by Wes Markin
‘Who is the Conduit?’ Yorke said.
the man who heeled us
‘Sorry? Healed you?’
She wrote four cards and handed them to Yorke. Yorke read each card in the order she’d written them:
heeling
exseptanse
shairing
displasmernt
Topham reeled backed in his chair. He was as white as a sheet. ‘That’s not possible.’
Yorke turned to him. ‘Sorry, Detective Inspector, I didn’t quite—’
‘I said, that’s not possible.’ He glared at Chloe. ‘HASD? Are you referring to HASD?’
She nodded.
Topham turned to look at Yorke. He’d started to tremble slightly. ‘Healing from Acceptance, Sharing and Displacement.’
Yorke’s eyes widened.
‘I think we need to take this conversation outside, sir.’
Yorke terminated the interview.
‘HASD is a ground-breaking new cognitive-behavioural treatment for PTSD,’ Topham said. ‘It’s in its infancy but is yielding excellent results.’
‘Sorry, Mark,’ Yorke said, pacing around his office. ‘But how do you know about this?’
Topham took a mouthful from a glass of water. He was still pale and trembled slightly. ‘Neil.’
Yorke nodded. He knew Topham’s partner Dr Neil Solomon reasonably well. He had been at his wedding the previous day. ‘Go on.’
‘While HASD has been gathering pace, they’ve been recruiting more practitioners to really put the techniques on the map. Neil is well respected within his field for his work on CBT as a treatment for PTSD, so he met the pioneer of HASD, Martin Adams, and was invited onto the team.’
‘I see. Okay. So, how does the treatment work exactly?’
‘From what I understand of it, the person heals from a process of accepting the trauma, sharing the knowledge of the painful experience with others, and finally, by displacing the pain onto those willing to accept – namely, the psychiatrist.’
‘Does it involve drugs?’ Yorke said.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘So, if Chloe Ward has been treated with HASD – how would that have worked exactly?’
‘I think you are asking the wrong person here. I can only give you my version based on several long evenings listening to Neil drone on. To begin with the patient revisits the trauma – in Chloe’s case, I guess, the assault and the miscarriage. In Sturridge’s case, it would have been the rape. The patient is guided into accepting the trauma as part of their life, rather than as a vicious external force. New thoughts are introduced to replace the traumatic ones, so they view this event as nothing more than part of their being – not something that defines them. Obviously, the event will continue to be some kind of battery of anxiety, so the next stage is to share with others – to explore and describe the anxiety and event in as much detail as possible so others can feel and empathise with the trauma. This process of sharing is done as part of a group. The final stage, displacement, is conducted in a controlled environment with the therapist. The patient can visualise and push the pain and experiences onto others. It allows them to be free of their own personal trauma for a short period of time and observe others experiencing it rather than themselves. It has two functions: it makes them feel less isolated and alone in their experience, and it allows them to see, that they are still the same person without the trauma. They can continue to be who they always were and who they really want to be.’
Yorke stared at him with wide eyes.
‘Are you okay, sir?’
‘Yes. Just stunned you know so much, and how articulate you are on the subject.’
‘Thanks – I did some psychology modules at university. Is Neil in any danger?’
Yorke continued to pace. ‘I don’t know, but if you ask him to come to the station now to help us unravel this whole thing then he won’t be. Can you make the call while I go back into see Chloe?’
‘Of course.’
‘Insist though, Mark. We need someone in the know here. I have called an emergency briefing to begin straight after I finish with Chloe and I want a professional that can go through everything you just told me. Also, get some officers to Debbie Lang’s house to see if she is alright after being drugged up to the eyeballs by this wacko called the Conduit.’
‘But we need your help,’ Topham said down the phone to Neil.
‘I get that, but I’m sitting in front of my first patient in two minutes, and you want me to walk away, without any clue as to why?’
‘Well, it’s about HASD.’
‘Who is talking to you about HASD anyway? It’s not even really out there yet.’
‘A suspect. But that’s as much as I can tell you. Look, Neil, this is big. Very big. It’s connected to everything that has happened recently – everything you’ve read about in the papers. I cannot stress enough how important it is that you come.’
‘It’s just over a minute until I’m in a room with my first patient, and you want me to jeopardise everything I’ve worked towards. Everything I’ve ever wanted.’
There was silence on the phone line. Topham did not know how to respond to that.
‘Less than a minute, Mark.’
Topham broke. ‘How long will the session last?’
‘One hour.’
‘And then you’ll come.’
‘In a heartbeat.’
Topham sighed. ‘Okay. I love you so much.’
‘I hope you love me as much as I love you.’
Dr Louis Mayers was late.
That was fine by Neil because it gave him another couple of minutes to read over his file for the umpteenth time.
Mayers had been a successful psychiatrist for thirty years and, like Neil himself, had followed a clinical path which involved CBT therapy. Mayer’s speciality had been insomnia, and he had a range of published works on the subject. He’d spoken all over the world and was renowned right up in the upper echelons of psychiatry.
Life had been good to Mayers, and Mayers had been good for life in general, until one fateful day five years previous.
Two of Mayers’ long-term insomniacs, both high-flying bankers, addicted to cocaine, had entered a state of psychosis due to prolonged sleep deprivation. Both patients knew each other well. In fact, one of the patients had recommended Mayers to the other. In this state of psychosis, these patients found common ground. They believed that it was actually Mayers and his practice that was preventing them from sleeping. They believed themselves the victims of a conspiracy; a corrupt scientist’s experiment on the effects of sleep deprivation.
Being wealthy, and connected, made acquiring guns much easier.
Three other patients, two receptionists, and Mayers himself were gunned down that fateful day. Only the doctor survived. The two bankers then turned the guns on themselves.
After suffering a nervous breakdown and leaving his family, Mayers embarked on his own personal journey into CBT to counter his PTSD. Over this time, he attempted suicide three times. Two years ago, he became one of Martin Adam’s first patients in HASD. He was now one of Adam’s closest friends and helped wherever possible in the development of this treatment.
Neil wasn’t stupid. He knew this was a training run. Mayers was so far into his HASD treatment that Neil would be unlikely to help or fuck this up. He was certain that Mayers would have been briefed by Adams on how to respond, and how to help Neil in his professional development during this session.
It was a session based entirely around acceptance and involved accepting the trauma as part of your life rather than as an external force.
Neil had intensely researched Mayer’s traumatic experience all morning. He knew the ins and outs of every moment of Mayer’s horrendous experience that day; right up until that bullet shattered his ribs and grazed his heart.
His survival had been a miracle but, two days after he’d woken up, he’d told the doctors that it was a miracle he hadn’t wanted.
There was a knock at his door. ‘Come in,’ Neil said, rising to his feet.
The door opened.
‘Dr Mayers,’ Neil said. ‘Very pleased to meet you.’ He held out his hand.
‘Likewise, Dr Solomon.’ Mayers came across the room to shake his hand.
He was a big man and his handshake was firm.
Neil was nervous but was immediately relaxed by Mayer’s wide smile. He exposed coffee-stained teeth framed by a thick, white moustache that curled right out to the corners of his cheeks.
13
ON THE WAY back to Chloe Ward, Yorke took a phone call from DC Jeff Powers from Vice.
‘Yep. Chloe Ward was at the squat. I recognised her instantly from the image. I’ve also just stopped in to speak to Sylvia to confirm it and get a timeline together. Chloe started staying, and working there, six months ago. She disappeared from the squat two months ago. Sylvia describes her as a fragile young woman, who avoided the plague of drugs sweeping the squats, who did ‘service’ a few clients. Her heart clearly wasn’t in it, and she refused to turn tricks most of the time.’
‘Someone is recruiting from those squats. Someone called the Conduit.’
‘Just a minute, sir, let me get a pen. The Conduit? What kind of name is that?’
‘You tell me? Can you support me with this investigation? Take a couple of your officers down and interview everybody who works there. I could use my people, but I suspect you would appreciate using officers more sensitive to the needs of these particular interviewees.’
‘Yes … of course. What approach are we taking?’
He explained, in detail, his understanding of the situation so far. Chloe’s personal trauma, the fact that she’d been treated with HASD by the Conduit, and a potted version of what HASD was.
‘So, this man has treated Chloe and David for trauma and the result is that they go out and mutilate other people?’
‘That’s the gist of it.’
‘Doesn’t sound like the most effective treatment, does it?’
‘I don’t think it’s going to get a glowing recommendation from the World Health Organisation at this rate unless…’
‘Unless what, sir?’
‘Unless, he’s doing something different. Altering the treatment, perhaps? But first, we need to identify him. Take a picture of Christian Severance with you – I think he is the third man that has been recruited by the Conduit. And take a picture of Martin Adams too. He is the founder of HASD. And please call me as and when you learn anything.’
‘Of course.’
Yorke paused at the door of the interview room. He undid two buttons at the top of his damp shirt. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he looked to see who was calling. It was Patricia. She would know about Gardner now and would be going out of her mind worrying about him. He owed her a quick phone call. He made a mental note to do it as soon as he’d finished with Chloe.
When he sat down, opposite Chloe again, he realised that she was just like a child. Not just because of her youthful appearance, but rather the faraway look in her eyes and her innocent, uncluttered expression.
How could she be responsible for those atrocities? Really? How?
‘What are you drawing now, Chloe?’
She slid over a picture. Again, the likeness was remarkable.
‘Christian Severance?’
She nodded.
‘You are a talented artist, Chloe. Did anyone ever tell you that?’
She shook her head.
‘Did this man, Christian Severance, make you cut out your tongue?’
She shook her head again.
‘Did the Conduit?’
She wrote on a piece of card: nobodie it was my choyce
He read her response out for the recording.
‘Will you explain to me how it was your choice?’
Chloe nodded and began to write.
Chloe’s disclosure was long and arduous. The air con in the room was still on the blink. Yorke and the guard sweated profusely. But no one sweated like Chloe, who wrote long passages in response to Yorke’s probing questions. She clearly struggled to convey herself in words. Her brow creased, and she repeatedly chewed her bottom lip. Sweat ran down the side of her face and darkened the collar of her blue overalls.
Chloe had met Severance and Sturridge at the squat in Wiltshire. Although she didn’t write this, Yorke surmised that they had all been drawn to this ‘option’ due to catastrophic experiences in their younger years. Severance had been abused before becoming a successful scientist, helping millions of people suffering from snakebites in third-world countries. All of which was brought to a crashing halt by Marcus Long and his undying obsession with him. There was Sturridge, who had been rejected by those who should have loved him and made homeless. Then there was Chloe, child-like and low on intelligence, abused by the people she’d loved, beaten into infertility.
All of them drawn together at Alex Drake’s squat.
They all rejected the scourge of drugs but were made to sell their bodies for their accommodation. It was not surprising that they had found solace in each other.
And then came the Conduit.
we dont know his name he never told us his nayme
he never wanted sex he just wanted to tallk
then he wanted to hellp
we went to him for hellp
The Conduit had visited the squat time and time again, but not for sex. Had he been looking for damaged individuals? A destination such as this was likely to yield results in that regard. He probably met many – but then settled on these three. Severance, Sturridge and Chloe. Three extremely damaged individuals he could treat.
And make better?
Could self-mutilation, and committing heinous crimes be considered better?
‘How did he treat you Chloe?’
Chloe tried her best to explain the ins-and-outs of her treatment, but she found it difficult for many reasons. She had to write it all down, and not only did she struggle with spelling, but she struggled with vocabulary too. She also explained that her memory was very hazy.
he mayde me eet and drink things
Yorke had read a few books on self-hypnosis following the murder of his sister to try and improve his state of mind. He remembered reading that drugs like LSD and alcohol would significantly increase your susceptibility to hypnosis. He remembered thinking that this was a good thing at the time because he was drinking a hell of a lot.
‘What can you remember?’
Chloe remembered that there had been a lot of sessions. To begin with, he’d conducted the sessions in her room at night while he was paying for her services. She claimed that many of these sessions revolved around reliving her most traumatic experience – the miscarriage – repeatedly until it was accepted as part of her life, not something external and influential, just a memory to own and reflect on in much the same way as you reflect on the first time you try ice-cream. She explained how the experiences were painful but made her feel better. A lot less ashamed and more at ease.
i fellt normal
Severance had been the first to go. Chloe explained how he’d just upped and left one day and, it was only later, when she’d left too, that she’d realised where he’d gone. One-by-one, the Conduit had taken them to his house. He’d arranged to meet them at the carpark at Tidworth skate-park after dark. She’d journeyed to his home in the boot of his car – so she would not be able to identify the location of his house.
‘How about when you left his home this morning to go to the academy? Do you remember the journey then?’
She didn’t because the Conduit had taken similar precautions then too.
She then described her experience at the Conduit’s house, what she could remember of it. For months, she had been treated by the Conduit up to five times a day. She’d been subjected to a range of medicines and visualisations.
She wrote: i was hole again
But at what cost? Yorke thought.
They’d shared their
afflictions. At first, this had been done in a group discussion. Severance, Chloe and Sturridge had sat together with the Conduit as he’d unified them in the pain. They would have been able, as Topham described it earlier, to feel, and empathise with one another’s trauma.
True healing came, Chloe reported, when the Conduit made us physically share our afflictions.
Yorke took a deep breath and sat upright in the chair. Most of the day, he’d been fighting back a need to burst into tears; right now, he was fighting back a need to retch.
To share Severance’s trauma, the Conduit had removed Chloe and Sturridge’s tongues. But it hadn’t stopped there and, as Chloe continued to disclose, Yorke brought a closed fist to his mouth. To share Chloe’s trauma, the Conduit had sterilised Sturridge and Severance. Chloe wasn’t aware how he’d done this, but Yorke assumed he’d given them both vasectomies. Finally, in order to share Sturridge’s experiences, the Conduit had raped both Chloe and Severance. Chloe claimed that the Conduit had taken no pleasure from any of these actions.
but it workd we fellt that we really understood eetch other
Then, Chloe took him through the third stage of the treatment – displacement – and everything fell into place.
It was deep into Dr Louis Mayer’s session of acceptance that Dr Neil Solomon realised there was a problem.
Despite being treated with HASD for nearly two years, it was clear that Mayers hadn’t really accepted anything.
Could this be the true reason that Dr Martin Adams had given Mayers to Neil as his first patient? Not as a test, but rather as an example of the more resistant patient, the one that was more difficult to crack? Maybe Adams believed that he could be the final piece of the jigsaw? The person who could take this treatment to the finishing line?
Or maybe, thought Neil, this was just wishful thinking?
