Mind Games E-Book

David McGlone

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A place to dream another’s dream; to live their life for a night. Such is the aim of Hôtel de Rêves and its owner, Mr. Steele.

The ultimate elite club, Hôtel de Rêves is an experience for the rich and powerful only. But Steele wants more than happy customers: he wants power over them, and their knowledge.

Andrew is a conduit for others' enjoyment, but he has broken the rules. He went to see Maria, and it has not gone unnoticed. Now, Steele wants the young man, and Maria too.

Running for their lives, can they escape before they run out of time and dreams?

Leseprobe

MIND GAMES

DAVID MCGLONE

CONTENTS

Prologue

The Hotel

The Ambassador

The Idea

The Reality

Hôtel De Rêves

Grand Designs

Room 24

Room 12

Room 6

Room 2

The Players

Andrew

All At Sea

Ellen

The Greater Good

Maria

History

Hooked

Reflected Image

Fact And Fiction

Mr Steele

Mr Paul

Steele’s Casino

Stephanie Steele

A Chance

Intellectual Property

No Lullaby

The Chase

Trapped

Pure Desire

Uninvited, Unimpressed

Hidden Talents

Making Contact

Divided Loyalties

Cleaning Up

Running

Fortune Calls

Truth Dawns

Blood Vow

Consequences

Gone

Hunting; Hunted

Naked Truth

Breaking-In

Management

Sanctuary

Room Service

Bedside Manners

Dead To The World

Loose Ends

Epilogue

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2022 David McGlone

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Elizabeth N. Love

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

For Joanne

PROLOGUE

ALL IN THE MIND

Andrew’s legs were strong and the running effortless, his breathing deep, even though his chest felt tight. Athletic ease fought with tense anxiety as he drove forward through the long grass. Stopping suddenly, as the road fell sharply to nothing more than jagged rocks below, he searched for another escape route.

‘Halt. Stay where you are.’

The voice was distant but closing in. Andrew turned and looked back at the trampled grass and the stumbling figure approaching, then, tightening the bag over his shoulder, he leaned forward and launched back along towards the man. Crouched and quick, he balled his hands and tensed his shoulders, anticipating contact, desiring it. Adrenaline coursed through him, an exhilarating rush which heightened as he closed on his pursuer, who now stood half-turned and confused. ‘He’s scared,’ thought Andrew. ‘I can make this quick.’

The chase may have made sense to the red-faced cop when he sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, but meeting the miscreant head-on was not in the plan. Too proud to run, he stood side on, hopeful of tackling his man, but sure not to invite a direct collision. Andrew was too quick, too strong, his commitment absolute. He met shoulder with shoulder, shouting out as he leapt into the impact. The policeman flew backwards, his pain expressed only briefly as the air was forced from his body. Andrew did not even miss his stride, moving onwards and slowing only slightly as he checked that his bag was still secure. He smiled broadly at the feeling of the rough canvas bag, bulging with money, pushing against his back. His whole body pulsed with life, and he screamed joyfully as he quickened his pace once more.

He soon reached the cop’s car, the open door an indicator of careless haste, and stopped to catch his breath. Stretching his neck, he took in his surroundings, reveling in the silent emptiness. He threw the bag onto the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel, smiling at the dangling keys.

‘This is an official vehicle, so don’t forget your seat belt.’ Again, he smiled as he clicked the belt into place and turned the key in the ignition. Foot down, the engine roared into life and the tyres spat dirt and gravel into its wake. ‘Let’s go, Andy boy.’

As the car sped along the dirt road and out onto the motorway, Andrew’s senses were heightened, acute, his emotions raw and invigorated. This was a high he wished would never end. Shifting up through the gears, he pushed the car ever faster, desperate to keep up with his mind. Watching the world dissolve into a blur of colour, he screamed in ecstasy, an ear-piercing shriek that seemed almost inhuman. Sound and vision merged, peaking in an unholy maelstrom. Then there was only blackness.

Maria’s body was still pulsing and sweating as she opened her eyes. Her head was spinning, and it was some moments before she could make sense of the hotel room. Reaching to her side, she arched her back in an exaggerated stretch as she grabbed her water and drank greedily. Gradually, her breathing slowed, along with her heart.

‘Jesus, what a rush! What a place!’

The place in question was the Hôtel de Rêves, a place of faded grandeur and strange delights. A source of false mythology, its reality was yet stranger than fiction. The clientele both select and random. Some came to try its strange curiosity and left, quiet and troubled, never to return. Some were immersed in the experience and went home refreshed and excited. Others were gripped by this organic, yet unnatural opiate, returning as hollow-eyed addicts, over and over again.

For Maria it was new and unexpected. A Ouija board-type experimentation, but one that connected with God knows who? That it had worked was surprise enough, but to have felt so much was astonishing. Reaching for the bedside table once more, she picked up the glossy black card, reading the bold red letters once again.

WELCOME TO THE HÔTEL DE RÊVES.

FORGET WHAT YOU MAY HAVE HEARD OR READ.

THIS IS AN EXPERIENCE THAT IS ALL YOUR OWN.

RELAX AND ALLOW YOURSELF TO SLEEP, THE REST WILL TAKE CARE OF ITSELF.

IT IS FORBIDDEN TO CONTACT OTHER GUESTS AND ATTEMPTING TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN AN IMMEDIATE, AND PERMANENT, BAN.

ENJOY THIS UNIQUE JOURNEY.

It was indeed unique and startlingly so. Maria had not looked into the stranger’s dream; she had become the dreamer, feeling his every movement and emotion. She did not know how it worked, or why, but it certainly worked. Shaking her head, she stepped out of bed and smoothed back her long dark hair as she stretched her neck once more.

‘Who’d have thought that I’d be a guy for a night?’

She laughed to herself and posed in the mirror, trying to flex her muscles. As she looked on, she focused on her brown eyes, the object of so much flattery, and concentrated, staring as if she might see him return her gaze.

‘It was a dream, get over it.’ Her thoughts dragged her away and to the shower, a refreshing blast of water to restore reality. Grabbing at her clothes, she dressed in some urgency, checking her watch twice without really registering the time. Then, grabbing her purse, she stepped to the door and knocked. After a short while, the door to her room opened and a serious-looking blonde lady walked in.

‘I trust you had a good stay, Miss Roman?’

‘Er…Yes, yes, thank you. It was, well… it was different.’

‘Yes, Miss Roman. Now can you please follow me?’

The blonde lady took her hand, which surprised her, even though the process had been explained before.

‘Oh right. Yes, the escort, of course.’ She tried to laugh but felt nervous.

‘It’s all right, Miss Roman; it’s just a safety measure for new guests. It protects you as much as anyone. I will lead you to your car.’

Maria took the woman’s hand and, feeling faintly embarrassed, she was guided along the corridors and out to the car park. Blinking as she yawned, her eyes adjusted to the light and the lady released her hand as she turned back towards the dark door.

Once in her car she turned on the radio and pulled out onto the road, unconsciously increasing the volume as an Afghan Whigs song blasted through the speakers. She felt herself smile broadly and her foot pushed down until all around her was a blur.

She was aware of herself more than normal, aware of the small details. Her leg movements felt delicate as she pushed down on the pedals, so soft compared to her most recent driving experience. Her neck muscles were much more relaxed, the act of driving so easy and automatic. It was as though the previous night was not a dream but an ultra-real experience. Bringing her mind fully into the present, she saw the needle of the speedometer as it jerked to the right and eased off the gas. She had to be sure this would not end with a blank darkness.

THE HOTEL

THE AMBASSADOR

The hotel was an impressive building just off the main road, its white façade still beautiful but showing signs of age. The faded grandeur and old-fashioned luxuries were no longer top of the range but this was no cheap chain or motel, it had real character and warmth. Surrounded by lush greenery and a small but beautiful garden, it was both distinguished and discrete, which was exactly what the owners were looking for.

After a successful period in estate management and with one lucrative casino to his name, Charles Steele had decided that he could do with another such venue. His trusted right-hand man, Mr Paul, had found this property by accident when he used the entrance road to turn around.

He saw the potential and felt the atmosphere of the place. He wanted the wealthy to feel at home while not advertising the hotel as exclusively for the rich.

‘Can I help you, sir? Are you checking in today?’ The words were polite but the tone sent another message. The speaker stood at a distance, stiff and proper, but with busy eyes.

‘And you are?’ Asked Mr Paul, rather more forcefully than he wanted to.

‘I am Mr Carter and I make sure the guests are well looked after.’

‘Well, your tone is far from welcoming,’ Mr Paul said as he slammed his door closed and walked towards Carter. ‘Not friendly at all.’ Carter stood his ground as Mr Paul approached, taking in the stranger, sensing his menace.

‘And you’re not a guest.’ Spoken with a smile this slowed Mr Paul. He smiled to himself and slowly shook his head.

‘Some attitude you have there, Mr Carter.’

‘It comes with the job, Mr…?

‘Mr Paul, and you’d do well to remember it.’ Taking off his sunglasses Mr Paul fixed Carter with a stare.

‘I have a good memory for names but I never forget a face. However, I think both will stick in your case, Mr Paul. Now, to return to my original question, can I help you?’

‘I like the look of this place. How much do you think it would cost?’ Mr Paul stepped past Carter and began to pace along the side of the property. Carter turned and followed him at a steady pace.

‘We’re not for sale, Mr Paul. So, any price would be irrelevant.’

‘Now that, Mr Carter, is where you are wrong.’ Mr Paul smiled as he turned to Carter. ‘Everything has a price, everyone. You see, just as it is your job to look after this hotel and the guests inside it, it is my job to buy such places.’

‘Well, it’s not for sale and I think you’ll find there are plenty of other hotels on the market.’ Carter spoke confidently but with no real conviction.

‘Perhaps, but I want this one, and I, we, are going to buy it.’ Mr Paul replaced his sunglasses and walked back to his car. Stepping in, he started the engine and lowered the window. Carter was still standing there watching as Mr Paul spoke.

‘Are you always so…vigilant?’ He revved the car as he watched Carter nod. ‘Well, you can stay. You have good eyes.’

As the car sped out onto the road, Carter remained rooted to the spot. He believed the man and it scared him. He resolved to phone the owner and appraise him of the situation; however, he knew it would not change a thing. Mr Paul pushed his foot down as he headed back to the office, content in the knowledge the place had been found.

THE IDEA

Mr Paul’s boss was Charles Steele, though Mr Paul saw him more as a collaborator. He took orders he agreed with, considered others he was not sure about, and flat-out refused those he truly disliked. However, if it helped Steele to believe there was a hierarchy, so be it. So long as he was travelling in the direction he wanted, he was fine with that. Also, being in the background suited him.

The hotel, or a hotel, was something they both fully agreed on. It was a new concept with new aims beyond mere business. It relied on the expertise of Dr Thomas Pearce, who had stumbled across the idea; Ellen St Peters, a powerful intuit; and the many she would recruit. The goal was information, leading to power, hidden behind a veil of secrecy, and parapsychology harnessed by science. It was hard to describe and that was one of its strengths.

‘You’re back early.’ Steele could not hide his disappointment at Mr Paul’s quick return.

‘Early? It was just long enough to get the job done, why would I take longer?’ Mr Paul’s low monotone delivery made it hard to read his mood, his poker face added nothing. It sometimes annoyed Steele that he could not tell whether Mr Paul’s words were matter-of-fact or sarcastic, mocking, or sincere. Fortunately, he rarely spoke.

‘The job is done?’ Steele made no secret of his scepticism.

‘You, we, wanted a hotel. I have a hotel that is perfect. Therefore, my part of the deal is done. You merely need to persuade the owner to sell.’ Mr Paul stopped and tapped a finger to his head. ‘Better still, I’ll persuade him to sell, you provide the chequebook.’

‘Leave the persuasion to me, I don’t want funeral costs added to the price. Not yet anyway.’ Steele smiled though his words were far from a joke. ‘So where is it?’

‘A mile or two out of town, accessible but not obvious, good grounds. They have a guy, Carter, who has his eyes on everything; keep him. He’ll be perfect for our needs.’ Mr Paul paused to see the reaction of Steele; his lack of enthusiasm irked him. ‘Am I boring you?

Now Steele was annoyed. ‘I asked you to do a job; you did it. What do you expect me to do? Stand and applaud?’

‘Here’s the address and the owner’s name. The rest is up to you.’ Mr Paul tossed a sheet of paper with the details onto Steele’s desk. Their eyes met for a moment and Steele knew this was not a time to push things. He was the boss, but he had no control over this man. As Steele looked to his desk Mr Paul turned and left, closing the door gently, as normal, which always made Steele think he was standing outside the door. The man’s silence was unnerving.

Turning his attention to the paper on the desk, he read the name, Joseph Stander, and looked at the address and number. Should he check out the place first? No, Mr Paul was good at his job, why else would he keep this psychopath around? Steele smiled and picked up his phone, further pleased as it picked up on the second ring.

‘Joe Stander, how can I help you?’ the gravelled voice enquired.

‘Mr Stander, good afternoon, I hope you are well. My name is Charles Steele, and I am buying your hotel.’

‘Ah, I was expecting this call. Perhaps your man did not get the message? The Ambassador is not for sale. Thank you for your interest but…’

‘This isn’t an enquiry, or a negotiation,’ Steele interrupted. ‘I’m buying the hotel, and I simply need to know how you want to be paid and how much.’ The strong words were met with silence as Stander tried to figure out who this caller was and why he was so insistent.

‘Well, Mr, er, Steele, maybe I wasn’t clear…’ Again, Stander was cut off, this time the tone was louder and harsher.

‘You were crystal clear, but perhaps I wasn’t. I’m buying your hotel. There is nothing more certain than this. I will keep things polite for now, since you obviously do not know who I am, but know that we will do a deal tomorrow. Tonight, you will ask around about me, do some research, realise what this means and come up with a price. You don’t want Mr Paul coming back to visit you, but I’m sure it won’t come to that.’

* * *

The phone clicked leaving Stander listening to dead air, his mind spinning. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ted Carter standing in the doorway.

‘That man, his people, they called like you said. The nerve.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘The rudeness. I…I need you to look into a Mr Charles Steele.’

‘Charles Steele? The casino owner?’ Carter’s eyes were wide.

‘You know of him?’ Stander was surprised and worried by the manager’s expression.

‘Oh, if it’s the same man, I know of him. My boyfriend worked for him, in his casino, not for long, but long enough. What did he say?’

‘He said he’s buying the hotel…no negotiation…just buying it, even though I’m not selling.’ Stander laughed but it was hollow.

‘Take the money, you don’t say no to this man.’

* * *

Steele put the phone down on his desk and picked up the file prepared by Dr Thomas Pearce. The planning could begin now in earnest. The hotel was sorted, he was sure, so now to fill it. Pearce had the chemicals and the research, the others provided dreams while he provided those that would feed on them. To dream another’s dream, to be them? This was the big idea, and it was now tangible.

At the back of the file, he read once again the addendum:

Initial trials showed that some people were much more receptive to other people’s dreams. They also appear to have more control and awareness. This is certainly true of Ellen. In fact, it was she who brought the concept to my attention. I believe with the right people, and the right positioning, we can actively target ‘sleepers’. This takes our planning and the possibilities to another level. The level you wanted but thought impossible. With the right people, the right conditions, if we could get them to take both pills, we really can choose a head to invade. The levels of post-sleep lucidity are remarkable, there is something about the experience that sticks with people, right down to small details. If we get our people to write down the dreams immediately, then we have a record. We could, perhaps, send people to look for information. Insert people into the subconscious and hope to find something they would rather keep hidden.

Steele laughed out loud and slapped the table three times as he shouted with joy. The door opened and Mr Paul entered, a concerned look on his face.

‘Is everything all right? I thought I heard a commotion.’

‘Everything, Mr Paul, is absolutely wonderful. We have hit the jackpot.’ Steele’s joy was unconfined. ‘I wanted access to the bank and I’ve just been given the combination to the safe. All this time I thought I was being ambitious and yet I was aiming so low.’ Steele pointed to the open file and Mr Paul picked it up, a small smile gradually appearing. Then, more serious, he spoke.

‘This is down to Ellen? I never saw her as being so important. Not important at all. This changes things.’

‘Doesn’t it just.’ Steele laughed; however, he did not realise that Mr Paul had already moved on past the new information, welcome though it was, and on to Ellen. People with that kind of importance to Steele needed to be watched, very carefully watched.

THE REALITY

Joe Stander went from hotelier to traveller in less than a week. He got a good price for the Ambassador, not too good, but enough to pack up and go. With the children grown up and gone, he took his wife, Maude, on the cruise of a lifetime. A long one. He had always promised her that they would do this, he had always lied, but now? Now, he had money and too much time. Now, he needed space between him and the new owners of the Ambassador, a hotel he loved too much to see in another’s arms.

Steele gave the permanent guests some time to consider their options. They could make plans to leave…or leave now. They were not there long. Now he could get his tech man Gorman in. There was much work to be done.

In every workplace and staff group, he had eyes planted, spies for anything and everything that may prove useful. Humans were, and are, fallible, and prone to loyalty issues, so they needed watching too. For that he had Gorman, his camera supremo and trusted technology guru. Every room, be it for guests or staff, was fitted with at least one camera, often many. Every corridor and storeroom had electronic eyes, every entrance and exit. It all linked into a control room with multiple screens capable of looking into anything at any time. In certain places, the cameras were clearly on show, a sign of reassurance or a warning to behave, but many, many of the devices were undetectable. This was Gorman’s forte.

An early purchase of Steele’s was a club called Diamonds. Run by Gorman, it was a rundown mess of a place, with a bar, some bedrooms, and spaces for late-night poker. It was an investment for Steele due to its proximity to a prospective new housing development; any compulsory purchase price could be manipulated. It proved an eye opener however when he saw what Gorman had done to the interior. Deciding to use the place for storage until selling up, walls were removed, and the wires and cameras laid bare. Every room, and more importantly for Gorman, every bathroom, was rigged with multiple cameras giving multiple angles of everything. He was a second-class businessman but a first-class pervert.

Along with the cameras, Steele’s men found Gorman’s sleazy film collection and he was brought back in. A man whose loyalty could be guaranteed, due to the mountain of incriminating evidence, and who’s dubious skills would prove invaluable. Steele wanted the same type of access but not for self-gratification; that was far too cheap. He wanted secrets and information to add power to his money. Gorman more than paid his way in the casinos, but this was to be his masterpiece of surveillance. While he covered every waking movement, Pearce endeavoured to get inside the guests’ heads as they slept. What seemed a fanciful idea was edging closer to reality.

Ted Carter had managed the Ambassador well. He had excellent people management skills and was good with finances, which in recent times had been stretched. Mr Paul was clear that he wanted him kept on and he was, but Ellen St Peters was manager. Ted became assistant manager but maintained his wage. His eyes were important to Mr Paul, and it was good for continuity, so returning guests had a familiar face. Ellen knew of his importance.

‘I’m glad you agreed to stay, Ted.’ Ellen smiled as she spoke, keen to keep their first meeting amicable.

‘The Ambassador has been my life for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine not being here.’ Ted’s commitment was clear, but it was to the building.

‘You obviously have a connection, a close one, but what about when the Ambassador is something else? The name will change, so the people, and your role?’ Ellen stopped and looked Ted in the eye. ‘As far as I am concerned, Ted, you are the manager here. You have done it well and will continue to do as you did before. The difference is me. I will work with you, help you and support you; I will also have the final say, unequivocally. Day to day will not change, but the big decisions rest with me. It is a kind of veto, to ensure that Mr Steele’s interests are paramount. Can you live with that?’

Ted smiled. Ellen was genuinely nice, very professional, but there was ice in that stare. His position had been clear since he first spoke to Mr Paul. He wanted to continue working at his beloved hotel, but he had not been asked to stay on, he had been told what was happening. As for his position? Well, that was whatever they said it was. The pay seemed good, and he knew what he was doing. Ellen watched his face, sensing his doubts.

‘To every member of staff, you are the manager. To the guests, you are the face of the hotel. It’s simply a matter of policy where your decision is less final and more penultimate.’ Again, that disarming smile.

‘Miss St Peters, I am aware of my position here. You will get my best.’ Carter was unsure of the coming changes but sincere in his words.

‘I intend to earn your trust, Mr Carter. I will look after you and the staff, I will fight your corner against anyone if I feel it is justified. And remember this, as it is important, your loyalty is to the hotel and me. No-one else. The rest is for me to deal with.’

‘Not even Mr S…’ Carter was interrupted.

‘No-one else.’ Ellen kept a level tone but there was no doubting the message. ‘Now, if that’s clear, I think we’re all done here.’

HÔTEL DE RÊVES

Structures were in place. People had been employed under the guidance of Mr Carter. Not all of them were new, but Mr Steele never liked to inherit too many people from an old regime. Fresh blood was better for fresh ideas. The wires, like veins, spread throughout the walls and ceilings, providing the lifeblood of the hotel. Audio feeds into every room helped to control the ambience and aided receptivity. A thousand electronic eyes surveyed the property, mirrors were two-sided, and TV monitors little better than windows into the room. Ellen thought this was overkill, but knew Steele was inflexible on this subject. She did however manage to get an assurance that bathrooms were off-limits. It was a small concession but something to build on.

The name was chosen by Ellen as a double meaning, Hotel of Dreams; it was Steele who decided that it was classier in French, so Hôtel des Rêves was born. It saddened Carter, but he was under no illusion that his opinion mattered. Steele’s opinion mattered a lot and he was incredibly pleased with the project. His changes made, the interiors were spruced up, his surveillance room completed, and so it was time to open.

‘Open to who, sir?’ Ted Carter inquired.

‘Old money and new power, the influential and those that would like to be. Some of your old regulars and many of mine. This, Mr Carter, is where I excel. So, do not worry, in case you were, I’ll fill this place.’ Steele grinned at his apparent genius, Carter because he had to. And so, it began.

Thomas Pearce had the science, the white noise, the chemicals, and the innovation to literally blow people’s minds. However, Steele and Ellen agreed that this was too clinical on its own, and potentially invited too many questions. The best bet was to surround the science with some mystical, spiritual, or supernatural narrative. Steele put the word out through his friends and contacts, that there was a place that provided a unique experience. It was like a séance, except the mediums here put you in touch with the living, a direct link to the minds of others. Have you ever wanted to walk a mile in another man’s shoes? Then how about a thousand miles in another man’s skin? Another woman’s?