by Kevin Ashman
‘Something interesting?’ asked Becky.
The young man turned around and smiled at her.
‘Hello, Becky,’ he said, ‘how are you?’
‘Fine,’ said Becky. ‘Thought I would pop in and catch up.’
‘Good to see you,’ said Craig. ‘Coffee?’
‘I’d love one,’ said Becky.
Five minutes later, they were wandering around the laboratory, while Craig explained what they were working on.
‘This is quite interesting,’ he said, ‘DNA harvesting from a snow leopard. There’s only approximately thirty five left in the wild. We are helping a wildlife organization build a library of DNA for every threatened species on the planet, and they asked us to do the snow leopard.’
‘Interesting;’ said Becky, ‘and this one?’
‘This is part of a mammoth cub found under the ice in Siberia. It is the same sort of thing really, though obviously, they are already extinct, so a lot harder to get a full sequence.’
‘You love your job, don’t you?’ said Becky.
‘It’s fascinating,’ said Craig. ‘Under the microscope, a different universe unfolds and when you learn how to understand it, it gives you a whole new perspective on life. Sometimes, I have my eyes glued to the lens for hours on end without realizing it. The worst part is writing up the notes.’
‘I know how that feels,’ laughed Becky.
‘Anyway,’ said Craig when they had finished the tour, ‘what can I do for you, Becky?’
‘I’m that transparent, eh?’ asked Becky.
‘You are a bit,’ laughed Craig. ‘Come on spit it out.’
‘The thing is, Craig,’ said Becky, ‘I need an analysis done on something, but at the moment it needs to be kept a bit quiet. It’s early days, but I don’t want to risk my work getting out. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I understand,’ said Craig, ‘but why can’t you just go through the usual channels? We are bound by confidentiality clauses, after all.’
‘I know,’ said Becky, ‘but this artefact has been loaned to me from another museum, and if anyone finds out, then we’ll all be in trouble. Look, I don’t want to get you into any bother, Craig, so if you feel awkward…’
‘No. it’s okay,’ said Craig. ‘As long as it doesn’t take too much time, I’ll see what I can do. What exactly is it?’
Becky pulled out the bag and showed the contents to Craig.
‘I want to know, if this fake?’ said Becky, ‘and if possible, could I have a full cell analysis on the blood. We think it‘s a hoax, but want to find out quietly.’
‘Ah,’ said Craig, ‘I see; you don’t want the hoaxer to know you are onto them.
‘Something like that,’ said Becky. ‘So do you think you can do it?’
‘No problem,’ said Craig taking the bag, ‘come back tomorrow at the same time and I’ll have the results for you.’
‘Thanks, Craig,’ said Becky, ‘I’ll do that. Look, I’m free on Saturday and there’s a good band in the local pub. Perhaps we can have that drink we keep talking about?’
Craig’s face lit up.
‘Thanks, Becky,’ he said, ‘I’d love that.’
‘Great,’ she said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
----
Amy checked all around the landing before entering Montague’s office. Immediately, she made her way over to the row of twelve Ushabti and filled the one empty box with the one from beneath her wrap. Satisfied it did not look out of place, she left the table, but before leaving the office, she took the opportunity to have a look around. Montague was the highest level you could get in the museum and it wasn’t often you got to see inside his office unless you were high up or in trouble. Amy was neither, so she was fascinated at the level of luxury the office enjoyed. All around the walls portraits of people she had never heard of stared down with accusing faces, and on every flat surface, stood an ornament or carving from cultures all across the world, dating from prehistory through to the modern age. Four soft chairs were positioned around a coffee table to one side, standing on a beautiful Persian rug, but dominating the room by far, was an enormous mahogany desk where Montague carried out his day to day work. Amy reckoned it was at least the size of their dining table at home and the wood gleamed with a deep shine from hundreds of years of care. She went up to the desk and swept her hand gently across the smooth surface, daydreaming about the day when she might work behind such a desk. As she walked along the front of the desk, her eyes caught a name scribbled on the memo pad along with the name of a hotel. She frowned as she read the name, because as it seemed familiar, she struggled to recall where she had heard it. Without giving it much more thought, she left the room and returned downstairs to carry on with her day job. Becky was already there.
‘Okay, Amy?’ asked Becky.
‘Yeah, no problems,’ she said, ‘I must have been a female spy in a previous life.’
‘A femme fatale?’ suggested Becky.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ said Amy. ‘So, what are you going to tell Montague?’
‘The truth,’ said Becky, ‘well, sort of. I’ll say that you typed up the inscription on my instructions and that the original must have been replaced somewhere between here and Cairo by persons unknown, which in essence, is also the truth.’
‘But won’t he say that you should have noticed?’
‘Probably, but I will play on the fact that I have been a little tired recently after the death of my dad and that I made a mistake.’
‘Will you lose your job?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Becky. ‘I know Montague and he respects people who front up and admit their mistakes. I’ll probably get a ticking off, but that will be it, really.’
‘So what are you going to do next?’ asked Amy.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Becky. ‘I suppose I’ll wait for the results first, and then try to work out why my father sent me a false finger. If John is correct, I suspect my father found out about some sort of fraud at the museum and sent it to me as evidence. Perhaps it was over something so controversial that it could have damaged the museum’s reputation.’
‘You think so?’ asked Amy.
‘I don’t know,’ said Becky with a sigh, ‘but hopefully this will all become clear in the next few days.’
They spent the rest of the day working as normal, and soon Becky found herself letting herself back into her flat to be greeted by her cat, another day over. The evening went as normal, but just as she was about to have an early night, there was a knock at the front door.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Smokey,’ she said to the cat, ‘who on earth could that be at this time of night?’
She opened the door to the full extent of the security chain and was surprised to see Craig standing outside, his collar turned up against the rain.
‘Craig,’ she said, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘Hi, Becky,’ said Craig, ‘I’m sorry to call at this time of night, but I have to talk to you.’
‘Why, what’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘It’s that finger, Becky. I managed to do some work on it and quite frankly, I can’t believe what I am seeing.’
‘Oh,’ said Becky, ‘I suppose you better come in.’ She undid the chain and Craig walked into the flat, removing his coat as he did so.
‘You look soaked,’ said Becky. ‘Take a seat, and I’ll get a towel and some coffee.’
Five minutes later, they were sitting opposite each other in Becky’s lounge. Craig sipped his coffee as Becky waited patiently for him to explain. Finally, she could wait no longer and asked the question burning on her lips.
‘So, Craig, what is so important, that you dragged yourself halfway across London in the pouring rain to tell me?’
Craig put his cup down and stared at her.
‘Becky, I don’t know what you are involved in,’ he said, ‘but whatever it is, it scares me.’
----
Ch
apter Fourteen
Mulberry Lodge
Samari looked at Leatherman with a look of disbelief on his face.
‘Oh, no I’m not,’ he said. ‘You have just told me that thing in there is capable of tearing me limb from limb.’
‘It’s not as bad as it seems,’ said Leatherman. ‘Our technicians go in there all the time. Hell, I’ve even been in there once myself. Obviously we don’t expect you to waltz in unprotected; we have safety systems in place.’
‘And what are they?’ asked Samari.
‘First of all, you will wear protective equipment. We have had suits made up from a material similar to police officers’ bullet-proof vests. It is flexible yet armoured. Your face will be protected with a helmet, which has a neck guard that falls to the shoulders. Every inch of you will be covered and as she only uses her teeth and nails as weapons, you will be fully protected. Secondly, there is a bank of ultraviolet lamps along the wall above the entrance door, they are the nearest thing to sunlight and she hates them. Whenever we go in we use them to control her, making her retreat to behind the screen, so we can do whatever needs doing. There are four levels in all, and level one is infrared as you see now. We call this the darkness setting and it seems to put her at ease the most. We suspect the reason is that she has been used to total darkness for thousands of years. She cannot see the infrared, but obviously we can observe her, albeit with goggles on. Level two is low level blue lighting we call moonlight. It enables us to observe her freely and it seems to have no adverse effect on her. Level three is daylight, which she avoids by going behind the screen and level four we call sunburn. Sunburn is full power ultraviolet and will only be used in an emergency. It has an immediate debilitating effect on her, causing the skin to burn and we suspect, left in this level of intensity, she would probably die or whatever the equivalent is in her species.’
‘Have you ever used sunburn?’ asked Samari.
‘Only once,’ said Leatherman. ‘The first day we entered the room, she attacked the technicians. The suits ensured they were safe, but we flicked the sunburn switch and she recoiled as if we had poured boiling water over her. It seems like she is a quick learner, because after that, she never attacked any of our staff again.’
‘If I agree,’ said Samari, ‘how do I know that someone will react if there is an emergency?’
‘There are two levels of safety, Doctor. First, there will always be a technician sitting at the controls you see there. Every second is recorded on CCTV, and at all times they will be in contact with you via a radio system, reacting to your instructions. You shout sunburn, and we’ll roast her. Secondly, just in case the technician has a heart attack or something, there is a red button placed in each corner of the room. Hit that, and it’s toast time again.’
‘You have a nice way with words,’ said Samari.
‘Facts are facts,’ said Leatherman. ‘She can’t take ultraviolet light, and is floored the second we switch it on. We are not in the business of hurting our people, Samari. The safety measures are fool proof.’
‘Not in the business of hurting people,’ Samari sneered. ‘Forgive me my cynicism, Leatherman, but don’t forget it was only a few months ago that you placed a 9mm bullet on my desk.’
‘That was different,’ said Leatherman. ‘Then you were an outsider and it was a bluff to ensure you kept your mouth shut. Now you are part of the team and we look after our own. So, what do you think? Do you fancy being the first person in history to talk to someone who lived thousands of years ago? Or should I book you a flight home?’
Samari turned his gaze to the girl once more. She was curled up on the floor like a puppy, yet her black eyes were wide-open, seemingly staring right through him. He knew it was an opportunity too great to miss.
‘Okay,’ he said eventually, ‘I’ll do it.’
----
An hour later, Samari stood with his arms outstretched as a team of technicians helped him into his protective suit. The gloves were made from a thin Kevlar link, while the main body of the suit was padded with a fabric, which was interwoven with stab proof Kevlar strands. The helmet was again predominantly soft and slipped over his head like a balaclava, though it had a flexi-glass face visor built in at the front. The wide neck protection fell down past the shoulders and was clipped onto the chest with lever clips Overall Samari felt like one of the bomb disposal experts he had seen so many times on the news. As he was being dressed, he stared at the girl in the cell. The infrared light had now gone and had been replaced with a dark blue glow that was just adequate for him to see clearly without the aid of special goggles.
She was sitting at the back of the cell with her arms around her knees and though she was perfectly still, her black eyes were wide open. Finally, when he was done, he turned and looked at his back up team. Immediately in front of the window, two men sat at the control desk and Samari could see the four buttons in the centre of the console, black for night, blue for moonlight, green for daylight, and red for sunburn. Alongside the main console were two TV monitors, one showing a full image of the girl’s cell, while the other was split into a four-screen mode, reflecting each view of the four cameras situated high in each corner of the cell.
The row of chairs in the small auditorium were beginning to fill up with staff, and at the back of the room, Samari could see Leatherman in deep conversation on his mobile phone.
‘That’s it,’ said the supervisor technician, ‘you’re ready. We fed her just before you came back in, so she will be in a good mood, but don’t do anything sudden or unexpected.’
‘Can you test the lights please?’ asked Samari.
‘They are working fine,’ assured the technician. ‘As you can see, we are currently in moonlight mode.’
‘I’d like to see the rest of them,’ said Samari.
‘Okay,’ said the technician through a forced smile and turned to address the men at the console.
‘Give her the warning,’ he said, ‘then go to daylight.’
Samari looked into the cell, as a small amber light, started to flash. The girl looked up sharply.
‘Whenever we change the settings, we give her a warning,’ explained the supervisor.
Inside, the girl stood up and looked toward the door in anticipation, before taking shelter behind the screen.
‘Going to daylight,’ said one of the controllers and pressed the green button.
Immediately the blue lights extinguished and the room lit up as bright as any office.
‘And sunburn?’ asked Samari after a few seconds.
‘We only use sunburn as punishment,’ said the technician, ‘And she hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘Show me sunburn,’ repeated Samari.
‘But she will be confused,’ said the technician and looked up toward Leatherman.
Leatherman nodded silently and the supervisor turned back to the controllers.
‘Initiate sunburn,’ he said, ‘Two second blast.’
The controller hit the red button and the room lit up like nothing Samari had ever seen. In reflex, he turned his head away, as the brightness hurt his eyes. Two seconds later, the controller hit the green button and the room returned to daylight.
‘Wow,’ said Samari, ‘I see what you mean.’
‘That’s why we don’t like using it without cause,’ said the supervisor. ‘She is affected even behind the screen, and is probably confused now.’
‘Point taken,’ said Samari, ‘So just to confirm, in an emergency, all I have to do is either call out or hit one of those red buttons in there.’
‘Correct,’ said the supervisor. ‘The light will come on and the automatic door locks will disengage to allow you to get out. At that point, she will be screaming in agony on the floor. So, are you ready?’
‘As ready as I will ever be,’ said Samari and stepped up to the door.
‘Right, take your time and no sudden movements. This is first contact, so be gentle and try to establish an element of trust. We do
n’t expect too much on this visit, but just want to send the message that any subsequent visits from you are friendly. Okay with that?’
Samari nodded.
‘Right,’ said the supervisor, and turned to the men at the console. ‘Open the outer door.’
Samari heard a clunk and the door in front of him opened. He stepped in to a small entrance chamber, and waited for the sliding door behind him to close, before the inner doors opened. With a deep breath, he stepped into the cell, and as the door closed behind him, stared around taking in the surroundings.
From this point of view, everything seemed different. First, it seemed much bigger, but he soon realised it was due to the viewing window appearing mirrored, which gave a false sense of size. The next thing to hit him was how bright it was inside, it had seemed a little dimmer from the other side of the glass, but the main thing that he wasn’t expecting was the awful smell. The room reeked of gone off food, human waste and something else. While he couldn’t put his finger on it, he suspected that it was the smell given off by the girl, a stink of what remained of any dead flesh that still hadn’t regenerated. He controlled the urge to gag and a second later, a voice came over the tannoy.
‘Are you okay, Doctor?’
‘Fine,’ said, Samari. ‘Just getting used to my surroundings.’
‘Good, just let us know when you are ready to proceed.’
Gradually Samari got used to the smell and a few seconds later, he gave the instruction.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘go to moonlight.’
‘Going to moonlight,’ confirmed the voice, ‘like we said, take it steady and no sudden movements.’
Immediately the bright lights dimmed until the cell was almost dark and a blue glow permeated the entire room.
‘What do I do now?’ asked Samari, ‘Do I go over?’
‘No,’ came the reply, ‘that is her safe place; she may see it as a threat. Just remain patient and she’ll come to you.’
Samari waited until finally, a moment or so later, the girl appeared from behind the screen and stared at him. Samari gulped involuntarily and took a small step forward.