up the street towards the house. He stopped out the front and looked it over. In even poorer condition than the last time. The garden was overgrown, the paint was peeling and one of the windows was cracked. Nobody was worrying about the upkeep. Then again, given the circumstances, perhaps nobody saw the point.

He walked up to the door and knocked. He stepped back, waiting. After a few moments the door opened.

Her name was Clair. She might have been attractive once, but the chemical contamination from the nearby plant and the subsequent uterine cancer had put an end to that. Her face was thin, her skin waxy. She was bald and far too skinny. But any appearance of weakness was belied by the anger in her eyes when she saw Tomas.

'I told you last time,' she hissed. 'I don't want anything from you. I just want to live my life in peace.'

'And you can do that while others keep getting sick?' Tomas said. 'While you profit off saying nothing?'

'Fuck off,' she spat.

He had to talk fast. 'Justice officials already know about everything, and they're ready to get this show on the road,' he said. 'If you don't talk you'll be ruined, but if you do you'll be famous.'

'You're a lying son of a bitch,' she said.

Tomas shook his head. 'I'm not the liar here.'

'I haven't lied about anything.'

'You've stayed quiet about plenty you shouldn't have. A sin of omission is still a sin. I'm here to give you the chance to change sides before it's too late.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'You know what? I think you're the one who's lying.'

'Speak and they'll be forced to give you a lot more money,' Tomas said. 'It's all blowing up tomorrow.'

Later that night, Tomas sat at his desk, going over all the reports spread out around his laptop. A blinking light in the corner of the screen told him he needed to charge it. He found his charger and plugged it in before turning his attention to the reports. He was almost finished compiling them all into something complete and coherent. Something career making. He paused, trying to gauge how that felt. A bigger office, a new level of respect, credibility. Maybe it was just too much of a pipe dream to seem real yet.

He looked back to the screen and continued typing. Clair Gomez, twenty-two years old, uterine cancer. She lives twelve miles from the factory and is the sixth uterine cancer case in a 30-kilometer diameter. In this video we hear her testimony.

He stood, stretched, and walked over to the kitchen. He set about making a coffee. He didn't feel tired, but he was aware of his drooping eyelids and aching muscles. He'd been up all night and felt that strange, disconnected sickliness that only came from a lack of sleep or a lingering hangover. Still, he had work to do yet. The coffee finished, he took a sip, letting it warm him. He gave the caffeine a moment to kick in before returning to the computer and continuing typing. The evidence confirms that toxins modify the environment drastically, making it necessary for people to abandon their living spaces or suffer the horrific medical consequences, given that they can't find protection from officials. He leaned back. He'd already almost finished the coffee. His eyes moved to the window. The first warm glow of sunrise was banishing the grey. He stood and walked over, watching as he sipped. The report was finished. Everything compiled; Clair's testimony giving him the smoking gun he needed. He finished the coffee and looked over at Rex's empty bed, toys still strewn around it. Seconds passed. He didn't look away. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and walked back to the desk.

In his top drawer he found a thumb drive. He plugged it into his laptop then moved the folder on to it. He sat back. Almost finished.

Unbidden, his gaze was drawn back to the empty bed.

## CHAPTER FOUR

TOMAS HAD TO resist the temptation to put his hand in his pocket and fiddle with the thumb drive, or at least hold it tightly in a fist. He glanced around. Waiting in line at the organic coffee shop near his work, everything looked just as a dreary, overcast, normal morning should. Baristas worked at making soy lattes, businesspeople with glazed eyes recited their daily orders, students read off their phones, still looking half asleep. Nobody appeared to be a North and Clean commissioned agent sent to assassinate him. But then, North and Clean hardly appeared to be what it actually was either.

The person in front of him moved away and Tomas stepped up to the counter. 'Morning,' he said, trying to sound casual. 'I'll get a coffee with soy milk and-'

'A shot of espresso for me,' a voice from behind said.

Tomas jumped. He turned, faster than he'd meant to, and found himself gaping at the smiling, familiar face of the woman from the graveyard.

'Sorry for cutting in,' she said. 'But the stress of waiting in line would almost kill me.' She glanced at the disgruntled looking person behind her. 'Sorry, he was just holding my place.'

'Your name?' the barista asked.

'Basia,' the woman said.

'Tomas.'

'That'll be $8.45.'

Basia looked expectantly at Tomas. He paid for both, then they moved over to the waiting area together.

'Hanging out in pet cemeteries, cutting in line and getting me to buy your coffee,' Tomas said. 'You've made quite the impression.'

'I'm not the only one,' she said. 'Do you ever meet somebody, purely by chance, and afterward you can't stop thinking about them? You feel this... connection, almost, and you start to wonder what their day to day life is like. What's the world that person lives in? What do they see around them? It's rare that I happen to run into that person again a day later.'

'It is,' Tomas agreed. 'And did you work it out? The world I live in?'

She looked at him for a long time. 'Maybe. Maybe not so much your world, but the way you see it. The way you feel about the life you have.'

'And how do I feel about the life I have?'

'I imagined sadness,' she said. 'I imagined everything is grey. Everywhere you look, every color is just a different shade of grey. Which isn't unfair. Things can look that way sometimes.'

Tomas tried to ignore his slight shiver. 'Not always. But I guess, lately...' He tried to smile. 'Lately, things have felt that way.'

'What about me?' Basia said. 'What do you see when you imagine my world?'

'That's a tough question,' Tomas said. 'And a slightly unfair one. You had all night to think about it.'

The barista called out their names. Tomas took his coffee and moved away as Basia did the same.

'Maybe you don't need all night to think about it,' Basia said. 'Maybe taking that time to think about something can hold us back. We dwell too much and the spontaneous truth eludes us. If you had to guess, right now, what color would you see my world as?'

'Red,' Tomas said. 'Red for danger.'

Basia's smile grew. She sipped her coffee. 'Red,' she said, as if unfamiliar with the word. 'I like that. I think that's earned you a dinner, Tomas.'

She knocked back her espresso, placed it on a table then took Tomas' cup from his hand. She wrote something on it then passed it back. 'Tonight,' she said. 'Come meet me.'

'What if I have plans?' Tomas asked.

She winked. 'I'll see you tonight. I suggest you don't think too much about what may or may not happen.'

She turned and left. Tomas didn't move. He looked down at the address on the cup.

Red.

The signs around the office were so frequent he barely took notice of them anymore. No transferring of external information without the permission of a superior. Usually, he had no reason to worry about them. Today wasn't usual.

He sat at his desk, his finger tapping in a kind of nervous spasm. His thoughts were pulled in different directions. The thumb drive in his pocket. Basia's smile. The way his job, his life could change after today. Melina, sitting beside him, pretending to type. He glanced at her occasionally, but she either hadn't noticed or was pretending she hadn't.

Tomas moved a couple of files around on his desktop, trying to concentrate. He renamed some old documents, just to give him something to type.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Melina press the button for her dead time. She stood, stretched and left. He waited just a moment before he knocked the papers sitting on the edge of his desk. They fell to the ground. Adopting an embarrassed expression, Tomas went after them. He set about gathering them up with one hand. With the other, he stuck the thumb drive into his computer's USB port.

It came up on the desktop immediately. Quickly, Tomas opened the drive and started transferring the files to Len. He leaned back in his seat and, thinking of Melina, stretched, in the process casting an eye around to see if anyone had noticed. But everyone just stared at their screens and typed and paid no attention to what anyone else was doing. He looked up at the cameras, half expecting them all to be trained on him before a siren went off and armed guards burst in to take him away. Nothing happened. He returned his attention to the screen. The transfer had finished. He closed the box, pretended to see something on the floor and bent down to get it, as he did removing the thumb drive from the computer and pocketing it. It felt lighter, somehow. The information was out of his hands.

He hit the button. The timer started. Tomas stood and walked outside to breathe.

The address Basia had written on his coffee cup was that of a hotel uptown, and not just any hotel. Even wearing the suit he rarely had occasion to bring out, Tomas felt shabby and underdressed as he stood in the building's shadow, watching limousines and expensive cars circle the fountain in the middle of the roundabout, stopping to allow glamorous looking people to walk through the gleaming, gold plated front doors fringed by marble pillars. He double checked the address, but he knew it was the right one. It seemed very much like the kind of place you could expect to find a woman like Basia.

Tomas took a deep breath and walked past the cars and the roundabout up the front stairs to the doors. He half expected a doorman to stop him and ask just what the hell he thought he was doing, but he was let through into the gilded, opulent lobby without incident. Tinkling piano music played, interspersed with the splashes from various water features and the clicking of shoes crossing a floor so polished you could see yourself in it. At the far end of the space was a large, sweeping white staircase, down which came a familiar figure in a stunning black dress. She smiled as she crossed the floor to meet Tomas.

'Is this where you live?' he asked as she reached her. 'You know it would have been a lot easier to just tell me the name of the hotel. Easier to believe I was in the right place, too.'

'Welcome home,' she said, kissing him on the cheek. 'Now let's go; I have the best sushi man in the city waiting for us.' She took Tomas by the arm and guided him towards an elevator.

'You look ravishing,' Tomas said.

'Ravishing?' she replied. 'A long time since I've heard that word used. Did you plan it, or was it the first thing that came to mind.'

Tomas wasn't sure what the right answer was.

'Don't get your hopes up,' Basia said as they entered the elevator.

He wished it wasn't mirrored. He'd spent a long time making himself look immaculate, but beside Basia, his drawn face and the bags under his eyes seemed increasingly obvious. He resisted looking sideways at her; it would just make him feel worse, and besides, she was reflected back at him from all angles.

Their destination was a small, quiet restaurant on the third floor, with windows overlooking the city beyond. Basia gave her name to a maitre-d, who led them to a small table behind a towering plant in the corner, directly beside a window. Menus were placed in front of them and Basia ordered two glasses of champagne. Not Tomas' usual drink of choice, but he didn't protest. It seemed the night for it.

Basia's eyes didn't leave him. It left Tomas unsure of where to look.

'Uncomfortable?' she asked.

He shook his head.

'Liar. The silence gives you away.'

'It's more...' He tried to find the words. 'This is crazy, right? I only met you yesterday. Then I ran into you by accident and now you've...'

He knew what he wanted to say. What normally he would stop himself from saying. But looking at her now, in that beautiful dress with that secretive smile and the playful look in her eyes that could mean so many things, he could do nothing but be honest. 'You've cut through the grey.'

She leaned forward. 'Do you believe in destiny? Or do you think we forge our own futures?'

'Destiny is more romantic.'

She winked. 'That doesn't answer the question. But believing in destiny lets us believe that our lives aren't our own responsibility. We have more control than we care to admit or accept. So we use destiny, or a proclaimed belief in it, as an excuse.'

'Accidental deaths are destiny,' Tomas countered. 'Or falling in love. Finding the right person.'

'I'm not that romantic,' Basia said. 'We're here because we want to be. I sought you out. I asked you to dinner. This time, I crashed the car, not fate.'

Tomas was confused and unafraid to admit it. 'But if we hadn't been in the cemetery at the same time, or if I hadn't seen you this morning...'

The waiter arrived with their champagne. Basia raised hers and they clinked classes.

'Maybe I made that happen too,' Basia said.

Red.

'That would scare me.' Tomas tried to keep his voice level.

'No,' Basia said simply. 'Right now you're more aroused than scared.'

'I don't understand you,' Tomas said. 'Not even your name. Basia. Where's it from?'

'My name is my creation,' she said. 'An amalgamation and abbreviation of the worst and best of me.'

'Like...' Tomas tried to think. 'Like an anagram? Does every letter mean something?'

'I could tell you,' she said, 'but I won't.'

'Why not?'

She sipped her champagne. 'Because watching you try to figure it out is too much fun.'

Tomas laughed.

The hotel rooms were, perhaps predictably, large and showy. Tomas tried to disguise his awe as he followed Basia into hers; room 345. From the black marble surfaces to the gigantic television, the wide bed and the window overlooking the twinkling lights of the city by night, it felt like part of a world Tomas did not belong in. But then, so much of that night had felt that way.

Basia was watching him, that same enigmatic smile playing on her lips. She sat on the bed and took off her shoes with a sigh of relief. 'Finally,' she said. 'It's hard being this beautiful all the time.' She stood again. Without her heels she was a lot shorter than him. She walked over until they were only a foot apart. Tomas felt his heart pick up. Basia was still smiling. 'I've been waiting for this all night,' she said quietly.

'Me too.'

The smile grew. 'I've got an idea. Why don't we make this night special and break the routine?'

'I can live with that.'

'Good.' Basia turned and walked past the bed to a door. She opened it and Tomas caught a glimpse of a large walk-in wardrobe before the door closed behind her. He stood there for a moment, a little uncertain. He took off his jacket and put it over a chair. He sat and removed his shoes, trying not to eye the door with any obvious anticipation. He would have trouble hiding it though. The best he could do, under the circumstances, was try and seem confident.

'I really think we could make tonight something...' he trailed off.

Basia had emerged. She was wearing an oversized shirt and in her hands was the board game Risk. Her smile was bigger than ever.

'...unexpected,' Basia finished.

'That's Risk,' Tomas said stupidly.

'I believe it's the Halo edition, but broadly yes, it's Risk.'

Tomas just stared at her.

'Disappointed?' she asked.

Tomas' laugh surprised even him. 'What could be better than spending the night playing Risk with a beautiful woman? Marry me.'

'Win me over first,' she said. 'Come on, let's see how good you are.'

For the first time in a long time he felt well rested. He opened one eye a crack. He wasn't in his own room. Momentary confusion set in and he sat up. He looked around and it all came flooding back. His grin faltered, however, when he saw he was alone.

He sat there, mind racing. Had it been a dream? A fantasy of some kind? No, she had been real. He couldn't afford a place like this alone. He closed his eyes again and lay back. Red. Maybe it was for the best that she had gone. Maybe he had escaped danger, somehow. That Basia was strange was a given. Untrustworthy, very possibly. And yet he couldn't help himself; like a moth drawn to fire, she fixated him. And for just one night...

He took his time getting up. He opened the curtains and looked out on to the city of the early morning. It seemed different, somehow. Like the sun was shining for the first time in years. He rested his forehead against the glass and allowed himself just a moment to remember the night before. It had been perfect. A beam of purest sunlight in the middle of a time that had been perpetually overcast.

He didn't want to go back to that.

On the marble bench top a breakfast tray waited. Well, he could enjoy that at least before returning to real life. The thought of the office cubicles, the roving cameras and the promotion he had chased so fervently now just seemed part of some long-ago time and place he never wanted to return to. He wanted this to be his life; opulent hotels, stunning women and laughter over a game of Risk until...

He sat at the bench and picked up a glass of orange juice from the tray. As he did, he saw a small card. Sipping the juice, he read the note on it.

Yesterday was not real. None of it was. My name wasn't, nor is destiny. You can choose a better lie.

That made no sense. Frowning, he turned the card over. He was looking at a logo of some kind. A Vacation From Yourself. Below it was a phone number.

## CHAPTER FIVE

IT SHOULD HAVE been a big day. It was a big day. With his report sent to Len, it was only a matter of time before he got the call and a path opened up to the next stage of his career. But for now, all he could do was wait. He sat at his desk, pretending to work, so absent-mindedly that his faking was almost as bad as Melina's. His mind was on the night before. Every time he tried to force himself to consider his career and the fact that, by evening he could be in a totally different office, Basia's smile filled his mind. He wanted to remember every detail of it, wanted her face seared into his memory in case he never saw her again.

He exhaled. He didn't like that thought at all. He'd as soon never think that again.

But, he had to admit, it was likely to be the reality. Yesterday was not real. No, her message had made no sense, but it wasn't hard to figure out the subtext. It was a one-off thing. But then, how to explain the number? He hadn't found the courage to dial it yet. It was as though the words above it worked as an invisible barrier – A Vacation From Yourself. Was it a tagline of some kind? A business? If so, they had a very strange way of advertising. Which, of course, begged the question of what kind of business would pull tricks like that. Not to mention, how Basia had found him and had known exactly what he needed.

An email appeared on his screen. 'See Len ASAP.'

He looked at it for a long time. Now I'm the one who crashed my car he thought as he stood, steadied his breathing, wiped his sweating palms, and made for the office.

Len didn't look up as he entered. His eyes were glued to the computer screen, brow slightly furrowed as he read. Tomas quietly closed the door behind him.

'You know what your nose led you to?' Len said. His smile was as big as it was fake. 'I knew you were good for something, kid!'

'Thank you, sir,' Tomas said. 'It's always nice to be recognized.'

'See?' Len said. 'There's the hunger I was talking about. Like an African in the desert.'

Tomas shifted on the spot, a little uncomfortable.

'Now.' Len rapped on the desk. 'This report. Solid work Tomas. Really solid. It's delicious. Like a Double Patty Whopper with double cheese.'

'Sure. Thanks.'

Len stood. 'Tomas, take a look at this view.' He pointed to the glass wall of his office, outside of which lay the mass of cubicles. 'Take it all in, Tomas.'

Tomas 'took it all in' every day. Doing it again didn't hold much appeal to him unless there was a larger point, which had to be coming. He looked at Len expectantly.

His boss gave him a conspiratorial grin. 'Any one of those desks out there; choose it, it's yours. Pretty good, huh?'

Tomas stared at him. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was hearing. 'That's it?' he blurted.

'My friend,' Len said, 'let me call you that, because that's how I see you. Right now you're fighting like Madison in Las Vegas, but you're not ready to win. Not yet.'

Tomas was not in the mood for Len's bullshit. 'You don't think I could do a good job as a senior?'

'I didn't say that,' Len replied, in a soothing voice that made Tomas want to punch him. 'Look, kid, I see what I've got here. A Tyson, a Hamed, a Monzon. But a good manager knows he has to wait for the right moment to put the boxer in the ring.'

Tomas was sorely tempted to ask if Len was an idiot, just to see the shock on his flabby face. But he knew there was no point asking a question he knew the answer to so, instead, trying to keep his frustration in check, he asked; 'what's going to happen with North and Clean?'

'They're a brand, kid. A group of over fifty products and thousands of people behind them. You know how many livelihoods that is? How many dreams? How many hardworking parents trying to put their kids through college? Now we gotta ask – are a few fish worth all that? Sometimes the environment can be a selfish bitch too, you know. You've found the problem and that's great. That shows me what you can do. But solving it?' He shook his head. 'None of our business.'

Tomas stared at him. His fists clenched and unclenched. It took every bit of effort he had to keep his voice level. 'It's not just fish, sir. People have gotten sick. People are dying because of them.'

Len waved a hand. 'Don't get carried away, superhero. We've done our job. We've found the evidence and packaged it up like a tasty burger ready to be bought by the person hungry enough to fork out the big bucks. Who that person is, is none of our business.'

'It won't be published,' The words rung in Tomas' ears.

'Listen.' Len's expression softened a little. 'Do you want to be Senior? You want the cars, the girls, the money, the nice life?'

Tomas nodded.

'Then play the game. Sometimes doing that means looking more like a villain than a hero.'

Tomas nodded again. He didn't trust himself to speak. He turned and walked out of the office.

For so long, the North and Clean story had been where Tomas' focus had gone. He had been sure, so sure that it would blow up and change his life. While yes, he had been feeling drawn and burned out lately, his assumption was that once the story hit the internet everything would change. The new office, Senior Partner, legitimacy.

But beyond that, the conversation with Len had dropped a whole new, and unexpected, problem in his lap. He had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. Sitting at his desk at home, staring at his laptop screen, he couldn't seem to muster the motivation to do anything. Without Rex there was no incentive to go out for a walk, and the prospect of starting a new story was just too depressing after how the last one had gone. His initial anger had given way to a deep, hollow hopelessness, a sense that whatever he tried would be pointless. He remembered the old story of the man damned to roll a boulder to the top of a hill every day then watch as it tumbled back down, no matter what he tried. He wasn't sure if he had ever related to something more.

He didn't know at what point he had taken Basia's card out of his pocket. It was almost as though he had been holding it all afternoon. In fact, for all he knew, he might have been. He looked down at it. The thought of the night before, at least, alleviated some of that hollow feeling. Could it really be just a one-off? That seemed to be the message she was sending, but the connection between them had felt more than that. Or at least, it had to him.

He brought his laptop to life and opened up Facebook. He considered for a moment, then typed "Basia" into the search bar. Only two people came up; it wasn't a common name. He felt a rush of excitement as he leaned in to check the photos, but anticipation swiftly deflated. Neither were her. He remembered what she said about her name. A fake. It had to be.

He looked at the card again. Yesterday was not real. Screw that. He turned it over. If she really wanted to cut him off and forget, then she hardly would have left a number. Although, the words above it gave him pause for some reason. A Vacation From Yourself. He tried Googling that. Nothing, or at least, nothing that would seem to indicate an answer to the Basia riddle. That left only one option. He dialed the number.

After several rings came to the tell-tale beep of a voice message bank. He went to speak then paused. What if it wasn't Basia's number? What if...?

'H-hello,' he stammered. 'Good evening. Um, I'm looking for someone called Basia, she gave me this number. She's, uh, a, well a beautiful woman. Red hair, kind of enigmatic, but... well, look I don't actually know if this is her number and if it isn't I'm sorry. But if there's anyone there who might, um, know her then...'

He hung up. What was the point? Whoever's number this was hadn't answered. 'Shit,' he muttered. He threw the phone across the room. Hopelessness descended just as the phone started to ring.

Before he even had a moment to register what was happening he had dived for it. He hit the ground hard but the impact didn't matter. With fumbling hands, he snatched up the phone and answered. 'Hello?'

The voice on the other end was a woman's, but not Basia's. She spoke with clear, clinical confidence. 'Would you like to take a vacation from yourself?'

Tomas' mouth opened and closed. He looked around. 'I'm... look, I'm not interested in any promotional deals.'

For a moment, silence. Then; 'she's on vacation.'

There was a slight emphasis on the last word. As if it didn't quite mean what you might assume.

Tomas stood. His mind was racing. He closed his eyes. 'Yeah. Yeah, I'm interested.'

The directions they gave him over the phone led to the Chinese neighborhood. He had written everything down exactly as it was relayed to him and took every right and left down narrow streets and filthy alleys until he arrived on what, according to the woman on the phone, should have been Shokata Street. But it was hard to tell; he didn't understand any of the signs. He looked from shopfront to shopfront; mostly rundown food grocers. None looked like the kind of place that could have anything to do with a woman like Basia.

A young boy was standing nearby, watching Tomas intently. Tomas waved.

'Is this Shokata Street?' he asked. 'I'm looking for 32 Shokata but I can't seem to find it anywhere around here.'

The boy blinked and pointed to one of the shopfronts.

Tomas looked at it with a frown. 'You sure? I don't understand any of the signs, but...'

The boy kept pointing.

Tomas took a deep breath. 'Well, alright then.' He nodded to the boy, then walked through the door of the shop.

It was like stepping into a different dimension. What had been rundown and near decrepit on the outside was the exact opposite within. Gleaming, mirrored surfaces surrounded a waiting area of plush couches adjacent to a reception desk. On the walls all around them were a variety of posters; they all showed the same woman, each time dressed slightly differently. In one she looked to be a high-end executive, in another a pilot, in another an adventurer. All of them had the same caption below; 'You choose who you are. It's time to take a vacation from yourself.'

Before Tomas had the chance to process what he was seeing, a woman had appeared beside him. She was medium height, dark-skinned and exotic looking. Her handshake was firm and her smile confident. 'It's a pleasure to meet you Tomas. My name is Dex; we spoke on the phone. I imagine you have a lot of questions.'

'You could say that.'

'Take a seat. Our coordinator will be with you in a moment.'

With that, Dex returned to her desk. Less certain about any of this than when he'd started, Tomas walked over to the couches. A few young men were already waiting, dressed in suits and either reading magazines or on their phones. A couple nodded and smiled as Tomas joined them. He looked at the posters again. Then at a large screen above a door beside the desk, one he hadn't noticed before. One of the businessmen was called and went through. On the screen, the model from the posters appeared. She looked tired and exhausted, dressed as a waiter.

'I know how it feels,' she said. 'I'm tired. Worn out. Sick of my life and also of myself. Everything is always the same. I need a vacation.'

Tomas shifted uncomfortably.

Everything around the model began to change. Within moments she was standing in an airport, dressed as a stewardess. 'It's time for a new life. A new world. A new me. It's time to live in the air and have people call me Candice.' Everything changed again. Now she was tearing up a highway on a motorbike, still talking into the camera. 'Or Jen, and to spend my days exploring lost highways.' Everything changed again. Now her face filled the screen. It felt as though she was staring right at Tomas. 'The possibilities are infinite. Are you ready to take a vacation from yourself?'

A logo replaced the model; "ING Life Design."

Tomas leaned in a little closer, just as Dex called his name. He stood as she directed him through the door beneath the screen. Tomas hesitated for just a moment. He looked from Dex to the screen. He looked over his shoulder, to the door that led back to the rundown, worn out old street.

He walked through the door.

Dex followed and pointed him to the left. He thanked her and walked, heading along a sterile white corridor to a single door at the end.

Behind the door was a spacious office. Welcoming and warm, it was adorned with plush couches, wood-paneled walls and a large oak desk. Sitting on one of the couches, a pocket watch in hand, was a man just a little older than Tomas, well dressed in a dark blue blazer. He smiled as Tomas entered.

'Basia wanted to be somebody else too,' he said. 'Except she wasn't Basia. She was on vacation.'

Tomas didn't know what to say.

The man stood and nodded to a clock on the wall. 'I try to find its flaws without breaking it open. Like a psychologist.'

'She... she wasn't who she said she was?' Tomas asked.

'In a manner of speaking,' the man said. 'If you start applying that standard to people, where do you stop? Nobody is really who they say they are. But in her case, well, yes, the deception was a little more than usual.' He extended a hand. Tomas took it. His smile was warm. 'My name is Elliot Cole. I'm the designer of this company. I take it the ads outside gave you some idea of what we do?'

'Maybe,' Tomas said. 'You sell vacations of some sort?'

'Of some sort is very right!' Cole clapped. 'A travel agency will sell you fifteen days to forget about work and all the other little stresses and responsibilities of life. Here, we understand that sometimes that isn't enough. It can alleviate the external wear and tear, but it's not always external, is it?'

Tomas shook his head.

'Then you understand,' Cole said. 'We offer the possibility to disconnect from yourself. Not just your work, but your family, your name, your pets, your friends, your belongings; even your ambitions and your dreams. It's an innovative experience from which you will learn huge amounts. It will take you to places of your own that you never thought could be yours.'

Tomas considered him for a moment. 'So Basia was on... on vacation pretending to be someone else?'

Cole tapped his nose. 'Incorrect. She was exploring a different possibility of herself. We all have infinite possibilities Tomas, but life tends to guide us, whether we want it to or not, into living out just one. We give you the chance to try another. Tomas, more than 87% of who you are is derived from your circumstances; what society and culture has made you think you have to be. We let you break away from all of that. By being somebody else, maybe you can discover the real you.'

Tomas ran a hand through his hair. It sounded amazing. It sounded more than that. But he knew what was going on here and he knew what his answer had to be. 'Mr. Cole, anything like this is far too expensive for me.'

'Well then, it's convenient that we're among the few companies that isn't only preoccupied with money,' Elliot said.

Tomas frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean forget money. All you have to do is decide whether or not this is for you.'

Tomas tried to think. Possibilities spun through his mind. He felt dizzy. 'So I could... I could decide who I wanted to be?'

Cole shook his head. 'That wouldn't be optimal. Think about it; you're the one who made the choices that led to your own unhappiness. Leave it to us. We determine from multiple studies which environment will most allow you to flourish.'

Tomas watched him, waiting for the 'but'.

'Money doesn't interest me,' Cole said as if reading Tomas' mind. He gestured to the clock again. 'It's like repairing a clock. We do this because we love it. Completion brings satisfaction, far more so than money ever could. After a certain point – ten, twenty, a hundred thousand, ten million... money stops being as interesting as the mystery behind the curtain. So. What do you think?' He spread his arms. 'A vacation from yourself.'

Tomas turned away. His eyes found the clock. He watched its hands move, slowly. He closed his eyes. A vacation from yourself. He thought of work and Laura, of Len and Rex. He thought of Melina and Basia.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I think I'd like that.'

## CHAPTER SIX

GETTING READY TO say goodbye to everything you were was more work than Tomas had anticipated.

After agreeing, he was led into a preparation room; sparse and white-walled, occupied by little more than a plain table covered in documents. Contracts along with a questionnaire to help with the process, Dex explained. She stood stock still in the corner while Tomas sat at the table, looking over all the papers in faint disbelief. He had worked for a news organization for long enough to be used to excessive paperwork, but there was excessive and then there was excessive. He picked up the first sheet of the questionnaire and started to read.

How did you first discover your sexuality?

He looked up at Dex with a raised eyebrow. 'Is this necessary?'

Dex said nothing. Just looked at him with an expression somewhere between cool disinterest and disdain. He didn't want to know which. He picked up his pen and got to work.

The questions ranged from uncomfortable and invasive to seemingly pointless. He wasn't sure why the age at which he'd stopped sleeping with a teddy was important, or why anybody needed to know the frequency of his daily toilet visits. It was, he thought wryly, the kind of things the ads playing out in the foyer didn't include. Spending two hours answering the most mundane questions about your personal life wasn't exactly an enticing selling point for whatever it was he was about to embark on.

But maybe it was testament to how much he needed this that he neither questioned nor complained beyond his initial inquiry to Dex. He ticked every box and filled in the details on every page, no matter how much they made him cringe or shuffle in his seat. He kept thinking back to Cole's promise. A vacation from yourself.

He supposed, all things considered, that he didn't even fully understand what this would entail. Would he still know himself as Tomas, or would he be whatever name they gave him? Could he choose his name, as Basia suggested she had? He had a lot of questions but Dex's cool observance was enough of a deterrent from answering, so he just kept going until, after what felt like days, the forms were finished.

'Good,' she said, the moment he was done. 'Now I need the passwords to all of your accounts. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram – everything.'

'But... I've never told anyone those,' Tomas replied.

'How very secretive,' she said drily. 'Your commitment to security is admirable, neworder56.'

He gaped at her. 'If you already knew, why ask?'

Dex shrugged. 'Protocol.'

Protocol, as it turned out, didn't end at the forms or the personal questions. Tomas was next led into an examination room, where Dex ordered him to strip before getting to work with stethoscopes and thermometers. Tomas was fairly sure he'd never even had a doctor's appointment this thorough. Or an appointment in which the doctor doubles as the secretary. He asked Dex about this as she listened to his lungs. She ignored him.

'You should ask Cole to hire more people,' Tomas said. 'You're being exploited.'

'We haven't reached my limit,' she replied.

'Did you...' Tomas glanced around. 'How much of this did you help make?'

'I'm not allowed to answer questions outside of protocol.'

Tomas raised an eyebrow. 'Are you a droid?'

Dex's unfriendly smile did little to disabuse him of that notion.

He left the Chinese neighborhood feeling more worn out than he had after almost any recent day of work. But it was a different kind of tiredness; a tiredness that came hand in hand with a prickle of anticipation, the sort of tiredness it was easy to tolerate because it was in service of something else, something that would make everything worthwhile.

Arriving back home, Tomas checked his answering machine. A bunch of mundane work-related issues that he ignored with a thrill of mild rebellion. Fuck work. He was going on vacation.

Still, there were things he had to deal with before he disappeared for God knew how long. He called his parents and, slightly relieved when they didn't answer, left them a message saying he'd be gone for a while and not to worry. He wasn't sure what he would have said to any of his Mom's inevitable endless questions.

Next, he opened up his Facebook and put up a post saying something to much the same effect – he would be offline for a while due to a vacation, nobody need worry. He waited for a few minutes to see if anyone would like or comment. Nobody did. He turned off his computer and stowed it in a drawer. Next, he went through his wallet, taking out all of his credit and healthcare cards. He hid them around his apartment in various pre-planned hiding places. Just in case.

Next, he went through the bag that they had given him back at the facility. Plain dark clothes. He undressed then jumped in the shower. He imagined everything that made him Tomas, all the regrets and resentments and bitter weariness, washing away. After stepping out and drying himself he looked in the mirror and smiled. A small smile, but a real one. An excited smile. He didn't know what waited, but he knew it wasn't this, and that counted for a lot.

He got dressed in the dark clothes they'd given him and checked his watch. Almost time. He left his watch on the kitchen bench before casting an eye over his apartment. Everything in order. Ready for him to come back. He pushed away the ugly dread that came with the idea of coming back. Maybe something on the vacation would give him an excuse to stay away forever. Maybe. He went for the door, opened it, and paused. He turned and looked back at Rex's bed. He looked at it for a long time. Then he walked out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

He waited out on the sidewalk for several minutes. Various cars raced past. He wondered if they noticed him and questioned what he was doing if he looked suspicious. But nobody indicated that they felt that way. To the world, he was just another boring guy living a boring life. Fine. He could escape into anonymity.

A black van slowed and stopped in front of him. The door opened. Tomas paused only a moment before he stepped inside.

Dex was waiting in the van, going over an iPad. Beside her were two bodyguards, burly and black-clad. Neither acknowledged Tomas. Without looking up, Dex told him to sit on the other side, next to her. He did. The door closed and the van started to move. There were no windows; he couldn't see where they were going. He tried to work out their path from the movements of the car, then decided to ignore it. It didn't matter where he was going. What mattered was that he was going.

'Everything is in order,' Dex said. She gestured to the bodyguards. 'These new friends are here to ensure it all goes smoothly.'

Tomas' hands were sweating. He wiped them on his pants. 'Is it normal to think this is all crazy and terrifying?'

'That's why your new friends are here,' Dex said.

Tomas swallowed and tried not to look past her at the two bodyguards. 'And, um, if I change my mind?'

Dex didn't look up. 'Well, somebody has to pay these gentlemen.'

Tomas considered for a moment, but he knew his mind was made up. It had been made up before he stepped into the car and crossed the threshold. He nodded. 'I'm ready.'

Dex handed him a small bottle. 'Drink this. It's necessary to begin this experience. It helps combat resistance, open perception and prepare your mind for what's about to happen.'

Tomas felt his certainty falter as he took the bottle. 'Is this, um, legal?'

'Legality does not interest me at this juncture,' Dex said. 'Nor should it concern you.'

Tomas opened the bottle. 'What's one more drop in the ocean?'

He drank. It tasted like nothing. Less than water. He finished whatever it was and lowered the bottle. Nothing was happening.

Dex patted her lap. He frowned at her, uncertain of what she wanted, then he understood and suddenly he realized that he had never wanted anything more in his life than to go to sleep. The corners of his vision were darkening. The inside of the van swam around him. He lay down on Dex's lap. He tried to say something but his mouth felt like it was full of tar. He tried to think but his brain seemed to be suffering the same affliction.

He wondered briefly if this was what open perception was supposed to feel like. But in seconds the thought vanished into the tar and it was as though it had never been there. Everything felt distant, echoing.

What was his name again?

## CHAPTER SEVEN

TOMAS AWOKE SLOWLY. He knew in an instant that this was not his apartment. More light than usual, for one. And the ceiling was a different color; black, not the drab beige he knew. He flung out an arm and found more bed. Usually, he could find the edge if he reached too far in either direction.

He sat up. The bed was huge. So was the room. He got up. It took longer than he was used to. He bare feet touched a thick, furry carpet. It was almost ticklish on his soles. He stood. His head swam. He sat again. He touched his head and saw the shape of a wristband below his right hand. He started to examine it just as the piercing sound of an alarm clock filled the space.

It took him a while to find it, on a bedside table on the opposite side of the bed. He crawled across and whacked it until it shut up. He realized then that the sheets he lay on were silk. Silk. No wonder he had slept so well.

Moving more gingerly, he got off the bed. The dizziness seemed to be subsiding. He looked around. One of the walls of the room was just a giant, panoramic window. He walked over to it, looking out in awe over the vista of a city he didn't recognize. Or at least, a part of a city he didn't recognize. Everything seemed cleaner. Brighter. The morning sky was clear and the sun was rising.

He could hear a cell phone. He tore himself away from the view and crossed the room to a door on the other side. He stepped out into the sprawl of a vast apartment; black, shiny and packed with everything he could never afford. Long, luxurious couches, wide windows, a giant TV and bigger sound system. It took him a moment to remember the phone was ringing. He found it on the kitchen bench. He had never seen this brand before. He answered.

'Yes?'

'Welcome to being Matt Green,' Dex said. 'The past doesn't matter now. It's time to build your future.'

'Matt Green,' Tomas said, trying it out.

'That's your new identity,' Dex said. 'Designed from our evaluations to best suit your personal needs. You'll find all the necessary documentation in the drawer in front of you.'

Sure enough, there was a drawer in the bench. Tomas opened it and sifted through. Passport, drivers' license, credit cards. His photo was everywhere, but not his name. Matt Green. He couldn't believe how thorough it all was.

'Your birthday is June 14, 1984,' Dex went on. 'Your parents died when you were a boy, but that doesn't affect you.'

Beneath all the documentation was a printout bearing his photo and the same biography.

'You have just moved into a new city to incorporate yourself into the Levis firm, Levis and Associates, as a legal consultant. You have no girlfriend, no friends, no family connections. Only a dog named Dino, who will be arriving shortly. From now on your sole purpose is to participate in the experience and register what happens in the digital notebook.'

Tomas looked around. 'Notebook?'

'In the dressing room. Down the hall, to the left.'

Tomas followed her instructions. The apartment was bigger than he had thought. As he entered the spacious dressing room, he felt the telltale prickle on his neck that suggested he was being watched.

'It is imperative that you remember the contract you signed,' Dex said. 'For everyone's sake. You are liable for one million dollars should you break it; as such, I urge you to conceal your true identity. Forget it if you can. Before I say goodbye, in your jacket pocket you will find the keys to your new car. I trust you will be satisfied with it.'

'You know I can recognize your voice,' Tomas said. 'You guys really should hire more personnel.'

'Secrets are easier to hide than a voice.'

'What's your real name?'

'Dex.'

'That's a droid's name.'

Several outfits were hung up for him in the dressing room but centrally was a leather jacket with a black shirt and pants, beside which was a small, leather notepad with a digital pen. Tomas picked it up.

'Is this how it always begins, Dex?'

'This is what I most enjoy about the job. Now answer the door, would you?'

He had barely noticed the ringing doorbell. He left the room, turned up the hall and followed the sound. He opened the door and found himself looking down at a Border Collie, wagging his tail and panting heavily.

'Welcome Mr. Green, they've left this boy for you,' the concierge, holding Dino's lead, said. He went to hand the lead to Tomas but Dino hurried past them both into the apartment.

'Sorry,' Tomas said. 'He's an excitable boy.' Tomas wasn't sure if that was true, but he did know there was some excitement to pretending it was. 'Thanks for dropping him off!'

He closed the door and followed Dino into the apartment. The dog was running about the place, sniffing everything, getting to know his new home. His nose led him into the kitchen, where he stopped at a door. He barked.

'Oh,' Tomas said, 'right.' He walked over and opened the door. Two bowls waited, one marked 'food', the other 'water.' He found a bag of dog food on a shelf above and poured some out for Dino before topping up his water bowl. Dino immediately got to work. Tomas took a step back.

'Hi Dino,' he said. 'I'm... Matt Green.'

He knelt down to pat the dog. Pain went through his torso. His head spun. He stood, reaching out and leaned on the bench for support. Gingerly, he lifted his shirt. All down his body were tiny dots, the skin around them red and irritated. Tentatively, he touched one. The ache surged. He dropped his arm and looked at Dino, who had finished eating and was staring at his new master with his head cocked to the side.

'That,' Tomas said. 'Is deeply weird.'

With no clue of what his new car looked like, Tomas walked into the building's underground carpark, keys in hand, pressing the unlock button as he walked down the rows of vehicles, waiting for the beep that would tell him where to look. As he went he adjusted his new leather jacket; it fit him perfectly, but at that point he was hardly surprised. He wondered how much it was worth. It made him automatically feel like standing up a little straighter, putting his shoulders back and his chest out just a little. He felt confident. He felt like Matt Green.

He pressed the button and was answered with a beep. His eyes found the source. His mouth fell open. He was looking at a sleek, low slung, black BMW sports car.

'I love you Matt Green,' he said weakly. Half expecting somebody would tackle him out of nowhere if he so much as touched it, he walked over and reached out a hand. The paint job was immaculate; he could see himself in it. The car had to be brand new. How much money did this Elliot Cole have?

He opened the door and slid into the car. The leather seat nestled him perfectly. The dashboard gleamed. The steering wheel was soft to the touch. He started the ignition and the car came to humming life around him. He wrapped both hands around the wheel. The power of the thing was incredible.

His phone rang. Unable to help his grin, he answered.

'I hope you're enjoying your new life so far,' Dex said.

'It's going to be really hard not to get used to this.'

'Like anything in life. Your first task of the day is to go to your new job. Get acquainted with your responsibilities, be a hundred percent confident in carrying them all out. The key is not to overthink the solution to every problem that presents himself.'

'I like to think things through,' Tomas said, running a hand over the steering wheel.

'Tomas does. Matt Green doesn't. Just remember your contract; three strikes and that's it. On the third strike, your experience is terminated. Drive carefully.'

The GPS came to life, showing the location of his new job. Tomas barely noticed. He was still holding the steering wheel. 'If only my exes and enemies could see me now.'

'You have enemies?'

Tomas laughed. 'Well, I supposed they would also be my exes.'

The car handled like a dream. Tomas had heard that expression before, but never truly known what it meant until he steered the BMW out of the underground carpark on to the street. It was as though it responded to his lightest touch, weaving its way through traffic with effortless grace. He could feel the eyes on him; people pausing on the street to watch the car go past. Tomas wound down the window. He smiled at watching women. He sped up and slowed down, just because he could. He did an extra lap around the block. Nobody had ever looked at him like this before. Not when he was Tomas. But now he was Matt Green, and things would be different.

He arrived at the location shown on the GPS; a skyscraper emblazoned with the words 'PRIESE AND COPPER'. Through the glass front of the building he could see a large, showy lobby not dissimilar to the hotel where he had met Basia. Usually, a place like this would make him feel self-conscious, but not today. Matt Green was not concerned by such things. Matt Green wore designer clothes, drove a sports car and enjoyed all eyes on him.

Still, he did feel a twinge of discomfort as he entered the building and told the secretary what he was there for. He could feel her eyes lingering on him as he took a seat and looked around at the gold plated, art deco appearance of the place, all sharp angles and fans. The secretary was still watching him. He met her eyes. Matt Green wouldn't look away. The secretary blushed. He smiled, just slightly.

'There you are!'

Coming from the elevator was a fat, middle-aged man in a suit that seemed to be bursting at the seams. Tomas stood and extended a hand.

'Mr Levi,' he said, as he shook.

'Please, Samuel,' he said. He was sweaty and out of breath. 'I've heard amazing things about you; I can't tell you how thrilled we are to have someone of your calibre on board. Come on up to the office.'

Tomas followed him into the elevator. Levi was asking all kinds of questions about how he was finding the city so far, questions Tomas had no answer to. So he just lied. Levi nodded, laughed and seemed genuinely interested in everything he had to say. By the time they sat in his spacious office, Tomas had the feeling that he could say or do anything and have Levi tripping over himself to be friendly.

'Now.' Levi adjusted his position in his large, leather armchair. Behind him the wall was adorned with all kinds of photos of himself doing everything from sailing to meeting celebrities. Tomas wondered how many were photoshopped. 'Your resume is extremely interesting. Makes for some compelling reading, I'll tell you that! I want to know everything about how Pairos and Brothers went down.' He leaned forward, a greedy gleam in his eye.

Tomas had no idea how Pairos and Brothers had gone down. He wasn't even sure what that sentence meant. He smiled and looked around. 'Had to explain really. It was a complicated situation.'

'Another time then,' Levi said, sounding not in the least bit disappointed. 'Now, I'll cut to the chase. Mr Green, this is the heart of Levi and Associates, and our job is saving lives. Innocent or guilty, nothing is more important that the wellbeing of our clients. All 243 staff members work round the clock to ensure our reputation remains sterling, and the only way to do that is through sheer devotion to the client. Understood?'

Tomas nodded. 'Given my dedication to contributing, you can make that number 244.'

Levi smiled. 'Excellent. I like to hear that. No, I love to hear that. I'm not gay, but you could prove me wrong on that.' He winked and pressed a button on his desktop phone. 'Bring in Sarah please.' He returned his attention to Tomas. 'I want you to be comfortable here, and comfort starts with having a place to call your own. Ah, Sarah.'

Tomas turned. A tall, willowy woman had just entered the room. She was blonde and kept her eyes lowered. Tomas couldn't help himself; he looked her up and down. Briefly she caught his eyes. There was something about the way she looked at him, something that implied hidden depths. He had to make himself look away.

'Sarah will be your assistant,' Levi said. 'Which is lucky, given that she's a little piece of heaven. Sarah, please take Matt to his new office.'

Tomas stood, shaking hands with Levi as he did. 'Pleasure to meet you,' the fat man said. 'You'll have to come round to watch the game and eat hot dogs at my place soon.'

Tomas was tempted to ask if Levi really needed any more hot dogs but decided not to push the friendship this early. Instead, he just thanked Levi and followed Sarah out of the office and down the wide hall. As they went she pointed to various doors, explaining what they all were. Tomas didn't listen. Most of his effort was going into not looking at her ass.

'Legal is through here, research is on the other side, then management, and here is your office.'

They had arrived at a door that already bore a plaque saying 'Matt Green', beneath which were the words 'Research Co-ordinator.'

'We've given you a provisional password,' Sara said. 'My name. On your desk I left a file regarding the cases we'll be working on.

Tomas opened the door and stepped into the office. It was huge. From the giant desk to the water cooler, the paintings on the wall and the recliner, he couldn't quite believe it. Automatically, he sank into the recliner. 'There's a lot about this place I'm going to have to get used to,' he said.

'My number's 110,' Sarah said, gesturing to her own desk in the corner of the space. 'I'm here for whatever you need.' With a last shy smile, she walked over to the desk and sat. Tomas briefly wondered why she would bother giving him her desk number considering they were working in the same room, but then, it was a big room. Tomas allowed himself another moment to watch Sarah work. A picture beside her computer seemed to show her with a young girl. A mother, then.

Figuring it would do to make a good impression, Tomas walked over to his own desk and sat. He placed both hands on the wood; varnished and perfect. It made Len's desk back at his old work look positively tiny. He wondered what his idiot boss would think if he could see him now. He wondered what any of the people from his old life would think. Smiling to himself, he went to pick up the papers just as his phone rang.

'Time to exercise,' Dex said. 'Floor fifty, locker 110. Let's go.'

## CHAPTER EIGHT

HERE AND THERE Tomas had tried to get into the habit of going to the gym, but it had never stuck. Especially after Laura left, his motivation had fallen through the floor. But now, being Matt Green would have to be motivation enough. That, and the fact that the Preise and Copper building's gym was huge and extravagant, with flat-screen TVs hanging from every wall blaring the news and top of the range machinery around the place.

He got changed in the bathroom then, already feeling self-conscious, eyed the equipment. A treadmill seemed most within his skill set, so he got on. He set the speed at pretty low, hoping nobody would notice, and started to jog.

On the news, a swarthy, surly looking man in a suit was being depicted, along with the headline 'Cornered and Complicated', with a subtitle identifying him as Soko Mendoza. Tomas tried to focus on that unpleasant, scowling face as he forced his long-neglected muscles into action.

A hush fell over the room, slight, but enough for Tomas to notice. Glad of an excuse to look away from the face on the screen, he turned-

-only to find himself looking at the exact same face.

Surrounded by bodyguards, Soko Mendoza looked even more threatening in real life. His lip curled into a sneer as he saw what was on the screen. Tomas quickly turned, put his head down, and focused on jogging. Whoever this man was, Tomas had no interest in pissing him off.

Mendoza passed him on his way to the change room just as Tomas' phone rang.

'It's important, Mr. Green, that we begin to train you on your new identity,' Dex said. 'In order to do so, we shall remove any residual personality traits from your previous identity. We'll be working on your mental aspects, vocabulary, how you relate to others and posture, as the first set of objectives. The wristband you're wearing registers everything you accomplish.'

As if on cue, Tomas' wristband activated with a shining blue light.

'These are the next tasks you'll have to complete,' Dex went on. 'You can only wear white shirts and boots, from this moment on. Workouts are the only time you can wear sports-wear. You cannot exceed a rate of 2 miles per hour in your everyday walking pace. Your wristband will help you find your rhythm. You must walk with confidence. You must introduce yourself with the phrase "Green, you can call me Matt..." And you must incorporate these words in your vocabulary: discipline, savage, adjunct. For today, we require twenty articulations of each word in opportune moments.'

Tomas was aware of movement beside him. His stomach turned as he realized Mendoza had gotten on the treadmill beside him. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with while trying to work out how to follow every instruction Dex had just piled on him.

'Finish your thirty-minute workout and then return to the office,' Dex said, hanging up.

Tomas pocketed his phone, glanced at the watch, then did his best to jog while looking anywhere except at the screen or at Mendoza.

'I'm sick of seeing lies about myself,' the other man growled from beside him.

Tomas' first instinct was to say nothing, but Matt Green would not remain silent. Matt Green would say something like...

'Tremendous. Savage.'

Mendoza glanced at him, eyebrow raised. Tomas smiled weakly.

One of the bodyguards changed the channel. Mendoza shook his head and focused on his workout. Feeling a rush of relief, Tomas did the same.

Mendoza finished his workout fast and retired to the showers. Tomas did his best to ignore his screaming muscles until finally his time ended and, aching and wincing, he got off the treadmill and without thinking, made for the showers, only to find Mendoza's two bodyguards standing in his way. Tomas stared at them dumbly for a second, unsure of what to do.

'Let him through.' Mendoza's voice came from behind them. 'I don't think he's hiding a gun in that skinny ass.'

Now a little uncertain of whether he actually wanted to hit the showers, Tomas walked past the guards, to where Mendoza was getting changed by a bench.

'It would be, um, hard to adjunct a gun in there.' Tomas tried to make the use of the word sound natural. He did not succeed.

Mendoza looked at him strangely. 'What kind of training are you doing?'

'Um... discipline training,' Tomas stammered. 'In, um sustaining my cardiac rhythm and breathing discipline.'

'One of those new things?' Mendoza said. 'Like Pilates or meditation or whatever?'

'They're actually kind of ancient.'

Mendoza cocked his head to the side as if examining Tomas. 'You saw me on the news in there and didn't freak out.'

'I don't believe everything I see on the news. It all seems so savage.'

Mendoza nodded. 'But they create a subconscious image of me, reinforce that image by repeating ideas. They associate a stink with me when they can't make something stick; or less a stink and more... something intangible, like an unfinished thought. It would be easy to laugh off if there weren't so many people out there who take the news at face value. It's as fucked as a whore.'

Tomas smiled. 'The stink you're referring to is a lack of trust.'

Mendoza clapped loudly, almost making Tomas jump. 'Exactly. It fucks up my businesses. What's your name?'

'Green. You can call me Matt.'

'Listen, Matt,' Mendoza took a step towards him. 'I might be a son of a bitch, but I'm not the son of a bitch they're selling on the news.' His smile was ugly. 'In fact, if they knew the son of a bitch I was, they wouldn't say anything about me at all.'

Tomas swallowed and tried to look like whatever the opposite of scared was.

Tomas spent the rest of the afternoon behind his desk, going over files and feeling sorry for himself. Occasionally he felt as though Sarah might be watching him but every time she looked up her eyes were on the papers in front of her. He did think, however, there seemed something a bit drawn and self-conscious about her movements. What was the deal with that woman? He couldn't have made a terrible impression that soon, surely?

When the end of the day came he stood, stretched, and made for the door. 'See you tomorrow Sarah,' he said tentatively.

She gave him a strange, guarded look. 'Okay. Hope to be there.'

Tomas paused in the door. 'Everything okay?'

The look didn't drop. 'For now.'

'Okay. Maybe get some rest.'

She said nothing, but she kept watching him. Uncomfortable, Tomas hurried out of the office and down the hall. He was experiencing a strange twitch in his hands that he suspected could only be rectified by feeling them wrapped around a leather steering while. Luckily, he knew just how to attend to that.

## CHAPTER NINE

HE TOOK HIS time driving home. In the dim twilight the city seemed electric and alive, full of bustling people and the bright lights of bars and restaurants coming to life as night descended over everything. Maybe this wasn't dissimilar to what he was used to back home, but the key phrase was 'used to'. He wasn't used to anything about this life and maybe that let him see things through new eyes. Matt Green's eyes.

He walked into his apartment to find Dino sitting on the couch, looking balefully at him. He slapped his thigh and called 'here boy!' but the dog didn't move. Tomas shook his head. 'Tough crowd, eh?' He shrugged off his jacket and went to collapse into the couch when his phone rang. Dreading an order to do more exercise, he answered.

'New task,' Dex said. 'In forty minutes you are to go and pick up Sarah at her house. We suggest wearing the dark Hugo suit. She received a new dress from you today along with a slightly threatening message pushing her into going out with you. You must find a way to downplay her anger and ensure she doesn't level a sexual harassment charge against you.'

Cold horror gripped Tomas' heart. He closed his eyes, that guarded expression of Sarah's looming up in his mind again. Shit. 'Dex, this isn't, you can't, that's not the kind of thing I would ever do!'

'But you're not you, Matt.'

She hung up. Tomas lowered the phone, staring at it in disbelief. A loud beep announced the arrival of a text message with Sarah's address. Tomas looked up at Dino, who still hadn't moved. 'What the hell have I gotten myself into, boy?' he muttered.

He showered and dressed quickly. The suit looked good on him but he didn't feel like appreciating the fact. An acidic nervousness was working its way through his gut, a mingled sense of dread, shame and weirdly, guilt – guilt for something he had not done. There had to be a way he could convince Sarah that it was all a misunderstanding. Of course, it would have helped if he knew just what the hell the stupid note had said.

There was no joy to driving the car this time. He felt self-conscious and ignored the looks he was still getting. At that moment Matt Green didn't feel like somebody who deserved that kind of attention. For the first time, he disliked the fact that he was Matt Green. How had they decided that this persona was what suited him best? Some sleazy yuppy bullying the women in the office into dating him? Well, screw that. He could follow their rules to a point, but they couldn't make him do anything terrible. And he would treat Sarah so well that she would forget how the date came about.

He pulled up out the front of her small, modest house just as the front door opened and she walked out. She was dressed in a low cut, black dress that, despite the circumstances, made him have to actively try to keep his jaw from dropping. As she got into the car he did his best to arrange his face into a pleasant smile.

'The good thing is that you're on time, Mr. Green,' she said, eyes forward.

Tomas tried to say something witty. Or kind. 'Sorry! I hope you won't, y'know, sue me for sexual harassment or anything, except like, I mean, I haven't actually done anything sexual and nor do I have any intention of doing anything that's... sexual.'

She looked completely lost.

'It's not, not that I don't find you attractive or anything,' he babbled on. 'The opposite really, sometimes I just, um, well impulse takes over and I can hardly control myself and... and you can stay here if you like, that's fine too.'

Sarah said nothing. Tomas could have kicked himself.

He made another attempt to smile. 'All of that said, you do look stunning with that dress.'

There were, all things considered, worse ways the situation could have gone. Lying on his giant bed, drenched in sweat, Sarah draped naked over him, Tomas was forced to conclude that maybe Dex knew what she was doing. Or maybe that was just the post-sex fog his brain was in. It was hard to say and honestly, harder to care. He ran a finger down her back as she looked up at him.

'I've never done anything like this before,' she said. 'But I mean... I don't know. Feeling coerced made it more, exciting, somehow? Sexier. There was a sense of the unknown that really turned me on.'

Tomas grimaced. He didn't know how to tell her that he quite literally hadn't coerced her. But telling her would be breaking his contract and, considering how it had worked out for him so far, he wasn't quite willing to risk that. So instead he asked the question weighing on his mind.

'Given everything, that's what you liked most about me?'

Sarah brushed his cheek with a long finger, thinking. 'That's what drove me crazy. So. Are we spending the night together, or am I going home like a teenager?'

She was beautiful. So beautiful. But the reminder of how she saw their circumstances had shaken Tomas somewhat. If the upsides to being Matt Green came hand in hand with these kinds of downsides, then he had a lot of thinking to do. And thinking was near impossible with a beautiful woman sharing his bed.

'You should go home,' he said.

Any trace of tenderness dropped from Sarah's face. She considered him for a moment, then sat up. 'Fine. But tomorrow I'm only your secretary again. This never happened.'

The night's events circled through his head as he ate breakfast the next morning. A churning mix of guilt, pleasant excitement and undeniable satisfaction made it hard to keep anything down, so he distracted himself by trying to get Dino to sit while tempting him with bits of bacon. The dog, for his part, just stood where he was, looking blankly at Tomas as if asking why he wasn't just being given the bacon outright. Tomas sat back, shook his head, and threw the piece to Dino. 'You really are Matt Green's dog, hey?' He returned his attention to the newspaper and something caught his eye. A headline he had to read twice to be sure of what he was seeing.

NORTH AND CLEAN DOES NOT CONTAMINATE.

Twice wasn't enough. He read it again, and again. After everything, all of that research, the work he had put in, giving the information to fucking Len... He read on. 'regardless of various claims to the contrary, the judge in the case has ruled that North and Clean do not produce toxic waste dangerous to the environment and atmosphere of inhabited areas. He sat back and rubbed his temples. Christ. He wondered how much Len had been paid to sit on the story. Or if he had even bothered to try and sell it. There was enough evidence in his work to take the company down. More than enough. It would have destroyed them and made Tomas' career in one go. But he had played by the rules, taken it to his boss instead of an external party all because he wanted a goddamn promotion. Full comprehension of what he had done raced through his mind. He reached for the phone and dialed a number, that of one of his old colleagues. He put it to his ear.

'Mr. Green,' Dex's voice said. 'Your contract stipulates that you cannot have contact with anyone from your previous life.'

Reeling, Tomas stood. How the hell had she done this? 'I... I know,' he managed. 'It's just, Dex, people's lives have been destroyed. It's important that I make this call. This situation goes beyond some game or vacation. It means helping people. Surely we can make an exception?'

'Can those people you want to help pay off your contract?' Dex asked.

Tomas opened and closed his mouth. He didn't know what to say.

'Every choice comes with responsibilities and obligations,' Dex said. 'You signed for yours. If you weren't ready to make the agreement, you never should have entered into the transaction.'

Tomas sat. Closed his eyes. He hung up and slammed the phone down on the table. Matt Green's spacious apartment and designer suits were starting to feel like the constraints of some horrible trap. He exhaled and looked at the newspaper again. It was too much. Whatever guilt he had been feeling after Sarah left tripled with this knowledge, becoming an ugly whirlpool threatening to drag him into a dark place of self-loathing. He snatched up the newspaper and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces float to the ground. He glanced at Dino, who had not moved. The dog just kept staring at him in a way that was almost accusatory.

'Yeah,' Tomas said. 'I know, boy. I know.'

## CHAPTER TEN

DRIVING TO WORK, there was no escaping what had happened. He switched between radio stations, but all anybody was talking about was the North and Clean ruling and what it might mean. One news reader, sounding anxious and on edge, was clearly reporting from the courthouse; the sounds of an angry riot filled the background. The broadcast cut off with screams and a distant bang. Or maybe Tomas had just shut it off. He was reacting instinctively, struggling to sit with the gravity of what he had learned.

Maybe, when all was said and done, there was nothing he could do. Maybe North and Clean were too powerful, too able to manipulate their own narrative to ensure that they always came out on top. Maybe being the man who tried to bring them down would have led to a late-night knock on the door from somebody sent to persuade or silence him. In the end, maybe, nothing he could have done would have made a difference. But that was conjecture. The fact was that he could have done more, instead of relying on the system he knew due to an all-consuming pursuit of a promotion that had never really mattered too much to him. Not enough for him to stick around at work when the opportunity to become Matt Green had come knocking. The promotion had only ever been the potential for a different, better life. And being distracted by that pursuit might have destroyed somebody else's.

He was feeling well and truly miserable by the time he slumped down behind his desk. His eyes moved over the files in front of him and he felt barely any motivation to get to work. He glanced at Sarah, typing at her desk and neither acknowledging him nor giving the slightest indication that she had had anything other than a good night's sleep. He returned his attention to the papers and rubbed his temples. Being this tired wasn't helping. He started to fan the files on the table, working out where to start.

'Excuse me, Mr. Green, here are today's reports.' Sarah was standing in front of him, more papers in her hands. Tomas just started at her. She raised an eyebrow. 'Sir?'

Tomas blinked and shook himself. 'Sorry. Right. Yes. Thank you, Miss... uh, Sarah.'

She deposited the papers on his desk, turned on her heel and left. Tomas stared after her. She hadn't been kidding with what she'd said last night.

His phone rang. 'Mr. Green, I hope you continue to enjoy your vacation,' Dex said.

It was a little more complicated than that, Tomas thought, but he didn't vocalize the fact.

'Please turn your attention to the file named "Romas" in front of you,' Dex went on. 'We need to get you assigned to this at the next coordination meeting.'

'Okay.'

Dex hung up. Tomas started at his phone. She never said goodbye. Maybe that was part of the whole thing. Some kind of separation technique, in keeping with the way he was supposed to treat his old life; not to be indulged while he was on 'vacation.' He glanced at his computer. He was tempted to look up more about North and Clean, but he knew it would just depress him, and Dex's warnings from earlier were still fresh in his mind. Instead, he opened up Facebook and typed in 'Matt Green'. Predictably, there were quite a few results.

His phone rang.

'Everything has been taken care of,' Dex said. 'In Gmail, under Matt Green you'll find access to all his accounts with the password "green110".'

Again she hung up. Tomas rolled his eyes and opened up Gmail. Sure enough, he found the login details for everything; Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook. He went first to Matt Green's Facebook. A few photos of himself were already there, photos Tomas was almost certain he could not remember being taken. He was already dressed in Matt Green's clothes, for one. He shook himself. It wasn't creepy. Much. They'd just photoshopped it, that was all. He also noticed that he had 1,234 friends. He whistled to himself and looked at the list. It didn't take long until he saw a familiar name. Paris Hilton. He opened the page. Unless this was an extremely elaborate act of fakery, this was Paris Hilton's personal Facebook. There were plenty of pictures of her going about her day with a group of friends. Matt shook his head in disbelief. He went back to the list and scanned down it again. He looked up.

'I don't have you on Facebook, Sarah.'

Sarah kept typing.

Over the course of his first days at Preise and Copper he had met a couple of colleagues he now knew by name, and as he walked into the long, dimly lit conference room he was glad he could at least recognize a couple. He shook hands with Carlos, a nervous young man who gave the impression of being so organized it verged on OCD, and Diana, a woman with the kind of cold demeanor and hungry look in her eye that suggested she was willing to dethrone God before he took his seat. For a few moments nobody spoke. The only sound was that of paper shifting; as if everyone around the table hadn't already memorized what they were looking at.

Finally, Samuel Levi waddled into the room. 'Sorry I'm late, sorry I'm late,' he boomed with false contrition. 'This city does not make things easy, I'll tell you that for nothing!' Squeezing himself into a chair at the top of the table, he gave Tomas an indulgent smile. 'So, you've become part of the team. Have you had a chance to get to know everyone yet?'

'We'll become familiar with each other as we work together,' Tomas said, nodding to Carlos and Diana.

Levi clicked and pointed at him. 'I like that! Alright, now let's get down to brass tax. Our client; Romas, Alexis. Implicated in trafficking the nasty white stuff, three anonymous witnesses ready to bury him in the ground. What else do we know?'

'I've been searching for a way out, but the case is solid so far,' Diana said. 'And what's more, Baltazar is the judge.'

Levi whistled through his teeth. 'That's grim. He'll demolish Romas.'

'Who is Baltazar?' Tomas asked.

'The bastard child of Mother Theresa and Batman,' Carlos said, with uncharacteristic vehemence.

'Baltazar's numbers say that anybody charged with committing a crime is 89% likely to be found guilty,' Diana said.

'Physically, he's more like Mickey Rourke and Batman,' Carlos added to Tomas, who nodded.

Levi leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together in front of him. 'So. What are we going to do about it?'

'Win, like we always do,' Diana said.

'Win, like we always do,' Carlos said.

Levi looked at Tomas. 'Mr. Green?'

Tomas forced a smile. 'Win, like we always do.'

Later that evening, walking around his apartment, Tomas decided that he might as well take advantage of being Matt Green for as long as he was him. Namely, to try on some more of his clothes. In his ordinary life, Tomas had never been overly concerned about presentability short of being neat and not offensive to look at, but like the car, he figured that he ought to at least experience the lifestyle. And if that meant, for once, liking the way he looked, then that was what he would do.

He wasn't sure if it was in his head or not, but he did think the clothes made him look better, somehow. More confident, more handsome, more striking. Maybe just wearing them was enough to straighten his posture and eliminate some of the nervousness he always felt he carried around with him. Or maybe he was imagining it. Either way, posing in front of the mirror in suits and designer jackets, a bored-looking Dino by his side, was turning out to be more entertaining that he could have guessed – although it did seem like the kind of thing Matt Green would enjoy.

At least until he heard footsteps in the apartment behind him.

Tomas spun on the spot. His heart raced. He looked around for a weapon but all he could find was a coat hanger. He grabbed it anyway, then, eyes locked on the door, crept forward. Dino followed, not making a sound.

Ideas raced through his head. It was North and Clean, coming to murder him for trying to put their dangerous practices out into the world. It was Dex, punishing him for his almost-indiscretion. Mendoza, who had figured out he wasn't really Matt and was about to take revenge for being lied to.

He stepped out into the hall and raised the coat hanger.

Directly ahead, standing in his kitchen area, a man in a uniform was changing his water cooler.

'Jesus!' Tomas lowered the coat hanger. The man looked at him blankly. 'You scared me half to death.'

'I'm just changing the water,' the man said.

'I know but... I mean, why?'

The man shrugged. 'It's my job. Every 48 hours I change the water. You pay for it.'

Tomas didn't know what to say. Was a strange man coming into your house every two days just part of the deal when you were a rich playboy?

'I might leave now,' the man said. 'Since I'm finished. Will that scare you too?'

Tomas shook his head. 'No. it's all fine. Thanks. All fine.'

With a raised eyebrow, the man walked past him, the old water bottle in hand. Tomas watched him go. The door clicked shut and, shaking his head, Tomas went to pour himself a glass. He caught sight of Dino staring at him. He grabbed the dog's bowl and topped it up. 'I guess we're living like kings, boy.'

They both drank. Tomas' phone rang. With a groan, he answered. What now?

'We are now going to increase the intensity of your experience,' Dex said. 'In the interests of breaking down your old ego to better allow you to become somebody else. This will push the limits of who you were until they break.'

Tomas swallowed. He wasn't in love with that idea.

'You are going to be tired,' Dex said. 'Starving. You will feel like you can't cope. It will be hard. You will suffer, but that is the cost of success.'

'Okay,' Tomas said. 'Um, but like... am I doing well?'

'Listen carefully Mr. Green; I am going to explain the tasks to you.'

Tomas stood where he was, sipping his water as he listened. The longer he listened the weaker he felt. He sat. And by the time Dex was done, it was all he could do not to break down.

This is supposed to be a fucking vacation?

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

WHEN PEOPLE SAID the word 'vacation', it conjured up certain images for Tomas. Lazy afternoons on the beach, or else relaxing by a fire in a snowy resort. Days spent seeing sights and basking in nothingness, letting your brain unwind as you escaped from the world you knew, that had dragged you down and made life little more than a meaningless grind. And while he had known on some level that what he was signing up for would not be conventional, he had also assumed it would be somewhat relaxing. Or at least, that it wouldn't be as trying as what he was put through over the following days.

If you wanted to break somebody down, this was the way to do it. And while part of Tomas was almost grateful for the distraction from what he had learned about North and Clean, the rest of him screamed for mercy.

The rules Dex had lain out were harsh, extensive and in many cases seemingly pointless. The sole mercy was that he only had to follow them for 72 hours, but that didn't feel like much of a mercy when 72 hours started to seem more like 72 years.

He could no longer use elevators. Arriving at work he had to run up the stairs, reaching his office sweaty and panting, lungs burning. No designer jacket or tailored suit could make him feel glamorous after that; limping through the office knowing he'd have to do it again when his lunch break arrived. Then, Dex had instructed, he had to synchronize every single clock in the Preise and Copper building with his own, finding excuses to climb on colleague's desks and change the time, or else to literally sneak into their offices. Why he had to do that, he had no idea; Dex hadn't been forthcoming with the answers and after his morning exercises he wasn't much in the mood to think it through.

And just in case adding extra strain on top of the new job he was still working out wasn't enough, Dex had directed him to a restaurant for those three evenings, where he had to slave for hours on end washing dishes under the eye of a bored looking chef who ducked out every few minutes for a cigarette. Somehow, the food kept going out and the dishes kept coming back in. By the time he returned to his apartment around midnight, he stank of grime and dishwater. Dex had told him this was to put his ego in place. Tomas hadn't bothered to point out that his 'ego' wasn't even big enough to allow him to ask out the pretty girl who used to work next to him. He knew he wasn't egotistical just as much as he knew that Dex didn't care; these were the precious rules and he had to follow them, or else risk being a million dollars in the hole.

Then there was the diet. Dex had explained that, while Tomas hated tofu with a fiery passion, Matt Green loved it; to the extent that it was all he ate. Worn down and with muscles screaming for rest, he couldn't even rely on a good meal to make him feel better. Or a drink; naturally, during the 72 hours of this personality breakdown or whatever one was supposed to call it, he could only drink water.

Nor could he sleep. Dex had given him a strict training regimen for the gym, a series of exercises somewhere between difficult and stupid. With only water and tofu fuelling him and his body already on the point of collapse due to his daily runs up and down the stairs, this was the worst part. He found himself existing in a strange twilight zone; going through the motions, getting to the point where even the burn of his protesting muscles didn't matter anymore. He couldn't have stopped the exercises if he'd wanted to. He would float through the workday, reading papers without anything going in. Another rule was that he couldn't communicate with anyone through verbal language; which really did wonders for the way Sarah saw him; as he could only respond to the most basic questions with a gesture or a nod. He started to wonder if this was contractually obliged torture of some sort, a punishment for... well, he didn't know what. Maybe after his failure with North and Clean this was what he deserved.

Then, most humiliatingly, every two hours Dex had coolly instructed him that he had to masturbate. It didn't matter where he was or what he was doing; whether he had to excuse himself in a meeting, stop exercising or leave a pile of filthy dishes to duck into the even filthier toilet of the restaurant. At first, privately, Tomas had thought this might be a kind of relief. It wasn't. Dex told him the intention was to show him the 'other side of pleasure'. As the hours wore on he was no longer convinced there was even one side.

Time had no meaning anymore. Nothing did. Any considerations about what the point of this could be or whether he had made a big mistake ever agreeing to a break slipped away. His world was the tasks. Because this was the life of Matt Green and he was Matt Green and he couldn't break the rules even if he wasn't sure anymore of why he couldn't break the rules or how he had gotten involved in any of this to begin with. The world was an uncertain blur.

His phone rang. He was in his apartment. He didn't know why. He answered. He knew the voice, but he could no longer assign a name to it.

'Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?'

'Green, but you can call me Matt.'

He wasn't even sure he had consciously formed those words.

'Mr. Green, you can rest,' Dex said.

He felt neither gratitude nor relief. He collapsed on to his bed and the world went dark.

Even a dreamless, good night's sleep didn't do a lot to make him feel better. He was jumpy and there was a twitch to his right eye that was driving him mad. He yelled at Dino for barking at the front door and found himself seized with a kind of hopeless, frustrated anger when the dog didn't listen. Finally, he flew to his feet only to realize that the newspaper had been slipped under the door. He walked over and snatched it up, glad for something to focus his mind. He sat back at his kitchen table, opened it up, and froze.

YOUNG WOMAN DIES IN ACCIDENT, the headline announced, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The photo of the woman was grainy and a little old, but she looked a lot like Basia. He swallowed. Surely not. What were the chances? He turned his attention to the story. Natalia Perez Cornu lost her life yesterday while crossing the road near a busy intersection... He took out his phone, considered for a moment, then Googled 'Natalia Perez Cornu'. The name was distinct and it didn't take long for the photos to come up. Day to day life shots from Facebook and Instagram, a couple of smiling headshots from old jobs, but all unmistakably the same person. All Basia.

## CHAPTER TWELVE

HE COULDN'T FOCUS at work. He was still so tired, his eye wouldn't stop twitching, and the tangled mass of emotion that he didn't know how to name or unravel kept threatening to consume him from the inside. Basia was dead. What did that even mean to him? He had met her three times; one of which involved spending the night with her. Trying to find her had led him to this, but that didn't mean he knew her or that she ought to matter to him. And yet the fact that she was dead kept repeating itself in his head over and over again, match only by the nagging suggestion that if this was how the last recipient of one of these vacations had ended up, what was to say he wouldn't go the same way?

Anger was coming out as the dominant emotion, and he couldn't even say what he was angry at. He slammed files down on the table and swore to himself as he tried and failed to focus on his work. He felt stretched and about ready to snap.

'Is everything okay?' Sarah asked from in front of his desk.

He looked up at her. His eye was twitching again. 'Fine.'

Her usual frosty expression softened. 'Are you sure?'

The twitch wasn't stopping. He nodded.

Sarah glanced around. "Why don't we... why don't we have dinner tonight? Just the two of us.'

Tomas could have cried. He nodded. 'I think I would like that a lot.'

'I don't... I don't know how to explain it,' Tomas said, as they sat together in the Italian restaurant. 'You know someone, just for a moment, and then they're gone. Someone who wasn't a big part of your life but, but mattered to you somehow, you know?' He shook his head and drank. His third glass already and dinner hadn't arrived.

Sarah eyed the glass with evident concern. 'Matt... you need to relax, okay? Everyone around the office has noticed you've been acting really odd lately. That whole thing with the clocks, the fact that you basically didn't speak for the last few days. Not to mention the drive over here.'

Tomas frowned. 'What was wrong with the drive over here?'

Sarah raised an eyebrow. 'Seriously? You almost crashed about five times. Didn't you notice all the beeping?'

It was like an insect was buzzing around his head. Tomas shook himself. The memory was there, somehow, but not. He knew he had heard a lot of beeping lately, but couldn't say when. 'I didn't notice anything.' He poured another glass. 'Let's toast.'

'To what?'

'To being alive.'

'To being together.'

They raised their glasses. Tomas knocked his back. He smiled.

'What does that smile mean?' Sarah asked.

'What?' Tomas didn't know smiles had meanings. Had he smiled? He looked at the wine. He wanted another glass.

Sarah sighed and looked at the table. 'We women are always the fools, aren't we?'

'We're together tonight, aren't we?'

'But we're not...' Sarah grimaced. 'I don't know who you are, Matt. What food you like, where you grew up, who your family is, what you do with your time off. I want to know the man I'm...' She looked away, embarrassed.

'Oh,' Tomas said. 'Right. My favorite food is tofu. I don't care how it's prepared as long as it's tofu. I barely remember my childhood. I mean, it was just... uneventful, I guess. My parents didn't hit me or hug me. Maybe they liked me. I don't know.' He poured another glass. 'I have a dog called Dino who's a bit of a jerk. What else do you need to know?'

They looked at each other for a long time.

'Are you going to ask anything about me?' Sarah said.

Tomas smiled again. 'No. I don't want to know anything that will bring you down to earth. I like you out of my reach.'

Sarah looked surprised. But not in a bad way.

Tomas drank.

The night blurred. Food came, they ate. There was a taxi, but Tomas wasn't sure where it was going or why. Then a house he didn't recognize. Music and Sarah's face, smiling then frowning. He pulled her close. He could feel the heat of her. The music got louder. They danced. Everything tilted. He felt his phone ringing. He didn't answer. Sarah swam in front of him. She pulled away. He danced alone. The phone rang again.

His head was in a vice. He tried to sit up and the pain seared. He fell back. His mouth was parched. He opened one eye. Everything was too bright. He felt sticky and slow. He rolled over and saw the time on the clock next to his bed. It took him a moment to register then he sat up again, ignoring the pain this time. He stumbled out of bed. His bed. He paused. How had he gotten home? Last night was a blur. He shook his head and walked over into the living room. He poured a glass of water from the cooler, then another then another, smashing them back to try and hydrate. His eyes landed on his phone, sitting on the table next to the still open newspaper with the picture of Basia. He picked it up. Five missed calls. He closed his eyes. Shit.

He got ready quickly. He hurried downstairs into the park then remembered he had left his car. Except apparently he hadn't because it was back in his usual spot. He looked at it for a long time, trying to work out how that had happened. It didn't matter. He had to get to work.

He drove fast, the air conditioner blasting, the music up loud. Trying to wake himself up. Trying to banish the throbbing hangover. What had he been thinking? Why had he drunk so much? It wasn't like him at all. He didn't even think it was like Matt Green; none of his 'training' had involved this.

He arrived at work, grateful he could once again use the elevator. He hurried into his office but stopped when he saw Sarah wasn't at her desk. He frowned. Usually, she was very punctual. Confused, he walked over to his seat just as Samuel Levi entered behind him. The fat man's usual beam was nowhere to be seen.

'Do you know if Sarah arrived?' Matt asked.

'We were waiting for you this morning,' Levi said coldly. 'We need to start.'

'I'm sorry sir,' Matt said. His voice sounded thick and slow. 'I was working late and... I guess I lost track of time.'

His phone rang.

'Can we, can we talk later?' Matt asked.

'You're at work,' Levi said. 'We're in the conference room. I'll see you there.'

He turned and left. Matt grimaced. His phone was still ringing. He answered.

'Dex, I'm so sorry-'

'Mr. Green!' the jovial voice of Elliot Cole said. 'For now, at least.'

'Mr. Cole, I-'

'You look worn down today Mr. Green, although I suspect that name won't belong to you much longer.'

'I know I messed up, but-'

'Your self-control issues made you miss two tasks last night and the contract is very clear with regards to that. You should have answered the call and shown up this morning to the assigned meeting. Considering that, at the next oversight we shall terminate your contract.'

Tomas closed his eyes. 'I'm sorry. Is there a way I can make it up to you?'

'There are no exceptions. You have five days left; I suggest you spend them wisely.'

'Five days?' Tomas exclaimed.

'This is a holiday, Mr. Green, not a new life. Did you even read your contract?'

'But...' Tomas' mind was racing. 'Is there a way of extending it?'

There was a loud beep, then Dex's voice. 'Search your locker and go to your meeting.'

She hung up. Tomas dropped his arm. His headache had worsened.

He arrived in the conference room with a file under his arm. Levi sat at the head of the table, while Carlos and Diana looked over papers.

'Good of you to join us, Mr. Green,' Levi said. 'Now, if you would take a seat we have a life to save.'

Tomas sat. 'Apologies everyone. I was working late on the Romas case last night and I found some things that kept me going well past my bedtime. Firstly, Romas is as guilty as they claim. Even his own mother is against him. But that said.' He opened the file in front of him. 'We have evidence that Judge Baltazar has met with members of the jury.'

He slid the photos out on to the table for everyone to see.

Levi craned forward. 'Where did you get this?'

'I have my friends.'

'Son of a..' Diana muttered.

'Mr. Green you are evil indeed,' Levi said. His jovial tone was back.

'Baltazar is the most respected judge in the country,' Carlos said. 'We can't go after him.'

Levi ignored him. His greedy eyes were on the photos. 'I want Mr. Green to have every resource he needs on this. I guess I wasn't wrong about him after all.'

Tomas felt like Matt Green would have smiled at that. But he didn't feel very much like smiling just then.

Sitting at his apartment later that night, he waited for a call, for any kind of instruction regarding what he was supposed to do next. He was determined not to screw up again. The vacation might not have been everything he hoped for, but a lot could happen in five days. Maybe the worth of it would become clear soon. Maybe after the residual aches and pains of the last few days faded he would get some perspective. But for now, he just lingered in that same place of uncertainty.

He checked his phone. Still no calls. He looked at the blank screen for a moment, then opened up Facebook. He looked up his real name and found his account. His post about being away for a few days was still there. No likes. Nobody had posted anything on his wall. It was as if Tomas was already forgotten.

He leaned back in the chair just as his phone rang. In his haste to answer he dropped it once before he hit the 'accept' button.

But it wasn't Dex on the line.

Levi had told him which hospital to go to. He had driven as quickly as he could, the terrible possibilities racing through his mind as he went. His boss didn't know much about what had happened; a car accident, maybe, or something else. Unbidden, thoughts of vengeful North and Clean operatives came into his mind, but he banished that. After all, it was Tomas they would want, not the casual girlfriend of Matt Green.

He hurried down the sterile white halls of the hospital until he arrived at the right room. He paused outside, not sure what he would see. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and entered.

Sarah was sitting upright in the bed. She had a black eye and an ugly cut on her forehead. He was taken aback for a moment, then hurried over to her. 'Sarah, are you okay?'

A look of pure terror came over her face. She shrunk away from him. 'Please, I won't... I haven't said anything, I promise.'

Tomas stopped. 'What are you talking about?'

Sarah was shaking her head frantically. 'I won't report you. I won't say a word. Ever. Just please leave me alone.'

Tomas' heart was picking up, a steady thump that reverberated through his whole body. He took another step forward. Sarah recoiled. Tears were in her eyes. 'Please,' she whispered.

'Sarah, I...' he felt sick. 'I did this?'

'Please,' she repeated.

Tomas stepped back. 'I couldn't. I couldn't! I don't remember much about last night but there's no way that...'

An acid panic filled him. He put a hand over his mouth. He staggered out of the room and into the hall. He put out a hand to steady himself as he felt his eyes fill with tears. He was shaking and hot all over. He tried to walk but his legs felt weak. He could taste bile. The tears fell.

Who the hell was he?

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HE DROVE FAST. The speed limit, his safety, the state of the car; none of it mattered. None of it held any importance in the face of what had happened. The terror in Sarah's eyes, the bruises; it was all he could see. If he closed his eyes they filled his vision. The image loomed over him; so powerful and oppressive that there was no room for anything else.

He had never been the kind of person to do something like that. Never. I didn't matter how drunk or angry he got – and sure, he had experience with both – but he didn't have a violent bone in his body. What had changed?

Well, everything, he supposed. There was no coming back from this. The realization of what he seemed to be capable of had shifted his very molecules, changed the entire fabric of his being. He couldn't have done it and yet he had seen the evidence, evidence that was impossible to deny or run from.

Not that that stopped him from trying.

It was Matt Green who had done this, not Tomas. Maybe they were one and the same, but acceptance of that was beyond the realm of possibility. He needed to know for sure. And so he drove.

A loud, thrumming horn made him swerve. He heard the truck pass him, felt the displacement of air as it vanished behind him into the night. He hadn't been paying attention. He was veering all over the road. He tried to focus. Tried to drive straight. Tried to slow. But he couldn't. He needed answers, and fast.

He took his eyes off the road again. He dialed Dex's number. The phone rang. Nobody answered.

'Fuck!' he yelled, slamming the steering wheel.

He kept driving.

It was dawn by the time he pulled into the familiar street in the Chinese neighborhood of his old city. Seeing the shop again was surreal; only days had passed, but it felt like the memory belonged to a different person in a different life. Being here was like being in a place he had only seen in a dream.

He leaned back in his seat, watching the shop front. Was that all it took? A few days, a few mind games, and Tomas slipped away to be replaced by Matt Green? He had never thought that his identity could be so fragile. Was proving that the game that he had unwittingly stumbled into? So desperate to escape the greyness of his life that he had sold his soul?

The back door of the car opened. In the rear-view mirror he saw Elliot Cole sit in the back seat. The other man's expression was unreadable. For a few moments nothing was said.

'Good morning Mr. Green,' Cole said. 'I'm going to guess that you've been driving all night.' His voice was light and pleasant. 'You are aware that, as per your contract, under no circumstances are you to return here? Defiance is a breach.'

Tomas felt like every part of him had just gotten twice as heavy. 'Sir...' He swallowed. 'I needed to talk. I just... nobody was answering the phone and...' The tears were threatening to return. Angry, desperate, hopeless tears. 'I don't know who I am.'

'You're Matt Green.'

'I did something, Mr. Cole.'

Silence.

'Drive, Mr. Green.'

Tomas drove.

'I did something bad.'

'I don't know that bad is the correct word.'

'I don't...' Tomas shook his head. 'I don't remember it. Any of it. I couldn't have done that. It's not possible.'

Cole's arm reached between the seats and dropped a photo beside Tomas. He glanced at it and something icy pierced his stomach.

'No...' he breathed.

'Part of this experience is about finding the real you,' Cole said. 'Framed as an escape, what it really can be is a discovery. All the things that are repressed and buried, the ugly realities, tend to come to the surface.'

'But I never...' He couldn't find the words. 'I don't want to be Tomas again, but...'

'We all want to live in five-star hotels, drive the fanciest cars, wear designer clothes and be wanted. Be one of the beautiful people. But for most the cost is too high.'

'There is a cost, then.'

'Your evaluation has been positive, overall. But the next level is different. It requires leaving behind everything you once knew.'

Tomas' eyes were being drawn by the photo. He didn't look. 'What is the cost of continuing to be Matt Green?'

'Your will. You have to give yourself over to us completely. Be as obedient as a soldier. Follow the rules we lay out.'

Tomas imagined returning to his old life. Working in the office, visiting Rex's grave. Alone, downtrodden, unloved. He looked at the photo. The rage on his face. The panic on Sarah's.

'I'll do it.'

'I can only imagine how hard it is to go back to being a nobody,' Cole said.

'Now what?'

'Now? The day is over. A new level of tasks is about to begin. You must return to your new life. In the meantime, we will evaluate your offer. Now stop the car and let me out here.'

Tomas did. The door slammed behind Cole.

He could see Carlos' distrust the moment he walked into his office and asked for a word. He understood; it wasn't like the other man had any real reason to like him. Dex's instructions had been thorough about that. Or maybe it wasn't even the instructions anymore. Maybe it was just him. Matt Green.

'This working as a team thing has been great, right Pablo?' Tomas said.

'Carlos,' the other man replied, through teeth that were very close to being gritted. 'Carlos Montgomery III.'

'The third,' Tomas said. 'So there were two Carlos Montgomery before you?'

'My father and grandfather, yes.'

Tomas winked and pointed at him. 'So you're the new and improved Carlos. The upgrade.'

Some of the tension left Carlos' face. He leaned back with a slight smile.

'Carlos, I'll cut to the chase,' Tomas said. 'You need my help.'

Carlos frowned. 'With?'

'With the Romas case. You're lost. If I was Levi, you'd be fired tomorrow.'

Carlos went to speak, but Tomas raised a hand.

'Shh. Don't worry. I'm going to give you everything you need. Namely, my sources. After that, the glory and the victory is all yours.' He took a burner phone from his pocket and placed it on Carlos' desk. 'Somebody is going to call and give you all the information you need for the case. Victory is yours. Enjoy it.'

Carlos looked from the phone to Tomas. 'And in return?'

'I want you to report me for violence and narcotics possession. You'll find the proof on my desk.'

Carlos gaped at him.

'There's a message there too,' Tomas said. 'When I call you, you repeat that message to the cops. That's it.' He smiled. 'You don't always have to work hard to succeed Carlos.'

With that, he turned and left his stunned and bewildered co-worker to figure out what the hell had just happened.

As he returned to his office, making a point not to look at where the new secretary worked in Sarah's place, his own phone rang. He answered.

'Now all you have to do is relax,' Dex said. 'We'll guide you every step.'

Tomas wished it was as easy as she made it sound.

## CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NOTHING MATTERED NOW except following his orders to the letter. Whether they made sense or not was no longer his concern. He listened, he followed, and he got to keep being Matt Green. That was what mattered.

His former life had become blurry to him. Sometimes he struggled to remember the name of his old boss, or girlfriend. Their faces felt wrong in his head, like the memories of a different person implanted to confuse him, so he ignored them. At times it was easy to believe he had always been Matt Green and Tomas was just a strange and sad dream.

He drove steadily along the winding road up the hill. Night had fallen, banishing the last orange light from the vast sky. At the peak was the large, hulking shape of an observatory. Various other cars were parked around the place. Some had their lights on. Most didn't. Tomas pulled up and stepped out. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair. He walked forward and looked out over the vast, sprawling expanse of the city, alive with a million lights, like stars. He glanced up. There were more stars below than above, tonight. The sky was an inky blanket.

He got back in the car and opened the glove compartment. It occurred to him that he was scared, but even that emotion felt distant, the property of someone else that, for a reason he couldn't explain or define, was with him. Matt Green didn't get scared. He opened the small pill bottle and took a couple of tranquilizers. Then he lay back in his seat, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He could doze for now. All he had to do was wait, and the call would bring him back, if and when it came. If it didn't come, it didn't matter. All that mattered was following the orders.

Carlos Montgomery III pulled his car to a halt and looked out the windscreen. He had driven for a long time; all through the night, and now it was morning. The landscape was unfamiliar to him; empty and desolate; dry grass swaying gently in the breeze. He checked the coordinates. This was the right spot. He opened the door and stepped out. He breathed in and out, trying to stay calm. He had nothing to worry about. He was just tired. This moment was a career maker. Matt Green, after all, had clambered through the ranks effortlessly. Breaking the rules here and there, maybe. But Carlos had always followed the rules and look how far that got him. He didn't know why Matt was helping him, and he didn't want to think about the pictures he'd seen on the other man's desk, but none of that mattered now. This ugliness would all be over soon and he would be flying up through the ranks. He deserved this, and if getting what he deserved meant taking a slight shortcut, then so be it.

In the distance, a black car approached. Carlos' heart picked up.

He had done everything Matt asked. He would be fine.

The car pulled to a halt. The door opened and a figure stepped out. Carlos couldn't see any details at this distance. He waited a moment. The figure didn't move.

Carlos started to walk.

Bleary-eyed, Tomas walked into the gym. Mendoza was at his usual spot on the treadmill, working out. His bodyguards eyed Tomas with a lazy attempt at suspicion. Mendoza glanced over as Tomas walked in.

'Back again kid?' Mendoza barked. 'You're a glutton for punishment, I'll tell you. If I were you I'd have sex instead of bothering with this crap. Lose 400 calories like that!' he clicked for emphasis.

Tomas smiled. 'I don't think I'd lose more than 100, even at full effort.'

Mendoza laughed as Tomas headed into the locker room.

Tomas walked over to his locker and opened it. His clothes, as usual were inside. He glanced behind him, then reached out and opened the false back door that Dex had told him would be there. For a moment he just stared at what he saw. A spike of cold panic very unlike Matt Green shot through him.

Behind the false door was a gun and a pair of glasses.

He dressed quickly then, with another glance at the door, put the gun in the waistband of his pants. He picked up the glasses. They looked normal. He put them on and suddenly the world around him changed.

Everywhere he looked were numbers, coordinates, facts hanging above the various elements of the locker room. He removed the glasses. Everything was normal. He put them back on. His phone rang.

'This is the moment,' Elliot Cole said. 'You hand your will to us in exchange for staying a part of this experience forever. Leave everything behind, and you get to be more than you ever imagined. Do you agree?'

'Yes,' Tomas said.

'Follow the instructions as you see them,' Cole said and hung up.

Tomas closed his eyes. Inhaled. Then he dialed Carlos' number.

Carlos looked over the pictures the man had handed to him. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He knew, on some level, that he must appear pale and shaky, but he didn't care. Nothing had ever seemed so insignificant. He looked up at the man. He wore black and smoked a pipe. There was no expression on his face as he watched Carlos.

Carlos went to speak. His phone rang. He removed it from his pocket-

Just as the shot took him in the head.

Tomas jogged steadily on the treadmill. His nerves poked and prodded at him. He knew that not of all his sweat was to do with the exertion. A roiling ocean of fear was being held down by only the thinnest of barriers.

Mendoza appeared to have noticed.

'I'll tell you boy,' he was saying, 'nothing like sex to reduce stress. If I could, I'd be grinding all day long.'

'I'll take your advice,' Tomas said. Numbers that he took to be co-ordinates filled his vision. What was it Cole had said about following instructions? That would be a lot easier if he had any idea what any of this meant.

'I'm telling you, whenever you want, call me on my secret number,' Mendoza went on. '555-LOVE YOU. That's really it!' He roared with laughter.

Tomas sensed movement. He looked over at the bodyguards. Both were frowning, listening to something on their earpieces.

Then, as one, they drew their weapons.

'What's going on boys?' Mendoza hit a button and his treadmill slowed.

Tomas did the same.

'Shots fired outside,' one of the bodyguards said.

Mendoza looked confused, but not scared, as both guards ran through the door. Tomas watched after them, then looked back at Mendoza.

On the glasses, a red outline closed around him.

Tomas' heart began to race.

Then the words, seared across his vision. KILL OBJECTIVE.

Tomas couldn't seem to breathe. Mendoza was staring at him, saying something. But Tomas' body was moving against his will now. He took the gun from his pants.

'No... what are you doing?' Mendoza demanded. He clambered back, off the treadmill. 'You can't do this. Boys! Where are you? Boys!'

Tomas raised the gun.

Then the entire room shook with the force of an explosion from the lockers. Tomas and Mendoza looked at the same time; smoke and dust were pouring from the door. Mendoza coughed.

Tomas pulled the trigger.

Mendoza hit the ground. Immediately the instructions on the glasses changed; an arrow pointed him in the direction of the explosion. Escape route.

Tomas ran.

An acrid smell filled the room. Tomas could barely see through the haze. It took him a moment to realize that one of the walls was gone; a jagged, scorched hole opened out into a hallway. Tomas hurried through. Arrows pointed to the staircase ahead. Tomas followed them, as fast as he could. He bolted down the stairs taking two, three at a time. He went down floor after floor. He could hear sounds of yells from above. He ignored them. They didn't mattered. What mattered was the arrows.

They shifted, pointed him through a door to the right. He followed. He was in the hallways of an office he didn't recognize. The arrows led him to a maintenance closet. Inside was a worker's uniform. He changed quickly. The arrows shifted again. They directed him to the door of an empty office directly across from the closet. He followed. He was being pointed to the window. It was open. A harness hung just below the sill, attached to a taut cable outside.

Maybe he should have been scared or bewildered. He wasn't. He pulled on the harness and tightened it. Then he climbed out the window.

It was as though every movement had been programmed into him. The height didn't matter, nor did the buffeting wind or the sheer wall he was being lowered down. He swayed and felt that at any moment he could fall, but these were his instructions and nothing was more important than his instructions. So he just let himself be lowered until his feet touched the street below. He could hear sirens. He disconnected himself from the harness and stepped out. The arrows were directing him across the road. He went to follow just as he saw a van careening towards him on the right. Didn't matter. The arrows pointed left. He started to run just as something hit him in the neck. A bullet? He reached for it but his arm wasn't moving properly. His vision tilted, the ground swung up to meet him and everything went black.

## CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HE SAW FLASHES. Of what, he couldn't be sure. Maybe he was inside a car. Maybe somebody was talking to him. Maybe he was replying. He wasn't sure. He fell in and out of consciousness. Fragments of what might have been memories danced across his eyes. Drinking from the water cooler. Running up and down the stairs. Working in the kitchen. The car. The apartment. Matt Green. Sarah. Holding her as they danced. Her face in the hospital. Darkness again, only darkness. He didn't want those memories.

Rex.

How long had it been since he held his dying dog? Had that ever happened to begin with?

He was being carried. He was sure of that much. He couldn't move his arms or legs. To either side of him were... they looked like huts, ramshackle huts erected amongst the dust of... where was he? The huts were made of metal sheets and bits of wood. Some looked like they could fall over with the slightest breath of air. The sun beat down on him. Didn't he have a job to do? Why was he here? He tried to say something.

Then the face of a young girl, maybe seven, appeared in his vision. She smiled.

'Hello. I'm Pamela. We're going to take care of you.'

Darkness again. Darkness and whispers. He had to file his report on North and Clean. He had to... what was his job? Had he rappelled down the side of a skyscraper? A horrible sense that it had all been a long, winding, strange dream dawned on him. He was going to wake up and return to his life. To his tiny apartment with the empty dog bed in the corner and the days spent pining for a girl he had never spoken to. He couldn't. He couldn't...

Something was dripping on his face. He opened one eye. It was dark, but the darkness was patchy. The roof above him had holes all through it. He could see clouds. He tasted rainwater. He glanced down. He was drenched. He seemed to be in a shed of some sort. It was hard to tell.

'It's not permanent.'

A woman's voice. He tried to find the source. He tried to sit up. Something around his neck pulled him back. He touched it. A metal collar. A metal collar connected to a chain connected to a wooden post.

'For your own safety.'

He followed the voice. A woman stood in the shadows, holding an umbrella. A flash of lightning through the holes in the roof illuminated her. She was older. Her face was lined and her hair was greying.

'My name is Lidia,' she said.

'What do you want?' Tomas croaked.

'This is not a conversation for now,' she said. 'Not while you still have to fight. That dark heart does not belong to you. You must drive it away.'

'I'm not a dog,' Tomas said. 'Take this collar off.'

The woman said nothing.

'Take it off now, you old hag!' Tomas snarled. 'I'm not an animal; let me go!'

She turned and disappeared into the shadows.

'Wait!' Tomas cried. 'I have... I have money! Whatever you want, just take it off! Please, let me go!'

She was gone. He called after her, again and again. Just the distant thunder and the rain on the roof. He pulled at the chain. It didn't budge. He tried again and again until finally he slumped down against the pole, breathing heavily.

'Please!' he called.

Nothing. He was alone.

Maybe time passed. Maybe it didn't. It was hard to tell. There was just the darkness and his breathing and then flashlights filled the room. Lidia stood at the forefront of several other women, their faces covered. They surrounded him. Instinctively, Tomas cowered.

'We're not going to rape you,' Lidia said, amusement in her voice.

Giggles. Tomas didn't see what was funny.

Lidia knelt in front of him. She reached out a hand and tilted his chin up, so that their eyes were level. 'You will leave this place when your heart is no longer dark.'

'The fuck?' Tomas muttered.

'Who speaks?' Lidia said. 'The real you? Or the other one?'

'I'm supposed to be somewhere,' Tomas mumbled. 'You've got me confused with someone else. My name is... it's...'

Running. Washing. The water. Sarah.

'Green. Matt Green.'

'Your dark heart guides you,' she said. 'It tells you where to look and what to say. What is right and what is wrong. Your dark heart is not yours. Who speaks?'

'I don't... I don't know what you want from me.'

'These women can move the invisible; understand it, fight it or ask for its help. You need help.'

Tomas was seized by a sudden, rabid fear. He scrambled away from Lidia's touch. 'Don't,' he spat. 'Don't you come at me with... with your...'

'With what you can't understand?' Lidia stood. 'With what you don't want to see?'

One by one the women started to chant. They were shapes in the shadows, speaking words Tomas could not make out. He cowered, wanting it to stop. Their voices got louder. Some of them, he could see, were shaking. Tomas covered his head with his hands. He yelled for them to stop. He couldn't hear himself. The chants drowned him out. He curled into a ball. Wanting it to stop. Wanting it to be over. Wanting to be home.

Sunlight. The dazzling brightness of the room hurt. Tomas tried to sit up. His stomach seized. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Touched his face. A beard. How long had he been here? He was hungry. His head hurt. He tried to remember the past few days. Nothing was there. Nothing but the barest slivers of fragmented echoes. He opened one eye, then another.

Pamela stood over him. She held a basket of fruit and a bottle of water.

'Lidia always says that after a fast you have to start with fruit.'

She held out the basket.

Tomas snatched it from her. She backed away as he started to wolf it down. Juice ran through his beard. He had never tasted anything so good.

'Don't worry Pamela.' Lidia's voice. 'He's just a lost lamb. Like you were.'

Still eating, Tomas' eyes found Lidia. She stood behind Pamela, watching, a rifle in her hands. Tomas felt a burning lurch in his throat. He coughed. The fruit was coming back up.

'Careful, child,' Lidia said. She turned to Pamela. 'When he's done, take the basket and let him rest. He has a way to go yet.'

She left. Tomas swallowed the last of the fruit. He turned the basket over to see if there was anything left. His stomach churned. He threw the basket aside. Pamela was still watching him.

'I was sick once too,' she said. 'I misbehaved. But I don't think I was punished as badly as you.' She considered him for a long moment. 'Did you do something bad?'

Flashes, of photos, not memories. There weren't any memories.

'I guess,' Tomas said. The collar was chafing his neck. He glanced over Pamela's shoulder. They were alone. 'Listen. I have to get out of here. Can you get this collar off?'

'No,' Pamela said. 'You can't leave until you're better. But whatever else you need, let me know. I'm here to help.'

She left. Tomas wanted to shout after her, but he doubted he had the energy.

Days and nights came and went. Tomas wasn't sure how many. It all blurred together until he couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

One night he lay on his back. He could see glimpses of stars through the holes in the roof, but not many. He tried to think of the last time he had seen a truly starry sky. Years in the city made it a rare occurrence.

He heard somebody enter. He didn't move.

'I have your dinner,' Pamela said.

'Can you bring it over here?'

Small steps approaching. Tomas didn't move. He kept looking at the stars. He saw motion out of the corner of his eye, then heard the sound of the tray being placed down. Pamela was within his reach.

'Do you know how to find the great bear?' Pamela asked. 'Or the other shapes that stars make?'

'Not at all.'

'Me neither.'

Pamela lay down next to him. They both watched the holes in the roof.

'What's going to happen to me?' Tomas asked.

'I don't know.'

Silence, then footsteps. Lidia had entered the room. She took them both in, wide-eyed.

'Pamela,' she said. 'Get away from him.'

The little girl clambered to her feet.

'Go and make up some platters,' Lidia said. 'Now.'

Pamela left.

Tomas stayed where he was. 'I wouldn't hurt her.'

Lidia watched him, expression unreadable. 'Pamela can take care of herself. I found her on the streets two years ago. Her face was so bruised it was hard to know what she looked like. There were shoe marks on her back. She couldn't stop shaking when I told her I was taking her home. She slept with a knife. So I brought her to my home. Tried to help her, let her rest. Then I went to see her house.' Lidia's brow furrowed. 'Her parents were drunks. Addicts. She had been abused, beaten, trampled. No toys or dolls in that house.'

Tomas wanted to ask what happened to her parents. But maybe he already knew the answer. Or was scared to.

'Don't make the mistake of thinking money makes the world go around,' Lidia said. 'There's a war going on behind the façade of humanity. The same war that has been happening since the beginning of time. The war between us and those who seek to shape us to suit their ends. A battle in which your soul is the field.'

'That seems an extreme way to look at it.'

'More extreme than the people who used your life to make money? That might not be their final goal, but it's part of their aim. If they knew the real cost of a soul...'

'Who are they?' Tomas asked.

'A factory for evil hearts,' she said. 'They promise dreams and build nightmares. Create villains to infest the world, to shape everything to their agenda. You were selling yourself at far too low a price Tomas.'

For a moment neither spoke.

'And who are you, then?' Tomas asked.

'A mother,' Lidia said. 'Who will do anything to get her daughter back. A woman who's a long way from the country club now. From the things that seemed so real and important, once.' She smiled. 'Enjoy dessert.'

She was gone. Tomas didn't move. The food lay untouched for a long time.

It was maybe a few hours, days, or minutes later that Tomas was woken by somebody coming into the shed. At first, he thought it was Lidia or Pamela, then he realized this person didn't move like either of them. He sat up-

-and froze.

'Basia,' he breathed.

She looked different. Her hair was cut short and she was dressed all in black. But that mysterious smile on her beautiful face was unchanged.

'Well,' she said. 'Look at what time has made of us both.'

'You're not dead?'

Basia shrugged. 'I could be a ghost. Best to consider all options, really. Trying to be rational hasn't been very in character for you lately, has it?'

She dropped a pile of newspapers in front of him. Tomas picked the top one up. Then the next and the next.

MENDOZA ASSASSINATED. LAW FIRM EMPLOYEE SOUGHT FOR QUESTIONING.

THE END OF MENDOZA.

MATT GREEN WANTED FOR MENDOZA SLAYING.

Tomas looked up at her. 'I saw reports saying you were dead. A different name, but it was you.'

Basia looked amused. 'Because the news is always so accurate. Did you really kill Mendoza?'

Something acidic crawled through Tomas' stomach. One memory he had kept at arm's length. 'I... I must have. I pulled the trigger.'

'Sometimes a weapon is a weapon,' Basia said. 'Sometimes it's just a toy that makes noise.'

Tomas was confused. 'No, I... I saw him die.'

Basia shook her head. 'You saw him fall. Not the same thing. The weapon in your hands wasn't real, Tomas. Just a shame I'm one of the few who knows that. Shame I'm one of the few who knows how much of what happened to you recently was just an illusion.' She knelt and looked him in the eye. 'You didn't kill anyone Tomas. Or hurt anyone. Or even make a single choice that wasn't addled. Every day you were drinking chemicals designed to screw with your brain.'

Tomas shook his head. 'No, that's not... I would have known.'

'Should have, maybe. Didn't you ever notice the metallic taste to your water?'

Tomas looked at her for a long time. He closed his eyes. 'The water guy.'

'The water guy. Intoxicating you every day without your knowledge, to make you follow their orders. To make you think you were what they wanted you to be. Your secretary? Just somebody else following the rules as they were laid out. Add some smoke and mirrors, fake some photos and voila. Matt Green.'

Tomas opened his eyes. It was hard to name what he was feeling. Relief, yes; the warm relief of knowing he had not hurt Sarah, that his memories, mostly, had been true. But beyond that, a low, growing anger.

'What about your death?'

'My secret,' Basia said. She handed him a key. 'Come on. Let's get breakfast and watch the sunrise.'

## CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BASIA TOOK HIM to a ruined building, not far from the shed. That said, everything was ruined here. Tired, hungry looking people shuffled around their ramshackle shanties while children played in the dust. Tomas considered asking where they were, but decided against it. He wasn't sure he was going to get a straight answer anyway.

The exposed terrace was on the third floor, looking out over the sea of huts. The rising sun reflected off the rusted metal, making it gleam; look alive somehow. Colors seemed to dance through the makeshift town, and Tomas watched as he rubbed his raw neck.

'I'm nobody now,' Basia said. 'It's kind of liberating. I'm a ghost of myself. Free.'

'Why me?' Tomas said. 'Why did you bring me into this?'

'Why did you do any of what you did over the past weeks?' Basia asked. 'You were my task, Tomas. I'm sorry. I did what I thought I had to, and now I'm trying to clean up my mess.'

'You played with my life,' Tomas said. He felt like he should be angry, but a curiously flat feeling dominated. 'You got me hooked and-'

'Nobody forced you,' Basia said. 'You're an adult, Tomas. Take some responsibility.'

'It would be easier to take responsibility if I understood what I was taking responsibility for,' Tomas said. 'You changed your mind. You brought me to this... this junkyard. Why?'

'I'd be more grateful if I were you,' Basia said. 'Nobody knows where you are. The world thinks you killed Mendoza.'

'Is he dead?'

'I don't know.'

'Shit,' Tomas muttered.

'If he's smart, he'll see the opportunity he has,' Basia said. 'Stay hidden. Like a ghost.'

Tomas nodded. "Sure. And then send someone to kill me.'

'To kill Matt. Tomas is innocent.' She looked at him. 'You can take responsibility for your choices, but don't take responsibility for what was done to you without your knowledge. You were drugged to the point where reality itself had started to change. You never would have pulled that trigger if you weren't so heavily influenced. You are not a killer, Tomas.'

'I'm stronger than you think,' Tomas said. 'You might be able to fool Tomas with illusions, but not Matt. I am Matt Green.'

Basia looked out at the view. Her expression was sad. 'You know they're using you, right?'

'And you aren't?' Tomas said. 'You don't care what happens to me. You just want a clean conscience.'

He got to his feet and strode back towards the darkened, dusty stairwell. It took him a moment to realise Basia was following.

'Where do you think you can go?' she said. 'You reappear as Matt Green, then it's either jail or Mendoza's bullet. And don't think IMG will help; at this point it's far more convenient for them to have you dead. It's over, Tomas. And I think on some level you know that's for the best. Look at what they did to you. You don't even know who you are anymore.'

'What's the alternative?' Tomas snapped.

'I don't know.' Basia hurried ahead of him and stood in his way. 'I don't, and I'm sorry. But for now you have to stay here.'

Tomas stood where he was for a moment. 'You know,' he said. 'I think IMG will be very interested to learn you're no longer dead.'

He pushed past her, leaving Basia alone in the dark.

He hurried through the narrow streets, through the heat and the swirling dust. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to be away from here.

A car pulled up beside him. He ignored it, even as the window wound down and he heard Lidia's voice.

'You've had a rough few days.'

Tomas kept walking.

'You can't fight your nature, boy,' she said. 'Get drunk, get dirty, try and transplant it but in the end you will always need a way back. An evil heart is not in your nature. You are like Pamela. You are a lamb, Tomas. Your burden is having to survive among the wolves, but don't think that means you'll ever be one.'

Tomas stopped. He looked at her. 'I won't fail.'

Lidia smiles. 'Depends on what you consider failure. You still need time, Tomas. You're fighting to return to yourself. This turmoil you feel is natural. Now get in the car. I want to show you something.'

Tomas hesitated. Then he closed his eyes and did as she said. It wasn't like he had any other options.

They drove in silence back to a small house. Tomas wasn't sure where he was in relation to the shed, but it couldn't have been far. Everything was cramped and squashed together here.

Lidia led him into her shanty. He was expecting filth and ruin, but inside everything was neat, arranged around a table piled with documents. And behind the table...

'What is this?' Tomas said, approaching the wall.

It was covered from top to bottom in newspaper clippings.

'I followed the cases,' Lidia said. 'The same face popping up under different names, until the face disappears altogether. Because families look out for their loved ones and sometimes they are able to put together the clues where others can't.'

There were so many faces, some young, some old, all recurring across the wall of articles.

'Sometimes a death report is the end of the line,' Lidia said. 'Other times they go to jail and then there's a quiet 'suicide' announcement a few days later.'

Tomas turned to her. 'Who is it you're looking for?'

Lidia handed him a photo. Tomas looked at it for a long time, then lowered it. It was as though he was seeing Lidia for the first time. 'Dex.'

Lidia shook her head. 'Matilde Rodriguez. A good home, a nice family, who only wanted to make sure their children had better lives.' Her eyes moved to the newspapers. 'But sometimes we go too far. Sometimes we try too hard to protect them. We lock reality away. But reality is very, very good at creeping in where it isn't wanted.'

'I know where she is,' Tomas said.

Lidia nodded. 'Me too. But she doesn't want to leave her dark heart behind. Which means she is going to hurt more people. And that means it's my responsibility to stop her.'

The door behind them opened. Tomas turned. Basia had entered and was about to say something, but froze at the sight of him. For a long time they looked at each other.

'We can't trust him,' she said.

Lidia had not looked away from the photos. 'I've cleaned him up. Showed him the truth. Tried to guide him back to himself. What else can we do?'

Basia's hand was resting on a gun at her waist. Tomas eyed it but said nothing.

'Do us a favour,' Lidia said. 'Stay for now. You can't be out in public until you know what we're going to do.'

Tomas didn't speak.

Basia's hand moved from the gun.

'I need time to think,' Tomas said.

## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IT WAS NIGHT. Basia drove without saying a word. In the passenger seat, Tomas looked out into the darkness as the tangle of everything he had learned circled through his thoughts. It was so much. Too much for one person to be able to digest. He felt like there was a battle going on inside him, furious and violent, a battle that was bound to have casualties. That may be already had.

After a while, Basia spoke. 'There's part of you that wants to go back.'

Tomas nodded.

'I know what that's like.'

Tomas looked at her. Her eyes were on the road.

'I'd never felt so alive,' he said. 'I know I was drugged but I felt... awake. I felt like, this is what we're promised when we're kids, you know? That we can be whoever we want, have the most amazing lives, be special. But then we learn as we get older that we can't, that it's just the same old day to day grind of being worn down by life until there's nothing left. The idea of going back to the way things were before...' Tomas exhaled. 'It would be like escaping a sinking ship only to decide halfway to the mainland that you should turn around and keep sinking.'

For a moment neither spoke.

'For what it's worth, I don't think you need to worry about that,' Basia said. 'You couldn't return to your old life even if you wanted to. You've tasted what it is to be able to change things. Make a difference. Even if it isn't for the better. Now that you've had your life shaped by somebody else, you'll be a lot better at shaping it yourself.'

Tomas smiled sadly. 'I'm not a very good shaper of my own life.'

'You beat yourself up so much,' Basia said. 'Because you expect the most from yourself. Well, you've already given more than most ever do. When I met you, you were fighting for the truth. Defending the needy. You were being a hero.'

Tomas frowned. 'How did you know what I was doing?'

'North and Clean,' Basia said with a hint of disgust. 'Why do you think I was sent to you?'

Tomas gaped at her.

'They must have paid really well,' Basia said. 'And they got what they paid for. You out of the picture, tempted away by the chance to escape what you saw as your failure. You were a threat that they eradicated. Thanks to a little cheap labor on my part.'

Another piece of the puzzle slid into place. Tomas leaned back. 'They fucked up my life.'

'Both of us,' Basia said.

They drove in silence for several more minutes. Then Basia took a right down a narrow lane fringed with trees. Ahead, looming out of the dark, Tomas saw a fence with a large "NO TRESPASSING" sign. Basia pulled the car to a halt.

'Where are we?' Tomas asked.

'The North and Clean laboratory,' Basia said.

'And, um, what are we doing here?'

'Giving my life meaning.' Basia opened the door and stepped out. Tomas followed. She rounded the car and popped the trunk. She looked up at him. 'Turn around while I get changed please.'

With a shrug, Tomas did.

'They're going to make profits from a formula that I stole for them,' Basia was saying. 'Long story involving a horny scientist with a thing for Disney costumes.'

'Wow.' Tomas wrinkled his nose.

'Hey, everyone has their stuff,' Basia said. 'Anyway, I won't go into the details, but suffice to say that weird fetishes aside he was a good man with good intentions. You can turn around now.'

Tomas did. Basia was dressed in black leather with a plain black mask. She held a banner; a stark white symbol against the black fabric.

'Lidia and I designed it,' Basia said.

'What does it mean?'

'It means they won't be messing with us any longer,' Basia said. 'It means that your friends and their friends are gonna face resistance. It means things are going to change. Now, wait for me here.'

'If things go wrong I'm getting the fuck out,' Tomas said.

'You can get the fuck out whenever you want,' Basia replied. 'I'm not forcing you to be here. Just don't get in my way.'

She ran towards the fence. Tomas stood alone by the car, watching. He glanced behind him, to the road back. He exhaled.

Basia moved fast through the shadows. She reached the fence, found the beginnings of a hole she had made on a different night to minimize sound, then took out her knife and cut. The scrape of metal on metal was piercing to her ears, but she stayed relaxed. She knew she was only noticing it because she was on edge.

The moment the hole was big enough, she clambered through. She paused, listening. The night was still. She ran. The large shape of the lab was just up ahead. The only light came from a small security cubicle. She slowed. North and Clean were cheap; they only had one guard on, and she knew from reconnaissance that he was fat and lazy. She also knew he would be watching the game tonight. And that there were two guard dogs with him.

Basia stepped back into the shadow of a large bush, raised her head and howled.

It took only a second for the shapes of the dogs to come bounding out of the security cubicle towards her, snarling and salivating. She stood, raised her gun, and fired two tranquilizer darts. Both found their mark. Both dogs went down. Basia hurried on.

She could see the guard's broad back as she got closer. Sure enough, his attention was on the TV. Furthermore, he had the windows open. The heat, as it turned out, was Basia's friend. She slowed and moved carefully towards the booth. The guard hadn't even tried to find out where the dogs were. Basia raised the gun. He was a big bastard. She shot two darts through the window.

The guard flew to his feet as if he'd been shocked. He staggered and turned. He saw her, or at least, saw a shape in the dark. Basia waited for him to fall, but he didn't. He stumbled out of the cubicle and came for her. Basia fired another dart. He kept coming, yelling something incoherent. She pulled the taser from her belt and fired it. It took him in the chest, he spasmed but kept coming, grunting as he did.

Then, out of the night behind her, a rock soared past and hit him right in the head. The guard stopped short, swayed for a moment, and fell.

'I don't need your help,' Basia said, turning.

'A thank you would suffice,' Tomas said.

'Get lost.'

He raised both hands and backed into the darkness again.

Basia hurried on.

There was nobody inside the building. She unlocked the front door with the guard's keys and moved quietly into the main hall. She could see the outlines of cameras that nobody was watching. She gave them the finger and went on. Wherever she found a blank bit of wall, she spray painted the symbol with the white can she had in her back pocket.

Finally, she reached the office she was looking for. She picked the lock fast, opened the door, and went inside. She stopped for a moment, listening just in case. Still no sound. She was alright.

She unfurled the banner and draped it over the desk. Then moved for the safe in the corner.

She knew the codes. She'd spent days memorizing them. She put them in and opened the safe.

Tomas was sitting cross-legged on the front of the car, keeping watch in the direction of the lab. He was waiting for the sound of keening sirens, or else yells like the ones that had made him run to help Basia. But so far, nothing. He guessed that was a good sign.

Movement in the dark. Tomas tensed, but it was just Basia, running back towards him. He slid off the car and moved to the passenger door. He opened it just as Basia reached the driver's side and together they got in.

Basia pulled off her mask. She was breathing heavily.

'Did you get it?' Tomas asked.

'I thought you were leaving.' She looked at him.

Tomas shrugged. 'I didn't.'

'The formula wasn't there.' There were tears in Basia's eyes. 'Shit. Shit!' She slammed the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, again and again. Her head slumped forward.

Tomas bit his lip. He looked back towards the lab.

'Do you have another suit?' he asked.

He'd never done anything like this. They moved like ghosts through the building, Basia in her black suit, Tomas in an assortment of random clothing items they'd pulled out of the boot. They'd found some flammable liquids in a supply closet and the pungent smell filled the air as they poured them all through the halls and the offices, all over the papers and files and the rest.

In the office, Tomas clambered up on to the table and threw rocks at the security cameras. Basia did the same out in the hall.

They smashed every computer. They destroyed testing equipment. They tore up documents and they laughed, like wild animals.

And then, when the fumes of chemicals filled the halls and the whole place was like a bomb ready to go off, Tomas struck a match and dropped it. Then, together, he and Basia ran as behind them the North and Clean Laboratory became a searing, roaring, towering inferno.

They climbed into the car. Together they sat for a moment, watching the blaze, watching it rise higher and higher until it filled the night.

Tomas threw back his head and screamed. A furious, joyful, guttural scream for all the people hurt and all the dreams destroyed by the evil housed within the lab. A scream for the good he had tried to do that had been thwarted. A scream for himself.

He had never felt so alive. Not the artificial life of somebody else, but a life all his own, a life in which he had done something that mattered, a life in which he had finally struck back and become more than a cog in the machine.

Basia was looking at him.

He smiled back.

'Who are you hiding in there?' she asked.

'Let's find out,' Tomas said.

She started the car. They tore down the road into the night.

## CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SITTING ON THE table, framed against the wall of newspaper articles, Lidia and Pamela watched the TV. The grave-faced newsreader reported on the heinous crime that had been committed. A laboratory, scorched. Millions of dollars' worth of property irreparably destroyed. A company on the warpath. And no idea from the police or the company or the single witness of exactly who was behind the random attack. The only lead they had was the white symbol, stark among the burnt ruins.

There was no mention of North and Clean's record, of the court case or the rumors of their products causing illness. Not that Lidia expected anything else.

Pamela looked at her. 'They're making it sound like some terrible thing.'

'Lies.' Lidia sipped her tea. 'They're just playing their part. Doing what they're told.'

The door opened. Basia entered. Her eyes lingered on the TV for a moment. Her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. She met Lidia's eyes. For a moment they just looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. Lidia sipped her tea again.

'Good morning,' Basia said. 'Have you seen Tomas?'

Lidia returned her attention to the TV. 'He didn't say goodbye.'

Basia's face fell.

It was raining hard. The summer storm assaulted the rooftops of the metal shanties. It was loud. Everywhere, people ran for shelter.

Tomas moved through it all, wrapped in his old coat. He was cold. His hair was drenched. He felt like he could drown any second.

He didn't mind too much. He just kept walking.

It might have taken him hours to get out of that strange neighborhood. Eventually, the shanties gave way to rundown houses, then normal houses and soon he was in a city again. He found a train station, paid for a ticket and ignored all the looks he was getting. A drowned rat, he thought upon seeing his reflection. He found a seat alone on the train and closed his eyes. The events of the night before kept playing out in his head. The flames. The destruction. Basia's smile. The exhilaration.

Across from him, a father sat between two young daughters. One of the daughters smiled at Tomas. He smiled back. Can't be a ghost if you're seeing me, kid. He was alive. He had power. He could make an impact.

It was then that he saw the article on the front of the newspaper the father was reading. It took him a moment to be sure he had read it correctly.

"BALTAZAR IMPLICATED IN ASSASSINATION OF YOUNG LAWYER."

The photo only confirmed his fear. He read the by-line. "Carlos Montgomery III, the father of two children..."

He couldn't read anymore. He leaned back and looked at the roof. He tried to breathe.

It was all part of the plan. It had to be. Whatever game was being played, whatever had drawn lost people like himself and Basia in; it didn't stop at hiding dirty business practices. He had sent Carlos to his death. A young man with a family and...

He had to get off this train.

He walked through the streets, without direction. Ideas and memories circled through his head. He felt like no matter what he learned, no matter what became clear to him, he was still only seeing parts of the puzzle. He had never felt so much like just a single tiny cog in a giant, dangerous, crushing machine. He could scorch as many labs as he liked, but the machine ground on regardless.

It took two hours of wondering for him to figure out what he was going to do. His options, in the end, were limited. Carry out vigilante acts that might bloody the nose of the monster corporation, try and return to his old life, or do something else. Do the only thing that made any sense anymore. Something he knew could be wrong and yet seemed the only valid option left.

He found a pay phone in the shadow of an abandoned building. He stepped into the booth and dialed a number. He closed his eyes.

'Hello,' he said. 'It's Green. Matt Green. I think you might be looking for me.'

The rain had started again, spitting angrily, but Tomas just stayed where he was as the van pulled up. The door opened and he stepped inside.

'We thought you were dead, Mr. Green,' Dex said. 'We searched through all the rubble.'

'You didn't have much faith then.'

'Evidently, we were looking in the wrong place. We're very glad to have you back.'

Tomas smiled. 'I sure hope so.'

IMC had been busy. Their new base of operation, a large control room adorned with pictures of Tomas, Mendoza, blueprints, newspaper articles and more was a chaotic mess of tired looking men and women bustling around desks piled with documents. Tomas tried to ignore the spike of icy fear he felt as Elliot Cole, holding court over a large table in the middle, turned to him. He spread his arms with a smile. 'Mr. Green. Welcome back. The mystery is revealed at last.'

'I never realized I was so important to you,' Tomas said.

'Dead or alive, you may just surprise yourself,' Cole said. 'And us. It's better to have answers to lingering questions, don't you think?'

'I was under the impression that my state of being was irrelevant,' Tomas said, casting an eye around the room.

'Personally, I always hoped to find you alive.' Cole said. 'But that was just me. Now, we have a lot of work to do Mr. Green. We have to prepare you for a whole new identity. New personality, job, physical appearance; the works. A completely different image.'

'I'll miss Matt Green.'

Cole waved a hand. 'Say goodbye to Matt Green. Now, he's only the answer to somebody's question, an answer that will be given with his death. We'll bring an end to the story of Matt Green to allow us a blank slate to tell a new one.'

'What about Mendoza?' Tomas asked.

'His people are going to want to balance the scales,' Cole said. 'Price of business, I suppose. To some, you have become the most precious prize in a trophy hunt.'

'Did you cremate his body?'

'Possibly.' Cole's smile never faltered. 'Now, listen. I've designed a poetic death for you. A beautiful elegy for the life of Matt Green. Have a seat.' Cole directed him to a chair nearby. Tomas sat as Cole leaned against the table and crossed his arms. Around them, the rest of the team continued working; scanning documents and making phone calls as if nothing was happening.

'I have a question,' Tomas said. 'What happens the day I decide I want out? When this all becomes too much and I realize I'd like to go back to my old life?'

Cole shrugged. 'In life, there are lines we cross that lock the door on the places we once knew. If you have a child, you can't return it. If you contract AIDS, well, good luck. Sometimes we cross those lines without realizing. Other times, we choose to cross them. And in those cases, well, the contract has been signed and that's it.' Cole leaned forward. 'A lot has been invested in you. Not just in terms of money, but in time, work, lives. My life, the lives of everyone else in this room. Creating a scenario that means the truth of what we do here would sound, to any sane person, like the biggest lie in the world. Rationality is our best friend. We're invisible because we're implausible.'

'So there's no going back.'

'No going back.' Cole nodded. 'Easier that way.'

'Death, then rebirth,' Tomas said. 'How am I going to die?'

'Assassination.'

'I don't understand how I can die without actually dying.'

'The magic of medicine. Every part of the plan has been meticulously crafted.' Cole started to circle Tomas as he spoke. Tomas shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he was treading water as the sharks got closer. 'Now,' Cole said. 'The trick to this, like anything, is making it look real. That's the crux of what we do here; we create illusions of such power that nobody looks twice, illusions so complete that the difference between them and reality is negligible. So; it starts at a restaurant. Matt Green arrives there on a date. The woman he is meeting will serve to be our reliable witness. Her name is Sonia; part of the team, an actor playing their role to perfection. You'll ask her name at reception, they'll be unsure, she'll call you over. A minor touch, but enough to stick in the minds of anyone present. That little display will make them very aware of the big hug and kiss you share. It will be natural, easy. Real. Everyone will assume they know what they are seeing, and that assumption will plant the seeds we need to grow when the big questions are asked.' Cole continued to pace, moving with a relaxed ease, gesturing as he did.

Tomas focused on looking calm.

'You'll dine. You'll laugh. It's Sonia's birthday. There'll be cake. And then, your big gift. The ring. Everyone will see the proposal. Every woman in the room will be jealous. She'll say yes, smiles and champagne, and you'll both leave the restaurant more than a little drunk.' Cole stopped. His smile grew. 'Of course, we all know what happens when Matt Green gets a little drunk. And the security cameras will see it too. When you arrive home, a fight will begin in the parking lot. Sonia will say things that make you angry, so angry you don't care that Big Brother is watching. You'll hit her. She'll spit at you. You'll drag her into an elevator and pull a gun. She'll scream, so loud people hear and call 911. But by that point, you've reached the apartment.' Cole raised a finger. 'The apartment, of course, is a blind spot. There, you and Sonia are professionals again. You will set about making the place look like there has been a struggle. You will tear clothes and create the perfect tableau. The gun will be prepared; fake bullets. You'll be equipped with squibs. Sonia will shoot you three times. The ambulance and police arrive too late; Matt Green is dead. Of course, the ambulance will be staffed without our people, who will get you out in just enough time for a few onlookers to see you. A nap at the morgue, a few witnesses come through to identify you, and voila.' He spread his arms. 'Matt Green is no more.' He reached into his pocket and withdrew a canister of pills, which he handed to Tomas. 'Ever read Romeo and Juliet? These will put you in a state that looks like death for twelve hours. Then you'll wake up from the best sleep of your life.'

Tomas turned the pills over in his hand, considering. 'Okay, here's a question. Why not just kill me for real? After everything, isn't it a bigger risk to keep me alive.'

Cole shook his head. 'We are not in the habit of removing our soldiers after the battle, Tomas. Not when we still need them for the war.' Cole patted him on the shoulder and straightened up. 'Dex,' he called. 'Show Mr. Green his destiny.'

Dex approached them with a tablet. She gave it to Tomas; on the screen was a photo of a young woman. It had clearly been taken without her knowledge; she was walking down the street and looking to the side. There was a touch of nervousness to her wide eyes and the way she played with her hair. 'Violeta Pires,' Dex said. 'Matt Green will be her destiny. She lives in the south. Low self-esteem, body image issues. Very easy to manipulate. She's bored of the world she feels forced to live in. What she needs is a vacation from herself. No family that can claim her if she vanishes. Now, what interests us is her knowledge of the networks and systems controlling national health records. The cost for us is just a little pride. Matt Green is going to be the refreshment her life needs.'

Tomas looked up at her. 'And how high was my cost?'

Dex frowned slightly. 'We're recycling people here, we give meaning to what-'

'No, it's okay.' Tomas raised a hand. 'I agree. I get it. I just want to know what my price was good for. Simple curiosity.'

'Your capacity to give up your life in exchange for-'

'A chance to be someone else,' Tomas finished.

'And your ability to look beyond what people see,' Cole added.

'Your price was lust,' Dex said.

'Is there a problem with that?' Cole said. 'However cheap or costly, we paid for you.'

Tomas shook his head. 'It's fine. We're okay. Just tell me what's next.'

## CHAPTER NINETEEN

SITTING ON THE table, framed against the wall of newspaper articles, Lidia and Pamela watched the TV. The grave-faced newsreader reported on the heinous crime that had been committed. A laboratory, scorched. Millions of dollars' worth of property irreparably destroyed. A company on the warpath. And no idea from the police or the company or the single witness of exactly who was behind the random attack. The only lead they had was the white symbol, stark among the burnt ruins.

There was no mention of North and Clean's record, of the court case or the rumors of their products causing illness. Not that Lidia expected anything else.

Pamela looked at her. 'They're making it sound like some terrible thing.'

'Lies.' Lidia sipped her tea. 'They're just playing their part. Doing what they're told.'

The door opened. Basia entered. Her eyes lingered on the TV for a moment. Her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. She met Lidia's eyes. For a moment they just looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. Lidia sipped her tea again.

'Good morning,' Basia said. 'Have you seen Tomas?'

Lidia returned her attention to the TV. 'He didn't say goodbye.'

Basia's face fell.

It was raining hard. The summer storm assaulted the rooftops of the metal shanties. It was loud. Everywhere, people ran for shelter.

Tomas moved through it all, wrapped in his old coat. He was cold. His hair was drenched. He felt like he could drown any second.

He didn't mind too much. He just kept walking.

It might have taken him hours to get out of that strange neighborhood. Eventually, the shanties gave way to rundown houses, then normal houses and soon he was in a city again. He found a train station, paid for a ticket and ignored all the looks he was getting. A drowned rat, he thought upon seeing his reflection. He found a seat alone on the train and closed his eyes. The events of the night before kept playing out in his head. The flames. The destruction. Basia's smile. The exhilaration.

Across from him, a father sat between two young daughters. One of the daughters smiled at Tomas. He smiled back. Can't be a ghost if you're seeing me, kid. He was alive. He had power. He could make an impact.

It was then that he saw the article on the front of the newspaper the father was reading. It took him a moment to be sure he had read it correctly.

"BALTAZAR IMPLICATED IN ASSASSINATION OF YOUNG LAWYER."

The photo only confirmed his fear. He read the by-line. "Carlos Montgomery III, the father of two children..."

He couldn't read anymore. He leaned back and looked at the roof. He tried to breathe.

It was all part of the plan. It had to be. Whatever game was being played, whatever had drawn lost people like himself and Basia in; it didn't stop at hiding dirty business practices. He had sent Carlos to his death. A young man with a family and...

He had to get off this train.

He walked through the streets, without direction. Ideas and memories circled through his head. He felt like no matter what he learned, no matter what became clear to him, he was still only seeing parts of the puzzle. He had never felt so much like just a single tiny cog in a giant, dangerous, crushing machine. He could scorch as many labs as he liked, but the machine ground on regardless.

It took two hours of wondering for him to figure out what he was going to do. His options, in the end, were limited. Carry out vigilante acts that might bloody the nose of the monster corporation, try and return to his old life, or do something else. Do the only thing that made any sense anymore. Something he knew could be wrong and yet seemed the only valid option left.

He found a pay phone in the shadow of an abandoned building. He stepped into the booth and dialed a number. He closed his eyes.

'Hello,' he said. 'It's Green. Matt Green. I think you might be looking for me.'

The rain had started again, spitting angrily, but Tomas just stayed where he was as the van pulled up. The door opened and he stepped inside.

'We thought you were dead, Mr. Green,' Dex said. 'We searched through all the rubble.'

'You didn't have much faith then.'

'Evidently, we were looking in the wrong place. We're very glad to have you back.'

Tomas smiled. 'I sure hope so.'

IMC had been busy. Their new base of operation, a large control room adorned with pictures of Tomas, Mendoza, blueprints, newspaper articles and more was a chaotic mess of tired looking men and women bustling around desks piled with documents. Tomas tried to ignore the spike of icy fear he felt as Elliot Cole, holding court over a large table in the middle, turned to him. He spread his arms with a smile. 'Mr. Green. Welcome back. The mystery is revealed at last.'

'I never realized I was so important to you,' Tomas said.

'Dead or alive, you may just surprise yourself,' Cole said. 'And us. It's better to have answers to lingering questions, don't you think?'

'I was under the impression that my state of being was irrelevant,' Tomas said, casting an eye around the room.

'Personally, I always hoped to find you alive.' Cole said. 'But that was just me. Now, we have a lot of work to do Mr. Green. We have to prepare you for a whole new identity. New personality, job, physical appearance; the works. A completely different image.'

'I'll miss Matt Green.'

Cole waved a hand. 'Say goodbye to Matt Green. Now, he's only the answer to somebody's question, an answer that will be given with his death. We'll bring an end to the story of Matt Green to allow us a blank slate to tell a new one.'

'What about Mendoza?' Tomas asked.

'His people are going to want to balance the scales,' Cole said. 'Price of business, I suppose. To some, you have become the most precious prize in a trophy hunt.'

'Did you cremate his body?'

'Possibly.' Cole's smile never faltered. 'Now, listen. I've designed a poetic death for you. A beautiful elegy for the life of Matt Green. Have a seat.' Cole directed him to a chair nearby. Tomas sat as Cole leaned against the table and crossed his arms. Around them, the rest of the team continued working; scanning documents and making phone calls as if nothing was happening.

'I have a question,' Tomas said. 'What happens the day I decide I want out? When this all becomes too much and I realize I'd like to go back to my old life?'

Cole shrugged. 'In life, there are lines we cross that lock the door on the places we once knew. If you have a child, you can't return it. If you contract AIDS, well, good luck. Sometimes we cross those lines without realizing. Other times, we choose to cross them. And in those cases, well, the contract has been signed and that's it.' Cole leaned forward. 'A lot has been invested in you. Not just in terms of money, but in time, work, lives. My life, the lives of everyone else in this room. Creating a scenario that means the truth of what we do here would sound, to any sane person, like the biggest lie in the world. Rationality is our best friend. We're invisible because we're implausible.'

'So there's no going back.'

'No going back.' Cole nodded. 'Easier that way.'

'Death, then rebirth,' Tomas said. 'How am I going to die?'

'Assassination.'

'I don't understand how I can die without actually dying.'

'The magic of medicine. Every part of the plan has been meticulously crafted.' Cole started to circle Tomas as he spoke. Tomas shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he was treading water as the sharks got closer. 'Now,' Cole said. 'The trick to this, like anything, is making it look real. That's the crux of what we do here; we create illusions of such power that nobody looks twice, illusions so complete that the difference between them and reality is negligible. So; it starts at a restaurant. Matt Green arrives there on a date. The woman he is meeting will serve to be our reliable witness. Her name is Sonia; part of the team, an actor playing their role to perfection. You'll ask her name at reception, they'll be unsure, she'll call you over. A minor touch, but enough to stick in the minds of anyone present. That little display will make them very aware of the big hug and kiss you share. It will be natural, easy. Real. Everyone will assume they know what they are seeing, and that assumption will plant the seeds we need to grow when the big questions are asked.' Cole continued to pace, moving with a relaxed ease, gesturing as he did.

Tomas focused on looking calm.

'You'll dine. You'll laugh. It's Sonia's birthday. There'll be cake. And then, your big gift. The ring. Everyone will see the proposal. Every woman in the room will be jealous. She'll say yes, smiles and champagne, and you'll both leave the restaurant more than a little drunk.' Cole stopped. His smile grew. 'Of course, we all know what happens when Matt Green gets a little drunk. And the security cameras will see it too. When you arrive home, a fight will begin in the parking lot. Sonia will say things that make you angry, so angry you don't care that Big Brother is watching. You'll hit her. She'll spit at you. You'll drag her into an elevator and pull a gun. She'll scream, so loud people hear and call 911. But by that point, you've reached the apartment.' Cole raised a finger. 'The apartment, of course, is a blind spot. There, you and Sonia are professionals again. You will set about making the place look like there has been a struggle. You will tear clothes and create the perfect tableau. The gun will be prepared; fake bullets. You'll be equipped with squibs. Sonia will shoot you three times. The ambulance and police arrive too late; Matt Green is dead. Of course, the ambulance will be staffed without our people, who will get you out in just enough time for a few onlookers to see you. A nap at the morgue, a few witnesses come through to identify you, and voila.' He spread his arms. 'Matt Green is no more.' He reached into his pocket and withdrew a canister of pills, which he handed to Tomas. 'Ever read Romeo and Juliet? These will put you in a state that looks like death for twelve hours. Then you'll wake up from the best sleep of your life.'

Tomas turned the pills over in his hand, considering. 'Okay, here's a question. Why not just kill me for real? After everything, isn't it a bigger risk to keep me alive.'

Cole shook his head. 'We are not in the habit of removing our soldiers after the battle, Tomas. Not when we still need them for the war.' Cole patted him on the shoulder and straightened up. 'Dex,' he called. 'Show Mr. Green his destiny.'

Dex approached them with a tablet. She gave it to Tomas; on the screen was a photo of a young woman. It had clearly been taken without her knowledge; she was walking down the street and looking to the side. There was a touch of nervousness to her wide eyes and the way she played with her hair. 'Violeta Pires,' Dex said. 'Matt Green will be her destiny. She lives in the south. Low self-esteem, body image issues. Very easy to manipulate. She's bored of the world she feels forced to live in. What she needs is a vacation from herself. No family that can claim her if she vanishes. Now, what interests us is her knowledge of the networks and systems controlling national health records. The cost for us is just a little pride. Matt Green is going to be the refreshment her life needs.'

Tomas looked up at her. 'And how high was my cost?'

Dex frowned slightly. 'We're recycling people here, we give meaning to what-'

'No, it's okay.' Tomas raised a hand. 'I agree. I get it. I just want to know what my price was good for. Simple curiosity.'

'Your capacity to give up your life in exchange for-'

'A chance to be someone else,' Tomas finished.

'And your ability to look beyond what people see,' Cole added.

'Your price was lust,' Dex said.

'Is there a problem with that?' Cole said. 'However cheap or costly, we paid for you.'

Tomas shook his head. 'It's fine. We're okay. Just tell me what's next.'

## CHAPTER TWENTY

DRIVING THROUGH THE city street, Tomas saw the red beetle ahead, slowing to a halt at the lights. His heart picked up, followed by a twist in his stomach that he didn't want to consider the meaning of. He knew what he was doing and he knew why he was doing it. There were risks involved, but he had no other choice at that point. Not if this was going to end the only way he could allow it to.

He hit the accelerator.

The front of his car hit the rear of the beetle hard. Tomas hadn't adequately braced himself; he was jerked forward hard, the seatbelt cutting into his shoulder and winding him. Through the windscreen, the other car lurched then stopped.

Tomas unclipped himself, tried to catch his breath, then opened the door and stepped out. Beeping surrounded him. The young woman he recognized as Violeta Pires was getting out of her own car, looking dazed. She saw him approaching. He raised both hands before she could attack.

'Oh my god,' he said. 'I'm so sorry – are you alright? That was completely my fault. Are you hurt?'

Brief anger flickered and died in her expression. 'No. No, I think I'm fine.'

Tomas held her gaze for a moment. Then smiled. 'Maybe we should have a talk.'

Later, he emerged from Violeta's modest house to find a van waiting for him. He glanced back over his shoulder, but she didn't appear to be watching out the window. That was something, at least. This was brazen for IMC. He got into the van. The familiar sight of Dex seated beside a security guard greeted him.

'Is he here in case I change my mind?' Tomas asked, taking a seat.

Dex didn't look at him. 'Let's just do what we had to do.'

The brief drive passed in silence. Tomas couldn't see outside; the route back to IMC was a mystery to him. Not that he really needed to know. He just would have liked something to look at. Something to take his mind off what he was doing. Something to quieten the drumming of his frantic heart.

Back at the control center, Dex ordered him to remove his shirt. With clinical precision and no more contact than was strictly necessary, she affixed the squibs to his bare torso. Three, each at a location where he would be shot. When she was done, Dex stepped back and nodded. Tomas put his shirt and jacket back on. He took the small earpiece Dex gave him; so tiny you couldn't see it once it was in. He put it in place and nodded.

'Let's do this.'

The restaurant was exactly as Tomas had imagined; fancy and high end, all tablecloths and low lights to evoke a sense of candlelit intimacy. As fake as everything else to do with IMC.

'Look through the tables and you'll find your contact,' Dex said in his ear.

He did as she said, scanning the tables as he moved over to the reception.

'Hello,' the woman there said politely. 'Do you have a reservation under your name?'

Tomas nodded. 'I think so. I-'

'Over here, darling!'

His eyes found Sonia in the corner, smiling as widely as if they'd known and loved each other for years. He smiled back, thanked the receptionist, and walked over to her. Sonia stood. Her black dress was short and tight. Tomas could see men eying her as she strode over and greeted him with a hard kiss on the mouth that didn't stop for several seconds. Perhaps a beat too late, Tomas wrapped his arms around her. The kiss broke and she smiled. 'What took you?'

'You know how jealous I get when you wear dresses like this,' Tomas said.

'They can't see anything.' Sonia winked. 'That's for you, later.'

Together they sat.

'Very good guys,' Dex said in his ear. 'Sonia, you've managed to get everyone's attention. That's perfect.'

Involuntarily, Sonia's eyes moved around, looking for cameras.

'Don't try and find us,' Dex said. 'You won't. Now, enjoy your meal.'

Sonia met Tomas' eyes. They both smiled.

The waiter came and took their orders. They flirted and bantered over who would have what and whether they would steal some of the other's food. 'It's my birthday,' Sonia told the waiter apologetically. Tomas ordered a bottle of wine, which was delivered fast. Minutes later, the food came. They ate slowly, taking their time, laughing and talking. Actors in a one-off play.

Sonia was eating soup. Despite her best efforts, it was a hard thing to make look sexy.

'I'm not sure soup suits you,' Tomas said.

'Getting drunk on a full stomach is a little harder,' she replied.

Ah. Tomas nodded. He poured himself some wine. His hand was shaking, just slightly. He put the bottle down, then noted Sonia's empty glass. He reached over to top her up.

'Come on guys, it's not that hard,' Dex said.

Tomas picked up his glass and sipped. A jerk of the hand and red wine splashed his front. He was on his feet in seconds. He slammed down the glass, almost hard enough to break it. 'You can be so stupid sometimes,' he snarled at a shocked Sonia. 'Now I have to clean this up.'

'What are you doing?' Dex hissed in his ear. 'You are off script.'

Tomas tried to clean the wine off with his napkin. No good. He threw it down and shook his head. 'Jesus Christ,' he spat, and made for the bathroom. He could feel the eyes on him, not least Sonia's.

'What is going on?' Dex demanded.

'Three men, opposite corner,' Tomas muttered. 'They're watching me.'

He glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, they were; three large guys in suits, all eyes on him as he headed into the bathroom.

'Who are they, Matt?' Dex asked.

Tomas moved around the men's bathroom, looking for a way out. He eyes a window over the sink. It was too small and screwed shut. He could see his wide-eyed, frantic expression in the mirror. He turned towards the door.

'They're Mendoza's men,' he said. 'I've been sold out. Fucking hell, did you sell me out Dex?'

'No – Matt, it wasn't us.'

Then.

'Matt, one of them is heading for the bathroom. You have to get out. You have to get clear right now, do you hear me?'

Tomas was frozen to the spot.

'Matt, get out! Sonia – Sonia, hurry to the bathroom. They won't shoot if there's a witness. Go, now!'

The bathroom door opened. One of the suited men stood there. He looked at Tomas.

'Not here,' Tomas said, just as Sonia appeared behind the man.

'Sweetheart, let me help you get clean,' Sonia said, the barest hint of a waver in her voice. 'We should get home anyway, right? It's late. We've had too much.'

The man didn't move.

'Get out, now,' Dex said.

'Come on darling,' Sonia said.

Tomas walked forwards. The man didn't move.

'Excuse me,' Tomas said.

The man stayed put. Tomas pushed passed him. He budged, slightly. Sonia nodded to him and together they walked for the exit. Tomas glanced at the corner table where the two other men were. Both were standing, watching him.

They left the restaurant.

It was cold outside. The wind picked up. Tomas glanced behind him.

'They're bringing the car around now,' Dex said. 'Stay calm. It'll all be okay.'

The car pulled up. The valet got out. Tomas looked at the restaurant door again.

'Let's go,' Sonia said.

Moving fast, Tomas stepped forward, opened the door, and slid into the car. He looked up at Sonia. 'It's me they want,' he said. 'Get clear.'

He slammed the door just as he saw Mendoza's three associates exit the restaurant. Tomas hit the accelerator. He shot away from Sonia and the men. He kept his eyes forward.

'Dex, what do I do?'

'We're working on that. Keep driving, Matt. We'll figure out an alternative plan.'

And then, Elliot Cole's cold voice. 'This has gone far enough.'

A brief crackle of sound in his ear, then nothing.

'Dex?' Tomas said. 'Dex, what do I do? What's the alternative?'

Silence.

'Dex?'

He looked in the rear-view mirror. Not far behind, a black car was moving fast. Too fast.

'DEX!' He screamed.

No reply.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck!' He slammed the steering wheel and pressed down the accelerator. The car shot forwards. His turn was up ahead. He took it hard. The car shrieked around the corner, the tires wailing in protest. He kept his foot down. Up ahead was his apartment. He checked the rear-view. The other car was coming around the corner behind him.

Eyes forward, he drove straight into the entry to the underground carpark. He drove right up to the door that led to the elevator. He didn't park properly. He clambered out of the car and looked behind him. The other car was pulling down the ramp. He ran through the door. He looked either side; the corridor was abandoned. He hurried to the elevator and hit the button. Three floors up.

'Dex,' he said. 'Dex, please help. Please. Dex they're almost here.'

The elevator was now two floors away. He looked to the left. A man in black was walking towards him, fast. He backed away then heard footsteps from the right. Another coming from the opposite direction. He checked the elevator. One floor away.

'Dex, please,' he whispered.

The ding of the elevator arriving sounded just as the man's hand closed around the scruff of Tomas' shirt. He was turned, roughly, to face Mendoza's bodyguard. The barrel of the gun was pressed into his forehead, hard. He was vaguely aware of more men surrounding him. The elevator doors slid open. He didn't dare look.

'Mendoza's waiting for you in hell,' the man said.

He stepped back, lowered his gun, and shot Tomas three times in the chest.

Inside the control center, nobody moved. All eyes were on the security footage playing on the monitors as the assassin pulled the trigger three times. Each bullet found home with a burst of blood. Tomas staggered back, then fell to one knee. Another assassin came around and shot twice more. Tomas hit the ground hard. Even with the grainy footage, the pool of blood spreading around him was obvious. A third assassin came to join the others. One more bullet. Tomas' body spasmed and was still.

Dex looked up at Elliot Cole. The man's face was unreadable, impassive. She returned her attention to the screen. The assassins were leaving. Tomas lay alone. He didn't move. Dex kept watching, waiting for a sign of life, waiting for any evidence of a trick. Minutes passed. Still no movement. When she turned around again, Elliot Cole was gone.

A crowd of people milled around outside the apartment building, their faces in the night illuminated by the flashing lights from nearby police cars and ambulances. A buzz of low mutters filled the air as everyone talked about what they thought had happened, craning their necks occasionally to catch any new developments.

Standing among them all, completely still, Elliot Cole watched.

Nearby, a newsreader relayed the story to a camera. 'In what appears to be a case of vengeance related to a drug trafficking ring, a young man was assassinated tonight in this very apartment building. His name was Matt Green and sources tell us...'

The buzz of voices got louder. Everybody was moving closer, trying to get a better look. Paramedics were carrying a covered body out of the building towards the ambulance.

Elliot Cole didn't move. He watched the still shape beneath the blanket. He removed his cell-phone and dialed a number.

Nearby, the reporter glanced towards him.

He spoke low into the phone.

'This just in,' the reporter said, touching her earpiece. 'It appears that Matt Green had previous records of sexual abuse, aggravated assault and drug use. He was allegedly linked to the La Mona Cartel, and this act of vengeance is the latest in a long line of...'

Cole hung up. The body had been carried into the ambulance. People were starting to disperse.

Elliot Cole turned and vanished into the crowd. Nobody would remember seeing him there.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TWO DAYS EARLIER, the air thick with the smell of rain passed and coming again, the man known as Matt Green had made a phone call from a booth in the city.

'It's Green. Matt Green. I think you might be looking for me.'

Tomas told them his location, then waited. He leaned against the booth, watching the turbulent grey sky, waiting for the rain to start again. By the time the van arrived, it was still holding off.

One of Mendoza's bodyguards clambered out and patted him down. Satisfied, he stepped back and beckoned Tomas into the car.

They drove in silence. Tomas felt a distinct sense of déjà vu, but said nothing. He was keenly aware of how quickly this could go wrong, and that he would have to say exactly the right things in order to see another day. He focused on keeping his breathing steady. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

The car doors opened and Tomas stepped out into a large, spacious warehouse. The lights were low, but he could make out the shapes of crates piled up everywhere. He looked forwards. Standing under one of the lights, flanked by guards whose guns were already out, was Mendoza.

'I need a favor,' Tomas called.

'You've got some balls, boy.' Mendoza's voice was low and dangerous. 'Why shouldn't I kill you right now?'

'Because it's far more worth your while to know who wanted to kill you,' Tomas said evenly. 'I have that information. I can even take you to them.'

'Giant balls, huh? You're good at business.'

'I was manipulated into shooting you.'

'The dummy bullets your idea?'

Tomas shook his head. 'Someone else did that. I was just a puppet. But not anymore.'

'So who was it?' Mendoza asked. 'The person who saved my life?'

'The same person you can save now.'

For a few moments, Mendoza said nothing. Then he nodded and laughed. He turned to one of the guards. 'See this kid? You could learn a thing or two. The bastard knows how to negotiate.' He turned back to Tomas with a grim smile. 'So let's fucking negotiate.'

The next day, Tomas sat beside Violeta Pires on her couch. They drank wine and spoke in low voices. Gentle, lilting music filled the room. Tomas laughed at her jokes and encouraged her when she said anything that exposed her insecurities. He topped up her wine but didn't sip his own. Then, when the conversation reached a lull, he looked her in the eyes. 'Violeta, how would you like to live beyond your limits?'

She watched him. Her eyelids started to droop. She slumped, slightly. Tomas caught the wine before she spilled it and placed it gently on the coffee table. He eased her back, so she was lying on the couch. Then he stood and walked into the kitchen. He found a tea towel and wrapped in around his wristband. No listening this time, Dex. He opened the window and put his wrist out. Then he dialed a number on his burner cell and put it to his ear. 'I know their plan,' he said. 'And I know how we can derail this. There's this restaurant. I'll be there...'

The ambulance pulled into the warehouse and came to a halt. One of the men, dressed as a paramedic, jumped out and opened the back doors.

Tired, dirty, and covered in fake blood, Tomas stepped out. He looked around, blinking in the low light. The same warehouse from the other day.

'Don't tell me that wasn't beautiful!' The 'paramedic' was beaming at him. 'What a fucking performance! I enjoyed that more than actually killing someone. Suck a goddamn rush, I'll tell you.'

Tomas smiled weakly and rounded the ambulance. Mendoza waited in the same spot as before. Tomas walked over to him. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Tomas felt prickly fear crawling through his gut. Whatever had happened, Mendoza remained an unknown quantity.

The criminal grinned and threw an arm around Tomas. 'Welcome to the land of the dead, boy!'

'Let's get this over with,' Tomas said.

Together they walked towards the office cubicle at the back of the warehouse.

'I want the one in charge,' Mendoza said.

Tomas nodded. 'Then the deal is, you have to listen to me. To whatever I say. Because what I'm about to tell you won't seem real. That's how they like it. Credibility is their best defense. So we have to ignore the credible and focus on the real. Because to find them, you have to remember the real and never let yourself get distracted by the fake, even as you follow it down the rabbit hole, even as what should be solid starts to seem uncertain.'

Mendoza laughed. 'Kid, illusions are my game. I started by selling glue and pretending to be a big shot. Fake it 'til you make it, right? Now tell me what I need to know.'

Tomas' fists clenched. 'Then let me tell you what they do. They look for youth without direction or courage. Those who feel trapped by a world that never lived up to the dreams they were sold. They find the vulnerable and they learn their weaknesses. The deep, desperate desires that they hide because to expose them would be to expose the soft underbelly of who you really are to a world that only wants to take advantage. And taking advantage is exactly what these people do. They sell you another version of yourself. They offer the impossible and claim to want nothing in return. They show you the life they know you crave and then sit back and wait for you to dive in without question. Because who would question getting everything they ever wanted? They blind you with the shine of a place immaturely privileged. They sell you a lie in exchange for the little remaining truth of ourselves, truths that we turn away from because we're sick of seeing it every day. And for those of us who are stupid enough to pay that price, we give up everything we have in order to live the unreal. To step into a dream that seems all our own, but exists to serve purposes you are never made aware of.'

Tomas stopped. Closed his eyes. Exhaled. He looked at Mendoza. The other man was watching him, brow furrowed.

'I learned one thing during my time with them,' Tomas said. 'Simply put, the lie costs more than the truth. Always.'

Morning. Sunrise crept through the last lazy night clouds over the shanty town. Wearing a hooded jumper against the cold and the risk of recognition, Tomas walked, hands deep in his pockets.

Around him, people were walking out to begin their days, yawning as they dragged themselves back to reality from the world of blurry dreams. Kids ran in the streets, laughing and playing with each other. Tomas smiled at a couple of them as he ducked and weaved through the slowly filling streets. Some people unloaded boxes. Others cleaned their houses. Parents read their kids stories on unsteady doorsteps. Young lovers parted awkwardly in the exposing glare of early morning light. Everywhere Tomas looked was life; messy and uncomfortable and ugly and beautiful by equal turns and all at once. But real; without artifice, pretense or agenda. It just was.

He stopped near a familiar house. He was nervous, somehow. But he knew he didn't need to be. He walked up and knocked.

Lidia opened the door. She saw him and her eyes went wide. She laughed and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back and she felt warm and alive. She was real, in his arms. Frail and strong and human. She let go of him and stepped back, tears in her eyes as Pamela appeared behind her. Tomas crouched down and smiled at her. She smiled back.

He followed them through the house and out to the shed. Inside, people were everywhere. Blueprints hung on the walls; plans, photos and articles. Tomas stood and took it all in. He felt like something electric and alive was growing in his chest, some crackle of fiery determination born from the certainty that this was real and right, that this was what he had to be doing because to do any less would be to turn a blind eye from the things that had almost destroyed him and so many others.

Almost, but not quite.

On the table in the middle, Basia worked on black suits, meticulously crafting the symbol on the chest. Frowning, she stood back, taking in her work. After a moment she nodded, satisfied. She glanced up and caught Tomas' eye. For a long time they looked at each other, neither moving.

Tomas approached. She gave him a guarded smile.

'We need a name,' she said.

Tomas glanced around, then shook his head. 'Let it be something bigger than a name.'

The beginning
