Thirty Four Minutes DEAD (34 page)

“Electrocuted, Greg. To her tiny hands plug sockets were a game. Life was a game, a beautiful game”.

Gregory Vain realised that he was falling into Levene’s trap and he responded accordingly.

“Fuck you. Get out, bitch. You twisted sick bitch. You want me to activate a ‘hate performance’ in my head don’t you? You fool, it’s all locked in me anyway. More pure hatred than you could ever contemplate, wall-to-wall project hatred. There you go, I’ve fucking said it bitch, there’s your fucking performance! Go and press yourself on Tavini, you and he share the same scent. The stench of foetid copulation!”

Levene left, and maybe she had lost for the first time - maybe.

Greg had the exploration headgear removed the next day. He knew that surveillance of his vaults would have taken place, but he was now tired of the fight. As he was conveyed back to Scotland a few days later, he thought long and hard about his project future. He felt reasonably confident that Denison wouldn’t let him be put to the torch like Fray, but he wasn’t so sure that he would let him leave. Vain waited to be the first, he wanted to retire from the MC-Project.

Tanya saw Vain before he noticed her and Rachel. She would recognise his loping gait anywhere. For once she got the first words in.

“Rock star makes it home! Nice eyes, shame about the hair, though!”

The three Vains shared an embrace that was foundered on deep affection and long absence. Gary was fishing in the valley river. He would share the welcome home later. The first day home always revolved around the children until the adults could converse more openly in the late evening, when the juveniles had gone to bed. Several areas needed to be addressed on the first night on this occasion - a metaphorical cross-roads beckoned the whole family. Greg launched into the conversation in the lower reaches of the villa gardens - the pair didn’t assume that their residence would be devoid of any project bugging devices, so the garden represented their sanctuary. Vain whispered his initial polemic line of delivery, expelling the overpowering hatred he now felt for most things that were connected with the MC Project. He divulged the prerogative three conditioning and detailed the brawl that split project ranks. He then proceeded to take Tanya through the events surrounding Fray’s satanic probing and his eventual demise in flames on a corroding submarine conning tower. Tanya listened entranced and only when Vain detailed Levene’s evil incitement when he was under surveillance, did she interrupt.

“You’ve stopped fucking her then, Greg?”

Vain initially played the straight card.

“Yes, some time ago, love. I guess I caught Levene’s poison for a while. I was hooked in her stagnation!”

“You can cut the bull there, Mr Vain. Confessions through flowery metaphors are never quite as honest as real heartfelt words, are they? Just give me events straight as they were. Don’t just blame her. I mean she didn’t have possession rights on your penis did she?”

Vain realised that his words were indeed entrenched in excuses and hand over blame allocation. He launched into profiling Levene from start to finish. His words had truth mould them this time around. The speech wouldn’t be a total catharsis as he would always carry a level of guilt with him, but they finally killed the spell that Marcia Levene represented.

“At first I resisted her, curious and enchanted by her looks, but I managed to preserve a distance that was anchored by my love for you. As time progressed the project exacted more and more out of me. The workloads became more arduous and my time with you was severely restricted. In Designations Levene started to become an outlet, a release from the claustrophobia that force - fed all project members. In Chicago we nearly died and I guess that experience brought us closer. In hindsight, she was different then, more tender. Perhaps I even started to love her. In Washington during the days of the peace conference we were caught in a wine bar, sexually preoccupied. The affair wasn’t consummated then, and we came within an inch of summary execution for breaking the project protocol surrounding the no-contact edict that MC Project were meant to observe. We were like wayward kids getting caught in our first heavy-petting session. She was the directive partner at this point, a woman with a dark edge that somehow drew me in rather than repelled me. Back in London we eventually did engage in sex. I feel as guilty as hell now, but at the time I was caught by her. Ironically it was Tavini who helped me break her hold. His foetal conditioning work represented a kind of hell on earth to me, and by supporting his prerogative three direction, her attraction waned in my eyes. I was effectively set free from her, but my rebel status magnified as a result of my opposition to Tavini’s work. After breaking her hold on me I learnt to hate Marcia Levene. This culminated in the ‘twisted sick bitch’ line I threw at her when I was under surveillance. I’m sorry, Tan. I guess I was attracted to her. There was deep feeling between us, but now there is nothing but hate. My feeling for Levene, Wheeler, Tavini and others is equal - a uniform hatred that makes me repulsed by their collective presence”.

“Thanks for the truth, Greg. I’m glad she was just a passing phase. Your eyes had told me about Levene months ago anyway”.

Gregory Vain knew that his wife had been hurt by his words, but he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders with his confession. He wanted to express his love for his wife straight away, but Tan pressed him to bring her up to date with his current project standing. Vain told her that he was going to ask Denison in person if he could be the first MC Project resignation. He was about to divulge his intended approach when Tanya halted him in his tracks.

“If you go back to Washington you know you’re a dead man Greg, and they aren’t going to keep the rest of us alive as a mark of respect, are they? We’ve got to leave tomorrow night, I know a way”.

Vain was amazed. He thought that his wife had taken leave of her senses.

“No one escapes, Tan. You must be mad to contemplate the idea! Leif wouldn’t wipe me. I’m like a second project son to him. A formal release would benefit everyone, it would sow a good seed and relax the bad feelings that are blowing through project ranks”.

Tanya clasped Vain’s face with both hands. A gesture, which had been utilised once before by other hands in a far off place. She hooked his full attention.

“I’ve had months to think. Greg. I’ve anticipated your current situation countless times. Not the specifics, but the baseline has never been far from my thoughts. The project doesn’t need you anymore. You’ve been pushed to the periphery more and more. To them you’re a bad seed now! Sure you’re popular, but not with those who drive things. You’re so fucking naive - staring into the barrel of a gun and yet still hoping for a ‘job well done’ pay off! Get real Greg, you’ll be the next Fray”.

Vain knew that she was right. On occasions even now, he would try to run away from the reality of a situation. He had shot his mouth off too often in project circles, and his actions had made him a potentially dangerous incarnate maverick spirit. He asked a question to Tanya, as he felt that she might harbour the survival plan that was essentially out of his grasp.

“What is your way out of here then, Tan?”

“At last it listens! Mark Davies is one of the security patrol guys here. I recognised him six weeks back. We were at Art College when I was in my teens. We were very good friends then and we’ve envisaged a similar situation to this arising for some time now. We’ve talked about a way out many times. There’s a ‘blind spot’ pick up point behind our residence, where all four of us could be concealed - smuggled out in his security vehicle. Mark leaves the confines of the project village at eleven each evening. He enjoys a high status and his vehicle isn’t scanned thoroughly like most of the others that leave the village. I know, I’ve been through with him twice before, to survey escape possibilities for myself”.

Vain broke in with senses of excitement and jealousy conspiring together.

“What’s in it for this guy? I mean, was your friendship a between the sheets affair in your college days or what?”

Tanya was momentarily indignant.

“Hypocrite. I almost wish it had been! Rest assured ‘oh-so-worthy’ husband, Mark’s gay. Always has been. Some people still do decent things, you know. You’ve been too long in the confines of your fucking project. Society is still blessed with those who don’t seek an alterior motive”.

As Vain contemplated his wife’s words, one of the surveillance fighter planes flew overhead. Tanya continued after the noise subsided.

“Look, our villas have a security inspection every second day. They’ll give us the once over tomorrow, sometime in the morning. If we go tomorrow night, we’ll have around thirty-six hours to escape and seek a place of refuge. I’ve already got a journey in mind, involving a safe haven where we can lay low before eventually losing ourselves in Europe, when our scent has been hidden for some time”.

“You’ve got it all figured out love, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. How much cash have you got? Obviously we’re going to use pseudonyms, so hard cash will be our only source to enable transactions”.

“Only about six or seven grand”.

“Luckily I’ve got a fair bit more. I’ve seen this day coming for some time like I said, so I’ve been making preparations. We should survive for a year or so on what we’ve got between us”.

The pair talked for a while longer before going back into the villa. After making love, they fell asleep, sprawled out naked on the living-room floor.

In the morning Voight came round to undertake the aforementioned security checks. He was surprisingly gushing in his warmth, proffering a smile to all the Vains and conducting his inspection with an informal air that went with his good-natured demeanour. Greg and Tanya both knew that they were witnessing a beguiling falsehood in the man. They knew that if Vain did return to Washington, Voight would probably be at the forefront of the trigger-pullers.

As night dawned, Mark Davies was true to his word. When Tanya had contacted him in the grounds of the project village earlier that day, he had been more than pleased to comply with the escape plan. After all, he and Tanya had prepared its execution as an envisaged real-life scenario and not a supposition.

Hiding the Vains in the confines of Mark’s security vehicle went without a hitch, and the children were very mature as Greg concealed them. Rachel and Gary had both detected the seriousness of their escape from the fraught worry-lines hanging over the faces of their parents, and they were determined to support their mum and dad with impeccable behaviour. Davies drove his security vehicle through the tunnel and no searches apprehended their progress. The Vains had broken out without breaking sweat. An old friendship had effectively extended a middle-digit farewell to the ‘total-control’ prerogatives of the MC Project. The world hadn’t fully changed yet.

Davies dropped the family outside the main Edinburgh railway station, Vain with a baseball cap and Tanya with a ‘last resort’ haircut administered by her own hands. They briefly whispered their gratitude to Davies, hugging him close to their family unit. After his departure, their journey continued. The Vains now running under Peterson as a pseudonym if anyone asked, boarded the 06.07 train to Poole and when this destination was reached, a further short rail journey to Portsmouth Harbour was taken. A taxi was then the chosen method of transport, conveying the family to a ferry terminal that dealt with Channel Island crossings. The Vains boarded a ferry and alighted in Guernsey. Tanya’s flawless escape route was nearly over.

After the family had enjoyed a small breakfast at a hotel called ‘Auberge des Isles’, one further sailing awaited the group - a twenty-minute crossing to Herm, the smallest Channel Island. This was Tanya’s envisaged retreat. None of the Vains had been there before, but Tanya had read about the beautiful Island and when she realised that Greg could fall out of project-favour, it seemed the perfect place to hide. All the Vains were booking into the winter-let accommodation on Herm some four hours before the project listed them as ‘missing’.

After three weeks on Herm the Vains felt as though they were locked in paradise. They were acclimatising to being known as the Petersons with ease, as only a handful of families forged an existence on the island in the winter months, and most days were spent free from any searching conversation from others. Only a white stone hotel and a clutch of shops reminded the family of the outside world, and subsequently a uniform blanket of privacy hid their existence. Gary and Greg went fishing off the wilder side of the island, whilst Rachel and Tanya made their own keepsake jewellery from the shells that they collected on the beaches. The weather had remained mild during their settling-in period and the family often remained close to the shoreline until night started to fall. Even then magenta shreds of colour refused to die in the fading sky, until the stars were apparent for some considerable duration.

The whole family acquired favourite areas on Herm, but a common-denominator for all of them existed in Belvoir bay. This beautiful area of the coastline featured a small cove with ivory-white sand. The azure-blue sea that enclosed the bay seemed more akin to foreign climes, and the temperature echoed this continental feel. On September 26 the whole family travelled to their favourite collective haunt once again.