Anatomy of Evil Read online

  They unleashed hell on earth.

  What began as a dream vacation to a tropical island paradise turned into a nightmare journey through the darkest corners of the human soul. Kiritimati is an island with a deadly secret. After a group of friends encounter a fiery red storm at sea, they return home held captive by their most sinful desires. Creating a path of destruction, they act on their deepest impulses of violence, cruelty, lust and greed. Individually, they have become disciples of Satan. United, they will launch the ultimate showdown between good and evil.

  Anatomy of Evil

  Brian Pinkerton

  At the height of the Cold War, the United States conducted a series of powerful nuclear blasts on a raised coral atoll in the Pacific Ocean known as Kiritimati Island. Kiritimati served as an ideal test environment, sparsely populated with 125-square miles of land, located 1,200 miles south of Hawaii. As part of Operation Dominic, the U.S. detonated 23 nuclear devices in Kiritimati’s vicinity between April and July 1962. The urgency to develop bigger, more destructive bombs escalated as the Soviet Union aggressively pushed on with their own nuclear weapons program.

  Global tension over nuclear weapons reached a peak later that year with the Cuban Missile Crisis, a historic confrontation between the United States and Soviet Union over the placement of Soviet nuclear missiles on Cuban soil. After two weeks of terse negotiations, the U.S. and the Soviet Union reached an agreement that led to the withdrawal of Soviet missiles from Cuba, and U.S. missiles from Italy and Turkey. One year later, the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963 prohibited any further nuclear tests in the air and in the water, ending Kiritimati’s role as a test site.

  By the close of the decade, the military pulled out of Kiritimati and abandoned its facilities. Into the 1970s, areas of Kiritimati Island remained desolate from the high levels of radiation that made their way into the waters and wildlife.

  —Russell Gifford, Shock Waves: A History of the Atomic Era, 1945-1991

  Welcome to Paradise! Christmas (Kiritimati) Island is a breathtaking tropical Eden surrounded by exotic marine life, glistening coral lagoons and pristine beaches. Enjoy superior fishing, scuba diving, bird watching and surfing in perfect temperatures year-round, just 145 miles north of the equator. From the turquoise waters to the white sandy beaches, Christmas Island is a study in natural beauty, teeming with wildlife and recreation. Experience the perfect vacation getaway in one of the world’s best kept secrets. Plan your adventure today!

  —Christmas Island: A 21st Century Paradise, promotional brochure

  Part One

  Comme il faut

  Chapter One

  “Daddy!”

  Three-year-old Christina pointed to the newspaper clipping stuck to the refrigerator under a butterfly magnet.

  Her mother, Kelly, smiled and stepped away from preparing the dinner salad. She crouched next to her daughter and put an arm around her small shoulders.

  “Yes, honey. That’s Daddy.”

  The clipping featured a photograph of four handsome men in tuxedos smiling for the camera. The caption read:

  Going fishing! Chicago residents (from left) Jake Henning, Rodney Martinez, Sam Green and Gary Burton topped the bidding for an “Ultimate Fishing Trip” at this year’s Northeastern Illinois Good Citizenship Gala and Auction. Auction proceeds support the Council’s ongoing mission to enroll local volunteers in vital social service programs to improve the communities in and around Chicago. The winning bidders are active Council members and former GC award recipients. Each year, citizens across 26 districts are nominated for the award for going “above and beyond” to drive positive change in their neighborhoods.

  Kelly felt pride as she looked at the photo with Christina. Her husband stood with his buddies, grinning. Rodney, a Rogers Park police officer, received his GC award two years ago for youth mentoring work that supported a decline in local gang violence. He had remained active with the Council, joining the award nomination committee and lending extra hours to help run the volunteer match program that connected area humanitarians with nonprofits in need of support. She had never known anyone with a bigger heart and hoped Christina would grow up to share the same devotion to doing good as her father.

  Christina pointed at the other faces in the photo, asking, “Who’s that? Who’s that?”

  “Those are Daddy’s friends. Mr. Henning and Mr. Burton and Mr. Green. I’m going with them and Mrs. Henning and Mrs. Burton on a big vacation. We’re going to stay on an island.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Not this time, honey, it’s just for grown-ups. You’ll be staying with Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “At the farm?”

  “Yes, the farm. You like the farm.”

  “Piggies and chickens.”

  “Yes, piggies and chickens.” Kelly hugged her daughter. “I love you so much, pumpkin.”

  Christina squeezed back. “I love you, Mommy.” Then she turned to face the photo clipping of her father. She shouted at it as if to reach him through the two-dimensional image. “And I love you, too, Daddy!”

  Chapter Two

  Carol Henning rolled the car to a soft stop, perfectly centered between the white lines of the blacktop parking space. She waited for the silk voice on the motivational CD to complete a poignant passage. During the 40-minute commute, Dr. Bill Bartley had urged Carol to find personal fulfillment through serving and strengthening others, a branded and trademarked concept known as Empowerment for Good. Carol believed in the wisdom of Dr. Bartley, an expert in the art of selflessness.

  Bartley reached a clean stopping point and Carol twisted her key, expiring the engine. She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. She counted to 10 and released it. She kept the seatbelt embraced tight across her chest. She did not permit herself to exit the car until she had completed her morning routine.

  Carol entered a state of mental cleansing. Her ears filled with the buzz of landscapers manicuring the lush greenery of InvestOne’s corporate headquarters. She heard other cars arrive, doors popping open and slamming shut, heels clicking on the pavement. Overhead, an airplane soared with a muffled pull across the sky.

  Against this soundtrack, Carol focused inward on her personal mantra: Listen, Produce, Excel. She recalled some of the main points of Empowerment for Good: Ask not if you are happy, but if you are productive, because true happiness comes from the recognition of your own usefulness. When you help others to succeed, you are an integral part of that success, a total team player, a sum greater than its parts.

  With the Foundation of Purpose set, Carol mentally scrolled through her day’s schedule of commitments and deadlines, placing tight controls on her time management to make every minute count. She focused on the needs of her manager and colleagues. She recited the eight pillars of the InvestOne Partnership, a declaration of the corporation’s expectations of every employee in bringing the InvestOne Vision to life.

  As her final step of preparation, Carol rehearsed her upcoming lines like an actress, readying herself for the small but meaningful banter that would accompany her daily walk through the building to her cubicle at pillar 2C-L4G.

  According to Dr. Bartley: “Your first words set the tone for the rest of the day for you and your colleagues. Make them count.”

  Carol opened her eyes.

  Ready, set, go.

  She released the seatbelt, which slipped across her lap like a snake. She relaxed her face and brightened her expression. She tugged the car keys free and stepped out of the car into the crisp spring morning.

  Entering the building, Carol greeted Syd, the guard at the front lobby. Most of the employees ignored S
yd, treating him as set decoration like a potted plant, or tossed him a short obligatory nod of acknowledgment. Carol always asked about Syd’s morning, his family, or—during baseball season—the Chicago Cubs, Syd’s passion.

  After chatting with Syd, Carol entered the elevator. She shared observations about the weather with her fellow passengers and wished them a good day as they departed for their respective floors.

  Finally, as Carol walked past her boss’s office, she lit up with beaming enthusiasm to “express externally the feeling we desire internally,” a technique recommended by Dr. Bartley. “The perception we feed others will unleash the person you wish to be.”

  “Good morning, Diane,” said Carol. “Happy Friday. I think we’ll get some sun. It’s fighting through the clouds. Is there anything you need before I boot up?”

  “Yes,” said Diane, not returning the smile, grimacing with a familiar look of panic. Her long black hair was tied tightly behind her head. She sat rigid with square shoulders. She beckoned Carol forward with a small, persistent wave, as if fanning herself.

  Carol continued to smile, even as the next round of discussion churned her up inside. Diane began talking rapidly. She required an immediate revamp of the pitchbook Carol had prepared for Diane to present to a potential big bank client. Carol had submitted the presentation more than a week ago to allow enough time for changes, but Diane had glanced at it for the first time that morning and determined it required a total overhaul.

  Diane unleashed a rambling, caffeine-charged barrage of vague demands. Some of it seemed to contradict her earlier requests. Carol wished she had a pen and paper to document her manager’s download because Diane wouldn’t have the time or patience for a repeat performance.

  As Diane continued to dispense new ideas with a stream-of-consciousness fervor, the task at hand grew in leaps and bounds. Carol felt a creeping panic that her boss had forgotten her pending vacation plans. Carol struggled with whether or not to bring it up. As the overhaul of the pitchbook became increasingly ambitious, she gently spoke up during a pause in her manager’s remarks, pushing out a few words of her own in a tone heavy with apology. “Diane, just as a reminder, I’m flying out tomorrow morning… It’s been on the vacation calendar. I put it there at the beginning of the year, so I totally understand if you didn’t—”

  “Can you take your laptop?” Diane interjected. “This is a critical pitch and I just don’t feel comfortable with it as it stands. The analysis needs more point of view, the messaging needs a refresh, it’s good but we can make it so much better, something to be proud of.”

  Carol searched for a response that wouldn’t create waves. “My flight…doesn’t leave until 9:30 tomorrow morning. I can stay late. I just…don’t know how good the Internet reception is going to be where I’m going.”

  “It will be fine, dear. Everywhere is connected these days.”

  “I’ll be pretty remote.”

  “How remote could you be?”

  “Kiritimati Island.”

  “Kiri-what?” said Diane. “I’ve never heard of such a place.”

  “My husband won the trip in an auction with some friends. It’s an island in the Pacific. They like to fish and the fishing there is—”

  “We don’t have time to talk about fishing,” said Diane curtly. “Let’s get started on the pitchbook. Do your magic. I’ll stay out of your hair. Don’t let anyone distract you. We’ll make it happen.”

  “Absolutely,” said Carol. “Right away.” As she turned to leave, Diane said, “Thank you, Carol. I knew you’d come through. You’re a rock star.”

  Carol quickened her pace to reach her desk. She opened her laptop and quickly worked the keyboard to access her files.

  She noticed her hands were shaking.

  She didn’t want to let Diane down, but she also didn’t want to upset her husband Jake, who was counting on her to be home on time to help pack for the big trip.

  Carol felt a shudder of feelings inside and recognized them as counterproductive, the nasty duo of anger and despair.

  “Step aside,” she told the gruesome twosome. She scolded her grumbly mood. This was not about her personal inconvenience. This was about making the company successful for the team and their clients. She needed to become the “You” in Useful.

  Usually a timeout for an inner dialogue would settle her and suppress negativity. She knew that giving in to agitation would affect her performance, which in turn would raise her agitation levels even more. Dr. Bartley called it the Cycle of Diminishing Powers.

  Carol knew that “when you allow others to become adversaries, you do the most disservice to yourself,” an important lesson of Empowerment for Good.

  However, as much as she tried, her inner dialogue could not calm her completely. Her head spun from the amount of work she had to complete in a very compressed timeframe.

  She knew she could cancel her vacation. That would placate Diane but upset her husband. Keeping everybody happy felt impossible and it was truly the only thing she desired in life.

  Doggone it! she nearly shouted out loud.

  She knew she needed a Healthy Outlet to express her frustration and then move on. At home, one of her Healthy Outlets was smashing ice cubes on her driveway —a perfect way to expel aggression without hurting anything. She couldn’t do that here, of course, so she chose an alternate source of relief she had undertaken once before.

  Carol grabbed a blank sheet of paper and wrote MAD, BAD THOUGHTS on it.

  Then she left her desk, clutching the sheet close to her chest so no one could see it. She smiled with bright blue eyes at coworkers as she swiftly walked the floor to a big, industrial strength shredder.

  Carol inserted the sheet of paper representing her MAD, BAD THOUGHTS into the machine, which pulled the document into its gnashing jaws of razor teeth with a mighty, intense whine.

  She watched as the paper became tiny strings of rubbish. Then she felt calm again.

  Carol returned to her desk, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with coworkers along the way. After passing two of her fellow investment analysts, she heard one of them exclaim to the other, “She’s so sweet.”

  The other responded, “She’s a saint. I wish more people around here were like Carol.”

  Hearing those words brought good to Carol’s soul. Refreshed, she was prepared to take on the day and all of its challenges with a genuine smile on her face.

  Chapter Three

  The flat, impassive voice of Danita, Zone 11 dispatcher, lifted above the police radio crackle to alert Officer Rodney Martinez to a complaint on the 7300 block of North Paulina. “Resident reporting a teenage male, gray-hooded sweatshirt, pulling on door handles of parked cars.”

  Rodney acknowledged her. He pulled the squad car off Sheridan Road and headed up Jarvis, a street on the northern end of Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood. When he reached the location, he noted a skinny Hispanic youth, maybe 13 or 14, slouched alongside a Honda Civic.

  When the boy saw the approaching police car, he stiffened and his eyes flashed fear. He turned, sunk his hands in his pockets and attempted a casual amble away from the scene, but his body language had already told Rodney all he needed to know.

  Rodney lit up his lights and punched a short “bloop!” from the siren, a loud enough sting to cause the suspect to hop a step and freeze.

  Rodney knew a major decision rolled through the boy’s mind at this very moment: stay or flee.

  The boy chose to flee.

  With an abrupt jump, he darted away from the street and into an alley. Rodney accelerated the squad car after him.

  “Wrong move, son.”

  Entering the alley, he trailed the boy, keeping a measured distance to avoid running him over if he tripped and fell. As they reached the end of the alley, a pickup truck turned into their path. In the moment it took for the pickup tru
ck to slam its brakes and reverse out of the way, the boy slipped around a corner and out of sight.

  Rodney shifted into park. He kept the lights flashing and thrust himself out of the car. Still in excellent shape in the waning days of his thirties, Rodney broke out in a healthy sprint. He hurried down the sidewalk but did not see his young suspect.

  Thick shrubbery decorated a stretch of simple, stately apartment buildings. Rodney slowed his pace. He searched the grounds until he spotted a glimpse of gray in the green.

  “Stand up slowly,” said Rodney, arms elevated waist high, ready for anything. “Hands in the air where I can see them.”

  The boy stood, emerging from the foliage, palms raised. He was a full-blown adolescent, a smattering of pimples across his forehead, and thin, sporadic hair above his upper lip. His eyes relayed the terror of a first-time offender.

  “Don’t shoot,” said the boy.

  Rodney almost smirked. “I’m not going to shoot. Please step out of there.”

  The boy advanced slowly, pulling his legs out of the branches.

  “What’s your name?” asked Rodney.

  “Jamie.”

  They stood a few feet apart now. The boy was a tall, scrawny frame of jitters. Physically, he reminded Rodney of one of his nephews, awkward and self-conscious, somewhere on the path between child and adulthood.

  “What were you doing by those cars?” asked Rodney.

  “Nothing.”

  “There’s plenty of nothing to do away from those cars. Step closer.”

  Rodney patted him down. He extracted a cell phone. “Yours?”

  The boy nodded.

  Rodney handed it back. “We received a report that someone was pulling on car door handles. That’s called vehicle prowling. It’s a crime. If you enter a vehicle unlawfully with intent to take somebody’s property, I can take you into custody and book you. You got that?”