Dark Purpose - IX

Part 1

IX.

                Cairn loved the media attention, it served as a perfect platform for his discussions and it was a superb way to get his views out to the public but sometimes his views weren’t always seen as palatable to the masses. In years past he had been the victim of attacks for his views by some who saw him as too accepting of criminal madness and told that he was a criminal as well for holding such wild views. He obviously denounced such claims stating that to be at the forefront of a realm of science you had to push boundaries. For him to sit with and speak to criminals and the deranged was to push those boundaries. His views of capital punishment being staved off until the very last minute was unpopular and the idea that certain sub-sects of society were to blame for the underlying psychosis, though some did agree with that, sent him a lot of hellfire from the most outspoken and progressive wings of the scientific and social communities at large. The uproar after his second book was so bad, when he sited research indicating differing levels of intellect in different races of men, he was accosted by some as a flat out racist even garnering some physical retribution.

                Thankfully the past few years had seen a decline in that kind of reaction but he knew that some still held a less than favorable view of him. So when after a radio interview with the local public radio station he was confronted on the street by a small mob of fervent naysayers he was ready for the accosting.

                Verbal jabs were thrown his way but they were few and he deigned not to acknowledge them.

                “Quit spouting your unfounded garbage.”

                “Hack!”

                “Murder apologist!”

                All these he had heard before. That is why he preferred the setting to discuss his thoughts in a debate rather than among the people who had no background knowledge of which they judged him. He was an intellectual, a man of science, and a staunch academic. The laymen that blocked his path were simply ruffians and he had places to go.

                “Hey, Cairn put this in your book!”

                Cairn felt a bottle hit his shoulder and shatter, sending glass shards everywhere. He was dazed by the strike. The others hounded him as he stumbled. He grasped his shoulder, wincing from the pain and picked up his pace. These people were hounds.

                Cairn retreated inside a business and asked if he could use the phone. He called up the station and Detective Thorne was sent out to get him. Cairn waited inside for the detective to pull up, pushing past the small mob that had followed him down the street.

                “What’s going on doc?” Thorne said pulling the car away looking in the rearview.

                “Some fans.” Cairn tried to say with some sarcasm but it fell flat. He felt light headed. The strike to his shoulder had been worse then he had realized. He pulled his hand away and felt blood.

                “Are you alright?” Thorne said looking Cairn up and down handing him a kerchief.

                “I’ll be fine. I just need to clean and dress it when I get home. Any developments in the case? I fear I’ve been far too busy with my engagements to get back to the station. Some consultant I am.”

                “Don’t worry about that. If anything you being out and about talking to people is raising awareness. Plus, like you’ve stated before there isn’t much you can help with until we’ve caught the bastard.”

                “Be that as it may, I had hoped I’d be free up enough to actually help Detective Greed out with his endeavors.”

                “Trust me that man prefers solitude. Only man I’ve known on the force or otherwise that enjoys being alone. He barely even sees his own wife. Frankly, I’m not sure he’s still married. The man is an island onto himself.”

                “Be that as it may, I still had hoped to pick apart his brain even just through simple contact.”

                “Good luck with that. He’s as closed a book as they come.”

                “Anyway, the case…any new updates?”

                “Well I can barely get him to talk when he’s around but he did call in yesterday saying he’s on a stake out. We sent a few badges out to help him but he relieved them after about an hour. PO Wilson told me that Greed had a bandage on his face but didn’t know why.”

                “Sounds like we’re two peas in a pod. Did he say where the stake out was? Who he is watching?”

                “I assume the killer but it’s like pulling teeth getting anything out of him. I’ll drop you off at your place if you want then bring you to the station.”

                “I’ll take you up on that.”

                Thorne and Cairn drove to Cairn's apartment and he showed him around as he went to the bathroom to tend to his shoulder.

                “Nice of the mayor to put you up like this.”

                “Actually, he didn’t, this is my own place.” Cairn called out from the bathroom. He removed his shirt and cleaned the blood off his shoulder.

                “Really?”

                “Yes, I have family that live in the area. I purchased this small place a year or two ago. I pop in every now and then. I was actually already in town when the mayor contacted me. I usually keep a low profile but with the media uproar about crime I’ve been in the spotlight.” He placed a bit of gauze and tape to cover the wound.

                “That’s nice, having an actual place to lay your head. I’d hate to have to stay in one of the hotels for a long period of time. Hell, I hate going there with a lady even for one night.”

                “It serves it’s purpose well enough.” Cairn emerged pulling on a new shirt having tossed out the bloody one. He buttoned up and the two men proceeded together back to Thorne’s car.

                “How long do you think it’ll take doc? To find this guy? It’s been weeks and no breaks. I’m sure Greed is racking his brain.” Thorne said pulling out onto the road.

                Cairn studied the man and let his eyes rest on the hands of his watch.

                “Only time will tell I’m afraid. Trying to understand the mind of a madman is as hard as turning back the sands of time. You’ll go crazy yourself if you try too hard. But we have to try. I have to try.”
                The police station there was still no sign of Greed. PO Wilson was milling about and Thorne took his place at his desk. Cairn went to his own and pulled out his audio recorder.

                “It’s been eighteen hours. Still no word.” Wilson said heading to Thorne’s desk.

                “God man calm down. Go get us some coffee, make yourself useful.” Thorne snapped at Wilson as he put his feet up on his desk. Cairn turned to his audio recorder and started to dictate.

No new developments as of yet that I have been witness to. Detective Greed is currently on a stake out, presumably to catch the culprit. We wait for his return. In the meantime I will go over the evidence collected from the previous sites.

                Cairn withdrew a folder from his desk full of the pictures taken from the crime scenes and splayed them out. They didn’t offer much more insight with having more examples than they did in their singularity. There was a level of consistency apparent in the writings. The man was presumably educated and skilled with his hands as Cairn had already assessed.

                He knew, from experience in biology courses leading into his initial stint as a medical student, the kind of skill it took to be a surgeon. Cairn had hoped to be one but to his dismay he was disgusted by his first surgical procedure and instead sent his mind in another direction. He abandoned the medical arts for the psychological, having witnessed a terrible crime in his youth, reminisced upon one night in college. The act perpetrated before his very eyes, the murder of a fellow student, solidified his desire to root out and understand the criminal mind.

                This set of events however, revolving around The Butcher, baffled him. He had spoken to other violent criminals, some of which who had committed a single murder but their methods all seemed to be aroused by passion and not meticulous action. For the most part there was no planning in the mind of the killers he had seen. That’s why a serial murdered, such as what was present in the city today, intrigued him so. There was a degree of logic present, a formulation of planning, a grotesque amount of sanity about the endeavor that caused him to push the bounds of his own psyche to understand. The criminal mind wasn’t so cut and dry as others would hope to believe. There was something greater at play here and he needed to uncover it all costs.

                Cairn turned the recorded on once again.

A lamentation. A desire to come clean yet an inability to step out of the darkness. The shrines are built for someone or something other than the killer. The air of subjugation to the “evil” within him denotes that perhaps it’s not all the singular will of the killer. That perhaps there is another at play. The words sound as a call for help. A desire for release from his capture, if indeed his mind is captured by someone.

                A pause to reflect then he continued.

Why the man takes a piece or pieces of his victims I do not know. Perhaps it’s an appeasement of the will that is bending his mind. Or maybe it’s an obsession with trophy taking, to remind him of the pain he has wrought. I can’t know for certain until I get the man in the room with me.

                Cairn put down the microphone and switched off the machine. He rubbed his eyes and sat back in his chair being sure not to exacerbate his shoulder wound. With a steady eye he examined a picture that caught his attention. In it were the words “it’s not my fault”. These words pointed to some secondary accomplice.

                Whose fault could it be if not his own? Cairn rubbed his face and put the picture down. This enigma of a man was fascinating and frustrating. Cairn couldn’t wait to pick apart his mind.

“How’s your nose?” Erika asked Greed as they sat in his car. After he had returned from the hospital with a new bandage the bruising had finally set in. Around his nose and cheeks was red, blue, and purple. Breathing hurt and his head pounded. He threw back another pain pill and winced. He didn’t give a response to her question.

                “I don’t think he’s coming back. He’d be too stupid to.” Erika said looking out the window.

                “All criminals are stupid. He’ll be back. And who was it you were looking for? The PO mentioned something to me.”

                “My sister. We were meant to meet here yesterday. She never showed up.”

                “You work with your sister?”

                “Yes, she’s my partner.”

                Greed grunted. He could never see himself being partners with his older brother Jackson. But they weren’t much alike.

                “Will you finally tell me who you are?” Greed asked.

                “I can’t tell you much.”

                “Well what can you tell me?”

                “I work for an organization. A very old organization.”

                “In the government?”

                “No. Somewhat of a secret society.”

                Greed scoffed.

                “Not like the skull and bones at Yale. We’re more far reaching. I can’t really say much else, otherwise you’d think I was mad.”

                “After seeing that shrine or whatever you called it in that apartment, I’m willing to entertain a small amount of mad. Anything to keep my mind off this pain.”

                “Sorry about that, truly. In my work it’s hard to know who to trust. I usually only ever see or work with my sister. All others are potential threats. And seeing as how you were in my way, I had to take action.”

                “I’m a detective for Christ’s sake. We’re working on the same case.”

                “No, we aren’t. You’re looking for a murderer. I’m looking for something else. It just so happens they are turning out to be the same thing…in a way.”

                “Why don’t you team up with the police? If you’re working The Butcher case?”

                “Like I said, it’s hard to know who to trust. We are outside of the realm of normalcy as it were. Anyone even police officers can be on the side we are trying to fight. Like this doctor for example. I’m sure in normal polite society he was well liked, respected, and lauded for his career as a surgeon. But behind closed doors as we’ve seen there is a different side to him. You can’t really know someone. So, it’s easier to stay away and be cautious. We’ve survived this long by doing just that.”

                “So, you’re not a fed, and you can’t tell me how or why your ‘organization’ functions. Can you at least tell me what the hell I saw in that man’s closet? Is he a Satanist?”

                “Not a Satanist, but close. All I can say is that he doesn’t worship the same deities that folk down at the Methodist Church do. I can’t say more than that.”

                “Are you alone in the city? Are there more of you?”

                “Again, I can’t say much more than no I’m not alone and yes there are many of us. Our work never stops. And speaking of which I have to check in soon. I was hoping this guy would’ve been back…” Erika spoke looking at her watch when a man emerged down the street.

                Greed eyed him, tracking his movement.

                “Get down. I think that’s him.” Greed slid down in the driver’s seat making sure not to move, Erika followed suit beside him.

                “Once he gets to the door, we’ll rush him. He won’t get away this time.” Greed put his hand on the door handle and waited.

                “Now!”

                Greed and Erika leapt from the car and were on the man in an instant. In the confusion he had no time to react. Erika grappled him from behind as Greed slammed a fist into his chest knocking the air from his lungs. The man fell to his knees. Greed pushed Erika aside to wrestle the man fully to the ground. In the squabble Greed fought to put handcuffs on the man but he squirmed and twisted making it difficult.

                Erika pulled a short bulky device from her bag and wound it up. Greed could hear what sounded like static electrical discharge.

                “Let go. Now!” Erika yelled trying to push Greed away.

                “No dammit he’ll get away.”

                “Suit yourself.” Erika pushed the device into the man’s exposed skin and Greed felt a jolt cascade up his arm where he held the man down. The shock threw him to the ground. His vision was blurred and his hearing was muffled.

                When Erika spoke it sounded like she was miles away.

                “I told you to let go. You’ll be fine in a little while. Thanks for your help.”

                Greed felt Erika pry the handcuffs from his hand and could barely make out her securing the man’s hands behind his back, moving Greed’s car, stuffing the man into the back seat and driving away.

                “Fucking bitch.” Greed sighed as he lay back exhausted from the exchange and the shock.

               

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