by Simon King
Tami Kennedy
12th May, 1954
I read the letter a second time, out loud so Steph could hear it. When I finished, I unfolded the other two bits of paper, at first, unsure of their purpose. One appeared to be a page torn from a magazine. It was an article about a dangerous serum that was being developed and tested on psychiatric patients in Hungary. It had been initially developed back in the mid-30s, had been adopted by the Nazi’s in hundreds of experiments during the war, then gone underground after the war ended as evidence of its extreme side-effects became apparent. The page had been torn out of a German magazine called “Die Dunkle Offenbarungen” or “The Dark Revelations”. According to the magazine, the serum and any experimentation linked to it, had been banned in 94 countries, including Australia, The U.S. and England. Serum MB17471 had been deemed too dangerous to continue trying to research and develop.
I read some of the magazine’s writings to Steph while she drove, randomly choosing streets to drive down. I looked at the other sheet and saw it was a page that had been torn from a diary. There were notes about MT17471, named in a couple of places by name, stating that the test subject had shown some signs of mental “re-alignment” and that the test subject “may be able to control the dispersion of their consciousness thus preventing the mental blockages they currently exhibit”.
“Think Lightman is his test subject?” Steph asked. I didn’t know. What I did know was that this web was beginning to weave itself faster than I could comprehend. The twists and turns beginning to look like a maze of deception and murder with the roots of the whole mess growing deeper than I ever imagined. I still believed that Clancy was going to be the ultimate key to unravelling the whole farce.
“We need to find Clancy,” I said to Steph and she agreed.
“I may have an idea,” she said. I looked at her with anticipation in my eyes, hoping that she was serious. “You remember the talk we had with Richard Sadler? Out at the mill?” I nodded. “Remember how he told us that they found Clancy out the back with those poor animals?” My interest peaked a little, understanding where she was headed. “What if that’s his, you know, his “space”? You know, the place he feels comfortable.”
“Comfortable enough to torture and kill animals. Probably comfortable to hide out while this shit storm is blowing,” I said. She swung the car around and we began heading towards the Jackson Street Timber mill. Steph lit a cigarette, offered me one out of politeness, and to her surprise, pulled one from the packet.
Chapter 10: Win One, Lose One
1.
We arrived at the mill just as the rain began to bucket down in an actual wall of water. We could see it sweep across the car park in the rapidly fading light, running left to right, the wall instantly turning the dirt lot into a minefield of puddles and quick-flowing ripples. Steph growled a little.
“Of course. And I didn’t grab the umbrella,” she said, reaching for the door handle, then hesitating.
“I got news for you, kiddo. You’re gonna get wet,” I said and opened the door, the rain instantly soaking me to the skin. Steph jumped out of the car and squealed a little. We had taken a few steps in the direction of the dam, when Steph suddenly growled again and ran back to the car. She opened the door and lent in, staying bent over for what seemed like an eternity in the miserable dusk. When she came running back, she was carrying a torch in each hand. She handed me one and stuck the other into her pocket.
By the time we reached the edge of the parking lot, we both resembled drowned rats. There was a sudden rumble of thunder overhead and I hoped that the lightning would pass us by. I didn’t want to be walking through a nest of trees with lightning strikes in the vicinity. We walked single file, me in the lead and Steph three or four steps behind. There was still enough daylight to see where we were headed but judging at the speed of darkness falling, I was guessing that we would be walking by torchlight within the next ten minutes. The rain was still falling at a steady pace, just heavy enough for it to be uncomfortable. I had to wipe the water from my face every couple of minutes as it began dripping into my eyes.
We passed the dam with the small shed a few minutes later, the pump still sitting where it had the previous week. It was turned off now, the only noise coming from the non-stop rain falling on the roof of the shed and our feet trudging through the mud, occasionally snapping a twig that crossed our path. We continued walking past the dam, up over a small hill and a long stretch of cleared land that resembled an old walking track. The light was almost completely gone, but thanks to our eyes adjusting with it, we were still able to navigate our way along without using the torches. I preferred not to use them, in case Clancy saw them from a distance and either hid or decided to run from us, either option to our detriment.
As we came to the top of a small hill, the land before us suddenly cleared of trees and brush, the landscape barren and muddy. There was a lot of rubbish strewn about, from bits of machinery, sheets of tin and abandoned cars. I groaned at the sight of it, knowing that if Clancy was hiding out there, it was going to be near impossible to locate him. But just as I was about to tell Steph, she grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down as she lowered herself to her knees. She pointed at something in the distance and at first, I couldn’t make out what she was trying to show me. Then as I allowed my eyes to relax and take in the poor lighting, I saw a very faint glow coming through the window of an old abandoned pickup truck. It was down in one of the gullies, about 200 yards directly in front of us. Its tailgate was hanging down at an angle, one side torn from its hinges. The roof looked dented and by the look of it, I was guessing that whoever was trying to stay out of the rain, was lying across the seat. I nodded at Steph to show that I saw.
“How do you want to do this?” she asked. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to risk losing him again and also wanted to avoid a confrontation. Then I had an idea. I pulled Steph toward me and lent in close, whispering to her. She listened intently, then gave me a big grin and a thumbs up, agreeing to my suggestion.
2.
It didn’t take long to find what we were looking for. We found the first almost immediately, lying only a few yards from the edge of the clearing. The second took a little longer and I asked Steph to remain on watch while I searched for it. When we had both, we carefully lifted them and made our way towards the truck.
When we were about forty yards away, I motioned to Steph to wait. I dropped my cargo very carefully onto the ground, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Then, almost slithering the rest of the way on my stomach, I made my way closer to where he was hiding. Before we could proceed with our plan, we had to confirm that the person in the truck was actually Clancy and not some random drifter, taking shelter in an out-of-the-way metal hut.
When I was almost twenty yards away, I heard my confirmation from the voice that was singing.
“Ring-around the Rosie, a pocket full of posies,” the unmistakable voice sang. He sang quietly, the small vent-window slightly askew. I made a mental note to remember that when it came time to execute my plan. We needed time to set the plan up and if he heard us, would jump out of the truck and escape into the bush. If that happened, particularly with the weather, he would disappear as soon as he ran behind the first bit of undergrowth. I made my way back to Steph, one step at a time, slowly edging my way through the mud. The slightest twig was going to warn him. When I got back to her, I confirmed that I had heard him and directed her to the other side of the truck.
We each carried our cargo, tree branches around 8 feet long and about 4 to 5 inches thick. They needed to be substantial enough so that they wouldn’t bend or break. My plan was simple. Wedge each branch against one of the truck doors and trap the bastard inside, preventing him from opening the doors. If he wound either window down, we would have enough time to run around to the window and stop him.
The crawl back to the truck was much more difficult carrying the branch. I was almost at the door when it slipped from my fingers, threatening to
fall to the ground. But I had just taken a step forward and caught the branch on my foot, holding one end about an inch off the ground. Clancy was still singing, the same song over and over again. I carefully pushed the thicker side into the mud, praying it would be deep enough not to slide if the door opened, while the thinner side of the branch I carefully wedged above the door handle. I waited for Steph to finish her side, peaking under the truck for her signal. I could see her feet moving this way and that, then saw the branch lean against the door. A few seconds later, she peered under the truck and gave me a thumbs up.
“The time had come,” I thought to myself. I was about to get to my feet right next to the window and make my presence known when a massive explosion rocked the ground beneath us, night instantly turned into day. A bolt of lightning had struck a tree about 50 yards in front of the truck, the tree now sending sparks into the night sky. Clancy let out a shriek and for a moment I was sure he would bolt from the truck. But when I peered in through the window, he had covered his head with a jacket, hiding beneath it. He was still singing that damn song, louder than before. He seemed to know only the first line, sounding like a scratched record, stuck in the same loop, over and over.
“Ring-around-a-rosie, a pocket full of posies, ring-around-a-rosie, a pocket full of posies, ring-around-a-rosie, a pocket full of posies,” over and over and over. It was driving me a little insane as I kneeled beside the door, cold rain running down the back of my neck.
3.
“Clancy!” I shouted, knocking on the window as he cowered beneath the jacket. He jumped in fear, lifted the jacket off his head and just stared at me with one terrified eye. I shone my torch into the cabin and Clancy did exactly as I predicted, rolling himself to the other side and trying to push the door open. But Steph had the presence of mind to shine her torch in through the window, the man in the cabin screaming with fear. Because Steph had stood back and shown the torch in from a couple of feet away, it lit the entire window up in a burst of light, her face hidden in the shadows. I didn’t know whether he would be scared of a woman standing there but as he couldn’t see her, he didn’t know who it was that was guarding the other door.
“CLANCY! SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” I screamed through the window. I heard a loud metallic tapping coming from the other side of the truck and when I looked through to the other side, saw Steph tapping her revolver against the glass of the window, holding it in front of her torch so that only the gun was visible. It was a smart move and Clancy immediately sat still, the jacket held in his lap, his hands visibly shaking. He stared at me with one good eye so wide that I thought it may just pop out if he didn’t relax a bit.
“Clancy? Do you remember me?” I asked, trying to sound calm. He didn’t respond, just continuing to stare at me with his good eye. I remembered something I had picked up from the shop earlier in the day and now took out a packet of Juicy Fruit from my pocket. I held one out to him through the small vent window. He didn’t move at first, just stared at it, then back at me. I shook it slightly and after a few seconds, he finally reached for it, snatching it from my fingers and pulling it back to safety. He never took his eye off me as he tore the silver foil off and popped the strip of gum into his mouth. As the taste filled his mouth, his eyes closed and a small grin dawned across his face, as if the familiar taste somehow soothed him. He chewed a few times, then remembering his audience, resumed staring at me.
“I need to ask you some questions, Clancy. Is that OK?” At first, he didn’t seem to hear, just chewing and staring, staring and chewing. But then his head began to nod ever so slightly. “Do you remember the Chief, Clancy? Chief Rademeyer?” He nodded. Chew, chew, chew. “Do you know where he is now, Clancy?” He paused a little, then nodded again, his eye locked on me. Steph kept the torch on him from the other side, never letting it dip. The torches lit the interior of the truck like a search light in full blaze. “Clancy, can you tell me where the Chief is?” He nodded again, his mouth contracting and relaxing as his teeth continued working the gum. I didn’t think he was going to answer but then his jaw relaxed as I saw him move the gum into the hollow of his cheek. I waited patiently, anxious for him to respond, to begin the dialogue that I so needed him to help me with; to answer all the unanswered questions that he held the answers to. After a couple of minutes, his mouth opened slightly and a low, trembling voice began to talk.
“The Chief is dead. And his wife, Mrs. Chief. She’s also dead.” He began chewing again, chomp, chomp, chomp.
“That’s right, Clancy, Mrs. Chief is dead too. Do you know who killed the Chief and his wife? Do you know who hurt them?” His expression suddenly changed, his face turning pale and grim, his eyes turning into his lap as his lips pursed tight. “Clancy, it’s OK, buddy. No one will hurt you now. We will protect you.”
“YOU CAN’T PROTECT ME!” he suddenly screamed at me, bits of spittle hitting the window and slowly dripping down, leaving a sparkly trail as it sank. He looked into his lap again, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You can’t protect me from the Devil,” he whispered.
“The Devil? You mean Harry Lightman?” I asked, trying to sound calm again. But he shook his head.
“Not Harry, the other one.” Chew, chew, chew. I looked across at Steph, her eyes wide with hope.
“Which other one? There’s another Devil?” I was hoping for a name from him, something we could use, someone we could track and arrest.
“No, there’s only one Devil,” he said, his voice still quiet and frightened, “only one Devil and I don’t want to say his name. He comes out when you say his name.”
“When who comes out, Clancy? Who is the Devil?” Chew, chew, chew, his eye fixed on mine. “I need to know, Clancy. So that I can stop him hurting more people. Clancy? Can I ask you something else?” He nodded, as if happy that we were no longer talking about the Devil. “Do you remember Tami? Tami Kennedy?” His face suddenly contorted, twisting itself into a mass of agony. He put his hands to either side of his head, covered his ears and began to scream. I took a step back, the scream catching me off guard. I began banging on the window, trying to get his attention again. The scream went on and on and on as his fingers grabbed his hair in large clumps, pulling it from side to side. “CLANCY!” I screamed, banging the window again. The scream began to fade, low sobs now coming from the broken man sitting before me.
“The Devil will kill us all,” he said, then as if trying to soothe himself, began to chew vigorously as he stared at his lap. I was about to ask him another question when another loud clap of thunder rolled across the sky, the flash of the lightning striking something a split second before. When the thunder had rolled away, I tried again.
“Clancy, I need to know who the Devil is. I need to know so I can stop him hurting people. Is he the one that hurt Tami?” I was hoping he wouldn’t begin screaming again at the mention of her name and to my relief, he just turned his eye at me. “Clancy?” He lent forward toward the vent window and beckoned me to come closer. I went in, ready to listen. His words came out a little louder than silent, the whisper barely registering to me. But seeing his lips at the same time, gave me an advantage.
“Loui,” he mouthed at me.
“Loui?” I whispered back to him and he nodded his head. “Clancy, who is Loui?” I asked.
“It’s his brother,” he said, sitting back in his seat.
“Who’s brother?” I asked, unsure of the name. I hadn’t heard the name Loui before and I didn’t know anyone’s brother.
“Harry’s brother,” he whispered.
4.
What I have known about Harry Lightman, probably the only piece of information I was 100% sure of, was that Harry Lightman was an only child. His mother had died when Harry was 6, the only child to the proud parents.
“Clancy, Harry doesn’t have a brother,” I said. He looked at me.
“Harry has two brothers,” he said in a matter-of-factly tone. I could see Steph peering at me over the windscreen, waving a hand at me. I took a
brief glance at her and she was pointing at something in the cabin of the truck. I took a look but didn’t see anything of note.
“Clancy, have you met Harry’s brothers?” I asked. He nodded almost immediately. “Who’s his other brother?”
“The one I don’t want to say, Harry and Eddie, Eddie is the nice one,” he said, then resumed his chewing. I heard Steph gasp a little as she heard the name and for a moment, I didn’t understand the connection. Then I remembered what she had told me about her father, the one she never knew, the way Margaret had spoken about him at the Esso. I still didn’t understand what he was talking about. Harry Lightman had no brothers.
“Clancy, I don’t understand. Who is Eddie?” My frustration began to boil over. I smashed my elbow against the window, screaming at him.
“FOR FUCK SAKE, START MAKING SENSE!! WHO IS EDDIE? WHO IS LOUI? TELL ME!!” I screamed at him. He shrank away, trying to sink deeper into his chair, his face terrified again. “TELL ME, CLANCY!”
“They are all Harry,” he finally whispered through tears. “Harry becomes Eddie and when he gets really angry, he becomes Loui. He talks different when he is a different one. But when he becomes Loui, he just gets angry and hurts people. The doctor knows.”
“Doctor? What Doctor?” I asked.
“Dr. Levinson,” he said, and I suddenly had a recollection, a vague memory from long ago, as well as a memory from earlier in the day, like two things finally coming together to reveal the complete picture. The first memory that came drifting back was from the night I had chased Lightman from Tami’s shed, had chased him down the driveway as he ran from me. When I had managed to force him to the ground, he had said “It wasn’t me, it was Loui.” It made no sense at the time and none of us had paid the slightest attention to it. He had only said it that one time and I had completely forgotten about it until now. The second memory was from earlier today, when I saw Levinson’s book on Tami’s bookshelf. The book had been called “Splitting Hairs” and when I flicked through it, didn’t really take too much notice of its content. But a couple of words did jump out to me, words that now came flooding back to me in a bright flash. “Multiple personality disorder” and “Split Personality” were written on the back of the book. The doctor was studying the disorder and was experimenting with different treatments. As those memories began dancing around my mind, another one surfaced. The page that Tami had included in her envelope, the one about the banned serum.