Alien Tongues Read online

  Séamus nodded. He wanted to play this one carefully, doing his best not to offend. Bu he had to fight the negative impression of their first meeting, and the alcohol in his blood stream. "I understand your feeling, Dave. But the problem is what you're telling me doesn't jive with what Alice herself told me. And I can assure you she and I have nothing more than a collegial relationship. So, much as I would like to help you out here, I am not sure how I should do that. She wanted a drink tonight. I should have refused on your behalf?"

  "Holding hands isn't 'nothing more than collegial', Friend." The superficial tone continued.

  "She was reassuring me that my London girlfriend won't leave me."

  "Ah, convenient. You've been here a week and that sob-story's already working on her."

  "Now, Come on, Dave. Life is never that serious!" It was McMahon who had walked up behind him. "I'm sure Séamus understands your point and is going to bear it in mind. Now why don't you be a bit more sociable to your old school friend while he and I talk hurling?"

  Orwood stared silently at Séamus for a few moments longer, then walked over to where Alice was sitting. Séamus watched a conversation start. "You follow hurling?" he said to McMahon.

  "No, I'm a Gaelic man myself," McMahon said, referring to the Irish version of football. "Can't understand crazy men waving clubs at each other. And you?"

  "Oh, rugby. You know, the one where we can play other countries which don't have Irishmen." McMahon smiled at the remark. "And thank you for kicking that one into touch," Séamus added, indicating Orwood with his head.

  "Dave's a gas. But he gets very worked up about that Alice girl. Anyone else can see she's not interested in him, but love is blind, as they say."

  "I would doubt it's love," Séamus commented. "More like an overwhelming sense of entitlement. He imagines she's his for whenever he's failed with others."

  "Aye, he wasn't as loyal as he should have been to her, and he deeply regrets it now. But then, we all often fail at the loyalty test, don't we?"

  The remark left little room for doubt about whom it was directed to. "Meaning?" Séamus asked, though he could also guess what was coming.

  McMahon sipped his beer then added, "Your father was Michael FitzGerald, was he not?"

  "No prizes yet. What else?"

  "What else?" McMahon's face turned dark. "You are employed by the same government that murdered him. How can you live with yourself?"

  "It wasn't murder, it was an accident, caused by a deranged and drunken ex-serviceman who mistook him for someone else," Séamus replied calmly. "And anyway, that's all in the past now. Didn't you hear, the war's over?"

  "An accident, my arse. And it's never over. Just a different phase, that's all. Michael FitzGerald gave the ultimate sacrifice and his son's forgotten about it."

  Now Séamus's voice became more tense. "Who said I've forgotten? How do you know what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it? What are you, the Central Intelligence Agency for Sinn Fein?"

  McMahon's gaze was steady and fixed. Séamus knew his words were being weighed carefully. It seemed McMahon knew nothing special. This was just another testing. Suddenly, his accuser's face relaxed. "Boyo, I hope you know what you're doing." He added conversationally, "I assume you're still planning on a little recreation?"

  "Nothing's changed on my part." Séamus added, "You'd better not have said anything to Alice."

  McMahon grinned. "About the service? Of course not. But I did tell her you had a famous father." He turned, and the pair of them walked back towards Alice and Orwood. "You two getting along better now?" McMahon quipped.

  "One on one helps a bit," Orwood said.

  Alice was inscrutable. "Glad you feel better." She looked up at Séamus. "Mind if we leave now?"

  The two of them left the pub. In the car, Séamus said, "Maybe it's better if you drop me back at the Lab."

  "Oh, after taking you out, you're not going to invite me in for a drink?"

  "Sure. But how are you about driving later?"

  "There's a spare room. I can sleep it off and drive home in the morning. Tomorrow's Sunday so I'm using my executive authority to decide to start work late."

  Back in Séamus's room, he poured himself more Guinness from a draft can, and she chose a whiskey. They sat in the two armchairs facing each other. Alice's legs were very visible from his angle, and she didn't seem self-conscious about it.

  "Ryan told me your dad was someone famous in the IRA," she began.

  "Sinn Fein. It's political. And he was always against acts of terrorism."

  "Then how did he believe Ireland would be united?"

  "In its soul." Politics was the last thing he wanted to discuss just then. And he wanted to stop himself staring up her skirt. He took his beer to the window and gazed out. "Sorry, Alice. I can't discuss my father right now. McMahon upset me too much."

  To get a better view of him, Alice walked over to the bed and sat on it. "Why? What did he say?"

  "He said I was a traitor to Dad by working for the British government."

  "Oh my God, what a bastard! You should have bopped him one!" Séamus laughed. "What's so funny?"

  He went to refresh his glass. "Sorry. It's just funny to hear anyone talk like that. It's what we call girls' talk. Only people who never hit anyone talk like that."

  "Don't think I haven't hit a man, I have!"

  Séamus grinned. "How long was he down for?"

  "Oh, what makes you the expert on hitting people?" She kicked off her shoes and drew her feet up onto the bed, cradling her drink as she looked at him with a frown. "Maybe your job? Maybe Sinn Fein?"

  He pulled up a chair next to the bed. "I don't know McMahon well, of course, but if I took a swing at him it wouldn't be like the movies. You know, he falls down, rubs his jaw and says, 'FitzGerald, you're a fighter and I respect that. I was out of line when I insulted you.'"

  Alice now looked less sure of her argument, at the same time as she was getting more comfortable on the bed. He whiskey into her glass, and drank a shot of his own. "So what would happen?" she asked.

  The shot felt great. Just one more and he'd be almost calm. "Well, he would give me the opportunity to take it outside, right then. If I agreed, then I would probably get away with a good bruising. That I'd be on the losing end is a certainty because, even if McMahon wasn't capable of it, he'd have others to do it for him. I have little doubt two of the young men right there in the pub tonight would be his back-up."

  "You look like a damned doctor sitting there on the chair. Come here." Alice patted the bed next to her. Was this the second or the third shot? He drank it and sat where she ordered. Her voice dropped low. "And if you refused to go outside?"

  "Well, my only escape would be to have a group of men collect me. But some day he would arrange his vendetta. For sure something would get broken. If I'm lucky, an arm. Unlucky, a leg. Very unlucky, my back."

  Alice looked shocked. "All that for punching him?"

  "Dear, that's my point. From movies, you think of it as a good old bar fight. But if I'm not wrong about McMahon, he's what we call an operator. He depends upon his image as a man who will always revenge himself at a disproportionate level. That way, people do their best not to pick fights with him."

  "He said you two had met at the Plough. So he's part of this local crime group we talked about last week?" She had slid down further so her body was partly circled around him as he sat there.

  "That's my guess," he told her, despite knowing for a certainty. "But there's always a chance that he keeps himself on the legal side of the line and simply provides security for others who are not. I'm trying to find out more but, as you can imagine, I'm having to go carefully."

  "Oh yes, please be careful, Dear." She put her arms round him in what might have been just a friendly hug but, the way they were positioned, her head ended up on his lap. She looked up at him, raised a hand and ran it through his hair. "You're looking very tired, Dear. Has the drink caught up with you yet? Come on, r
est here on the pillow beside me." She used her hug to almost drag Séamus up the bed so he was propped up against the pillow. He was surprised how easily she had moved him, and he could not have resisted much had he tried. Bottle in his hand, he poured them another shot and made a toast.

  "To the girls," he said. "Let's hope they succeed wildly then get home safely to enjoy their richly deserved reward."

  Alice held up her glass but asked, "Am I included among the girls?"

  Séamus remembered Jenny's remark on the first day. Alice was also one of the group it was his job to look after. For the first time he thought of Tina's worry as it might apply to her. Was Alice also in danger? How expendable was one brilliant PhD? How did he make sense of it all, when he could not even imagine what they were working for?

  "If I am any use as a bodyguard, I am at your disposal," he told her.

  As they clinked glasses she said, "Well, I hope you don't think me too forward if I take that literally right now. Suddenly I feel as tired as you look, and I just don't want to move right now. Lie here and hold me for a little while, will you?"

  As if to demonstrate, she turned her back to him, lay down and pulled his arm round her. Séamus slumped down beside her. Given her hold on his arm, the angle of least resistance was to cuddle up tight. The perfume on the back of her neck smelled wonderful and he realized his nose was now touching her hairline. Her buttocks felt very rounded against him. He realized it was making him aroused and for certain she would be able to feel it. She seemed to be snuggling against him tighter, but he couldn't be sure if she was just trying to get comfortable. For a brief moment he remember what he guessed was the last time he had made love to Sheryl. Then he felt overwhelmingly tired and his mind went blank.

  6. Break-In

  He awoke facing the other direction, late winter dawn starting to lighten the room. Alice's arm was around his chest. He quickly noted that they were dressed just as they had been when sitting on the bed. Then he realized he needed to urinate. He gently unhooked her arm and trotted to the bathroom. By the time he returned, she was sitting upright.

  "I'm so sorry," she said. "You must think I'm an awful slob."

  "I'm the slob who fell asleep on you. You were sweet enough not to wake me." He walked into the kitchen area. "Coffee?"

  Alice accepted a cup of instant. "Could you let the girls know we'll start at 11 a.m. today?" Séamus nodded. She seemed to hesitate, then added, "Apart from those dickheads last night, I really enjoyed myself. If you have nothing else on when each Saturday night rolls around, would it be OK if I booked you?"

  "Perfect for lonely me," Séamus replied, "But I wouldn't go limiting yourself like that."

  "Oh, believe me." She pulled her shoes on. "You're my protection here, for as long as this job lasts for us."

  She refused his offer of breakfast, saying her mother would be expecting her. When she left, he made himself a fry-up to help settle his stomach and clear his head. He realized he had skipped dinner the night before and was ravenous. Finally sated with eggs and bacon, he moved to his desk with fresh coffee and gazed at the frosted fields, shiny in early sunshine. He was surprised how his dark mood the night before had lifted. The problems had not changed and he had not even thought more about them, but their emotional impact was down to quite tolerable levels. Sheryl? Such a test was always needed. As a Catholic, he could not escape the notion that marriage was for life, and he had to know Sheryl was sure. Far better for her to have some fling with a banker and realize he was her best long-term bet, than to plan a wedding thinking there could be something more suitable out there.

  And Tina? Her and Chrissy's idea was bound to occur to one or more of the girls sooner or later. The bizarre nature of their mission, and the extraordinary rewards offered them, made a scary possible downside almost inevitable, like Halloween before Christmas. These girls with their amazing intuitive talents were perhaps more prone than most to imagine what lay in dark shadows. He should try to draw more of their feelings out of them during the next few days, and continue to pledge his protection.

  What a mystery, the human emotional gyroscope, he thought. Knock it and it will appear to wobble dangerously, but some inexplicable life force pulls it back up again. If Man is given the basic needs of food, clothing, shelter, physical safety and decent company, is it essentially good just to be alive? Is it we who make ourselves repeatedly upset by the complexities we build around ourselves? Was Sheryl so vital to his life, especially if some other man tempted her? If he was not prepared to change his job to save their relationship, what did that say?

  And to be honest, was Tina's fright really upsetting him? Or deep down did he secretly welcome the challenge, which was the only legitimate reason why he should be guarding these girls? More fundamentally, did he welcome such danger because it was the only way he could get himself to put aside all of life's annoying and depressing duties and tasks and feel good about simply keeping himself and his charges alive? Without that danger, he thought as he stared out of the windows, could he clear his mind enough to enjoy that shimmering dew as a weak sun finally pumped in enough latent energy to transform the frozen grass blades?

  After notifying the girls of the new start time, he got to work with the aid of endless coffee refills. Later he escorted the girls to the lab and returned to call Sheryl. The conversation seemed to go well enough, without being particularly reassuring. She listened largely in silence to his always-vague account of his job, in which he provided almost no concrete details but instead his feelings and sense of progress. Did she ever really hear what he was saying in such speeches? She described her job and social activities in great factual detail but with little reference to her feelings. She didn't describe where she had been the prior night, and he did not ask. If she missed him, it was not evident in what she said. He wanted to say he missed her, but was afraid the words would not sound genuine. When he hung up, it felt he had completed one of the day's tasks. He tried not to dwell further on his relationship with Sheryl and instead focus on his work. An email or text message each day would be sufficient, and he could call again the following weekend.

  The new week progressed in a similar fashion to the previous one. The girls would finish in the middle of the afternoon, after which he would spend time with each of them until the evening. After his dinner and work-out, he would pay them a final call. The time with each one varied from day to day, depending upon how keen they were to talk or undertake an activity. Each day he would walk with Jenny and Chrissy, sometimes for up to an hour. Tina and Phyllis both went out once when the temperature rose, but still felt it was too cold for them. They both started regular exercise in the gym, and usually he would work-out with them.

  Tina seemed to have recovered from the Saturday. When asked, she told him that she still felt a sense of danger, but she realized it was impossible to measure. Maybe the girls' knowledge would be useless on its own; maybe they would have some ongoing usefulness. Perhaps she was in no greater danger than when she was an escort in Bangkok. Maybe it was as bad to run across a busy road. Fear was just a feeling, like sensing a ghost. And anyway she didn't fear dying, provided she knew she was loved…

  "You think I'm crazy the way I talk about love?" she asked him, almost playfully, one day while sitting in her kitchen over tea.

  "Of course not," he answered. "We all have some goal we want to stay alive for. Love is one of the better ones."

  "The other girls don't agree." Tina looked into space dreamily. "Chrissy says a man who loves you is just lonely, and you are just filling a hole in his life. Jenny said I don't need a man, and that she can love me if I want, because she thinks I'm so beautiful and sexy." She laughed. "You know, Jenny is so good at making me feel better with the things she says. I also think, if a tiny girl like her is not scared, I should be braver. I think she's good at holding all of us together."

  "Yes, I get that impression. What about Phyllis?"

  "Phyllis says you just can't trust a man's love �
� well, I think that's what she's saying with this sign language – because he's designed to be tempted by others." She turned back to look at Séamus. "Is that true, Mr FitzGerald? Are you designed to be tempted away from the woman you think you love?"

  He thought of his evening with Alice. "Yes, I think all men are tempted to stray when it comes to pure sex. But don't you think that, if they don't give in to that temptation, it's a sign of love?"

  "Do you love someone right now, Séamus?"

  "I have a girlfriend in London whom I was living with before coming here. We talked about getting married, though we're not sure. I believe I love her, but recently I've felt a little doubt."

  Tina rose from her chair and stood in front of him. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

  She was wearing a dress of stretch-material which showed every curve. Her body was truly extraordinary. "Yes, extremely sexy."

  Tina sat on his knees, facing him, her thighs either side of his stomach, her dress now rising up so her underwear was visible. She ran her hands through his hair. "Now let's forget your job is to protect me. We can have a night of wild, crazy love-making. I want to do anything you want to do. Do you want me?"

  He frowned. "The idea of doing it is wonderful. I might even convince myself that my girlfriend will never find out and it's OK just this once. But then I wonder, why are you making me this offer? I don't think it can be just pure lust, not for you. So you're looking for something that I probably won't be able to give you. In the end I will disappoint you."

  She continued to run her hands gently around his head, but her look now became distant as if in deep thought. "But even though you refuse me, you still want me. You even care about my feelings. That's so comforting for me but it's hell if I am your girlfriend. It's really true that loving a man is a recipe for pain. And being loved is something you can never rely upon. Oh, but Séimi, I still want that experience! Make sure you don't let me die without it!"

  She kissed his forehead, her lips feeling large and soft. Then she climbed down from him, straightened her dress and grinned. "Do you feel we use you like a toy, Séamus? But I can't tell you how much it helps to have you here."