Evil Like Me Read online

  “It is our only advantage. I’m the bait with an attitude,” he said, and then pulled a gun from his waist. “Keller, I need you to break one of your rules. Take this. I know you don’t like guns, but this is different. Tonight we all need to do things we don’t like.”

  “I cannot,” Keller said.

  “Only if you need to protect yourself.” Take the gun.

  “If I kill, I will lose control. I almost did when I stopped Bender. You pulled me back. If I need a gun, you will not be there to bring me back from the evil part.”

  Wilcox tossed the gun at Keller’s feet. “There it is if you change your mind.”

  Petty and Wilcox left the tall grass and stepped onto the mound of sand that cascaded down the bank to the sliding black water. “Guess we’re early,” he said without turning his head. “Be careful where you look. We don’t want to give Keller’s location away.”

  She jabbed him in his ribs as she pulled a sinking heel from the sand. “You do know I spend some of my life outside the morgue. I have some street smarts, Tony. You can be so arrogant.”

  They waited in the cool night air. “You know this is not an island. It’s a peninsula, the Mississippi River to the west and Wolf River Harbor east. They meet at the south end of this strip of land. The city rerouted the Wolf River back in the ‘60s creating a land bridge at the north end. I suppose that made the harbor possible.”

  “Thanks for the geography lesson, Detective Wilcox.”

  “These bastards can take the land route like the wild animals.”

  “I don’t do wild. I dislike furry things looking for something to eat.”

  “I’m talking raccoon, opossum, armadillo, deer, skunk, and your basic river rats.”

  “This just keeps getting better.” Sinking in the sand, Petty kicked off her heels.

  “They could come from the south end, but it’s a hike through thick scrub and sticker bushes. If I were them, I’d come by boat. Can land anywhere on the east bank. Easy exit, too.”

  “What’s really on your mind, Tony?”

  He leaned closer. “You like him. You are convinced he’s a victim in all this.”

  “I’ve considered the evidence thus far. It is not an emotional process for me,” Petty said.

  “We still do not know him,” Wilcox said out the side of his mouth. “We don’t know who killed his parents or who’s responsible for all these killings. I don’t have enough facts to be sure of anything right now.”

  “You’ve watched him for two days,” Petty said. “Those men were after him at Bald Knob. He stopped them. He protected us.”

  “Yeah but …” Wilcox muttered.

  “You heard Cam. He’s convinced Keller’s not a serial killer. Keller saved your life twice, Tony. He’s more a boy than a man, and he’s scared and alone. He’s not driving this nightmare. He is running from it.”

  “You saw what he did to Bender,” Wilcox said. “And you saw what he did to Cankor. He can kill with his mind. He just admitted he can’t control it.”

  Petty whispered. “I think he’s now hunting his nemesis.”

  “Or is he the problem? Is that why the government is trying to stop him?”

  “I don’t know, Tony.”

  “That’s my point. We need to watch our backs.”

  The meeting had been set for ten. At midnight the small boat with no lights neared the island. Wilcox and Petty watched the black mass nose into the bank, the stern sliding in the stiff current. A small shadow jumped onto land and climbed the bank.

  “Hello Dr. Petty. Detective Wilcox. Where is Hunter Keller?” Swenson asked.

  “You’re late. We almost left.”

  “Precautions. And you would not leave. Where is he?”

  “You’re the one with the psycho skill sets. You should already know he’ll be here after my people are safe, you sawed-off prick.”

  Swenson looked back at the boat. The standing shadow nodded. “I hope you don’t do anything stupid. It could go very badly for you.”

  The next shadow to depart was much larger. It glided up the bank. The flat-brimmed hat and long, billowing coat broke from the obscure darkness as he left the shadows of the trees. “He’s on the island somewhere—blocking.”

  “I feel him too,” Swenson said eyeing the tall grass.

  Wilcox confirmed Major Cankor was the man Keller described on Main the night Randle Johnson died in the small bank. Now Wilcox was sure Cankor was the man in the dark bedroom on Dewar. When Cankor reached the sandy mound, his presence dominated. The moonlight washed over his massive hulk stopping at his face hidden beneath his wide brim.

  “We meet again,” Cankor said. An acrid mist shot from his mouth into the night air.

  “You gonna run like you did at Dewar?” Wilcox said.

  Cankor ignored the inflammatory words from the man he would watch die. “Hunter Keller was busy at Bald Knob. Impressive. But still unable to finish the job.”

  “Why’d you kill your friend today, Cankor?” Wilcox taunted. “I thought you and Baldwin were best buds.” But the words only added to the suffocating impossibilities—there were too many innocents exposed and at a weapons disadvantage.

  “Odd choice of words, detective—kill and friend,” he scoffed. “I only kill my enemies.”

  Four shadows emerged from thick grass south of the clearing. From the corner of his eye he saw each had a gun pointed at his head. Now there are six. Where are you? “You didn’t answer my question, did you Cankor sore?”

  “It’s more complicated than we have time for tonight. It is in your best interest we make our little trade and go on our separate ways expeditiously. The banter is wasting my time.”

  Three more guns got off the boat and stood on the shoreline. Wilcox watched them unload one hostage at a time. They pushed each up the bank. They were bound at the knees, hands tied behind their backs, blindfolded, and gagged. Then one stumbled and moaned—it was Abby.

  “It’s really not so complicated, Cankor. You want what doesn’t belong to you, and you’re willing to kill for it. You’re no different from any other pathetic cold-blooded psychopath.”

  Cankor ran his long fingers across the brim of his hat and slid a cigar in his mouth. It didn’t move when he spoke. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I’m doing something good and you don’t know, Detective Wilcox.”

  “If it were true, we would not be here,” Petty said.

  He put the match to his cigar. The flame danced on his empty face. His cold black eyes locked onto Petty. She flinched—she too was an obstacle to be removed.

  “We know the truth about Stargate,” Petty said. “We know Swenson, Proust, Baldwin, and you met in 1978.”

  “It was when you geeks decided to take over the world,” Wilcox scoffed. “Did you realize back then you had to kill your competition—all the other remote viewers and their families?”

  “You know nothing,” Cankor rebuked.

  Wilcox smiled shaking his head. “You couldn’t have people like you running around the world. You would not be so special.”

  “Shut up,” Swenson said as he slid into Cankor’s shadow.

  “I’m curious,” Wilcox pushed. “Just help me with one little thing and I’ll shut up. I see a lot of this in my line of work. You know, when the bad guys start killing off their partners. Tell me Cankor, when did you decide your lifelong partners had to go? Was it always your plan, or did you just get there one day? When did you decide Proust and Baldwin were excess baggage? When did they stop being partners and start being a pain in your skinny ass? I suppose you had to build your confidence, believe you could control the psychic-weapons alone.”

  “Are you finished?” Cankor asked.

  “I bet I won’t be able to shut you up when you’re sitting in your cell writing your book, The Errors of Ugly-ass Monsters. Hey Swenson, if I were you, I’d watch my back, or head.”

  Wilcox watched the last hostage thrown to the ground. It was Cottam. They dragged him up the bank. “Any
dummy can tell. You’re next on Cankor’s list.”

  Cankor blew smoke into Wilcox’s face. “All things important require personal sacrifice and elimination of enemies. It is how countries are born, detective. It is how change happens and power moves in the world. American doctrine is no different from Nazi Germany, Castro’s Cuba, radical Islam, or other controlling regimes with a vision and ability to dominate.”

  “You’re a sick man.” Now I got you talking …

  “They scoffed at the idea of psychic-weapons. The research was misguided, underfunded, and misinterpreted. The program was moved around. They did not know what they had. When they began to understand, it was too late.”

  “So you thought you’d take over. You would be the one to decide which global ideology would prevail and how the world should evolve,” Petty said.

  “No, he’s in it for the power and money,” Wilcox said.

  “It is my mission,” Cankor growled.

  Wilcox leaned in. “There are greater purposes in the world than the missions of men. There are things like compassion for humanity, integrity, and freedom, of which you were once a part.

  “At least be honest with yourself. Your mission has turned you into a monster. You’ve killed many and often. It brings you a creepy pleasure. You two are no different from a wild animal looking for the next meal.”

  “It is not important that you understand. Give me Hunter Keller, now.”

  “Not until my people are safe. That was our deal.”

  “Wilcox is blocking me,” Swenson said. “Keller taught him.”

  Cankor smiled. “I’m impressed. What else can you do detective?”

  The lesions stopped them from getting inside me, Wilcox thought, but would not share. Let them think they had a new risk. “Release Patterson, Baily, and Cottam or I will show you.”

  “You think I will give them to you without Keller?”

  “There are nine of you and three of us. Why are you worried?”

  Cankor removed his hat. Like the sun, the moonlight found his bald head and hideous smile. He panned the pale fields in silence. Then he stopped on Dr. Petty. His brow dipped. She began to tremble. Her back and legs stiffened. With a whimper she leaned on Wilcox. He held her.

  Like the others her eyes bulged in their sockets as the terror consumed her. She grabbed her head and screamed. Wilcox dropped to a knee holding her as she slumped into unconsciousness.

  Foam dripped from her lips. “Stop hurting her.” Wilcox felt for his ankle holster. Where is the help I was promised? He wrapped a finger around the trigger. You don’t control time, asshole. It’s the great equalizer. My bullet goes 1,700 miles per hour. In a fraction of a second it’ll be coming out the back of your head with half your skull following. I’m taking control. I’m taking you out of Petty’s amygdala. And the next bullet is for Swenson.

  Wilcox started to pull his gun from the holster. It would be one fluid motion and both monsters would be dead. But the seven would kill him and the others. It was a no win.

  “Stop!” Hunter Keller stood in the river brush.

  Forty

  “You don’t need strength to let go of something. What you really need is understanding.”

  Guy Finley

  *

  Seven guns moved to the skinny man in the tall grass. Cankor turned and Petty sunk on Wilcox’s knee—the demon released his grip. Hunter Keller gave himself up.

  “There you are,” Cankor said. Swenson salivated.

  Wilcox let go of his gun and rested Petty on the sand.

  God, are you already dead? Did he—? Or, maybe you’re unconscious. Wilcox put his ear to her lips—shallow breathing. But if you’re alive, will you ever know? Did Cankor destroy your brain? Wilcox’s eyes found Cankor and Swenson staring at Keller. I’m gonna kill you bastards!

  He reached a second time for his gun. It was at his feet—this time he would not hesitate. But his hand did not move. You’re controlling me like on Dewar.

  “It is time. You’re the last.” Cankor put on his hat and backed into the shadows like a rat backing into its hole. “Come to me. Make this easy for everyone.”

  Keller pushed through the grass onto the sand. “This needs to be over. Let me help Dr. Petty. She is innocent. Let the others go. I will go with you and make this easy.”

  Swenson smiled like a child waiting for a prize. “We decide when it’s over, not you.”

  Keller’s eyes stayed on Cankor. “Let me help her, please.”

  “You are still blocking,” Cankor said. “Why?”

  “You are making a mistake,” Keller said.

  “Someone’s blocking. I feel it, too,” Swenson looked over his shoulder. “There are only three of us. It must be Keller.”

  “Shut up Swenson,” Cankor boomed. “What are you hiding from us? Do not test me.”

  Keller looked down at his feet. His hood fell around his face. Cankor moved closer but stopped at the edge of the moonlight like a vampire afraid to burn. With slow eyes, he studied the southern fields as if he could see anything with a heartbeat.

  There’s someone out there, Cankor thought. Don’t they know it is too late? Don’t they know Keller is already dead and nobody can stop me? That’s right. There’s no way they could know. He smiled.

  “Hey freak,” Wilcox yelled. Cankor spun around to the irritating homicide detective. “Keller is here now. You and Bambi win. I need to get Petty to a hospital. Let us go as we agreed.”

  “We’re in control here,” Swenson said.

  “Стреляйте его,” Cankor said with a wave of his gnarled finger.

  What the hell—Russian? Wilcox thought as he tried to move his hand to his gun.

  The explosion rolled across the river and was swallowed by the night. Like Bald Knob, Wilcox was hit—but this time in the chest. He dropped next to Petty’s lifeless body.

  “You know that was necessary,” Cankor said. The smoking gun lowered behind him.

  Keller started toward the blood-covered detective. The seven guns rose. “You don’t need to do this. I’m going with you. No more death.”

  Cankor puffed his cigar. “Detective Wilcox moves on slivers of opportunity. The man does not fear consequences. He is dangerous. I will not allow heroics this night.”

  Keller’s eyes moved up the leather coat to the face of the man who hunted him for a decade. You really don’t know what is going to happen tonight, he thought. You hide your weaknesses from others, but I know them all. You do not see the complete future, only parts. “You killed my parents.”

  “I was forced to. I did not want to. They were among the few to talk to me in the beginning—Scanate, 1975. The others stayed away, ignored me.” Cankor pointed to his face like he was auditioning for a part. “This scared people—no hair and the scars. Did you know my parents tried to kill me? They didn’t know about congenital hypotrichosis or clairvoyance. They thought scars and hair loss and visions were signs. I was evil. I was a child from hell. But Scanate saved my life. They shipped me off to the government program instead of poisoning their monster. Your parents were just as bad.”

  “Major.” Swenson touched his shoulder, but Cankor shrugged him off like an irritating child tugging on his coat.

  “Your parents were given an opportunity to live,” Cankor said. “They refused to help me. Deep down, they rejected me, too. They kept you from me. I could not allow it. Your parents gave me no choice.”

  “You did not need to kill them. You did not need to kill the remote viewers. We all have always wanted one thing—a normal life. We wanted to be left alone.”

  “They were a risk. And you are dangerous,” Cankor said leaning his brim into the soft moonlight. “The gifted Hunter Keller, son of most powerful psychics. They gave you everything and more. I did not know your capabilities. I did not know I could control you.”

  “I’m not special. I’m not what you think.”

  Cankor’s cold grin melted. “You’re right. You’re not special, not an
ymore. You’re an abject failure, no discipline, and no purpose, and no balls.”

  “I did not ask for this.”

  “Contemptible. You were given gifts you never worked a day in your life to develop. You squandered a miracle, an unparalleled genetic advantage over every living thing on the planet.”

  “I rejected it,” Keller said.

  “I developed mine. I sacrificed to understand, to be strong.” Cankor smiled at the empty night sky and reveled in the moment. His plan was coming together. “I see more than any man alive. I stop life with my mind. I terminate anyone, anytime, anywhere, and leave no trace.”

  “It is evil. The world will reject it.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m unstoppable. Now, even you can’t stop me.”

  Keller turned to the north field and scanned the dark tree line along the leading edge of the land bridge. “Did you ever consider something else can stop you?”

  Cankor followed his gaze into the empty field. “This is not some Marvel action adventure. This is real. I change outcomes. Every government wants the ability to vanquish their enemies, to control their destinies regardless of the cards they are dealt. I can give it to them.”

  “If you see the future, you know it will be abused. There are those seeking power without concern for human life. The outcome will be catastrophic.”

  “I’m in control of it,” Cankor boasted.

  “You don’t control it. It controls you. That is why you must be stopped.”

  “What’s Keller saying?” Swenson asked. “Kill him now. Kill all of them. We need to go.”

  “You are weak now. I know. You did not save your friends because you cannot.” The three hostages squirmed in the sand and seven guns stayed on Keller.

  “The Cold War rages on—underground. The balance of power is about to change. I will lead the change. It has become too expensive and time consuming for nations to engage in outdated, military conflicts to achieve political objectives. Everyone wants their fair share of the world’s limited resources. Now it is possible. I level the playing field. Psychic-weaponry is the great equalizer, the most significant weapon of mass destruction since the atomic bomb. Armies will be stopped without putting one soldier on the field of battle. Thousands will drop where they stand without a single shot fired. Those who live will run from an invisible enemy. War will become obsolete. Countries will try to live together.”