The Killing Collective

by Gary Starta

  Fischetti stopped pacing, looked Breen squarely in the face, and put his cards on the table. “Sir, if you already know what’s in the vial and what its capabilities are, I respectfully ask that you share that Intel with us now and help us do the job we’re here to do.”

  “I admire your moxie, Bill. In your place, I would probably demand the same thing.” The general slowly tapped out a march on the hat resting on his knee. “I’m am here to confiscate that vial. I can’t share any more with you than that. Hell, I don’t even know any more about it. The decision’s already been made. You’re out of it. Period.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, sir. You’re going to need a court order to take that drug from me, and I don’t think it’ll be as easy as you think. Further study is in the interest of national security. No court of law will disagree with that.”

  Fischetti, glanced at his watch. “War is hell, General, but so is Friday evening traffic. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you’re anxious to get to your hotel.”

  Breen raised his eyebrows. “O.K., Bill, we’ll play it your way. I’ll be back Monday morning. I’ll let you in on a little something; this request comes straight from the Commander-in-Chief. I don’t need a court order. I need to get to Washington by end of day, Monday.” With that, General Breen abruptly stood up, carefully put on his military cap, and gave the visor a small tug. He turned and walked out without saying another word.

  Fischetti turned back to his window, losing himself in thought as the howling wind pushed and shoved those beautiful, submissive leaves nearer and nearer to their end.

  ***

  Alison woke up feeling much better than she had in years. She stretched, and it felt great! Clara came into the bedroom as soon as she heard her moving around.

  “Good morning, sleepy head. I brought you a cup of coffee. Scooch up against the headboard and sip while I tell you the latest news. A man suspected of committing two murders has been caught.”

  “What?! Is it Michael? Two murders? Where’s Eliza?”

  “That’s all I know, Allie, sorry. They aren’t releasing any details, but we’re safe for now.”

  Alison shoved the mug into Clara’s hand and shot out of bed, tearing off her nightgown and looking around frantically for clothing. “Clara, you’re wrong! If Michael is the one they caught, he’ll tell the police about me to save his own skin. We’re trapped if we stay here. We have to leave. Now!”

  “Wait a minute, calm down. I’ve thought about this all morning. If he’s the one they caught, he can’t tell them anything about you, me or Eliza. He can’t tell anyone about you being at Florio’s unless he admits that he was there himself and did nothing to stop her. Allie! That makes him an accessory! He doesn’t even know me. I haven’t done anything wrong and neither has Eliza. The drug’s got to be out of her system by now, and he can’t tell them about that either! He can’t hurt us. He’s out of the way, and we’re home free for now.”

  Clara shoved the mug back into her hand. “So sit back, drink your coffee, and then take a nice, hot bath while I get breakfast ready. We have some planning to do.”

  ***

  It was already Friday evening, and Carter promised Seacrest he’d join her and Agent Deeprose after work at a local club called the Jazz Standard for some hot jazz and cold beer. He sat in his office thinking about Michael Santiago’s refusal to cooperate. Something was nagging him that he couldn’t let go, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. A big chunk of the puzzle was missing.

  What is it I’m not seeing? If he clearly has the power to save himself, why is he so willing to take the fall? To protect himself from something worse. Michael is more scared of turning in this person than he is of a life sentence.

  Carter looked at his watch and sucked his breath through his teeth. He was seriously late, but there was something he had to do before he headed to the club. Carter had an appointment with one of the city’s best cognitive behavioral psychologists. He was hoping she could help him understand Michael a little better.

  Jill will have a field day with this when I tell her about it. She’ll tease me about it, but she’s right; I should’ve done this for myself a long time ago.

  He climbed up the steep stairs to the lovely brownstone building on East 25th Street. Dr. Andrea Lewis greeted him warmly, shook his hand and asked him to take a seat.

  “Dr. Lewis, I need to try to understand the motivation and actions of a suspect, or in your terms, his thinking and behavior. As you know, his identity must remain private. We don’t know a lot of the facts yet, but I can tell you what I know so far. The police don’t need a warrant to obtain his medical records since he’s considered a suspect and possibly a victim as well. But under the H.I.P.P.A. law, we can also get a copy if we feel there is a reason to suspect the crime is related to international terrorism. This murder may very well turn out to be the result of a mind-altering drug given to the perpetrator without his knowledge or permission. If that turns out to be the case, international terrorism is definitely on the table. As long as I have to wait until Monday to get those records, I thought it might help me to speak to a professional to be understand the suspect’s frame of mind prior to the crime.”

  “Agent Carter, I’ll certainly do my best to help you in any way I can, however, even in my capacity as a professional, any conclusions I might draw would be based solely on his profile and your description of the circumstances and the suspect. I don’t know if I can be of any real help, but I’m willing to listen. But first, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so interested in my insights? Your suspect is already in custody. Your participation, at this point, would usually be limited to gathering evidence for a conviction. I don’t mean to be blunt, but this is the kind of thing I would usually expect from prosecution and defense attorneys.

  “Do you have some kind of personal stake in this? I’ll be able to help you much more if you can tell me why you need to understand the ‘why’s’ so much, and what makes you need to know them at this particular time and in this particular case.”

  Carter smiled uneasily, realizing he did, indeed, have more than a professional interest in Michael’s case. Dr. Lewis was extremely astute. She knew it was unusual for a detective to seek her help in understanding what made a suspect, already in custody, tic. He might have fooled himself that it was a legitimate part of his investigation to try to understand Michael’s motives, but he certainly wasn’t fooling her. In fact, he was very troubled by his intense need to understand the nature of this crime.

  Carter flushed. “Maybe I should back up a little and tell you about myself and why I think you may be right about my coming here for both professional and personal reasons.”

  He didn’t like acknowledging that he might not be as enlightened as he ought to be. If he was, he knew he would be more at peace with the knowledge that his job was to find the bad guys and bring them in. Period.

  “Dr. Lewis, I believe everything is made out of the same stuff and all connected. Perhaps because this case has brought it to the forefront of my mind, I need to know something important, and it can’t wait. If it’s O.K. with you, I’d like to talk to you about that first and then move on to trying to understand motive for my suspect.”

  He began to tell her a little about his understanding of the world according to the teachings of Buddhism. As he spoke out loud about it, something he didn’t often do, he began to realize that the ideology and philosophy gave him peace because it explained how the universe operated according to cause and effect, and cause and effect gave us the ‘why’. For a pragmatist, those answers worked quite well; kind and helpful actions created positive force, and hurtful and selfish actions created negative force. He believed in karmic reward and debt rather than heaven and hell because it was optimistic about man’s quest for total enlightenment. There was always another chance to reach Nirvana in the next life.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The promise of enlightenment doesn’t prom
ise that there’s a pre-destined plan for us and that it always works out the way it was meant to. I guess I can’t let go of the need to know if there’s a plan for us all and if the plan always works the way it’s supposed to. What am I here for? What was I meant to do with my life? I want to know the unknowable. I want to know why.”

  “But you came here tonight already understanding that there could never be a definitive answer. So, why isn’t it enough for you to choose your own purpose for being? If there is a plan and it always works out, doesn’t that mean that any choice you make will still lead you to the right place in the end?”

  “I suppose, but what I mean is, I don’t know where the finish line is, either. I chose my own purpose, and it may be the right job and the right path if it was chosen for me, but I don’t know if it was, and it doesn’t feel right to me, anymore. Do I stick with it anyway or decide I’m not supposed to be on this path anymore?”

  “Let’s back up a moment, Agent Carter. You said the choice no longer felt right. Why?”

  “Because I never had an issue before with understanding people and what motivates them. I was a cop. I tracked them down and brought them in. Now, though, now think I’ve locked the door to my own prison. I don’t understand the people in my everyday life, but I want to be a better friend and a better husband. I don’t want to be the guy who thinks he has all the answers when he doesn’t even know what questions to ask. I want to understand myself more.”

  “What about your cases?”

  “That, most of all. If I can learn to understand all the stuff packed away in my mind, if I can learn how to go about understanding every person I meet, I can do far more than track the down suspects and haul them in. The issue is on the forefront because of the move to New York, I guess. The new job assignment requires far more insight into how people think than I ever had to have before. I need to know if I made the right decision in accepting this assignment and I need to know if it’s even possible for me to gain any insight into people. Maybe I should be back on a local P.D. force.”

  “You say you want to know what motivates people, and yet when faced with opportunities over the past several years, you say you shut down because that was more comfortable for you. Why?”

  “I guess the truth is I never really wanted to know. It took too much time and energy. It was a lot easier to believe I had all the answers, and it was easier to turn everything into cause and effect rather than feelings or emotions, which never make any sense to me, anyway. Now, I think I may be sending out nonverbal messages to find someone else to talk to. It’s beginning to affect my relationships and my work, doctor. The lids won’t stay on the boxes anymore.”

  “Affecting work and relationships in what way? What’s forcing the lids off those boxes?”

  “This suspect is making choices I don’t understand. In this case understanding his motive is critical to solving the case. I need to understand why he’s burying himself alive instead of helping me catch the people who put him in this situation. He has the power to save himself and several others, but he won’t use it. I just can’t believe that’s the ‘master plan’ at work. I think the plan is for me to understand what makes him tic and get him to open up.”

  “Why explore your own thoughts and behaviors and those of your immediate friends and family when they already love you for who you are?”

  “Because I need to return the favor. I should understand every one of them and love them for who they are, too. I realize I don’t really know who they are at all. I never bothered to find out. And I’m dead certain I’ve never shared a tenth of myself even with Jill. I want people to know that I’m listening to them and that I get it. Jill and I moved to New York and took new jobs here. She’s been very worried that we might have made the move for the wrong reasons and that maybe we shouldn’t have done it. She tried to get me to talk about it for months and months, but I wouldn’t. My answer was that the universe had a plan for me. I told her my gut told me it felt right. We both know that’s nonsense. I do need to know why I made this move and so does she.

  “I’m ashamed to admit it, but now I’m an F.B.I. agent whose job it is to understand the bad guys to be one step ahead of them. People are my business, now. They want wisdom, they want answers, direction.

  “Then there’s Jill. I know she feels there’s a part of me that’s always separate from her, a part she’s not privy to because I won’t let her in. I want her to know that door is now open, and I want her help me sort through all those boxes. It’s the last barrier between us. I’m ready to tear it down, doctor, but I don’t know how. I have to learn people skills, and it scares the crap out of me.”

  Dr. Lewis laughed. “Agent Carter, if even one percent of all males could identify an emotional problem as well as you just did, there might be hope for the human race, yet. You are not alone in those feelings. People skills do require understanding; you are right, There are tools I can teach you to use to document those encounters when they occur, how you respond, how the other person reacts to your response and how it made you feel and why. When you come see me, we can take a look at your chart and discuss all of it, and then you can decide if their feelings, yours, and your and responses were valid and appropriate. That’s it. Exploring and understanding exact situations will become easier and easier, allowing your resulting behaviors in those situations to change accordingly. Once you begin to change your behaviors, your mind and heart will follow. That’s why we call it cognitive behavioral therapy.”

  Carter looked like a weight had been taken off him. “O.K., so anyone can do this. Thanks, Dr. Lewis. When this case is wrapped up, would you consider taking on mine?”

  “My door is open, Agent. Before we move on, is there anything else you wanted to discuss on the personal side? You mentioned that your work relationships were also becoming a problem. How so?”

  “I’m breaking in a rookie who is on her first case, and it’s a big one with lots of possible repercussions both politically and professionally. I should have been paying a lot closer attention to her than I have, and she’s beginning to pull away from me and act on her own, which could be dangerous…or fatal. She needs to learn protocol if she’s going to move up the ladder. She’s my responsibility, and I’m blowing my chance to bond with her and mentor her correctly.”

  “Now that you’ve heard the problem stated out loud, do you have any ideas on how to repair the damage?”

  Carter looked miserable. “Well, my wife invited her to join us this evening to hear some live jazz. That’s a start, but it was Jill’s invitation, not mine. I guess I need to look for moments to have conversations that will open her up to me and to direction and guidance. I suppose I’ll need to open up to her too.”

  “Good work. You just learned one instance in which it is critical to spend quality time and energy on getting to know all about someone else; she is your professional responsibility and she has to learn the tools of the job, too. You have to be able to count on her as a member of the team, and she needs to be motived to listen to you, trust you, and talk to you. Find those moments. Think about conversations you want to have before you have them. Celebrate your victories as a team, and blow off steam together when things get frustrating.

  “One more thing, Agent Carter; practice using open body language in front of a mirror. Maybe even video tape conversations you have with your wife so you can see how you look when you’re relaxed and receptive. Encourage people to ask you about yourself and tell them what they want to know about you.

  You have to give a little to get a little, Agent. Maybe that’s what your suspect is waiting for. Why should he open up to you when he knows you don’t care about him? If you want to be connected to the universe, start with the people in it. All of them. Ask. Tell. Listen. Learn. Tolerate. Accept other points of view. And keep your philosophy to yourself. Don’t worry about having to give everyone all the right answers, Agent. Most of the time the most important thing to do is to show you’re listening and understan
d their feelings. Like you just did, more often than not, talking it out will help them find their own answers.

  “What’s next on the agenda, Agent Carter?”

  Carter stabbed the air with his index finger. “O.K., on to the business side of motive. Do you think it is possible to turn crowds of deeply disturbed individuals into murderers by using rhetoric combined with a drug to create a sense of invincibility and aggression? I mean, if I said I thought it was possible for someone with massive amounts of power and money to create a cult of murderers, would you say that was possible?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Seacrest scanned the drink menu at the Jazz Standard with the same intensity she applied to her lab experiments. Carter sent a text saying he was going to be a little late. The two new colleagues were both tired, so they decided not to wait on the cocktails.

  “Go ahead, Agent Seacrest, you pick the first round. Make it a signature drink.”

  Happy to oblige, Seacrest ordered them a round of Manhattans to start. The old-time favorite was dark red and sweet. It came with a cherry, and it packed a wallop.

  When the waitress left, she threw back her head and closed her eyes. Running her fingers through her hair, she gathered it all up in one mass and lifted it off her neck to enjoy the breeze from the fan on the ceiling. After a moment, she sighed, let it tumble back down and opened her eyes.

  “Long day.”

  The club had been described as a recently renovated jazz den located beneath a restaurant called the Blue Smoke. Seacrest suggested a night out on the town, and Deeprose chose this spot hoping it might pick up their spirits. It didn’t pretend to be anything other than what it was. The décor was no nonsense, but the talent was unbelievable, and the crowd was even better than that.