The Dorvak Ptotocol 2
“Nixon now......Nixon now.....he made a difference.......he showed us how.....”
Trevor groaned, the campaign jingle was ubiquitous. He turned the radio knob to another AM channel, catching a song in its middle.
”She told me it was my ding-a-ling-a-ling. My ding-a-ling........”
He turned the radio off in disgust and focused on driving the Beetle and the scenery of the Coastal Highway. It was another scorcher, but the Bug’s windows were open and the ocean breeze kept him comfortable.
Aunt Angie and Uncle Johnny had built their dream home eight years ago on a bluff overlooking the Pacific. It was about twenty miles out of Seaside, near the Breckinridge mansion.
He left Daisy back at Artie’s. She had briefly woken, took an aspirin, and slumped back to bed. She was the victim of one too many shots of Ouzo at the wake.
Soon the VW was pulling into the driveway of the modest, New England style beach house. Artie’s Lincoln was there, he and Peter were putting fishing gear in the trunk. Trevor got out and joined them.
“Hey there Squirt....Uncle Artie.”
Peter came over and hugged him. Artie gave them a moment, then said:
“Kid...go get the sandwiches...we need to get going.”
Peter reluctantly let go and went into the garage.
”Ang wanted me to get Pete out of the house awhile.”
”How’s he doing?”
”Rough. You know better than most...Johnny was a stand up guy, but no Father of the Year. But that don’t stop Petey from hero worshiping him. Hell....everybody does..I mean... did. What he did in the Marines....and after.”
Trevor stared at him.
”After?”
”Talk to your Aunt, she’s got a lot tell you.”
Angelina Dupuis looked out the second story window. She watched with love as her brother and son drove off and as her nephew approached. She turned and looked with no affection at the other woman present.
”You understand your commands, Norma?”
Norma Breckinridge stood in the center of the room, her arms loose at her side. She wore a white sundress, a small suitcase and her purse by her bare feet. Her blonde tresses were tied in a ponytail, and a pair of strappy sandals sat on the luggage. Her face was blank and her eyes devoid of thought or will.
“Yes, Mistress. You have said the words, and I will obey.” Her voice was toneless and servile.
A tingle went through Angie’s body. To keep Patricia and Kenneth Dorvak’s other victim’s safe and happy, she sometimes had to use their triggers. Usually she did this with their consent. But she derived no satisfaction from controlling them. With the others, it was a job....a burden she and Johnny had, protecting these women and undoing the harm done by Dorvak and his cronies.
Norma Breckinridge was different. Angie enjoyed triggering her. Often she fantasized about all the humiliating things she could have her do. Her anger at the woman ran that deep. But Angie knew that the fact she did not abuse her was what made her different from Norma Breckinridge.
”Go lay on the bed and rest a bit. I will knock on the door three times, but you will not wake. Repeat.”
”I will rest. You will knock on the door three times, but I will not wake.”
”You will open your eyes, however, and resume your “Good Girl” persona. Proper, staid Norma, the loyal secretary. You will bring out your things, and you’ll be your happy, compliant self. Understand?”
There was a brief silence and Angie grew worried.
”I understand.....Mistress.”, Norma finally responded.
Reassured, Angie left the room as Norma laid on the bed. She didn’t notice the slight twitching of Norma’s toes.
Norma Breckinridge floated on her cloud. Deep in trance, she was in a sleep-like state. But her rest was being disturbed by an insistent thought rising from the deepest recess of her mind, her own voice saying the same word over and over.
“Opportunity.”
Angie broke off from her embrace of her nephew and closely looked at him.
”I’m straight, Aunt Angie...I promise.” It was true, he hadn’t smoked any Mary Jane today, even though Daisy always had more than enough.
His Aunt’s voice was full of tenderness. “I know....I wasn’t thinking about that.....it’s just I can’t believe how you take after Johnny. Petey’s got more of my Nicodemus looks. Cleaned up, you could pass for your Uncle back in 41.”
Her face grew serious, and he knew the moment of softness was over.
”Anyway, I’ve got a job for you. You’ll get two hundred and fifty dollars now, another two fifty when you’re done.”
”Aunt Angie....I don’t want your money.....you’re family....you, Petey......”
”Shut up, Trev. Johnny always paid a fair wage for fair service. And he’d be happy to know you’re working for the family instead of what you’ve been up to. Really Trev......smuggling draft dodgers? After what your Uncle did for his Country?”
Trevor’s back stiffened.
”I love you, Aunt Angie......and I do appreciate what Uncle Johnny did for me....for the Country......but I’m not ashamed I helped a few boys too poor to get a deferment. You know this war is wrong, just as much as I do. Anyways how’d he find out?”
”That’s....I mean, was, his job.....finding things out. I told you, he had plans for you, of course he’s gonna keep an eye on you. And, I’ll tell you what he found out about your little hippie girly......”
”Stop right there Aunt Angie. What I have with Daisy is off limits...”
Angie suddenly held up her hand.
“OK...stop.....I don’t want to argue. There’s too much to do. I need you to do this thing....you alone. No Daisy on this. I.....I trust you. Only, you. I love Artie...but he ain’t got the smarts for this. Johnny would have done it...but he’s gone....really, he’s been gone the last year. I got a world of worry dumped on me now, and I need your help, Trev.”
To his amazement she was crying. He hadn’t seen her do that, not even at the burial or the wake.
Trev felt his anger drain.
“What do you need me to do...you know I’ll do it, I’ll do anything for you, Mom...”
He only used that word in private with her, and only at important moments. That was what this felt like.
She smiled for the first time since he had arrived at the house. Her hand gently caressed his cheek.
”You’re my good boy...Trev. When you’re done with college, there’s a job in the Agency waiting for you, if you want it. A real good job. But this is separate....family business. I need you to drive Norma Breckinridge to Vegas and escort her until someone comes for her.”
”Five Hundred to take Miss Va Va Va Voom to Vegas?” That was Norma’s nickname at the Agency.
”Believe me....it could turn out more complicated than that.”
”Complicated, how?”
Angie closed her eyes and tried to come up with words. Finally, she said:
“Do you remember when the Bijou Theater held that ’Armand Dupuis Mystery Film Marathon’?”
”Yeah...Uncle Johnny refused to go, so I was your escort.”
”That’s right. Do you remember the one where Briar and a bunch of women get hypnotized? I think it was the last flick they showed.”
”It was....I caught it on late night TV last month. ’The Case of the Barefooted Murderess’. It’s considered one of the better ones.”
Angie thought for a moment.
”What if I told you it was a true....well, mostly true, story.”
Trevor just stared at his Aunt.
As Norma floated, the Dream came back.....not a dream, really, but a vivid memory.
Three years earlier
Johnny took the movie playbill down from his office door, laughing along with the men gathered around him. But as soon as he closed his door behind them, the smile and laughs faded.
The playbill was for the comedy “The Shakiest Gun in the West”. His typed name had been glued over Don Knott’s. The Agency just had its annual pistol competition at its private gun range, and for the first time ever, Johnny didn’t win. In fact, he came in last.
He crumpled the playbill and threw it towards the waste bin. He missed.
Johnny growled and stormed towards his office bar. He poured a shot of Jack Daniel Black into a tumbler. As he raised it, he saw his hand shaking again. It reminded him of this morning’s bitter argument with Angie. “Go to the damn doctor, moron” were her exact words.
Johnny gulped the drink and poured a second one, and took it to his desk, his anger and frustration rising.
He drank the whiskey in another angry gulp, just as the door opened. Norma came in, the ever dutiful secretary carrying a folder. Her hair was gathered in the back, and she wore the eyeglasses that were the only sign of aging she’d shown over the years She padded in, and noticed the crumpled playbill. She went to her knees, picked it up and threw it away.
Johnny found himself staring down at her sculpted bare feet, then her long, perfect calves. His gaze rested on her million dollar ass.
The words came out on their own volition, his voice shaking:
”Barefoot Norma must listen.”
She dropped the folder and slowly turned her now blank face towards his.
Johnny knew this was wrong, but had gone too far to stop.
”Luck...let a gentleman see.”
Her face grew flush, her eyes heavy lidded.
”How nice, a dame I can be.” Norma now stared, adoring him. It was so damn sexy......sexy as it was the first time in her living room so many years ago. He still carried the guilt over what they did after he triggered her for the first time. He wasn’t married to Angie yet, and he thought of Norma as a fever that had one cure. She’d tried to kill him, enslave Angie, Pattie, and countless other dames. She deserved whatever. But deep down, he knew it was wrong. Afterwards, he swore it wouldn’t happen again.
But that was then. Now, Johnny Dupuis was angry. Angry at his wife, who sometimes treated him like a child. Angry with the enemies, both in war and peace, who had injured and abused him. Angry at himself, and his aging body.
He felt emboldened by his anger and the booze. The one time before with Norma, he had ended up with an empty, disappointed feeling. Now, he knew what had been missing.
“Norma, listen carefully.....I want you to be yourself....your old self. You’ll still obey my direct commands....but you’ll be like you were before we changed you.”
The effect of the command was immediate and dramatic. Norma’s eyes fluttered, then rapidly blinked. She made a long sigh, then her eyes fully opened. She stared at him with her old Mona Lisa smile. She put her hands on his knees for support as she stood.
”You have been a naughty boy, Johnny.” Her throaty murmur was back. She slowly padded over to the bar, and poured a whiskey for herself. Johnny stared like a deer at a semi’s oncoming headlights.
Sipping, she came back to him, and stood between his legs, looking down at him. “You got old, baby. That’s ok.....You know I like em that way.” She put the tumbler down, then straddled Johnny on his large chair. Bending down, her mouth was suddenly on his lips, her tongue swirling his. Her right hand was grasping his crotch through his pants, her left seemed to be reaching behind her for support.
The fever was back, as virulent and savage as it ever been. Johnny shifted his body so he could take off her blouse.
That was when he saw the framed photo. Teen aged Trevor and Angie, his wife holding Petey. He shook his head, and realized this wasn’t who he wanted to be. He had made a promise to Angelina and to himself.
”Stop....I said STOP, Norma....”. Her back straightened and her face moved away from his. Her face looked both confused and surprised. Johnny caught his breath.
“Return to deep trance now, Norma....fully and completely obedient once more....back to ‘Good Norma’....and stand up.”
As she stood, he didn’t see her left hand release the knife-like letter opener back onto the desktop. He also never understood the poisonous seed he had planted in Norma Breckinridge’s subconscious.
There were sharp three knocks on the guest room door, and the Dream/Memory ended. Norma’s eyes opened.
She smiled like Mona Lisa as she rose from the bed.