October skies

‘I’m still working my way through the journal.’

‘But,’ Tom continued, ‘I’d be prepared to bet bloody good money it ends with the death of most of these people. In particular, most, if not all of his followers.’

Julian looked at him. ‘What makes you so certain of that?’

‘He’s a classic Reverend Jim Jones figure. You recall the Jonestown incident, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘A strong-willed, charismatic sociopath, driven by a delusion of some messianic destiny. The pattern I’m seeing in this Lambert journal is very similar: a religious patriarchal figure leading his devoted followers out into an isolated wilderness away from the interference and prying noses of authority; in Jim Jones’s case it was Guyana. In Preston’s case, I’m presuming, he was heading for some unclaimed tract beyond the reach of the US government to set up his own little kingdom. Away from the rule of law, away from the established Church of Latter Day Saints.’

Julian nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it.’

Tom got up from his office chair and walked over to the door of his study. ‘Fancy some coffee?’

Julian nodded, and Tom cracked the door open and asked Judy to rustle up a cafetiere of Kilimanjaro Fairtrade for both of them. He closed the door gently.

‘To what end, though?’ Julian asked.

Tom smiled. ‘Like Jim Jones, like David Koresh… or to pick a few secular examples, like Idi Amin, Robert Mugabe… even Adolf Hitler — to realise his manifest destiny. To appease the particular malevolent imp inside him.’

Julian’s brows arched.

‘Imp?’

Tom spread his hands apologetically. ‘Forgive me. It’s a characterisation I’m using way too often right now. I’m consulting on a TV drama, a supernatural version of Cracker; the scriptwriters have been using that phrase, that metaphor in their dialogue, and I’m finding myself doing it now. It’s like catching someone else’s cold,’ he laughed. ‘No, I mean the delusion that’s driving him. Like I say, a classic dyed-in-the-wool sociopath. ’

Julian had heard the term many times, but had never been given a concise definition of it that made sense.

Tom seemed to pick up on that. ‘It’s an over-used word these days, Julian. One bandied about a bit too readily by screen-writers, crime novelists and daytime TV shrinks. It’s similar, in a way, to autism, an inability to comprehend the feelings of others; a total absence of the ability to empathise. But autism is an example of the brain misfiring, not working properly. It’s a disorder. On the other hand, the sociopathic tendency, I believe, is… for the sake of a better word an enhancement. It’s designed. ’

‘Designed?’

‘Darwinistically speaking, of course.’

Julian grinned with relief. ‘I thought for a terrifying moment there that you were going all creationist on me.’

Tom laughed. ‘No, I’ve seen enough of how the mind works to never be in any danger of suddenly finding God. No, by designed I mean the sociopathic tendency has evolved amongst a minority of people. Every serial killer is a sociopath; you’d need to be able to do what they do. The inability to perceive the feelings of others, the suffering of a victim, gives a killer an advantage… the competitive edge, if you like. Which, of course, in Darwinistic — one might even say Dawkinsian terms, these days — makes a hell of a lot of sense, if you think about it.’

The door creaked open and Judy brought in a tray of coffee and biscuits. Tom thanked her then waited until she had left before continuing.

‘You’d be surprised how many sociopaths are out there.’

Julian’s dark brow arched. He reflexively pushed his glasses up. ‘Uh, how many?’

‘It’s a trait that’s really quite common. Perhaps about one in ten people exhibits sociopathic tendencies to some degree.’

‘What? Surely the streets would be awash with blood.’

‘Well, you know where there’s an absence of a controlling mechanism — law and order — that’s exactly how it is,’ sighed Tom. ‘You only have to consider Baghdad, or Darfur, or Sarajevo, or Kenya.’

He dipped his biscuit, swilled it around and then carefully lifted the soggy thing to his mouth.

‘But listen, it’s a mistake to think that violent behaviour is always a natural follow-on for those who have this inability to pity, to empathise. You ever watch The Apprentice on the telly?’

Julian nodded guiltily. ‘Yeah, I hate to admit I got sucked into the last series.’

‘No one got sliced open or garrotted with piano wire, at least not that I’m aware of. But I’d say a very high proportion of those contestants had a sociopathic tendency of one sort or another, prepared to do anything to anybody just to be the winner.’

‘There now,’ said Julian, half joking, ‘I always knew there was a reason I didn’t like suits.’