Annalise smiled back at him. An Annalise with brown hair this time—straight, cut close against the face, a slight curl at the end, a fringe at the front. And she'd discarded her jeans and trainers. She was looking smart and businesslike in skirt, blouse and heels.
"Hi," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm the ParaDim liaison for the Census project."
They shook hands. Annalise beamed. "Your family history greatly interests us, Mr. Smith. I hope I can persuade you to work with us."
Graham stared. Why was she calling herself Tamisha? Was this a prearranged plan? Something the previous Graham had omitted to document?
"I've been talking to Mr. Gledwood . . ."
"Frank. Call me Frank . . . Tamisha." He pronounced the last word with every syllable oiled and followed it with a smile that wouldn't have looked out of place on an Argentinian gigolo.
Annalise didn't appear to notice. "I've been talking to Frank," she continued. "He thinks he can persuade the department to release you for another day or two. If that's agreeable to you."
"Of course it's agreeable to him, isn't it, Graham? Time off, a change of scenery, the beautiful Tamisha. What else could anyone want?"
Annalise coughed. "Sorry," she said, glancing in Frank's direction. "My throat's dry. Is there somewhere I can get a drink?"
Frank bounced out of his chair. "Would you like a coffee? I can get you one if you'd like?"
"That'd be great."
Frank scooped a coffee tray from Shenaz's desk. "I won't be long," he said, smiling one last time from the door before slithering away.
"You can close your mouth now, Graham. He's gone."
Graham had but one thought. "Have you heard from Annalise Fifteen? Is she okay?"
Annalise looked surprised.
"Why do you . . ." Then came the realization. "Have you just come from Fifteen's world?"
"I was with her yesterday. I think she was shot. Have you heard from her?"
"Yes . . . no." She was confused. "She was shot?"
"I think so. I was flipping worlds at the time. She was running behind the bus. There were gunshots and she fell."
"Stop. Slow down." She grasped his shoulders. "What gunshots? Who was shooting at who?"
He told her. He told her about the black car, the flaming waste bin, the smell of petrol, the gunshots, his stupid decision to jump on a passing bus. Annalise listened, shaking her head.
"I talked to her yesterday," she said, her eyes distant. "She said the two of you were hiding in a changing room. I thought she was joking."
Graham shook his head. "She wasn't."
"I'll contact her now," said Annalise. "Nudge me if anyone comes in."
She sat on the edge of Frank's desk. Graham's eyes flicked between Annalise and the door. He prayed for a long queue at the coffee machine, a gaggle of senior managers for Frank to suck up to, anything to ensure Annalise had sufficient time to get through.
Annalise looked worried. Graham stopped glancing towards the door. Her eyes were closed, her face alternating between concentration and concern.
Graham waited for her to say something—to open her eyes and tell him he'd been mistaken, she hadn't fallen, there'd been no gunshot, he'd hallucinated it all in the throes of flipping worlds.
After two minutes she opened her eyes.
"She's fine," she said. "She tripped, that's all."
A great weight fell from Graham's shoulders. He could breathe again. He felt as though he'd been holding his breath for hours.
"What happened? Where is she? Are you sure she's okay?"
"She's fine. And she wants you to know that she caught up with that bus."
"She did?" Graham was amazed.
"Yeah, she caught up with it, all right." Annalise looked away and for a brief second there was a hint of worry in her face. Then back came the smile. "Wow, you are so unlike the other Graham I had."
"I am?"
"Totally. Don't get me wrong. I know you've all been through a hell that none of us could even begin to imagine but you've spoken more in the last five minutes than the other Graham managed in three whole days. You're almost . . ."
She stopped and bit her lip. Graham finished the line for her. "Normal?" he suggested with a slight lift of his eyebrow.
"Yeah, and I mean that in a good way. Something only another freak can say, right?" She laughed. "I'm Annalise Six, by the way." She held out her hand. "Good to meet you, Mr. Smith."
A few seconds later, the door opened and Frank came in with two coffees on a tray.
"Thank you," said Annalise, taking a sip. "I'll take it with me."
"You're going?" Frank looked devastated.
"Yeah. There's no problem getting clearance for Graham, is there? I was told that if anyone could swing it, you could."
"You were?"
"Sure. You know they call you 'Frank the Facilitator' at ParaDim?"
"They do?"
Graham watched in awe. Annalise had barely met the man and yet she played him like an old instrument. Frank Gledwood, the mention of whose name was enough to ruin the brightest of Graham's days, was being wound around one of Annalise's perfectly formed fingers.
And Frank neither realized nor cared.
"Where are we going?" asked Graham as they left the building.
"ParaDim," said Annalise. "Didn't I say?"
Graham stopped dead. How could she even think about going to ParaDim?
"It's okay, Graham. ParaDim's different here. It's not like the other worlds. Everyone's really open and friendly."
Graham couldn't believe it. "ParaDim's the same on every world. Kevin said it was something to do with the resonance effect. They can't help it."
He looked around. He felt uncomfortable talking about ParaDim so close to work. He grasped her arm and hurried her along the pavement.
"Trust me, Graham, it's different here. Gary and Tamisha are great."
"You like Tamisha?"
"Sure, why wouldn't I?"
Graham relaxed and released her arm and thought about a girl with orange hair. "Yesterday, I thought you were going to push her through a window."
Annalise looked worried. "Annalise Fifteen tried to push Tamisha through a window?"
"She thought about it. And Tamisha had been asking for it."
Annalise looked shocked. "But Tamisha's one of the nicest persons I've met."
"You wouldn't have thought so yesterday. Pressure does strange things to people."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" She gazed away into the distance, her mind elsewhere for an instant. "Anyway, Tamisha loaned me her ID until Gary can sort something out. She's in the States all week recruiting for the Resonance project. So, as far as this country's concerned I'm Tamisha Kent, ParaDim liaison to the DTI. Gives me access to you while you're at work and to ParaDim when I need to see Gary. Beats those cloak and dagger phone calls."
"Isn't there a picture on the ID? You don't look anything like Tamisha."
"Don't need to. ParaDim don't use pictures. All their security over here is automatic—retinal scans and fingerprints. Gary had Tamisha's file updated with my details. I tell you, anything the Resonance project wants they get. No questions. Gary said change the file and the security guy jumped to it."
It still sounded wrong to Graham. ParaDim was like a big, bloated spider with a foot on every strand of existence—it may let you walk softly around its outer edges for a while but that didn't mean it wouldn't rush out and bite you when it felt like it.
"They're really great guys down there," said Annalise. "They've given me guided tours and this pass gives me unrestricted access. I can walk anywhere I want and, believe me, there's nothing scary going on there at all. Just a bunch of guys trying to save the world."
"So why are we going there? You've seen the building and I must have had every medical test there is yesterday."
"Didn't I say?"
He shook his head.
"It's your DNA results. You know, they started coming through yesterday? The message in the changing room?"
"I remember."
"Well, they finally worked out what was going on. Gary stayed up all night double-checking the results from nearly ten million worlds."
"And?"
"They found your parents."