The Mandrake Effect

Late evening, edging midnight: In his office, Harry and Kate Ottman are still working. Coffee cups and paper litter the once-palatial Carnegie Agency office suite. Harry is engrossed at his keyboard. Behind him a cine-projector runs the old, black and white footage of the 1950’s Mandrake Experiment. After a few moments the projector runs out of film, but continues running, flapping the loose redundant end and emitting a monotonous chatter and white strobe light. The monitor screen Harry is working at is suddenly obscured. Kate, behind him, has removed her blouse and draped it over his PC screen. He stops and studies the garment, compelled to speculate as to the carnal delights exposed behind him. She, completely naked, leans over the back of his chair, cups her huge breasts in her hands, lifts and places them either side of Harry’s head, smothering him in her softness.

Kate––now as orator––begins a narrative, a move-for-move blow-for-blow account of Harry’s class act performance of eroticism – it is the morning after the night before. Kate, with gusto and lewd hand-gestures, re-enacts her night of bliss in Harry’s tender experienced hands. She is speaking to her little coven of friends sat round her in the Agency restaurant over coffees, joyfully aware that Rose and Major are sitting within earshot at an adjacent table.

‘–And then,’ continues Kate, giving sideways glances to Rose, ‘would you believe, he did it to me all over again! Darling Harry Mandrake may dress like a fairy and talk like a fruit, but oh my, he flies like an angel.’ The women dissolve into laughter. Rose slams down her coffee-cup, gets up and, with much drama, marches out past the giggling group. As she exits, Harry enters. They meet in the doorway. Harry is pleasantly surprised.

‘Rose,’ he beams, ‘When did you get back? I–’

Harry is sent reeling from an almighty smack in the face. The blow spins him around in bewilderment and into the group of sniggering women. This display of unbridled anger only rekindles their suspicion that Rose is carrying a torch for Harry and vice-versa, and a further suspicion that Harry is now carrying the beginnings of a swelling, blackening eye.

It is now the day after, the morning after the night before. Harry, sporting dark glasses, is relating his Mandrake data in Major’s office. Playing on a VCR is the old footage of the British 50’s Mars Expedition and the aftermath, now converted to videotape. Rex, Hamish and a starchy Rose are in attendance. The tape ends. Harry momentarily lifts his glasses and attempts eye contact with Rose, to no avail. The meeting ends abruptly. Harry leaves the tape and makes his exit, to crushing silence.

Days pass in shunned solitude, different times of day and various stages of bruising to Harry’s eye, developing to its peak: red tinged with purple, and on to its gradual decline: a dull brownish ochre. All this time Rose has been cutting him dead in public, and physically avoiding him.

Eventually Harry is summoned to Major’s office, his black eye now calmed to a slight marbling of maroon and yellowish bruising.

‘You wanted to see me, Major?’ says mournful Harry, as he enters the office.

Major stands with his back to him, looking out of the window. He speaks at him without turning: ‘Your material, Mandyke, was interesting but there are many gaps… there is no footage of the entity or the transformation. This is, as I say, interesting. But frankly it has no conclusion… it is, in a word, incomplete.’ Major stresses these last words as he turns and faces Harry. There is now worry as well as dejection on Harry’s face as it occurs to him that his gravy train is about to run off the rails.

‘Man, drake,’ he corrects again ‘Man…drake. Look Major, I could give you a lot more. But I’m not even sure if you believe what I’ve already told you. If I go too quickly it will flow over you and you’ll miss the point. This really did happen. My main objective is to convince every one of that. Once I’ve done that I’ll expand into the theory.’

‘Let’s hope so. Now, I’ve been checking on a few things. Your science degree you say you’ve taken, we can’t find any record of it.’

‘You’ve been looking in the winning circle I take it? Wrong place, old sport.’ Major gives a troubled look. Harry continues. ‘Look, I explained all this to the boys. I didn’t get it because I didn’t bloody want it. Three times I’ve sat the damned thing. I could pass it with one eye tied behind my back. The old man’s estate provides for me… until I pass out and get married and produce a bloody sprog… only then will I inherit. I intend to do neither! Damn it, I get my fees paid and a bloody good living, and more women students than I can shake a stick at. Why knock it? Your little proposition came as a bit of light relief. So, if there’s nothing else… ?’

‘Okay, point taken,’ says Major wiping his hand over his face in exasperation. ’And yes, there’s something else. Some of your instructions are a little vague. We appear to have a substantial amount of monies moving through a numbered account in England. What exactly is the product of this, ‘William Hill’?’

Harry shrugs, ‘You might well ask.’

‘I do, well ask!’

‘Don’t worry, Major, it came to nothing. Let’s say it was a hunch. Anyway, I’ve severed that connection. I have a much more accommodating one now… American. So, if there’s nothing else I really must dash. Oh, by-the-by, my contract is sound, I’ve appointed an adviser, he says it’s unbreakable – kosher.’ With these wise words Harry, full of rancour, makes ready to leave.

Major moves between him and the door and bars his exit. ‘That won’t do, Mandyke. We’ve invested a great deal of money in you. You were warned at the beginning. That warning still stands… more so since the Ronan fiasco. Now, I want you to check out a body that’s been found, two bodies in fact.’

‘Bodies!’ shrieks Harry in horror, ‘I don’t know anything about bloody bodies, for Christ sake!’

‘I know that, and it would appear you don’t know anything about science! The point is you look like you do, that’s all you need for this job.’

‘But bodies… dead bodies?’

’Yes, and believe me they don’t come much deader than these. Now, the first body was found a week ago, half decomposed. They put the premature decay down to a combination of the new cheap drug, ‘zap’ I believe it’s called… it’s made with the residue scum from refining heroin, all the bums take it, it’s as deadly as it is cheap. And–’

‘DRUGS! I don’t know anything about bloody drugs.’

Major ignores and continues. ‘And… the guy, the body, had aids… so they say. They also speculate he was homosexual.’

‘Bloo,dy Nora!’

‘Yes, bloody Nora, whoever the hell she is. How they can tell he was gay I shudder to think, but our best play is that aids factor. They found another body this morning, same MO. They want an autopsy. Thing is nobody will touch it, thank God.’

‘I don’t blame them,’ chips Harry, ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Yes you would, and yes you will! – They’ve asked our agency to do it.’

‘Oh no, not on your life, matey! Not a chance in hell.’

‘Listen to me, I want those bodies burned and I don’t want any fuss. I don’t care how you do it: lie, cheat, or steal, whatever. You’re up to all of that, so I’m told.’

‘Now steady on, I–’

‘–Here’s your brief and your authority.’ Major thrusts an envelope. ‘Your neck’s on the line, fella – earn your keep… don’t let me down. Remember, nothing and no-one is indispensable.’

Harry acknowledges the veiled threat and takes the envelope. Major turns, and without further word offers him the open door. Harry exits, also without comment. The door slams.

Outside, Harry stands for some time in deep thought. He looks down at the envelope then back to the door – to a different door: He now is standing at the top of the steps to Rose’s apartment block, studying the names displayed on an old-fashioned handset intercom. He presses the button marked R. Hawkins and lifts the receiver. Rose’s voice speaks out:

‘Hello, who’s there?’

Harry answers in his smallest, meekest voice. ‘It’s Harry, Rose. Please don’t hang up.’ She hangs up. He rings again. After a few moments, we hear the receiver lift. Rose is there but does not speak. Harry continues. ‘Let me talk to you, Rose. Whatever you think of me please listen, I need you, for God’s sake. The Kate thing was… look, I’m not used to such liberated women. I didn’t mean anything to happen… it’s you I want. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, and I think you felt the same. Give me a chance, Rose. I’m alone in this bloody place… I need you. Damn it, I need you, Rose. ROSE!’ She hangs up again. Harry stands for some time staring into the phone. Eventually, he gently replaces the receiver and walks slowly down the steps. As he gets to the last step the door-mechanism clicks. He turns and dashes back, opens the door and puts his foot in the jamb, then picks up the receiver again, just in time to hear Rose’s voice.

‘You still there, Creep? Come up.’

This time, Harry tosses the hand set back onto the receiver in his old jaunty style. As it lands he enters the building, at the same time letting out his cry of triumph, ‘Ha ha, bingo! Bloody bingo!’ The door shuts behind him.

Harry arrives at the apartment door. Rose is waiting for him. ‘What can I say, Rose?’ offers Harry, sheepishly.

She leads him in and stands with her back against the closed door. ‘What can you say?’ She leans menacingly into his face, ’How about, ‘Ha ha, bingo! Bloody bingo!’

Harry looks shocked – he is shocked! Rose has just smacked his face, a loud resounding slap! He regains himself and grabs at her and pulls her to him, forcing her onto a kiss. The next moment he is on his knees, kissing the carpet and holding at his groin.

‘Christ sake… Rose… what… did you… do that for?’

She looks down at him and imitates his pathetic voice, ‘I’m not used to liberated women, Rose’ – It’s you I want, Rose – Give me a chance, Rose – Ha ha! Bloody bingo! – You moron, you can’t even put a telephone receiver down without fucking up.’

‘Rose, I–’

‘We’re not pleased with you, Harry. You’ve lied to us. You’re a shit-house, Hal, of the very first order.’

Harry, still on the floor smarting, looks up. ‘I love you Rose and that’s the truth. If I’m so bloody transparent you must see that.’

‘Yes... I do see that.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how do you feel about me?’

‘We’ll discuss that later. Now. I think you want something from me?’

‘Rose, really!’ says Harry, standing up shakily, ‘What the hell do you take me for?’

‘Oh. I thought I just made that crystal clear: a rat, liar, cheat, drunk, waster and moron – you want to add anything?’

‘Loser? I know, I know… kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you? I need a breakthrough, Rose. I owe it to the old man, my uncle, for everything he’s done for me over the years. I’m not a moron. I’ve just enough intelligence to realize… that I haven’t enough intelligence…’ he ponders as to whether what he has just said makes sense or not, ‘… If you see what I mean?’

‘Yes, I see what I think you mean. So, what do you want from me?’

‘I’ve got to check out two bodies, and–’

‘I know, and I’m supposed to help you, that’s why I let you in. We see the first body tomorrow… it’s on ice. Then, I go to see my mother. You’re coming with me – I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

‘To see the body or to see your mother?’

’Both. We stay at my mother’s place for a few days. I have to keep my eye on you. I don’t want you running off. Consider yourself under close arrest. Then we see the other body. They’ve frozen it solid with liquid nitrogen, it’ll take them four days to defrost it – ‘exactly the same time as it takes from conception to the quickening.’ God knows why the jerk told me that, morgue people always say stupid stuff like that, ‘a body takes the same time to rot, as gestation,’ gallows humour – ironic, isn’t it?’

‘Bloody hell, that’s near on a week. I can’t be away that long, I’ve–’

‘You’ve what? Got something else planned?’ she grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him close, ‘Something with Kate?’

He instinctively covers his vitals with his hands expecting another attack. ‘No no no! Bloody hell, Rose… I’m just saying–’

‘If I catch you with Kate again I’ll break your noodle neck. I love you too, you skinny little creep, I think, God help me.’ She kisses him, a long passionate kiss, in the middle of which Harry lifts her up and, with great difficulty, carries her into what he hopes is her bedroom. Rose realizing, pulls away from the kiss. ‘No. Don’t Harry, please. I, I don’t. I don’t do this. I never… Hal, please…’ She is lost in Harry’s embrace. They make love in her bed. This is not like before with Kate, this is tender, slow, true lovemaking. For a long while afterwards they lie holding each other. Harry breaks the silence:

‘I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t realize I… I was your first. How the hell did you manage to hold on to it all that time?’ On realizing how ungallant this remark is he tries to retract, ‘Sorry. What I meant was–’

’–What do you mean ‘all that time?’ How old do you think I am, for God sake? Christ, Harry, you really know how to sweet-talk a girl.’

‘I’m so awfully sorry, Rose. I really didn’t mean that. What I meant was–’

Rose’s icy stare cuts off his feeble apology attempt. Feeling obliged to give explanation she looks away, slightly embarrassed. ‘I just never got around to it, okay? I always wanted my career. Men didn’t seem to bother me… I knew I could get any one of them I wanted, so…’

‘So beautiful, so, so… modest!’

She punches his arm playfully. ‘You know what I mean, creep. Men are easy, they have their brains in their pockets with their change, car-keys, and bubble-gum… and look what I’m stuck with.’

‘Yes, what was it? rat, liar, cheat, drunk, waster and moron.’

’And ‘loser’… your word, buddy.’

‘God’s sake, let’s call a truce.’

‘Okay, truce.’

‘I’ve got something for you, a pressie,’ he leans over her, to his jacket, finds a package and hands it to her. She slowly opens it. It’s a little gold locket on a silver chain, ‘It’s been in the family for ages. Keep your pills in it or something.’

‘Pills? I don’t take pills, I’m as healthy as a horse.’

‘No, I mean, your pills.’

She looks at him, slightly perplexed. ‘Is this how you got into Kate’s pants? Don’t answer that… Thank you, Hal, I adore it,’ she puts it on. It looks beautiful against her naked body.

‘By-the-by, Rose, what did you think of my so-called seminar? Major was totally nonplussed.’

‘Oh… it was better the first time I heard it.’

Harry looks surprised. ’First time! What do you mean, ‘first time’?’

‘I heard it before, in Edinburgh. I was there for a month, two years ago. I was intrigued, I went to one of your lectures.’

‘You did? You know more about this than I thought.’

‘You’d be surprised what I know, and if you’d read your brief like you were supposed to, you lazy bum, you would have known that.’ She gives him a look of contempt. ‘You’re a creep, Henry Mandrake, but you’ll do for me.’ She slips on his shirt and stands. ‘Now, if you’re to see some nice dead bodies and my mother, I’m going to have to fix that eye.’

She moves across the room and gets her make-up bag, Harry twists his legs from the bed and sits and watches, unable to take his eyes from her. She sits, straddling his lap, and begins to obliterate the slight remaining maroon and yellow bruise. After a few moments, she reacts to a movement.

‘Hey! Stop that.’

Harry, smirking. ‘What?’

‘You know. That!’

Harry lifts both his hands above his head in the pretence of innocence. ‘What Rose? What?’

‘That! Now, stop it, you’ll make me smudge your eye… Harrrrry! Not again!’

They fall to lovemaking again. Passions spent, Rose’s face snuggles on Harry’s shoulder.

After a night and half-a-day of carnal bliss, Harry is now noisily throwing-up outside the city mortuary, the first of the two bodies seen and despatched. Rose looks on with caring eyes.

An hour on, Rose’s face snuggles Harry’s shoulder once again. Refreshed and the nightmare of body-number-one behind them they are now luxuriating in Harry’s Rolls Royce, journeying to her mother’s house at Southold, Long Island.

It is early afternoon when they arrive at a little wood-shingled house with rambling unmanaged garden. A gracious middle-aged woman greets them at the stoop.

‘Rosey! How nice.’

Harry is cordially introduced to Mabel, Rose’s widowed mother, a seventy-year old and obvious beauty in her time. She is soon totally lost to Harry’s mild manners and quintessential English good looks. Over dinner, Rose becomes more and more agitated as Harry and Mabel chat and laugh, Harry is getting his feet well and truly under the table.

Later, over the dishes, Mabel confronts her frosty daughter: ‘I know you want me to shut up, but it’s got to be said, you’re not getting no younger, girl. Mark your territory before those high-class bitches you work with get their feline claws into him an’ gobble him up.’

’God’s sake mother, ‘mark my territory,’ you make me sound like an alley-cat. Do you have to be so crude? I’ve only just met him I–’

‘You slept with him yet? You slept with anyone yet… male, female?’

‘What the hell are you implying?’ says Rose, shocked.

‘It don’t make that much difference to me, Rosey… all I know is your only beau, of any kind that I know of, was your lady friend at the agency.’

‘I had lots of friends at the agency, male and female.’

’Well you need some love in your life or you’re going to die a withered old maid. They’re going to put ‘returned unopened’ on you tombstone.’

‘Well I’m not… gay, if that’s what you are implying, and I’ve…we’ve… O, for god’s sake, I don’t have to justify myself to you. I’m not a teenager… Jesus!’

’Leastways you’re not sleeping with him here if that’s what you was hoping. Not under my roof? Make ‘em wait… get a ring on your finger, that’s my advice, sooner the better in your case.’

‘God sakes mother, this is the eighties, not the twenties, he’ll hear you.’

‘Good, let him hear, daughter! Let him know what to expect, or what not to expect, know what I’m saying?’ She wipes her hands on her apron and walks off.

Rose calls after her. ‘I’ve waited thirty-nine years, mother, and I ain’t just hoping, so don’t bother with the guest-room.’