by Sam Nash
With junior technicians dispatched to Lab Twenty-Six to begin the clear up, Mary settled down at a computer terminal to process the application. I’d better check the University database first. There might be another department with a licence we can piggyback on. The technicians’ bible, a secure internal internet where conversion tables, hazard warnings, generic labels, chemical dilutions and waste removal advice could be sought or posted for all support staff to use. It also housed the electronic paper trails required for hazardous substances and drugs. A quick search for DMT yielded two results, both of which cited the Director of Biomedical Sciences as the originator. She made a note for herself of the database entry references, knowing full well that she would have to liaise directly with the department licensee.
Mary tapped timidly on Cyril’s door. He looked up, holding the telephone receiver away from his ear and beckoning her in with his free hand. She thrust her head forward, clinging to the doorframe.
“What is it?” He held his hand over the mouthpiece of the handset.
“The University already has a licence for DMT, Cyril, but it is registered to the Director of Biomedical. Doesn’t give a specific department.”
“Well, well. Is that so? Go and have a snoop over there. See if you can’t get the senior tech to give you the lowdown - I want to know who is using the stuff. I don’t care if you have to beg the old walrus himself, I want a name.” He returned to his telephone call and shooed her out with the flick of his hand.
“Yes, your majesty, anything else, your majesty?” She muttered under her breath. Cyril looked up, thinning his eyes at her as she closed the door.
Armed with her notebook and pen, she wandered down the stairs, across the courtyard and down the pavement leading to Biomedical Sciences. One of the largest faculties in the college, the Director had oversight of all departments that fell loosely under the heading of medical. The faculty therefore spanned many different buildings within the campus, with the creation of new departments over time. Mary knew exactly where to go for answers.
Enjoying the brief emergence of the sun from behind the clouds, she took the scenic route to the office of Professor Florian Haas, otherwise known as The Walrus. She remembered striking up a conversation with a kindly woman at last year’s ball, who had introduced herself as the long-suffering PA to Professor Haas. If anyone would be able to find out who had the DMT licence, it would be her. Patricia, Phillis, Phoebe – damn. What was her name? I’m sure it began with a P. Come on…what was it? She knocked gently and opened the door onto an anteroom with a tall woman sitting at a desk. She rose and greeted Mary with an outstretched hand.
“Lovely to see you again, Mary. What brings you down to this neck of the woods?”
“Lovely to see you too…um…” Mary glanced down and caught sight of a name plaque sitting on the desk. “Caroline, I love your hair, have you had it cut?” I knew it began with a P. That was close.
“Yes, kind of you to notice. How can I help you?” She preened the short locks beneath her ears, thrilled that someone had spotted the change.
“I was looking for details regarding a Class One drug licence that is tagged to the Wal… to Professor Haas. Cyril Plender has me chasing it down to speed up an order for one of his studies.” Mary slipped around the side of Caroline’s desk to gain a better view of her monitor.
“Let’s see what we can find.” Caroline clicked on a few files in a private directory on her computer and frowned. “That’s peculiar.”
“What is?”
“I can find the file reference number for the physical copy of the licence but the department name is redacted. I have never seen that done here before.” She peered at the screen, dipping her bony chin to her neck.
“Are there any names given or department references visible?” Mary bent low and studied the image, then faced Caroline with a pitiable look.
“I’d have to dig out the hardcopy for those.” Caroline considered Mary and instantly caved in. “Oh, okay.” She sighed, then moved from her desk to a door on the left of the office. Mary trailed her into a small room filled with filing cabinets. “There’s a lot of sensitive stuff in here. I could get into serious trouble doing this.” Mary nodded and tried her best to look humble and appreciative.
The room had no windows and was lit with a single fluorescent tube light overhead, that flickered and made a disquieting humming noise. Caroline pulled a set of keys on a retractable cord from her belt loop and began unlocking a cabinet at the far end. She heaved each drawer open on their corroded tracks, reaching into the suspended files inside and reading the labelling in turn. It was a noisy affair, the drawers had a momentum all of their own, clanging shut after only a small push.
“It should be in this section here.” Caroline pulled out a faded red cardboard wallet file and opened it. Inside was an official looking stapled document, with the UK Government’s Home Office crest at the top. The application bore Professor Haas’s name, but the copious redaction obliterated the name of the department in a similar way to the electronic version of the license. Turning to the second sheet in the bundle, they scanned through paragraphs of legal blurb. Mary caught sight of two scraps of incomplete information; the study name - Project Sleepwalk and the university study site - Zone Six. A short list of staff responsible for the drugs used was completely blacked out.
“I’m sorry, Mary, it doesn’t really help you very much, does it?” Caroline chewed at her nails.
Mary stood, lost in thought. She knew exactly which department within the University called sections of their building Zones, but was unaware that there were as many as six. She rubbed her eyes as her recent nocturnal adventure united with the study name on the license – Project Sleepwalk. Acid gurgled in her throat, her stomach rebelling against her muesli bar. Get a grip. She chided herself. It’s only a controlled substance license, not an order to kill. Mary took the papers from Caroline and flicked through to the last page. The signature was her next surprise.
“Is that usual, I mean, for the Home Office Secretary, now Prime Minister, to sign these personally?”
“Really? No, it isn’t. Let me see.” Angling the document to afford Caroline a clear view, they huddled together poring over the paperwork in the dusty cupboard.
“Caroline? Caroline! Where the blazes has she gone now?” The Walrus was huffing his exasperation in Caroline’s office.
“In here, Professor Haas.” She knew that concealment was useless. He bustled in, wheezing with every nasal breath.
“What are you doing in… ah, Mary. Hello, my dear. I see this is not a social visit, how may we help you?” Haas fondled his enormous moustache, drawing her attention to its waxed bristles. It resembled a small woodland creature sleeping beneath his nose that was still in the process of shedding its ermine coat.
“Cyril Plender sent me over to see if he can be added to an existing drug license.”
“Huh, that deviant little weasel. You know he’s after my job, don’t you? No? Well, he is. Can’t wait till I bloody well retire. He’s been to the trustees and told them that I am too old to be effective in attracting new investors. Egotistical little tosser.” Professor Florian Haas may have been born and raised in Austria, but his accent was pure Leicester, including his fondness for using locally derived expletives. “I think I cut rather a dashing figure on the dance floor, especially when my partner is as delicious as you, eh Mary? You’ll save me another dance at the ball this year, won’t you?” He licked around his dentures, making a repugnant slurping sound.
“Really, Professor,” Caroline interjected. “It is wholly inappropriate to address female staff in that manner.”
“Oh, give over. Mary doesn’t bother with all that Political Correctness claptrap, do you Mary?” Another whisker fondle and a sly pace forwards.
“I…um…” Mary shrank back into the cabinets. Caroline stepped between them, shielding her from his advances.
“See, she’s a bloody good sport. Now then, which lic
ense is that back-stabbing retard after?”
Caroline took the paperwork from Mary and handed them to Haas. He squinted and raised his nose to see through the magnifying part of his bifocal spectacles. The sub-heading Project Sleepwalk came sharply into focus.
“This could prove problematic…”
Chapter Five
It was five minutes to five when Mary removed her lab coat and collected her cycle helmet and bag from her locker. The Walrus had taken charge of her license dilemma and had agreed to ‘thrash things out’ with Professor Cyril Plender directly. With no small amount of relief, Mary scarpered from the Biomedical Sciences building and stayed well hidden from Plender’s fury for the rest of the day. She nipped to the canteen and grabbed a bite to eat, then made her way at a leisurely pace to her husband’s department.
The Neuroscience Department receptionist, Yosef, greeted Mary and began the process of issuing her pass card. “That herbal cream you gave me for my eczema has done wonders – look…” He showed her the back of his hand where the scarred, dry tissue showed signs of healing. “Thank you so much for helping me.”
“That’s wonderful, Yosef. I’m glad it did the trick.” She took a cursory glance at his skin and nodded. “Are any of the others in the study group here yet?”
“Just one, Dan Wildman. He always gets here a few minutes early. It’s the undergrad participants who are always late.” Yosef printed the pass and handed it to Mary.
“Great, thanks. Can you buzz me through, please?”
“No problem.”
Making her way through the security door into Zone One, Mary walked the length of the main corridor and swiped her access card at the Zone Two scanner. Just beyond, was a door to the main psychology testing suite. Inside, a postgraduate student was busy setting up the evening’s experiments and switching the power on in the glass booths used to isolate candidates. A quick peek through the door informed her that Dan was elsewhere, so she turned right into the medical wing, where the nurse’s staff room had been set out with refreshments.
“Ah, there you are. Hello.” She edged into the room filled with stacks of junk mail and circulars that propped up angle poise lamps and chairs that doubled up as desks. Plastered across the fridge were magnets from past holiday resorts and a sign attached by curling yellow Sellotape that read – Not for clinical use, in bold typeface.
“Hello again. Would you like some tea? I have just boiled the kettle.” Dan enquired, making himself at home. He held up a cup to inspect the cleanliness of its interior before plonking it down next to his coffee and grabbing a teabag.
“That would be lovely, yes please.” Mary laid down her bag and cycle helmet on an angular chair and sat next to them. “Milk, no sugar, thanks.”
Dan pressed the hot teabag against the side of her mug and propelled it into a waste bin. “So how are things with you, since our last cuppa together?” He twisted around to face her, wagging the spoon in her general direction.
“Oh, you know. So, so. How about you?” Mary sprawled in the seat, twirling a loose tendril of hair around her index finger.
“Same old, same old.” They snorted an understanding. “Anymore disembodied voyages?” Dan opened the fridge and reached for the milk.
“No, thankfully, but weird things do keep happening every so often.” She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Weird things?” He dribbled the milk into her cup, returning his attention back to Mary.
“I’m not sure I know how to explain. I get myself in a tizzy about something and the next thing you know, all the electrics are going berserk all around me.” She threw her arms in the air and twizzled her hands around like she was avoiding a swarm of wasps.
“Have you been watching Poltergeist?” He chuckled, returning the milk to the cooler.
“I’m serious, Dan, it’s frightening.” Mary found herself laughing too. He was so easy to talk to. He reminded her of an aged oak tree, blessed with boundless assurance awaiting clement weather for their relationship to bud. She felt like a sapling by comparison, windblown against rigid restraints at risk of reckless pruning that threatened to stunt her growth. Dan was a rare specimen. An attentive listener, never judgmental, he would allow her to ramble and flourish. Why couldn’t it be this light hearted with Parth? He was too intense, in every aspect of their lives. Somehow Dan made her feel like no problem was insurmountable.
“Does your husband know about this?”
“He knows about my electrical problem. I tried to talk things over with him at home, but he wouldn’t discuss it. Kept finding ways to shut me up. There is something fishy going on, but I can’t get to the bottom of it. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I am just being paranoid.” Dan passed the cup to Mary.
“Why do you think that? You seem perfectly normal to me.” He retrieved his coffee and sipped while he listened.
“He gets suspicious phone calls at odd times, he has locked me out of his laptop and he went very peculiar when he thought the webcam in its lid was active.”
“Sounds more like the guilty actions of a man having an affair.” He blurted it out without thinking then immediately regretted it.
“An affair! Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that. That could be it. And might be the reason why he wouldn’t let me wait in his department yesterday. It could be someone he works with.” Mary’s face crumpled. She spilled some of her tea onto her legs, brushing at the spots ineffectually.
“You don’t know that though.” Dan backtracked. “It could be that he is just under a lot of pressure at work. There could be any number of explanations.” He looked at her strained features, his own mirroring hers.
A neat looking blonde woman walked in and smiled at Dan. She paced a direct path to the bench where the kettle stood and smiled at him again. Dan sat down, avoiding an expectation to cater for all arrivals. They watched the young lady shovel two heaped spoons full of instant coffee into a cup, estimate the temperature of water sitting in the kettle with a quick touch to the back of her hand and then slop the contents over the coffee powder. Dan looked at Mary and opened his mouth to continue their discussion, but an infinitesimal shake of Mary’s head stopped him in his tracks. The blonde youth stacked several biscuits together and took them and her cup over to the seats. She perched on the edge of the chair, with her knees angled towards Dan.
“I’m Sophie.” She pouted, dipping her chin and peering up at him coyly. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most amazing jawline?”
“Um, no.” Dan’s six foot two frame withered into the back of his chair, his grip tightening on the wooden armrests.
“Shall we partner up for the experiment, tonight? I think you and I would make a formidable team.” Sophie blinked as slowly and seductively as she could muster.
“I’m sorry Sophie, Mary and I have already agreed to team up for the remainder of Dr Arora’s project.” He tilted his head towards his friend. Mary smirked, revelling in the student’s arrogant but thwarted attempt.
Sophie shot Mary a haughty glare. “Your loss.” And in one swift move, she rose and spun herself around, gliding from the room with her coffee and biscuit stack.
“Dear God. When did young women get to be so forward?” Dan spluttered. “You didn’t mind me using you like that, did you?”
“Not in the slightest.” Mary tittered. “You had a narrow escape there.”
“Shall we go and see what tests we will be doing this evening?” Dan said, keen to distract her thoughts from her marriage. Together, they crossed the freshly bleached corridor and into the testing laboratory.
The other participants had gathered around a desk packed with monitors and controls. The postgraduate student explained that Dr Arora was running late. His instructions were to conduct a series of warm-up tests until the scheduled break after an hour. He handed out packs of twenty-five cards that each contained a mixture of five symbols; a circle, a square, a triangle, a star and two wavy lines like water. One person in a pairing
would act as the sender of thoughts and the second person the receiver. For each signal, the sender records whether an incorrect or correct symbol is received on the provided grid. After fifteen minutes, the participants had to swap roles and repeat the test. It was one that they were all familiar with and so the six pairs of participants, entered the glass cubicles and began the simple experiment.
Dan wiped his hands down his trouser legs and stepped inside a booth. It smelled of the plasticised sealant securing the tempered glass between him and Mary sitting in the adjacent soundproof cubicle. The theme tune for an old TV game show popped into her head. She signed the thumbs up to begin. Dan chose a random card from his pack and concentrated on its shape, making sure that his expression was neutral and could not influence her decisions. Mary closed her eyes and thought for a moment, the wavy lines of the water symbol flashed up on the inside of her eyelids. She picked up the water card and showed it to Dan. He smiled and recorded her response on his grid – correct. They repeated the procedure until Dan had run out of cards and then they began again with Mary sending the messages for Dan to receive. They spilled out of the booths, giggling and laughing eager to learn the marks of their test. All the other cubicles were still occupied by participants. Less than ten minutes had passed.
The postgraduate student, Simon, beckoned them over to his control desk. He recorded their results in his computer and it churned out a statement that Mary was correct for ninety-two percent of her responses and Dan was correct for a staggering ninety-eight percent of his. Believing that a small degree of cheating could account for the accuracy, Simon set them another challenge. He gave Mary ten sealed envelopes containing cards with random pictures on. Simon handed Dan, a pad of plain paper and a pencil and sent them both back into the booths.