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Authors: Marie A. Harbon

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Seven Point Eight (26 page)

BOOK: Seven Point Eight
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“Bloody hell,” he said. “You had us all worried, no one’s been able to get any information.”

“The only thing I’m dying of here is boredom,” she said. “I can’t wait to get back to work.” Then she added, “How’s things at the lab?”

“Well,” Tom began, “the police have been all over the lab, and
Gary
’s nowhere to be seen. Actually, he’s dead. What the fuck happened?”

“He injected me with Ebola,” she explained, almost matter of fact.

Tom’s jaw dropped.

“And you’re still here?”

“Well, yes,” she said, unable to understand the reason.

“Jesus,” he muttered, “what have they said to you?”

“Well, nothing, but they haven’t told me I’m going to die.”

Tom looked at her with incredulity.

“You’re a bloody walking miracle.”

“What do you mean? I’m lucky, but I’m not a miracle.”

“Well, your specialist, DaSilva, told the lab you were fortunate because the contents of the syringe weren’t live.”

“I guess I am lucky then,” she said, grateful, but a little angry she hadn’t been told.

“Ava,” he said, “I’ve worked in that lab five years and I’ve never come across a duff batch in all my time there. Plus, when he gave us the news, I tested the other samples, they’re all live.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m trying to tell you you’re a fucking miracle. By now, you should be seriously ill, bleeding out of every orifice in your body, dead even. You know that disease has a high fatality rate.”

“Well, my flesh isn’t liquefying so the sample must have been spoiled for some reason.”

“Look, I eavesdropped the nurses who performed the blood tests. The test results
did
show evidence of infection. An enzyme conversion reaction took place, indicating the infection got into your bloodstream. The tests they did yesterday show specific antibodies in your bloodstream, proving your body responded to the infection. It wasn’t duff, your body fought off the disease.”

Ava tried to digest what he was saying.

“You mean, I have a natural immunity to…?”

Tom looked at her, realising the significance.

“They found antibodies for Ebola, the
Zaire Strain
. It should have killed you inside of a week. Do you know what this means?”

Ava found it hard to accept the truth.

Tom continued, “Your blood contains the secret to fighting one of the deadliest diseases in the world today. We’ve got to research it, find out why…confirm your immunity.”

Could it really be true? And was it no accident that she’d come to work at a biological research lab?

“Please, don’t say anything to the others, not even my uncle.”

Tom protested, “This is of major fucking importance.”

“I know. We’re not even sure yet, Ebola doesn’t kill everybody. We can’t jump to conclusions. Our secret?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Okay, our secret. We’ll work on it together in our own time. You’ll not regret this.”

She hoped he promised the truth, because if there was something special about her blood, her whole life would be turned upside down.

                       

11

Pandora’s Box

Max and I landed in
New York
on the 28
th
of April 1963. During the long and monotonous flight, I found Max to be a quiet travelling companion, and he often stared out of the window. Sometimes we exchanged apprehensive glances, and I guess this sudden alteration of plans did have a key impact on The Institute and my university course, which had been deferred for a year. I didn’t tell my father about this trip to the States though, as I wanted to go and didn’t want him to spoil it.

After a smooth landing, we emerged into a busy airport. I found myself surrounded by a
sea
of
American
accents, although Max steered me through it all, being an old hand at this. A woman with auburn hair and huge eyelashes, who wore a smart tweed trouser suit, seemed to know him and greeted him with a hug and a kiss. She gave me the same greeting.

 
“You must be Tahra,” she said, in a throaty American drawl, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I looked over at Max, who gave nothing away, and the three of us hailed a yellow taxi cab to transport us to the place where we were going to stay. Through the window of the cab, I got a glimpse of the skyscrapers of
New York
, although none of the major landmarks like the Statue of
Liberty
or the
Empire
State
Building
. Max seemed nonchalant, he’d probably seen it all before but I found it fascinating.

Marianne had helped us locate an excellent apartment with a fantastic view over the city. The huge lounge provided access to this panorama, and I immediately walked over to the window, spotting the
Empire
State
Building
instantly. Despite being a manmade panorama, it still had beauty.

The apartment had two large bedrooms and a luxurious bathroom. Boy, I was going to love living here. Marianne left us and said she’d see us in a few days at a place called The Observatory. It sounded like a planetarium.

Max and I flopped onto the king size bed in the master bedroom. He looked over at me, as if to say ‘well, we’re here’ and I returned his gaze as if to agree. In that strange moment, I actually felt quite close to him and I lay my head on his chest, which surprised him. He put an arm around me, kissing my forehead and we fell asleep embraced like so, tired from the long journey. It felt idyll, even if it wouldn’t last forever.

***

A few days later, we arrived at The Observatory and I discovered that Marianne was the curator of this remote research centre. We had to drive at least a hundred miles out of
New York
towards the
Appalachians
. At first, I thought it housed a telescope because it had the characteristic dome but once we stepped inside, I realised it wasn’t an astronomical centre at all. Aside from a number of offices, the former housing of the telescope opened out into a grand hall, which contained a number of partitions. Within each area were banks of typewriters and recording equipment, such as cameras, tape recorders, and microphones.

Max steered me to one such partition and two technicians conducted a number of tests, which required me to separate my consciousness from my body and focus on a location designated on a map. The locations were in the
Soviet Union
and usually entailed looking inside of aircraft hangars, government offices, and missile silos. You have to remember that the
United States
and the
Soviet Union
were in the midst of the Cold War. It was actually quite normal to use remote viewers for espionage, as they were excellent at penetrating areas of high security. My contributions to the
United States
were no different to what I did at The Institute really. Since the Second World War, governments have become much more open minded about how they gather information.

So far, no one had discovered a method of detecting a wandering consciousness, and probably no one ever will. Nothing is sacred to a remote viewer; it’s really down to your own morals and ethics. At the time, I believed in these projects in the name of international security. Truth was, I liked my job. In a way, it felt rather glamorous, being a spy.

As Max often disappeared on business, I became friends with Marianne, as otherwise I’d get lonely. We often drank at bars or attended parties, so developed a genuine rapport. She made a number of attempts to match me with a handsome American guy, and I did date a few but I was sticking to my principles, I didn’t want to have sex with just anyone, which was a strange concept in the sixties. She urged me to take advantage of the new sexual freedom for women, but to me, it was a sacred experience to share with a true love.

I have to admit, I missed Max when he wasn’t around. A few times, I got tempted to remote view and search for him, but it seemed like an invasion of privacy and to be honest, I felt apprehensive about what I’d discover.

However, I enjoyed my life in
New York
. I became drawn to the music of Bob Dylan, with his lyrics intoning social change, voicing the new thoughts of the civil rights movement. He had the gall to walk out of rehearsals for the Ed Sullivan Show, something The Beatles would never have done. He was the idealist to their iconic pop flavoured tunes, but I accepted both as different aspects of my taste.

The Space Race inspired me too, as Valentina Tereshkova became the first woman to orbit the Earth, following in the footsteps of Yuri Gagarin a few years earlier. She reinforced my belief that women could achieve something special and outstanding in their lives. I’ve always been fascinated with what lies beyond our planet, and wondered what it would be like to visit space. However, it was unlikely I‘d become a cosmonaut, although being a psychic spy was almost as exciting.

Despite my friendship with Marianne, I spent time with Max and appreciated his company. We toured
New York
and he valued our moments together. One memorable day in late October, we went right to the top of the
Empire
State
building to appraise the city. It was windy but a beautiful day. He wrapped his arms around me as I surveyed the view, and pressed his body close to me from behind. I didn’t expect this, but I didn’t push him away, it felt too reassuring. I placed my hands on his and we quietly looked upon the city. At that point, he informed me we’d attend a party tomorrow night for Marianne’s birthday, and there’d be a huge gathering at her apartment. How could I refuse? A party and a handsome date!

***

The next day, we returned to The Observatory for a full morning of remote viewing. Max watched coolly during the proceedings, his keen eye viewing his favourite protégé perform. I knew that during testing, he had his business head on and I had my research head on.

They instructed me to explore a facility in the
Soviet Union
, using a map and a photograph of the building. Therefore, I closed my eyes and visualised my target, feeling my consciousness shift from within my skull to the building. Emerging inside its walls, I saw an intimidating staircase in front of me, which came into focus within seconds. A few people wandered up and down, completely oblivious to my presence.

I homed my remote vision in on a point at the top of the stairs, zooming there in an instant. A number of doors confronted me, and with no map or blueprint of the building, I wasn’t sure where to look. Max had only told me to scout it out and discover the purpose of the facility, a little vague, so I decided to peep through the doors.

Pushing my consciousness through the grain of the wood, I peeked inside a few rooms and found offices. People sat at the desks, typing and filing papers, nothing excited so I allowed my remote eyes to drift around the place for a while. Probing deeper into the recesses of the building, I found what appeared to be labs with technicians, instrumentation, and audio visual equipment.

“It’s another Observatory, or Institute!”

On closer inspection, I realised they were testing remote viewers and psychics, so I watched as they described locations in the
United States
and the technicians recorded the findings. After a short while, I pulled back into my body.

“They have remote viewers too,” I said. “Just like here. That’s what the place does.”

BOOK: Seven Point Eight
5.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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