From Nemesis Island

by Christine Mustchin

  ‘He’s usually known as the chief,’ the man replied.

  ‘How strange. What’s his field of education?’

  But the professor frowned and turned away.

  Richard was struck by the oddness of the title. The man himself was an enigma too. After all, Richard had knocked around a variety of educational establishments and met a great variety of academics and teachers in his time. He struggled to place this man in the world of education. He looked through the large window that overlooked the grounds. He wondered what he was about to be shown. His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of the girls who were led in by yet another of the young men. Richard thought the girls would have been in their teens or early twenties. The main thing that caught his attention, however, was how beautiful they were. Whether blond, brunette, short or tall, pale or dark skinned, they were all irresistibly attractive. With difficulty he suppressed any erotic thoughts. Considered objectively, the presence of such ubiquitous beauty in an educational establishment was curious. A petite figure approached him. Her large dark eyes stared at him earnestly. She raised a hand nervously to check that her long auburn hair was in place and then smiled; at least her mouth tilted upwards though her face did not truly light up. She held out a hand and they shook.

  ‘Welcome. My name is Kareema.’

  He noticed the dampness in her palms.

  ‘Hi. I’m Richard.’ For once he did not use his abbreviated name.

  ‘If you would come with me please,’ she said. ‘We are to start with the sports complex.’

  She turned and looked at the man who had led them in, as if for approval. He nodded and they left.

  They walked in silence until they were at the edge of the swimming pool.

  ‘It’s Olympic size,’ she said proudly. ‘Every morning we are given a choice of physical activities to pursue. Some of us swim, others use the gym or follow exercise classes.’

  ‘Is there a lot of emphasis on physical training?’

  ‘We are told that training both the body and mind is important. Achievement in one benefits the other.’

  The old dualism again but, this time at least, Richard could concede it was being put to practical effect. They left the pool area and wandered through the rest of the sports complex. There was no doubt that the facilities were impressive and the demonstrations that were in progress showed the success of the training.

  ‘How long are you here for?’

  ‘That depends; for some it will be a few weeks for others months. It depends on the abilities you bring and how quickly you learn.’

  ‘I see. You all learn English, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. It’s the language of the world. We’ll need it wherever we go.’

  ‘And what do you hope to do when you leave?’

  ‘That depends on my placement.’

  They had entered another building now and Richard was being processed through the IT classroom. No question about it. They had all the best equipment. He was pretending to be interested in a demonstration of the girl’s computer skills while wondering exactly what she had meant by the word placement. She finished and logged off.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’re found work before you leave.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How’s that arranged?’

  ‘I can’t answer that.’

  Not able or not allowed he wondered.

  ‘Shall we go on? There’s so much more to see; the music room, the theatre, cinema, classrooms…’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he interrupted her. ‘I’m not feeling well. Can we go back to the library? I feel rather faint.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course. Can I help you?’

  ‘No, no, that’s all right. I’ll be okay if I sit down.’ He hoped his feigned illness did not look unconvincing. She seemed to accept his sudden indisposition.

  What he really felt was a sudden nausea with the whole programmed tour. It was too slick, too well organised. They went straight back in the empty library. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, not too melodramatically he hoped.

  ‘Would you mind getting me a glass of water?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be right back.’

  Richard waited a few seconds following her exit, and then he too left the room. He knew when the tour was due to end and thought a good look round on his own was a much better use of his time. He moved quickly away from the library and turned a corner. He wandered along the passageway with no clear idea of what he was looking for. An intersection lay ahead. Suddenly he tripped and fell. He looked around anxiously but the noise appeared to have brought no one to investigate. He bent to tie up the shoelace that had caused him to stumble and, getting to his feet, he saw her. She stood in the middle of the intersection, slim and elegantly dressed, looking intently at him. She had the same remarkable beauty of the girls he had already met but there was something more; a radiance that the others lacked. They did not approach each other but stood, each fixing the other with a quizzical gaze. She opened her mouth to speak but instead disappeared round the corner out of view. For a second he hesitated and then followed where she had gone, but she was nowhere to be seen. The walls seemed to have absorbed her. He shrugged and continued his exploration. He began to feel the pointlessness of his wanderings as if he were some second-rate private investigator. A shaft of daylight crossed the corridor ahead of him and he heard noises drifting in from outside. Cautiously he approached the source of the light, only too aware that he had no ready explanation for his presence if discovered. A side door was open and he could clearly see a delivery van unloading boxes. Nearby a storeroom door was ajar. He heard a crash and words that must have been expletives from their explosive tone. The deliverymen had evidently dropped some boxes. Richard gambled that they would now be delayed in unloading them and went into the storeroom. He knew he hadn’t long, but a swift glance around was enough. The cardboard boxes, labelled only with numbers, had been allocated to clearly marked sections whose headings included whips, bondage gear, two way mirrors, canes, leather garments, rubber goods, video and film equipment. He heard voices and made a rapid exit from the storeroom, running along the corridor as swiftly as his endeavours at silence would allow. He had not realised the library was so far away. As he slipped back into the library he knew his calculations had been wrong. Everyone had already returned. The girls were standing in front of them and he saw Kareema, flanked by two men. One of them approached Richard when he entered the room.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  Richard disliked the tone of the question.

  ‘I wasn’t feeling well. I went to get some air.’

  ‘Kareema said you asked her to fetch a glass of water.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right but I wasn’t well enough to wait. What’s the problem? I’m back now.’

  ‘She should have stayed with you if you were ill.’

  Nothing further was said but Richard noticed that Kareema was pale and trembling. He thought it rather an overreaction but felt sorry for her. Disregarding the looks of disapproval from the men, he went up to her.

  ‘Sorry if I dropped you in it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’

  ‘I mean I apologise if I have made it difficult for you.’

  Clearly whatever English was taught here was not colloquial. He was glad that he was spared further awkwardness as the chief returned for his farewell address. The girls filed out and he saw Kareema exit last, her arms firmly gripped by the two men.

  The chief did not speak for long and then questions were invited. Only Richard appeared to want to speak.

  ‘I understand that your students are found employment before they leave the island.’

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. We’re very proud that we take care to ensure that their future is secure.’

  ‘How is that organised?’

  ‘We have contacts with a great number of influential people.’

  ‘Can you be more precise?’

  ‘I’m
sorry, I’m not at liberty to say more. It’s a question of confidentiality.’

  ‘And what sort of employment do you find for your students?’

  ‘We have no restrictions on where they can go.’

  ‘I understand that you use the term placement. What does that mean?’

  ‘It’s just the particular word we like to use. And now if there are no more questions I thank you all for coming and wish you a pleasant return journey.’

  He got up and left before Richard could formulate another question. The trip back to the mainland was on a slower larger launch and they were all together. The five other guests talked animatedly amongst themselves. Richard sat apart from them, excluded from their obvious camaraderie. From time to time the group would glance his way as though he were the subject of their conversation. Richard turned away unusually embarrassed. The setting sun sharpened the outline of the receding island hills, surrounding them in a pink haze. There were still questions to be asked: questions that he had not been given a chance to put. What sort of education really went on there? He was intrigued by what he had seen in the storeroom. That would be something to start thinking about. And what about Kareema? Perhaps he should be concerned for her. Perhaps she had every right to be scared. Nothing quite added up. He needed to know more. Dougie’s idea did not seem so odd now. There could be a story here after all.

  He looked down at the sea streaming from the stern of the boat. He recalled the priest’s kindly approach on that first evening when he had looked down at the sea from the port. He wondered how he was. He had made no effort to find out since his last visit. Now he felt a curiosity about the priest’s assault. He couldn’t immediately see how a solicitous enquiry about the priest’s attack could help him find out more about the island. Investigative journalism was one thing, personal involvement best avoided. And yet…. something nagged at him. He would pay him a visit tomorrow.

  18

  Richard knocked on the door. He waited awkwardly, regretting his decision. He turned away just as the door opened. It was the father himself.

  ‘Ah, good morning, my son. Do come in.’

  The door opened a little at the invitation and Richard could do nothing except step inside. He entered the large, gloomy entrance hall and shivered slightly, inhaling the mustiness of the interior. It was no more welcoming than on the last occasion.

  ‘This way please.’

  Father Piontius walked slowly ahead into an equally dark room with heavy oak furniture and shuttered windows.

  ‘Forgive me. I have not long been awake. After the early morning mass I returned to sleep a little.’ His hand clutched his head around the temples and he closed his eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Father?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ came the reply. ‘Let me lighten the room for you.’

  He opened only one of the shutters by a fraction and allowed a trickle of light into the gloom.

  ‘I hope that is sufficient. My eyes are finding brightness difficult today. Do sit down.’

  The chairs were barely padded with faded cloth cushions that had long lost their comfort. They did not permit a relaxed posture. Richard accommodated himself to the furniture and enquired again.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right.’

  The priest went to sit down himself but stumbled. Richard moved quickly to break his fall, setting him down gently on the chair. He saw that the old wound had healed but that a new dressing was fixed over the opposite side of his head. Blood had trickled and dried around its edges.

  ‘You’ve been injured again.’

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about. I stupidly stumbled and fell yesterday.’

  His tone was unconvincing to Richard who was beginning to distrust coincidences and accidents as explanations in this place.

  ‘Have you been to the island now?’ the priest suddenly asked.

  ‘Yes. Yesterday.’

  ‘What were your impressions?’

  ‘It’s very beautiful there but I’m curious about the place after seeing it.’

  ‘In what way, my son?’

  The priest’s voice was calm but strangely insistent.

  ‘I’m not sure we were getting the complete picture. There was no way you could fault the facilities. They had a superb sports hall, a small cinema and theatre, a music room and a magnificent library as well as the expected classrooms and IT facilities.’

  ‘IT?’

  ‘Information technology: computers and all that sort of thing.’

  ‘The ways of the world are leaving me behind,’ said the priest shaking his head. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The students we met all seemed well-educated, polite and had no complaints. But it all seemed rather, how shall I put it, choreographed?’ He thought better of mentioning how attractive he had found all the girls.

  ‘And that troubles you?’

  ‘It makes me uneasy, and, when I found a way of going off on my own to look around, I got a very frosty reception when they found out. The girl who was supposed to be showing me around looked as though she was in deep trouble too.’

  ‘Perhaps you were mistaken.’ The priest leaned forward awkwardly in his chair. His face had lost any veneer of tranquillity.

  ‘Perhaps,’ echoed Richard, unconvinced. ‘Even so, I’d like to know just what sort of education those girls are really getting. I’m very suspicious after what I saw.’

  He was just debating with himself whether to elaborate on what exactly he had seen when Father Piontius turned very pale and began to sweat. Suddenly he slumped to the floor and Richard rushed across and bent over him. He felt his pulse. It was very slow and weak. He looked around helplessly for assistance. As though in answer to his plea, a door opened and a young girl entered. She gently put her ear to the priest’s mouth and then raised his head so that it rested in her lap, stroking his head. He revived a little at her touch and together she and Richard helped him into an inner room where there was a makeshift bed. All the while she spoke soothingly to him in the language that Richard now recognised but did not understand. She fussed gently around him until sure that he was comfortable and then sat stroking his head gently. Eventually he fell asleep.

  ‘Is he all right now?’ asked Richard deferring to what he considered the female role.

  She looked sadly at him and shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t you understand English?’ All the girls on the island were fluent and Richard had made a wrong assumption in her case.

  She shrugged again and turned back to the priest. Some papers had scattered to the floor as the priest fell and Richard bent to retrieve them. He could not help looking through them as he tidied them into a heap, his journalist’s instinct never far away. There were bills, and what he took to be parishioners’ letters and church communications. Among them all he found a single sheet of paper with an embossed crest. He could see no address or signature; simply a date and a hand-written note in English, ‘Arriving tomorrow. She is to stay until we contact you again.’ Richard looked at the crest. He had seen it before. It was printed on the front of the brochure of the island.

  19

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ Fi was frankly astonished.

  ‘No. And I’m not even exaggerating,’ countered Trish. ‘It was like something out of a film, only real and very scary.’

  ‘How on earth did you know what to do?’

  ‘I don’t know really. From The Sopranos I guess: or perhaps one of those other crime series that Dick watches all the time. I don’t know.’

  ‘Why on earth do you think that car was chasing you?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Trish was annoyed at her inability to come up with anything concrete. ‘But I did see it again you know.’

  ‘No …..’

  ‘Uh, uh, at the airport. Well it certainly looked like the same car and the guys I saw with it were wearing dark suits and red ties just like the men who were after me. They were meeting a girl.’

  ‘All sounds very strange to me.’


  ‘That’s what I think now. I was too wound up at the time to register much more than relief at getting on the plane in one piece. It’s a bit odd. And there’s another thing: the girl was with a guy I’d spoken to when I arrived. He said to contact him if I had any problems with transport.’

  ‘Really. Any idea who he is?’

  ‘He gave me his card but I binned it. Thought he was a bit pushy.’

  ‘Well you’re certainly going to wow them at the next dinner party. You’ll be able to dine out on that story for ages. What does Richard think?’

  ‘Ah,’ Trish paused. ‘We haven’t been in touch actually. Things became a bit difficult while I was there.’

  ‘Have you split up?’

  ‘No. But I’m not sure where things stand right now. We had quite an argument. He can be so annoying sometimes: wrapped up in his own world, making assumptions about other people.’

  ‘You mean about yourself.’

  ‘Well, okay, yes, about me. He seems to think we’re on course for a “happily ever after down the aisle” situation by default. We haven’t even discussed his moving in with me. He just did it.’

  ‘Your trouble, Trish, is you’ve lived on your own for too long. Had things all your own way.’

  ‘I need my space. I’ve got a busy responsible job and I have to be organised. Dick’s just the opposite. Drifts along and expects me to be on hand when he fancies it.’

  ‘Well, well, Miss Negative. He must have some good points.’

  Trish paused and then laughed.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Trish laughed again.

  ‘He’s bloody good in bed.’

  Fi smiled.

  ‘Is that the reason you made all that effort to fly out and see him?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well…. I was a bit curious too.’

  ‘How come? You’ve never been interested in Dick’s assignments before.’

  ‘True, but he kept going on about this one, saying how boring it was going to be checking out a young ladies’ college abroad: how there was no real story to be had and how he couldn’t see why he should be wasting his time going to an island full of girls when all he could do was window shop. It all sounded a bit preposterous like he was hiding something.’