said. ‘It oniy registers activity when the subject is dreaming.’
All eyes turned to Grant.
‘If only we knew what he was dreaming,’ said Vernon. ‘My God, this is incredible.’ He was still watching the wildly swinging tracer. ‘It looks as if the area is in the occipital lobe.’ He lowered his voice slightly. ‘The area
of the brain concerned with vision.’
‘Then he is seeing something,’ said Frank Anderson.
Vernon nodded.
The knock on the lab door startled all of them.
At first no one moved but the knock came again, harder and more insistent.
Vernon muttered something under his breath and opened the door, surprised to find his secretary standing there.
‘There’s a phone call for you. Dr Vernon,’ she said. ‘It’s …’
He cut her short.
‘Can’t it wait? I’m very busy here.’ he snapped.
‘It’s the police.’
Vernon nodded, aware of the interest now generated by his colleagues.
Til take it here,’ he announced, indicating the wall phone. He crossed to it and lifted the receiver to his ear.
‘Dr Vernon speaking. Yes, that’s correct.’
Kelly watched him, noticing that his forehead was slowly beginning to crease into a frown.
‘When did this happen?’ he asked. There was a moment’s silence, i see. Yes, I understand.’
‘Look,’ said Anderson, tugging on Kelly’s sleeve.
She glanced down.
The fifth tracer had ceased its frenzied movement and was now drawing lazy parabolas on the read-out.
Kelly crossed to Grant and felt for his pulse, noticing how cold his flesh was to the touch.
Vernon, meanwhile, had replaced the receiver and rejoined his companions.
He sighed, scraping one thumb across his forehead.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kelly asked.
‘The police wanted to know if Maurice Grant had left the Institute during the last hour or so,’ he told her.
Kelly looked puzzled.
‘A neighbour called round to his house,’ Vernon continued. ‘She swears that she saw Grant there.’
‘But that’s impossible,’ Anderson interjected.
‘The neighbour was adamant.’
‘I don’t see why the police are so concerned about where Grant was or is,’
Kelly said.
Vernon sucked in a deep breath.
‘Less than twenty minutes ago his wife and child were attacked and killed in their house. Dismembered the police said.’
‘Jesus,’ murmured Anderson.
Kelly did not speak, her eyes were fixed on the restraining straps which secured Grant firmly to the table.
To Kelly, passing through the door of Dr Vemon’s office was like crossing the threshold into a bygone age. The room, with its panelled walls and huge bookcases bearing endless leather bound volumes, was like something from a museum. It was a room to be looked at and appraised, one to be treated with reverence, much the same as an aged person. It did not seem like a room where anything constructive could be accomplished. It reminded her of the reading room in some gentleman’s club, a place where cigars were smoked and glasses of port sipped. She even felt slightly out of place in it, dressed as she was in a khaki blouse, beige skirt and tan shoes. She felt as if she were intruding on the solemnity of the place, that she would have looked more at home in a crinoline.
Beside her, John Fraser was still massaging his neck, complaining about the pain despite having refused the attentions of a doctor. Vernon himself stood facing the window, looking out over the sun-drenched lawns, enjoying the heat on his face. Despite the warmth in the room he had not undone a single button of his jacket. He popped another cough sweet into his mouth and the smell of menthol seemed to intensify.
Fraser sipped at the cup of tea which Vernon’s secretary had brought five minutes earlier and found that it was cold. He replaced the cup and returned to the more urgent task of rubbing his throat. His head was beginning to ache as well where Grant had slammed it against the floor. AH in all he looked, and felt, fed up with the whole situation. Since he had joined the Institute five years earlier, Fraser had gained something of a reputation as a moaner but today he felt he was justified in his complaints.
His grumblings, however, were not reserved for his work. He’d been married for twelve years and, during that time, his
wife had been forced to endure a continual barrage of bleating and criticism.
Indeed, Fraser only seemed to be truly content when he had a drink in his hand.
He was a heavy drinker and had been since he was eighteen. Fraser was walking the tightrope between social drinking and alchoholism and, just lately, he seemed to be losing his footing.
i don’t see that you have any choice, Dr Vernon,’ he said. ‘Stop the research before any more accidents happen like the one today.’
Kelly looked at him angrily.
‘We can’t stop the research now,’ she said. There’s still too much we have to learn.’
‘That man could have killed me. It would be madness to continue. He’s dangerous.’
‘For God’s sake, John. He was in that state for a reason. He attacked you for a reason,’ Vernon interjected. ‘And Kelly’s right, there’s no question of stopping the research.’
‘You didn’t exactly help matters, John,’ Kelly said. ‘You provoked him to a certain extent.’
‘Provoked him?’ Fraser gaped, incredulously. ‘Jesus Christ. I asked him some questions that was all.’
Vernon turned to face the investigators.
‘If you don’t like the risks, John, there is an alternative,” he said, his voice low but full of authority. ‘If you don’t wish to work on the project any longer you can be re-assigned.’
Fraser shook his head.
‘No, I don’t want that,’ he said. ‘I just think we should move away from the drugs if we can …’
Vernon cut him short.
‘It was agreed between the Investigators at the Metapsychic Centre and ourselves that we would use drugs, they would use hypnosis. It is important that we continue with our own methods. Today’s incident was an isolated one.’
‘How can you be so sure it won’t happen again?’
Vernon fixed Fraser in an angry stare.
it’s a chance we will have to take,’ he rasped. ‘The work we are doing is very necessary. It will benefit a lot of people if we can find some of the answers we seek.’
‘And it will benefit one person in particular won’t it, Dr Vernon?’ Fraser said.
The older man glared at him, his jaw set, the knot of muscles at the side pulsing angrily. His eyes looked like wet concrete.
Kelly looked puzzled.
‘That’s enough, Fraser,’ the Institute Director said and Kelly heard the anger in his voice, well-disguised but nevertheless potent. ‘The research will continue. If you don’t wish to be a part of it then get out of my office now and stop wasting my time.’
Kelly was surprised at the vehemence in Vernon’s tone, at the naked fury burning in his eyes. She saw Fraser visibly blench beneath the verbal onslaught. He slumped back in his chair, trying to hold the Director’s stare but finding himself unable to do so. He lowered his head slightly and began picking at his nails.
Vernon sat down and folded his hands across his stomach, his eyes never
leaving Fraser.
