The Jack Hammer

by Derek Ciccone

  But had he become a cold-blooded killer that would go after his own children? She wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  Chapter 61

  The plane landed at Kennedy Airport in New York. Natasha couldn’t wait to get off and stretch her legs, and from the looks she got from the flight crew, it appeared the feeling was mutual. But she could care less what those losers thought—she had much bigger things on her mind.

  For the entire flight, she gripped the newspaper clipping about Tim’s accident. She read and re-read it. The ending never changed. Tim lied to her. He wasn’t interested in her childhood, or how much her father’s leaving had hurt her. She thought Tim was different. But nothing was ever different, just the same old shit.

  As she stepped through the gate, a media mob ran at her like the bulls of Pamplona. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the oncoming stampede.

  “Natasha! Natasha! A few questions Natasha!”

  The attention was her favorite part of the job—the only aspect she enjoyed. But today she just wanted to grieve in peace.

  “Natasha, what is your reaction to the police statement exonerating you in the death of Tim O’Connell?”

  She just stared ahead.

  “Are you relieved?”

  Stare.

  “Why are you returning to Russia—are you running away from something?”

  Stare.

  Then a boisterous man spoke over the herd, “Natasha—John Wesby, New York Globe. According to phone records we obtained, Geoff Myles’s last phone call before his death was made to your cell phone. Why did he call you?”

  Her mother had finally caught up with her, and took over. “Natasha has no comment, or will have any, as long as there is an active police investigation in this case. But I will say that Geoff Myles had been pursuing her as a client for some time. His death was unfortunate, but in no way connected to my daughter. And any attempts by the media to do so will be met by strong challenges from our legal team.”

  Natasha was completely flustered by the flashbulbs going off in her face. They just wouldn’t stop. She had no idea who this Geoff Myles was, nor did she care.

  A female reporter shouted from the back of the hungry pack, “Natasha, why can’t you speak for yourself?”

  Natasha looked up and forced a smile. She held it for a moment, contemplating her next move. Once she’d made her decision she secured her handbag tightly around her shoulder and made a run for it, knocking over three members of the press in the process.

  “Natasha … get back here,” her mother yelled.

  Some members of the press tried to run after her, but they lacked the athleticism of the teenage tennis star. Others stood frozen in disbelief, not sure what to make of the sudden bolt.

  Natasha continued running past the baggage claim area and out the automatic sliding glass doors. She hailed a cab and pleaded with the driver, “I want to go to Queens—hurry!”

  “Lady, you are in Queens,” the driver replied. “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “I want to go here … hurry!” she shouted, handing the newspaper clipping to the driver.

  “O’Connell Investigators?” asked the driver as he viewed the article.

  “Yes! Go! Hurry before they find me!”

  The wheels of the cab screeched, leaving the media in the dust. Natasha couldn’t figure out why they looked so pissed off—she just gave them another great story.

  Chapter 62

  Sam O’Connell checked to the left, and then the right. She took one last look behind her, before unlocking the front door. She trusted nobody at this point. Her brother was dead, and so was Anna. At least it was important that people continued to believe that she was.

  She dashed inside and slammed the door behind her, almost knocking over Anna, who was standing in plain view. She was wearing a formal black dress like she had plans for the evening. “Anna, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to leave the hiding area!”

  “I had to see him. It was only right to warn him that he might be in danger.”

  “Who might be in danger?”

  “I had to warn Cam.”

  “You went to see Cam Myles? You weren’t supposed to leave the room, much less the office.”

  “His brother’s funeral was today. He was my brother too—it was important that I go.”

  It reminded Sam that she still had to plan her own brother’s funeral. And the body of Anna’s brother was in limbo, waiting to see if it would be returned to Cuba so that their mother could give him a proper burial. And to make things more horrific, Anna couldn’t let her mother know she was alive—her mother believed that both her children had died. The nightmare had no end in sight.

  “So what did Cam say when you told him?” Sam asked.

  “He didn’t believe me.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  Her head drooped. “Not really, no. But I still think it was the right thing to do.”

  “I called that FBI agent, the one whose number was written on Tim’s card, Lee Henson. I told him about Tim, and the explosion at your building.”

  “What did he say? Can he help us?”

  “He’s not with the FBI anymore, he’s retired. But the good news was I think he believed me. He said he’ll try to get in touch with some of his old contacts at the FBI.”

  “So what do we do in the meantime?”

  “For starters, don’t go to funerals that are being covered by every major news network.”

  A buzzing sound lodged Sam’s heart in her throat. Somebody was at the door.

  Sam instinctively looked for Milla, but remembered she was safely tucked away at a friend’s. As badly as she wanted her to be close, she more wanted her to be safe. And this place was the opposite of safe right now.

  Okay, slow down, she told herself—this was a place of business, even if they didn’t do a lot of business. It wasn’t out of the norm.

  Anna fled into Tim’s office, while Sam nervously moved to the intercom. She hesitated, visualizing the danger that might be on the other side. But if Jack Myles was this Jason Bourne-type spy like everyone was making him out to be, then he probably wouldn’t ring the bell.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “I’m looking for Sam O’Connell.”

  “May I ask your name?”

  “Cam Myles. I was given his card by an Anna Stepania.”

  Chapter 63

  The name sent her into a temporary paralysis. Could it be—the Cam Myles who she’d dreamed about meeting since she was in the sixth grade? Well, the only way to know for sure was to open the door.

  But when she began to unlatch the lock, she heard Tim’s voice in her head, “What are you doing, sis? Blind trust got me killed and now you are doing the same thing?”

  “Oh, Tim, I miss you,” she said to the empty office.

  “And your daughter will miss you, Sam. This Jack Myles guy does his research—he probably knows about your crush on his son, and that you had that poster on the wall. By the way, I hated that stupid poster!

  “But Anna gave him my card. It makes sense that he’d come. I’ll be careful, Tim, I promise,” she said, and went to open the door.

  “How do you even know it’s not an imposter? At least check the surveillance camera!”

  Good point—guess that’s why he was the PI in the family. The camera wasn’t anything high-tech—more along the lines of something you’d find in a rundown convenience store than a Vegas casino, but it would serve her purpose.

  And when she checked out the feed, standing right before her eyes, looking like some combination of James Bond and Dr. McDreamy was Cam Myles. Even in the grainy black-and-white video he looked impressive.

  Before she opened the door, the strangest thought entered her mind—she was about to face her dream guy not wearing any makeup. Sam couldn’t believe such a thought actually entered her head at a time like this—so weird how the human mind works. Her hair was a tangled mess, so she removed the scru
nchy and furiously combed the long, red locks. It was too late for a wardrobe change—at least she didn’t have any spit-up on her. This wasn’t the way it happened in the dream. But then again, the wedding gown with the long train would have looked out of place, and most likely would have scared him away.

  “Are you going to let me in?” Cam spoke through the intercom, more urgent this time.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she snapped back to reality, and opened the door.

  He marched in, not even making eye contact with her. He wore a dark suit, having probably come directly from his brother’s funeral.

  “I really need to see Sam O’Connell—is he here?”

  Sam just stared at him, then down at herself. Still not wearing the wedding gown. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I apologize for showing up without an appointment, but it’s really important that I talk to Sam O’Connell.”

  She continued to stare incoherently at him. On the surface he appeared to be the supreme being she’d always made him out to be. But the way he fidgeted with his necktie, like it was acting as a noose, gave the impression that he wasn’t feeling comfortable in his own skin at the moment. Every article she’d ever read about Cam Myles used the word ‘unflappable’ to describe him, but he appeared the opposite at the moment.

  She sat down behind the desk, before her jelly legs collapsed. “I’m Sam O’Connell. How can I help you?”

  “You’re Sam O’Connell?”

  “Yes, short for Samantha. Please sit down.” She pointed to the chair in front of her desk as if he were just a normal OCI client. “Can I get you something … coffee?”

  “Coffee would be fine, thanks.”

  Sam felt embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. We don’t have any coffee. Nobody usually takes me up on the offer. How about water?”

  “That’s okay, I’m not that thirsty. I’m here to talk about Anna Stepania. She made some, let’s say, interesting statements to me today. She told me that you could provide proof of what she said.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That we shared a father—a father who was still alive. That Teo Stepania was her brother … and mine. It’s crazy, right?”

  Crazy? She was sitting across the desk from Cam Myles. Yeah, crazy will work.

  “I work with Anna at Nellie’s, a bar … we’re waitresses.”

  “That’s where I met her. She told me she came here from Cuba, and is going to school … studying medicine. Is any of that true?”

  “All of it, actually. And because Nellie’s is a sports bar, they obviously show baseball games. And last year, during one of those games, the Washington Monuments dedicated a statue to your father.”

  “I know, I was there. I was the one who did the unveiling,” he said, frustration growing in his voice.

  She nodded, remembering watching the ceremony, and marveling how well he’d turned out despite losing his father at such a young age. She was close with her own father, so it always made her sad that Cam didn’t have the same opportunity. When she was in sixth grade, she told him so in a fan letter. God, she hoped he didn’t remember reading it.

  “During the ceremony, on the broadcast, they displayed numerous photos of Jack Myles from his playing days. Anna was shocked to find that the man in the photos looked identical to her father, who also had supposedly died. And that led her to do some research.”

  “And she went to you for this?”

  “My brother, Tim, was the private detective—I just try to help out where I can around here. He assisted Anna in her search for her father.”

  “You said was … when you mentioned your brother.”

  “Tim supposedly was closing in on him in Arizona, when he died. It was a car accident, but the police believed it to be suspicious. Just like the deaths of your brother and Teo.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Sam—I can understand your pain as well as anyone right now, but this can’t be true. It just can’t. My father is dead.”

  “A few days ago, there was a big explosion at Anna’s building. You probably saw it on the news.”

  “I did … but I was under the impression that it was a gas leak. And I don’t see the connection.”

  “Just before the explosion, Anna’s roommate had reported a break-in to their apartment. She told the police that her neighbors had run into a suspicious man who claimed to be Anna’s father.”

  “That’s horrible,” he said. “But it doesn’t prove that Anna’s father is my father.”

  Sam stood, her legs now feeling firm. “Come with me—I need to show you something.”

  Chapter 64

  Cam followed her. And he wasn’t sure why.

  As someone who’d grown up in the spotlight, he was conditioned to deal with scams, and what else could this possibly be? Yet, at a time when he was at his most vulnerable, here he was alone in a strange place, and nobody knew where he’d gone. He was making things very easy for potential kidnappers, or killers, or whatever danger she was leading him to.

  But Sam O’Connell was messing with his logic. She had a certain straightforwardness and authenticity that made her seem believable, even if what she was saying was anything but. Her no frills, natural beauty added to her credibility, as did her honest green eyes—if she was the evil temptress who was luring him to his demise, she was sure playing against type.

  She pushed on a bookcase and it opened inward, into what looked like an office. Cam should have made a run for it, but instead he trailed her in.

  “I think you two know each other,” Sam made the introduction.

  Anna wore the same dress she had on at the funeral, but had removed the veil. She looked tired and drained, different from the radiant waitress he’d met at Nellie’s.

  “So do you still have my baseball cap?” Cam broke the ice.

  “It was in my apartment …” her voice trailed off.

  “Why didn’t you say something about this that night at Nellie’s?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “What makes you think I believe you now?”

  Anna pointed to the bulletin board where three photos were pinned up side-by-side like “Wanted” posters in an old-time post office.

  Anna explained that the photo in the center was of her and her father, Victor Stepania, when they lived in Cuba. He was a Russian military officer who Anna and Teo thought died in battle. But Tim O’Connell found that he’d actually returned to his original family in Russia, and his birth name of Alexander Kushka. That reunion ended when he committed suicide, approximately ten years ago. But she claimed he was still alive.

  While the photos were compelling, Cam knew a lot could be done to alter photos … as proven by any search of his own name on the internet. He was about to put his law degree to use, and interrogate Anna and Sam to get to the truth, when an ear-splitting buzzing sound caused him to almost jump out of his suit. The two women looked at each other with fright in their eyes. “It’s the front door,” Sam exclaimed.

  “What should we do?” Anna asked.

  They looked at him, as if he might have some advice on the matter. He didn’t. But something was going on here, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. He headed straight for the door, danger be damned.

  He didn’t believe it was his father’s ghost on the other side of the door, but he was willing to concede it could be the Cubans looking to finish the job they began in Miami, and then at Anna’s apartment. Or whoever Tim O’Connell was closing in on in Arizona. But when he looked at the man standing outside the door on the security feed, he knew it was just another in a line of crazed conspiracy theorists waiting to enter O’Connell Investigations.

  Chapter 65

  Lee Henson entered the small office like he owned the place. He maintained his all-business demeanor, which had earned him the nickname Joe Friday from his contemporaries at the FBI.

  “Good to see you again, Cam. Your mother was worried about you—the way you ran out of the funeral so quick.
Maybe it’s best that you give her a call and let her know you’re alright.”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Henson. Just the living here, no ghosts.”

  “Oh, I get the feeling there are a lot of ghosts present. In fact, you look like you’ve just seen one.”

  Henson moved past Cam, toward the bookcase, as if he saw right through its disguise, and pushed it open. Huddled on the other side was Sam and Anna.

  He politely introduced himself to Sam, mentioning a recent phone call between them. Cam did a slow burn—he should have known that Henson was the driving force behind this.

  Henson offered condolences to Anna for her brother, and those who died in the explosion at her building. Once the greetings were over, he made a beeline for the bulletin board.

  “Victor Stepania,” he grumbled. “It was the link we could never find.”

  “I see you’ve found new prey for your conspiracy theories,” Cam said.

  Henson never stopped looking at the board. “For the record, Ms. O’Connell called me. And if you think this is some sort of hoax, then why are you here?”

  Cam had no answer. But he wouldn’t give Henson the satisfaction of knowing that.

  Their duel was broken by another buzz of the intercom, followed by a panicked female voice, “Hello! Hello! Please let me in!”

  Henson drew a gun from his dark suit jacket. He approached the front door, and pressed the intercom. “Who is it?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Miss, you came here, you tell me. This is O’Connell Investigators—are you in the correct place?”

  “I am Natasha Kushka. I was a friend of Tim O’Connell. Let me in before they find me.”