Of course they would be if they are willing to abduct someone. I don’t know why I would have been expecting otherwise. I move my vision slowly up towards each of the windows and scan for any movement.
As I reach the highest turret, I see a figure moving in a window. As I refocus the binoculars I notice I’m holding my breath in anticipation. I see a woman staring out of the window into the countryside. I gasp in shock and can’t believe what I’m seeing as I focus in on Alexa. Her wrist is across her chest and she looks like she is rubbing the bracelet around her wrist. My god! My heart almost lurches out of my chest and into her hands as she continues to caress the bracelet.
The vision of her is utterly mesmerising and it’s almost if time stands still as I reflect on her beauty. How can she be so close yet so impossibly far from me? I pick up my phone to call Sam but there’s no reception from here.
I continue to gaze through the binoculars, mesmerised by the sight of her. As far as I can tell, she looks well enough. Scared and unsure but still herself. Thank god. I feel the first pang of relief in my heart since she was taken. I try to will a message to her that I’ll come for her soon, it won’t be long. Just hang in there, sweetheart. Hot tears well in my eyes and spill down my face but I don’t care. The emotion is too raw to contain. I need her back in my arms. My vision blurs and I have to look away to wipe my eyes. When I focus in again, I can see the shapes of more people in the room, but they are difficult to see clearly. Alex steps back from the window and then they all disappear from my view.
At least I know that’s she’s alive and exactly where she is, the bracelet firmly intact. This is great news. Now, with the help of Martin’s men, we just need to get her out of there. I slump against the rock, suddenly fatigued by the nervous energy that has been coursing through my body. I grab some water and a piece of fruit, aware that it has been a while since I’ve addressed the needs of my body. Anxious to update the others, I prepare for the long journey back down the hill.
As I descend I notice an ambulance driving through the chateau’s gates. Once it is parked, the driver and passenger quickly emerge, run around to the back and slide out a stretcher before being ushered into the huge front doors. There are a few other people in strange uniforms milling around as well. The stretcher returns, moments later, with a body strapped on it. I grapple with my bag and retrieve my binoculars, focussing them quickly, and am horrified to see it is Alexa strapped to the stretcher, lying so still with only her face uncovered, her dark hair cascading over the whiteness of the pillow and sheets. Shit, what is happening now? They carefully manoeuvre the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, and a man, presumably a doctor given the stethoscope around his neck and black medical bag he’s carrying, accompanies her in. A silver Audi Q5 pulls up behind the ambulance and a well-dressed female is escorted into the back seat. The colourful guard signals both drivers and they slowly pull away from the chateau towards the village. I realise I have barely been breathing as I watch this scene unfold before my eyes. As if I’ve been suddenly released from a spell I start running and screaming after Alexa. I lose my footing and tumble down the hillside towards the cars, my cries completely silenced by the sound of the siren that pierces the still afternoon air.
PART FOUR
To judge well
To comprehend well
To reason well
These are the essential activities of intelligence
— A.Binet & T.Simon, 1916
Alexa
I wake up in the morning with a pounding headache. I search through my bath bag until I find some Advil. Thank heavens I packed it; I’d hate to break my silence and have to ask Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee for pain relief. I think how normal it is for people to swallow pills for so many of our ailments — most of the time treating the symptoms and not the cause, yet we expect them to work effectively and fast and complain bitterly if they don’t. I’ve never stopped to think about how such pills come to the market — how they were tested and on whom before they reach the shelves in our homes to be ultimately popped into our mouths. Distracted by this, I know I really need to focus, as I’ll probably be having one of the most significant discussions I’ve had in my life very soon. I can sense the contract silently taunting me from the corner of the room. I tell it I’m not ready yet. A knock on the door signals that it will be opening and I’m grateful to see the chambermaid carrying in a breakfast tray. Eggs Florentine. As if I would be able to say no to that. My stomach growls on cue and the maid vanishes quickly from the room.
My appetite doesn’t seem to have wavered one bit in these shocking circumstances, although last night I did lose a fair amount of what I’d eaten thanks to my reaction to Jeremy’s treachery.
Should I have ever let him back into my life? I think of Robert and can’t deny Jeremy’s reappearance triggered the discussion we should have had years ago. No, I don’t have any regrets and refuse to live my life that way. My relationship with my estranged — albeit still under the same roof — husband is now probably better and more honest than it has ever been.
Why couldn’t Jeremy just talk to me, tell me about his results, his plans? Does he not think I’m strong enough to handle it? Well, watch this space, Dr Quinn. After fully devouring every skerrick of food on the plate, I wash it all down with some fresh orange juice and settle myself in front of the contract.
So absorbed am I in my reading I barely notice mademoiselle chambermaid enter my room again to remove the tray and deliver a perfectly timed café latte. I have a strange sense that they have a dossier prepared on my likes and dislikes and are now trying to make up for my horrifying abduction. Either way, my headache has cleared thanks to the food and drugs and I am grateful the coffee has arrived. I nod in silent thanks and watch her as she and her black-and-white frilled uniform depart my room — they can’t be serious dressing her in that, can they?
Onward! It’s as if I’m gearing myself up for all-out war, though against whom is still be to determined. For the first time in days, a chuckle escapes me. I’m not sure whether it is from constant nervous anxiety or perhaps sheer relief that Xsade Pharmaceuticals don’t appear to want to hurt me. It seems they just want to verify Jeremy’s discoveries. I still don’t comprehend why they specifically need me to do this — I must be missing something. Deep down, I know there is a certain way to find out and I need to muster the personal strength to go through the required motions.
Using the elegant pen and engraved stationary provided in the drawers of the antique mahogany desk, I summarise the contents of the contract to the best of my understanding to help solidify the key elements of the agreement in my mind. I can’t help but think that this is a far more professional way of engaging my services than a damn blindfold and handcuffs! I sense my anger building again at the thought of what Jeremy put me through, but at the same time I can’t deny the tingle below when I think of the memories. Why do they excite me so much? Why is nothing simple with him? Enough of this torture to my heart. Back to business.
Duration
A total of 72 hours within the clinical experiment facility — excluding travelling time to this location (undisclosed within this document) Maximum of four days in total in the absolute care of Xsade
Conditional agreements — to be negotiated
1. Human penetration — With strangers? Good grief, no!
2. Non-human penetration — Possibly…
3. Testing of the purple pill: female Viagra — I can’t help but admit this intrigues me, I wonder what it would be like? Definitely a maybe.
4. Sampling and testing of orgasmic excretion fluid — Oh, here we go again. No catheters. I need to underline this to remind myself this is non-negotiable.
5. Sampling and testing of blood type — Hmm, more blood tests. Something about this doesn’t sit well with me. My gut says no.
6. Monitoring of neural activity and pathways — The psychologist in me can’t deny that I’m intrigued to see these results and at least this way I’l
l be given access to them, unlike Jeremy and his hidden documents. So that’s a yes.
7. Monitoring of blood flow to erogenous zones — I suppose so, whatever.
8. Enema — What the? I will certainly be discussing this in more detail.
9. Establishing emotional and physical baseline — Well, at least this confirms that they are taking a scientific approach.
10. Non-Disclosure Agreement — Access to all data research, findings and conclusions will be provided to the Experimentee at the conclusion of day four. The NDA looks pretty basic, yet doesn’t prevent me from showing the results to Jeremy, for example. That’s if I care to share them with him at all after his secrecy. I get a strange inkling that they almost want me to share them — weird!
1 1 . Xsade undertakes to be wholly responsible for the safety and care of the Experimentee and to return the subject unharmed to a destination of her choice at the conclusion of the experiment — Well that’s comforting.
Suddenly, for the first time since arriving here, my children don’t feel so far away from me. I relish the warmth in my heart and decide I just need to make it through the next 72 hours. That’s what I must focus on, for them.
12. At any time during the process of clinical experimentation, the Experimentee may halt proceedings due to emotional or physical discomfort. I can’t help but think how I would have ‘halted’ proceedings mid-parachute jump! Imagine if that had been one of the conditions of my weekend with Jeremy? It would certainly have guaranteed a different outcome, I’m sure. However, in the scheme of things I certainly don’t have problems with this term.
1 3 . A sum of GBP one million shall be deposited into the bank account of the Experimentee on completion of the clinical experimentation process. Holy shit! One million pounds — are they serious? How on earth could I be worth that much to them?
Jeremy offers me a position on the Global Research Forum and then refuses to keep me in the loop — on anything! And they offer me this? Now I’m really intrigued, what are they so desperate for? Why not choose any other ‘Anglo-Saxon, pre-menopausal’
woman? This is just too weird for words. What if they don’t find what they’re looking for? Do I still receive the money? Based on the terms of this contract it appears that I do.
What are they looking for?
The familiar tingling sensation ripples across my buttocks as I ask these questions but instead of leading to feelings of orgasmic sensation, it is quickly negated by my anger at the lies and deception that have now become so obvious to me. These tingles — are they sensory memories of my previous experience? They can’t possibly just be based on emotions can they?
Damn it, I’m going to find out what all this is about myself since Jeremy doesn’t think I warrant receiving the research findings. How dare he treat me like this? Well, Madame Jurilique, it seems we have a contract to negotiate. While one part of me feels slightly nauseated at this thought, another part is ready to embrace the experience with a ‘bring it on, don’t mess with me’
attitude of high resolve. I must admit, my own determination even scares me a little.
A tap on the door indicates my reading time is over. I quickly glance over the rest of my notes and the contract, confirming that it is fairly standard. I slip the papers back in the folder.
‘Dr Blake, Madame Jurilique is ready for you in her office.’ I look at Fred and can’t help but glance down at my attire. I raise my eyebrows in his direction.
‘The discussion is far more critical than your state of dress of this stage, Dr Blake.’ I have to agree; maybe he is more perceptive than I’ve given him credit for. I mentally withdraw my
‘brawn’ judgements. I scoop up the dossier from the desk and follow him out the door.
Madame Jurilique is seated behind a large desk in a pale blue Chanel suit, looking all class.
I look like a casual Aussie ready to go for a power walk along Bondi Beach. Oh well, I didn’t ask for this. She can take me as she finds me! I sit down opposite her.
‘ Bonjour, doctor, I trust you slept well.’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did.’ It feels weird to hear my voice out loud. It seems like forever since I last spoke. Her smile is cold and professional.
‘Excellent, well let’s get down to business. I assume you have read the documents and have some questions, oui?’
Here goes nothing. I decide to launch straight into the details and cut to the chase. Best get this over and done with.
‘Enema?’ I have never had one before and always wondered what it would be like, but in this scenario?
‘Liken it to colonic irrigation, which many people experience on a regular basis as part of their overall health regime.’ She pauses to assess my response. I remember one of my friends has a monthly appointment for exactly this process and raves about how fantastic she feels every time. ‘It’s important to us that you begin the experimentation process “clean”, allowing us to control and monitor your body more effectively for the next seventy-two hours.’ She looks directly into my eyes before continuing. ‘Alternatively, we can monitor your motions back in your room until such time —’
I quickly interrupt. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it.’ I don’t want to spend any more time here than required.
‘Good. I’m sure you’ll have no regrets, it’s a very safe procedure.’ It’s not so much the safety that concerns me, but I don’t really want to dwell on the messy details, so I move on.
‘I am not comfortable with any form of penis penetration as part of the experimentation process.’
‘No problem, I shall note it down. No human penetration?’ Oh jeez, this really is the weirdest discussion I’ve ever had in my life.
Phew, that was a little easier than I was expecting. Madame continues. Next. ‘Excretion samples?’
‘Yes, from your orgasms. This is non-negotiable.’ She seems incredibly confident that I’ll be having orgasms…we’ll see about that. I feel like I’m signing up to a Kinsey experiment.
‘This is what you need to test to confirm Jeremy’s results?’
‘We believe so, yes.’
‘Will it hurt?’ My voice falters a little.
‘It is not our intention to do you any harm, Dr Blake. If it did not hurt with Dr Quinn, it will certainly not hurt in our environment.’ Well, it could be described as sheer unadulterated pleasure with Jeremy, but that’s what got me into this trouble in the first place. Concentrate, you are negotiating your life, your freedom, Alexa. Focus! I glance quickly at my notes.
‘I don’t want a catheter.’
‘You will not be required to have one. You will see that the equipment in our laboratory is state of the art and designed to make our clinical patients as comfortable as possible.’ That’s a pleasant change from what I had conjured up in my mind.
‘Okay. Good.’ I continue. ‘No blood tests. This is non-negotiable for me.’ For some reason, the memory of Jeremy’s discussion with me about my blood makes me not want them to have access to mine.
She frowns. ‘That provides us with some difficulty, Dr Blake.’
‘I’m sure you are able to access blood samples from other people with AB blood.’ I say far more confidently than I feel.
‘True, however…’ She seems lost in thought, her finger rhythmically tapping the top of her clipboard, as if her brain is trying to find a way around this impediment. ‘How many vials did Dr Quinn take when you were under his care?’
Under his care…what an interesting way of describing it. She seems almost desperate for this information? I notice the skin above her lip is beading in perspiration. This is obviously extremely important to her.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Not sure, or unwilling to disclose, Dr Blake?’ The undertone in her voice is cutting. She stands up from behind the desk and stares out the window before returning her steely gaze to meet my eyes.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ I state more firmly. ‘Jeremy is aware of my dislike of ne
edles and hospital equipment.’ Although it still didn’t stop him from using it, the thought shudders through me.
‘Hmm. This could be problematic.’ She looks thoughtful. ‘Definitely non-negotiable, oui?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Why so, Dr Blake? It’s only a bit of blood.’ Her eyes penetrate my brain as if she is trying to decipher just how much I know and might be hiding from her. God, I wish I knew more, rather than simply running on gut instinct as I’m doing right now. The obstinate look on her face leaves me with no doubt they could take my blood by force right now and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. Why am I so adamant? I harden my resolve in an attempt to play her game and even out my odds in this bizarre negotiation.
‘I am willing to undergo your experiment, Madame Jurilique, for seventy-two hours as requested. I have agreed to allow you to penetrate my anus for an enema which, for your information, I have never had before. I am willing for you to stimulate me enough to capture the fluid secreted from my orgasms, which is what I believe you need for your research. I am not willing for you to extract vials of my blood.’ I hope I am sounding more convincing than I feel.
She looks lost in thought before continuing: ‘As this is a negotiation process,’ she states rather reluctantly, ‘would you be willing to consider a pinprick of your blood every twenty-four hours, so we can at least link it directly to our laboratory results?’
I return her stare as she stabilises her hands against the desk awaiting my answer.
‘I suppose that would be fine.’ For some reason, I just don’t want them to have enough of my blood to run a whole series of tests with it and I just hate needles. A pinprick I can live with.
‘Good. Any other questions?’
I quickly refer to my notes. ‘I will then have access to the results and be released?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I will be going to one of your clinical facilities, but I won’t be told where, is that correct?’
Destined to Feel Page 9
