Identity Matrix (1982) (31 page)

Read Identity Matrix (1982) Online

Authors: Jack L. Chalker

BOOK: Identity Matrix (1982)
8.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

"Don't worry," Dory said, trying to put as cheery a front on things as she could, "you're proof positive they'll have exotic dancing and sexy women in their brave new world."

But I still wasn't sure if I wanted to live in a world run by men who would cruelly cut down their own leaders and program the rest. Still,
our
life would con-tinue, somehow, and there was nothing we could do about it, anyway.

"Let's take a little trip," I suggested. "Just the two of us."

"Where?"

"Away. Someplace without a lot of people and newscasts. It's the middle of the summer." I glanced at the calendar. "In two days it'll be six years since we first met on the ferry."

"Think you can get away?"

"Sure," I told her. "I don't have anything big sched-uled, nothing I can't cancel.

And it's a hundred and eight out there, for Christ's sake! Things aren't going to be normal for some time."

"Where are you thinkin' of?"

I went over some possibilities in my head. "Why don't we just get in the car and drive? I'd like to go to the ocean, I think. Maybe the Sonoma Coast of California. Nice and deserted, and I haven't been there in a long, long time."

"Well, it beats sitting around here gettin' stoned," she agreed, and it was settled.

I had some trouble getting hold of Joe, but no real trouble in getting three weeks. With the club closed for the next four days, he had plenty of time to line up some good alternates and put in a little last-minute plugging.

I still had my little Fiat sports car in shocking metal-lic pink, a car I'd been attracted to in the first place because it was one of only two or three convertibles you could still buy. We packed and got a road atlas and got started the next day.

It felt funny driving north, since we drove along the boundaries of Nellis Air Force Base and Test Range, beyond which, buried under thousands of feet, was IMC. When we passed the small, nondescript road leading off into the dry hills to the east leading to it I felt a slight shudder, but nothing more.

We stopped for the night in Stateline, mostly for old time's sake, although I didn't go up to the lodge. I was afraid that if I ran into Al up there I'd ring his pudgy neck.

The next day we hit San Francisco, officially in mourn-ing but still functioning, and I showed Dory some of the sights. We had a good seafood dinner near Fisherman's Wharf and rode a cable car hanging to the outside like only tourists do, but it was still too filled with people and news and reminders of the world situation, not the least of which was a San Francisco in which not a single member of a cult was on the street corner trying to peddle you something.

In
that
town their
absence
was bizarre
.

The next day we took California 1 up the coast. It's never been a good road, being two-lane, winding and twisty, but it is, I'm convinced, the most scenic road in America, perhaps anywhere. Built originally by the Span-ish starting back in the 1600s, it follows the winding coast-line at the edge of the Pacific providing unlimited scenery as well as a real test of driving skills. It had changed since my youth, becoming more developed with fancy houses on many of the scenic bluffs, but it was still really pretty most of the way.

It was warm but not hot, a really refreshing change from what we'd been used to, and the salt-smell, sea birds, and sound of crashing breakers on the cliff walls far below the road acted as something of a tonic.

Out here, it seemed, bad things couldn't happen. Out here was only the sun and sea and the creatures of nature, true peace and quiet. Traffic, too, was abnor-mally low because of the mourning period, and the only reminder of the larger world were the flags we occasion-ally passed, all at half-staff.

We stopped often at the frequent turnouts—it's a little better driving south than north, as you're on the ocean side of the road—and once we climbed down to the rocky beach below, played a little, and played tag with the waves at the water's edge. For
a
moment, at least, it was good to be alive.

Finally, late in the day, we reached the coastal town of Fort Bragg, a resort and logging town despite its military name dating from Civil War days, and took a motel room for the night, agreeing that we would neither buy a newspaper or watch TV, and we didn't. We had ourselves, and we occupied ourselves with each other, and we had a good time. Finally, we fell to sleep.

The ringing phone awakened me, and, for a moment, I thought I was back home and started to reach over Dory for it, only to suddenly realize where I was, groan, get up and walk over to the phone on the dresser. I didn't know what time it was, but it was still dark.

Cursing whoever it was for getting a wrong number, I picked it up, ready to give the caller a piece of my mind. "Yeah?" I snapped.

"Misty?" responded a low,"pleasant man's voice. "This is Dan Pauley."

I dropped the phone.

Chapter Fourteen

“What is it?" Dory called sleepily.

"There's a man on the other end who says he's Dan Pauley!" I told her, picking up the phone and getting a little mad. "Listen, you," I told him, "I don't know what the game is but we quit, remember? Harry Parch said to leave us alone!"

"I'm not from Parch," the voice replied. "I really am Dan, Misty. I'm not dead—and neither is Stuart Eisen-stadt. Look, I'll explain everything but not on the phone. You're still being shadowed, particularly now, and I don't know how much I can do like this. Look, the Surf Motel, about a half-mile up the road from you, has an all-night pancake house. Meet me there in half an hour and I'll explain everything."

I started to say something, but the line was dead. He’d hung up on me.

I detailed the conversation to Dory, and she was even more dubious about this mystery man than I was. "You have to learn not to answer phones in hotel rooms where nobody's supposed to know you," she grumped. "Still, I guess we better get dressed."

I picked up my watch. "It's four in the morning!"

"Yeah," she responded sourly, "but we gotta go anyway. If it's some kind of Parch trick we're better off in a place like that than here. And if it's not, well, we'll always wonder."

I nodded, knowing she was right. "You're the boss," I fold her, then turned on the lights, pulled on some jeans, a sweater, and sandals, gave my hair a quick brush, and was ready.

Dory looked at me critically. "You let it all hang out like that and you'll drive the truck drivers wild." "I don't plan to be too long," I shot back.

"Yeah, well, just don't jog anyplace, huh?"

We left, got in the car, and drove up Route 1. It was dark and deserted, with almost nobody on the road. It was fairly easy to spot the place, though, on the right hand side, and we pulled into the parking lot and looked around. After a minute or so, I turned to Dory and said, "Well, we haven't been arrested or anything yet. Might as well go in and get some coffee."

She nodded, and we walked nervously into the place, picking a booth and looking around. It was nearly de-serted, only a few people sitting at various tables.

A young man entered looking like something out of a bad old movie. Long, black hair, frizzy beard, leather jacket, motorcycle helmet under one arm, studded black boots and even, so help me, a tattoo on the back of his right hand. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and he looked around the place, his eyes finally settling on me.

"Oh, boy," Dory breathed disgustedly. "For this we get up in the middle of the night, right?"

He finally sauntered on over to us, as I knew he would, and looked down, almost dripping invisible slime. "Hi, mind if I join you ladies?"

Frost was too mild for my tone. "Buzz off, buddy. We're waiting for somebody."

"You're waiting for me," he mumbled, then straight-ened a little, his tone becoming clearer, more normal. "I'm Dan Pauley."

"That'll
take some doing," Dory snapped nastily.

"Yeah, I know what you must be thinking, but it's not. Look—mind if I sit down? There's a cop coming in and he may give me a pain."

Seeing that Dory wasn't going to give ground, I shifted over a bit and he sat. "

It's good to see you both again. I—owe you a lot of explanation."

"Yeah, at least," Dory responded. "How do we know you're who you say you are, anyway? Or, if you
are
Dan, if you haven't been turned around by Parch and his buddies?"

He sighed. "You can't. You'll have to trust me. What motive could I have, anyway? You got off pretty free by facing up to them and adjusting. You've done pretty well, I know, both of you. You've got no real kick com-ing." He turned to me. "Look at you. The Queen of Las Vegas." He turned back to Dory. "

And you, the Indian paramour and real estate genius. But, you're right. I
do
owe you an explanation."

"At least," I agreed, adjusting to the fact that his tone and manner did sort of remind me of Pauley, what I'd seen of him, anyway.

"Why weren't you at the Farmer's Market?" Dory asked.

He nodded. "O.K. From the top. After you left the restaurant, the Doctor and I wandered down to the Strip. I decided he should go to the bus station first, while I could cover—they didn't know me at all, remem-ber, in that body and that disguise. He bought his ticket O.K., but in the line to get on the bus two of Parch's men just slid up on either side of him and walked him off. I couldn't do a damned thing without jeopardizing myself, and maybe you. I made a good fifteen agents in that station, including some working the counter. All I'd get would be another dart or maybe a shot in the head. It was damned frustrating, but there wasn't anything I could do. The only thing I could think of was to wait for you and see what happened then. About half an hour later Dory came in, bought her ticket, and made it onto the bus. I was pretty sure they'd made you, but they let you go. I had to ask myself why."

She nodded grimly. "They made me, all right. All the way."

"Well, I waited as long as I could for Misty, but you never showed, and I couldn't live in that station without somebody getting suspicious, so I got my ticket and rode out. Nobody made me, since they weren't sure who they were looking for. I had to figure Misty'd been picked up, too, and that Dory and I were going to be on our own. I headed straight for the Farmer's Market when I got in, then staked out the area. Imagine my surprise when Misty walked up to a counter in the inner courtyard."

I nodded. "I remember."

"Well, I waited, and finally Dory came, too, but I spotted her tails. I suddenly realized why they'd let you slip through, Dory. You were bait. Bait for me. You were the only way they could get to me, since I could be anybody, even if Stuart blabbed. Of course they couldn't afford to let
him
run loose, but you, well, you weren't really important to them. I tailed you all day, kept watch on Parch's tails, and when I saw just how well covered you were I knew that I would have no chance if I contacted you. He even had somebody on the hotel switchboard ten minutes after you checked in."

I nodded, and even Dory seemed to be warming a bit to him. The waitress brought our coffee and we sipped at it while Dan continued his story.

"Well, I'm sorry for how it sounds, but I was just forced to write off getting to you. I hocked those dia-monds you gave me, Misty, and that gave me a little money to work with. I was still in trouble—I had no idea how to contact my people and almost no money, so I did what I had to do. I cased a small suburban bank, picked a victim, studied her for a couple of days, then intercepted her on her way to work, switched with her, tied her up, and, using her master keys, managed to steal several thousand dollars. I left, switched her back, and left her there. Poor woman. Either she's in a mental ward, or maybe in jail, but it was the only way."

"You could've gotten
a job,
"
Dory snapped.

He sighed. "Look, we've been down that moral road before. Maybe Parch got wind of it and cleared her. I hope so. Anyway, I knew about the planted news item where we were apparently killed, and I figured you'd take it at face value.

Parch obviously wanted to see if you had a contingency place to run to that would lead him to me or other Urulu, and he got fooled. I think at least half the reason he let you go back to your life was that he still hoped that, sometime, I'd contact you. It cost him very little."

I was starting to get paranoid again. "Are we still being tailed?"

He nodded. "Oh, I don't think he's paid much atten-tion to you for the last year or so, but when you took off on a trip at this critical time he had a man on you. A man." He grinned. "I'm him."

I gasped. "And what is he—now?"

He smiled. "A member of the Redeemed. I got the drop on him, switched, tied him up, then called the cops. He's been hauled to the local slammer by now."

"Where'd you find one of the Redeemed?" I asked. "I thought they were
all
locked up by now."

"Mostly," he admtted. "But I never changed bodies. There wasn't any need to, so I didn't. It was the same one I'd nabbed back in Vegas. You know, the eyebrows grew in but the hair never did. They must have used a chemical or something. That's gonna make it even eas-ier for Parch to round 'em up." He paused a moment. "You know, they didn't come up with a bad plan. This'll set The Association back years here. They'll have to
devise a whole new strategy, start over—unless they take the military option. IMC's gambling they won't, and I kind of agree. A major force moving this way would alert the Urulu, and it really isn't worth that kind of a fight. It can be won other ways. If it weren't for the fact that the same scheme to discredit the Church also was cleverly disguised to put their people totally in power and soften up the population for IMC's debut in their hands, I wouldn't even be here now."

We let that go for a moment. "Where did you go after you robbed the bank?"

I asked.

"Well, we had a safe house and station in the desert near Death Valley. An old abandoned government in-stallation. Missiles or something, but overgrown with weeds and overrun with sidewinders after the years. I figured that was my best bet, so I took the tourist bus out to Furnace Creek, then hitched down to where I had to be. I walked over that hot desert for several hours and finally reached the place. It was gone. Destroyed totally."

Other books

Ladle Rat Rotten Hut by Cameron Jace
Cuba Libre (2008) by Leonard, Elmore
Slavemakers by Joseph Wallace
The Staff of Serapis by Rick Riordan
The Vietnam Reader by Stewart O'Nan
The Game by Diana Wynne Jones
The Finding by Nicky Charles
Dreaming the Bull by Manda Scott