Soulless: The Story of Shayan (Prequel to The Soul Quest Trilogy) (5 page)

“My magic bullet, as you like to call it,
has been designed using a special chemical bond which I can not
identify. Sorry, copyright laws and all of that… Anyway, the bullet
I’ve designed is entirely untraceable. No medical or fire arms
expert will be able to identify the gun used to fire the fatal
bullet. In fact, they will not be able to retrieve the bullet
itself because it disintegrates upon impacting human flesh.”

Four male faces stared back at me with awed
expression.

“Hey, what about that actress Marilyn
Monroe… she’s always hanging around with the President. I think
she’s more than she claims to be, you know, a lot more than just a
pretty face on the side?” David regained composure.

He was getting caught up in the excitement.
I had heard others speculate that this Monroe character was much
more than the President’s whore but never gave it much credence.
Still, I should keep David happy. Doing so will only further my
cause.

“As you wish David… I always say, it’s
better to be safe than sorry.” I nodded and the four men
robotically copied my action.

The day has finally arrived, November 22,
1963. Today President Kennedy will breathe his last breath. The
five of us were huddled in a circle on top of the Texas Schoolbook
Depository. The president would pass this location in his route in
some parade or event scheduled for the day. It was the perfect
opportunity for his death.

“Are you ready Lee? I promised you the
President. Will you be able to pull the trigger when the
opportunity to execute him presents itself?” I asked.

“Absolutely, I’ve been looking forward to
this with great anticipation.” Lee nodded.

He had a smirk on his face that lacked
humor. He was entirely relaxed and focused on his task. David,
James and Sirhan looked nervous. Sirhan even had a slight green
tint to his complexion. Still, the men were here fulfilling the
details of their assignment.

We decided to separate to take different
firing angles in the event that Lee missed the target. Lee took aim
in a room at the top of the Texas Schoolbook Depository while the
rest of us scattered ourselves along the Grassy Knoll. I intended
to flee the scene just as soon as I was assured of the President’s
death. As President Kennedy’s uncovered limousine turned onto Elm
Street and passed the Texas Schoolbook Depository shots were
immediately fired. I distinctly heard three shots. Two came from
Lee’s location but the third was fired from the Grassy Knoll. Lee
had missed his target leaving someone else the task of firing the
fatal shot. As the President lay despondent and grotesquely wounded
in the back seat of the limo James, David, Sirhan and I took the
chaotically, distracting moment as an opportunity to escape.

Later that evening news reports confirmed
the death of President John F. Kennedy. James, David, Sirhan and I
returned to Manhattan to distance ourselves from Lee. He had been
arrested by an officer J. D. Tippit only forty minutes after the
shooting. We watched nervously from the comfort of my suite at the
Waldorf Astoria. As suspected the nation was in hysteria. I
relished in the fact that with this one death I had already managed
to weaken the political foundation of this powerful nation and
secure an emotionally fragile state among its people. We continued
to watch the story unfold on the television screen.

“Only two days after the assassination of
President John F. Kennedy his alleged murderer, Lee Harvey Oswald
has been killed by night club owner Jack Ruby.” we heard the news
anchor report.

The authorities were transferring Lee from
police headquarters to the county jail when Mr. Ruby shot and
killed him.

I could sense that James, David and Sirhan
were rattled by this news. I was not about to share my relief with
them. The way I see it, I now have one less mouth to silence when
this is all over.

“It’s a shame about what happened to Lee but
he did get to avenge Castro as he wished. Even though I do not feel
vulnerable to any suspicion at this time I feel we should take
precaution and keep our distance for awhile. I will contact you
when I feel it is safe to move forward with the plan again.” I said
firmly.

My colleagues agreed and we returned to our
everyday lives as if nothing had transpired.

Several years have passed. One month ago the
assassination conspiracy reunited to continue with my mission. The
motel room in Memphis was small and dingy but today the room next
door housed the next target on my list, Martin Luther King, Jr. It
was James who made the fatal shot in Dallas over four years ago and
so it is him that I rely on today to do the same service to the
preacher man. I listened carefully as I heard the neighboring hotel
room door open. I could hear the preacher speaking in hushed tones
as he exited his room. Within seconds I heard the popping blasts of
shots fired. David and Sirhan darted toward the window to catch a
glimpse of what was happening but I restrained them. It was crucial
that we remain undetected. As the chaos commenced I led the two men
to the back of the hotel room. There was a window located in the
bathroom that led out to a small platform. I instructed them to
follow me as I exited the window onto the platform, jumped from it
onto a nearby dumpster and finally found the ground. They followed
and we ran.

It was an oddly enjoyable and familiar
feeling listening to the news regarding the shooting of Martin
Luther King, Jr. I’d been following the media’s accounts of James’s
whereabouts since the killing on April 4, 1968. He had escaped in
Memphis and gone on the run. Four days after the killing he crossed
the Canadian border and fled to London using a fake passport.

“Now what?” Sirhan wondered.

“Now, while James has the authorities
busied, we plan our next assassination, Robert F. Kennedy.” I said
calmly. Sirhan and David eyed one another hesitantly. “Is there
something the matter gentlemen?” I challenged.

“No!” Sirhan began defensively. “Well, it’s
just that Lee was arrested and killed and now James is on the run.
I’m just not sure…” he trailed off.

His voice was filled with uncertainty. I
could tell his words had rattled David too. I can not afford to
lose Sirhan and David’s support right now. Not when I’m so close to
my completing my goal.

“You’re not sure about what?” I snapped at
Sirhan.

When all else fails intimidation works
divinely. Sirhan was literally quivering in fear.

“N..n.n..nothing Shyam... It was nothing,
nothing at all.” he easily bent to my will.

“Good. Go home now. I will contact both of
you when the time is right to move.” I instructed.

They obeyed.

The authorities remain hot on James’s trail.
In the mean time I took it upon myself to keep tabs on Robert
Kennedy. I soon learned that Mr. Kennedy would be in Los Angeles
during the California primary election for the Democratic
nomination in June.

“Sirhan, I need you to pick up David and me
from LAX in the morning. I’ll fill you in on the details when we
arrive. Be there with a car by ten AM.” I commanded into the
telephone before replacing the receiver. I didn’t bother to wait
for his response.

“So what’s going on Shyam?” Sirhan breathed
with anxiety as we pulled out of the airport into LA’s traffic.
“What is so urgent?”

“Robert Kennedy is in your neck of the woods
Sirhan.” I smiled.

He shrugged indifferently. “Oh yeah, it’s
June fourth. The California primary is tonight. So, you want to try
to take him down in front of thousands of people?” he asked
incredulously.

“Not quite. I was thinking about after the
primary when he returns to his headquarters at The Ambassador
Hotel.” I clarified. Sirhan only nodded. He was nervous and I could
see his fear gaining a power beyond my control. He may lose his
nerve and decide not to pull the trigger. “Relax Sirhan, everything
will be fine. They still haven’t caught James.” I encouraged.

My suspicion was that James would be caught
very soon but Sirhan and David aren’t aware of this fact. I had to
use James’s current freedom as leverage tonight. My words seemed to
work a little. Sirhan’s shoulders relaxed slightly and his
breathing became more even.

“OK, so what do you want me to do?” he
asked.

What an idiot!

“I want you to shoot him.” I explained as if
I were speaking to a small child.

Robert Kennedy won the Democratic vote for
the California primary election. This doubled my motivation to kill
him. He could become as politically powerful as his late brother
John. Currently we were in Sirhan’s car on our way to The
Ambassador Hotel. Sirhan claimed that he could and would still live
up to his part of the plan but I decided not to trust his
commitment to the mission. I quickly devised a back up plan when we
reached the hotel. People were scattered everywhere in the
building. They were ecstatic over Robert Kennedy’s victory. The
hotel was swarming with security and so I decided I would use these
men to my advantage. As one of the hotel security guards rounded
the corner I grabbed him with my inhuman strength and speed and
whisked him into a linen closet. I knocked him out and traded out
our clothing. I was now a part of the hotel security detail.

Shortly after midnight Robert Kennedy made
his way to the kitchen of the hotel. Sirhan, David and I recognized
our opportunity and seized it. I watched as Sirhan approached
Robert in the kitchen. He stopped short of the man when he was a
good six feet away. He lost his nerve. There was no way he would
attempt to shoot Mr. Kennedy in this crowded space from that far of
a distance. As this fact registered I made my way toward Robert. I
stood directly behind him, close enough to touch him, to press the
trigger of my gun into his back and then I fired it. Panic erupts
in the kitchen and Robert Kennedy’s security personnel find a
shocked Sirhan standing several feet away from the collapsed
politician holding a hand gun. They seize him. I slip out of the
chaos and return to the linen closet holding the unconscious hotel
security guard. I replace our clothing before finding David. We
walk four blocks from the hotel and hail a taxi to freedom.

David had been pacing nervously on the
balcony of my suite at The Waldorf Astoria for over twenty
minutes.

“Spit it out David.” I finally encouraged. I
couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s on your mind?”

David responded with out hesitation. This
surprised me a little. “I want out of the assassination conspiracy
Shyam. I know I was the one who suggested that we off the Monroe
chick but my hearts not in it anymore. I’m done with this.” he
finally admitted.

Wow, he really is desperate. I shrugged as
if I didn’t mind. I didn’t really. I’d already gotten what I wanted
and was planning to kill him anyway, not that he was precisely
aware of this fact. “Fine, you’re a free man.” I smiled. “…and just
to show you there are no hard feelings why don’t we celebrate with
this fabulous bottle of Champaign.” I suggested.

David immediately relaxed and approached the
sofa as he returned from the balcony. He smiled at me with relief
and gratitude as he fell onto the lush cushions. I turned on the
news as a distraction. As David’s eyes glued themselves to the TV I
began to fill two glasses with golden bubbly liquid. Ever so
quickly I slipped cyanide into his drink. He never saw or suspected
anything. The effects of the drug took effect almost immediately
and I ignored his momentary strangled gasps and groans as my gaze
was caught up in the latest news on the television. As David lay
slumped in death next to me a picture of James flashed across the
screen.

“At 11 o’clock in the morning on Saturday,
June 8th 1968, James Earl Ray was apprehended by an immigration
officer at Heathrow Airport.” the news anchor bellowed.

“Oops, sorry James… It really is a shame
that the one person you so desperately trusted through all of this
tipped off your whereabouts to the authorities. Never trust a
criminal James, even when you are one.”

Chapter Eleven

Shyam Donovan

Time: 1963

Place: Manhattan, New York

Infection

“The health of the mind is
not less uncertain than that of the body, and when passions seem
furthest removed we are no less in danger of infection than of
falling ill when we are well.”

~Francois de la
Rochefoucauld

I paced back and forth restlessly in my New
York City suite. The comforts of the lavish accommodations were
beyond adequate but this obvious fact supplied me with no
satisfaction. I gazed upon the priceless sculptures and paintings
I’d collected over the many years of my existence and attempted to
relax to the classical sounds of Debussy on my new phonograph
record player. I’d hoped that its soothing effects might offer me
some sense of content. No such luck. The relentless and all
consuming tension continued to ooze straight through to my very
core.

“This is madness.” I muttered to no one but
myself.

I was lonely. I needed a confident. No, more
than a confident, I yearned for an equal, but no such person
existed in the human world. Humans are so entirely ordinary.
They’re weak, fragile and mostly dim witted. I have yet to meet one
that can hold my attention for more than five minutes. So, what am
I left with? My companions have abandoned me in this wretched world
and I am now all alone.

I’ve attempted to procreate with human women
and learned that my many efforts have been entirely fruitless.
Something in my DNA does not bind correctly and conception is never
realized. Our biological make up is just too different. If only
there was a way to find a common thread.