Driven

by W. G. Griffiths

  Katz paused. “Does Hai mean ‘yes’?”

  Karianne nodded again. “Hai.”

  “Now she’s speaking Japanese,” Amy blurted out.

  Katz nodded and held up his hand toward Amy for silence.

  “What is your name?”

  “Naoyuki Kamiya.”

  Gavin signaled for a time-out. Katz tried to wave him off, but Gavin made the sign again and would not back off. Katz sighed. Gavin got up, squeezed the psychologist’s elbow, and whispered into his ear. “Kill it now, Katz. Push the pause button or whatever you have to do to shut her off. We have to talk.”

  “Okay, okay. But remind me to get you some medication.”

  23

  Krogan listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. From the phone booth at the corner gas station, he had a clear view of the pay phone at the bus stop in front of the Post building.

  “Good morning. Daily Post.This is Angela. How can I help you?” “Mel Gasman,” Krogan said.

  “Please hold while I transfer you.”

  “Mr. Gasman’s office,” said another female voice.

  “Mel Gasman,” Krogan said.

  “And who should I say is calling?”

  “Krogan.”

  There was silence on the other end. Krogan smiled as he imagined a stunned expression on the face of Gasman’s secretary. He didn’t hear the line being put on hold. He could still hear background noise. She was probably in eye contact with Gasman, pointing to the receiver and mouthing his name.

  “Gasman here. Who is this?”

  “Like I told the wench, Newsboy. My name is Krogan and I have information as to my whereabouts,” he said, enjoying every second. He didn’t usually get the chance to speak to his targets beforehand.

  “How do I know this is really you and not a prank caller?”

  “Who else would know the informer you won’t identify was a blonde babe I picked up in the Seahorse Tavern?”

  A pause. “Why are you calling?”

  “Not so fast. I don’t want to talk on this phone line. I’m shy. Outside your building there’s a pay phone at the bus stop. Go there now and wait for my call. If you’re not there in one minute, I’m gone,” Krogan said, then hung up.

  Soon after he was laughing as he watched a short man in brown pants and a white shirt come running from the building to the pay phone. Almost immediately, Krogan dialed it up.

  “Hello,” Gasman said, breathing heavily.

  “Not bad. Forty-five seconds,” Krogan said, looking at his new watch, which he’d taken off the left wrist of the dead man in the bucket.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I read your paper today. I don’t think you understand where I’m really comin’ from. I’d like people to understand me better. I want us to talk. And the picture was lousy. I’ve got better ones.”

  “You want to give us a better picture?” Gasman asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. Why? You don’t want it?”

  “No, no! I mean, yeah, of course. It’s just unusual that—”

  “I’m not usual. Do you want to meet with me or not?”

  “Meet with you? In person?”

  “Yeah. What’d ya think I meant? On the phone?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I thought maybe you were someone I could talk to, but if you don’t want to…”

  “No. That’s fine. Lots of people talk to me. I am… I’m very understanding.”

  “I thought so. We’ll meet at one-thirty, in a public place so you won’t need to be concerned about me kidnapping you. I’m really not interested in that sort of thing, but you’ll know much better after we… meet,” Krogan said. He watched his victim-to-be at the pay phone. At that moment he imagined driving the truck full speed, pedal to the floor, right through the bus stop. It would not only take care of Gasman, but also the people waiting for the bus. But, no, he was enjoying this little game too much and the final result would be far more exciting than a quick fix now.

  “Where do I go?” Gasman asked.

  “Albany,” Krogan said, anticipating his prey’s surprise at the location.

  “Albany?” Gasman gasped. “You’re in Albany?”

  “Would I ask you to meet me in Albany if I wasn’t there?”

  “No, but to meet you by one-thirty I’ll—”

  “You’ll have to take the jet I’ve reserved for you at Republic Airport.”

  “How did—?”

  “Shut up and listen. If you don’t follow my directions perfectly there’s no meeting. Call Executive Airways to confirm your flight and pay them with your credit card. Your flight leaves at exactly twelve-thirty. Come alone. Wear a bright red shirt or jacket so I know who you are from a distance. I’ll contact you after you land in Albany if I’m convinced you’re alone.”

  Krogan hung up and watched. Gasman appeared to be speaking. After a moment he too hung up and darted back toward the building, almost knocking over someone waiting for the bus.

  Krogan laughed loudly, then started up the bucket truck and headed to Republic Airport for his appointment. He had gotten no more than a few blocks when the dispatch radio came on, apparently looking for the guy in the bucket. “McQuade? Where are you?”

  Krogan unclipped the handset on the dashboard, found the side button, and pressed it. “He quit.”

  There was silence for a moment, then the radio came on again. “Who is this?”

  Krogan smiled. “I’m the guy who convinced your boy to quit. And by the way, this truck’s a piece of garbage.”

  “Whoever this is, that truck is private property. Is Jim Mc-Quade there?”

  “He’s takin’ a nap,” Krogan yelled, then ripped the radio off the dashboard and threw it out the window, along with the empty Thermos and clipboard. McQuade wouldn’t be needing them anymore.

  24

  Gavin stood with Katz in the hospital hallway by a window overlooking the parking lot. The nearest ear belonged to the police guard outside Karianne’s room, a hundred feet away.

  “What’s going on, Doc? We’re wasting our time. I know you went through the trouble of bringing Uncle Hiram here, but how’s this helping us get the killer? All this business about raiding ancient tribes and living who knows where, who knows when, is a fantasy I can’t appreciate right now. Can’t you jog her memory into today’s reality without her slipping into this wild dream she keeps getting stuck in?”

  Katz laughed condescendingly. “I have to admit, this is not my specialty, but anyone who studies past lives would trade all they have for an hour with her.”

  “Past lives, Katz?”

  “Exactly!”

  “As in reincarnation?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sorry, I don’t buy it.” Gavin was starting to wish he’d never agreed to this hypnotism stuff. He’d already been iffy about it, but talk of past lives was far beyond anything he was willing to put faith into. He didn’t pretend to be a theologian, but he did know enough about God and the Bible to know everyone got one chance at this world and when they left it they were going to one of two places. There were no second chances.

  “Well what other explanation could there possibly be?” Katz replied. “Her recollection of ancient history is nothing short of phenomenal. And I have never heard of anyone traveling back even a fraction as far. And she does it with ease. Like it was yesterday. No, like it was today—now. To say she has an old soul is the grossest of understatements. Who knows how far back she can remember? And the idea of two souls meeting each other in other lifetimes and somehow recognizing each other… If I could only hypnotize Krogan to confirm these meetings,” he said thoughtfully. Gavin realized he wasn’t joking. He was in his own world.

  “Have you gone mad? How far back can you remember? Krogan is a killer and he’s alive and on the loose, in the here and now. Can you remember what you’re supposed to be doing here? What you’re paid to be doing here?”

  “Pierce!” Katz pleaded. “Just think of w
hat we’ve stumbled upon. She could unlock mysteries historians and scientists have pondered for centuries. She said she was in Yecko by the river that dies. For the last five thousand years at least, those places have gone by the name of Jericho and the Dead Sea. Jericho is the oldest city on earth and she was there before it was called Jericho—before people rode horses.”

  “How do you get Jericho out of Yecko?” Gavin said. He didn’t want to know any more about this crazy dream, or whatever it was, than he already did, but if he listened he might find something that could bring Katz back to earth.

  “Look, Pierce. The letter J doesn’t exist in the Hebrew language. Hundreds of years ago Martin Luther translated a ton of biblical information into German for his church and we got that consonant through him. In German a J has a Y sound, so all Ys became Js. By the time it got to us, Yerushalayim had become Jerusalem, Yeshua became Jesus and Yericho became Jericho. But what was Yericho before that? Yecko?”

  Gavin was already sorry he’d asked.

  “Good grief! She was part of a tribe of hunters and gatherers speaking an ancient form of Hebrew,” Katz cried with raised voice and animated hands. “You could speak Hebrew fluently and barely make out what she was saying. Her dialect could be where the Hebrew language was born. Pre-Tower of Babel. Predeluge, if you can believe it. In fact, she might be able to tell us if the Great Flood was localized or literally covered the entire earth, which is a question that has plagued theologians since the beginning of… theology. I’ll bring her back to her original lifetime and—”

  “Katz,” Gavin yelled. “I’m a cop! I’ve got no time for this reincarnation garbage! And anyway, I simply don’t believe in it.”

  “Oh, so that’s it. I should have known. You don’t want me to step on your religious beliefs, whatever they are.”

  “Look, pal, I’m not the one you’re supposed to be analyzing. Besides, I might be a little rough around the edges, but I know where to draw the line.”

  “And I’m a psychologist. Her past affects her present and future. The reasons for her present behavior could be locked up in her past.”

  “But you’re not just talking about her past; you’re going after something you’re saying she did thousands of years ago.”

  “Exactly. Don’t you find that to be amazing?”

  “Too amazing. I just want to know what she did the day before yesterday.”

  “Can’t you understand this could be the find of a lifetime?”

  “No, I can’t. I can’t allow myself to understand that. There’s no time to. Not when someone else’s lifetime is about to be cut short.”

  Katz quickly turned and stamped out ten frustrated paces, then stopped and turned again, looking at Gavin with that basset-hound face. He sighed and looked at the ground, silent for a long moment. Then, “You’re right, of course,” he said solemnly. “It’s just that—”

  “Look, Doc. Let’s go back in there and find our killer. After that, I don’t care what you do. Write a book about it. Do some TV and radio. Become famous. Win the freakin’ Nobel Peace Prize. But first, let’s get this psycho before he creates any more past lives out of present lives—innocent present lives.”

  Gavin was getting a headache. He was starting to wonder if his psychologist needed a psychologist.

  “Gavin. Dr. Katz,” called a female voice.

  Gavin turned to see Amy in the hall by the bedroom door. She was waving them over. When Gavin got to her she pointed him inside. Karianne was sobbing and Dr. Fagan was trying to console her.

  “What is it, my dear?” Katz asked after pushing his way between Gavin and Amy.

  “Your suggestion that she would feel rested and unafraid doesn’t appear to be holding very well,” Fagan snapped sarcastically.

  “What’s happening to me, Dr. Katz? Why did I see those places? Why do I speak those languages and understand them? What is all this violence and killing? Why was I in a plane aiming for a boat? I wanted to fly into it… destroy it.”

  Gavin looked at Amy, who looked back with wide eyes. Wonderful, he thought. Katz will probably convince Karianne she’s a terrorist or a kamikaze pilot.

  Katz motioned for Fagan to step aside, then stood over Kari-anne, holding her hand. “You don’t have to be afraid, my dear. Those are memories from another time; they can’t hurt you here. They only reveal the past.”

  “Who’s past? Not mine.”

  “Not your past in this life. Those were other lives—different lives. You are connected now only by your memory of them. But I repeat: they cannot hurt you. They are gone,” he said in that mesmerizing kind of way, attempting to pacify her.

  Gavin opened his mouth to say that was perhaps Katz’s explanation, but not necessarily the correct one. But Karianne was beyond listening.

  “No!” she cried, shaking her head back and forth. “I could never have done those things. I don’t believe you. This is my life. Those were other lives, not mine.”

  Katz closed his eyes for a moment, apparently trying to hold on to his own composure. “Karianne, listen to me. We’re not going to go there. We’re going to stay in your time. If you slip into another time or another place you’re not familiar with, we’ll stop and come back. It’s very important you tell us about the Krogan of this time. Is that all right with you?”

  Karianne closed her eyes, frowned, and nodded her approval. In spite of himself, Gavin was moved. Up until now he had only thought of her as a means to an end and would just as well have had her locked up for being in the same car as the killer. His heart was changing. She was obviously in extreme emotional pain, yet she was pressing on. She wanted the killer caught. And she seemed willing to go through whatever it took to accomplish that.

  Katz put her through a few breathing techniques to help defuse the stress and then proceeded to put her under again. Getting hypnotized was becoming so natural to her that Katz dispensed with the metronome, using a shiny gold pen instead. Other shortcuts were also obvious. The transitional period, where Katz had previously tiptoed into her subconscious with a laundry list of personal questions, was replaced by a few token suggestions. And he no longer asked her to keep her hand raised, apparently confident of her ability to remain hypnotized once under.

  “Now I want you to go back just five years, no more, to Kari-anne Stordal’s first accident in Norway,” Katz said.

  The rapid eye movement began. She squirmed a little and then wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold.

  “Are you there?” Katz asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Is Krogan with you?”

  “Yes, but he’s leaving.”

  “Leaving the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “Yes. Badly hurt.”

  “Why is he in Norway?”

  “He’s found a home there.”

  Gavin frowned. The guy was from Norway?

  “Can you see the other car? The one you hit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you just happen to hit this particular car because it was there, or did you have a reason?”

  “Krogan wanted.”

  “Why?”

  “Retaliate. Hurt enemy. Shadahd.”

  “People were killed in that crash. Was that what Krogan wanted?”

  “Stop enemy.”

  “Was the enemy stopped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. Do you know where Krogan lived in Norway?”

  “Never know. Krogan always finds me.”

  “How? How does he find you?”

  “Krogan sees. Krogan wants. Krogan finds.”

  “When did Krogan come to New York?”

  “Sixteen sixty-four.”

  Katz’s eyes widened. He looked at his fingers and counted them one at a time, apparently calculating something. “Wasn’t New York called New Amsterdam then?”

  “It was New Amsterdam before we got there and took it from them,” she laughed.

  “We? You were English?”


  Gavin could see he was about to lose the psychologist again. He caught Katz’s attention with a wave, then sternly shook his head. Katz nodded reluctantly.

  “When did Krogan come to New York since the Norway crash?” Katz asked, rephrasing the question.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Gavin’s beeper vibrated in his front pocket. He pulled it out and held it toward the light coming over his shoulder through the window. He didn’t recognize the number, but it ended with a 911.

  25

  Do we have a bad connection or is it my pronunciation, Pierce? For the third time: Krogan called me and I’m going to meet him this afternoon,” Gasman said from his cell phone in the luxury lounge of Executive Airways. Plush royal-blue carpeting covered every inch of the floor and ran halfway up the sides of the chrome-and-glass reception desk. Through the window that ran the length of the lounge he could see the sleek white jet with a violet tail that would take him to Albany. He had never been on a Learjet before, but he knew under the circumstances his boss would agree to the extra expense. He crushed his cigarette in the fine sand of an ashtray and watched the fuel truck drive away from the plane.

  “Where?” Gavin demanded. “Tell me where or I’ll lock you up.”

  Gasman laughed. “For what?”

  “For your own protection,” Gavin yelled. “If you don’t tell me where the meeting is I swear I’ll strangle you.”

  Gasman checked his fingernails and smiled. “No way, Pierce. As you so often tell me, that’s confidential. If he spots anyone he even thinks is a cop, the meeting is off. He might be crazy, but he’s not stupid.”

  “You’re stupid. Do I have to remind you who this is you’re going to meet? He kills for fun. What’s going to keep him from killing you?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve taken measures. Besides, we’re meeting in a public place.”

  “He loves public places. That’s his arena. He kills in public all the time. I’m telling you, Gasman. Don’t do it.”

  “Sorry, Pierce. It won’t work. Everybody has rules. Cops have rules. Athletes have rules. Reporters have rules. If you want the high ground, you’ve got to go and take it. The ground doesn’t get any higher than this. It’s Mount freakin’ Everest. It’s the biggest story of my life.”