“How can you say that with your record of-”
“The price is high, Darwin. No winning. You lose even when you win. You lose repeatedly. Repeatedly you lose a larger and larger portion of yourself-”
Darwin stared, momentarily stunned at her admission.
“Along with family, along with lovers, along with any chance at happiness, two point five children, a white picket fence, a lapdog, a home and roots?”
“Sure, I understand, Dr. Coran.”
“The hell you do.”
“You got so close to evil, close enough to touch it, and the closer in you get, the closer you are to… to accepting it as… as normal.”
“Then maybe you do know something, young Xavier Darwin Reynolds.”
“I know what I've read in your books.”
“As normal… the things you begin to accept as normal as Mom's apple pie-evil plunked down and hunkered like a gargoyle right in our faces, but it is all verboten for us to fathom why because it's all part of God's grand schematic plans. His unknowable design, and so the sickest most twisted things man can do are all in the human makeup, and so this is indeed normal. And then it gets scary.”
“Scary? You want scary go to the neighborhood I grew up in. Come on, Doc, maybe you've had a little too much to drink.”
“I see it in myself, you see it in yourself, in our species, Darwin, in our race, and in our self-of-selves, where we can't hide… And, yeah, we see it in our cells, our collective, unconscious DNA cells, and so I give you particularly scary.”
Room service arrived with additional drinks. Darwin saw to it, tipping the bellhop. When he returned with her drink extended, he said, “Perhaps, Dr. Coran, we both ought to call it quits on the alcohol after all and get some sleep. We have the follow-up postmortem scheduled for eight-thirty sharp.”
“Sharpe, how I miss Richard Sharpe.” Jessica was beyond exhaustion now. She only grunted and sipped at her whiskey sour. Darwin's eyes lingered over his glass, then at her as he sipped at the ice tinkling at the bottom of his glass. He next exchanged it for his new drink.
“Don't worry about my getting up in the morning,” she said, “especially since it would appear I am not going to sleep anyway. Don't worry. I'll be there on time,” she assured him.
He gave her an approving nod, hefted his glass, waited for her to do the same and toasted, “If you're sure, then, to a speedy end to this, and to saving a man in Oregon from state-sanctioned murder.”
“I don't know that we can save Robert Towne, Reynolds.”
“We can and we will.”
“Oh, yes… of course. All right, Darwin. I do like your enthusiasm.”
“I had hoped to find more fire in you for the case.”
“Fire… me… oh, sorry. Guess I'm fatigued from the flight, all that we saw today, and maybe, just perhaps a little.. just a little jaded.”
“That might explain the book in your hand, and you sitting working this case alone as if I'm not even here.”
“Just looking for answers.” She held up the book's back cover to show him Holcraft's photo. “One of the best men in forensics I ever had the pleasure of working with.”
“Really? I wouldn't've guessed it on my own since I'm only an FBI detective. From his picture, your man Asa, looks like Santa Claus incognito-donning a suit and tie but failing miserably to fool anyone.”
She glared at his irreverence toward her American idol.
He took the book from her and examined the write-up, the cover and then the marked page where she had left off.
He began to silently scan its pages, physically jolted by something he read. “Oh Christ.”
“What is it?”
“Listen to this,” he ordered and began reading. “ 'In Hindu esoteric physiology the spinal column has an astral counterpart in what is known as the brahmadanda.'“
“And that is?”
“According to your friend Holcraft, 'the Rod of Brahma, an invisible shaft, which starts from a place between the anus and the tailbone, and proceeds upward along the spine to the base of the skull'.”
“Yeah, I was reading that part when you interrupted me. So?”
“So, 'within this shaft is the sushumna,'“ he continued reading.
“Meaning what?”
“Something to do with the pleasure centers in the brain… means 'pleasing,' something about the largest of the subtle arteries of the body. But what the hell is a subtle artery?”
“A 'subtle artery' is a mythical medical belief in an invisible system of connecting arteries between major organs, the eyes, the phallus and the brain.”
“I think I see…”
“No, you don't. It's a fallacy. It does not exist except in the minds of some Hindu clerics who have never let go of the past, including medical misinformation.”
“Medical mis-in-for-ma-tion,” he slowly intoned.
“At one time, there was a generally held belief that the soul resided in the pancreas, too.”
“This guy Holcraft… He didn't believe all this shit, did he?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No-no-no, but there are people who do, and that's the point… that some still do.”
“You mean it was a kind of hobby of his to collect this kind of stuff even though much of it is a pack of lies?”
“Asa was fascinated with what people could make of something as simple as cartilage and bone, the human nose, the ears, the eyes, the skull cap, you name it.”
“Is that right?”
“From A to Z, he researched all this arcane information about scatological practices and beliefs from every culture, race, religion and time period.”
“Scat-o-logical? Does that mean it's logical to scat?” he joked, but she could hear the fatigue in his voice.
“Scatological refers to bodily functions, autonomous stuff, weird shit.”
“Got that right. This is some weird shit. Says here, 'According to the Chinese system an exceedingly fine tube starts at the sacral'-whatever that is-'extremity and goes up the spine and enters the skull, and is connected with a reservoir of marrow called t-t-t-t'ung te situated at the back of the head.'“
“From tailbone to skullcap,” she commented, nodding. “Pleasure points in body and mind.”
He read on, “ 'The Tibetans took over this notion and added a refinement by introducing a system of boo… ahhh… bu-gu-chan veins.' Sounds like moo goo gai pan.”
She frowned and took the book away from him. “ 'These veins,'“ she read, “ 'branch out of the spinal column and then loop back again forming a network of tiny channels filled with a vaporlike essence. This system of veins is responsible for vitalizing the blood, semen and other “wet” elements of the body.'“ She lifted her final dram of whiskey sour to toast these words. “And here's to wet elements.” She downed the whiskey. “And I do believe it is time for me to retire.”
“I appreciate all the time you've taken, Dr. Coran.”
“On the case or on your crusade?”
“I assure you they are one and the same.”
“Then we will make it so, one and the same.”
She staggered, dog tired and tipsy, back into the room. He followed. “Lock that window up for me, will you? And get outta here, will you, Xavier Darwin Reynolds? I'm off to see the wizard.” She set her alarm as she spoke. She laid across the bed as he made his way toward the door.
“Good night or rather morning, Dr. Coran.”
“You know, Darwin, you could be wrong every step of the way on this thing, and especially the part about an aging FBI M.E.'s having any sort of clout with authorities in Oregon to get a man off death row.” In her foggy mind, she once again rifled through the photos as she spoke. “Still, there are some damn striking similarities here, even to time of year. Another pattern. Always in the fall, mid-fall, right? Only a year apart…”
“Two years ago come November fourteenth in Millbrook, Minnesota.”
“Yeah, Millbrook… How big is this place, Millbrook?”