The Creep (6 page)

"Many of our clients, as you know, pay us huge fees to keep their employees on track. At the moment, thanks to the efforts of our franchisees, hundreds of Europe's top
500
companies are our clients. All we have to do is keep doing more of the same, here in the States."

A week after their first meeting Bishman arrived at th
e duly-appointed hour of 9
am, ready and willing for his first session of hypnotic regression with Dr. Bill. He didn't know what to expect but he was willing to do whatever it took
to get rid of his headaches and depressions. Jai showed him into Dr. Bill's office and Harvey immediately started his monologue:

"I want to explain a little about hypnotic regression, Bob, so that we get the best from our sessions. To get maximum benefit you do not necessarily have to go into a deep trance. You can go into whatever state of consciousness suits you at any particular time.

"When I
regress
you, don't try to recall specific events. Just let the images and feelings and emotions come to you. The events may or may not unfold in chronological order. They may come piecemeal or in complete sequences. Don't worry or try to control the scenario. Ultimately a story will unfold, but it may not come about as you anticipate. Don't worry about that, we'll unravel it at a later date. That's what I'm here for, to give you feedback and to put all the pieces together.

"You'll find your subconscious mind may want to tell you lots of little details about various things and not even bother to give you any information about other events. This is the beauty of the subconscious mind.

"You'll be living these past events as though they are happening right now. We'll see as we progress whether you want to talk them out as we go or talk about them later. Either way is fine. Don't try to find out what's giving you headaches or making you depressed. Just do the sessions, live out the past experiences. The solution to the problem will come once the subconscious has divulged everything it wants to. The solution will make itself apparent to you when the time is right.

"You must remember that every time you go into hypnosis it will get easier and easier, and you'll find you will be able to go into an altered state anywhere, any place.

"You can go into a relaxed state any time you like now, as shallow or as deep a trance as you like, whatever is comfortable to you and if you like you can start at the beginning or wherever is appropriate for you."

Bishman slipped into a deep hypnotic state. His eyes darted around accessing information from his gory past. Harvey was listening attentively and was armed with a tape recorder and note pad, ready to script:

Bishman started in the post office, a slip went over the counter. The official handed Bishman a package. These were the books Bishman had been waiting for. He ripped the package open on the way home, like a tiger clawing the meat from a zebra. The books fell out in a heap on the sidewalk and Bishman gloated over them:
How to Keep a Severed Head Alive, How to Perform Cunnilingus, Don't Get Mad - Get
Even
!,
Talk
and Grow Rich, Street Fighting, and Grotesque and Deformed Human Beings.

Over the next few days the books were studied.
Talk and Grow Rich
suggested that you need a list of goals and to fill it in right now. He did:

1.
        
Annual income of $500,000. I own a $10,000,000 castle in the woods, on its own twenty-acre estate, fully furnished, fire places, eight bedrooms, huge games room, indoor pool.

2.
       
I own a fully loaded Lincoln Continental Mark
5 that is fire-engine-red. I also own a powder-blue Porsche 911.

3.
       
I own a motor home that is fully equipped and fully furnished.

4.
       
I have close relationships, in which sexual activity is both fantastic and very important, with Jimmy Franklin, Brian Pearlstein, Michael Passalaqua, (now in Little League), David Stone, Martin Silver, Chris Macrea and John Bruce (none of these acting violently towards me, none of these
attempting suicide, none of these informing the authorities, their parents or any other person).

5.
       
I am Head Director of non-governmental youth activities for various housing projects.

6.
       
I successfully complete
d
a human services course in a reputable college for psychology.

7.
       
I have tremendous personal charm and charisma which attracts dozens of physically gorgeous young males 13 to 18, for relationships and sexual purposes.

8.
       
I own a mansion by the water which has twenty-two bedrooms, boat deck, fantastic grounds that include own zoo, firing range and gun collection.

9.
       
I am a billionaire.

10.
    
My penis is eight inches in length when erect as well as being proportionately as long when in the soft state. Penis sexually
functional
at all times. Penis and the rest of me in exceptionally good health.

11.
     
I'm the top winner in the next Irish Sweepstakes.

12.
    
I have love, sobriety, energy, wit, serenity, happiness, joy,
and understanding
.

13.
    
I own a .357 Magnum handgun, a .45 Colt automatic and a Kalashnikov assault rifle.

Bishman's eyes stopped moving, his face was flushed,
and he
stopped talking. He was breathing deeply and sweating profusely, his skin tone was an ashen gray. Suddenly the flood gates opened again and the tormented past poured out afresh, Harvey scripted as fast as he could, with his cassette recorder as a back-up:

Bishman was walking down Dana, in Somerville, a predominantly Catholic neighborhood in a Boston suburb, when a guy came up to him and asked him what he thought.

"I've never seen so many crucifixes and effigies of Christ. Everyone seems to have one in their front yard." Bishman was transfixed by the array of religious artefacts.

"You see that one there, where Jesus is in a cave surround? We call that Jesus on a half-shell. Get it? Clam on a half-shell, Jesus on a half-shell." They both laughed.

Bishman was staring at the swastikas graffitied all over the effigies of Christ in one particular front yard. His mind raced back to when he was at school and he'd painted swastikas all over the roof of the guy's house who owned the local bowling alley, because he wouldn't allow Bishman in there with booze. He was caught because one of the school teachers remembered Bishman always carried around a lucky swastika, mounted on a disc of mother of pearl, set in a gold wishbone. Bishman used to have it under his lapel
along with
a skull
and crossbones and hundreds of pins and fish hooks.

God help you if you grabbed Bishman by the lapel. This is what had happened to the teacher. Got his fingers shredded by all the pins and fish hooks, and when he turned the lapel back he found the swastika.

When the news broke about the roof getting painted with swastikas, the teacher put two and two together and came up with Bishman. Bishman learnt a valuable lesson that day, about carrying things around with him and a pattern slowly started to gel.

Bishman was thinking,
a swastika is a beat-up cross,
when his mind tracked back to Somerville:

"Where's there a place to eat around here?" Bishman asked, looking around.

"There's Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips at the top of the road."

"You springing?" said Bishman, giving an encouraging smile.

"Why not?" said the guy as they walked casually down Dana, toward Arthur Treacher's.

The smell of fried food was nauseating and Bishman wanted to eat and get out as quickly as possible and get on with the action he had in mind. Neither did he want to be seen too long with his next victim. But, as they were eating, Bishman heard police cars constantly patrolling the area, up and down, round and about. The sirens never seemed to stop. A voice popped into Bishman's head:
Not tonight old buddy. Not tonight.

Harvey made many notes to enable him to give valuable feedback to Bishman. He listed various facts about personality disorders and neurosis and finished off by writing:
I have a professional duty to help this guy as much as I can, within my God given powers.

Martinson and Flackman glanced at each other as Detective Superintendent Mainwarring continued, "This weekend I'm go to get some silence, stillness and solitude, up in the Lake District.
A few bottles of burgundy.
You'll see
,
I'll come up with a few Eurekas! Damned if I won't"

Venice is not recreated anywhere else in the world. It is its own place. It has a magic and a quality all of its own: seedy, exotic, weird, wonderfu
l, w
acky and hot. Venice is California dreamin' at its best.

The beach is long and sandy and, this day, like almost every other
day,
there were a lot of evenly-tanned, lithe bodies roller skating up and down the promenade.

There were people jogging backwards, roller skating backwards and people riding bicycles backwards and others on skate boards. Yes, they were going backwards too. In a world of excess, people have to do something out of the norm. In Venice, anything goes.

A guy skated past, full beard on one side of his face, clean shaven on the other. A black guy followed him, with a Bronx attaché case on his shoulder blaring away so loud you could have probably heard it in the Bronx. A juggler tempted fate by juggling three chainsaws. He finally made it. Then he started them up, each of its tiny two stroke motors revving away like a swarm of bees. He managed to do it without dropping them. You don't get too many chances. The crowd put in lots of money, bills only, no small change, to show their affluence and appreciation.