Heaven Nor Hell

by Paul Greenway

‘The, the first one was …’

  Jordan addressed everyone at and near the table. ‘And that's all she said. She stopped talking, got up and left.’

  Ashleigh stared at the laptop despondently. ‘She clearly decided that she'd said more than she'd planned.’

  As Todd approached the table while putting away his phone, he noticed a man loitering within earshot. Well into his 50s and sporting a brown cardigan, the man was downright conspicuous among the downtrodden students. But of more immediate concern to Todd was his empty glass. He grimaced and opened his arms to the adoring crowd that was steadily increasing in number. A first-year student promptly bowed his head in shame and hurried to the bar counter.

  Ashleigh pointed at the laptop screen. ‘That woman yesterday had to be Doctor Olsson.’

  ‘But she's, um, a, um …’

  ‘Jeez. Doctors can be female!’ Ashleigh glared at Jordan, who decided it was prudent to look away in embarrassment.

  Todd checked his notepad. ‘She said she gave Uncle Charlie the drug on Friday last week, which was the 19th. That was the day he died.’

  Ashleigh nodded. ‘She probably did the same for that other guy, Dom. But when? And what did she mean when she said “the first one”?’

  The man with the cardigan approached their table clutching four bottles of beer. ‘I seem to have ordered too many of these.’

  Ashleigh was instantly suspicious. ‘And who are you?’

  But Todd was instantly grateful. ‘Don't upset the man, Ash. He's buying us beer.’ Todd eagerly snatched two bottles for himself.

  ‘I am someone who has followed your amazing story about the eternal drug in the media and on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook and every other social media network.’

  ‘Really?’ Ashleigh peered intently at the man. ‘People in cardigans don’t use Twitter.’

  ‘And I am someone who believes you should be making a lot of money from this.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  Todd gulped his beer and whispered irritably. ‘Ash!’

  Cardigan Man dragged a stool towards their table. ‘Do you still have the original footage of your interview with that woman – without the shadowed face and fuzzy voice?’

  * * * * *

  Ashleigh anxiously pushed every button at the elevator just outside the main door of the Uni Bar.

  ‘Why are we ..?’ Todd stopped as Ashleigh swiftly shoved him and Jordan inside.

  She leaned out again fleetingly to check for possible pursuers before pummelling the button for the 2nd floor with her fist. ‘Because we cannot trust anyone anymore anywhere anytime.’

  Jordan leaned back on a rail and frowned. ‘That's a shitload lot of “anys”.’

  Todd risked a smirk. ‘Any-how that guy in the bar seemed OK. Terrible dresser, but harmless enough.’

  Ashleigh poked Todd in the ribs with her pointiest fingernail. ‘But you think anyone who gives you a beer is nice!’

  The elevator opened at the 2nd floor in front of several students clutching bulky textbooks and chattering in Chinese. Ashleigh gruffly turned towards them. ‘Sorry, it's full.’ She frantically pressed the “close” and “6th floor” buttons several times. Todd spun round to confirm to himself that the elevator contained no-one else as Ashleigh continued. ‘So, who was the guy in the cardigan in the bar? Why did he want the entire original footage of our interview? And why was he going to give us money?’

  Todd shrugged. ‘Maybe, he's some sort of agent.’

  Jordan’s eye sockets expanded. ‘Secret agent?’

  Todd stopped shrugging so he could sneer. ‘No, you idiot. I mean some guy who wants to sell our story. Maybe, get us a paid interview on a current affairs show.’

  ‘I hate those bloody shows!’

  ‘But, Ash, it's about time we made some money out of all this.’ Jordan crossed his arms with some negligible attempt at defiance.

  Todd was excited. ‘Maybe, he'll get me on that show. “Dancing with–“.’

  ‘But we're reporters!’

  Todd and Jordan glowered at Ashleigh as they replied together. ‘So?’

  ‘We don't just sell our soul and story to anyone. Or go on stupid reality shows.’

  Todd stopped shrugging and sneering so he could snort. ‘I must've missed Journalistic Ethics 101.’

  The elevator eventually rumbled to the 6th floor. The door opened in front of several young women wearing hijab and headscarves who had just completed their observances at the Islamic Prayer Room. Ashleigh blocked their entrance and growled maliciously. The students retreated, deciding the stairs would be safer.

  Ashleigh punched the “close” and “2nd floor” buttons several times with both fists. ‘Listen, you idiots. Look at the reactions from the interviews we did with the gangsters and the doctor.’

  ‘I know.’ Todd stopped shrugging, sneering and snorting, and just smiled. ‘That bargirl with the legs really wants to–‘

  ‘I mean, who did we upset?’

  Jordan’s brain abruptly received a message from his bladder. ‘I'm dying for a pee.’

  Ashleigh was accustomed to answering her own questions. ‘We’ve upset the bloody Vatican for a bloody start.’ As the elevator was again decelerating towards the 2nd floor, she yanked the “emergency” lever. As they jolted to an immediate stop, Todd and Jordan glanced at each other with unease. ‘Who else would want to know more about this drug and about the scientists who created it?’

  ‘The FBI?’ Todd loosened his shirt.

  ‘The CIA?’ Jordan crossed his legs.

  ‘Jeez. You guys watch way too much TV.’

  As Todd began sweating, Jordan hopped from one leg to another, but still managed to speak. ‘I suppose the people who'd be most interested in this drug would be the ones who'd want to sell it.’

  ‘Exactly. This drug would be the greatest, most-wanted, most expensive drug in the world. People would pay anything – give anything – to have it. For God’s sake, it's a drug that brings people back to life!’

  Todd slumped in a corner of the lift and started hyperventilating. ‘W-what about, about a d-drug that, that cures claus-tro-tro-pho-b-b-bia?’

  Ashleigh glanced at Todd and feigned some mild concern before turning to Jordan, who said, ‘… or the need to pee?’ He squirmed.

  Ashleigh ignored them as she pondered. ‘I think that cardigan guy in the bar works for a pharmaceutical company. He's already given it a name, remember. He called it the Eternal Drug.’

  Clutching at the rails to stand up, Todd began pounding on the door. ‘Get me out! I'm suffocating!’

  Jordan started hammering the door with one hand while clutching his crotch with the other. ’Get me out! I'm bursting!’

  Ashleigh mumbled to herself. ‘I suppose it's too late to find new partners for my freaking assignment.’

  As Todd and Jordan continued hollering and thumping the door with clenched fists Ashleigh picked up the emergency phone.

  * * * * *

  Along Rundle Street – a trendy thoroughfare of cafés and, incongruously, shops selling outdoor hiking gear – is The Nova, self-described as “Sophisticated Cinema”. With angled ceilings, trendy un-scrubbed walls and menus offering cheese platters, it features art-house and foreign films that few want to watch, so even on a late Saturday afternoon the place was virtually empty.

  Ashleigh, Jordan and Todd were huddled together in a back row as a man in a tracksuit and a woman carrying an umbrella shuffled down the aisle closer to the screen. They glanced at Ashleigh squeezed in a seat between Todd and Jordan. Ashleigh shuddered and swapped seats with Todd, so she was no longer between the two.

  Although the ads had ceased and the lights had faded, Todd forgot to whisper. ‘I knew this would be crappy.’

  ‘Shhhh!’ Ashleigh crouched with embarrassment.

  ‘Jeez. Is this in bloody French?’

  ‘We are not here to see the movie.’

  The man and woman instantly swivelled around in their seats and
glowered at Ashleigh, who decided to move further to her left, so she was now one seat away from Todd and three from Jordan.

  ‘And it’s one of those bloody chick flicks.’

  The two patrons turned around again but scowled at Todd instead.

  Ashleigh knew how to whisper effectively. ‘We are here to discuss what we're going to do with our investigation and assignment.’

  Todd had lost interest in the film within seconds. ‘But why couldn't we talk in the bar? We might get more people we don't really know buying us more beers we don't really need for reasons we don't really understand.’

  ‘Exactly. There's nowhere safe to meet and talk anymore.’ Ashleigh paused, her voice now almost inaudible. ‘And I think I’m being followed.’

  Jordan was vaguely interested in the special effects onscreen. ‘I know I am. And Mum thinks our phone is bugged.’

  Todd found it problematic to be incredulous while whispering. ‘You still live at home?!’

  Jordan shrugged. ‘Sort of … And Mum does has awesome Wi-Fi.’

  Ashleigh pointed to Todd. ‘And we can't meet at your disgusting student flat. Or go back to Uni.’

  ‘Are you really afraid of that huge mob back at Uni baying for our blood?’ said Todd.

  ‘I don't know if I’m more afraid of angry Catholic protesters or reps from drug companies. And …’ Ashleigh paused as the man in the tracksuit approached them. Out of habit, the three students cowered and braced themselves for a tongue-lashing.

  But Tracksuit Man offered Ashleigh a business card. ‘Perhaps, I can introduce myself?’

  * * * * *

  Ashleigh dashed into the cinema toilets and checked that each cubicle was empty before returning to the door. ‘OK, get in! Quick!’ As Todd and Jordan stumbled in, their initial apprehension was overtaken by fascination at the cleanliness.

  ‘I’ve never been into a women's toilet.’ Jordan paused to consider his statement. ‘Not sober anyway.’

  Ashleigh peered around again, although she knew the toilets were empty. ‘We should be safe in here while the movie's on … That guy out there in the tracksuit is probably another rep from another bloody pharmaceutical company.’

  ‘Another rep?’

  The three students spun around in sync, but only Ashleigh could close her jaw and speak. ‘Holy crap! How did you get in here? And this is the ladies!’

  Tracksuit Man studied his surroundings. ‘And so it is.’ He glared at Todd and Jordan. ‘But at least I wouldn't get arrested for being here.’ He slid a hand inside his jacket, extracted a badge, and presented it from a distance.

  ‘FBI?’ Jordan squinted.

  ‘CIA?’ Todd also strained his eyes.

  ‘Way too many movies, lads.’ The man shook his head. ‘I am here to protect you.’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘You don't believe me, Ashleigh, but–‘

  ‘How the hell do you know my name?!’

  ‘–I am the good guy.’

  ‘No, I don't believe you.’

  Todd decided he could also be defiant. ‘And I won't decide whether to believe you until you buy me a beer.’

  ‘I need a pee.’ Jordan rapidly became agitated when he couldn’t find a urinal. Ashleigh coughed and pointed to a cubicle. ‘Ah.’ Jordan moved inside, locked the door and started peeing – very loudly.

  Tracksuit Man continued. ‘You are now being chased – some would say hunted – by drug companies for information.’

  ‘What sort of information?’ said Ashleigh timidly.

  ‘The identity of that doctor ...’

  ‘But we keep our sources confidential.’

  ‘… and a sample of the drug so it can be replicated.’

  ‘The doctor didn't tell us anything.’

  The man paused. ‘I don't think you realise what every single pharmaceutical company in the world would give for that information. Or what they would do if you don't give them that information.’

  Ashleigh shuddered at the implied threat, but continued over the sound of Jordan peeing. ‘We don't know anything more than what you've read in the papers and seen on YouTube.’

  ‘You could lead me to the doctor.’

  ‘We could, but we won't. Even if you buy him … ‘ She pointed at her friend. ‘… a beer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Todd.

  They turned as the female patron with the umbrella entered the toilets.

  Then, they all spun back towards the cubicle as Jordan flushed, opened the door, and zipped up. He glanced at Umbrella Woman and reddened a little. ‘Who ..?’

  ‘My colleague has explained about the pharmaceutical companies, but I'm here to tell you about the other enemy you've made.’ Umbrella Woman briefly checked her hair in the mirror. ‘The other extremely angry identity more powerful and potentially hateful than all of the world's drug companies combined.’

  ‘My mother?’

  The woman knew Jordan was someone she could and should ignore. ‘The Vatican. And The Pope is really pissed off because he needs an afterlife. The fear of Hell keeps people in churches. It makes people give money to the Church. And it keeps people afraid. And the Catholic Church needs people to be afraid, so they go to church and give money.’

  ‘But what can The Vatican do to us?’ Ashleigh realised her voice had tightened to an insecure croak.

  ‘Within a day, the media and, therefore, the people will turn completely against you – each of you. Murky secrets about your lives, your studies, will be unearthed. True or not, it doesn't matter. And the media will report, and the public will believe, that those two gangsters can't be trusted about a concept as important as the afterlife.’ Umbrella Woman gazed menacingly at the three students in turn. ‘You have no idea how far The Vatican will go to protect its business. And make no mistake, Catholicism is a business – one of the biggest, most powerful and ruthless on earth. Part of a mega-industry called religion. Your journalism careers will be ruined before they've even really started.’

  ‘But could that really happen?’ Ashleigh’s voice was now barely a whisper. ‘Can all the media turn against us?’

  ‘The media will do whatever we tell them.’ Umbrella Woman placed a business card on the basin, and indicated that Tracksuit Man should follow her out. The three students stared silently at the toilet door as it sluggishly clunked shut.

  ‘I need popcorn.’ Todd waited a moment before leaving.

  ‘I need to pee again.’ Jordan turned into the same cubicle and bolted the door.

  ‘And wash your bloody hands this time!’ Ashleigh picked up the business card left by the woman on the basin. The only word on it – RELIGION – was typed in an unusual font. Below, a telephone number and email address were listed, but Umbrella Woman’s name was not. Ashleigh twirled the card and noticed subtle shading on the back that created a large R. She eyed Todd with exasperation as he entered hugging an enormous bowl of popcorn and a giant-sized cup of Coke.

  Ashleigh then scrutinised the business card given to her by Tracksuit Man. In the same large but unusual font was also a single word: PHARMACEUTICALS. Underneath were more telephone and email details, but, again, no name. Angling the back of the card to catch light streaming through a window, she noticed the same subtle shading that formed a large P.

  She jolted as Jordan exited the cubicle and placed an unwashed hand into Todd’s bowl of popcorn.

  Jordan smirked at Ashleigh with his popcorn-packed mouth. ‘I didn't do a number one or two that time. But you may be interested to know that I set up this earlier on top of the cubicle door.’ He slowly raised his other hand which clutched a video camera.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday

  Located a few blocks from the University of Adelaide is Hindley Street. Despite efforts to beautify and gentrify, the lower end is still a dingy and, at night, seedy thoroughfare dotted with places with signs proclaiming “Asian Massage”, “Karaoke Lounge” and, inevitably, “For Lease”. Felafel stalls and kebab sh
ops feed the nocturnal, while during the day a few city-workers trickle towards the bookshops and fast-food outlets.

  Ashleigh thumped a rolled-up copy of The Sunday Mail into her palm. ‘Todd, this is ridiculous!’

  ‘You said we should meet somewhere safe. And the place you decided we should meet was that shit-house art-house Frenchy chick flick. So, it’s my turn. And I also wanted to mix business with pleasure.’

  ‘But did we have to meet in an adult sex shop?’

  ‘You know, this place is up for sale.’ Shuffling down an aisle within Club XOX, Todd was immediately intrigued by a mannequin dressed in black leather lingerie.

  But Ashleigh was still seething. ‘Are we working on the assumption that Doctor Olsson is telling the truth? That she and this group she’s in have this drug and have used it?’

  Todd picked up a whip and flexed it. ‘I thought that doctor lady was nice, and honest. And I say that even if she hasn't bought me a beer.’

  Jordan flicked through a selection of erotic DVDs before realising better offerings were online and free. ‘Evidence does point to the fact that she and her group invented the Eternal Drug.’

  Ashleigh shuddered as she peered around. ‘But is it the first time they've used the drug?’

  Jordan shrugged. ‘I don't know.’

  ‘Does anyone else have access to the drug?’

  Jordan shivered as he accidentally fondled a vibrator. ‘I don't know.’

  ‘Why was this group's first experiment done on two gangsters?’

  ‘I don’t …’ Jordan realised that he didn’t care that he didn’t know, so he inspected a G-Spot Link Sex Position Strap.

  ‘And what is a Non-Believer anyway?’ Ashleigh spun towards Todd who was trying to untangle the whip. ‘Why don't any of you idiots know this?’

  ‘You're the bloody interviewer!’

  Ashleigh frowned, silently conceding the point. ‘We need to speak to Doctor Olsson again.’

  Todd sheepishly put the whip back as a sales assistant approached. ‘Ash, everything's been quiet for a few days. And I don't think I'm being followed anymore.’

  Jordan stopped fidgeting with an Anal Fantasy Ass Kicker with Cock-Ring. ‘I hate to say it, but I think Toddles is right. That pharmaceutical rep guy with the cardigan at the bar must've found Doctor Olsson, got the drug …’ He groaned. ‘… and we missed out on a paltry few billion in royalties.’

  ‘… and free beers.’ Todd seemed even more disconsolate than Jordan.