by Mark Leigh
‘Yes. On my lips. What did you think I was talking about?’
Dick wanted to say semen. Or even spunk, jizz or man-goo. But he didn’t.
‘My memory is very hazy that evening but that taste is how I knew we spent the evening drinking. That and my sore head. She rubbed her temple and Dick had a flashback of Vera falling off the trolley. ‘I’ve never downed eight or nine large glasses of brandy in a single session before. No wonder I felt so ill’.
Dick sighed a huge, huge sigh. It was now obvious to him that all Vera had remembered about the night together was the drinking.
‘Yes. The brandy. We certainly put away a lot that night’. Dick mimed zipping up his mouth. ‘Don’t worry Miss Darling. What happened will remain our little secret. Nothing will pass my lips’. Dick winked, ‘Unlike the brandy’.
Dick was rather pleased with this quip and so, apparently was Vera who smiled and punched him again on the same shoulder, this time with even more force, breaking a few surface blood vessels. Dick smiled weakly.
‘Thank you Mr. Brunel, I knew I could rely on your discretion. I just hope no one else is aware of what took place’.
‘But what about when you left yesterday morning?’, Dick enquired. ‘Did anyone see you leave?’
‘It was six o’clock and thankfully there was no one around apart from the security guards in the lobby. I just told them I’d been working through the night’.
With that, Vera winked again then turned on her heels and left. Well, she didn’t so much turn on her heels as perform a manoeuvre like a super tanker turning in mid-ocean, but the effect was the same. Dick remained, contemplating what could only be described as a lucky escape. Vera had completely forgotten what had really taken place and was grateful that he’d keep quiet about the episode – plus, he didn’t need to have sex with her ever again. If ever there was a win/win situation, this was it.
For the remainder of the day Vera never mentioned the episode. She never mentioned it the day after or the day after that. As far as she was concerned the event hadn’t taken place and that suited Dick; it was almost as good as it never having taken place in reality. The routine of the workplace went on as usual apart from two things. The first was Vera disappearing into one of the meeting rooms with Benjamin, which hardly ever happened. Despite the fact that they weren’t in there that long and both went straight back to their respective desks Dick could hardly contain his curiosity about what had been discussed. He found it difficult to concentrate for the remainder of the day but wasn’t sure whether his relationship was such that he could just ask Vera outright, or whether he needed to skirt around the issue and wait for her to mention it. With his impatience getting the better of him Dick waited for an appropriate moment and then just came right out with it.
‘I noticed you and Benjamin having a tête à tête earlier’.
‘Hardly’, Vera said. ‘He wanted more responsibility and gave me a whole list of reasons why he should be in a more senior position here. It’s obvious that he’s jealous of you’.
‘What did you say?’, asked Dick.
‘I told him that he has a review in a month’s time and that I’d consider it. It’s not that he’s a poor employee… it’s that well, he’s just, well… er…’
‘Average’. Dick finished Vera’s sentence for her. ‘With a small ‘a’’.
‘That’s it. Average. And the Party needs people who are better than average. Mind you, I think the fact that it’s you and not him working on the secret project has made him raise his game. Benjamin seems determined to prove himself so that must be a good thing’.
Dick was puzzled about his colleague’s change of heart. Jesus might have turned water into wine but here was Benjamin changing resentment into motivation – and that seemed a greater miracle. But as significant as this was, the second thing that week which broke the office routine was even more noteworthy. This took place on the Thursday when Dick found himself in a meeting at the Ministry, seated opposite three severe-looking Party members. He and Vera had been summoned before them to review his recommendations for Project Gladstone. Dick thought that this was just another stage in moving his proposal up the slow decision-making ladder until it reached a point where it was rejected outright or disappeared in some bureaucratic development-hell never to be seen or heard of ever again. He was wrong.
He and Vera didn’t know it but the three Party members they were facing were actually from the Party’s Outer Sanctum, which meant they were one step away from the Inner Sanctum and one final step away from the Leader himself. Had he known this he probably would have slouched less in his seat, scratched his balls far more discretely and generally acted far more subservient. He was certain Vera didn’t even know how important the three men were otherwise he was sure she would have warned him in advance or at least poked him in the ribs or kicked him under the table when he picked his nose.
Backed-up by Vera, Dick expanded on a few of the practical points of his scheme and the resources needed to ensure its success. His audience remained poker-faced throughout and there was an uncomfortable silence after he had finished.
‘Miss Darling’, severe Party Member One announced. ‘You may be surprised to hear that we are not seated here to consider Mr. Brunel’s recommendations’.
Dick gave a disappointing frown. That’s not to say that he tried to frown but did it badly, but that it was a frown that indicated how disappointed he was at hearing this news. Vera remained silent.
‘We are here to tell you that the proposal has already been discussed at length and it has the full support of the Leader’.
Vera and Dick looked at each other with equal expressions of astonishment.
Severe Party Member Two continued. ‘We have already commissioned a thorough viability report and given the technical resources available to us at the present time, we feel your solution stands a fairly high degree of success’.
Dick and Vera smiled. Vera smiled because her reputation had been immediately enhanced thanks to Dick’s hard work. Dick smiled because his mind had wandered and he was thinking of what sex with Alice might be like, and also because he knew he’d just ticked the box about getting closer to the Leader.
Severe Party Member One continued, ‘With immediate effect Mr. Brunel will be seconded to our Scientific Research Centre. Here he will assist the technicians working under the auspices of the Party’s chief scientist, Dr. Hargreaves’.
Severe Party Member Three added, ‘His absence from your department will be explained by the fact that was suddenly taken sick. To maintain this pretence we will ensure that Mr. Brunel’s permanent record shows that he was hospitalised for a short time. You will both be given full details of the cover story. It is imperative that we maintain secrecy at all costs’.
‘Mr. Brunel, you will leave here immediately’, Severe Party Member Two informed him.
Dick realised he was about to be whisked away without the chance to reach Taylor and tell him what had happened. Would his sudden disappearance cause Taylor to think that his cover had been blown and he’d been terminated by the Party? Was this what had happened to the previous ‘saviour’ who’d suddenly and without warning completely disappeared? Maybe he too had been summoned to this Scientific Research Centre but this destination wasn’t actually what it seemed… Maybe it was just a huge interrogation centre and he was being taken away to be questioned, tortured and have his penis removed…
Dick farted then looked disapprovingly at Vera, out of her field of vision.
‘Mr Brunel’, Dick became aware of Severe Party Member Two talking to him. ‘We have to leave’.
‘What? Right now?’, Dick asked. ‘I mean, couldn’t I just have one more night at home. You know, for old time’s sake’. Dick was stalling. He wished there was some way to get a message to Taylor. He had to have time to think.
‘No. We leave now. Preparatory work is already underway and time is of the essence’, added Severe Party Member Three. This time even more seve
rely.
Dick fumbled for an excuse. ‘What about my pyjamas? I need these to get a good night’s sleep. I’m very accustomed to my pyjamas. They’re so comfortable and relaxing and I might not be able to sleep in new ones. They might be all starchy and scratch. Or the wrong size or colour. I have to have ones with an elasticated waist, not a cord. The wrong ones might keep me awake and that would mean that I’m all crotchety and sleepy in the morning and won’t be able to concentrate on my work. And we couldn’t afford that to happen’.
Dick was aware of everyone in the room staring at him, including Vera, with a look of bewilderment. Severe Party Member Two broke the silence, lifting a small suitcase on to the table.
‘Mr Brunel. We have your pyjamas here. And some spare clothes and your toiletries. Do not worry’.
But Dick was worried. Very worried. He farted again. This time he pinched his nose and subtly wafted the air around him, still out of Vera’s view. The Party had obviously entered his home freely, probably after he’d left for work that morning, and there was no knowing how many other times they’d done it. Dick mentally walked through every room in his apartment looking in drawers, cupboards, wardrobes and under the bed for any incriminating evidence about him or his mission, before deciding that thankfully there was none. Dick gave a half smile, the sort of smile you’d give to show you were grateful on being reunited with your pyjamas. Vera turned towards him and shook his hand violently.
‘Mr Brunel, congratulations. We will miss you in the department but I’m sure I’ll see you shortly. The best of British luck to you!’
Dick gave another half smile.
‘Thank you Miss Darling. This is a great day for the Department and the Ministry. It is an honour to be able to help the Party in this way’.
He looked at the three Severe Party Members and hoped this sentiment came across with enough conviction for them to believe he was a loyal party member and not the resistance infiltrator who they were determined to unmask. He saw three poker faces and farted again. This time he leaned back in his seat, discretely pointed to Vera and mouthed ‘It’s her’.
Severe Party Member Two caught his eye and mouthed back ‘We know’.
CHAPTER 16
The journey to the Scientific Research Centre was completed in darkness for two reasons. One it was evening and two, he was blindfolded, which was beginning to become a habit. He travelled for about two hours and the sounds of the city became less distinct, giving him the impression that he was somewhere in the countryside on the outskirts of London. Of course, this might just have been the impression the Party had wanted to give, in which case they’d succeeded.
On arrival at this sprawling facility Dick was subjected to endless security checks, cross-checks and cross-check checks. To his great relief his biometric chip withstood all scrutiny. Eventually he was handed an identity badge and directed to a small side room. As he headed towards it Dick felt slightly calmer. He was sure that if he were going to be interrogated, he wouldn’t have undergone all these identity checks. He didn’t know what to expect in the room but was fairly sure it wasn’t going to include a bright light, electrodes or something very pointy. His hunch was correct; it was empty. After a few minutes a woman entered, the first female Party member he’d met who wasn’t unattractive, stern and officious. She was unattractive, stern and extremely officious.
Her name was Lucy and rather than administer a beating she gave him a brief tour of the facilities. If she was trying to conceal the fact that she begrudged the fact that Dick was there, she wasn’t doing a very good job about it. Any questions that Dick asked, whether about the facility or Lucy herself were met with the same degree of brusqueness or indifference. She either didn’t realise how important Dick was, given his role in finding a potential solution to the renegade harlots. Or she did, and just didn’t give a shit. Dick felt Lucy’s condescension was due to the fact he was a mere ‘civilian’, neither a Party member nor a scientist. He wanted to stop her, spin her around and shout in her face, ‘Do you know who you’re talking to?’ but he decided not to, as he wasn’t sure that the work he’d done so far justified this arrogant outburst. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d found a solution to the three biggest problems ever to face mankind: global warming, male pattern baldness or erectile dysfunction.
To be honest, the tour wasn’t that interesting. Most of the doors they walked past were marked ‘Top Secret’ and those that weren’t, were just various anonymous-looking laboratories. Dick wished he could appreciate what he was being shown, but he couldn’t. One large white sterile room with equipment in it looked just like any another. Once he’d seen one centrifuge, gas fluid analyser or dynometer then he’d seen them all. Lucy eventually showed Dick to what would be his temporary quarters. She wished him goodnight in the same way that someone would say ‘go fuck yourself’ and strode off. Dick showered and got into bed. He smiled, relieved that this location was exactly as it had been described. It was a centre for scientific research and not the interrogation centre he feared. He fell asleep thinking about success; being invited to meet the Leader, destroying the secret weapon then assassinating the ruthless despot and changing the course of history forever. Then he got bored with this notion and instead fell asleep thinking about Alice, a bunch of seedless grapes, a table tennis bat and a big tin of chocolate body paint.
Work started in earnest the next morning. Well, that’s not exactly true. Work started in earnest for the technicians and scientists involved in Dick’s solution to Project Gladstone. While most of the team were wielding screwdrivers, wrenches, pliers, spanners or studying paper read-outs and computer punch cards, all Dick could do was observe. This was the nearest he’d come in his life to a feeling of impotence and he didn’t like it. Not one single bit. He was used to being very hands-on in everything he did and here he was, looking on from the sidelines. He wasn’t even permitted to wear a starched white lab coat and this hurt his feelings even more.
Dick learned that a lot of the basic engineering and programming functions were carried out on the lower levels of the building, while the assembly and final testing of equipment was done on the eighth and ninth floors, where he was now. Most of the technicians here treated Dick with the same sort of disdain and discourtesy that Lucy had demonstrated on his arrival. On the few occasions when he was asked his views or comments, these were quietly noted. On the few occasions, when he volunteered his views or comments without being asked, these were just as quietly ignored.
He met the Chief Scientist Dr. Hargreaves, a short, stocky man, just once. He was, Dick thought, too short to be a scientist, let alone a chief one. He introduced himself in an annoying nasal voice and shook Dick’s hand in the manner of someone having to shake a turd. Dick passed comment about some of the work in progress. Dr. Hargreaves nodded, giving Dick the sort of look you’d give someone who didn’t know the first thing about incorporating a reverse polarity zener diode into a conductive armature resonance coil. As well as making Dick feel impotent, this also made him feel small. And that was something else he’d never experienced.
The Scientific Research Centre was the sort of environment that made the ten days Dick spent there feel like twenty. And those twenty feel like fifty. But even though Dick was bored, fidgety and fed up, he could see progress slowly being made.
Finally the last wire was connected, the last bolt tightened and the remaining diagnostic check carried out. It was D-day; the day of the demonstration which was set to take place in a small ground floor auditorium. Dick, Vera and Dr. Hargreaves were seated behind a large desk to one side of the stage. In front of them were two plain velvet curtains suspended from a sturdy metal framework and near to these was a fake brick wall. The setting had obviously piqued the curiosity of the various scientists and Party members in the audience who consulted notes, murmured, or did both. Dick felt a painful twinge in his upper leg and winced. It was Vera gripping his thigh. She turned and leaned towards him, forcing him back with her voluminous bos
om.
‘Are you nervous Jeremy?’, she whispered.
‘A little’, Dick replied looking around at the audience which seemed, en masse, to be studying him.
‘So am I’, Vera admitted in the same low voice. ‘And when I get nervous I have to squeeze something tightly. It helps me relax’.
With that, she gripped his leg with more force than Dick could imagine was possible from anything other than a hydraulic press. Dick flinched and decided that he also wanted to squeeze something tightly; the part of Vera’s body that connected her body to her head. Vera indicated the various high-ranking Party members in the audience but the names meant nothing to Dick. He had hoped the Leader would be there in person but Vera explained that he made few personal appearances, relying instead on reports from various subordinates who were sitting here expectantly, waiting for the demonstration to begin. Dick took the hand-written speech out of his pocket, holding it tightly in his nervous fingers, re-reading it for the eighth time. The speech thanked the audience for attending and the team for their hard work. It then went on to explain the various problems in trying to find a solution for Project Gladstone, giving the audience a broad outline on the demonstration they were about to see. It was, Dick felt, a very inspiring speech and one that had taken a long time to compose.
Dick was reading it for the ninth time when Dr. Hargreaves stood up to energetic applause. As this died down he began the proceedings by thanking the audience for attending, and for his own team’s hard work. He explained the various problems in trying to find a solution for Project Gladstone and then introduced Vera. Vera stood up and gave the audience a broad outline of the demonstration they were about to see. She then introduced Dick who realised that everything he was about to say had just been said. He looked around the auditorium and opened his mouth. No sounds came out so he closed it. He then repeated the motion a couple of times. To the audience Dick looked less like Jeremy Brunel, the man who had devised the brilliant solution to Project Gladstone, and more like Jeremy Brunel the Great Goldfish Impersonator. Feeling the sheer weight of expectation on his shoulders, all he could do in the circumstances was to shrug them.
