by Gary Starta
“You are referring to the crystal?”
“Yes,” Campbell continued, “someone has now taken possession of it. The legend is clear, the crystal was never supposed to be reawakened.”
“You have believed in its power and existence all along then.” Diggs stopped walking a moment and turned to face Campbell.
“Yes, but I never wanted to. If you read the article, you probably know I never included it any of my speaking engagements. Up until now, there was no solid proof of its existence. Now we are forced to deal with it. There is no other choice.”
Diggs could detect a genuine sadness in Campbell’s eyes. He didn’t seem like a man looking for fifteen minutes of fame.
“Can you offer any advice on how we can reduce or stop its power?”
“I must say, I didn’t think law enforcement—let alone the FBI—would readily believe in its powers. Are you turning to me out of desperation?”
“I assure you that I solve my cases by investigating each and every piece of the puzzle. The jury may still be out as to whether I personally believe in your legend. However, I believe the killer has no doubts about it. And my job is to put myself inside the killer’s mind. So can you tell me where you think he’s going with us? What are his intentions?”
“Agent Diggs, the man who wears the crystal has no agenda. He is now under the control of the crystal. In turn, the crystal is out of control. It was once in tune with the Great Spirit, but no more. When the crystal linked with your suspect, it became impure. The quartz in it fed upon the character of this person—his imperfections, vices, and neuroses. It now uses these impurities to map a new blueprint. The link between the crystal and the man would have to be severed to prevent further mayhem.”
“I see you believe there is only one killer.”
“Each killer would have to wear a crystal. The odds are unlikely that more than one quartz of this kind exists in this region.”
“Maybe we could use this crystal to literally see what’s happening. If so, who could help me with this?”
Eugene cast his eyes upon the wilderness. “I could,” he answered softly.
***
Special Agent Deondra Rivers was learning the meaning of the phrase: hurry up and wait. “So this is how it works on the top level?” Deondra asked the four walls of her living room.
In another day, Rivers was sure she would go stir crazy. The bureau heads had forced her and Hoyt to rush their lab analysis. And now, she sat in her new Washington DC apartment awaiting a call from Diggs. Days had elapsed. And there was no call. Not even from a telemarketer.
Rivers decided to grocery shop. She didn’t want to live on take-out. You could say Deondra treated her body like a temple; therefore, nothing unholy would be welcomed at the altar.
Hastily grabbing a handful of asparagus, fresh carrots, and boneless chicken from Shop Easy, Rivers set out to make a decent meal that evening. She had just returned from the market when her phone ran. She heard its chime as she turned the key in her lock. Pushing her front door halfway open with her shoulder, she struggled to maintain a two-handed grip on her grocery bags. She heard a male voice emanating faintly from her answering machine.
With bags still in hand, Rivers raced across the room and took note of the caller ID. She did not recognize it as coming from Agent Diggs.
A sudden wave of dread followed when she realized the number belonged to none other than FBI pathologist Ed Hoyt.
“Uh,” Rivers groaned. “He probably wants to ask me out again.”
Rivers dropped the bags and dialed Ed’s number, bracing herself for the worst.
But Hoyt began the conversation too cordially to incur any further wrath from Deondra—at least for the moment.
“I enjoyed working with you on the Arrowhead case. It’s too bad we were so rushed.” He paused, hoping Rivers would reciprocate on her pleasure to work with him, but it never came.
“Listen, I called because I ran some additional tests on the blood samples. I have never seen such a spike in seratonin in my all my life. It’s a wonder how this man—or men—are even walking around in this condition, never mind the multiple stab wounds.”
“A breakdown product of seratonin known as 5-HIAA is sometimes produced in high levels by certain cancer tumors. Maybe this person is very sick, indeed,” Rivers hypothesized.
“I checked for that, Deondra.” Hoyt proceeded shrewdly. He would use laboratory analysis and theories to get on a first name basis with Rivers, even if it killed him.
Rivers wondered if this spike in seratonin or its chemical name 5HT, would help to finally determine if only one man was involved in the two killings. As a biochemist, Deondra was well aware seratonin plays a key role in depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorders. Further analysis could very well allow Rivers to work up a profile on the killer. She was still convinced the killings were the work of one single man. Furthermore, she was intrigued by Hoyt’s findings.
Deondra hastily asked Hoyt if she could join him at the lab.
However, her query only elicited dead air.
“Uh, I’m afraid I can’t get clearance for you again. So how about we meet at my favorite restaurant to discuss the findings. Say I meet you at Gallagher’s tonight at 7.”
Rivers only had to let her guard down for a split second. The predator had weaseled his way into her yard like a varmint sneaking through a hole in a chain link fence.
Replying in a professional tone, Diggs accepted Hoyt’s invitation. She did not want to fan any flames of male desire. As an FBI agent, Rivers realized her job always put her at risk, and now danger lurked around the corner at a downtown bistro. Special Agent Rivers would meet Ed Hoyt in a social setting, all for the sake of science.
Chapter 15
The FBI agent and the historian retreated for the comfort of a house after tasting a winter chill in the Oklahoma woods. Diggs sensed Eugene’s reservations. Deep rooted, they began in the late 60s. It was then he first tasted ridicule and shame. He learned people were quite capable of cultivating the worst qualities along with the best. His father, Jake, also known as “Lone Coyote,” had taught him this lesson through firsthand observation. Eugene recalled his childhood as he brewed tea for Diggs in his kitchen. Caitlin sat at a round table, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
“Agent Diggs, you probably weren’t even born in the 60s, so I need to give you some back history. The 60s were a time when teens banded together to find utopia. They subscribed to a theory that said different levels of consciousness could be achieved through drugs. Somewhere in the deep recesses of each human mind was a key to a door. Some referred to this consciousness as the door of perception. Hippies, musicians, and pacifists embraced this ideology. They sought to unlock this door to escape their world of materialism and war. The promise of achieving heaven on earth was undoubtedly a big temptation for the sixties youth who saw their peers die in Vietnam. But what you may or may not know, Agent Diggs, is that this brave new world was more about control than freedom. My father believed a faction of the U. S. government was behind this movement. He believed the youth were being manipulated.”
Eugene poured Diggs a cup of tea and took a seat across the table. He took the agent back to when he was five years old. It was 1967 and his father Jake was appalled to find that a large segment of the American youth were using hallucinogenic drugs, like LSD and mescaline, as a way to transcend space-time dimensions.
“Time eventually proved the use of such drugs did not make society’s ills disappear. What they did do was act as a chemical key to open one’s mind by masking their inhibitions.”
Campbell explained the Navajo Indians had used mescaline, not to effect a change is society, but as a means to commune with nature and to heal various inflictions, like alcoholism. But what better way for a secret branch of government to pacify angry teens during the war than to distract them with mind-altering drug? At least, this was my father’s argument.
He felt so strongly about his convi
ctions that he took me to California to launch a campaign against drug use. We traveled to Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco. There we lived in a commune during what was known as the Summer of Love. Some teens took us in, more out of pity than a belief in my father’s words. I recall the incense, lava lamps, and beaded chains that hung from every doorway most vividly. Everything was so vibrant back then. You can imagine the reactions to my father’s warnings. He was what my grandmother referred to as a wet blanket, daring to bring down everyone’s spirit for his or her own good.
I remember the expressions on the teens’ faces as if it were yesterday. They were not afraid to mock my dad and ridicule him for spoiling their party. They labeled him as part of the problem. They said you could not trust a person over thirty because they were part of the establishment—an establishment that would stop short of nothing to keep Americans addicted to materialism.
Those youth sincerely believed that the older generation valued capitalistic ideals so much they were willing to send their children to die for this cause. My father did not dispute this logic—that keeping democracy alive also kept capitalism alive. However, he did have a problem with their methodology. My father refused to back down, and the majority of the youth we contacted literally laughed in our faces. They called us names I would not care to repeat. I felt humiliated both for myself and for my father.”
Eugene wore a melancholy smile. “You now see why they called my father Lone Coyote.”
Caitlin’s eyes gleamed with understanding. She took another sip of the cinnamon-flavored tea and motioned with her free hand for Eugene to continue.
“The time we spent in California not only filled me with shame, but it led to the demise of my family. When we returned, my mother had packed her bags and left. On the positive side, my father had unwittingly shaped my future during that trip. It was through him that I believe I became passionate about public speaking and history.”
“But you didn’t agree with your father—or did you?” Diggs intervened.
Campbell sighed and looked toward the kitchen window. “A part of me did believe my father. However, I saw how society could make you pay for having these different beliefs. My father told the hippies that the type of transformation they were seeking could one day be achieved through the very makeup of our earth. He proposed that pink-colored stones would one day be found and they would not only unlock the doors of perception, but they would also allow us to become part of a new reality. The children howled with laughter at this. One suggested he would make a great author for children’s fantasy books.
In the back of my mind, between the ridiculing, I did find logic in my father’s projections. As a child myself, I could see how limited humans were. I secretly believed we were not truly part of reality, and that we failed to see the bigger picture that our creator made for us.”
Diggs surmised the time was right to ask Campbell about the crystal’s powers. He apparently felt comfortable enough with her to share some of his most private moments as a child.
“Just how would these crystals bring about a transformation?”
Campbell explained the crystals would open each individual’s chakras.
“Chakras are vortexes of energy. Each of the seven chakras correlates with a specific organ of our bodies. The seven energy centers can be accessed through a spectrum of color found in the rainbow. After the body achieves its maximum potential through this energy, one’s health would be elevated enough to directly link with nature via brain waves. We would be nature, and nature in turn, would be us.”
Diggs was amazed. She remembered how Tara had referred to pink as a healing color in regard to her ceramic ashtrays. So my baby sister finally came up with a piece of wisdom I can actually use.
Diggs had to inquire if Campbell’s father were still alive, even if meant hurting Eugene’s feelings. Any information gained today could be very pertinent in drawing up a profile of the killer. Diggs still desperately clung to the notion that a good profile would save lives.
Campbell acknowledged his father was indeed alive and in quite good health for a man in his seventies. But Diggs was right. The question did evoke pain. She could see it in his eyes.
“My father called a few nights ago. He was quite upset about the discovery of the crystal.”
Caitlin cocked her head slightly. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t your father be elated to know his premonitions might very well be correct?”
“Yes, that knowledge now feeds his paranoia. He believes the timing is not right for such a discovery. The world is too polluted for such an instrument to work properly. And most importantly, he fears the crystal will be used to work against us because it was allowed to fall into the hands of a sick man.”
“Maybe I can talk to him. Can I reach him?” Diggs asked.
“I am afraid not. He left a disturbing message on my answering machine indicating he was going to speak nationally on the subject. He said my warnings in a local newspaper were inadequate.” Campbell crossed the room to play the message. A panicked voice emanated from the player:
“Eugene, it is not enough to warn the public about the man who now carries the crystal. We must warn the world about the people who might carry it after him. I must go national on this matter. I hope you understand. I love you.”
“What do you think he’ll do?” Diggs asked.
“I do not know. He has not answered his cell phone for days. But I can tell you about another one of his prophecies.”
“Please continue. But before you do, I just want you to know I am very grateful for all your help.”
Campbell offered a small smile in recognition, but his eyes remained as black as coal. Diggs knew she was either onto something big or speaking to a very delusional man.
“My father has always claimed to be a seer. He used crystals to conjure up visions. That’s how my mother described it. She really never believed in his insights. She thought he was just conjuring or making them up. After all, she once told me, he never saw their divorce coming.
Nevertheless, I believed he did see this one particular vision. After he had it, his hands trembled and voice quavered. He saw people in power utilizing a magic crystal to take away all our free will. They walked about numbly, as if they were catatonic or immersed in a haze from drugs. A handful of leaders ruled. He saw glimpses of them. They rivaled only Hitler in their psychotic lust for power, driven to create geniuses in art, science, and music. They believed these geniuses would perfect a way for interplanetary travel. They would then conquer other worlds and have dominion over all souls in the universe. He also saw me in this vision. I was quite disturbed to say the least. He said I would play a part in this transformation. He would not, or maybe could not say if I was there to further its cause. I would like to believe I was there to stop it.”
“I believe the latter. You’ve already agreed to aid our investigation, that is, if you’re still willing.” Campbell nodded. “Mr. Campbell I cannot guarantee that your help won’t put you in harm’s way, but if you have been given the ability to preserve life, I think you should use it.” Diggs paused a moment and pursed her lips. “I know many people do not believe in the crystal. Honestly, I’m still on the fence with all this. But this is our secret. No one besides my partner and me needs to know how you’re helping me. I promise to protect your confidentiality for as long as I can.”
Campbell interrupted. “You need not continue. I know you would not be in favor of people laughing at me. I am no longer a child. I can face the truth head on. Besides, I now have a personal motive. I want to keep my father safe.”
“As do I,” Diggs added. In her thoughts, she could only hope. A conspiracy theorist is not the safest profession.
Eugene forced himself to blurt out his next words. They would sound crazy to a world filled with scientists and skeptics. And even though Diggs had treated him with genuine respect, he still felt like he did that summer in ’67 when all the kids laughed at him and his father.
“I will need an organic piece of the killer to see where he’s going. If you can provide that, I will gladly assist your investigation.”
Diggs nodded out of appreciation. As she drove away, she pondered just how she was going to get her hands on something of that nature. Campbell required the killer’s DNA. The lab had blood and skin samples, but transporting evidence would surely send up flags. She imagined Dudek angrily peering over the requisition forms. No, there had to be another option. Suddenly a ray of light cascaded off her windshield. Special Agent Diggs hoped this was a good omen.
Chapter 16
Shenk required sustenance in the form of the amino acid tryptophan because it would make seratonin. And he needed a mass dose, pronto. He had finished Gayle’s lunch about midway through Arkansas.
He and his Dodge Neon continued their trek across the state via Route 64 without incident, save his rumbling stomach and the car’s noisy suspension system. The only police Shenk observed were pulled to the side of the roadway, ticketing speeding motorists. Could it be this easy to escape justice? Just travel along at the posted speed limit and no one will suspect you are America’s most wanted?
Shenk’s success at eluding police gave him a boost of confidence. He felt secure enough to continue along the same route, resisting the urge to merge onto either Route 67 or Route 70. The voice advised him to stay on Route 64. Somehow the number 64 had some significance, but it was eluding him just like he was eluding the cops. Perhaps the number was strongly connected to the massacre that occurred in 1864.
Regardless, Shenk’s self-esteem had been modified by something other than just poor police work or a highway route number. The arrowhead pendant hanging from his neck had indeed been fortified from some power source. Maybe that’s why it urged him to continue along the same path. Shenk was not aware Arkansas owned claim to the world’s greatest quartz mines, but the crystal was. It was jacked into the earth. Soon Shenk would also become connected to a great network thanks to the crystal’s increasing energy.
