The Jack Hammer

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The Jack Hammer Page 15

by Derek Ciccone


  “It seems like he was up to no good, so I find it strange that you accompanied him out on the town last Sunday.”

  “He was really working for a magazine on parenting. He wanted to do a story on me because I overcame the loss of my father to suicide, and he thought the tennis magazine was a way to get a chance to ask me.”

  “So despite his using a lie as a way to meet you, it appears you trusted him.”

  “Of course. Why would I invite him to Vegas if I didn’t trust him?”

  Her mother leaned her head back in disgust.

  “If I told you that Mr. O’Connell didn’t work for a parenting magazine, and in fact, was a private investigator from New York, would you say you would still trust him?” Carthage said as softly as possible.

  He expected more crying, but got defiant rage. “You lie!”

  “I’m afraid it’s true,” Carthage said, remaining calm in the eye of Storm Natasha. “Do you have any idea why a private investigator was following you?”

  She put her hands over her ears like a little child, and kept repeating “I can’t hear you”, over and over.

  Lewis had enough. “Last Sunday you mocked O’Connell in a press conference. Today you berated him publicly in front of a group of reporters. In between, he ended up dead. Cut the act and tell us what is going on here.”

  When Natasha replied with another tear-filled soliloquy about how she loved Tim, and couldn’t believe he was gone, Lewis hit her with a rapid-fire attack of questions. “Did he have some piece of information on you—is that what you were discussing at Dessert Oasis? Is that why you invited him to Las Vegas this weekend? Were you going to pay him off for some piece of information on you? Did something go bad? Did you kill him? Did you?”

  “No, of course not!” she said through sobs.

  “Did you hire someone to kill him?”

  “No!”

  “What did you discuss that night at Dessert Oasis?”

  “He wanted to do a story on me about the suicide. I told you already.”

  “Why was he coming to Vegas this weekend?”

  “I liked him. I thought we’d have fun.”

  “Romantic fun?”

  “I hoped, but he never showed.”

  “No he didn’t … because he was murdered. And I think you know more about this than you are telling me.”

  Irina had reached her limit. “You two have a lot of nerve coming in here and accusing my daughter of murder. Her whereabouts can be tracked every moment. She is one of the most photographed women in the world for goodness sake. As far as what went on at this Dessert Oasis, Tatiana can back up all that was discussed there—she was with her the entire night. And I’m sure that there are numerous people with motive to kill this lying PI, but they won’t get you the type of publicity you are looking for. So I suggest if you don’t want your police department to be slapped with a lawsuit, you end this grandstanding and go find the real killer.”

  Natasha was surprisingly accommodating, “I will do whatever I can to help you. Tim deserves justice.”

  It seemed as if mother and daughter weren’t exactly on the same page.

  Carthage stood to leave. “I want to thank you both for your cooperation. I hope you understand it’s our job to ask you these questions.”

  The antsy Lewis was already heading for the door. But unlike mother and daughter, Carthage could tell that they were on the same page. They both doubted Natasha or her people had a direct connection to the crime. But their instincts were telling them there was something bigger going on here. There was a connection to Natasha—they just didn’t know what. And Carthage got the feeling that the girl didn’t know either.

  As Natasha was escorted out of the room, her mother had more questions for her. “How could you get involved with a shady character like that? How many times have I told you to be careful?”

  “Shut up, Mother. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

  Chapter 45

  Geoff had a hop in his step on Sunday morning. Everything worked like a charm—not only did he execute an escape from Cuba worthy of a movie, but once here, Teo Stepania lived up to the considerable hype. The visa was already signed, sealed and delivered. The only downside was Rafael stowing away on his ride back up the mountain, but Geoff planned on sending him tumbling back down to the bottom the first chance he got.

  He sat at the kitchen table reading the article for the fourth time this morning. It was a thing of beauty. His mother had nudged Cam to come here, and Geoff knew it was his job to deliver him across the finish line.

  From the corner of the room, Rafael was complaining about his lack of mention in the article. Geoff had already told him to shut up three times and it wasn’t even nine yet. Rafael took this as a sign to continue his bitch session, speaking solely in Spanish. Geoff was getting real tired of Rafael Fuentes.

  A loud knock permeated through the room. It was the front door, and Geoff knew who it was. When one of the burly bodyguards opened it, Cam stormed right past him.

  He held a newspaper in his hand—this morning’s Miami Constitution—waving it at Geoff. “What the hell is this?”

  Geoff raised his copy to match. “It looks like the Sunday paper … which I was just about to read.”

  “I’ll tell you what—because you’ve been such a gracious host to me, I’ll read it for you.”

  He began reading aloud the article titled Star Cuban Pitcher Defects. “Sources have confirmed that Cuban pitching prodigy Teo Stepania has defected to the United States in the last few days, after a daring and courageous escape from Cuba. Those same sources indicate that Stepania will meet the media at noon today in Miami. He is expected to be represented by star agent Geoff Myles

  “The Constitution has also learned that Myles, always known for having a trick up his sleeve, plans to have another one prepared for today’s press conference. As he will officially re-launch the baseball career of his brother, Cam Myles, who is the son of baseball legend Jack Myles. The one-time can’t-miss pitching prospect is expected to resume his career as an outfielder. And if the clips of his recent workouts—that were released on the Internet last night—are any indication, it looks like he might be able to walk in his father’s footsteps.”

  Geoff had uploaded the spliced video of Cam and Teo onto YouTube. It was almost up to a million hits.

  Cam’s face got redder with each word. “Geoff Myles plans to sell his clients as a package deal he refers to as ‘Cameo’, but when the agent was reached for comment last night, he refused.”

  Cam looked at Geoff, his eyes fierce. “I’ll ask you one more time—what the hell is this?”

  “I had nothing to do with that article, Cam. You read what it said—I refused to comment.”

  “Do you even know when you’re lying anymore?”

  Geoff sighed. “An agent’s job is to protect their clients, including from themselves.”

  “I hate to rain on your delusion once again, but you’re not my agent. I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “The fact is, Cam, if I hadn’t stepped in you might have missed your chance. Now is your time to strike. And teaming you with Teo will be just the leverage you need.”

  “You just don’t get it—it’s not about the money.”

  “I know. It’s about your selfish pride—Prince Camelot can’t admit his screw-up little brother is right for once. Even Mom agrees with me on this one.”

  “This has nothing to do with her. If I’m going to make it back I’m going to earn it.”

  “Now you’re the one who doesn’t get it. Nobody earns anything in this world … they’re born with it. The reason people are clamoring to see a clip of you taking batting practice on the Internet, and not me, is that you won the genetic lottery. And I get paid to see that those who are born with the talent don’t die without using it. If I have to rattle your cage to make you see that, then I’ll live with it.”

  “Not for long you won’t!”

  “If you’re g
oing to punch me, Cam, go ahead and get it over with. Because we don’t have time to dilly-dally around. There’s a suit hanging in Teo’s bedroom for you to wear at the press conference.”

  Cam took a step toward him. Geoff flinched.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit you in the face this time, I’m going to hit you where it hurts … I’m leaving.” He ripped the newspaper into pieces and tossed the confetti at Geoff. “Enjoy your press conference.”

  As Cam headed toward the door, Teo came out of his room to see what the commotion was about. “Buenos días, Cam,” he said with the smile of a free man.

  Cam stormed right past him, almost knocking over Rafael in the process.

  When the door slammed shut, Geoff returned to his paper like nothing happened. So far the morning had gone as predicted.

  Chapter 46

  Blake Fisher arrived in New York on Sunday morning, the city where he once hit four home runs in one game. Just being here made him feel like the Jack Hammer once again.

  The invigorated feeling was a contrast from his mindset during his drive from St. Louis, where for the first time in his life he questioned his vitality. During his training for the KGB he would often stay up for over a hundred hours straight, and his body was conditioned to perform at its peak level under the most extreme conditions. But on the 500-mile drive, he had to stop for a brief nap, and several bathroom breaks. But he wouldn’t need to be in top form to remove Anna.

  He didn’t feel good about what he had to do, but she had made her own bed by threatening his survival, so it was hard to find sympathy for her. And over the last few days, he’d become increasingly confident that the virus Anna started hadn’t spread out of control. That the link had been limited to Anna and the O’Connells. By the end of the day, all links would be broken.

  When he first got word of Anna’s move to the US, it awoke some of the Jack Hammer’s old paranoia. So he spent a week in New York on a reconnaissance mission. At the time he’d thought it was pointless—Anna was no threat. She either had her nose surgically attached to a school book or was wasting her life in that dingy bar, whoring tips from men like her mother—but he now realized he broke an important rule: always treat the weakest link like your biggest threat. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

  The one piece of useful intel he gained from that trip was the knowledge that Anna always spent Sunday mornings in church. He checked his watch—eleven a.m.—he had an hour to get in and out, which should be plenty of time. He parked his vehicle across the street from the decaying three-story brick building. He pulled his baseball cap down as far as he could, and despite the day being overcast, he wore sunglasses. He checked both ways and crossed the street to Anna’s apartment.

  The main entrance to the building was a glass door with a large crack running down the center. He timed it so he approached at the exact moment that other residents were exiting. Nobody questioned his presence, and there was no security to check the duffel bag he carried in with him.

  He took the stairs to the top floor of the building. The hallway was empty and smelled musty. He knocked just to be sure, then used a credit card to release the lock. He was in. He couldn’t believe his daughter wouldn’t have a better lock system—a young, single woman living in this crazy city. Sigh.

  His initial reaction was that the apartment was a perfect representation of Anna—small, a sense of order, and uninspiring. He stepped inside the first room on the left. A photo of the Asian girl and what looked to be her parents was displayed prominently. He realized the room belonged to Anna’s roommate, a classmate named Ling. The room was littered with textbooks—she was also a med-student. Women doctors—what is the world coming to?

  He moved across the hall to Anna’s room. There wasn’t much to it—a bed with pink, frilly bedspread, and a small Formica desk were the main pieces of furniture. His eyes were drawn to a cork bulletin board that hung above the desk. Tacked on it was a collage of photos held together by plastic pushpins.

  He drew closer. Some were recent, including a group shot from the Christmas party at the bar she worked, but others were much more familiar to him. Anchoring the center of the collage was a shot of Teo and Anna together, standing under a palm tree back in Cuba. He estimated that they were in their early teens at the time.

  There was also a photo of Gloria, his wife during his time in Cuba. He didn’t think much about Gloria; their relationship was more physical than any type of intimate connection. He always had a thing for the golden skinned women of Cuba who, like Gloria, were always very willing to accommodate him. It was one of the few perks of his time there.

  He cringed upon seeing the one photo he ever allowed taken of him during his Cuban exile, which he blamed on a night of too many mojitos. It was the same family shot that he’d found a copy in Tim O’Connell’s backpack. He was skilled at avoiding spots where he would be in the crosshairs of a flashing camera, but this one slip-up was coming back to haunt him. It set these unfortunate events into motion.

  He removed the photo from the board and studied it closely. He was in the middle, his arms draped around his two children. Gloria was in the background, which he found appropriate. His hair was cut military short, almost to the scalp, which was how he wore it in the Cuba days. He shoved the photo in his back pocket, putting the Cuban days where they best belonged.

  He searched the room for any evidence that Anna might have talked to others. He found nothing. He then did a full search of the apartment. Kitchen, living room, bathroom. Again, nothing. Hallway closet—nothing. Under the couch cushions—nothing. He looked for electronics like computers and phones, hoping they’d be as helpful as Tim O’Connell’s was, but there were none to be found.

  He picked up his duffel bag and moved to the small kitchen. On the counter sat a note from Ling, explaining to Anna that she is going to visit a friend in Boston for the weekend and would see her on Monday. This was good news—the less collateral damage the better.

  He looked in the refrigerator. He could have gone for some leftover pizza or a beer, but it contained only healthy looking greens. He shook his head, “Rabbit food,” he muttered to himself, which is what Katie used to call it. Like him, Katie was a carnivore.

  He settled for a bottled water and an apple. But more importantly, he decided that the refrigerator would be the best place to set up the explosives, using the door as the detonator.

  He unzipped his duffel bag, and within minutes the refrigerator had been converted into a lethal bomb. He took a quick glance at his watch—11:30. He figured he had at least another half-hour before Anna’s return.

  The process took more out of him than he’d care to admit—suddenly feeling a lot more like Blake Fisher, middle-aged auto mechanic, than the prolific Jack Hammer. So he tossed a couple of throw pillows off a cheap-looking couch and took a seat. He calmly opened the water bottle and turned on the small television. He went directly to GNZ, but then remembered that Katie was scheduled to be a guest on Meet the Press this morning. He looked at his watch, and was angered he’d missed it.

  He switched the station to ESPN, hoping to catch a baseball game, but it was too early for that. The all-sports station was now covering a press conference in Florida. A reporter appeared on the screen and announced, “We are live in Miami, where in just a matter of moments star Cuban pitcher Teo Stepania will meet the media for the first time since defecting from Cuba this week. He will be represented by Geoff Myles, who as most people know, is the son of former baseball great Jack Myles.”

  Chapter 47

  Geoff and Teo were standing side-by-side.

  This changed everything.

  The Jack Hammer continued to watch intently, as the anchor said, “There were also reports in this morning’s Miami Constitution, claiming that Cam Myles would be at this press conference.”

  “We could not confirm that, and last word we got from the Geoff Myles camp was that today’s press conference would be solely about Teo Stepania. But that doesn�
��t mean a Cam Myles return to baseball isn’t in the works. In fact, rumors of such intensified this morning when a video of Myles appeared on YouTube.”

  “Where does the relationship stand between Cam and Geoff Myles, which has been strained in the past?”

  “It’s hard to say, as this story seems to change by the moment, but we have confirmed that Cam Myles did work out this week with Teo Stepania in Miami. This is what is fueling rumors that they might be a package deal.”

  The Jack Hammer fought to control his emotions. He needed to think calmly. The idea that things could be easily controlled had been wildly optimistic on his part. He was under attack from two fronts—two triangles. One made up of Anna, Tim O’Connell, and Natasha—her meeting with O’Connell in Scottsdale was now more suspicious than ever.

  And now a triangle in Miami made up of his three sons, Geoff, Cam, and Teo. He didn’t believe in coincidences. And Anna was the bridge between the two triangles. If she knew his location, then Teo must also. They were always inseparable.

  While he didn’t have all the particulars yet, one thing was abundantly clear—his own children had declared war on him. Any mixed emotions were out the window. Betrayal singed his stomach. Part of him wanted to wait until Anna arrived home and slowly kill her with his own hands.

  But he forced himself to think logically. Who else might they tell? He went through the possibilities—Irina, Henson—until he felt his throat suddenly tighten.

  Could Katie possibly know?

  He felt like a trapped animal. He could no longer sit still, and began pacing. The cameras zoomed in on Geoff and Teo taking the podium.

  Onscreen, Geoff fawned over Teo like a horny teenager on a first date. He told a story of Teo’s death-defying escape from Cuba, risking his life against the sharks in a quest for freedom. It was obviously embellished. And little did they know that would seem like a day at the beach when he got his hands on them. He couldn’t take it any longer, and picked up the television and fired it into the wall.

 

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