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.
“Alexander,” Ken said as Alexander had finished arranging the rags, “I have resources that are instructed to find me if I don’t check in every hour. I haven’t spoken to them in over three hours, meaning that they will be here any second. And when they arrive, I will have to beg them to spare your life.”
“Daddy,” Alexander said softly. “Your only resource left in this world was assumed dead on arrival twenty-two years ago.”
With that, Alexander lit the long stretch of rags, which accepted the offered match and slowly turned to low flame. “This fire will certainly capture the attention of the local fire department, but I am afraid to tell you that the department is a volunteer one. Their response will be tardy. And, given the assumption that there is nothing worth risking a life over in this warehouse, they will risk nothing. What I am telling you, dear daddy, is that no one will know you are in this warehouse, screaming and pleading for your life until you can no longer scream or plead.
“Your imagined plan of vengeance was, in fact, nothing more than a way to line your pockets. Mine, however, has nothing to do with revenue. Didn’t you wonder why I suggested that your name and your other son’s name should be included on our ‘lists?’ You assumed having your family listed as targeted victims would provide you cover. I included your names not as a clue but as a thorough list. You were so quick to agree to add your own family’s names to the list of targets, yet you never questioned why I wanted to add them.”
As the flame slowly worked its devouring way from one rage to the next, Alexander walked to the door. As he reached it and pushed it open, he turned, faced Ken and said, “It is nice, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about, you sick, twisted freak?”
“Your twin boys, together again. It’s nice, in its own sick, twisted way.”
The door slammed shut.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Derek understood that his presence anywhere near the vicinity of Hilburn would not be welcomed by the state police or by the NYPD who were certain to have been informed of his “freelancing” involvement. Captain Smith was probably too busy to be tracking his cell phone but not too busy to pass along his name and picture to the NYPD detectives.
When his Google Maps indicated that he was within a mile of Hilburn, Derek pulled in the nearest strip mall, parked his car, grabbed his backpack and started off towards Hilburn on foot. A quick glance at the time suggested that he find a way to kill some time so he could use the cover of darkness to conceal his entrance into Hilburn, which he was certain was being watched by at least several pairs of eyes.