‘Right. As I’ve said, what’s on my mind is this study you’re doing. When you were at my place you got all worked up about the state of the world but you didn’t go into detail about your project. All I know at this point is that you run a pornographic website and maintain a phone line for further dialogue with the punters. You also seem to be in the hardcore video business with Leslie and the van. What’s the extent of your operation and what’s it going to result in — a dissertation, a book, what?’
‘And you want to know all this because you seriously intend to fund the study?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Can I trust you?’
‘Absolutely. You can always trust an infatuated old fool.’
‘But have you got the money for it?’
‘That I don’t know until you tell me what’s involved in your study and how much it costs to run it.’
Melissa took a deep breath and blew it out like a locomotive letting off steam. ‘OK, there’s the website and the monitoring of it to see how many hits it’s getting from anyone.’
‘How can you trace who’s hitting the site?’
‘Every time you visit a website your computer leaves an electronic calling-card, what’s known as a cookie.txt. So we can see who’s hitting the site and which pictures they’re going for — Anal, Oral, Facial, whatever. That goes into the database, and on the basis of their preferences I choose which hitters to do one-to-ones with.’
‘These are the ones who get to see “Monica’s Monday Night?”’
‘That or “House of Correction” or “Sisterly Love” or “Night Games” — I’m only running four picture-stories because I don’t want to get tangled up in too many parameters. The one-to-ones that follow go into the database in the appropriate category. I give selected one-to-ones a phone number so they can talk to me. The phone conversations get recorded and filed the same as the rest of the material.’
‘That sounds pretty time-consuming.’
‘Tell me about it! It’s also a good way to lose interest in sex.’
‘Have you?’
‘I don’t know. When I’m with someone I’m not always sure whether I’m having sex or statistics, orgasms or exponentials.’
‘“Every hour wounds; the last one kills.”’
‘Where’s that from?’
‘I saw it written on the face of a grandfather clock a long time ago and it just now popped into my head.’
‘Did you hear about George and the tinnitus drug trial?’ said a man at the table behind Klein to his companion as they stood up to go.
‘No,’ said the other man. ‘What happened?’
‘It made him deaf for three days and it gave him an erection that also lasted three days,’ said the first man as they put on their coats.
‘How did he deal with that?’
‘Well,’ said the first man as they went to the door, ‘just at that time his wife was called away because her mother was ill, so George …’ The door closed behind them and they were gone.
‘Did you hear that?’ said Klein.
‘He was probably making it up,’ said Melissa. ‘There are people who do that in lifts and tube trains, then they get out and leave you hanging.’
‘Speaking of unfinished stories, what about you and your father?’
‘The one I stabbed twelve times? Actually I never knew him.’
‘Is that the truth?’
‘It’s anything you like. Whatever deal you have in mind, my history isn’t part of it.’
‘Why is there so much anger in you?’
‘Give me a break, Harold. Do you want to hear about the study or not?’
‘Sorry, please go on.’
‘What I’ve told you so far has to do with gathering and sorting data. This being a study of emotional dysfunction in men in their transactions with women, the data …’
‘Hang on — isn’t that kind of one-sided?’
‘That’s the side I’m working; others can explore other sides — there’s enough dysfunction for everybody. You as a frequent visitor to Angelica’s Grotto must be well aware of how long overdue such a study is; male perception of the female is generally at an infantile level — masturbation comes naturally to men but relating to women is something that has to be learned and mostly isn’t. I’m aiming for a sample of five hundred and each one has to be evaluated in accordance with the criteria of the study.’
‘What about your video material?’
‘Yours would have been the first; it would have provided useful data but the video thing is too risky to be practical and I’m not planning any more at the moment. What I’ve outlined for you is quite labour-intensive. So far I’ve been doing it alone with occasional help from Leslie but I could use a part-time assistant on a regular basis.’
‘How long do you think it’ll take to get your sample of five hundred?’
‘I’ve been working on this for six months and I’ve only got seventy-three so far, sorted but incomplete and not yet ready for evaluation. To get the whole thing put together I reckon another five years or so.’
‘Right. Tell me what it would cost annually to keep the whole thing going the way you like.’
‘OK, there’s the monthly payment to the Dutch server and there’s the online time plus four telephone lines; there’s the cost of Leslie and the part-timer and the outlay for another computer, maybe two. Plus there are always unforeseen one-off expenses that you have to be prepared for.’ She took a pocket calculator out of her bag and was busy with it for a couple of minutes. ‘Say twenty thousand a year. How does that grab you?’
Klein was looking into her eyes. ‘Such a deep blue,’ he said, ‘and so serious.’
‘You’re not in a position to patronise me, Prof. You wanted to know what was involved and how much it costs and I’ve told you. Now what about this funding you were talking about?’
‘I’m going to start working on it right away.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘It means that I’ll have more to tell you the next time I see you.’
‘Ah, we’re into control games now, are we, Harold?’
‘Could you blame me if I were?’
‘No, it’s just that my time-wasting time is limited. So if you want anything more from me you’d better not muck me about.’
‘I’d never do that, Lola. Trust me, I’m an infatuated old fool. Shall we go?’
On their way out they passed a young couple who were the new occupants of the other table by the window. As the door closed behind Klein and Melissa the woman said to her companion, ‘I wonder what the story is with those two?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know but my money’s on Lola.’
32 Underworlds
Klein walked Melissa back to King’s College, then headed for the tube. As he passed the Arthur Andersen entrance on his way down Surrey Street he encountered a sixtyish man leaning against a white TNT Courier van and swinging his left leg back and forth. ‘Trying to restore the circulation?’ said Klein.
‘Hip’s giving me bother. It’s worse in cold weather.’
‘That building on the other side, up towards the Strand, the one that says PICCADILLY RLY — I’ve been trying to figure out what the RLY stands for. Would you happen to know?’
‘I believe it’s an old defunct railway station that was probably built between the two wars,’ said the courier, ‘around 1920, something like that.’
‘Railway! I’ve never seen it abbreviated that way before. Was it a Main Line station?’
‘No, it’d be one of the Underground stations; they’ve probably diverted the line since then — I don’t think it’s in use now.’
‘Tunnels underneath where we’re standing, and empty tracks going nowhere!’