Redhead

by Ian Cook

  “I still don’t see how that’s going to help.”

  “It could tell us which parts of the brain are involved when you see things. How you can see things that we can’t see.”

  Rebecca turned to Larry for reassurance. “What do you think, Larry?

  “It could be worth a try, Rebecca,” Larry replied. “I don’t see any harm in it.”

  Rebecca looked hard at Larry, but he seemed to have no doubts. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure. But I can’t say I’m happy – I’ve had just about as many horrible experiences as I can take for the time being.” She turned back to Jim. “Okay then. Let’s get it over and done with. What do I have to do?”

  “We can do it at the Medical School in Strathclyde. An old uni friend of mine, Rambo, works in the Neurobiology Department. I’m sure he could arrange it.”

  Rebecca instantly turned red. “Rambo! You’ve got to be joking!”

  “He’s actually called Professor Rameshwar Chalapathi Rao,” said Jim.

  “Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it,” said Rebecca. She calmed down and sighed. “Can we just get on with it then.”

  “I’ll try and fix it for tomorrow. It should be quite fun. We’re going to have to reproduce in the lab the same conditions that were present when you started seeing things.”

  “I’m glad you think it should be fun,” said Rebecca. “Anyway, you’re going to have a job to reproduce Easter Island and the Newton Stones here.”

  “I think that there was something special about the wooden carving the old lady had, and even this serpent here,” Jim went on enthusiastically.

  “What about them?” said Rebecca.

  “They could have acted like an icon, a powerful symbol that can activate certain parts of the brain. Looking at an icon can put some people into a trance. They can be used as aids for prayer. Like the Russian icons. Larry, have you got a picture of the serpent?”

  “I’ll take one now,” said Larry, taking out his camera. “Well, I think I’ll just go back to the MacGregors,” Rebecca said. “I want to pick up the papers there, and I want to see if they’ve found Tam yet.”

  “Will you be okay?” said Jim. “If so, I’ll go back with Larry in his car. You can hang on to mine, but don’t be too long. We’ll start getting worried about you!”

  “Thanks. See you later,” Rebecca said, picking up her bag.

  As he watched her go, Jim fetched out his mobile. “Rambo. Jim Cavendish here…”

  CHAPTER 48

  Mrs MacGregor was alone in the shop when Rebecca arrived.

  “Has Tam come back yet?” Rebecca asked, but she could already read the answer on Mrs MacGregor’s face.

  “Keith’s still out looking for him.”

  “I expect he’s found a friend, or just gone on an adventure. It’s bound to be something simple like that.”

  “He’s never done it before. He’s never failed to come back in the morning, demanding his breakfast.”

  Rebecca was drawn to the piles of newspapers on the counter. Copies of the Metropolitan were still tied up with string.

  “I haven’t had time to sort them out yet,” said Mrs MacGregor.

  “Do you mind if I just have a look at the Metropolitan?”

  “I’ll get some scissors for you.”

  Even as she cut the string around the bundle of papers, Rebecca could make out the headlines. They were totally dominated by the magnetic field story. But across the very top of the page was something that made her rip a paper from the bundle:

  ‘POLE SWITCH CRISIS:

  Exclusive interview with top scientist. Page 5’

  Her hands shook as she fumbled to find the right page. Then she swore so loudly that Mrs MacGregor, startled, stopped dead in her tracks. Prominently displayed was a picture of Syreeta Dasgupta, with her name in bold letters. The interview was with Dr James Cavendish.

  Stony-faced, Rebecca was scrutinising the piece in all its details, when the shop door opened and the bell tinkled. An ashen-faced Keith MacGregor walked in slowly, his head bowed, with something in his hand.

  He went up to his mother with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mother. I found this over the way, on the bank of the burn.” He placed a cat’s collar with a nametag on it on the counter. Mrs MacGregor looked distraught.

  Her son put his arm around her. “Something took him. I thought at first it was a fox, but, you know, the collar isn’t chewed up at all, like it would be with a fox. I can’t be sure, but I have a bad feeling about it. Look at what I found wrapped round the collar. I have a terrible fear that someone has done this deliberately. But who would want to? You see, no animal could have done this.”

  He held up a long piece of red cord, letting it dangle from his hand.

  CHAPTER 49

  Professor Rameshwar Chalapathi Rao was rapidly gaining a worldwide reputation, along with a growing exposure in the media, for his work on the human brain and human consciousness. His main research area was the mechanisms of mystic experiences, an interest sparked in part by his Indian background and familiarity with Hinduism.

  He and his postgraduate student, Wally Campbell, were very different. Professor Chalapathi Rao was short, slight and proud of his collection of bow ties. Wally Campbell was big and built for tossing cabers. He was scruffy, happiest in jeans and frequently took to wearing a T-shirt with ‘Braveheart’ emblazoned on it. Now the two of them were preparing Rebecca for the scan.

  The magnetic resonance imaging unit, or MRI, was in the middle of the room. It consisted largely of a huge cylinder, which looked like a gigantic doughnut, with a hole in the middle into which the patient’s head was inserted.

  Rebecca was lying in a green hospital gown on a narrow bed and was beginning to have second thoughts as her head was fixed into a brace, so that it would not move during the experiment.

  “Can I just put this over your head, Rebecca?” said Rambo, fitting what appeared to be a large mask over her eyes. “Right, we’ll test it now. If anyone’s got a mobile phone, just make sure it’s switched off, please.”

  “Mine’s off already,” said Rebecca.

  Jim went to switch his off. “If the solar radiation increases any more, there’ll be far bigger problems to worry about than just mobile phones,” he said, glancing at the scanner.

  Wally raised an eyebrow and pressed a button on a small digital camera which was linked to a computer. This was connected to the mask on Rebecca’s face, and the effect was immediate.

  She found herself looking at a scene of spring woodland, with a carpet of bluebells and green-leaved trees.

  “Can you see the image yet, Rebecca?” Rambo asked.

  “Yes, it’s lovely. As long as it’s all like this, I won’t feel so nervous.”

  Larry and Jim were setting up a camcorder to record Rebecca’s reactions in the experiment.

  “One thing, Rambo,” asked Larry. “There’s a massive magnet in the scanner, isn’t there? Doesn’t the electromagnetic field have some effect on the brain?”

  “Not that I know of. At least, nothing like that has been reported, and millions of scans have been done,” said Rambo. “Still, this experiment is new territory,” he admitted.

  “We’re set up now, Rambo,” said Jim.

  “Nearly there,” Rambo replied, as Rebecca slid towards the machine, so that her head was in the hole. “I can assure you, Rebecca, you won’t feel a thing,” he said.

  She felt that Rambo at least acknowledged her presence in the room as a human being, and not merely a passive object in an experiment.

  “This is really cutting-edge stuff, Rambo,” said Larry, visibly impressed with the experimental set-up. “I’m afraid I’ve got rather out of date.”

  “Yes. Things have moved fast in this area. My particular field is looking at how human consciousness is different to that of animals. Nowadays this is all much sexier than astrophysics.” He glanced, smiling at Jim.

  “Why’s that?” asked Larry.

  �
��The speed at which we’re finding out how the human brain works. We have learned a lot by studying people with neurological disorders caused by head injuries, strokes and the like. And that’s now taking us into the big philosophical questions. What really is consciousness? What is free will? Who am I?”

  “I’m still Rebecca! At least I hope so,” said a voice from the machine.

  “Sorry, Rebecca,” said Rambo. “Just getting a bit carried away. We’re ready to go now. Are you quite comfortable?”

  “As comfortable as I’m ever going to be in this contraption. Can I move around?”

  “To some extent. But you won’t be able to move your head. First, we’re going to show Rebecca a picture of the serpent. Ready, Wally?”

  Wally pressed the button on the camera again.

  “Can you see it, Rebecca?” asked Rambo.

  “Yes, very clearly. It’s the carving of the serpent on the Moon-Stone.”

  “That’s good,” said Rambo. “The serpent is one of the most potent ancient symbols.”

  “Concentrate hard on the serpent, Rebecca,” said Jim. “Try and let your mind focus on the image.”

  “If you really want to know what I’m concentrating on, it’s that interview you gave to Syreeta,” Rebecca hissed. “That was so sneaky.”

  “Don’t worry. Everybody’ll be doing stories on the magnetic field, now,” Jim said. “But this one here could be much more interesting.”

  “Please try to be quiet, everybody,” said Rambo.

  Rebecca tried again to concentrate on the picture.

  “Anything happening, Rebecca?” asked Jim, after a minute.

  “No – but I don’t feel exactly relaxed. What am I supposed to do? Hypnotise myself or something? All you lot are making me feel nervous.”

  “Anything unusual on the monitor, Rambo?” Jim asked.

  “No – just normal.”

  “Rebecca, you could try to memorise the image. Then close your eyes,” suggested Jim.

  Rebecca studied the picture and closed her eyes.

  “Anything yet?” asked Jim, after about thirty seconds.

  “No – I just can’t concentrate.”

  “Right, let’s start again,” Jim said. “Larry and I will sit quietly in the corner of the room and shut up. Just pretend we’re not here.”

  “Some hope,” said Rebecca.

  “Just a thought,” Larry said. “Can you remember anything that happened at the Stones, before the things you told us about?”

  “Nothing really. It was very quiet – only the rooks cawing and water dripping. It had just stopped raining.”

  “I don’t think we can do much about the rooks,” said Jim.

  “But the water – was it near you?” asked Larry.

  “I suppose so. There was water dripping somewhere near the Stones.”

  “Is there a tap here, Rambo?” Larry called over.

  “Over there. Put a tray in the sink if you want to make it louder.”

  Larry set the tap dripping steadily. Then he started the camcorder again and sat down with Jim at the back of the lab.

  “Ready? Let’s go again,” said Rambo, pressing buttons.

  Rebecca gazed at the serpent and closed her eyes. She began to breathe deeply and regularly.

  Rambo looked puzzled and moved closer to the monitor. An area towards the back of the brain was rapidly changing colour, as it was becoming active.

  “My God. This is a bit of a first,” Rambo whispered. “The cerebellum is lighting up.”

  CHAPTER 50

  The image of the serpent began to fade slowly, and Rebecca felt her mind drifting, as if into a waking dream.

  The figure of a woman, in her early thirties, was walking towards her, dressed flamboyantly in bright blue trousers and a smock in a colourful floral design. Her eyes, which peered through a fringe of ginger hair, were heavily made up with green eye shadow, and she had a blob of yellow paint on her cheek.

  She leaned over Rebecca affectionately. “You will drink your milk, won’t you, Rebecca, dear. You know Daddy would like that,” she said softly, in a Scottish accent.

  “Yes, Mummy,” replied Rebecca, in the voice of a little girl.

  Rambo looked over to Jim and Larry, clearly puzzled at hearing the different voices. Jim crept over to the camcorder and checked that it was functioning correctly.

  Still smiling, Rebecca’s mother gradually disappeared, and another figure took her place. He was an elderly man, bald but with a fox-red clipped moustache and dressed in a brown tweed suit. He was flushed and clearly very irritated.

  “I always said that Mr Blair was a charlatan,” he told her, clenching his fists.

  Jim and Larry sat there, stunned at hearing Rebecca speak in a man’s voice. Rambo studied the monitor closely.

  The man in turn was swiftly replaced by a Highlander, in full nineteenth century dress tartan, complete with plaid slung over his shoulders, kilt and sporran. She recognised the tartan of deep blues and greens as clan Campbell, the clan to which the Burns belonged. It was the tartan she had worn as a kilt, when learning Scottish dancing at school. He spoke in what Rebecca thought was Gaelic, although she could not understand what he was saying. “Na biodh sgàth ort.”

  “That was Gaelic she was speaking,” said Wally quietly.

  As this vision, too, faded, Rebecca lay there, breathing deeply. But suddenly, her calm was interrupted and she became agitated. A powerfully built and forbiddingly stern figure was striding towards her, in what appeared to be a bleak desert landscape, a sword strapped to his side. He seemed determined to say something to her.

  She recognised him instantly. It was the extraordinary figure that Neferatu had called Ptolemy. He came closer and closer, until his head was next to hers, and said something to her in a tongue she did not understand. But there was no doubting the authoritative tone. He stepped back and looked at her, a hint of concern in his expression, before turning to walk back across the rough terrain.

  The feelings of terror she had felt at the Newton Stones now came flooding back to her. As he, in turn, faded from her vision, she was still twitching with fear. She lay there, trembling, wondering if she were in some way losing control of her mind.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Larry. “That was a man’s voice again. And it sounded like he was speaking some form of classical Greek.”

  A grey mist seemed to swirl around Rebecca, only to melt away as another scene unfolded. It was as if she were watching a film in 3D, and yet a film so realistic that she was somehow part of it. The air around her was growing warmer and, hearing the gentle sounds of waves breaking on a shore, she knew she was near the sea.

  It was a moonless night, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright enough to light up low buildings in a town. A few dim lights flickered behind glassless windows, but otherwise there was no evidence of anyone around. Then there came the sound of urgent footsteps, faint at first, but rapidly growing louder. Four figures came into view, walking quickly down a cobbled street, towards the sounds of the sea. Rebecca could see that two of them were women, one older than the other, her titian hair sprinkled with grey and tied in a bun behind her head. The younger woman, a girl in her late teens, bore a distinct resemblance to the older woman. She had deep red long hair, worn loose under a gold band. Both wore cloaks wrapped around them, but she could see that their dresses reached down to their slippered feet. The other two figures were clearly soldiers, who she could see were attired Roman-style and, judging by the plumes in their helmets, high-ranking.

  As the party swept round a corner, a harbour came into view, with a group of men waiting anxiously on the quayside. One was holding a rope attached to a small dinghy and, among the fishing boats anchored in the harbour, she could see the outline of a far larger boat. A Roman galley.

  Reaching the quayside and the dinghy, the two soldiers stepped back and looked around warily. The woman and the girl stopped and embraced each other. Rebecca heard them talking to each o
ther in low, passionate tones, and managed to recognise several words of the language they were speaking as Latin. But it was being spoken so fast and in such an accent that it was impossible for her to decipher what they were saying.

  Then she heard the older woman mention the name ‘Cleopatra’. One of the soldiers called out “Selene”, urging her to release the girl.

  A large group of people approached, running and shouting. The soldiers moved to separate the women, still embracing and then holding outstretched hands to each other. One soldier swiftly half-lifted the girl into the dinghy. It was moving even as she fell into it.

  The dinghy headed towards the galley while the older woman stood waving, tears pouring down her cheeks. Flanked by the two soldiers, she turned slowly to defiantly face the crowd of people that had poured on to the quay.

  The newcomers stopped in their tracks, realising they had arrived too late. At the head of the crowd, fuming with silent rage, stood a man. Rebecca gasped as she recognised his face. It was unmistakably Neferatu, dressed in a Roman toga.

  “It’s him again! What’s happening?” she cried out. Before she could react, a dense darkness and profound silence fell around her.

  Jim moved to the edge of his seat. “What does she mean, ‘It’s him again’?”

  Rambo put a finger to his lips.

  “I think I know,” said Larry under his breath, visibly alarmed. “Rambo – be ready to stop this experiment. I don’t like the way it’s going.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Rebecca was now conscious only of her own breathing and the blood pumping through her ears. The air around her chilled slightly, and she shivered, feeling goose-pimples form on her arms.

  A pinpoint of light appeared. It grew slowly at first, and then so rapidly that she was dazzled. Strange symbols: zigzags, spirals, concentric circles and moving dots, formed at the periphery of her vision. They danced around, changing colour and shape, and then faded.