Extreme Liquidation: Caitlin Diggs Series #2

by Gary Starta

  The surprise visit made Hoyt and Rivers feel guilty.

  “I’m here to reiterate our game plan, Agent Rivers. I’ll only take a minute of your time.”

  “What game plan is that, sir?”

  “The one where you and Ed do nothing else than examine and re-examine our drug samples. How about the senator’s blood? I trust you confirmed it contained ethanol as well?”

  “We’re getting to it. And yes, I do suspect he will test positive for the drug. But honestly, I don’t see us getting any closer to proving how the drug affects its victims. We have come across a scientific anomaly. Are you sure all this analysis time is warranted?”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that. You have the perfect opportunity here to utilize your expertise in biochemistry. Career aspirations aside, yes, I believe it is imperative you continue your work. Agent Diggs has called out sick today. You won’t be needed for interviews. I suggest you utilize every resource our lab has to offer.”

  Rivers felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. She and Ed would be held up in the lab alone for hours. This would give the lab rats some real juicy gossip to talk about.

  She made a final bid to contend Dudek’s request.

  “Sir, we can analyze the blood and water all day long. All we’re going to find is ethanol. Whoever made this, engineered this trickery to deceive pathologists. And even if we can uncover the drug’s true chemical composition, we’re still in the dark as to how it can manifest itself into a virus.”

  “I understand completely, agent. That’s why I want to stop trying to reverse engineer the drug and start trying to create it. There must be some psychotropic drugs you’re familiar with. Attempt to do the same with them. Try to disguise them as something else.”

  “That’s easier said than done. But I suppose we could start with oxytocin.”

  Ed concurred. “Yes, I’ve heard of that. It’s known as a trust chemical. Salesmen often buy it in spray form. When their targets breathe in the substance, specific brain circuits designed to process fear temporarily go off line. The result is implicit trust.”

  “So you could create a trust potion?” Dudek feigned ignorance but he had hoped the pathologist would reference this drug. Dudek had great plans for this trust potion.

  Rivers intervened. “How will this prove our theory, sir?”

  “We need to go on the offensive agent—fight fire with fire. Maybe we can eventually use this trust potion on a witness or suspect to reveal our perpetrators. If we succeed, we won’t need to reverse engineer the drug.”

  Rivers couldn’t believe her ears. “Sir, are you suggesting we break Bureau protocols—or worse, ignore civil rights?”

  “The attack on the senator leads me to believe we may have an epidemic on our hands. I say the situation warrants it.”

  Rivers rapped her hand upon an examination table. She could not let Dudek leave the room without a rebuttal.

  “Respectfully sir, I would expect something like this from Agent Diggs.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dudek countered.

  Ed adjusted his glasses, pushing them tighter against the bridge of his nose.

  “I agree with Agent Rivers, Assistant Director. In fact, I fear Agent Diggs’s unconventional approach may have already jeopardized this investigation.”

  “Mr. Hoyt, your orders are coming directly from me. Not from Agent Diggs. I expect you to follow them. I also expect you to keep my orders confidential. This is in the interests of national security. Now please get to work on creating an enhanced trust spray.”

  Dudek turned and exited, leaving Rivers and Hoyt in stunned silence. In mere minutes, the assistant director had turned their world upside down. Suspecting Director Connah Hainsworth of duplicity was one thing. Now, doubts about Agent Diggs and the assistant director were surfacing in Rivers’s mind as well. Diggs and Dudek had been her two trusted allies in last year’s investigation of the Arrowhead murders. More recently, they had also helped to reinstate her.

  As much as she wanted to trust Dudek, she couldn’t help but wonder about his eagerness to create this potion. It reminded her of Diggs’s obsession with the robe. Would Dudek really use it on witnesses or suspects? Perhaps the assistant director had become as obsessed as Diggs. Could the two share the same compulsion? Maybe they both were conspiring to trap Director Hainsworth. And if they were, Rivers felt both were putting the current investigation at great risk.

  ***

  She looked at Celeste and Christopher with wonder and envy, both had become absorbed in tranquility, enjoying the true essence of peace, cuddled together in a cat bed.

  Diggs wanted to find the moment of Zen the felines were enjoying. Afraid to disturb them, Caitlin chose to leave Celeste under the care of Ms. Petersen for another day. Petersen found the strange look in Caitlin’s eye unsettling. She did not hesitate to extend Celeste’s welcome.

  Diggs rushed back to her apartment to fulfill an inner need, one that beckoned her back to bed and put a zombie-like glaze over her eyes. She believed the robe would somehow act as a key, to unlock some doorway in her mind, to reveal why she had been given a psychic gift. She even used jet lag as an excuse to stay home. Diggs wanted to spend some quality time with her enigmatic apparel.

  A nap launched her into the surreal confines of the flotation tank. This time, her abductors had hidden themselves from plain sight. Not one robe-clad man or scientist surrounded her. Diggs floated independently. It was as if her abductors were making her an offer. Their lack of presence seemed to indicate they would let the agent follow her pursuits, allowing her the choice to exert free will. She could stop this at anytime. But would she want to?

  The abductors, especially the man in the purple robe, knew all about Caitlin’s obsession. He had purposely given her this link so she would be tempted to find a metaphysical explanation for her being. He also wanted Diggs to find a higher ground. If she was willing to join freely, she could enter a gate upon her death into the grandest kingdom. The Master believed it to be better than any Heaven humanity had ever imagined. Here, everyone who entered became a god.

  A small price had to be paid to gain entrance. It would come in the form of selfishness. Could Diggs sacrifice those she swore to protect to realize her destiny? The Master had his doubts. Still, Diggs’s unwitting participation in his plan would benefit him either way. He decided to give Caitlin a hint, a chance to realize her role in his wickedest orchestration.

  ***

  Caitlin continued to float on a pure white light, for the flotation tank held not a drop of water. As her mind grappled with this mystery, a distraction intervened. She listened to the hissing and popping sound of a turntable. She hoped this intrusion might produce a clue. The record appeared to be caught in a groove. It played the same few lines of a song over and over. Diggs recognized the piece. A a classic rock anthem her late partner Geoffrey McAllister loved to sing along to: Stairway To Heaven. The repeated passage belonged to the song’s climax. The same stanza haunted Diggs as her body involuntarily floated in a vertical position. It spoke of a lady who could shine white light.

  Caitlin’s body rose to a standing position and she noticed something resembling a halo. It had appeared to be the same gateway she had seen in an earlier vision: a circle rimmed with gold. A white light emanated from her soul.

  The intoxicating affixation with the gate has led her to it as if she were a wayward balloon drawn toward the atmosphere. On some inner level, she was shocked to find she was the key that had opened this portal. A witness to her body’s ascent toward the golden circle she flailed her arms out like a swimmer fighting to right a course away from a dangerous tide. It was Diggs’s subconscious mind that had broken her attraction and her floating body responded with strange, possessed eyes. They were colored red with an orb-like glow. If this were reality, she would have condemned every living thing to die. It was the admission charge to open the gate. The flailing catapulted her body into a spiral...

/>   She awoke nauseated , her head spinning. The experience reminded her of a terrible carnival ride. She had been no more than five years old at the time. The ride was called The Whip. Her mother, prone to motion sickness, believed the ticket taker who claimed The Whip would be gentle. As with most things in life, it was not. Two minutes in, Caitlin began screaming. She had used all her will to make the ticket taker stop the ride that day. He honored the request, wearing a somber face. She had been duped like she had in her vision. A promise of a great journey was mere talk.

  Years later, the ticket taker’s intentions were now clear to her. He had wanted Diggs to get sick on the ride, to hurl the contents of her lunch upon her fellow Whip mates. The memory of the ticket taker made Diggs wonder if this had been the Master’s intent. Had he wrapped a terrible experience in the confines of a shiny box? The imagery continued to haunt her waking moments. She now realized a price would have to be paid if she were to understand her gift. She did not dismiss the offer.

  Instead, Caitlin chose a path of least resistance. Maybe she could still find her answers without a vision. Accessing the internet, Diggs began to search for all references regarding the Led Zeppelin song she had heard in the vision. She learned a vocalist named Robert Plant wrote the lyrics. Legend had it that Plant sat in front of a roaring fire, penning the words.

  Rumors persisted that Plant and his band mates had channeled the thoughts of black magician Aleister Crowley. In 1970, Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page had invited the band to write songs for their next album in the confines of his Scottish mansion that once belonged to Crowley. Accused of filling the now legendary album with Luciferan references, the record, and Stairway to Heaven in particular, cemented the group’s status as rock gods. Whether they had unwittingly released a clairvoyant communication into the world from Crowley himself still remained hotly debated. Web page after web page argued black magic had been involved.

  It made Diggs wonder if the band had paid a price to earn their legendary status. Diggs began to personalize the message. Was she the lady who would shine white light? Her vision had suggested this. The song had been written prior to her birth. Was this her destiny? But what about the lyrics which talked of gold and light? Maybe this reference suggested an entrance into the gold-rimmed gate. Was this gate a representation of Heaven? Diggs could not tell. She never paid much attention to her catechism classes. As soon as she received confirmation, Caitlin’s beliefs in the church began to waver. By the time she entered the academy, she considered herself an agnostic.

  Emotions and events had seemingly conspired to reexamine her disbelief in religion. She now felt responsible for shaping Tara’s life and possibly affecting Deondra’s. She did not believe such bonds could exist without the intervention of a supreme being. She felt as if she were being tested to make the right choice. And if she were being tested, someone or some being must be monitoring her. She hoped with all her might the man clad in purple was not someone she would have to answer to, if this man was the embodiment of Crowley’s reincarnation.

  She opted to believe a supreme being might exist to counter the polemic attraction she now held for this man. She did not feel strong enough to defeat this evil alone. She eyed the robe. She could not ignore its siren-like call, despite its potential to destroy. She launched into a quick prayer, hoping she recited the correct words. She asked for forgiveness, aware the continued pursuit of robe and interpretation of the song lyrics were well-crafted temptations, a carrot tethered to a demonic stick. Despite this realization, she made her way to her closet where Geoffrey had left behind some clothes and a box of CDs.

  Sifting through her late lover’s belongings, she fell victim to another emotional assault. Diggs had believed ample time had passed. She chided herself. She should have been strong enough to hold back the tears. Instead, she broke into a sob, mumbling unintelligible lines like a teenage girl stood up at the prom. A moment later, she steadied her shaking hands and located the disc. She popped it into the stereo on her dresser. She hadn’t listened to music in months. Fumbling with the buttons, the radio played a Gnarls Barkley song entitled Crazy. It talked about retaining control over one’s emotions.

  The lyrics hit home. Her emotions felt like they echoed as referenced in the song. They had become enhanced in the past few weeks. She wondered about the effect upon her mind as well. Had she tapped into a space of the brain no other human had ever experienced?

  A part of her did not want to hear the answer. She switched the function knob to turn off the radio. A brief chirp indicated the start of the disc. She waited for the song’s crescendo, hoping the actual recording of Stairway might shed more light upon the cryptic lyrics. As she waited, she realized she must remove Geoffrey’s possessions from her house. If she were to enter into another relationship, she must start fresh. Her mind wandered. She had not forgotten a single physical detail of Ross Fisher. And as her body began to ache for physical pleasure, she unconsciously tightened the robe about her body unaware the clothing might be responsible for her sudden arousal.

  As the volume of the song increased, Diggs did not hear the front door close. Tara had arrived home from work. An entire afternoon has passed in what felt like mere minutes.

  “What are you listening to?”

  Diggs jumped to her feet, startled by her sister’s sudden presence.

  “Oh, it’s research for my case.”

  “I didn’t know your research involved geology, sounds pretty archaic to me.”

  “Good one, Tara.”

  Caitlin’s lighthearted response did nothing to alleviate Tara’s concerns. The younger sibling shuddered at the sight of the robe. Yearning to warn Caitlin about its effects, she recalled the dream from the previous night. The bizarre images had begun to knock her off balance. She caught herself on the doorjamb as Caitlin rushed to her aid, taking her into her arms.

  “Hey, did you eat today?” Caitlin asked.

  “It’s nothing, Sis. I’m a klutz.”

  “Maybe the klutz should join me for a cup of tea?”

  “Sounds great. If you’re up to it, I’d like to hear some more about Celeste. By the way, where is that little vanilla ball of fur?”

  “She’s still hanging at Ms. Petersen’s. I didn’t have the heart to wake her. She was sleeping so soundly with Christopher it nearly brought tears to my eyes.”

  Again with the emotions... “Can I ask a personal question?”

  Caitlin nodded after a torturous pause.

  “Are you reaching the age where, you know, things in your body start to change?”

  “God, no, Tara. I’m only thirty-seven.”

  “I know, but some women start early. I read it in a magazine.”

  “It’s not that.” Angered by Tara’s assumption, Caitlin flung a box of chocolate-covered donuts on the table. “This should make the tea more palatable.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” In an effort to smooth ruffled feathers, Tara dug two teacups and a jar of honey from the cupboard. The answer confirmed Tara’s worst fear—if Caitlin’s changes weren’t natural, maybe the robe was responsible for her mood swings. Diggs took a bite from a donut and redirected the conversation.

  “Let’s talk about Celeste.”

  “This story all hangs on presumption, Tara. You see my good friend Detective Carter believed a building contractor had coerced Celeste’s original owners to commit suicide.”

  Tara mouthed “how?” Diggs chose to ignore her.

  “As a result, the cat was the lone survivor and witness to the crime. Ironically, the couple who adopted Celeste happened to hire the same contractor to refinish their bathroom. The contractor, Mollini, started working his telepathic mojo on the couple, convincing them they must also kill themselves.”

  “For what purpose?”

  Diggs fought the urge to smile. She had enraptured Tara. “Mollini was a practitioner of the black arts. He believed he could consume other people’s souls to attain godhood.”

  “
They say building contractors are real bastards, but I never heard anything like this.” The tea kettle’s whistle interrupted Tara. “I should get the tea.”

  “Do you want me to finish the story?”

  “The tea can wait. Besides you’ve already polished off most of the donuts anyway.”

  Diggs resumed the story after arching an eyebrow.

  “Carter was very disturbed, because he believed the contractor was quite capable of telepathically inflicting harm upon others. But he had no substantial evidence to prove it. When the couple was about to succumb to Mollini’s wishes, Celeste goes heroic. She records an outgoing call and captures Mollini chanting something Satanic. She then hits a speed dial button linking her to Stanford’s cellphone. Her persistent mewling speaks volumes. Carter knows Celeste’s new owners are in danger. He rushes to the house and finds the wife slumped upon the floor, an apparent victim of an overdose. She is nearly dead, perhaps in a coma. No one else seems to be in the house except Celeste. Stanford had ordered his rookie CSI to approach the house from the back. But there is no answer when he calls to her, thinking the worst, he storms through the house with gun in hand, but Mollini is nowhere in sight. He then exits a back door and to his horror he finds his partner, Jill, surrendering to Mollini’s twisted commands. She has dropped her weapon to the ground. At this point, Carter trains his weapon on Mollini, forcing him to surrender as a SWAT team descends upon the house.”

  “Why is Stanford immune to... What do you call it...Mollini’s mojo?”

  “Because Stanford practices Zen meditation techniques. He can block negative projections. It saves everybody’s lives, thanks to Celeste’s fancy phone work.”

  “Are you telling me Celeste possesses psychic abilities?”

  “How else could she have been aware of Mollini’s true intent?”