Chapter 3: Part 1: A novel way to die

Mister Smith was very insistent that I now stay out of town following the hostage crisis. It seemed that in some ways I was still the FBI’s little top secret weapon. As far as anyone outside the special hypnosis task force (which doesn’t officially exist) knew I was simply Agent Morgan, just a typical everyday FBI agent. But everybody, especially the news media, had seen me and would want to question me if they could find or track me down which was a bad thing ... for the Bureau ... for me.

So I picked scenic Chicago to vacation in, because frankly although it was suggested that I rent a log cabin, or something deep in the backwoods of Alabama. Backwoods and Bubba aren’t for me, I like cities, big cities, the bigger the better. Part of the reason I enjoy big cities is the social distance people have created from each other there.

If I were to hypnotize a innocent young local naive country girl into joining me for a weekend of passionate love and hot sex in a log cabin, I’m afraid the small group of people around her would almost instantly notice she was acting strange, and that same small group of people around her would cause me all sorts of major problems and bodily harm.

On the other hand, in big impersonal cities nobody notices if you’re acting strange, ha, ha, ha, everybody is acting a little weird and strange. Well, that’s untrue in a way, they probably do notice, but they tend to mind their own business, and don’t give a damn as long as it’s not hurting them. Most people in the big city don’t really have too many close friends, and it’s easy to find beautiful single women to use... “borrow” ... for a few days without anybody really noticing anything is wrong.

I’m not meaning to sound callous here, but I suppose I am. Sure it troubles me that people like Howard Taylor, or whoever was behind his actions, use hypnosis for such evil ends. Some people don’t see what I do as much different, but it really is. Some guys get girls by being good at dancing, or to be crass they buy them even if it’s only wining and dining them and the girl feels “obligated”. Some guys are even good talkers, I can do that if I have to. Me, on the other hand, I get them through hypnosis. I don’t really hurt them anymore than a guy who buys a girl a few extra drinks to loosen her up and latter bangs her when she can’t say no.

While it is true that I could probably use my hypnosis to force myself on any woman I wanted, I only use it to give the woman I want a reason to open herself up to me sexually. Which is not all that hard when you know all the right buttons to push in the right order. I mean it’s a developed skill set that you aquire over time with experience.

Rationalization? Sure it’s rationalization. In all honesty I never intended to be a member of the law enforcement community. I would much rather be using my powers ... my skills ... to rob banks and stuff, which I had been doing quite successfully for sometime before this. But, somewhere along the line I messed myself up, and this is the situation I’m now stuck in. But while I’m here I’m going to use all the leeway I’m given to use my powers for what I actually learned hypnosis for.

I rented a high rise apartment by the month in Chicago overlooking beautiful Lake Michigan, since I didn’t know how long I’d be in town before I was called back. My allowance more than covered the rent. I then went on a walking tour of the city looking for suitable candidates for my leisure activities. The apartment doorman helped me with the door, since my right arm was still weak and in a white canvas sling.

About a block down from my apartment building was an active crime scene. Three marked police cars with their Christmas tree lights going and at least one unmarked car were stopped outside a high rise apartment complex similar to the one I had just left. At the same time I noticed a nicely built dark skinned woman, with long luxuriant black hair in a sharp dark gray tailored suit and maybe 5 inch spike heels for some reason. Oh, Hell maybe it was the confident walk ... strut the tall heels gave her. She was talking to one of the uniformed police officers standing around, then she turned ducked under the police tape and went into the building. Something about her caught my fancy so I went up to the police officer she had just left.

“Who was that woman?” I asked.

“Move along buddy, there’s nothing for you to see here.” The cop started the bums rush on me. I was about to start using my silver tongue on him when I realized I had another much easier way to get information from him. I reached into my inside coat pocket and brought out Agent Morgan’s FBI badge and ID card in it’s nifty leather wallet and flipped it open like Efrem Zimbalist Jr, on the TV series The FBI.

“I’m with the FBI.” I told him smugly.

“She’s detective Martinez, she’s handling the murders or whatever they are.” He told me after examining my credentials.

“Which floor?” I asked.

“19th.” He said, and I nodded, then ducked under the police tape barrier and made my way to the elevator and then up to the crime scene. There was detective Martinez talking with another police officer, while two other men examined a body laying face down in the hallway of the 19th floor.

“Well as far as we can tell he just stopped breathing like the others.” One of the men was telling Martinez as I talked up.

“That’s the fourth one in three weeks. How much you want to bet he has some ties to the oil industry too. Okay, take him in for an autopsy, check for drugs, or something, but I don’t think we’ll find anything.” She said.

“People don’t just stop breathing.” The police officer shook his head.

“No signs of choking, or airway blockage. Even if he wanted to kill himself by not breathing his body’s own defense mechanisms would ... should ... have forced him to gasp for air after he was unconscious.” Noted the other man examining the body.

“Unless someone asked him to stop breathing nice enough,” I said, and all four people turned and really looked at me for the first time.

“Who are you?” Martinez spoke first.

“Agent Morgan FBI.” I said as I flipped open my credentials like they do on television. Hey, I was getting real good at this.

“What do you mean about asking someone to stop breathing nicely?” Martinez asked.

“Well, I’ve seen the human body do a lot of crazy things that should have been impossible for it to do when under hypnosis. What’s the chance this guy was hypnotized to simply stop breathing?” I sort of threw out onto the table for everybody to comment on.

“That could explain why all four victims families were sleeping through the whole event and not remembering anything. If they were hypnotized too.” Martinez said, as she flipped open a notebook that she had been holding in her hands and started writing in it, One of the men by the body shook his head,

“Hello people, give me a break with this X-Files crap, I went to medical school. Hypnosis doesn’t work like that, you can’t just get someone to stop breathing. Even if you could hypnotize them into holding their breath they would just pass the fuck out, and unconscious they would automatically start breathing again.” He snorted his disbelief.

“You’d be surprised, ha, ha, ha.” I just laughed knowingly.

“Well it’s the first thing, other than a billion to one random chance, that I’ve heard yet that makes any sense. Do the autopsy, and I’ll head in to headquarters and fill out the report.” Martinez told them all.

“I’m coming with you.” I insisted.

“This is a city case, no federal jurisdiction.” She pointed out.

“Sure it is, I just don’t have a car and was hoping you could drop me off at the nearest movie theater.” I told her, no need for a jurisdiction debate.

“Fine, maybe we could use you Agent Morgan. Come with me.” She relented. At the nearest police station I phoned the FBI, well my special FBI number. Told who ever answered where I was, and the gory details and hung up. Ten minutes later Mister Smith called the station asking for me and they paged me on the PA system. I filled him in on what had happened. Well I filled him in on everything save me wanting to hypnotize and bang detective Martinez. He would probably figure that out on his own when he got Martinez’s file. Ten minutes later I was Martinez’s new assigned FBI partner on the case, temporarily assigned to the Chicago Police Department to assist in the investigation.

The first two days were not spent in Martinez’s bed, or her in mine believe it or not, as much as I would have liked it. Those first days were spent reading boring case files on all the other victims. We sent their families to see a local hypno-therapist psychologist that worked with the local police departments. He confirmed that they had been hypnotized, but couldn’t tell us anything more than that. All we could confirm is that all of the victims had been involved in the oil industry in some way. Martinez naturally suspected some kind of eco-terrorist conspiracy or communist plot, I went along with it because I had no better ideas.

The third day on the case we both took the day off, because we hadn’t made any progress in awhile and were sort of burned out. We both hoped we would be looking at things fresh the next day and the off time would help. Martinez’s first name was Laura, which was her aunt’s name, I learned. She was from California originally.

Her father had been an illegal alien from Mexico. Well, he claimed to be a direct decedent of Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain when the Spaniards conquered the Aztecs (1519–21) and first brought Mexico into the Spanish Empire, a status it held until Mexican independence in 1821, Maximilian I (Spanish: Fernando Maximiliano José María de Habsburgo-Lorena; German: Ferdinand Maximilian Josef Maria von Habsburg-Lothringen; born 6 July 1832 ... died 19 June 1867) was an Austrian archduke who became emperor of the Second Mexican Empire from 10 April 1864 until his execution by the Mexican Republic on 19 June 1867.

A member of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, Maximilian was the younger brother of Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria. Prior to his becoming Emperor of Mexico, he was commander-in-chief of the small Imperial Austrian Navy and briefly the Austrian viceroy of Lombardy–Venetia, but was removed by the emperor. Two years before his dismissal, he briefly met with French emperor Napoleon III in Paris, where he was approached by conservative Mexican monarchists seeking a European royal to rule Mexico. Initially Maximilian was not interested, but following his dismissal as viceroy, the Mexican monarchist’s plan was far more appealing to him.

So Martinez’s father was one of Hollywood’s great pretenders, that worked in the movies doing bit parts and as an extra in the movies, and her mother was a prim and proper upper-class California Valley Girl that fell in love with him. She wouldn’t tell me much else, though I did discover that she’d been in Chicago for three years and had yet to make any close friends here.

Oh, there was one other thing I learned from the officers around her. The other members of the force had a standing bet, well really a office betting pool, going on to see when she’d first get laid and by whom in Chicago. Anybody in the precinct could place a $10 bet and the Precinct Captain was holding the bets to keep it honest, and yes, I put myself in the pool. Nobody felt particularly close to her, even her former partners described her as a driven cold fish bitch. I finally asked her about her career and how her fellow officers felt about her, and after some soul searching she agreed with their opinion.

“Yeah, I mean it would be nice to be able to not be so driven, but look I’m getting one day off here, that’s one day in the last four months. I don’t really have spare hours that let me date a normal 9-to-5 citizen or something okay, and I’m not going to date a fellow cop. That’s not just because it’s taboo in the rules and regulations either. Right now I feel like I’m doing good work, really helping people, so I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. Somewhere down the line latter maybe I’ll help myself.” She confided in me.

At the time we were in her apartment, trying to watch a rented video of The Long Goodbye, a 1973 classic American satirical neo-noir film directed by Robert Altman and written by Leigh Brackett, based on Raymond Chandler’s 1953 novel. The story’s setting was moved from the 1940s to 1970s Hollywood. The film stars Elliott Gould as Philip Marlowe and features Sterling Hayden, Nina Van Pallandt, Jim Bouton, Mark Rydell, and an early, uncredited appearance by Arnold Schwarzenegger. It’s a good ... great ... detective movie I think.

We ended up spending the day off together since neither of us had anyone else to spend it with. I was about to use her work ethic as an opening for a hypnotic induction, but she gave me an even better one.

“What is it like when you hypnotize somebody Eddie?” She paused the movie, turned to me and asked out of the clear blue,

“Really nice, I mean as a way to die I can’t recommend anything nicer I suspect.” I told her honestly.

“How about not dying?” She asked then.

“Well yeah, I mean, most people are hypnotized and don’t die. It’s really pleasant, relaxing.” I told her honestly again.

“I know you’re from that secret division in the FBI.” She told me then.

“Secret division?” I played dumb which is not that hard for me sometimes.

“I know about it because I tried out for it. I was on the short list too.” She told me.

“Why didn’t you make it?” I questioned with interest.

“I almost did. They were looking for the best detectives in the country, and I’m one of the top. I passed all of the tests, but they did one last test for hypnotic suggestibility.” She admitted.

“I remember that one,” I said, even though I really didn’t, not having gotten into the special division in the same way everyone else had.

“It seems I’m a closet hypno fetish freak. I find the ideal of being hypnotized incredible erotic. So obviously I wouldn’t have been a good pick, would I?” She questioned me.

“No, probably not. Why do you think you’re a hypno fetish type?” I had to ask, I was intrigued to say the least.

“You may have noticed I’m something of a control freak. I’ve always been very in control of everything I do. I was captain of the soccer team. Captain of the rowing team. Captain of the debate team. I had to be the best in everything I did. When I was in high school I didn’t smoke, I didn’t drink, I’ve never done drugs.”

“The only time I ever gave up control over my emotions, my mind and my body, was 8 years ago when I went to visit a stage hypnotist at the State Fair my last year of high school. We were all over 18 and me and a few friends went into the tent on a dare. We, the whole gang, maybe a dozen of us paid our dollar and we all went in and took seats in the back.”

“The hypnotist, the Great Sultan, or some corny name like that, came out with his beautiful assistant. He was old. but distinguished gray old, maybe 59 or 60 looking a lot like older Bond actor Pierce Brosnan. The assistant was a real redheaded dazzler, think actress Rita Hayworth, the most glamorous silver screen idol of the 1940s, “The Love Goddess”. 5 foot 6, 117 pounds, and a classic hourglass figure 37-24-36 inches.”

“I was sitting beside my best girlfriend Jennifer and her twin brother Joshua. The hypnotist was asking for volunteers from the audience and damned if Josh didn’t take Jenn’s hand and volunteer them both. I was a damn know-it-all and volunteered just to show the stage hypnotist up, to prove to everyone that hypnosis was just a parlor trick for the weak minded.” Laura explained to me.

“Stage hypnotists love people like you Laura, trying to show them up. Do you go around the shopping malls at Christmas time ripping beards off Santa Clause’s?” I asked, being semiserious with her.

“No, I just wanted to ... anyway, I got on stage and seated in the folding chair next to Jenn and I watched as he hypnotized everyone else on stage. I watched my best friend Jennifer, Jenn, fall under his spell, and I admit I felt very aroused. Then her twin brother Joshua went under and I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. But I fought, and fought, and fought. Then he noticed that I was the only one on stage still awake, so he came over to me and began to swing a sparkling crystal pendant in front of my eyes.

“OK, folks, this one wants to play hard to get”, I heard him say to the audience.” Laura paused and looked at me searchingly before going on.

“He then just started talking to me about how I was so smart and clever for resisting hypnosis and I admit I felt smug. Then how it was a proven scientific fact that smart people were even more easily hypnotized than anyone else. Then he said that being so smart I would be deeply hypnotized any minute now. I felt so heavy, and tired, but aroused, sexually aroused too I realized. Then he snapped his fingers and I went under.” She paused and searched my face.

“When I woke back up, me, Jennifer and Josh were all backstage in the hypnotist’s trailer and it was late and dark outside. The show was over, all the midway lights were off and everybody, but us had gone home. He had found out while we were hypnotized on stage that both me and Jennifer were wonderful almost perfect hypnotic subjects and hypnosis turned me and Jennifer on so much that we can’t resist it.” Laura paused again and looked at me searchingly I thought.

“Carl, that was the hypnotist’s name, used Ann’s trigger, that was his assistant’s name, and she was only 24 he told us, and showed us how well he had trained her. He pulled the regular hypnosis parlor tricks. Made her arm stiff. Made her loose a finger in counting. Made her forget what milk is. Forget her own name. Even got her drunk on a glass of water. Finally, having her laugh hysterically when he said “elephant”. In other words all the PG 13 stuff connected to hypnosis. The PG-13 rating is a sterner warning by the Rating Board to parents, indicating that a motion picture or stage show is suitable for persons of all ages but parental guidance is suggested, especially for children under 13. Not that we were 13, ha, ha, ha.” Laura explained and laughed.