“That would be preferable,” said Sam.

“Splendid,” said the pilot. And he flung the joystick forward.

And Samuel J. Maggott was sick.

And so was Eddie Bear. He coughed up sawdust and nuts.

“Not on my floor,” said his other self. “You’ll soil my chicken droppings.”

“Sorry,” said Eddie, “but this joker punched me all about.”

“But you look much better.”

Eddie patted at himself. “I don’t feel very well.”

“Then perhaps you’d like a drink?”

“If it’s beer, I would,” said Eddie.

“Jack,” said the other Eddie, “fetch Eddie here a beer, and one for me, too, and one for yourself.”

The other Jack looked down at Eddie Bear. “I don’t think I should leave you alone with him, boss,” said he. “He might turn uglier.”

“He’ll be fine. Eddie and I have much to discuss. Hurry along now.”

The other Jack saluted and then he left the room.

“He never makes me laugh,” said the other Eddie. “Some comedy sidekick he is, eh?”

“Eh?” said Eddie. “Eh?”

“Well, he’s as funny as a fart in a lift.”

Eddie nodded and said, “I suppose so.”

“Sit down,” said his other self.

“What, here, in the chicken poo?”

“Quite so – they are rather messy, aren’t they? But they do call the shots, as it were, so who are we to complain?”

“I’ll just stand then,” said Eddie.

“You do that, good fellow.”

And so Eddie stood. “And while I’m standing,” he said, “perhaps,” and now he shouted. Loudly. “Perhaps you can tell me what in the name of any of the Gods is going on here?”

“Quietly, please.” The other Eddie put his paws to his ears. “It’s a quite simple matter. And I am certain that an intelligent bear such as yourself, one skilled in the art of detection, has, as these Americans would say, figured it all out by now.”

“Are you in charge here?” Eddie asked. “Are you the one in control?”

The other Eddie inclined his head. “I’m in charge,” he said.

“And there’s only the one of you? Not more than one, no other copies?”

“Just me,” said the other Eddie. “Just me, just you.”

“And so you are the murderer,” said Eddie. “The one who murdered the clockwork monkeys, and then the band at Old King Cole’s, and then the orchestra at the Opera House. I saw you there.”

“And I saw you, and I applauded your enterprise, risking all to enter this world. Very brave. Very foolish, but very brave all the same.”

Eddie Bear made a puzzled face. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Murder your own kind? To reproduce them as free giveaways to sell chicken? It doesn’t make any sense.”

The other Eddie laughed. “You call it murder,” he said, “but here we call it franchising. Your kind are not my kind, Eddie. I am not of your world. Your world is very special. To those in this world it is a land of dreams, of make-believe, where toys live and have adventures. A world of fantasy.”

“It’s real enough for me,” said Eddie Bear.

“But it’s a mess. Every world is a mess, every world needs organisation.”

“This one certainly does.”

“Which is why we are organising it. Let’s face it, you tried to organise yours, didn’t you? When you were mayor of Toy City?”

“Ah,” said Eddie, “that. Well, that didn’t go quite as well as it might have.”

“But you tried your best and we observed your progress. You tried your best but it just didn’t work. And so we decided that the best thing to do would be to wipe the slate clean, as it were. Out with the old and in with the new, as it were. Take the best bits out of the old, employ them in this world. Then do away with the worst.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Eddie, “but I know I don’t like it, whatever it is.”

“I’ll explain everything,” said the other Eddie. “And then you can make your comments. Ah, here comes Jack with the beer.”

Jack entered bearing beers. He gave one to Eddie and Eddie took it between his paws and gave it a big swig.

“I spat in it,” said the other Jack.

And Eddie spat out his swig.

“That wasn’t very nice,” said the other Eddie, accepting his beer.

“I know,” said the other Jack, “but it made me laugh. Cheers!” and he raised his bottle.

“Cheers,” said the other Eddie. “Oh and by the way, I saw a little light twinkling on my desk a while ago. It would seem that someone has penetrated the outer perimeter.”

“That’s right,” said the other Jack. “His friend,” and he cast a thumb in Eddie’s direction.

“My Jack?” said Eddie.

“Your Jack,” said the other Jack, “smashed through the gates in a stolen police car, in the company of some young woman, and entered the bunker using the guard’s security pass key card.”

“Most enterprising,” said the other Eddie. “And where are he and the young woman now?”

“In the elevator, on their way down.”

“Really?” said the other Eddie. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

And he reached out a paw and pressed it down on a button on his desk.

And in the elevator all the lights went out.

“Oh dear,” said Jack. “I don’t like this.”

And then the elevator juddered.

And then it began to fall.

And Jack in the darkness went, “Oh dear me.”

And the elevator plunged.

22

Down went the elevator, down and down. Down and down in the dark. And up rushed the ground, it seemed, in the dark. Up and up and up.

And then there was a sickening sound that echoed all around and about.

Eddie heard something and felt something, too.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” replied his other self, taking up his beer between his paw’s and draining much of it away. “These paws are a real pain at times, aren’t they? No opposable thumbs –”

“I had hands with those once,” said Eddie sadly. “But tell me, what did you do?”

“Just switched off the elevator. Don’t go getting yourself upset.”

Eddie rocked gently upon his paw pads. He felt upset, he felt unsettled, he felt altogether wrong.

“You look a little shaky,” said his other self. “But never mind, it will pass. Everything will pass. But it is a great shame about the hands. They were very nice hands you had. I can’t understand why everyone thought them so creepy.”

“What?” went Eddie, raising a now droopy head. “How did you know about me having hands? I don’t understand.”

“I know all about you,” said his other self. “It is my job to know all about you. Learn every subtle nuance, as it were. Be you, in fact. I told you, we kept a careful eye on you when you were mayor.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Eddie Bear, “I really hate sighing, you know. Sighing gets me down. I have a normally cheerful disposition, but once in a while I really feel the need for a sigh. And this is one of those times.” And so Eddie sighed. And a deep and heartfelt sigh it was, and it set the other Jack laughing.

“And so why sigh you, Eddie Bear?” asked his other self.

“Because,” said Eddie, “I don’t understand. I consider myself to be more than competent when it comes to the matter of private detective work. I pride myself upon my competence. But for the life that is in me, I do not understand what is going on around here. I don’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done, what you intend to do next, nor why you look just like me, and why this gormster –” Eddie gestured towards the other Jack “– looks like my best friend Jack.”

“And so you would like a full and thorough explanation, couched in terms readily understandable to even the simplest soul?”

Eddie sighed once more. “Please feel free to be condescending,” he said. “I’ve never been very good with subtle.”

“Nice touch of irony.” Eddie’s other self finished his beer and set his bottle aside. “All right, it is only fair. I will tell you all. Jack, you may leave us now.”