Seven Point Eight (33 page)

Silence impregnated the air for a few minutes, both people in the room trying to push aside everything that had happened in the States earlier that year. Regrets weren’t expressed, remorse gestated but any kind of reconciliation was certainly not on the cards.

“There’s been an unexpected addition to the programme,” Max began. “I know you’re very busy at the moment with your study and the projects at The Institute, but there’s something I can offer you that will be an amazing opportunity, the perfect challenge for you. In fact, I believe you’re the only one who can do it.”

Tahra felt bolstered by his show of faith.

“In a few days, you’ll be dropped off at a sister facility called The Establishment, where you’ll meet a long time colleague of mine whose name is Dr. Paul Eldridge. When you convene, he’ll explain the project and what he wants from you.”

She wondered if Dr. Eldridge was the person she saw leaving Oscar and George a few months ago, the man with shoulder length, fair hair. At the time, instincts had alerted her to the possibility that this man was significant in her future. Maybe her instincts were correct. What was the project, and why could only she pull it off?

Max tapped his pen on the table, and looked as if he wanted to say something. Tahra opened her mouth, feeling like something wished to escape her lips but neither of them said a word. Max changed his mind and resumed scribbling while Tahra sighed inwardly, the stalemate would resume.

She returned to her room, realising she held onto hope of a relationship that deep down, she knew was toxic. Meanwhile, in his office, Max scribbled without focus. Although she still occupied his thoughts on a daily basis, it also occurred to him they were both poison for each other. However, should they choose further intoxication, or the path of sanity?

***

I finally started my course of study at university in the latter part of September 1964, cementing part of the agreement between Max and my father. Psychology really interests me, as I love to delve into what makes people tick. Maybe it will enable me to understand men, Max in particular.

He dropped another assignment on me, and it felt strange confronting him again. Deep down, I hoped it would be possible to resolve the issues that hung around like a stale stench, but that didn’t happen. Anyway, it turned out he enlisted me on a project that seemed tailor made for me, working alongside someone called Dr. Paul Eldridge. I believe this new project is highly significant in my life’s purpose, something I sought vociferously.

I arrived at another facility called The Establishment, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through my nervous system as Max’s Daimler pulled into the gravelled driveway. His driver directed me to Dr Eldridge’s office, although he hadn’t arrived yet. Sitting in a very comfortable armchair, I twiddled my thumbs, aware of how nervous I felt.

Pacing the room, I tried to imagine what he’d be like. Would he be the stereotypical eccentric scientist, all weird and difficult to converse with? Maybe he’d be quite human, although intelligent and professional. While waiting, I flicked through some of his books, although they were about quantum physics and religion, so may as well have been written in Chinese. Why was he taking so long?

It figured I really should make a lasting impression. Throwing caution to the wind, I sat in Dr Eldridge’s office swivel chair and tried to arrange myself in a manner that would stop him dead in his tracks. Should I look elegant and cross my legs? Should I be leaning forward on his desk, ready for action? I decided that was all too tame and put my feet up on his desk, with a book in my hand. Was this going to be too outrageous? Well, I was going to find out.

***

Paul burst through his office door at The Establishment, slightly befuddled due to running late. On entering the room, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the new remote viewer sitting in his chair. He became tongue tied, and his eyes swept her from head to feet, trying to evaluate this provocative and exotic creature who now stared at him in awe.

Finally, he spoke.

“You must be Tahra,” he said, a little unsettled.

“Yes, my name is Tahra Mamoun. I’m a remote viewer and a very good one at that.”

“I’ve never seen you at The Institute before,” he said, still studying her.

“I came to
England
in September 1962, to study and work at The Institute,” she explained replied, putting down the book she’d been pretending to read. When she realised she’d picked up a book on Quantum Electro-Dynamics, she looked quite embarrassed.

“Oh,” he said, “I completed some research there not long before you arrived.”

He sat down in the guest chair, their roles reversed.

“Well,” he began, “tell me about yourself.”

She altered her pose and placed her feet on the floor, arms relaxing more casually on his desk.

“Max rescued me from a tough life in
Tehran
, although I lived in
England
prior to that. I got bullied a lot as a child, which led me to discovering my abilities. Since living at The Institute, I’ve been involved with a number of remote viewing assignments that support
Britain
and the
United States
in The Cold War.”

“Well, my name’s Paul, I studied physics and Max drew me into research after he’d attended one of my lectures. Originally, I tried to measure the soul and although I never proved it conclusively, I discovered an electromagnetic field which appears to be part of being human. Psychic people appear to have a more vibrant field. At the moment, I’m trying to type it all up so I can get it published.”

They appraised each other in silence for a minute. He found her intriguing, quite mystical and noticed how fascinated she appeared to be by him.

 
“So,” Tahra continued, “what is this project you wish me to participate in?”

 
“I’ve been told you’re a particularly excellent remote viewer. Can I ask you, what’s the furthest you’ve projected your consciousness?”

She pondered the question and replied, “I’ve travelled all around the world with my consciousness.”

“Have you ever left Earth?”

She didn’t expect that question, and gave a little smile at the surprise.

“Well…I’ve never tried. I mean, it’s not that I’m not interested in what’s out there, I just…never thought of projecting my consciousness that far.”

“Out there,” Paul began to propose, “I believe there are many worlds waiting for us to explore, when we can escape the confines of Earth’s gravity.”

She seemed to have a good inkling of what the project entailed, but allowed him to continue nevertheless.

“Instead of spending millions of dollars on powerful rockets, and to avoid the necessity of spacesuits, does it not seem reasonable to use remote viewing as a method of space exploration?”

“Now that you ask that question, I think it would be very worthwhile.”

“Can you project your consciousness that far?”

Tahra considered his question carefully, leaning further forward in Paul’s chair.

“Possibly, I don’t know until I try, but I’m not afraid to try. Maybe I’ve found my purpose in life.”

She spoke with passion now, ignited by the spark of his vision.

“Would you like me to give you a little taster of my ability?” she asked.

Tahra stood up, moved closer to him and sat on the edge of the desk. He watched her intently as she closed her eyes and it seemed almost erotic as her breathing became slightly heavier. Paul watched her intently.

“Where do you live?” she said.

He gave her the address, along with some details of the location and she fell silent for a moment. As she concentrated, Paul waited with baited breath and listened as she began to report back.

“It’s a cottage,” she described, “with ivy around the front door. There are boots in the hallway…riding crops, and pictures of horses… In the sitting room I see books placed by your favourite armchair, the one on the top is by Ian Fleming. There’s a writers’ desk in the corner…and newspaper clippings strewn all over it. I see a small dining room off the lounge with rows and rows of books. The walls are red and there’s a large open fire.”

“Anything else?” he enquired.

After a short period of silence, she opened her eyes with a look of embarrassment, or was it disappointment?

 
“Sorry,” she said, “I…didn’t realise you had a lady friend there.”

Paul noted her expression. Did he imagine it, or did he perceive not mere embarrassment, but some kind of emotional reaction? Surely this striking girl wasn’t interested in him, was she?

“What does she look like?” Paul questioned, trying to maintain his professionalism.

“Long chestnut hair, a few freckles on her nose… She’s wearing jeans, a yellow and brown jumper, and slippers on her feet.”

 
Tahra remained factual, although faltered a little in her speech.

“What do you think of my talent?” she asked.

“I’m impressed,” Paul replied, feeling a surprising wave of positivity towards her. “You’ve given a really accurate description of my home and my girlfriend, Eleanor. In fact, I’d like to get started as soon as possible, say, in a few weeks?”

“I’ll have to clear it with Max, but I would like that,” she confirmed, a little disconcerted by what he’d just revealed.

Paul stood up and shook her hand, and she reciprocated with a sweet smile.

“Welcome to my new, as yet unnamed project. To the moon and beyond!”

***

I’ve found my purpose in life, I thought as Max’s Daimler pulled away from The Establishment.

Excitement filled my body from the top of my skull to the tips of my toes, and I buzzed with thoughts and visions of the project I’d been assigned. I recalled the radio programme I’d listened to as a child called ‘Journey into Space’, in which man conquered the moon. In the near future, I’d follow in their footsteps, using my remote viewing capabilities! I’d dreamt of exploring as a child, and my fantasy would actually be fulfilled.

My preconceptions of Paul had been exceeded, however. I appreciated his easy going nature, his warmth, and his intelligence. When I looked into his eyes, I saw wisdom and humanity. Where Max was materialistic, Paul was idealistic. Where Max was cool and thoughtful, Paul was courageous and passionate. Where Max was calculating and shrewd, Paul was spontaneous, or so I believed.

I think he liked me, but I don’t believe he felt attracted to me. Did this faze me? No, it excited me. He seemed down to earth enough to have sustained a stable relationship, where for some odd and undefined reason, Max hadn’t. Paul offered a safe bet, while still being warm and interesting. Max possessed power, oozing charm and sex appeal, but deep down I thought he had problems relating to women. Would I end up making a choice between two very different men? That would all depend on being able to win Paul’s heart.

***

Paul gave the project a code name ‘OOBE’, which stood for Out of Body Experiment. It entered reality on the 7
^th
of October 1964, when he typed up the first document outlining its aims and objectives of the project and his conjecture so far on the phenomenon of remote viewing.

Tahra arrived at The Establishment a few weeks later, full of enthusiasm and curiosity. Initially, he wanted to test her aerial capabilities and had arranged some stones on a hillside into a word. Before they commenced the remote viewing experiment, he wished to take a measurement of her electromagnetic field, so he set up his Kirlian-inspired camera and asked her to take a seat.