by David Archer
Loftin’s office was beautifully appointed, with oak paneling that was polished to a brilliant sheen. He took a seat behind a large desk and motioned for them to sit in the wingback chairs that faced it.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said. “How can I help you today?”
“Frankly, Dr. Loftin,” Dixon said, “we’ve been hearing an awful lot of good things about your facility. We’ve had the privilege of speaking with a couple of your alumni, and it seems like you have an incredible success rate. Can you tell me how you managed to accomplish that?”
Loftin smiled. “It’s our program,” he said. “The one thing that every addict has in common is a lack of personal self-discipline. When you add that to the craving that addiction imposes, it’s nearly impossible for anyone to willingly give up the drug or habit they’ve become addicted to. By subjecting them to the same type of discipline found in the most rigorous military basic training, and not allowing them the opportunity to bemoan the circumstances, we actually help them to achieve a level of self-discipline of their own. In most cases, by the time they reached the midpoint of the program, they’ve begun to invest themselves into it, they’re looking for more of the benefits they are beginning to feel. Better health, personal self-mastery, greater self-confidence—I’m afraid the list is actually very long, but everyone comes out of the program feeling far superior to the person they used to be when they entered it.”
“So, it’s not just a matter of locking them up for a while so they can’t get their drugs?”
“Absolutely not,” Loftin said, shaking his head. “The more common forms of rehabilitation use that approach, sequestering the addict for twenty-eight days and basically just hoping for the best. Unfortunately, the recidivism rate for such programs is almost 100%. Only a very tiny percentage of people to go through such a program manage to remain drug-free. Our own recidivism rate, on the other hand, is less than 3%, and those are usually people who suffer some terrible trauma within a very short time after leaving the program. They haven’t had the chance yet to exert their newfound self-discipline in the world, so a great emotional impact can cause them to stumble. We offer those people the opportunity to return to the program for another cycle, at no extra charge, incidentally.”
“That sounds great,” Dixon said. “You’re obviously proud of what you’ve accomplished, and you certainly should be. Can you tell me what kind of counseling is involved? Do your clients spend time working with a psychologist or psychiatrist?”
“Not directly,” Loftin said. “The program is designed to let them be their own counselors, by instilling within them a desire to improve. There are three phases to the program, beginning with the Initiate Phase. As an Initiate, the addict is kept constantly busy with physical exercise. They are literally moving and working out for almost every minute between the time they wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. The only break they get is at mealtimes or scheduled bathroom breaks. At mealtimes, they are allowed eighteen minutes to get their trays, sit down and eat, then return their trays, and then it’s right back to walking or jogging. There are five bathroom breaks of five minutes each, scattered throughout the day as well.”
“Five minutes? I’d be in trouble, it takes me almost half an hour for my daily constitutional.”
Loftin grinned. “Actually, we find that the body adapts rapidly. After the client is verbally reprimanded a couple of times for taking too long on a bathroom break, they find that they can get in, do what they got to do and get out within that five minutes quite easily.”
Dixon chuckled. “Lucky for me I’m not addicted to anything,” he said, ignoring the sidelong glance Chance gave him. “As I mentioned, we’ve spoken to a couple of your alumni. Both of them were here about two years ago, and they suggested we talk to you. I wonder if you might remember Maggie Bingham and Yolanda Martinez?”
Still grinning, Loftin blinked. A split second of recognition seemed to cross his face, and then he shook his head. “Even if I did,” he said, “our contract with our clients prevents me from being able to say so. We neither confirm nor deny whether anyone has ever been here, and we are not at liberty to discuss any particular client or what treatment they might’ve received.”
Dixon nodded. “Oh, I completely understand. Can you tell me, back to general information about the program, what medications you use while they’re here?”
“Why, none,” Loftin said. “Our position is that any chemical introduced into the body is a foreign substance, and that the human body is perfectly capable of healing itself. By bringing our clients into a state of being that allows them to achieve both physical and mental improvements in their health, we find that there’s no need whatsoever for any type of medications. Unless there is a medical emergency of some sort, we don’t even give them an aspirin. To do so would be to encourage the misconception that medicines—drugs—are something they need. Our goal is to allow them to realize that they have no such needs, and never allow themselves to fall into that fallacy again.”
“But, what about those who have the psychological problems that often come with drug addiction? I know that many addicts suffer from depression and other mental illnesses, and are often using prescribed medication to help. Surely you don’t prevent them from taking what their doctor ordered?”
“Actually, in cases where clients have been taking prescription medications before they arrive here, we immediately wean them off of it. In some cases we are able to simply put them right into the program, but abruptly stopping certain medications can be dangerous. For those clients, we have the special Cleansing Phase, an additional thirty day period that allows us to help them give up that medication, even as they are beginning the rigorous physical training that will help them to overcome any need for it. You see, depression and other mental illnesses are almost always the result of physical complications. The physical training gets the body in shape, which eliminates those problems. None of our clients ever leave here on medication.”
“Wow,” Dixon said. “That sounds awesome. Now, you mentioned medical emergencies. I’m assuming you have a clinic of some sort here, for when people are injured or something?”
“We do,” Loftin said, “but it is very rarely used. I think the last time was about a month ago, when one of our clients came down with an attack of appendicitis. Fortunately, we keep a qualified surgeon on staff.”
“That really is fortunate,” Dixon said. “What other kind of medical staff do you keep on your payroll here? Is there a psychiatrist, for instance? Maybe a hypnotist?”
TEN
The confusion returned for a brief second, but the grin never left Loftin’s face. “We do have an analyst, and there are a couple of psychologists on staff. They help when there is a particular issue. A hypnotist, however? Does anyone still believe that mesmerism has its place in medicine?”
Chance was watching both of them, and he had the feeling he was looking at a pair of bulldogs squaring off against each other and getting ready for a fight.
“Dr. Loftin, let’s cut to the chase. You obviously recognized the names I threw out a bit ago, so I suspect you’re fully aware that both of these women have recently been arrested for murder, murders that neither of them can remember committing. The only thing the two of them have in common is the fact that they have both been through your program, and at about the same time, I might add. Since they both have an entire month missing from their lives, a month in which they became entirely different people for some reason, I have to wonder if that connection has anything to do with what happened to both of them. If you have doctors and psychiatrists on your staff, then you undoubtedly have access to the kinds of drugs and medication that can cause such lapses in memory. Is there anything you’d like to tell me, before I take my suspicions to the police?”
The grin vanished. “Are you insane? Are you actually implying that we might have somehow set out to brainwash these women, force them to commit such heinous crimes? That’s utterly ridiculous.” He st
ood up. “I think it’s time for both of you to leave. You can do so voluntarily, or I could have you escorted off the premises by our security.”
Chance started to rise, but Dixon didn’t move. “Sure got your panties in a bunch all of a sudden, didn’t you? That tells me I struck a nerve. You may not be personally involved, but I get the feeling you know something, Loftin. Sure you don’t want to tell me what it is?”
“I just told you to leave the premises,” Loftin said. “If you are not outside the gate within five minutes, I will call the police and prosecute you for trespass. This is private property, you know, and no one can be on this property without permission.”
“Wow, I really got you riled. That makes me feel good, Loftin, because it means I’m getting close to uncovering the truth. Don’t worry, I’m leaving, but you can bet your ass you haven’t seen the last of me.”
Dixon rose from his chair, and he and Chance exited the building. As soon as they got into the truck, Dixon grinned. “I could tell he knew who I was talking about,” he said, “but he doesn’t know enough about the drugs involved, or the processes, to be the one behind the actual brainwashing. On the other hand, a man in his position would probably get to know a lot of powerful people. If somebody told him there was a way to program people to do these things, he’s exactly the kind of guy who would figure out a way to profit from it.”
“I can agree with that,” Chance said. “He’s slimy, like some of the cartel people I used to know.”
“Give me your phone,” Dixon said, and Chance handed it over. Dixon dialed a number and put it to his ear. “Bobby? Pete Dixon again. I may be on to something, kid. I need you to find out all you can about the guy who runs the Rivers Center, he goes by Dr. Loftin. Yeah, I need a full background, but also check out his finances. I got a sneaky hunch this guy is making money on the side, and if I’m right, it’s connected to the cases you and I are concerned about. Yeah, good, let me know.”
He hung up the phone and handed it back to Chance. “How much are you paying me for this job?” he asked. “Think you could advance me enough to get one of those?”
Chance glanced over at him as they drove out the gate. “So you can pawn it later for money to buy booze?”
Dixon stuck another toothpick into his mouth. “I’m not going to swear it won’t happen,” he said. “On the other hand, something that asshole said really struck home with me. Considering how good their success rate is, they must be on to something, right? Well, he said that the body can heal itself once it is brought back into physical and mental fitness. If that’s true, then maybe I can find a way to stay sober. Maybe, with that monkey off my back and with Finnigan out of the picture, I could actually start to have a life again. If I can, then it would mean having to go back to the only work I know how to do. A phone like that, it would really help.”
Chance nodded. “Then let’s go get you one,” he said. He took out his own phone and googled the location of a Verizon store, then followed the directions his navigation app gave him. It took almost an hour to get there, most of it taken up in getting back into Las Vegas, but they finally pulled up in front of it.
Dixon didn’t waste time. He asked for a phone just like Chance’s, and Chance gave him enough money to set up the contract. It was only a few minutes later when they left the store, and Dixon was just about to call Detective Jensen when Chance’s phone rang.
“Hello?” Chance asked.
“Is Pete Dixon there? This is Bobby Jensen.”
Chance handed the phone over without a word, and Dixon put it to his ear. “Hey, I was just about to call you. Got me a new phone, you got a pencil to write down the number?” He waited for a moment, then recited his new number. “Okay got that? Good, now what did you find out for me?”
He listened for a moment, mumbling affirmative responses here and there, then thanked Jensen and hung up. He handed the phone back to Chance as he told him what Jensen had found out.
“Interesting,” he said. “Our Dr. Loftin was charged in Ohio with operating a candy store about twelve years back.”
“Candy store?” Chance asked.
“Yeah, it’s a pain clinic,” Dixon said. “Theoretically, they specialize in helping people manage their pain levels. In reality, they charge ridiculous amounts of money to write out whatever prescription you might want. He must’ve turned state’s evidence against his partners, because he got off with probation and didn’t lose his medical license. He really is a doctor, apparently. Unfortunately, Jensen couldn’t get into his finances. Lucky for me, I know a way to do that. Take a left at the next corner, willya?”
A few minutes later, they pulled in at the FireStream Internet Café, and Dixon led Chance inside. They sat in one of the booths and ordered coffee, and Dixon started searching the Internet. The barista brought the coffees only a moment later, and then they were alone again.
“There are lots of websites where you can get a full background check on anyone,” he said. “A few of them can do it almost instantly, even checking thousands of banks for accounts they might have, even if it’s somewhere far from home. It isn’t completely perfect, but there are a couple of these that private eyes tend to use, and they’re about the best.”
“Okay,” Chance said. “So, what are we looking for?”
“We’re looking for any evidence that he’s got a lot of money coming in,” Dixon said. “If I’m guessing correctly and he’s involved in a murder for hire plot, somebody is paying him a lot of money to get these murders to happen. Now, this website I’m using will check all the conventional bank and financial sites, check to see if he has an account with them, but there are other signs of high income. For example, we want to know if he’s made any major purchases lately, especially things he paid cash for. We put all the information we know about him into this website, and it’ll give us photos to choose from. Once we find the right guy, then it can go to town and get all the information that’s available. His Social Security number, driver’s license number, current and recent addresses, any criminal charges he’s faced, lots of stuff. It’ll also check his credit, and that will help us determine whether he’s financially flush or not.”
It took the website a couple of minutes to come up with the right person, but then it started putting up more and more information. Within a couple of minutes, they knew Loftin’s address and phone number, his cell number, who held the mortgage on his home and how much he owed on it, the make of car that he drove and what he paid for it—in cash, only a few weeks earlier—and much, much more.
“He’s definitely doing something,” Dixon said. “You don’t get money like that to throw around without some serious action of some kind. I think we might be on the right track, kid.”
“Then you think he’s the guy behind what happened to these women?” Chance asked.
“I think he’s involved, but I don’t think he’s the guy who did it to them. That would take somebody with some serious knowledge about psychology and pharmacology. It could even be someone with former ties to the government, because I’m pretty sure the formulas the government uses for this sort of thing are highly classified. I know you want to go and whack this goon, but keep your pants on. First, we gotta find out who is actually doing the brainwashing. If we don’t, taking Loftin out won’t be enough to put an end to this thing.”
“Then how do we get that information? I don’t suppose you got a website for that, do you?”
“No, but I do know somebody who can help us out. Hang on a sec, let me make a call.” He took out his new phone and dialed a number, then put it on speaker and smiled when it was answered.
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“Josephine,” he said. “It’s Pete Dixon.”
“No, it’s not,” the girl on the other end of the line said. “Pete Dixon is dead. He must be dead, because the deadbeat hasn’t bothered to come by and visit me in over a year.”
Dixon chuckled. “Yeah, reports of my death are grea
tly exaggerated, etc., etc. Listen, I need a little info and you’re the only one I know who might be able to get it for me. You game to give it a try?”
“Depends. What’s in it for me?”
“My undying gratitude, and dinner at Leon’s next Friday.”
There was silence for a few seconds, and then the girl came back. “All right, but if you don’t show up this time, I will track your ass down and give you a couple of new scars. Understand me?”
“Loud and clear, Josephine, darling. I promise you, I won’t stand you up. It’s a date, okay?”
“Fine. Now, what’s this info you need?”
Dixon winked to Chance. “I need you to hack into the Rivers Center. What I’m looking for is the names of everybody who was present in their program during a period of six months that started about two and a half years ago.”
“That all you want? Just a list?”
“Well, if you can get me their current addresses and phone numbers, that would help.”
“And here I thought you were going to give me a challenge. This will take me all of ten minutes, are you in a rush?”
“Nope,” Dixon said. “I can stay right here on the line with you.”
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Okay, these people are not very security smart. They’ve got everything built into their website, even all their patient records. I’m going over the stretch of time you’re concerned about, and you’re talking about maybe three hundred people. I guess they start a new batch every couple of months, so unless you can pinpoint a specific group…”
“Let me give you a couple of names, see if you spot them. Try Maggie Bingham and Yolanda Martinez.”
“There’s a Margaret Bingham, probably the same woman. Yolanda Martinez, yep, she’s here, too. You want the people out of the group they were in? That cuts it down to about ninety people.”
“That’ll work,” Dixon said. “Now, can you cross-reference them against arrests in the last two years? No, make that against any kind of police report in the last two years.”