PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (Part Three)

Continued from last week

“I’m going to ask you about several disparate elements of this case, a laundry list really, to see if you connect any of them to the three neg ops or anything they might have said to you. The tough part is, I’m going to ask you to immediately forget all of these elements, relevant or not, as soon as I leave. Do you think you can do that?”

KG nods. Agent Derrick smiles. “Okay. First, were any of the neg ops wearing a flower? Did the girl have a flower in her hair?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. Were any of them wearing rings, any jewelry on their fingers?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good. Were any of them wearing yellow, or mention anything about the color yellow?”

“The...the blonde’s dress was yellow, light, like a pale yellow. Oh,” KG winces, “the dress had green flowers on it too. Sorry.”

Agent Derrick pauses, files this away. “Okay. That’s okay. Now this, this is very important. Did any of them mention ‘the red candy’?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. No one mentioned that.”

“Good. Could you tell the make and model of the car?”

“Naw. It’s old, and American, and black, but aside from those things I couldn’t hazard a guess.”

“Okay. Did it have plates?”

“Uh,,,no, no it didn’t. That’s weird, right? You can easily get pulled over for that.”

Agent Derrick tilts his head. “Some places, yes. It really depends on the local law enforcement.”

“Sure.”

Agent Derrick places his hands on his knees. “Mister Granta, I’m going to give you my card.”

KG waits. “Okay.”

“I’m going to want you to call me if anything else happens that involves the three individuals we have been discussing. Can you do that for me?”

KG nods. “Of course.”

Agent Derrick smiles. “Good.” He slaps his thighs lightly and bounds to his feet. KG rises to meet him. Agent Derrick presses his card into KG’s sweaty palm and smiles. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Granta. Hopefully we’ll never speak to each other again.”

KG laughs. “Yeah, um...I’d like that?”

Agent Derrick laughs in return. “Take care.” And then he is out the door, seemingly as quickly as he came. KG looks the card over as he hears Agent Derrick’s car pull out onto Belt Line Road – it is very simple: just the agent’s name, “Mueller-Toch Consortium”, and a phone number.

PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (Part Two)

(Continued from last week)

“Were all three neg ops present?”

“No, it was just the man with the...eye condition, and the retarded girl. I think the third, with the tattoos, was driving their car but I couldn’t see. It was too dark.”

“I see.” Pause, file. “You say the one man, the one in the restaurant...”

“Yes?” KG asks.

“...he has an ‘eye condition’?”

“Yeah. It’s like a crust over both his eyes, a disease or something. He didn’t seem blind, though.”

“Yes.” Pause, file. “And the girl was ‘retarded’?”

“Well, I mean, she just kept giggling and drooling the whole time. She didn’t say much.”

Matter of fact: “There are physical conditions that could also cause that.”

“Well, I mean, I’m no expert. She just...her behavior made me think of a mentally retarded person.”

Agent Derrick smiles. “Of course. You didn’t give her an IQ test, I assume?”

“Uh, no,” KG smiles, shrugs.

“So we’ll just go with your best guess.” Pause, file. “What did this encounter at the Phuket consist of?”

“Well, they sat down at my table, unasked. I didn’t even see them sit down.”

“You were eating alone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you often eat alone, Mr. Granta?”

“Well, yeah. Yeah I do.” KG pauses, irritated. “Is there something wrong with that, or...”

“Oh, no, sir! I eat alone all the time. No partners in Mueller-Toch, you see. Provides for ‘Maximum Deniability’.” Agent Derrick pauses. “So the two ops sit down with you, and you say that you didn’t see them sit down?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you...” Agent Derrick makes an eating motion with his head down.

“Yeah, I was having the soup. I always have the soup.”

“Ah. So you look up from your bowl, and...” He waits.

“...and there they are,” KG finishes for him.

“And there they are.” Pause, file. “And did they speak to you at that time?”

KG relates the conversation with Charles and Suzie as best he remembers, making a special point to emphasize their invitation to come along with them, and Charles’ reference to a ‘bus driver’.

“They made mention of a ‘bus driver’?”

“Yes.”

“Mm-hm. Could they have been referring to the third op, with the tattoos? Could he have been the ‘bus driver’?”

“Um, I mean, sure, I guess so.”

“Okay.” Pause, file. “And, so...”

“Oh, wait, before I forget, they said their names were Suzie and Charles.”

Agent Derrick shakes his head sadly. “These neg ops don’t have names.”

“They don’t...ah...”

“They’ve used at least a thousand in the past, and they may use a thousand more before I’m done.” Agent Derrick shrugs. “Okay. So today was the second time you’ve seen them?”

“Yes.”

“And today’s visit consisted of...”

KG describes the events of the day, elaborating upon the briefer story he told the police earlier.

“I see. And as there was no obvious evidence, you were summarily dismissed.”

“That’s right. The cop...he couldn’t see them at all.”

“Mm-hm. There are some specific reasons why they may not have been observed by the police officer, but this is neither the time nor place to go into that. You understand.” The agent pauses a moment, shifts in his seat. “Mr. Granta, have there been any recent changes in your life, anytime prior to the first meeting at the Phuket?”

“Wrr...ah, I don’t think so. I mean...” It comes to him. “I don’t think this is what you’re talking about but I recently changed anxiety medications. I was on Paxil, but I had to switch over to something new...Comaxyn, it’s called.” He pauses. “Just approved.”

“I see.” Agent Derrick regards KG carefully. KG looks sheepishly at the floor. The agent moves forward in his seat, clasps his hands together. “I can see that discussing this has made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no...it’s just...”

“Mr. Granta, part of the latitude I was referring to earlier in reference to Mueller-Toch is in regards to mental health concerns. Agency work within the confines of the federal government is incredibly stressful, and many of the ex-agents employed by Mueller-Toch are ex-agents for that very reason. Many of us have diagnosed mental health issues, and many of us use medication, among other methods, to treat those same issues.” Agent Derrick pauses emphatically. “Many of us.” He smiles knowingly. KG nods. “I’ll look into the Comaxyn angle but, as you said, I don’t believe that’s the type of recent change we’re looking for.”

“Okay, then.” KG almost rises, feeling the discussion concluded, before Agent Derrick continues.

(To Be Continued)

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PSYCHOPOMP - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shousetsu)

to start at Chapter One, click here

You are crazy. Real crazy. Eating bugs, pissing and shitting in your pants crazy. None of this “I have an anxiety disorder and I’m fighting the good fight” bullshit. None of this “I defy the stigma of mental illness by admitting my disorder and freely discussing it.” Soon you won’t even be able to say the word “stigma” because it’s too close to “stigmata” and saying it is the first step to getting it. Better eat your words. Eat the stigmata. A bloody big appetite. Faster now. Influencing static, serious trouble. Warmth of arguments with the law (a liar). Liquid (full depression of people). Faster. Faster.

No. Stop. Slow down. Stop.

He couldn’t see them. The cop couldn’t see them. They were right there, across the road, behind the treeline. No, you can’t fit a car between those trees, but there it was. The cop just shook his head and he knew that you were the real crazy. And the fucking retard bitch and the sick asshole with the eye disease, they just grinned and laughed. The driver, the “bus driver”, he just opened that mouth-box and let loose the screaming static, so loud you could barely hear the cop over it, questioning and sighing. You had to pretend they weren’t there so you could get through the rest of the conversation with the cop and he wouldn’t put you back in A2 over at Northwoods Memorial. That was bad. At least you aren’t that crazy yet, not so crazy that you can’t fake it for a little while so you don’t have to go back to A2.

So then at some point while you were pretending not to notice them, the three of them left. You didn’t hear them drive away. They were just gone. And you signed the papers that the cop gave you that you needed to sign, and then you went inside and watched from the window until the cop drove away. After he drove away you continued to peer across the road for awhile to make sure the three of them did not come back. Then you sank to the floor beneath the window and closed your eyes tightly, and maybe you drifted off for awhile. You don’t know.

There is a knock at the door. KG opens his eyes, exhales loudly. He wipes his face with his hands, gets up. He moves lightly towards the door, not making any sound, and peers through the peephole. There is a man at the door, in a suit, his hair short and dark, his face cleanly shaven. Despite the formality of his appearance, he has a kind face. KG immediately becomes afraid that he is an emissary from some religious organization or another, but he holds no tracts, no bible, not even a briefcase. KG unlocks and opens the door. “Hello?” he says, tiredly.

The man half-turns, grins. “Hello. Are you Kevin Granta? Forgive the formality, but I need to be absolutely certain to whom I am speaking before I say any more.”

KG smiles uncertainly. “Yes. I’m Kevin Granta.”

The man continues smiling, briefly flashes a badge in front of KG. “Special Agent Derrick. May I speak with you for a few moments?”

“Um, okay, sure. Come in.” KG leads the way. “Is this about the call I made? Because the cops have already been out here.”

“Yes, that call is in fact what brought me, but the performance of the law enforcement in these parts is notoriously shoddy. You see...” Derrick gestures to the couch, KG nods, Derrick sits. “...I have been observing the three individuals you identified for several months. These individuals are regarded as extremely dangerous, and they represent a threat that is of great interest to my agency.”

KG is reeling, seats himself. “Agent Derrick, what, uh, branch are you employed by?”

“My agency is known as the Mueller-Toch Consortium, a concern made up exclusively of ex-Federal agents. Many of us found a certain...latitude with Mueller-Toch that did not exist within our various branches of the government. Of course, due to Mueller-Toch’s ‘unofficial’ status, you are not required by law to speak with me, but I believe that your harassment by these three individuals has been...under-reported by regular law enforcement, should we say?”

KG smiles. “Yes, that’s accurate. It would be even more accurate to say that they treated me like I was some crazy asshole.”

Agent Derrick displays a tight grin. “Indeed. However, Mueller-Toch is not in the business of investigating claims made by ‘crazy assholes’, so I hope that my presence here is an indication of what my superiors consider to be the sincerity of your concerns.”

“Yes, certainly,” KG nods.

Again, Agent Derrick smiles tightly. “So, with your agreement, may I continue?”

“Of course.” The special agent radiates an aura of genuine concern and trust that KG finds himself responding to very easily. The agent continues.

“Now, as I said, these three – let’s call them negative operatives – have been under observation by Mueller-Toch for several months. They isolate individuals like yourself who have a certain, shall we say, suggestibility...”

KG winces. “You’re talking about my anxiety disorder.”

“Please don’t think me rude. My comments upon your level of...suggestibility were merely meant to clarify the m.o. of these three. They generally follow a relatively prescribed pattern, which should mean in this case that we may already consider ourselves one step ahead of them. But this is not to say that all three are not extremely dangerous, and should be approached as such.”

KG nods.

“Now, Mr. Granta, was this the first time you have encountered these three ops?”

“Uh, no...it was on Friday, the 23rd, at the Phuket restaurant.”

“I see. Eat there often?”

“Yes, yes, quite a bit.”

“Good food?”

“Uh, yeah. Very good. Spicy.”

Agent Derrick raises an eyebrow. “Mmm. Where is the Phuket located?”

“Southside, by the intersection.”

“Right.” KG is struck by the manner in which Agent Derrick takes no physical notes, but merely pauses after each statement, seemingly relegating each new piece of information to files stored in his head.

(To Be Continued)