Ch.89Side Story – Catherine Scully, The Spiral Staircase (1)

1929. ■■. ■■.

■■■■■■ ■■■■ Naval Base

Massachusetts

The window of the officers’ quarters rattled all night. It was the wind’s relentless pounding. A fugitive that had escaped from the sea, racing past the naval port.

Bang bang. Excuse me. Please open the door. It’s too cold and scary out here.

The wind sobbed. Please save me.

Scully didn’t answer.

Catherine.

The wind had now changed to her sister’s voice.

Catherine. Please open the door. My beloved sister. Please open the door. I’m cold. I’m so cold.

Catherine didn’t answer.

*

After tossing and turning all night, Scully overslept. She rushed to the office without breakfast. Fortunately, a medical orderly had prepared some food for her. Warm coffee and biscuits. She wrapped her hands around the mug. The warmth was welcome.

Strengthened, Scully continued reading Karl Böhm’s records. She also reviewed the autopsy records of the naval base personnel when Mars had come close.

And then “Jezebel.”

Her real name was Hannah Reisler. A woman of unknown age but appearing to be in her early to mid-thirties. She was a hopeless drug addict, gambling addict, and nymphomaniac.

Taking her out of Arkham Asylum had been close to a stroke of luck. No doctor at Arkham had properly diagnosed her. All they did was restrain her limbs and administer sedatives. She had even developed bedsores on her back.

Good heavens, bedsores on a perfectly mobile patient in her mid-thirties. Unthinkable in any proper hospital.

Because of this, Catherine Scully was able to transfer her to a naval base hospital in Massachusetts in time. Quite close to Karl Böhm’s room.

Of course, Scully hadn’t done this out of humanitarian concerns. There had been orders from the top.

Hannah Reisler, “Jezebel,” had once been a queen of the demimonde. She appeared to have definitely been in an affair with Senator Annette Cole. The decisive evidence was when Henry Payne obtained photographs of the two of them together.

For the Director, who was practically at odds with Annette Cole, she was a human resource too valuable to pass up.

“Scully. Anything will do. Get something out of her. You need to earn your salary, don’t you?”

“I can’t promise anything. She’s too damaged. Going deeper would be…”

“Nobody asked you to fix her, Scully.”

The Deputy Director was firm.

“Who asked you to repair a shipwreck? Just salvage the nameplate. That’s all. Don’t think about fixing her.”

Scully had withdrawn in silence.

Doctor or federal agent? The two seemed to go hand in hand, yet they always diverged at critical moments. From a medical ethics standpoint, she shouldn’t be touched. One wrong move could make her condition worse.

But from a federal agent’s perspective, she needed to be investigated. Orders were orders. Even if they felt unjust. Even knowing it wasn’t the right thing to do.

If that bothered her, there was no reason to be part of an organization. Just as subordinates don’t need to share all of their superiors’ visions, superiors don’t need to explain everything to their subordinates.

So Scully examined “Jezebel’s” medical records.

It was a report by Dr. Oslon from Arkham Asylum.

*

Arkham Asylum didn’t employ many doctors to balance the books, and Oslon had to see too many patients.

Doctors are human too. Humans get tired. Scully could read his deep fatigue in his handwriting.

Handwriting.

What had started as carefully written script, smooth yet legible, had deteriorated to barely pressing pen to paper.

Of course, the distinctive elements remained. Writing small circles, or making his “s” look more like an “入”. But he was already too overwhelmed to write with any pressure.

‘…I cannot think of any appropriate treatment for Hannah Reisler using traditional and general methods.’

An illness that resists all methods of treatment. A doctor’s moment of greatest frustration. The moment of powerlessness that renders all previous efforts, experience, and knowledge worthless. The conclusion that makes you question what you’ve been working toward all this time.

His handwriting perfectly captured that moment.

Scully had experienced something similar. In the Old Continent, while studying psychoanalysis under Professor Carl Jung.

At that time, she… No. That’s not it. She couldn’t sleep because she was haunted by Emma’s ghost. Now is not the time to think about her.

Knock knock.

A knock at the door. It was the duty officer.

“You have a visitor, ma’am.”

“Me?”

Scully stood up. A visitor? How could anyone find her in a place like this?

“Who is it?”

The duty officer smiled awkwardly.

“They said you’d know when you came to the lobby.”

*

“Starbuck!”

Brigadier General William Thompson opened his arms wide as he approached. Scully smiled and embraced her father’s longtime colleague and subordinate.

“How long has it been? Since before you went to college?”

“Yes, General.”

“Let’s drop the ‘General.’ Can’t you tell my intention from the civilian clothes?”

“But if you were truly a civilian, you wouldn’t have made it past the front gate, would you?”

Scully playfully pointed at Thompson’s “VISITOR” badge.

“Well now. They say you got a doctorate in psychiatry, but you can’t read an old man’s mind?”

The two walked outside the hospital. The breeze from the naval port beyond the base was refreshing.

“When the Federal Security Bureau said you were coming, I asked two, three times. Is it really that Catherine Scully? In my memory, you were a quiet, book-loving, curious little girl who always spoke her mind, and I wondered if you were still the same.”

“How do I seem to you now, General?”

“Well. I can tell I can no longer sit you on my knee and read you storybooks.”

Thompson whistled, pointing at the fluttering naval flag.

“The salt air has seeped into my cartilage. I’d like to retire right away, but I need to stay on to earn more for medical bills, which is unfortunate.”

“You still look healthy.”

Thompson smiled, but somehow didn’t look comfortable.

“How is the Captain?”

“Father is fine. He’s at my older brother’s hospital.”

Thompson still called Scully’s father “Captain.” Their connection began when Thompson, a fresh lieutenant, became her father’s aide. During the Old Continent War, her father became a captain and Thompson was his executive officer. They wrote legends together.

But afterward, one became a brigadier general, while the other couldn’t even go to the hospital bathroom alone. Thompson couldn’t continue speaking. Scully understood his concern.

“Still no news about my sister.”

Thompson sighed, “Huh.” Emma Scully, Catherine’s twin sister, was that kind of presence. The middle child among the three Scully siblings, the family troublemaker who stood between the eldest and youngest.

Emma eventually ran away from home. That day, their father collapsed. Fortunately, he survived. But only his breath was saved. Her brother had already established himself by then, but Catherine hadn’t.

She was sick of her hometown. Sick of America. That’s why she went abroad to study.

“I didn’t come to talk about Emma. I came to talk about you.”

“Me?”

Catherine opened her eyes wide. A smile passed across the old soldier’s face.

“The Captain worried about you a lot.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it. Father always only…”

“Let’s sit down.”

The two took seats on a bench overlooking the naval port.

“I don’t know what kind of father the Captain was at home. But when we were on the ship, standing watch together, when we had free time or had a drink or two. He talked about you much more than Emma.”

“I really don’t know about that.”

“He never said anything at home?”

In Catherine’s memory, her father was always angry. Emma knew how to get under his skin, and when awake, Emma and their father would fight, tearing into each other. Her older brother and she just grew up quietly, doing what needed to be done.

Given the significant age gap with her older brother, Catherine couldn’t open up to him either, so she had to endure quite a lonely time. What kept her company were numerous books and her father’s colleagues. As a child, Catherine thought that whatever he was like at home, he must be a good soldier outside.

Just like Uncle Thompson.

“The Captain called you Starbuck. You know? The first mate from the novel Moby Dick.”

Since this was the first time hearing this, Scully couldn’t answer. Why are fathers so different at home versus outside?

“‘She’s so deep that sometimes I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know. That child always heads in one direction like a compass. She’s even more stubborn than I am.’ That’s the assessment from the hero of the Old Continent Naval Battle, so it must be accurate.”

“That’s unexpected.”

“Everyone was surprised when you said you were joining the Federal Security Bureau. Some said it would have been good if you had become a soldier like your father, and others said you could have become a renowned doctor at a young age like your brother.”

“What did you think, General?”

“It was because of Emma, wasn’t it?”

Catherine silently gazed at the sea. After gathering her thoughts, Scully spoke.

“My sister was always beyond understanding. She was impulsive and unpredictable. Sometimes she acted like a madwoman, and other times she was excessively normal. Only when she held an instrument, and only when she played the violin so loudly it could deafen you, did she seem at peace.”

“Have you found any clues?”

“No. Emma’s case remains a long-term unsolved mystery.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“You. I mean you. Not the Captain. Not Emma. Not your brother. Just your life. Where has your life gone?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I was heartbroken when your mother passed away so tragically. I thought it made sense that you and William became doctors. I understood why you studied more psychoanalysis to care for Emma’s mind. And joining the Federal Security Bureau to find Emma who eventually disappeared? I was glad you became an agent, but I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.”

Thompson rubbed his hands together.

“Catherine. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I know about responsibility and duty. I know well because I’m a soldier. What you’re doing isn’t a child’s duty. The youngest daughter doesn’t need to take responsibility for everything in the family.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Your life should be entirely yours, Catherine. Do you think you can restore everything if you find Emma with the investigative power of the Federal Security Bureau and heal her mind with knowledge from the Old Continent? Are you planning to dedicate the rest of your life to finding Emma?”

Scully couldn’t answer. It was too difficult a question. Thompson sighed and stretched his knee. A dull thud sounded.

From saying goodbye to the General until returning to her office, that simple question wouldn’t leave Scully’s mind.