Iscariot's Glacial Productions Ltd Presents: Another Chapter in the long
running stoooory of a quack that's gone to the dogs.. [With apologies to
Jim Henson]
So here we are again, another chapter. This one has taken me longer than usual because I've started writing two other fics. In a way I've achieved the impossible, I've found a way to update even more slowly.
A special nod to one of my reviewers who asked me how the hell I'm going to wind this up...good question that..better start thinking about it. Also, she noted that she was sad that Greg hadn't got any.any what?? Heh. Seriously, I'd rather have fun with implication than writing a first year gynaecology text; we all know that tab A goes into slot B, do we really want a purple description? Personally, I'd rather screw with my characters heads.
As always sincere thank-yous to my wonderful Beta 'tasha, who hasn't so much kept me on the straight and narrow as she has constantly harassed me to pull finger, thank her that this chapter is here before April.
And finally, thank you, to you the reader. Your reviews keep me going, or stop me going..mad that is. Now, go forth and review (
The best of man is like water,
Which benefits all things, and does not contend with them,
Which flows in places that others disdain,
Where it is in harmony with the Way.
So the sage:
Lives within nature,
Thinks within the deep,
Gives within impartiality,
Speaks within trust,
Governs within order,
Crafts within ability,
Acts within opportunity.
He does not contend, and none contend against him.
Lao Tzu - The Tao Te Ching [Peter Merel trans]
The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Bend Over and Spread 'Em - by Agatha Babylon.
You know, I love Las Vegas; the vague hint of corruption in the morning does wonders for my moral compass. Maybe it's because I'm a bad girl more likely it's that if the food is off there's something rotten going on; rotten, is however, a euphemism for the almighty bureaucratic fisting we have before us today.
You don't like my language? Get over it. There are things more important in this world that your damaged sensibilities; and if bureaucracy is allowed to run riot, as our dear jellyfish of a Mayor is going to let happen then a good solid fisting is infinitely preferable to the alternative.
What alternative I hear you cry?
The type of alternative that nails people to walls and quotes from great literature, that's what.
See, we've finally caught a break; that's 'we' in the royal sense, as our city's finest - that's not the mayor for those of you who are a little slow - have discovered that our least favourite maniac is probably being fuelled by defective medication and what's more, the company and the type of medicine have been identified.
So what's the catch?
Well, City Hall is more nervous than a rat in a snake pit about potential lawsuits from the medical fraternity, civil rights groups and various liberal intelligentsia with a grip on reality similar to that of the Manson Family who apparently believe that protecting the civil liberties of the murderously inclined is more important than protecting everybody else. Unsurprisingly, it would appear that the chance of the city being sued is of greater concern to our administration than having more of its residents dressed out like carcasses in a butcher's shop; now, if we were experiencing a food shortage I could understand their reasoning, but I was at the supermarket this morning and the shelves looked pretty full.
Now, don't get me wrong, civil liberties and the protection of individual rights are a fine thing, I'm the first person to defend someone else's right to smoke, drink or inject what they want or to copulate with as many people of whatever race, sex or creed as they need to in order to find inner fulfilment but - and heaven help me I never thought I'd ever say this - the needs of the many do sometimes indeed outweigh the needs of the one, be that one a psychotic killer or our beloved mayor and his individual need to protect his majority.
Now, being the highly moral reporter that I am, I sought to verify the existence of this evidence, for who am I to cast baseless aspersions on the character of those in power? I went to the scientists, specifically, Gil Grissom, an annoying little bug whom some of you may remember has previously questioned my journalistic integrity. Whilst Grissom the bug refused to answer my questions, he did suggest that I direct any further enquiries to the Chief of Police.
So here we are Mr. Chief of Police. Tell me, tell us, what's more important, the safety of your citizens or a bunch of rules designed to protect those that prey on them?
****
"Did she really call you Grissom?" asked an incredulous Brass, "After your performance at that interview I would have thought that the only way she'd contact you again would be by parcel bomb."
"I was as surprised as you are Jim," was the disingenuous reply - although Grissom's surprise was more at the reporter's inventiveness than anything else considering he was less than five feet from said person at the time of the call. Thinking back to the previous evening he couldn't help laugh at Babylon's rationalisation that if she called him so that he could refuse to answer then he would technically be telling the truth if he was asked if she had contacted him; this, admittedly, tenuous logical chain was also predicated on no-one thinking to ask if Grissom had contacted her.
****
August 10 - Letters to the Editor
Sir,
It was with marked concern that I read the column, 'Bend Over and Spread 'Em' by Agatha Babylon. Does this woman not realise that if we undermine the rights of the individual to be protected then we inevitably open the door to state control of all expression. Certainly, any right-minded person would be concerned at the activities of this sadly deluded individual, but we must consider that the right to freedom of expression is protected in the First Amendment to the Constitution; we must, therefore, find another to address this issue that breaching this sacred right.
Yours faithfully B. S. Rectitude, Las Vegas.
Editor's Note: The Second Amendment protects my right to bear arms and the .303 I have by my side is the best First Amendment option I have if that psycho comes calling.
Sir,
Your correspondent, Agatha Babylon, appears to misunderstand the necessity for the level of confidentiality that exists between patient and medical practitioner. While it must be acknowledged that the actions of the individual to whom Ms Babylon refers are unfortunate, there is a wider principle at stake than suborning their rights in the name of punitive justice; namely that of creating and maintaining a safe environment for the patient.
Criminal activity, of any type, is regrettable, but it must be remembered that the medical community, be it of the physical of psychiatric branches, is intended to cure and to and not to punish; I note that I have yet to see any medical procedure which included life-long remand or execution as being potentially therapeutic.
But I digress.
Would you ask a priest to disclose, that which was spoken under the sanctity of confession? Of course not and as such law protects the right to professional non-disclosure. The medical profession operates under the same strictures and by attempting to subvert doctor patient privilege you will inevitably undermine any trust people have in the profession.
I remain Jack L Hyde [Dr] Chairman, Las Vegas Medical Ethics Committee
****
"Mary, get me Calliop...oh hello Corbin," Mayor Astoria's rant was cut off at the knees by the seemingly prescient appearance of his chief of police - possibly rising through the floor like a malevolent, uniformed spirit. "You were in the office?"
Calliope nodded his assent. "Yup, the pedal-car was taken, so I took the opportunity to catch up on some paperwork"
"Pedal-Car?"
"It's all we can afford since..."
"...the budget cuts. Yes, yes, evil Mayor Astoria, he who has single- handedly brought the police force of Las Vegas city to its knees with his skinflint policies."
"You've been practising then?"
"Mary wrote me a speech."
"I wasn't aware she was your speech-writer."
"Nor was I. She offered to find me a crowd to deliver it to as well."
The chief grinned, the light granting his features a slight mephistophelian caste, "Now there's an offer to refuse, you annoy her again?"
"If you count telling her she couldn't run her bookmaking operation out of City-Hall, then yes."
"That it'd do it; anyway, was there a particular reason you were screaming my name or were you just lonely?" "Now there's a mental picture I didn't need Corbin; actually, yes, in answer to your question, I did want you for something specific: Babylon."
"You've seen the paper over the last few days then?" Calliope held up his hand to forestall a reply, "Rhetorical, Waldorf. You can't have her arrested for writing an opinion piece."
"How about slander?"
"And the slandered party is?"
"That would be me?"
"You sound unsure; you can't have someone arrested for slander because you think they've hurt your feelings. The closest that article came to slander was calling you a jellyfish, and since you patently have only two legs and live on land you'd get laughed out of court for taking umbrage at a lightweight - albeit malicious - analogy."
"How about incitement then?"
"Incitement to what." Calliope sighed heavily; sometimes the mayor's ability to take offence undermined his political savvy with the resultant effect being Calliope's ulcer playing up as he mightily resisted the urge to push his employer under a bus. Continuing, the chief spoke as if lecturing one of his children, "Incitement is a verb, Waldorf, you know, a doing word; precisely what has Babylon's article incited people to do?"
"To panic. About the Shakespeare killer."
"I think it's a bit late for that Waldorf. Your population is already terrified. I doubt the inestimable Agatha Babylon could scare them any more than they already are. Truth be told, she does raise a fair point."
"...and that is?" Astoria's tone was wary, he knew his chief well enough not to blindly walk into the verbal traps his friend enjoyed setting for him.
"Whether client-patient confidentiality is necessarily within the public interest in all situations."
Astoria's face fell, for here was one of the inescapable conflicts of public life; where the law ran counter to personal belief. "It doesn't matter whether she's right or not Corbin, my hands are tied. As much as I might like to blithely inform the medical profession that they can just suck it up and deal and that we'll take their records now thank-you-very- much, it's just not going to happen. Irrespective of whether such an action would cost me my career, there's the wider consideration of completely undermining aspects of the law, because if we undermine one branch of privileged information then everything else that rests of such a foundation will be pulled down around our ears like a house of cards.
The mayor thought for a moment, "Alright Corbin, here's our official stance: No Comment."
"I don't understand."
"It's perfectly simple, while we can't be seen to come out on Babylon's side, our refusal to either support or condemn her article will get people talking; if the medical folk start getting agitated our response will continue to be No Comment with the addendum - if pushed - that any and all actions of the police and City Hall will uphold the law."
"So you're stalling." It wasn't a question.
"Who me? Corbin, I'm wounded. Let's have a drink."
****
August 11 - Headline:
Mayor Fails Miserably to Allay Fears
by James E. Viscerator,
City Editor.
City Hall: Mayor Waldorf Astoria released an official statement outlining the official position of the local commonwealth with reference to the latest rumour, due in part to the rampage of the eponymous 'Shakespeare Killer', that the usual confidentiality of Doctor/ Patient privilege should be suspended.
"While it is true that current events are indeed of a most pressing concern, any suggestions that an abrogation of mandated constitutionally protected rights is precipitous in the extreme. Concomitantly, we feel that any definitive course of action seen to prejudice one societally protected group against another would further alienate one or both groups and therefore cannot be seen to be in the public interest unless such a course of action can demonstrably and ineffably be shown to act for the greater good of the commonweal."
When asked for a translation the Mayor smiled politely and wished your reporter a good day.
Informed political commentators remarked that the Mayor's speech indicated his coming of age as a politician but doubted it would do little to reassure anyone other than etymologists
Public reaction to the announcement has been mixed with most respondents alternating between terror and outright terror.
"I don't know what the mayor meant but I hope the next victim is his speech- writer," Commented one bystander. Another passer-by suggested that the only good the mayor's speech would do, would be in the stocking up of dictionaries, which could latterly be thrown at the psycho.
Perhaps the only people reassured in the current crisis are local armament retailers who are doing a 'booming trade' according to spokesman Mike Bloemawaye.
August 13
Sir,
I note that our esteemed mayor is once again playing dice with the universal concerns of the public. In a relative sense this is a quantum leap from his usual budgetary manipulation and is a political manoeuvre of lightning speed and the as complex as hallucinogenic square dance. Perhaps we can only wait and see if the cat is indeed let out of the bag or indeed if it really is a cat and not an axe-wielding maniac; if so, our only hope may be in trying to predict a series of actions we previously haven't been able to observe.
Yours, Albie Heisendinger.
Sir,
It has always been known that a war is good for local industry and while we are not currently at war the current siege mentality, which hangs over the city, is the next best thing. I would like to compliment the mayor and the police on their inability to catch the killer as it has been very good for business and as a result, of great benefit to the local economy. In the period that this person has been in operation, sales figures indicate a fifteen hundred percent rise in munitions sales and the industry as a whole has taken on over fifty new staff.
I also have a new Ferrari.
However, I would like to suggest that any attempt to suspend doctor / patient privilege is a breach of a person's constitutional rights, and in this specific case it potentially undermines the ability of mine, and my colleagues, constitutional right to make money.
Yours Faithfully N. R. A. Gunclub [Munitions Dealer]
******
The mood at the lab was tense. In the wake of Babylon's initial report Grissom had been called before various bureaucratic busybodies who had poked and prodded him in much the same way a small child does when encountering a cat for the first time. Unlike a cat, and because he didn't have any claws, Grissom neither hissed nor spat and refrained from running away and instead sat with an expression of saintly forbearance as he was asked questions that ran the intellectual gamut of the Zetetic Society to the PMRC with little focus on the issue at hand; to wit, whether the police investigation would be hampered or hindered by the latest media scrum. The reality of the situation was in actuality an investigation to the degree to which the department's arse was covered if the shit hit the fan. Bureaucrats are the same everywhere, thought Grissom; duck and cover then blame any survivors whose political connections failed to survive the fallout.
In this particular instance, Grissom was the nearest bureaucratic target, since, according to bean-counter logic, as he was named in the article, he must be guilty. Although only Grissom knew that he was waist deep in something he was straight-facedly avowing that he had never dirtied his shoes.
Of course infamy is a reflective thing and the additional membership of the night shift found themselves under a wholly unwelcome scrutiny.
Somewhat inevitably it was Greg who found some small measure of humour in the situation and one evening as the night shift duly assembled they found that assorted name badges and implements had been left out for them.
"Who the hell is Colonel Mustard?" Asked Nick, "And why have I been given a wrench?"
"I believe it's a spanner," remarked Sarah somewhat mildly, apparently bemused into a meditative state by the candlestick she held in her hand.
"You got any idea what's going on Warrick?"
Warrick merely smiled, "I take it you never had Cluedo in Texas, Nick?"
"Cluedo?"
"He means Clue." Supplied Sarah. As Nick still looked confused she continued. "It's a board game, the whole idea is to solve a murder; Colonel Mustard is one of the characters and the spanner is one of the murder weapons." She grinned suddenly, "So did you do it in the Ballroom, Nick? Or maybe the Billiard room."
It was Catherine's evil cackle, which diverted their attention; and in all probability stopped Nick from using his spanner.
"What you laughing at Willows?"
"Well, considering who's here I thought that would be patently obvious." She got up and gestured for the others to follow, "I thought I'd go find the Lab tech, in the DNA Lab and stuff him into the Gas Chromatograph."
If the redheaded CSI had expected to surprise her younger colleague then she was sadly mistaken for when she, and the others, arrived en masse at the lab they were greeted by a broadly grinning Greg and four, individually prepared, cups of coffee. To compound the CSI's feeling that they had been set up was the wraith-like appearance of Grissom behind them.
"How long Greg?"
"Eight minutes twenty seconds, looks like I win."
"You win what?" asked Sara.
Greg laughed, "Grissom has a higher estimation of your deductive qualities than I do. He said it would take you five minutes or less to come and find out what I was up to, I told him that it would take longer as it was unlikely that you would have had your first coffee of the evening; I win."
"We took a bit longer because we had to explain to Nick what Cluedo was," protested Catherine, she looked suspiciously at Greg and then Grissom, "Alright, what else."
"How long Greg?"
Greg glanced at his watch, "Just under two minutes, you win this time." He held up his hand to forestall the inevitable question, "Grissom reckoned it would take you less than five minutes to ask why you are really here, looks like he got one right." He paused, looked at the shift supervisor, and then added, "This is your fairytale Grissom, where do you want to begin?"
The shift supervisor glanced around nervously, which in itself did little to reassure the gathered CSIs, before, with one final glance towards the door to check that no ninjas or KGB spies - or members of the mayor's office - were lurking in the halls, he began to speak.
"We may have a problem." The others, with the exception of Greg, assumed a serious mien, the lab tech merely grinned.
"What do you mean 'we' white man?"
If Grissom was annoyed by this response it never showed, instead he acknowledged Greg's point with a brief wave of his hand and a quirked eyebrow; "OK, I'll rephrase, I may have a problem."
"It's not your hearing again is it Grissom?" asked a concerned Sara.
"Actually, it's his mouth..." interjected Greg, before succumbing to a murderous look from the older man.
"Greg. Shut up. As I was trying to say, I may have a problem in that I let an emotional reaction lead me to instigate a somewhat inappropriate and wholly unprofessional response."
The silence of the group clustered about the lab was encouragement enough for him to continue although it was abundantly clear that Grissom would rather be anywhere else than where he was now; like at a witch burning, for example, with him in the starring role as the witch, for he knew that if what he was about to say went further than this group then being burnt at the stake was the least of his worries.
"I'll assume you've all been reading the paper of late." A moot point since the whole lab had been afire with debate as to whom Babylon's secret source was and whether it was someone within the lab. Grissom looked decidedly uncomfortable, but pressed on. "Let's just say that I spoke to the wrong person and perhaps may have revealed a few things that are perhaps considered not pertinent to the public interest."
You could have heard a pin drop, onto cotton wool; in the middle of the cannon section of the 1812 Overture. To suggest that the Night Shift was surprised was akin to suggesting the Rasputin was mildly disliked by the Russian nobility. The irony was, however, that while everyone experienced some degree of shock at the revelation no-one could find it within themselves to be particularly upset as they had all at various times been faced with the odious legislative cliff-face of the constitution, which protected the interests of those whose very actions challenged the whole point of the constitution existing in place at all.
It was Warrick, wry as ever, who broke the silence. "At least it was a well written article Grissom, so no-one - assuming they find out it was you - can accuse you of perjuring you oath for the sake of tabloid journalism." This proved too much for Greg, who, with a disorganised thump, fell off the desk he was sitting on, as he could no longer contain his laughter. Even Sara failed to maintain a professionally disapproving visage although she contented herself with merely rolling her eyes at the lab tech lying akimbo at her feet. Catherine was very obviously delighted, for it was she, perhaps more than perhaps anybody in the room, who had experienced the literal-minded intransigence of the law.
"Never mind Grissom, from what the article said it's not clear that you actually gave away any pertinent information about the murders themselves or indeed how we think the killer operates, all you divulged was that we believe that the killer has a psychiatric condition and that we are unable to pursue this angle of investigation due to the laws that surround doctor/ patient confidentiality."
Grissom didn't look happy, but shrugged his acceptance of the semantic differentiation his colleague made, if anything, scientific absolution was the closest a lapsed catholic like Grissom would get to forgiving himself for what he considered a gross professional lapse; even if he agreed with his every action.
August 15
Sir,
Personally I think all the psychiatrists in the greater Las Vegas area should be rounded up and nailed to a wall until such time as the allow the police access to their records. Maybe then they'll have some concept of what the rest of the population is going through while they sit in their million dollar mansions and preach on the value of sanctimony - cunningly disguised as professional ethics I might add.
I have professional ethics, they go like this: Never start anything, but if you get involved make sure you damn well finish it. This situation needs a resolution and I think that we're getting close to the time when those of us who didn't start this mess will rise up and finish it.
Yours Faithfully, Charles Lynch, Col [Ret].
August 17
Sir,
I write with reference to the comments - August 15 - made by Charles Lynch, Col [Ret]. While I can to some degree empathise with his concerns, at least insofar as I have no particular wish to see any number of people hurt or frightened, resorting to base vigilantism is not, and never will, be the answer. As with many of the grossly uninformed, Mr Lynch equates professional silence to a particular form of cowardice that is, ignobly, centred on the wallet; perhaps what he writes is a greater comment on the cynical nature of contemporary human society than it is on any particular 'best practise' scenario.
What does surprise me is that Mr Lynch writes as an ostensible (former) military man; one would have thought that he at least would understand the necessity of adhering to strict guidelines of practise. Then again, perhaps he belongs to that particular strain of military thought, which adheres to the notion that the only safe enemy territory is one that has been levelled and remodelled as a car park. Alternatively, he could be the type of person that attaches a 'rank' to his name in order to capture the attention of well-endowed widows.
Of course this is simply speculation, Mr Lynch may be an upstanding person of fine character, but when you're making a whole lot of assumptions and little else it doesn't really matter who you are, or indeed what your motives might be. Voltaire, the great French scientist and philosopher wrote, "I may disagree with everything you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it," and so be it, but someone equally wise wrote that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones and that being said, how can we know if Mr Lynch isn't the Shakespeare Killer?
If Mr Lynch was my patient you never would.
Sincerely Ruth N. Justiss Ph.D [Dr] Markham Asylum for the Terminally Bewildered.
*****
It was just after eight in the evening when Greg's mobile chirped enquiringly at him.
"'lo? Oh, hi Rilie..You're bored? Well, I can tell you that it isn't the most exciting place in the world here either; the magic kingdom we're not. I think the closest we came to excitement this evening was when Nick beat everybody at Cluedo and proceeded to do a victory lap around the lab..Don't know, deprived childhood I guess..No, that's deprived, not depraved, get your mind out of the gutter; sometimes I think you've got a midden for a brain..No, a midden, not a maiden.." If anyone had been in the lab at that point in time they would have seen the normally raucous lab tech blushing a particularly attractive shade of purple. "Now that's a very interesting suggestion Rilie, and you can bet that if we did that on top of my desk I would no longer be able to claim said desk as my own in the morning..Yes, I'm sure you'd look very good doing it though..Rilie.." this in a pained voice, "Are you trying to make me implode? No? Then don't try....I'm finishing at midnight..Why? You'll meet me here? Do I get a choice in this?..I didn't think so, see you at midnight then, and Rilie, stay the hell away from my desk."
It was a profoundly shell-shocked lab tech that turned off his phone. Whilst true, that if Rilie followed through on what she'd said to him on the phone, he was in for a hell of a night, he'd really rather she didn't do it at the lab; unless it could be guaranteed that everyone else would be somewhere else, like Mars, for example.
Greg's line of thought was interrupted by what sounded like a quiet cough, turning in his chair he saw a small, dark-haired woman at the lab's entrance.
"Excuse me? I'm looking for Gil Grissom.."
So here we are again, another chapter. This one has taken me longer than usual because I've started writing two other fics. In a way I've achieved the impossible, I've found a way to update even more slowly.
A special nod to one of my reviewers who asked me how the hell I'm going to wind this up...good question that..better start thinking about it. Also, she noted that she was sad that Greg hadn't got any.any what?? Heh. Seriously, I'd rather have fun with implication than writing a first year gynaecology text; we all know that tab A goes into slot B, do we really want a purple description? Personally, I'd rather screw with my characters heads.
As always sincere thank-yous to my wonderful Beta 'tasha, who hasn't so much kept me on the straight and narrow as she has constantly harassed me to pull finger, thank her that this chapter is here before April.
And finally, thank you, to you the reader. Your reviews keep me going, or stop me going..mad that is. Now, go forth and review (
The best of man is like water,
Which benefits all things, and does not contend with them,
Which flows in places that others disdain,
Where it is in harmony with the Way.
So the sage:
Lives within nature,
Thinks within the deep,
Gives within impartiality,
Speaks within trust,
Governs within order,
Crafts within ability,
Acts within opportunity.
He does not contend, and none contend against him.
Lao Tzu - The Tao Te Ching [Peter Merel trans]
The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Bend Over and Spread 'Em - by Agatha Babylon.
You know, I love Las Vegas; the vague hint of corruption in the morning does wonders for my moral compass. Maybe it's because I'm a bad girl more likely it's that if the food is off there's something rotten going on; rotten, is however, a euphemism for the almighty bureaucratic fisting we have before us today.
You don't like my language? Get over it. There are things more important in this world that your damaged sensibilities; and if bureaucracy is allowed to run riot, as our dear jellyfish of a Mayor is going to let happen then a good solid fisting is infinitely preferable to the alternative.
What alternative I hear you cry?
The type of alternative that nails people to walls and quotes from great literature, that's what.
See, we've finally caught a break; that's 'we' in the royal sense, as our city's finest - that's not the mayor for those of you who are a little slow - have discovered that our least favourite maniac is probably being fuelled by defective medication and what's more, the company and the type of medicine have been identified.
So what's the catch?
Well, City Hall is more nervous than a rat in a snake pit about potential lawsuits from the medical fraternity, civil rights groups and various liberal intelligentsia with a grip on reality similar to that of the Manson Family who apparently believe that protecting the civil liberties of the murderously inclined is more important than protecting everybody else. Unsurprisingly, it would appear that the chance of the city being sued is of greater concern to our administration than having more of its residents dressed out like carcasses in a butcher's shop; now, if we were experiencing a food shortage I could understand their reasoning, but I was at the supermarket this morning and the shelves looked pretty full.
Now, don't get me wrong, civil liberties and the protection of individual rights are a fine thing, I'm the first person to defend someone else's right to smoke, drink or inject what they want or to copulate with as many people of whatever race, sex or creed as they need to in order to find inner fulfilment but - and heaven help me I never thought I'd ever say this - the needs of the many do sometimes indeed outweigh the needs of the one, be that one a psychotic killer or our beloved mayor and his individual need to protect his majority.
Now, being the highly moral reporter that I am, I sought to verify the existence of this evidence, for who am I to cast baseless aspersions on the character of those in power? I went to the scientists, specifically, Gil Grissom, an annoying little bug whom some of you may remember has previously questioned my journalistic integrity. Whilst Grissom the bug refused to answer my questions, he did suggest that I direct any further enquiries to the Chief of Police.
So here we are Mr. Chief of Police. Tell me, tell us, what's more important, the safety of your citizens or a bunch of rules designed to protect those that prey on them?
****
"Did she really call you Grissom?" asked an incredulous Brass, "After your performance at that interview I would have thought that the only way she'd contact you again would be by parcel bomb."
"I was as surprised as you are Jim," was the disingenuous reply - although Grissom's surprise was more at the reporter's inventiveness than anything else considering he was less than five feet from said person at the time of the call. Thinking back to the previous evening he couldn't help laugh at Babylon's rationalisation that if she called him so that he could refuse to answer then he would technically be telling the truth if he was asked if she had contacted him; this, admittedly, tenuous logical chain was also predicated on no-one thinking to ask if Grissom had contacted her.
****
August 10 - Letters to the Editor
Sir,
It was with marked concern that I read the column, 'Bend Over and Spread 'Em' by Agatha Babylon. Does this woman not realise that if we undermine the rights of the individual to be protected then we inevitably open the door to state control of all expression. Certainly, any right-minded person would be concerned at the activities of this sadly deluded individual, but we must consider that the right to freedom of expression is protected in the First Amendment to the Constitution; we must, therefore, find another to address this issue that breaching this sacred right.
Yours faithfully B. S. Rectitude, Las Vegas.
Editor's Note: The Second Amendment protects my right to bear arms and the .303 I have by my side is the best First Amendment option I have if that psycho comes calling.
Sir,
Your correspondent, Agatha Babylon, appears to misunderstand the necessity for the level of confidentiality that exists between patient and medical practitioner. While it must be acknowledged that the actions of the individual to whom Ms Babylon refers are unfortunate, there is a wider principle at stake than suborning their rights in the name of punitive justice; namely that of creating and maintaining a safe environment for the patient.
Criminal activity, of any type, is regrettable, but it must be remembered that the medical community, be it of the physical of psychiatric branches, is intended to cure and to and not to punish; I note that I have yet to see any medical procedure which included life-long remand or execution as being potentially therapeutic.
But I digress.
Would you ask a priest to disclose, that which was spoken under the sanctity of confession? Of course not and as such law protects the right to professional non-disclosure. The medical profession operates under the same strictures and by attempting to subvert doctor patient privilege you will inevitably undermine any trust people have in the profession.
I remain Jack L Hyde [Dr] Chairman, Las Vegas Medical Ethics Committee
****
"Mary, get me Calliop...oh hello Corbin," Mayor Astoria's rant was cut off at the knees by the seemingly prescient appearance of his chief of police - possibly rising through the floor like a malevolent, uniformed spirit. "You were in the office?"
Calliope nodded his assent. "Yup, the pedal-car was taken, so I took the opportunity to catch up on some paperwork"
"Pedal-Car?"
"It's all we can afford since..."
"...the budget cuts. Yes, yes, evil Mayor Astoria, he who has single- handedly brought the police force of Las Vegas city to its knees with his skinflint policies."
"You've been practising then?"
"Mary wrote me a speech."
"I wasn't aware she was your speech-writer."
"Nor was I. She offered to find me a crowd to deliver it to as well."
The chief grinned, the light granting his features a slight mephistophelian caste, "Now there's an offer to refuse, you annoy her again?"
"If you count telling her she couldn't run her bookmaking operation out of City-Hall, then yes."
"That it'd do it; anyway, was there a particular reason you were screaming my name or were you just lonely?" "Now there's a mental picture I didn't need Corbin; actually, yes, in answer to your question, I did want you for something specific: Babylon."
"You've seen the paper over the last few days then?" Calliope held up his hand to forestall a reply, "Rhetorical, Waldorf. You can't have her arrested for writing an opinion piece."
"How about slander?"
"And the slandered party is?"
"That would be me?"
"You sound unsure; you can't have someone arrested for slander because you think they've hurt your feelings. The closest that article came to slander was calling you a jellyfish, and since you patently have only two legs and live on land you'd get laughed out of court for taking umbrage at a lightweight - albeit malicious - analogy."
"How about incitement then?"
"Incitement to what." Calliope sighed heavily; sometimes the mayor's ability to take offence undermined his political savvy with the resultant effect being Calliope's ulcer playing up as he mightily resisted the urge to push his employer under a bus. Continuing, the chief spoke as if lecturing one of his children, "Incitement is a verb, Waldorf, you know, a doing word; precisely what has Babylon's article incited people to do?"
"To panic. About the Shakespeare killer."
"I think it's a bit late for that Waldorf. Your population is already terrified. I doubt the inestimable Agatha Babylon could scare them any more than they already are. Truth be told, she does raise a fair point."
"...and that is?" Astoria's tone was wary, he knew his chief well enough not to blindly walk into the verbal traps his friend enjoyed setting for him.
"Whether client-patient confidentiality is necessarily within the public interest in all situations."
Astoria's face fell, for here was one of the inescapable conflicts of public life; where the law ran counter to personal belief. "It doesn't matter whether she's right or not Corbin, my hands are tied. As much as I might like to blithely inform the medical profession that they can just suck it up and deal and that we'll take their records now thank-you-very- much, it's just not going to happen. Irrespective of whether such an action would cost me my career, there's the wider consideration of completely undermining aspects of the law, because if we undermine one branch of privileged information then everything else that rests of such a foundation will be pulled down around our ears like a house of cards.
The mayor thought for a moment, "Alright Corbin, here's our official stance: No Comment."
"I don't understand."
"It's perfectly simple, while we can't be seen to come out on Babylon's side, our refusal to either support or condemn her article will get people talking; if the medical folk start getting agitated our response will continue to be No Comment with the addendum - if pushed - that any and all actions of the police and City Hall will uphold the law."
"So you're stalling." It wasn't a question.
"Who me? Corbin, I'm wounded. Let's have a drink."
****
August 11 - Headline:
Mayor Fails Miserably to Allay Fears
by James E. Viscerator,
City Editor.
City Hall: Mayor Waldorf Astoria released an official statement outlining the official position of the local commonwealth with reference to the latest rumour, due in part to the rampage of the eponymous 'Shakespeare Killer', that the usual confidentiality of Doctor/ Patient privilege should be suspended.
"While it is true that current events are indeed of a most pressing concern, any suggestions that an abrogation of mandated constitutionally protected rights is precipitous in the extreme. Concomitantly, we feel that any definitive course of action seen to prejudice one societally protected group against another would further alienate one or both groups and therefore cannot be seen to be in the public interest unless such a course of action can demonstrably and ineffably be shown to act for the greater good of the commonweal."
When asked for a translation the Mayor smiled politely and wished your reporter a good day.
Informed political commentators remarked that the Mayor's speech indicated his coming of age as a politician but doubted it would do little to reassure anyone other than etymologists
Public reaction to the announcement has been mixed with most respondents alternating between terror and outright terror.
"I don't know what the mayor meant but I hope the next victim is his speech- writer," Commented one bystander. Another passer-by suggested that the only good the mayor's speech would do, would be in the stocking up of dictionaries, which could latterly be thrown at the psycho.
Perhaps the only people reassured in the current crisis are local armament retailers who are doing a 'booming trade' according to spokesman Mike Bloemawaye.
August 13
Sir,
I note that our esteemed mayor is once again playing dice with the universal concerns of the public. In a relative sense this is a quantum leap from his usual budgetary manipulation and is a political manoeuvre of lightning speed and the as complex as hallucinogenic square dance. Perhaps we can only wait and see if the cat is indeed let out of the bag or indeed if it really is a cat and not an axe-wielding maniac; if so, our only hope may be in trying to predict a series of actions we previously haven't been able to observe.
Yours, Albie Heisendinger.
Sir,
It has always been known that a war is good for local industry and while we are not currently at war the current siege mentality, which hangs over the city, is the next best thing. I would like to compliment the mayor and the police on their inability to catch the killer as it has been very good for business and as a result, of great benefit to the local economy. In the period that this person has been in operation, sales figures indicate a fifteen hundred percent rise in munitions sales and the industry as a whole has taken on over fifty new staff.
I also have a new Ferrari.
However, I would like to suggest that any attempt to suspend doctor / patient privilege is a breach of a person's constitutional rights, and in this specific case it potentially undermines the ability of mine, and my colleagues, constitutional right to make money.
Yours Faithfully N. R. A. Gunclub [Munitions Dealer]
******
The mood at the lab was tense. In the wake of Babylon's initial report Grissom had been called before various bureaucratic busybodies who had poked and prodded him in much the same way a small child does when encountering a cat for the first time. Unlike a cat, and because he didn't have any claws, Grissom neither hissed nor spat and refrained from running away and instead sat with an expression of saintly forbearance as he was asked questions that ran the intellectual gamut of the Zetetic Society to the PMRC with little focus on the issue at hand; to wit, whether the police investigation would be hampered or hindered by the latest media scrum. The reality of the situation was in actuality an investigation to the degree to which the department's arse was covered if the shit hit the fan. Bureaucrats are the same everywhere, thought Grissom; duck and cover then blame any survivors whose political connections failed to survive the fallout.
In this particular instance, Grissom was the nearest bureaucratic target, since, according to bean-counter logic, as he was named in the article, he must be guilty. Although only Grissom knew that he was waist deep in something he was straight-facedly avowing that he had never dirtied his shoes.
Of course infamy is a reflective thing and the additional membership of the night shift found themselves under a wholly unwelcome scrutiny.
Somewhat inevitably it was Greg who found some small measure of humour in the situation and one evening as the night shift duly assembled they found that assorted name badges and implements had been left out for them.
"Who the hell is Colonel Mustard?" Asked Nick, "And why have I been given a wrench?"
"I believe it's a spanner," remarked Sarah somewhat mildly, apparently bemused into a meditative state by the candlestick she held in her hand.
"You got any idea what's going on Warrick?"
Warrick merely smiled, "I take it you never had Cluedo in Texas, Nick?"
"Cluedo?"
"He means Clue." Supplied Sarah. As Nick still looked confused she continued. "It's a board game, the whole idea is to solve a murder; Colonel Mustard is one of the characters and the spanner is one of the murder weapons." She grinned suddenly, "So did you do it in the Ballroom, Nick? Or maybe the Billiard room."
It was Catherine's evil cackle, which diverted their attention; and in all probability stopped Nick from using his spanner.
"What you laughing at Willows?"
"Well, considering who's here I thought that would be patently obvious." She got up and gestured for the others to follow, "I thought I'd go find the Lab tech, in the DNA Lab and stuff him into the Gas Chromatograph."
If the redheaded CSI had expected to surprise her younger colleague then she was sadly mistaken for when she, and the others, arrived en masse at the lab they were greeted by a broadly grinning Greg and four, individually prepared, cups of coffee. To compound the CSI's feeling that they had been set up was the wraith-like appearance of Grissom behind them.
"How long Greg?"
"Eight minutes twenty seconds, looks like I win."
"You win what?" asked Sara.
Greg laughed, "Grissom has a higher estimation of your deductive qualities than I do. He said it would take you five minutes or less to come and find out what I was up to, I told him that it would take longer as it was unlikely that you would have had your first coffee of the evening; I win."
"We took a bit longer because we had to explain to Nick what Cluedo was," protested Catherine, she looked suspiciously at Greg and then Grissom, "Alright, what else."
"How long Greg?"
Greg glanced at his watch, "Just under two minutes, you win this time." He held up his hand to forestall the inevitable question, "Grissom reckoned it would take you less than five minutes to ask why you are really here, looks like he got one right." He paused, looked at the shift supervisor, and then added, "This is your fairytale Grissom, where do you want to begin?"
The shift supervisor glanced around nervously, which in itself did little to reassure the gathered CSIs, before, with one final glance towards the door to check that no ninjas or KGB spies - or members of the mayor's office - were lurking in the halls, he began to speak.
"We may have a problem." The others, with the exception of Greg, assumed a serious mien, the lab tech merely grinned.
"What do you mean 'we' white man?"
If Grissom was annoyed by this response it never showed, instead he acknowledged Greg's point with a brief wave of his hand and a quirked eyebrow; "OK, I'll rephrase, I may have a problem."
"It's not your hearing again is it Grissom?" asked a concerned Sara.
"Actually, it's his mouth..." interjected Greg, before succumbing to a murderous look from the older man.
"Greg. Shut up. As I was trying to say, I may have a problem in that I let an emotional reaction lead me to instigate a somewhat inappropriate and wholly unprofessional response."
The silence of the group clustered about the lab was encouragement enough for him to continue although it was abundantly clear that Grissom would rather be anywhere else than where he was now; like at a witch burning, for example, with him in the starring role as the witch, for he knew that if what he was about to say went further than this group then being burnt at the stake was the least of his worries.
"I'll assume you've all been reading the paper of late." A moot point since the whole lab had been afire with debate as to whom Babylon's secret source was and whether it was someone within the lab. Grissom looked decidedly uncomfortable, but pressed on. "Let's just say that I spoke to the wrong person and perhaps may have revealed a few things that are perhaps considered not pertinent to the public interest."
You could have heard a pin drop, onto cotton wool; in the middle of the cannon section of the 1812 Overture. To suggest that the Night Shift was surprised was akin to suggesting the Rasputin was mildly disliked by the Russian nobility. The irony was, however, that while everyone experienced some degree of shock at the revelation no-one could find it within themselves to be particularly upset as they had all at various times been faced with the odious legislative cliff-face of the constitution, which protected the interests of those whose very actions challenged the whole point of the constitution existing in place at all.
It was Warrick, wry as ever, who broke the silence. "At least it was a well written article Grissom, so no-one - assuming they find out it was you - can accuse you of perjuring you oath for the sake of tabloid journalism." This proved too much for Greg, who, with a disorganised thump, fell off the desk he was sitting on, as he could no longer contain his laughter. Even Sara failed to maintain a professionally disapproving visage although she contented herself with merely rolling her eyes at the lab tech lying akimbo at her feet. Catherine was very obviously delighted, for it was she, perhaps more than perhaps anybody in the room, who had experienced the literal-minded intransigence of the law.
"Never mind Grissom, from what the article said it's not clear that you actually gave away any pertinent information about the murders themselves or indeed how we think the killer operates, all you divulged was that we believe that the killer has a psychiatric condition and that we are unable to pursue this angle of investigation due to the laws that surround doctor/ patient confidentiality."
Grissom didn't look happy, but shrugged his acceptance of the semantic differentiation his colleague made, if anything, scientific absolution was the closest a lapsed catholic like Grissom would get to forgiving himself for what he considered a gross professional lapse; even if he agreed with his every action.
August 15
Sir,
Personally I think all the psychiatrists in the greater Las Vegas area should be rounded up and nailed to a wall until such time as the allow the police access to their records. Maybe then they'll have some concept of what the rest of the population is going through while they sit in their million dollar mansions and preach on the value of sanctimony - cunningly disguised as professional ethics I might add.
I have professional ethics, they go like this: Never start anything, but if you get involved make sure you damn well finish it. This situation needs a resolution and I think that we're getting close to the time when those of us who didn't start this mess will rise up and finish it.
Yours Faithfully, Charles Lynch, Col [Ret].
August 17
Sir,
I write with reference to the comments - August 15 - made by Charles Lynch, Col [Ret]. While I can to some degree empathise with his concerns, at least insofar as I have no particular wish to see any number of people hurt or frightened, resorting to base vigilantism is not, and never will, be the answer. As with many of the grossly uninformed, Mr Lynch equates professional silence to a particular form of cowardice that is, ignobly, centred on the wallet; perhaps what he writes is a greater comment on the cynical nature of contemporary human society than it is on any particular 'best practise' scenario.
What does surprise me is that Mr Lynch writes as an ostensible (former) military man; one would have thought that he at least would understand the necessity of adhering to strict guidelines of practise. Then again, perhaps he belongs to that particular strain of military thought, which adheres to the notion that the only safe enemy territory is one that has been levelled and remodelled as a car park. Alternatively, he could be the type of person that attaches a 'rank' to his name in order to capture the attention of well-endowed widows.
Of course this is simply speculation, Mr Lynch may be an upstanding person of fine character, but when you're making a whole lot of assumptions and little else it doesn't really matter who you are, or indeed what your motives might be. Voltaire, the great French scientist and philosopher wrote, "I may disagree with everything you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it," and so be it, but someone equally wise wrote that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones and that being said, how can we know if Mr Lynch isn't the Shakespeare Killer?
If Mr Lynch was my patient you never would.
Sincerely Ruth N. Justiss Ph.D [Dr] Markham Asylum for the Terminally Bewildered.
*****
It was just after eight in the evening when Greg's mobile chirped enquiringly at him.
"'lo? Oh, hi Rilie..You're bored? Well, I can tell you that it isn't the most exciting place in the world here either; the magic kingdom we're not. I think the closest we came to excitement this evening was when Nick beat everybody at Cluedo and proceeded to do a victory lap around the lab..Don't know, deprived childhood I guess..No, that's deprived, not depraved, get your mind out of the gutter; sometimes I think you've got a midden for a brain..No, a midden, not a maiden.." If anyone had been in the lab at that point in time they would have seen the normally raucous lab tech blushing a particularly attractive shade of purple. "Now that's a very interesting suggestion Rilie, and you can bet that if we did that on top of my desk I would no longer be able to claim said desk as my own in the morning..Yes, I'm sure you'd look very good doing it though..Rilie.." this in a pained voice, "Are you trying to make me implode? No? Then don't try....I'm finishing at midnight..Why? You'll meet me here? Do I get a choice in this?..I didn't think so, see you at midnight then, and Rilie, stay the hell away from my desk."
It was a profoundly shell-shocked lab tech that turned off his phone. Whilst true, that if Rilie followed through on what she'd said to him on the phone, he was in for a hell of a night, he'd really rather she didn't do it at the lab; unless it could be guaranteed that everyone else would be somewhere else, like Mars, for example.
Greg's line of thought was interrupted by what sounded like a quiet cough, turning in his chair he saw a small, dark-haired woman at the lab's entrance.
"Excuse me? I'm looking for Gil Grissom.."