Quaranteam: Project RED - Ch. 02

Thanks to CorruptingPower for permission to make my little contribution to the ever-growing world of Quaranteam, and thanks to the whole collective for their feedback on the writing, and keeping me on the straight and narrow when it comes to canon.

I hope you all like a slow and steady story. This isn't one of your fast-paced stories, full of action. It's about people, and people are complicated.

Thanks for all your support on the prologue and chapter 1. It means the world.

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Chapter 2: A Half-Expected Journey

Extracts from Veraxiontic UK Operations Report, 7th August 2020:

In addition to securing options on lab space for further satellite teams, collaboration with the UK government on securing suitable manufacturing facilities proceeds. Reports on this matter now filed under codename Gemini.

Project R. E. D. has secured the use of a holiday camp in Cumbria (northern England) for the trial phase of the operation. This had been earmarked for high-security UK government projects, having been closed due to UK 'lockdown' regulations. However, the government has agreed to defer their use of the site until the more sensitive phases of our operations are complete. Movement of personnel and equipment should start in the next two days; we hope to be able to draw on USAF assets from shared bases for logistical support.

Personnel negotiations continue, with...

* * * * *

14th August 2020, 10:00 a. m.

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Kat made sure they were up bright and early the next day, finishing up packing her laptop, their chargers and power banks, and everything else they couldn't pack earlier because they were still in use. She had stuck her head outside and checked the weather forecasts, and had chosen a fairly smart linen-blend midi skirt in a deep, rich green, with a white collared tunic that could pass for a blouse from enough of a distance—but didn't require her to fasten any buttons, saving her relying on Rob so much. She was fond of the skirt, the colour matching well with her eyes; it was also one of a very few she had that were smart, but that she could get on without help. The combination would have worked better when her hair had been long, but the messy locks of brown hair were at least easy to keep under control—or that gave the impression of it, in any case. The overall effect on her tall frame was striking; elegance was now beyond her, but if she was trying to make an impression, she liked to make one.

Rob had started dressing in his usual clothes, but she reminded him that they were going to be meeting actual people, and might want to make a good impression; he had then changed into a pair of black jeans and a royal blue Oxford shirt. She appreciated the effort, anyway, and his dirty blond hair, tied back—and properly brushed for once—completed the appearance of the young professional, even if he wasn't that young any more.

The years have been kinder to him, but then he hasn't been living with so much pain.

Once he was mostly awake, she set Rob to clearing out perishables from the fridge and tying up the rubbish bags to take down as she made a last check around the flat for anything they'd missed, hips more stiff and painful than usual, but she thought it was worth it for the treat for them both. She recovered her beret from where it had fallen, disregarded, the previous day.

She twirled it on her finger as she joined her husband in the kitchen.

"I've never understood your thing for hats," she said, inviting an explanation.

"Neither have I, exactly," he admitted. "Just, you know, cute lasses in cute hats. The right hat for the right woman. And you," he pointed out, bending to kiss her head, "are always the right woman for me."

"And chokers?"

"Hmm. It's sort of like a collar, but not quite. Collars are too in-your-face, but a choker still has a feeling of restraint about it."

"Well, I do not feel restrained when I'm wearing a choker around you."

"I noticed," he told her, lifting her chin to bring their lips together in a slow kiss, full of passion remembered and promised. Kat eventually broke away, reluctantly.

"We got a message," she said, pulling out her phone and waving it in the air. "Our ride is expecting to be here about 11:30, and they'll help us take our bags to the car. Full hazmat again, so we don't need to take any particular precautions. You've taken your cinnarizine?"

"Yeah, and I've got plenty with me. I think I might be up and about a lot for a while, so I'll probably need plenty if I'm going to be able to eat. Have a look in the fridge—I think everything that's left in there is stuff we want to bring with us, and I put the ice blocks in the freezer last night. We can bring a cool bag. I also made up some bags of home-made pasta sauce, chilli, stew and all that, with tags on. They're all at the top of the chest freezer; hopefully we can get the people doing pickup to grab those as well.

Kat had a look in the fridge, quickly approving the still-sealed cheese and sandwich meat, some fruit, some yogurt, butter, an unopened bottle of milk.

"Well," she observed, "I hope we're going to be able to get hold of other food once we're there. Dr Rossi said we could bring some perishables, so I assume we can at least get some bread."

"I did wonder," said Rob, pulling out a small holdall and opening the lid. Kat smiled to see that it contained a defrosting loaf of bread, with jam, tea, coffee, and sugar. "Just in case. Wouldn't want us to be too stuck if they haven't managed a bit of joined-up thinking."

They gathered up their bags around the flat door—three backpacks of varying sizes, two large, wheeled suitcases, and two fairly large holdalls—and loaded the cool bag and the holdall of food into Rob's rollator. Luggage arranged to their satisfaction, they made a last pass through the flat making sure everything that should be was turned off, windows closed, and so on, then Rob hauled the rubbish down to the bin room. When he returned, they each glanced at their phones—not quite eleven.

They sat down to wait.

* * *

When the entryphone buzzed, Rob rushed to it, impatience leading him to almost fall as he picked up the handset.

"Yeah, okay," Kat heard him say, the voice on the other end inaudible to her. "There's a lift, we're on the fifth floor. Buzzing you in now."

Kat got to her feet to join him, and they finished getting ready. Each put on a light jacket, Kat's taking something of its look from the style of a blazer, but more relaxed; Rob's was a simple sports jacket he had chosen, he said, largely to keep the wind off when it got breezy of an evening. They then picked up their handbags and shouldered some of the smaller bags they were bringing; the larger bags were left to whoever it was that was coming to help them.

Hearing the lift arrive, Kat pushed past her husband to look through the spy-hole in their door. She saw another hazmat-suited figure, though it seemed smaller than the lads who'd brought the packing materials. She stepped back to let Rob open the door.

"Hello there!" The voice from inside the suit was definitely feminine, and seemed more than a little posh. The woman leaned back slightly to give them a clear view into her face-plate, and Kat got a vague impression of red hair; glare from the room's lights made it hard to see more. "Before we start, I need you both to use these," she stated, holding out a pair of swabs in sealed containers. "Throat and nose, I'm sure you know the drill."

They did, although the hard plastic shells around the swabs weren't what they were used to. They opened the caps, and a brief investigation revealed how to extend the swab to reach the back of their mouths. They each swabbed their tonsils, Rob gagging slightly as he did, then blew their noses and repeated the process there. Kat's eyes were watering by the time she finished, and she felt the need to blow her nose again, but she retracted and re-capped the swab before returning it to the woman.

"Thank you both," she said, tucking the two cases into a pocket in her suit. "I'll also draw some blood from each of you once you're settled into the van. Now, what bags can I take? I'm hoping we can do this in one trip."

Realising that her suit would make it impossible to handle anything on her back, they each hefted one bag onto each of theirs and balanced the smallest on Rob's rollator. Kat took control of a suitcase, and pulled the smaller of the two holdalls to her shoulder. The suited redhead grabbed the remaining holdall and suitcase and, displaying surprising strength for her size, didn't bother using the wheels.

The three made their way down in the lift in slightly awkward silence. As the lift reached the ground floor, their visitor seemed to realise this.

"Sorry, I'm not being very friendly, am I? Once we're all loaded up, we'll be able to see each other properly, and we can make our introductions then. You'll see once we get everything sorted."

Stepping out of the building, they saw the 'van'. It was a minibus, showing some obvious signs of relatively hasty conversion. The rear doors revealed a folding ramp, although the suited figure made short enough work of loading without bothering to use it. Once it folded back into place, it formed an extra barrier against anything falling out. There was plenty of space for their bags, as at least one row of seating had been removed at the back.

The sliding door at the side also revealed that the front row of seats had also been removed, creating space for a partition behind the driver's seat with enough space for any bags or equipment the driver might need. The covering on the floor and ceiling of the compartment had been cut back around the partition, and welding marks were clearly visible where it attached to bodywork. Embedded in the metal framework of the partition, however, was a thick clear plastic, making it easy to see between the two compartments.

The passenger side of the front was also partitioned from the driver's seat, and an array of machinery had been installed in place of the passenger-side dash. Thick, sealed gloves were attached to holes in the partition between the driver's seat and the equipment area. There were also little chambers between each of the three sealed areas, allowing small items to be transferred. Clipped to the outside of the front passenger door was what looked like nothing so much as a normal shower head, with a hose leading into the engine compartment.

They've certainly been thorough. I imagine they've tested those seals to a fair-thee-well, as well.

Kat was impressed.

"In you go," their escort instructed. "For now, sit on separate benches, and get out whichever arm is better for taking blood." They did as they were told, each rolling up a loose sleeve. Blood draw kits were produced, and very shortly the two swab kits and two vacutainers of blood had been deposited in the transfer chamber between the rear compartment and the machinery. They were told they could now sit wherever they liked, and the sliding door was closed. They rearranged themselves into the front-most remaining bench seat, Rob's arm curled around Kat's shoulders.

Through the windows, they saw the figure unhitch the shower head and reach into the engine compartment. After a few seconds, a shower of some sort of liquid was produced, and the outside of the suit was thoroughly and systematically drenched. They lost sight as the figure passed around the back of the vehicle, until the driver's door opened and the hazmat suit was deposited behind the driver's seat in several pieces.

Their escort was revealed to be a trim, athletic, and somewhat pixieish woman with coppery red hair, blue eyes and small, dark freckles on her pale skin. The hair was contained in a tight bun at her nape, and she was wearing a short-sleeved, medically-styled white collared tunic with dark blue piping and dark blue scrub trousers. She clambered into the driver's seat, pulled the door closed behind her, and swung to sit sideways, facing the machinery compartment. She turned further towards them and smiled impishly.

"So, I know that you're Katherine and Robert Brook. Or is there something else you'd prefer that I call you?" Her voice was surprisingly clear; Kat glanced around, and noticed a speaker just below the plastic part of the partition. She assumed there was a microphone as well.

"I'm Kat, and this is Rob," Kat replied, surprising herself slightly at getting to the answer before Rob. She was beginning to get an odd feeling about this situation.

"Well, I'm Gillian Coles, and I'll be working closely with you both if you agree to take part in this study. I'm a physiotherapist, and I've done advanced training in several areas—including helping people with balance problems."

"That makes sense," commented Rob. "So, um, Ms Coles—Miss—Mrs?"

"Oh, just call me Gillian. I'm going to put those samples I took from you into these machines, set them running, and then we'll head off. We can get to know each other on the journey. By the time we get there, we'll have some results. If you're clean then everything will proceed as planned; if not—well, I'm told there's procedures we can follow."

"Nice setup, keeping everything separate in here; saves you driving in the moon suit," Rob noted with approval. "Is that a test for Covid? It seems a touch more complex than any other portable blood testing setup I've seen."

"Oh, it's very thorough. I'm sure someone will be glad to explain after the project briefing. Now, if you'll excuse me a minute, I'll just get these going and then we can toddle off."

Kat's eyes narrowed as she watched Gillian work, deftly handling the samples and equipment with the gloves attached to the partition. Things were starting to fall into place in her theories about the situation, and she wasn't sure if she liked them. It was time to try to find out a little more.

* * * * *

They moved off, Gillian weaving the minibus through the local streets to make their way out of town. Rob gazed out of the window, watching the familiar landmarks pass, wondering when he'd be back this way. The information from Dr Rossi had certainly been vague enough for him to be pretty uncertain.

The streets were quiet. Quieter than last time he'd been out, and that had been a couple of weeks ago. He considered the social implications, and the questions this raised—how much of the difference was fewer people out and about, and how much was fewer people full stop? How were people managing to get food, and other essential supplies?

As he mused, Kat and Gillian seemed to be having a chat.

"I don't know much about physio training," Kat was saying. "Does it take long?"

"I knew this was what I wanted to do, so I went straight from school. It's a degree, three years, same as most things. My school was disappointed, of course, they're more used to producing doctors than physios. My aunt didn't care."

"Your aunt?"

"I lived with her." The friendly cheer that Gillian exuded seemed to dry up at that point, and Rob turned to Kat to help her steer clear, but she seemed to have worked it out for herself.

"Oh, right. Why were your school bothered?"

"Oh, you know, fancy place. What did you do at uni?"

There have been smoother changes of subject, but Kat's used to worse from me.

As Kat described her original studies and aspirations—making the world a better place through sound policy and providing solid evidence, the naivete of which she had only realised later—they were clearing the edge of town, heading out towards the motorway.

"So, we're maybe going to be wherever we're going for a while," Kat noted. "Are you signed up to the same?"

"Yes. Well, if you decide not to stay they might decide they don't need me. We'll have to see."

"Is there anyone going to be missing you?" she asked; Rob thought he caught something odd about Kat's tone in that question, but he wasn't sure anyone who didn't know her would notice.

"Oh, no. Apart from being dragooned into scutwork an HCA could do, before things got too crazy at the hospitals. But before all this," her left hand came off the wheel and gesticulated vaguely, "well, I was working most of the time. Ever since I first qualified, I've kept up training for more skills. I just want to be able to do everything in my job, you know?"

Things got crazy at the hospitals, eh? That fits...

"You mean you've been in a dry spell since uni?"

"Well," Gillian conceded, a smile in her voice, "not exactly. But nothing ongoing, if you know what I mean. Some fun here and there." Rob was surprised to hear her giggle, though his eyelids were starting to droop. He dug his nails into his palm in an attempt to stay awake, but still missed part of the conversation.

He did notice when they joined the M6 northbound.

"Oh, I think I read some of those," said Gillian, answering a question that Rob had clearly missed. "I enjoyed them, but I couldn't tell you which ones they were."

"Well, if we're in the same place long enough, when we get more of our things delivered, you'd be welcome to borrow them."

"Personally, I'm more interested in films. There's some great classics that hardly anyone seems to talk about any more."

As they so often did when he was a car passenger, Rob's eyes closed beyond his ability to resist, and he dozed. Never fully waking, he drifted in and out, catching bits of the conversation as he lapsed between sleep and groggy half-wakefulness.

"A low bridge, careful of the dinosaur," he heard Kat say. Not long after, he heard both voices raised in unison, rhythmically intoning "won ton soup!" Both laughing like ten-year-olds.

An unknown time later, Kat putting on a strange accent. "When they find out who we are they'll let us out." Gillian's response, "when they find out who you are, they'll pad the cell."

"What cell?" Rob briefly roused enough to ask.

"Don't worry, love, we won't put you in the one with the leopard."

He dozed again, picking up only scattered pieces of conversation.

"Definitely a cat person," Gillian asserted. "Dogs are okay, but they get so dependent."

"... but once he caught my interest, his eyes were a big draw." That was Kat. "Then, well, when we got closer, I reckon his shoulders are to die for..."

"... in any case, I think I prefer hair to be either long or fairly short," opined Gillian, "nicer to play with that way. Either a lot of it to stroke and hold on to, or the sort of length you can ruffle."

"... I'm not sure if I've any preference for a long-term relationship. Not really had time for any. But I've certainly enjoyed time with both, if you see what I mean..."

"... I don't know if I could really have a relationship with someone who wasn't smart. Nothing against your average person, but I want real conversations, getting into stuff, and that's harder when there's a mismatch. Rob and I can talk about anything, and we can almost always keep up with each other."

"That's an interesting point. I hadn't really thought of that. Conversation hasn't really been a major factor in any of my... entanglements..."

"Until my hands got bad, I loved sewing, making things. I got into nalbinding when they started going, but eventually...

"... people at school rode. I quite like horses, at least in principle. Some friends managed to get me up on one a few times, and I suppose I can see some appeal."

"These days, I'm pretty much limited to watching them on TV. I wonder what will happen with the London International Horse Show this year. But when I had the money, I'd take what opportunities I could find. Rob's never ridden, though I think he enjoys watching the driving."

"I think there's a riding stable where we're going, though I don't know if it will be running. Someone mentioned something about alpacas, too, but I'm not sure if that was in the park or just nearby..."

A change in road surface finally broke Rob into a state more awake than asleep. They were slowing down, in an open area surrounded by trees. As the van came to a stop, Kat turned to him, gave him an appraising look as his eyelids drooped, and pinched him in the ribs.

With a start, he was wide awake.

* * * * *

"Here we are," Gillian announced. "Your tests came back clear, so I'll just pop off and let people know we're here. Feel free to get out and stretch your legs, but don't go wandering off. I'll be back as soon as I know where I should be taking you." She flashed them an enthusiastic smile as she unfastened her seatbelt, then dropped out of the open car door.

Kat threw open the sliding door and clambered out, tugging on Rob's arm to get him to follow. She moved off to where they could see Gillian walking away from them, seeming now to Kat's eyes like a little ball of carefully-contained energy. One with a sway to its hips.

Interesting. I wonder...

* * *

Rob looked around as Kat pulled him from the van. They were in a woodchip car park in the middle of mixed woodland, the early afternoon sun warm through the leaves. The edges of simple-looking wooden buildings could be seen here and there, and a mixture of woodchip and tarmac footpaths led off into the trees in various directions.

"What do you think of her?" Kat asked, breaking into his reverie.

"Seems nice enough," Rob answered, still inspecting their surroundings. Kat tugged on his arm, steering him to face toward Gillian as she receded from view, disappearing behind a bank of trees.

"I mean as, well—as a woman. She looks nice, doesn't she?"

While Rob knew his wife was bisexual, this wasn't exactly the kind of conversation they'd had much before. Not since a couple of times early in their relationship when he'd started it, and Kat had never been impressed.

Her starting a discussion like that was possibly the strangest thing that had happened that week, even with this 'Project R. E. D.' malarkey.

"Well, yes," he answered cautiously.

"I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about hats. Cute hats and cute lasses. What sort would suit her, do you think?"

Rob still wasn't sure where this was going, or where it was coming from, but with a prompt like that he couldn't help considering it. Different hats superimposed themselves on Gillian's face in his mind, considering various possibilities.

"One of those summer hats made of that sort of mesh," he said; he knew what hats looked like, but definitely wasn't up on terminology for all of them. "Not too big a brim, domed crown. Or maybe one of those things women wear at the races. A fascinator. But not with too big a thing." He gestured around the top of his own head. "Black, I think. Or a straw hat. Different sort of feel, but it would work just as well."

Kat hugged his side, and he could feel her smile. He just wasn't sure why she was smiling.

* * *

A couple of minutes later, Gillian came back into view, beckoning them forward.

"Come on. Dr Rossi wants to speak to you, and some other new arrivals. We'll have someone take your bags to your room."

They looked at each other and shrugged, moving to follow with Rob lightly leaning on his wife's shoulder. They cleared the trees and joined a small cluster of similar groups around Dr Rossi, who sported a very business-like white blouse and black skirt, and was holding a pen and clipboard. She stood outside of a more modern-looking, four-storey building, extending at least 100 metres in each direction from the grand entrance near where they stood. It's flat white faces never quite square. Windows and balconies projected from the building at gentle angles, and simple tables and chairs could be seen on every balcony. On the top floor there were terraces, and those not only had a larger complement of chairs, but also a pair of sun loungers apiece. It was, in this setting, quite impressive, especially as it seemed to come from nowhere once the trees no longer obscured it.

The building itself was set in an open area, and Kat thought she heard running water somewhere nearby. Smaller buildings in similar style were scattered about, though she could see no pattern to their layout from this angle. Past the corner of the main building, it looked like portacabins were in the process of being set up, though no-one seemed to be working on them just now. The whole space felt oddly empty and still, as if there should be more people, more bustle and activity.

Kat returned her attention to the people around her. She could see at least two similar groupings around other people that she assumed were project workers. Each group was made up of a few smaller groups, each containing a couple along with someone in one medical uniform or another. Kat did a quick read of the others in their group.

To their right were an older couple, looking like they were in their late 50s. A woman was clearly attempting to sit upright in a wheelchair, with a mask on her face connected to tanks on the back of her wheelchair. Next to her was a man who stood with a simple cane, one side of his face slightly sagging. With them was a middle-aged, matronly woman with curly brown hair, wearing a dark blue nurse's uniform.

On the far side of them a South Asian couple stood close to one another, arms intertwined. The man wore wraparound sunglasses and held a white cane, long, with a rounded block on the tip. The woman had no obviously visible conditions, but then, neither did Kat—if you couldn't see her hands. They each wore a dastar, which surprised Kat; she'd seen many men wearing turbans while she was at uni, but didn't think she could remember a woman doing so. With them was a younger woman, mid-to-late 20s, with skin only slightly paler than the couple, but hair much lighter, a sandy dark blond. She was dressed similarly to Gillian but with red piping and scrub bottoms.

To their left was a group of four, rather than three. The couple were easy to tell apart from the other—a slim blonde with her hands tucked into a semi-smart jacket wearing thick glasses, leaning against the side of a tall, solid, square-built black man in a wheelchair. His hair was cropped short, and like the woman next to him he had chosen a nod to business dress in his clothes, with smart trousers and a well-cut collared shirt.

Behind them and to one side were a woman, who Kat would have put as maybe 10 years older than herself, and another who looked like she hadn't been legally an adult for very long. The first wore the same uniform as Gillian, but with a much more rounded figure, and dark hair in the same sort of low bun. The latter wore jeans, t-shirt, and a light hooded zip-front top, with light brown hair tied back in a simple ponytail, and looked more worried than anyone else in the party.

Overall, it seemed that most people had taken similar approaches to clothing as Kat. Though each had their own take, with cultural differences or personal styles, Kat was satisfied—frankly, a bit pleased with herself—that she had come to the same conclusions about what to wear as the other people there.

This all felt pretty weird to Kat. Since the government first started paying attention to the pandemic, she'd been shielding. She'd not been in the same place as anyone but Rob—excepting people who were in hazmat gear—for months. Even with all the precautions, it spiked her anxiety a little.

"Well, now, everyone's here, so let's get started," Dr Rossi began, her tone even more upbeat than it had been for most of her Zoom meeting with Kat and Rob. "Welcome to the home of Project Red." A more stereotypical Californian way of speaking seemed to have been brought to the surface, though Kat couldn't imagine why.

She said that with so much enthusiasm that I could close my eyes and pretend she was a college cheerleader.

"There will be, like, a talk from our lead researcher later on, but first let's go over a few things and then you guys can get some rest."

"Uh, excuse me, Dr Rossi," said the older man to their right, slowly raising an arm. There was a slight slur to his speech, mild enough that one might easily miss it if he said less.

"Oh, now we're all here together, please, call me Toni—"

"Toni Rossi?" queried the man furthest to their right, a tone of puzzlement to his accented voice.

"Yes, Mr Sagoo. I'm aware of the shoes," she responded, a gentle edge entering her voice. She turned her attention to the man whose hand was raised. "Mr Smith, you had a question? We'll absolutely just be a few minutes here, and then you'll all be able to get some rest, a drink, whatever you need."

"It's not that," Mr Smith said, irritation starting to edge into his voice. "I was just wondering if you could tell us where we are. My wife and I both slept most of the way here."

"Oh," Dr Rossi replied, brought up short. "Well, sure. There's more information in the welcome packets in your rooms, but this is a holiday park in Cumbria that's been closed since your government brought in the lockdown restrictions. In support of cooperation between our governments in the current crisis, they've kindly loaned it to us for the project." Mr Smith nodded, seeming satisfied. "Behind us is a building with hotel rooms and mini-apartments for guests who don't want to rent a whole lodge. We've got space for each of you set up in there, and there's conference rooms downstairs that we'll be using for meetings.

"You may already have noticed that there's no phone signal here. We'll hopefully have that back eventually, but I don't know when that will be. In the meantime, we will sort out wi-fi access for everyone, but that might be a few days.

"What I need to tell you right now is that everyone in this park has been tested, and it's as safe as we can make it. Ideally everyone would be fully isolating for a while, but we're on a tight schedule. There's security at every entrance and we've fenced in the perimeter. I suggest no-one gets too close to anyone who didn't arrive with them for now, but there's likely nothing to worry about if people just take it easy. Each couple, and your escort, can stay together, but try to keep some distance from the other groups, especially indoors.

"Once things have settled down, in a few days, things should be even safer. My boss will tell you all about that later. In the meantime, you've each been assigned an escort, and we hope that you're getting on okay, 'cause we're hoping they'll be working with you for, well, some time. They each have a room, next to yours, and they've been given their room key and yours. Ms King, Mr Edwards," she turned to face the younger couple, "Miss Jankowska has a room of her own as well, but it has a communicating door with your suite.

"Please, everyone, follow your escorts, make your way to your rooms, and relax for a bit. Meals can be ordered using the TV in your room. The meeting will be in about..." she glanced at her watch, "two hours or so. You have at least ninety minutes. Thank you."

With that she turned, and briskly headed back towards the building.

"Well, that's fab, isn't it," Gillian said, turning to them. "Shall we head in?"

"Um, just one thing first," said Rob. "Could I maybe have my rollator?"

Gillian's hand covered her mouth as her face paled. "Oh, bugger, I'm sorry," she blurted before dashing back to the van.

Kat relaxed as Rob turned to her, smiling. "I think, in the circumstances, I can forgive a bit of an oversight," he said.

* * * * *

From the spacious atrium, Gillian led them through the seemingly-deserted hotel building.

"There are so-called accessible rooms on the ground floor," she explained, leading them to a lift, "but the nicer ones are on the top floor. The team has been quite careful trying to find suitable rooms for each group." She ushered them in before her, and followed them in. Once the door was closed, she turned and grinned at them. "I helped make the final choice for you. I think you'll like it."

On the third floor, she led them a short way down a corridor with surprisingly few doors. They came to a point where the hallway turned about forty-five degrees, and Gillian handed them each a key-card, gesturing to a door labelled 316. Below that simple number, the door declared the room to be, in fact, the Wordsworth Suite.

"I know, you find things connected with him all over the Lakes," Gillian admitted. "In this case, he spent much of his childhood in Penrith, with his mother's family. At least, according to the brochures that were lying around; it probably depends on how you define 'much of his childhood'. This isn't the best suite, if you judge that by price, but it should suit." She turned to gesture a short way along the corridor, where there were more doors on the opposite side. "I'm in 319; not a suite, but then, I'm just me. There's a phone in your room, and you can use the TV for video calls to other rooms as well. If you need me, give me a call. I'll be along when it's time for the meeting."

Rob took his key-card, and tapped it to the door.

* * *

When Kat first entered their suite—it was clear that the label on the door was no exaggeration—it took her a moment to adjust to the change from the corridor. The room was flooded with natural light from windows that covered most of the outer wall, illuminating a large open space. There was a wall to her left, with another door a few metres along it, but otherwise the entranceway was unusually spacious. As the space opened to her right, an expanse of wall was adorned with a truly enormous panel screen, with a low, shallow dresser of dark-stained wood below it housing various associated devices, not all of which she could identify. It was also decorated with fake flowers and a selection of reed diffusers, ready for guests to make their own choice of aroma. Remote controls were stored in a wall-mounted holder.

Immediately opposite the TV was a U-shaped arrangement of chairs and sofas with a large, low coffee table in the centre, and behind these was a glazed door leading onto a balcony or terrace. Further into the room to her right, Kat saw an open-plan kitchenette, while the wall to her left ended before reaching the other wall, seemingly leading to a corridor within the suite. Everything she could see was decorated in a delicate combination of creams, pastel and forest greens and earthy browns. The floor had the same dark-stained wood appearance as the sideboard; the coffee table was gradated from brown for the lowest parts, through greens to a cream surface matching the seating, all sat atop an abstract green and brown rug, reminiscent of camouflage patterns yet somehow more natural-looking.

Her mildly incredulous inspection of the facilities was interrupted by Rob clearing his throat behind her.

"Maybe it would be easier to get a good look around if we actually went all the way into the room, yeah?"

She muttered an apology and continued to the seating area, dropping her handbag on the coffee table. Rob parked his rollator next to her, and took the bags of food off to the kitchenette. Kat decided to continue exploring in the other direction.

A short corridor at the corner of the living space subtly concealed a bend in the wall, following the shape of the building. It led to a door to the left, back toward the interior of the building, and another door at the end of the corridor. A quick look in at the first door revealed a space configured as a study, with a desk, an office chair, some shelves, and an armchair tucked into the corner. The wall on the far side of the desk held another screen, much smaller than the one in the living space. Past the desk, there was another door in the far wall, which Kat decided to leave for now.

Continuing to the second door in the short passageway, Kat was not surprised to find their actual bedroom. One further door led off it, roughly in line with the door in the living space. Another door to the outside was on her right; she would investigate those later. The rest of their bags had also been brought here at some point, and were piled around the foot of the bed.

The bed in question was large, certainly—Kat had no experience of bed sizes larger than a double, so she couldn't say what size it was. There were also a couple of armchairs scattered about, and a desk area with a simple chair under another screen on the wall opposite the bed.

Right at that moment, however, Kat was primarily focused on the bed. She slipped off her shoes, and collapsed with far less elegance than she would have preferred.

I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes...

* * *

Having found places to put away the food they had brought, Rob was exploring the kitchenette. It was clear he wouldn't be doing any proper cooking while they were here. Toaster, microwave, kettle, dishwasher, fridge, two different coffee pod machines—one Nespresso and one Dolce Gusto, Nescafé clearly being popular with management—and a teapot were all clearly visible. A look in drawers and cupboards revealed a good range of cutlery and crockery, a coffee press, and various other bits and bobs. There was, however, no hob and no oven. Certainly none of the other equipment he preferred to cook with: no contact grill, no air fryer, no sous vide equipment at all.

Why they'd think it was worth having two of those pod machines and no cooker, I cannot fathom.

He got himself a glass of water and took the tablets he should have taken at noon, when he was dozing in the van. At least the island also worked as a breakfast bar, with a row of stools on the sofa side; they'd be able to sit up to eat reasonably comfortably, even if he did have to keep his elbows on the counter.

Definitely not self-catering. I suppose there's normally restaurants open on this site, but there won't be right now. But Dr Rossi said that we could order food through the TV. I should look into that.

He grabbed the remotes—it not being immediately obvious what was operated by which one—and sat on a large sofa directly facing the giant screen. Picking the remote that looked most like one for a normal TV, he was only slightly surprised that it did, indeed, turn on the TV. It immediately displayed a menu, offering an unusual range of options. There was a tile for actually watching TV, and a tile for a media player—presumably one of the boxes in the unit below the screen. There was a tile for smart video, likely for YouTube, Netflix and such. There was also a tile for customer services, a tile to make video calls, and a tile for hotel services.

Rob started exploring the things this TV could do. It occupied him for a while.

* * *

Having fallen in a frankly quite awkward position, Kat didn't doze for long. Heaving herself to her feet, she found and took her afternoon painkillers, and decided to explore the remaining door in the bedroom. It was no surprise that it led to a bathroom.

What was surprising was the contents of the bathroom.

Immediately to her right, and in the same position on the opposite wall, were walled-off areas with their own doors. The first proved to be a walk-in linen cupboard, while the other held a toilet and washbasin, and what she assumed was the door by the entrance to the suite. To her left was a large corner vanity unit, with a bewildering range of complimentary lotions and potions. Beside this, next to the door that must lead to the study, two hooks held a pair of plush white bathrobes. The remaining corner was filled with a glass-walled shower, the floor of which was slightly sunken. A shower stool and handrail had been placed within the cubicle—the rail wasn't attached to the wall, but Kat was familiar with that type of removable rail.

The most astonishing thing, however, easily drawing attention from the other features of the bathroom, occupied the middle of the room. A large, circular tub was half-sunken into the floor. Two sets of steps, equally spaced around from one another and from the taps, allowed easy access, leading both up into the bath, and down on the inside. The tub itself also had a ledge running around the edge, clearly intended to be sat on. Small vents were also visible on the inner surface, suggesting the bath had a whirlpool function.

It's like someone decided to make a bath and a hot tub at the same time. I've got to try that!

Eager to do so, and knowing a good soak would ease hips stiff from the drive, she went through the toilet cubicle. As expected, this brought her out in the living space, where she found Rob staring at the screen, pressing buttons on a remote every few seconds.

"I'm going to have a bath," she told him. "You might like to come and see it."

"Okay," he replied, not otherwise reacting in any way, continuing to play with the remote. A few seconds later, however, he looked up. "Sorry, what, bath?"

Kat laughed, too taken with the situation to be annoyed at her husband's typical absorption.

"Me, bath. Come look," she gestured behind her with a flick of her head, and went to start the bath running.

* * * * *

Rob finished glancing over the food options on the TV, then put it back to its home screen and got up to follow his wife. He noted in passing the separate toilet area before the bathroom proper, and then stopped in his tracks as he saw the bath.

It was already well towards being full, the mirrors in the room well-fogged with condensation, and wisps of steam rising from the surface of the water. Kat was already undressed, and digging among bottles on the vanity in the far corner. She turned, smiled at him, and pulled out one small bottle. She poured its contents into the stream of water running into the bath, and the room immediately filled with a delightful smell of rosemary and eucalyptus. The bath water also gained a thick covering of bubbles.

Rob took in the sheer size and magnificence of the bath, the steps, the quality of the fittings, and he was impressed.

"That would easily fit two of us in," he observed. "With room to spare."

"Absolutely," Kat agreed, stepping down into the bath, "but I need to soak after that drive, and if you get in as well I'm likely to end up with more aches." She flicked some of the foam towards him. "Toni mentioned we could order food with the TV, how about you get onto that?"

Rob decided not to point out that Dr Rossi telling them to use her first name had probably been part of her obviously excessive friendliness; this wasn't the time to give Kat a refresher on such social conventions. He looked around the room for somewhere to sit, and quickly decided that the shower stool was the best bet. He pulled it out of the shower and set it down where he and Kat could see one another.

"Well, they've clearly got some sort of kitchen up and running, and food is available to order, but the menu's a mite limited. And we might not have more than about three-quarters of an hour, based on what Dr Rossi said. How soon do you want to get out of the bath?"

"Hmm..." Kat paused in thought. "Do they have anything that I could eat in the bath?"

"There were some cold finger foods. Crudités, dips, bread, olives. I'm not sure they'd be very nice with that bubble-bath on them, though."

"You're smart. I'm sure you'll think of a solution."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door to the suite. A minute later, Kat heard Rob open the door and wheel something into the suite. Soon after that, the door opened again as something was wheeled out. Staying very still to hear better, Kat waited to see what would follow. She heard a faint pop, then liquid sloshing into glasses. A brief ring of metal was followed by clattering of crockery, and finally Rob swept into the room, swaying slightly as he carefully held a tray bearing plates and two glasses.

"Well, madame, I have here a surprisingly authentic platter of crudités, with tapenade, aioli and vinaigrette dips." He put the tray on the floor, and set one plate down on the edge of the bath, carefully choosing an area free of bubbles. Kat saw that it contained not only those vegetables more commonly found on British crudités—carrot, cucumber, celery, peppers—but also some that Rob had previously told her (at unnecessary length) were more common in France: cherry tomatoes, thin slices of fennel, whole sugar snap peas, and surprising green spears with knobbly ends.

"Is that asparagus?"

"Yes. I don't know how they're getting it here, especially at this time of year; if I'm not mistaken, that's young asparagus tips. Very popular in Alsace, though I think they pride themselves on a white version. Grown without light. Never understood how that works." Rob picked up one of the slim, vivid green spears. "Your choice of dip, madame?"

"Hmm... vinaigrette, please."

Rob dipped the asparagus in one of the pots in the middle of the platter and held it out toward her; she lifted her head, and delicately—with no small trepidation at the idea of raw asparagus—took it into her mouth, biting off the portion covered in dressing.

"Oh. Wow." She chewed carefully, savouring the flavour. It was somehow more vibrant than she had expected, crisp, clean, slightly sweet. Quite different from the sort of asparagus she'd had before. Rob dipped the piece again, and she eagerly finished it. "Peas, now, please, with tapenade." She continued to call out her choices, and he fed her as she asked, taking a few pieces for himself in between her choices.

"Now, I understand that a crisp white wine is ideal with this sort of dish," he said, passing her a glass. "They had some unusual choices available—I thought it was worth trying a verdejo. Spanish, supposed to be a bit like a sauv blanc."

Kat sipped at the wine, pleased by the acidity against the weight of the dressings, making a pleased little noise.

"There's also some bread and olives," Rob said, indicating where the plate lay on the floor as he sipped his own wine, "but I think we may run out of time if we keep feeding you this way. You don't want Gillian turning up while you're in the bath, do you?"

Actually, at another time, that might be quite nice...

Kat chased the fugitive thought from her mind. She reckoned she'd built a good rapport with the physiotherapist as Rob dozed during the drive, but she really wasn't good at judging that sort of thing. Even if she had, this was hardly the time for such a thing.

But if I'm right, that time is likely pretty soon.

She agreed, and he moved the plates and glasses out of the room. As she stepped out of the bath, she was pleased to find that it had very much eased her hips. Before her feet had fully cleared the tub, Rob had returned and was holding a robe out for her. Kat wasn't very happy with how much he seemed to be swaying, but he was clearly taking pleasure in looking after her, so she wasn't going to interfere with that.

* * *

They were shortly sharing a sofa, dishes of food between them and glasses on the coffee table. Rob watched Kat eat with satisfaction; whether it was the bath easing her or his selection of food, she was eating with more gusto than usual. Of course, he couldn't take that much credit for the food—all the menu said was authentic French crudités, with a list of the dips. He hadn't expected such a wide, such an interesting selection of vegetables. He had expected her to wolf down the olives, that was always a popular choice, and he was glad to see that she stayed true to form. He didn't quite see the appeal, though he could happily eat a few to join in.

They had just about finished the food, and were debating whether they should have another glass of wine, when there was another knock on the door.

"Kat? Rob?" Gillian called. "The meeting is in ten minutes. I realised you might want a little warning."

"Let her in, Rob," Kat instructed. "I'll go get dressed. Offer her a glass of wine or something."

"Just a minute," Rob announced, voice raised to carry through the door. As Kat disappeared into the bedroom, he ambled across, opening the door and gesturing the petite redhead into the room.

"I can come back in a few minutes," she demurred, "I just wanted to let you know so you could get ready."

"Do you still need to get ready?" he asked, a little pointedly.

"Oh, no, I'm ready, I just wouldn't want to intrude."

"Kat's getting dressed." Rob gestured in the direction of the bedroom. "Come in, take a seat." Remembering Kat's instructions, and putting aside his own doubts as to the propriety of the offer, he added, "would you like a glass of wine?"

Gillian hesitantly took the indicated seat, giving Rob a look he was struggling to decipher. He didn't think he'd had enough wine to be muddled, but had the feeling he was missing something.

"Well, I suppose that might be nice. Just a small one, please."

Rob quickly retrieved another glass from the kitchenette, and returned to his seat. He half-filled the glass and handed it to Gillian, who sipped at it thoughtfully.

"You were asleep most of the way here, weren't you?" she asked. There was something uncertain, something speculative to her tone.

"Pretty much. I caught some of your conversation. The only thing that really sticks in my mind was something about a leopard."

Gillian smiled. It was quite a nice smile, all things considered.

"Oh, that. We were discussing films. That was Bringing Up Baby."

"Ah, thank you. That makes much more sense of it." He paused, taking care over where the conversation might go. "I don't think I really heard enough context to make much sense of anything, after Kat asked you about your studies and so on. The leopard kind of stuck out."

"Yes, yes, I rather imagine it would." As Gillian took a slightly larger sip of her wine, it almost looked like she was blushing.

Before Rob could think of anything more neutral to talk about—though he wasn't entirely sure why the conversation so far didn't seem to be neutral to the physio—Kat came out of the bedroom. She had changed into clean clothes, which Rob judged to be in much the same style as she had worn earlier, though this skirt was blue.

Huh. Gillian did say our bags would be brought up; I guess they were in the bedroom. Not sure why she felt the need for clean clothes when they look so much like the last set, though.

"I hope Rob's making you feel at home, Gillian," she said warmly. "Or as at home as any of us feel, here."

"Oh, yes," Gillian replied, more obviously nervous. She quickly finished her wine. "I hope you've had a chance to recuperate. I should have suggested you take a bath—not that I thought you needed a bath—just it's quite good for stiff joints, you know."

"I do know, thank you, and I've had a nice soak. Rob ordered us some food as well. I think we're ready to go, Rob?"

He agreed, passing Kat her handbag and putting his own across his shoulder before taking his rollator and moving to leave the suite.

"Let's go," he said with purpose, "and find out what the hell we're doing here."

* * * * *

As they made their way back to the hotel atrium, Kat continued to express her satisfaction with the room.

"Well, I'm certainly chuffed that you like it. I thought the bath was a particularly good touch, given your hips. According to the last plan they showed me, you'll be staying there for at least two nights, if you decide to stay." She looked over her shoulder at each of them in turn. "I'm really starting to hope that you do." There was a gleam in her eye that Rob couldn't decipher.

"What happens after that?" Rob asked.

"Oh, I think I might be treading on Dr Zedner's toes, if I tell you much more. Let's just say there's other accommodation in this park that's more suited to a longer stay."

From the atrium, Gillian led them into a large conference room, circular tables scattered around. Several of them, widely spaced around the room, sported bottles of water, cups, notepads and pens, with a document folder at two—in a couple of cases, three—of the chairs. A slight man with side-swept light brown hair, wearing a basic blue business suit, white shirt, and loud orange and yellow tie checked their names and silently ushered them towards their table, indicating that Rob and Kat should take the seats with folders. Rob shoved a spare chair aside to park his rollator, and Kat pulled her reading glasses from her handbag as they sat.

The folders were of a glossy black card with white lettering, starkly labelled 'Project R. E. D.'. The water bottles had swing tops, one each labelled still and sparkling. They, and the provided paper and pens, were branded 'Oasis Retreat Conferencing'. All very standard for hotel conference facilities, in Rob's experience.

At the front of the room, a dais was set up with a long table, a microphone at each seat. Those seats were filling with people in an assortment of lab coats and business wear. Behind them hung a large projection screen. In the centre seat sat a striking woman with fine features, dark hair loose and shoulder-length with a slight wave, and piercing blue eyes. She was holding a mobile mic in one hand, and had an air about her that told anyone who was paying attention that she was in charge. Kat glanced up at the dais as well, then settled her glasses further down her nose.

Beside the dais were a few more tables facing the audience, whose occupants looked very businesslike, shuffling papers and working on laptops. In the far corner was one circular table, like the one they sat at, with a single occupant. The room's lighting didn't seem to reach fully into the corner, but Rob could see straight dark hair and dark skin, and that his hands weren't resting atop the table; he seemed to be keeping them out of sight beneath it.

Each group was led to their tables by the same man, and Rob noticed he wasn't keeping his distance that much.

How does that fit with the instructions from Dr Rossi? We were told to keep our distance, especially indoors.

As the tables filled, everyone grew quiet. The woman at the centre of the dais stood, and the room fell silent. As she moved, Rob became conscious that she seemed young to be in charge of something that so much effort—and money—had clearly gone into.

"Good afternoon, everyone," she said with surprising gravity. Her voice was even, and she was well-spoken. Her speech wasn't as plummy as Gillian's; it was more like a newsreader's, with no trace of a regional accent.

I got the impression from Dr Rossi that this was an American outfit. It looks like this woman's in charge. Was I confused, or is she working for those Americans? Ah, never mind, it probably doesn't matter.

"I'm Dr Sarah Zedner, lead researcher for the work in which I hope you will be joining us.

"Welcome to Project RED."