Текст книги "Heartless"

Автор книги: Patrick T. Phelps

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

He was very good at keeping things in their proper places. Didn’t matter what needed to be put into place; tools, information, or people: everything needed to be in their right place. The moment after the shock and disbelief of what Michelle Mix had told him had worn off, he started putting things where they belonged.

The first matter to attend to was to understand how something like this, something like his son, could have happened.

“Explain to me,” he said to a trusted doctor friend of his, “to what extent genetics can play in the development of a baby.”

“A tremendous extent,” the doctor answered. “Be more specific.”

“I’ve read about children being born missing limbs or organs. Does some birth defect like that indicate a weakness in the gene pool?”

“Not always. The human genome is fragile. Many things can go wrong during the fetus’s development. Many things. In fact, the vast majority of us are born with an alteration from the original genes. Fortunately, most deviations are not severe enough to be called a ‘defect.’”

“So my twins, being born with only one heart, that doesn’t necessarily indicate that my genes are faulty?”

“Nor does the condition of their birth indicate that your wife’s genes are damaged. What are you getting at?”

“Is it possible,” he continued ignoring the question asked, “that the other baby born alongside my son, Thomas, was nothing more than a genetic error?”

“I would have a problem calling the other baby an error.”

“But is it possible?”

There were so few  people he trusted and even fewer that he felt were strong enough to warrant his trust. He had built his empire, though considered small to some titans, based from his uncanny ability to read people. To judge them worthy of his trust. Weaknesses were quickly identified and, if needed to strengthen his position of leverage, exploited. When he discovered a strength in someone, strength in a trait or skill that exceeded his own, he formed a partnership.

His wife, strong as she was in her compassion, was little more than a convenience for him. She agreed that her place was beside him, smiling, supporting, looking her best, and keeping quiet when she should. From her, he drew comfort knowing that his son was being cared for and shielded from the mass of morons that filled the earth. But she could not be trusted beyond what she had been vetted for.

He had no reservations about telling her what he had learned from Mix’s wife. He expected her to allow her emotions to direct her actions, but he also knew that he could easily control her expressions.

“No,” he told her, “that is not the way we are going to handle this. Running off with emotions messing up your thoughts will accomplish nothing. For God’s sake, imagine what the doctors would do to Alexander if they knew we were on to them?”

Controlling her emotions had grown too easy. A simple smile now and then. Sending a cheap bouquet of flowers. A trip to wherever. A night staying at home. Simple.

He had no concern that she would break the agreement with him. She would keep quiet and let him figure it all out.

“I feel so heartbroken for him,” she said. “My son, our son, locked away like some lab rat. We need to bring him home soon. Please tell me that you will bring him home?”

“Just stick to the talking points and timeframe I gave you. You’ll have your son home with you before long.”

He knew she’d follow the plan. The few times in the past that she thought an idea of hers was better than his had always turned out poorly for her. She had too much to lose, and he knew it. She loved the life his plans had given her, and she wasn’t about to risk losing everything. She knew her place, and while she didn’t agree with the many of the methods her husband employed to get things done, she was comfortable in her place.

He couldn’t say that he still loved her, nor would he say that he despised her. She served a purpose, and he felt she served it quite well. What she couldn’t do well, or wasn’t willing to try to improve on, he had others do for him. All were paid handsomely for discretion.

Hiring Derek Cole was a stretch for him. He hadn’t the time to properly and thoroughly research Cole’s background, but the urgency of the events at the lodge in Piseco Lake demanded that he make a fast decision. The little that he did find out about his newest contractor suggested that Cole had the skills and abilities he needed to complete the job. He also uncovered what he would feel to be a tremendous weakness, one that may have to be further explored if Cole decided to live up to his “freelance” title.

Cole had abilities, that he knew for certain, but he sensed a streak of morality in Derek that could prove disruptive. Keeping Cole on task probably only demanded frequent payments and promises of additional income generating opportunities. But still, he needed him focused to one objective.

It was focus that he appreciated the most. While so many around him shifted their focus from one intention to another, achieving so little while advancing but inches in thousands of different directions, he remained on point. A single mission. One desired outcome. His flexibility allowed for course alterations, but nothing would be tolerated that pulled him off point.

The team members he assembled were all chosen for specific talents they possessed. Derek was chosen for his faithfulness and honesty. His brother had hired Derek to complete a sensitive job and raved about how well Derek completed the task.

“Cole is your guy,” his brother told him after being asked about resources able to maintain confidentiality while following specific instructions. “He’s on his own, meaning that he understands how important it is to keep his clients happy. He probably knows that if he pisses off the wrong client, his career is done.”

“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t piss me off or more than his career will be over.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It was the idea of freedom he liked the most, being able to look out his window without reminded concerns of being seen. The doors were all his to command. His promise to keep inside was not a lock, a collar, or an iron barred window. It was just a promise, an understanding that the plan needed his cooperation in order to continue.

Multiple plans needed multiple understandings. The coordination of each plan, itself in need of a plan. He fully knew that his partners would be calling on him, one in person and the other through emissaries. Each would be expecting that their plans were being followed to the letter. Though his brother’s plan lacked direction, it was the easiest to follow. All that was needed was for him to be free, then to follow his brother’s lead. The events at the lodge and the murders in Chicago had now rendered that plan obsolete. He knew his brother was scrambling to formulate another plan, but he had no further interest in learning of it.

His father’s plan, focused solely on gain, was being dismantled piece by piece. His father had shown a surprising level of patience, which gave him pause. He wondered if he had misinterpreted the emotions driving his father’s plan and wondered, if only for a moment, if the prescribed and detailed steps contained an emotion beyond simple greed.

The plan he devised was of singular focus. One governing principle. One driving objective. There were times, multiple times, that he felt pulled to believe that his father and his brother were right and that their motives included a better life for him. He dreamed of what his life could become, with a family by his side to buffet the harsh winds of ridicule, of accusations, of fear. His dreams were consistently interrupted by the memories of Straus telling him that “no one would, no one could ever accept him.”

He was too different. Critically unique. “A subject to be studied. To be understood. To be feared.” His brief time in the world had slammed that truth home. He would never be seen as “one of us,” no matter how determined a family might be. And he grew to understand that, despite their assurances, that he would never find comfort in a non-judgmental embrace. There would be no comfort for him. No chance for shared laughter, the recollecting of made memories, or wishful longing that future plans award.

He largely ignored the looks and glances of others, though he questioned his ability to make his appearance less conspicuous. Blending in, it seemed, would be much harder than he had anticipated. Perhaps impossible. The color of his skin and the deep, foreboding color that surrounded his eyes both were too much to conceal.

Though insignificant to him, their remarks struck him hard. Callous insults, not intended to advise, but only to remind him that becoming a part of the critical mass was impossible.

“Take a bath, dude!”

“First time seeing the sun?”

“Ever hear of dentures?”

“Freak.”

He had been warned by Straus and by his team. Repeatedly, told that the best place for him, the safest place, was behind the walls they provided. He had listened but had not believed that in a world of billions that he would be noticed. Singled out. Laughed at. He never thought that he would cause others to alter their walking paths to steer clear of him. To be the person that caused others to stare in bewildered shock.

As he retreated back to the apartment that his father had rented to serve as a safe house, and after closing the door behind him, he wished, if only for a moment, that it was his door back at the lodge. He wondered how it would feel to cry. To feel the release of a deep sigh followed by a release of emotions. He could not draw a breath, and he could only imagine releasing stress and anxiety by paying attention to his breaths.

He had read about the importance of deep, conscious breathing in some of the books he was allowed to read and had often tried to mimic the descriptive formula. But he found no release, no benefits.

He stood, leaning his back against his motel room’s door, knowing that he was utterly alone. There was no one who would ever accept him for what he was. And he knew that his decisions to exact his revenge would prevent anyone from ever accepting him for who we was.

He felt more trapped now than ever before. It used to be steel reinforced doors, barred windows, and captors holding Tasers that kept him from freedom. Now he realized that it was his own being that was his captor. He didn’t choose to enter this world in the manner that he did, yet he would always be punished for his arrival. When his father first made contact, he thought that maybe he would have the chance at a normal life. He knew that he would need to be very flexible with his defining of normal, but it was his father. He had taken the time and expense needed to find his son. Soon after, his brother accepted his offer to meet. Perhaps to form a relationship the way long-lost brothers often do.

When he learned of his father’s plan, he knew his dreams were in vain. His father wanted only him to be the pawn in his plan. The vehicle that would bring in revenue. His brother’s plan, so quickly determined to be one made without thought, was more focused on exposing truths than becoming a family.

Alexander’s plan, however, included no financial considerations. It did not include a news conference, during which reporters, hungry for scandal, ripped the medical profession apart and launched exposes on the treatment of those in psychiatric institutions. He hated his plan, but following it had quickly proved to be his only choice.

As he leaned against his door, wishing for abilities he had only read about, his phone rang. He had only two phone numbers to memorize. Two people in the world who knew that he could be spoken to. Two souls among billions that wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello father,” he whispered. “I’m not surprised you’re calling me.”

************

CHAPTER THIRTY

It was after his normal dinnertime before Derek reached the small town of Alexandria Bay, New York. Finding the resort was easy, though the summer tourists made navigating the small Alexandria Bay streets a challenge.

He checked into the resort and was told how fortunate he was that they had a cancellation and that he would be getting a river-view room with a balcony.

“The views of the seaway are spectacular,” the desk clerk insisted.

“Awesome,” Derek said. “And can you tell me how close my room is to the McClury’s? They’re good friends.”

“Let me check,” the clerk said as she fumbled her fingers across the computer’s keyboard. “We just installed a new server, and I am not super familiar with it yet.”

Minutes passed.

“You are on the fourth floor, and your friends are on the third. You’ll probably be able to see each other from your balconies.”

“Great, and thanks again for the upgrade,” Derek said.

Derek quickly made his way up to his fourth floor balcony room, dropped his overnight bag onto the king-sized bed, and walked out onto the balcony. It took Derek only a few seconds before he spotted Doctor Stanley Mix and his wife, Michelle. The couple was sitting on their balcony, and though Derek’s balcony was a hundred feet away, he could clearly see that Stanley didn’t look well.

He could see that Stanley was completely bald by the afternoon sun reflecting harshly off his head. His shirt was baggy and revealed his bony shoulders beneath its cover. Michelle was leaning towards her husband, elbows on her thighs and a smile filling her face. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever the topic of their conversation was, Derek was certain it had nothing to do with Alexander Black or any of the O’Connells.

Derek made his 8:00 call to Ken, but received only Ken O’Connell’s voicemail. He was glad that Ken hadn’t answered as he was unsure what he was planning on telling his client.

The next morning, Derek sat on his balcony and watched Michelle Mix sitting alone on her balcony, crying. Derek made sure that Michelle wouldn’t notice him as he sat in quiet confusion, watching. As he sat observing them, wondering what he would tell his client if Ken answered the scheduled 8:00 a.m. call, he saw Michelle stand quickly and move into their room. It was several minutes before he saw motion. Slowly, even more slowly than Derek expected, he watched Michelle help her ailing husband out on to the deck and into one of the lounge chairs. After Stanley was seated, Derek watched as Michelle caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead. She held his hand as she spoke to him, with a smile flooding her face. She then turned towards the room, help up five fingers, smiled again, and disappeared into the room.

Derek quickly moved into his room, put on his sneakers, and headed down to the lobby of the resort. He felt he needed to see Michelle and hopefully speak to her before checking in with Ken O’Connell. Though he had no idea what he would say if given the chance to speak with her, he felt she deserved to know who he was, who we worked for, and what his charge was.

Once in the lobby, Michelle was easy to mark. Though in her fifties, she possessed a comfortable elegance. Her shiny, dark hair and well-conditioned body made her look much younger from a distance. But as Derek drew close and could see the effects of her husband’s illness etched on her face, he knew that cancer affects loved ones as hard as it affects those stricken with the disease.

“Michelle Mix?” he said when he was close enough to Michelle but far enough away from others to hear. “My name is Derek Cole, and I’ve been hired by Ken O’Connell to verify your location. I want to let you know that I’m going to tell Mr. O’Connell that you checked out of this resort before I arrived.”

Michelle’s deep eyes just stared back at Derek’s. She said nothing, but nothing needed to be said.

“I’ve checked in under the name Robert Mendelsohn and have reservations for another night. I know your husband is ill and weak, but I am willing to help you two move into my room. I’ll take care of checking you out.”

“Why are you doing this?” she said as tears reluctantly filled her eyes.

“You don’t deserve what my client wants to put you through. Honestly, I don’t know what your husband deserves, but whatever it is that he does deserve, I think he is already experiencing it.”

“Will Ken believe you?”

“He will. I can be a very good and convincing liar.”

“My husband is hungry. Can we move after he eats?” she asked, revealing how vulnerable she felt her position was. She recognized that all Derek need do is to contact Ken O’Connell, let him know that he’d found them and within hours, the little time Stanley had left in this world would be spent in a living hell of embarrassment, police questioning, possibly being arrested, and who knows what else. Michelle knew what Derek was offering was her only chance to spend the rest of her husband’s days with him in relative peace.

“Of course,” Derek answered. “And I would like to fill you in on what has happened over the last couple of days.”

“No offense, Derek, but I don’t really want to know. I know that Alexander Black escaped from wherever Straus held him captive, and I know that he’s killed several people.”

“I’m not sure who did the killing, actually.”

“I hope I’m not being rude, considering all that you are offering to do for my husband and me, but, please, I don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough,” Derek said. “Bring up your breakfast, enjoy it with your husband. Then, move your things to room 421,” he said as he handed over the credit-card style room key. “If you need help moving your things, tell me now because I am leaving as soon as you head up to your room.”

“No,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. But how long is your room reserved for?”

“One more night but I’ll see now if I can extend it a few more days. How long do you think you need?” As he asked, Derek wondered if the more appropriate question would have been “how much longer do you think your husband has left?”

“I’m not sure,” Michelle said. “A few more days should be fine. I don’t know. I do know that we can’t stay here forever.”

“If you give me your cell number, I will text you updates.”

“Fine,” she said. “But know that I only check my messages early in the morning and only for a minute. Two at the most.”

“Understood.”

Derek wrote down Michelle’s cell number on the back of his hand and assured her that Ken O’Connell would be told that she and Stanley had checked out early in the morning and that he was unable to track them.

“Thank you,” Michelle said, her eyes offering all the gratitude that Derek needed. “I can give you cash for the room if you’d like.”

“No thanks. Give me two minutes to see how long I can extend my room reservation,” he said as he turned away towards the front desk. “And, Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“I know that neither you or your husband are proud of the role you played with Alexander Black, but I also feel that you don’t deserve Ken O’Connell’s revenge or Alexander’s. Take care of your husband, and remember to take care of yourself as well.”

Before Michelle could respond, Derek had moved away.

She stood and watched him speaking to the man at the front desk. A minute later, Derek turned, held up four fingers and mouthed, “Four nights. God bless.”

The clerk then waved to Michelle who waved back. Derek mouthed the words, “You’re all checked out.”

“Thank you,” Michelle silently said to Derek, then turned towards the elevator. “Thank you, Derek Cole.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“If I knew where they were going, I would have followed them. They must have left very early in the morning. I was up at five, and they were already gone.”

The lies were effortless for Derek. It was not because he was familiar with being untruthful, but this ability to be overly creative with the truth came from his own experience. Though he knew nothing about Michelle and Stanley Mix, he saw a familiar pain in her eyes. Pain that needed to be helped.

“Did you get a look at Stanley?” Ken asked during his and Derek’s call.

“I did. He doesn’t look well at all. I don’t think he has much time left,” Derek answered.

“They may have checked into a nearby hospital. Spend the day checking out any hospitals in the area and don’t neglect to call on some Canadian ones as well. I believe you are just a boat ride away from Canada.”

“Yes sir,” Derek said as he pulled his car into drive and headed south, away from Canada. “Any important discoveries since yesterday?

“My resources are telling me that Lucietta may have been murdered in his office yesterday afternoon. Nothing confirmed yet. Police are keeping things quiet now. Too many connected murders. They probably don’t want the public to know what the hell is going on.”

“If Lucietta is gone, that leaves Straus and Mix as the only remaining doctors on Alexander’s list.”

“As well as my family. Do not forget that we are on that list, Cole.”

It was the way Ken said it that stirred something in Derek. Almost a request guised as an order.

“Don’t forget that we are on that list”

“I haven’t forgotten. And honestly, I don’t think my services are best used chasing down dying doctors. I should either track down Black or be by you and your son’s side.”

“I have other resources for protection. You know that,” Ken’s voice was sounding irritated. “Alexander is unique, but even unique criminals get caught sooner or later. Until he is caught, your focus should be on finding Stanley Mix. I hope that is clear.”

“It is clear,” Derek said.

“Good. My resources have also provided me with a possible lead to Straus’s whereabouts. They are following up today. I hope to have Straus in my sights by the time we chat this evening. I expect you will have Mix locked down as well. Once we have all the players, we go public with the whole story. Maybe that will bring Alexander out of hiding as well.”

“Probably a good plan,” Derek said. “So where do your resources think Straus is?”

“Straus is no longer your concern. My information sounds rock solid, meaning that the only missing player is Stanley Mix. Find him and keep him under watch, Cole. The second you locate him, contact me.”

The tone in Ken O’Connell’s voice was unmistakable. He wanted Derek to find Stanley Mix and to leave everything else to his “resources.” But Derek had questions.

“Have you spoken to Thomas lately?” he asked, knowing that the question may anger Ken.

“If you are wondering if Thomas is safe, he is. If you are wondering anything else, I think you need to remind yourself of your objective.”

“I am charged with his safety as well,” Derek said. “I just have some concern I have after speaking with him yesterday.”

“And that concern is?” Ken asked, not caring to hide his impatience with Derek.

“He told me that it was raining out, but when I checked the radar on my phone, there weren’t any storms in the area. You confirmed it as well when I asked about the rain.”

“It’s a big lake, Cole. Not sure if you’ve ever spent time on any of the Great Lakes but an isolated rain storm is not at all uncommon.”

“I know that. But ...”

“Listen, Cole,” Ken said. “I need to follow up on other pressing matters. I appreciate your concern for my son, but he is well protected and is exactly where he should be. Call me the second you pick up Mix’s trail.”

Without any more words spoken, Ken ended the call. Derek sat in his car awhile, his iPhone still pressed to his ear. He let his mind wander.

“Exactly where he should be?” he thought. “Why wouldn’t Ken show even the slightest concern that his son may not be where he expects him to be?

Before he could answer his own questions, his iPhone rang, startling Derek as the phone was still pressed to his ear.

“Derek Cole,” he answered.

“Now I thought you weren’t gonna have your phone turned.”

“Chief Ralph Fox,” Derek said, smiling. “I figured you’d miss me, but didn’t think you’d call me so soon.”

“I guess you’re like a toe fungus. Growing on me.”

“Not sure if that was a compliment.”

“Well, compliments and insults are determined by the person receiving them,” Ralph said.

“I’ll take it as a compliment then if it’s up to me.”

“So, whad did you find out so far?”

“I found Mix. He doesn’t look good at all. I spoke to his wife Michelle today and told her that I had no intentions of telling Ken O’Connell that I found them.”

“Not being a good employee,” Ralph said, his respect for Derek’s choice obvious in his tone.

“I’d fire me. Also spoke with Ken a minute ago. He told me that Lucietta may have been found murdered.”

“That man must be a man of influence.”

“He has plenty of resources,” Derek said.

“Well, Lucietta was murdered, right in his office and right in the middle of the day. No one saw or heard nothing. Looks like he got hit with his own Taser a couple of times before having a knife pushed through his neck. Coroner said it wasn’t a painful death, but it wasn’t  quick, either.”

“I guess that leaves Straus and my clients on the ‘hit list.’”

“And Stanley Mix, but I am sensing that you are gonna be doing some protecting of him.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Derek said softly.

“Well, there are two things you need to know about the Lucietta murder. One, the killer or killers left another one of them notes. All the names of the deceased crossed out in Lucietta’s blood. Names not crossed out still include your client, his dad and mom, Stanley Mix, and the elusive Doctor William Straus.

“Now, the second and more interesting thing is what the NYPD detectives shared with your buddy, Captain Smith. Turns out that the finger printing guys didn’t find any prints that didn’t belong in the office. But, they did find something interesting.”

“And that would be?” Derek asked.

“The killer was wearing latex gloves. Now, I don’t know how familiar you may be with latex gloves, but some of them gloves have a powder sprinkled on ‘em to make ‘em easier to put on. I bet that you’ve seen that little puff of white when your doctor snaps his gloves on and tells you to bend over.”

“Funny. And, yes, I know about the powder.”

“Well, the killer was particularly interested in one picture that poor old Lucietta had hanging on his wall. Left glove prints and some of that aforementioned powder on the frame and glass.”

“What was the picture of?” Derek asked.

“It was a picture of Straus and Lucietta standing in front of Hilburn Psychiatric Hospital down on Long Island.”

“O’Connell told me that his resources had a good lead on where Straus might be. Unless my client’s resources include someone on the NYPD, I think he may be involved.”

“I think I lied to you when I said I had two things of importance,” Ralph said. “There’s one other thing. Captain Smith’s tech people did some more investigating on that call you made with Ken O’Connell. The tracers showed that his phone was around Chicago. But what they found after doing more digging is that while his cell phone was in Chicago, your call was automatically forwarded to another phone.”

“He is definitely involved if he is covering up his location,” Derek said. “Now I am even happier I lied to him about Mix. There’s something else I should share with you.”

“What we have here is a mutually beneficial relationship,” Ralph said.

“When I spoke with Thomas O’Connell yesterday, I could hear a storm in the background. He said it was just a passing storm, but when I checked the radar on my phone, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky where he is supposed to be.”

“Smells like we have a family affair going on here.”

“If what I am thinking is accurate, they hired me to track down Mix, Lucietta, and Straus and not to protect anyone. Now that Lucietta is dead, and they have a lead on Straus, all they are concerned about is me finding and securing Mix.”

“Yup,” Ralph responded. “I bet you feel like you were used.”

“Sure do. But now I am going to finish this thing.”

“Heading to Hilburn, are you?”

“Damn straight.”