We do, however, need Agent Nelson to act on his compulsions sooner. We’re accelerating the timeline. If I’m devolving, my counterpart must devolve with me.
I pull up a map and mark off the checkpoints. The locations along his routes to the Rockland crime scenes.
To anyone else, the strategically placed posters of domestic abuse hotlines for women are inconsequential. To Nelson, the pictures entice deviant cravings. The farther along he gets, the more explicit the images become. Erotic images. Right in his line of sight.
The power of suggestion.
As Nelson moves through his day in pursuit of his target, he’ll become agitated. Off kilter. His subconscious primed.
If someone wants to fuck with you in today’s age, it’s not a difficult feat. It doesn’t take much technical skill to uncover an account password. Fill an inbox with spam of violent pornography. Target a user’s social media accounts to receive allusive content. Activate Web ads during Internet searches to recommend discrete call girls for those seeking release.
Keywords like “release” are trigger words.
The evocative images will arouse him, push him to act on his compulsions sooner.
A smart man once told me the wait for something to happen can drive a sane man mad. His wisdom got me through a year at Cotsworth. This man was my biological father, what little I recall of him. He also stated that when the madness started to creep in, there was nothing wrong with giving fate a push.
Take the initiative.
If people didn’t want to be manipulated, they wouldn’t make it so damn easy.
One final preparation secures that when the agent acts on his compulsion, it will be where I want him. In a controlled environment. That’s important. That’s key.
Every lock has a key.
16
Ally
London
The Virginia skyline is seamed in shades of gold and pink as my plane touches down in DC. The last time I was in the capital, I was speaking at a conference on criminal behavior. I barely saw the city.
Despite what Agent Nelson believes, I won’t be seeing it now, either.
I de-board the plane, and Sadie greets me at the gate. She’s wearing her usual jeans and T-shirt, a gun snuggly holstered at her hip. I smile as I take her
in, comforted by her consistency.
“I finally got you back on my turf,” she says. “Where’s your bags? I’ll grab them then we can—” Sadie breaks off as she searches my face. Not a minute into our meeting and the behavioral analyst has already detected my hesitancy.
“I know this isn’t a social visit,” she says, lowering her voice. “I’ve been following the news. So tell me why you’re really here, and how I can help.”
“God, Sadie. You’ve already helped me so much…” I look at the tarmac through the glass. I’m a terrible liar when it comes to her, and she deserves my honesty.
“London. What is it?”
I meet her vibrant green eyes. “I need you to purchase a plane ticket for me.”
But that’s not all, and she further scrutinizes me. My dressed-down appearance. The jeans and T-shirt I changed into on the plane. The green contacts concealing my brown irises. Realization opens her pursed expression.
“Christ,” she mutters.
“I need this, Sadie. I can’t ask anyone else.”
“Are you in trouble?”
I shake my head. “I just need two days. Two days where no one knows where I am.”