by N. R. Walker
“I do not.”
“You totally do.”
Jake considered that for a second. “Actually, that might explain why Mum saw through all my bullshit.”
August laughed again, just as someone walked past his office and looked in, and then another two. They were totally checking them out. Well, checking August out. Jake was beginning to think no one in this entire office building had seen him smile, heard him laugh, or even had a conversation with him.
And that was kind of sad. They had no idea what they were missing out on.
Just then, Jake’s phone beeped. He checked the screen and he shot August a look. “Prelim on the second body.”
August’s eyes went to the phone. “About time! What did they find? How long has he been out there?”
Jake clicked on the report and read aloud as he went. “Male, Caucasian. Approximate age at time of death, between twenty-five and thirty, determined by dental. Approximate height 200cm.”
“Shit, he was tall.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah. And more proof that the vic walked to the location. He wasn’t unconscious and dragged or likely carried. He walked to his final resting place.”
“Or there were two or more killers.”
“Or, yeah that. Or the vic was administered some kind of drug.” Jake read some more. “No discernible marks or breaks on the bones, no childhood injury or illness. Blood type O positive, dental records requested, DNA samples sent for further testing. Toxicology requested. Blah, blah, blah,” Jake summarised the boring part. “Estimated time since death is three years.” His head jerked up to meet August’s gaze. “Three years. You know what that means?”
“The killer went back,” August answered. “He killed Perry Ahern, then went back to the scene five years later with another victim.”
“Yep.” Jake nodded, then went back to reading. “Deepest soil permeation of blood was at the mid-left side of the body, conducive with fatal blood loss. Cause of death . . .” He looked up at August. “Undetermined.”
August sighed. “What a crock of shit. The orange tree growing out of his stomach wouldn’t be undetermined either.”
Jake scrolled the page and found what he was looking for. “The tree was a lemon tree, though indeterminate if the seed germinated from the victim’s stomach or if he’d had the lemon with him when he died.” Jake shrugged. “Maybe they had shots of tequila together before he killed him, or maybe some Coronas. Maybe the vic had been to the grocer’s and the killer threw his bag of fruit on the body. We’ll probably never know because they’ve ruled it indeterminate.” He leaned back in his chair and groaned in frustration. “Fuck.”
August smiled. “Who signed off on it?”
Jake sat forward again and scrolled to the bottom. “Doctor Nina Schneider.”
August made a face before he sighed.
“Do you trust her?” Jake asked.
“Nina?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, yeah. I’ve known her for a lot of years. She was based here for a long time and she worked a lot of my cases. She’s always been thorough.”
“But Bartlett is the one who’s in charge?”
“He’s the director.”
“So we clear one road block, then run into another.”
August gave a nod. “Yep. And I get it. Every single thing they do is scrutinised by legal. Same as us. But if they fuck up one case, every case can be called into question. They can only examine what they’re given. It’s not like those cop shows on TV, so I do get their position. I really do. But it’s so goddamn frustrating.”
“We have ten related cases, that we know of. How can they not see what we see?”
“No fingerprints, no evidence, no anything. Just paper notes and silver crosses that are always clean or too compromised to get anything from, and all clear on toxicology.”
“The paper notes found on my two remains were far too compromised, but what about yours?” Jake flipped through the top file. “No fingerprints, no DNA.”
“Paper source was always different. When the body was found in their homes, the paper came from inside the house, as did the pen.”
“How did the killer get the victim to write their own suicide note?”
August frowned. “I don’t know.”
“It has to be a drug.”
“The untraceable, non-existent drug.”
Jake nodded. “Yes.”
August blew out a breath. “I dunno . . .”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only logical conclusion. There has to be some kind of drug that makes someone compliant but doesn’t knock them out.” Jake tapped his fingers on the file. “Something that makes the victim open to hypnotic suggestion.”
August stared at him, disbelieving. “You think he hypnotises them? Like those on-stage gimmicks where they get people from the audience to bark like a dog?”
Jake almost laughed. “No. I think he drugs them to get the same result. They’re fully aware, open to suggestion, and manipulated to play out his sick games.”
This time August stared at him a little longer, and there was no hint of scepticism. Jake could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes. “Something that’s untraceable,” he whispered, more to himself as though he was thinking out loud.
“I want to keep toxicology out of it,” Jake said. “What I mean is, I don’t want to consult Bartlett or Schneider on this. I want to ask someone from outside these cases, and any results we find to be third-party verified.”
“Why?”
“Because usually after I hit so many hurdles and roadblocks, I try to find another path. And googling ‘drug that acts like hypnosis’ would be a rabbit hole we don’t have time for.”
“Who can we ask?”
“No clue. Maybe a vet? Or the ADF?”
“You want to invite the Feds into this?”
“No. Not yet. Someone outside of law enforcement. Just so we can give Bartlett and Schneider the proof they want without them trying to cut us off at the knees with any possible leads. I just want to ask some drug expert some questions. I’m not asking for twenty fresh minds just itching to find us an answer. Just one.”
August stared again, then he did that deep frown, heavy brow-thinking face, then he began to smile. “Twenty fresh minds. That’s brilliant, Porter.” He stood up and grabbed his coat and checked his watch. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Jake hadn’t exactly meant twenty fresh minds literally, but a short while later he found himself walking with August into the University of Sydney’s School of Medicine. August had made phone calls as he drove, weaving in and out of traffic, zipping down back streets, and Jake had no clue where he was. But soon enough, August pulled into a car park, and a moment later they were walking in through the grand sandstone building. A man with sandy grey hair, a brown tweed coat, and wire rim glasses met them in the foyer.
“Detective August Shaw, and this is Senior Constable Jacob Porter. Thank you for agreeing to see us,” August said, shaking his hand, then flashing his badge. Jacob gave him a nod.
“Professor Van der Beek,” the man replied. “And you can call us anytime. We appreciate our working relationship with the police. Our students rather enjoy the forensic aspect, though you mentioned pharmacology?”
“Yes, we might have a case regarding a particular drug, and we’d like to run it by your students for ideas,” August explained. “Our pathology and toxicology units are backlogged, and the case could be time sensitive. Porter here mentioned it was a shame we didn’t have twenty fresh minds to ask, and I thought that was a good idea. Like giving your students a hypothetical pop quiz, if that’s okay?”
Jake gave him a smile. “We figured it’d be faster than Google.”
“Well,” the professor said, preening. He obviously liked that. “In that case, I think I have just the pharmacology class.”
He led them through a maze of halls, and at one particular room, he knocked and opened the door. “Sorry to i
nterrupt,” he said. The room was a tiered auditorium, just like in the movies. There was a woman at the lectern and about twenty young faces in their seats. “Professor Whan, we have some policemen here who would like five minutes of your class’s time.”
It was obviously not a common interruption because she quickly obliged, giving August and Jacob the stage.
August cleared his throat and made quick introductions to the students. “We do appreciate your time this morning, but we have a question that’s medical in nature and we want you guys to put your heads together and try and give us an answer. Please bear in mind, anything we discuss here today is confidential.”
He definitely had their attention.
“We need the name or the type of drug that would work the same as being hypnotised,” Jacob said. “Something that would allow the victim to be open to suggestion so they can be manipulated to carry out tasks such as writing and walking. You know how you see those people on stage at a show where they’re hypnotised and do crazy things? Well, like that, but a drug.”
There was silence and wide-eyed stares.
“Also, it needs to be undetectable,” August said. “No trace in blood tests over twenty-four hours after administration. Though we don’t know how it’s metabolised, so it may cause a skewed reading of say, elevated potassium or something like that. Something that would be missed on a preliminary tox screening.”
Hushed whispers broke out among the students and excited smiles. Even both the professors looked intrigued.
“We also don’t know how it’s administered,” Jake added. “Could be by needle, or ingested, or even a nasal spray for all we know. It could be a combination of drugs; it could be from overseas. So if you think it might be one particular drug that’s only available in Peru or in the backstreets of Russia, we still want to know about it.”
“Something that’s possibly been around for a decade or more,” August continued, “but could have possibly been re-engineered in recent years. Perhaps it’s evolved to stay ahead of our detection tests.” August smiled back at the excited med students. “I know it’s not much to go on, and it’s random and sounds kind of crazy. But it would be helpful if you have any ideas. Even on which kind of drug could enable this behaviour manipulation. Oh, and if you could come up with something in the next few hours, that’d be even better.”
Jake grinned at the audience. “No pressure or anything.”
A few of them laughed, but they were abuzz. “Okay class,” Professor Whan said. “You’ve been told the cause and effects, let’s break down the components.”
Then, like Jake had walked into an alternate reality, they all started speaking a language he couldn’t understand. It was in English—he was fairly certain—but he couldn’t follow it. August had given them a few hours to brainstorm, but apparently they were doing it right now.
They fired words like lipophilic molecule, non-selective channels, decreased neuronal activity, inhibitors and receptors, allosteric modulators, metabotropic something or other, and targeted proteins. Then there were organic compounds, substituted phenethylamines, paradoxical reactions and gabapentinoids, and point of entry.
Jake was still trying to decide why they were talking about access to the Brisbane Cricket Ground when August said, “The victims had no puncture wounds, no visible needle marks.”
Christ, was he following this conversation?
“And the victims have no recollection?” one girl asked.
“The victims died,” August said. “Not from the drug administered. We believe they may have been under the influence of this drug to ensure their compliance. The killer had them write their own suicide notes, positioned them how he wanted, where he severed the ulnar artery. They didn’t fight back, there was no sign of a struggle. But we believe they could walk, possibly. They could hold a pen and write. But we don’t know how long they were capable of these tasks after administration. They died of blood loss shortly thereafter.”
There was a moment of silence, then someone said, “Sounds like haloperidol or diazepam.”
“Or trichloroacetaldehyde.” Oh, Jake knew that one. That was chloroform.
“That doesn’t explain the lack of detection in toxicology reports,” someone else replied.
“There are quite a few incapacitating agents used in chem warfare,” one girl said. She looked like an 80s movie goth loner and sat apart from the rest of her classmates. It was the first time she’d spoken, and Jacob saw a few other students roll their eyes. “Or even in neuropsychopharmacology, a mix of the right components will trick the mind to behave in certain ways. Governments and dictators throughout history have used them for decades.”
One of the students who’d rolled her eyes said, “Not everything is a conspiracy, Violet.”
Violet didn’t blink and she certainly didn’t give her classmate the satisfaction of acknowledgement. She never took her eyes off August. “You said the victims had focused attention, reduced peripheral awareness, and an enhanced capacity to respond to suggestion?”
“Yes,” August said. “Violet, is it? What are you thinking?”
Violet gave the smallest of smiles. “There is one that comes to mind. It’s particularly savage. It’s called P7849. A plant derivative, rapid-onset compound psychotic,” she added. “Similar to syntha-pentothal, only it’s a mixture of completely natural enzymes found in fungi and algae, I believe. In liquid form, it’s highly soluble and extremely potent. Untraceable, undetectable, and when weaponised, is classified as a form of pharmacological torture by NATO, the UN, World Health Organization, and outlawed by every country on the planet—except for Russia and North Korea.”
Holy shit.
“What does it do?” August asked.
“It inhibits muscle and neuron receptors, and normally the monoamine-releasing agent induces the release of a monoamine neurotransmitter from the presynaptic neuron into the synapse, but—”
August put his hand up. “Okay, I’m going to stop you there. If you could, just for a moment, imagine I’m a cop who failed eighth grade biology and doesn’t know what language you’re speaking.”
That got a few laughs, and Jacob chuckled gratefully, because he had no clue what the hell she was saying.
Violet smiled more genuinely this time. “Have you seen Universal Soldier?”
“Yes!” August said. “That’s something I understand.”
“It’s exactly like that. It’s a mind-altering psychotic. The Russians used it in Ukraine and Afghanistan, and Pol Pot used it to wipe out villages in Cambodia . . . Well, he himself didn’t, but apparently they treated soldiers with it and ordered them to go on killing sprees. Which they did. All governments deny this, of course, but there have been too many witnesses, and it’s out there on the net if you know what to look for.”
“Sorry, what did you say it was called?” August asked.
“P7849. The Ukrainians call it shepit dyyavola,” Violet said. “It translates roughly to the whisper of the devil.”
You could have heard a pin drop in that room.
“What does it do to the victim?” August asked, his voice quiet.
“The person affected is like a robot. They follow instructions yet have no control over their actions. They would experience a neuromuscular brain-to-body disconnect, like a conscious sedation. Imagine a truth serum like a suggestive-state serum.”
“God, Violet,” the other girl said. “How do you know this stuff? It’s creepy.”
Violet shot her an icy glare. “I don’t know, Jessica. Maybe because I’m smarter than you. The question you should be asking is why don’t you know it.”
There was a bit of squabbling in the group and some stifled laughter, but August looked hollowed out.
“One more question, Violet. If you don’t mind,” he asked quietly. “Are the victims aware of what they’re doing? While they’re doing it?”
Violet shook her head. “I don’t know for certain. They just do what they’re told without questi
on. If your victims were forced to sever their own artery, as you said, they would simply do it.” She gave a bit of a shrug. “If it’s any blessing, they wouldn’t feel anything. No pain, no fear, no sadness.”
August nodded and took a step back, Jacob realised a little belatedly, because he was choked up. So Jake took control. “Okay, thank you for your time,” he said. “You’ve been a great help. Violet, in particular, thank you.” He took out one of his cards and handed it to her. “If you think of anything else, please contact me.”
The professors walked Jake and August out of the room. August appeared to still be a little shaken up, and he quickly excused himself. “I just need some air,” he mumbled and ducked down the hallway.
Jake frowned after August but realised the professors were left watching him. “Thanks again. It’s been very insightful.”
Professor Whan looked rather pleased. “I just hope it’s been helpful. Violet is not the weirdest student we’ve ever had, but she is by far the brightest.”
Jake handed her a card as well. “If she or anyone else thinks of anything, please be in touch.”
He thanked them again and made his way back to the car. August was leaning against the side of the car facing away from him. The sky had come in overcast, the wind was cold. For a city that was supposed to be known for its beautiful blue skies, it looked pretty grey and miserable. He walked up next to him. “Hey, you okay?”
But then August turned around, and Jacob could see he had tears in his eyes. “It just affected me more than I thought it would. Sorry.”
Jake put his hand on August’s arm, then his shoulder. “Don’t apologise. Don’t ever apologise for being human.”
August’s gaze was intense. Even behind the blur of tears, Jake could see a fresh truth. “When she said they didn’t suffer.” He blew out a breath through puffed out cheeks. “I felt that right here,” he said, breathless, putting his hand to his heart. “I don’t want them to have suffered.”
Without really thinking about it, Jake put his hand to August’s chest too. He could feel the thump of his heart, and it beat in time with his own. Synchronised perfectly, and Jacob was certain his mother would have something to say about that . . . “We will make this right,” Jake said.
