Chapter 2: Eight months later

Samantha O’Day sat up in bed screaming and gasping for air, furiously struggling against the bindings holding her down on the bed. Seconds later she realized that the bindings were only her bed sheets that she had become entangled in during her fitful sleep last night. With that she calmed down, quit struggling, and sat up in her bed exhausted.

“Sam? Sam! Calm down. Relax Sam!” Her younger brother Marvin was telling her as he rushed into her room coming from his own room down the long hall when he heard her scream. On getting to her he hugged her tight and rubbed her back while rocking her gently on her bed.

“You’re having another one of those damn nightmares aren’t you Sam. C’mon, Sam, just try and relax. You’re home, Sam ... safe at home, and in your own bed with me right here Sam.” Marvin kept telling her.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” she rasped over and over, clutching the thin bed sheet to her heaving bosom like some kind of magical talisman to ward away evil spirits.

“Oh, my God Marvin, it was horrible! And it was so real! I ... I ... I killed a man! I just ... I just snapped his neck like a twig! I heard ... NO! I felt ... the bones in his neck break ... felt them snap beneath my hands ... and I ... I ... smelled him ... I smelled him die Marvin. Oh my God, Marvin! ... it was so awful Marvin ... I think I’m going to be sick Marvin!” And with that she leaned forward and threw up everything in her stomach onto the sheet she was holding and then started to dry heave.

“Easy now, easy Sis, just take deep breaths. Everything will be all right.” Marvin tried to calm her as he used the edge of the sheet to clean her face.

“Maybe you should go to the bathroom, and splash a little cold water on your face and clean up a little now Sis. Wake yourself up a bit more.” Marvin tried his best to soothed and calm his older sister.

“Okay Marvin,” Sam sniffed, then got out of her bed clad in her customary skimpy short black T-shirt and equally skimpy pair of cut off blue jeans and walked across the room into the adjoining bathroom. Turning on the lights, she ran some cold water into the sink, then splashed it on her face to try and wash away the remains of her nightmare. Then she brushed her teeth and washed her mouth out with some Listerine mouthwash to get rid of the awful taste. That done she found herself starring at her own reflection in the mirror over the sink, her reflection was looking back at her just as tired and scared as she was she thought to herself. Then, to her utter shock and dismay, the reflection in the mirror seemed to change. The woman in the mirror now was still her, but clearly a different her, and she smirked at her knowingly, and winked back at her. Samantha gasped out loud in shock and blinking rapidly took a step back so fast that she bumped into the shower door loudly and almost fell over backward on her butt. When she recovered and looked back in the mirror again the reflection was just her again.

“Sis, are you okay?” Marvin called from her bedroom in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Marvin. I’m just fine.” She said, as she glanced back at the mirror one last time before switching off the light and walking back into her bedroom.

Marvin thought Samantha, his 28 year old, older sister, looked like Internet star Lyna Perez at 5 feet 5 inches tall and weighing around 110 pounds, she has a knockout hourglass figure of 38-24-37. Though their last name was Ireland there must be some Hispanic blood in there somewhere Marvin always thought when he looked at her. Her hair was light brown, her eyes dark brown, and her skin was olive or light brown, whereas she tanned wonderfully he just burnt. She was going through a really rough patch in her life right now.

Just out of high school she had married her long time sweetheart John O’Day who was 6 years older than her. They had moved to Washington, D.C. where John became a wealthy Washington, D.C. big shot architect. Her and him had been the toast of the town for a while, at all the big DC social events and parties. John had, unknown to her, developed a bad gambling habit and lost about everything they had saved up. She had not really been aware of any of it until recently, so when she discovered it and confronted him with it, he had committed suicide by shooting himself later.

She then found he had even heavily mortgaged the house she had thought they owned. With the house in foreclosure and even her own car being repossessed and creditors and loan sharks hounding her for money every day she had turned to her younger, 26 year old, brother in Alabama for help since he was the only family she had left now.

Their mother had passed away years ago while they were just starting high school, and their father, who they weren’t that close to, had died of a heart attack only a few years ago. Marvin had inherited the family home in Alabama according to the Will. He had actually still been living there and going to college when their father died. Marvin was now a junior reporter on a local TV news crew, and even taught a journalism course at his old alma mater Columbia University one day a week. He had even earned his own byline on the stories he reported. Naturally he welcomed her home to Alabama with open arms.

“All right, Sis, I made you an appointment with Doctor Morgan later this afternoon, at 4 pm. It’s after her last patient, she owes me a favor, so she can give you all the time you need...” Sam broke in on Marvin.

“But...” She started before Marvin over talked her.

“Now, Sis, I know you don’t like the idea of going to see a “headshrinker” as you so quaintly put it, but we both agreed that if your nightmares didn’t stop in a couple of weeks that we’d seek professional help.” Marvin reminded her of her promise.

“I know Marvin, It’s just ... it’s just so damn embarrassing! Going to a psychiatrist for bad dreams ... it’s like running into our parents bedroom and hiding under the bed after the thunder and lighting of a bad storm wakes you up or something.” Samantha said, with a loud sigh, as she looked down at her feet.

“It’s nothing like that Sis. Plenty of people go to psychiatrists all the time for all sorts of things. Debra Morgan is an old friend of the family.” He patted her hand gently and kissed her on her forehead.

“Trust me Sis, it’ll all be okay.” Marvin insisted.

“Okay, Marvin, if you say so.” She answered him dubiously.

“I do. I’ll be home around nine, or so, tonight, as soon as the meeting at the station is over. Try not to turn in before I get home Sis, I want to hear all about your day and what Debra says.” With that he picked up his stainless steel briefcase.

“Yes, Marvin. You’d better run along now, or you’ll be late.” Samantha sighed dramatically, then grinned bravely at him.

Once her brother left, Samantha headed downstairs, where Marvin’s maid, Janine, was just finishing putting out her breakfast. Janine was 30 something and a Cuban mulatta. According to what Janine told her the 2012 Census of Cuba, showed that 26.6%, some 2.97 million Cubans, self-identify as mulatto. Unlike, the other two Spanish Caribbean islands, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, where nearly everyone even most self-proclaimed whites and blacks are mixed to varying degrees, in Cuba there are still significant pure or nearly pure European and African populations. Janine considered herself white even if she did have a dark complexion.

Samantha had been shocked that first morning back at the old homestead to discover Janine in the kitchen fixing breakfast in what could only be considered, or described for that matter, as the classic Playboy fetish French maid’s outfit/costume. The black formfitting body suit cut low in front and built to showcase lots of cleavage, coupled with the short black skirt that ends not far south of the waist line, with lots of frilly white petticoats under it. Then add in a little black lace ribbon choker around her pretty little neck, or in Janine’s case a wide black brass studded leather dog collar complete with D-ring and a long chain leach attached and thrown casually over her shoulder. Then add the classic G-string, black garter belt and black fishnet stockings, along with the little lacy white hat thingee on her head, and finish it all off of course with the ever stylish and classy black 5 inch stiletto high heels.

You have to wonder why Nancy Sinatra didn’t make these “Heels Are Made For Stomping”, after she made “These Boots Are Made For Walking” after admiring Janine in her Playboy Bunny outfit? Samantha thought Janine looked somewhat like the bodybuilder and bikini model Lindi Nunziato a popular Instagram model. Lindi is 5 foot 6 inches, and weights 117 pounds. She has a 40-26-40 hourglass figure, and a 38D bra cup, with silky jet black hair, and beautiful brown eyes.

Janine had quickly explained to her that first morning that she didn’t dress for Marvin this way, ha, ha. She was a bodybuilder and bikini model and she had another photo shoot scheduled for latter that day, that was why she was dressed like this now. After that Janine had walked around Samantha, inspecting her up and down, she had even said after the inspection that Sam could come along if she wanted to. It was a quick gig and paid well she had told Sam, but Sam said she didn’t have anything to wear. At that Janine told her that wouldn’t be a problem with her figure, but Sam still begged off.

After that Janine told Sam how she became Marvin’s maid. It seemed that at the time Marvin was in college rooming with 5 other boys off campus in a luxury apartment complex. The boys pooled their resources and put a add in the campus newspaper for a part time maid and she had answered it. Now the other boys were gone, but she had decided to stay with Marvin, he still needed looking after she confided to his big sister. Besides the job paid well and she got free room and board at his new house. The house had eight bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs, kitchen, dinning room, living room, and den downstairs, and a full basement with Jacuzzis hot tub, home gym machine, and laundry room. Hers was the room across the hall from Marvin’s she told Sam. Sam didn’t have the courage at the moment to ask if Marvin was doing her.

Samantha meets the psychiatrist and gets hypnotized.

“Ah, Miss O’Day, so good to see you again, We briefly met at your father’s funeral a while ago.” Dr. Debra Morgan met her at the door and offered her a hand.

“Please, have a seat.” She said, gesturing her to the large padded chair in front of her large impressive desk. Samantha sat down nervously, wringing her hands lightly. The doctor noticed her nervousness as she walked back around her desk to take her own seat. Shaking her head she began to work at soothing Samantha’s fears.

“Now, now, my dear, do you like being called Samantha, or Sam, or something else entirely. We need to get comfortable here and there’s no need to be nervous. You’re in a perfectly safe controlled environment here and we all want what’s best for you. All we’re going to do is talk. So, please try and relax. Trust me, I’m not going to bite your head off or anything like that.” The doctor chuckled at her own joke.

“Sorry I’m so nervous and you can call me Sam, everybody does,” Sam said, settling back in the deep chair and relaxing slightly. She soon found out the chair was quite comfortable.

“It’s just ... well you know ... I feel so silly, coming to you like this because of a few bad dreams. It’s so embarrassing.” She tried to explain.

“Nonsense, my dear Sam. I’ll have you know that a majority of my clients, we try not to call them patients nowadays, ha, ha, come to me for a wide variety of valid reasons. Somewhere near the top of that long list is having problems sleeping. Everyone needs a good night’s sleep Sam.” She leaned forward, over her desk as she talked to her.

“The human mind is a strange and wonderful thing, my dear. After all these years, we’ve learned a quite a lot about how it works, but really only now are we beginning to understand the why’s of it, ha, ha. What we do know is that dreams are a product of the subconscious, and that it’s through dreaming that the mind attempts to deal with and solve any lingering problems or traumas the person may be trying deal with in their normal lives.” She explained to Sam.

“So ... let me get this right ... you’re saying I have unresolved issues that my subconscious mind is trying to force me to deal with?” Sam asked, dubiously.

“Well, that’s a pretty broad oversimplification of the problem, but the short answer is yes. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something, but in this case something seems to be lost in the translation, ha, ha. That is why you are having nightmares.” The doctor laughed.

“Considering the kinds of nightmares I’ve been having, I shudder to think what my subconscious is trying to tell me then Doctor,” Sam replied, crossing her arms tightly under her very pronounced breasts and visibly shuddering.

“Okay. Why don’t we start off simply then. Tell me about the last dream you had, the one that prompted your brother to make this appointment for you.” The doctor sighed and started the session.

“I ... I can’t remember now. It’s weird ... I can close my eyes and see the same images ... like a series of flashes ... but I can’t hold onto the images. It’s like ... you know, when you have the answer on the tip of my tongue ... but no matter what you do, or how hard you try, you just can’t seem get it out.” Sam said softly, looking down and avoiding eye contact with the doctor.

“Hmmm. Sounds like what we psychiatrists call a repressed memory Sam dear. I’d say the nightmares, and possibly the cause of the nightmares, are so traumatic that your conscious waking mind has just blocked it all away because it can’t handle it.” She leaned back in her chair steepling her hands, considering her next options.

“Samantha ... Sam ... I’d like you to consider letting me hypnotize you.” She proposed to her a few moments later.

“You ... you want to hypnotize me?” Sam questioned.

“It may be the best way to piece together what’s going on inside your head. Under hypnosis, we’ll hopefully be able to get around your memory block and recall the nightmares you’ve been having in detail ... that will help us to ascertain their source, and what to do about them.” The doctor explained.

“Is it ... well you know ... dangerous?” Samantha asked.

“Not at all, my dear, not at all. It’s actually quite pleasant and relaxing I’m told by my clients. It’s like drifting off into a really nice restful sleep, and trust me Sam, you’ll be perfectly safe. I’ve done this lots of times, and I’m quite proficient at it by now, my dear.” The doctor explained, and Samantha reluctantly agreed. So the doctor brought out her trusty metronome. It turned out that Samantha was an exceptionally good hypnotic subject and within minutes Samantha was drifting comfortably, her head down, and her eyes closed as the doctor’s voice guided her deeper and deeper into trance. After several minutes of deepening the trance, she spoke directly to her again.

“Samantha, can you hear me?” She questioned her first.

“Yes.” She said, so softly she almost didn’t even hear her.

“Good, very good Samantha. You are now in a very deep trance Samantha. My voice is continuing to guide you, and you are completely under my power. In this place, my words have the power to reshape reality ... your reality anyway Samantha. Now, in just a moment, when I count to three, you will remain deeply hypnotized, still deeply in trance, but you will be able to open your eyes. You will also be able to talk and even move normally, as if you are awake. Do you understand me, Samantha?” The doctor instructed the hypnotized Samantha.

“Yes, I understand Doctor, talk, move, normally.” She responded back in a very low monotone that the Doctor could barely hear.

“Excellent. Now then, 1... 2... 3 ... snap ... you can open your eyes now Samantha, but you are still hypnotized, still deep in trance.” With that Samantha opened her eyes.

“OK, Samantha I want you to imagine yourself sitting in a large movie theater. You are sitting in a comfortable seat and there is a large giant silver movie screen in front of you. Can you see the screen in front of you Samantha?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,” Samantha answered clearly this time.

“When I ask you about your nightmares now, you will be able to watch them play out like a movie on the silver screen before you. I want you now to call up your latest nightmare and play it before you on the silver screen. It will play just like a movie, exactly the way you dreamed it. As it plays out you will be able to describe to me everything you see. Do you understand Samantha?” The doctor explained.

“Yes ... describe everything ... I see ... just like watching a movie.” Samantha answered back clearly.

“OK. Samantha, 1, 2, 3, snap, you are watching your latest nightmare play back.” With that the Doctor starts her VCR system to record the session and sits back in her chair with pencil and pad to watch and listen to Samantha. At her urging, Samantha begins describing the nightmare she’d had the night before in great detail. Murmuring softly to herself the Doctor starts taking careful notes with pad and pencil. At one point she finds herself wincing and shuttering slightly as Samantha described the grisly details of snapping the man’s neck bones. After Samantha finished, she cleared her throat.

“Ah, hum, I see. Now, let’s go back further Samantha, let’s go back to the nightmare you had just before this one.” The Doctor directed her.

“Yes, Doctor. I can do that ... I can see it clearly now.” Samantha answered.

“Is it the same dream or a different dream Samantha?” The doctor questions her.

“It’s me again, but it’s a different dream Doctor ... I’m outside, and it’s raining, and it’s the middle of the night. The streets are mostly deserted, just a few people hurrying by, anxious to get in out of the rain. I’m snug and warm in a long black leather trench coat, and a black silk scarf is wrapped around my lower face and neck. I’m also carrying an opened bright red umbrella over my head. I’m standing in front of a bus stop, waiting ... waiting for something ... waiting for someone ... and then I see my target leave the building just down the street from me. I start walking toward the target then, slowly, just a normal pace, not wanting to arouse any suspicion. My target is being escorted on either side by two large men ... bodyguards I sense. Their eyes lock on me as I approach, but they dismiss me as harmless ... as no real threat. Just a small woman walking on the sidewalk in the rain trying to get home.”

“I’m measuring the distance, counting the steps in my head, all the while trying to appear completely disinterested in them. Ten steps now. Five steps now. Now, I’m almost in front of them. The sidewalk is too narrow for us all to fit on, so they shift into a single file line, just as I’d planned. As my target is about to pass me, I twist the handle of my umbrella, and pull down, revealing a long thin and sharp stiletto shaped blade hidden in the handle. More of an ice pick really than a proper knife blade actually. My arm lashes out twice, slicing the throats of my target and then his second bodyguard before either of them can even react. The third bodyguard turns, he is fast, but he is much too late. His reactions are way too slow to pose any real danger I sense. I cut his throat too, making it impossible for him to shout or call for help, but instead of accepting his fate graciously like the others had, he tries to grab and hold me even as he is bleeding out. So I reverse my grip on the blade’s handle and bring it up stabbing him between the third and fourth rib, piercing his heart instantly. He is dead before the other two can even bleed out on the sidewalk.”

“I congratulate myself for a job well done, executed to perfection. The whole thing has taken less than ten seconds, and all without a gun being fired, or any loud noise, or commotion to draw unwanted attention. I glance up and down the streets to be sure, but I already know no one has seen anything. I have some blood splattered on my long black leather trench coat, but its waterproof, and the rain washes away any evidence as I make my way to my extraction point.”

“In minutes I reach my extraction point and climb into the back of the white AT&T marked econovan waiting for me. Once in the van we drive off becoming lost in traffic with hundreds of other vans just like it. Safely in the van I take off everything I’m wearing and toss it all along with the coat and umbrella into the provided bags for latter disposal. Then redressing in the provided cloths I’m driven back to my parked car.” At that point the hypnotized Samantha lapses into silence.

Doctor Morgan leaves the VCR system on, but closes her notebook and sets back in her chair heavily, staring intently at the young woman still hypnotized in front of her. An icy prickle of fear runs up and down her spine as she has listened to Samantha talk, or should we say, “tell her gristly tale”. The “dream” she’s just recounted to her is nothing less than a very accurate factual account of a political assassination in Washington DC almost a year ago. She’d read about it in the newspaper and on the Internet seven maybe eight months ago. It had been the unsolved murder of a visiting dignitary and his two bodyguards from Zimbabwe. The man was suspected of being a dangerous member of ZALFAT, the Zimbabwe Allied Liberation Front Against Tyranny, a terrorist organization, but the same thing could be said for the two bodyguards too.

The DC Police, Capital Police, and even the FBI were baffled by the case. All three victims were experienced men ... men considered to be extremely dangerous ... and they had been murdered by assailant, or assailants, in broad daylight on a busy public street. The evidence suggested it was one assailant ... well one weapon anyway ... and nobody had seen or heard anything. It didn’t help that the 3 CCTV cameras that normally covered that stretch of road were down for repairs that day. Realizing these were special unsolved murder cases the Doctor began comparing this death with her client’s first nightmare. In that light she noticed a disturbing similarity between it and the strange reported death of a Chinese Ministry of Defense dignitary she’d read about in the newspaper and on the Internet at about the same time as the ZALFAT assassination.

Well to be perfectly honest the Doctor was a “True Crimes” buff that followed all the forums on the Internet. She was one of the many people that believe that crimes that turn into cold cases need to be brought to light and justice. So she had dived into a world of murder mysteries, deadly obsessions, underworld hits, international assassinations, world conspiracies, and exploring the most intriguing unsolved crimes of our times as a hobby that soon became an obsession.

According to the evidence that was later tracked down by the different police departments, the FBI, the DOJ, the other Alphabet Agencies, and even the Chinese Ministry of State Security (MSS or Guóanbù) got involved. The evidence showed that the 49 year old Chinese Ministry of Defense dignitary, Fan Jianying, had been having a long term affair with a high priced call girl, named Nova Miller at the Regency Hotel according to his good buddy Li Huijuan at the Chinese Embassy. Li it turned out had the call girl’s cell phone number.

With the number they were able to track down the call girl, a Miss Nova Miller, to another “DC Madam”. Actually there was a direct connection back to the so called “DC Madam” scandal, a Deborah Jeane Palfrey. Miss Palfrey’s alleged sex empire in Washington DC, served the rich and powerful with a ring of beautiful, well-breed, university-educated call girls. The State alleged they were nothing but prostitutes, but Palfrey denied the charge, maintaining “her girls” only dealt out massages and erotic role-playing. She had even made “her girls” all sign agreements not to engage in illegal behaviour.

Miss Nova Miller, the call girl in question, worked as an escort for Maya Morris, one of Palfrey’s “good girls”, now turned “DC Madam” herself. Nova, from the pictures and data in her escort biography file, looked a lot like the popular Internet star and social media influencer Olivia Casta. Like Olivia herself, she stood 5 foot 9, weighted approximately 120 pounds, her measurements were a nice 36-25-34, she wore a 36D bra and was a D cup, she had nice long dark brown hair, and big green eyes. She was also supposed to be enrolled in Georgetown University. Like Palfrey before her Maya made all the “girls” sign the agreements not to engage in illegal behaviour, “her girls” only dealt in legal massages and erotic role-playing. Her definition of erotic role-play was more like Japanese Cosplay, or “costume play”.

At first the overworked, underpaid, and abused DC coroner ruled Fan’s death, accidental death and/or misadventure. After all it was open and shut really. He was found dead at the bottom of the Regency Hotel’s staircase on the 2nd floor with the key to room 303 still in his pocket. He was fully clothed, and still had his wallet that was stuffed full of crisp new hundred dollar bills. There were no visible wounds or apparent bruises other than the obvious broken neck. I mean it was a slam-dunk wasn’t it? Everybody was satisfied, some even happy that it was solved so simply. Everyone that is but the Chinese Ministry of State Security, the MSS.

So a big celebrity Chinese forensic pathologist was flown in from Shanghai, China. After Doctor Zhang Jingchu viewed the body, the X-rays, and the staircase in question, she pointed out that there was not enough damage for a tumble down a full flight of stairs. She also pointed out that Fan had no reason to be on the stairs at all because the elevator was in working order. Later she actually reconstructed the crime scene and demonstrated how Miss Miller had probably broken Fan’s neck. After that a real murder investigation really began, but by this time all traces of the call girl, Miss Nova Miller, had disappeared.

What does it all mean Doctor Morgan questioned herself? Am I in the presence of a political serial killer, or just someone whose subconscious is manifesting itself in a delusional state after watching the news and/or reading the papers and tabloids? Which one is more probable? And ... if she IS a serial killer ... what do I do about it? Am I in danger? Do I try and help her? Yes, there is also the professional ethics questions. Do I see if I can get her committed for observation? Do I call the FBI and let them handle it? My life has not prepared me for any of this she readily admitted to herself. Definitely shaken, she gently brings Samantha back out of trance.

“1, beginning to wake up. 2, getting your thoughts together. 3, waking up. 4, fully awake. Clap.” With that she clapped her hands together.

“Well, my dear, I think I’ve learned quite a bit about the ... um ... source of your bad dreams. Tell me, are you an avid follower of the news?” He questioned her.

“Well, I wouldn’t say “avid” ... I do watch it now and then, particularly whenever Marvin my brother watches it with me too.” She answered back.

“Do you like murder mysteries my dear?” He asked next.

“Sometimes. Why?” She asked innocently.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all my dear. Just trying to make sure I consider every possibility. Tell me, do you like ... ummmm, scary movies? You know, the ones with lots of blood and gore?”.” She asked nervously.

“Definitely not! I hate those things! I’d much rather go see a nice romantic comedy.” Sam visibly shuddered.

“Uh huh.” The doctor rubbed the bridge of her nose briefly to hide her anxiety.

“All right. I think I have a slightly better picture to work with, now. Samantha, I’d like you to make another appointment to see me, tomorrow at 4 pm if possible. We psychiatrists aren’t in the business of “quick fixes” per se, but I am confident that we can get you ... give you the help you need.” The doctor told her nervously.

“Thank you, doctor. I certainly hope so. And tomorrow at 4 pm should be just fine, I don’t have anything important planned.” Sam said, shaking her hand as she led her out.

Dr. Morgan found she had been right, when she investigated further. First she found the details of the two murders cases matched up perfectly with the details of Katherine’s nightmares. From one of her patients who had studied oriental marital arts extensively she learned that yes a neck could be snapped that way by an expert. And the doctor also now knew from Marvin that his sister had been living in Washington DC at the time of the murders.

With that she picked up her phone and dialed 911.

“What is your emergency.” Came back from the operator on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Operator? I need the number for the F.B.I.” The doctor explained her need.

This was Katherine’s second visit to her doctor’s office. This time the doctor had only talked to her about her dreams for a short time before releasing her. Shortly after she left the doctor’s office she got a cell phone call.

“Knight takes Queen.” Came from the cell phone’s speaker when she answered it.