He always considered Martin Whitly a malignant cancer.
All serial killers were, really.
Whitly just managed to prove himself more useful to him than many of the others he had in his employ. When he met Martin Whitly, he had been an up and coming cardiac surgeon. A man who found himself accepted into high society because of his marriage to Jessica Milton.
A little digging revealed him as a man with a dark side. One that wasn't afraid to experiment on humans in order to obtain the answers to his questions.
He thought Whitly a visionary. One who wasn't limited by things like ethics. Whitly's views on ethics were similar to his own. They limited the scope of what he, as a doctor, could accomplish. Whitly also believed boards and committees hindered research more than supported it.
Their partnership proved quite profitable.
Whitly tested the drugs he needed to get the FDA's approval on before he could offer samples to his eager clientele. He also helped him apply for the patents that allowed him to corner the pharmaceutical market.
As he wanted.
Whitly also aided him by testing the medical and surgical instruments his company designed. The ones he deemed superior to those already available were packaged and delivered to those willing to pay his price. Whitly also used his connections to get his equipment into medical schools.
In return, Whitly got to research to his hearts content. What exactly the man was researching didn't matter to him. Long as he received the data he needed, he could care less about what Whitly was doing and to whom.
Not that it mattered.
John Watkins took care of disposing the bodies once Whitly finished with them.
Everything had been going perfectly until Whitly decided he wanted to turn his son into a juvenile serial killer. He expressed his concerns to the good doctor, warned him of what could happen should little Malcolm inadvertently reveal daddy's hobby, and what he stood to lose if the police managed to connect them together.
The good doctor repeatedly assured him he had everything under control.
"My boy will not reveal anything," Whitly assured him. "He would never betray his father."
Nicholas hadn't believed him.
Children were unpredictable, uncontrollable, and completely unnecessary in his opinion.
That was why he never bothered having any.
He didn't believe Whitly had the boy under control as he claimed. Wanting to protect his interests, as well as his image, he told John Watkins to keep an eye on Malcolm.
"If the boy becomes a problem," he told Watkins, "get rid of him."
"What about Whitly?" Watkins rasped in his ear. "Want me to get rid of him if he becomes a problem?"
"I'll handle Dr. Whitly myself."
Watkins failed to take care of little Malcolm as he ordered. Nicholas didn't know what exactly happened on that camping trip, but clearly, something had happened.
Something involving Sophie.
The girl who thought she could steal from him and get away with it.
His hand curled around the armrest of his chair, squeezed so tightly his knuckles cracked.
For twenty years he allowed Whitly to thrive in his plush cell, content his secret was safe, that Sophie was dead and couldn't make trouble for him.
More fool he.
He only learned Sophie was alive after that foolish woman little Malcolm became so enamored of showed up and started asking questions about her sister.
The Girl In The Box.
Instead of lying, as serial killers so often did, Martin Whitly told her and Malcolm the truth.
He told them he allowed Sophie to live.
That he let her go.
And that, Nicholas decided, was the man's final mistake.
Not only had Whitly gotten himself turned in by the son he swore would never betray him, he also jeopardized his operations by letting Sophie go. He further complicated matters by revealing the secrets Sophie shared with him with Malcolm and his girlfriend.
Martin Whitly was a tumor that now needed excising.
Before Nicholas was done with him, however, the good doctor would learn he couldn't go back on his word.
He already accomplished the first part of what he told Martin he'd do should he betray him. Jessica was well and truly enamored with him. He also ruined Malcolm's career and reputation by framing him for murder.
Not that he was done with the boy.
Nicholas had plans for him.
Plans that had been in motion for years. Why else had he used his contacts at the DOJ to get him fired from the FBI? Got him clearance to work with the NYPD as a consultant?
All that was left was the truly delectable Ainsley Whitly. Oh, he had plans for her. He'd start by discrediting her in the news field, ruining her reputation socially, and then offering to make it all go away if she agreed to marry him.
Martin Whitly needed to go.
His death served two purposes.
One, it made sure that the subject of Sophie was never brought up again.
And two?
It'd break little Malcolm completely.
Something John was supposed to have done when he kidnapped Malcolm at Christmas. Had he not chosen to play around, Malcolm would have broken, and been well on his way to becoming what Nicholas desired him: the perfect killer.
John failed, much like he had when he didn't succeed at killing little Malcolm before he could call the police and tattle on his daddy.
Well, killing Martin Whitly would fix both of those mistakes.
He just needed to handle one other little problem, first.
"Has Miss Corbin been located?"
He poised the question to the woman standing silently beside his desk. To the outside world, Mercy Sleeves was nothing more than the woman who had been serving him, faithfully, as his personal assistant for over two decades.
Yes, Mercy handled all of his day-to-day business affairs for him. She scheduled meetings with his partners and investors, handled his online media presence, and organized his social calendar so he attended all of the right events and galas.
He did have an image to project, after all.
Besides, it wouldn't do for a man of his wealth and status to attend the wrong functions or cultivate relationships with the wrong people.
However, Mercy also handled his private business affairs for him. She kept an eye on the handful of serial killers he employed for those situations where the finesse a contract killer tended to possess were unnecessary.
She also oversaw all shipments and deliveries. Made sure he only offered the best to his exclusive clientele. Mercy ensured the right palms were greased, the right screws twisted, and the right people employed. She also made sure his less... savory investors and partners lived up to the promises they made him.
Any who didn't keep up their end of their bargain, well, Mercy sent one of the handful of contract killers he kept on retainer to deal with them.
Unless she chose to handle things herself, of course.
Mercy Sleeves was, after all, a contract killer herself.
Not quote as good as the Nightingale but leaps and bounds ahead of a moron like Eddie.
He'd only hire the best to protect him, after all.
"The girl arrived at the Whitly home yesterday evening." Dark eyes met his in the frosted glass of his office window. Glinted with secrets and amusement. "After making a stop at the Whitly boy's apartment to pick up clothing and other necessities for him."
"Did she now?" Nicholas found that particular little tidbit interesting. "And was anyone with her while she retrieved those particular things for Malcolm?"
Mercy's lip curled before one word left her mouth.
"Arroyo," she sneered. "He escorted her up and walked her back down."
Nicholas wasn't surprised. Lieutenant Arroyo was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. Not only was the man standing between him and Malcolm, but he was now keeping the Corbin girl from him.
He'd have to get rid of him. There was really no other choice. Not if he wanted to see little Malcolm finally become the killer his daddy always wanted him to become. And not if I want to find out how much the girl knows about her daddy's investigation into the Surgeon.
Something she'd have no knowledge of if not for Ainsley Whitly telling her about it.
He thought he managed to convince the girl to quit investigating him during their discussion at the bar.
Clearly, his veiled threats had gone unheeded.
Something that didn't please him.
Before he and Ainsley were married he would have to make sure she understood that he expected her compliance in all things.
"Do you know where Miss Corbin was before scampering to her boyfriend's side?"
"She was upstate." A smirk curved Mercy's fleshy lips. "At her childhood home."
Of course, Nicholas mused as he stared out the window at the Manhattan skyline. Where else would the girl go but home?
He had ordered Mercy to go and search the house for Ian Corbin's files on the Surgeon. Since she had not handed them over to him on her return led him to assume she had not found them. The question plaguing him now was if the Corbin girl had.
And if so, what is she planning to do with them?
The rumor of those files ultimately ended up getting Deputy Commissioner Ian Turner killed.
Sure, the world believed the Junkyard Killer killed Ian Turner to keep him from revealing the connection between him and the Surgeon.
Not so.
No, John killed Ian Turner on his orders. What choice did he have? Turner and his now former partner, Owen Shannon, had been closing in on Whitly prior to little Malcolm calling the police. After Whitly's arrest, Turner and Shannon continued to investigate, believing Whitly had someone getting rid of his victims.
Owen Shannon ruined himself, saving him the trouble.
Turner quietly continued to pursue his investigation. Nicholas hadn't cared until he enlisted the help of Ian Corbin.
A man nicknamed The Bulldog because once he got involved with a case?
He didn't stop until he solved it.
Corbin gave Nicholas serious pause. He wasn't someone money could buy or who'd bow to threats. His reputation was above reproach. Trying to muddy it would only risk exposure.
Thankfully, the man died before he could uncover anything.
Ian Turner continued to investigate, however. He refused to listen to reason. To threats. To demands. To keep him from revealing his connection to the serial killer ring operating right under the nose of the NYPD, Nicholas ordered John to get rid of him.
If only he thought to have Mercy check the man's will.
Ainsley would never have discovered the existence of these files and passed the information onto the Corbin girl.
"Do you know if Miss Corbin has found the files her father put together before his death on the Surgeon?"
"Ian Corbin's files on the Surgeon remain lost."
Nicholas nodded, pleased. "Good."
Those files needed to remain lost.
Which meant one thing: Sorcha Corbin needed to meet the same fate as Eve Blanchard.
And I know just the man for the job.
"Mercy, I think it's time for John to redeem himself."
"And how should he do that?"
"By getting rid of the Corbin girl."
One brow arched.
"Are you sure you want to trust John with such a task?" Mercy shifted to face him. "He has failed you before. He could fail you again."
"Oh, I think this is one task that John can handle. If he can't..." His lips crooked upwards. "Well, then you have my full permission to retire him."
A slow, catlike smile curved Mercy's lips.
"I shall look forward to doing so."
He was sure she would.
"Leave me," he commanded. "I have some calls to make. A few favors to call in to get John released from his cage."
Mercy strolled from his office without a word. Every move reminded Nicholas of a jaguar stalking through the jungle in search of its prey.
And if John Watkins fails me a third time, he will be her prey.
Nicholas found himself almost hoping he'd fail.
Almost.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!