Seven Point Eight (31 page)
A moment later, Miss Tynedale emerged, showing motherly concern but Max didn’t want any sympathy or prep talk from anyone. Caught between a rock and a hard place, he chose the sanctity of the office, where he regretted walking out but what else could he have done?
Emilie had spoken the truth though. Tahra did drive him crazy, and he hated her for it. Why the hell had he brought her here, and taken her to the States above all? Eyeing a mug of cold coffee, he vented his frustration in the only way he could. Max grabbed hold of the mug and hurled it at the door.
***
Paul stood on the steps of The Institute and knocked on the door, feeling nostalgic about his time there. Even though Max hadn’t requested his presence, Paul needed to see George and Oscar. As he stood there, he surveyed the street and surrounding area, noting little had changed. Women still strolled with perambulators, people were still polite, and the red Route Master buses still stopped at the end of the road. However, he noted hem lines had become exceedingly short, as a couple of young women trotted past, swinging their brightly coloured handbags.
Miss Tynedale seemed glad to see him and let him in, acknowledging his request to see the two remote viewers, Oscar and George. Just like the good old days, he sat at a table right beside the window, drinking a cup of Earl Grey tea accompanied by a scone, served with butter and strawberry jam. No evidence remained of the birthday meal two nights before.
George and Oscar appeared soon after, and sat at the table with him. They were pleased to see him.
“We were beginning to think we’d never see you again,” Oscar said, with a beaming smile of relief on his face.
Paul shrugged.
“Me too.”
George decided to partake of the Earl Grey, but Oscar chose a coffee instead.
“So,” Oscar began, “what have you been up to recently?”
“Well, I’ve been writing up some research mainly. What’s been happening here?”
Oscar sighed.
“It’s been all go here recently. I’m surprised you weren’t at The Institute’s tenth birthday party the other night.”
Paul’s face visibly dropped. Since when had he become an outsider, and why?
“Wow,” he said, trying to be enthusiastic.
The situation became uneasy and Paul had an agenda to follow, so he pushed the meeting onwards.
“I haven’t seen a lot of Max just lately,” Paul tried broaching the subject. “How is he?”
Oscar reacted as though he’d just asked the million dollar question.
“Woman trouble,” he responded, a little smile of irony flickering across his face.
“Woman trouble?” Paul laughed. “Max? Who’s the lucky, or could I say unlucky lady?”
Oscar looked amused.
“I stay out of it. They’ll have to work it out on their own.”
Paul found it hard to believe. Max, womaniser extraordinaire, having trouble with the female species? He became curious. Who was she? He never discussed her at all, although obviously, she dominated his thoughts. Maybe one day he’d meet her and discover what all the fuss was about.
Nobody really wanted to examine Max’s relationship issues, so Paul decided to achieve his primary objective. He was a man with a vision and hopefully the discussion today wouldn’t shatter it.
“There’s something I want to lay on the table,” Paul revealed.
Oscar and George sat up in their chairs, all ears.
“I have a potential project I want to put to Max, but I needed to run it by you two first, as it would involve you.”
They seemed enthusiastic so Paul continued.
“You may be aware of the fast developing space race between the
US
and
Soviet Union
.” They both nodded. “Well, part of the problem is the human organism, our physical body and escaping the gravitational pull of the Earth, not to mention surviving in the harsh environment of space.” He paused for effect. “My question is - why do we need our bodies to explore the cosmos? You’ve demonstrated that consciousness can separate from the body and observe remote locations. Well…why can’t that be applied to space travel?”
In response, they shared their delight in his light bulb moment.
“You know, I never thought of it. But now you mention it, it could open up endless possibilities.”
“I’m wondering though, how feasible is it? I mean, do you think you could project your consciousness into space? And report back the findings?”
They considered his question carefully.
“Well, I’ve never tried,” they both said, simultaneously yet independent of each other.
Oscar added, “I must admit though, I don’t think I could muster enough psychic clout to get that far.”
Paul felt his enthusiasm sink.
“Why’s that?”
“Well,” he tried to explain, “there’s like a magnetic pull between the mind and body, I guess that’s what binds it together or our minds would be floating all over the place. You need a lot of psychic strength to push against it, if you know what I mean. There often seems to be a limit, sometimes I can feel the magnetism trying to pull me back.”
George agreed. “You’d need a really powerful remote viewer to pull it off.”
Paul’s fervour plummeted further.
“And I bet they come along once in a blue moon, if you’re lucky,” he said in resignation.
He sat back in his chair, while Oscar and George exchanged knowing glances. Should they put him out of his misery?
“Let me put it this way,” Oscar said. “You need to present this to Max, as he has someone to become this project.”
Paul left The Institute feeling hopeful again. As he walked through the hallway, Tahra stood at the top of the stairs. She watched as Paul opened the door, bidding farewell to Oscar and George. Once the door closed, she instantly ran down the stairs, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Oscar looked at her, and a knowing smile flickering across his face.
“I think you’re gonna find that out real soon.”
13
A Year’s Work
Friday 12
th
November 1993
The day had arrived. A year had flown by since Daniel Costa had been given an unusual assignment by a man who wished to remain anonymous, and who insisted on a non-disclosure. A year’s worth of privately paid investigation revolved around ten names, the majority of which were children. Daniel now held a large ring binder, full of information and photographs protected in plastic wallets. He reached the university, and reported to the biology department as directed.
He entered the building and smoothed back his dark, shoulder length hair. While he didn’t look professional due to his casual attire, when it came to his job, he was no amateur. Daniel had a keen eye for detail and a stubborn tenacity for the truth, which made him an excellent private investigator. His rate was also very reasonable, he wasn’t high maintenance.
At the reception, he felt quite embarrassed when asked who he was here to see, and he had to explain that the man didn’t give his name, but told him to come to Room 304 in the biology department on the 12
th
of November at 2:00pm. The receptionist took his name, rang the biology department, who confirmed Daniel Costa’s appointment so she gave him a visitor’s badge and instructions on how to get there.
Daniel found the room easily, knocked, and opened the door when a male voice called out ‘Come in!’ He entered a room with oak panelled walls, and a large walnut table in the centre of the room. The man who’d given him the assignment sat at the far end. Daniel felt a little intimidated and walked tentatively towards the table, clutching the ring binder tightly.
“I take it you have a year’s work to show me,” the man said, leaning forward in his seat.
“Yes, I’ve brought what you asked for.”
“Good, then let’s get started straightaway.”
The man gestured towards a seat at the table adjacent to him and Daniel sat down, preparing his notes in front of him.
“When you’re ready,” the man said.
“Well,” Daniel began, “I did wonder what the point of the investigation was at first, then as I got halfway, I realised there was a lot of…common ground.”
He looked to the man for some sort of response, a clue that would tie up the connections he found, but he gave nothing away. If anything, he lightly drummed his fingers on the table so Daniel passed him the first of the photographs.
“Laila Foster,” he stated, “born on the 17
th
of June 1979 to Michael and Lorraine Foster. As she’s an incredibly bright child with a validated IQ of 155, she requires home schooling to meet her full potential. She’s already demonstrated a clear aptitude for science and number.”
The man listened attentively and nodded appreciatively. He surveyed the photograph, looking at a young girl with blonde, wavy hair and intense blue eyes. In the picture, she held a rabbit and no one would guess she was an academic genius.
Daniel passed him the next photograph, one of a young boy with dark, curly hair and green eyes, who held a violin and appeared to be lost in thought.
“David Timms,” he continued, “born 2
nd
of March 1980 to Donald and Joanne Timms. He excels musically, having achieved grade 7 at piano, grade 8 at clarinet and grade 6 at violin. David has already composed his own music. Neither of his two younger sisters display any prodigious tendencies.”
He passed the man another picture, one of a boy with strong features, dark eyes and ebony hair, dressed in a scout’s uniform.
“Liam McKay, born 15
th
of July 1980 to William and Molly McKay. He’s a bright boy, however, he seems to have a peculiarly acute sense of direction and place, as evidenced from his scout troop and is uncannily accurate when predicting the weather. He adores animals, as can be seen from the picture taken on the farm where his mother works.”
The man seemed surprised, but continued to listen attentively.
“Next, we have Tom Hitchin, born 7
th
of September 1980 to Terry and Michelle Hitchin. Tom is also a very intelligent boy, with a particular leaning towards languages. He’s incredibly articulate, speaks three other languages fluently: French, Spanish and German, and he wants to learn Japanese next year. He has a brother, who is academically average in comparison.”
The man looked at a photograph of Tom, who had blonde curly hair and freckles, a proud smile, and fierce eyes.
Daniel handed him the next photograph, one of a boy with dark, wavy hair and small, piercing eyes. He held a circuit board and a screwdriver.
“Sean Greene, born 30
th
of January 1981 to Colin and Tina Greene. He’s a bright and gifted child with a leaning towards science, electronics, and computer technology. At only nine years of age, he built his own circuit boards and has made a number of gadgets. He also disassembled a BBC computer and re-assembled an improved version in the same year, and has now progressed onto personal computers. At the moment, he’s developing a new method of programming. He has a sister, who displays no prodigious abilities.”
Daniel passed him a photograph of a girl next, with long, strawberry blonde hair and freckles. She was painting a picture.
“Hayley Bennett, born 2
nd
of May 1981 to Thomas and Janine Bennett. She’s incredibly artistic, painting and drawing like an adult at the tender age of seven, and she produces her own original work. Hayley has a sister, who displays no prodigious abilities.”