"Thanks, Tony. I owe you one," Thomas said into the phone, trying to keep his voice steady despite the knot forming in his stomach. "Just... please find him."
"We'll do our best, Tommy. I'll have my guards canvas the area where he was supposed to be working. I'll call you as soon as we know something."
The line went dead, leaving Thomas staring at his phone in the dim light of his office. Outside, the city hummed with its usual evening rhythm, but inside these four walls, everything felt wrong. The memory of his last conversation with Cassian kept replaying in his mind: those strange noises in the background, the way Cassian's voice had cut off mid-sentence, that weird explosive sound, then nothing but dead air. Pure silence. Every attempt to call back had gone straight to voicemail.
Thomas set the phone down and leaned back in his chair, his mind returning to that chilling 9-1-1 call from earlier. The voice that had known his name, the voice that had been waiting to intercept his call. "Hello, Mr. Hertz. I wasn't expecting you." Then that cold warning: "Consider this your only warning."
His hands were still shaking from that conversation. Every time he replayed it in his mind, it felt more surreal, more impossible. How had they known? How had they intercepted emergency services? His Cassian's wife okay?
Suddenly Thomas felt anxious, wondering if he had put Cassian's wife in some sort of trouble by calling her next.
Thomas rubbed his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache that had started right after that impossible phone call. His heart was still hammering against his ribs. That wasn't possible. This couldn't be happening.
He set the phone down with shaking hands and pushed back from his desk, his chair rolling until it hit the wall behind him. The familiar surroundings of his office, all of his certifications on the wall, family photos, the stack of drawing on his desk, suddenly felt invaded by something foreign, threatening.
What the hell is going on?
Someone had been waiting for his call. Someone who knew his name, knew he would call 9-1-1, knew exactly what he was going through, and most importantly had intent. This wasn't just some random coincidence. The real question is, why?
Thomas stood up abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked the parking lot. His translucent reflection stared back at him: a middle-aged man with graying hair and worry lines that seemed to have deepened in the last hour. He looked like what he was: the department head of engineering of a small to medium sized business, who paid his taxes, and went home to his wife every night. Well, who went home to his wife before the divorce. He wasn't supposed to be dealing with mysterious phone calls, missing employees and vague warnings delivered through emergency services. He was supposed to be dealing with how he was going to win the divorce case after catching Anne in bed with the maid. Ironic, she left me for a woman because I wasn't man enough. Thomas groaned, "And she's already won the dog too".
Damn it, why me. Think, Tommy. Think.
Cassian had been working on the Ritz-Linitz Apartment complex survey. The property was being purchased and converted into office suites. Matt was supposed to pick up Klara from the other office and meet Cassian at the site, but neither of them had shown up, and now Cassian is missing.
Matt is notorious for always showing up late, but this was different. Even when Matt was running behind, he always called. And Klara was reliable, she's probably equally upset to be late. In three years of working with them, neither had ever just failed to show up without calling. And now, on the day Cassian goes missing, both of them had simply vanished as well?
There's definitely more to this than meets the eye.
He grabbed his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Matt's number. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before he pressed it.
It rang four times before going to voicemail: "You've reached Matt. Leave a message."
"Matt, it's Thomas. I need you to call me back immediately."
He hung up and immediately dialed Klara's number. Same result.
Anger began to bubble up from somewhere deep in his chest. What the hell was going on? First that nightmare phone call to 9-1-1, then Cassian disappearing in the middle of a conversation, and now Matt and Klara were both unreachable. This was his employees, his responsibility, and he was sitting here feeling helpless and paranoid.
Get it together, Tommy, he told himself. You're letting your imagination run wild.
Thomas took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He had other projects to manage, other clients to serve, and other employees to manage. The world didn't stop because one employee was having phone troubles, and another was missing. He pulled a stack of pending reports toward him and tried to lose himself in the familiar rhythm of work.
For the next hour, Thomas managed to review three project proposals and return emails to two potential clients. The routine of office life began to work its calming magic. Numbers, schedules, budgets. These were things he understood, things he could control. The earlier panic started to feel distant, almost foolish. The morning conundrum was nothing to really be concerned about.
Well, a missing employee is pretty concerning, though.
Thomas groaned as the thought crept back into his mind. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay focused. He pulled a stack of pending reports toward him and tried to lose himself in the rhythm of work.
For the next hour, Thomas managed to review three project proposals and return emails to two potential clients.
He stopped.
He looked at his notes. Three proposals. Two clients.
His eyes moved to the clock.
Two hours passed.
That couldn't be right.
A chill settled in his chest.
Three proposals. Two clients. The same exact proposals and clients. Again?
His desk phone rang, sharp and sudden. The sound cut through the silence and made him flinch.
"Thomas Hertz."
"Tommy, it's Tony. I've got an update on your guy."
Thomas's stomach clenched. "What did you find?"
"Good news. Your guy's been found. He's awake now, but they found him unconscious on the floor. Turns out there was some kind of break-in at the site. Homeless guy apparently got into the building, caused some kind of disturbance. Police responded and found a gentleman named Cassian knocked out. The guy must have surprised him or something."
"A homeless person?" Thomas felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed immediately by confusion. "Is Cassian okay?"
"Yeah, he's shaken up but unharmed. Police are filing it as a breaking and entering incident. Your guy's giving his statement now."
Thomas was about to respond when his cell phone started buzzing. Matt's name appeared on the screen.
"Tony, hold on one second." Thomas grabbed his cell. "Matt?"
"Hey boss, sorry I'm just getting back to you. The phone lines were down all morning. Some kind of service outage. And then we got stuck in the worst traffic jam ever. There was this massive accident on the turnpike, had us backed up for ever. The bad luck just kept piling on."
Thomas felt the last of his tension begin to drain away. Phone outages. Traffic accidents. A homeless person breaking into a building. These were normal problems, everyday explanations for what had felt like something sinister.
"Well, I'm glad you're both okay," Thomas said into the phone. "Just keep me posted if anything else comes up."
"Will do, boss. Oh yeah, and Boss..." Matt's voice took on a different tone, colder somehow. "Just remember, you were warned."
The line went dead.
Thomas stared at his cell phone, the relief that had been washing over him suddenly freezing in his veins. The familiar office around him seemed to shift and darken, as if the very air had changed. His hand trembling, he looked back at his desk phone where Tony was still waiting.
"Tommy? You there?"
"Yeah," Thomas managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm here."
They're in on it, he realized with growing certainty. They knew something was going to happen.
"Tommy? You there?"
"Yeah," Thomas managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tony, did you hear anything about my other two employees? Matt and Klara?"
"Funny you should ask. They actually just showed up here about ten minutes ago. They're talking to my guys right now, asking about Cassian."
Thomas's blood turned to ice. "They're... they're there? Right now?"
"Yeah, why? They said they'd been trying to reach out all day, but couldn't get through. Makes sense though, the phone lines for some of the carriers are completely down in that area. Still are. Been like that since this morning. Only reason I can even contact my guys is because of walkie-talkies and age-old landlines"
Thomas's grip tightened on the phone. If the lines were down, if they were still down, then whoever he'd just been talking to...
That wasn't Matt.
But wait. Thomas's mind raced back to his conversation with Cassian. Hadn't Cassian mentioned he couldn't get ahold of Matt? That was before whatever happened to Cassian. So the phone lines were already down then.
But if the lines were down, how had someone just called his cell phone claiming to be Matt? How was Cassian able to reach me? Was his particular service not affected?
Thomas felt the room spinning slightly. Nothing made sense. The phone lines were down, but someone had gotten through. Matt was with Tony, but someone pretending to be Matt had just delivered a warning. Someone who knew exactly what to say, exactly how to sound believable until that final, chilling moment.
Someone was watching. Someone was listening. Someone knew every move he was making.
"Tony, I have to go," Thomas said, his voice hollow.
"Tommy, wait, before you go..."
Thomas hung up the phone and slumped into his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. This couldn't be real. This felt like some B-rated horror film, the kind where the protagonist keeps making obviously stupid decisions while the audience screams at the screen. Except he was the protagonist now, and he had no idea what the smart decision even was.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his head. Breathe. Just breathe. Think rationally. There had to be an explanation for all of this that didn't involve conspiracy theories and doppelgangers and—
The door to his office creaked open.
"Who is it?" Thomas called out, not opening his eyes. "Can it wait?" Thomas groaned.
Silence.
Thomas opened his eyes and found himself staring at what looked like a mirror. But that was impossible. There was no mirror in front of his desk.
As his vision cleared and focused, he realized it wasn't a mirror at all. It was him. Another him, standing in the doorway of his office.
But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The face was his face, the hair was his hair, even the clothes were identical to what he was wearing. But as Thomas stared, his blood turning to ice, he could see the imperfections. The skin tone was just slightly off around the jawline. The left ear sat a fraction too high. The eyes, while the right color, didn't quite move in sync when they blinked.
To anyone else, it would have been perfect. To any regular person walking by, they wouldn't notice the difference. But to Thomas, looking at himself from the outside, it was like staring at a poorly fitted costume. An extremely good costume, but a costume nonetheless.
This was a poor attempt at a clone.
The doppelganger smiled Thomas's own smile, but it was cold, empty.
"I gave you a warning," the clone said, its smile twitching into an unnervingly human expression.
"In fact, you had two."