She slid the sheet of paper across to Teresa.
Teresa said, 'I'm simply trying to find someone 1 know, who 1 think is here. I came in with him earlier. Could you at least tell me if he's still in here?'
The expression on the young woman's face remained one of professional reticence.
'I'm sorry. I'm not able to give out information on our customers.
'Yeah, I understand the problem. This is slightly different, I think. 1 arrived with him.'
'I'm sorry,' Paula said again.
'Couldn't you even confirm he's still here? It's Mr Grove, Mr Gerry Grove.'
'I'm not allowed to,' Paula said with an embarrassed look, and a glance towards the inner sanctum. For an instant Teresa glimpsed the friendly and at times informal young woman she had often paused for a chat with on her way in or out of this building.
'Are you allowed to hand out that sort of information to fellow members?' she said. 'You know, if 1 fill out this form?'
'I'll see what 1 can do.' A quick smile of relief flickered across Paula's eyes.
Teresa moved away to one of the seats in the waiting area, and rapidly filled out the relevant details about herself The form was the same one she had completed when she became a member the first time, but it looked subtly different: the print was larger, laid out a little differently, an earlier version of the form she had already handed in.
When Paula saw Teresa signing the form, she picked up the internal telephone and pressed a couple of buttons. As Teresa walked back to her desk, she was saying, 'Hi, this is Paula, on the front desk. I'm trying to trace one of the users. Mr Grove.'
'Gerry Grove,' Teresa said.
'Yes, that's right. OK, would Sharon know? It's a Mr Gerry Grove, apparently. Gerry with a G?' She looked up at Teresa, who nodded. Paula confirmed this, then made an expression towards Teresa with her eyes. 'They're trying to find out. Yes, I'm still here. OK. Thanks.'
She put down the phone and scribbled a long number on a scrap of paper.
'They say they know who you mean.'
'Good! I need to see him.'
'Now hold on, because they say I have to determine his status. They've given me his ID,'
Paula said. She typed at the keyboard, glancing to and from the long number she had written down. 'All right, Mr Grove did check in here earlier.' She looked at the clock on the wall to one side. 'About an hour ago, 1 think.'
'That's about right. Is he still using the simulator?'
'No, it doesn't look as if he is. He didn't log much
machine time. He paid cash upfront, but'
'May 1 see?'
'Well. . .'
But Teresa had moved round so that she was alongside Paula and able to read her screen. lt displayed fairly straightforward text information, showing Grove's name and a scenario reference number that Teresa instantly recognized: it was of course the porno videoshoot, with Shandy and Willem.
'You can see here,' Paula said, tapping the end of her ballpoint against the screen. 'It., looks as if the scenario terminated after a few seconds. You'd have to ask one of the technical people exactly what that means. 1 don't have anything to do with the scenarios. But they can be stopped, can't they? The customer can decide to leave? 1 think that must be what happened here.'
'But after a few seconds?'
'It says eleven seconds.'
Teresa thought for a moment. She remembered arriving in the scenario, the awareness of heat and bright lights, the halfcup bra that was too tight, blinking against the lights, people standing beyond the circle of lights, a woman patting her forehead and nose with powder, then saying, 'Hold still a while longer, Shan,' and moving behind the lights again. She had thought, I can't take this any more, and then she had aborted the scenario. Was that eleven seconds?
'You say he isn't using the simulator now. But is he still in the building?'
'I can phone through for you, and find out.'
'Yes. Please do.'
Again, Paula used the internal phone. She asked if Mr Grove was in the recovery area, and listened to the reply.
She said to Teresa, 'No, they think he must have checked straight out. He's nowhere in the facility.'
Teresa felt a bleak desperation growing in her.
'Did you see him leave?' she said.
'People pass through here all the time.'
'You must know what he looked like. He was wearing Teresa paused, remembering.
'Darkgreen pants with buttoned pockets everywhere, like army fatigues. A green muscleshirt, with oily smears on the front. He came in here and had forty pounds in cash. He tossed it on the desk in front of you. You asked if he was a member, and he said he usually used the Maidstone facility. He gave you an ID card, and after that you let him through.'
