Seven Point Eight (18 page)

“I value your kindness, Mr Richardson. You’ve made me feel more than welcome.”

“You can call me Max, you know,” he said, dismissing formalities.

“Max…I won’t let you down, I promise I’ll be worth your trouble.”

He seemed unsure how to take her comment, but replied. “I’m sure I won’t regret bringing you here.”

When their meals arrived, he regularly glanced over at her, watching her lick her lips to catch a dribble of sauce, and he couldn’t help but imagine it elsewhere... She caught his gaze, although didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m so happy about the test tomorrow,” she declared, as if trying to divert his attention. “I want to show you what I can do.”

“Actually, I’m so confident you can deliver that I’m skipping the initial tests.”

Tahra gave him a puzzled look. “Why would you do this?”

After a pause, he decided to be truthful. “Until recently, I had an advisor…a very trustworthy advisor who recommended I go to
Tehran
to headhunt you. She informed me that you had…superior abilities.”

“Then it was no accident….it did seem strange, you being in
Tehran
.”

“So, you understand why I’ve invested so much time and money in you?”

Was he trying to distract her from his physical attraction, in favour of his belief in her as his business protégé? Was he trying to convince himself? Most of all, did she believe him?

“Yes, I understand my responsibilities,” she replied.

They ate silently for a few moments, Max demonstrating mounting sexual tension on his behalf and Tahra coming to realise that maybe he did expect more of her. Finally, she decided to mellow the atmosphere.

“Why are you so interested in people with special talents?”

Her question surprised him, but he attempted to answer. “My mother was an amazing woman, highly perceptive, wise, and clairvoyant. She told me where to find you, just before she died. My mother’s gift helped put me in the position I’m in today.” He paused to take a mouthful of wine and pondered his next point. “I believe everyone at The Institute has an important place within the context of the cosmos as a whole, but I don’t really under the significance. I think my mother did.”

He toyed with his glass, unsure whether to continue with what he was about to say. Tahra looked at him with persuasion, as if aware he might reveal something significant and formative about his personality.

“I had a series of strange experiences when I was eighteen.” He remained contemplative for a moment. “These experiences changed my life…I wish they’d lasted forever, but they didn’t.” In that poignant moment, he decided not to continue the conversation.

They ate their meal silently for a while, as Max seemed retrospective but finally, they made light conversation. As the date progressed, Max’s admiration for her grew and he got the impression that she developed a sense of respect for him. He paid the bill promptly and helped her into her coat, standing close enough to smell her perfume and latent sexuality.

Tahra felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. In that moment, she wondered how it would feel if he put his arms around her, or what the consequences would be of an affair with her benefactor. Did she want him, or did she merely want him to desire her? There was clearly a difference.

***

Back at The Institute, Max walked her to her room, realising the time had come to declare his intentions. He felt nervous, like a teenager waiting to ask his first crush for a kiss. She opened her door but didn’t flick on the light, pausing in the doorway in realisation of the inevitable. Max saw the opportunity, she’d left it open. He stood close to her, gently lifting her chin so she could meet his gaze.

“Tahra, I’d like to make love to you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she fell silent for a moment, before finally replying.

“Max, I’m a virgin. I’ve never been with a man before.”

Jesus Christ
, he thought. He hadn’t seen that one coming. In fact, it only served to arouse him further. All his women were well experienced…too experienced and the thought of taking Tahra’s virginity made him feel special.

“I promise to be gentle,” he reassured her.

She appeared to contemplate it then voiced her concerns.

“I don’t want to be a mere conquest.”

Max wondered what she knew of his past, but then acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t possible to hide things from psychic people. Maybe he had the aura of a womaniser.

“That won’t happen.”

Tahra looked apologetic. “I will only give my virginity to my future husband.”

He didn’t expect that, she had principles. It wasn’t the time to push for sex, so he asked for an alternative.

“Can I at least kiss you?”

Tahra smiled then nodded, allowing him to make the first move. Aware of how his actions could dictate the final outcome, he gave her a tentative kiss on her lips, awaiting her reaction. She reciprocated, therefore he pulled her close and kissed her more passionately, knowing it would be the climax of the evening.

Tahra appeared to submit and become aroused too, perhaps almost feeling as sorry as he did that there’d be no finale that night. For a moment, he thought she might change her mind, but she merely smiled, flicked on her bedroom light and closed the door. Max stood outside, not knowing what to think or do. No woman had ever turned him down, and being confronted with uncharted territory left him speechless. Had he said or done something wrong? He stood there for what seemed an eternity, while Tahra rested her head against the door in her room, conscious of his presence for a while until he left.

Part of her wanted him to make love to her, but she felt reticent too. He was the perfect gentleman now, but what of the future? Were her previous intuitions correct? Was he a saint or Satan? She ended the night in a state of inner turmoil.

***

Why did rejection just simply drive him crazy? Max arrived home an hour later, also in a state of inner turmoil. He’d courted fire, this young woman who was the most sexually alluring female he’d ever met, and she didn’t believe in sex before marriage. What kind of twist of fate was this? Could he get her to change her mind, or would he have to contemplate marrying her? That would be an extreme conclusion to the matter.

He paced the room several times, wondering how to deal with a refusal, a factor that only seemed to arouse him further. With the next party two weeks away, he picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice at the end of the line.

“I need a woman tonight,” he told the person on the other end.

In response to the query, he described his nightly requirements then showered, poured himself a scotch, and reclined in his favourite armchair. The bell rang and on answering the door, he found a dark haired woman standing there. While she wasn’t Tahra, she was acceptably close though.

Certain of his requirements for the night, he instructed his agent of relief to kneel down as he reclined in the armchair. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and substituted the woman for Tahra, a fantasy that fuelled his level of arousal.
 
As he reached his peak, he dug his nails into her skin, oblivious to any discomfort she was experiencing. The enormous relief was tainted with a sense of shame, and it didn’t agree with him having to pay for it, but it was better than nothing.
 

After she rose to her feet, he got up from the armchair, avoided meeting her gaze and disappeared into the bathroom. The money already sat on a side table, so she took it and left swiftly, her taxi waiting outside. In the bathroom, Max gazed at his reflection and didn’t see a powerful, wealthy man staring back. He saw a man who was afraid. He didn’t like it, not one bit.

***

Max arrived early at The Institute the next day and sat in the dining area, with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He kept asking Miss Tynedale if Tahra had woken yet and been down for breakfast. She just assumed it was because he was concerned about the test running smoothly and to schedule.

Tahra came down for breakfast ten minutes later, surprised to see Max sitting there. He ushered her over and she sat at the table with him, making light conversation over toast and cereal.

“Is everything set up ready?” Max asked Miss Tynedale.

She smiled kindly at Max, noting the look he gave Tahra. “Yes, we’re using Room 7 as normal.”

After breakfast, Max insisted on escorting her upstairs. He opened the door to Room 7, and Tahra found it to be minimally furnished, with a cine camera set up to point directly at the table and chair in the centre of the room. A large white envelope sat on the table. Max asked her to sit down, and a faceless technician started the camera rolling.

“In a moment, Tahra,” Max instructed, “I want you to open the envelope. Inside, you’ll find a photograph of a warehouse and a map. I’d like to know what’s inside the warehouse.”

She nodded, unsure what to expect. Max took a seat near the cine camera, waiting to see what she’d reveal and hopeful of her excellence.

Aware of the eyes watching her intently, she pulled out the photograph and map. The warehouse appeared to be in the middle of a desert, and its location had been circled on the map. After studying them, she placed the resources back on the table and closed her eyes.

Going through the same process as visiting Annie in her childhood, she felt a rushing sensation in her head and her focus projected away from her body. In her mind’s eye, she saw the warehouse begin as a shimmering mirage in the distance, becoming lucid in a matter of seconds.

She moved towards the door and reached out, extruding through it with no effort at all, as if it wasn’t even there. Because of the darkness inside the warehouse, it took a while for everything to become clear. She didn’t see any crates stacked, or signs of equipment used to transport goods and if anything, the place seemed deserted. Why had Max asked her to look inside this warehouse?

This is just a test, or a trick,
she thought.

Tahra moved her consciousness around and found a few offices at the back, so she decided to check them out. To her surprise, in one office she discovered two men chatting, smoking, and laughing…nothing to report. Before she focused elsewhere, she noticed they possessed rifles, which were propped up against the wall.

Why the hell did they need guns in the middle of nowhere?

It all began to feel quite sinister. Now she understood the necessity of exploring this warehouse.

What else would she find?

She tried to listen in on the conversation but found it difficult, most of the time it sounded garbled, as if the words were spoken underwater.

Giving up on listening, she shifted her consciousness to the other office, taken aback by what she saw.

“There’s a little girl in there!” she gasped.

A young girl lay on the floor, bound and gagged. Tahra realised with horror what had happened. These men had kidnapped her, a crime had been committed. Distressed, she withdrew her consciousness and opened her eyes.

Max raised an eyebrow.

“What does she look like?” he asked, keeping his cool.

Tahra composed herself and stated, “She has long, blonde hair.”

“What is she wearing?”

“Blue trousers, and a yellow blouse with flowers.”

Max sat back in his hair, a smile of satisfaction and relief spreading over his face. He turned to the head technician.

 
“Tell Miss Tynedale to ring Mr. Holmes immediately. We have confirmation of his daughter’s location.”