The Pressure of Darkness (17 page)

Burke had already read Stryker's copy, but wrote down the title. "Will do."

"Now," Merriman intoned ponderously, "you say the antagonist in your little novel would be fascinated with cannibalism?"

"Yes."

"And you got my name from Peter Stryker a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, again. He was very appreciative of your having taken the time to give him input when he was writing
A Taste for Flesh
."

"I have to tell you that surprises me a bit. If memory serves, we had a small legal skirmish over credit on that project."

"He must have gotten over it."

"Indeed. Terrible thing, his death. And probably a suicide, according to the papers. Does anyone know exactly what led him to it?" Merriman placed one hand on the edge of his desk and looked down with feigned benevolence. He seemed quite the egomaniac.

"I haven't really stayed up on it, Professor. I only interviewed Mr. Stryker briefly, and primarily because of his novel."

"Ah. To avoid any similar conflict, no doubt."

"Naturally." Burke risked a probe. "And to steal from the best."

Merriman roared with laughter. "Oh, but of course, my boy. The good ones always do!"

"Please, continue. I'll listen."

"Very well." Merriman resumed pacing. Now he tucked his hands behind the back, like a man trying to channel George Washington. "We find cannibalism and vampirism present in our language in verbal metaphors, such as to devour someone with your eyes, or a parent threatening to 'eat you up.' The anthropophagy myths also appear in Voodoo and even in Latin America, and as you said, most hold that those Aztecs and African warriors would eat the hearts of their enemies to absorb their strength. Any of that play into your novel?"

"No," Burke answered. "Not really."

Merriman returned to the edge of the desk. He shifted to a thoughtful, 'Thinker' pose. "Well, then let us leave that and examine other aspects of cannibalism, shall we? Consider the Catholic ritual of transubstantiation, the eating of Christ's body and the drinking of his blood. Viewed from a distance, it is alarmingly primitive, no? So the question is why are these images so persistent in our collective unconscious, irrespective of their literal truth? Why do they endure?"

Burke leaned back in his chair. He was not unaccustomed to being the bright student in the front row. "I suspect because the act of transubstantiation is symbolic of something deeper and more abiding than we think?"

Merriman snapped his fingers, alarmingly loud. "Yes! Very good! Benezech, in 1981, held that cannibalism was related to the sado-oral stage of development, that post-sucking stage, when the child awakens to the need to bite. And yet to bite is forbidden, so this conflict is suppressed and then replayed, even in the bedroom, in adult life, as is sucking. Now, let's take the persistently fascinating legends of vampirism. This is the act of drawing blood from an object while taking erotic pleasure in sucking it. Is that not mother's milk? But milk taken in anger? Is it not also quite sadomasochistic?"

"Insanity, but then a psychosis is a memory of something that already happened."

"Indeed."

"That's a fascinating concept to apply elsewhere, then." Burke was not pretending anymore, he was intellectually intrigued. "What about the concept of zombies and the living dead? Or the aspects of the animalism in the werewolf legends?"

Merriman nodded. "They stray a trifle too far from the current topic to be relevant, but perhaps we could get into those in depth at another time? I am meeting someone for drinks shortly."

"Excuse me, Professor. Go on."

"No, on second thought," Merriman said, "perhaps I will address that interject, however briefly. Do you recall a young Scottish man named Allan Menzies? It was in all of the papers, October of 2003. He killed his best friend, one Thomas McKendrick, to drink the blood and eat part of his skull in the hopes of becoming immortal. Our Mr. Menzies claimed to have been assisted by a character from an Anne Rice novel and film. You see the vampirist fancies that being one of the living dead would constitute a new, perhaps better and more relaxed existence. She copes with her existential death anxiety by envisioning herself as immortal. When the 'love bite' shall we say, or the sucking of the bad mother's breast, turns violent and becomes a bite that sheds blood, it crosses into this territory. And we have all doubtless felt that temptation upon occasion."

Merriman smiled. He had abnormally large canines and poor teeth, giving him an unfortunate, almost vulpine look. The irony almost triggered a giggle. Burke looked down and scribbled nonsense. As usual, he would remember almost verbatim.

"And for your further reference, vampirism as a mental diagnosis probably does not exist by itself. It generally correlates to schizophrenia, hysteria, perhaps severe psychopathic disorder and even mental retardation. The drinking of blood is, as stated, sadomasochistic and appears in blood rituals, fetishism, ritual revenge, and full psychosis with or without drug intoxication. All have some form of premorbid characterological vulnerability. The fantasies arise from residues of early mother-child experiences during the oral sadistic sucking phase. It is probable that the biting and eating images come from maternal deprivation, which arouses in the infant aggressive fantasies and behavior, thus intense oral sadistic libidinal desires."

Burke was nodding, thinking, absorbing. Merriman paused as if expecting affirmation. "Very interesting," Burke offered, tentatively, "and I see you are working your way back to the original topic."

"Yes, shortly. But to further digress, there was a most interesting article from Reuters a year or two ago involving a German man named Armin M. who advertised for a 'young, well-built eighteen to thirty year old to slaughter.' A young man named Juergen actually applied for the position."

"I recall reading that story."

"I don't remember all of the details, but I assure you they were particularly gruesome. The two men imbibed heavily in both alcohol and various drugs. Then Armin surgically removed Juergen's penis. The two then flambéed the organ in brandy and tasted it. Disappointed in the flavor, they then fried Juergen's penis and subsequently devoured same. And all of this was apparently recorded on video camera."

"Castration anxiety makes that concept pretty hard to deal with," Burke said. And in truth, the thought of watching that video made him woozy. "It's a pretty disgusting idea."

"Ah, but disgust, like beauty, seems to be very much in the eye of the beholder. Juergen and Armin had a mutual agreement, it seems, for Juergen is seen on video as submitting voluntarily to his own murder. Armin then dutifully chopped the body into several pieces, froze them, and began to eat the corpse over a series of weekends."

"That part of the story escaped me." Burke had a sudden flashback: he again returned to the night his friend Top died on the disastrous mission to Djibouti—and the ugly little man he saw seated on those body parts, reveling in the wholesale slaughter. The gore had been less disturbing than the man's macabre laughter. His positive
delight
at the presence of death. When Merriman spoke again, Burke needed a few seconds to catch up.

"I assure you it is all true, Mr. Burke. In fact, the German newspaper
Der Bild
printed the grisly police statement word for word. The horrific event seems to have stemmed from the deep homosexual and cannibalistic fantasies shared by both men. The Freudian implications are, of course, quite obvious."

"Sure, but how would a Jungian account for such a story, as the deep shadow of the feminine?"

"Yes, perhaps as it relates to anthropophagy." Merriman stood. "I believe it was McCully, 1964, who first hypothesized that the mythology associated with vampires, werewolves, and anthropophagy could all arise from the destructive side of the feminine. By way of example, consider Hecate of Greece or the Kali-ma cults of India."

Burke nodded. "Murder in the name of the Goddess of Death."

"Oh, but Kali-ma is much more than mere death, Mr. Burke. You should read up on her some time, you really should. Quite fascinating." That odd grin again. The man was in danger of becoming a caricature. "The Hindu pantheon is wonderful stuff, and within it the dark feminine is most marvelous."

"It appears in Tibetan Buddhism as well, correct?"

"Very good, young man. Indeed it does." Merriman glanced at his watch. "I am running out of time. You might also look into the concept that schizophrenics—who often manifest persecutory delusions of incorporation, introjection, devouring, and destruction—are lacking any capacity for symbolic thought. To them the ingestion of blood or flesh may be a way to replenish the self, however malignantly narcissistic the behavior. Perhaps that would help you organize the inner world of your murderer."

"That's a good idea. Thanks."

"But he eats people, yes? Then some final thoughts on anthropophagy. Have you noticed that when one group sets out to destroy a subgroup, it tends to lay those charges at its door? The Romans against the Christians, those same Christians later against the Jews? The fantasy that the hated subgroup practices such appalling rites as cannibalism and blood rituals inflames the spirit of the populace and creates the necessary motivation in the masses. Now, I cannot go into it in depth, but this splitting of self and other again echoes of primitive narcissism and borderline psychotic ego defenses."

"Interesting."

Merriman walked to his coat rack, shrugged his way into an overcoat. Burke, taking his cue, packed up his things. He left the recording running.

"Walk me to my car?" Merriman asked.

"Certainly, Professor. I appreciate the extra time."

"No problem." Merriman turned out the lights. His eager receptionist had already gone home. "Just be sure you mention the school favorably when you write about and discuss your novel, eh?"

"Of course."

The two approached the elevator. "When one considers the Goths, sadomasochists, Satanists, and other groups, it seems they all take this fantasy on voluntarily. But here the perceived evil is somehow equated with strength. My belief is that the inner badness these people feel due to their internalized bad objects makes it effortless for them to identify with what society perceives to be bad things."

"I see."

"Of course, there is also an element of adolescent rebellion present, a great pleasure taken in the shocking of one's elders."

Burke turned the recorder off and smiled. "Does the group, or the cult let's say, replace the introjected unloving parents with new objects?"

"Excellent, Mr. Burke. You must take one of my classes some time. You have studied psychology somewhere, I take it?"

The elevator pinged open. The two men entered the lobby. "Here and there," Burke answered. "Mostly in pursuit of my interest in comparative religion."

"To answer your question," Merriman continued, "the group certainly provides the injured member with a form of legitimatization, and the possibility of orally incorporating power and strength, but it comes at a severe price. There will be a constant need to expand the group and draw more members in to add to the legitimacy of the lifestyle, which will often then distance these people from the members they wished to be closest to."

"And the cult must seal out the real world. Paradoxically, in order to survive it must become a closed system, which ultimately kills it."

"Mr. Burke, you must really consider going for your Ph.D."

"You flatter me, Dr. Merriman."

"But should the group survive, even as a somewhat closed system, the members will also doubtless be bound to serve their inevitably sado-narcissistic leader. And as someone once noted, absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely."

"It decays from within."

They crossed the parking lot and arrived at a sleek, blue BMW. Dr. Merriman clasped Burke's hand. "This has been a stimulating conversation, Mr. Burke."

Burke refrained from pointing out that Merriman had essentially entertained himself. He remained deferential. "Thank you for your time, Professor. I will be certain to make note of the school in my acknowledgments."

TWENTY

Burke stopped at a dented metal newspaper vending machine, inserted some change, and opened the
Daily News
. He searched the classifieds. Suddenly his shoulders straightened. He read the message, sighed, and dropped the newspaper into a trash can. "Perfect timing, Cary."

He walked slowly back to his own car, preoccupied by a creeping sense of dread. He paused by his vehicle, opened and dialed the cell phone.

"Hey, Gina."

"Burke, goddamn it, where the fuck are you?"

"Fine, thanks, and you?"

"This isn't funny. I have two calls from Major Ryan and four messages from Scotty Bowden. They are both going nuts looking for you. I say I don't know where you are or what you're doing."

"Keep saying that, Gina."

She sighed explosively. "I don't understand."

Burke soothed. "For your ears only, I just spent some time with Professor Merriman. He looks reasonably fit, but too old. He may still be our guy, but if he is, I'd be very surprised. He strikes me as a total egghead who is so full of his own bullshit he'd have no room to carry resentment."

"Did you tell him what you're up to?"

"He thinks I'm writing a book." Burke got into his car, started it up. "He was interesting to listen to, but I don't have the slightest idea if what he said is going to apply to this case."

"Can I ask where the hell you're going now?"

After a pause, Burke told her a version of the truth.

TWENTY-ONE

. . . Time curves in upon itself, weaves into a Mobius strip:
Jack Burke is twenty-nine years old. He has already been recruited by the shadow agency known only as The Company, but has been reluctant to sign up. He is only one year out of active duty and not in a hurry to repeat his combat experiences . . .

It is the blistering, smoggy heat of a Los Angeles summer.