The Web

11

The folder he returned with was brown with a white paper label.

ARUK POLICE

INVEST: D. LAURENT.

CASE NO. 00345

The first four pages were a typed report composed by the police chief in slightly clearer-than-usual cop prose.

The body of a twenty-four-year-old woman named AnneMarie Valdos had been found at three A.M. on South Beach by two crab fishermen, wedged between rocks overlooking a tide pool. The amount of blood indicated violence at the site.

Other fishermen had been at that exact spot at nine P.M., allowing Laurent to narrow the time the corpse had lain there.

During that period, birds and scavengers had done their work, but Laurent, referring to a conversation with "Dr. W. W. Moreland, M.D.," had been able to distinguish the "external shredding and mostly superficial laceration from multiple, deep knife wounds leading to exsanguination and death."

The victim had lived on Aruk for two years, coming over from Saipan to work as a cocktail waitress at Slim's but losing that job after three months due to chronic intoxication and absenteeism. Her lodgings had been a rented room in the village and she was two months in arrears. She'd been known to socialize with Navy men. The only surviving relative was an alcoholic mother in Guam who had no money to travel or to pay for burial.

Questioning the villagers produced no witnesses or leads but did elicit the repeated claim that the viciousness of the crime proved the perpetrator was a sailor.

Laurent's final paragraph read:

"Investigating officer has repeatedly attempted to communicate with Captain E. Ewing, Commanding Officer of Stanton USN Base, for possible questioning of enlisted men re: this crime, but has been unable to make contact."

I started to turn the page.

"You might not want to," said Moreland. "Photographs."

I thought about it and flipped anyway.

The shots weren't any worse than some of the ones Milo had shown me, which is to say they'd be additions to my nightmare file.

I moved past them to Moreland's report.

He'd been thorough, inspecting, dissecting, enumerating each wound.

At least fifty-three wounds, additional ones possibly obscured by scavenger bites.

The killing blow probably a neck slash.

Contrary to what Creedman had said, no sexual penetration.

All the cuts probably inflicted by the same weapon, a very sharp unserrated blade.

The next page was written out in Moreland's elegant longhand:

Dennis: You may want to keep this private.

WWM Postmortem mutilation

A. The left leg has been severed completely at the patellar joint.

B. The left femur has been broken discretely in three places, with a considerable quantity of bone marrow removed.

C. A deep 26 cm. longitudinal upward slashing wound extends from the pubic region to the sternum.

D. Disembowelment has taken place, with the small and large intestines piled atop the chest region, obscuring both breasts. The breasts are intact. (Extensive crustaceal invasion of these tissues exists, as well.)

E. Both kidneys and the liver have been

F. Decapitation has occurred between the third and fourth cervical vertebrae with the head left next to the left side of the body at a distance of 11 centimeters.

G. A deep, transverse wound of the neck is visible both above and below the decapitation line. Probable downward stroke from left ear across the neck indicates right-handed person slashing from the back. The trachea and jugular vein have been severed.

H. Significant enlargement of the foramen magnum has been accomplished, possibly with some kind of grasping/crushing instrument. Portions of the occipital skull have been shattered, probably by blunt force.

I. Both cerebral hemispheres have been removed, with the cerebellum and lower brain left intact.

I shut the file and took a slow breath, trying to settle my stomach.

"I'm sorry," said Moreland, "but I want you to see that I'm not concealing anything from you."

"The killer was never caught?"

"Unfortunately not."

"And the Navy man theory?"

He blinked and fidgeted with his glasses. "In all the years I've lived here, the islanders have never engaged in serious violence, let alone this. I suppose it could have been one of the cargo boat deckhands, though I've come to know most of them and they're decent chaps. And Dennis did question them. Unlike the sailors."

Remembering Laurent's remark about not having his call to Stanton returned, I said, "He never got access to the base?"

"No, he didn't."

"Why do you still have the file? Is the investigation ongoing?"

"Dennis thought I might come up with something if I studied it for a while. I haven't. Any suggestions?"

"It's not your typical sadistic murder," I said. "No rape- though Creedman said there was."

"You see," he said. "The man has no credibility."

"No positioning of the body, either. Mutilation, but of the head and the back and the legs, not the genitalia or the breasts. Then there's the multiple organ theft- coring out the femur to remove the marrow. It sounds ghoulish- almost ritualistic."

He smiled sourly. "The kind of thing some primitive native would do?"

"I was thinking more of a satanic rite… Were any satanic symbols left behind?"

"None that we found."

"Does the killing bear the mark of some sort of ritual?"

He rubbed his bald head, took a thick, black fountain pen out of his pocket, uncapped it and inspected the nub.

"What do you know about cannibalism, Alex?"

"Mercifully little."

"Conducting the autopsy brought to mind things I'd heard about when I was stationed in Melanesia back in the fifties."

He put the pen back, uncrossed his legs, and rubbed a bony knee.

"The sad truth is, from an historical perspective, eating human flesh isn't a cultural aberration. On the contrary, it's culturally entrenched. And I don't mean just the so-called primitive continents. Old Teuton had its menschenfressers; there's a grotto in Chavaux in France, on the banks of the Meuse, where archaeologists found heaps of hollowed-out human leg and arm bones- your early Gallic gourmets. The ancient Romans and Greeks and Egyptians consumed each other with glee, and certain Caledonian tribes wandered the Scottish countryside for centuries turning shepherds into two-legged supper."

He started to sit back, then grimaced violently.

"Are you all right?" I said.

"Fine, fine." He touched his neck. "A crick- slept the wrong way… Where was I- ah, yes, patterns of anthropophagy. The most common motive, believe it or not, is nutrition-the quest for protein in marginal societies. However, when alternative sources are provided, sometimes the preference endures: "tender as dead man' was once high praise among the old tribes of Fiji. Cannibalism can also be a military tactic or part of a spiritual quest: ingesting one's own ancestors in order to incorporate their benevolent spirits. Or a combination of the two: eating the enemy's brain grants wisdom; his heart, courage; and so on. But despite all this diversity, there are fairly consistent procedural patterns-decapitation, removal of vital organs, shattering the long bones for marrow. As the Bible says, "The blood is the soul."'

He tapped the file in his lap. Looked at me expectantly.

"You think this woman was killed to be eaten?" I said.

"What I'm saying is her wounds were consistent with classic cannibalistic practices. But there are also inconsistencies: her heart, typically considered a delicacy, was left intact. Skulls are frequently taken as trophies and preserved, yet hers was left behind. I suppose both could be explained in terms of time pressure- the killer may have been forced to leave the beach before finishing the job. Or perhaps- and I think this is the best guess- he was just a psychopathic deviant mimicking some ancient rite."

"Or someone who'd watched the wrong movie," I said.

He nodded. "The world we live in…"

Finishing the job.

I pictured the gentle waves of the lagoon, the arc of a long blade cutting the moonlight. "What he did to her took quite a bit of time. What's your estimate?"

"At least an hour. The human femur's a sturdy thing. Can you imagine sitting there working at sawing it free?" He shook his head. "Repulsive."

"Why'd you suggest to Laurent that he not publicize the details?"

"Both as a means of concealing facts only the killer would know and in order to maintain public safety. Tempers were already running high, rumors spreading. Can you imagine what the notion of a cannibal sailor would have done?"

"So the villagers still don't know."

"No one knows, other than you, Dennis, and myself."

"And the murderer."

He winced. "I know I can trust you to keep it to yourself. I showed you the file because I value your opinion."

"Cannibalism's not exactly my area of expertise."

"But you have some understanding of human motivation- after all these years, I find people more and more perplexing. What could have led to this, Alex?"

"God only knows," I said. "You said the villagers aren't violent. What about the sailors? Any previous incidents of serious violence?"

"Brawls, fistfights, nothing worse."

"So Creedman's story about locals storming the southern road was true?"

"Another exaggeration. No one stormed. A few of the younger men, fortified with beer, tried to reach the base to protest. The sentries turned them back and there was some shouting and shoving. But anyone who thinks the Navy would go to the expense of building that blockade two days later to keep out a handful of kids is naive. I spent enough time in the service to know that nothing moves that quickly in the military. The blockade must have been planned for months."

"Why?"

He frowned. "I'm afraid it may very well be the first stage in closing down the base."

"Because it has no strategic value?"

"That's not the point. Aruk was created by colonial powers and the Navy's the current colonizer. To simply pull out is cruel."

"How do the villagers make a living, now?"

"Small jobs and barter. And federal welfare checks." He said it sadly, almost apologetic.

"The checks come on the supply boats?"

He nodded. "I think we both know where that kind of thing leads. I've tried to get the people to develop some independence, but there's very little interest in farming and not enough natural resources for anything commercial. Even before the blockade, basic skills were already dropping, and most of the bright students left the island for high school and never returned. That's why I'm so glad people like Ben and Dennis choose to stay."

"And now the blockade has sped up the decline."

"Yes, but things don't need to be hopeless, son. One good trade project- a factory of some kind- would sustain Aruk. I've been trying to get various businesses to invest here, but when they learn of our transport problems they balk."

"Pam said you've corresponded with Senator Hoffman."

"Yes, I have." He placed the murder file on the couch.

"Is there any history of tribal cannibalism on Aruk?" I said.

"No, because there's no pre-Christian culture of any kind. The first islanders were brought over by the Spanish in the fifteen-hundreds already converted to Catholicism."

"A pre-Christian culture is necessary for cannibalism?"

"From my reading it's a virtual constant. Even the most recent documented cases seem to incorporate Christian and pre-Christian ideas. Are you familiar with the term "cargo cult'?"

"Vaguely. A sect that equates material goods with spiritual salvation."

"A spontaneous sect spurred by a self-styled prophet. Cargo cults develop when native people have been converted to a Western religion but have held on to some of their old beliefs. The link between acquiring goods and receiving salvation occurs because basic missionary technique combines gifts with doctrine. The islander believes the missionary holds the key to eternal afterlife and that everything associated with him is sacred: white skin, Caucasian features, Western dress. The wonderful kahgo. The cults are rarer and rarer, but as late as the sixties there was a cult that worshiped Lyndon Johnson because someone got the notion he was the source of the cargo."

"Correlation confused with causation," I said. "The same way all superstitions are learned. A tribe goes fishing the night of the full moon and brings in a record catch: the moon acquires magical properties. An actor wears a red shirt the night he gets rave reviews: the shirt becomes sacred."

"Exactly. Groundless rituals provide comfort, but if the belief system is shaken up- the missionary leaves and the cargo stops- the islander may view it as the beginning of the apocalypse. Stick a charismatic prophet into the picture and- years ago I was sent to Pangia, in Southern Highlands Province, to survey infectious diseases. Fifty-five, right after the war. In the course of my research, I learned of a minor government clerk who suddenly quit his job and started reading the Bible aloud twenty hours a day in the village square. Handsome, intelligent young fellow. His association with the ruling class had lent additional status. A small group formed around him, and his delusions grew more florid. And bloody. He ended up slaughtering and eating his own infant son, sharing the meal with his followers in an attempt to bring in plane loads of goods. The morning of the murder he'd been preaching from Genesis. The story of Abraham binding Isaac for sacrifice."

"Abraham never went through with it."

"In his view that was because Abraham didn't merit true fulfillment. He, of course, was quite another story."

Telling the story had turned him pale.

"I can still see his face. Smiling, tranquil."

"Any similarities to this murder?"

"Several."

"And some of the factors you've just mentioned are present here, too. Dependence upon the white man, then abandonment."

"But still," he said, bending forward, "it doesn't make sense. Because other factors are absent."

"No pre-Christian culture."

"And absolutely no history of cults on Aruk!"

He rapped his knuckle against the file. "I continue to insist that this hideousness was the work of a single, sick person."

"Someone who'd read up on cannibalism and was trying to simulate a cult murder?"

"Perhaps. And most important, someone who's moved on."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it hasn't happened again."

He was ashen. I lacked the heart for debate.

"For a while, son, I couldn't stop thinking that he'd simply gone off to do it somewhere else. But Dennis has been checking international reports for similar crimes in the region and none have come up. Now, what say we put aside this ghastly stuff and move on?"