The Killing Collective

by Gary Starta

  Seacrest wanted to know where he learned about the contagion and convergence theories. “How about sharing your source, Double-O-Seven? Where were you, tonight?”

  “I went to see a cognitive behavioral psychologist.” Carter raised a hand expecting a barb from his wife. “I know the Contagion Theory sounds crazy, but no crazier than this case. There are accepted theories, backed up by scientific research and data, on collective violent social behavior, like the peasant revolts during the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia.”

  The chef told them their order was ready. Reluctantly, Carter rose from his seat to retrieve it. “Oh well, let’s get back to this later. Right now, we’ve got some food for the soul coming up.” He carried the slices back to the table on a large, round, tin tray. Eager hands pulled at the cheesy slices, and for the moment, everything else was forgotten.

  Seacrest shot her husband a glance. “Come on, Carter, eat up. Take a walk on the wild side, for a change. Look at all that gooey cheese! Those horribly bad-for-you carbs are calling your name! Give in and enjoy it.” Seacrest hiccupped.

  Carter was hungry, so his standard protest sounded half-hearted, even to himself. “But you have to wonder what all that is doing to your insides.”

  Deeprose waved a hand in dismissal. “Shoot, as long as no one can see my insides, I don’t give a damn.”

  They polished off the slices right down to the ends of the crusts. Seacrest raised her eyes toward heaven, and shouted, “Hallelujah! I’ve been saved! Thank you, New York, my taste buds are doing the happy dance.”

  She dabbed pizza sauce off Carter’s chin. “Really, Carter, I can’t take you anywhere. Who’s up for pepperoni?” Seacrest clapped her hands like a child with a new toy. She gestured to the waiter, who plated the steaming slices and delivered them to their table.

  Carter lifted an index finger. “We have three theories to consider: Someone gave Michael a not-so-gentle push; the video supplied by our friend, Red, tonight, may confirm there is a definite hub and a person to investigate; and New York City pizza may be the best on this planet. Pretty good for a night’s work.”

  “Yes, sir! Deeprose took another bite and closed her eyes in rapture. “You’re so right, Jill. This is heaven. Umm! Wait a minute!” She swiped the face of her Smartphone. “See that right there?” That is a photo of Senator Bill Pressman from Langley, Virginia. Look like someone we know?”

  Carter fished his cell phone from his jacket. “I’ll contact Deputy Director Fischetti in the morning to get the ball rolling. It looks like he’s been trying to reach us.”

  “What does the message say, sir?”

  Carter shook his head. “Cryptic. He wants to meet with us tomorrow.”

  Seacrest raised her Coke. “On Saturday? Oh well, it’s still tonight. So, let’s enjoy our last supper.”

  Carter nodded. “Agreed.”

  Seacrest frowned. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for why the murder victims were chosen, but if all of the attendees received the drug at their last meeting, why haven’t we discovered hundreds of murders over the last twenty-four hours? It seems apparent that not all of them got it. I wonder why? And another thing. Neuroscience only goes so far; the ones who do receive the drug still have freedom of choice. They can resist it if they want to. That means it doesn’t work on everyone. I’m sure he would have chosen a select few who seemed most likely not to fight it and who’d also be scared to tell anyone, afterward.

  “Hate crimes happen every day. If these murders are generated by the senator’s personal biases and prejudices, how in the hell can we prove it? I mean, doesn’t the Ku Klux Klan kill Blacks? Aren’t Muslim Americans being attacked, detained and deported? Don’t people still bomb abortion centers and kill the doctors who work there? The only way we can find out who the Collective’s killers are is to get the name of every single person who ever attended a meeting.”

  Seacrest was overwrought and overwhelmed by the enormity of the issue, and the Zombies didn’t help any. She looked down at the table a moment and then whipped her head back up. “Hey! Red and his friends walked out, Carter. They walked out! Isn’t the speaker afraid they’ll blow the whistle on him? There must be others who did the same thing, too. Carter, those people might know too much now. Red or any of his friends could be on the hit list.”

  Carter jerked to attention. “Jesus, we forgot all about him and his friends! I’ll make arrangements for protection. For all of them. We can talk to Fischetti about it tomorrow morning. That’s why I love you, angel; you’re the brains of the outfit.”

  “Thank you, darling. It’s high time you admitted it.”

  Carter shook his soda cup and watched the bubbles bounce off each other. Something Deeprose said earlier suddenly struck him.

  He banged the table with his hand. “Random, yet not random. Unrelated, yet related! And by one man - the speaker Red caught on video. Someone’s got to talk to Senator Pressman, but I think the deputy director should phone him first to pave the way. I think our next step has to be the notification of law enforcement agencies in every single state to send us a blood sample from every murder suspect they’ve arrested in the last month and ongoing. We can test them later for a match to our sample to start weeding out the real killers from the ones who’d been essentially kidnapped and forced into it.”

  ***

  Alison knew she should be feeling guilty about what might have happened to Michael and Eliza, but she didn’t. She’s never felt this sort of closeness, and she never knew until now how good it felt to feel good. Her phone rang. Although the identity of the caller came up as “Unknown”, she answered it.

  It was Eliza. “I’m calling from a burner phone, and I can’t stay on long. Are you still at Clara’s? I’ll come to you and tell you what happened.”

  “Hold on.” Alison put her phone on mute. “It’s Eliza. She wants to come over. We need her, Clara. She’s mean and horrible, but we need all the help we can get. Don’t forget she’s in trouble now, too, because she didn’t follow through with her order to kill you. What should I do?”

  “Tell her to come.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carter sucked on his mint, hoping it might help the whammy the Red Zombies laid on him last night. He observed his wife, seemingly fine and sitting with perfect posture, waiting for Deputy Director Fischetti to explain his cryptic text. Agent Deeprose sat to Carter’s left, looking, if possible, worse than he felt.

  Fischetti grumbled and massaged the back of his neck. His clothes, the same ones he wore the night before, looked all mashed up. Deeprose asked him if he felt all right.

  Fischetti glanced over Carter’s shoulder at his office couch in answer to her question. “I figured it would be easier to sleep here than to go home and come back again in a few hours.” He paused for a long moment, which heightened their collective concern. With a grim look of determination, he plunged ahead. “I’ve got some bad news, and it can’t wait. I felt it was only right to share it with all of you, in person.”

  Fischetti detailed how General Breen had marched into his office last evening demanding the vial and all the data compiled from their lab tests by Monday. “We’ve got until tomorrow night to test it. Agent Seacrest, starting right now, you’re in the lab for one thing only - to find out exactly what this compound is and what it does. After that, unless you can pull a rabbit out of your lab coat, we’re done with this investigation. You have carte blanche to use any lab equipment necessary and any personnel you need. I’ll be blunt; I need you to work around the clock until the deadline. I’m not asking, Agent Seacrest.”

  Seacrest nodded. “I understand, sir.”

  Fischetti fiddled with his cell phone for a long moment. Then he pursed his lips and nodded his thanks. “Your superior guards his equipment better than Fort Knox protects its gold. I’ll run interference for you.” Fischetti folded his hands. “Now, down to cases. We are faced with highly unusual murders connected, we think, to an unclassified drug. Suddenly the D.O
.D. is involved and obviously doesn’t want us to know anything more than we do now. That tells me it was made for a purpose, possibly by them. The info is classified; they won’t tell me a thing. Whether or not we feel our murder investigation trumps national security on this one, we don’t have a leg to stand on. I made every argument I could, but Breen finally showed his hand, and he’s holding all the aces.” Fischetti squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

  “Sir,” Carter cleared his throat. “We do know Michael attended a meeting of the Collective. We found traces of an unidentified substance in his blood and this morning confirmed that it matches the components in the vial we took from him. The two museum murders were committed within 72 hours of the meeting he attended. It’s circumstantial, but it’s still a good, solid lead. Agent Deeprose has uncovered a possible connection between the drug and the Collective. I think you should see right away.”

  Fischetti suddenly came to full attention.

  Deeprose piped up. “We know of at least one rally hosted through virtual technology, by someone bearin’ an uncanny resemblance to Senator Bill Pressman. We have a video taken by one of the attendees on his cell phone. He’s been very cooperative, sir, loanin’ us his phone an’ all.”

  Fischetti’s eyes sparkled. “I begin to suspect your talents have been slightly overlooked, Agent Deeprose. Come on….let’s see it. Christ! A solid lead!”

  Carter was cautious now. “Sir, we can’t be sure of the senator’s involvement. It may be a lookalike or an attempt to frame him.”

  Fischetti waved a hand toward Carter. “We can pursue that lead at the same time we infiltrate the Collective and investigate their possible link to the drug and our murders. Right now, we need to verify that the video is real. I’ll get this down to the cyber team.”

  Fischetti continued after he’d sent Liz to the cyber lab with the cell phone. “I asked her to come in this weekend to help out. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Fischetti coughed. “I’ll set up an interview with Senator Pressman. This interview has to be done with just the right kind of finesse, the kind that comes across as honest and inexperienced. If he feels safe enough, he might make a mistake while he’s talking. It needs a woman’s touch. Agent Deeprose, this one seems to be right up your alley. Pour on that southern ‘little old me’ act and charm the socks off him. Do whatever you think’ll work, but I want any Intel he might have, and I want it yesterday. Remember, any information we get from the senator, at this point, is purely voluntary, so no hardball.”

  Carter was surprised that Fischetti was on to her.

  Well, well, well….she can’t use that one on him anymore…what a shame.

  Seacrest took a quick glance at her phone and began to squirm in her seat. “I think I should get right down to the lab, sir. Agent Carter, I’m going to need your help. Will you come with me?” The feisty agent looked hard at Carter. Marriage came with all kinds of hidden signals between couples. She wanted to see him alone.

  “Certainly.”

  Carter raced to keep up with Seacrest, who was already out the office door. “Jill, what’s going on? Why do you need me in the lab?”

  Seacrest punched the elevator button. “No big deal, I just want to show you something.” Her eyes darkened. “Don’t worry, Carter. I’ll explain when we get down to the lab.”

  Carter knew that breezy tone of voice and overly innocent look. She had something up her sleeve. She always did. Carter followed her into the elevator, resigning himself to whatever was coming next.

  ***

  Back in the office, Fischetti lifted his phone off the receiver. “I’m going to set up the interview.”

  Deeprose sat patiently while she waited. His hand was cupped over the receiver. “I think they’re finally putting me through to him.”

  A few minutes later, he nodded and scribbled on a notepad. “Right away would be best. This is an urgent matter. I appreciate your cooperation, Senator.”

  Ripping the paper from his pad, he handed it to Deeprose. “Looks like you’re flying to D.C. this afternoon. Go home and get some overnight things together. We’re done, Agent. Get going.”

  “Alone, sir? You mean…alone?”

  “Certainly. Don’t worry about a thing. Be yourself.” Fischetti laughed for the first time since she’d met him. “Boy, I’d love to be a fly on that wall.”

  Has he lost his doggone mind? Ah’m a novice, for pity’s sake! What could be more important than havin’ Agent Carter lead the questionin’?

  ***

  “Jill, what could be more important than staying for the rest of the meeting? What good am I to you in the lab?”

  “You were always a good catcher.” Then she fell – face, first.

  Carter lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Seacrest. “Jill! What’s the matter? Your pupils are dilated!”

  “Are they? Take me home, Carter.”

  He looked at her face again and began to sweat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I did. But only half the vial. We still have something to turn over to the D.O.D.”

  “I’m supposed to be heading out to Washington with Agent Deeprose right now!”

  Seacrest’s eyes were glazing over quickly. “When Fischetti gave us the lowdown, I sent him a text right there in the meeting. He knows, Carter. This is the only way to test the drug before Monday morning. He didn’t like the idea but he agreed, and he knows you have to take care of me.”

  “What?!”

  “We don’t have a lot of time, Carter. You have to get me home.”

  He went right over the top. “Are you both crazy?! Do you realize anything could happen to you? Brain damage? Death? You practically dropped dead in my arms just now!”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Carter. It was my decision to make.”

  “It was not! You’re my wife, Jill. You can’t just decide to jump out of an airplane without a parachute one day without discussing it with me first. Jill, why? Why would you risk everything for this?”

  “For the same reason you risk everything on the job, Carter; it’s the right thing to do, and the only thing to do.”

  He clutched her tightly. “Don’t you ever, ever do something like this again, do you hear me? Ever! If anything happens to you, Jill, I…I don’t know what I’d do…”

  Safe in his arms, she faded away into oblivion.

  ***

  Deeprose must have picked at the pills on her sweater a thousand times during her flight. Carter must have received new instructions requiring him to stay behind. She couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t told about them. It didn’t feel right, but right now her job was to interview Senator Pressman and observe his reactions. Deeprose assumed politicians were every bit as tight-lipped as the big brass were in the service. Everything was on a need-to-know basis, and it was a matter of course that you never needed to know.

  She couldn’t imagine a senator having anything to do with a group like the Collective. What kind of past did Pressman have? There were no records of him prior to taking office, but his records may have been classified.

  She’d have to tread lightly with him.

  What kind of leverage would get me some candid answers?

  ***

  Carter settled Seacrest into the cab while hoping against hope they wouldn’t have the kind of ride they had last night.

  Will this turn her into a murderer? Maybe I should be ready for it, just in case.

  “Hey buddy, my wife is feeling kind of ill. I’d appreciate a smooth ride, if possible.” Carter handed him a ten dollar bill from his suit pocket.

  The cabbie smiled into the rear view mirror. “No problem, sir. Smooth as silk.”

  Carter was scared to death and hopping mad.

  No mantra ever invented could help me in a situation like this. Wait - now is exactly the time to use the calming mantra. Stop. Think. She doesn’t need anger now; she needs me to get her through this. Now get ahold of yourself before we get home.<
br />
  Seacrest slumped against his shoulder. He pulled her across his chest and folded his arms around her. When she closed her eyes, he plunged himself into positive, rational thought. Carter was neither self-indulgent nor selfish; he knew that it was absolutely necessary to clear his mind of all thoughts of himself if he was to function on all thrusters for Jill. He slowed his breathing and inside his mind, he spoke the mantra.

  Worry serves no purpose; it won’t change anything. I can feel the worry leaving me with every outward breath. I am human; I acknowledge these feelings, but I choose not to be ruled by them. Planning is better than worrying. Show her compassion and quiet strength. Let her know your thoughts lie solely on her.

  “Are you O.k., honey? How do you feel?”

  She answered shakily. “I’m O.K. I just want to get home.” She closed her eyes again and sighed.

  That’s the way to do it. Better, Carter, you’re doing better.

  Now, to continue…. Outward and inward displays of anger, fear, and control are selfish, useless and hurtful. They are distractions that solve nothing. They cloud my brain. Venting will not give me the relief I think it will. It adds to my problems and creates them for others, resolving nothing. I will not create bad karma when I need to generate all the help I can from a willing universe. With every outward breath I feel anger, fear, and the need to control leaving my mind.

  Focus on Jill. Only on Jill. She needs me; she is my only concern, not myself. I feel all my fears leaving me with every outward breath so I can fill myself up with helpfulness. I am not in control of some things, but I can try to control the outcome of this situation. I can. I will. I feel the calm entering me with every inward breath. I can do whatever I have to do.