“I honestly never expected to cross paths with you, Mr. Cole. But I do know about you. You have been played a fool, I’m sorry to inform you. Have you yet deduced that you were not hired as a protector but as nothing more than one of my dearly departed father’s minions?”
“I kind of figured that out, but, here I stand in the same room with you and a person I was charged to protect,” Derek said.
“You have not done a good job, Derek Cole,” Alexander said. “My father’s intense greed caused him to have a very fiery death. As for my brother here,” he said, gesturing behind him and towards Thomas, “he seems to have lost his will.”
“Alexander,” Derek said, “I am not claiming to know everything that happened to you, but I do know enough to understand how you must feel.”
“Feel about what, exactly?”
“About feeling the need for revenge. I met with Mark Rinaldo and Michelle Mix. They told me what they did to you. I know that you’ve killed Rinaldo and Zudak, along with the others, but ...”
“Oh no, no, no, Derek Cole,” Alexander said, inviting Derek to follow him out of the hub room and into the bedroom by waving the revolver towards the bedroom. “You’ve not done a good job with your understanding of your charged responsibilities at all. I didn’t kill Mark Rinaldo or Henry Zudak. The man at your feet was the cause of their deaths. I can claim others as my trophies, but I cannot in good faith claim the fine doctors of Saint Stevens.”
Derek glanced down at Straus. He was still breathing, moaning in both pain and astonishment.
Things began to fall in place. Though he had no idea how Straus had killed Rinaldo and Zudak, it made more sense that someone else had murdered the doctors in Chicago rather than Alexander.
“Please,” Alexander said, “you appear to be quite confused. I think you deserve to know the truth. And it just so happens that my brother, Doctor Straus, and I can answer your questions. Please, continue dragging the good doctor into my old bedroom.”
Straus squealed in pain when Derek grabbed his legs and began dragging him into the bedroom. The bullet hit no major organs but lodged itself deep inside of William Straus’s ass.
When all four were in the bedroom, Alexander positioned himself in the doorway, preventing any escape.
“Doctor Straus,” Alexander whispered, his voice becoming weaker with each word spoken, “would you be more comfortable if Derek Cole were to prop you up in a chair?”
“You’re gonna die, you bastard,” Straus said.
“Not before you do,” Alexander replied. “Tell us about how you killed Mark Rinaldo and Henry Zudak. And please inform us as to why you did not send Stanley Mix to the same fate as his partners?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Straus said through grimaces of pain.
“Now Doctor, remember that I told you that I read Doctor Lucietta’s journal while I was waiting for him in his office before the meeting I had scheduled with him? What you may not have been aware of was that he took copious notes of your and his conversations. Complete with the details of your plans to avoid any ramifications of your actions. So, please, Doctor, do tell Mr. Cole here about how you nearly pulled off the perfect murders.”
Thomas had recovered his clear thinking. He moved closer to Alexander, who responded only by raising the revolver and pointing it directly at Thomas’s head.
“Need I remind you that your name appears on my lists?” Alexander said as Thomas backed away. “Doctor Straus? Please do not keep Derek Cole waiting. Proceed with your recounting.”
Straus began to detail how, when he received the call from Ken O’Connell, he contacted an associate of his who was known to have “connections.” He explained how he planned to counter Ken’s scheme of blackmail by eliminating everyone who had knowledge of Alexander Black. He said that when he realized that Alexander had killed Jacob Curtis and Peter Adams, he set his focus on convincing Brian Lucietta to deny everything and to eliminate Rinaldo, Zudak, and the Mixes. Both Michelle and Stanley.
“I didn’t want to have to hurt Michelle, but she knew too much. Problem was that they couldn’t be found. Rinaldo was easy. My friend told me that they found him sitting at home in his living room, drunk as a skunk. My friend told me that finding Zudak took some time, but that he had made the mistake of staying at a hotel that is often used by people running from something.
“They never found Mix. Have no idea where he and his hot little wife ran off to. No matter. I hear that he is on his death bed anyway. As for Michelle, I doubt that she really cares about what happens and probably won’t say a word to anyone.”
Alexander smiled at Derek.
“And now, should you wish for full disclosure, I invite my twin brother to explain his role in the deceptive plot.”
Thomas was quick to begin his explanation, giving details about his plan to free Alexander and then to expose the doctors and their illegal and immoral activities.
“I only wanted justice. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.” Thomas turned toward Derek and continued. “I needed to convince you that I was truly concerned for my life. I had no idea that my father’s plan was to extort money from the doctors. Honestly, I had no idea.”
The stench of death and decay was growing too powerful for the windowless rooms. Derek needed to cover his mouth and nose in an attempt to keep out the stench and to keep in the vomit that was threatening to escape.
“You are probably wondering what the horrible smell is, aren’t you Derek?” Straus asked.
“Now that you mention it,” Derek said.
“Our heartless captor here is dying a very smelly and soon-to-be-painful death. See, I injected a virus into his cells a few weeks back and discovered that the virus was having quite an unexpected and drastic effect on poor Alexander Black. I did, however, offer to provide a solution in exchange for my release. But I must assume that his brain is in a state of rapid decay because instead of allowing my release, he shot me in the ass.”
“Your death will be much more painful if you do not tell me the cure,” Alexander said.
As he spoke, Alexander began to shake and drift from side to side.
“It won’t be long now,” Straus said.
The next bullet that entered the body of William Straus hit his right knee dead center, shattering his kneecap and spilling a disturbing volume of blood.
“The next shot will award you with matching knees,” Alexander whispered. “The cure, Doctor Straus. Now.”