SEPIA.

He was not sure exactly how he felt but Proctor knew this stupid rift between two good friends had gone much too far. Yet all he could do was hope Henn and Sukoloff would settle their differences before any real hatred set in. He also knew, that for now Henn had more important things to do than mend the crack in his friendship with Sukoloff.
    Foremost of Henn’s concerns was the sudden death of two young agents. They had been sent out on a stakeout to see if a lonely dilapidated building was a KIJAC outpost or just a hangout for junkies.
    Suspect Base P-1 was flanked on two sides by woods and the agents were conducting their observations from the cover of one of these.
    A garbled message was picked up from one of the panicking young men. He screamed into the Complink that they had disturbed a wasp’s nest and his partner was dead. Before his frantic call could be answered he too was dead, leaving behind the brain numbing static crackle of an open communicator channel in the care of an agent no longer able to speak.
    Blood samples, taken with difficulty from both men, showed evidence of the toxins expected from a wasp sting. However, there was also another, as yet unidentified factor that was given the title of FE 9. A further puzzling discovery, more so in the light of their blood having set to a soft black plastic consistency, was the presence of Immunoglobin E. This was a telltale sign that a blood thinning allergic reaction had taken place and quite the opposite to the gunge being tested.
    Examination of the bodies showed Agent A had died within five minutes of being stung. He had only one mark on his body and this looked more like a scratch than a sting from the Hymenoptera Vespid.
    The second man, identified only as Agent B, had suffered numerous stings from the common wasp. Also one larger scratch of the same size to that on Agent A. This young man had, by his radio report, enough time to know his partner was dead and then been able to run a distance of nearly half a mile before he too died. The medical team decided there were two common threads, the unusually clotted blood and the single larger wound that both agents sported. The fact of there being a serious contradiction between the presence of a thinning agent and the blood having actually clotted very thickly gave cause for much concern. A possibility, even a probability, was that the mystery factor FE 9 was responsible. In the medical team’s report that lay on Henn’s desk there was little hope of an early breakthrough in its analysis.
    In their conclusions the medical technicians were only certain some kind of allergic reaction had taken place. They needed further time to cross reference with results of tests carried out on two victims of last month’s massacre in New York.
    Two more agents were dispatched on Henn’s orders to examine the area fully. They would be issued with protective clothing and even though the chance of another case of allergic reaction to a wasp sting was unlikely, they would carry a small syringe filled with adrenaline just in case. Special insect proof seals were also fitted to their car, Henn would be taking no chances.
    With Sukoloff’s arrival Proctor switched his attention from Henn. Something had developed about Sukoloff that he did not like. Something was very different about him. Maybe of late he had been showing uncharacteristic emotions or perhaps it was the sudden youthful look. Nowadays he was always cheerful and possibly too happy.

"Steele, Vacily needs your help," Tretow pleaded as he sat next to Steele. "Just try to accept him or we’ll lose him forever."
    "Mister Steele."
    "Sorry, Mr Steele, we have to help him, if we don’t, puff gone!"
    "Are you nuts? What are you talking about, man?"
    "I know you saw the video. I know you have sussed it out…"
    "You know what he is?"
    "Very special."
    "Rot! You don’t know or you’d scram."
    "OK, he's dead!"
    "You know that and you want me to accept him? I’m sorry I can’t. That is not Vacily! That is a... A... Well he’s a spook. I for one can’t stay near something that should have been put in it’s grave a month ago. He’s just an animated putrefying corpse, he turns my stomach!"
    "Peter, he’s still a man..." Disappointment hung in Tretow’s voice.
    "Mister Steele damn you and he stinks!"
    "I admit there is a pong about him. But it’s not the grave it’s... It’s freshness... It’s snow... It’s newly mown grass..."
    "It’s death."
    "Life, Ste… Mr Steele... Life." The episode was closed when Trixie signalled that Henn was needed on communications, most urgently. His humour was not even slightly improved as his agents reported finding the body of a back packer very close to where the young agents had met their deaths. This man too had been stung several times but they had not found any wasps, dead or alive. There had been a small amount of activity around the building, a truck had been and gone and once the sun had flashed off something bright and metallic on the roof.

Instructions were given by Henn that they continue their observations, but from a different angle. Well away from the locality of the backpacker’s body and hopefully well away from any wasps. His instructions given, Henn lingered a little, savouring her perfume as it seductively filled his nostrils. He dared himself to trace her outline with his already outstretched hand... No, he smiled and backed away, work must come first. Besides there was always later.
    A change of shift in the medical research laboratory had brought about a breakthrough of sorts. One of the technicians who had worked on the two bodies killed by wasp toxins during New York’s massacre made the connection. Further work was underway analysing factor FE 9. Since a tenable connection had been made between the massacre and the deaths of the two agents earlier in the day, Proctor and Gentleman Bayfield had found themselves dispatched to the records section. Suitably armed with copious cups of coffee they were to read backwards over the last two months’ supply of newspapers looking for any deaths registered during the period from anaphylactic shock or insect bites.
    Boredom prompted Bayfield to break his monotony by reading out loud various unconnected pieces of news that amused him.
    "One here for Steele. Partner wanted for professional knife thrower. No experience required. Short term contract. I bet it is!" Various others were about to follow but an accurately thrown rolled up newspaper silenced him.
    Several cups of coffee later, Bayfield suddenly perked up again, "Hey, Joseph. They still haven’t identified one of the bodies from the massacre. Listen to this, male... Approximate age forty-five to fifty five... Hair blond to grey... Eyes blue... Five foot ten... Weight approx... One hundred and sixty five pounds... Valuable tie pin... Dressed expensively... Please contact... This number... Surely somebody must own him."
    "Is there not a photograph?" said Proctor scanning it briefly. "Wait one moment while I think. There are no pictures of any variety?"
    "No why, should there be?"
    "The phrase valuable tie pin, is on occasion used by the FBI when they have found cyanide pills within a piece of jewellery."
    "So?"
    "So, young man, we utilise the same substance."
    "So does every other secret service."
    "Exactly, the Fed.’s believe this man to be an agent of some kind. Let us try the number and see whom we come up with. Oh, and it is your turn to make the coffee."
    "Thank you, Gent." Proctor took the cup offered to him. "Guess where you are going later?
    "Back to bed?" Bayfield’s shrugging shoulders played straight into his hands.
    "Incorrect as usual. When you finish your coffee, you, my friend, have an appointment with the mortuary to look at body JD 315. It was a FBI number and we are the only call they have had. So it is the red carpet treatment for you when you get there. Finished? I will take the cup. Bye, see you later." With Bayfield gone, Proctor settled down to some more reading.

"I want take physical, an active agent re-sit!"
    Henn’s voice showed growing irritation, "What are you talking about?"
    "Active I want to be back on, simple."
    "Look, old friend, nothing is what it was—nobody is what he was not me and not you."
    "I am fit."
    "And young? Lately you have been acting as if you are suddenly in your twenties including escorting a young lady who is only twenty six, Vacily that’s wrong."
    "How is that wrong?"
    "Vacily, think about it, you are old enough…"
    "To be her father, do I look that old?"
    "No, but we all do it you know. We all try to recapture our lost youth one way or another and this is the most common way. Being with a young woman makes us feel good, but you’ll hurt her."
    "I will not."
    "A young woman needs love, forever love, something you have never been able to give, to anyone."
    "Like you? Dole it out to everyone, every girl within grasping distance? Is that love or taking advantage."
    Henn shook his head in diffidence to the phlegmatic attitude. Usually he had been able to see through the uninviting icy eyes to the scars that lay deep beneath them. 
    He was looking into those cold, hard eyes now, watching as Sukoloff scrapped his teeth along his top lip. That he was hurting was obvious and he looked as if he needed to pour his soul out. Henn placed a hand on Sukoloff’s shoulder and could feel the barriers as they were locked firmly into place.
    "Leave it, Alex."
    "OK, Vacily."
    "Give me the agent re-sit."
    "No, my friend, you wouldn’t pass. You know that only the best, the fastest, the strongest and the brightest pass that test. I know I can’t pass it. Come back down to reality before it’s too late and you find yourself completely alone."
    Sukoloff rose and stood with all the proud arrogance of his Tsarist forebears. "But I different. I am fifty-seven for as long as I wish. I am forty if I wish and pass that test I will. If I wish!" Having spat the words with a rarely seen forcefulness he turned on his heels and marched out of the door, leaving a perplexed Henn to his thoughts.

Staggering out of the mortuary Bayfield leaned heavily on the wall, his stomach retching as he breathed deeply forcing oxygen up to his fluttering brain. The very thought of a top PIA agent fainting or throwing up because of a visit to the mortuary was humiliating, but for the first time ever it was about to become a reality. He started to run—he had to get to fresh air to think and above all to stop the dreadful nausea. He was confused, frightened and on the verge of another unforgivable sin. He was a tough, strong PIA man. He was trained to meet death and even to expect it, but this was different, this man had been his hero from the very first time he had entered PIA as a raw trainee. As he ran through Central Park, tears began to blur his vision and a sob drifted up from his heart.

A wrathful Sukoloff stormed down the corridor leading to Lab. One. He muttered continuously, most of it in indecipherable oaths, about his old age and his lack of fitness. However, once inside his laboratory and addressing the problem in hand, his mind began to clear. It revealed the awful complexity of what he was attempting.
   I am going to pass a physical. That’s all. But how am I, a ghost, ever going to pass a test designed for the living. God! I can’t even pee! What about the urine test?... A challenge, that’s what it is, a challenge to be overcome.
   He sighed deeply as he looked closely at his hand. It looked perfectly normal with even the veins marked out in blue on the back. Yet neither his fingernails nor his hair had grown since the accident. Slowly he reached out for a syringe and inserted the needle into the vein, disappointed in that there was not even a slight twinge of pain. He hesitated briefly before drawing back the plunger. The syringe remained empty. He wondered if the needle had missed the vein, but as he withdrew it he noticed it had left no marks. He tried again, repeatedly, the syringe always remaining stubbornly empty, but was it? Maybe his blood was just not visible to the naked eye. Quickly he emptied the syringe into two test tubes and placed one under a powerful light while he added a blue dye to the other. Failure again, he gave a despondent sigh for all the tubes contained were the two drops of blue dye and fresh air.
    He tried a tissue sample hoping to show cellular evidence. Using a scalpel he gritted his teeth and cut a thin slice of skin from his forearm. He winced in anticipation of the pain only to face disappointment again at the absence of either feeling or blood. Then he looked at the sample under a microscope and cheered, he definitely had cells. Promptly increasing the magnification of the microscope he looked again, again disappointment washed over him. All he could see were dead cells. There were no blood cells at all, not even one leukocyte or erythrocyte and not one nerve cell. Every cell under the microscope was dead! He was the staple diet of every home loving dust mite.
    He wondered how, if he had no nerve cells how he could move. Did he have a brain and if not then how did he run or make love? If he did not have a nervous system then it was impossible to feel anything, yet certain things he could feel.
    Not long before his new girlfriend Jodie had bitten him during a play-fight, that had hurt. Then there was the pleasure of their love, he knew he could feel that. Here was other evidence, he could feel textures; the smoothness of glass; the harshness of sandpaper always setting his teeth on edge. Yet the skin sample showed no evidence of nerve cells either dead or alive. Were his feelings just an echo, a memory of life that would slowly fade away? Okay so he had an outside, but did he also have an inside or was he just filled with air like a balloon? Was it worse than that, he had seen the movie, was he filled with Jelly all the way through his body? The thought horrified him. Rapidly he rigged up the small X-ray machine then pushed a button to seal the laboratory. He gave a slight smile as he thought of what would happen next. Besides bolting the doors shut, the switch started a red light that would now be flashing its bright warning. Previous experience would ensure all personnel passing while the red light was on would cross over to the far side of the corridor or run. Lab One was the Russian’s and always in danger of exploding.
    He took picture after picture which when developed showed he had taken X-ray’s of nothing at all. Neither one bone nor organ had appeared on the black film, according to this he did not exist. He reset the button to unlock the laboratory and return the outside light to a welcoming green. Then with a heavy heart and not even noticing Tzavros strolling in, he sat down to ponder.
    "Not got headache have you, Vacily?"
    The well-intentioned question did little besides announce his arrival, without stirring Sukoloff replied sadly. "No, I don’t get headaches."
    Tzavros nodded then changed tack. "The talk in office is you’re applying for action. It be good to have you back."
    "Now there’s a humiliating thing." Sukoloff’s despondency was deepening. "I said I was coming back on spur of the moment when I was angry. I can’t do it, Zav. I can’t pass the physical."
    "Cause you’re dead?"
    "Tretow was right, the game is up. Did you tell Henn?"
    "Neit! He freak out, so do I, but, I think scientist in me overcame fears and now you’re just Vacily. Did it hurt?"
    "Don’t ask."
    "I take that as yes."
    "Zav, would you mind looking at my test results?" he asked. "I think that would be easier than me trying to explain the problem."
    After checking everything twice Tzavros finally said, "Nothing? There must be a something!" Tzavros was dumfounded. "Okay, let’s start with simple stuff. You can hear. You can see, da?"
    "That’s obvious."
    "Your pupils react to light. So that nervous system. Smells? Taste?"
    Sukoloff nodded, he could smell the sweetness of a rose and the foulness of tobacco or car fumes. He could taste the bitterness of lemons, the sweetness of sugar or the spiciness of curry. Was this all a memory or was this real? He had no pulse or blood pressure and after holding his breath for ten minutes Tzavros had gotten tired of waiting for him to turn blue and had said, "OK, Vacily. Breath, it obvious you no need oxygen... I know, let’s try ultra scan."
    Very half-heartedly Sukoloff agreed and Tzavros tried every combination of settings possible on the machine, all to no avail. At this point Sukoloff was ready to give up, but Tzavros had only just started. The cover came off the control panel and his screwdrivers began to fiddle. Finally, with the machine working somewhere, it was way outside normal frequencies, the blank screen began to distort and very faint vague transparent shapes began to appear. The skull, the teeth and a number of long bones, all of them barely discernible but positively there. However, there was still no sign of any organs.
    Tzavros was triumphant as he gasped. "What’s this? It can’t be memory, can it? I think we actually scanning bones. If we are, then you, somehow, have substance and if you got substance we can measure it. Do not ask about settings on machine, I haven’t clue. We’ll have to get manufactures to work those out. Mind you they aren’t going to be happy with what I’ve done to machine. But it all recorded so you can see it when I play it back. Maybe you even have pain but have been made forget it. Maybe that what heaven is! Place were forget all bad things."
    "I haven’t forgotten pain. I’ll never forget what it feels like to be hit in the chest by a bullet. I don’t know, am I real? Or am I imaginary?. Somebody said, I think therefore I am, but what am I? A memory? When everyone has gone that remembered me, will I still be?"
    "I can’t answer that. I don’t know, nobody can answer that."
    "Maybe they can," said Sukoloff. "First we watch your tape. Then we’ll meet Tretow and his psychic, crackpot mother. Will we go, yes?"
    Never had Tzavros felt like this. His heart was racing with excitement, his head hurting as the new and strange knowledge pounded into his brain. He was part of something inconceivable. The extraordinary age old concealment of life after death. Grinning from ear to ear he rewound the cassette imploring Sukoloff to sit and watch his masterpiece in the annals of science.

Henn finished reading and closed the folder the laboratory had sent. It contained a report outlining the causes, symptoms and probable numbers of occurrences worldwide of anaphylactic shock. He scowled as he placed the report on his desk next to an ever-growing pile of reports of death from sting allergy. The condition was normally so very rare, but suddenly it was cropping up everywhere. Firstly the people in New York, then the two agents at Base P-1. Their replacements had found the backpacker and then they themselves had been attacked. Luckily they had been kited out in protective suits and had both managed to reach the safety of their car. The thing was growing out of all proportion.
    Was it common to have two wasp’s nests so close together? One at the front of the building and the other at the back? Henn ordered more replacements with a watching brief to the base. This time they were to observe from further back and to be well away from any trees. This base, however small it looked, must be watched and any dead wasps brought in for analysis.
    Meanwhile, Proctor was having two of his agents brought in from London to assist should things begin to get big. In a fight with KIJAC they would need all the best.
    Field operators also recently intercepted a coded message. Work on SASAM underway. Make sure stock of Guardians is increased.
   Henn twisted his lip. "Whatever Sasam is it’s possible it’s being built at that base. On the outside it looks much too small. But that wouldn’t stop it going deep into the earth. That could be Kijac HQ."
    The phone interrupted him and after listening quietly he replaced the receiver. Laughing loudly he called over to Proctor. "Did you send someone over to the morgue to do a possible ID on a body?"
    "Yes, why?"
    "Well, they’ve got a request. Next time can you send an agent who’s got a stronger stomach? Apparently your man was fine until the sheet was pulled back. Then he turned green and stood there shaking from head to toe. He ran away without one word. They want to know if he’s back or if he’s still running. Oh and please can we send a less mollycoddled agent next time?"
    Proctor’s forehead puckered. "I do not comprehend this, I sent the Gentleman and you do not get much tougher than him. Oh, really, they did not tell me that the body was badly disfigured. Lord, it must have been really appalling for him to react."
    "What body was this?" asked Steele. "Gents done ID’s before and even foul decomposed ones haven’t upset him. He just tuts."
    "Well this body must have been hideous," laughed Proctor. "It was one of the New York massacre victims that have not, as yet, been identified. The Feds are positive he was an agent of some kind."
    "Mas... Massacre?... Oh, shit!" stuttered Steele turning white and shooting to his feet.
    "Mr Steele!" Henn thumped the table. "Will you please watch your language. I do not expect my agents to resort to those kinds of expletive."
    "Sorry, Sir. Maybe it was eyes? If it was an eye injury well, Gent hates things like displaced eyeballs."
    "Are you sure of that, Mr Steele?"
    "Yes, Sir. Er, where is he? I think I’ll go and find him."
    "Mr Steele," said Henn. "I am positive the mortician would have tidied that body up just a bit before it was viewed. They don’t deliberately leave eyes hanging out just to terrify unsuspecting Pia agents. But yes, if you feel you must baby sit, go and find him."
    As soon as Steele left, Proctor pointed at the pile of books in front of Henn and asked, "What are you reading?"
    "Ridiculous," snorted Henn. "I thought I’d research." Noticing the frown of disapproval from Proctor he explained further. "Those captives are still talking about being invaded by ghosts and Steele suggested Kijac might be up to some supernatural trickery. So far I’ve not found one article that I can remotely believe in. How intelligent people can be taken in by this garbage I’ll never know. Incidentally which agents are you bringing in?"
    "Bill Dwire, he is a bit of a prankster but always reliable when he is needed. I was having his partner too, but I received a transfer request from Philip Galloway."
    "Now there’s a turn up," Henn whistled softly under his breath. "Jodie’s Brother?"
    "Jodie? Oh dear me yes, the sweet little thing that Vacily has infatuated."
    "Infatuated is right. Bringing in her brother might cause problems. Isn’t he just out of training?" Henn stopped to think for a while. "Okay, bring him over, we might get worse problems if we don’t."

Sukoloff and Tzavros listened intently as Maria Tretow told them about the new world Sukoloff had so recently joined.
    "You see, Vacily, it’s so very complicated. There are many worlds or if you like many dimensions of the same world. Nobody is actually sure which. Just as every action has its equal and opposite reaction, then everything has to have its equal and exact opposite. While our world spins one way, yours may spin the other. As we go from life to death, so maybe you go from death to life. reborn into our world and moving in a continuous circle."
    She stood and poured tea from a beautifully painted teapot and offered cakes which Tzavros greedily grabbed. Once seated she began again.
    "But sometimes, something goes wrong and a spirit will slip into the in between worlds. This is the paranormal. There are several of these worlds, all of which are in different dimensions to our own. Occasionally one of these dimensions may break through into ours, or ours into theirs. We may briefly see what is there when we sight a shadowy figure or hear a distant voice. Then there are the more unusual cases were at the moment of death, an entity, for any number of reasons refuses to or cannot go over the line and on into a new life."
    "How you know if ghost is about? Vacily doesn’t look like anything I thought ghost should."
    "A measurable temperature drop is the main give away to their presence. But the Class Ones are totally different. They’re not ghosts, they’re visible to everyone. They’re solid in appearance and capable of many things, including death."
    "I’m dead, how can I die?"
    "This world you have entered is just the same as the one you left. You are not immortal. Many things can hurt you. Other entities can kill you. Should any of these things happen then you will be immediately pulled right back to the light you ignored. This time you won’t be allowed to disobey. Two mistakes in the books are not permitted. Of something to be avoided at the present time I would suggest exorcisms. Once you get stronger, after maybe fifty years, then an exorcism won’t hurt you. At the moment it will, even if it just weakens you."
    "I’m not sure I understand, I know of some of the things I can do. From the start I’ve heard this voice telling me how to do things but how do I move things by thought?"
    Maria smiled and walked towards the window, briefly looking out and signalling to Tzavros to finish the cake. "You will learn many things the longer you stay. For us to tell you everything will take years. Now as for our group. It’s very small and because of the dangers I can tell you the name of only one other member for the time being. He hopes together, we might be able to form a Class One unit. One that will be willing to fight for the good of the world. I’m afraid we need one for there are many evil entities about."
    Tzavros stood with difficulty as too late he realised he had eaten too much cake. "Evil ghosts?"
    "Yes, young man."
    "My friends say to me Zav."
    "OK, Zav, there’re things that would take joy in pushing someone under a moving train. Snatch children and abandon them to die alone. Cause pilots to have heart attacks because they enjoy watching a plane crash, or even start earthquakes. You wouldn’t believe what goes on. Vacily is special. He has powers you have never even dreamed of, so I hope you’ll both stay and help us."
    When she had finished Sukoloff blinked in disbelief. "If I’m to help why can’t I be told the names of the others?"
    Maria smiled. "There are very few on this plain, in this world, and for the most they are cunning and secretive. Some are very old and none of them know about you. There are also many others out there who don’t know they can be helped and are living lonely and friendless lives. I hope in time we can find them and then hopefully we can help each other."
    Although he did not quite understand, Sukoloff nodded, he was quite prepared to go half way on the idea. "You say you want a team, also that I am special. It would be easy to start a dedicated team specialising in the paranormal. I’m a Pia man so it could even be part of that with access to Pia’s resources. But, at the moment I can’t even pass a physical let alone start a special fighting force."
    Maria gave a soft bubbling laugh. "That’s where we come in, the man you must see is a member of Pia. His name is Sam Gross and he trains one of your back up teams."
    "I know him! He kept me up rope all day, nasty man."
    "Zav really! Did you know he was a professor once? He was dismissed because of his theories about the paranormal."
    "Doesn’t look type."
    "Well he was. Anyway, he suspects a trap and is very nervous about meeting Vacily. He would much prefer to keep his identity totally secret. The fewer that know about you and your team the better. Mr Gross for the moment, only knows that a member of Pia is dead, he does not know whom. Go to him and he will help you to pass the physical." A pair of raised eyebrows prompted her to add. "Believe me, Vacily. Once you’ve seen Mr Gross, then you could start your team with Tret. He’s a telepath who doesn’t know his latent powers. He used to do it as a child, stimulate his memory and you will be able to learn much of value from each other. Help us, Vacily, help us make others like you realise there is a life after death." Turning to Tzavros she added, "We also need you. Your great knowledge of science would make you a valuable asset to such a team."
    At length, after much more talk, but not much more persuading, the two Russians had agreed to form the core of a team of paranormal specialists.
    Driving back to PIA headquarters, Tzavros subjected Sukoloff to an entire pantomime of individual acts, each of which called, "Hello, Mr Gross, I’m..." Most were falling onto stony ground or were for Tzavros’s amusement. Sukoloff had other matters to distract him, firstly he had to find a way of convincing Henn that ghosts existed.
    "Hello, Mr Gross, I’m Vacily Sukoloff, head of Pia’s newest branch, The Specialist Department for Paranormal and Metaphysical Research and Investigation."
    His latest offering had broken through Sukoloff’s barriers. A conversation actually started as he replied, "Eh? Head of what?"
    "The Specialist Department for Paranormal and Metaphysical Research and Investigation," repeated Tzavros, a self satisfied smirk etched across his face.
    "Don’t be silly. I’m not saying that every time. Besides, it would never fit onto a business card. Apparently we’re all special, so we’ll be what we are, the Special’s."
    "Boring, how about. Specialists in Extraordinary and Paranormal Investigations Agency, SEPIA."
    "That I like." That was it, with the lengthy conversation over, Sukoloff could get back to solving his real problem, Henn.

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