Snippet #2682226

James nodded and rose from the chair. "I best get to work then," he smiled. Already his head was filling with ideas. He loved this stage of any project -- dream or real -- when anything was a possibility, when every shape and every texture could be made into something tangible. Was tangible a word one could use in this context? James wasn't sure, but that only made it more exciting: the laws of physics didn't apply to dreams. He could have houses balanced on a single stilt, revolving doors with no exit or water fountains that flowed in the wrong direction. He was finally getting to do what he'd always dreamed of doing. But he had to keep focused; this had to be a place for Whelan in particular.

"Do you have copies of the files?" he asked Rosemary, hoping that knowing as much as he could about Whelan would help him create some place where he felt he belonged, where he felt comfortable enough to divulge all his secrets.

"I've already emailed them through," she replied.

"Thank you," he said. "If there's anything else you need me to know before tomorrow then ring me. Do you have my number?" he asked and Rosemary nodded. "Great. That's great. Then I'll get started. Let me know if you need me to do anything else." He left the office, closing the door behind him.

Rosemary remembered being that flustered and enthusiastic and nervous when she had first started with Dillinger, fresh from university and eager to get going. She was still enthusiastic about her work, but so much had changed since then. She turned to Ben, "Yes. As for whether he's had any dream training, I've did uncover that he had gone to a dream house, perhaps three years ago." Dream houses were illegal. They were places where people could pay to enter dream worlds, but in the back streets, the maggots' venom was often weak or tainted. It could cause serious side affects, or even cases where the occupants never woke. But Wheelman's dream house wasn't in some back alleyway. It was up-market, for the billionaires and celebrities -- not quite as dangerous as the low class ones, but the chemists were still amateurs and the dreams were all about pleasure: fantasies, sex, drugs, whatever the client wanted. All the fun without any effect on the body. Unless the process went wrong, of course. "It's possible he had some training there, but I can't say for certain. He could have just gone for... recreation. But I think we have to tread carefully, assume he's had some basic training."

She took off her glasses, having forgot she was still wearing them. "If you have any ideas how we can get close to Whelan, I'm all ears. His electronic calendar was very well protected, but his PA's wasn't. I didn't need to hack into his because hers included every meeting, lunch date and spa treatment. It's in the folder." She opened the folder to the right place and handed it to Ben.