The Scream of Feyer by Steve Hammond Kaye

Author:Steve Hammond Kaye [Kaye, Steve Hammond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Standard Cut Media
Published: 2013-06-08T23:00:00+00:00

NINE

As the early morning July sunlight bathed Paris, Jess Wheeler envisaged the day ahead of him. He had been MC-Project leader for half a decade now and the impending masquerade-ball that evening would honour his tenure. Klue hadn’t visited Wheeler for several days and Jess was gradually starting to feel like he used to – although the satanic spectre hanging over him would never be far from his thoughts.

The man walked into his luxury-suite window and started to scan the landmarks that represented the city of love. The Eiffel Tower was the most impressively designed structure, although the Rochaux edifice was forty metres taller. This structure had been completed in 2008 and it meant that an MC-Project division looked down on the rest of Paris. The masquerade-ball was due to take place seven floors below Wheeler’s suite in the retro-Baroque ballroom. La Maison de l’Amour Noir was the name of the selected venue and it was currently the favoured destination for intellectually-favoured Parisians. Although the venue had only been around for a few years, it had been designed on a site that had previously been associated with a darkened reputation. In the seventeenth century public executions had taken place on the site and then the area had become associated with witchcraft. The area had rightly acquired a reputation for ill-fortune and prostitutes gained sanctuary in the climate of fear that history had generated. The erection of the current structure sought to dispel the suffering of the past if not the mystique. Indeed the name of the structure admirably kissed history.

Wheeler had to formally greet the MC-Project cohort, before the masquerade-ball could begin. The celebration was to be themed with clandestine liaisons proving the inspiration for the gathering on this occasion. Jess was looking forward to being the master of dark ceremony.

Whilst Jess Wheeler finished fine-tuning his introductory speech, the ballroom was being made ready for the big event. The high ceiling was encrusted with plaster spires that hung down in a stalactite fashion and blue-marble fragments were sunk into the plaster in a symmetrical pattern. Choice landscapes by Claude and Poussin appeared on the west-facing wall and mannequins in seventeenth century costumes flanked the opposite wall. Glass screens in painterly Baroque colours were evident on both sides of the ballroom entrance and a canted figure-of-eight conveyor belt was placed five metres above the floor. That evening the conveyor belt would carry living models that would keep the Baroque theme and intertwine erotic clandestine elements. The back wall had a huge holographic-fountain projected against it and that night, a full orchestra would be simulated through the fountain. Nothing would be deemed too grand to celebrate Jess Wheeler’s five years in office. Everything pointed to another overshow of project opulence and as the ostentatious MC-ranks got ready for their evening, indulgent vanity was all around.

Marcia Levene was nearly ready for what she knew would be another decadent night of S&M-driven sex. As she finished preening her finery, she looked at herself in a full – length mirror.

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