The darkness of the room was not truly penetrated as the door opened, but the corridor outside was filled with a shading of deep shadow rather than an absence of light and so a portion small degree of that dark was replaced with shades of grey instead. A vaguely human shape flitted through the gloom and made for the bed, followed moments later by a far larger figure that could have been mistaken for a hunched bear. While the smaller figure moved with purpose and without pause, the larger constantly glanced back over one shoulder as if fearing discovery at any moment.
"Stop that," Ward spoke in a low, but audible voice. "Get over here and help me before you stumble into something and wake the entire wing."
"Alright," Henry was not happy, "just keep your voice down!"
"Don't be stupid," Ward gestured to the room that was rapidly becoming easier to discern as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. "These walls are soundproof and I made sure that the dose of anaesthetic they gave your friend will keep her under for far longer than we need to get what we need to do done."
"I just don't like sneaking around in the middle of the night, that's all."
"I would have thought someone in your line of business was used to this kind of thing."
"Well," Henry paused, "that's as maybe...but I've gotten fond of her."
"For god's sake," Ward pointed to the door, "just go and get the gurney. We need to have her finished and out of here as soon as we can. Pickford's getting twitchy and I don't want him sticking his ample nose too far into this one."
While Henry ambled back into the corridor, Ward produced a small torch from his inside pocket and proceeded to make a rudimentary check over the occupant of the bed.
The beam of his torch revealed Carla Largo, still unconscious from the effects of the anaesthetic that she had been given earlier in the day. Peeling back her eyelids, he noted that they showed no conscious reaction to the intense light as he shone the torch into them. Satisfied that she was intact and that there was no chance of her waking, he turned in time to see Henry return with the gurney.
Together they gently transferred Carla from the bed to the waiting gurney. She wore a plain nightshirt and her lower body was covered by a garment of tight grey material in much the same manner as it had been after the first day of her operation.
As quickly as they dared, the men wheeled Carla out of the room and away into the night.
It was cold in the bare concrete room, but while Henry shivered despite his heavy overcoat, Ward seemed to be unaffected by the low temperature. Instead his attention was fixed solely on the form of the woman now laid out on the makeshift operating table in front of him.
Ward would have been more comfortable working in his usual theatre for the tasks ahead of him, but he had taken pains to equip this basement room with everything that he would need to work his art. He had also chosen this location on account of the fact that it was known only to himself and represented a place where he could operate in total secrecy.
Armed with a scalpel from a nearby table, he sliced Carla's nightshirt away with nothing more than a few flicks of his wrist. As her breasts were exposed to the chill air, the nipples stiffened against the cold, drawing an amused smile from the doctor.
Henry made a move to object, but then seemed to realise the futility of such an action and visibly resigned himself to simply watching.
Ward lifted the edge of the stocking covering Carla's lower half and sliced that away as well, moving from her waist to the point where her feet might have been without a moment's pause. He opened the garment up and revealed the slightly iridescent landscape of scales and find which had replaced her legs, turning her from an ordinary woman into a creature of myth.
Now Henry could not stop himself taking a step forwards as he tried to take in the reality of Carla's new form. He had simply never seen anything like it in his life. A woman who he had grown attached to in his role as minder was spread out before him and changed utterly, challenging the bounds of what he had thought possible.
He was a simple man by nature, aware of mermaids as something that existed only in children's stories and other childish mediums. The idea of such a creature in the flesh had never crossed his mind before and now that he was presented with the sight of such a familiar face married to the body of an exotic and baffling thing, he could hardly make sense of what reactions were stirred within him.
The last thing that turned Henry on was the thought of fish, live or dead. But this was not a fish that he had ever seen. Above the waist she was the same old Carla, the woman who he thought was very pretty and dared not to look at in a certain way for fear of his employer's wrath. But below the waist she melted away into a silvery tail that mesmerised him in a way that he was not prepared for at all. He could see the shape of the legs that she had once possessed; trace with his eyes the curves he had snuck a look at while she danced for Aubrey Lister back in the club. The fact that the shape was now a scaled tail that ended in a broad fin oddly did not seem to bother him in the slightest, but rather made him want to forget his fears and put his hands on the thing to feel its texture. He knew that he was not looking at the cold wet tail of a fish, rather at the shapely and inviting body of a creature that experienced the world in the same way that he did. A creature that felt passion and longed to be touched by the hand of a fellow being that understood her needs.
"The surgery should be the easy part," Ward's voice shattered the other man's contemplation of the mermaid and brought him back into the room, "it's what comes after that we have to hope will work without a flaw."
Both men gazed at the banks of equipment that dominated one corner of the room, a baffling array of computer terminals, diagnostic screens and other undefinable pieces of technology that hummed with a life of their own.
"I just pray that your employer knows what he's doing with that thing," Ward shook his head.
"You aren't on your own there," Henry rubbed the back of his massive head. "All I know is that Mr Rubin trusts that thing, Mr Lister trusts Mr Rubin and I trust Mr Lister; so that's got to be enough for me."
"Sounds like a tenuous chain you've got yourself, but as the contract we signed places the consequences of that infernal device squarely in the lap of your boss," Ward shrugged and let the unspoken words sink in as he prepared his tools.
Henry remained silent, dividing his attention between Ward, the machine and Carla.
The first he did not trust, the second he was afraid of and the third baffled him in a manner he did not understand.
From his own point of view, the work that was required of Ward was a simple exercise of his skills as a plastic surgeon. While Aubrey Lister had promised Carla that she would not be transformed what she would have described as an inflated bimbo on the operating table, he had no intention of keeping to his word.
Lister was a man used to getting what he wanted, and when he had described his wish to turn her into a mermaid in terms of customising a car to make it unique, he had not been far from the literal truth of what he intended for her.
Like many men who were immersed in a world that was shaped by their own power, he had no concept of how to appreciate the beauty that existed in a thing. Instead he felt the inescapable need to reshape a thing that came into his possession so that it better reflected his own persona and his conception of how the world should be.
In this way, women were no different to him and while he had desired Carla Largo as she danced for him so many times in the past, all the time he had gazed at her his mind had been making note of the subtle or rather more vulgar changes that he would have made to her body. Lister had no shame in his desire to alter what an object or a human being was in order to bring them in line with his own vision, his arrogance and egotism simply assumed that his was the only desire that mattered.
Another man might have looked at Carla's face and commented that she was beautiful and aging well despite the fact she was taxed by the demanding life she had chosen to leave behind. But Lister only saw the hints of lines that were creeping into the corners of her mouth and the faint wrinkles around her eyes. And so Ward was commanded to obliterate them and inflate her lips with collagen, turning her smile into an exaggerated pout.
Her breasts were far from small, still pert and she had often laughed at the way in which they seemed to catch the eyes of men as they walked by. Carla had never been able to understand why her husband had so loved to simply feel their weight in his hands, for minutes at a time while they lay together on a night. But they were too small for a man the likes of Lister and so the doctor obliged him by filling them with implants until they had almost doubled in size, sitting on her chest with all the natural shape that had been impossible with artificial enhancement in the past.