Last Thuggie Book III: You Will Pay (3)

by Jamal Shakur

  Ch 38

  “Love is not patronizing and charity isn't about pity, it is about love. Charity and love are the same -- with charity you give love, so don't just give money but reach out your hand instead.”

  - A Simple Path: Mother Teresa -

  33 years ago

  India

  After finishing up residency, John Sinclair wanted to practice medicine where he thought he could be the most help and at this time the scourge of AIDS was showing its effects amongst mainly the homosexual communities but it was already destroying India with over 2.4 million victims. This would be how he would receive redemption for the sins of his mother who lived with the disease for years and yet still ply her trade as a woman of the night without her customers knowing that she had full blown AIDS. The grimy little clinic that he worked for almost ten hours a day was at times unsanitary and choked the air with its foul stench from the stifling heat of the summer. July is very hot in India and the place was closed in without ventilation which didn’t help the health of the already very sick patients who were near death. It went on like this day after day, with no finances from the government and time mainly donated from the medical staff, the only thing you could do was make the patients comfortable and to top it off there was no cure for this new plague of mankind. It was like the Black Plague of old and Calcutta had seen these atrocities centuries before and it was here again with a vengeance.

  There was a patient that he took care of often who only visited the clinic once a month even though he was sick enough to be admitted there. Sinclair was impressed by the man’s patience and spiritualism it was still something very odd about the man. One of his fellow doctors was meddling around for information about him. He was an Indian doctor, Bombay, “I see that you are very curious about the gentleman who frequents our clinic, I have one thing to say to you so that you can stop your curiosity about him, and he is the Calif.”

  On his next visit he asked to be seen by Sinclair exclusively, it shocked Sinclair when he heard this but his curiosity was peeked more than ever. The little brown man pounced onto the examining bed as if he were a cat, if you looked at him externally there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him whatsoever. He gave Sinclair a penetrating stare as if he had knew him for years. What was this Calif as the other doctor said he was, as if the title held some type of mystery that had some weight of authority and invincibility attached to it. “You seem to be in pretty good shape, you have the virus but it hasn’t developed into full blown AIDS as of yet.”

  He stared at me nonchalantly and stated, “Since there is no cure than I must try to cure myself.”

  “So on another topic other than your health which is coming on long very well, what’s with the title Calif that you are known for?”

  “I am the spiritual leader of those who worship Mother Kalie.”

  “This letter of introduction; have someone translate it for you, my English is satisfactory but not as good as my mother tongue.”

  Sinclair went straight to his colleague Dr Bombay, “I tried to decipher some of his writing which is basically a primitive form of Bengali, I speak the language only slightly but the main point of the letter is that he wants you to visit his temple and will contact you in the future and set up a date for you to visit. The date was now; Sinclair was taken blind folded to the place of worship of the thuggies, there are two main Kali centers in eastern India, at Kamakhya and Tarapithas but this particular center was as underground as you could get, he entered the underground enclave, the massive statue of their God Kalie took up all the space in the middle of the glazed marble floor, it was incredible he later found out that this place was a secret location for hundreds of years known only to the initiates.

  It was an odd feeling but he took the ceremonial accolades of the God Kalie and was immersed into thuggie culture, he was abhorred about the talk and the practice of killing, he later learned of the two factions that exist in the religion, one believed in not killing certain people but the one the Calif --- headed believed that women of the night must be eliminated because of the passing of the AIDs virus and Sinclair also believed in the same mania. It had went on like this for about six days and on the seventh day he was recreated and initiated into the cult everyone sat in a circle and the Calif had a kettle with something he called a concentrated elixir mainly of sugar and of another substance which remained a secret and a mystery, but on consumption would tie one to the Dark One, Kalie.

  As time went on Sinclair found himself changing, the Doctor who loved the Hippocratic Oath, started to hate mankind and loved his new beloved Kalie for whom he sacrificed them for the blood he offered up to her. “I notice your change but you must continue to be of many faces. Hence, that is why we are often called deceivers, this is new for some but I read in your soul that this is your reincarnated soul that has done this before.” The Calif his Guru left him with that last point of wisdom; he did not see him or Calcutta again and headed on his journey back home to America.

  The love affair with the Goddess Kallie and the newly acquired thirst for blood that Sinclair quenched in Calcutta was announcing itself to him in America. In India victims were supplied to him by the cult but here he would have to fend for himself. The most vulnerable and the denizen of evil he thought to eliminate were the same ones his group were killing in Calcutta, the prostitute.

  Ch 39

  I had learned that the income of the town was massive, it was in the millions which were odd, seeing as the size of the town was very small and there wasn’t any visible industry. However, the reported incomes to the IRS were claimed to be accomplished from stock investments and real-estate. The group if anything was prolific and highly intelligent business men. But it all seems strange and odd; people that you never heard of were rich beyond expectations and also had political power. But money can buy political influence. The governor let it be known to my captain, that if we didn’t have real evidence against Sinclair and his group, we were staying clear of him. If all said and done it would be considered as harassment of a religious group. We would have to work fast, it was thought to plant an undercover operative into the group but a movement such as this was hard to penetrate because it would be the duties of the new initiate to commit murder. Staying clear wasn’t a problem for us but as a megalomaniac it was a problem for him; he needed the daily dosage of attention, most serial guys do. However, what is the use of performing such an art work as murder and there is none to see it.

  We still had the cameras in the church, I excused the intrusion by using the FBI as the go between using the homeland security ruse, and something about them didn’t set well with the higher powers that be. They were reminded them of the murder of Congressman Leo Ryan who was murdered by the Peoples Temple in Jonestown Guyana similarly by a cult who also had political power. I don’t think anyone wanted the same situation to happen on their watch. We had too many incidents that have happened with political and religious groups which we were asleep at the watch. The whole concept of thuggies and the murders that they have historically performed had open up a lot of eyes at the pentagon. We weren’t given Carte Blanche straight out but we were given a nod and that was all we needed.

  We got some bizarre behavior from the cameras in the church, they felt more comfortable than before, thinking that they had a free hand because of the political influence that they had; this time all the chairs were removed and the participants sat on the floor in a circle, the cross once again was removed and the Goddess Khallie was in its place. This time one of their priests was at the forefront of the group near the podium, he had a scimitar in his hand, and his other hand was around the neck of a very young girl maybe a teenager. He began to slowly cut her throat and repeated over and over again, “This is for you my lord Khallie.”

  Although it was one murder but it still was in our minds; that this was maybe one of many. Even today India sacrificial murders by the ones who call themselves Thuggie still exist. I perused the internet and took
a look at BBC international news, it was reported that two men who were Hindu and claiming to be thuggees murdered a child and proceeded to lop off its head and devour its heart and soft organs in the hopes of gaining immense powers. Was there any connection between our perp and these mad men in India, I didn’t know. However, we dug into Sinclair’s background and discovered he worked in Calcutta as a doctor for an AIDS clinic for a number of years. I got in contact with a Dr. Bombay who worked at his side for the duration of stay there. “I can’t tell you much about Dr Sinclair but the only thing that stood out was his closeness and his attraction to the Calif the leader of the Kallie cult right here in Calcutta.”

  “Well thank you sir, your statement speaks volumes, more than you would ever know,” I said and exhaled at the connection that we all didn’t expect.

  When I further contacted the Calcutta police department , there was further verification, there were hundreds of bodies found in the same condition as the child that the followers of Kallie had cannibalized but there was no real proof and also the Indian police didn’t have the same forensic sophistication that we posses to get a lead on the murders.

  And as usual a lead did manifest itself; Omar contacted me with some choice info. “We have a lead but the Intel would be dubious are insane because of the source it is coming from.”

  I stared at him and didn’t understand in my entire twenty year career, there was no such thing as dubious info. “So, what’s so crazy about the source of the info?”

  “The guy is a residence of the prison for the criminally insane. Now what got our attention is the constant talk of the Calif and Kallie , any other time it would be considered the rambling of a mad man but for us we know it is about something substantial.”

  I jumped into my jeep and headed for Fairview State Hospital for the criminally insane in Waymart, PA. The patient inmate was a Henry Jackson; he was incarcerated for the noontime knife slashing of a woman walking to work in Center City Philadelphia. He was a minimally incarcerated inmate but he was considered dangerous. I had an appointment to speak with a Doctor Klein.

  “Can you give me the low down on Mr. Jackson, please?”

  “ Hmm, that’s an incredible question for Mr. Jackson is an extraordinary patient , if I didn’t know it at times, I would think he was completely sane and faking his mental inabilities,” The Doctor sighed as he spoke. “So, tell me of the times you think he is both sane and insane.”

  “His sanity begins when he talks about the thuggie cult, he states that he is a leader in the cult and happens to have murdered men, women and children and participating in devouring in an insane moment of cannibalism.”

  “That sounds like a bullet pointed info page, could you give me all of the pertinent info about the thuggie cult he was espousing.”

  “He was introduced to the order in prison, some other inmates were secretly involved in the cult, on his release from his stint in prison he became fully functional member of the thuggies, but it was the constant murders and cannibalism that pushed him over the edge and landed him here at the hospital instead of a normal prison institution.”

  “It might be highly unusual but might I speak to Mr. Jackson,” I said persistently.

  “That is highly out of the ordinarybut the only way I could let that happen is to be there when you interview him which would be in keeping with hospital internal regulations.” I gave him a nod in the affirmative. I was given access to the patient with the doctor’s permission, I was escorted to a padded room with about ten locks on the inside and out, I felt more paranoid than the patient. I think it was obvious that he was extremely dangerous so the safe guard they used was highly needed. Mr. Jackson entered the room with a wide gate which was ironic seeing as he was a small frame man , he was rail thin with a Mohawk haircut and with a dark complexion, need I say more, if looks meant danger than he was very ominous. He started off talking to himself repeating the same mantra over and over again,” If life is delightful than darkness is a deliciously bright that is unfulfilled,” he repeated again and again.

  “Where’s that quote from Shakespeare,” I said trying to lighten up the whole situation.

  “No, that is words from my Calif.”

  “Who is this Calif you speak of.”

  “He is the leader of all Thuggies; I had delivered my body soul and to him.”

  “If that is the case why did you leave the order?”

  “I left because it became too much for me to endure, killing was ok but eating people is not my cup of tea.” And then he started up again, “If life is delightful than darkness is a delicacy bright that is unfulfilled, If life is delightful than darkness is a delicacy that is unfulfilled.”

  That was it, he was mentally gone and there wasn’t any more info we could get at this time.

  Ch 40

  There was nothing of the interrogation for legal prosecution that we could use because, he was obviously insane. However, it was one thing for certain; the thought was that the thuggie cult was more dangerous and insidious than was believed before. Our investigations must have hit a nerve because his activities went underground, the church services were shut down and his post office runs ceased. We knew we had a mole amongst us and that Sinclair obviously knew about the interrogation of his former lieutenant.

  If he had any similarities with the Kallie cults of India, then it was possible that he had underground temples that might be positioned all over the country probably in the same areas of his training camps. A perp like this one whose life span depends on the flowing and lust for blood couldn’t possibly stop for good , if we push him underground , he would still commit some regular murders that would show his exhibition side which had nothing to with his religion which was covert and unseen to the public, however both experiences are grotesque .

  Sinclair was at his old haunt at the University of Penn campus , this is where he met his second in command professor Strauss , he had introduced him to the art of carnage right here on campus , no one was the wiser as to the missing young lady they had abducted one evening and applied there gruesome practice upon. He eyes his prey and follows her as he normally does, next he stalks his kill after writing a dosage on her daily routine and at it this point he is ready to pounce. He strikes up an intellectual conversation with the young lady and feigns the appearance of a professor on campus. “Hi, I see by your text books that you are carrying that you are one who is majoring in philosophy. You know the etymology of the word philosophy derives from Latin philosophia and Greek philosophia "love of knowledge.” Of course he already knew her major from his daily stalking of her, the little tidbit of the philosophy he found online. She was immediately impressed, and handed him her books to carry. Her apartment was a block away from the campus. Her apartment was very small, a space that was suited for a student who was on a tight budget. “Would you like some refreshments, professor?”

  “Yes my dear, just a glass of cold water, if you please.” He followed close behind her as if it was some type of romantic connection at least that is what she thought but quickly dispelled that deliberation, he reached around her neck with his hands tightly griped around her and with one quick move snapped her neck, she limped to the floor motionless without a morsel of life in her youthful attractive body. Sinclair left a little whimsical ditty for Lomax and left. He dipped his fingers into the girls blood and left the following, “Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair. “

  I was sent a communiqué from the perp at least every other day and today wasn’t any different. This time instead of a video it was an Email that simply said go back to the first one, signed your friend.

  We went back to very first murder committed by the perp but it didn’t have anything new and we knew it had to be something new that he wanted me to see but we couldn’t see anything. But something was staring me right in the face the professor and coincidently taught and played at U of P. There it was
staring us right in the face; the first murder he committed was at Penn campus. I examined the crime scene photos; the young lady was in the customary missionary position with her throat slit just like the other murders that he has committed. But why send us back to this, when you have similar murders that he has also committed.

  “I think that it has something to do with the quote he left on the wall in blood.” If you notice he has not left that many quotes like these in all of his murders only in a faction of all of them will you see this type behavior? If you recall he dips his fingers in her blood and proceeded to write a poem by William Blake, “Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair. “

  The center was filled with potential love connections, some had gone virtually dateless and this seemed like their only chance of making a permanent hookup. The whole affair was brisk , the briskness was circumvented by the repulsive sound of the repetitive obnoxious bell that rang every ten minutes to make sure each person made a even circle of the room and given a chance to meet as many hook up’s as possible. One individual stood out, he was handsome and intriguing, and most of the women had him on their monitor. He had move through half the room but was intrigued with the next to the last women that he was speaking with. “You know this stuff is kind of fake, wouldn’t you like to maybe talk alone somewhere.” The man said with a sort of sly romantic tone to his voice.