Laura tried not to succumb to the kneading of the masseuse’ deft fingers but it was increasingly difficult not to relax – to keep on guard – to prevent that sensual blissful lull that threatened to engulf her. Her mind’s eye traced the path of the warm knuckles on her body and just like on previous visits to the clinic she knew she was about to drift into oblivion.
But she was there to work. Her job was to spy on everyone in the luxury hotel and report anything that was out of the ordinary – no matter how bizarre. Two friends: fellow officers had lost their lives during their covert investigations into the employees of the health resort – the aftermath of which had left a sense of grave unease in the department. So Laura really needed to keep alert. But the left side of her face was resting snugly on those soft warm towels and the aroma of incense was filling her senses with sweet, far away thoughts that forced her eyelids to close.
She blinked them open and blinked again. She needed to gather her wits about her – needed to concentrate her mind on the other members of the salon’s staff. What was it about them that she couldn’t quite put a finger on?
Before long her previous suspicions began to creep into her mind – like how she had noticed that the beauticians hardly spoke to their clients yet despite their lack of words, Laura got the distinct impression that the employees were conversing with each other by using slight gestures of body language. The masseuse’ thumbs pressed in a gentle but firm circle over each of her vertebrae and her mind switched back to how simply relaxing it felt. And again it was the perfumed oils that wafted over her, drawing her away from her surroundings with those divine fragrances – and now there was music that drifted from somewhere deep below the salon regulating her breathing, and slowing her heartbeat. Despite her vow to keep alert, her eyes closed and immediately her psyche was carried down somewhere deep – deeper than beneath the foundations of the hotel.
–
Tiny specks of florescent from the ceiling, walls and floor lighted the corridor of the place where her dream was taking her. There was just enough of a glow to see ahead and to where her journey drew her on. There was no need to rush, why should she? Laura had never felt so relaxed in all of her life.
At the entrance to a great cavern her inner sense paused to ponder what the shapes were that moved in silence behind veils of creamy silk. As she waited to be invited in, Laura realised that the scene was becoming familiar like a memory from another life, a distant world and with each vision she moved forward and deeper into this wonderful place.
The females saw her approach. Were they nurses? Or religious women from some mysterious order, or were they nymphs from the beginning of time? She didn’t know but when they beckoned, she followed them into the depths of their domain.
The air moved, bringing with it sweet aromas of honey and delicate spices. Ahead, some of the women were attending tiny babies, wrapping them in swaddling – tight and secure: only their chubby little faces showing. Once wrapped, the babies were passed onto other maids who placed them to sleep in cradles set into the walls of the dome. Beyond the nursery more veils hid another, deeper tunnel where Laura could just make out the blurred shape of an enormous woman.
–
When Laura awoke the masseuse’ fingers had moved to her calf muscles and ankles, she looked around the salon and the scene had changed. How long had she slept? Some clients were having facials when only seconds ago, they were being massaged. Was it only seconds ago?
‘Did I fall sleep?’ She asked, aware that her voice sounded somewhat drawled.
‘Everyone dozes Madam. It is part of our technique. It is good that we relax your muscles.’
‘Does everyone dream?’
‘Dream? If they do, they do not tell me.’
‘I wonder why?’
‘Sometimes Madam, things are private.’
‘What if a dream turns into a nightmare?’
‘I would not know Madam. I do not dream.’
‘How unusual.’
‘Not for me.’
Laura raised her head and supported the upper half of her body by her elbows and turned to face the young woman who was now cleaning her hands and staring across the room. She looked just like the nursemaids Laura had seen in her dream – perfect proportions to facial features – like she was the end product of an ideal design – then she turned to compare the similar physical likenesses between the other members of staff. Why hadn’t anyone noticed that before? Slowly she moved into a sitting position, wrapped the towel around her and slid off the couch, ready to stand. She felt woozy but snapped herself out of it when she realised that no one was close by to assist her. Had she been forgotten? The masseuse had moved to attend a different client. There was another strange thing. No one wished her a nice day – did these people have no need for tips?
–
It was late in the evening when Laura attended the de-briefing session with her boss Duncan Mackenzie. Half an hour into it they were interrupted by a visit from Professor Otto Klein who researches peculiarities that he prefers to call the paranormal.
‘I wanted you to know that the samples you brought me are being studied as we speak. They make interesting reading.’
Duncan laughed. ‘Only oddballs like you Otto, would find DNA swabs interesting. What do you make of Laura’s dream?’
Klein turned to study Laura, his fine-rimmed glasses framing his pale grey eyes – she stared back, daring him to find any abnormality in her. Why had these freaks been brought onto our team? They didn’t think like her colleagues – they acted more like aliens from a comic book – they would never fit in. And there was something weirder, not quite human about Klein. She couldn’t place it but felt it in his ice-cold stare. Also, he was analytical in everything he did and that roused an irritating anger in her, a sort of rage that she knew she must keep hidden. Her rational side told her he was only a scientist – an otherwise ordinary man – who was governed by logic, so what harm could he do to their mission?
The eyes behind the silver frames continued to analyse. Now they roamed over the rest of her face before he lowered his lids and gave what she took to be some kind of a diagnosis.
‘It is clear to me that Miss Sykes has passed some sort of barrier with the hotel staff – one I suspect that the clinic would have preferred to keep secret. I would like the people employed at the salon to be investigated during their leisure time – find out what makes them tick? I suggest two avenues of enquiry – one to concentrate on the clinic and hotel and another to apply for work behind the scenes – say the supervision of deliveries, laundry services and catering.’
Duncan rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘We’re already covering the supply chains. So far, everything’s legit. And, we lost two undercover officers in less than six weeks. One posed as a trainee barman and died under bizarre circumstances – his replacement never made it to the hotel. She was caught up in a fatal road traffic accident on her first day.’
Klein leaned towards Duncan. ‘Tell me the circumstances of the barman’s death?’
‘He was supposed to work under supervision – they said he defied orders and went alone to change a barrel in the cellar. The cask was pressurised – it takes skill to swap them over and it blew his head off.’
Klein whistled. It was deep and long – cutting through the sombre words that still filled all the team with horror. For several seconds the room fell silent. Laura broke it by letting out a ragged breath.
Duncan pushed back the file on his desk. ‘My people know the dangers Professor Klein, those fellow officers were trained not to take risks – they were murdered – our job is to find out how and why.’
Klein nodded, then turned his attention to Laura. ‘If my theory is correct and you have bridged some kind of gap into the inner workings of these people, then I fear you are in greater danger than your dead officers. Whatever it is that they are hiding – it has the whole workforce protecting it. They are watchful and like Miss Sykes has mentioned, they don’t need phones or computers to communicate – a raised eyebrow – a pursed lip or blink of an eye speaks volumes. My job is to break the code of their body language and teach it to your officers. I would like to work closely with Miss Sykes if that can be possible Duncan?’
‘You mean you wish to go undercover with her?’
‘Yes – we could pose as clients. If they are employing forced labour as the government suspects then we will try to befriend some members of staff.’
‘But Klein, we’ve already tried that avenue. The workers are strange but in our opinion, not working under duress.’
‘I know what you are saying Duncan but there is something secretive going on. I suggest we gain a little weight and book ourselves into the clinic for a tummy tuck.’
‘Gain weight?’
‘Yes Miss Sykes. Don’t tell me you have always been thin?’
‘Hell no, I follow a strict fitness routine to keep weight off,’ she turned to her boss, ‘Duncan – you can’t be serious – do I have to work alongside Professor Klein?’
Duncan rubbed his eyes again. Laura could see his patience was waning. Was it with her? Or Klein? He gave an unconvincing smile but Laura sensed he thought this was no laughing matter. She got the message. She knew what had to be done must be her decision. Should she work with Klein who she felt no empathy for? And, put on weight – never. She rose from her chair, picked up her files and left the room allowing the door to slam shut.
‘Now we’ve got her rattled? Was it your intention?’
Klein also rose from his seat. ‘No Duncan I don’t do riddles. Perhaps she is wise not to want to work with me – perhaps not, but it is of no matter, I can work alone. Studying the paranormal is a solitary job – I’m used to that – I will go under their anaesthetic, allow them to extract the extra pounds of flesh from my paunch and report back when I’ve accomplished my investigations. I need to know what the power that drives them is, who are they hiding from and most important – who or what they really are.’
–
‘Sir, are the nibbles not to your satisfaction?’
Klein looked into the eyes of the waitress; ‘I cannot see the need to pile on more weight when I have resolved to have excess fat removed from my waistline.’
Her smile held perfect teeth, ‘did you not read our brochure Sir?’
‘Of course I did, but still, I do not want to continue with my old bad routine, after the treatment, I intend to live on a strict diet.’
‘Oh that is such a shame, how else will we be friends? Most of our clients become regulars here. They enjoy life – they allow us to snip away the signs of excess and return to continue doing whatever pleases them most – which is mostly feasting.’
Klein watched how her eyes studied him as she talked in her persuasive fashion. He knew the clinic’s method was popular – no guilt attachments to obesity, or to vanity – or to what Duncan called white coat syndrome where people craved the attention of medical staff – especially those employed in an operating theatre. ‘I, er, my nurse has warned I should change my lifestyle. She suggests I cut out nibbles – I don’t want to displease her, do you understand?’
A change in the pupils – the waitress is re assessing Klein’s needs. She smiles that beautiful even smile, ‘Of course, allow me to introduce you to Michael, he is one of our medical gurus, he will help you to overcome your desire for the nibbles. Ah, here he is, I will leave you two to get acquainted.’
How did Michael know he was needed? Klein felt a surge of excitement, now, he thought, we’re getting somewhere.
Michael steered Klein to a seated area away from the bar.
‘What can I do for you Mr Banks?’
‘They keep offering me snacks – the waiter has told me why but I don’t understand the logic. I’m not a man who likes to exert himself, but I need to shed this blubber – you do understand me, don’t you, er, Michael – Doctor, is it?’
Michael’s smile was as even as the waitress’s.
‘We don’t use titles here, but yes, I am medically qualified to be addressed as Doctor, if you prefer.’
‘Yes, I do prefer. My life had been wrecked with illnesses of one form or another – stress is my downfall – I worry too much and having put on this weight over these past months has added to it. My present practitioner is a nurse who has my complete trust. She is so aware of my needs, if you know what I mean.’
‘I understand, and as we become more acquainted, I’m sure we will become friends.’
‘So, nobody forcing nibbles on me?’
‘Of course not, our aim is to make you feel and look wonderful and then your wellbeing will follow. Your nurse is correct to prescribe a lifestyle of good eating. We can help you with that and of course, our relaxation sessions will control those niggling stress levels.’
‘Yes, I look forward to that – thank you Doctor Michael, I feel better already.’
‘I will escort you to the theatre tomorrow morning and when the treatment has been done, I will be with you until you are ready to leave us.’
‘Wonderful – now I can see why The Clinic is so successful.’
‘We put all our guests’ needs first and foremost.’
‘Yes, I truly believe you do.’
–
Klein spent the evening in the lounge bar listening to the pianist play. He was good, moving from his set pieces to playing requests from clients who were sitting around tables lit by pink-shaded lamps. The large room was made intimate by other subtle lighting and the small, polished timber dance floor reflected the rosy glow.
The clients drank and ate as though on holiday in some sun-drenched beach resort. Waiters carried crystal glasses that picked up the colours of the liquor they contained. Klein needed to know how those about to undergo an operation needing anaesthetics and all the dangers that entailed, were allowed to indulge themselves to great excess. Had this clinic pioneered some super breakthrough in medicine? Whatever – the records show that people returned for treatment time and time again without any ill effects. Most of the celebrities in the eye of the media use The Clinic and are happy to give publicity to its virtues.
Klein drank the last of his mineral water, dabbed his mouth with the table napkin and took his leave. No waiter hung back for a tip. Klein surmised that these people are well looked after and wondered whether a strong union was behind The Clinic’s success.
With these thoughts swirling around his head, he made his way to his room, undressed and slid between the sheets. He moved the book he intended to read aside, placed his glasses on the bedside table, clicked off the light and within seconds was in a deep, deep sleep.
Laura rang Duncan again. ‘Any word from Klein?’
‘If you’d had the guts to go with him, you’d know how he went on.’
‘Ouch, that’s below the belt. You’ve always insisted we tell you if we can’t work with anyone. But now I feel, well he’s out there alone and I…’
‘He’s not alone. What do you take me for?’
‘Oh thank God.’
‘Don’t get familiar with deities you don’t know.’
‘Am I forgiven?’
‘I’ve got another assignment for you. It’s with Zosha.’
‘Good. I work well with Zosha. Is it at The Clinic?’
‘Yes, it’s time you booked another massage, take Zosha as your close friend – she can keep an eye on you should the masseuse put you to sleep.’
‘Will Klein be discharged by then?’
‘He should be but he’s booked with a therapist. He needs treatment for his stress.’
‘Stress? It’s me that’s stressed not Klein? Honestly Duncan that man hasn’t a stressed nerve in his body – why does he need a therapist?’
‘He’s following the white coat syndrome line. It’s a short cut to return to The Clinic for regular treatment without having to be fat or ugly.’
‘Ingenious – did he think of that?’
‘No, I did.’
–
As Zosha drove along the gravelled driveway Laura took the opportunity to scan the grounds looking for gardeners or security guards. She found none but noticed a building set amongst a formal plantation of copper beech trees. Their leaves were curling in the autumn breeze showing glimpses of a large house between the branches. She made a mental note to enquire about it when Zosha slammed her foot on the brake. A man naked except for a surgical gown was running in front of the car, nobody was chasing him – Zosha pulled up beside the drive and turned off the engine. ‘Is this a lunatic asylum?’
‘Looks like it – we’d should help him – but remember, we’re here to have a massage and make over, not to help terrified patients.’
The runaway patient ran into the arms of a medic who calmed him down with disturbing speed.
‘Did he inject something?’ asked Zosha.
‘Dunno, but whatever it was it acted fast, see, he’s walking at a normal pace – like two mates coming out of a cinema.’
‘Yeah,’ whispered Zosha, ‘Poor Ben said there was something really weird about the members of staff here. He likened them to androids with super-mental powers – said the way they defused potential trouble – wasn’t normal.’
‘Blowing Ben’s head off wasn’t normal either.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to open wounds.’
‘You didn’t – my hurt hasn’t scabbed over yet. But Ben had a point; they don’t act like normal human beings. And Professor Klein has got his team examining the DNA of the barman supposed to have been teaching Ben the skills of a beer cellar.’ Laura took in a long deep breath, ‘They’re re checking the results – the abnormalities are there but masked.’
‘Masked? You mean like they’re doing with viruses? Is Klein still here?’
‘Yes, but we must use his undercover name. From now on he’s Mr Banks.’
‘And his associate? Do we know what name he, or she, goes under?’
‘No, Duncan was clear about that. Not even Banks knows who is watching over him. Ah, see that road to the left? That leads to the day visitor’s car park. Okay, lets do what we’ve been trained for, address me as Kate from now on, Penny dear, my longest oldest friend from schooldays.’
‘Yes Kate, so do I get a facial?’
‘You get the whole works – whilst I lie back and drift into oblivion.’
–
Duncan read the notes in his file again. Ben had been getting too close. He was edging into the psyche of the chief bartender when the ‘accident’ occurred. His notes refer to his supervisor as the boss. Ben thought he held a higher rank than appeared. Other members of the staff followed orders from their team leaders, whereas the boss appeared to work alone.
Duncan wiped his hand over his eyes. What did Ben find out that caused the boss to eliminate him? A knock to his door prompted him to close the file and place it back in his draw. ‘Come in,’ he ordered.
Laura entered with Zosha, followed by Klein, who looked different.
‘Ah, what have they done to you?’
Klein’s laugh was never full of mirth, ‘They’ve taken away my aura of academia.’
‘You mean they’ve smartened you up. No more the absent-minded professor eh? The new haircut suits you, gives you an air of the suave man about town.’
Laura gave Zosha a sideways eye-twinkle.
‘I see Miss Sykes has picked up their language. Her eyes tell it all.’
‘No Otto, women are born with secret signs, they pass the skill onto their daughters and nurture it throughout their lives.’
‘Do I detect a touch of cynicism?’
‘See what I mean Otto, and they say they are the weaker sex.’
Zosha interrupted the banter, ‘You’ve broken my dream Duncan.’ She turned towards Laura, ‘Remember when you were taken to the pool?’
‘Yes, you were looking too glamorous to be splashed.’
‘I went for a coffee and fell into a kind of reverie, a daydream where there was a man who watched over us. He was like an icon – an untouchable symbol of perfect manhood. But we knew he was not for us. He was far too exalted to be considered as a possible date. Nobody told us, we women around the room, no – not room, more like an arena: I knew this without being told. I felt I was born with knowledge that his role was paramount to my existence.’
‘Wow – and you’ve only just remembered it?’
‘Yes Laura, it was the playful talk between Duncan and Professor Klein that triggered it. I see now that it could be important to our mission. The man was handsome, but more important than good looks, he was the chosen one – the females around me knew this and their collective thoughts entered this information to my inner vision. He is powerful but the partner he serves may appear weak to us, but she is not to him – nor is she weak to those who serve under her.’
Klein took hold of Zosha’s hand, ‘you also have passed the barrier. This daydream connects to the one Laura had. Could this woman who lies behind the many layers of silk be the mate of the chosen one?’
‘You make these people sound like wolves Otto.’
‘Yes, I do, but there is something primeval in these visions. There is a basic law of reproduction. The masses sacrifice their petty individuality for the good of the whole. They work like a collective.’
‘But they’re not robots Otto, they are human beings.’
‘Perhaps we should look at that DNA again with a different perspective.’
‘Otto – how many times have you told me that science runs on facts. If you change the perspective, aren’t you in danger of bending the rules?’
‘When it comes to the paranormal Duncan, the rules don’t exist. I will return to my lab and instruct my team to look again at the example of the DNA picked up from Ben’s headless body. He grabbed someone before he died and traces of that person are not entirely human. I am going to look for signs of creatures that form strict collectives.’
‘You’ll be telling us next that these people who run the health clinic are some kind of ant.’
Klein’s eyes sparkled, ‘Probably, and another thing I noticed during my stay, the nibbles I refused, I took one for examination. They’re made from human flesh. Roasted with spices but human flesh. And here’s another horror to whet your appetite: that ice cream the celebrities rave over and eat by the bucket, is made from the fat taken from our tummy-tucks. That yellow oily blubber is whipped into cream and sweetened with honey and fruits harvested within the grounds of the clinic.’ He scanned their faces, ‘I persuaded my guru, Dr Michael to make me a wrapped gift to take home. It is from these samples that I gained the grisly knowledge. So glad I took the guise of white-coat syndrome and not greedy celeb.’
Laura whispered to Zosha, ‘did you have the ice cream?’
‘Not telling.’ Was all she said, her eyes looking somewhat queasy.
–
(c) 2024 Pat Barnett.
