Salvi held the rubber device out to Mitch, who glanced at it, furrowing his brow, and shook his head. She passed it back to back to Dr Remmell, suppressing a smile.
“So how do you do that?” she asked. “Remove the arousal?”
Remmell paused a moment. “By any means necessary.”
“Which means?” Mitch asked.
“I can’t go into specifics, exactly,” Remmell said, “but trust me when I say that they come to associate violence and sexual debauchery with intense, unwanted pain. They are taught to never want to experience that pain again, and in so doing, they never desire violence or sexual debauchery again. As I said, each case is different. We have many murderers here, who although extremely violent, never engaged in sexual violence. Their treatment will therefore be different from the pedophiles and rapists.”
“Is it legal? What you do to them to associate this intense pain with their previous pleasures?” Salvi asked.
Remmell stared at her for a moment. “In our facility, yes. We are essentially reprogramming their brains. Granted we are trialing this treatment and some may question our methods, but we have found that what we do works.”
“And this works on all of them?” Mitch asked. “Every single one?”
“This particular treatment? Yes. For some, years of this reprogramming treatment, psychiatric consultation and chemical castration is enough. But for approximately thirty-five percent of cases we will resort to brain augmentation.”
“Brain augmentation?” Salvi asked. “The brain tweaks?”
Remmell nodded. “We insert electric currents into the parts of their brains responsible for sexual arousal and violence, and we… numb those parts. They become deadened to those feelings. After that, nothing excites them. Nothing.”
Salvi stared at Remmell, unsure what to think or say.
The Serene walked back in with the tea. Salvi smelled it from across the room, the scent of strawberries and elderflower.
“Ah! Tea. I do hope you like it,” Dr Remmell said. “We make it here on the premises. Unfortunately coffee is banned onsite, but I think you’ll find this acceptable.”
The Serene placed the cup down, averting his eyes, and stepped back. She thanked him, then took a sip and placed the cup down.
“It’s good,” she said, tasting the strawberry flavor on her tongue.
The Serene stepped forward again and wiped the rim of her white cup. She looked at him quizzically.
“The lipstick,” Remmell explained. “It is considered… unsavory. The print of your lips on the cup.” He motioned to it.
“Your Serenes can’t handle a little lipstick on a cup?” Mitch asked.
“They can. But they’ve been taught to remove such sights from themselves. Anything that once may have turned them on. You’d be surprised what can, Detective. We’ve found lipstick to be one of them. For the heterosexual ones anyway. The imprint of a woman’s open mouth on something…”
The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment, as both Salvi and Mitch stared at him.
“I’m sorry.” Remmell bowed an apology. “I am used to speaking with the Subjugates, and they respond best to direct speech.” He smiled, a little embarrassed perhaps. “This is why Attis Solme usually handles any discussion with outsiders. He often tells me that I have spent too much time with these men.”
“We’re police,” Salvi told him firmly. “We appreciate direct speech also. And we’d like to witness the treatment you apply to your Subjugates, if possible.”
“As part of your investigation or out of your own curiosity?” Remmell smiled.
Salvi smiled back. “Both.”
“It’s… not for the faint of heart, Detective.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen worse on the streets.”
“I would need to clear this with Mayor Solme first. We’ve never allowed outsiders to witness our treatments before.”
“Understood,” she said, “but if you could fast-track it, that would be great.”
“Tell us about the seven Subjugates,” Mitch said, moving the conversation on.
Remmell gave a nod and motioned to the screen again. He worked the keypad alight beneath his fingers and the list of names disappeared. Salvi watched as a mugshow appeared, of a lean but toned Caucasian man, covered heavily in tattoos and piercings, with short spiky brown hair and a gnarly scowl. She watched him turn to provide his side profile.
“This was Lucius Dolles, now known as Subjugate-46. He was a serial rapist who targeted college students. He was a high school dropout who, at the heart of it, had class issues. In his mind these college girls thought they were better than him and he didn’t like it. He wanted to put them in their place. He raped and beat three, attempted a fourth, but she managed to get away and later identified him. He’s been a resident of the Solme Complex for just over six years now and he has made wonderful progress.” Remmell brought up a still image of the now-subjugated Lucius Dolles. He was barely recognizable to his former self; his head shaved and crowned with his silver halo, the tattoos bleached from his skin, the piercings removed, the look of anger gone from his eyes; the scowl erased from his face.
Salvi nodded to herself as a realization washed over her. “We saw this Subjugate at the Children of Christ yesterday.”
“Yes. He is one of the seven allowed into Bountiful,” Remmell said, then looked back at his fingers as he patted the keys. “Next we have Felix Gomes. Now known as Subjugate-65.” Remmell brought up the mugshow of a Hispanic man with a long goatee. “Gomes was involved in gangs, had several weapons and drugs charges against him, but it was for the single count of date rape that he was sent here. His family petitioned to have him reformed. Personally, I think it was simply to get him off the streets and away from the gangs, but regardless, he has progressed to graduation swiftly.” Salvi eyed the photo of the subjugated Gomes. Again, a placid look rested on the face where hardness had once reigned.
Remmell brought up the third mugshow. It showed an African-American man with cold, uncaring eyes. “This was Junior Malcolm. Now known as Subjugate-51. He had several charges of rape and battery against him. It didn’t seem to matter how many restraining orders they put on him, he kept finding where his ex-girlfriend was hiding and assaulted her. There are at least four separate hospital reports for her injuries. The assaults were bad.” Remmell showed the subjugated photo of Junior Malcolm. The eyes were no longer cold. A smile of contentment rested upon his lips. With the silver halo against his dark skull, he looked very much like a saint.
The doctor moved on. “This is Kenton Poole, now known as Subjugate-39.” The mugshow on the screen was of a pale-skinned man with curly blond hair and big round eyes. “Poole had a fetish for young boys. He’d been arrested three separate times but kept reoffending, so they sent him here. He’s been doing very well in our care.” The photo of Poole as a Subjugate displayed. His face held a blank look, a little similar to that of the brain-damaged Fontan Pragge, Salvi thought. She wondered if he’d been one of those to receive the tweaks.
“Then we have Vincent Margola,” Remmell said. “Now known as Subjugate-27.” The man in the mugshow had olive skin, longish black hair and a bored look upon his face. “Margola worked for an organized crime outfit based in New York. He was convicted of three gruesome murders, but we suspect that is only a fraction of those he actually committed. The authorities just haven’t been able to tie him to any others. A sadistic and violent man, it has been a slow process in converting him, but we have finally made headway with this Subjugate and he is doing very well.” Remmell showed a picture of Margola now. The mobster hitman looked more like an aging choirboy.
“Next we have Alexander Neuben. Now known as Subjugate-48.” The mugshow was of a slightly chubby Caucasian man with a strawberry-blond bowl cut. “Neuben emigrated from Russia as a teen. He liked to frequent dance clubs, spike women’s drinks, then dump them in alleyways once he was done with them. He was a drug user himself, and a repeat offender. This is him no
w.” The subjugated Neuben filled the screen, showing a content, less chubby face where a look of bitterness had once been.
“Lastly we have Edward Moses. Now known as Subjugate-52.” A mugshow displayed of a broad, well-built Caucasian man with a handsome face and a dark, soulless look in his blue eyes. Salvi watched as he turned to provide his side profile to the camera. Remmell seemed to stare at the mugshow in consideration before speaking. “Edward Moses was once a narcissistic lawyer with an incredibly high intellect. He is a special case… He was supposed to die, you see. A brutal serial rapist and murderer, he was handed a death sentence for his crimes. But of all people, one of his victims’ families opposed the death penalty brought against him. They were devoutly religious and did not believe in an eye for an eye. They believed in forgiveness and reformation and believed his name, Moses, was a sign from God that they must try to save him. Somehow they’d heard about the Solme Complex and petitioned rigorously for him to be sent here instead. They had friends in the right places.”
Remmell smiled softly. “Edward Moses has been one of the hardest men to break… He was very smart, you see. Despite telling police that he wanted to be caught, that he wanted someone to finally best him, at the start he fought us at every turn… but we prevailed. We broke that man down and we rebuilt him. Of all the Subjugates I have treated, of all the work we have done, he is the one I am most proud of.” Remmell brought up the photo of the subjugated Moses. Still broad, although he seemed to have less muscular definition than at the time of his arrest, his head was shaved and crowned with his halo, and the look of evil was gone from his eyes.
Mitch leaned forward. “This man, once on death row for his brutality, for rape and murder, has been allowed into the town,” he said, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice.
“Yes. All seven have. But as I said, I do not authorize them to do so unless I am satisfied they are more Serene than Subjugate.”
“Have all seven had the brain tweaks?” Salvi asked.
“No. All seven obviously have the neural implants for monitoring, but only four needed the brain augmentation. To varying degrees, of course, depending on their condition.”
“Which four?” Mitch asked.
“Subjugate-46, Subjugate-39, Subjugate-27 and Subjugate-52.”
“Which one was who again?” Salvi asked.
“Subjugate-46, Lucius Dolles. Subjugate-39, Kenton Poole. Subjugate-27, Vincent Margola, and Subjugate-52, Edward Moses.”
“The college rapist, the one into young boys, the mobster guy and our narcissistic lawyer,” Mitch said.
“Yes,” Remmell said.
“You said to varying degrees they had the brain augmentation?” Salvi asked.
Remmell looked at her. “Yes. For example, Lucius Dolles required less than the others. We focused on the class issues in his therapy and he learned not to hate women who were more privileged than he.”
“So why did the others require more augmentation?” Mitch asked. “By the way, I like that you call it that. Why don’t you call it what it really is: partial brain death?”
Remmell turned his eyes back to Mitch. “Because, first of all, we do not kill parts of their brains, just effectively numb them. Secondly, there is such a thing as a process called neurogenesis. Certain areas of the brain will regenerate, however slowly.”
Mitch stared at him. “So, your treatment isn’t foolproof, then.”
“I said ‘however slowly’. The brain will continue to create new cells in certain areas, but that is what the Serenes’ halos are for. Should the augmented brain of a Serene begin to increase in activity again, we will be warned immediately and then take the appropriate action to recalibrate them.”
“Tell me about the other three?” Salvi said. “The others who needed the augmentation.”
Remmell exhaled as though trying to rein in patience. “Margola was so immune to violence, and so good at it, it took some work to make him abhor it. Poole was much less violent but his lust for young boys took work to erase. The thought of young boys now repulses him so much, he physically vomits at the sight of them.”
“He vomits at the sight of young boys in the street?” Mitch asked.
“No, he vomits at the sight of young boys naked and in situations that would once excite him.”
The silence sat for a moment. Salvi wondered what treatment they’d given him to result in such a strong response.
“And Edward Moses?” Salvi asked.
“With Margola it was the violence. With Poole it was the sexual deviancy. With Moses, it was both. We needed to bleach both aspects from him. The traditional treatments only did so much, so brain augmentation was called for. In truth, I’ve never met a human being who more perfectly fit in the psychopath spectrum. He felt no remorse for what he’d done.” Remmell removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and placed them back on. “We do not enter into the brain augmentation lightly, Detectives. It’s a fine art to numb certain areas of the brain and not destroy them so they can no longer function at all. We start small and we continue until we see results. Thankfully, most have responded with minimal tweaks and we haven’t had to take things further. We just need to numb them enough for the rest of our treatment to work. And as you can see, we have succeeded; they can still function in society without being a threat to it.”
“Alright. When can we talk with them?” Mitch asked, tapping at his iPort.
Remmell looked from Mitch to Salvi, his mind ticking over. “I am not sure that is wise.”
“We need to question them,” she said.
“The detective can,” Remmell motioned to Mitch, “but I would like you to stay out of it, in the observation room. I am not quite ready for a woman in your position to push them too hard with questions.”
“And yet you allow them into town,” Mitch said.
“Yes, to sweep streets, fix buildings, pick up rubbish and pray with the Children of Christ. Not to be interrogated by a woman in a position of power who wants to accuse them of something they haven’t done. If you wish to interrogate them, she must stay out of it.”
“Wouldn’t this be good practice for them out in the real world?” Salvi countered.
“No.”
“What about Poole. He liked young boys. Surely I can interview him?” Salvi said.
“I said no.”
“Alright,” Mitch said with finality. “We’ll do it your way.”
Salvi shot Mitch a look, but he shot her one back that told her it wasn’t up for discussion. Pulling rank on her again…
He looked back at Remmell. “Let’s get started,” he said. “Oh, and we’ll need a copy of their files for our records. I notice we no longer have access to them on our systems.” He motioned to his iPort.
“No,” Remmell said, “because we’ve erased their pasts. They belong to the Solme Complex now, as do their criminal files. But I will see to it that you’re given copies.”
“Good.” Mitch stood. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
Subjugates and Suspects
Salvi stood in a small darkened control room studying Doctor Remmell as he sat before a glass-topped console of dancing lights. In front of the console was a large window of one-way glass, granting them an unhindered view of the interview room beyond. Like a small cave, it was curved and colored in a calming neutral hue. Inside, Mitch sat alone at a small table, awaiting the first of the seven Subjugates.
The door to the room eventually opened and she watched as Bander escorted Lucius Dolles inside.
“Subjugate-46,” Remmell announced to her. He reached out and pulled the thin stem of a microphone toward his lips. “You may begin when ready,” he said, then paused and tapped a spot on the glass console. Whatever he hoped would happen with the tap of his finger, didn’t. He frowned in response and stubbed his finger into the screen again.
Salvi looked back through the window and saw Mitch eyeing the Subjugate that Bander had placed in the chair opposite him.
“You’re Subjugate-46?” Mitch asked.
“Wait!” Bander scolded him. “You don’t start until we’re recording! All conversations must be recorded.”
Mitch stared back at Bander unaffected. “You’re right.” He activated the camera on his badge.
Bander looked into the mirrored window for a moment then raised his hands in question.
“You may start when ready,” Remmell spoke again.
Bander continued to stare into the mirror. Impatient, he turned back to the table, pointed a warning finger at the Subjugate, then left the room. Within seconds, the door to their observation room swung open.
“Are we ready or not?” Bander asked.
“Yes, but,” Remmell said a little flustered, still stabbing his finger into the glass, “I think the audio system is on the fritz. Sound is coming in, but not going out.”
Bander exhaled annoyance. “Excuse me,” he said to Salvi, then barged between them. His fingers danced over the console, tapping and typing here and there, accessing various screens. When he finished, he gave Remmell a condescending look.
“Camera working?” he asked the doctor.
Remmell reached out and tapped at the console, darting his eyes to a small screen beside the console, but nothing came on. Bander exhaled again and bent down, reaching underneath the console. She saw him grab a cable that appeared loose and reconnect it, before he stood again. “Try it now.”
Remmell worked the console and the screen came alive showing Mitch and Subjugate-46. Remmell smiled. “That is why you’re the caretaker, Mr Bander.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said walking out the room. Within moments Bander was back in the interrogation room, motioning for Remmell to speak.
“You may begin when ready,” Remmell said into the microphone. “We are now recording this conversation.”
Salvi eyed the psychiatrist. “Is it normal for the AV feeds to be disconnected like that, given you’re supposed to record every conversation?”
The Subjugate Page 13
