The Whitechapel Case
Fox-Trot-9

PG-13
Horror/Suspense/Mystery (How-Catch-'Em)
Disclaimer: I don't own Ghost Hunt or Death Note.

Part 2: The Connections
Chapter 7

Day 2—The nightmare wouldn't stop. Noll found himself reliving the horror of Gene's death, as it played in his mind over and over from the first impact to the green vision in the lake; it was eating him alive, eating at his sanity and soul. The continuing cycle of slamming skull, crunching bone and fading breath made his stomach clench and heave over and over, making him want to throw up. He wanted—no, he prayed—for it to end. Even if he were to die from the sheer weight of this nightmare, he knew that was a thousand times better than living under the torments of this Hell of Hells. Soon, he got his wish; the heart that had pounded in a fury of agony had beat its last painful lurch against his chest, his muscles steadily lost their frantic motions, and his breathing eased into the solemn of the void.

Darkness. Nothing but a black void of empty, silent space. He felt as if he were a disembodied spirit. For there was no sense of up and down, or left and right. No sound for there were no ears to hear, no sight for there were no eyes to see, no taste for there was no tongue to taste, no smell for the was no nose to smell, and no touch for there was no body to feel anything. In all, there was no bodily experience where Noll found himself. Was this a dreamless sleep? Was this the sleep of death? Was this the end of the road for him? No, that can't be, but it might be. He cringed at the thought. But then he thought he heard faint footsteps getting closer and closer, though he didn't know where. And he found himself lying on his back, as if he were on his death bed, or worse—in a crypt. And as those footsteps got closer, he heard something through the darkness, something familiar though he couldn't place it.

A voice. "Noll..."

The kid snapped his eyes open and found himself in a hospital bed. His blurry vision focused on the figures in front of him.

"What did I tell you, Lin?" said Bert. "He just passed out with just a couple of bruises, but you've been pining away like there's no tomorrow. And I was under the impression you were the manly man that spirit said you'd be."

Lin glared at him. "And what about you? A real man would not have left that room."

Bert was about to say something, when Noll intervened. "But a better man would have gone back into that room."

"Ah, see? He can respond; he'll be all right, Lin." Then he turned to the kid. "Noll, I'd never thought I'd say this, but you truly are the man's man. Seriously, what you did back there was the gutsiest move I've ever seen. But Christ, you scared the Holy Hell out of us! Especially Lin—he's all shook up, so you need to offer an apol—Now, Lin, be easy on him, all right? He's been through more than you or me."

"I know, but that doesn't seem to bother him like it should," said Lin, glaring at the kid. "My God, don't you ever, ever do that to me again, you understand me?"

"Lin, I'm your boss. I don't need to be lectured like this."

"I won't let this go like I have in previous cases, and you know it. What were you thinking? What would your parents think if you got killed? What would Ms. Mori think? What would Mai think? You have no right to risk your life like that!" He sighed. "Sometimes I think Mai's recklessness is rubbing off on you."

Noll glared at him from the bed.

"Wait a minute, who's Mai?" said Bert.

Noll glared even harder at Lin, as if to say, 'Don't even think about it!'

Well, Lin thought about it and smirked. It was payback time for all the hell Noll put him through today. "Nothing, really; just his girlfriend," he said, relishing the sweet satisfaction of getting the upper hand on Noll for once.

"Damn, kid. You're not only a man's man, you're a lady's man," and Bert whistled at that. "That Mai must be one lucky girl, because you're a real chick-magnet, you know that? When I went into that library earlier today, I saw most of the girls over there checking you out, man. Especially that librarian chick at the reception desk. She was checking you out like she was at a meat-market or something."

Lin smirked at the way Bert put the razz on his boss; he even thought he saw Noll's cheeks burn.

"I know," said Noll. "They have very good taste."

Strike one for Lin.

"By the way, how are doing with Ms. Mori? Have you talked to her yet?"

Strike two; Lin gaped.

"Ah, well that's too bad. Try harder next time."

Strike three and strike out! Lin burned; Noll smirked, victorious. Lin two; Noll three; end game.

"Lin, I feel for you, man," said Bert. "I won't be surprised if he stole your girl, too." Now Lin glared at him, moving toward him. "All right, all right, I was kidding! Calm down!..."

Noll ignored the two. He had no more time for games. He looked at the room he was in, then at the bed, then at himself. He was still wearing his black outfit, so the doctor and the security staff must have left him here not too long after the events in that fateful room, a fact he confirmed by the clock on the wall showing a quarter to five. Then he repositioned himself and felt the stiffness of his neck as well as the sore bruises. But he ignored the pain and thought about what happened. The initial interview with Ms. Fowler; Bert's sudden sickness; his plan with Lin; then his second interview with the spirit possessing Ms. Fowler. If there was one thing that stood out in all that mess, it was his vision of Gene's death in the spirit's eyes; and though he didn't know how, that vision inexplicably lead to the nightmarish scene in that black void after he passed out. So what does it mean? He shuddered just thinking about it. Then he remembered something.

"You befriended one of my worst enemies, one of those rotten four who deserted me in that blasted cave. And for that, I would have had you killed..."

Noll remembered Pickmasters say that five kids entered the cave, of which he knew four to be Evan Moore, Jacob Meiler, Father Antonio Carmyne and the spirit. So who was the fifth? Well, assuming this fifth person was alive, he had to be in his seventies, like Jacob Meiler. But he had never befriended anyone that old, neither in his cases with SPR nor during this case; Jacob Meiler and Father Carmyne were not yet his friends. And assuming this person was dead, that widened the age-range; he could have died when he was fifty-something to seventy-something. A dead end. Then he remembered all his friends and deducted them one by one. His SPR team back in Japan—nope; Lin and Madoka—nope; Gene—nope. He hit another dead end. But then he remembered someone, an old-timer he hadn't spoken to in five years—the former librarian from the Croydon Central Library—Lean Gordon! Then he remembered the female librarian say that he died three years ago. Just two years before Gene's death. Coincidence? Not a chance.

Then he remembered something else the spirit said. "...it was not Gene's fate to end up that way."

But Gene ended up dead anyway. At this, Noll felt a pang of guilt clench at his stomach. Had he caused Gene's death? Of course, he didn't in the eyes of the law; he wasn't responsible for his death, because he had no knowledge of it beforehand. But that dream, that nightmare in that deep, dark void; was that Noll's fate for his brother's death? Was that his... punishment in Hell? In Noll's studies, he found out many names and descriptions of Hell, from Anaon (British), Inferno (Italian), Hades (Greek) and Sheol (Hebrew) to Jahannam (Arabic), Naraka (Sanskrit), Di Yu (Chinese) and Jigoku (Japanese). He believed in these concepts, but only as far as an academic would; but what he saw and felt in that deep, dark void was too real to be dismissed.

Then he remembered the spirit saying he wouldn't know his fate, "...until you have gone through what I've gone through, suffered what I have suffered, and transcended the chains of death as I have." What did he mean by that? Did he mean Noll would have to suffer the spirit's fate? Somehow, Noll missed that in his job description.

As he rolled these questions in his head, somehow Mai slipped into his thoughts. She was always up-beat and forgiving despite the horrors of each case, sometimes to the point of recklessness. Sometimes he scolded her for it, other times he pitied her for it, but now he envied her for it; he wished he had that will to forgive himself for Gene's death. But why? He knew he had nothing to do with his brother's death. Or so he thought. This lead him to his last conversation with Mai before coming to England, where he was packing his luggage on the desk in his office. She implored him to cry for Gene, to just "let it out," but Noll didn't. Not for her, anyway, but for himself. Always for himself, alone and apart, by himself when no one's looking. This lead him to a sickening revelation; he was being selfish without even knowing it. Selfishness was condemnable, no matter what religion or culture you're in. Was his nightmare a prelude to the horrors awaiting him in Hell for being so selfish? He couldn't believe it; he didn't want to believe it. What had this case become? Was this just a case, or a baptism of fire? He didn't want to know.

"Noll, are you okay?" It was Bert. "Because you're kind of zoning out on us, man."

"What's wrong?" said Lin.

At first, Noll didn't say; he just got out of bed like nothing happened.

"Whoa, kid," said Bert, "are you sure you should be walking around right now? You were really roughed up back in that room."

"I'm fine," he lied and headed for the door.

"Noll, wait," said Lin. "What happened to you in that room?"

"It's Gene," said Noll, looking down at the door before him; Lin and Bert exchanged looks, then looked back at him. "That spirit told me how he died, how he really died."

Silence.

"But, Noll," said Lin, "we already know how he died; we just don't know who did it."

"I do now." The kid turned to his companions. "That spirit had him killed. And I have every reason to believe it, because I saw his death in its very eyes."

Silence; Bert and Lin didn't really know what to say.

So that was the cause of all the shaking, thought Lin.

"Is Ms. Fowler okay?"

"I think so," said Bert. "The doctor had you and Ms. Fowler in separate rooms, so nothing else would happen; she's across the hall from this room, door-to-door. Wait a minute, you still wanna talk to her after everything she put you through?"

"No, not yet; I just want to see if she's okay. Is Father Carmyne with her?"

"Yeah, and so is the doctor."

"Good, because I have questions for both of them, as well as everyone else who saw, since I passed out before witnessing everything. Which includes you two as well," and Noll went out of the room.

"Geez," said Randolf, seeing the kid step outside, "you shouldn't even be walking right now!"

"But I am; by the way, what did you see during the whole—?"

"Nothing that would interest you, kid. All I saw was this white flash go over my head, followed by all these smaller lights whizzing around; that's all I saw, I swear to God!" he said, raising his hands up to stall more questions. He then interviewed the two security staff members on the scene and got the same thing. Of course, he knew they all saw the same thing, but he had to be thorough. Then Noll had them make him a copy, recording the whole event on disc, which he pocketed when they were done.

Then he interviewed the Doctor. "I just stood there, squeezed my eyes shut and prayed; I can't give you anymore than that, as you can see."

Then Noll, Lin and Bert went into Ms. Fowler's room, where Father Carmyne (still in his black cassock) was sitting at her bedside. "Thank God, you're all right!" said the father, getting off the bedside and looked Noll attentively. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but you scared the Holy Spirit and the Holy Hell out of me that time. What on earth where you thinking?"

"Never mind that," said Noll. "What exactly happened after I passed out."

Lin, Bert and the father stayed silent; none of them could begin to describe it all.

"I saw the spirit choking you," said Lin, "but I kept waiting for the spirit to leave Ms. Fowler's body. Only, it wouldn't leave. It just kept choking you; I think it figured out your plan, Noll."

Noll's eyes went wide.

"And I got scared shitless, man," added Bert. "Seriously, if I didn't shoot out that window to distract that thing, you would've ended up unconscious, if not dead, from that choke-hold she had you in. God, it felt like an eternity just watching you get choked like that. I can't imagine how it must have felt like for you."

"And when that window broke," said Father Carmyne, "that spirit saw me and turned its awful head. God, I was hoping I'd never have to see such a horrible sight again. When it turned it's head and saw me, the spirit screamed an ear-splitting scream and lunged out at me through Ms. Fowler's mouth."

"And that's when," said Lin, "I called in my shiki. You might have noticed it was late."

"Very late," said Noll. "Your whistle was the last thing I heard. What else happened?"

"My shiki couldn't catch up with it. It escaped before we could do anything else."

"And what about Ms. Fowlers condition? When will she regain her strength?"

"The doctor told me it will take at least three days," said Father Carmyne. "In fact, the doctor recommended four. And that's not just for her condition, but also for all the clean up and the repairs to her old room." Then he sighed before continuing, "Repair men are fixing the damages as I speak, and hopefully they'll complete their task before tomorrow morning when the first employees come to their morning shift."

Noll nodded. "All right; Lin, Bert, if you have nothing else to say, then you may leave... Except you, Father Carmyne. I'm not done with you yet."

"What else do you want to know?" he said, while Lin and Bert left the room.

"Everything you know about the three prior exorcisms on Ms. Fowler. I need you to elaborate on them for me, if you will."

The father sighed, running a wrinkled hand through a head full of silver hair; he should have seen this coming. "Well, all I can tell you of the first one was that it was the easiest of the three. It only took two days. I wish I could say the same thing for the second one. Up to that point, it was the hardest thing I went through. Eighteen days of exhausting prayers and rituals... I trust you know the rest. To tell you the truth, I knew in the back of my mind that the second exorcism would be harder than the first; I've done enough repeated exorcisms in the past to know that much. But, my God, the whole ordeal was a Hell that few living today should ever witness. You think you had it bad in that room with that spirit? There were times when she would scream out obscenities and blasphemies, other times she would speak the prayers I recited from the bible backwards, sometimes she would urinate and defecate, throwing the filth at me, and there were even times when she would dare me to do unspeakable things to her."

Now he sighed before continuing, "And that was just the beginning. You see, I was not just trying to exorcise the spirit like any other exorcist would, oh no. I was observing the spirit in the actions and behavior of Ms. Fowler in order to exorcise it without killing her. That first exorcism had nearly cost her life, since the spirit had such a strong hold of her."

"Wait," said Noll, "I thought you said that was the easiest of the three exorcisms."

"It was, but don't let that fool you into believing it was a walk in the park. That first exorcism lasted only two days, because I was so forceful on the spirit possessing her. If I wasn't, I would have failed to exorcise her the first time. You see, that spirit was immensely powerful, leaving me no choice but to brutally exorcise it at the expense of Ms. Fowler's health; it had been possessing her for quite some time before I even met her, so any exorcism on her would be inherently risky at best and life-threatening at its worst. So when I received the call to exorcise Ms. Fowler a second time, I feared for her very life. I could not afford to exorcise her the way I did the first time. That's why the second exorcism took so long. I was observing, so I would know what to do and how to do it; I was being methodical, you see."

"If you could not exorcise the spirit through conventional means, then how did you do it?"

"I did it along the same vein you did yours, but I planned it out over several days. As you yourself may have noticed, the spirit kept on daring me to do things to Ms. Fowler's body. I found out in the first exorcism that I could never win a dare against the spirit, since that spirit would direct everything from there on, forcing me to use conventional means of exorcism against my better judgment. So I challenged it to a bet, not a dare. The bet was two-fold: if I failed to answer all of its questions, then I would let him continue to possess Ms. Fowler; if the spirit failed to answer all of my questions, then it would have to leave. Those were the stakes."

"That's highly unusual for an exorcist."

"I know; such tactics are frowned upon by the Roman Catholic Church, who deem them heretical. You will never see such methods of exorcism in any sacred text found in the Vatican Library, since you are essentially tempting the spirit to do something, or in my case, obligating it to do something you want it to do. It goes against church doctrine."

"So why do it?"

"Because I know how to do it. I'm seventy-five years old, nearing seventy-six. I have been an exorcist longer than almost any other exorcist, except for those few from the Vatican; and as far as I know, I'm the oldest still on active duty. I've been doing this for over thirty-five years. I have learned firsthand how to deal with demons without using the potentially deadly force of conventional means."

"What if you lose that bet, or the spirit decides not to follow that obligation?"

Father Carmyne smiled. "Do you honestly think a man of my experience would be fool-hearty enough not to see that coming? I always have a plan B, and if that fails, then I have a plan C. There's a reason why the second exorcism took eighteen days to complete. I spent twelve days observing the spirit in Ms. Fowler, before I even lifted a finger to my bible; ten of those days were spent on planning, meticulous but flexible planning. The remaining six days were spent on putting that plan in motion; and of those six days, only two were spent on the actual exorcism. Most of these young exorcists that I now see barely plan out their exorcisms past what passages to recite from their bibles or what prayers to chant, without giving a moment's thought about the consequences involved in such ventures. They seem to forget that, especially when they get caught up in the heat of the moment, thinking along a moment-by-moment basis as it happens by the seat of their pants, when they should have thought out everything beforehand when there were no consequences attached yet. Of course, there were still consequences, even when I took the pains to plan everything."

Noll knew that for sure. Mai could be so reckless sometimes; of course, Noll himself was not immune to it, either. He made his fair share of reckless mistakes in his line of work. "What happened?"

"I won that bet, but the spirit wouldn't leave; I tried to make the obligation stick, but it wouldn't. I guess that's why the saying goes, 'Thou shalt not tempt the tempter.' But instead of forcing it out, which is the last thing I wanted to do, I needed to trick the spirit into leaving, or at least exorcise it when it least expected it. Of course, I had to wait for my chance; a day and a half, in fact. In the meantime, I coaxed the spirit into believing that I may have won the battle, but it had won the war. The spirit was so jubilant at its perceived victory, and that's when I struck. I read out the verses of the Lord's prayer, and the spirit was instantly expelled out of Ms. Fowler, but I wasn't out of the woods yet. Far from it, in fact. With the spirit out of its host, it screamed so loud that the window cracked open, and all the things in that room, the beds, the curtains, the pans, the hospital utensils were flung about, several of them hitting and bruising me as well as Ms. Fowler. Then I found myself flung through the air of that room, slamming all my weight on my back against the closed door. I think I was unconscious for a little over twenty-something hours before I came to; I don't even remember the impact; I just remember waking up in a different room with an aching head."

Then the father added, "By the way, and be honest with me. Did you have a plan B when you went into Ms. Fowler's room to face that spirit?" The kid glared at him. "Ah, so you didn't have a plan B. That's a bad start, considering everything I've heard about you. You're clever, much more so than the average man, but not very wise. To be honest, you're lucky to be alive after pulling a stunt like that. If Officer Grendal hadn't shot open that window, then that spirit would never have recognized me and lunged at me, and I wouldn't be talking to you like this." He then peered over at the breathing form of Ms. Fowler, saying, "Thank God, you and Ms. Fowler got out of it with your lives intact."

"How did you do it?" said Noll; he was itching to know. "How did you manage to plan it all out."

"Ah, the inquisitive mind, are you? Very well, I'll tell you, but before I do, I need to ask you something. It's very important."

"What is it?"

"Have you ever heard of the St. Louis exorcism of 1949?"

Noll eyed him. "Yes, the supposed exorcism of Robert Coltraine. Why do you ask?"

"It's not supposed; it's fact."

"But why bring up a case from America to explain another case over here in England? Usually exorcisms differ from case to case as well as from exorcist to exorcist."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. That particular case mirrored almost exactly what I experienced during Ms. Fowler's second exorcism." Noll was about to say something when the father cut him off. "Now forget about Thomas B. Allen (*), forget about Steve Erdmann (**), forget about everything you think you know about that case, because everything said about it is false. Not even William Peter Blatty got it right. Everything said about that case amounted to just mere speculation, because Father William S. Bowdern (***), the lead exorcist of that case, lied to the press in order to protect his client's identity; even the name, Robert Coltraine, is just a pseudonym. Nobody really knows who he is, let alone where he now lives.

"I know this because I spoke to Father Bowdern thirty years ago in 1980, one exorcist to another; I was forty-five then. He described the possessing spirit as extremely violent, much more so than he let the press know about. Kicking, screaming, scratching, raking, biting, urinating, all those things I told you about Ms. Fowler's behavior were in Robert Coltraine's. But the most peculiar thing he described was its tendency to dare people into doing things. Of course, thirty years ago, I thought this was strange but nothing more. That changed in my first exorcism of Ms. Fowler; when I saw that in her, I was shocked. I could have sworn it was the same spirit. And during the second exorcism, I knew it was the same spirit, because it tried to dare me again to do things to Ms. Fowler. So I followed what Father Bowdern told me. Never fall for its games; obligate it somehow to your will; and if you can't do that, make it pay for it when it least expected it; and if that proves futile, then stoop to conquer. In other words, always have a plan. That's how I did it. I hope that is satisfactory enough."

"It is," said Noll. He stayed silent, thinking of his words. Father Carmyne had thrown him a major curve ball, relating a seemingly unrelated exorcism to another. Was it just a coincidence of two exorcisms sharing similar traits? Then he remembered the spirit say something about having his so-called angels do his dirty work. Something inside was nagging at him, trying to lead him somewhere. He just didn't know where. "What happened during the third exorcism?"

Father Carmyne sighed, dreading the question. "It was a nightmare come true. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into that third time, but I was wrong-dead wrong. The second exorcism had overtaxed my strength and will; I feared I was not strong enough to exorcise the spirit by myself, so I invited Father Timothy Ambrose to assist me. He was much younger than I was, thirty-two; he was my protege, who has done his fair share of exorcisms before. But this was his first time assisting in a repeated exorcism. I told him to be on his guard, explaining everything he needed to know about the two previous exorcisms, as well as the spirit's violence and Ms. Fowler's frail condition. But the moment we entered through the doors, the doctor rushed us up the steps to her room, and we could hear Ms. Fowler's screams down the corridor. My God, when we entered her room and beheld the condition she was in..."

He stopped and crossed himself, then said, "Dear God, help me for what I'm about to say... Ms. Fowler was emaciated, even more so than she is now. My God, she even went so far as bruising herself against the straps that held her to the hospital bed, as if she were some dog straining against a leash; it was too horrible to look at. Father Ambrose and I had to act quickly; there was no time to think things through. We didn't try to exorcise her; we just issued blessings; I recited a blessing over Ms. Fowler, while Father Ambrose blessed the room and the surroundings with holy water. It took a while, but everything calmed down after about half an hour. I demanded from the doctor why she was like this, and he said it might have been the medication he put her on. I told him to take her off it, and he did so.

"Then we observed her, just as I did in the second exorcism. We took four-hour shifts observing her and discussed our findings every two shifts; we did this for three days. But on the fourth day, just as I was about to relieve Father Ambrose of his shift, I heard him screaming and I rushed to see what happened. I'm telling you, of all the possessions I've seen, I've never come across one in which a spirit leaves a host to possess another. I knew Father Ambrose was possessed, for I saw it in the glow of his eyes; to be honest with you, I have never come across anything like it. It took everything I had to restrain Father Ambrose from harming Ms. Fowler; soon others came in to help, but he broke away from my grip and ran into the corridors, running and screaming like a maniac. We tried to stop him, but it was too late. Father Ambrose fell down the stairs and lay dead on the landing below." He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe that happened. "I regret ever coming to that exorcism."

"What made you come here during today's exorcism?"

The father looked at Noll. "It's all I have left. Everything I held dear to my heart is gone."

Noll considered his words, thinking about his next question. "What about your daughter? What happened to her?"

At this, the father fought back the tears as hard as he could, but to no avail; but even as he was breaking down, he still kept at least some of his composure. You didn't have to be a rocket-scientist to know he was hurting really bad inside.

"Father Carmyne, if this is too much for you to take, then I could stop the interview and reschedule it sometime after you have collected your thoughts."

The father looked at Noll. "Tell me, Noll," he said, not bothering to wipe away tears, "and be as honest as you can... Does Ms. Fowler's exorcism have anything to do with my daughter's death?"

Noll nodded yes. This only seemed to aggravate the man's misery, so he told the father to wait while he went outside to get a box of Kleenex; when he returned, he handed him the box to dry his tears. Noll even brought in two chairs for both of them and bade the father to sit, which he did.

Now they were sitting, face-to-face; the two stayed silent. One minute... Two minutes... Five minutes... Ten and counting. Noll knew he had to be patient when it came to stuff like this. Yes, he's had interviewees cry on him before, but most of the time it was superficial—even when it involved ghosts. Yes, ghosts were scary, something that could bring a weak-minded person to tears, but that could never hold a candle to the unspeakable horrors of losing someone close. A mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a friend, it didn't matter; it all added up to the same thing: grief. Grief, and all the questions that go with it. What could I have done that would have made things different? What could I have done to see him or her alive one last time? What could I have done...etc. All these questions asked for different things, but they all get answered with the same ugly truth: Nothing.

At length, the father collected himself enough to continue. "The last time I saw Alice alive was after Sunday mass in the morning. I held a part-time position at the church, the Chapel of St. Michael, usually on the weekends, mostly on Sundays. She usually sees me on Sundays after mass. I talked to her that day as I usually did, personal matters, nothing that would interest you concerning recent murders. Then she left like she always did to her own home; she was thirty-five, old enough to live on her own."

Then he sighed, preparing himself for the pain to come. "Her death was so unexpected; I... I wish I could've done something, anything, to prevent it... I guess it's all in the past now. Later that day—I think it was early evening—, I received a phone call from Jacob Meiler telling me to come to the MIT at once, and I did so. It was all cut and dry when he showed me the photos in his office; you just said yes or no. I said yes, it was... Alice. Jacob didn't show any emotion during the interview; he was being professional about it, as he should. Of course, I was beyond tears that time. After the interview, Jacob consoled me, for he knew exactly what I was going through. I read out eulogies before, including the one for my assistant, Father Timothy Ambrose, but I didn't want to do it for Alice. It's hard enough to attend your only child's funeral, let alone read out the God damn eulogy! But I had to, for it was my duty as a clergyman. Looking back, I think I did fairly well, considering how drunk I was."

Noll was about to say something, but the father cut him off. "Dear God, Noll, don't ask me to describe the horrors I saw in those photos, I implore you!"

The kid let it alone. No need to put a weary old man through more pain than was necessary. But now it was time to ask about the other Carmyne on his father's list. "I assume Maple Carmyne was your wife then. What happened to her?"

Tears flowed down the father's face. It was Hell all over again, but he recovered himself enough to begin. "The last time I talked to my wife was on the phone, while she was on her way back to the house after work. The call was short, barely five minutes, but the wait was far too long, well over six hours. It was 9:00 p.m., and she still wasn't home. That's when I began to worry. I called her work to see if she returned to get something, and they said she already clocked out and wasn't there. I looked in the driveway to check if she was parking her car, but her car wasn't there. I immediately called the police to take action, but they said they couldn't do anything for twenty-four hours. My God, whoever stipulated that ridiculous rule should be damned! So I called Jacob's office number and said my wife hasn't returned home for over six hours. He issued a search right then and there, but he told me it would take time for him and his team to locate her. So I waited for what seemed like an eternity, hour after hour; I couldn't sleep all night, though Alice slept well enough. Thank God she was too young back then to know such horrors.

"It was about sixteen to twenty hours later in the afternoon that I received a call. It was Jacob; he was silent for a long time before he finally broke the news to me." More tears rolled down his face. "I... I cannot possibly describe in words the horror of that moment. I felt like I was on the verge of getting a heart attack; in fact, I felt like dying, like I wanted to die. The only thing that stopped me was Alice; if I died, there would be no one to take care of her. It's a wonder why I didn't kill myself after Alice's death." At this, Father Carmyne took some time to recuperate before he continued, "Jacob asked me to come to the morgue, so I could identify her, but I refused. Yet he insisted, saying he couldn't identify her body. I asked why, but he wouldn't tell; he just told me to come over, so I did... Walking through the halls of that place felt like walking through the bowels of Hell itself to have Judgement passed over me. It was filled with the stench of the dead. When I met Jacob, he showed me to the body on the gurney—a headless body! They couldn't find her head; that's why she couldn't be identified. But I identified her by the ring on her hand, the very ring I showed her when I proposed!"

The father broke down to tears in an agony of grief, so Noll gave him the Kleenex to dry his tears. Then he waited... One minute... Two minutes... Five... Ten... Twenty and counting. "Father Carmyne, I know this is hard for you. But I need you to keep it together for me. Can you do that?"

The father nodded yes.

"Just a few more questions, and we'll be done," said Noll. "Jason Pickmasters told me of five kids who dared one of their number to spend the night in a cave."

The father raised his head, barely believing his ears. "How did you—?"

"I interviewed him earlier today. I know three of them to be Evan Moore, Jacob Meiler and you. I need to know who the other two are. And I need to know what happened."

The father was stunned. He barely believed a kid like Noll could convince someone as guarded as Jason to reveal a secret so deep. But then again, he's heard many things about this kid, the great Oliver Davis, the renowned psychic. "How much do you know?"

"Enough to get me this far. But you know more than I do."

The father's look turned grim, grim but determined. Of all the horrors he's suffered, at least he managed to put this one behind him. "That was over sixty years ago, but I still remember it as if it were yesterday. 1945. Just a few months after the bombing runs of the Luftwaffe had ceased. The city was still rebuilding and would rebuild for years afterward. But even during the dark days of that war, I still say those were the greatest days of my life. I was nine or ten then, growing up amidst such horrors with four friends, Jacob Meiler, Evan Moore, Lean Gordon and Reynard Malders." (Noll almost leaped out of his seat when he heard the name, Lean Gordon.) "We were like brothers, whose friendship was strengthened by the trials of war. For we were not just kids anymore; we were vital to the country's survival, printing out war bonds, helping with the war effort. God, Noll, I wish you were there when they declared victory over Europe; the place was a party-town for two weeks or so.

"In those days, we played pirates, looking for a suitable place to bury our treasure, which was just a few coins, stamps, broken jewelry and other trinkets. One day, we found that place in a cave. Actually, Evan Moore found it. It was a cave hidden against a dense grove of trees, making it all but impossible to spot; in fact, the trail leading up to it was very rough, much of it filled with brush and undergrowth. It usually took us about six hours to reach the cave. Believe it or not, our parents were kind of glad for us to go, wanting to get us far away from the devastation of the city. At the base of that cave, we would tell each other ghost stories by the campfire, as dusk slowly turned into night. We would eventually tell each other truths and dares, at first being about crushes and other things like that; but bit by bit, the dares got more challenging, culminating in that fateful dare to have Reynard Malders spend the night in the cave, something none of us had yet done. Well, we all ventured into that cave, an interior maze of drop-offs and undulating tunnels, until we reached an inner vault where we left Reynard with the lamp, a box of snacks and sandwiches and a canteen of water.

"I think the last words Reynard said was, 'See you tomorrow,' or something like that. Anyway, when we were all leaving, Jacob and I volunteered to stay at the mouth of the cave just in case Reynard chickened out. And there we built our campfire and set up out sleeping bags, as Lean and Evan went home. We roasted marshmallows and ate them, telling each other ghost stories all the while until they went stale. After that, we took shifts sleeping while one of us would stay up for about an hour or two as a lookout. We did this late into the early morning. Then Jacob heard a scream echoing from the mouth of the cave and tried to shake me awake; of course, I was already wide awake at the sound. Let me tell you, I was on the edge of losing it, but Jacob grabbed the lamp and went into that cave. I followed close behind, trying to keep up. We made progress through the meandering maze of rock, but just halfway to the inner vault where we could hear the remnants of Reynard's echoes, something horrible happened.

"Jacob slipped and fell into one of the drop-offs that dotted the maze; I saw just enough of the lamp light to grab hold of him before he plummeted God knows how far down. But the lamp never made it. I saw that lamp skidding down the sides of the drop, gradually getting dimmer and dimmer till I heard the inevitable crash echoing up. Then we were left in darkness. Complete black all around, where I couldn't see an inch past my eyeballs. And there was no sound except our breathing echoing all around us. It took all my strength to pull Jacob up, and by the end of it I was spent. We couldn't go any further. We had to go back. We had to literally crawl low to the ground to avoid another drop-off, our heart beats so loud in our chests that I thought I could hear them echoing throughout the cave. It was beyond horrible. And just as we got out of the cave and saw the sky just before the sun broke the horizon, we heard a low, almost animal-like sound echoing after us; my God, it sounded like a beast or a demon lived in that cave!

"Jacob and I ran as fast as we could, tripping and stumbling over brush. We just wanted to get the hell out of that place. When I came home, my parents were so worried about me and grounded me for more than a month. Of that month, I couldn't sleep for a full week, because I kept hearing that awful scream again and again at one and four in the morning. Good God, I thought I was going the go mad! It wasn't until three weeks after that fateful night that the voice died down in my head. But there's no rest for the wicked, for I was truly wicked when I dared Reynard to venture into that Hell-hole! For months afterward, I had sudden attacks of guilt, especially when the police issued a search to find Reynard. I didn't have the courage to tell the police, none of us did; we just kept our mouths shut and prayed for the horror to subside. But it didn't, at least not for me. For years afterward, I periodically heard that awful scream, still vivid enough to nearly cause a heart attack each time, still bad enough to make me think of suicide. But alas, I had not the courage to do it. My God, I can't imagine what Jacob must have gone through, because he looked much worse for wear than I did."

Here, he stopped to catch his breath, but Noll bade him to continue. "That event changed our lives. Nothing was the same after that. We never looked at our games the same way again... That event made me into what you see today, as it did everyone involved, as we all dealt with our guilt in our own ways. Evan Moore became a reporter, because he wanted to be a watchdog of sorts, reporting trouble wherever it was, so people would know before it was too late. Lean Gordon became a librarian, as you know, because he wanted to learn everything he needed to know to be safe from danger. Jacob Meiler became a cop to protect the people and the places he held dear. As for me, I became a religious man, joining the clergy and reciting the verses of Scripture to combat the horrid screams; but it wasn't until I became an exorcist that I finally heard those screams no more." He stopped.

Noll just sat there thinking about everything the father said. He now had all the connections, or at least all the major ones. He still had loose ends, though. All throughout his interview with Father Carmyne, something was nagging at him. He kept remembering the spirit say that it used angels to do its bloody bidding on many unfortunate victims. He especially focused on the word, angels. Angels! As in more than one murderer to do the bloody deeds of a spirit that thinks it's God—a god of death! The infamous Grim Reaper! Noll shuddered at the thought. He could only think of one case, one that trumps all others in its world-wide and unthinkable implications.

"Father Carmyne," he said, barely keeping his stoic front, "can you tell me what happened to Lean Gordon? Do you know what happened to him?"

The father was more than shocked at the urgency in Noll's voice: he was speechless.

"Father Carmyne, did Lean Gordon die of fowl play?"

"I... Well... I don't know. When the press reported it three years ago, they just said he disappeared without a trace; the police had him on the missing persons list ever since he was found missing, until..." He trailed off, thinking about it.

"Until what? What happened?"

"Until they found," said the father, "his left foot floating at an embankment on the Thames eight months ago. That was the only part of him they had; the police confirmed it belonged to him after doing a DNA sample on it. Why? Did you notice something?"

Noll ignored him, concentrating solely on where that nagging feeling was leading him. Lean Gordon's disappearance bore disturbing parallels to Gene's disappearance when he went to Japan. Like Lean Gordon, Gene was reported missing in Japan not long after his death. And strangely enough, both Lean Gordon and Gene were found in a body of water. Coincidence? Not this time. For Noll, the connection was a leap of faith, but every fiber in his being said it was so. Thus, if that woman ran Gene over twice before dumping him into the lake, then that same woman must have done something similar to Lean Gordan before dumping him into the Thames. That's one down, but the spirit said angels. Plural. And considering the number of beheadings and mutilations over thirty years, there must be another murderer out there, one that has gone undetected for years. Two mortal killers serving one immortal God of Death.

"It looks like you had a revelation. What did you find out?"

"I'll tell you about it later at my house," he said, looking at his watch. 7:00 p.m. He had spent four hours in the insane asylum without even noticing. "We need to go."

"B-but wait... I can't leave Ms. Fowler here by herself. What if that spirit comes back to possess her?"

"I'll have Lin's shiki take care of that," and he went through the door telling Lin to use his shiki to look after the old woman.

The father looked over at Ms. Fowler, placed the rosary around her neck and said a final prayer before coming out. Then he went over to the doctor and said, "If anything happens to Ms. Fowler, you know who to call, right?"

The doctor said yes.

Bert had been talking to Frank and the rest of the security guards, when Noll said, "Bert, call a cab service to come here, pronto."

"There's no need," said the father. "I drove over here; we'll use my car."

With that, Father Carmyne, Noll, Lin and Bert went out of the sliding doors like the untouchables on a mission. It was night outside. When all four hopped into the black Mercedes, the father gunned it down the street at illegal speeds. Luckily for him, Noll had the best excuse in the world.

(To be continued...)

A/N: Okay, here's the next installment of The Whitechapel Case. You're probably wondering where I got some of the ideas for this chapter. Well, I got it from a real excocism case of Robbie Mannheim, the case that inspired William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist. But since Robbie Mannheim is presumably still alive, I've changed the name. That way I won't be infringing on any copyrights. Anways, I hope you enjoyed the read!

(*Thomas B. Allen's Possessed. See "Robbie Mannheim" on Wikipedia.)

(**Steve Erdmann's "The Truth Behind The Exorcist." See "Thomas B. Allen" on Wikipedia.)

(***Father William S. Bowdern. See "William S. Bowdern" on Wikipedia.)