Chapter 10
Kathy and Gregory stared dumbfounded at the news. The previous tension had temporarily dissolved as they both contemplated in numb shock the miracle which had just occurred.
Their messenger had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, presumably to spread the joyful news around the rest of the office: Thomas is alive. Questions swirled around Kathy’s head; unanswerable questions, which, when added to the dizzying list of questions she already had in her head, gave her a faint headache. This was too much for her.
And yet… the news prompted a relieving of her soul, a lightening of her spirit, as her mourning period was cut short prematurely. For what reason is there to mourn a man who lives?
Perhaps the doctors had got it wrong and he had merely been in a coma. Perhaps they had neglected to check his pulse or his brainwaves. Yet somehow Kathy suspected that this was not the case: she was certain that he had been dead, and he now was alive.
Kathy had the dubious advantage of having lived through the bizarreness of having walls change before her, paintings talking to her and her identity being wiped from the memory of humanity. She was, by now, used to strange occurrences which defied explanation. Gregory, however, did not have that preparation. His previous rage had not left him but had merely curdled within him into a curious mixture of every negative and confused emotion imaginable. Beneath his muscular frame was a mind ready to burst with frustration.
Both characters spent a full minute in gobsmacked silence simply staring at the door. The scene was like watching two cats interrupted in the middle of a stand-off: the previous hostilities were not quite forgotten, but temporarily superseded by something more important.
Their silence was interrupted by the pantomime arrival of two police officers. They rushed into the interview room bumping into each other like two clowns at a circus. When they had entered the room, they tried to regain their composure with only partial success and to put on an air of respect and authority before their audience.
It was the same pair who had interviewed Kathy the night before in connection with Thomas’ murder. On the left stood a middle-aged gentleman with a curled moustache and a beer belly. He stood in a military manner, clearly attempting to show off the dignity of his station- but instead showing off the size of his gut. His eyes were hidden in shadows deep in their sockets, behind a large, crumpled nose and underneath an oversized policeman’s helmet.
His partner was much younger, much slimmer and much more feminine. She wore the expression of one who wishes things could be different- specifically that her partner could be different. He, clearly, was a buffoon. At least, he was considered one by his colleagues. It was legible in her body language that she was ashamed to be assigned with him. She made a visible step away from him and leaned her body in the opposite direction.
She had a pretty face: a petite nose, full lips, blue eyes and striking eyelashes. A lock of blonde hair fell from beneath her helmet. She was no bimbo, though. Her expression was one of severity. It was clear that she would take no nonsense.
The male police officer began to address Kathy in a Monty Pythonesque voice:
“Kathy Turner, I have here a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Thomas Wilson. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you fail to say now may be used against you as evidence in court. Come with us, please.”
Kathy sat there in utter shock. She glanced at Gregory, and suddenly the tension had disappeared. They looked into each other’s eyes and suddenly began to smile; then to giggle; then to chortle; then to laugh hysterically, uncontrollably, embarrassingly…
“What’s so funny?” huffed the police officer. “Come with me at once!”
“Murder is a very serious offense, ma’am,” chimed in the female officer. “It’s no laughing matter.”
She motioned to grab Kathy’s wrist and pull her away. At this, Kathy regained control of herself and beckoned for her to stop. When she did not do so, Kathy began to panic and shouted,
“Wait! Wait! You can’t arrest me for murder when the man’s not dead!”
The female police officer stopped, but only for a millisecond.
“Not dead?” she smirked. “Come off it, you’re coming with me.”
She continued to pull on Kathy until she had fallen out of her chair and was being dragged across the floor towards the door. The male police officer, though, motioned to his colleague to stop.
“What do you mean he’s not dead?” he asked incredulously.
“I… I don’t know,” admitted Kathy. “But just one minute before you came in here to arrest me, someone else poked her head round the door and told us the news.”
The male police officer paused for a moment to ponder. “This makes no sense,” he opined. “But, if the victim isn’t dead, there can be no murder…”
His colleague seemed exasperated. “Oh, come off it!” she yelled. “Of all the cheap tricks to get out of an arrest, I can’t believe you’d even consider this! We’ve reviewed the evidence ourselves; we’ve seen the coroner’s report- he’s dead. And this woman was the only person on the scene when he died. So she’s our prime suspect!”
The male officer was still pondering, so his colleague continued, “It’s obviously a not-so-clever ruse to stall us and escape before we can arrest her. Let’s haul her”- when she said her, she almost spat the word out- “to the station and get her into court.”
“I don’t know…” said the male officer. After a short while of thinking, he resolved something in his head and announced, “Just in case my colleague is right, we’ll handcuff you anyway. But in the interests of your defence, we’ll let you attempt to prove your claim that your alleged victim isn’t really dead.”
His colleague slapped the palm of her hand on her forehead in disbelief. She could not fathom why he was even taking this murderer’s desperate plea seriously. Yet he was her commanding officer. She had no choice but to obey.
“It’d be very embarrassing to take someone to court for murder when their victim isn’t even dead,” said the male officer by way of justification. It didn’t appease his colleague, though; she folded her arms in an aggressive manner and refused to look at him.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can be the one to cuff her,” he smiled at her. He had clearly intended this as a peace offering, but instead it came across as patronising, like a father offering his daughter some sweets because she didn’t get to press the button at the traffic lights. This made his colleague’s mood even worse.
Which was unfortunate for Kathy. Being cuffed by an angry woman who openly despises you is never a pleasant experience. Kathy could swear that her aggressor deliberately put more force into it than usual. The cold steel dug into her flesh painfully as the key turned in the lock and she realised she was at the mercy of her captors.
“Well, then, take me to the living Thomas,” smiled the male officer.
Kathy stood up and proceeded to walk out of the room. The male police officer walked one pace behind her, just adjacent to the female officer who kept on rudely kicking and knocking Kathy’s shins. Gregory, for his part, also followed- although at a distance. The look on his face was like that of a man stalking a curious and fascinating animal, who cares little for its fate except that he be present to witness it.
The four of them walked out into an empty newsroom. It seemed as if everyone had left in an almighty hurry within the last minute or so: computer chairs were still spinning; laptop screens displayed half-finished research and articles; papers were strewn all over the floor. Everyone had, apparently, abandoned work immediately when the news of Thomas’ resurrection had spread and gone to see if it was true.
The noise from the foyer confirmed that the staff had not disappeared into thin air. An excited hustle and bustle could be heard of anxious whispers and jittering feet. Kathy reasoned that they should go there, and the other three followed in their respective manners.
The newsroom door opened onto a chao
tic scene. On the other side of the foyer was an elevator which people used to get to and from the ground floor entrance. Though barely visible through the thronging crowd, Kathy could make out three figures standing in the elevator: two of them were supporting their friend in the middle, who seemed to be struggling to balance. Yet Kathy could not get a clear view for a mob of about fifty people was crowded into this comparatively small lobby. She had barely made any movement into the foyer from the newsroom before she had to stop at the edge of the mass of bodies. However, over their heads Kathy could make out the slumped head of a man with messy brown hair: Thomas’ hair.
Was he still dead, though? The head was not moving. She could make out two other bodies either side of Thomas, clearly supporting the body between them… because it was weak, or because it was limp? Still Thomas’ head did not move. She glanced at the faces of his companions: they both looked like bouncers, with wide jaws and bald scalps. Their expressions were emotionless. She could tell nothing.
Suddenly, his head swung up, and Kathy could make out the face of her friend Thomas, alive. Alive! She allowed the word to float through her synapses, cleaning away the filth of her recent traumas like a strong detergent. And it was him, too. She remembered how, when she had seen him last night, he had been the body of Thomas but possessed the words and mannerisms of a stranger. Looking through the crowd now at the weak but hopeful gaze of his visage, she knew it was him. No doubt.
He seemed to be glancing around, searching for something or someone. The crowd before him was jubilant, amazed, in awe of the miraculous man who had defeated death. Yet he seemed uninterested in their attention. He presently whispered something in the ear of the man on his left and was released by his attendants to stand on his own two feet.
He quickly regained composure. The expression of fatigue swiftly disappeared and he dusted down his suit before turning his attention to the people before him.
The throng in front of him waited with baited breath. A myriad of identical, shocked faces were frozen before him as if unsure what to do and how to react. His eyes scanned the scene for anyone he knew, and he found many: friends and colleagues who had made his time here worthwhile; cleaning, catering and temporary staff whose faces he recognised but just couldn’t place- yet the majority of the crowd were strangers to him. Working in such a big organisation, you can never know everyone.
Nevertheless, everyone knew him: the dead reporter who had come back to life. He gave a weak smile and the floodgates opened: the crowd surged forward, everyone wanting to hug him, to greet him, simply to touch him. For five minutes, he had become a messiah figure.
A fat, bald man he knew only as Larry grasped onto him in a crushing embrace before being pushed away by the oncoming masses. A woman he recognised as Tanya, who worked in accounts, kissed him on the cheek, tears streaming down her face. His boss, Harcroft, gave him a firm handshake and said, “Well done, old boy!” before marching away.
And Thomas was walking through the crowd, slowly pushing his way past his well-wishers. One person, whom he did not recognise, asked him in a weak voice, “What was it like?”
Thomas stopped, and everybody did the same: they wanted to hear his story.
“Death, you mean?” he clarified. “I… don’t remember. I didn’t see a white light or anything. I was just alive, and then I woke up ten minutes ago to be told that I had been dead.”
His questioner seemed disappointed and wandered off. Still, the crowd’s jubilance resumed and he continued to push his way through, shaking hands and giving embraces… and then he reached the edge.
And he saw her. The frazzled, ginger hair; the pale complexion; the strong, yet tired, expression on her face- yes, this was Kathy all right.
“Kathy!” he suddenly yelled in excitement, and rushed forward to greet her.
Well, I say “rushed”. There needs to be some clarification around this point: Thomas had spent the night as a corpse. His physical body was, therefore, not in good condition- so what counted for “rushing” by him actually appeared as stumbling and almost falling several times.
Kathy was taken aback. Yes, this was Thomas- and he remembered her! Not like last night, when he had merely recognised her name from the paper before him. This Thomas before her had physical memories of her, of her personality, of times they had spent together. He recognised her as he would a friend.
Yet nobody else did. Thomas was not the only person she had ever met or worked with in her time as a journalist- so why could he remember her, but the rest of the staff remained clueless as to her identity? This puzzled her… but for the moment, her curiosity was overtaken by joy- immense, boundless joy at having found her friend and having found someone who recognised her. Maybe she wasn’t insane after all, she ventured; she felt as if she had regained her identity. A strange sensation occurred within her whereby she felt like she was being filled up with something cool and refreshing, like warm milk, to wash out the pain and confusion she had recently been through.
This was all in Kathy’s head; yet in the outer, physical world, Thomas had just reached her and embraced her like an old friend he had not seen for a long time. She smiled.
His head was drooped. It seemed the effort of walking had been a little too much for him, and he now needed Kathy for physical support to prevent him from collapsing. Still, he was smiling too.
Kathy looked down and saw that he was wearing the same tattered suit as last night- and she noticed blood. That was new- but, now she thought of it, it had been there last night too. She had simply not noticed it, yet now it seemed a crucial detail: what had happened to him while he had been possessed, or mad? Where had the blood come from?
“Thomas,” she ventured caringly. “Where did this blood come from on your shirt? What happened to you?”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes in an exhausted gaze. His whole face seemed to be straining with the effort of not losing his grip on her and falling off: certainly his mouth appeared to be struggling not to sag as he spoke.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “The last thing I truly remember is being at home with my mother, and…”
His eyes began to wonder. “Mother…” he uttered absent-mindedly. “Is she here? Is dad…”
And then he remembered. The relief of being alive, and being him had clearly sheltered him from the memory of his father’s death. Presently his mother, who had been waiting in the foyer, arrived. Having aggressively pushed her way through the crowd she held her son in her arms. She practically snatched him from Kathy’s grasp and gave her an evil, accusing look.
“I don’t know who you are, miss,” she declared. “But you stay away from my son!”
“She’s a friend, mum. Leave her alone,” said Thomas drily. He was not crying, but the grief was tangible in his voice.
Kathy sensed that this was a private moment between mother and child, and so she turned away. She felt secure now. Thomas recognised her and was happy to see her. He had instantly become a sort of rock, or anchor, for her- a safe point that reminded her with certainty that she was definitely not insane. Or else, he was insane too, in exactly the same way. It didn’t really matter, though- either way, she was no longer alone.
As she turned, she noticed her entourage still standing behind her: the two policemen and the cynical Gregory. She knew what she had to do. The three of them had refused to believe her story earlier. The police, based on her testimony, thought her downright mad- which would have been to her advantage at trial. If she had been found guilty of murder, at least she would have had a very strong case for pleading insanity.
Gregory, too, had refused to believe her. His expression was rather amusing at the moment: his mouth was contorted in a part confused, part angry, part panicked expression. He had previously called her a mad homeless lady with whom he would have no dealings- and it was easy to see why. He had understandably been more suspicious than welcoming, given that she mysteriously had details of his life story on a piece of
paper and did not seem to be telling the truth.
Yet now, it was clear his mind had been changed- or, rather, confused. The story of being forgotten by the world and then meeting Thomas (claiming to be him), who gave her this sheet of paper, seemed more plausible in light of his resurrection. Gregory was beginning to get a taste of how Kathy had been feeling when reality slowly started to unravel for her and the most bizarre occurrences could feasibly be real.
Kathy approached the police first. The female police officer looked gobsmacked and restless- but her male colleague seemed unaffected. He would not have looked out of place with a piece of corn or wheat sticking out of his mouth as he nonchalantly chewed it.
“I need your help to investigate TGN,” she declared boldly.
The female police officer looked at her speechless. Her body posture was defensive; it was as if she had been frozen in shock, like a wild animal before headlights.
Her colleague, however, gazed directly into Kathy’s eyes. He was a tall man, so it felt very much like he was looking down at her. Kathy didn’t like the feeling.
“No can do, I’m afraid,” he said succinctly. He casually threw a piece of gum in his mouth and returned his gaze to the scene before him: honestly, nothing much was happening anymore. Thomas was still having a heart-to-heart with this mother, and, embarrassed by the awkwardness of a private scene in a public place, his crowd of devotees had resorted to chatting amongst themselves. The atmosphere was full of awe at having witnessed a miraculous resurrection.
“Why not?” asked Kathy, puzzled.
“Well, you see, we’re the police. Our job is to enforce the law. And on this occasion, I can’t see that the law has been broken,” he explained.
Kathy turned her gaze towards the female police officer, dumbfounded. She was beginning to understand her clear frustration with her colleague. This man was a buffoon.
She didn’t need to explain about the links with TGN to the pair before her, for she had already gone into too much detail in the interrogation last night. They already knew that TGN had been the company who abducted Thomas; that he had been found babbling outside their offices last night before keeling over, dead. To her mind, there was a clear, prima facie case for investigating their links with the…
…with the what, exactly? “Murder” didn’t cut it anymore- Thomas was no longer dead, and he didn’t seem to have been killed by anyone. Although the paramedics and doctors couldn’t find an explanation for his condition, there was no evidence that anyone had taken his life deliberately.
And yet, as Kathy thought about it, there was. He had seemed terrified of the CCTV cameras and had seemed to expect what was coming. But how could he have been killed, assuming someone had wanted him dead? Was he telling her too much? Did they want to shut him up?
The mind of the police officer seemed untroubled by such questions.
“Ma’am, our job is to investigate murders,” he continued. “And your friend here has clearly not been murdered. He is alive.”
It was as simple as that, apparently. But Kathy would not give up at that.
“But he was dead!” Kathy exclaimed. “In very suspicious circumstances! We have just seen a miracle here, mister… what do I call you?” She suddenly realized that the pair before her had not introduced themselves to her at all.
“Detective Inspector Sainsbury,” said the male officer before her. “And this is my colleague, PC Dodsworth.”
His female colleague gave a weak smile and returned to her shocked state. She was recovering, though- every so often she would try to return to her previously aggressive, professional demeanour, but each time the enormity of the situation set her back into a shocked stupor, so that she stood there with mouth agape and arms spread behind her, as if frozen while backing away from something terrible.
“Look, detective inspector, we have seen a miracle today, but the fact of the matter is that this man”- at this point she indicated at Thomas- “spent the night as a corpse, and when I met him yesterday he was confused and thought he was someone else. This man was dead, and in very suspicious circumstances. When I met him, he seemed terrified of something. I think he was expecting to be killed, to be honest. That’s a possible murder- or, given that he’s standing with us today, at least attempted murder. Surely it’s your job to investigate?”
“Nope,” he replied simply. “A living man cannot be the victim of murder. The case is closed.”
“PC Dodsworth?” she implored desperately. “Surely you don’t agree?”
“Wha-?” came the reply. Evidently, Dodsworth was in such a state of shock that she was unable to think straight or reply properly. Kathy uttered a guttural shriek in frustration and approached Gregory.
“Gregory, surely you’ll be able to help?”
The man looked unsure. Thomas’ resurrection had partially moved his mind towards investigating TGN, but he was still very suspicious of the woman before him. Thomas was alive… but why had he died? It remained a fact that Kathy had been the last person with him before his death. Gregory’s curiosity had been pricked, but he did not want to work with this woman in his investigation.
So he grunted at her. He simply grunted. His arms were folded, and his forehead was furrowed, as if he was deep in thought.
Kathy uttered another shriek of frustration and turned away. These people were impossible.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and saw that moustachioed detective Sainsbury standing behind her.
“We’re going to go now,” he explained. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
With that, Detective Inspector Sainsbury and PC Dodsworth began to make their way through the crowd towards the elevator and back to the police station. Kathy knew she wouldn’t be seeing them again.
She was at a loss what to do. Gregory was being uncooperative- and to be honest, Kathy wasn’t sure that she trusted him, either- and Thomas was still having a heart to heart with his mother. He was the only person in the world who remembered who she was, so she decided to simply wait for him to finish so that they could talk.
He spent a further five minutes with his mother. They were sitting down on a pair of armchairs next to each other. Kathy couldn’t hear the conversation, but it was clearly emotional: she could guess they were talking intermittently about his father, and about what had happened to him. Aside from Kathy, his mother had been the most worried and the most hysterical. After all, she had been there when her son had mysteriously walked into a strange vehicle, never to be seen again.
After five minutes, Thomas hugged his mother and walked over to Kathy. His face was tear-flecked and his eyes large. His lips were twitching every so often, like he might cry.
“Kathy,” he opened earnestly. “What happened to me? I mean, I remember that afternoon at home when I went missing. I remember a man coming to the door and talking to me… although what he was saying, I forget… and then I remember walking with him outside into his vehicle. But I remember it as if it was another man doing it, as if I was an observer in the back of my head. Or…”
His trail of thought drifted off as he considered another possibility. Clearly, it was so horrific a possibility to him that he chose not to say it- but his face turned deathly pale and his pupils grew fantastically fast as he thought about it. This worried Kathy, but she chose to let him keep talking.
“Then my memories come back and I’m in a strange office block. I’m… I’m in a seminar room, and there’s a presentation about… something… then there’s a man, and a woman, before me… they’re shouting at me, and trying to make me remember something… or forget something…”
“Where was this?” Kathy implored. “Was it at TGN?”
“TGN?” asked Thomas blankly.
“When I found you last night, you were pacing up and down outside the offices of an organisation called simply TGN. And you were muttering about how TGN is not the enemy and you were holding three sheets of paper. And… you were convinced you were someone called Gregory.” br />
At this last detail, Thomas turned deathly pale again. He folded his armed as if to hug himself, to comfort himself from whatever thoughts were going through his mind. Kathy was worried.
“Thomas,” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he dismissed her. “I just… I’m fine.” He gave a weak smile, and that was that.
“Where are these papers?” he asked imploringly.
“He has them,” said Kathy, indicating towards Gregory.
And when Thomas’ eyes met Gregory’s face, he froze. For a whole minute he stared fixatedly at the stranger before him, and then he approached him slowly, carefully, nervously, as one would approach a dangerous animal. Gregory, for his part, noticed, and adopted a defensive stance- but Thomas was not going to hurt him.
Presently Thomas neared Gregory. The two men were so close, their noses might have touched. Gregory looked disturbed.
“What do you want?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
Thomas, though, was in no mood for replying. Something about Gregory’s features was fascinating to him, intoxicating… his fingers began to trace the contours of the stranger’s face: the nose, the eyes, the moustache, the mouth… and Thomas’ mouth began to open, agape, astonished…
“Get off me! What do you want?” demanded Gregory once more.
“There’s something so familiar…” muttered Thomas incomprehensibly. “Like there’s something speaking to the base of my soul… my mind can’t understand it, but my instincts are abuzz…”
“Thomas?” asked Kathy, worried. “What’s going on?”
He drew away from Gregory quickly, but still as white as a sheet. “I think I’ve seen a ghost,” he said incomprehensibly, and then gave a small chuckle. “But what of these papers you mentioned?”
“They’re in the interview room,” said Gregory. “I left them there. I’ll go get them.” He left abruptly, evidently in a hurry to get away from this pair of nut jobs before him.
Gregory was gone for little more than a minute before he returned with the three sheets of paper in his hand. He handed them over to Thomas quickly, before making a hasty retreat into some hidden corner of the newsroom.
Thomas pored over the papers intently. He spent a long while thinking about the paragraph on Quantum Brain Dynamics- a concept which required much thought, for he was no scientist. Kathy watched with interest as his face- animated, as ever- went from puzzlement, to frustration, to a sudden Eureka moment, and back to thoughtful consideration.
It took close to ten minutes before he was done with the scientific part of the text- then he moved onto Gregory’s bio. This took him little more than a minute to digest, but his expression was one of constant puzzlement. This expression did not leave him as he read his own biography- although he did nod or shake his head at regular intervals as he saw details he liked or disagreed with.
“And I… I gave this to you?” he asked Kathy with a thoughtful expression.
“Yes,” she replied. “You seemed very attached to it. Kept on looking back at it and reading it as if it was something very important to you. You insisted on giving it to me, too. It was… well, I suppose it was the last thing you said to me before you… died.”
“And these notes- who wrote them?”
“I assumed you did,” answered Kathy.
“Yes, but it’s not my handwriting,” snapped back Thomas irritably. He was deep in thought now and had no time for politeness.
“Well, you weren’t exactly you last night. You kept insisting you were Gregory. I don’t know what had happened to you- whether it was some sort of schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder thing, or something else- but maybe your alter ego also had alter handwriting.”
“Gregory… I said I was Gregory?”
“Yes.” Suddenly something struck Kathy. “That man you were… examining with great interest- why were you doing that?”
“I don’t know. He just looked familiar. I can’t explain rationally why I was doing it, but it felt like my soul and his had some sort of link.”
Kathy pondered for a bit. “I never introduced him to you, did I?”
“No,” replied Thomas. “Who was he?”
“His name is Gregory.”
Silence ensued. Neither knew what to make of this, but it seemed that somehow the two persons of Thomas and Gregory were, indeed, linked.
“I came here to get some help to investigate TGN,” Kathy continued. “I met him when I got here. I mean, he was assigned to my story. He’s new here- I’ve never seen him before. Anyway, I showed him the papers I’ve given you and the Gregory mentioned on there is him. That’s his life story.”
Thomas grew pale once more. His pupils had shrunk and he looked like a scared, lost rabbit. He stared down at the papers before him with astonishment.
“You say I was kidnapped by TGN, and then found outside their headquarters with these papers in my hand, insisting that my true identity is that of a man I’ve only just met… and the biography on here fits his life exactly…”
“I think maybe it had something to do with the first thing on there about… about Quantum Brain Dynamics,” Kathy interjected. “But I don’t understand it.”
Thomas pored over the papers once more. “But the side notes don’t just mention TGN,” he noticed. “They also talk about something called Cybertech Industries…”
Now it was Kathy’s turn to become deathly pale. Cybertech Industries. Suddenly, from somewhere in her unconscious mind, came the repressed memory of that awful day when all this had begun… that day when Arnold had… had violated her. She remembered the conversation he had been having with his two friends, and how Cybertech Industries had been mentioned by one of them. She could not remember who, though, and honestly did not want to dwell any longer on that night. Already she could feel the emotions associated with that day returning, and did not want them to reach the surface.
“We need to investigate this,” he declared suddenly. “And we need to start at TGN. The police won’t help us, so we need to do it ourselves.”
“Agreed,” said Kathy drily.
“I’ll come with you,” came a voice from behind them. The pair of them swivelled on the spot to see Gregory standing behind them. Evidently, he had returned from his hidden corner and heard some of their conversation. “This man, Thomas, was found outside their offices with a sheet of paper with my details on it. I want to know why. I want to know why they have been collecting my details, why they gave it to him and why he ended up thinking he was me.”
Thomas and Kathy nodded. They needed all the help they could get. Although Kathy and Gregory did not fully trust each other yet, the three of them were united by a common purpose: Thomas, to find out what had been done to him in his forgotten days; Kathy, to discover what had befallen her friend and if TGN or Cybertech had any links to what had been happening to her recently; Gregory, to uncover why and how his dead colleague had come back to life, and why he had been given a sheet of paper with Gregory’s life details on it. Their investigation was just beginning, but all three of them now had a plan: to start tomorrow, and to start at the headquarters of the mysterious TGN.