Under a Watchful Eye(67)
‘Mark, I believe he was there, at the SPR property. He must have been. And he wasn’t working alone, because now I have someone else bothering me. A very odd woman. I just want to know what I am up against.’
‘Your friend, and this woman, they said they were from the SPR?’
‘No, neither said much of any use. They were very careful about what they told me. But I’m piecing things together from these papers. And if I can get access to your notes, and these recordings, I might be in a better position to know what to do.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘No. Yes. Earlier. It’s hard to explain. I don’t think they’d understand what this is all about.’
‘I see.’ Though Mark clearly didn’t, he was still intrigued.
‘So, would that be possible, my coming your way? I won’t bother you at all. You can have the SPR stuff while I check out what you have, and then I’ll leave you alone.’
‘Well, I’ve a full week on. Lot of lessons.’
‘I won’t get in your way, I promise. I’ll go through the recordings while you’re at work. And I’m happy to spring for a good dinner. Anywhere you want to go. And when you’ve more time, you’d be very welcome to come down here, for a holiday. It’d be my treat.’
Again the uncomfortable pause.
Seb tried again to reassure Mark. ‘God, I must come across as a really strange bloke. But I’ll explain more to you when I see you.’
This made Mark laugh. ‘I’m not going to disagree with you, but if you really think my stuff will help you out, then I’m not going to leave a fellow explorer of the weird hanging in emptiness! Let me give you my address. Can I also say, it’ll be a thrill to meet you.’
17
There Were Two of Me in that Room
Their reactions to the material could not have been more different; it was akin to one man shrivelling with fear at the sight of a large snake, while another declared it a beautiful creature.
Mark Fry closed a file and replaced it on the table in Seb’s hotel room. He picked up another and began to read, his lips and head moving as he consumed the text.
No sooner had Seb led Mark to the treasury boxes that held the files than the man had become elbow deep, before gazing at the documents with a mixture of wonder and nervous excitement. ‘This is amazing stuff. The mastery of the super-consciousness. It’s coming through at a glance. That’s what Hazzard was after.’
Seb had met Mark Fry at five in the hotel bar, and though incapable of putting people at ease because he came over like a box of scissors electrified by static, he’d invited Mark up to his room. And now stood to one side, content with watching the man’s rapture. ‘Super-consciousness?’ he prompted.
Mole-like, his head shaved but silvery at the sides, his skin naturally dark, Mark nodded his head rapidly, blinking his small watery eyes behind silver-framed spectacles just as fast. As his black denim jacket swung open, Seb got a better look at Mark’s T shirt: Neurosis, Through Silver in Blood, now faded black and stretched by a loose stomach that exceeded his belt. ‘He was looking to control his super-consciousness in order to find the paradise belt. The celestial spheres.’
Mark struck Seb as a naturally amiable character so the sudden intensity was a surprise. The presence of the SPR files were also making the man jitter.
‘There’s not much in there about him,’ Seb offered. ‘But I sense the people have been guided or tutored, and been given a terminology to frame their experiences.’
Mark agreed with a nod. ‘At least he didn’t try and turn the SPR into a religion. I think he had that in his favour. He kept it pseudo-scientific too, even if it was for the sake of appearances to get funding. He never believed science or cosmology were ready for his discoveries, which couldn’t be observed or measured by conventional means. I’m guessing most of these case studies were written by women too.’
‘Most don’t offer a name. But maybe they are, from what you’ve said about his methods.’
‘He was a con man. A total narcissist.’
‘I find it difficult to take seriously. I can’t help wondering why so many did. It’s the terminology. Soul-bodies. Vehicles of vitality. The double. Astral body. And my friend, Ewan, used the same terms, so I’m certain he had contact with the SPR, or whatever has assumed its ideas. He was a fervent believer in the soul too. That death wasn’t an end.’
‘They all were. You said I can take these away?’
‘Of course. I need to take them back with me, so copy or scan them tomorrow, if you can. I don’t know for how long I’ll have them.’
‘Thanks! I want to go through them all, carefully.’
The only way Seb could think of disentangling himself from whatever Ewan had embroiled him in, was to arrange some kind of handover of the files with the odd woman who had appeared beside him in King Street. The thought of it made him feel ill, but he’d been unable to come up with another plan. Assuming she had a connection to Hunter’s Tor Hall, he felt far better paying her a visit than waiting for her to appear near his home again. He’d take his cheque book too, in case a donation might both improve his standing and hasten his exit strategy.
He finally popped the question that was burning through his mind. ‘Mark, I know you think the SPR members were delusional, but can I ask you what you made of Hazzard’s hinderers?’