“Glad you made it,” he said, as she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat.
“So am I. I’ve just had the strangest experience on the motorway.”
“Oh?”
Brigitte could have sworn there was a faint tinge of pink on his cheekbones. She smiled, enjoying seeing him flustered for once. He pulled himself together and asked, “And what was that?” She told him about the horse and rider as, with his hand against the small of her back, he guided her into the building. “You may find you’ll start to have a lot of that sort of thing now you’re awake.”
“I’m always awake... well in the day time anyway. And pretty much most nights as well.”
“Try not to worry too much. Things will probably settle down in a bit.”
And if they don’t, was on the tip of her tongue to ask. She decided she’d rather not know. “It might sound stupid, but the rider looked an awful lot like you.” Jack laughed.
“Really? Some newspapers might make me out to be a cowboy, but I don’t ride horses. Well at least not along the M11 anyway. You just think yourself lucky it wasn’t a Dullahan.”
“What’s one of those?”
“A phantom horseman, but one without his head.”
Brigitte was quite glad she’d got the normal variety. “It was a bit like the bad dream I had, only worse. I was awake.”
“What bad dream was that?”
As they climbed a set of stairs which led to the first floor, Brigitte told him about the execution. Jack opened a door and indicated for her to go inside.
“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“I’ve written it all down, but we’ve not really had the chance to talk. Everything else has sort of taken over and honestly, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. What was even stranger was I found a picture of the castle on the internet. It freaked me out.”
“Where was it?”
“In Ireland.”
“Really? Which one?”
“Oh, I can’t remember the name, and if I could, I probably wouldn’t pronounce it properly, but I could show you.”
“Let’s get this thing over with Al first and we’ll have a look after. OK?”
Al wasn’t at all how she’d imagined. His balding pate reflected the glow of the florescent strip lighting overhead as he showed her the three study rooms. It might have been her innate sense of humour, but if asked who he reminded her of, she’d have likened him to a chubby Einstein without the hair. His American accent, and the rest of him, seemed out of place in the majestic surroundings of the university.
“So, that’s basically it.” Al explained as though he were talking to a child and for all she understood of what he was telling her, he might as well have been. “We call one end the senders and the other receiver. During the tests you’ll be completely isolated from each other. Follow me.” He opened one of the adjoining doors to show her the room inside. There wasn’t much more in there than a computer, desk and filing cabinet. “This is where I’ll be. From here I can monitor you both. You and Jack will be in one or the other depending on which process we’re following.”
Brigitte tagged along behind Al and looked over his shoulder into what looked like the inside of a stainless steel fridge. “Which is this?”
“This is the receptor’s room.”
“Lovely décor,” It looked like a tin can without the beans.
“Less interference,’ Was all Al said.
She flashed a questioning glance behind her at Jack. He just winked at her.
“This is the sender’s spot.”
It could have been her grandmother’s lounge. It had a homey, comfortable look which would probably have been in fashion in the late fifties. There were long, flower-patterned curtains shading the sash window. The print on the fabric reminded Brigitte of a dress she’d seen her mother wear when she was a child. On one side of the room tea things were spread out on a cloth-covered table. “Why is this room so different to the other?”
Al looked at Jack, his mouth opened and closed as if he was searching for the right answer. Jack saved him by answering, “Input, basically.”
“Yes, yes,” Al seemed to have developed a stammer. “That’s it, input.” For some reason Brigitte wasn’t convinced. “We’ll see how you go on in the basic tests and then...” He waved his arm about. “If there’s a good case we’ll continue. Jack, what do you want to do first?”
“I’ll send until she gets warmed up.”
They left Jack heading for the kettle. Brigitte heard the click when he switched it on before Al closed the door behind them
“Ok, then you go in here.”
She wasn’t impressed when Al gave her a gentle push toward the metal box. If he’d have been wearing a long white coat, he’d look like a mad scientist. Did Jack just laugh? Must be imagining things, he's too far away.
Al, all business, strode over to a long pristine work surface and flipped a button. A digital touch screen emerged from its folded down place on a work surface. He pulled a swivel chair up to it. “Come on,” he patted the soft leather. “Sit here and stop looking so worried.” Her heels tapped a sharp staccato across the metal floor as she went to join him.
“I thought you were going to put me in that one.” She nodded to indicate the black, reclining chair which was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room.
“No, that one’s strictly for professionals. What we’re going to do now is child’s play.”
Is he patronising me?
“I’m going to leave you on your own now, but you’ll be able to hear me. I’ll tell you when we’ve started and finished each separate test. OK?” Al disappeared in an echo of footfalls and the door clunked closed. Brigitte decided it wasn’t really the moment to tell them she hated being shut in. For want of anything better to do she sat in the chair, kicked her feet against the floor and had a quick whiz around. She remembered being in Paul’s office and said a quick ‘thank you’ that at least here strange things seemed to be the norm.
The screen in front of her was still blank. Hoping no one was looking she waved her fingers in front of it and whispered abracadabra.
“Are you playing?” A voice said in her head.
“Would I do a thing like that, Jack?” Brigitte’s answer was a low, almost inaudible murmur. It just didn’t seem right to talk without speaking. Probably. She giggled.
“This type of experiment usually exerts some formal level of seriousness, but obviously not in your case.”
Get you?
Al’s voice crackled into life over hidden speakers. “Ok, I think we’re all prepared. Just so you know, your room is sound-proofed and there are no speakers in the sender’s room which avoids any chance of Jack eaves-dropping. He’ll see a green bulb light up which tells him we’re ready. In a moment some images will appear on the screen in front of you and I want you to press on the one which you think corresponds with the image Jack is transmitting. Easy as abc...” Brigitte wasn’t sure if she was on camera or not, but she nodded anyway. “Ok...are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Relax. The soft mantra of Jack’s voice faded into a silence which lasted for a few seconds before it was broken. Brigitte cocked her head to one side to listen better. She could have sworn he was humming an out of tune song, but she wasn’t sure. She put it out of her mind and tried to concentrate.
The four images of the basic Zener cards popped up in front of her on the screen. She waited for something to happen. This was silly, she was sure Jack was singing an old David Essex hit she remembered from when she was a girl. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought and touched the screen where the star diagram was displayed.
“Ok, on to the next one.” She nearly jumped out of the chair. Then Jack's voice sounded in her mind as loud and clear as Al’s had been over the speaker.
I thought this was supposed to be serious, Jack.
These tests tend to get a bit repetitive when you’ve
done them a few times. Press the button will you, I can’t remember the rest of the words.
Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear, one step, two step and tickle you everywhere. She finished the nursery rhyme for him and pressed the circle.
“Ok,” Al said. “We’re onto the third.”
Which window is it today? It’s the square window.
Playschool ? How many children's TV programs have you watched, Jack?
Not many, but I thought you might have done. Have you got it right? The square?
Yes, I heard you loud and clear.
“Ok, next.” Al’s voice interrupted their conversation. Jack didn’t hesitate.
Wave goodbye.
Oh, so soon and I was just starting to have fun. Brigitte hadn’t realised she’d stopped murmuring out loud until she leant forward and touched the image of the black wavy lines. That’s a first, I must be the only woman to talk with her mouth shut.
I’m all for the new breed.
“Very funny. What now?” The sound of her voice in the metal room sounded strange after the silence. Al didn’t leave her guessing for long.
“Now we do it another forty six times and then we’ll take a break before you change places.”
After more than an hour the test was starting to get boring and Brigitte had to stifle a yawn. She was relieved when Al piped up they’d finished the first fifty. She stood up and stretched. Jack stuck his head round the door.
“Sugar in your tea?”
“No thanks and I’d sooner have coffee if you’ve got any.”
“There’s bound to be a jar of instant somewhere, I’ll go and have a look.”
“Come and drink your it in here.” Jack called out a few minutes later and Brigitte went through into Al’s office. The smell of the coffee set her stomach rumbling.
“Thought you might be hungry.” A plate of Swiss roll slices sat next to the two steaming mugs. “We’ll borrow Al’s internet connection and you can show me your Irish castle while we have our tea-break.”
Ravenous, Brigitte grabbed a big piece of cake and took a bite. “This is scrummy. I didn’t realise it, but I’m starving. Is this mine?” She asked and picked up one of the drinks. Jack, who was fiddling about with an optical mouse, nodded.
“I don’t think this is working.” He slid it over the desk top. “Ah, that’s it. We’ll have to be quick as Al won’t like us being together when he’s not here.”
“Why?” Brigitte mumbled through a mouthful of cake.
“Not scientific.”
“Huh?” Was all she could utter through the chunk of cake she’d slipped into her mouth.
Jack bent down and whispered in her ear. “We might fix the test results.”
With the last piece of cake still in her hand, Brigitte typed some letters into the Google search box, pressed enter and waited for the results to come up. Jack’s head stayed next to hers as he peered over her shoulder at the monitor. His close proximity was making her nervous.
“Careful,” he warned. “Don’t get crumbs in the keyboard. He might not seem it, but Al’s a bit of an order freak. He likes everything to be in its right place and just so.”
“What he can’t see, can’t hurt him.” She brushed some crumbs off the desktop and then clicked on a title in the listing which had appeared. The page was slow loading, but when the photo eventually emerged Jack did a low whistle. He looked at the picture then looked back at Brigitte. She sat as still as a statue as his arms wrapped around her shoulders in a strong hug and he kissed her on the cheek.
“Oh, you little doll.” She wasn’t sure if he meant her or the castle.
“I find it amazing that Myrrdin may have been executed in Aughnanure. Everyone knows he was in Ireland at sometime or we’d never have had the legend about him and Stonehenge.” Brigitte hated to look stupid. Sometimes she didn’t have a choice.
“What legend’s that?”
“Stonehenge? He stole the stone from Ireland.”
“Oh,” No, she hadn’t known.
Jack seemed lost in his own little world. “That takes it back to at least the fifth. Strange, the current structure’s much later than that. Though what he’s got to do with the area I don’t know. I’ve never come across anything about him being there before”
“He was in Ireland or going there... when he came through.” Brigitte was very self-conscious about her nocturnal scribblings. “You know,” Flustered, she waved her hand about in explanation. “After you told me to start writing everything down. It was the first thing he told me.”
“It’s very strange and well before anything I’ve got. The tower house was built by the O’Flaherty’s in the sixteenth.” Jack was pacing the room and talking to himself. Brigitte realised she might as well have been on another planet. “Aughnanure,” He repeated the name a few more times to himself as if he was trying to remember something. “Achadh na nlubhar.”
Is he swearing in some obscure foreign tongue or casting a spell?
“Achadh na nlubhar means the field of Yews. So it must have been an old pagan site. Though at this precise moment, I can’t see the connection. Fascinating, but vague. Yet it gives me something to work on.”
Brigitte just nodded her head, confused.
“What are you two doing?”
Brigitte shot out of the chair as fast as if she’d been caught smoking in the school gym. Al was not impressed.
“Jack, you know better than this. Now you’ve been together, we won’t be able to publish the test results.” He threw his arms up in dismay. “We’ve wasted the whole morning.” His chubby face had turned bright red. “How do I know you’ve not been fiddling with the results?” He brushed past her and rattled away at the key board. He looked at the figures which appeared on the screen. Stood up straight then and stooped to give the display another close perusal while he scratched at the bald spot on his head. He slipped his glasses off, leaving them dangling around his neck on a gold chain. “You have, haven’t you?”
“Have what, Al?”
Someone's patience is starting to fray.
“Changed the test results.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t you think you might be exaggerating just a bit, Al? All we did was a quick Google search and nothing else. Why?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.’ He threw his arms in the air again.
If he flaps any more, he’ll take off. Brigitte wished she was somewhere else.
“Do you know the odds of a one hundred percent hit rate? It’s...it’s ...impossible.”
Jack smirked. “Nothing to it really, it was child’s play, right or not, Brigitte? And now we’ve proved the point...”
“I think we should run some more tests... “Al said, still gob-smacked.
“But not more cards today, they leave me brain dead. I think we should see how far we can get. Do something a bit more interesting. In for the cràic, Brigitte?”
She wasn’t too sure what he meant, but nodded anyway and answered, “I’m game.”
“Now tell me what I was humming before we started.”
“Could have been Caravan of Love by the Swallows.”
Jack tutted. “The Housemartins.”
“It was so out of tune, I wasn’t sure.” It might have been her imagination, but she was sure Jack growled.
“She’s ready, Al. We’ll keep it off record until we’ve done all the sequence tests, but let’s give it a go. Who’s to know? We’re not exactly wasting the board’s money, no-one even knows we’re here.”
“True,” Al agreed. “Go on then, Jack, into the box. Brigitte, you’re in the sender’s room.”
“Gentlemen, it might be a strange question in the circumstances, but just exactly what do you want me to do?”
“Let’s do off the cuff,” Jack was quick to pipe up before Al could answer Brigitte’s question. “It’s not going on record, so whatever happens, it doesn’t matter. What do you say, Al?”
“Why
not.” He shrugged his acceptance and handed Brigitte a note pad from his desk. “Choose anything in the room and try to give Jack an idea of what it is. Write it down in the order you send it. Don’t expect too much, this is pretty advanced stuff which, to be frank, I don’t expect to work.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Jack said out loud. Brigitte knew Al didn’t hear the rest of what he said. It was in her head and her head alone.
Al hasn’t twigged on to how we’re communicating. He thinks we’re doing it with images. Let’s keep him in the dark, shall we?
“Ok.” Without thinking Brigitte said it out loud.
“Did you say something?” Al looked at her.
“No, not a word.”
“Off you go then and we might be done by tea-time. I’m partial to the English tradition especially when it’s accompanied by a slice of cake.” Jack just raised his eyebrow and Brigitte left the room fast. They’d eaten the lot.
Jack went into the box. The rubber soles on his shoes squeaked against the flooring as he walked towards the receiver's chair and sat down. It was the only thing in the room which didn’t gleam pristine with operating theatre quality surgical steel. He stretched backwards, pushing the chair into a more relaxed position. Something he'd done many times before. The black calfskin leather cushioned to accommodate the contours of his lean body. His shoes fell with a dull thud onto the metal floor and he gave his toes a wriggle to loosen the restriction of his silk socks.
Al’s voice came over the speaker. “Are you wired, Jack?”
“No, not yet.” Which makes a change. He turned in the seat and grabbed what looked like a small pair of earphones. He slipped the headset on and positioned a black disc against each temple. The piece of equipment fit snug across the back of his head. He lay back and waited, glad Al only used it to read his brainwaves and not his thoughts.
She's at a complete loss and doesn't know what to do. Jack closed his eyes. Looks like this is going to take a while. Hurry up, girl. All of a sudden, images started to pour through his head. With rapid eye movements he tried to register the pictures as they flicked through his mind and then gave up.
I might have been doing this for longer than you, but even I can’t mind read that fast. Put the magazine down and try something else, like one thing at a time?