by J. M. LeDuc
Lucille turned to Joan. “Do you mind, dear? I mean, I know how busy you are.”
“Are you kidding? I love spending time with you. I always get such insight on ‘things’ when we’re together.”
“I promise not to disappoint you, my child,” Lucille winked at Joan while she removed dishes from the table.
“All right, you two, this is not a social get-together. Get back here as soon as possible. If there’s nothing else, you all know your assignments. Maddie, do you have anything to add?”
“Not that I can think of. Everyone, stay sharp and on task. I expect you all to have your assignments complete by the time we meet back here tonight at 1700 hours. That’s five p.m. for you civilians. Everyone is dismissed, and…” Maddie looked directly at Joan, “…don’t be late.”
“Yes, mom,” Joan flashed a bright smile.
CHAPTER 17
Chloe and Brent were in Maddie’s office just before the afternoon briefing, when they heard Joan’s laptop beep. The sound signaled that an alert was coming in from Washington.
Brent peered into the adjacent office. “What is it, Joan?”
“Oh, no,” Joan gasped in horror. “The Butcher killed again in Las Vegas. A woman in a hotel suite off the strip. She’d won a nineteen-thousand-dollar jackpot earlier that day.”
“Any pictures? Did anyone see him?”
“Yes and no, Colonel. There are pictures of the victim, but no one saw anyone who looked like our guy. The pictures show the victim when she won and there are pictures that CSI took of her body.”
The trio headed to Joan’s desk.
“Looks like the same scenario as the last three: burnt inverted cross on her chest and symbols carved into her flesh,” Maddie said.
Brent pointed at the laptop. “Do these symbols mean anything to you?”
“No, but it could be in the same language Jonas spoke in the video,” Maddie replied.
Brent looked at Chloe “Have you gotten any closer to identifying the language and what he was saying?”
“No. All the databases drew a blank. I think I may have a lead though, where we can find a translation.”
“Then get on it.”
“It’s not that simple. The only person who can help us is a cardinal who lives in Vatican City. Our sources confirm he has a gift for ancient languages. He’s very reluctant to speak to lay people.”
“Who is he?” Brent said.
“Cardinal Amadeus Bullini,” Chloe answered.
Brent smiled a knowing smile. “Joan, did you install the Endowment software when you went to the library yesterday?”
“Yes, but…”
“May I see your computer for a moment?”
Hesitantly, she handed Brent her laptop. “Please be careful. The last time you touched it, the entire hard drive went down.”
“That wasn’t my fault, it was just a coincidence.”
“Do it again and it’ll be just a coincidence when you wake up with a shaved head.”
He was about to say something when he realized Joan could probably do it. He kept the thought to himself.
He logged into the Knights of the Endowment program and waited while the software decoded the encrypted windows that popped up. Finally, a readable screen opened, listing names of the innermost circle of the Endowment.
In it were contained the names of the SIA team, the Phantom Squad, and a few select others, every one of them knowing the true identity of the Ambassador. They all pledged their lives that they would maintain the integrity of the Endowment.
Scrolling down the list, Brent found the name he was looking for: Amadeus Bullini, Cardinal of Letters.
“Joan, put through a call to the Cardinal at ten p.m. our time.”
“Consider it done,” Joan held out her arms to receive her computer.
“I do.” Brent handed it back to her. “Now let’s join the others for the briefing.”
It was 1700 hours. Everyone gathered at the Inn, for the briefing and to share what they had discovered about Jonas from their respective portions of the doctor’s notes Brent assigned them.
Before giving each of them the floor, Brent reported on the news of the Vegas murder. He stood next to a large dry-erase board, twirling a marker between his fingers. “Let’s start in chronological order. Fitz, you’re up first.”
“My notes covered the first year or so the Butcher was incarcerated at Dreamland. Dr. Osgood painted an ominous picture of Jonas, who, he wrote, was angry at everyone and everything. He had to be restrained most of the time due to bouts of violence. The more Osgood brought up Jonas’ past, the more the guy retreated into a shell. One time—back here on page twenty-five, the doctor actually noted he was wasting his time.
Treatment that first year consisted only of psychotropic drugs.” Fitzpatrick shrugged.
“There wasn’t a lot of information from the first seventy-five pages.”
“Are you sure there was nothing else? Any information could be valuable as we try to figure this maniac out.”
“The only thing I can add is, like I said, he would kind of retreat when his past was brought up. When Dr. Osgood used Jonas’ name, he cowered and then his anger and the violence escalated.”
“Good work, sergeant,” Brent said, writing the information on the board. “That’s the first piece of the puzzle in the personality profile.”
He nodded at Jefferson. “You’re next.”
Jefferson stood to address his team members. “The good doctor started to catch a lot of flak from the people he answered to when he hadn’t made much headway that first year with his prize guinea pig. I’m talking the top, the ex-prez himself threatened to close down Dreamland. But Osgood bought more time by telling his old college roomie he needed more subjects to help him refine the treatment protocol. President Morrow didn’t want to look like a fool for spending a crap load of money on the project, so he called in some favors, and sent six other psychopaths to Osgood’s funny farm.”
“Six. Are you sure?” Brent said. “I thought there were only five other inmates besides Jonas.”
“Only five left, Colonel. Do you remember Antoinette LaBarberra?”
“It would be hard to forget a murderer of thirty-five children,” Brent answered.
“The serial killer from Italy? The cafeteria worker who killed all those orphans. Is that who you’re talking about?” Maddie asked with astonishment. “That’s the one,” Seven offered. “That nut-job, just about gutted me like a fish. If it hadn’t been for the colonel putting a bullet in her shoulder from two hundred yards, I’d be dead.”
“My God.” Maddie exclaimed. “Is there any major crime in the past fifteen years you people didn’t solve?”
“The squad got around,” Brent said. “Now, what about her, Jefferson?”
“She was sent to Dreamland about five-and-a-half years ago. It seems the good doctor thought she and Jonas had a lot in common, so he used her as a guinea pig. He tried more and more experimental drugs and higher levels of EST on her first. Guess he figured that if it didn’t kill her, it was all right to use on McFarland. In the three months she was there, she overdosed four times. Finally, she was given such an extremely high dose of EST that it completely fried her brain. It put her in a comatose state she never woke up from.”
Maddie put her hand up to stop the conversation. “Wait a minute. I thought she was put to death by the Italian government?”
“Yeah, me too. I remember it being all over the news,” Chloe said.
“It was,” Jefferson said. “That was part of the cover-up. Her body was flown back to Italy where she was given a lethal injection, even though, for all practical purposes, she was already dead.”
Everyone was stunned by the news Jefferson delivered. He took advantage of it like a circus ringmaster.
“Here’s the kick
er. The LaBarberra of Napoli, as she was known, was the same height and weight as Jonas McFarland, so the doctor knew exactly how far he could push his treatment without killing him.
“Right after that debacle, Dr. Osgood was able to start making headway with the Butcher. The notes show by the middle of the second year, the staff was able to remove his straitjacket, and his anger seemed more manageable.”
“What forms of treatment corresponded to Jonas’ change of attitude?” Maddie asked.
“Just after LaBarberra’s death, Osgood increased Jonas’ dosage to almost triple the amount of medication. The doctor also introduced hypnotherapy while Jonas was under the influence of the drugs.”
“Malcolm, was there any trigger or word that Osgood used when Jonas was under?” Brent asked.
“Yeah, and it’s pretty bizarre. Whenever Jonas started to become violent or uncontrollable, Osgood used the term ‘Liz’ and he immediately calmed down.”
“Why Liz? Any reason?” Brent said.
“That’s the strange part, sir. His notes never mention where the name came from or why. They never mentioned the name before or after that one notation.”
Brent turned to the board and wrote LIZ = control. Then he turned his attention to the group. “Malcolm, is there anything else?”
Just one thing. As far as I can tell, Jonas started his nightly ritual of prayer at about the same time Osgood started using the trigger ‘Liz.’”
“Excellent work, Sergeant.”
A blush flooded Jefferson’s face. Compliments didn’t come often from the colonel.
“Thank you, Colonel,” he said.
Brent turned toward the others. “All right, Maddie, what do you have for us?”
“My notes,” she began, “comprise a greater span of time, beginning in January of 2003 and ending in October, 2006. Most days, the doctor didn’t elaborate much. He noted the dosage and time of the medication, as well as any changes in vital signs. Even for a biochemist, I found this stuff pretty dry. There were, however, a couple of notations that stood out from the rest of the drivel.
“At one point, Jonas talked about the house he grew up in, his aunt’s house, and the importance his Aunt Peg placed on punctuality. He told Dr. Osgood if he was ever late for a meal, even one minute, he would not be allowed to eat until the next scheduled meal.”
Brent made another note on the board. “We’re starting to see where he gets his propensity for pattern.”
“Later in the notes,” Maddie continued, “he mentioned that his aunt was very religious. Dr. Osgood asked him what faith, but Jonas didn’t answer. He only said that her faith was so strong she had her own prayer room and an altar built in the basement of their home. Now this,” Maddie emphasized, “struck me as strange because he also stated they lived within walking distance of a church.”
“It could be that the church was a different denomination, and she refused to worship there,” Chloe said.
“Could be,” Maddie said, “and not to undermine everything else, but this next fact actually made me shiver. His aunt rented out rooms to college students, sorority members who didn’t have enough seniority to get a room in the sorority house.”
Brent turned and wrote on the board. “A backdrop to his personality seems to be forming.”
Facing the team, he nodded to Seven. “What do you have?”
“Osgood started to beef up the treatment in 2006 and 2007. Knowing from the LaBarberra experiment that he couldn’t increase the voltage he used in the EST, he instead, increased the frequency of the treatment. Our friend, Jonas received electric shock therapy almost every other day for a period of six months. He’s lucky he’s not a complete vegetable. The more therapy he received, the more boyish or, as the doc put it, the more effeminate he became, until finally, Jonas evolved into the childish person we saw before the transformation took place.
“There is one more thing in the notes that may be of importance.”
“What’s that, Seven?”
“Osgood mentioned that McFarland told him he should have taken his doll collection with him when he left his aunt’s house. He said, he shouldn’t have left them in the basement. The doctor wrote that McFarland talked about the doll collection while he was in deep hypnosis aided by strong psychotropic drugs. Later, when he questioned Jonas about it, Jonas had no idea what he was talking about.”
Brent jotted something onto the board. “At this point, any detail could be the big break we need to get into this guy’s head.”
Brent eyed the board and briefly flipped through his notes. “Osgood continued to increase the dose of drug therapy and EST at an alarming rate,” he said. In the six months before he escaped, the doctor noted a huge breakthrough of some kind. Under hypnosis, Jonas talked about the punishment his aunt administered whenever he broke one of her rules. She was one sadistic witch, that one. Tortured him with caning, burned him with hot oil, even cut him.”
“The same torture devices he used on his victims,” Maddie observed.
“There does seem to be a common thread. He also talks about how his aunt didn’t spare the rod on her tenants, either. To punish the girls for breaking curfew, she’d humiliate them by making them do chores naked.”
“Oh, my God,” Chloe gasped.
“That’s not the worst of it. She made a young Jonas watch while she caned the girls and used sewing needles, although the doctor’s notes don’t go into detail. After she finished punishing them, she took them to the basement to pray for forgiveness.”
“Why didn’t the girls go to the police?” Seven said.
“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Brent said. “Take the Alliance jet to Boston tomorrow after the morning briefing and see what you can find out. Do a thorough search of her house and check with the local universities. We’ll make sure you have all the search warrants and subpoenas you need to get anything and everything that will help us crack this case.”
Seven turned towards Maddie. “I’d like to take an Alliance CSI team with me, if that’s all right. I don’t want to involve any local forces.”
“I don’t have a problem with that, but why a CSI team?” she said. “What do you think you’re going to find?”
“Don’t know, but something in the notes doesn’t sit right with me. I just want to have everything and everybody I might need, just in case.”
“His instincts are second to none,” Brent remarked.
“Consider it done,” Maddie said. “Joan will coordinate the details.”
“All right, before we break, let’s recap,” Brent pointed to the board and went down the list of possible hints. “We know that Jonas’ anger was out of control when he first arrived at Dreamland. That it got worse whenever his aunt’s name was brought up.
“We know the good doctor used questionable and possibly deadly amounts of psychotropic drugs and electric shock therapy to bring him under control and we know the name LIZ seemed to calm him down.”
“Pardon me, Colonel,” Fitzpatrick interrupted. “Why do you keep capitalizing the name Liz?”
“Just conjecture at this point. I do it to show that it’s the one piece of evidence that seems totally out of place with the rest. It’s a way of making it stand out on the board, like it does in my head.” He paused to wait for other questions. None came.
“All right, let’s keep going. We know Aunt Peg was very pious, but we don’t know to what sect or faith. She had her own prayer room and altar in her basement. We know she was a control freak who insisted on punctuality and severely punished anyone who broke her rules, including sorority members who boarded in her home. And, finally, the doctor’s notes tell us she had a sadistic side, and she probably took enjoyment from seeing others in pain. So what does that tell us about McFarland?”
Chloe spoke up. “He was a product of his environment.”
“The abu
sed grow up and abuse others,” Seven added.
“He most likely hated his aunt,” Maddie said.
“But feared her too much to go against her or try to escape,” Joan said, following up on Maddie’s thought.
“If he hated her, and I can see why he would, why did he follow in her footsteps and go after college girls?” Fitz asked.
“Psychology shows that behavior, even aberrant, sadistic behavior, is learned and often repeated generation after generation,” Brent said.
Joan looked at Brent. “Like child abuse and incest.”
“It’s a sick world we live in,” Maddie said, squeezing Joan’s hand.
“That’s why we have to remember, even though we are in this world, because of our faith we are not of this world. Our world is in heaven with the Lord. It’s only by keeping this truth that we’re able to do what we do and witness what we witness, and come through it, unscathed.”
A look of peace settled on the faces of the team. “Before we break, anyone else have a question or comment?”
Jefferson piped up. “Yeah, I do. Let’s say all this psychological mumbo-jumbo makes sense. Why did the Butcher take it one step further and kill his victims?”
“Who says he took it one step further?” Seven said.
“Do you think—?”
“That’s what I hope to find out in Boston.”
Brent stood. “We’ll meet back here at 2200 hours,”
CHAPTER 18
Charlotte was enjoying her stay with the Woodmeres. Sonia said she hoped they could see each other again once Charlotte’s current situation was resolved. It made Charlotte feel good to have her as a friend. It had been a long time since she’d had one.
Zachary, Sonia’s husband, had been equally nice, but businesslike. He spent a good part of his day working on the computer, staying in constant contact with the pilot of the Lear jet, known only as ‘Q.’
After dinner, Charlotte felt anxious. She knew she would soon leave the safe house.
