Gates of Delirium: Prologue
All the thug rock kids are playin'
All the punk god angels sayin'
"The toys are us, and we don't even know"
GO GO GO-doppelgangers
(You're one of us, you're one of us)
GO GO GO--throw your shapes doppelgangers
You're one of us.
--Doll-Dagga Buzz-Buzz Ziggety-Zag by Marilyn Manson
ARKHAM, MA--They traced Guppy to a private room at Arkham Asylum. Hospital staff at first refused any requests to visit. But eventually, the cantankerous duty nurse approved Jim-Bean, and only Jim-Bean’s, entrance.
“What happened to him?”
“Mr. Gupta apparently threw himself off a platform in Brooklyn’s Grand Army Plaza subway station last week,” she said. “He was rescued by a heroic bystander.”
“Weird. That doesn’t sound like Guppy.”
“Who?”
“…Hank, I mean.”
The staff escorted Jim-Bean to Guppy’s room. Inside, was clear Guppy’s injuries were serious, but not life-threatening, consisting mainly of severe abrasions and contusions. His eyes were covered with a bandage.
“Guppy,” whispered Jim-Bean.
Guppy’s head turned to face Jim-Bean, but it was clear he was unable to communicate coherently. He didn’t even seem to recognize him.
“Can you hear me?”
Suddenly Guppy began to sob hysterically. The duty nurse tapped a wicked-looking needle. “Here we go again.”
“You regularly inject him?” asked Jim-Bean, eyeing the needle.
“Mr. Gupta’s had spells like this before,” she explained. “Sometimes he wakes up shrieking. Most of the time it’s just nonsense, but once in awhile you can make out some of what he says. Last night for instance, he was screaming as though someone were in the room with him, trying to kill him. Of course, he was alone; it was very disturbing for the other patients to hear. But then, Mr. Gupta’s not the first addict we’ve had in here.”
“Whoa, whoa. Addict?”
The duty nurse shrugged. “The hallucinations and delusions are probably the result of addiction to Blink, not of any concussion. He has a high tolerance to morphine.”
Jim-Bean kept silent that it was likely Guppy’s history was more responsible for his resistance to morphine than any drug use.
“Could I get a look at his things?”
The duty nurse frowned. “That’s not standard procedure.”
Jim-Bean shot her a dazzling smile. “Please, Darlene. For me? It’d mean oh so much to me if you could help me out.”
Darlene the duty nurse shook her head, but she was blushing. “I just can’t say no to that charming accent!” She unlocked a drawer and handed Jim-Bean a plastic bag filled with Guppy’s personal effects. “Just don’t steal anything.”
Guppy possessions consisted of a driver’s license, several credit cards, about twenty dollars in small bills and coins, a set of keys, and Mapquest directions to Rachel Hayward’s address. There was also an eyedropper bottle prescribed for Rachel by a Doctor Tarrou from Asharoken, Long Island.
“That bottle was hidden in one of Mr. Gupta’s pockets,” said Darlene. “But I’m very thorough at my job; when patients come in here I’ve learned to look through every seam, because sometimes they smuggle drugs in.”
Jim-Bean held it up to the light to get a better look.
Darlene peered at the bottle along with Jim-Bean. “Funny, the prescription is labeled the same day as Mr. Gupta’s suicide attempt.”
“Suicide attempt?” asked Jim-Bean. “What happened?”
“He tried to throw himself in front of a subway train. Fortunately a good Samaritan saved him.”
“When do you think Gup—I mean Mr. Gupta will be released?”
Darlene gave Guppy a worried look. “He’s stable,” she said with a sigh, “but it will be several days before any real improvement can be expected, and at least a week before he can be released.”
“Great, Darlene, thank you so much.” He touched her arm and her expression lit up. “You’ve saved a man’s life today.”
Darlene blushed. “Oh, just glad I can help a modern day James Bond!” The woman, well into her fifties, giggled like a schoolgirl.
Jim-Bean rushed out of Arkham. He hated the place.
Hammer was waiting in the car. “Well?”
“Guppy was snooping around Rachel Hayward’s place. He had a prescription bottle on him for his ex-girlfriend.”
Hammer nodded grimly. “Got any leads?”
“A Doctor Tarrou. I think Guppy got too close, figured out what was going on with Rachel, and Tarrou shot him full of drugs and dumped him in front of a subway train.”
Hammer’s gloved fists gripped the steering wheel tightly. “So this is a wetwork mission.”
Before Jim-Bean could response, Hammer slammed the accelerator and the van lurched southwards towards I-95.