The caller was viciously clear.
“Be at your cabin no later than seven in the morning. Alexander and I will be waiting for you. Do not alert anyone about our meeting. Should you have previously scheduled guests planning on arriving, let them keep their schedules. If you decide on inviting anyone else who you feel might give you some negotiating advantage, don’t. You know exactly what this meeting is about and can probably correctly assume our demands. However, if you fail to comply or choose to modify your expected response, our demands will be satisfied in a different manner.”
William Straus had no intentions of making a risky move. He would comply fully. Do what was asked, exactly as directed. But he also would have his own “Plan B” and “Plan C” ready to be implemented. Before any plan was set into motion, Straus designed a prequel.
He stopped his car a full half-mile down the twisting, tree-lined road that housed his lodge. It was still dark when he shut his BMW off and disappeared into the thick woods. The closer he got to his lodge, the slower and quieter he made his pace. When he was within a safe viewing distance, he opened his gym bag, pulled out a long sleeve shirt and sweat pants, and put them on over his Jos A Bank gabardines and crisp, white pinpoint Oxford. He found a low bush that afforded excellent cover and crawled beneath its concealing bows.
Once situated, he glanced at his watch.
“Six-thirty,” he said to himself. “Perfect.”
From his position, Straus could see the back end of a sedan, unfamiliar to him, parked in the stone driveway of his lodge. His angle of view did not allow him to see the plates nor the make, but he knew whose car it was.
Ten minutes after he arrived in his perch, Straus saw a car slowing, then turning into the lodge.
“Curtis and Adams,” he whispered.
He watched Jacob Curtis and Peter Adams enter the lodge after pausing to consider the strange car parked in the driveway. He knew they were planning on being in attendance when Straus told Alexander the good news, but he didn’t expect them till well after ten.
It was perfectly still and quiet for several minutes before Straus saw the main door of the lodge swing open. Standing in the doorway was a bloody Alexander Black. The morning sun was still struggling to ward off the dark shadows, but Straus could see, even from one hundred feet away, the blood dripping from Alexander’s hands.
“Shit!” he thought.
The decision to leave and to execute Plan B was made instantly, but he knew he had to remain unseen and unheard. He needed a distraction. And as he glanced further down the road, he saw his needed distraction headed straight towards Alexander.
He didn’t know the man, but Straus recognized him. He remembered having seen him walking by his lodge before. His name didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that he looked to be speaking with Alexander, which meant Alexander would be distracted.
As quietly as he could, Straus crawled backwards, keeping his gaze fixed on Alexander and the familiar stranger as they spoke in the middle of the road. When he was free of the bush and could stand, Straus began to quicken his pace. Before he turned his back on his lodge, Straus saw Alexander plunge a knife deep into the man’s neck.
He sprinted back to his car.
He made no attempt to keep quiet. He wheeled his car into the road, hastily made a two-and-a-half-point turn and gunned his engine towards his escape route.
Had he just followed the instructions he was given, Straus was sure that the blood dripping from Alexander’s hands would be his. If he had trusted Alexander’s assistant, he would have no ability to implement Plans B and C. No, if he had been a sheep like most others and had just done what he was told, he would be dead.
As he slowed his BMW to a speed less likely to raise suspicions, Straus grabbed his phone, removed the battery, and tossed it into his back seat. He then removed the Plan B driving directions from his center council and prepared to turn off State Route 8.
He had spent a considerable amount of time planning his alternate route, making certain that if Alexander and his accomplice were to try to follow him that they would be hard pressed to keep up with the frequent turns. Within an hour after leaving his lodge, Straus pointed his car south and headed towards New York City.
His first stop would be to see Brian Lucietta. He had to let Brian know what had happened.
“Brian,” he said while standing outside of his car in Mercy Hospital’s employee parking lot, “both you and I need to protect ourselves. If what O’Connell told me is true, he and Alexander are not planning on making everything public but in exacting revenge.”
“William,” Brian Lucietta said, “you’re running scared from two people who, unless I’ve missed something, are not career criminals. If what you believe you saw at your lodge actually happened, the police will have them in custody within a day. Two at the most. I’m staying right here and keeping things business as usual.”
“I’m going to Hilburn. Ward C is impenetrable. I’ll keep in touch with you and with the news and won’t come out until I know Alexander and O’Connell are either dead or behind bars.”
“You’re overreacting. What you should be more concerned about is explaining to the authorities why you kept Alexander hidden all these years.”
“I’ve already figured that out,” Straus replied.
“Shouldn’t you share your story with me so that we are on the same page?”
“As far as you know, Alexander was just another patient, and you had no idea of the circumstances behind his arrival to Hilburn or departure.”
“Keeping me safe, are you, Will?”
“Keeping things clean, Brian. My story is the only one that is ever heard, if things come to that point. The more you deny, the better.”
“And with Jacob and Peter out of the way, that only leaves the doctors from Chicago to deal with,” Brian said as he checked an incoming text message on his cell. “I have to get back. You keep in touch, and let me know if there’s anything else I need to know about your story.”
“I have a plan for the good doctors from Chicago.”
“Good enough,” Brian said as he extended his hand to Straus.
“I do think it unwise for you not to take precautions,” Straus said as he shook Brian’s hand.
“I still carry my Taser. Just in case.”
Doctor William Straus was now safe, hidden in a place that he knew better than anyone. A place where no one would look for him, but from where he could keep fully informed of Alexander and his accomplice’s doings. Behind the locked doors of Ward C on the second floor of the vacated Hilburn Psychiatric Institution, he sat surrounded by a month’s worth of supplies. He had everything he needed, and now only ventured out of the protective confines early in the morning and late at night.