Show of Evil

Twenty-Four

Caught off guard and shocked, Vail stepped back from Vulpes and turned to Woodward, who was leaning against a bench, smiling. For an instant he thought perhaps this was a perverse joke; that they were all mad and Woodward was the maddest one of all; that when Vail tried to leave, they would slam the doors and trap him inside with the other lunatics.

'I wanted you two to meet,' Woodward said casually. 'We're going to the vistor's suite, Raymond. I'll send Terry up for you in a few minutes.'

'Fine, I have to finish changing a couple of chips in Landberg's machine.'

'Excellent.'

'See you then, Mr Vail,' Vulpes said, flashing another million-dollar grin as they left the repair room.

'What the hell's going on?' Vail asked as Woodward locked the door.

'Recognized him, eh?'

'Ten years hasn't changed him that much. He's a lot heavier and he seems to be in great shape.'

'Works out an hour a day. Part of the regimen.'

'What regimen? Is this some kind of bizarre joke?'

'Joke? Hardly. Relax, Martin, all in good time.'

MaxSec was sealed from the hallway and the rest of the ward by a wall with a single, solid, sliding steel door. The security officer, a skinny young man named Harley, smiled as Woodward and Vail approached. He pushed a button under his desk. The heavy door slid open. Harley waved them in without bothering with the sign-in sheet.

The wide hallway continued inside the steel-guarded entrance. Light streamed in through the glass-panelled roof. The walls on both sides were lined with locked rooms. There was moaning behind one of the doors, but the hall itself was empty. Woodward led them into the first room on the right.

The room contained a small desk with two chairs, a padded wooden chair, a table and a TV, and a cot. The window was five feet above floor level. The entire space and everything in it - walls, furniture, and floor - was painted pure white.

Vail remembered the room. Except possibly for a slight rearrangement of the furniture, it had not changed in ten years.

'Is this, uh, what's his name again?'

'Raymond Vulpes.'

'Is this his room?'

'No, no, this is the visitor's suite, as we jokingly call it.'

'So they have visitors here.'

'Yes. Patients in max are not permitted any visitors in their quarters, so we provide this homey little visitor's room. They're not permitted to associate with other patients, either.'

'Can't they talk to each other?'

'No, sir. Sounds a bit medieval, I know. The reason, of course, is that they are in various stages of recovery. Social intercourse could be disastrous.'

'I should think total isolation would be just as disastrous.'

'There are people around,' Woodward said with a shrug. 'Therapists, security people, some staff. It's not solitary confinement. And they can spend an hour or two a day outside.'

'They just can't communicate with each other?'

'Quite right.'

'So Aaron hasn't had any communication with the outside world in ten years?'

'You mean Raymond.'

'Raymond, Aaron,' Vail said with annoyance.

'It's an important, even crucial distinction. Sit down, Martin. I hope that what I'm about to tell you will give you a sense of pride.'

'Pride?'

'You had a part in it. Had it not been for you, Raymond would never have existed. The host would certainly have been dead by now, either by electrocution or terminal injection.'

'Who is Vulpes?'

'Raymond is what is known as a resulting personality.'

'A what?'

'Resulting personality. Roy was a resulting personality. Now Raymond is one.'

'So Aaron's split into a third person?'

'Yes and no. He's certainly a third person. However, the others no longer exist. It's not a unique case, although it well might become one.'

'How?'

'If we've stabilized Raymond. By that I mean he won't split again. They usually do.'

'Where did Raymond come from and when?'

'He was created to mediate the problems between Roy and Aaron. He first appeared almost three years ago.'

'Who created him?'

'Aaron was always the host.'

'Another escape mechanism?'

'Not an escape. An alternative. Another form of transference. As I explained to you, transference is the conscious or subconscious mirroring of behaviour patterns from one individual to another. This also applies to personae in a split personality. It's a form of denial. The schizoid places guilt on another individual, in this case, a new person - voila, Raymond.'

'Voila.' Vail said it with obvious distaste. 'What if Roy had transferred to Raymond instead of Aaron?'

'It wouldn't have happened. Raymond didn't want that. Abhorrent behaviour patterns can be mirrored only to individuals who would normally accept the transference.'

'In other words, the receiver must be capable of such behaviour to begin with?'

'Correct. Raymond doesn't need Roy, never did.'

'And Aaron transferred to you, right?'

'Yes. That was a major breakthrough, I might add. It was not an easy transition. My strategy was to appeal to his need to be appreciated by his supervisors. That was what attracted him to Rushman. Aaron had transferred his need - as a child — for approval from his parents to the bishop. My problem, of course, was Rushman, who had betrayed that trust. Aaron didn't trust me for several years. The advantage, of course, is that Roy would come out, so I got to deal with them both. Then when Raymond emerged, the transference was complete. Aaron and Roy eventually disappeared.'

'And now you have Raymond, the perfect specimen.'

Woodward was surprised by the remark. He nervously stroked his beard with both hands, then said, 'There's no need for sarcasm, Martin. He'll be down in a minute. Talk to him before you judge him.'

'I just mean it sounds like Raymond encompasses all the best of Aaron - his intelligence, his dreams, desires…'

'Exactly. Aaron always saw himself as an innocent victim. He had no control over Roy. He couldn't even communicate with him. I was the pipeline between them.'

'There were two tapes. Do you know about them?'

'You mean the Altar Boys tapes?'

'You do know about that.'

'Of course.'

'Both the original and one copy were erased by mutual agreement with the prosecutor.'

'Why?'

'To protect the Catholic church. Rushman was dead, the case was resolved. It wasn't necessary to drag all that up.'

'That was very civilized of you two. I'm not sure it was in my patient's best interest.'

'Why not? You could always get the information from the horse's mouth. I assume Roy went into detail about those events.'

'That's true,' Woodward agreed.

'Let's get back to Raymond. Where did the name come from?'

'That's what he called himself the first time he appeared. I said, "Who are you?" and he said, "I'm Raymond Vulpes." '

'So Roy dominated Aaron and Raymond dominated Roy.'

Woodward nodded. 'Aaron never did confront either Roy or Raymond directly. As I said, I was the pipeline. But when Raymond appeared, I was able to bring both Raymond and Roy out. It was absolutely fascinating, watching them switch back and forth. They would interrupt each other, argue, an incredible clash of the two egos. And Raymond was as normal as you or I. His ego and id were all in the right places - he was totally in control. He completely frustrated Roy. Put him in his place. Roy was impotent in Raymond's presence.'

'How about Aaron?'

'He stepped out of it and left Raymond to deal with Roy.'

'How convenient.'

'Understandable. Raymond isn't pained. Raymond didn't go through the agonies of re-experiencing; Aaron did. And what Aaron ultimately came to terms with - from all that pain - Raymond learned from him. Raymond could step back, study the clash between Aaron and Roy objectively, rationally. He accepted Aaron and Roy as one, not as a split personality. The horror that Aaron had to deal with did not infect Raymond. Raymond was capable of happiness. Raymond was, and is, everything Aaron wanted to be. So Raymond took over and ultimately destroyed Roy - and, incidentally, was perfectly happy to be rid of both of them.'

'I'll bet,' Vail snapped. 'So you can't bring either one of them out anymore?'

'Precisely. For the past eighteen months, Raymond's been psychologically stable. No fugue events, no more appearances by either Aaron or Roy. In fact, for the last several months, Raymond has rarely mentioned them. He's become far more interested in the present and the future than the past.'

'What you're telling me is that Raymond Vulpes is sane?'

'As sane as we are. In this case a very troubled teenager has been replaced by a charming, educated, intelligent man. A charming fellow with a genius level IQ and a remarkable memory. He's rational, well-adjusted, has a stunning spectrum of interests. We're good friends, Raymond and I. We play chess together, discuss movies and books - he reads incessantly, everything from textbooks, magazines, fiction, nonfiction, how-to-books. His thirst for information is unquenchable.' Woodward stopped and smiled.

Looking at Woodward's smug, self-satisfied grin, Vail's uneasiness towards him changed to contempt. When he talked about Raymond, Woodward sounded like a modern Frankenstein who had taken Aaron's skin and bones and fashioned them into a human being on his own design.

'My question was, has he had visitors, communication, letters, phone calls, anything from the outside world?' Vail asked.

'Basically, no. We have had, in the past few months, visiting doctors who have come to observe what we've done with him. Always, of course, in concert with members of the staff. It's purely academic. Q and A, no social involvement whatsoever.'

'No phone calls?'

'Who would call him? He hasn't received a letter, not even a postcard, in a decade.'

'And he doesn't correspond with any one?'

'To tell you the truth, Martin, I don't think there's anyone Raymond wants to correspond with. Look at it this way: He knows a great deal about his past, but not everything. He knows enough to understand what happened to Aaron and why Roy appeared. Some things don't interest him. I suppose in a way you could compare Raymond to an amnesiac. He's learned enough about his past to be comfortable with himself. He doesn't need or want to know any more.'

Woodward stood up and walked to the door. 'I'll send Max to get him,' he said. 'Excuse me for a minute.'

Vail took out a cigarette and toyed with it. Everything Woodward said seemed perfectly logical. It was medically plausible, not even that uncommon. It all made perfect sense.

Sure it did, Vail thought. Here was a psychotic madman living comfortably in an insane asylum, where he has convinced all the doctors that he has been miraculously transformed into a real sweetheart named Raymond Vulpes, who was perfectly sane.

Talk about the inmates running the asylum.

Vail didn't believe a word of it. And he was prevented from discussing Aaron's remark after the trial by the rules of confidentiality.

A few minutes later, Max entered with Vulpes. He was still smiling, but his joviality had been replaced with a subtle caution.

'Anybody care for something to drink?' Max asked pleasantly.

'I'll have a Coke,' Vulpes said. He was standing on the opposite side of the table facing Vail.

'Evian for me,' Woodward said.

'Coke sounds good,' Vail said. They sat down, Vail and Vulpes facing each other and Woodward at one end of the table, like the moderator on a talk show.

Vail did not know what to say. Congratulations on your new persona? Welcome to the world, Raymond? Whatever he said would be hypocritical at best.

'Well, you wanted to meet Raymond. Here he is,' Woodward said proudly.

'You'll have to forgive me, Raymond,' Vail said, 'I'm a bit overwhelmed by miracles of science.'

The smile faded from Woodward's face. Vulpes did not react at all. There was still a hint of the smile on his lips. His eyes bored into Vail.

'Most are,' Vulpes said. 'The doc is doing a book on me. Could win him a Pulitzer Prize, right, Sam?'

'Well, we'll see about that,' Woodward said, feigning modesty.

'It seems strange to me,' Vail said. 'For instance, you just appeared. Don't you ever wonder who your mother was?'

Without hesitation Vulpes said, 'My mother was Mnemosyne, goddess of memory and mother of the nine muses.' Then he chuckled.

Woodward laughed. 'Raymond has a wonderful sense of humour,' he said, as if Vulpes was not in the room.

Vail said, 'And you simply got rid of Roy?'

'Let's just say he had enough,' Vulpes said. 'He retired.'

'So what did you learn from Roy and Aaron?'

'Well, Roy wasn't as intelligent as Aaron, but he was a hell of a lot smarter.'

'You mean street-smart?'

'I mean he wasn't naive.'

'And Aaron was?'

'You know that.'

'Do I?'

'The way you ambushed that prosecutor, what was her name?'

'Is that what Roy said? That I ambushed her?' Vail said without answering the question. Vulpes knew damn well what her name was.

'That's what I say.'

'Really.'

'I've read the trial transcripts. And Roy told me you played it just right. Started to ask about the symbols, then backed off. No wonder they called you a brilliant strategist.'

'Did Aaron and Roy ever talk about killing the old preacher… uh, I can't think of his name, its been ten years.'

'Shackles.'

'Shackles, right.'

'Roy bragged about that one, all right. They really hated that old man.'

'That's an understatement,' Vail said.

Vulpes almost smiled and nodded. 'Guess you're right about that. He was their first, you know.'

'So I heard.'

'Why, hell, Mr Vail, you probably know more about the two of them than I do.'

'Oh, I think not.'

Their eyes met for just a second. Nothing. Not a blink, not a flinch. It's the eyes, Vail thought. His eyes don't laugh when the rest of his face does. They never change. Ice-cold blue.

'How about the others? Did he talk about them?'

'You mean his brother and Aaron's old girlfriend, Mary Lafferty?'

'I'd forgotten her name, too,' Vail said.

Vulpes looked him directly in the eye. 'Lafferty,' he repeated. 'Mary Lafferty.'

'Oh yes,' Vail said.

'Actually, Roy also talked about Peter Holloway and Billy Jordan,' Vulpes said. 'The Altar Boys.'

Vail stared into Vulpes's barren eyes, devoid of everything but hate. Bile soured his throat as his mind darted back ten years to the night he had found the devastated remains of the two young men. The flashback was a collage of horrors: the dark, ominous, two-storey lodge framed by the moon's reflection rippling on the lake; fingers of light probing an enormous den in the basement, a sweeping fireplace separating it into two rooms; a large raccoon racing past Vail followed by the rats, flushed by the light, squealing from behind a sofa; a hand rising up from behind the sofa, its fingers bent as if clawing the air, the flesh dark blue, almost black; the rest of the arm, a petrified limb stretched straight up, and then the naked, bloated torso; the face, or what was left of it, swollen beyond recognition, the eyes mere sockets, the cheeks, lips, and jaw gnawed and torn by furry night predators, the gaping mouth, a dark tunnel in an obscene facsimile of something once human; the throat sliced from side to side, further mutilated by the creatures that had feasted upon it, and the stabs, cuts, and incisions and the vast sea of petrified blood, black as tar, and the butchered groin. And the fossilized corpse next to it - a smaller version of the same.

I am responsible for this human ghoul, he thought. It took a moment for him to regain his composure and go on with the confrontation.

'So you discussed the Altar Boys,' he said finally.

'Of course, that's what it was all about, right?'

'It was all about a lot of things. How about Alex, did they discuss Alex with you?'

'Alex?'

'Lincoln. Alex Lincoln?'

'Lincoln.' Not a glimmer when he spoke Lincoln's name. 'You mean the other Altar Boy? I don't recall Roy ever said much about Lincoln.'

If the eyes are a window to the soul, Vail thought, Raymond has no soul. Aaron may have passed on his IQ and his fantastic memory to Raymond Vulpes, and all that sweetness and light, but he hadn't passed on his soul because Aaron had had no soul to pass on.

'How about Linda? Did anyone talk about her?'

Vulpes stared out the window for a moment, then said, 'Gellerman. Her name was Linda Gellerman. Aaron had a warm spot for her, even though she ran out on him.'

'He said that, that she ran out on him.'

'Perhaps I'm paraphrasing,' Vulpes said.

'Did Roy ever tell you the last thing he said to me?'

Vulpes stared at him blankly, then slowly shook his head. 'I don't think he ever mentioned it. What was it about?'

'Nothing, really. An aimless remark. Kind of a joke.'

'I'm always up for a good laugh.'

'Some other time, maybe.'

Vulpes's jaw tightened and he sat a little straighter. 'Must've been pretty good for you to remember it after ten years.'

'You know how it is, some things stick in your mind.'

Woodward sensed the animosity growing between the two. 'Raymond, tell Martin about your first trip downtown,' he said.

This time it was Vail's jaw that tightened. He stared across the table at Vulpes and their eyes locked.

'You've been outside?' Vail asked, trying to sound indifferent.

'Just three times,' Woodward interjected. 'Under close supervision.'

'When was this?'

'During the last two weeks,' Vulpes said. His eyes were as expressionless as a snake's. 'You don't know what it's like, to walk into an ice cream store and have your choice of twenty-eight different flavours and hot fudge covered with… with those little chocolate things.'

What was wrong with that statement? Vail thought. Then he realized there had been no joy in his tone. No excitement, no animation. Vulpes was emotionless, making words, doing his best to create the perfect conundrum, a man so calm his equanimity invoked thoughts of the nightmare sleepwalker in The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. Control. Raymond Vulpes had perfected control.

'Sprinkles,' Vail said.

'Sprinkles,' Vulpes repeated.

'That's what excited you about your first day of freedom in ten years, an ice cream with sprinkles?' Vail asked.

'Metaphorically. It's having the choice,' Vulpes answered. 'Here, it's chocolate or vanilla.'

'Another metaphor,' Vail said. 'Black and white, like most choices in life when you carve away all the bullshit.'

Their eyes never strayed. They sat three feet apart, their gazes locked in a hardball game of flinch. Black and white choices, Vail thought, and his mind leapt back to the last day of the trial. There was a clear black and white choice. Vail and his team had spent weeks struggling to prove that Aaron Stampler was really two personalities in one body: Aaron, the sweet kid from Crikside, Kentucky, who had suffered every imaginable kind of abuse; and Roy, the evil alter ego with an insatiable lust for murder and revenge. Vail had won for Stampler, rescued him from almost certain death in the electric chair or from a needle filled with terminal sleep. Venable, realizing she was beat, had agreed to the plea bargain: Aaron Stampler would be sent to Daisyland until such time as he was deemed cured and his evil psychological twin, Roy, was purged.

Vail had been elated with his victory. Then, on the way out of the courthouse, Stampler had turned to him, leering, and whispered: 'Suppose there never was an Aaron.' And laughed as they had led him away.

He wants me to know. He wants me to know but not be able to do anything about it. Just like that day after the trial. It was not enough that he had created the nightmare, he wanted to haunt me with it, knowing there was nothing I could do about it, nobody I could tell.

It had been their dark secret for ten years, a cruel umbilical that, even at this moment, bound them together.

Stampler had an insatiable ego. Vail understood that now. That was the game. The dare.

Stop me if you can. Catch me if you can.

Vail did not break the stare. 'And what else did you do beside get a hot fudge sundae?' he asked.

'Went to a record store and bought a couple of CDs. Then we went to Data City, checked out the latest CD-ROMs We went to Belk's and I bought a pair of jeans. My own choice, the colour I wanted, the style I wanted. Two hours of freedom that first day, except, of course, Max was in my shadow all the time. And the next time and the next. Day before yesterday we went to the movies. It was astounding. That enormous screen. Digital sound. Instead of that tiny postage stamp of an image on my eleven-inch screen. Quite an experience.'

'I'll bet,' Vail said. Vail didn't ask what picture he saw although he knew Vulpes was dying to tell him. He was making conversation. He already knew what he had come to find out. The sooner he got out of there, the better.

'Where'd you get the money?' Vail asked, hoping to nick Vulpes's pride, to humiliate him just a little.

'I earned it,' Vulpes answered calmly.

'Earned it?'

'Raymond has become a remarkably proficient electronics repairman. VCRs, TVs, computers…'

'Telephones?' Vail said, raising his eyebrows.

What passed for a smile toyed with Vulpes's lips. 'The telephone company takes care of their own communications,' he answered.

'Raymond earns seventy-five cents an hour repairing all our electronics equipment. So we let him branch out,

'I repair equipment for people on the outside. They bring the stuff to the front desk - '

'I've got nine thousand and change in the bank,' Vulpes interrupted in his silky tone. 'The doc deposits it for me. They keep me busy.'

'He's the best in the area. It's almost like a full-time job,' Woodward said proudly.

And then Vulpes said, 'Soon will be.'

The comment froze Vail. Nothing in Vulpes's face changed, but the eyes twinkled for a moment.

'I don't understand,' Vail said.

'Well, that's the real news,' said Woodward. 'In three more days, Raymond's on furlough.'

'Furlough?' said Vail.

'Six weeks. He's got a job in an electronics repair place on Western -'

'He's coming to Chicago?' Vail interrupted.

'We have a halfway house there,' said Woodward. 'Full-time supervision, ten o'clock curfew, some group therapy - we think Raymond's ready for that now, right?'

'I'm sure I can handle it.'

Vail felt as if an enormous hand were squeezing his chest. He modulated his breathing so as not to indicate it had suddenly become stifled. His hands became cold and he was sure the colour had drained from his face. He took a sip of Coke.

'I'll bet you can,' he finally managed to say.

'If it works out, I mean, if he makes it through those first weeks without incident, the board has elected to release him for good.'

'Well, I guess congratulations are in order,' Vail said.

'Maybe we can have lunch one day,' said Vulpes. 'After all, you are responsible for my… well, for my very existence, aren't you?'

'Sounds like a splendid idea,' Woodward chimed in.

'Maybe so.'

'Well, what do you think, Mr… Martin?' Woodward asked. 'Does the news give you renewed belief in redemption and resurrection?'

'Resurrection?'

'Raymond, here, resurrected from the ashes, so to speak.' Woodward said it with such anomalous pride that Vail was chilled again, not by Vulpes, this time by the egocentric doctor, a man so obviously dazzled by his own brilliance that he was blind to Vulpes's true nature. But then, ten years before, Vail had been just as pleased with himself for having saved Aaron Stampler from certain death.

Vail hardly heard the rest of the conversation. It was unimportant. He was just biding time until he could diplomatically get out of there.

'Well, I think that should be it for the day,' Vail heard Woodward say. 'I'm sure we all need to get back to work.'

'Yes,' Vail said, managing a meagre smile.

Woodward went to the door and called out to Max. Vail got up and walked around the table until he was behind Vulpes. He leaned over and said, ever so softly, 'Raymond?'

Vulpes didn't turn around. He stared straight ahead. 'Yes?'

'Supposing there never was an Aaron?'

Raymond continued to look at the wall on the opposite side of the room. He smiled, but Vail could not see it.

He knows. He knows and there's not a thing he can do about it. I'm a free man and he can't stop that because nobody would believe him.

Half a minute passed before Vulpes turned around. He stood up, his face inches from Vail's. He was smiling, but suddenly, for just an instant, his eyes turned to stone. Hatred glittered in them and the irises turned bloodred.

Like the chill he had felt when he entered the repair room, it came and went in the blink of an eye, but it was enough to send an icicle straight into Vail's heart.

Venable was right. Now he had seen it. It was like looking into the mind of - whomever? Aaron, Roy, Raymond - and realizing that he was no different, no less malevolent and invidious, no less capable of anything than the youth Vail had saved from death ten years before. The only difference was, now he was older, more dangerous, and about to go free.

'There'll always be an Aaron in my heart,' Vulpes said softly, tapping his chest. 'Just as there will always be a Martin in there. I owe everything I am to the two of you.' He said in his silken voice, smiling his sincerest smile, 'Thank you.'

Vulpes stood at the window and watched them walk back across the wide courtyard, Vail striding resolutely towards the entrance. He could guess what Vail was saying. He could almost hear his protest.

But he was wrong. Vail knew there was no percentage in arguing with Woodward. It was, as they say, a done deal and he was powerless to stop it.

'The press will have a field day with this,' he told Woodward.

'The press won't know anything about it. The release order has been signed by a local judge who is very sympathetic to our work. Raymond Vulpes will be released. The press knows Aaron Stampler. They don't even know Raymond Vulpes exists.'

For one fleeting moment, Vail toyed with the notion of bringing up the murders of Linda Balfour and Alex Lincoln, but he decided against it. It was only a matter of time before that news would come out. But Raymond had the perfect alibi. They would be chalked up as copycat killings.

Perfect. Vulpes had thought of everything. He hadn't missed a note.

'I assume you'll honour the confidentiality of this meeting,' Woodward said.

'Confidentiality?'

'Well, legally speaking, you're still his attorney.'

Vail shook his head. 'Conflict of interest,' he answered sardonically. 'As a prosecutor, I'd have to resign the job.'

'Give the boy a chance,' Woodward asked.

'He's not a boy anymore, Woodward,' Vail said.

They shook hands and Vail walked to car, where Tony waited beside the open door.

Tony drove him back to the football field and the pilot cranked up the chopper as he got out of the Cadillac and ran towards it. Vail ducked down under the blades, slid into the seat beside him, and snapped on his seat belt.

'Christ,' the pilot said, 'you look like you saw a ghost.'

'I did,' Vail said. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'