Date: Tue, 9 Jul 2013 01:13:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: z119z 2000 <z119z2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Carma Klown, installment 9

The Carma Klown

Chapter 17

© by the author 2013

Sunday, ca. 7:00 a.m., June 13, 2010

The man finished reading all the new reports in The Carma Klown case
file. Saturday had been a busy day for Altmann and his officers. Somehow
they had persuaded a clerk in the property records office to come in on her
day off and identify the owners of the building across the street from
Syswide and then found someone in the property management company
responsible for the building to talk to them about Syswide's leasing of the
building and its renovation plans. Armed with the image from the seventh
tape, they had found a judge willing to sign the search warrant. Once Jim
Mitchell, the detective whose calculations had facilitated Michael Chang's
reconstruction of the image from the various reflections in that tape, had
access to the building plans, he had been able to determine that the video
had been made on the third floor. The police search would focus on that
floor first.

It was all working out so smoothly. He could sense the cops' excitement
from their reports. They had the break in the case they had been hoping
for. None of them was stopping to ask if the break might be a little too
convenient or to wonder if the clues weren't suddenly a little too
forthcoming. It was unlikely that any of them would question the clues he
had left at the scene. No one was going to look those gift horses in the
mouth. No one was going to stop and think that the room he had prepared
wasn't soundproof and that there weren't enough electrical plugs to account
for what would have taken place in the room. He had played fair. If the
cops analyzed the room carefully, they would find evidence that it couldn't
be the right location. If they didn't want to find it, if they were so
ready to congratulate themselves that they could taste the arrest, well,
that wouldn't be his fault. He was giving them every chance.

It was all going so well. Just as he had planned. The man who would shortly
become the major actor in this little drama was programmed and ready. It
was a pity that "The Carma Klown" would spend the next few decades in
jail. The man would have to find a new way to use his talents and occupy
his time. But The Carma Klown had had a good run. The Klown was already a
folk hero. The videos would remain available. No one would be able to stop
their spread. They would have an impact and influence others who would take
up his work and continue it. Perhaps not with his finesse and skills, but
the guerrilla warfare against corporate criminals would go on. He would
have that to look back on as his accomplishment.

He already had some ideas about his next venture. All the comments the
videos had received had made it clear to him that there was a market for a
certain type of product. What was the old business adage—find a niche
and fill it?

Meanwhile, he had a few bits of work to do today with his proxies. He
needed a strong cup of tea—Keemun would be best, he thought.

***** Sunday, ca. 8:30 a.m., June 13, 2010

"Jeff, come in. I hope you were able to find parking close by. It's so hard
to find an open space some Sunday mornings. Everybody's at home." Geo
Arlecchini held the door to his apartment open and greeted Jeff with
enthusiasm.

"Oh, I walked over. It's such a great day, and I was cooped up inside all
day yesterday at work. I just happened to go past a bakery, and it smelled
so good that I stopped and bought some muffins. I thought they would go
with that great coffee of yours."

Jeff handed the bag to Geo Arlecchini, who opened it and peered in. He
inhaled deeply. "Hmmm. They smell great. Your buns are tempting. I knew
that I liked you the moment I met you."

It took Jeff a few seconds to identify the look Arlecchini gave him as a
leer. It was so unexpected that he was at a loss for words for a few
seconds. "Yeah. Sure. Okay. Thanks."

Something in Jeff's manner made Arlecchini took a second, closer look at
him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You look—I don't know—like something's worrying you. Sit down, and
we can talk about it. I'll get that coffee for you."

The comment struck Jeff as a bit personal. He had met Arlecchini only once
before and that had been business. The blogger had texted Jeff an hour
earlier and invited him over to check the edited transcript of the
interview before it was posted. Jeff had almost written back telling
Arlecchini to email the text so that he could look it over at home. But
then he thought that Michael would be gone all day and he might as well get
out and see someone else. It beat cleaning up their apartment or doing the
laundry or watching TV or preparing a meal that Michael might be too busy
to eat. He didn't, however, quite know how to respond to Arlecchini's
concern. He wasn't averse to being Geo's friend, but it was too early to
begin abandoning boundaries.

Arlecchini busied himself with making the coffee. In a couple of minutes he
set a cup for Jeff on the table along with a plate on which he had arranged
the muffins. "I'll be right back. I'll just pull a cup for myself. Go
ahead. Drink up. Don't wait for me."

Jeff took a cautious sip of the coffee. It was still too hot to drink. He
blew on the surface of the coffee and then took another sip. It was
wonderful the way the body reacts to good coffee, he thought. It's so
relaxing and satisfying at the same time. He leaned back and let his mind
drift. For a few minutes, he just wanted to forget about the past week and
all the problems with Michael and The Carma Klown video.

"Can I get you another cup?"

Jeff opened his eyes. He wondered if he had fallen asleep. Geo or someone
had been talking to him. Maybe I just dreamed it, he thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I was tireder that I thought. I must have drifted
off."

"No problem. Now tell me what's wrong."

It was so easy to answer Geo's question. The words just flowed out. Jeff
told Geo about the fights with Michael and his feelings that their
relationship was becoming stale and routine. He revealed his part in the
latest Carma Klown video and how filthy that made him feel. Geo was so
understanding. And the other man was too.

"But that wasn't your fault. You had no choice. It's nothing to be ashamed
of."

The other man had such a soothing voice. So easy to listen to. He was so
reassuring. And suddenly Jeff didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed or worried
about the video. When the man suggested that all three of them watch it
together, he agreed.

"This Parish Haydn is an evil man. He got less than he deserved."

It seemed so correct the way that the man put it. It made everything
clear. "Yes. He deserved more." Jeff was so agreeable.

"And you should be proud that you were part of The Carma Klown's
punishment, you and Michael."

"I am." Suddenly Jeff felt very proud to have helped The Carma Klown. He
had been chosen. The Carma Klown could have enlisted the aid of
hundreds—thousands—of men, and he had chosen Jeff. "I'm so
lucky. We're so lucky. But we can't tell anyone. It would cost Michael his
job."

"No, people would not understand. Maybe even Michael would not
understand. You must keep this a secret."

"Yes, a secret." Geo's friend was so right. He was so lucky to have such
understanding friends.

***** Sunday, ca. 9:00 a.m., June 13, 2010

The man from the management company met them at the door, checked the
search warrant, and unlocked the chain. The armed units went in first to
verify that the building was empty. When the third floor was declared
clear, the evidence team went in. Using the building plans and Jim
Mitchell's best guess as to the location where the video had been made,
they had identified the most likely room on the third floor
beforehand. According to the plans the room was about ten by fifteen and
had a large window overlooking the street.

The techs dusted the doorknob and the surrounding area for prints before
opening the door. There were several partials on the handle and a set of
four clear full prints on the outside of the door and a matching thumb
print on the inside of the door. It appeared that someone had recently
opened the door by placing his hand along the frame with his fingers on the
outside of the door and his thumb on the inside. If the prints belonged to
The Carma Klown, he had left evidence of his presence. The techs scanned
the best images with their phones and transmitted them to the lab for
processing through the fingerprint databases.

"Someone likes black." The leader of the group of technicians stood in the
doorway and swept his flashlight over the room. The walls, floor, and
ceiling of the room were painted black. The panes of the one window in the
room had also been covered thickly with black paint. The only daylight came
from a small hole in one pane. A triangular piece in one corner was
missing. The head technician used a pen to flip the light switch on. The
tech with the still camera stood in the doorway and took pictures of every
part of the room. She then used a video camera to make another record. When
she finished, the other tech cautiously entered the room.

The principal investigators held back while the techs did their job. Baker,
Redding, and Michael each took a turn standing in the doorway and looking
around the room. As Michael peered in, a technician was dusting the light
switch and the plate and wall near it for prints. It suddenly struck
Michael that if this was indeed the room The Carma Klown had used to make
the videos, then his prints or other trace evidence that pointed to his
presence might be in the room as well. His prints were on file. If one of
his prints showed up in the room, there would be questions. I should not
have listened to Jeff, he thought. I should have gone straight to the
Captain and told him.  It was too late now. He would just have to bluff his
way around it if the evidence tied him to the room. He would claim that he
had no memory of being in the video and that he hadn't recognized his
cock. And he had no idea whose butt that was. That should work. No one else
remembered being in the videos. Why would they doubt him when he said the
same? But what about Jeff? Were his prints on file?

"Hey, look at this." One of the techs was pointing to hole in the
window. "It looks like this part fell out after the window was
painted. There are paint spatters on the frame. Whoever painted this room
didn't want to be seen. He would have noticed the missing piece and covered
it over. This must be how the reflection got in."

One corner of the room held floodlights on stands and a metal trunk. The
techs dusted the lights and the outside of the trunk for prints. They found
several. A cursory examination showed that several of them matched the
prints discovered earlier on the door. Other trace evidence—a few hairs,
some fiber samples—would be recovered later when the dust gathered by
the vacuum cleaner was sifted.

When the techs were sure that they had uncovered all the evidence that
would be found on the surfaces of the room, they invited the principal
investigators to join them as the trunk was opened.

"We got him!" exclaimed Jerry Baker as soon as he saw the contents of the
trunk.

The techs photographed each item before removing it and placing it in a
plastic evidence bag.  The first items to be removed were the dildos used
in the Parish Haydn video. The dildo that Haydn had screwed into himself in
the video was wrapped in an old towel. It was still sticky with lube and
other substances no one wanted to think about. A kit containing vials of a
clear liquid and several hypodermic needles was met with knowing
nods—the drugs had been found. Subsequent analysis would reveal that the
liquid in the vials was Rohypnol. The trunk also yielded up several bottles
of anal lube. Near the bottom the techs found the two butt plugs used on
Milowski and Reilly.

When all the evidence had been processed, the police had forty-seven clear
prints. Three of those belonged to Parish Haydn IV. Six were never
identified and were assumed to have been left by the actors whose butts
were featured in the videos. The other thirty-eight were all from one
man. They were found not only on the door and walls of the room but on
several of the items in the trunk—the vials of Rohypnol, several of the
dildos, the butt plugs.

***** Sunday, ca. 2:30 p.m., June 13, 2010

The end was anticlimactic. Matches for the fingerprints were found not in
the database for criminals but in that for municipal workers. That
collection also included prints for outside contractors who did work for
the city.

Altmann called the lead investigators to his office when he received the
news. "The prints belong to a man named Brady Wilson."

Michael sat up. "I know him. He's the owner of Syswide. Ellen and I were
talking to him on Friday."  That must have been how he selected me, thought
Michael. He must have somehow dosed me and Jeff with Rohypnol on Friday
night. But how? And when? We were home on Friday night. Michael suddenly
realized that the other three men were looking at him. For a second he
wondered if he had spoken aloud. "Jeez, we were sitting right in his
office, and I never suspected. That explains how he was able to use all
those computers. His company services them. He was probably even involved
in the installation of the police alert system. He must have been planning
this for years."

*****

Sunday afternoon, June 13, 2010

Altmann appointed Baker and Michael heads of the team sent to arrest Brady
Wilson at his home. The owner of Syswide surrendered without a
struggle. While Baker took him back to One Police Plaza for questioning,
Michael supervised the search of his home. He found the originals of the
tapes. Baker's computers held many files documenting his activities as The
Carma Klown.

Wilson chose not to exercise his right to a lawyer. He admitted that he was
The Carma Klown and that he had drugged and kidnapped all the men who
appeared in the videos. He was defiant and insisted that he had been just
and right. "They deserved to be punished. Everyone knows that they are
guilty. But no one was doing anything. They were getting away with it. You
forced me to act. Somebody had to do something. So I did what had to be
done." He refused to say more. Indeed he never again said anything about
his activities as The Carma Klown.

*****

Sunday, ca. 6:00 p.m., June 13, 2010

"Look, there's Michael. You are very proud of him."

"I am very proud of him." Jeff stared at the TV screen. Michael appeared
briefly on the front steps of an old house in the Windsor Terrace area of
Brooklyn. He handed a sealed cardboard evidence box to one of the uniformed
patrolmen standing outside the door, who carried the box to a large black
van parked in the driveway of the house. The area around the house was
cordoned off with yellow police tape. A group of uniformed cops stood in
front of it, denying entry to the horde of reporters and refusing to answer
their shouted questions. The house belonged to Brady Wilson, who had been
"allegedly" identified as The Carma Klown and arrested several hours
earlier.

The "continuous live coverage" at Wilson's home had begun within an hour of
his arrest. The police chief himself, surrounding by his posse of deputy
chiefs but none of the investigators on the case, had called a news
conference to announce Wilson's arrest and his admission of guilt. The cops
standing on the perimeter of the property refused to speak to the
reporters, who were reduced to interviewing Wilson's neighbors. Their
responses varied from surprise ("He is such a quiet man, and friendly,
always ready to help out. I would never have suspected he would do
something like this.") to claims of prior suspicions ("I always thought
there was something off about him." and "He was always coming and going
late at night.")

"You will reward Michael when he returns home tonight."

"I will reward Michael when he returns home tonight."

"You know what you have to do."

"I know what I have to do."

The man reiterated the commands. When he was satisfied that Jeff would
carry out his programming, he sent Jeff home.

*****

Sunday evening, June 13, 2010

Michael's search team quickly found the originals of The Carma Klown tapes,
the camera, and the tattooing machine. The voice-alteration software was
found on one of his computers. Michael was later able to trace Wilson's use
of the backdoors he had installed in the municipal computers used to upload
the videos. Even if Wilson hadn't confessed, there was more than enough
evidence to convict him.

*****

Tuesday morning, June 15, 2010

"I'm going to have to interrupt you, Angela. We've just got word that Brady
Wilson, the man accused of being The Carma Klown, is arriving at the
Criminal Court in Brooklyn for his arraignment hearing later this
morning. WHM reporter Bob Starling is on the scene. Bob, can you hear us?
What can you tell us?"

"Jim, Angela, . . . , the scene is tumultuous. The Carma Klown's supporters
have turned out in full force. The police are keeping them back from the
driveway they will use for the perp walk, but the crowd is pressing in on
all sides. As you can see, Schermerhorn Street outside the municipal
courthouse here in Brooklyn is packed."

The TV camera panned slowly over the scene and lingered on one of the many
hand-lettered signs held aloft. "Free The Carma Klown" was the most common
sentiment. Hundreds of people were wearing T-shirts with The Carma Klown
image. Policeman pushed back the crowd so that a van with the logo of the
municipal prison department could make its way through. Shouts of support
for The Carma Klown mingled with denunciations of the police and "corporate
criminals."

The van moved slowly through the crowd and halted before a door at the side
of the building. A line of chained prisoners wearing orange boiler suits
emerged. Each man was briefly visible as the cops hustled him inside the
door. It wasn't clear to the crowd of onlookers which of them was The Carma
Klown, but they cheered each middle-aged white male.

The man turned the sound off. The breathless excitement of Bob Starling and
the noise of the crowd grated on his nerves. He identified Brady Wilson,
but then he had an advantage over the others watching. He had spent several
hours with Wilson programming him. He didn't need to be told by the TV or
newspaper reporters that Wilson had refused legal counsel. Nor would he
need them to tell him in an hour or so that Wilson had pled guilty to all
charges and had been sent back to jail pending sentencing. That was how he
had programmed Wilson. Wilson's guilty plea would close the case. The cops
would stop looking at the evidence, and it would be boxed away. Michael
Chang or some other curious cop might look into some of the questions that
remained unanswered, but soon other cases would claim their attention, and
the niggling questions would fade from their minds.

And it would never occur to them that he had selected Wilson as payback for
the three years he had labored as an underpaid worker at Syswide, the years
he had rushed around New York City cleaning up other people's mistakes and
the constant messages from Wilson to hurry up and get on to the next job.

The man didn't know if the judge at the arraignment would set a date for
sentencing or whether that would come later. It wouldn't matter. Professor
Stephens would see a televised report on The Carma Klown later that day. It
would trigger a subroutine in his programming. He would contact a man in
Washington, DC, and direct his attention to the similarities in the
behavior of The Carma Klown's victims and those of his test subjects many
years before. Stephens was, of course, not aware that his test subjects
hadn't been the last people to be dosed with the SECA drugs. But the man in
Washington would know and would become alarmed about possible leaks. And he
would set an investigation in motion that would quickly lead to federal
intervention in the case. Brady Wilson would disappear into the maw of
"national security" and all the evidence the local police had found, all of
Brady's personal computers, all of Syswide's records, would be
confiscated. Because the feds would know what to look for, it wouldn't take
them long to discover that Wilson knew of Stephens's drug cocktail and had
used it. Wilson would prove to be cooperative. His confession would end the
feds' curiosity, just as it was now ending that of the local police. Wilson
the man would be swallowed up and never seen again, but the legend of The
Carma Klown would live on.

*****

Monday, ca. 2:30 a.m., June 14, 2010

"Hey, you're home." Jeff sleepily turned on the lamp beside the bed. "What
time is it?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet."

Jeff squinted at his alarm clock. "It's after two. Have you been working
all this time?"

"Yeah, after we finished at Wilson's house—Wilson's the owner of
Syswide. He's already confessed to being The Carma Klown. Anyway when I got
back to Midtown, I thought I would just take a few minutes to look over
what we had found. I lost track of the time, and the next thing I knew, it
was after midnight. The duty sergeant sent me home. He said that the
evidence would still be there tomorrow, and I would see it better if I had
a good night's sleep."

"You were all over the news. They even mentioned your name. Detective
Michael Chang this and Detective Michael Chang that."

"Yeah, I know. My parents called to tell me. They even videotaped
it. They've probably already enlisted Mikey to help them post it on Youtube
or something. I had to turn my phone off, I was getting so many calls from
reporters."

"Get undressed and come to bed."

"I'll just keep you awake. I'm too excited to sleep."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Jeff stood up and embraced Michael. He
unbuttoned Michael's shirt and began playing with his nipples, stroking
them and pulling on them lightly. He rubbed his thumbs over Michael's pecs,
massaging the first drug into Michael's skin. Absorption through the skin
and into the bloodstream and thence into the brain took a few minutes. Jeff
kept Michael distracted with his hands and mouth. He wasn't consciously
aware of doing so, but his brain tracked Michael's calming. Michael's body
grew relaxed and malleable. His will shut down. When Jeff told him to open
his mouth, Michael did. Jeff removed a small plastic vial from the
nightstand, unscrewed the cap, and poured the contents into Michael's
mouth. "Swallow." Michael swallowed. "Lie down." Michael lay down.

Jeff activated his phone and sent a text message. The man was waiting in
his van in front of the building. He had seen Michael return a quarter of
an hour before and was anticipating Jeff's call. In a few minutes, he was
inside Michael and Jeff's bedroom. He sent Jeff to sleep. He had decided to
postpone Michael's full programming until later in the week. Tonight, he
wanted only to instill one conviction in Michael's mind.

"Michael, listen to me."

The body on the bed stirred and Michael's eyes opened. He focused on the
man.

For the next half hour, the man reiterated the same message. "Brady Wilson
is The Carma Klown. Every piece of evidence you uncover points to his
guilt." When the man knew that Michael was programmed, he erased Michael's
memory of his presence.

*****

Saturday, ca. 1:00 a.m., June 19, 2010

"Just relax. Don't struggle. You feel great."

As soon as the voice spoke, Jeff's body relaxed. He did feel great. He
couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. The space around him was
totally dark. He was so comfortable. He felt so great.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember our previous meetings?"

"Yes. The video and then later."

"That's right. The video you and your partner were so kind to help me
make. I really appreciated the efforts both of you put into it. What did
you feel when you discovered that you and Michael were actors in the
video."

"Anger. I was very upset and angry."

"You are no longer angry."

"No, Sir."

"You enjoyed appearing in the video."

"I enjoyed appearing in the video."

"You are always happy to assist me in my endeavors."

"I am always happy to assist you in your endeavors."

"You want to help me."

"Yes, I want to help you."

"Did Michael tell you about the backdoors I've installed on computers?"

"Yes. He mentioned it."

"Well, I have installed backdoors into your mind and into Michael's. So
that I can access your minds at any time I need to."

"Cool."

"Yes, it is cool. I'm going to take a vacation for the next two weeks. But
I will be back. Not as The Carma Klown, of course. We don't want to disturb
Mr. Wilson's sentencing, do we?"

"No, Sir."

"And when I come back, I will have a use for you."

"Great."

"You look forward to being of use."

"I look forward to being of use."

"You want me to access your mind and use you."

"I want you to access my mind and use me."

"Excellent. When you helped me make the video, I thought of marking you and
Michael with the Klown tattoo. But I decided against that. But I may do so
in the future, after the furor has died down. You would like that."

"Yes, I would like that."

"You would find Michael even sexier if he had a Carma Klown tattoo on his
butt."

"I would find Michael even sexier if he had a Carma Klown tattoo on his
butt."

"Good. And you would feel even sexier if you had a Carma Klown tattoo on
your butt."

"Yes, I would feel even sexier if I had a Carma Klown tattoo on my butt."

"You love Michael."

"I love Michael."

"You would do anything to make him happy."

"I would do anything to make him happy."

"You would do anything to make me happy."

"I would do anything to make you happy."

"You know what would make me happy?"

"No. What?"

"It would make me happy if every time you saw Michael's butt, you think of
me. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Every time you see Michael's butt, you will think of me. You will
remember how good it feels to be controlled by me. You will want to help
me."

The man repeated that lesson over and over. He had previously programmed
Michael in the same way. Daily both Michael and Jeff's bodies would
subconsciously reinforce their willingness to help him.

"Excellent, Jeff. For now, you are going to forget everything that has
happened. When you wake up, you will remember nothing of our
conversation. However, what we have talked about will remain part of your
subconscious mind. When the time comes, I will activate you and you will
serve me."

"I will serve you."

"Now, sleep."

The man waited a minute to make sure that Jeff was fully asleep. He had
already programmed Michael. For Michael, however, he had added a subroutine
that would make Michael study hard for the detective sergeant's exam. Along
with the excellent recommendation that Altmann would give Michael, his high
score on the examination would ensure his promotion. By the time he had
everything ready and had resumed his activities, he would have a detective
sergeant under his control.

Jeff and Michael looked so peaceful lying next to each other in bed. The
programming would ensure that they remained devoted to each other. He did
have to congratulate himself on the care he had devoted to strengthening
their relationship. All those long heart-to-heart talks with the two of
them. What he had done for them was almost couples therapy. They should be
so grateful to him. Of course, he couldn't let them know about it. They had
to think it was their own doing. He had plans for them, but the least he
could do for them was to make their relationship intensely rewarding for
both of them. It was in his best interests that they remain together
happily.

It had been so hard to resist the temptation to mark them with the Carma
Klown tattoo. But Michael had to undergo annual physical evaluations. He
couldn't risk a police doctor spotting the mark. So he had had to settle
for programming them so that the sight of each other's butt reinforced
their obedience to him. Later he might tattoo Jeff. He was so hairy,
though. He would have to include a subroutine in Jeff's programming to make
him keep his butt shaved. So many things to think of. The new set-up had to
be prepared. The programming modules. The distribution network. Well, he
had time. Two weeks in Aruba. He looked forward to his vacation. Relaxing
on the beach, swimming. He always found that it helped his thought
processes to get away. It was a miracle the way that ideas came to him when
he relaxed. He would be lying on the beach, not a thought in his mind, and
suddenly an improvement he could make in his scheme would become clear to
him.

Well, it was time to go. He doublechecked to make sure that no traces of
his work remained. He had programmed Jeff and Michael not to notice his
presence, but still best not to leave anything they might have to devise an
explanation for. At the doorway to their bedroom, he paused to take a final
look at them.

"Sweet dreams, boys," he whispered. "I'll be back before you know it."

The end for now.