Seeing Double

It is a beautiful day, a lovely setting, pity it is ruined by the presence of so many of my work colleagues who insist on being friendly and connected. They insiist on talking to me, chatting mindlessly about completely arbitrary things. I have managed to find a comfortable wing chair and am sitting with just my legs in the sun, watching the day go by. It is a pleasant outlook. Neatly manicured lawns fall away from the restaurant to a sort of wilderness patch. Sort of because it is a mixture of indigenous trees and exotics. Indigenous scrub and some exotics. A hodge podge of vegetation that surrounds a rather pretty meandering stream over which arum lilies and some discouraged looking ferns huddle giving the whole place a bit of a sad forlorn feel. A bright splash of colour catches my eye and starts me moving more through boredom than real interest in the flash of red in the undergrowth.

I stretch my legs, drain my coffee and then gather up my enthusiasm from where it was dozing quietly in the sun, not expecting a call to arms on such a day.

"Going for a walk." I mutter to anyone who might be interested. No one looks even vaguely enthused to join me for which I am duly grateful. I amble slowly down the grassy slope at an angle to my true destination. Approaching in a circuitous route will allow me to see if the flash of red was anything interesting or just a discarded piece gift wrapping. The red flash flash is still there, flickering in and out of the bushes. I haul my camera out of my pocket, fire it up and take an experimental picture, adjust the offset and try again. Better. Needs a bit more speed,I dial up the ISO to 1000, try again. Sharp, easily identified. A bird. Rare vagrant. I am not sure if the owner of the farm is going to be pleased or annoyed. If that bird stays put a hundred twitchers are going to descend on the place by nightfall. Twitchers being usually very rich the profits at the restaurant might be a blessing disguise.

Still watching, I transfer the best image to my smart phone, fire up Instagram, select the photo, tag two or three ornithological experts, add a location and ask "Am I seeing things? Out or Range. Much?" Press the Share button and stand staring at the bird doing bird things a thousand kilometres from where it should be.

My smart phone pings. Instagram comment. "Your location is right?" I take a selfie with Table Mountain in the back ground. swivel take pic of me in front of birds hiding spot. Send the pictures with no other comment. The phone pings again, and again and again. I shut of the sound and back away and bump into another human. Or local village idiot and good time girl, Jane.

"What you looking at?"

I point. "The bird."

"Why?"

"I like birds and I actually have never seen one like that before. I have seen pictures, but never in the flesh."

"A life lister and out of range vagrant?" I stop breathing for a moment, consider my options, start breathing again, decide that "Who are you and what have you done with Jane?" the first comment that came to mind might not be apposite in these circumstances.

"Yes. To both. And you?" Cautious now.

"Not a lifer. Saw them when Fanie and I went up north. But nice to see a vagrant like this."

Rapid reorganisation of Janes position on my social hierarchy.

"How many do you have on your life list?"

"Can’t remember off hand. 380?"

Reorganisation halted and restarted.

"You been birding long?"

"Nah, about a year."

"380 in a year is quick."

"Ag, I cheat. Fanie says: "Look a fluff tailed bobtail" and I nod seriously and note it down. I just have a good memory so I don't forget the smallest details."

"Ah. Ok."

Alarm bells are now ringing furiously in my head. You cannot be stupid with a good memory, the two do not go together. Mutually exclusive. How long has she been in the company?

A soft chuckle from Jane, then "I can almost hear the wheels turning."

I nod and keep on watching the bird. I do not look at her, then after a moments thought.

"Why break cover now?"

She sighs.

"Finished my job. Moving on."

My phone pings again and again. I extract my cell phone, put it on silent.

"What you doing that for? Dont you like the pings of brief celebrity?"

"Stop my ring tone from frightening the bird when the first twitchers arrive."

"Who is gonna call you? Last I looked Instagram didn't have phone numbers."

I nod "Just some friends, it is on Instagram and I to be trending in a minor sort of way right now so they will want to find me and the bird first before the rush starts. That will break the party up quickly. Mind you, I would imagine your report is gonna break up some parties equally quickly."

"You been listening to too much tea room gossip."

I don't answer, I raise one eyebrow quizzically.

Silence, then: "You don't go to the tea room do you? Beneath your dignity?"

"I prefer Joe Walsh to Joe Smith."

"Arrogant shit."

"Yes. And your point is?"

"I've wanted to talk to you for the whole time I have been here. Problem is Fanie warned me to stay away from you."

"Jealous is Fanie?"

"No. Just careful. Just so we are on the same page, Fanie is my boss not my significant other and proof against being propositioned."

"Ah." Just then the phone starts to buzz. As expected, James is here first. Probably got a full house of speeding fines to get here.

"Where you?"

"Down at the river, with the stunning red head."

"Wut? What you doing talking to a woman when there is a vagrant to be observed."

"Observed, identified, photographed. What more do you want me to do? Oh, and I have a decent picture of the bird too."

Silence for a moment while he digests this.

Eventually: "Out of character that is what it is."

I hang up because James is hurtling down the slope toward me, binoculars and a camera with an enormous telephoto lens attached slung over his shoulder and is attempting to keep his balance and use the phone simultaneously. I have seen him spill himself and all the equipment more than once before.

He arrives breathless; "Hello Abe. Oh, and Jane. Hi Jane. Long time no see. Didn't know you were back from Johies. Keeping bad company I see."

"A move up from being in your company." A kind of purring snarl. James is completely unphased by the remark. He will remember it after the excitement of the bird is over and will complain bitterly.

"He did tell you he is antisocial to the point of psychosis. It is the computers that do it. No accounting for tastes. Really. Dunno why . . ." This commentary running while he erects a tripod, fires up the camera and starts taking pictures.

Some more familiar faces are appearing and taking pictures furiously. I work on the idea that three's a crowd and start to move away. After not more than ten paces and Jane is at my side.
I look at her suspiciously, "How come we both know James, but I don't know you? Seems you have an close knowledge of James and seeing as James and I keep quite close company, it is tres strange."

She shrugs. "Different shifts?"

I shake my head. Still doesn't make sense. I look at her high heels, shake my head.

"Going for a tramp through the wilds here. I don't think your shoes will work there."

Without hesitation, she kicks her shoes off, picks them up and heads down the path ahead of me squelching in the soft muddy surface. I stare at her retreating figure with some surprise and then follow her.

She is most distracting as she sways ahead of me and I have to keep reminding myself that she is probably an undercover agent for one of those governance checking firms and if so then she definitely not to be trusted. It doesn't stop me admiring her from behind.

The surrounding vegetation seems to get thicker and thicker, and vastly more exotic than I remember from my scan earlier on. I put it down to distraction and lust, and keep on following her. Slowly the path surface hardens and I vaguely wonder if she will stop to don her shoes as the hardened surface would be hard on her feet not to mention her stockings, if she is wearing any, but she keeps on moving with a steady pace even as the light seems to be fading into darkness and the only light seems to be coming from her or from ahead of her. I haul out my cell phone intending to use it as a torch if it gets much darker and noticed it said, Emergency Calls only. I stop and shake the phone. Why do we do that? Shake the phone? Is it going to make the blindest bit of a difference. As expected it still says Emergency Calls Only. I look up to tell Jane that things are getting a bit strange an notice that the dress she is wearing has suddenly got pale yellow lines running haphazardly over the entire dress, as I watch they become brighter, then suddenly start to spread across her skin and up into her hair. I try to shout out to her, but all that emerges is a hoarse croak. I reach out a hand to grasp her, pull her back. As I touch her shoulder, she breaks up into shards of bright white light surrounding a central diamond. I reach out and touch the diamond and it shatters and the tiny fragments tear into my hands, my face, my arm. I scream and pull away from the pain, slipping and falling onto my back, winding myself. I roll onto my stomach to try to stand up but my hands slip and I end up face down in black, cold water. I suck in a huge mouth full of water and start to choke on it, then I am propelled upwards and a huge blow smashes into the middle of my back. The blow forces the muddy water out of my throat and James' voice coming down a long dark tunnel says, "Breathe, fuck you!". I slide into dark oblivion.

The world is bright white, overbearingly white, smells antiseptic, hospital like. A vast change from my last moment of wakefulness. I blink, open my eyes a shut them again. Too bright.

"Well," drawls James "Look who is gracing us with his presence."

I shut my eyes again and try to shut out the world. I have a screaming headache, a lurching stomach and I have a thousand tiny irritations in my hands, my less and my face. The irritations vear wildly between stinging and itching. I scratch vaguely at the most intrusive.

"Leave it alone, you will just start bleeding all over the place." says James' voice again. Too confused and out of it to argue, I stop scratching.

"Roses have thorns. I thought you knew that. Diving into a rose bush is a stupid idea. Doing it after losing your shirt just compounds the issue. What the hell were you on? Whatever it was must have been very rough. A little LSD cut with your usual rat poison?"

"I don't . . . ." my voice is still hoarse and it is painful to talk. I give up.

"If I didn't know you better I wouldn't believe you. That was a bad trip on something pretty aggressive. What did you drink, eat, consume that you didn't pick at random from the serving tables or from the barman?"

"Nothing." it hurts less to talk now.

"No. Think."

I relax my mind, send it back to the party, get the feeling of sitting in the chair, feet in the sun. Cup of coffee at my elbow. Nothing unusual. Wait. Second cup of coffee. Jane. Jane bumps the table, spills some, apologetic she gets me a replacement.

"Coffee. Jane." I murmur

"Good. Now sleep." at James' prompting I sink back into oblivion.

Another person in the room.

"James?" silence, no response. My voice is barely a whisper, so no response is probably not surprising. I try to force my eyes open and manage only slits. Can just see vague outlines. Red hair is obvious though. Jane. Coffee, spilt, replaced, coffee, spiked? I force sense into my brain. If it were Jane who spiked my coffee then she may not be here on a purely social visit. I need to know what she is doing. I force myself to concentrate. Closing the door, pulling the blinds down, moving toward me, softly, stealthy, assured I am not awake. As she gets to the bedside I swing out an arm, the bottle of water by the bed goes crashing down, I scream but all that emerges is s horrible soft gurgle. Hand on my throat, injection needle in the other hand. I punch at the hand with the needle, miss. Keep my hand moving, find an eye with a forefinger, keep driving forward, Jane leaps back with a nasal grunt, I roll away from her side, out of the bed, hit an empty drip stand that crashes against a cabinet. The noise is cataclysmic, the door slams open and I see Jane's legs leaving. I assume that the rest of her is attached. I realise I am bleeding from a cut sustained from the broken water flask, but I am sort of pleased to see it, it means that I am still alive and functioning.

The rooms is full of people, noise and light.

"What did you do?"

"Call James."

"You made a mess. Going to cost you for damages."

"Call James. "

"What?"

"Don’t clean up. Call James. Leave the room as it is."

"No. We must clean up."

"You want a law suit? Do what I say." Voice recovering slowly.

"Call James. Do it now."

"The guy who brought you in?"

"Yes."

The nurse looks at me for a few moments.

"Right. But someone is going to pay for the damage."

I am left alone for a few moments then a burly security man arrives. "Just to make sure you dont leave without paying."

I am ultra pleased to see him.

"You stay right there, please."

He nods, and settles into a chair, stretches out his feet and crosses his arms. A few moments silence.

"Damn nurses."

"What?"

"Dropped a syringe, needle and all." He reaches for the offending article, hesitates.

"Leave it."

Looks at me carefully, nods twice.

"That’s why you want your friend? And are quite happy to have me here?"

Wearily I nod. He stares at me for a long while, then:

"You were almost dead. They say you will take some time to recover." A statement of fact. Not encouraging, but not unexpected.

"Someone came to finish the job?"

I nod.

"And you managed to create enough of a stir to make them run? Not bad for a half dead patient. We are on the same side aren’t we." This last said with a broad smile.

"Eric" he says. "Won't shake your hand i reckon all sort of bits of you ache."

I try to smile find it is exceptionally difficult and just nod. I drift of an uncounted time, then the door opens again. Having had a bad experience last time that door opened I sit bolt upright and nearly throw up. The security guard catches me before I fall out of bed again.

"Easy Tiger. James Hilton?" he looks at the the figure in the door.

"Yeah, that's him."

The security man relaxes a tad, nods and without prompting heads for the door.

James looks around, carefully.

"She come back?"

I nod. Wearied beyond belief.

"With syringe in hand??"

I nod again and James scoops the thing up in rubber gloved hands.

"What?"

James looks at me quizzically.

"Jane? Why?"

James shakes his head.

"Thinks you are someone else. You arent are you?"

"What?"

"Someone else. Just an ordinary Analyst with no back history. Keen birder, reader and surfer. No wee skeletons in the cupboard?"

I shake my head and he looks around the room. nods once,

"Let me get this straight. She comes in here intent on killing you. You are 75% comatose when she arrives, she is 100% alive, awake and angry. She should have had the upper hand. Left here in good order, you dead or dying and syringe safely hidden. But she doesn't does she? She leaves without the syringe, you alive and the cavalry on the way. Impressive. Analysis for a software shop must be ultra dangerous."

He hauls a cell phone out of his pocket, hits a button, waits.

"Yes. Secured. I was right. You owe me a bottle of whiskey." This is not the goofy, brainless James I know. James the twitcher is gone and this is someone else.

He looks at me.

"Can you walk?"

I nod. "With help."

"Good. Lets go."

"I am in a hospital gown. I might be a bit conspicuous."

"No one will notice or twitch an eyebrow."

"The security guy is not your average. He will notice."

"Eric?"

"Yeah, Eric." a faint suspicion stirs at the back of my mind.

"He is on temporary assignment to hospital security? Arrived a couple of hours ago. The regular man is sitting at home nursing a bottle of beer and congratulating himself on an unexpected windfall?"

"Are you suggesting bribery?" James sticks his head out of the door, looks back at me. "Come."

I hit the floor, almost fall, grab the bed and am grateful for James' strong hand.

Eric arrives with a wheel chair and I fold into it. We leave by the back entrance, nobody even looks our way.

In the back of an SUV with blackened windows I look again at James.

"Who do you think I am?"

"Going by Jane's reaction to you; I think she thinks you are a rather nasty creature called Cameron, Ian Cameron. Name ring a bell does it?"

I shake my head. Ian Cameron is dead. I killed him years ago. Buried him deep in the peat above Surf Bay in the Falklands. One day someone will dig deep enough in the peat and will find him pretty well preserved. The ambient temperatures of the Falklands and the ph values of the peat will see to that. When they do, they will find that he died from a fractured hyoid bone commonly called the Hangmans Fracture. Hopefully the evidence of the surfboard leash will be gone as well as any of my DNA.

Ian. I wish I could say that I had forgotten him, but that isn't possible. You don't easily forget the first person you kill especially if you were friends, sometime lovers and looked alike to the point where some people considered you to be identical twins. We met surfing Bailies Cottage, a wicked right hander that only works under special circumstances. It is tucked away on the edge of the more famous and populous Surfers Corner at Muzinenburg where many surfers have learnt the trade of surfing. Bailies was not for beginner breaking right on the edge of a jagged point, it is spotted with rocks that appear out of nowhere. Why surf it? Bragging rights I guess. Not much else, I seldom if ever stroked out into the break, but this particular day it had been really crowded and the back line was becoming bad tempered, irritable and unpleasant. It became a choice, either Bailies or go home and get smashed on cheap rum. When I saw a single surfer on the wave I decided that watching a spectacular wipe would improve my mood immensely so I stroked casually across to Bailies to watch. The surfer was good and light on his feet. He dodged and turned and stayed out of trouble. I was in turns, aggravated by his survival and in awe of his prowess. I did not know if I should cheer or jeer. It was when he stroked out to me. I am not sure what he intended to say, but "Fuck me!" was the least expected. We stared at each other for what seemed like ages. It was like looking in a Seeing Double but reversed.

I eventually broke the silence. "Nah, it would be too much like wanking" and to my amazement, he burst out laughing.

"That it would. Ian's my name. Please tell me you are not Ian."

"Fortunately not. Abe"

"We could have riotous fun with this you know."

I couldn’t see how, but Ian was far more imaginative than I and some of the things we got up to were completely hilarious. We tried not to be seen together often enough to be remarked on. When we did appear together, Ian would don some sort of disguise and our likeness was never obvious. At first it was great, we played all sorts of pranks together but then things started to pall. Ian was far too over the top for me. I spent a night in jail because the cops thought I was Ian. Ian appeared in court, manipulated the magistrate and paid the fine. We used to share women. I was more adept at picking up women and getting them into bed. Ian and I would swap during the course of the night. Problem was that Ian was not a good lover and a violent drunk so a perfectly lovely women, would in the morning curse me and swear never to talk to me. Nothing I said could change Ian.

We started to earn good money from shady deals. Ian would provide me with a target, I would use my skills to entice people into honey traps. Men and women, I was skilled at both. I used to set up meetings with people, manipulate them into a secluded spot and then swap with Ian. I never asked what Ian did there after, but there was always a nice fat bonus at the end of the night. We lived well, drank hard, surfed all the best spots, lived a charmed life.

It was when I met Nelly that things really got bad. Nelly was a sweet woman, with beautiful eyes that a man could drown in. I fell almost instantly in love with her. I did not want her to meet Ian. I kept her secret from him. Never mentioned her in his hearing. I managed to keep her secret for six months then Ian discovered I had been "unfaithful" to him and he shouted and screamed and demanded to meet her. I refused. We fought worse than we had ever fought. In the end he stalked out, swearing to never speak to me, ever again.

I heaved a heavy sigh of relief and continued my courting of Nelly and eventually, she accepted my proposal, we set the date, we bought a ring and I forgot about Ian. He was gone from my life. I found a nice job that paid a reasonable wage and aimed at becoming a pillar of society.

Then one day when I was in Port Elizabeth,I got a phone call from one of Nelly's friends. Nelly hadn't come to work two days in a row, she wasn't answering her phone. I had been involved in a really serious negotiation, long hours, not sleep and Nelly had taken a back seat. I hadnt noticed her lack of communication. The friend was puzzled.

"But you had a date last night. I saw you fetch her from work."

I panicked. I knew exactly what had happened, I flew immediately back form PE and went to look in all Ian's haunts. The low dives he seemed to flourish in. I went incognito, disguised. Stupid question: Have you seen someone who looks like me? No one had seen him in ages. Heads shaken. And Nelly was nowhere to be found. both had disappeared from sight.

Then they found Nelly. Buried in the back yard of Bailies Cottage. Badly battered, throat slit. I wept.

The police arrived. Of course they would. A friend had seen me pick her up. Fortunately my alibi in PE held out. I wasn’t in town at the estimated time of death. The case went cold and I resumed my life. Grief stricken, mourning.

I became reclusive, cut myself off from life, from other people. The IT industry is perfect for that. You can hide behind computer screen and never speak to anyone.

I assumed that Ian had wandered off, not wanting to face me, not wanting to face a murder rap. Whatever, he was gone.

The SUV pulls to a halt and the door open. A bunch of burly men surround me and escort me into a large double story building. I am ushered gently but firmly into a room that looks remarkably like a doctors consulting room and offered a chair. No one has yet spoken a word to me.

James sits down opposite me.

"What is going on? Where am I?"

James sigh gently, looks around.

"You are in a mental hospital, a place where the criminally insane are kept. Not the normally criminally insane but those who need to be removed from society completely."

"Why am I here? This is ridiculous. A woman I don’t know tries to kill me and you lock me away in a insane asylum? I am not the mad person here. You are."

"Lets talk about Ian Cameron. He looks just like you. Identical in fact."
I start to sweat, no one is supposed to know this sort of detail.
I start to speak, James holds up his hand.
"Wait, hear me out."
I wait.
We have been tailing Jane for ages. She was on the vengeance trai. You see someone killed her sister. Did bad things to her before she died. She has been researching endlessly since her sister died. Just to find the killer. She was a pain. we did not want her to find the killer. He was too useful and too embarrassing to have exposed."

"Who is "we"?"

Black ops, assassination, black mail that sort of thing. Government agency. Problem is when you have to do such things, you need psychopaths to do your dirty work. Problem is psychopaths most often have to be kept out of public view until needed, otherwise the start out on their own. We struck lucky. We found a psychopath who would kill and torture anyone so long as the price was right and then fade back into obscurity. We believed that only money would bring him out to kil and so it was for ages. A really great deal for us. You see he was a dual personality. One half psychopathic killer, one half kind, gentle upstanding member of society. The psychologists warned us that the split was widening and that the one personality would rebel against the other. And so it was. Ian Cameron split away from his easy going pillar of society other half and attempted to destroy him. The other half fought back by finding a woman and starting to settle down. Ian hated that, so he killed his other halfs fiancée."

"Its a lie. I killed Ian. I did. I buried him in the Falklands."

"We wondered about your trip to the Falklands, so we followed you, and watched you. One night you slipped away from us, killed and buried Ian in the peat bogs. We disinterred him. Dug up his grave. You know what we found? A wet suit with a surf board leash wrapped around it. You killed Ian in your mind, buried his remains in the Falklands and may have lived a quiet sensible life for the rest of you allotted span. Problem is that Jane found you, tried to kill you and the shrinks believe that this murderous action will reawaken Ian. In fact we are fairly certain that Ian will revive. Has revived in fact. Jane left your room, blinded in one eye. You gouged her eye out of her head and crushed it in your hand. You were laughing and holding it up like a trophy when Eric arrived. He watched you change back to meek and mild Abe.

Oh and in case you are wondering. The vagrant you saw? It was a neat bit of animation. Nothing more. Was designed to trigger the whole incident, get me onto the grounds when Jane was going to make her play. You will stay here with Ian for the rest of your life living a comfortable life but carefully monitored. Personally I am off to have a long shower and get your stench out of my hair.

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