Chapter 7 – Phil fills us in – karma chameleon – the Knoxian threat

‘You’re kidding me, right?’

‘No, honestly, swear on my signed Lorraine Kelly photo. Something to do with the type of concrete. Although it might be because the place is so scuzzy they can’t be bothered scanning for interesting thoughts. But yeah, I reckon here we’re safe. No psychic eavesdropping on this conversation.’
I paused wolfing down my Greggs pizza to look sceptical but Phil was busy staring out the window, scanning the cars around us as if he expected commandos to start rolling across their bonnets at any second. His face had returned to his own although it still looked…new somehow. Stretched. He’d made me drive to the multi-storey car park at the back of the Overgate and wasn’t too happy when I’d insisted on a quick visit to Greggs beforehand. But I was bloody starving and the way he was practically inhaling that Thai Red Curry sandwich suggested he was too. Turns out being chased by mysterious officials gives you a right appetite.

After Art School, while I’d started temping with the Agency, being made permanent after the Change, Phil had floundered around, doing odd bits of web design work and freelance journalism. His Ability, his face-changing had developed a year ago and I knew I’d let contact slip. Terrible, but what with dealing with folk with Abilities all day, then going home to Mum…
‘But are you sure we shouldn’t be wrapping tin foil round our heads as protection?’ I asked, kidding on. Phil gave me such a withering look I burst out laughing, choking on some pepperoni, him thumping on my back a bit too enthusiastically.
‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, no *coff*, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just…just,’ and I was searching the glove compartment for a tissue as Phil pulled one from his trouser pocket.
‘It’s fine, unused. We policemen we’re always ready and prepared to deal with a crying woman. What’s got into you?’

‘This! This whole bloody morning,’ and I wiped my eyes clear. ‘Christ, I think it’s going to be an average shitty Monday morning and instead I get handled by a giant -’

‘What, a giant? Handled? Actually, that sounds as though it could be fun…’

‘Believe me, fun is not the word I’d use especially seeing as how I was doing it to break and enter-’

‘Careful now, might have to do a citizen’s arrest.’

‘Shut it, Taggart. Remember, you’re not actually the polis. So yeah, a break-in, then I find a client dead but not only dead but spread then the police turn up, then bloody Interpol or whoever followed by a mate with the wrong face on who I’ve not seen for ages and now, now it’s like I’m stuck in some cheap remake of Cagney and Lacey!’

‘Yeah, look…about that not being in touch…I should have…what with your Mum and everything…’ Phil scrunched up his sandwich wrapping tight and I put my hand on his arm, let him know it was OK, that I was just as much to blame for losing contact.
‘It’s fine, look, if it’s because of your Ability then I know I’ve been rubbish, should have given more support but -’ but he was staring down at my hand, giving it this horrified look.

‘Cathy…’

‘It’s what’s friends do in times of need, OK. To give reassurance.’

‘But you’re touching me. You, the person who’s always going on about how hugging’s for Christians. Is there…is there something you want to tell me?’ and I slapped his arm.

‘Ow!’

‘There, is that enough touching for you? I was showing concern, alright? That’s what normal people do.’

‘Yeah, normal, not Cathy Burns.’

‘Right, let’s cut the slagging and you get on and tell me what the hell is going on?’

‘That’s exactly what I was going to do before you started feeling me up.’ He took a swig of his Irn-Bru, gave the car park another sweep, building up the melodrama.

‘I’ve been working on a story, different from my usual stuff, all that entertainment, reviewing crap. Something that’s proper hard news. I started going to these Abled support groups-’
‘What? “My name is Phil and I’m a rubbish chameleon.” That sort of shite?’

‘You phobe…that’s why we need those sorts of groups, to protect us from morons like you -’ I chucked a Quaver at him –  ‘so anyway, I’m finding out all these really interesting stories about how their lives have been affected but nothing, like, earth-shattering and then I started hearing these…rumours.’

He frowned, checking the car park again for eavesdroppers, squeezing his can until it squeaked.
‘What? Come on, spit it out. What rumours? I’ve just bought you a sandwich, mind.’

Phil sighed, rubbed his eyes. I’d forgotten the toll transforming took on him. One of the reasons we’d stopped meeting up so often was how tired he was in the evenings after a day of his face shifting from Phillip Schofield to the woman behind the counter at the corner shop to his Dad to Hitler.
‘People with Abilities disappearing. Or rather dying in “mysterious circumstances”. At first I didn’t take it too seriously. They had an urban myth ring to them, y’know? It was always the friend of a friend or the second cousin of an auntie. And the way they were told. It was more like they were warnings.’

‘Warnings? How d’you mean?’
‘These people, the people who had vanished…they were always unemployed, always claiming Benefits. If they died, the ones where they found what was left of the bodies, the official cause of death given was that their Ability had suddenly got much worse.’

He pulled his hand down over his face smoothing it out to a blankness that made me think of death masks until I nudged him. ‘Sorry…just…anyway, I managed to get a few names, an incident up in Arbroath, one over in Lochgelly, turned up and started asking questions. Was worried about the reaction I’d get but most of them were glad someone was investigating what had happened. Because they could feel something wasn’t right. That the Ability hadn’t been that bad, that the deterioration had been so sudden, it was shocking. And all of them suggested something triggered it.’

I turned the key in the ignition to turn the heating on, suddenly aware of how chilly it was.
‘Like what?’

‘Well, this is the thing. All of them, and I mean all of them mentioned the Knoxians. That the missing person had some sort of dealing with them in the days leading up to their disappearance or death, whether it was being handed a few leaflets or going to a meeting. Once or twice neighbours reported seeing men in black hanging about, knocking at the door of the Abled, calling through the letterbox.’
‘You are kidding me. But they…Davey…those kids who were hanging about outside, they said they saw some men in black…they must have something to do with it. Fucking bigots.’
‘Cath, they maybe have something to do with it. But I had noticed over the past few weeks they’ve been focusing more and more on Dundee, what with the meetings they’ve been having at the Mecca bingo hall. Then a few weeks ago I had this…ah…encounter with a young police chap and it got me thinking -’
‘I’ll bet it did…did he get his taser out? His extendable baton?’

‘- of a way of getting closer to the action should anything kick off here. See, if I’ve been close to someone, physically close, this kind of…swapping can happen. A switch. I take on their looks and they take on some of mine.’
‘Christ…those poor, poor souls,’ I murmured, scrunching myself as far away from him as possible.
‘Don’t worry love, we’d have to do a whole lot more than touch elbows for you to end up with these looks,’ and he gave a brief pout. ‘Anyway, if I concentrate I can fix myself looking like that person even if I haven’t seen them in a while. So I bought myself a uniform online and I’ve been listening to the police radio waiting for something like this to happen…but this…this is the first time there’s been a body. An actual body…’
In the pause that followed I saw what he’d seen in Davey’s flat hit home. After hearing those stories of disappearances and terrible deaths, he’d come face to face with the reality and had to deal with the shock of it. A car drove past with its headlights on, showing up how pale he was, the sweat glazing his forehead before his face did this sort of m

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    g thing, his mouth and chin slipping down and I thought of Davey, that happening to him and how it would feel to be unable to stop that slippage and felt sick. But Phil cupped his face in his hands, stopped the slide, frowning as he concentrated on getting back some definition.

‘Phil…you alright? You were looking a bit…droopy.’
‘Yeah, sorry…’ his voice as slurred as his features had been. ‘Think it’s the stress, getting to me. You don’t realise, do you? The effect something like that can have until you relax.’

‘Yeah, well, you were taking that whole relaxing thing a bit too far. Here. Have a Quaver. Make you feel better,’ I offered, his hand shaking when he reached into the packet.

‘Phil. In Davey’s flat, there were leaflets. I got a hold of them before the police saw them. And there was this.’ Davey’s cross had been digging into my side the whole time we’d been sitting there having lunch but it wasn’t just for that reason it was a relief to show it to Phil. His reaction when I handed it over, that look of appalled pity, made me glad I hadn’t left it to the police. It felt too personal for them, too big a sign of Davey’s terror.
‘This was Davey leaving behind a clue, pointing us in the direction of those Knoxian bastards.’
‘Cathy…’ Phil sounded weary when he handed the cross back to me like it was some kind of relic. ‘We have to be careful, OK? The Knoxians, they have connections. Ever wonder why the police haven’t arrested any of them for hate crimes? It’s because they’re linked up with weird Proddy organisations within the Police. Secret codes and handshake type stuff. Plus those government goons today…I  reckon the Knoxians are being protected and whoever’s doing it is pretty high up.’

I scrunched up the packet of Quavers, chucked it at him. ‘So what do we do then? Can’t go to the police because they’ve been warned off investigating Davey and from what you’re saying they wouldn’t do anything anyway.’ Surrounded by concrete in crappy Martina I suddenly felt trapped and useless and so bloody normal. I mean, I loved Martina and everything but she was hardly the Batmobile. But then…Batman and Robin didn’t have superpowers. They made the best of the resources they had. Bruce Wayne had access to a billion dollar fortune. I had access to a load of confidential benefits records.
‘Hey! I’ve got it, how we can get some evidence together, a case the police can’t ignore. The names of the people you were chasing up, you said they were all on benefits. You got a list you could give me?’

‘Cath, don’t.’ Phil shook his head, gave me that big brother look that usually had me swithering between punching or hugging him. ‘You could get into trouble, serious trouble, data protection and all that.’

‘Aww, shut up, I’m public sector! We don’t give a stuff about personal information! If these folk were claiming, they’ll be on our files or I can get in touch with other Benefits branches. I can check and find out what info we’ve got on them, see if there are any links between them. I mean, it might just be coincidence…Abilities can turn nasty. Or cause depression, suicides… But from what you’re saying and what we’ve seen something’s happening, something bad and the more we know, the more we can stop it. I mean, you must be keen to find out more. You could be one of the folk at risk.’

‘Aww, gee, thanks. D’you show the same level of compassion to all your clients or just your very good friends?’ Phil laughed and for the first time that day he looked fully himself, not some weird caricature version of the Phil I was used to.
‘OK, but be careful, alright?’

‘Course. When have you ever known me to get into trouble at work?’

‘Well, that time you turned up high on -’

‘Shut it and I told you, I’m sure someone had spiked that vending machine coffee.’

‘Yeah right. Anyway, here, get a pen out,’ and he pulled a crumpled sheet of A4 from his jacket pocket while I got a notepad from my rucksack. ‘You should probably eat that page when you’re finished with it,’ he told me as I jotted down the list of names. ‘While you’re checking them out, I’ll do some more digging on the Knoxians, find out what they’re up to in Dundee, what their dealings were with Davey.’

‘And you’re telling me to be careful. Phil, those freaks…’

‘Hey, trusht me, I’ll be fine, but I apprechiate your concern, Moneypenny.’
Any other day finding myself suddenly sitting next to a young Sean Connery would have been the high point of strangeness but after everything that had happened, all I did was tut. ‘Yeah, whatever. You wanting a lift? Don’t know why I’m bothered with you getting mixed up with the Knoxians, I’ve got the Slorach to deal with. And y’know what, I actually think I prefer Daniel Craig?’ and I revved Martina to drown out Phil’s howl.