MemoryMen

by Michael Binkley

  As the old man grew silent, Carly thanked him with genuine appreciation and withdrew from the office with the State Police Commander. As he passed the blood stained floor, Carly thought as he remembered his struggle with Brother Damien, “Not bad for a college teacher.”

  His moment of hubris quickly disappeared as they went into the basement. To his amazement the basement was a complete, state-of-the-art virtual reality laboratory. It was loaded with the latest hardware and technology, as good as, or even better than most medical school clinics. Some of the apparatus was so new he hadn’t known if it existed beyond the drawing board. The entire set-up had Merriwhether’s signature on it. Despite what Carly thought or said about him, he had to admire the fact Merriwhether never went second class, especially with his toys. Merriwhether had told him once, “Poor science is bad science.” Looking about the room, it was evident his old nemesis practiced what he preached. There was nothing ‘poor’ about this science lab…. absolutely nothing.

  After what seemed to be mere moments of exploration around the laboratory, the Commander told him time was running out. “Carly,” the older man said, “my people have been done here nearly an hour. If you want to talk to the Monk in Alamosa, we should head out. I’d like to get off the road before dark. The winds in the valley whip up some pretty nasty dust storms around here. Getting caught in one at night can be tragic.”

  Reluctantly, Carly tore himself away from his review, muttering to himself, amazed at the level of sophistication Merriwhether had put into place out in the high desert of Colorado. He rode to Alamosa pondering the depth and breadth of experimentation, which must have occurred at the monastery. He wondered if Dombrowski had ever been programmed there. It would have made sense, it was close to the prison and very private.

  The Commander interrupted his thoughts. “That stuff back there seemed to take the wind out of your sails, didn’t it? It wasn’t just a VR parlor was it?”

  “No sir, it wasn’t. It was as good as it gets in terms of VR therapy. That was not your typical play parlor. It was the absolute best!”

  The officer cast a furtively glance at his passenger, “How do you know that?”

  Trying to keep his cover as it were, Carly offered a modest explanation, “I’ve got some background in it. I’ve seen enough to know how good that laboratory really was, and it was the best I’ve ever seen.”

  Without a change in his voice or his demeanor the Commander stunned Carly with his next question, “You’re the cop that caught Dombrowski aren’t you? The same one who helped regulate VR parlors a few years back? The same one who got run out of town on the proverbial rail in Los Angeles last week, aren’t you?”

  Admiring the Commander’s intuitive skill, Carly posed a question to the question, “Does it matter?”

  Almost roaring with laughter, the older man managed to choke out a reply, “Hell no! Not a bit! It just keeps me from getting pissed off at being on the outside of a secret, that’s all. I don’t mind, Professor.”

  As Carly nodded a weak assent, the officer continued to chortle. “That’s what they call you, ‘Professor’ don’t they? Don’t worry, this isn’t southern California, besides I’ve got a former prison doctor lying in intensive care just a few miles from here that tells me this ‘escaped prisoner’ bullshit might be a whole lot bigger than you let on.”

  His next questions reflected the very reason this man had made it to the top of his profession, “It’s Dombrowski isn’t it? You’re still looking for him, aren’t you? You think he’s alive.”

  Carly was angry. Angry with himself for failing to keep this under wraps. Angry at everything that happened in Los Angeles. Angry with Merriwhether. He didn’t respond and adopted a stony silence the rest of the ride, staring sullenly out the window the blackness of the mountain sky reflected his mood. As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, the Commander spoke first.

  “Look Professor, I’m sorry. I don’t think people come back from the dead, especially the ones the state kills. However, I do think someone in California is a Dombrowski wannabe, so whatever you can do to stop him, it’s fine with me.”

  Carly appreciated the man’s honesty and smiled wanly to show it.

  “Now let’s go see what the ‘Mad Monk of Needlepoint’ has to say for himself.”

  Damien was no worse for the wear. His arm was in a sling protecting the shoulder wound the Commander said he had gotten in the melee at the monastery. Initially, Damien refused to talk to Carly. When the Professor brought up Merriwhether’s name, he suddenly seemed nervous, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and Carly knew he had touched a nerve. Damien had more than likely assumed no one knew about Merriwhether’s involvement, at least not out here in the Colorado high country.

  “You know Damien, Merriwhether is going to be real upset with you, really upset.”

  There was no reply, in the usual sense, but the raised eyebrows and furrowed brow sent out a resounding alarm. Carly’s hunch was right. Looking at the monk, Carly prodded him a little more, “I know Merriwhether…personally. I’m going to tell him you ratted him out. I’m going to tell him you admitted he hired you to bird-dog Hasan, run the VR lab he set up, and he had ordered you to kill Hasan if anyone came around looking for him.”

  While there was still no response, the rapid eye movements, the licking of the lips and the squirming in the chair he was cuffed to, told Carly his questions had hit the mark. The cat and mouse questioning continued for almost an hour. Every time Carly talked, Damien squirmed. While he never answered directly, Carly read his eyes, his body movements, his nervous ticks and got all the answers he needed.

  With a nod to the Commander and the sheriff deputy who had escorted them in, Carly left a shaken Damien to ponder his fate. In the anteroom, he asked the deputy and the Commander, “How much of this has hit the local news?”

  “Not much,” said the deputy. “A bit piece on the local radio reporting a gunshot victim, believed to be accidental. We get a lot of fool hunters coming out from the cities, shooting themselves all the time. In an unrelated story there was coverage about vandalism out at the monastery. Frankly no one knows much about these guys and no one cares.”

  “Will anything show up in the Colorado Springs or Denver media?”

  “It’s highly unlikely, unless someone makes a big deal of it.”

  Carly knew Merriwhether was a survivor so there wasn’t a doubt in his mind he was a risk for flight. After all he and Oona had crossed over every boundary within the law, so crossing a few geographical ones wouldn’t bother them in the least. It amazed Carly as he pondered Merriwhether’s involvement. He had always known that his old cohort was ruthless, driven to the point of obsessiveness regarding success. For him to commit murder, to steal a state prisoner and run illegal experiments on one of the most dangerous sociopaths of the past fifty years was beyond comprehension. Obviously, Merriwhether felt he had become omnipotent, unassailable, a veritable Messiah complex unloosed upon the rest of society.

  The local sheriff figured he could keep Damien under wraps for a few hours or more without the benefit of a lawyer. Between the deputy and the Commander, they surmised they could get a doctor’s order to send him back to the hospital for tests, then after that he would get tied up for processing. They told Carly he could have until morning without worrying about Damien contacting anyone. After that he would be sure to make a call, most likely to his boss despite the likelihood it could mean his death. Carly would have to hurry. He had to find Hasan’s wife…and do it fast. Once he could confirm Hasan’s story, he would have a case against Merriwhether, as well as substantial proof he wasn’t the lunatic the LAPD thought he was.

  His next step was to call Dave Ramirez yet again. Despite the late hour, Dave had the answer Carly wanted. “I found her. She isn’t in Springs anymore. Its seems as though she left town about the same time Langella died and Hasan retired. She was easy to find though, after all, once a hooker, always a hooker…until they die. Her print
s were on file in Utah, Idaho and Nevada. Her last bust was about a year ago in Las Vegas, and according to the police there she’s still in town. Last known address was an off the strip motel, her base for doing tricks.”

  Carly could not contain his excitement, “Great going Dave, you should get a promotion for this. You know after it’s all over you just might. Look at what happened to your career the last time we caught Dombrowski, do it twice and they will make you Chief.” Dave laughed at the thought and let Carly continue, “Now let me tell you about the rest of my adventures in sunny central Colorado.”

  Filling his old partner in on the details, Dave let out a whistle as Carly concluded and asked, “Do you think Merriwhether knows yet?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe…maybe not. I’m going to call Diane and have her bring him in for ‘unofficial’ questioning. He’s still in Los Angeles. Hopefully I can locate Hasan’s wife before Merriwhether gets spooked and gets a high priced lawyer to spring him.”

  “You don’t have to go to Vegas. Hell, we can get the police there to pick her up…”

  Interrupting, Carly explained why he had to go.

  “No Dave, the cops will spook her. Keep in mind she’s holding Hasan’s insurance policy. Now I don’t know what she knows, or what Hasan has told her, but for some reason she hasn’t betrayed him thus far. I think I can get her to talk. I’m not sure the cops can. Maybe I can convince her Hasan has talked to me. I do need to get the proof from her.”

  As they ended the call, Dave agreed he would handle covering Hasan when the doctor was transferred to Denver, making sure he had complete police protection at the hospital. If the doctor lived he’d be the best proof of this whole wild scheme of Merriwhether’s. Dave also suggested he might call the Denver District Attorney’s office. He had a friend there who might be able to straighten out all the jurisdictional problems that might occur, as well as twist the right arms, so as to get Brother Damien transferred to Denver. The two former partners agreed further questioning of the monk, if he was really a monk, was critical to linking Merriwhether to the whole scheme as well. If Hasan could testify, the State could look into kidnapping, fraud and obstruction charges against Merriwhether for the snatching of Dombrowski.

  If Hasan died, then the monk became all the more important. Murder charges for the lawyers and the two executioners could be issues later, if they could prove Merriwhether had a hand in it. Both men assumed the State of California would want Merriwhether for accessory for the current wave of murders there, along with a million other charges that the two of them could not even imagine. Dave wanted Colorado to have the first legal shot at Merriwhether and Carly had to agree.

  “First things first,” Dave had said. “He owes us an execution, plus I see another one on the horizon as well.”

  The call to Diane was harder to make, despite the urgency it merited. He knew she still grieved for her sister. He hoped Diane could get the LAPD onto Merriwhether before Damien could alert him. A mental rehearsal for the call didn’t seem adequate as he could not find the words to tell her that a dead guy was probably the murderer of her sister. When he had talked with her in Los Angeles, he had seen the hint of doubt in her eyes. While she supported him and cared about him, this would test the bounds of her loyalty. He decided not to tell her about Dombrowski, instead he would implicate Merriwhether and Oona based upon evidence from Hasan that the two of them may have developed the murderer using MemoryLock. It sounded more believable to lie, at least for now.

  As they talked, he edged into his story cautiously, when she abruptly stopped him. “Carly, you are not telling me the truth. What is really going on?”

  “You are a good detective, aren’t you?”

  “One of L. A.’s finest. Now tell me the truth. What have you found out?”

  Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what surely would be her disbelief, he forged ahead. “Dr. Hasan told me Dombrowski didn’t die back then. Merriwhether and Oona arranged with Hasan and one of the executioners to fake the death and turn Dombrowski over to them. Hasan was positive they never did kill him, but experimented with him in some way. I figure it’s something to do with their VR therapy treatments. Anyway, the similarities in the two murder cases are due to the fact the same man may have committed them all.”

  To his great surprise and even greater relief, she did not ridicule his idea. “Damn Carly, I didn’t believe you the first time you hinted that the L.A. killings were too close to the Denver cases. As things went along, especially after your friend sent me the ‘Simon’ case, I got spooked. Just like you did. The unthinkable started to become thinkable. That’s kind of like finding out there really are monsters under your bed.”

  “It’s scary. I didn’t want you to think I had lost my mind entirely. I figured if you could question Merriwhether it would come out. Sort of like using him to verify my theory.”

  “Well he damn well is going to verify everything,” she snapped venomously. “He’s going to talk. He’s going to tell me about Le’s death. Even if I have to beat it out of him. Now tell me what you need me to do?”

  “It’s simple. You bring him in for questioning. Do it by the book all the way. Start out by telling him you might have a VR link to the murders. That will keep him interested. Even if he thinks you just want general information on VR he will be on the line. Hell, treat him like a consultant, that will feed his ego. He has to know Dombrowski is out there and he will be anxious to see what you know. Before he can figure out your real intent, I will be in L.A. with the proof from Hasan’s wife. From there you and I ask a few direct questions about Dr. Hasan, Brother Damien and what the hell is he doing in the lab these days…playing Dr. Frankenstein?”

  “What if he clams up? Or his lawyer won’t let him answer any questions without formal charges?”

  “That’s where the consultant gambit might work. I doubt he will clam up, he has too much ego to think he can’t engage us in a bit of banter and not win. If he does get suspicious and goes silent or his lawyer intervenes, then Dave in Colorado is preparing extradition charges to bring him back to Denver. When Brother Damien talks, and he will, then Merriwhether will be forced to answer questions there. If he does it the hard way, we can launch a PR smear campaign against him and still charge him. We can make him look like the ‘Antichrist’. If he cooperates he still gets the book thrown at him, but it will be up to the press and the tabloids to crucify him. Either way this guy goes away forever.”

  Diane was silent for a moment, then in a steely voice she offered Carly another option. “I know you want him, mano a mano, rubbing his nose in the dirt but I think we ought to go through his wife first. We offer her immunity, get her to talk, then bring him down. With Hasan’s proof you can get him for stealing Dombrowski, with her collaboration we can get him on accessory charges to all the murders out here.”

  As an added point, hoping Carly would see the depth of what conviction in L.A. might mean, Diane pressed her point further, “Keep in mind, the voters in California put in the lobotomy laws last year. If he gets murder one, they will cut his frontal lobe and ice him down in a state facility until he dies of old age. For someone like Merriwhether that has to be the ultimate punishment. Absent the death penalty, what else fits?”

  He hated to admit it but she was right. He had let his emotions get in the way. His desire for revenge was far too personal when it came to Merriwhether. Oona might be the soft spot in the Merriwhether armor, she could be an ace in the hole if everything else failed. While Oona had participated in all this, he did not see her as the penultimate to evil like her husband.

  The more he thought about the outcome, the more Diane made sense. Absent a death penalty in that jurisdiction, the California lobotomy sentencing was the next best thing and the only state to have it. Anywhere else and Merriwhether could get life, in a few states: the death penalty. For someone like him that might mean a few years before a sympathetic or well-paid parole board let him out or associates with greate
r resources broke him out. Either way, Merriwhether would never spend a life sentence in prison. He was too smart for that, but he would not be too smart to escape a full pre-frontal lobotomy.

  “You are right Diane. Do what you need to do. Hopefully I will see you tomorrow.”

  Her voice buoyed his spirits as she said, “I hope so. I miss you Carly. I really do!”

  He hung up with a soft good-bye and readied himself for Las Vegas.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carly found getting into Alamosa, Colorado was far easier than getting out. Located in the south central mountains of the state, the small town had virtually no commercial flights, with most of the local people driving to Albuquerque, Pueblo or even Grand Junction for air service. As late as it was, Carly had no time and no stomach for a mountainous drive to other parts of Colorado or a winding Rio Grande canyon trip to New Mexico. His head hurt from the relentless tattoo administered by the Mad Monk of Needlepoint. Add in the ensuing attempts at rearranging his memory and he could not muster the power to drive very far. His energy level the past few days had far exceeded the pace he normally set in the world of academia over the past few years, thus waves of exhaustion washed over him further decreasing his desire and vigor for a long night on the road.

  The urgency of the trip however, held no sympathy for the reincarnated detective, so with the guile of a horse trader and some helpful hints from Commander York, Carly managed to find a local rancher with a pilot’s license willing to transport him to Albuquerque by midnight. The rancher was mercifully silent giving his passenger the leeway to nap a bit as the small plane covered the distance into New Mexico. Catching a gambler’s special red-eye to Vegas from there, Carly found himself winging through the desert night hoping as did many men on similar flights, but with a much different intent, he would find a hooker in Las Vegas.

  Awaken by the screech of the plane’s tires on the tarmac, Carly laughed at the ease in which he had fallen asleep, having never before fallen asleep on a plane before tonight. He realized he must indeed be exhausted, but it was therapeutic in managing his dislike of airplanes. After renting a car, Carly left McCarran airport for the never darkened lights of the Vegas strip. With the windows down, Carly soaked in the cool night air, enjoying the cavalcade of lights and sound that filled the streets.