Текст книги "Heartless"

Автор книги: Patrick T. Phelps

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The NYPD detectives and officers searching for anything unusual on the Hilburn campus could find nothing. They walked every foot of the main hospital, entered every room that wasn’t locked, and inspected the outside of the main hospital looking for any signs that someone, or some people, could be hiding inside.

The steel reinforced door on the second floor was the only room that couldn’t be broken down or that the superintendent of the campus couldn’t locate a key for. The police pounded on the door and listened quietly for any noise coming from the other side of the steel door.

Nothing.

After two hours, the lead detective, Mark Smith, called off the investigation. He assigned a patrol car and two officers to “stay back and to watch the grounds closely for anything or anybody moving around.”

Workers, employed by one of the companies with offices on the Hilburn campus, began to filter out of their offices to see what the commotion was. After all the police cars had left, a few walked over to the patrol officers to see what was happening at the old hospital.

“Nothing to be concerned with,” an officer said dismissively. “But if you do see anyone trying to make access to this building, we need you to contact us right away.”

“Does this have anything to do with that doctor murdered yesterday?”

“Just precautions. Had reports that someone of interest may be holed up in this hospital. Again, if you should see anything peculiar, call us.”

Straus heard the footsteps, the voices, then the banging on the door. It took a few moments for his heart to calm when he realized it wasn’t danger knocking, but the police. He assumed that some police presence would remain behind, keeping a close eye on the hospital. He also knew that opening the door and letting them in would lead to his reputation, his career, and his life being dragged through the mud.

He had his own plan that had been working flawlessly up to this point and fully trusted that his cunning and sharp mind would keep him safe. Keep his name clean and respected.

The fact that police had arrived told Straus to expect Alexander and O’Connell to be arriving soon. Lucietta must have said something to someone or had left some evidence behind that led them to Hilburn. No matter. Worst case scenario and Plan C would eliminate the possibility of Alexander Black ending his life. And Plan B was still working just fine.

Straus sat silently on the bed where Alexander Black once rested, keeping absolutely still. He waited for well over an hour after hearing the footsteps move down the hall before he risked standing and walking to the door to capture a better listen. With his ear pressed to the cool, steel door, he heard nothing but an occasional scurry of a mouse moving about in the hallway.

Still, he stood, ear pressed to the door for ten minutes, believing that if anyone was standing outside, their resolve to keep quiet would end before his.

There was no sound.

He glanced towards his iPad, sitting on the desk in the “hub” room. Its battery was drained. He thought about his car, hidden brilliantly in the loading docks, and about the charger that was sitting on the passenger seat. He wondered if the police had somehow found his car, then dismissed the possibility.

“If they found my car,” he thought, “they wouldn’t have left. They would have broken this door down.”

But would taking the risk to get to his car and the all-important charger be worth possible exposure? He knew he was blind without his news stream and realized that the fact the police showed up told him that something significant must have happened.

“Get a decent charge on the iPad only,” he thought. “A shower and a pillow will have to wait.”

The locking mechanisms on Ward C’s door were far from quiet. The dead bolt slid noisily into its home. The steel bars screamed from lack of use as Straus twisted the handle that freed them from their locked position. The echoes of metal scraping metal reverberated down the hallway, scaring away whatever mice and rats that may have chosen the second floor south hallway as their home. But when he slowly opened the door and saw the fading stream of light trickling in through the window at the hallway’s end, Straus was relieved to see no welcoming party.

He closed the door behind him as he made his way down the hallway. The stairway that led down to the first floor and then to the old office of the loading dock supervisor was no more than fifty feet away. Again, he paused to listen and only heard faint sounds of voices and an idling car coming from outside. He moved quickly to the stairway door that, thanks to his cunning mind, had been left open to assist in a quicker escape if things came to that.

The stairway was dark, not graced by any window’s filtered light. When he had arrived back at Hilburn, Straus did his best to remove any large debris from the steps, being careful not to make it seem that the stairs were still being used. Slowly, he made the dark journey down the first flight and paused when his feet hit the landing.

Still no sounds.

He moved down the second flight with more confidence and when he reached the landing, he stuck his head out into the first floor hallway to see and to listen.

The hallway was empty and quiet except for discarded papers, broken glass, empty bottles of cheap liquor spilled carelessly about, and a few folded mattresses that he assumed were the resting place of the homeless who used the hospital as shelter during the cold Long Island winter days and nights.

There was nothing else to see or to be concerned about.

Straus drew his body back into the stairway, allowed his eyes to readjust to the dark, then proceeded down the next two flights of stairs. When he reached the lower level, he again paused to make sure that no one was where they shouldn’t be. After a minute, he walked towards the loading docks, using his hands to feel for familiar landmarks on the walls. When the walls opened into large area, he shuffled his feet, feeling for the three-foot drop that would lead to the storage and warehouse area of the docks.

His car was not as brilliantly hidden as he had thought but certainly concealed enough to avoid being spotted by a lazy flashlight. As he made his way to where he parked his BMW, Straus kicked a few empty bottles, sending them bouncing across the rough concrete floor.

There was no reaction to the noise.

“If that doesn’t alert someone, nothing will,” he said out loud.

He removed the boxes that he had stacked up around his car, opened the driver’s side door, and sat down. He had turned off the overhead light when he parked the car, again to aid in his concealment. He had also left the keys in the ignition and made certain that he had a straight shot out of the dock if he encountered an emergency situation.

His plan was working flawlessly.

He reached over, picked up the car charger, connected the it to his iPad. He then turned the key to “on,” plugged in the charger, and smiled as his iPad reported that it was receiving a charge.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Twenty at the most. Just get the battery over ten percent.”

Five minutes after his iPad started to charge, its screen came to life; filling his car with a dull, gray light. Straus quickly held the iPad to his chest to cover the light, but the iPad’s illumination was present long enough for him to see the person sitting in his back seat through his rear-view mirror.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Derek wasn’t concerned about Captain Smith tracking him. He figured that Smith would be too busy trying to prevent another murder than to worry about some freelancing detective.

He searched for and found the address for Hilburn Business Center, plugged the address into the Google Maps app on his cell phone, and headed south. The computerized voice of the Google Maps told him he would arrive in just over four hours.

He dialed Thomas O’Connell’s cell number and listened as the ringing ended with Thomas’s voicemail message. Next, he dialed Ken O’Connell’s cell and again, heard his call answered by a voicemail message. His final call was to Ralph Fox.

“Well, hell, I just spoke with you. Now what do you want to ask?”

“Any way you can get Janet O’Connell’s cell number?”

“I suppose doing so is possible. What are you planning?” Ralph asked.

“I want to find out how many O’Connells are involved in this case.”

“Give me a bit to get her number. Your buddy Captain Smith ain’t been around, but he did leave his files behind.”

“Thanks, Ralph,” Derek said.

“Yup. You just make sure you don’t go running into any situations that are likely to get yourself all dead. Hear me?”

“Freelancing is tough work sometimes, but I’ll be smart.”

Ten minutes after hanging up with Ralph, Derek received a text message from Ralph with Janet O’Connell’s cell number. Derek dialed the number and hoped that he wouldn’t hear another voicemail message.

“Hello?”

“Janet O’Connell?” Derek asked.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name is Derek Cole. I’ve been hired by your son, Thomas, and your husband to assist in locating the doctors that perpetrated the crime against your family twenty-two years ago. Janet, I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?”

“If you are referring to the doctors who told us that our son Alexander died after birth, then you can ask any question you want,” Janet said, her voice stern and crisp.

“I know this may be hard to understand, but I think Alexander Black is being assisted by your husband and your son. Have they told you anything that might lead you to believe that they are assisting Alexander in these murders?”

“They would never!” her voice assumed the tone of someone intentionally revealing their being offended. “How dare you suggest such a thing. My husband is paying you, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Then as his employee, you should be showing more respect. I can assure you that I will make my husband aware of your accusations and will see to it that whatever payment you are expecting is not sent.”

“I am not making accusations up from my imagination, ma’am. If you’ll listen to me. I am concerned that your husband and your son are in danger.”

“My son is on a boat out on Lake Michigan, being well looked after by my husband’s employees, and my husband is quite busy working with his lawyers in Chicago.”

“Neither are where you believe they are, ma’am.”

Her voice, hesitating, suggested doubt.  “And just how do you know that?”

Derek went on to explain everything that had happened from the time he met with Thomas in Grant Park to the last call he had with Ken O’Connell. He told Janet about what the police had found in Brian Lucietta’s office and how Ken told him that his resources had a good idea where to find Straus.

He told her about Stanley Mix and Michelle and how he had spoken with Michelle. He told her that he helped them remain hidden from her husband and how he would continue to keep them away from her husband for as long as he could.

He told her everything he knew as she listened in absolute silence.

Finally she spoke.  “Ken was furious when that Michelle Mix told him what the doctors in Chicago had done. I was too, but I was more heartbroken than angry. Imagine, all these years I’ve been grieving for a son that was still alive. I should have known.”

“Janet, what those doctors did was horrible. There’s no excuse for their actions. But now, Alexander Black is out in the world somewhere, and there are six people dead because of it. I need you to help me.”

Janet paused before speaking. “What do you need me to do?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Really, Doctor Straus, I thought it would be much harder to see you face to face again. I have only been waiting for you here in your luxurious automobile for less than two hours. I was expecting a much, much longer wait.”

“Alexander,” Straus said, “Whatever it is that you want or need, I can help you. What those doctors did to you by lying about your death and smuggling you to me all those years ago was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. But I did my best to keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“Indeed you did, Doctor Straus. Indeed you did. You kept me safe from having a family. You provided me the safety of never having a friend or, dare I say, a love interest. You kept me safe by reminding me that the world would never accept me. You locked me away, fed me, instructed me, and saved me from any resemblance of a normal life. And now, Doctor Straus, I am here to repay your kind acts. It’s you who needs safety now.”

“Is your father telling you what to do?” Straus asked, his hand finding the door handle. “If your father is behind all those murders and this whole scheme, I will defend you to the authorities.”

“My father reached out to you in good faith just a few days ago, but you rejected his offer of negotiation.”

“I saw what happened at my lodge. I saw you walk outside covered in blood, and I saw what you did to that man walking up the street. Your father didn’t want to negotiate, he wanted to kill me.”

“No, no, no, Doctor Straus. I was the one with the desire to kill you. It was I who killed Jacob Curtis and that pathetic Peter Adams. Though I cannot claim Mark Rinaldo’s and Henry Zudak’s demise, as you certainly should know, I can proudly say that I’ve dispensed of your entire team. Poor Brian Lucietta. He was so innocent, wasn’t he? Just a simple doctor, wishing to be left alone as he experimented with my body. So immune from guilt. Beyond reproach, I believe his journal stated.

“Oh yes, yes, yes, Doctor Straus. I read his journal. Each page, including those that referenced your Plan B should I ever become a public figure. How brave of you, Doctor Straus, to say that Doctor Lucietta was nothing but gallant in his quest to learn the secrets of my life. And what a martyr you were willing to be by proudly saying that you would defend his honor and ensure that he would suffer no repercussions as long as he followed your prescription. Tell me, Doctor Straus, did you extend that same, noble promise to Jacob Curtis? How about to Michelle? And speaking of her, I do miss her. Have you kept in touch with nurse Michelle?”

“Alexander, please. I’d like to speak with your father.”

“My father was more than willing to negotiate with you. You never showed up to your lodge to listen to his offer. But now, having learned that you saw the proceedings at the lodge that day, I am led to believe that you did arrive. Hide in the bushes, did you Doctor Straus?”

“Where is your father now, Alexander?” Straus asked loudly, hoping to catch the attention of any remaining police officers outside of the hospital. “I am willing to negotiate in good faith,” he spoke even more loudly.

“Detained. My father is detained. Shall we visit my old stomping grounds together Doctor Straus? If my memory serves, Ward C is but two floors above us. Shall we?”

Straus pulled hard on the door handle and launched himself out of the car. He yelled, hoping his voice would capture someone’s attention as he fell out into the darkness. He hit the cool, damp concrete floor hard, then quickly scrambled to his feet. Then, though he thought it impossible, the darkness around him turned even darker.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ken O’Connell could always sense when things were getting out of hand. He could spot ideas taking on a life of their own from miles away. In business, he knew when to pull the plug well before his partners, investors, and employees could even sense that a change was needed. In his life, he loved to follow possibilities and trends out to their expected ends. If the end looked positive, he would go forward, always being sure to design a way out should things begin turning in the wrong direction.

Arranging a meeting with Straus in order to extort money was, in Ken’s mind, a sound idea. He did all his due diligence before putting the plan into action. He verified the story that Michelle Mix told him. He got visual confirmation that Alexander Black was actually alive and was being held exactly where his sources suggested he would be. Ken made certain that Straus had enough savings and investments to make it worth his efforts. He then confirmed that Rinaldo, Zukak, Mix, Curtis, and Lucietta also had attractive portfolios, making them ripe for picking.

Once Ken was able to arrange a means of contacting and connecting with Alexander, his first test was to see if Alexander would make a willing and an appropriate associate. Ken was quickly impressed by his unknown son’s intellect as well as his personal desire to exact his own unique flavor of vengeance.

It took months of surveillance before one of Ken’s resources came up with a plan.

“Straus leaves the lodge every Tuesday morning and doesn’t return until late Thursday evening. During that time, the only people in the lodge are any guests, of which there are very few, and Alexander. He has a security system in place, complete with cameras and sensors on every door and window. However, the main door to the lodge is not monitored or alarmed. Straus probably didn’t want to make his guests feel like they are being watched.

“Alexander is held off of the main entrance way, down a short hallway which is accessible only by a pass code and key locking system. The code was easily stolen since his system uses a WiFi to control and monitor the entire system. I hacked the network and stole all access codes in under fifteen minutes.

“Picking the lock should take no more than five minutes, during which time Alexander will most likely be able to hear us in the hallway. He will be secured in his suite of rooms, which are, thankfully, very secure. However, should he want to alert someone, he does have access to a panic button that will set off a silent alarm which I believe will be sent directly to Straus.

“Assuming the panic button is not pressed by Alexander, you will be able to speak to him behind the safety of the hallway door that leads into his suite.

“Straus does have a hired gun within an hour of the lodge. Worst case scenario is that Alexander presses the panic button, Straus dispatches his hired gun, and Alexander blows your whole plan out of the water.”

“And best case scenario is?” Ken asked.

“Alexander does not press the button, you are able to speak to him for as long as you like, and I will make modifications to the underside of Alexander’s bedroom. Once the trap door is completed, you will be able to deliver whatever necessary supplies to Alexander for his use and concealment. I will also leave behind a non-activated Smartphone that I’ve already connected to the lodge’s WiFi, using a masked IP address. I doubt that Straus would ever notice the device on his network, but, as a precaution, it won’t be registered as an active device.”

“Will it receive and send text messages?” Ken asked, pleased with how well the final steps of the plan were falling together.

“No. No text messages and no phone calls.  Only email and only when it’s connected to WiFi.  I’ve created a Gmail account for Alexander and have already pushed that email address to your contact list. He is listed as ‘AB Lodge.’”

“Assuming Alexander is willing to cooperate, how long do you suggest we wait until execution?” Ken said.

“No less than five weeks. I need that long to set up dummy bank accounts and off-shore accounts to quietly transfer whatever money you are able to secure from Straus and the others.”

“Five weeks will give me enough time to get to know my heartless son as well as giving you enough time to calculate the net worth of all the players.”

“Initial investigations estimate the total money in play to be over ten million.”

“Half of that sounds like a fair amount for my silence.”

“As long as Alexander plays nicely, and the doctors agree to pay you off rather than face public exposure, I think five million is a very fair amount.”

“What have you found out about Straus and his access to, how should I say, ‘nefarious people?’”

“Straus is not an idiot. Seems like he’s been planning something similar to our plan for the last few years. He has access to some muscle in Chicago through his contact here in Upstate New York. Not sure what his plans are exactly, but the files I pulled from his computer show an interest in extortion. I should also tell you, Mr. O’Connell, that part of Straus’s notes did include how to dispose of Alexander’s body.”

“And we need to have the same idea in place. What was Straus’s plan?”

“Sketchy at best. Seems Alexander is highly sensitive to electricity. Straus wrote about subduing Alexander with a stun gun, then dropping his body into Piseco Lake with enough weight so that he never floats to the surface.”

“Good enough of a plan for me,” Ken said. “I always believed that the best business plans are either stolen or borrowed from someone else. Make sure we have whatever we need when the time comes to dispose of Alexander.”

“Can I assume that you have decided that killing him is really your best option?”

“If you are thinking that killing my son is a horrible idea,” Ken replied, “then either I made a poor choice in hiring you or you have underestimated my resolve.”

The following Tuesday, Ken and his team of two hired “specialists” made easy entry into the lodge. As planned, the locking mechanism securing the door leading to a hallway was picked open, and the code stolen from the network breach released the latch. Once in the hallway, Ken turned to one member of his team and instructed them to “standby.”

“I want to have this conversation alone. You stay here just outside this door. If I need help, I’ll call for you. If Alexander is agreeable, I’ll give you a sign to proceed. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Ken, usually confident in his approaches to all things, found his steps measured and deliberate as he approached to heavy steel door on the right hand side of the hallway. The hallway was dimly lit and ran the thirty foot length of Alexander’s suite of rooms.

When he reached the door, Ken saw a winch and pulley system next to the door. He then noticed a small, thick glass window pane was cut into the steel door. A filtered light radiated through the window pane.

Ken paused before positioning himself where he could see through the window and into the suite. He drew a deep breath, checked over his shoulder to be certain his per diem employee was where he was instructed to be, then took two steps and faced the steel door.

“An unexpected and unknown visitor,” Alexander said. “How very unusual.”

“Alexander,” Ken said, his voice shaky with nerves, “my name is Kenneth O’Connell. I believe that I am your father.”

Alexander was standing in his reading room, as if he fully expected someone to grace his doorstep. Though the room was dimly lit, his pale, gray skin and pale blue eyes were easy for Ken to see.

Ken could see a change in Alexander’s eyes. A longing mixed with anger and fear. Alexander stepped closer to the door, his smooth, unblemished skin now no more than six inches from the window pane.

“I don’t see the resemblance,” he said, his body held perfectly still, and then he smiled.

It was the smile that charged Ken’s soul with terror. Toothless and vacant of any color. There was no laugh to accompany Alexander’s smile, but somehow, Ken felt that the smile was genuine.

“A joke,” Alexander said, sensing his father’s discomfort. “I am well aware of my appearance and how unsettling I make others. I must say, however, that I do see that we share a common hairline.”

Ken breathed deeply and ran his hand over his balding head.

“Looks like I haven’t given you any good genes,” he said.

“But I have to believe,” Alexander said, moving even closer to the window pane, “that your visit is a gift and that I am to expect additional benefits.”

“Alexander,” Ken continued, “I know what they’ve done to you, and I am going to make them pay. I came here to see if you would be willing to participate in a little plan I’ve been working on for the last several weeks.”

“Does this plan of yours involve me remaining in this comfortable prison?”

“No. It includes you being free and, hopefully, becoming part of my family.”

“You plan on making me a part of a family that I was born into?”

“Alexander, you have to understand that my wife and I had no idea what those doctors in Chicago did.”

“I do understand. And I know that you and Mom had absolutely no involvement or knowledge. My question was more geared to the fact that despite you wanting to include me in your family, you’ve yet to unlock this door.”

“I’ve read plenty of Straus’s reports about you, Alexander. They suggest that you may be very dangerous. I’m taking precautions which, if the roles were reversed, I’m certain you would take as well.”

“You read the reports of the man who has kept me as his lab rat for twenty-two years, who subjected me to countless tests all in the name of science, and you wonder why he may feel that I am dangerous?”

“If I unlock this door, Alexander, and you attempt to harm me or to escape, my men will put you down. Understood?”

“Why would I want to harm or escape from my own father?” Alexander said, again through his empty smile.

“I need time to get the key.”

“I have one,” Alexander said, holding a brass key up to the windowpane. “Straus keeps his key somewhere and gave me this one in case of emergency.”

Alexander bent down slowly and slid the key under the small gap of the door. The key sat inches from Ken O’Connell’s feet. He reached down, picked up the key, turned, and nodded to his armed assistant who was dutifully at his post.

“I am trusting you, Alexander and hope that you trust me as well.”

“You will not be disappointed… Dad.”

As Ken lifted his hand holding the key closer to the lock, Alexander moved a few steps away from the door.

“In case you change your mind and choose to close the door, my increased distance should afford you more time to do so,” Alexander whispered.

Ken slid the key into the lock, turned it quickly and heard the bolt slide into its home. Ken O’Connell was not a man who approached anything from a place of fear, but as he pushed the door open, he felt his legs grow weak.

“I will sit if that makes you more comfortable, dad.”

“No need,” Ken said, stepping into the room. “I think we understand each other just fine.”

Ken could easily remember how willing a partner Alexander agreed to be. How quickly he was to offer suggestions and make corrections when the information that Ken had regarding Straus was incorrect. He recalled how quickly Alexander learned how to use and to understand the Smartphone that he gave him. And how patient Alexander was when he told him the plan needed to be executed only when the timing was perfect.

When Alexander acted without thinking and killed two of the doctors whom Ken was relying on for a fair amount of his payment for silence, Ken worried about his partner. His rage was more powerful than Ken had expected. And when Straus never showed for their scheduled meeting, Ken began to realize that choosing Alexander to be a part of the plan was a critical mistake.

He had, at first, wondered if Alexander could have become an addition to his family. He was, after all, his son, and as his son, Alexander was entitled to a life well beyond the reach of most. Even when he first saw the photographs of Alexander and read the reports his team had delivered, Ken still wondered.

It was when he first saw him, through the thick glass of hallway window, that he knew. Alexander would never become part of his family or any other family for that matter. He was too different.  Too unique.  Ken needed to maintain his position in the business community and the expected media frenzy over a human being living without a heart would cause unwanted exposure.

He had a gift, it was an ability to ignore emotions. Pushing them down deep to the place his father used to call “the garbage pit of your soul.”

He took Alexander to a “safe house” he had rented in Manhattan where Alexander agreed to focus his time on learning the fine art of applying make-up and learning how to “control his temper.”

When Ken learned that Rinaldo and Zudak had been murdered, he instructed his men to “eliminate Alexander and to hide the body in the ocean.” He needed to find Straus and Mix and salvage what was left of his plan.  When he killed Curtis and Adams, Alexander and his rage cost Ken millions of dollars. The thought of Alexander getting to Straus before he had a chance to apply the intelligently crafted threat of extortion he had in mind, was a possibility that Ken could not accept.

“Worst case scenario,” he said to his hired assistants, “is that we eliminate everyone who knows anything, and we walk away with lessons learned.”

“And best case?” he was asked.

“We squeeze Straus, Mix, and Lucietta for three million and walk away richer with lessons learned.”

The next day, when Ken learned that Lucietta was murdered in his office, he sent a resource over to make sure Alexander was still in the apartment.

“No sign of Alexander,” the report came back. “He must have taken care of Lucietta and is probably looking for Straus right now.”

Ken still had Mix and Straus to count on to prevent his plan from being a total disaster, but when Derek Cole reported that Mix had left the resort and that Mix didn’t look like he was going to last much longer, everything was down to finding Straus.

That’s when the entire plan fell apart. What angered Ken the most as he sat, tied to the cold metal chair in the rat-infested warehouse, is that he never saw it coming to this. He never fully trusted Alexander, but never thought he would actually resort to this.

The fire that Alexander lit before telling Ken how much he appreciated his assistance and that he “so wished that things had been different and that they would’ve had memories together of picnics in the park and playing catch in the road” was beginning to spread. As designed.

The rags were damp with an oil and gas mixture that was designed to slowly ignite but, without doubt, burn completely. One by one, Alexander placed them in a long, straight line that ended against a heaping pile of discarded pallets stacked in the corner of the abandoned warehouse. Ken’s screams of anger and of pleading were largely wasted on Alexander. He went about the business of arranging the rags and pallets to ensure that the wick of rags would ignite into a raging fire.