The Brain Vault (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 3) by Lawrence Kelter Page A
Authors: Lawrence Kelter
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replied. “I hear he’s a mess.”
“You have no idea. His body is covered with scars and burns from head to toe. He’s been blinded and restrained. God knows what that poor man has been through.”
“Any chance he’ll regain consciousness?” Ambler asked.
“Slim. We’re circulating his photo on the street. We think that’s our best chance for determining his identity.”
“You’ll make his photos available to The Bureau?”
“Already done,” Lido said.
“Was there anything found on the skull that will lead us to the UNSUB?” UNSUB was Bureau lingo for unidentified suspect.
“It’s clean,” Ambler said, with disappointment in his voice. “Jack’s people have been over it top to bottom. They found Doe’s fingerprints, which unfortunately are not on file. They found common household dust, some cigarette ash…that’s about it.”
“How’s that possible?” Lido asked.
Evans Jack picked up the skull. It looked like a baseball cradled in his huge hands. “It’s no small job to make a skull look like this. An adult skull articulates with blood, cartilage, membranes, sinew—you know what I’m talking about, yes?”
Lido and I nodded. Ambler pulled out his Blackberry and began scrolling through his emails.
Jack continued, “So now that we understand that human bones are not pure white as found in nature, it begs the question, how and why was this skull cleaned? Typically, a specimen like this has been prepared for anatomical study. You find them at universities, teaching hospitals, museums—you get the picture.”
“So you think our UNSUB is using his victim’s skulls to perform anatomical studies? That’s a wild one.”
“You’d think he’d just take an evening class at NYU,” Lido quipped.
“I’m sure the UNSUB’s interest in the human skull goes way beyond the ordinary,” Ambler said.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s doing. This is very private work he’s performing,” I said. “Why he’s doing it, that’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question.”
“How hard is it to prepare a skull in this way?” Lido asked.
“It really takes a lot of work, but it doesn’t require much training,” Jack said, “All it really requires is a strong stomach and a great deal of determination. I’m sure your UNSUB has both.”
“So you think he did this himself?” Lido asked.
“Most likely,” Jack replied. “There are signs in the finished product that point to the work of an accomplished amateur. There are several shops out there; some are very advanced and others are just slightly more than butchers. I don’t think this example falls into either category.”
“Butchers, how so?” I asked.
“If you picture Uncle Jed and Granny sitting around the still, the image wouldn’t be too far from wrong. Remember, bone cleaning is a very primitive art form. Professional operations have refined it to a much higher level, but the nitty-gritty is that it was first performed by savages: tribal medicine men, shamans, head hunters—picture a shrunken head. We’re not exactly talking elite company.”
“I’m intrigued, repulsed, but intrigued. Tell me how you know so much about the way this skull was cleaned.”
“There are three ways to clean a bone like this: bug cleaning, boiling, and maceration. Our technicians said that tiny particles of sinew were found on the articulating surfaces of the middle nasal concha, which leads us to believe this specimen was bug cleaned because the beetles were too big to get into those really small crevices.”
“And how did you rule out the other two techniques?”
“Boiling makes a mess, warps the bone, and dissolves all the cartilage—shrinks just about everything. Even if you’re very careful, all the articulating fiber is destroyed. No, I’m sure it wasn’t boiled. That leaves bacterial maceration, which is just fancy talk for rotting the meat off the carcass. It’s the equivalent
“You have no idea. His body is covered with scars and burns from head to toe. He’s been blinded and restrained. God knows what that poor man has been through.”
“Any chance he’ll regain consciousness?” Ambler asked.
“Slim. We’re circulating his photo on the street. We think that’s our best chance for determining his identity.”
“You’ll make his photos available to The Bureau?”
“Already done,” Lido said.
“Was there anything found on the skull that will lead us to the UNSUB?” UNSUB was Bureau lingo for unidentified suspect.
“It’s clean,” Ambler said, with disappointment in his voice. “Jack’s people have been over it top to bottom. They found Doe’s fingerprints, which unfortunately are not on file. They found common household dust, some cigarette ash…that’s about it.”
“How’s that possible?” Lido asked.
Evans Jack picked up the skull. It looked like a baseball cradled in his huge hands. “It’s no small job to make a skull look like this. An adult skull articulates with blood, cartilage, membranes, sinew—you know what I’m talking about, yes?”
Lido and I nodded. Ambler pulled out his Blackberry and began scrolling through his emails.
Jack continued, “So now that we understand that human bones are not pure white as found in nature, it begs the question, how and why was this skull cleaned? Typically, a specimen like this has been prepared for anatomical study. You find them at universities, teaching hospitals, museums—you get the picture.”
“So you think our UNSUB is using his victim’s skulls to perform anatomical studies? That’s a wild one.”
“You’d think he’d just take an evening class at NYU,” Lido quipped.
“I’m sure the UNSUB’s interest in the human skull goes way beyond the ordinary,” Ambler said.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s doing. This is very private work he’s performing,” I said. “Why he’s doing it, that’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question.”
“How hard is it to prepare a skull in this way?” Lido asked.
“It really takes a lot of work, but it doesn’t require much training,” Jack said, “All it really requires is a strong stomach and a great deal of determination. I’m sure your UNSUB has both.”
“So you think he did this himself?” Lido asked.
“Most likely,” Jack replied. “There are signs in the finished product that point to the work of an accomplished amateur. There are several shops out there; some are very advanced and others are just slightly more than butchers. I don’t think this example falls into either category.”
“Butchers, how so?” I asked.
“If you picture Uncle Jed and Granny sitting around the still, the image wouldn’t be too far from wrong. Remember, bone cleaning is a very primitive art form. Professional operations have refined it to a much higher level, but the nitty-gritty is that it was first performed by savages: tribal medicine men, shamans, head hunters—picture a shrunken head. We’re not exactly talking elite company.”
“I’m intrigued, repulsed, but intrigued. Tell me how you know so much about the way this skull was cleaned.”
“There are three ways to clean a bone like this: bug cleaning, boiling, and maceration. Our technicians said that tiny particles of sinew were found on the articulating surfaces of the middle nasal concha, which leads us to believe this specimen was bug cleaned because the beetles were too big to get into those really small crevices.”
“And how did you rule out the other two techniques?”
“Boiling makes a mess, warps the bone, and dissolves all the cartilage—shrinks just about everything. Even if you’re very careful, all the articulating fiber is destroyed. No, I’m sure it wasn’t boiled. That leaves bacterial maceration, which is just fancy talk for rotting the meat off the carcass. It’s the equivalent
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