Chapter 14

I woke with a very bad headache. I was seated on a hard chair, my head in my hands looking down at a wooden table etched with gaffiti, initials and assorted stains. There was an overall smell of stale coffee and sulphur. I looked up. Doil was leaning against the door his shadow falling across the frosted glass, onto which was written backwards, Incident Room 1. In the corner was a cage with fine mesh and a big bolt and padlock.

‘Welcome back’. I checked my wrist. The controller was missing. Then my neck for the chip. That was still in place, so I was still and maybe forever Fats Waller. Without the controller I could not turn Fats down or return to the black spot.

‘How’s the head?’

I rubbed the crown. It had a bump on it the size of a goose egg.

‘I had to knock you out to get you away from the beat cops’.

‘Now what?’

‘Now we wait’

‘And Veronica?’

‘Yes that was very unfortunate, she was not supposed to get  hurt. However we had laid on a rescue team as a precaution. She is holding her own. Now we have a dilemma. The show did not go as planed and the powers in Central Intelligence are not happy. The situation all this was set up the put right, is now fucked up. I am awaiting instructions.’

‘Meanwhile?’

‘Meanwhile you stay as Fats and I am of course  Lt. Doil.’

‘You may go, but don’t get lost. Have a ball, play piano.’ When they have sorted out what to do about this fuck up, we will have to play the scene again.’

‘No way man. I get the feeling none of this will go right. Anyways I have a gig, on a troop ship as Jnr Mance, tomorrow, or is that today? Time seems to have evaded me.

‘Listen Buddy and listen up good. You are now an operative of the IGBI, and your life is not your own. Not that it ever was. We are all out on licence, as far as they are concerned, they can watch your every move . Even down to when you take leak. The IGBI are all powerful, omnipotent.’

‘Yeh, yeh, I get your drift man, but just send me home, back to my work as jobbing entertainer.’  Doil looks at me, screws up his eyes and looks mean.

‘Don’t get smart with me Fats. You are signed up and that is it.’ He opens the door and walks out into the squad room.

A few minutes later a toffee skinned rookie comes in and hands me a cup of black coffee. She has big soft eyes and a pout. I take the cup and gratefully slurp the liquid down. It has something in it that I can’t quite put my taste buds to. She winks. ‘Just an added extra.’

I take another swig.

‘Malt whiskey, freshly liberated from a stash in Brooklyn. The real McCoy, straight of the boat from Glasgow.’ She takes a chair from the side and sits opposite me at the table. Her elbows resting lightly on the scratches.

‘I caught your act at the Reno club on Fifth, man you can certainly rock the house. I sang you’re tunes all the way back to the Bronx’

I was not about to enlighten her that that wasn’t me. But the real Fats. The Fats who somewhere in this town, not knowing that I, a man from Milleniums away, is impersonating him, and he is living oblivious that IGBI has got involved in his life.

Now that would be a meeting of the unexpected. Twin Fats Waller’s seated together at the same piano, swinging the cats to music enlightenment. She breaks into my thoughts.

‘My cousin in the health dept. is having a leaving do, tonight. We need some music, what do you say?’

‘Depends on Doil, he seems to be organising my social diary’.

He did say to go but not get lost. I might as well play as not play. I might be trapped on Earth for some time, and my fingers are itching to get at the keys.

‘Any more of that interfered with stuff. I have the taste?’

                                                            **************

Well I did the leaving do and it all went peacefully. The rookie cop, bopped away all night, her cousin gave me a large tip collected from the revellers, and I left with a bottle of malt whiskey. I am now back in my own pad, thinking of calling Zeno, but taken up by the thoughts of Veronica. Is she for real? The real Veronica Lake was a screen goddess of the Forties, given to many intellectual quotes such as,

“You could put all the talent I had into your left eye and still not suffer from impaired vision.”

“If I had stayed in Hollywood I would have ended up like Alan Ladd and Gail Russell - dead and buried by now. That rat race killed them and I knew it would kill me, so I had to get out. I was never psychologically meant to be a picture star. I never took it seriously. I couldn't 'live' being a 'movie star' and I couldn't 'camp' it, and I hated being something I wasn't.”

I know this because I looked her up on the Gallitube. So she was obviously not a studio air head. Maybe she was then, as she is now, part of the IGBI? Well she has certainly got under my skin. Doil eventually gave me my wrist device back and said he would be in touch. I couldn’t get back fast enough. At first I thought going to gig on earth in the 1930’s would be a gas, but fuck me it turned out to be a fucking balloon full.  It’s good to be back in my own skin. The Beckstein beckons and I start practicing for my Jnr. Mance gig, with Ron Carter and Micky Roker, and  Ella has been guested to appear. I love backing her. Her voice is like an instrument just lazily swinging away. It’s no effort to be on stage with her. I start with one of Jnr’s own pieces. “ The Uptown”.

Bap ba ba bap. Bap Barbara bup bap. See how it swings. Usually the drummer starts with brushes tapping out the rhythm. The Jnr comes in with just the left hand laying down the basic chords. Then the right hand comes in with the melody. Just easy and groovy. Then I seguay into ‘Ralphs new blues’ then ‘Sweet and Lovely’ All from  the album ‘The soulful Piano of Jnr Mance.’ Man am I going to enjoy this gig. He’s such a cool dude, dapper and elegant, with a sort of Van Dyke beard. Just looking at him you know he is a master of the keys. My hands are on automatic now I swing into “Atlanta Blues”, then “63^rd Street” all this without the chip in my neck.

‘Sir’

‘What is it Brian? I’m busy’

‘Zeno on the visualiser, shall I turn it up?’

I keep playing. I hear him sigh, sometimes he acts like a Fag.

‘Turn it up’

Zeno appears at the end of the piano. She is dressed in something flimsy, sort of see through without showing anything.

‘Hi Joe, want to settle your account’

‘You owe me babe, I’m in credit’ She shrugs. ‘Swings and things in the bank man, let’s get it on.’

I keep playing.

‘I’ve missed you’

‘Like fuck you’ve missed me. I’m not even No 5 on your list’

‘Actually I pushed you up to No.3, but as I say who’s counting.’

I’ve a gig tonight, fancy tagging along, you could come a bus girl. You know short skirt, tight top and a pillar box hat, stacked heels.’

‘You doing the Jnr. Mance gig out on the troop ship?’

‘Yep’

‘I was offered that as an Ella guest in, but I turned it down, I can make more on a trick.’

‘Give the agency a call and see if it’s still available, we could turn it into a family affair. Arnie’s doing Ron Carter, don’t know who’s on the drums, but Jnr. won’t have any old stick man.’

‘Yeh, could be a gas. I’ll call ‘em. Until then.’

The hologram fades. Time to go.