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.
it will benefit one person in particular.’ Kelly looked at her fellow investigator, wondering what he had meant by the statement.
i think it would be best if you left now, John,’ Vernon said, quietly.
‘There’s nothing more to discuss.’
Fraser let out a deep breath and got to his feet. He glanced at Kelly then at Vernon before turning and heading for the door.
‘And the next time?’ said Fraser, chaliengingly. ‘Will you take responsibility for what happens, Dr Vernon?’
The older man didn’t look up.
‘Get out, John,’ he said, quietly.
As Fraser slammed the door behind him, Kelly, too, rose. She was anxious to speak with Fraser.
‘Wait a moment, Kelly,’ Vernon said.
She sat down again, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her skirt.
‘Do you want me to replace Fraser?’ Vernon asked.
‘I don’t think it’s up to me,’ Kelly told him.
‘You’re the one who has to work with him.’
She opened her mouth to speak but the words remained locked inside and it was Vernon who broke the silence again.
‘This project is too important to be jeopardised by one man.’
Kelly saw that the steel had returned to his eyes.
‘I hope you agree with me?’
She nodded.
‘Dr Vernon, don’t you think that the murder of his wife and child might have some effect on Grant?’
in what way?’
She shrugged, not sure whether or not what she was about to say would sound ridiculous.
‘The catalyst, the object of his subconscious fantasies no longer exists,’ she said. ‘We assumed that his nightmares were unconscious manifestations of actual desires, but now his wife and son are dead he has nothing to direct that hostility towards.’
Vernon stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘You mean his wife was the object of his fury, the cause of the nightmares?’
he suggested. ‘So, theoretically, the nightmares should stop.’
Kelly nodded.
it’s strange though,’ she said. ‘She was murdered while Grant was under a drug-induced trance, in more or less the same manner as he had previously described. Almost as if the dreams had been warnings. Perhaps that’s the key we’re looking for. Maybe Grant’s nightmares weren’t unconscious desires, they were visions of the future.’
Vernon shifted the cough sweet around inside his cheek where it bulged like a gum boil.
‘Possibly,’ he murmured.
Kelly sat a moment longer then got to her feet.
if there’s nothing else, Dr Vernon.’
He shook his head.
Kelly walked to the door, watched by the Institute Director. He coughed and, as Kelly turned the handle, Vernon spoke once more.
‘Remember what I said, Kelly. This project means too much. There’s a lot at stake. If Fraser causes any trouble I want to know about it.’
She nodded and left him alone in the office.
Vernon dropped his pen, his fingers bunching into a fist.