Others (38 page)

‘Company?’

‘He wished to know others like himself. He demanded friends to whom he would not feel inferior. He wanted to indulge in activities without being unequal. As for me, I began to see the beauty in them all.’

As much as I should have welcomed that last remark, I knew only too well that the sentiment wasn’t reasonable, no matter how hard these ‘love-all-your-fellow persons, we’re all beautiful inside’, politically correct idiots might try to convince themselves and others (believe me, I’ve known many of these types myself and they’ve never convinced
me,
let alone normal people). Wisbeech wasn’t looking at his charges through natural or honest eyes: their beauty to him was as experiments, as research specimens. Unless… I took in the cameras, the arc lights… I remembered the artworks around the home itself, the subtle change in beauty’s definition the further you ventured into the building… unless he and his twin brother, both coming from different directions obviously, had become so wrapped up in their arcane world that their own proclivities now leaned towards the unnatural… Perhaps the film-making was, to use the doctor’s own word, a profitable by-product of their own unhealthy interest. Perhaps the other twin was so disabled he could only watch, the films an extension of his own voyeurism… I looked towards the mirror again. Complexity upon complexity. Jesus, now even / felt unclean.

I became aware that Wisbeech was still talking, still using me as… as what? He
was
using me, of that I was sure. As a confessor? No, I don’t think he felt any shame in what he did, what he had become. An arbiter of some kind, then, someone who might understand and even bless all his good works? Could it really matter to him? I think now that ultimately he was trying to justify himself
to
himself, that he had reached a point in his life, one that comes to us all eventually, usually at a certain age when something tells us that death is not that far away, when it was time to take stock and perhaps assess oneself
for
oneself. Complexity upon… I’ve already said it. Suffice to add that it all made some kind of sense to me later.

‘I had become quite established in my profession by the time I approached the relevant authorities to allow me custody of unfortunate babies born so disfigured that there was virtually no possibility of their survival. I’m sure that you’re aware that the worst defects are allowed to expire shortly after death through their own unnatural causes. Without the knowledge or permission of the parents involved, of course. It’s a practice that has been going on since both man and animal have roamed this earth - animals are merely less sentimental about it. Doctors have always informed parents that such newborns have died shortly after birth to spare them the shock of knowing they have given breath to a monster. Terribly sad but, I’m afraid, a fact of… well, a fact of life itself. However, what is not generally known - certainly not by the public at large - is that some of these mutants do not always die immediately after birth. Some can live for years afterwards and these are hidden away and cared for until nature truly does take its course.’

That’s… that’s wicked. Christ, it’s obscene.’

‘Is it? You think it’s kinder to let a mother know she has just given birth to a grotesque?’

‘At least it would be her decision whether or not to let the baby die.’

‘You think so? Even though such offspring usually expire within moments of being born? You honestly believe the mother’s grief should be added to in that way? Your emotions, if not your brain, should tell you otherwise.’

I suppose I was stunned into silence, even though I’d learned little more than I had suspected.

‘So, after very little persuasion, I might tell you, my researches were authorized and funds were even granted provided I matched them with some of my own. Dominic was delighted to help me with that. The stipulations were very strict - I was only allowed to take away babies who had no hope of living beyond a very short time, those so enfeebled by their disfigurements that they would, indeed, be better off dead. However, the survival instinct of humans, no matter how tortured their bodies might be, is incredible. Not many, but at least some, lived beyond all expectation, and here I have nurtured them, raised them, cared for them.’

‘You call what you’ve done in this place caring for them?’ This time I couldn’t hold back my contempt, my disgust.

Would you have preferred them to die? Perhaps you would have had them aborted before they even left the womb? At least I have given them life.’

What kind of life is it to be locked away in windowless rooms, or in underground cells, kept on drugs, used in ways…’ I shook my head, spitting out the words. ‘Shit, you call that
life?’

‘Your anger should be directed at those who would give them no life at all merely because they do not come up to normal expectations, abortionists who kill for money or their own prejudices, mothers who dispose of their unborn babies for the sake of convenience. Even
those
who deem it merciful to put less fortunates out of their misery. Look at you, Dismas. Would you rather have been murdered at birth? Has living given you no joy at all?’

‘You can’t compare my life to the lives of those you’ve hidden away here.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’ve always had my freedom.’

‘But what kind of freedom? Haven’t you always been imprisoned by your afflictions? And isn’t it so-called ordinary people who have forced that upon you? Tell me what you think would have happened to those flawed children - and I regard them
all
as such, as my children - tell me what would have happened to them had they been left to exist in the outside world. If they had been allowed to survive after their birth, that is.’

They would have been taken care of.’

They would have been treated as freaks of nature.’

‘Isn’t that how you treat them here?’

‘Have you no comprehension at all? They live among others like themselves. They are with friends, and here, no one is abnormal, because they are all abnormal, nonconformity is the conformity. They even form attachments. They are allowed to procreate, Dismas. Can you imagine that happening were they under the protection of the authorities, or in the care of their own parents?’

‘Allowed, or coerced? Isn’t that part of your experiment with them, encouraging them to produce offspring, just so you can monitor the results? Christ, I’ve seen some of the specimens in your laboratory upstairs.’ I puffed on the cigarette, not too much, just enough to keep it alive. ‘You’re a sick son of a bitch, Wisbeech,’ I told him mildly.

This time I got through to him. His patrician’s face darkened and a vein began to throb in his temple. Those keen blue eyes of his took on a glare.

I continued to taunt him. ‘How did it come to this?’ I waved a hand towards the cameras. ‘How long did it take before your interest - and maybe it
was
an interest born out of duty towards your brother, who knows? - how long before it became a perversion? And then how long before you saw it as an opportunity to make even more money?’

I grinned meanly at him, enjoying the glare that had now become a blaze in his eyes. But then he surprised me by smiling back, a cold superior smile that maintained his original contempt. Cigarette held between his fingers, Wis-beech gave me a slow, soft handclap.

Well done,
Mr
Dismas.’ The
Mr
was back. ‘You almost succeeded in annoying me again. You are quite perceptive, but not wholly correct.’

He folded his arms, one hand raising the cigarette to his lips. After exhaling a forceful stream of smoke, he said: ‘Even though my brother had inherited considerable wealth, it could not last for ever. An establishment like Perfect Rest and its annexe is expensive to maintain, even if our older and ostensibly “normal” guests pay a high charge for the privilege of residing here; little do they realize that a large portion of the fees they pay goes towards this more important work of mine. I have to travel far and wide for rare exotica, from Brazil to India, from New Guinea to Cuba, their recognized value to collectors such as myself making them ever more expensive to purchase. The wealth we had - that Dominic had - was soon dwindling and I had to look for other means of finance. You would be amazed at the high price the films we produce command. They’re unique, you see -‘

They’re degrading filth!’ I felt Constance start at my raised voice.

They are exquisite,’ Wisbeech insisted, unperturbed.

If I thought he might admit his own degenerate obsession had led to the natural progression of turning sick propensities and private activity into celluloid entertainment for those with similar tastes, I was wrong; Wisbeech obviously could never be that self-accusatory.

Twenty years ago,’ the doctor continued as if enjoying his own lecture,’ “snuff” movies were all the rage and, of course, freak shows have always been popular, with or without the sexual element. Imagine a combination of both. Have you any idea of the kind of money such explicit extravaganzas can fetch? I no longer sell my films to a secret elite of well-heeled enthusiasts, whose special tastes demand more and more extreme and taboo-breaking divertissement, I
auction
them.’

I wanted to leap on him, wanted to smash his past-its-prime-but-still-handsome fucking head with my fists, but I contained myself. All right, I
struggled
to contain myself, but I managed because there were still questions I wanted to ask before I made a move of any sort.

‘You allowed Hildegarde Vogel to stay at Perfect Rest presumably at no cost,’ I said, as a preamble to the first of those questions continuing to trouble me. Was she blackmailing you? Was she threatening to expose your whole operation because she’d worked for you in the past, helped you find and sneak away those deformed babies?’

He gave a short and quite unpleasant laugh. ‘Hildegarde was a person who would not even conceive of the idea of blackmail. She was a kind little woman and she always thought she was doing the best for those poor creatures she helped bring into the world. As a midwife, Hildegarde knew what would happen to them unless she intervened; she had helplessly stood by too many times and watched those infants die. Hildegarde Vogel was invaluable to me for a great number of years; I might even say she was devoted to me, or at least to my cause.’

‘She knew about your tests, your experiments with them.’

‘Good God, no. She only saw them in the place in which they were kept. I doubt Hildegarde even knew of the laboratory’s existence, and she certainly wasn’t aware of the chamber beneath us and the extreme cases kept there. But eventually her health failed her and, I’m afraid, so did her mind. She began to suffer from dementia, as well as the appalling emphysema, and I could no longer trust her to remain silent about our work. Unfortunately, her tongue had begun to ramble as much as her brain and so I brought her here, where I could keep a careful eye on her. She had no family and very few friends, so her visitors were almost nil.’

‘Did you have her killed? After I came to see her, were you scared of what she might give away?’ My stare was as blunt as my questions.

‘I was concerned, but she came to no harm from me.’

‘You didn’t answer my question. Did you have her killed?’

‘Her heart simply gave out. Admittedly, it was after a night visit from our friend over there in the corner.’

You bastard.’

‘Oh, her time had come, Dismas. As it comes to us all eventually. As it will come to you…’

I ignored the scarcely veiled threat. ‘As it came to Henry Solomon?’

Tour agency colleague? I thought we would return to that matter sooner or later.’

‘Why? Henry had nothing to do with any of this.’

Wrong place, wrong time. How often does that happen in life? How often does it lead to death. It could have been you, Dismas.’

You came to my office to kill me?’

‘Not at all. I had no intention of killing anyone that evening. I merely wanted you frightened, a sort of warning to keep away from Perfect Rest. Your enquiries were becoming a nuisance. We had no idea it was your office address that you left in our visitors’ book.’

‘But you didn’t have to kill Henry!’

‘It wasn’t my choice. I allowed our demon friend to go up alone, aware that it would tear the place apart. Instead, it was your colleague who was torn apart. You know, I’d forgotten that Brighton is such a lively place - I thought the streets would be quiet at that time of evening, so at first I was a little worried that there were so many people about, wandering the streets, particularly along the street in which your office is located, with its restaurants and theatre.’ He gave another short, humourless laugh. ‘But the irony of it. Even though my - what shall I say? My protege? - wore a voluminous cloak to disguise the worst aspects of his shape, I was concerned about the attention his appearance might still bring, so when I saw so many people dressed in bizarre costumes, wearing such extravagant and grotesque make-up, I could hardly believe our good fortune. At first I thought they were all on their way to some fancy dress event, but then I realized what the show was at the nearby theatre.’

Yes, I remembered too.
THE ALL-NEW ROCKY HORROR SHOW.
What a joke. I felt sick to my stomach.

‘Although I let him go up on his own, Nurse Fletcher took him to the door first - which was open, by the way. Very careless of your late colleague, although one hefty push from our friend would have opened it anyway; but Solomon’s carelessness was useful - not having to force the door saved us from gaining further attention. I had noticed a glow from a window that I assumed belonged to your office, and naturally I assumed you were working late. Thought you were a one-man band, Dismas, didn’t realize you had an organization behind you. Your type of cheap investigator generally doesn’t.’

I was becoming impatient, the cigarette I was occasionally drawing on burning low. I still wanted answers though, before making any kind of move, so I kept quiet, let Wis-beech enjoy himself.