The Memory Artists by Jeffrey Moore

Author:Jeffrey Moore
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mothers and sons, Psychological fiction, Psychology, Cognitive Psychology, Domestic fiction, General, Literary, Science Fiction, Patients, Memory disorders, Memory, Fiction, Alzheimer's disease - Patients, Alzheimer's disease
ISBN: 9780312349257
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2004-04-15T05:17:10+00:00

“Look at this,” said Samira, minutes later. She set down the vial on Noel’s

bed table, hard.

“Really, Sam, I don’t think—”

“I knew there was something … satanic about him. The party I went to a few weeks ago ... somehow Norval is behind all that. It wasn’t just a coincidence he stepped into that elevator.”

“But … that doesn’t make any sense. It’s not his style. He doesn’t need drugs to seduce women.”

“And at JJ’s party, that line about ‘excess and the palace of wisdom’— I think I heard it as I was being drugged. Or when I came to. Maybe it was Norval who said it—it’s something he would say, isn’t it?”

“Well … possibly.” He has said it before, Norval recalled. More than once. He picked up the vial, which he recognised as one of Dr. Vorta’s, and held it up to the light. “And that’s all you remember? Was it Norval’s voice?”

“I … I’m not sure.”

Noel unscrewed the vial, inserted his baby finger. He looked closely at the colourless crystals before putting them lightly against his tongue.

“Special K?” Samira asked.

Coloured C’s and H’s and the numbers two and three began to bounce inside Noel’s head like lottery balls. “Chloral hydrate.”

“What does it do? Make women unconscious, comatose?”

“It’s a sedative. And hypnotic.”

“I knew it!”

“It’s being used in one of Dr. Vorta’s studies. He thinks that it may be the future for treating certain types of brain cancer.”

“Brain cancer? I don’t get it. Why would Norval keep a bottle of … He doesn’t have cancer, surely to God?”

“Not that I know of.”

Oh hell. She remembered his words about ending his days in water. After Z, I’m dead … She looked again at the Polaroid of him in the frame of the oval mirror. “But why was it … next to his bed? And why does it say ‘K’ on the label?”

“Klor ortanca. It comes from a lab in Istanbul. I’m pretty sure he just uses it for insomnia.”

Samira nodded slowly, her face strained.

“I wouldn’t worry about him. It’s also sold on the street as an aphrodisiac. It’s big in France.” Maybe his mother told him about it, Noel silently conjectured.

“Oh. Maybe that’s it. It’s none of my business anyway. Sorry, I … I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. And, well, mistrusted a friend of yours.”

“I’ve made worse mistakes.”33

In the silence that gathered Noel could hear his own heart beating. Chloral hydrate was a nightmare. In severe overdose, death occurs within five to ten hours. He’d have to tell Dr. Vorta about this … theft. He looked at Samira’s face. It’s obvious she’s in love with him. Or is she? Why don’t I simply ask? He cleared his throat and cursed his own cowardice. It was a perfectly easy thing to say. It would be over quickly, like a dentist’s hypodermic. “Are you in love with him, Sam?” he finally asked, in a near-whisper. “With Nor?”

“No!” she replied, with a quickness and force that surprised them both. “Not at all, I mean I’m

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