Chapter 10:A/N: Hi pipsqueaks! What be up my little furballs?! Don't worry, I call everyone a furball or fuzzface. It's my version of an endearing term. So, I hope everything in your life is going well and I surely hope you enjoy this chapter! I am a little depressed that I have only received one review; 1 REVIEW! for chapter 9. That makes me sad peeps! I know you guys are reading it, the stats don't lie….please! Review! I really do love hearing what you guys think! Enough of my ranting….this is a relatively short chapter; I hope it will be at least, and thanks in advance for reading and reviewing. Hope you like it! Anyway, I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to post….life is very busy at the moment and in a few weeks it should quiet down. So, so sorry to keep you guys waiting. Hope you enjoy this one!
Jason's POV: Saturday, November 9, 2013 (early evening in Kandahar)
"Bury him today." I say into my cellphone, knowing that is already Sunday morning in Ottawa. "You have his body, right?" A pause. "No, I cannot attend. I have to take care of things here. My wife and daugther flew in last night." A long pause. "Yes, I'll fly over later. I'll be able to find it. Just make sure they arrive safely." The gentleman on the other end speaks for a moment. "Yes, Thank you. Goodbye." I state softly before ending the call.
I sigh shakily and slowly glance around the room. My wife has removed the few pictures of Samuel that I had on the wall and has packed them away. In my office here and at work I still have a few pictures of my little Sammy that I haven't taken care of yet. Jacqueline has never seen them and I'll see to it that she never will. I can't even enter my offices any more. It hurts too badly to see Samuel so happy or even just so alive looking in the photos that have frozen time. To see them, to see him, forces guilt upon me so greatly it is difficult to breathe. This was not my choice. I did not want to do this to my son; my perfect, beautiful son.
"How could he have only been twenty-six?" I ask myself aloud. A good life carelessly cut short by none other than myself. "How could I have done this to him?! He was the joy of my life! My little Sammy is gone because of me! Why did I do this? How could I have destroyed my own blood? He was better than me. He had more things to look forward to. He had a life! He was happy! And I took it! I took it all away from him! What am I?!" I scream between my sobs.
I collapse to my knees on the guest bedroom carpet where I've been sleeping for the past few days. I'm quivering uncontrolably, my whole body racked with tears. Tears from ten years ago that I'm just now shedding. I shakily stand and jog to Sammy's small bedroom. I gasp when I find that all that's left are the white walls, carpet and sheet covering the twin bed and the single brown bookcase. The whole room has been stripped! Sammy's pillow isn't even on the bed! When did Jacqueline do this? Why didn't I know about it? I know I haven't been out of the guest room very often, but I didn't think I'd been in there that long! I can't stand it any longer. I need Sammy back. I need something of his now! I whip out my cell phone from my back pocket and hit speed dial number six. I wait impatienly, pacing around the tiny nook-in-the-wall of a room as the phone rings.
"Hello?" a female voice answers.
"Jacquline, where's Sam's pillow?" I ask breathlessly.
"What?"
"Where's Sam's pillow?!" my voice rises an octave as the hot tears stream down my face.
"In the attic, in a box. I packed it away when he died. Why?"
As soon as she finishes speaking, I hang up and hurry out into the hall. I pull down the attic steps and stumble up them before frantically tearing through boxes until I find a small light blue pillow case with little brown monkeys and bright yellow stars encasing a small pillow. I sob as I tightly hug Sammy's pillow, burying my head into it.
"Sammy I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Sammy!" I sob.
Once I collect myself, I climb back down the attice steps. As I walk down the hall, my eyes wander to my dead son's bedroom. I see the emptiness and my heart feels as if it is being ripped out of my chest by icy, cold hands. I break into a fresh bathc of choked tears involuntarily. I begin to walk down the spiral, wooden staircase in my socks but the tears blur my vision, causing me to misjudge the distance. I slip one of the first steps and I find myself falling down the staircase. My head hits nearly every step and after the third or fourth hit everything turn black.
(Four hours later)
"Mnhmn," I moan as my eyes open.
It takes me a few minutes to realize where I am but by then, I have a massive head ache and there's blood on the floor from where my head was split open a bit from the stairs. My whole body is bruised and sore. When I try to sit up, I find myself in the midst of a dizzy spell. Sammy's pillow lies a few feet from where I am. I grab it and stumble into the bathroom, vomiting in the toilet. I probably have a concussion. Joy. I slowly walk into the kitchen to grab a bit of food and a few glasses of water before walking into the living room, placing everything on the coffee table beside the sofa, including my cell phone, before easing myself down. I pull a blanket over my shivering self and curl up, clutching Sammy's pillow tight to my chest as I drift off into sleep. On and off during the next three or four days, I wake up, eat a bit, vomit, drink and fall back asleep. More often than not, crying myself to sleep.
Clark's POV: Saint Petersburg, RU: Saturday.
We search the General's house a bit more before scurrying out of it with Sam's journals. Dad books a hotel and we crash their for the night. I visit Jules before we go to bed. She's so sad and I know she's lonely. I don't know why anyone would want to murder Sam. He was such a great guy. And the best part about him, is that he would just listen to you. Dad doesn't have much time to do that anymore. Well, I guess he never really did in the first place. The next morning, we all wake up and walk around the city, half pretending to be tourist and half acting like businessmen and woman. We ask storeowners if they know a Jason or Samuel Braddock but everyone always says 'no'. When we rephrase the question after an hour or so to, does anyone know a high-ranking Canadian military official, we receive a few yes'. They say that "Edward" was a fine man. Not many knew that he had a son and the ones that did know, say that they never saw him much. They were most always surrounded by an entourage of security. While we are speaking with a store's manager, a woman in line overhears our conversation. As we aim to leave the store, she tugs us aside.
"I know who you're speaking of." She says in broken English. "Edward Aksakov, right? It was a long time ago, probably ten or even eleven years ago but I was walking down the street, just two streets over from here, and I saw him with a very young boy, holding his hand. It was very late, close to ten o'clock in September and it was very cold. We spoke for a moment. The little boy was very, shy and quiet. He simply held his daddy's hand and stood quietly beside him, starting at the pavement for most of the time. He looked just like his father though, dirty blonde hair, and beautiful blue eyes. Edward Aksakov, now he looked Russian, his boy did not look fully Russian. He might have been mixed with Ukrainian or Latvian, Estonian, Lithuanian, one of those more European countries near here. Mr. Aksakov's eyes were more icy and slightly distant. He was a very attractive man, with a strong, muscular frame on him. His boy was skinny, too skinny, and scared. I'd say it looked like he had been beaten far too many times, but I do not know the circumstances. Perhaps he was a scared little boy. Why are you inquiring about them?" She asks.
"We're just investigating some incidents Mr. Aksakov might have been involved in." Sargent Parker tells her as honestly as he can.
"Oh, is his son in trouble? Is he hurt?"
Dad and Sargent Parker exchange glances with each other. "Can you keep quiet until we tell you what's going on?"
"Oh certainly."
"Mr. Aksakov is a person of interst in his son's murder." Sgt. Parker explains in a hushed voice.
The woman's face pales as she stares wide-eyed at Sgt. Parker. "No," she starts in disbelief. "No, he-he couldn't have killed Samuel!" she cries before she gasps at her mistake.
All of us are taken aback. "Ma'am, you need to come with us." Dad says firmly, taking her arm and leading her back to our hotel.
Once we're sitting back down in our rooms, which we've turned into an interrogation room, Dad and Sgt. Parker start the investigation. Jules is on edge even while I sit beside her with my arm around her back. They look through her wallet at her consent before asking the vital questions.
"Ms. Azarova." Dad starts. "What do you know? During your whole little story, you were calling Samuel, the boy, or Mr. Aksakov's son. If you knew his name, why didn't you call him by it?"
"I, I promised Edward years ago that if anything happened, I wouldn't tell anyone about the connection between he and Samuel. He couldn't have killed Samuel though. He loved him. He was everything to Edward." Ms. Azarova states quite upset.
"Did you find it strange that Mr. Aksakov made you promise to never tell anyone about the connection between him and his son?" Sgt. Parker asks.
"Well, no, not exactly. I knew he was a very high-ranking official in the Canadian miltary and I figured it had something to do with that." She says.
"How did you learn all of this, Ms. Azarova? Surely, it couldn't have been in that cold street. You saw him again, alone this time, didn't you?" Dad presses.
"Why, yes, I did. We exchanged numbers that night and a few days later, we made arrangements to meet at my apartment. We had a lovely dinner."
"Did you have intercouse with him?" Dad asks.
"Yes. We did. As well as the few times after that, that we met."
"I assume that he always came alone?" Sgt. Parker asks.
"Yes. He was always alone. We talked about Samuel often. He expressed some fatherly woes about being single dad. Children can get on people's nerves."
"Did he ever speak about abusing Samuel?" Jules asks suddenly. Ms. Azarova's eyes grew confused. "Physically, verbally or sexually."
"Oh, Heavens no. He was awfully shaken up one day though when he came over. He just kept saying that Samuel was hurt." She responds.
"What else did he say?" Spike pushes.
"He said that Samuel had been attacked after school. Bleeding and left for dead. He was terribly worried, but he left him at home so I suppose he couldn't have been too bad. He sort of flipped when I suggested that he take him to the hospital. Edward was speaking of broken ribs and limbs and something about a car hitting him, I'm not sure it was all very jumbled when he was speaking. The only clear thing I got out of it, was that Samuel was badly injured. I don't why or who had done it to him, but Edward was terribly shaken. He called back to Samuel at home and when the boy didn't answer, he started panicking. I'm still not sure what happened but he left shortly after and the next day I discovered that he had left the country. Flown to Uzbekistan. I thought it was a strange place to take a hurt boy, but apparently, that's where he was." She explains.
"Have you seen him since?" Wordy asks.
"No, but he has written me a few letters. Not many though and they stopped years ago."
"Do you still have them?" Dad asks.
"Yes, most of them. The few I don't have is because of my ex-husband's rash actions."
"Okay, can we please have them?"
"Yes, certainly. You just have to believe me though. Edward would never do anything to hurt Samuel. That boy was his life." She pleas.
"We hope that he did not murder Samuel, but we need all the proof we can get to prove that he didn't." Sgt. Parker says working the angles, knowing that if he said that we need everything possible to prove his guilt, it certainly wouldn't have worked well with this woman who is obviously infatchuated with the General, who probably seduced her many times in order to build a trust of respect.
"Can I go home and fetch the letters for you?" she asks.
"Yes, Constable Lane with be accompanying you. Mr. Aksakov has many people after us. We wouldn't want you to be injured in any crossfire." Sgt. Parker states as Dad leads the woman out. "Well that went just swell." He says sitting down on a bed.
"How many alias' does the General have?" Jules asks. "And what happened to Sam that night? Didn't Mr. Braddock feel strange about have 'actions' with another woman leaving his five year old son at home?"
"Apparently not." Spike states.
"Do you think she's in on it?" I ask Sgt. Parker.
"I don't know, Clark. Seems to me that she never met Sam after that night in the street. At least she never mentioned it. I don't know why she'd be so attatched to him. I find that strange."
"What're we going to do?!" Jules exclaims starting to break.
"We're going to find who actually killed Sam and why they did it." I state determindely.
"That's right, Clark. Jules, was there anything else in the journal you found in your basement?" he asks.
"I don't think so," She replies. "But let me double check." She stands and pulls the black, leather-backed journals out of her bag and begins to flip through it. "Hey, boss. There are more pages. Look at this." She exclaims pointing to the page.
My family has many names. It is hard to distinguish one from another. Use this my love and it will be easier to find your next destination. ~Samuel W. Braddock
_ e _ _ _
E _ _ _ _
E _ _ _ _ _
_ i _ _ _
_ e _ _
"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Wordy asks, all of us reading the page.
"I think it's a list of names that apparently lead us to our next destination." Jules tries to explain.
"You mean, like alias'?" I ask.
"Yeah, I guess it has to be. 'My family has many names.' That's certainly true. We haven't heard one person yet call the General by Jason or Mr. Braddock." She states.
"Well, let's try to fill in the blanks." Sgt. Parker suggests. "His first wife, the one in Latvia, what'd she call him again?"
"Uh, hold on, I have it written down somewhere." Jules says fumbling around in her notebook. "Ah, here it is. Leons. Strange name if you ask me."
"Latvian." I help. "But Ms. Azarova said he was Russian."
"She said he looked Russian. That doesn't mean he is." Jules points out.
I blush and feel pretty stupid. Of course somebody can look like something and not be it. Pinapple moment I guess.
"Okay so where does 'Leons' fit?" Sgt. Parker asks.
"What about the bottom space?" Wordy suggests.
"No, it's missing a line for the 's'." I say.
"The top one! It has to be the top one!" Spike shouts excitedly.
"Good, now what about 'Edward'?" Jules asks. "There's two slots that begin with 'E' and they're nearly the same length."
"The third one." I state. "It has all the spaces."
"Great! Good job, Clark." Jules exclaims hugging me.
I just keep smiling. We're all still gathered around the journal trying to figure out the other names.
L e o n s
E d w a r d
_ e _ _
"Now what? We don't have any idea for what the other names could be and if we pick the wrong name, we'll end up in the wrong place and waste our time!" Spike says as Dad walks back in with the letters.
"What's this?" he asks.
Sgt. Parker explains it and the rest of us read the letters. There's a whole bunch of them, mostly talking about love and making love and their relationship. There's a few poems and presses flowers too. I guess he was really into her, or just needed an albi. Don't see how this is going to help him though. He sure made a lot of promises to this woman: vacation, engagement, marriage, children, houses, cars, money, love, that kind of love too. No wonder she bought right into it.
"What're we going to do now?" Jules asks.
I can tell she wants to go somewhere but we really don't have anywhere to go except to cooridinates Sam gave us. Over the next two days, we don't find any other names that General Braddock used, so we're stuck on the puzzle. I guess this is the right time to leave. Off to Belarus.
A/N: I'm am soooooooo, sooooooo sorry to keep you guys waiting so long! I wanted to put more in this chapter, but you guys derserve this now. Thank you so much for still reading this, I know it's been a month at least. This has to be one of my favorite stories, probably because I know what's happening at the end , but I'm glad you guys are still reading. Please, please, please review! Thank you so much!