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what it’s worth, we were only trying to help you.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque shrugged his leather-clad shoulders. He didn’t need any help. He tossed the cigar into his mouth, and caught it in his teeth.
    Victoria hustled Reynolds towards the cabin door. Looking back, she pointed a bony finger at Ack-Ack Macaque.
    “You, stay here.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque harrumphed. He folded his arms and sat on the edge of the metal desk.
    “I’m not going anywhere, boss.”
    He watched her escort the white-suited man to the corridor. Reynolds had a hand to his bruised face. He was lucky not to have a broken jaw.
    It would have served him right, Ack-Ack Macaque thought.
    He fished around for his lighter. When he looked back up, Reynolds was watching him, ignoring whatever apologies Victoria was making.
    “You will come to us and let us help you eventually, you know.” Not even the cut lip could disguise the certainty in the man’s voice. “After all, where else can you go? Where else can someone like you ever truly belong?”
     
     
    W HEN V ICTORIA CAME back, her cheeks were flushed and her lips almost white.
    “Putain de merde,” she said. “What was that all about?”
    Ack-Ack Macaque’s jacket creaked as he shrugged a shoulder.
    “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot him.”
    Victoria looked him up and down, nostrils flared. “If you had, you’d be in the brig right now, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque flicked his lighter into life. It was a Zippo with a brushed aluminium case, and he was rather fond of it, even though it stank of petrol fumes.
    “I can’t help it,” he grumbled. “Those Gestalt bastards make my pelt crawl.” He thumbed the wheel to ignite the wick, and then used the flame to light the cigar. As he puffed it into life, he heard the air-conditioning fans whisper into action.
    Victoria wrinkled her nose and flapped a hand in front of her face. “Mine too. But I can’t have you slapping passengers around, especially in my office. Are we clear?”
    He tapped a pair of fingers to his forehead in salute. “Clear as crystal, boss.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t been on the espresso again, have you? Because we all know what happened last time.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque waggled his head.
    “No, boss.”
    Victoria drew herself up. Then she let out a long, cleansing breath, and threw her blonde wig onto the desk.
    “Right, now that’s out of the way, what are you planning to do with the rest of your evening?”
    Ack-Ack Macaque was used to her mood shifts. He shrugged. Reynolds’s final words still rankled him, like a fleabite he couldn’t scratch.
    “Drink imported lagers until I puke?”
    Victoria smiled. She straightened the collar of her white military tunic, and slipped the retractable fighting stick into one of its pockets.
    “That sounds like a damn fine plan, monkey-man. If you don’t mind a little company, the first round’s on me.”

 
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
    UNCOMFORTABLY PARANOID
     
    T HE MAN WHO called himself Bill slumped back against the cabin wall, and stretched his legs out before him. One of his hands pressed at the wound in his stomach, and he sucked air through his teeth in tight, rapid breaths.
    “I haven’t got long. I have to. Warn you. About the virus.”
    Transfixed, William slid forward on the bunk. The gun Bill had given him felt heavy, cold and solid in his grip.
    “Who are you? Why do you look like me?”
    Bill coughed. Where William’s hair was long and wild, his had been carefully cropped.
    “I am you.” He had trouble speaking and breathing at the same time. “Sort of. I’m a different version... of you.”
    William felt his face flush. “What, you’re like my twin brother or something?”
    “No.” Bill’s head shook loosely on a neck that seemed loath to support it. “I really am... you. But I’m a version of you from a different... world. A parallel... world.”
    “Bullshit.”
    Bill winced in pain. “You write...