 
### Turn the Souls

By Ron Knight

Published by Brand Eleven Eleven

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by Ron Knight

Rules of a Hostage Negotiator

~ Prolong the situation.

~ Ensure safety of hostages.

~ Keep things calm.

~ Develop a relationship with hostage-taker.

~ And when the time is right... _Turn the Souls._

### 1

The worst part about any hostage situation is the one hundred percent chance that it all started with some sort of violent act. The length of brutality depends on how long it took the hostage-takers to subdue the victims.

Lieutenant Marcus Cane, negotiator for the Hillsboro, Oregon Police Department, had a routine to review his training while driving to the scene. This habit put his mind and emotions in a place where he felt in control.

"Prolong the situation," he whispered. The siren blared as he swerved through rush hour traffic. "The longer I can prolong the hostage situation, the better chance it will end peacefully. Force the HT to give details. Don't ask questions that can be answered with a simple yes or no.

"Next, ensure the safety of the hostages." Marcus never liked that the safety of kidnapped people came after prolonging the situation. Nevertheless, every minute spent wearing down the HT would keep the focus off the hostages.

"Convince the hostage-takers to allow medical treatment, food, and water. Simplify the situation as much as possible. Ask for the release of hostages and even negotiate the release of weapons." Marcus had once talked an HT into giving up four of his six shotguns rather than releasing a hostage. This approach can limit the tactical risk while saving _all_ the hostages, instead of just a few. It comes down to a question: What is more valuable, the guns or the hostages?

"Keep things calm," Marcus said to himself, now three minutes away from the scene. "HT's are volatile and will take out their aggression on the hostages. HT's have their adrenaline pumping. I must seem credible while pretending to understand the reasons why this had to happen. My voice will come across with authority. I'll appreciate the HT's position, but I must be stern and not eager to please. At some point, I need to make sure the HT forms a relationship with the hostages. I will send food in bulk so it has to be distributed. Same with medical supplies, blankets, and water."

Marcus arrived at the scene, parked, and walked under the yellow tape lifted by an officer. While making his way through the chaos he gazed at the fifteen-story building where the hostage crisis took place. A helicopter thundered from above. All eyes of the fifty or so officers on him.

He sensed everyone looking at the word on the back of his windbreaker.

_Negotiator_.

In quick fashion he made it to the Command Trailer. Marcus signed into the logbook, turned off his cell phone and placed it in the tray. Meanwhile he listened as the Situation Commander, Daniel Fletcher, spoke on the radio. "Negotiator Marcus Cane has arrived...he has the ball."

Senior Tactical Operations Commander Kevin Harlan and Tactical Intelligence Advisor Lindi Amerson inched forward, ready with their report.

Marcus sat down at a small table that seated four. A yellow notepad and pen ready for him. Fletcher and Harlan took a seat, but kept quiet. The window of opportunity to speak with the hostage-taker became narrow. Marcus had yet to make contact, which meant the HT's continued to dictate the situation.

Lindi joined them at the table with her laptop. "Okay Marcus, fire away."

Marcus picked up the pen and focused. The standard questions popped in his head. "What's occurred?" he asked, ready to take notes.

"Seventy-two employees at Bradburn Industries have been taken captive. They're about ten hostage-takers, but that's not confirmed."

"Who initiated the call?"

"An unidentified male called 911 from the building and claimed that he'd taken all the employees at Bradburn Industries hostage and that no one should try to enter."

"What time?"

"4:36 p.m."

"Have any police officers been injured?" Marcus knew that no officers had been injured, but he asked that question anyway. Everything's a mind game. Marcus versus the hostage-taker. Marcus versus the Situation Commander. Marcus versus the Tactical Commander. Marcus versus the media. And so on.

"No police have been injured," Lindi assured him.

"Any hostages injured?"

Harlan caught everyone's attention with a frustrated grunt. "Do we have time for this? Maybe we should work on getting those people released."

Marcus kept his emotions in check. "You know the drill. I need to fully understand the circumstances before any decisions are made." Harlan never seemed satisfied with this answer. They had worked about fifteen hostage situations together and they had the same conversation every time. Marcus glanced at Lindi and repeated the question. "Any hostages injured?"

"We don't know," she replied.

"Any suspects injured?" Marcus continued taking notes.

"We don't know."

"Any injuries outside the building?"

"A lawn care worker twisted his ankle when the police arrived."

Marcus looked up. "How did that happen?"

"He panicked and began running."

"Was he questioned?"

"Yes."

Marcus focused on his notepad. "Other than the 911 call, has any other contact been made with the HT?"

"No."

Marcus looked at Harlan. "Is your team in place?"

"Yes. We're ready to enter the building and-"

"Where are the suspects located," Marcus interrupted.

Lindi answered the question while Harlan sprung from his chair. "We believe all the hostages have been taken to a large supply room in the basement. They're several vents that the HT's have blocked. And there's a set of stairs leading down, but that's the only entrance. A tactical nightmare."

The secured phone rang.

"Here we go," Marcus said. "Let's see what they want."

### 2

"This is Lieutenant Marcus Cane of the Hillsboro Police Department. To whom am I speaking with?"

"Smalls," the male voice said. "May I call you Cane?"

Marcus would rather keep things on a first name basis, but conceded in order to give Smalls a feeling of slight control for the moment. "Yes, you may call me Cane. Are any of the hostages injured?"

"Some bumps and bruises."

Marcus visualized the chaos that must have taken place as seventy-two people viciously forced into a basement against their will. "Do you need medical supplies?"

"The first aid kits will do just fine."

"What about the people working with you. Are any of them injured?"

"People that are working with me? Don't you mean the other kidnapers?"

"Are any of them injured?" he repeated.

"We're okay. And thanks a bunch for asking."

"No problem, Smalls. Why are we here today?"

"Why am I doing this, or what are my demands?"

"You tell me." Marcus swept his eyes to Fletcher, Harlan, then Lindi. All three listened on headsets.

"I have several demands and will give them to you one at a time. Once all of my demands have been met, we'll end this peacefully."

Marcus wondered what _end this peacefully_ meant. He never heard a hostage-taker suggest a nonviolent outcome. "What's your first demand?"

"Locate the founder of Bradburn Industries."

Lindi held up a sheet of paper with the name, Carl Bradburn. While looking at the paper, Marcus asked, "Once we locate Carl Bradburn, what next?"

"You have until 6:03, which is thirty minutes away. That should be plenty of time." The line went dead.

Lindi crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage can, took off her headphones, and returned to the laptop. "We've already been trying to reach Mr. Bradburn, but apparently he went away on a secret vacation with his wife and two daughters. Possibly one of the executives knows his location, but that won't do us any good since they're being held hostage at the moment."

Marcus pulled in a deep breath, glanced at the clock, then returned to his notes. "Do we have eyes or ears in the building?"

"We'll have a camera on the front lobby," Harlan responded. "The hostage-takers secured every window, although, we have some eyes and ears on the outer parts of the building."

Lindi asked, "If they moved everyone to the basement, why would they secure the entire building?"

Fletcher answered the question. "They want to be able to move around unnoticed."

Marcus wrote down his thoughts on the notepad and then continued with the questions. "Why do we think there're about ten hostage-takers?"

Harlan: "We did a quick interview with the police officers first on scene. With that and our surveillance, we estimated about ten."

5:38 p.m.

"And you believe that all seventy-two hostages are in the basement?"

"Yes."

"Has the power been cut?"

"Yes, but there's a secondary grid that kicked in, which is connected to the security system. It's pretty high tech and we're working on that right now."

"Where are the suspects located?"

Harlan unfolded a map on the table. "Before the building went black, we saw two of them on the fifth floor. And just before you arrived, one of them stood in the lobby for about a minute."

"Guarding the entry?"

"No, looking at us," Harlan said, sitting back down.

"What is on the fifth floor?"

"The lab," Lindi replied.

Fletcher's cell phone rang. He spoke quietly for a few minutes, then hung up and addressed the group. "All eight of Carl Bradburn's personal security has been reported missing."

### 3

5:43 p.m.

"The private security did not accompany Mr. Bradburn on his vacation?" Marcus asked.

Fletcher shrugged his shoulders. "Spouses of the bodyguards issued the missing persons report."

"All of them are married?"

"Apparently," Fletcher said. "Also, we received a call from Mr. Bradburn's pilot. He flew the family to Honolulu and verified that no security accompanied Mr. Bradburn on the flight. Unfortunately, the pilot doesn't know where the Bradburn family went. The police in Honolulu are trying to locate him." Fletcher glanced at his watch. "It's 5:47. We need to keep moving."

Marcus jotted down a few quick notes, then looked at the floor plans on the table. "Are these updated?"

"Yes," Harlan responded. "I want to get some of my team on the roof. Also, there're a few entry ways-"

"Your team should be ready," Marcus said with an uncompromising tone. "But do not go near the building until I make the call."

Fletcher put a consoling hand on Harlan's shoulder. "Just chill out for a second. Marcus knows what he's doing. If we need to breach," he glared at Marcus, "it will be _my_ call." Fletcher held his gaze for a moment. "We need to finish this up just in case Mr. Bradburn isn't located by 6:03."

"What type of phone is Smalls using?" Marcus asked.

Lindi tapped on her keyboard. "If we're assuming Smalls made the initial 911 call, then both times he used a landline from inside the building. Any calls out at this point will be sent to you."

"Where are the suspect's observation points from the building?"

Harlan: "There hasn't been any movement on the upper floors. If someone looked out a window or even moved a curtain, we'd know about it. No infrared on heat signals. Therefore, I have to believe everyone's in the lower floor and basement at this time. Which's also why I am confident that we can enter the upper floors and at least be ready if this thing goes tactical."

Marcus shifted his eyes to Harlan. "You told me that the building's security system had kicked in."

"We have ways of entering without tripping alarms."

Marcus shook his head and returned to the notes. "Do we know what firearms the suspects are using?"

"Handguns of some sort," Harlan said. "We believe Glocks."

5:52 p.m.

"Are their explosives or chemicals in the building?"

Lindi answered. "Bradburn Industries are responsible for many healing, therapeutic drugs, and vaccines."

Marcus scanned over his notes. "I realize we don't have a profile on Smalls as of yet, but from the 911 call and my first conversation with him, what are your thoughts?"

Lindi took a few seconds to answer. "His voice seemed a bit shaky."

Fletcher: "A man in his position has a lot to control with so many hostages and a large crew."

"He's in control," Marcus assured him. "Remember that Smalls' adrenaline is pumping right now. But I'll take a shaky voice over violent and hysterical any day."

Harlan held his finger up to the earpiece. "We have movement in the building. Camera one."

Marcus saw a hostage-taker shove a large man into the lobby. The man had a hood over his face, arms tied behind his back.

5:59 p.m.

Harlan stood up and pointed to the camera. "If Smalls shoot's this guy, _then_ can we go in?"

Fletcher: "We cannot give into the demands of hostage-takers in the first hour. Not for one person."

Just as he said that, four more hostages appeared in the lobby. All men, hoods over their heads and hands bound behind their back, forced to kneel and face the entrance of the building.

Harlan smacked his hand on the table. "Okay, if they kill five hostages, then maybe that'll be enough."

Marcus stood up and grabbed the secured phone. He hit the red button and waited, listening as it rang without anyone picking up. On the screen, a suspect sat down on a chair behind the hostages and aimed a gun at them. Marcus stepped forward. His eyes narrowed. "Is that a phone next to him?"

Lindi tapped on her keys. "It may not be ringing. We're patched into the line Smalls used on the previous two calls."

"Get the phone number inside the lobby," Marcus said, hanging up.

Fletcher clicked his radio. "Tactical Team be ready on my command." He turned to Harlan. "Get outside. If this guy kills those five hostages, we're going in."

"It's ringing," Lindi said.

Marcus picked up the phone and waited. Thankfully, someone answered this time.

"Hello, Cane. This is Smalls."

Marcus gazed at the screen. The man in the lobby held the phone with one hand, the gun in the other. It had to be Smalls.

Marcus asked, "Why are there five innocent, helpless men kneeling in front of you?"

"It is 6:04 and my first demand hasn't been met. How hard could it be to locate someone?"

"Mr. Bradburn is in Hawaii on a private vacation with his family. Maybe someone inside knows where he is. Perhaps an executive could have his location."

"Um...did you try calling him?"

"Of course. Mr. Bradburn hasn't answered his phone."

"So what you're telling me is that you failed to do what I asked. Should I just start shooting these hostages in front of me, or what?"

Marcus gripped the phone. "If you kill them, our discussion will end. We'll be forced to enter and take you out."

"Really? And that would result in seventy-two people dying today. That should make for some great headlines."

"We need to locate Mr. Bradburn as well. It's in our best interest to speak with him because you are in his building and those are his employees. It's not like we aren't trying."

"I understand."

Marcus saw four of the five men escorted from the lobby. "So will you give us more time?"

"How much?"

"Twenty minutes."

The shot echoed through the phone. Marcus watched as the hostage fell to the floor. "I'll give you thirty minutes." Smalls hung up.

### 4

There are only three possible outcomes to a hostage situation.

One: The suspects give themselves up and are arrested by the police.

Two: Police commence a full assault and kill the suspects while trying to save the lives of the hostages.

Three: The hostage-takers demands are granted and they escape.

Marcus had done this enough times that he knew the odds. Most likely, it is outcome number two: Police commence a full assault and kill the suspects while trying to save the lives of the hostages.

Marcus held off Fletcher from giving the assault order at this time. If they went in, it would have been a bloodbath. They had yet to arrive at a point of no return. Marcus could still save the lives of the other seventy-one people.

Smalls chose the five men probably because of their threat; as opposed to choosing women. Also, a woman assassinated instead of a man would provoke an early assault.

The police in Honolulu had yet to locate Carl Bradburn and his family. Perhaps they are dead? After all, no security to protect them and their location conveniently hidden.

6:09 p.m.

Marcus went back to work with Lindi. "Tell me about Brandburn Industries."

She handed him a printout and spoke in a calm, swift voice, while going over the highlights. "The company was founded by venture capitalist Carl Bradburn in 1974. The co-founder is a biochemist named, Dr. Ellison Sedgwick, who invented Recombinant DNA."

"Which is?" Marcus asked.

Lindi frantically scanned over her notes. "I think it has to do with cloning. Their home office is in this building; however, they have other labs in California."

Marcus took notes, but did not glance at the printout that she gave him because of time restraints. "Where are the labs?"

"San Francisco, Vacaville, and Oceanside."

"What else?"

"Bradburn Industries are being sued by the University of California for stealing a formula called, Protropin. It's a growth hormone mostly used for dwarfism. In the last year alone Bradburn Industries has earned two billion off the sales of Protropin."

Fletcher had returned from outside after checking on the officers and Tactical Team. A murdered hostage would anger the officers. Cooler heads must prevail.

It's also an excuse for Fletcher to take a smoke break, which lingered as he came inside. "Honolulu Police have a location on where the Bradburn family is staying," Fletcher announced, "but are still trying to make contact."

Marcus turned in his seat. "What's the problem?"

"The Bradburn family are probably at dinner, or on the beach. The Honolulu Police will have to wait at the hotel for them to come back."

Marcus returned to his notes. "Did you know that Bradburn Industries are being sued by the University of California?"

"Yes," Fletcher said, taking a seat. "We're checking it out."

"Lindi. What else?"

She shuffled through her papers. "Bradburn recently found a cure for arthritis and are close to curing Alzheimer's; or at least having a vaccine to slow the process. A pharmaceutical company in Spain named, Acacia, has recently put in a bid to purchase Bradburn Industries for $50.6 billion."

6:12 p.m.

Fletcher: "We're checking into the details of that as well." His cell rang. "Captain Fletcher." His body perked up. "Let me speak with him." _Pause_. "Hello, Mr. Bradburn. We have a situation..." Fletcher must have been interrupted. "I'm going to hand you over to the hostage negotiator, Marcus Cane." He gave Marcus the phone.

"Lieutenant Marcus Cane here."

"This is Carl Bradburn. I'm aware of the situation and know time is of an essence. Has anyone been hurt?"

"One employee has been killed so far."

"Why?" Bradburn shouted. "What possible reason would they-"

"The hostage-taker wanted us to locate you, but we didn't in time." Marcus could hear Carl's heavy breathing. "Mr. Bradburn, do you have any idea who would take your employees hostage?"

"No, but I'll start thinking."

"Your personal security guards have been reported missing. Do you have any knowledge of what happened?"

"Jesus...no."

"You didn't bring anyone with you on the trip besides your family?"

"No. We take one vacation a year. No phones. No work. No security."

"I understand." Marcus glanced at the clock. "I'm going to contact the hostage-taker and let him know that we found you. Please be near the phone."

"Should I fly back?"

"Not yet. I want to see what they want."

"That's not good enough," Bradburn spat. "I want to be there. One of my employees is already dead. I don't care about my safety."

"Please just stay with the police there in Honolulu. If the hostage-takers here in Oregon want your location, there's a possibility they will come after you next. In fact, they're probably looking for you in the building and discovered you were gone." Marcus thought about that for a second. "Did you announce to the company you'd be taking a vacation?"

"No. Only my VP knew I left. It's better if everyone thinks I'm still in town."

"I'll be touch. Stay put." Marcus flipped the cell shut and handed it back to Fletcher. "We need the Bradburn family protected. With billions of dollars at stake for the sale of this company, along with the lawsuit from Cal, anything is possible right now."

### 5

6:15 p.m.

"This is Smalls."

On the monitor, Marcus had a perfect visual of Smalls in the chair located at the front lobby. "You killed someone," Marcus said with a harsh tone. "That limits what I can do for you."

"I should've killed all five, let your team storm the building and have my men assassinate the rest of the sixty-seven people in the basement."

"Don't threaten me."

"Why not? I have the hostages, you got nothing."

_Prolong the situation,_ Marcus thought to himself. _Ensure the safety of the remaining hostages, keep things calm, form a relationship with the hostage-taker._

"I accomplished something that we both want...the location of Mr. Bradburn."

"You have communication with him?"

"Yes."

"Great. Let's start phase one of the operation."

Marcus looked at Fletcher, who listened with the headset and gazed at the monitor. Harlan had come back inside and did the same. Marcus asked, "What do you mean phase one? How many phases are there?"

"Have Bradburn transfer money from his account: 2331112200, to my account: BH58423926221. Do you understand?"

Marcus glanced at Lindi. She gave him the thumbs up.

"Yes, I got that."

"Six minutes." The line went dead.

Lindi rolled the chair to him. "The green button is now a direct line to Carl Bradburn. The red line is still our HT."

Marcus pressed the green button. Bradburn answered on the first ring.

"The hostage-taker wants you to transfer money from account..." Lindi held up a piece of paper with the numbers. "231112200 into account BH58423926221."

Lindi returned to her laptop and began working with the FBI to trace Smalls account. Harlan gave instructions to his team. Fletcher on the cell phone barking orders.

Satisfied, Marcus gripped the phone waiting for Bradburn to respond. On the monitor, Smalls remained in the chair. His eyes peered through the mask, seeming focused on the front parking lot. The dead body lurked at his feet.

"It's our vacation account," Bradburn said, jolting Marcus back to attention. "There's just one problem."

"What?"

"We cleared that account out this morning leaving only a dollar so it would stay open."

6:18 p.m.

Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi froze, all listening with their headsets, looking at Marcus. "How much money did the account have last week?" Marcus asked.

"$35,000."

Fletcher whispered to Marcus, "We can't transfer a dollar to Smalls. He'll think we cleared it out purposely just to piss him off. God knows what he'll do next."

"I'll call you right back," he said to Bradburn. Marcus clicked the red button.

"Having a problem?" Smalls asked.

"There's no money in that account. Bradburn withdrew all of it when he left for vacation."

"Not true, Mr. Cane. Tick, tick, tick..." The line went dead.

Marcus tapped the green button. "Transfer the money."

"It's just a dollar," Bradburn pleaded. "I'm sure they're not going through all this for a buck."

"Make the transfer," he repeated.

A clicking sound came through the phone. "Okay. It's done."

Fletcher stood up. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Smalls claimed this is phase one," Marcus explained. "When I said the money had been withdrawn, he said 'not true.' Which means, Smalls knows exactly how much money is in that account. This is some sort of test phase."

The red line blinked.

Marcus pressed the button. "This is Cane."

"If you're going to have trouble with a dollar, what happens when I ask for two billion?"

"Two billion?"

"Yes, but not at the moment."

"I'll need some hostages," Marcus said.

"Did you say _hostages_...plural? Are you joking?"

"I've located Mr. Bradburn and allowed a money transfer."

"Yeah, but you took forever to find Bradburn and the money was just a dollar. I wouldn't say you are doing a stellar job out there."

Marcus glared at the camera, but kept his voice calm. "With seventy-one more people there has to be a few with medical problems. Some may have diabetes, asthma, or a heart condition. Neither of us wants an accidental death."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Smalls said.

Harlan clicked his radio while gazing at the monitor. "We have hostages leaving the building. Hold your fire. Remain calm."

Marcus also watched the monitor as the hostages ran past Smalls.

"I'm counting seven," Lindi said. "Wait, three more coming. They're women...pregnant."

Smalls said, "I'll call you back with phase two."

Marcus placed the phone down and took in a quick breath.

Fletcher patted him on the shoulder. "You just saved another ten lives. Good work."

Marcus did not believe in _win-some, lose-some_. Nevertheless, he had to keep his emotions under check. "Sixty-one more to go," he whispered to himself.

### 6

Marcus led the team meeting. "We need to get ahead of them and I think the best place to start is the two billion."

Lindi: "That's the same amount as the estimated earnings from Bradburn Industries new drug, Protropin."

Fletcher: "I have detectives conducting interviews at Cal. They're looking for anyone connected to Bradburn and if any students, professors, or researchers are missing."

Marcus: "Between the lawsuit and this hostage situation it may be enough to disrupt the buyout from that company in Spain. We need to know all major competitors of both Bradburn and Acacia. Who would benefit most if the buyout did not happen?"

Lindi: "I'm on it."

6:28 p.m.

Marcus: "How're we doing with the released hostages interviews?"

Fletcher: "So far all their stories match. At about 4:40, everyone was rushed down to the basement. A few people injured during the process, but the hostages were given medical kits. Food and water had been brought down to the basement from the cafeteria."

Harlan: "That's smart. The HT doesn't have to ask for medical supplies or food, limiting our involvement with them."

Marcus: "How many perps?"

Fletcher: "All released hostages said the same number...eight. They also mentioned Smalls as the leader, hearing his name more than once."

Marcus: "The number eight has come up twice today."

Harlan: "How so?"

Marcus: "Weren't there eight private security guards that worked for Mr. Bradburn?"

Lindi: "I'll pull up their names." A moment later she said, "You aren't going to believe this. The head of the security team for Carl Bradburn is named Robert Smalls."

Marcus: "Okay, let's think about this. Mr. Bradburn claimed that only his vice president knew about the vacation. However, the private security knew as well. Now, all eight are reported missing. The head of the security is named Smalls, the same as the HT who is sitting in the lobby chair."

Harlan: "It would also make sense because they have permits to carry Glocks, the same as the HT's are using inside."

Fletcher: "Why would Smalls use his real name?"

Marcus: "He knows that eventually he'll be discovered. Nevertheless, he'll have two billion."

Harlan: "Smalls and his crew still need an exit strategy. They can steal all the money in the world, but how will they get out of the building and live to spend it?"

Fletcher stood up and flipped open his cell phone. "I'll have the detectives at Cal look for connections between Bradburn's security and the Cal research center."

Marcus: "Okay, we just got ahead of the HT, which is rare in this business. We need to stay ahead. First, we need to know if Mr. Bradburn is authorized to transfer two billion of company funds. Second, the HT's are planning to leave somehow. Let's consider the best way for that to happen. Third, they are receiving outside help. Smalls is the muscle. Someone else is the brains behind this operation. Most likely it's a person who wants to squash the buyout from Acacia. Mixed in this somehow is the Cal lawsuit against Bradburn Industries."

Harlan: "Something else is bothering me. Perp one, Smalls, hasn't moved from that chair since this started. He has all those hostages downstairs and his team guarding them. Doesn't Smalls want to control what is happening in the basement? How is he communicating to the other HT's?"

Lindi: "We would've picked up cell phone usage. Even if they used walkie-talkies we'd know."

Marcus: "Zoom in on Smalls." Lindi moved a knob as the camera detailed Smalls' eyes through his mask. Marcus had felt that the adrenaline still pumped inside of Smalls. A twitch on his eyelids confirmed that. Nevertheless, Marcus didn't want to share that with the group fearing it would make everyone inanely nervous. "Lindi, move the camera down on the phone next to Smalls."

Lindi: "You got it."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. A sudden rush of anger filled his veins. "Damn it, Lindi! When I ask which kind of phone the HT is using, I want details." He pointed at the monitor. "Look! He has the phone on speaker. Everyone in the damn building can hear what Smalls and I are saying. Not just the other hostage-takers, but the hostages themselves!"

Lindi's expression remained steady despite the mistake. "I'm sorry. No excuse."

Marcus paced in the trailer to regain his composure. The hostages heard everything; forced to listen as one of their fellow employees was killed. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the entire building. Everything that Marcus had been saying to Smalls the hostages heard. This included the screw up when they did not locate Mr. Bradburn by the deadline. The hesitation in transferring a single dollar.

The red line flashed, followed by a double ring.

Fletcher rushed over to Marcus. "Take a few seconds. Breathe. We are ahead of him. Remember that."

### 7

6:41 p.m.

Marcus had already extracted several deep breaths to allow the aggravation ease from his body. In reality, they still had plenty of questions to be answered. They had assumptions, not facts.

He reached down, picked up the phone, and hit the red button. "This is Cane."

"Did you take a smoke break or something?"

"Nah. Just clearing my head. Like you, I want to remain calm and make sure no one else gets killed."

"Don't play mind games with me. We have nothing in common."

"Are you in need of food?"

"No, we have plenty. Bradburn is an asshole, but the guy sure knows how to keep the company cafeteria stocked with top of the line provisions."

Marcus pictured their voices being blasted over a speaker in the basement so the hostages and suspects could hear. He noticed that Smalls referred to Bradburn as an _asshole_ , which means, there's a personal grudge. "Are any hostages in need of medical attention?"

"No."

"It's going to get cold tonight. Do you need blankets?"

"As long as the heat is on, we'll be fine."

"But we turned the electricity off and shut down all backup generators." Marcus knew the secondary grid would provide some electricity to the building, but he wasn't going to share that information with Smalls. "The heat will only work for so long and the food will eventually spoil. It would be best if you limit how many people you have in the basement. Let's cut that number in half and release all the women."

"If I send anyone out, it will be the men. The ones who pose the biggest threat."

"Very well, release the men."

"No."

"How about ten-"

"No! We are moving on to phase two."

"Which is?"

"Send money to me from a different Bradburn account."

"I cannot authorize Bradburn to keep giving you money."

"He only gave us a dollar so far. And he'll give us what we want. There are two accounts I need from him. 665984627. 665984628. It's 6:47. I want that transfer done by 7:00."

"I'll need until 7:30."

Smalls had already hung up.

### 8

The Oregon sun fell behind the trees and swallowed the area in darkness. The wind chill dropped to thirty degrees.

Harlan shouted, "We have movement in the building!" They looked at the monitor, but the lobby darkness masked any visual. Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "I want spotlights moved to the front parking lot."

6:57 p.m.

Marcus picked up the phone and pressed the red button.

"Hello Candy Cane," Smalls said. "You ready to transfer the money?"

"We need until 7:30. The decision isn't just Mr. Bradburn's. I have to be assured that the hostages won't be harmed."

"Two minutes and counting."

"If I give you electricity will you give me thirty extra minutes?"

Fletcher grabbed Marcus by the arm and tugged him close. "No way are we giving him electricity."

Marcus covered the phone receiver and said with a harsh whisper, "Let me do my job or I'll walk." He returned to the phone. "It must be pitch-black in the basement. We'll give you light, you give us thirty minutes."

Harlan said, "There are hostages kneeling in the lobby. Smalls is in the chair."

"One minute," Smalls whispered.

Marcus said to Harlan, "Turn the power back on."

Harlan looked at Fletcher for confirmation. Fletcher conceded. "Go ahead."

"Turn the power back on!" Harlan shouted in his radio.

Marcus stared at the monitor as the lobby came to life, seeing the same four men who had previously been forced to kneel in the lobby. With them another man, making five hostages that could be executed in the next few seconds. As before, all of them wore hoods with their hands bound from behind. Smalls aimed the Glock at one of the hostages and held the phone with his other hand.

7:00 p.m.

Before Marcus could say another word, Smalls dropped the phone down in its cradle and fired the gun, killing a hostage. The body slumped next to the other dead corpse.

The redline blinked, followed by a double ring. Marcus noticed his fingers trembling when he picked up the phone. He opened his mouth, but could not speak.

Smalls said, "You have until 7:30."

The shock wore off and Marcus became insane with anger. "I want ten hostages right now or we're coming in!"

Smalls hung up, followed by a group of hostages running through the lobby. Some of them screamed as they passed the two dead bodies.

Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "Be advised, hostages exiting the building."

Marcus counted as each one hurried to the parking lot. Six men, nine women.

"Forty-five more to go," Marcus said. However, his mind became plagued with the thought of losing two hostages already.

His heart slowed as his eyes gazed at the monitor. Two hostage-takers dressed in black and wearing masks dragged the four male employees from the lobby.

Marcus pressed the green button. "Mr. Bradburn. They are asking for the transfer of two more accounts."

"Give me the numbers," Bradburn replied.

"665984627 and 665984628."

"Those are my daughter's accounts for when they turn eighteen."

"How much money?"

"Over a hundred thousand in each."

"I can't tell you what to do, Mr. Bradburn. This won't be the end of it. The hostage-takers are moving towards a much larger amount."

"What do you mean?"

"The lead hostage-taker referenced two billion."

"They know," Bradburn said with a disheartening voice. "My God, they know."

Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Does this have to do with the Cal lawsuit or the Acacia buyout?"

"No. It has nothing to do with my business. It's personal."

"Explain."

"I'm going to call my lawyer and send him to you. He'll make all the decisions from this point on and have power of attorney over my personal accounts."

"Mr. Bradburn, we don't have time for this. They already killed another hostage."

"It's out of my hands. I'm sorry."

"Mr. Brad-"

He hung up.

### 9

Lindi slid off her headphones. "What does he mean it has nothing to do with the business?"

7:09 p.m.

"I don't know," Marcus said. He looked at the monitor. Smalls hadn't moved. "I need more background information on Robert Smalls."

"I'm on it," Lindi said.

Fletcher rapped his fingers on the table. "What about the 7:30 deadline?"

Marcus ignored the question and thought about how Smalls had used the word, _phase_. Smalls had his own game plan while Marcus conducted _his_ phases.

All rules of hostage negotiation had been exhausted which made this unfamiliar territory. It appeared an assault would have to take place. At 7:30, Smalls would kill another hostage.

For the first time, Marcus wondered if he could save them.

Not all hostage circumstances are a success. In fact, negotiators are aware that most of the time things will go wrong. Marcus could prolong the situation, do his best to ensure the hostages safety, keep the HT and hostages relatively calm, and cultivate the progression with the HT.

The initial violent phase happens before Marcus receives the call. People are taken against their will, held at gunpoint, and forced into a nightmare. The negotiation phase is when Marcus arrives and has discussions with the hostage-taker. Every second a life could be taken if Marcus says the wrong word, or even raises his voice to a threatening pitch. Humans are not expected to be perfect, but negotiators need to be flawless in every decision they make.

Lindi had pulled up info on Robert Smalls. "He's an ex-Communications Specialist in the Air Force. Afterwards, hired at Executive Security. Their web site has a list of past clients. Bradburn is the only one he protects right now."

"Any problems when Smalls was in the Air Force?"

"None that I can see."

"Google his company name with the word _scam_. Check if Smalls had any unhappy clients."

A few seconds later Lindi said, "Nope. In fact there are some clients that complimented Smalls dedication and professionalism."

Marcus shook his head and gawked at the monitor. "This doesn't make sense." He picked up the phone and hit the green button.

It took several rings before Carl Bradburn answered. "Look, I said I'm done. My lawyer should be there in the next hour."

7:22 p.m.

"We don't have an hour," Marcus complained. "We have eight minutes before another hostage is killed."

"That's disturbing to say the least, but there's nothing I can do."

"We believe that Robert Smalls and his crew are the hostage-takers."

"Impossible!"

"Why is that impossible?"

"Robert doesn't just work for me, he's a good friend."

"Did you have any arguments with him recently?"

"None. In fact he sent me a long email on how much he appreciated my business."

"When's the last time you saw Robert or his crew?"

"It's been about a week."

"What's the last thing you said to him?"

"I told Robert to enjoy his time off."

7:26 p.m.

"Does Robert know the details of your business, or personal accounts?"

"He does not."

"Your company earned two billion last year off the drug Protropin. Is it possible Robert wants that money for some reason? Could anyone have convinced him to-"

"No," Bradburn snapped. "I'll say this for the last time. This has nothing to do with my business."

"Where are you?"

"Getting on plane."

"Going where?"

"None of _your_ business. My lawyer will be the only one to have contact with me. This is the last time you and I will speak."

"That is unacceptable," Marcus spat. "There're employees held hostage in your building."

"It's not my building," Bradburn replied. "I sold the company to Acacia last week before going on vacation. It hasn't been made public yet. No one knows except for Dr. Sedgwick and my corporate attorney. However, I do believe that whoever is holding those poor people hostage doesn't care about the sale of my company, the lawsuit, or anything else. They want money from me personally, not the business."

"Do you have two billion dollars?" Marcus asked.

"Speak with my lawyer." Bradburn hung up.

7:30 p.m.

The red line flashed, followed by the double ring.

### 10

Marcus put on his bulletproof vest and ran outside into the belt of cold night air armed only with the portable phone. He rushed to the glass doors and glared at Smalls.

Five more hostages escorted to the lobby. This time, two of them women. All had hoods with hands bound behind their back. They kneeled, bodies quivering with fear.

In three deliberate motions, Smalls tapped on his watch while holding the phone. He then swayed the Glock back and forth with his other hand, aiming at the hostages.

Marcus didn't move, eyes right with Smalls. A showdown of sorts. Would Smalls actually kill one of these hostages right in front of him?

The answer to that question made clear a second later. Smalls squeezed the trigger and executed the nearest male hostage. The body flopped next to the other two dead bodies.

Three corpses lined up in the lobby, a symbol of how Marcus failed tonight.

Two perps dressed in all black with black masks escorted the remaining four hostages out of the lobby. Smalls held both the gun and phone with a mocking gesture, waving them back and forth. The portable in Marcus's hand buzzed.

He clicked the red button. "I'm going to start initiating an assault."

"If that were true, you wouldn't tell me."

"You had to know at some point we need to stop the killing."

"Twenty-five people have been saved. Forty-four remain in the basement hoping you will follow through with my simple instructions."

"The lives you took are just important as the lives that remain." He studied Smalls, looking for any clue in his beady eyes for a sign of mercy.

Smalls spoke softly into the phone. "You keep stalling. It's not about whether you will follow through with my demands. You simply aren't doing what I ask. That costs lives. There are forty-four people downstairs wondering why the police failed in locating Carl Bradburn. The police failed in transferring one dollar. The police failed in my last request of transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars when Bradburn is worth a couple billion."

Marcus pictured the hostages listening to this conversation. The surviving employees of Bradburn Industries would probably sue the Hillsboro Police Department.

"We're no longer in contact with Carl Bradburn." Marcus continued to look through the glass doors. "Mr. Bradburn sent his lawyer who should be here momentarily."

Smalls cocked his head. "Wow. You really are a fuck up."

"No more killing."

Smalls chuckled. "That will be up to you." He looked at his watch. "8:00 is approaching."

7:41 p.m.

Marcus hung up the phone. As he marched back toward the command post, Harlan and Fletcher met him halfway. Marcus asked, "What's going on?" He did not break stride, so Harlan and Fletcher had to do an about-face to keep up.

Fletcher: "We have Mr. Bradburn's lawyer, Joshua Adler, at the interview trailer. Lindi is questioning him right now."

"Where are the other hostages?"

"After receiving medical attention they will be taken to a hotel. None of them have been released as of yet."

They walked past the Command Trailer and headed toward the interview trailer. "What are they all saying?"

"The same things. Eight hostage-takers. Everyone is in the basement."

"Did you verify the hostages could hear everything over a speaker?"

"Yes. And they said Smalls could hear the other hostage-takers from the lobby."

Just before entering the interview trailer, Harlan spoke. "We found the separate grid for the buildings security system. It works even when the power is off. We can disrupt the grid without setting off the alarms for about thirty seconds. That's more than enough time to get some of my team inside."

Marcus skipped up the three metals stairs of the interview trailer, hand on the door. "What about the HT's? They're security specialists. Maybe they thought about that?"

"They're private security for Carl Bradburn, not for the building," Harlan urged. "Look, Smalls proved that he will kill. We need to be ready."

"I agree," Marcus said. He glanced at Fletcher. "And we should cut the electricity again. What do you think?"

Fletcher shook his head. "If we get a team on the upper floors, undetected, that will put us in a better position. I think it's the right thing to do." He turned to Harlan. "Get it done."

Marcus opened the door and saw Mr. Bradburn's attorney sitting at the table with a laptop and a Blackberry next to it.

"Joshua Adler," the attorney said without looking up. "I have been in touch with my client and ready to help end this hostage situation to the best of my ability."

Marcus studied Adler. He was portly with sunken eyes covered with thick plastic frames and a tuft of gray hair on his dome. Adler looked oddly out of place for a big time attorney, wearing a T-shirt and loose jeans.

Marcus asked, "Do you have the latest account numbers that were demanded by the hostage-taker?"

"I do."

Without saying another word, Marcus turned and exited the trailer.

### 11

7:54 p.m.

" _We are cutting the secondary power to the security in three...two...one._ " Marcus watched the monitor as Harlan gave instructions over the radio. " _Team one, enter building. You have twenty-five more seconds._ "

Smalls jumped up and raced out of the screen.

"Something is wrong," Marcus said on his radio. "Perp one just ran from the lobby. He may know what is-"

Smalls returned with five hostages and forced them to their knees. All had hoods over their heads. Smalls walked behind the first one and fired, killing the hostage.

"Shot's fired!" Fletcher shouted.

Marcus pressed the red button and spoke on the radio at the same time. "They know you are in the building! Pull your men back!"

The phone continued to ring as Smalls killed another hostage.

Fletcher repeated the order. "Harlan! Get your men out!"

Another hostage fell forward, shot by Smalls.

Marcus grabbed the portable, knocked open the door, and ran at full speed to the building. On the radio he heard, " _Negotiator approaching. Hold your fire._ "

As Marcus banged on the glass doors, Smalls killed yet another hostage. Marcus shouted, "We are pulling out! Stop shooting!"

Marcus could see the spiteful eyes of Smalls peering at him through the mask. He walked up to the last remaining hostage in the lobby and fired.

Eight dead.

"Come on in!" Smalls shouted. "Just come through the front door!"

"Pick up the phone!" Marcus pleaded. He lost control of the situation. Sending Harlan's team inside became a mistake that cost five more lives.

Smalls waved his gun. His shouts could barely be heard through the thick glass doors. "I would have given you ten more hostages. Instead, you are stalling me! You cannot complete the simplest of tasks! You lack the ability to help these people!"

Fletcher spoke to Marcus on the radio. " _It's your call, Marcus. Eight hostages have been killed._ "

Marcus clicked his radio. "Stand down." He knew Smalls made a valid point. All eight hostages were killed because they tried to delay the HT's demands and then infiltrated the building. None of this had been necessary.

Thirty-nine hostages still alive. Marcus wanted every one of them to be saved.

He locked eyes with Smalls and pointed to the phone. "Talk to me."

Smalls' chest inflated like a balloon, rising and falling at a rapid pace. His gloved fingers twitched, shaking the Glock. After a few seconds of deliberation he stepped over the dead bodies, plopped down on the chair and picked up the phone. "Why shouldn't I have the rest of the hostages killed? Give me a good reason."

Most of the hostage negotiating rules and tactics had failed up to this point. Marcus figured that if he broke another rule to better formulate a relationship with Smalls, it wouldn't matter. "Because you're right," Marcus said with a steady voice. "We've been stalling. It cost lives. We found a secondary security line that could be disrupted just long enough for our team to enter the building. You must have been ready for that and now hostages have been executed. I've screwed up, dancing all around the negotiators manual and eight people are dead because of what I've done. So now I'm ready to listen and save the rest of those people in the basement. What do you want?"

Smalls didn't answer right away. He looked at his watch. "It's 8:13. We're past another deadline. I want the money transferred from those two accounts by 8:30."

"I'll speak with Mr. Bradburn's attorney and work on that right now." Marcus eyed the dead bodies. "Can we have access to remove-"

"No!" Smalls hung up the phone and continued sitting in the chair, gazing at the front doors like a king on his throne.

Marcus clicked his radio as he marched away from the building. "No one goes near the building without my command. No one shoots or even breathes without hearing from me first. We have thirty-nine more hostages to save. We will do nothing to jeopardize their lives." He hurried inside the Command Trailer and said to Fletcher, "I want to interview one of the freed hostages myself. I don't care which one, just somebody who isn't so freaked out." He looked at Lindi. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. What kind of phone Smalls is using wasn't worth me acting like that."

"No problem," Lindi said, shying her eyes away.

"Okay. Thirty-nine more hostages. Let's get back to work."

### 12

8:22 p.m.

At the interview trailer Marcus sat down and scooted the chair close to the table. "Is Mr. Bradburn willing to transfer the money from those two accounts?"

Adler moved his head away from the laptop so he could get a better look at Marcus. "Mr. Bradburn has relinquished all decisions to me. So your question should be phrased, 'Are _you_ willing to transfer the money from those two accounts?'"

Marcus took a moment to calm his emotions. "Where is Mr. Bradburn at the moment?"

"On his plane heading back home."

8:24 p.m.

"How long will it take for you to transfer the money?"

Adler returned his attention to the laptop and gazed at the screen. "Thirty-seconds," he finally said. "However, I'm assuming that the hostage-taker has setup an off-shore account and is moving the money without trace. Which also leads me to believe that Mr. Bradburn will never be reimbursed."

"Unless he has hostage insurance."

Adler poked his head above the laptop. "That some sort of sick joke?"

"Actually, I'm being serious."

Adler's sunken eyes fluttered back to the screen. Marcus could see the reflection of numbers in Adler's glasses. "This money I'm about to give away are in Gibby and Theresa Bradburn's accounts. It is funds put away for his daughters when they turn twenty-five. Mr. Bradburn adds a little each year."

8:28 p.m.

"We didn't have time to discuss the moral issues of this decision. Are you willing to transfer the money or not?"

"Just tell me when," Adler said, finger on the ENTER key.

"Do it."

Adler hit ENTER. Thirty seconds later he said, "Both accounts are clear."

Marcus's radio chirped. " _Five hostages are being released. Actually, make that ten._ "

Marcus sprung from the chair and left without thanking Adler. The portable phone blinked and rang as he entered the Command Trailer. Marcus refrained from answering. He said to Lindi, "Set up the green line to Mr. Adler's phone."

"Will do," Lindi replied.

Marcus put down the portable and clicked the red button on the secured phone. "This is Cane."

"Well done," Smalls said. "Ready for phase three?"

"I am."

"What about your team? Are they ready?"

"You are wondering if I'm still in control."

"I am."

"The answer is yes. You know how this works. The tough guys want to go in and kill the hostage-takers. I try to stop them and save everyone instead."

"I'm surprised."

"How so?"

"Eight are dead. What's the magic number before you commence with a full assault?"

"No magic number. In fact, it isn't worth discussing. You aren't killing any more people and we aren't planning an assault."

"I'm thinking that once we get down to about five hostages you may let the big boys come in and take us out."

"Not true. Whether you have fifty hostages or five, I want everyone to live. In fact, I don't want anyone injured."

Smalls sighed. "Okay, I suppose there's hope for us to get this done."

"I agree." Marcus sat down. "It's getting cold outside. Maybe you need some blankets."

"We have plenty of food, water, medical supplies, blankets, and even some nice cots for the hostages to sleep in. Everyone is going to the bathroom. We have the hardcopy personnel files of the remaining hostages. None of them has any serious condition that will prevent us from finishing this without a hitch. Everything comes down to your response of what I ask."

"There's something that concerns me."

"How am I planning to escape? I haven't asked for a bus, plane, or anything else. I've murdered eight people and will certainly spend the rest of my life in prison. I must have some sort of exit strategy in mind."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Will we end this peacefully?"

"Just so I get what I want. Twenty-nine hostages remaining. Let's get them out."

"I agree. What's next?"

"Account number: 551093982. I need this done by 9:00." Smalls hung up.

Marcus pointed to the green button and asked Lindi, "Are we setup?"

"Yes," Lindi replied. "And we have a released hostage shivering outside the door with an officer. Do you want her to come in?"

"Give her some hot chocolate. I'll be just a minute."

Lindi stood up, then sat back down. "Do we have hot chocolate?"

Fletcher chuckled. "He's joking."

"Oh," Lindi said with embarrassment.

### 13

8:51 p.m.

Marcus pressed the green button. Adler didn't pick up until the fourth ring. "You need to be more ready," Marcus huffed. "Keep that phone near you and answer."

"My apologizes. I was speaking with Mr. Bradburn and giving him an update."

"Is he still in the air?"

"No. Just landed and heading with his family to the house."

"What about security?"

"Mr. Bradburn wants his own personal security and no one else."

"His personal security is missing. We also believe they're inside the building holding the employees of Bradburn Industries hostage."

"Neither Mr. Bradburn nor I believe his private security are involved."

Marcus blew out a frustrated burst of air. "Okay, we're on a tight schedule. The next deadline is 9:00, which is eight minutes away."

"What is the request?"

"Another transfer."

"The account number?"

"551093982."

Marcus could hear Adler clicking the keys. "That's Alicia Bradburn's personal spending account. To answer your next question, there's over a million dollars in that account. And to answer the following question, I am willing to transfer only half that amount."

"That won't be good enough," Marcus protested. "Smalls has already proven that anything less than what he demands will cost lives. I need you to transfer the entire amount."

"What happened to never negotiating with hostages? It seems to me that you're-"

"Mr. Adler! Don't even think of telling me my job. Twenty-nine more lives can be saved. Are you willing to transfer the funds?"

"How much more money will it cost to save all these people? Where will it end?"

8:56 p.m.

"I understand your concern," Marcus said.

"I'm afraid this will get to a point where I'll be forced to say no. What will happen when we arrive there? Do you have a plan?"

"Yes we do. _When_ we can no longer negotiate with the hostage-takers and no longer save the lives of the remaining hostages, we'll enter the building with a full assault and do the best we can."

"I am not telling you how to handle this, but negotiating involves coming to some sort of agreement through conversation. It also involves going under, over, or through a problem to find a solution. What _is_ the solution? To get the hostages out no matter how much money is paid? Or to draw the line at some point and not give in to those bastards? I need to know."

"My first priority is to get the hostages."

"Is it?"

8:59 p.m.

Fletcher tapped his watch.

In some ways Marcus felt this damn lawyer fought harder than Smalls. "We tried prolonging the situation, but that plan failed. If I can give the hostage-takers a few of their requests without delay then I may be able to negotiate on an even level."

"I'll transfer the funds. However, before another penny is taken from the Bradburn's, I'll need a full and complete update on what solution you hope to obtain and how that solution will be negotiated." Adler grunted. It sounded more of a purposeful gesture, rather than a reflex. "Okay. The funds from Mrs. Bradburn's account have been transferred."

9:00 p.m.

"Thank you." Marcus gazed at the monitor as ten more hostages fled the building.

### 14

"I need some time alone with the woman outside," Marcus said to Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi. None of them liked being ordered out of a room, but they would enjoy a few minutes in the fresh air and stretch their legs. Fletcher could suck down a couple cancer sticks while waiting.

An officer escorted one of the freed hostages inside, handed Marcus a manila folder, and left the room. Marcus poured two cups of coffee, placed them on the table, and they sat down. He positioned his notepad on the left, folder on the right.

Pamela Nystrom, a receptionist in the Human Resource Department at Bradburn Industries had maroon rings around her eyes, pale skin, and blonde hair tangled with chaotic strands.

"My name is Marcus Cane."

"Why me?" she asked, sipping the coffee. "Why was I chosen to come here and be questioned for a second time?"

"You're one of the latest to be freed, so you have the latest information on what's going on inside. Other than that, the officer chose you at random."

"Just my luck," she said under her breath.

"I assume they've already given you a list of the employees we believed to be in there. So far, we confirmed seventy-two. We have been told there are eight hostage-takers and the leader goes by the name, Smalls. Is that your understanding?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear the hostage-takers use any other names?"

"No."

Marcus realized he needed to ask Pamela open-ended questions. "What are the hostage-takers wearing?"

"All black. Masks, gloves, even their boots."

"What weapons are they using?"

"I'm not sure."

"Handguns? Rifles? Knifes?"

"Handguns."

"How did they treat you?"

"It was terrifying." Her fingers quivered as she took another sip of coffee. "Under the circumstances, they treated us pretty good."

"How do you mean?"

"We were permitted to use the bathroom. Some of the people who fell down the stairs during the initial attack were given first aid. They brought down food from the cafeteria. They even gave us cots and blankets when the basement turned cold."

9:34 p.m.

Marcus noticed that Smalls hadn't called him yet. "You could hear the lead hostage-taker talking to me on the phone?"

Pamela glared at him. "We could hear everything. Including the assassinations of our fellow employees."

"Do you think I am doing a good job?"

Her gaze softened. "Excuse me?"

"Do you think that I could have done things better up until now?"

"Are you trying to justify the deaths of eight people?"

"Actually, yes I am. It sounds to me as if the hostage-takers did everything possible to make sure the employees are comfortable despite the situation. Meanwhile, you are listening to a hostage negotiator stall, which cost lives."

"I'm assuming your number one rule is not to negotiate with kidnappers."

"Actually, that's not the number one rule."

"What is?"

"Prolong the situation."

Pamela shook her head. "And what about the hostages?"

"That's rule number two; keeping the hostages safe the best I can."

"Well then, if you're doing your job, then I suppose you'll have a clear conscience when this is all over." She pushed her cup to the side. "You didn't hold us at gunpoint. You didn't kill those eight people. It was the bastards inside."

"Should I have given into them sooner?"

Pamela smacked her hand on the table, almost spilling both coffees. "What the hell do you want me to say? You're wonderful? You're the finest negotiator ever? Despite the deaths of eight people, along with the fact this isn't over yet, you're doing your best?"

Marcus purposely lowered his voice, hoping that Pamela would mirror his actions, no different from how he treated the hostage-takers. "The reason I'm asking is because I need to know how the others are feeling inside. If they're under the impression that the police have control of the situation and they will eventually be released without harm that is one thing. But if the remaining employees feel that the police have lost control of the situation, they may attempt something drastic. I need to know the emotions of both the hostage-takers and the hostages."

Pamela took a moment to rub her eyes. "I can't speak for everyone, but I suppose things could've been handled a little differently. From what I heard over the speaker, you couldn't locate Mr. Bradburn, which caused problems. You hesitated in transferring a dollar, which caused problems. You entered the building, which caused problems. I know that you are following the _Negotiators_ _Police Manual_ , but in this case, it didn't work."

"I agree with you," Marcus said. "It didn't work."

"Not all of this is your fault." Pamela eased her coffee cup back and took a healthy sip. "The eight people that had been killed were troublemakers."

"What do you mean?"

9:43 p.m.

"They argued with the kidnapper. They wouldn't keep their big mouths shut. In some ways they practically committed suicide with their actions."

"During your initial interview, did you give the names of the eight who were murdered?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

Pamela held the Styrofoam cup in the palms of her hands. Her eyes instantly went distant, thinking about the people who came to work today and ended up dead. "Dr. Sedgwick," she said, her voice soft.

"The co-founder of Bradburn Industries?"

"Yes. Also there was Yongsoo Chung, who worked directly under Dr. Sedgwick."

Marcus wrote down their names and titles. "Go on."

"Megan Smoy, the slut-bitch that was Mr. Bradburn's personal assistant." Marcus looked up from his notes. Before he could say anything, Pamela continued. "Mr. Malone, Vice President of the company. Jason Zimmer, Research Manager. Darnell Browning, head of building security. Mike Harten, Chief Financial Officer. And Deshi Lung, Vice President of Foreign Operations."

"Is Deshi a man or woman?"

"Woman."

Marcus scanned over the titles. Everyone killed had an important leadership role in the company. Even Bradburn's assistant who worked for the most powerful man in the corporation could be considered influential.

Pamela flinched when the portable phone flashed red and chirped twice. "What is that?"

"The hostage-taker is calling me." They both stood up. Marcus shook her hand. "Thank you for your time. Be well."

Pamela walked to the door and stopped. She turned and said to Marcus, "I'm sure when a really tough decision has to be made, you'll do the right thing." She opened the door and hurried outside.

Marcus held the phone, finger on the red button, wondering what Pamela meant.

Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi returned. He pressed the red button. "This is Cane."

"I want to see you inside. No radio, no wires, no hidden camera. Just you."

"Can I bring my gun?"

"Funny," Smalls replied. "You have three minutes."

### 15

Marcus pulled his negotiator windbreaker over his vest. He then waited as Fletcher instructed the team. Fletcher would assume all of Marcus's duties until he returned from the building.

"Harlan," Marcus said with a stern voice. "I'll be in there with my pants around my ankles, unable to protect myself."

"I understand," Harlan replied with a cold snap. "And I do follow orders. Whatever Fletcher tells me to do, that's the law."

Marcus shook his head, agreeing. He handed Fletcher the secured phone. "Give me fifteen minutes. If I'm not back, call."

"Will do," Fletcher said. "You don't have to go in there."

Marcus didn't respond. An HT never invited the negotiator inside. Nevertheless, this could be considered a calculated risk. Smalls may feel comfortable with Marcus and want to make a deal without others listening. Also, Smalls would force Marcus to make a decision alone and without advice from the Situation Commander, Senior Tactical Operations Commander, or the Tactical Advisor.

The crisp night air gave Marcus a burst of energy. His longest negotiation ever lasted twenty-eight hours and up until today only four hostages total had been killed. Conversely, Marcus lost eight hostages in this one negotiation, doubling his previous casualty total.

The helicopter above had its spotlight on him. Marcus could feel the hundreds of eyes from police and S.W.A.T. More officers arrived from other districts, doubling the manpower. As the night dragged on he could also sense the first stages of everyone wearing down. Their muscles would tighten, eyes water, and mind become fogged with wandering thoughts. For this reason the negotiator has the most important job and it's why the negotiator has final word, even over the acting Situation Commander. The officers would become trigger happy, wanting to just kill the hostages-takers and go home. Marcus's had to be the voice of reason.

As the front door opened, Marcus saw four HT's dressed in black. Two of them had Glock's aimed at his chest. The third patted Marcus down and searched him thoroughly.

The fourth HT approached.

Smalls.

His tired eyes peered through the mask. "I want to get rid of the dead bodies. Have one of your officers back an ambulance to the front door."

Marcus kept his hands outward so not to seem a threat. He turned with a slow motion and spoke to the closest S.W.A.T. member. "What's your name?"

"Officer Timothy Johnston."

Six ambulances remained on site. The paramedics had been busy giving the released hostages medical attention. "I need you to back up one of the ambulances to the front door. Do this now."

Officer Johnston clicked his shoulder radio and relayed the information to Commander Fletcher. Johnston made the right decision since Marcus temporarily could not make decisions. Johnston then handed his weapon to the S.W.A.T. officer next to him and hurried to the nearest ambulance. He backed it to the building, moving at a snails pace.

"Open the doors," Smalls said.

Marcus eased open the doors as Johnston slid open the bulkhead door up front. "Shut that and stay in your seat," Marcus ordered. Johnston complied.

Smalls and one other HT loaded the dead bodies like bags of mulch into the back of the ambulance. Meanwhile, the other two hostage-takers kept their guns pointed at Marcus.

When the last of the eight bodies had been loaded, Marcus shut the door and banged on it twice. Johnston pulled away.

"Now come inside," Smalls ordered. "Put your hands down."

9:58 p.m.

Marcus walked in the lobby, lit only by the police spotlights. The blood on the marble floor seemed like evil shadows reminding Marcus of their failures.

"I want to see the hostages," Marcus requested. "Just to make sure there're no other injuries." Marcus also wanted to know how difficult a full-blown assault would be if he decided to give the order later tonight.

"This way," Smalls said. The other three hostage-takers remained in the lobby. Smalls kept his Glock in one hand, an access card in the other. Thick globs of darkness separated each turn in the hallways and from door-to-door. Marcus noticed that the access card Smalls used belonged to Donny Malone, the Senior Vice President of Bradburn Industries.

What seemed like a maze, Smalls continued to open doors while swiping the card. Marcus figured the backup lights on the doors had to be linked to the secondary security grid. So even if all power and electricity had been lost, the building would remain secure. When Harlan previously shut off the secondary grid, the lights went off and the security access on the doors did not work. That's how Smalls knew they had entered the building. In addition, Smalls must have been ready for this and had hostages near the lobby.

The perplexing journey continued from the lobby, between the dimly lit network of hallways along with several doors to choose from and two different stairwells.

Smalls led the way, but he didn't keep his back to Marcus. Instead, he walked with sort of a sideways motion.

They reached the final door with a thin set of stairs that led downward, steep enough that Marcus had to be careful not to lose his balance.

As they entered the basement, Marcus knew that an assault would be impossible. By the time Harlan's team made it down here, the hostage-takers would have killed everyone. Also, the hostage-takers could hide just about anywhere and pick off the tactical team one-by-one.

Filing cabinets and plastic bins cluttered against the walls. A faint glow from six emergency lights partially illuminated the area. Fifty cots lined in the center of the basement with empty water bottles and food wrappers on the floor.

Marcus counted nineteen hostages.

Only one had been tied up, both wrists and ankles bound with a black hood over his head.

### 16

10:09 p.m.

"Who is that?" Marcus asked.

"The next dead hostage if things don't go right," Smalls replied. "Also, he's been a pain in our ass so I hope we get the chance to kill him."

Marcus saw four other hostage-takers, all holding Glocks. Like Smalls and the other three upstairs, they dressed head-to-toe in black. Two of them stood in the outer perimeter of the room. The other two ate sandwiches and didn't pay attention to Marcus.

"Let me take the pain-in-the-ass hostage out of here," Marcus suggested. He remembered what Pamela said about some of the hostages not keeping their mouth shut. If Marcus removed a troublemaker, then Smalls may hesitate in killing.

"I need to speak with you privately," Smalls said, ignoring the request. "There's an office over here."

As he led the way, Marcus scanned the shadowed faces of the hostages. Most of them seemed composed considering their circumstances.

Smalls opened the door to an office, just big enough for a desk and chair, nothing more. After entering, Smalls shut the door and sat on the edge of the desk. He pointed to the floor. "Sit down."

This demeaning pretense would show Marcus who's boss. Despite this display of control, he complied and slid down the wall to the floor. "What now?" Marcus asked.

"We talk about how this will all end."

10:15 p.m.

"That sounds like a great-"

The door swung open. "A Commander Fletcher is on the phone," the HT said. "He wants to know if Marcus is safe."

Smalls let out a huff. "We're in the middle of something."

Marcus looked up. "Tell Commander Fletcher these exact words: Everything is _good_ with Marcus Cane."

The HT looked at Smalls for verification. "Do it," he ordered. The HT turned and shut the door. Smalls brought his focus on Marcus, eyes studying his opponent from the mask. "Was that some sort of code?"

"Yes," Marcus admitted. " _Good_ means give me thirty more minutes and check back. If I said _fine_ , then it meant I'm in trouble." Marcus became uncomfortable on the floor. He stretched his legs forward and said, "So how can we end this?"

"It's about to get a little personal," Smalls said, aiming the gun at Marcus. "Just stay calm and listen to what I have to say."

### 17

"What I'm about to tell you stays between us," Smalls said in a low voice. He rested the gun on his lap, finger on the trigger guard. He remained on the edge of the desk high above Marcus like a gargoyle. "Everything I say in this room must be kept a secret the rest of your life."

"Okay, what do you want to tell me?"

"In phase four, I'll ask for the transfer of the Bradburn checking account. There's not as much money in there as you would think; just under $500,000."

"How do you know?"

"Because I looked," Smalls replied.

10:21 p.m.

Marcus could almost see him smile through his mask. "And you are suggesting that you don't want me to tell anyone that you'll demand the transfer of that account _before_ you request it from me?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"I'll explain later." Smalls slid up farther on the desk, his feet dangling a few inches from the floor. "After the $500,000 is transferred, I'll release four hostages. In phase five, I'll demand the transfer of the Bradburn savings account by midnight. The lawyer who's now making the decisions will most likely hesitate. What's his name?"

"Adler," Marcus replied. "Why would he hesitate?"

"Because, there's over $1.6 million in that account. He may agree to a smaller amount. Either way, let this play out past the midnight deadline. I'll have the pain-in-the-ass hostage brought to the lobby and I'll shoot him."

Marcus felt his muscles squeeze together. He wanted to stand. Never before had he listened to a hostage-taker give this kind of information. Marcus wanted to be eye level and be toe-to-toe with this bastard, but he remained in his spot on the floor. "What if Adler agrees to send all the money right away?"

"I'll kill the hostage anyway. Sorry, he has to go." Smalls rubbed his finger along the barrel. "When the full amount is transferred and I've killed that hostage, I will release six more people."

Marcus did the quick math in his head: four minus one dead, minus six released employees, equals eight hostages remaining. At that point, of the seventy-two original hostages, Marcus would have saved fifty-five. It almost justified the loss of eight hostages, plus one more. However, Marcus would try to save everyone, but not tell Smalls that. Instead, he would just agree and let Smalls keep talking.

"How do I get the rest of you out safely?" Marcus included both hostages and hostage-takers in that statement.

"This next part will be difficult," Smalls said. "Sometime after midnight, a mystery guest will arrive on the scene. I'll request that you let him enter the building. In exchange, I'll give you another hostage. Your superiors will object, but you need to devise a way to let him in."

"And if I can't?"

Smalls jumped off the desk and gripped the gun. "I don't want to hear the word, _can't_. You find a way to get that done. If you don't, then you might as well send the tough guys in and try to take me out, because I'll kill everyone that's left, along with as many officers as possible before they get to me. Is that understood?"

With caution, Marcus raised his hand. "Stay calm. I understand."

"Good. May I continue?"

"Yes."

10:25 p.m.

Smalls sat back down, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. "I just need ten minutes with our mystery guest and then I'll release him, unharmed. Fifteen minutes after his release, the remaining hostages will overtake us. All eight hostage-takers will be killed." Smalls cocked his head. "Just like that, it'll all be over."

### 18

Marcus's mouth went dry. "Did you just say that the hostages will overtake you, killing you and your team?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. And remember, no one can be aware that this is going to happen. You have to play along as if you didn't know. I just need you to orchestrate things on the outside to make sure this goes smoothly."

Marcus chose his words carefully, not wanting to cause another flare up by Smalls. "I suppose the most important question I have right now is-"

"Why would you agree to such a request?" Smalls said. "Because, you're personally involved."

"Meaning?"

"You have a sister named Trudy that lives in Tulsa with your nephew, Aiden."

Marcus stood up, his heart thundering against his chest. "What do they-"

"Relax," Smalls said, tapping the trigger of the gun. "Trudy's jackass husband left her. He didn't divorce your sister, just up and left. He makes $75,000 a year and is screwing some other woman, but hasn't sent any money for his wife and child. Meanwhile, the house is about to go in foreclosure, bills are piling up, and your sister is praying for a miracle.

"Today, her prayers had been answered. $500,000 in cash had been placed in her living room along with a note that said, 'Do not tell anyone where you got this money. Use it to save yourself. Keep it in a safety deposit box and take whenever you need it. I love you so much...Marcus.'"

"You sent my sister money?" It seemed the small office had shrunk and dissolved the air.

"Yes," Smalls replied. "Not only that, but I've helped you with your mother in Tallahassee. She's living in the house that you and your sister grew up. The home your father died in. The house your mother cherishes, but cannot afford. You've been sending in the payments, struggling in your efforts so your mother would not have to move. Yesterday, a cashier's check along with the payment stub had been sent to the mortgage company which paid the house off in full. The payment was sent from your address with your name on it."

Marcus's heart banged so hard against his chest he began to lose grip with reality. The office became distorted as sweat poured down his face. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm not done," Smalls said. "Are you married?"

"None of your business," Marcus replied, wiping the sweat from his cheeks.

"There're photographs in your closet of a beautiful woman. My favorite is a picture that you put in a gold frame. Also in the closet are what appeared to be the woman's possessions."

"She died," Marcus said. "Six years ago of cancer."

"That's unfortunate. What was her name?"

Marcus hesitated. "Olivia."

"That's nice. Did you call her Olive for short?"

"No, I called her Olivia."

Smalls let out a chortle. "Maybe someday you'll take that picture of your deceased wife and put it on your nightstand where it belongs instead of burying her like that closet is a grave."

"What is your point?"

"I left two duffle bags inside the closet with Olivia's possessions, each filled with $500,000 in cash."

"I can't accept your money. You know that."

Smalls folded his arms. "Being a negotiator is like arranging a business deal. The transaction you're putting together is _hope_. The police hope to resolve the circumstances peacefully. The hostages hope to be released. The hostage-takers hope to receive their demands." Smalls paused, gawking at Marcus through his mask. "Instead of being the one who organizes all this, you can assure your own hope. Trudy, your mother, even you, has been given a chance to not only survive, but to live with that same hope you generate in your job."

"We cannot take your money," Marcus said again. "You have to understand that."

"Imagine Trudy's face when she opened a duffle bag full of cash. And now, you want to take that away from her?"

"It's wrong."

"What isn't wrong in this world?" Smalls' voice rose. "I'll be dead in a few hours, along with the other hostage-takers. You'll have a chance to be a hero, both here, and with your family. If that's wrong, then what's right?"

10:31 p.m.

Marcus eyed the door. He needed to get away from this office, leave the building, and breathe fresh air. "I have to go," he said. "They will be wondering what we spoke about for so long."

"Just tell them you are close to negotiating an end to this hostage situation."

"I'll need a hostage to go out with me."

Smalls chuckled. "You're always thinking, aren't you? Okay, fine, you choose someone, just not the asshole with the hood."

Marcus stood and opened the door. He could barely see the faces of the hostages scattered about the room. Some of them seemed more nervous than when he first arrived. He looked for a woman.

"Over there," Marcus said, pointing to a young lady sitting on a cot. "Let me take her."

"Get her," Smalls replied.

Without warning, Smalls grabbed Marcus by the arm, pressing the barrel of the gun on his temple. He then whispered in Marcus's ear. "Just remember to keep your mouth shut about what we discussed. I'll shoot everyone if you don't. And don't call your sister or mother. The police monitor all cell phone activity in the area. You'll have a tough time explaining why you called your sister just after you've spoken to the hostage-taker."

"I won't say a word," Marcus said. "Now get that gun out of my face."

"Go," Smalls said, releasing Marcus.

One of the other HT's led Marcus and the female hostage back upstairs, through the doors, into the lobby, and outside. Marcus held onto the woman's arm, comforted by the fresh air.

Although he didn't agree to anything, Marcus felt as if he just made a deal with the devil.

### 19

10:39 p.m.

Officers met the released hostage and escorted her to the nearest ambulance. She would be questioned and receive additional medical attention at the hospital, or taken to the hotel with the other employees.

As Marcus entered the Command Trailer his mind blurred into a fog. Fletcher approached, putting a consoling hand on Marcus's shoulder. "You look a little freaked. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Marcus replied. He had to tell Fletcher exactly what happened with Smalls and include their entire conversation. Unfortunately, all Marcus could think about was his sister and mother. He plopped into a chair, ready to give the team his latest report. Marcus became apprehensive to hear the next words from his own mouth. His life could spin in either direction based on the following update. "Well, we freed another hostage. Only eighteen remaining."

Fletcher: "What took so long in there? All that time for one hostage?"

For some reason the statement offended Marcus. "Yes, all that time for one hostage. I would've stayed in there longer to get that woman out."

Fletcher raised his hands in defense. "No need to fire back at me like that. I just want to know what happened. How's the mood of Smalls? Do you feel like this is heading toward a peaceful ending?"

Marcus waited as Lindi poured each of them a cup of coffee. He gazed into the blackness of the liquid. There had been intruders in his home. They shuffled through his deceased wife's possessions. They entered his sister's house. They may have walked into his nephew's bedroom.

Everyone stared at Marcus. He blinked until his vision came back into focus. "I believe we can save most of the hostages before dawn."

Harlan: " _Most_? Why can't we save all of them?"

Marcus: "Because, they have a hostage who's pissed them off. He'll be next if we don't give into their demands."

Fletcher: "What are their most recent demands?"

The moment had arrived. Marcus had to come clean or go along with Smalls request. "I don't know yet. He'll call soon."

Lindi: "Then how do you know that you can successfully negotiate this situation toward a peaceful ending?"

Marcus: "I just know. A feeling we negotiators get. You wouldn't understand."

Lindi sprouted from her chair. "I'm not some female bimbo assistant! My advice on the emotions of the situation, along with my tactical opinions, provides you with the _intelligence_ to make the correct decisions."

Fletcher pointed to the seat. "Sit down," he said to Lindi. Fletcher glared at Marcus. "You're holding back on us. What the hell's going on?"

10:45 p.m.

Marcus had to come up with something quick. Thank goodness, thinking on his feet is what he did for a living. "Just before coming here, I got a call from my sister. She's having problems and I didn't have time to find out if she was okay."

Lindi: "Jesus, Marcus. Is your head right?"

Marcus didn't make eye contact. "Actually, it's not."

Harlan smacked his hands together in a sarcastic gesture. "That's just terrific."

Fletcher leaned toward Marcus. "Do you want to take a minute and call your sister?"

"Yes," Marcus replied. "That would help."

"Then do that now." Fletcher turned to Lindi. "Make sure you log in Marcus's cell and the time, since we're monitoring all calls."

Lindi did not move. "We need to keep working." She then glared at Marcus. "And we need a negotiator that is focused on the job."

"Just log in the call," Fletcher snapped. "And Marcus. Get outside, call your sister, then come back in here."

Marcus didn't hesitate. He flew up from his chair, grabbed his cell phone from the tray, turned the power on, and hurried outside. He jumped past the three steps and dialed his sister.

She answered on the third ring. "Marcus?" Trudy asked; her voice soft, almost unrecognizable.

"I'm working, but just wanted to see how you're doing?"

"I fell asleep for the first time in months."

"Damn. Sorry to wake you."

"No, I'm glad you called. Thank you so much for everything. I'll never forget what you did."

Marcus gripped the cell phone, wanting to confirm she actually received the money. If she received $500,000, then he already decided that it couldn't be taken away from her. Marcus would go to prison before hurting his sister that way. "So you got the thing?"

"Yes. I know you said we shouldn't talk about it," she began to whimper. "But you saved my life...and Aiden's life. How did you-"

"You're welcome," Marcus replied. He couldn't talk to her about this over the phone. "I'll call you when I can."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too." Marcus quickly shut the power off on his cell. "Smalls told the truth," he whispered to himself.

10:53 p.m.

The trailer door opened. Lindi poked her head out. "He's calling."

Marcus jogged back up the stairs and went inside. He picked up the phone and hit the red button. "This is Cane."

"You ready to move forward," Smalls asked.

"I'm ready."

"Account number: 993965714. Your deadline is 11:00."

Marcus looked at his watch. "That is six minutes away. Can I have-"

Smalls hung up.

Marcus hit the green button. Adler barely said hello when Marcus told him the account number: "993965714. We have six minutes."

A moment after clicking his keyboard, Adler said, "That is the Bradburn's personal checking account."

"How much money?"

"$495,567."

"Are you willing to make that transfer?"

"Yes. The full amount is insured."

"Then do it."

It took about thirty seconds. "Okay, done."

"Thank you," Marcus said. He looked up at the monitor. Four hostages exited the building.

So far, Smalls kept his end of the bargain.

### 20

Fifty hostages released, eight killed, fourteen remaining.

As Marcus, Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi discussed their next course of action; Marcus now thought about two upcoming situations.

First, the hostage in the hood would be killed.

Second, a mystery guest would soon arrive.

Lindi cleared her throat. "Describe Smalls' emotions as you spoke to him?"

Marcus felt the guilt swarm across his face. He hoped that no one noticed. "For the most part, calm. The only time he began to lose his temper is when I didn't fully agree on what he said."

Lindi: "Give me an example."

Marcus screwed up. He should have just stuck with _calm_ and left it alone. "Instead of the woman hostage, I wanted to take the bound man with a hood over his head. The odds of that hostage being killed over the woman are greater."

11:09 p.m.

Harlan: "What about tactical? How slim is our chance?"

Marcus: "Very slim." He used his finger on the building map as a visual. "Each of these doors are secured. There're two options to gain access to the hallways. You'll need to retrieve a security card, or blow each door. If everything goes right, it would take at least four or five minutes to reach the basement. The basement steps are much narrower than these schematics are showing. The Tactical Team would have to go down one at a time. Also, the steps are practically vertical. There is a good chance someone would fall."

Harlan: "Okay that's option one. We need other ideas, no matter how extreme."

Fletcher: "I agree. What about the vents?"

Marcus: "It's hard to tell, but once again, you're sending one officer in at a time. They can be picked off during entry." Marcus studied the map. "The only other option is through the upstairs room. You'd have to blow the outside window, enter, then quickly blow a hole in the floor big enough for several officers to enter at the same time."

Harlan: "No matter what we do the seven hostage-takers in the basement will be alerted. Even if we gained entry in less than four minutes that is plenty of time to kill everyone and wait for the assault."

Lindi: "Actually, there's another option." Everyone looked at her. "It's a risk, but doable."

Fletcher: "Spill it."

Lindi: "You make the assault through the front lobby doors and take out Smalls."

Harlan: "And?"

Lindi: "Well, that's it."

Fletcher: "Are you on crack?"

Marcus: "Actually, I understand. You cut the head off the snake, creating chaos with the body."

Fletcher: "Are you saying that the remaining hostage-takers won't retaliate?"

Lindi: "Think about it. Smalls is the only one that has done the killing. There may be a reason for that. Once he's dead, the other seven hostages-takers might give up."

Harlan: "As much as I hate that idea, it's our best so far."

Fletcher: "I suppose it's no more of a risk than any of our other assault plans." He made eye contact with each of them. "Let's just hope Marcus can talk them out and we won't need to take the risk."

The secured phone beeped twice.

Marcus stood up and answered. "This is Cane."

"Phase five, Candy Cane. We're almost done."

"What's your demand?"

"Account number: 320334798. The deadline is midnight."

"I'll pass along your request."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've given you too much already and my superior commander is going to put a stop to it. We need to end this right now."

"That sounded like an ultimatum. You've saved fifty hostages. Aren't you concerned about the other fourteen?"

"Of course I am. And believe it or not, I want you and the other hostage-takers out safely as well."

"But you're done giving into my demands?"

"I clearly said I'll pass on your request to my superior-"

"I'm going to kill someone in the next thirty seconds unless you give me a reason not to splatter his brains."

"Look, I'm not denying you anything, it's just-"

"Twenty seconds."

"Calm down."

"Fifteen...fourteen...thirteen..."

Marcus saw on the monitor that the man with a hood shoved into the lobby and positioned in front of the chair. Smalls pointed the Glock at the hostage and held the phone with the other hand. Marcus knew this guy would be killed anyway, but if something went wrong with the transfer, Smalls may kill an extra hostage.

"I'll comply with your request."

"Very good," Smalls said. A moment later, the hooded man had been dragged away. "Get this done by midnight and I'll release six more hostages."

11:16 p.m.

Marcus hung up and pressed the green button.

Fletcher asked, "Why did you push him?"

"Because, I wanted to know how far he _can_ be pushed." Adler answered the phone. "320334798."

Adler sighed. "That is quite impossible."

"Why?"

"There's over $1.6 million in that account. My job is done. I'm leaving."

### 21

Marcus thrust open the door to the interview trailer and saw Adler packing up his laptop. "I did not say you can leave yet!"

Adler shoved the laptop in his briefcase. "Are you detaining me against my will? If so, should I join the others inside the building?"

"Don't be a smartass," Marcus said, shutting the door. "We need to at least discuss the transfer of money."

Adler raised one of his bushy gray eyebrows. "What's there to discuss? I'll transfer $500,000, but that's it. The rest would be a loss for Mr. Bradburn."

"The hostage-taker agreed to free six more people."

"I'm sorry if your job is difficult. I suppose it is easier for you to just give those bastards money that isn't yours, free the hostages, and become the hero. Meanwhile, Mr. Bradburn has to suffer."

That statement did not offend Marcus, since Adler spoke the truth. "I'm sorry," Marcus said, plopping down on a chair. "Just give me a second to think."

Adler sighed and returned to his seat. "Let's say I transferred the money and they free six more hostages. How many would remain?"

"Eight."

"What will the hostage-taker do with those eight?"

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Will they negotiate their escape, or will the hostage-takers ask for more money? Specifically, will they want two billion?"

"I'm not sure. But I think the ultimate goal is the two billion."

"How many hostages will they release then? If they gave up six for a million, how many would they release for a couple billion?"

Marcus thought about that, still envisioning the hooded man's assassination and the mystery guest arriving just after midnight. "I suppose they'd release all eight."

"That's my thought as well. Then what? There's something you're missing. They have an ultimate plan. Maybe it's to disrupt the buyout from Acacia. Maybe these hostage-takers are Cal medical students, trying to make some sort of statement. What's their motivation?"

Marcus just realized that Adler did not know that the Acacia buyout had already taken place. Which meant, Carl Bradburn kept information from Adler. On the other hand, Carl authorized power of attorney over the money. "Has Mr. Bradburn returned home yet?"

"I'm not sure."

"You haven't spoken to him?"

"No. It's been at least an hour. I can't get a hold of him."

Figuratively speaking, Marcus had once been in front of this hostage situation, but he now felt way behind. "Mr. Bradburn clearly said to me that the two billion had nothing to do with the business; it's personal. Do you know what he meant?"

"No."

"Does he have that kind of money?"

"No. Which is why I'm trying to protect the $1.6 million."

"If Mr. Bradburn sold the company to Acacia, how much would he receive in compensation?"

"Well, it would depend on the amount. Mr. Bradburn owns forty-five percent of the company."

This surprised Marcus. "Not fifty percent?"

"No. Dr. Sedgwick, the co-founder, owns equally forty-five percent. The other ten percent is owned by investors."

"Dr. Sedgwick is dead; killed by the hostage-taker," Marcus explained.

Adler went pale. "My God."

11:32 p.m.

Marcus leaned forward. "How does that influence the sale of Bradburn Industries?"

"Well, Dr. Sedgwick is a big part of the company. Acacia would want him to stay on board, along with Mr. Bradburn."

"So Acacia would buyout them both, but hire them as employees."

"Exactly. That way the company continues to succeed."

"What if the company had already been sold and Acacia finds out Dr. Sedgwick is dead?"

Adler stared at Marcus for a long moment. "That would be disastrous to all involved. Dr. Sedgwick's research is a necessity for future drugs and vaccines. Moreover, anything that Dr. Sedgwick worked on would be of utmost importance. I don't see how the company is going to survive without him."

"We may have discovered the true reason behind this hostage situation." Marcus felt the air seep from his lungs. "This isn't about money. It's about sabotage."

### 22

It took some begging, but Marcus convinced Adler to stick around. Then, Marcus ran back to the Command Trailer. "Where's that newly released hostage?" he asked Fletcher.

"In the ambulance talking to Lindi. What's going on?"

Marcus didn't respond. He grabbed the portable secured phone, his radio, and his notebook. He exited the Command Trailer and sprinted to the open back doors of the ambulance. Lindi sat next to the hostage, who lied on a gurney.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Mila Thornes," she responded.

Lindi interceded. "I'm in the middle of interviewing her. What's happening?"

Marcus sat opposite Lindi. "I need to ask her a few questions."

"I'm handling it," Lindi replied defensively. "She's been through a lot and you don't seem under control at the moment."

Marcus ignored Lindi's current attitude. "What's your position at Bradburn Industries?" he asked Mila.

Lindi answered for her. "She's the cafeteria manager. What's your prob-"

"Would you shut the fuck up!" Marcus said to Lindi. After a hard glare, she stormed out of the ambulance. Marcus focused on Mila. "What's your position at Bradburn Industries?" he asked again.

"Cafeteria manager, just like Ms. Amerson said."

Marcus wanted to ask a question in which Mila would certainly give an honest answer. He would watch her reaction to other questions and compare the answers. "Do you know which hostages had been killed?"

"Yes," she responded. Tears drizzled from her eyes. "I thought maybe I would next, especially being there so long."

"Was Dr. Sedgwick being disruptive? Is that why they killed him?"

Mila slid her hand to the back of her head and pushed the hair up. "Yes. Dr. Sedgwick had been killed because he would not be quiet."

Mila lied. By pushing her hair off the neck, she subconsciously vented the fear in her body.

Marcus glanced at his notebook. "Do you know Pamela Nystrom?"

"Of course. She works in Human Resources."

Mila's expression seemed honest. Marcus leaned in closer. "She told me the same story, but then later confessed that Dr. Sedgwick didn't do anything wrong. Pamela then told me the truth on why she lied."

Mila's eyes froze in time. Her mouth moved slightly open, her mocha skin turning pale. "I don't know what you want from me?"

"Did Smalls want you to lie?"

"The guy in charge?"

"Yes."

"I never talked to him."

"Which hostage-taker did you speak with?"

Once again, tears spilled from her eyes. "Someone in the basement."

"What did you say to him?"

"I asked if I could go to the bathroom. I also explained where to get the pre-made sandwiches in the kitchen."

Mila told the truth.

11:43 p.m.

"What the fuck is with you?" Fletcher asked from the rear doorway.

Marcus turned, seeing Lindi standing next to him. "Did she tell on me like some school girl? I wanted to interview this hostage. Is that a problem?"

"We have fifteen minutes," Fletcher said. "Is this interview that you're conducting important, or should Lindi be handling it?"

Marcus glanced at Mila, then crawled out of the ambulance. "You're really pissing me off," he said to Lindi.

Fletcher hurried back to the Command Trailer with Marcus. "You're losing it," Fletcher said. "Never once have I seen you treat Lindi this way."

"I'm sorry about her precious feelings."

"That has nothing to do with it."

Just as they arrived at the stairs, Marcus stopped. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"This is the biggest hostage situation Oregon has ever had. It's the biggest you've ever been involved with."

Marcus headed up the stairs and opened the door. "I can handle it."

### 23

"I need more time," Marcus said on the secured phone. Smalls had not been in the lobby chair for at least ten minutes. A different hostage-taker had answered the phone, but did not speak.

The hooded man, on his knees, positioned in the middle of the bloody remains of the other hostages.

"Smalls will be back shortly," the HT finally said.

"Where is he?"

Smalls appeared on the monitor and took the phone. "Candy Cane, what's going on?"

"Where were you?"

"Taking a leak. I'm human."

"I need a little more time."

"Negative."

"I've done everything you asked...agreed?"

"Agreed."

"I'll want seven hostages, including the man you have kneeling in the lobby."

"I'll give you six hostages, but keep this man."

"I want him."

"No."

11:52 p.m.

Marcus paused. His mind raced, trying to figure a way to save the hooded man. Smalls promised that he would be executed. In a few minutes, that may come to fruition. "How much extra time can I have?"

"I did not agree to more time."

"I'll need until 12:30."

"Sure thing. I'll just shoot this hostage and give you the extra thirty minutes."

"I'll call you back." Marcus hung up, grabbed the portable phone and hurried out of the Command Trailer to the interview trailer. Adler had not been permitted to leave, sprawled on the floor when Marcus walked around the table. "What are you doing?"

"My back hurts," he groaned, then stood up. "Look, I can't transfer the $1.6 million. It's the only backup money that Mr. Bradburn has."

"But if he sold the company, how much would his shares be worth?"

"That's not likely to happen in the next few minutes."

"How much?" Marcus shouted.

Adler's shoulders curled inward. "I suppose he'd get about twenty-two or twenty-three billion."

Marcus pointed to the chair. "Get your laptop and sit down." Adler hesitated, but complied. Marcus joined him at the table, waiting as Adler booted his laptop up. "Would you be directly involved with the sale of Bradburn Industries?"

"No. They have corporate attorneys to handle that."

11:56 p.m.

"So it's plausible that Acacia purchased the company without you knowing?"

"Of course. But Mr. Bradburn would've-"

"The deal finalized a week ago. I'm assuming the transition has just started, so very few people know about it."

Adler looked like a kid let down by his father. "Are you sure?"

"Mr. Bradburn told me himself."

"I can't believe it."

11:58 p.m.

Marcus leaned forward, holding his gaze on Adler. "There's no need to squabble over $1.6 million, when Mr. Bradburn is about to receive over twenty _billion_."

"I agree, but if the deal just went down a week ago, it still may need to be approved by both Bradburn attorneys and Acacia attorneys. What Mr. Bradburn told you was probably a deal they had in place, which is why no one knows about it yet. If all the legal documents had been signed, Acacia wouldn't hesitate to announce it to the entire world." Adler's bushy gray eyebrows rose into his large forehead. "Believe me, if Acacia purchased Brandburn Industries, everyone would know. It'd be a disfavor to the company and poor public relations if they kept that information a secret."

Midnight

Marcus felt like his heart stopped. "And if Dr. Sedgwick is gone, Acacia may have second thoughts."

"Exactly. Then you add the Cal lawsuit and this hostage situation, it'd certainly give Acacia a moment of pause to reconsider."

The portable secured phone rang. Marcus squeezed his hand together, opened it, then answered. "This is Cane."

### 24

"It is 12:01," Smalls said. "Where's my money?"

"I'm still trying to get that done."

"What's the problem?"

Marcus decided to tell the truth. "I'm sitting with Mr. Bradburn's personal attorney. He's not authorized to transfer the entire $1.6 million."

"Let me guess. He told you he could only transfer $500,000."

"Yes."

"That amount is insured. It's all bullshit."

"To be honest, the lawyer doesn't have anything personally invested in this situation. Why would he give you money?"

"That's an interesting line of reasoning. Is he a good friend of Carl Bradburn, or just some employee?"

Marcus leveled his eyes with Adler. "I believe they're friends as well."

"Well then, inform that fucking scumbag that I will execute Carl Bradburn in one minute if the money isn't transferred."

"How's that possible? You don't have Mr. Bradburn?"

"Really? When was the last time you spoke to him?"

Marcus's brain locked. He couldn't think. "Can I call you back?"

"I'll give you thirty-one seconds." Smalls hung up.

Marcus took a quick moment to calm his nerves. "I believe they have kidnapped Mr. Bradburn."

"I _don't_ believe it," Adler said. "It's just a ploy so you keep giving them money."

Marcus looked at his watch as the secondhand raced by. "We have ten seconds. Please-"

Adler's cell phone rang. As he answered it, his eyes became round like saucers. "Yes, Mr. Bradburn. I'll get that done right away." Adler hung up. Then, with quivering fingers, he began typing. "I need a few more seconds."

Marcus hit the red button on the portable phone. "The transfer is going through momentarily."

"Of course it is. When you can't get shit done, I have to do it myself."

"Do not shoot that hostage, or I'll stop this transaction right now."

Adler whispered, "It's done."

_Shit!_ Marcus thought. "Promise me you won't kill that man."

Smalls laughed. "You really need to get on the same page with that lawyer. I'm told that the transfer is complete."

"Do not shoot, or we'll come in."

"I'm about to release six hostages, so can you wait until they're safely outside?"

"Don't bullshit me!" Marcus shouted. "You pull that trigger and I'm ordering a full assault."

"Calm down Candy Cane. I'll let this bastard live for now. But things are about to get difficult for you. I don't give this hostage much of a chance." Smalls disconnected.

Adler closed his laptop. "That's it. No more. I request to leave."

"What did Mr. Bradburn say to you?"

"He ordered me to transfer the funds."

Marcus sprung from his chair and hurried to the door. "Stay put," he said, jumping over the trailer steps. He ran full speed to the Command Trailer and burst inside. "I need a trace on the phone call just made to Adler."

Lindi focused on her laptop. "We started the search soon as Adler answered his cell phone. There were two calls. One made at 12:05 from the building to another cell within a twenty-mile radius. At 12:07, a call was made to Adler from the same radius."

"There may be more going on than we thought." Marcus rubbed the corners of his burning eyes. "Smalls claimed that he has Bradburn."

Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "Six hostages exiting the building. Repeat, six hostages leaving the building."

Marcus looked at the monitor, watching as the employees ran into the arms of awaiting police officers. He had a moment of pride, thinking about the fifty-six hostages released so far. "Eight more to go," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Well done," Fletcher said.

"Oh shit!" Lindi yelled while clicking the keys on her laptop. "I have a location on Carl Bradburn's cell phone."

"Where?" Marcus asked.

Lindi stood up, eyes sweeping to Fletcher, then back to Marcus. "He's here."

### 25

Their radios came to life. " _A Carl Bradburn is requesting to speak with Marcus Cane,_ " the officer said. " _Should I let him in?_ "

Fletcher reached for his radio. "Yes. Bring him to the Command Trailer."

" _Right away,_ " the officer replied.

Lindi asked, "What the hell's going on?"

Marcus knew. He thought about his conversation with Smalls inside the building. _A mystery guest would arrive. You need to let him in._

Mr. Bradburn is that mystery guest.

The trailer door opened as Mr. Bradburn and an officer entered. Fletcher said to the officer, "You can go now."

Marcus glanced at the secured phone. Smalls would call any second now. Marcus then looked at Carl Bradburn. He was tall with a hefty frame and a full head of gray hair. He took off his long tan coat and threw it in the corner. Bradburn seemed like a vision of his former self, much different from the company picture that Marcus had seen. Bradburn's gray hair frazzled. His face unshaven. And he wore an expensive, yet crumpled suit. The tie had been loosened to the point that it might as well have been taken off.

Fletcher shook hands with Bradburn and introduced himself. Harlan and Lindi did the same.

When Bradburn looked at Marcus, his expression crumbled. Marcus noticed a small tear threatening to escape. "Mr. Bradburn, I'm Marcus Cane, Hostage Negotiator." They shook hands. "Would you like some coffee?"

"My family and I had been kidnapped." Bradburn's voice soft and cracked with sorrow. "I have to do everything they say, or my wife and two daughters will be killed."

12:16 a.m.

"When did this happen?" Marcus asked.

"This morning, just before we were going to leave for Hawaii. They..." Bradburn slid into a chair, rubbing his weary face. "They took my wife and kids, then replaced them with some other woman and two girls about the same age. My orders were to take the vacation to Hawaii as planned."

Fletcher: "But what about the police in Hawaii? Didn't they know something was wrong?"

"No." Bradburn gave Fletcher a cold stare. "They had no idea what my family looks like."

Marcus wanted to take a few notes, but he remained standing, unable to move. "Has anyone from Acacia contacted you?"

"Xavier Damina, the CEO of Acacia. He sent me a text, notifying me that they pulled out of the deal."

"What's this about the two billion? You said it's personal, not business."

Bradburn leaned forward; his body slumped over the chair. He folded his hands, clenching so hard the knuckles turned white. "Dr. Sedgwick and I originally denied Acacia's offer. Afterwards, they paid me two billion in cash and had me convince Sedgwick to sell. Xavier Damina and I completed the transaction in the building. I hid the money in my safe room in the basement."

Harlan looked at the map. "Where?"

Bradburn released the grip on his hands. He glanced at the map, then looked at Harlan. "You won't find it. I had an outside security team build the safe room last year. They're the only ones that know it exists."

Marcus pulled up a chair and sat down. "Did Robert Smalls or anyone else on the security team know about the payoff? Were any of them there during the transaction with Xavier?"  
"No." Bradburn shook his head. "Do you still think it's my private security doing this?"

"It makes sense," Marcus replied.

12:21 a.m.

The secured phone rang.

Fletcher put on his headphones. "Okay, let's play it out and see if we can save the remaining hostages."

Marcus stayed in the chair, focusing on Bradburn. "What about Xavier? Did he witness you putting the money in the safe room?"

"No." Bradburn stood up. "They want me inside."

"Impossible," Fletcher said. "We're not giving them another hostage."

The phone continued to ring like an impatient child.

Bradburn's red eyes locked on Marcus. "You have two hostage situations. One in the building and one with my family. If I don't go in there and give them the two billion, my wife and daughters are dead."

Marcus stood up while determining his next move. He picked up the secured phone. "Cane here."

"Well, I'm glad you could finally answer the phone."

"I can't let him inside," Marcus said.

"That's a shame. Especially since I now have eleven hostages, not eight. In five minutes, a 911 call will be made. It'll be a girl, about fourteen, screaming as she's being tortured."

"We cannot give you another hostage."

"You aren't. Mr. Bradburn will be inside for ten minutes. I'll then release him, the remaining eight hostages, and the Bradburn family. Think about it, Cane. You give in to this last demand, everyone remaining will live. Isn't that what you want?"

Marcus knew that Smalls had controlled this entire hostage situation from the beginning. All those little requests became a prelude to this one big demand. "I'll send in Bradburn, if you give me two hostages in return. I need something."

"Agreed."

Marcus hung up the phone and looked at Fletcher. "We don't have a choice. It's a reasonable risk."

Harlan spoke to Bradburn. "Is there a rear exit to the safe room? A secret passage to get outside?"

"No," Bradburn said. "It's just a room."

Lindi: "What else is inside?"

"Things that are important to me. Mostly memorabilia. Trust me, they only want the two billion."

Fletcher: "But if they give up all the hostages, including your family, how do they plan on escaping?"

Marcus answered that question. "I don't think they care about escaping. This may be personal, like Mr. Bradburn is suggesting. But these hostage-takers are working for someone else. Billions of dollars are being held up because of this deal. I think its corporate sabotage."

Fletcher: "There's no way I can allow Mr. Bradburn in the building."

Marcus looked at his watch. "We need to make a decision."

"I'm not letting you do this!" Fletcher shouted.

"It's a calculated risk," Marcus said. "We should at least try." He looked at Bradburn. "You'll have ten minutes." Marcus's eyes shifted to Harlan. "If he's not out in ten, then I'll order a full assault. Get your team ready."

Fletcher stepped right in Marcus's face. "I'm the acting commander. You will not give them another hostage."

"Fire me," Marcus replied. "But not until I free eleven more hostages."

### 26

When the glass doors opened, two hostages ran from the building, both women. They sprinted to the awaiting officers.

Marcus held on to Bradburn's arm and spoke directly to Smalls. "Ten minutes, that's it. One second later and I'll authorize a full breach."

"Your job is on the line, isn't it?" The grin in Small's mask seemed evident. "Don't worry, he'll be released safely."

"And then I'll get the rest of the hostages?"

"Yes."

"How do you plan on leaving?"

The grin disappeared, replaced by angry eyes. "Do you really want to have this conversation right now?"

Marcus knew he treaded on dangerous ground. "Ten minutes," he said. "Not a second more." He let go of Bradburn's arm.

Smalls guided Bradburn through the dimly lit lobby. They paused by the chair and phone. Smalls pointed to the floor, covered in blood. He then yanked Bradburn by the arm and pushed him through the door towards the network of hallways.

12:30 a.m.

Marcus's radio chirped. " _Marcus, this is Harlan. My team is in place._ "

"Very well. I'll give the order at 12:41 if needed. Watch for developments."

" _I know the drill._ "

Marcus stared through the glass doors. It'd take at least five minutes to walk through the hallways and arrive at the basement. Maybe three minutes for Smalls to open the safe room door. How would they arrive back in the allotted time?

Marcus clicked his radio. "Harlan. What kind of range do we have for sound in the basement?"

" _My team has snakes inside the four vents that lead to the basement. It's the best we can do. Lindi is listening in closely._ "

Snakes are a nickname for their listening and monitoring devices. Concerned, Marcus spoke on the radio again. "Fletcher. I don't see how Smalls will be able to escort Bradburn into the basement, open the safe room, and arrive back in time. Are we going to give them an extra few minutes?"

" _That's your call, Marcus. You're the one making the decisions. I'm just the pain in the ass second guessing everything you do._ "

12:36 a.m.

Marcus grinned. "I say we give them until-"

" _Marcus!_ " Lindi shouted. " _I'm hearing gunshots!_ "

"Full breach! Full breach!" Marcus did not have a weapon. He turned and sprinted from the building. The Tactical Team blasted through the glass doors. Harlan ran past him yelling instructions into his headset.

Just before Marcus entered the Command Trailer, he looked back at the building. Officers slid down on ropes from a helicopter onto the roof. A second Tactical Team entered the front lobby. The perimeter surrounded by S.W.A.T., along with fifty officers from other districts.

War zone.

Marcus hurried inside. Lindi had the radio on speaker so they could clearly hear the radio chatter.

Fletcher noticed that Marcus had returned. "I spoke to Harlan. We have Bradburn. He's safe. Three hostage-takers killed in a hallway."

"What about everyone else?"

"The first Tactical Team is just entering the basement now."

This would be the moment that every hostage negotiator dreaded. It's the termination phase. Marcus's intent was to have the hostage-takers surrender and bring everyone to safety.

Failed.

Another possible outcome would be that Marcus gave in to every demand and allowed them to escape, which would save the hostages.

Failed.

It's rare when a negotiator gave the HT everything they wanted and then a full assault ordered.

Failed.

Besides hostages being executed, a full assault was his worst nightmare. Marcus had his doubts that the remaining employees would survive this onslaught.

To make matters worse, whoever kidnapped Carl Bradburn's family must know what's happening by now. Carl's wife, Alicia, along with his seventeen-year-old daughter, Gibby, and fourteen-year-old daughter, Theresa, are most certainly dead by now.

He listened to the radio as Tactical Officers relayed information. From what Marcus could understand, Harlan and the other team members had gained entry to the basement. No shots have been fired at them.

Sweat drizzled down Marcus's back. Every veined pumped with fear. He could surmise by now that the remaining five HT's have killed the six hostages. Then, the HT's all killed themselves or given up. A lot would depend on Lindi's theory. Was Smalls dead? If so, that gave Marcus at least some sort of hope.

As if Marcus had been jerked awake from a nightmare, he heard Harlan on the radio. " _All six hostages are safe. Repeat, all six hostages are safe._ "

Marcus could not help himself. A tear spilt from his eye. Lindi had the same reaction.

Fletcher clicked his radio. "What about the remaining five HT's?"

Harlan responded, " _We believe that the hostages overtook the HT's. All five in the basement have been killed._ "

This snapped Marcus back to attention, returning him to negotiator mode. "Do not release the hostages. I want to question them."

" _They're being escorted up,_ " Harlan replied.

The radio chirped with another voice. " _Captain Fletcher._ "

Fletcher clicked his radio. "Go for Fletcher."

" _Sir, we have three members of the Bradburn family. They claim to have been kidnapped._ "

"Are they injured?"

" _No sir. Just shook up._ "

"Escort them to the interview trailer."

" _Yes, sir._ "

Fletcher looked at Marcus. "Dream ending?"

Marcus did not respond. This could not possibly be a dream ending.

Something's wrong.

### 27

Lindi started the interview process with the six remaining hostages. Separately, each told the same story.

Right when the safe room door had been opened, Jay Nicken, the man bound with a hood over his head, freed himself. He attacked the closest hostage-taker. After a struggle, the gun went off and the hostage-taker killed.

They saw Mr. Bradburn run up the stairs. Moments later, three of the hostage-takers ran after him.

The remaining hostage-takers began to open fire on everyone. Jay emptied his gun, killing the two of them. An employee named Matt Minkus, a large man who worked in logistics, grabbed a gun from one of the dead hostage-takers and began shooting. Gino Sergio, a lab employee, did the same, killing the other two hostage-takers in the basement.

About four minutes later, the police arrived.

According to Harlan, Mr. Bradburn had run past them, chased by the three hostage-takers. The Tactical Team opened fired killing all three.

Fletcher spoke with the two employees, Minkus and Sergio, and verified that Jay Nicken's the one who had been bound with a hood. Meanwhile, Harlan removed the masks of the hostage-takers killed in the hallway.

One of them had been Robert Smalls. He took digital photos of the hostage-takers and then showed the pictures to Carl Bradburn.

All eight hostage-takers were Bradburn's private security team.

Neither Bradburn nor his family saw the faces of their kidnappers. FBI began an investigation. They observed the cameras in the Honolulu Police Station. Photos of the woman, along with the two girls who pretended to be Bradburn's family were sent to the FBI lab. Fingerprints on the plane and in their hotel had also been obtained.

With all this going on, Marcus called the mortgage company that held the loan for his mother in Tallahassee. He went through the automated process and discovered that the loan had been completely paid off just as Smalls implied. His sister Judy attested to receiving the money, so Marcus had no doubt a million dollars would be in his closet at home.

Marcus kept quiet during the interviews and allowed Lindi to ask all the questions with the exception of Jay Nicken.

After looking into his eyes, Marcus knew that Jay Nicken was the man who claimed to be Smalls. The voice seemed different than on the phone. Smalls spoke with a soft, shaky voice. Jay had more of a loud, angry tone. Nevertheless, Marcus would bet his life that this had been the lead hostage-taker.

But what could he do? Marcus withheld the information that his sister received $500,000 and that his mother's home was paid off by the hostage-takers. If police raided his house, they would discover the one million dollars. That would be hard to explain.

If Jay's really the hostage-taker, then it's possible that other employees pretended to be hostage-takers as well. How many were involved? How did this all happen in the first place? Were Bradburn's personal security in on the plan or were they kidnapped themselves?

"What's your position at Bradburn Industries?" Marcus asked Jay.

"I've been through enough shit!" Jay yelled. It's obvious he's attempted to mask his voice. He'd been speaking to Lindi the same way. "While you pigs were out here with your thumbs up your ass, we're fighting for our lives in there. We could hear every fuck up you assholes made. I can't believe you call yourselves police officers." He pointed an angry finger at Marcus. "And you're the worst of them all!"

Lindi responded first. "Mr. Nicken. Please lower your voice. You've been screaming at us since you came out of there."

"What should I do?" he shouted. "I'm the only reason we're still alive. Did you really think they're just going to let us go and hope for the best? I cannot believe you agreed to that?" He glared at Marcus. "You hesitated on giving them a dollar, but didn't put up fight when millions of dollars were on the line. And you sent in Mr. Bradburn to risk his life!"

"It's a simple question," Marcus said, keeping his voice calm. He took a quick glance at the bandages around Jay's wrists, along with deep red marks on both thumbs. "What position do you hold at Bradburn Industries?" If Jay's indeed the man pretending to be Smalls, then Jay must have knowledge of what goes on at the company. He had to be part of the inner loop.

"I am the Inventory Supervisor. Are you happy?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Do you have direct contact to the executives or Mr. Bradburn?"

"No," Jay snapped. "And the word _supervisor_ can be used lightly. It's not as if I had any employees under me. I'm all alone."

Lindi gave Marcus a look as if to say, 'Can we please let this guy leave.'

Marcus stood up. "I'm very sorry for what you went through. And I'm sure Mr. Bradburn will reward you for your bravery."

Jay had yelled something else, but Marcus had already walked out the door. Fletcher waited by the trailer. He took a long drag of his cigarette and threw it on the ground with the other pile of cigs he had been working on. "That guy's a prick," Fletcher said. "Don't listen to him. You negotiated the release of sixty-four hostages out of seventy-two, not counting the Bradburn family that had been saved. In the process, the two billion was saved and all the hostages killed." He sighed with a stench of cigarette breath. "You did good."

It didn't matter what Fletcher said, Marcus felt guilty. He received illegal money and at least one of the hostage-takers is about to get away. There wasn't much he could do about it, but under the circumstances, Marcus would be satisfied not going to prison. "I thought you would fire me for sending Mr. Bradburn into the building."

"Oh trust me. The review board will have a field day with that one. I'll go to bat for you and we'll see what happens. Meanwhile, enjoy the moment."

"We still lost eight hostages," Marcus said. He did not want to be so gloom and doom, but his heart felt heavy as a bowling ball.

Fletcher lit another cigarette. "You saved a total of sixty-eight people. Things could have been much worse."

"I'm going to take a look inside the building."

The door to the trailer flew open. Jay stomped down the metal stairs, glaring at Marcus as he marched past him. Lindi joined them. "Wow. I can't believe that jerk. He survived a hostage situation, lived through an assault, shot at, and had been on the brink of being executed all night and the guy is still angry. I'd be thanking God."

"You did a great job tonight," Marcus said to her. "I hope that we don't have to work together again."

"Excuse me?" Lindi gaffed. "You tell me good job, but then insult me?"

Marcus smiled and gave her a hug. "I meant, hopefully we won't ever have another hostage situation. If we do, I'll be happy to work with you."

"Oh," Lindi said. "Ditto with me."

"Well, I'm going to check the building."

Fletcher sucked down his cigarette and blew a hefty amount of smoke into the frigid night air. "Your night is over," he said to Marcus. "Why don't you just go home?"

"I have to see something," Marcus replied. "I'll just be a few minutes."

### 28

The lobby had a rancid smell.

Electricity restored in the building. The lights exposed the glossy bloodstains on the floor; a reminder of how Marcus had been unsuccessful in the hostage takeover.

"Marcus Cane," a man said, dressed in a button down shirt, tie, slacks, with a badge clipped to his belt. He wore surgical gloves, passing on the handshake.

Marcus knew Detective Lance Crestwood well. Their offices are next to each other at the Hillsborough Police Department. They both had crazy schedules, but found time to eat lunch together on many occasions at the Bitter End Pub. They even shared the same likeness for the Timber, a tasty cheeseburger smothered with tater tots and bacon. Lance had a tall, lanky body, and could put away double helpings of the Timber. Like Marcus, Lance favored dark beer at the pub and could drink with the best of alcoholics.

"How are things going?" Marcus asked, not in the mood for small talk. And Lance had a lot of work to do. On the other hand, it seemed like an appropriate question at one o'clock in the morning.

"They told me you saved sixty-four hostages of seventy-two. Well done."

"Eight did not make it, along with the eight hostage-takers." Marcus didn't know why he kept bringing that up. Maybe he just wanted people to understand the reality of what happened. Some lived, some died.

Lance squatted, looking at the bloodstains. "I saw the surveillance video of these poor people executed. It seemed the hostage-taker was on a mission to kill them no matter what."

That's exactly what Marcus had been thinking. All this had been planned to perfection and achieved with the utmost care. "I'm going to take a look around." Marcus eyed the phone as if it were an important relic. The phone not only represented a link to the hostage-taker, but a symbolic contact between the outside world and hell. The speaker symbolized the voice of threats and warnings.

"Don't touch anything," Lance said, not looking at Marcus.

He couldn't tell if Lance's comment had been joking or an order. Either way, Marcus didn't plan to ruin the crime scene.

All doors leading to the basement had been blown open. Marcus could still smell the blast powder used. In the second row of hallways, three hostage-takers gunned downed by the Tactical Team remained on the floor. Bullet holes sprayed along the walls. Three other detectives that Marcus knew, but not by name, examined the bodies. They acknowledged him with a respectful nod and returned their attention on the dead bodies.

Everything seemed different in the building. When Marcus was inside earlier, the lobby and hallways were dark. The doors had to be opened with a security card. The hallways had not been littered with dead bodies on the way to the basement. The appearance of the building, even the smell, had changed to a foul remembrance.

The basement door had blown through the wall, creating a massive hole. Part of the stairs damaged on the way down. Marcus took great caution as he descended into the place where seventy-two hostages were held.

To his surprise, only two officers occupied the basement. Upon further entry, he noticed two more officers in the safe room. Five dead bodies dressed in black, lay on the cold floor. Marcus viewed this as the most significant area in the building. This is where hidden truth had been kept skillfully away from the eyes above. Nothing was as it seems.

"Nice job tonight," one of the officers said.

Marcus recognized the face, but could not place the name and his ID covered by the lurking shadow in the basement. Marcus nodded at the officer and kept moving.

Bullet holes punctured several spots on the walls. The inner portion of the basement cluttered with wrappings, water bottles, cots, and blankets. It seemed colder now, as if this all happened many days ago.

Filing cabinets lined the outer wall along with plastic and metal tubs and racks of supplies. Everything neatly labeled, appearing to be untouched. Marcus did a quick lap around and looked for anything that might be misplaced.

No luck.

He arrived at the safe room. The door doubled as a portion of the wall with large shelving attached. So when the door had been opened, the shelving moved as well.

"Nice job tonight," an officer said from the safe room. It's a common statement tonight. Marcus had thought about repeating the dead count again, but held back this time.

"What're you boys doing?" Marcus asked, poking his head inside. It seemed more of a large closet than a room with a few bins filled with documents and two open metal suitcases overflowing with cash wrapped in identifying markers.

"We have the pleasure of counting the money to make sure there's really two billion."

"Don't get sticky fingers," Marcus said. "Someone else will be counting after you."

The officer laughed. "A couple bundles will pay off my debt, but I suppose working hard the next ten years will pay it off as well.

Marcus's heart swelled with disgrace. His sister no longer had to worry about debt. His mother could stay in her home the rest of her life.

And Marcus had a million dollars waiting for him.

" _Marcus, you up?_ " Lindi said on the radio.

Marcus walked away from the safe room and un-clicked the radio from his belt. "Go for Marcus."

" _Adler just talked to Fletcher._ "

"Oh shit. You can let Adler go. I forgot-"

" _It's not that,_ " Lindi said.

Marcus waited for her to respond. Waiting. Waiting. He put his hand up. "Do you want me to guess or you going to tell me?"

" _He just checked the accounts before leaving. All the money has been transferred back. Even the dollar._ "

Marcus held the radio to his mouth, but could not speak. Finally he said, "Thanks for letting me know."

Jay Nicken, along with an undetermined amount of others got away with something tonight, but not money. What's the next most important thing in this building?

Marcus's muscles gripped with the reality of what happened. Dr. Sedgwick and his assistant, Yongsoo Chung, were both executed tonight. They alone held the secrets to formulas worth many billions of dollars and getting close to discovering a vaccine to slow the process of Alzheimer's. Or maybe they actually had the cure? What would that be worth to another pharmaceutical company?

If Acacia had been willing to pay fifty billion for Bradburn Industries, along with paying another two billion to Carl Bradburn personally, then it's possible someone else wanted to ruin the company and retrieve their secrets at the same time.

"Sedgwick's lab," Marcus whispered to himself. He hurried back up the rickety stairs.

### 29

Soon as Marcus arrived at the lobby, Fletcher called on the radio. " _Marcus._ "

"Go for Marcus."

" _I'm just wondering why you haven't signed out of the command log, gotten in your car, drove home, drank down a couple of beers, showered, and went to bed._ "

"I'll just be a few more minutes." Marcus waited as Crestwood dusted the phone for prints. When he turned around, Marcus asked, "How are you gaining access to other parts of the building?"

Crestwood put his equipment back in a yellow case and shut it. He then slid an access security card from his pocket and held it up. "I'm using this."

Marcus saw the name on the card...Donny Malone, Senior Vice President. "Where did you get that?"

"Off one of the perps." Crestwood looked at his notes. "A Robert Smalls. The guy you spoke with on the phone."

"Can I borrow that for a moment?"

Lance stood over Marcus with his freakishly tall body. "Are you pulling rank on me?"

"Not in the slightest. I need to check a couple things, that's all."

"Check what?"

Marcus bravely snatched the card from his fingers. "It's probably nothing."

"It always starts with nothing, but then we discover it's something." Lance's eyes studied Marcus. "Since you want to help, why don't you take the card to Lindi so she can check the activity on it."

"She can do that?" Marcus asked.

"We now have access to the building security. Lindi's going through video, checking alarms, and..." Lance stopped. "It's called investigation."

Marcus smiled, trying to ease the mood. "I'll be right back." He hurried to the Command Trailer and entered. "I need you to check the activity on this card and print the information."

Lindi rolled her chair to a secondary computer. "Is this for you?"

"No. It's for Detective Crestwood."

She took the card and placed it near her keyboard, then began typing with blazing speed. "Are you his errand boy now?"

"Okay smartass, it's for me as well."

"That's what I thought."

While the information printed, Marcus looked over Lindi's shoulder at the screen. Like a flashing bulb he noticed the lab entry at 5:00 on the nose. This would be after the hostage-takers rounded everyone up and forced them into the basement. Harlan had explained that they witnessed HT's on several floors, pulling the blinds and securing the building.

Lindi grabbed a large brown envelope. She dropped the security card and printout inside. "Anything else your majesty?"

"I want to look inside the lab. Will I need the card?"

"No. I can unlock the doors from here." She pressed a few keys and the building's electronic map appeared. "This is great stuff. The security can do just about anything from here."

Marcus stared at the screen. "We sure could have used this earlier. Can they lock doors so no one can get in or out of rooms?"

"Nope. That would break about ten different fire codes." Lindi spun around in her chair. "The HT's had to be very organized when taking over the building. There are hundreds of rooms, some with different accessibility depending on which card the individual HT used. In minutes, they rounded up all the employees and forced them into the basement."

"That _is_ amazing." Marcus envisioned the violent takeover of the building as the employees came to the end their. Unfortunately, their nightmare had just begun. "I'll drop the envelope off to Lance. Can you please unlock the stairwell and all doors leading to Sedgwick's lab?"

"You aren't going home yet?"

"No," Marcus said, grabbing the envelope. "Where is Fletcher?"

"Having another cancer stick somewhere."

"What about Harlan?"

"Gone, along with the other Tactical Team members."

"How long are you staying?"

Lindi looked at her watch. "About fifteen more minutes."

Marcus exited the trailer with urgency. He wanted to investigate the lab before Lindi gone home, just in case he needed her for something else. Back in the lobby, Marcus handed Lance the envelope. "Here you go; the printout of activity and the access security card."

"Thanks," Crestwood said. "You want to get me a latte at Starbucks? There's one open all night in Portland."

Marcus gave him a tired grin. "I'm just about ready to go home."

"Just about?"

Marcus did not reply. He entered the stairwell and skipped every other step, arriving on the fifth floor. In the hallway, he took a minute to get his bearings straight. Sedgwick's lab and office were connected by three doors on his left. He entered and flicked on the light.

Several filing cabinets broken open. Manila folders emptied. A safe open in the far corner near a desk. Marcus looked inside. Empty.

The hostage-takers grabbed something more valuable than money.

A door in the office led to a massive lab. About fifteen rooms divided by glass windows and doors. After doing a quick walkthrough, nothing seemed disturbed, or tampered with.

"What'd you find?" Crestwood asked. His lanky body stood in the office doorway.

"Someone broke into the files."

Crestwood glanced back into the office. "What do you think they got?"

"Not sure," Marcus lied. He marched toward Lance and blew right by him.

In the hallway, Marcus knew exactly what was stolen. All the pertinent formulas, vaccines, and cures that Dr. Sedgwick had been working on. The past achievements of the company and future success would now be in someone else's hands. The value of those documents would far exceed fifty or even sixty billion dollars.

But how did Jay Nicken...a.k.a Robert Smalls, sneak those documents from the building?

Marcus returned to the lobby when it dawned on him what happened. Some of the hostages must have had a few documents each. How many employees would that take? If they folded three or four documents into their pockets, yet stole hundreds, it would mean...

As Marcus opened the glass door, cold air blew through his bones. He stood frozen, his muscles gripping, which prevent him from moving.

"All of them," Marcus whispered to himself. Sixty-four released hostages, each with a piece of the pie. It would explain how all of them made it to the basement in quick fashion. It would also explain why Mila Thornes, one of the released hostages, lied about what happened inside. They would have to execute anyone who did not go along with their plan.

Marcus forced himself to walk. His legs felt like concrete.

_Dr. Sedgwick,_ he thought. The employees would have to kill him. Also, Yongsoo Chung, devoted to Sedgwick.

Megan Smoy, Bradburn's personal assistant. Her loyalty to Carl ended up being a death sentence.

Donny Malone, the Vice President. Jason Zimmer, the research manager. Darnell Browning, head of security. Mike Harten, CFO. And Deshi Lung, VP of Foreign Operations. None of them would have sabotaged the company. So they had to be executed.

Marcus trudged up the stairs and entered the Command Trailer. Fletcher must have just left, because the remains of cigarette smoke lingered. Marcus leaned over the command log and attempted to sign his name with a trembling hand.

"I'll be right behind you," Lindi said.

Marcus stopped at the door. "What's Jay Nicken's position at Bradburn Industries again?"

"Inventory Supervisor," Lindi said. She packed her laptop in a large briefcase along with her notebooks and a couple manila folders.

"Where does the Inventory Supervisor work in the building?"

Lindi looked at him. "How should I know?"

Marcus smiled. "All right then. Good night."

"Don't you mean good morning?"

"Yeah. See ya." Marcus headed to his car, thinking about the only location in the building that would have massive inventory.

The basement.

### 30

Besides the Bradburn Industries building, the Nike building dominated the industrial park. Marcus's eyes burned with exhaustion, hands loose on the steering wheel, driving away from another hostage negotiation.

"Prolong the situation," he whispered to himself. "The longer the hostage situation lasts, the better chance for a peaceful ending." He had to clear his mind, but routine took over. He would think about his training and what he had done during the negotiation while still fresh in his mind. "Push back hostage-taker deadlines. Stall Tactical Operations Commander. He'll want to breach at every setback.

"Focus on details of the HT's request. Ask questions that are open-ended to avoid yes/no answers.

"Ensure the safety of the hostages. Convince the HT to allow medical supplies and to release all those who need medical attention. Deliver food and medical supplies in bulk, which forces the HT to relate more to the hostages. The interaction could be crucial to saving their lives.

"Free as many hostages as possible. Not only does this ensure their safety, but simplifies an assault if necessary. Released hostages can provide valuable information."

Marcus thought about the interviews as he pulled into the Jamboree development where he lived. The hostages told the police fiction in order to succeed with their plan.

"Keep things calm. From the initial takeover by the HT, through the first few hours of negotiation, the HT can be extremely volatile. They're angry at whatever perceived injustice had led them to these horrific circumstances. The HT is filled with adrenaline from the attack."

Marcus pulled into his driveway and parked. He cut the engine, but didn't move. "Foster a relationship with the HT. The negotiator must seem credible to the captor. The negotiator must communicate why he understands the reasons behind the HT's decision. However, the negotiator cannot seem eager to please.

"The negotiator may be required to cooperate with the HT. The hostage-taker must see everyone as human beings."

Marcus slid out of the car, thinking how he indeed fostered a relationship with the hostage-taker. Inside his home that he and Olivia had purchased seven years ago, was a million dollars of blood money mixed with her personal items. A payoff so Marcus would help Jay Nicken and the rest of the involved employees escape with invaluable documents.

He pushed the key in the door, but did not open it. Olivia wanted to purchase this home even though she had cancer and the outcome looked grim. "I want to keep living," she said to him. "No matter how sick I become, together, we'll move forward with our lives."

He opened the door and went inside. Marcus could not _live_ with himself, knowing that he broke the law and aided the hostage-takers in a personal way.

Upon his entry, the heat kicked on. Still, the home remained dark with a harsh chill.

Without turning on the lights, or even taking off his windbreaker that adorned the word _Negotiator_ , he sat in the kitchen drinking a longneck Budweiser.

Marcus envisioned Olivia bursting through the front door calling his name. She may have come back from the farmers market located inside their development. The Jamboree also had over 1,500 acres of park, which both of them would ride their bikes. With his crazy and erratic hours, Olivia mostly rode alone.

He recalled the time when she attended a local art class. Marcus sat in this exact chair as his wife entered the kitchen. The glow from her achievement masked the pain of her cancer.

"I made this today," she said in a beaming voice. "What do you think?" She put the painting on the kitchen table.

The painting depicted a male and female, both Japanese, lying on a bed of pillows. With chopsticks in her black hair and a silk outfit raised to expose her naked bottom, the woman kissed her lover. He laid with her in such a way that most of his face and body had been hidden, with the exception of his open right eye.

"It's beautiful," Marcus said.

"Oh no you don't." Olivia slid onto his lap, facing him, then wrapped her legs around his waist. "You evaluate things for a living. Tell me what you see in this painting."

Marcus gave her a quick kiss on the lips and looked over her shoulder. "At first glance, it appears to be two lovers in union as male and female. A possible symbolic act of creation."

Olivia had her arms around his shoulders, nibbling on his ear. "But you think it's something else?" she whispered. "Tell me."

Marcus gazed into her eyes. He cherished this moment. Olivia happy, aroused, and just a woman. Not a cancer patient, but rather a wife, home from her exciting day and spending time with her husband.

He kissed her again. "Being an experienced negotiator and master of evaluation-"

Olivia grinded her hips into him. "Just tell me," she moaned.

Marcus could feel his erection busting through his jeans. "The woman is a hooker."

Olivia smiled. "Why do you think that?"

"Because his eye is open. If they were lovers, his eye would be closed."

She brushed her lips along his neck. "Your eyes are open."

"Yeah, but that's because I'm looking at your painting."

"And she's not a hooker. She is a courtesan."

"What the hell is a courtesan?"

Olivia let out a soft moan, mixed with a pleasant giggle. "A courtesan is a prostitute, but it sounds better than hooker. You're such a cop sometimes."

"But I'm a good cop." He lifted her up, carried out of the kitchen, and up the stairs.

"A great cop," she said, keeping her hands firmly gripped around his neck and legs around his body.

Marcus blinked. He had returned from his vision, alone in the dark kitchen. He thought about the million dollars upstairs.

Olivia would be ashamed of him. Tonight...he's not a great cop.

### 31

It had been over a year since he last opened this closet. The house was fairly large for just the two of them; three bedrooms, two and half baths. He put all his clothes in the spare bedroom closet. That room doubled as a workout area.

The third bedroom would had been for their future child. Olivia decorated the room with yellows and purples. She craved normalcy. All she wanted was to be a wife and mother, live in a modest house, and gossip with the neighbors. Was that too much to ask?

Problems in Marcus's life never seemed to be his own, but rather everyone he loved. The chain of horrific and gut wrenching events transpired one after another.

Marcus's father died a month after retirement. He jerked awake in the middle of the night, turned to his wife and said, "I'm sorry." He fell back to the pillow and died.

His parents had refinanced their home several times. Once to pay for Marcus's college education. He went to South Florida and studied criminology, graduating in just three years.

His parents refinanced again to pay off Trudy's debt and give her a fresh start. She had accumulated over $50,000 with various credit cards. After an intervention that included Marcus, they convinced Trudy to cut the cards and follow a strict budget. Trudy motivated herself and quit the spending. She met Norman Webster, an investment banker who was in Tallahassee on business. Trudy and Norman began talking in a Starbucks and the rest was history. She moved with him to Tulsa and got married.

Of course, Marcus did an extensive background check on Norman without anyone knowing. Everything came back clean. Trudy and Norman wasted no time; their son Aiden born ten months later.

Shortly after their father died, Norman left Trudy for a younger woman. The divorce has been pending for three years. Norman stalled by requesting continuances, hid funds, and even fooled Trudy that he may come back and work on their marriage. Of course, his delay had been just a ploy to postpone the divorce. Meanwhile, Trudy has been stuck with the bills, a house payment, car payment, and a young child that Norman never sees.

Marcus and Olivia lived in their new home, adjusting to life that was quite different from living in an apartment. Between her medical bills, Trudy's painful cancer, and his mother wanting to save her home, Marcus became strung thin.

Then, Olivia died.

Marcus's job became the only pure thing that remained in his life. Now, even that has been tainted.

He slid open the closet door, blasted with memories of his beloved wife. The picture with a golden frame that Smalls (Jay) had referred too, rested on a box. Inside the box were figurines that Olivia had purchased over the years.

Marcus skimmed his fingers along her hanging clothes. Each outfit had a special memory. The red dress she wore on New Years Eve. It was short, sexy, and enhanced all her features.

Olivia had a pair of jeans, each specifically worn depending on what she had planned: art class, grocery shopping, or working in the yard. The tight pair she wore when meeting him for lunch. It drove him nuts, but the idea behind her sexual motivations would make sure he returned home...safely.

Marcus looked at the Japanese painting leaned up against the back wall, reminding him of the perfect moment in the kitchen. Sure, it was just an average day. But when your wife is about to die, every encounter, every memory is cherished.

His eyes fell on the two objects that didn't belong amongst his wife's possessions. Two duffle bags with a bulge from the stacks of cash. He did not need to look inside. There's no doubt that the duffle bags had a total of a million dollars.

Marcus slid the closet door shut and plopped down on the bed. His mind drifted, thinking about when he watched the freed hostages on the monitor. Marcus no longer felt pride. His expertise had nothing to do with saving their lives. Those hostages were saved, because that was the plan. The eight that were killed, would happen no matter what. The sixty-four that had been released was a forgone conclusion.

The eight security guards for Bradburn played the role of HT's against their will. Everything was staged. Possibly, they knew about their impending death. All of them had a wife. Some had children. It could have been used against them.

Maybe Carl Bradburn was involved as well. All his money had been returned. Even the two billion had been left untouched. Perhaps he aided in sabotaging his own company.

That did not make sense, Marcus thought. Bradburn had been paid under the table. He's also in line to receive twenty more billion for the sale to Acacia. He had to be forced into going along. Marcus could imagine the possible ultimatum harshly given to Bradburn. "Help us, or we will take all of your money and kill your family. If we get what we want, you will keep what is most precious to you."

There wasn't much Bradburn could have done. However, Acacia withdrew from the deal. They will want the two billion returned.

That left Adler, Bradburn's attorney. What's his involvement? Was he paid off? Threatened?

Marcus stood up and trudged to the spare bedroom. He picked out a fresh pair of boxers and T-shirt, then headed to the shower.

The water did little to soothe his plagued mind. Jay Nicken could make an anonymous phone call to Fletcher and explain how Marcus, his sister, and mother, had been paid off. At this point, Marcus did not have much of a defense.

Steam from the shower filled the room. The hot water failed to protrude his tense muscles.

"Don't move," a voice said from the doorway.

### 32

Marcus had a moment where he wanted to slide open the shower curtain, but he held back fearing that would not be the best move. "Who's there?"

"It's Smalls. Don't even think about looking at me, or it'll be the last moment in your life."

Marcus had always felt vulnerable without his gun. Now, he's naked with an intruder in the bathroom. "What do you want?"

"I want to make sure we still have a deal."

Marcus moved away from the water. He could see the shadow of Jay, the gun pointing right at him. "I didn't make a deal with you."

"Sure you did. You negotiated the promise of hope. And _I_ hope you keep your mouth shut and do not investigate this further."

The steam had become thick. Marcus turned the faucet to warm. "The Hillsboro Police or even the FBI may pursue this matter further. There isn't much I can do about that."

"Why would they pursue it further? Everyone got what they wanted. You're a hero and the world can move forward."

"I'm not hero."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"How did you do it?"

"You see...that's a question that someone investigating would ask. Should I just shoot you right now and get it over with?"

"Don't bust my balls. I did everything just like you wanted."

"That's right. And if you keep quiet, our business will be done."

"Get out of my house," Marcus said. No one replied. "Do you hear me? Get the fuck out!"

He noticed that the shadow no longer remained on the wall. Marcus shut off the water, peeled open the shower curtain, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

On the sink, laid three photographs.

Trudy.

Aiden.

His mother.

Marcus took the hint. This better be over as far as he's concerned, or his sister, nephew, and mother would be killed.

The cell phone in his bedroom rang with a sound of urgency. Marcus looked down both sides of the hallway, still having the feeling that someone remained in the house. Water dripped from his body as he jogged to the bedroom and answered his cell before it went to voicemail.

"This Marcus Cane."

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Commander Fletcher asked.

"Please don't tell me there's another hostage situation."

"No, nothing like that."

Marcus eased down on the bed while gazing at the closet. Behind the closed door the pleasant memories of his wife mixed with the foul reality of a payoff. "What's going on?"

"You're suspended," Fletcher blurted out. "The president called the governor, who called the mayor, who called the chief, and so on."

Marcus already understood the reasons. "I gave into a hostage-taker. Allowing Carl Bradburn in the building sealed my fate."

"Don't feel bad. I'm suspended as well."

The shower Marcus had just taken seemed like hours ago. Jay Nicken had been in the house and Marcus may have lost his job. He should have remained in the safety of porcelain tiles and steaming water, instead of facing the reality of his conscious. "Who's going to replace me?"

"Lindi will take your spot for now."

"Really?"

"Don't be quick to judge. She spoke to me a few minutes ago and said that she'll defend both our decisions."

Marcus thought that would be a bad idea. "If Lindi defends us, she'll never be promoted to negotiator."

"You were not wrong," Fletcher urged. "Sixty-four lives were saved."

"What about you? Is Harlan going to cover your job?"

"Nah. Kevin is too valuable at his current position. Detective Lance Crestwood will fill in for me."

"You're joking?"

"Wish I was."

Marcus rubbed his burning eyes. "Well, let's hope there isn't a hostage situation before we get back."

"Amen brother." Fletcher cleared his throat. "I want to tell you something important. There's no one better talking on the phone to an HT than you."

"Thanks, Daniel. I'll see you later this morning."

"Get some sleep and be well."

Marcus clicked _END_ and dropped back to his pillow. The sixty-four employees were released, because that was the plan. The eight hostage-takers were killed, because that is what needed to happen. The money was returned to Bradburn's accounts, because it was not the primary need.

This entire operation was just _window_ _dressing_ and Marcus the pawn.

Rules of a Hostage-Taker

Control situation.

Force options.

Gain reward.

Avoid capture.

### 33

Circumstances that led to the hostage takeover.

The amazing thing about executives in billion dollar companies is they have no idea who works in the fourteen floors below them. Certainly, way down in the basement, Carl Bradburn wouldn't know the name of his employee...Jay Nicken.

Bradburn would not realize that Jay's schedule is different from the regular nine to five. The Inventory Supervisor shift is noon to eight.

Conversely, there is a common similarity between the CEO of a private billion-dollar business and the lonely supervisor who earns $42,000 a year.

Habit.

Sure, their habits would be _different_ , but human nature has taught us that change is consequential and even terrifying. The same asshole who came up with the employee schedule for businesses knew how to train people like animals. Make sure they're doing the same thing each day so they can be more productive.

Jay's habit was to turn off the lights in the basement at 7:50 p.m. This would discourage any of the employees above him to come down and ask for a certain item moments before Jay's going to leave work. If you haven't made your request by 7:49, then you would have to wait. Jay did not earn enough money, nor enjoy his job to the point where he'd stick around just to help someone.

Everything in the basement had to be signed out with Jay's approval. It gave him some satisfaction of having control over the top fourteen floors. Even the executives did not have access to the supplies and records.

That's why at 7:59 when Jay shut off the light to his office, he had been surprised to see the top dog, Carl Bradburn, wandering through the basement. Jay's first reaction was to ask _King Bradburn_ how he got down here without a proper access card. But instead, Jay crouched down and looked from the glass window of his cramped little office.

Bradburn had a flashlight and headed toward the rear of the basement. This was a sure fire way to spot a person doing something illegal or immoral. Bradburn gained entry against company policy; he had a flashlight, did not turn on the main lights, and knew exactly where he's going. Bradburn had to be up to something in which he wanted to keep a secret from everyone else in the building.

Jay smiled. Whatever Bradburn's doing, Jay could blackmail him. Depending on what Bradburn was after, would determine how much Jay would ask to keep his mouth shut.

For example. If Bradburn retrieved a personnel file on one of the employees, that would be worth about a $100,000. That payment would prevent Jay from talking and Bradburn could avoid a lawsuit; not just from the employee that Bradburn accessed illegally, but from every employee in the company. Who knows how many others had been violated by the CEO.

Even better, maybe Bradburn would be meeting his assistant, Megan Smoy, down here for a quickie. Jay would wait until Bradburn had his pants around his ankles and Megan bent over a filing cabinet. At the right moment, Jay would yell, "Surprise!" Then, he would demand $250,000 to keep his mouth shut.

Jay focused on Bradburn. He arrived at the far wall at the supply shelf. "Damn." Jay couldn't blackmail Bradburn if he's stealing a few office supplies. Then again, why would Carl Bradburn need to steal a pencil and some sticky pads?

When the back wall moved in conjunction with the shelves, Jay thought his eyes had been deceived in the darkness. The flashlight dimmed, then flickered, as if Bradburn traveled to another dimension.

Jay's eyes narrowed, confused on what's going on. About five minutes later, Bradburn appeared and the wall moved back into place. Bradburn hurried through the basement, up the stairs, and left.

Jay kept the lights off and jogged out of the office. He could run blindfolded in a full sprint through this basement and avoid every cabinet and storage box. So in quick fashion, he arrived at the rear wall with the large shelves. He tugged on each shelf, but they were securely attached. Next, Jay stretched behind the office supplies and ran his fingers along the wall.

Between the second and third shelf, a twelve-by-twelve inch portion moved. Jay dug his fingers in and opened it all the way, revealing a keypad. He closed it, making sure the wall sealed together.

"Bradburn is hiding a room back here," Jay realized. But what's in it? Something important enough that only Carl Bradburn knew about.

The word _fate_ popped into Jay's mind. It's the power to predetermine events. It's an established future. Preordained death and destruction.

An individual's destiny of fortune.

### 34

Bradburn is an authoritative man. That's what money can do for the rich. The only thing Jay had going for him right now was the element of surprise. Once blown, Jay would be helpless to negotiate a bribe. Until that could happen, he had to know the contents in the secret room.

If Jay found Bradburn's grandmothers old ring that he kept here to cherish, that would _not_ help Jay at all. On the other hand, if Bradburn had secret files that posed a threat to either the company or one of the executives, it would make for a more incontestable deal.

Two weeks went by and Bradburn did not return. Possibly, that was a one-time thing when Bradburn arrived just before eight. Jay thought about camping in his office after hours to see if Bradburn showed, but the security guard in the building would wonder why Jay is staying here past his shift.

Jay decided to set up a camera in his office. The lens pointed to the rear wall and focused with night vision on the control panel that entered the secret room.

Another three nights went by before Bradburn returned at 10:00 p.m. No would question why a CEO worked late, but still, someone must have given him the security access card to the basement.

Bradburn punched in the code on the panel. The wall opened. Bradburn stepped inside for a few minutes and then exited, closing the wall behind him. The video revealed the numbers that Bradburn used.

Darnell Browning, head of building security, would be the only one that could give Bradburn a card to the basement. It's baffling, because Darnell did everything by the book. The company he worked for was outsourced, so it had no ties or loyalty to Bradburn Industries. This meant that no one, not even the co-founder of the company, could gain entry to every part of the building.

Jay decided to research VIP Security, which Bradburn Industries hired. He did this at home, instead of at work. There's no telling what extremes a billion dollar company would go to check employee's computers. Jay wondered how many people lost their job at Bradburn for being on Facebook.

VIP Security had a list of over a hundred employees and Darnell Browning listed as one of fifteen team leaders. Unfortunately, it did not say who owned the company.

Next, Jay went to Oregon.org and did a search of all businesses. If VIP Security was not listed, then that would be illegal. It could be worth some hush money as well.

To Jay's disappointment, VIP had been listed as a legitimate company in Oregon. The good news was that Jay located the owner of VIP...Robert Smalls.

Jay did a Google search on Robert Smalls, discovering he's listed at a rival company called, Executive Security.

_These security companies aren't very original with their company names_ , Jay thought.

Executive Security did private work for owners of companies. The website showed a list of clients, but did not connect them to the list of security teams which had a leader and seven other bodyguards. Jay printed Robert Smalls' team and continued browsing through the web site. Once again, the owner had not been listed, so Jay went back to Oregon.org and researched them.

The founder of Executive Security was Donny Malone, who's also Senior Vice President of Bradburn Industries.

It took a moment, but Jay pieced things together. Malone owns a security company that protects Carl Bradburn. Robert Smalls is the leader of Carl's security team. Smalls is also the owner of VIP, which is the building security at Bradburn Industries. Alternatively, Carl Bradburn could not convince Darnell Browning to change the accessibility on his card.

On the other hand, the owner of VIP, Robert Smalls, would have that authority. In fact, Robert most certainly had Donny Malone's card changed as well so he could go anywhere in the building. No red flags would show up in the security system, because they were granted permission.

Mr. _Ethical_ Carl Bradburn originally created a system to gain the trust of his employees. Unbeknownst to anyone, Carl used the head of his private security to change access cards at the building.

The system in place, along with the procedures created by Bradburn himself, stipulated that not even the executives could have access to everywhere in the building. What had _really_ been going on was so well hidden that no one would research this problem to catch Bradburn.

The only way Carl Bradburn would be caught, is if someone had fate on their side.

### 35

The rumors of Acacia-a company located in Spain-continued to spread throughout the business world. A major buyout of Bradburn Industries seemed apparent, although Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick denied any such deal. Gossip from the employees swirled down the fifteen floors and even reached Jay in the basement. Pamela Nystrom, a receptionist in Human Resources, had visited Jay and decided to vent her frustration.

"I hate not knowing what the hell is going on. We have no idea what Acacia demands of their employees. There is a chance that we will have to take a pay cut, or even worse, they could downsize."

Jay had other things on his mind, although he was following the Acacia buyout closely as well. When that happened, Jay could lose his chance to discover what is inside Bradburn's hidden room.

"I'm sure this won't be resolved in a week," Jay assured Pamela. "Things like this take months, even years to solidify.

"That's what worry's me. The rumors are now starting to heat up. What if they had been working on this for a long time? We have no idea when the negotiations started."

It was a good point. "I'm not sure there is much we can do."

"I'd like to march up to the fifteenth floor and tell Mr. Bradburn to go fuck himself. It would sure make me feel a lot better."

Jay rubbed his chin. "Do you think everyone feels the same way as you?"

"Sure. Nobody likes Bradburn. Especially the way he flaunts that slut assistant of his. I've seen Mrs. Bradburn. She is beautiful. How could Carl pick that skank Megan over his wife?"

"What about all these lawsuits we are hearing about? Especially the one from California University. I can't believe that Acacia would take over a company that has impending dooms lurking from every direction."

Pamela shrugged her shoulders. "If Dr. Sedgwick keeps developing formulas and vaccines to save and change people's lives, I suppose the good outweighs the bad."

"That's true." Jay wanted to confide in Pamela. Everyone liked her and she had the _ear_ of the entire company. Even some of the executives would chit-chat with her about sensitive business matters. She had that kind of approachable allure. And even though at the moment she was down in the basement, bitching about what is going on, Pamela was not a gossiper. Jay liked that about her. She would give advice to an employee, but not tell everyone what you said. He supposed her trusting nature is what attracted others the most.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked. "You got quiet all of the sudden."

"I was thinking that we shouldn't sit back and let Bradburn or Acacia do whatever the hell they want. The employees are the ones that keep this company profitable. They have under a hundred people working in this building and Bradburn Industries makes billions each year. Nike down the street has a thousand employees."

"Manufacturing is much different than pharmaceutical research."

"Yeah, I understand that. But still."

Pamela smiled. "Well, as I've said during my weekend Texas Hold'em Tournaments, 'I'm all in.' What do you have in mind?"

Jay wanted to tread lightly for the moment. He established that Pamela was a powerful and influential ally. She would support just about anything.

But what could they do? What would hurt Bradburn the most?

Jay still did not know.

### 36

Darnell Browning, Head of Security, popped his head in Jay's office with a surprise visit. For some reason, Jay thought that he was about to be escorted from the building.

"What up, Jay Bird?" Darnell asked.

Only Darnell called him that. Jay hated it with a passion, but was not about to argue with a well built, 6'5, 250-pound, black man. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Bradburn is sending everyone home early today." He had a prominent grin. "Even you."

Jay glanced at the clock. "I've only been here an hour."

"Are you really going to complain about being sent home early with pay?"

Jay walked around the desk, flicked off the light, and headed out of the office. Darnell followed behind. "So, what's the special occasion?"

"Don't know."

Jay stopped. "Does this have to do with Acacia? Did Mr. Bradburn make the deal?"

"First of all, Dr. Sedgwick _and_ Mr. Bradburn would have to agree on a deal. Second of all, I have no clue."

"I'll need a couple minutes to put some files away and then I'll get out of here."

Darnell looked at his watch. "Okay, but make it quick. Mr. Bradburn wanted the building clear in just a few minutes. Even the security has to leave." Darnell raced up the steps, slid the security card on the door, and left.

The moment had arrived. He could feel it.

Jay ran to the main light switch and shut it off. A long gray cabinet held extra white coats for the lab researches. He emptied it and shoved the white coats in a storage bin.

After taking several deep breaths to calm his nerves, Jay eased inside the cabinet, then closed the door. He could see through a crack, but it was limited.

Now...it was time to wait.

Twenty minutes had passed when Darnell came back downstairs. He flicked on the lights and yelled, "Jay Bird! You here?"

Darnell must have been waiting for Jay and decided to make sure the building was clear. This was the first time Mr. Bradburn sent the employees home early. To make this more interesting, there was an urgent tone in Darnell's voice.

After searching the office, Darnell shut off the lights and went upstairs.

Jay opened the cabinet and stepped out. He sucked in a pocket of air, although breathing in the cabinet wasn't that difficult. Still, he had a sensation of being locked inside a metal coffin.

No matter how long it took, Jay was determined to stay in the basement. Something was going on that was so important, even the security guards were not privileged with an update. Anything of that magnitude was certainly worth Jay's time.

Even so, he had planned to be here to 8:00 anyway, so it did not matter. With everyone removed from the building, he would continue working, with the exception of using his computer. He left the cabinet door open for quick entry and kept the lights off.

The only problem was if Bradburn had the building cleared for whatever reason, but never came down to the basement. Instead, he used his office on the fifteenth floor. Jay would not know if anyone was in the building or not. With no windows and just a couple of vents, the basement was setup like a dungeon, minus all the medieval torture and musty smell.

It was 5:30 when someone came through the door and turned on the lights. In spry fashion, Jay made it to the cabinet and sealed himself inside. When Bradburn entered the basement in the past, he did not turn on the lights, maximizing his secrecy. Jay assumed it was someone else.

To Jay's satisfaction, Bradburn came down the steps, followed by Dr. Sedgwick, and three other men, all dressed in expensive suits.

Dr. Sedgwick had long gray hair, fragile body, and the appearance of someone in their eighty's, rather than fifties. He was right behind Bradburn, following close. In tow behind Dr. Sedgwick, was a clean-cut man with salt and pepper hair, carrying a briefcase.

Jay carefully maneuvered in a position where he could have the best vantage point, with the least amount of strain on his body.

The last two men were foreign. One had a healthy head of black hair and a five o'clock shadow. The second was the opposite; buzzed hair and clean-shaven. Both had bronze skin and carried a metal suitcase in each hand.

Bradburn found a set of plastic folding chairs and set them in a circle. Jay could assume that whoever the bronze fellows were, they had some sort of authority over Bradburn. It was comical the way he rushed to make sure everyone had a seat. Even more satisfying, was seeing five powerful men sitting in a basement on plastic chairs.

The man with the briefcase spoke first. "This is an informal meeting, gentlemen. We are here to agree on principle terms only."

Jay now realized that the two bronze guys were from Acacia in Spain. The same ones planning to buyout Bradburn Industries.

Five o'clock shadow said in English, but with a thick Spanish accent, "Do we agree on the purchase price of $50.6 billion?"

"We do," Bradburn responded.

They talked about fifty billion as if it was spare change in their pockets. Jay despised their snobbish nature, along with their thousand dollar suits.

Five o'clock shadow looked at Dr. Sedgwick. "And you?"

"Yes, I agree," he replied with a nervous tone. Dr. Sedgwick looked out of place compared to the others with his ragged lab coat, puny body, and long gray hair in a ponytail.

Buzzed hair said to Mr. Briefcase, "Mr. Hurwitz. We will need to discuss other matters, but feel your services will no longer be needed at this time."

Hurwitz face was painted with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "I am the corporate attorney for Bradburn Industries. I need to be here during-"

"Morris," Bradburn said, using the lawyer's first name. "We aren't signing anything today. Leave us to talk."

"I don't think that is a good idea," Hurwitz protested.

"And yet, I do." Bradburn held his gaze on the corporate attorney.

Giving in to defeat, Hurwitz stood up. "Should I wait upstairs in case you need me?"

"No. You can leave." Bradburn handed Hurwitz a security card. "I'll call you later tonight."

Hurwitz grabbed his briefcase and marched off. Jay could hear the lawyer stomp up each step of the metal stairs and bang through the door.

"So," Bradburn said to five o'clock shadow. "Let's talk about why you really came here."

### 37

Five o'clock shadow's English was impeccable. He spoke with confidence, but in a low voice. Jay could barely hear him. "We are willing to make what your Americans call an _under the table deal_ , but do not understand why this is needed. Both of you will earn over twenty-two billion on this agreement, plus an $800,000 a year salary to continue your work. Why are you asking for more?"

"It's simple," Bradburn said. "We have several lawsuits pending. A couple possible outcomes may occur as a result, but the worst is that if we are sued for damages, the two billion and our salary could be taken away. Dr. Sedgwick and I feel that we need some insurance money that the government and the outside world do not know about."

"Also," Dr. Sedgwick said in a raspy voice. "We are in a tough position. If word gets out that we agreed to sell and something happens to disrupt the deal, then..." He stopped speaking. "Let's just say that we will look bad if the deal falls through."

"Look bad to whom?" Five o'clock shadow responded. "This is a privately owned company with only ten percent of the shares owned by investors. What do you care what people think?"

Bradburn answered the question. "If something goes wrong and the deal is disrupted for any reason, our alternative would be to go public. Unfortunately, that will be difficult with the lawsuits. If the news reported that Acacia was all set to purchase Bradburn Industries, but had cold feet because of internal problems we are having, our company would not be worth shit."

Clean-cut responded. "We are taking all the risks. It seems that you want some sort of guarantee to make billions. In business and life, there are no guarantees."

"I understand your position," Bradburn said, his voice edged with conviction. "But you must understand ours. We can shop this company to others before going any further with you." He leaned forward. "Is Acacia ready for a bidding war?"

Jay noticed that five o'clock shadow's bronze skin turned to the color of rust. He did not appear to be a man who took threats lightly. "And understand our position, Mr. Bradburn. If we give you this money, the buyout should go smoothly." He watched as Bradburn sat back in his chair. "I suggest you hold on to every dollar, in case we change our minds."

Sedgwick squirmed. "Why would you change your mind?"

Clean-cut answered. "If it was leaked that we have made a deal in principle, it could stir up more lawsuits. In that case, we may reconsider. Also, we have not yet agreed on which employees will stay and which will leave. That could be another deal killer. We want our own people in here."

Sedgwick wriggled so much he almost slipped off the plastic chair. "The reason this company is worth fifty billion, is because of the people that work here."

"We disagree," Shadow replied. His skin returned to its natural bronze. "We know that you had someone steal formulas and vaccines from other pharmaceutical companies. We know that Mr. Bradburn's personal security team raided several collage labs to retrieve information on their studies, the worst being California University. The growth hormone formula, Protropin, was taken from Cal. If anyone discovers that it was Mr. Bradburn's own security that stole it, then this company would not be worth...as you say...shit."

"How did you know?" Bradburn asked. His face turned to a pasty white, hands clenched together.

Jay could not contain his smile. His blackmail plan had formulated right in front of his eyes. He could stand in this cabinet and let them blab secrets for hours and it would not matter. _Just keep talking_ , he thought.

Five o'clock shadow fashioned a devious grin. "We have been watching your company for some time. Let's just say, we had people in place to feed us information."

"Moles?" Bradburn spat. "You put moles in our company?"

"What did you think? We are going to spend $50.6 billion without diligence?"

Bradburn had the look of defeat. "What about our other offices in California? San Francisco, Vacaville, and Oceanside?"

Clean-cut responded. "They will all be closed."

"And the employees here? How many can we keep?"

Five o'clock shadow said, "Give us a number."

Bradburn looked at Sedgwick. "Well, there are so many-"

"Let me make this easier for you," Five o'clock shadow said to Bradburn. "You may keep eight, including yourself."

Bradburn was still looking at Sedwick. Jay wished he could display Bradburn's expression in the break room for the other employees to enjoy. It was wonderful to see that bastard bullied like a little kid. "Well, I want my Vice President, Donny Malone." Bradburn turned and looked at five o'clock shadow. "Megan Smoy, my assistant. Mike Harten, the Chief Financial Officer. And Deshi Lung, Vice President of Foreign Operations. Those people I trust the most, are loyal, and I want them to stay. Darnell Browning, the head of our building security, is not an employee, but we still need him here. He shouldn't count as part of the eight." Bradburn pointed to clean-cut. "Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

Five o'clock shadow answered for him. "He is not my secretary. Plus, I can remember eight or nine names. Pick two more." He looked at Sedgwick. "Doctor. Is there anyone you would like to keep?"

Sedgwick inched forward in his seat. "Well, Yongsoo Chung, who is my right hand in the lab. And Jason Zimmer, my research manager."

"Very well," Five o'clock shadow said. "We will keep you two and those other six, plus the head of building security. They will receive a raise and bonus, but they must adhere to Acacia's guidelines."

"What about the other employees?" Bradburn asked.

"Do not say anything to them just yet. I'll let you know when you can fire them."

"You mean lay them off," Bradburn said. "Give them some sort of reimbursement."

"We are spending all our reimbursement funds on your under-the-table-deal." He paused, eyes right with Bradburn. "We can certainly split some of your payoff amongst the employees who will be leaving."

"That won't be necessary," Bradburn said. "But if you fire them, then they will have trouble collecting unemployment. If you lay them off, then they have a fighting chance."

"They will be terminated," Five o'clock shadow said an icy tone. "And you will be the one giving the ax, not me."

Bradburn rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. Let's wrap this up."

Clean-cut opened all four metal cases. "There is eight billion in cash. Four each." He produced a crafty grin. "But hold onto it for now, just in case we need it back."

Jay gazed at the money with wide eyes. Not only did he have blackmail details, he also had eight billion a few feet away.

Both foreigners stood up and walked toward the stairs.

Bradburn waited until they exited the basement. He slid from his chair and closed the cases. "Do you want me to hold onto this and keep it in a safe place?"

"No. I'll take my share and hide it."

"Where?" Braburn asked. "It needs to be in a place that no one will ever look."

Sedgwick grabbed two cases. "I'll handle it." He left without saying another word.

As Bradburn opened the secret room, Jay had to make a decision. He could punch Bradburn in his smug mouth and grab the money, then escape. Bradburn would never catch him.

Jay held back, considering the consequences. Bradburn would send his private security after him. Possibly, Acacia had connections to an army of hit men. This had to be planned with detailed precision. Bradburn would keep his money in the safe room until the deal with Acacia had been completed. The cash wasn't going anywhere.

Jay had also considered the employees who were about to be screwed over by Bradburn and Acacia. There had to be way to help them as well. He needed a plan that would get rid of his enemies and benefit everyone else at the same time.

Like a vision, an idea popped into Jay's mind. He knew exactly how to get away with six of the eight billion, help everyone, and keep his identity a secret.

All these years suffering in this basement had finally paid off. Jay had enough information to control the most significant people in two different Fortune 500 companies.

Bradburn returned the chairs to their original position, went up the stairs, shut off the lights, and left.

Jay opened the cabinet door and stepped out. He had to act quickly and get everything organized.

The first thing he needed to do was research everything he could on the hostage negotiator for the Hillsboro Police Department.

### 38

Whoever invented websites was a genius. All the information needed for a building or person was readily available. There was a time when businesses hid their information. Now, the Internet became a billboard.

On the Hillsboro Police Department website, they were kind enough to categorize each division. Lieutenant Marcus Cane was listed in the Emergency Response Team. Also listed was Kevin Harlan, the Senior Tactical Operations Commander. He would be the pain in the ass that will try to shoot everybody so they could go home. Lindi Amerson was the Tactical Intelligence Advisor. Daniel Fletcher, Situation Commander, would oversee the operation.

Now, Jay knew the key players.

The next best thing besides websites was Google. In seconds, Jay discovered a policy by the Hillsboro Police Department, which allowed the hostage negotiator to make most, if not all the decisions. The Situation Commander can relieve the negotiator of his duty, but it is unlikely that would happen during the hostage situation.

According to an interview that Marcus Cane recently did with USA Today, he has been in eighteen hostage negotiations. Fourteen of them were attempted suicide. Jay thought this was amusing. It meant that a person could hold themselves hostage. Of the fourteen attempted suicides, two victims ended up going through with it.

Cane had spent twenty-three hours trying to talk a woman off a ledge at the top of the Marriott Hotel. The hotel was under construction and it was difficult for Cane to maneuver close to her. They were up there so long that the woman had urinated herself several times, soaking her jeans and socks. Cane never left and used water bottles as his toilet when the woman wasn't looking. She had lost her job of sixteen years; accused of stealing a pack of highlighters. After attempting to talk her down for almost a full day, she stood up, turned, smiled and said to Cane, "Thanks for trying. I'll always love you for that." Rather than going over the building to the parking lot, she disappeared through the rafters. The woman did not die right away, but she never made it to the hospital alive.

Jay continued reading about Marcus Cane, wanting to know everything about him.

In another situation, a grandmother kidnapped her three grandchildren because she thought they were being mistreated at home. She held them for six hours with a shotgun. Cane successfully negotiated everyone out alive. It was later determined that the shotgun was empty. And even if she did manage to load it, the damn thing was broke and wouldn't fire anyway.

A sophomore in high school held his girlfriend captive in his room when she informed him that they were breaking up. He smashed a lamp and held the largest piece against her neck. Cane resolved that situation in less than thirty minutes without injuries.

The one that interested Jay the most was when two hostages were executed, but Cane did not allow a breach to save the others. Instead, he continued negotiations with the hostage-taker.

It was a classic case of when a husband came home early from a business trip. He found his wife and her lover in the Jacuzzi, while their six children were upstairs sleeping. The children's ages ranged from seven-years-old to seventeen.

The husband retrieved a gun that he carried in his briefcase and forced the two naked adults back inside the house, where he tied them up. He then rounded up the children. Unbeknownst to the father, the seventeen-year-old carried her cell phone downstairs and texted her best friend to call the police.

One hour after Cane arrived on the scene; the father shot and killed his wife's lover, right in front of the children. Three hours later, he killed the wife. Seven hours later, Cane talked the father out and saved the six children.

The USA Today article finished with a brief paragraph about Cane's personal life. He had a wife that died of cancer. Cane also has a sister and nephew in Tulsa and a mother in Tallahassee.

Jay logged off the Internet, pleased with his research. Marcus Cane will be perfect.

### 39

How do you get 60,000 people to be quiet at the same time? That is simple. Announce that the National Anthem will be sung. Everyone will listen, because they believe in what they are hearing.

Jay had to use that same logic with the employees of Bradburn Industries. If they believe in him, they would consider his plan.

Of course, there was always the risk that someone may go to police and ruin everything. For a little added insurance, Jay figured he would have to threaten the employees. Even so, Jay's plan was based on his original theory...if the employees of Bradubrn Industries believe in him, they would follow him.

Since he had a good relationship with Pamela Nystrom and she worked in Human Resources, that is where Jay had to start. He needed her to retrieve all the employees' files. Also, since Pamela had the _ear_ of the employees, she would prove useful in convincing others of his plan.

"Are you nuts?" Pamela shouted. She had come over to his house, after he called her and said he had important news about the company. "You want to hold every employee at Bradburn Industries hostage?"

"Also I want to pin it all on Carl Bradburn's personal security. They will be a part of the hostage-situation as well."

Any other person would have run out the door. Pamela did not. She listens to everyone's problems as they bitch and moan about their job, but afterwards, they always feel better speaking with her. She would have made a great shrink. Jay knew that there was more to Pamela than just being a kind person.

She was curious about others.

"I'm assuming you have a good reason for doing this?" she asked.

There it was, Jay thought. Curiosity. "I have _information_ , which can be a compelling resource if used in the correct way."

Pamela inched forward. "Tell me."

"I know for sure that Bradburn had his private security steal formulas from several different pharmaceutical companies and college laboratories. I know that Robert Smalls is the owner of VIP Security."

"Which is the building security," Pamela added.

"Yes. Smalls is the leader of Bradburn's private security team." Jay could see the wheels turning in Pamela's head. "It gets better. Donny Malone, our wonderful VP, owns Executive Security, which is where Smalls and his crew works."

"I agree it's a little fishy, but why is that important?"

"Because, this gives Carl Bradburn and Donny Malone the ability to control security access cards in the building."

Pamela's face lit up. "Bradburn and Malone are not permitted to enter all the rooms in the building. In fact, that was Bradburn's idea."

"That's right. They found a way to change security cards and no one would ever know."

"Those snakes," Pamela said. "The only reason they would do something like that, is if they were digging into company files, changing accounts, and sneaking formulas into the lab."

"Also, Bradburn needs a place to secretly meet with others and hide money." Pamela's eyes narrowed, her mouth opening just a bit. Jay knew he gained an ally. "I'm talking billions of dollars in under-the-table funds, given to him and Dr. Sedgwick by the owners of Acacia."

"So the deal would go through smoothly."

"Yep."

"And they are hiding the money at the building?" Pamela's expression was attentive and full of curiosity.

"I haven't located Dr. Sedgwick's money yet. But I know where Bradburn hid his."

Pamela's eyes became distant. "How much?"

"They each received four billion." Jay let that sink in. "And I have even more information that could benefit us." He used the word, _us_ , in order to insinuate that she was on his side.

Pamela snapped to attention. "Go on."

"When Acacia takes control, they are going to shut down the other businesses in California and fire everyone here, with the exception of eight people."

"Jesus!" Her cheeks flushed, spreading to her neck and arms. "You mean they are going to layoff the employees?"

"No. They are specifically going to screw everyone over."

"Severance pay?"

"No."

"Are they even going to give the employees notice so they can start looking?"

"Nope." Jay sat back, watching as Pamela went through a variety of emotions. Anger was the first, followed by sadness. Her eyes shifted in every direction, then focused on him. Jay could tell that she was considering his plan to defend herself and the other employees against those corporate bastards. "Are you in?" he asked.

"I want to get this straight. You are going to ruin Bradburn Industries, take the payoff money, and split it up between the employees. Meanwhile, we will stay anonymous, while Acacia goes after Mr. Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick."

"Well, you got most of that right." Jay thought about what he was about to tell Pamela. He decided to be honest, although unsympathetic. "Dr. Sedgwick won't make it."

### 40

"You are going to kill him?" Pamela asked. Her expression was pure astonishment.

"Yes."

She stood up. "I'm done. There is no way I can listen to this."

"Sit!" Jay ordered. She glared at him for a moment, then plopped back down. "Dr. Sedgwick will end up dead anyway, when Acacia sends their crew after him."

"What about Mr. Bradburn?"

"I'm going to let him live and suffer. He can deal with Acacia on his own."

"He has a family," Pamela said. A tear spilled from her eye. "A wife and two daughters."

"I know. I'll try to keep them safe the best I can."

Pamela did not speak for a long moment. "Will anyone else be killed?"

"Yes."

Pamela shook her head. "Who?"

"Yongsoo Chung, Megan Smoy, Donny Malone, Jason Zimmer, Darnell Browning, Mike Harten, and Deshi Lung."

"You can't be serious?" She clasped her fingers together, preventing them from shaking.

"Also, Mr. Bradburn's entire private security will be killed as well."

"You'll never get the employees to go along with this."

"I'm not going to tell them," Jay said. "They will know everything, just not this. Also, we'll have their personnel folders-"

"You are going to threaten them?" Pamela stood up again. "Jay, you are talking about spending the rest of your life in prison. Did you know that Oregon voters reinstated the death penalty in 1984? Lethal injection is our form of capital punishment."

Jay pushed himself up and touched her arm. "No one is going to know I'm involved or that we even had this conversation."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "You cannot keep seventy people from talking. Someone will crack. I could name about ten who gossip like old church ladies."

"That's why we need a little bit of insurance, in order to keep their traps shut." He touched her arm again, trying to keep her attention. "These people are about to receive more money than they could ever spend in their lifetime. Meanwhile, they are going to screw over Bradburn and Acacia. I don't think anyone will lose sleep over that. And I'm doing the killing, not them. That's why it is important we tell them only what they need to hear."

Pamela swallowed, eyes level with Jay. "Have you killed anyone before?"

He thought about growing up in Pennsylvania and going deer hunting with his father and two older brothers. Shooting deer never bothered Jay. He figured that taking a life would feel the same, no matter if it were an animal or human. "I never killed anyone before," he admitted.

"How much money will each of the employees receive?"

"Well, I have to payout twelve million to some others to assist with the job. Plus I have other expenses that need-"

"How much?" she repeated.

Jay cocked his head and smiled, "$93,562,500."

Pamela responded with a nervous chuckle. "Well, that may certainly convince people to keep their mouths shut and go along with the plan." She scrunched her eyebrows. "How did you come across all this information?"

Jay knew that she would eventually ask that question; he considered lying. On the other hand, Pamela was risking her life and deserved to know the truth. "In the basement, I hid in a metal cabinet while listening to a conversation with Bradburn, Sedgwick, and the two Acacia owners. I also spied on Bradburn several times before that."

"Mr. Bradburn is hiding his money in the basement? Why don't we just go get it?"

"It's not that simple," Jay explained. "And besides, getting the money is only part of the plan."

### 41

Keb Driftwood had been Jay's best friend since childhood. When Jay took the job at Bradburn Industries, Keb actually shed tears during the going away party.

Still in Pittsburgh, Keb works for Liam Raines, a high-end loan shark. Raines's father was German and mother French. He was born in Pittsburgh and made his money with Internet schemes. Over the last ten years, he has been giving loans for businesses that had nowhere else to turn. When the housing market crashed, Raines lent money for personal loans. He also saved mortgage companies and failing construction businesses.

Everything was hidden from the government. If you borrowed from Raines, you better succeed or kill yourself. There wasn't a third option.

Jay used a prepaid phone when he contacted Keb, even it was just to say hello.

"Let me guess," Keb said, "You finally had sex and you want to tell me all about it."

Jay laughed. "No, still having trouble in that department."

"Pittsburgh has some hot strip clubs these days. If you ever get a vacation, along with a set of balls, how about coming back and visiting."

"Why are there so many strip clubs suddenly?"

"Raines lent money to several smut magazine companies, which turned into a way for men to see the women live, twirling around a pole."

Jay saw an opening. "I have a job for you. Medium risks, high pay."

"Sorry Jay. I'm not going to work in the mailroom at that Godforsaken company you are employed with."

"I'm not calling to offer you that kind of a job. I need you to speak with Raines, borrow a two million investment, and fly to Oregon tomorrow." Keb did not respond. "You there?"

"I'm here. What the fuck have you gotten yourself in to?

"It's job. I'm not in trouble."

"How much is the take?"

"Raines will double his money and you will get five million."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious. It's sort of a corporate scam. But I need your kind of muscle to get it done."

Keb sighed. "Listen. You are my best friend, despite your dumb ass going across the country and living in the same town that makes Nike shoes."

"Is there a point coming?"

"You know Raines. If this fails, I'll be tortured for months before he'll let me die. If he discovers that you were involved, it will be the same deal. And then somehow, Raines will find a way to get his money back. You understand?"

"I wouldn't jam you up. This is real. Five million for you. Two million profit for Raines."

"I need to ask you one more time. Are you sure?"

"Yes. Raines will have his money in a of couple weeks."

Keb paused. "I'll call you back tonight and let you know what he says. If all goes well, I can be in Oregon by the morning. You still living in Hillsboro?"

"Yeah." Jay had a moment of doubt. If he sent his best friend to risk his life, there was no turning back. "If Raines doesn't want to do it, don't push him."

"I'm sure he'll be interested."

"Well, if you end up coming here, somehow you'll need to bring your guns."

Keb chuckled. "I already assumed that."

### 42

Keb was not a big man, but he got the job done for Raines. Whenever pressure had to be applied, or forcing someone to pay on their loan, Keb was a master of intimidation.

"So, you have a couple of kids," he would say to defaulted client. "That's wonderful. And your wife is a beauty."

Keb would also ask questions to let the client know how serious the problem had gotten.

"Does your wife still work at that elementary school as a lunch aid? Does she still go in at 10:00 and leave exactly at 1:40? Does she still drive that Honda Civic, which is silver, with the license plate: KAU284? Then she comes back at 3:15 to pick your three kids up? On Friday's, does she still treat them to pizza at Little Ceasers?"

By then, the client has crumbled. Keb rarely had to kill anyone with his SIG pistol. On occasion, Raines would order him to shoot a defaulted client and get rid of the body. Nevertheless, that was always the last resort.

A dead client cannot payback the loan.

Today, Keb was going to be on the other side of the conversation. He was about to ask Raines for money. And not a just a thousand dollars to pay the rent, but two million.

Raines was at his desk, located at the bottom floor of a 470,000 square foot building. As usual, he was buried in a mound of paperwork. He did everything himself and never hired a secretary. He wanted to speak to every client directly and know every little thing at a moments notice. Raines had his thumb on the business to avoid any surprises.

His massive frame creaked on the leather chair. Next to the piles of manila folders, was an empty plate and glass. The lines on his face showed his exact age of sixty-five. His skin tone had once been like milk, but years of drinking and smoking cigars transformed his cheeks to a deep crimson.

Some clients hoped that Raines would keel over and drop dead, so the debt would not have to be paid. Keb knew that Raines was the type of man who could eat crappy food, smoke, and drink everyday, but he would probably live to be a hundred.

Raines rolled his eyes up from his work and smiled. "Driftwood," he said. "What's up?"

Keb looked around. Usually, Raines had his other two bodyguards with him at all times. "Where are JC and Leo?"

"Taking care of something for me," Raines said. When he stood up, the chair let out a poof as if it was relieved from the pressure. "You looked stressed. What's going on?" He walked around the desk and stood right in front of Keb.

"I've never asked you for money."

Raines folded his big paws together. "And yet, you are about to ask me right now. You better not have broken any of my rules."

The rules were no gambling, no drugs, no attention.

"It's nothing like that." Keb now felt like one of those desperate clients that are fearful of Raines, but were hopeless enough to walk into this office and beg for a loan.

"How much do you need?" Raines asked. His red eyes were glaring down at Keb. "What do you need it for? When will I be paid back?"

Keb knew better than to delay his answer. Raines was losing his patience. "I need two million. It's for a job. I'll pay you back in fourteen days."

Raines smiled. "That is quite a job. I suppose you aren't going to fill me in on the details."

Keb felt his insides twist into a knot. He really did not have the particulars, but was willing to put his ass on the line for Jay. "I can't tell you."

"That won't work." Raines went back to his chair and eased down. "I'm not investing two million in something I know nothing about. What if you get pinched? What if you get killed? How will I be paid? Do you have partners? How much exposure am I risking? Will the Fed's coming knocking on my door one day, asking why I gave you money for this job?"

All valid questions, Keb thought. "Since you are taking this risk, I'll double your money. You'll get four million in fourteen days."

In a meaningless gesture, Raines shoved his empty plate and glass farther away on the desk. "I like you, Driftwood. It would break my heart if I had to send JC to kill you."

"I agree."

"Four million in fourteen days?" He held out his meaty hand. Keb paused for a moment, but shook it. Raines seized Keb and yanked him close, there faces just inches apart. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Keb responded. He could smell the garlic on Raines's breath. "I wouldn't screw you over. You've been good to me."

Raines let go of his hand. "Come back here in an hour and I'll have the money ready for you." He returned to his work.

Keb hurried out of the office, feeling as if his body was ethereal. _What the hell did I just do?_

### 43

Jay picked up Keb at the airport and drove him to the house. After eating a quick dinner, Jay handed Keb a list of items that needed to be completed. "Get this done quick," Jay explained. "I'm not sure how much of a window we'll have."

Keb scanned down the list. "Some of this I can do over the Internet to save time. But to acquire detail information on all these people, it could take months."

"We need just the basics to succeed with this job."

Keb put down the paper and sat back. "Okay, why don't you tell me what we are doing."

Jay was hesitant to let Keb in on everything. He only needed to know the parts that concerned him directly to earn the five million. "Marcus Cane is a negotiator for the Hillsboro Police Department," Jay explained. "I will be paying him off, along with his sister Trudy, who lives in Tulsa, and his mother, who lives in Tallahassee."

"How much you paying them?"

"$500,000 each for this sister and mother, one million for him."

"So that's where my two million from Raines is going." Keb shifted in his chair. "Is that necessary?"

"I know you are worried about losing Raines' investment, but-"

"I'm not worried, I am terrified. You put me in a tough spot."

"You are in a tough spot because the pay is five million and your boss will double his investment. If you have doubts, then take the money and head back to Pittsburgh."

"It's too late now. I either come back with four million or I shoot myself."

Jay pulled in a deep breath. "Calm down. I have this under control."

Keb glanced down at the list. "Tell me about the others."

"I'll need some details on Carl Bradburn, where he lives, what his family does, etc...I'll need access to all his private accounts."

"Is he rich?"

"Yes."

"So that's where we are getting the money?"

"No," Jay replied. "Also, I need to know how much time does Bradburn's private security spend with him and I'll need the basics on the security team's private life. Are any of them married? Children? Things like that. Especially Robert Smalls."

"Shouldn't be hard," Keb assured him. "What else?"

"If possible, I'll need to know a little about the security system at Bradburn Industries."

Keb's eyebrows raised. "Is that where we are getting the money?"

"Not we... _me_. I'll take the risk, you'll wait outside with the Bradburn family. When the time is right, you will release them."

"Tell me about that."

"First, we will give the eight security members that protect Carl Bradburn a fictitious heist. Then, you will kidnap Bradburn's wife and two daughters. Bradburn will receive a phone call from the police, explaining that his employees have been taken hostage."

"So this is a ransom job?" Keb asked.

"Sort of. I would say it is a ransom job with a twist." Jay paused, thinking of what else he needed. "Do you have an off-shore account?"

"I have several," Keb replied. "Are you going to fill me in with the rest of details?"

"No. The less you know, the better. I just need you for recon and some grunt work. Two weeks of service. When you are done, you'll be paid five million and Raines will get his four million."

"It's hard putting my faith into something I know very little about."

"I understand, but it is necessary." Jay glanced back at Keb's suitcase. "Where is the money you brought?"

Keb stood up and reached in his pocket. "Here." He dropped a cashier's check for two million on the table.

Jay picked up the check and laughed. "Well, it's not quite like the movies. But this will do."

### 44

Keb was used to acquiring background information on people, because it was part of his job description for Raines. In less than an hour, he had the addresses for everyone on the list.

Marcus's sister is named Trudy Webster and lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Keb checked her Facebook page and went through the last few months. According to her posts, it was obvious that her husband left and was seeing some younger woman. Trudy had a son named Aiden.

"Got to love Facebook," Keb laughed. It was amazing the personal information that could be obtained and how much people blabbed about their daily routines. Just by looking at Trudy's Facebook page, he knew her hardships, what school her son went too, his friend's names, where Trudy worked, and what coffee she drank at Starbucks each morning at 7:50.

Keb did similar research with everyone else on his list, with the exception of Marcus and his mother, along with Carl Bradburn. None of them were on Facebook.

The next day, Keb drove Jay to work and walked him to the front lobby. "I'll pick you up tonight." He watched as Jay turned left, scanned his card in the door, and disappeared into a hallway. Before leaving, Keb scrutinized the entire area. There was a security guard at the front desk. He was a tall black man, in perfect shape, wearing a polo shirt that said, "VIP Security." Keb was surprised that the guard did not carry a weapon. As he headed for the glass door, Keb also noticed that building did not have security cameras.

He hurried outside to Jay's white, Saturn Aura. He fired up his laptop and researched VIP. They specialized in alarm systems that were connected to a secondary grid and power source. That was smart, because if someone cut the buildings electricity, the system would still be intact. Also, all the doors at Bradburn Industries were secured and the employees needed to swipe a card. If the electricity were off, this would still need to be done in order to access any hallway or room.

Keb drove to the Bradburn's residence and memorized every detail. There was a stonewall around the property and a gate blocking the driveway. Despite that, he could see all they way to the house.

Alicia Bradburn drove a charcoal color Infinity, which was parked in the driveway. Two security guards were home with her, both male. The oldest daughter, Gibby, made several posts on Facebook about her new yellow Hummer. The youngest daughter, Theresa, was looking forward to her new car from daddy in two years when she was sixteen.

The next stop Keb made was the home of Robert Smalls. He had a wife and a young boy; probably about six-years-old. Keb watched as the wife put her son in a car seat and drove off.

Keb parked the Saturn across the street, grabbed his lock picks, and hurried to the front door. In seconds, he had gained entry. There was an alarm key pad, set to go off in twenty-one seconds unless someone punched in the code.

Keb rushed through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. To the rear of the home, he found a small office that had window looking over the backyard. Keb had a mental clock in his head. The alarm would be going off in about fifteen seconds.

The desk was organized, with everything put in its proper place. Smalls kept a large monthly planner with a protection schedule. Keb pulled a tiny digital camera from his pocket and took a picture. He noticed a week blocked off in red with a notation, "Bradburn vacation. No protection needed."

Alarm: four seconds

In a full sprint, Keb ran back the way he came and exited the home. Just as he hit the sidewalk, the alarm blared behind him. He slid into Jay's Saturn and sped away.

The next stop was Marcus Cane's house. It was located in a development called, Jamboree. Keb visualized it being something like New Orleans, with block parties, beads thrown in parades, music and fireworks.

Instead, it was just an unpretentious neighborhood. Keb checked the GPS on his phone and realized that he was about five minutes from Bradburn Industries. Whatever Jay had planned with this hostage thing, Marcus Cane would arrive in quick fashion. Keb made a note of that and pulled into the driveway. It was obvious that Marcus was not home, because cops kept their cars out of the garage, facing the street, ready at a moments notice. Certainly, a hostage negotiator followed the same rules.

Once again, Keb broke inside using his lock picks, but there was no alarm to deal with. Probably because no one would be stupid enough to enter the home of cop.

The house was simple and colorless, missing a woman's touch. Keb had done research on Marcus and knew his wife died of cancer. The living conditions seemed relevant to such an event. Marcus still missed his wife and was afraid to add a single enhancement, fearing that it meant he was moving on.

Keb examined each room then went upstairs. A spare bedroom was used for a workout room and another spare bedroom as an office. Keb snapped some pictures, but found nothing of interest with the exception of a laptop. He powered it up and scanned through Marcus's personal emails, including the ones that had been recently deleted. There were several emails back and forth from his sister in Tulsa, going into detail how her husband had left and she was broke. Trudy needed her brothers help. Marcus said he do his best, but never gave any real solutions.

Keb opened the closet and noticed that Marcus kept all his clothes in there. Confused, Keb went to the master bedroom. The left side of the bed was in disarray, while the right side untouched. He was surprised not to see one single picture of Marcus's deceased wife.

Keb slid open the closet door, shocked by the hidden treasure. At least, it was a treasure for Marcus. All his wife's clothes, knickknacks, and pictures were in here. Leaning against the back wall was an erotic painting with a Japanese couple doing the dirty deed. The woman's bare ass dominated the canvas. It was sexy and eye-catching. Keb used his digital camera took a couple pictures.

He made sure the closet door was shut, then went back downstairs and opened the fridge. Inside was a twelve-pack of beer and condiments. Typical diet of someone who had still been grieving.

As Keb closed the fridge, he saw a stack of mail on the counter. All of it was torn open, including a dozen letters from a mortgage company, threatening foreclosure on a property in Tallahassee. Keb remembered that Marcus's mother lived there. Keb took one of the mortgage statements with a return envelope, folded it in half, and shoved it in his pocket. Next, he snapped a few pictures of the mail, made his way back through the living room and exited the home. Before leaving, Keb relocked the door.

He still had plenty of time before Jay was off work, so Keb decided to survey the remaining seven private security guards homes. He took his list of addresses and keyed them in the GPS.

By the time Jay had finished work, Keb had completed the tasks. He drove to the front of the building. Jay had been waiting and climbed inside the passenger's seat.

"So, how did things go?" Jay asked.

"I got everything you asked for," Keb responded. "All the basic information you need, plus some details on Marcus Cane and his family." Keb drove past Nike and continued through the industrial park. "What's next?"

"Well, we might as well get started." Jay looked at Keb. "We need to convince the eight security guards that we a have a job for them that will earn around ten million each."

"What job?"

"Stealing the formulas from Dr. Sedgwick's office."

"Who is Dr. Sedgwick and why are his formulas worth so much?"

"Sedgwick is one of the co-founders at Bradburn Industries. His formulas are actually worth _billions_ to their competitors and other pharmaceutical research labs."

Keb glanced at Jay. "So that's the job? Sounds a little thin, unless you have a buyer lined up for what we steal."

"It's all good," Jay assured him.

"What if the guards don't go along with the plan?"

"How do you convince the people that borrow money from Raines to pay back their loans?"

Keb smiled. "I threaten them."

"Well, there's your answer."

"When should we start?"

"Tomorrow. I have to attend a get-together at the Best Western."

Keb hit the brakes at a stoplight and looked at Jay. "A party?"

"No, just an assemblage of employees from Bradburn Industries."

"How many?" The light turned green and Keb hit the gas.

"Seventy-one."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"Everything," Jay said. "But I don't want them to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I am going to threaten them as well and you are the ghost who will come after their families if they do not agree to what I have planned."

"This sounds like dangerous risks."

"It's all good, I promise."

Keb pulled into Jay's driveway, then slammed the gear into park. He turned in his seat and locked eyes with Jay. "Do you understand that we owe Liam Raines four million dollars? Do you also understand the consequences if he is not paid?"

"I am aware of the risk you took for me." Jay patted him on the shoulder. "Keep your head on straight. You are about to become a millionaire."

### 45

Pamela passed along a message to all the employees that Jay Nicken is having a secret meeting that concerns all their futures. Most employees assumed that Pamela and Jay caught wind of the Acacia buyout and knew what was going to happen and when. This prompted a one hundred percent turnout. Counting Jay, seventy-two employees were in the Best Western conference room.

Jay ignored the podium and microphone. Instead, he spoke to the employees using his own voice, while maneuvering from one side of the conference room to other. Their anxious eyes followed his every move. The employees were silent, as if an impending doom was about to be announced.

"There are eight people missing from this meeting," Jay explained. "Those same eight people are protected by Bradburn Industries and will be receiving a substantial raise."

"I knew it!" an employee shouted. "Acacia is taking over and we are about to get canned."

Jay kept his tone stern. "We don't have a lot of time to discuss this, so I'll get right to the point. All of you are going to be fired. Not laid off, but fired." The air was sucked from the room, followed by a murmur of complaints. "Carl Bradburn has been using his private security to steal formulas from other pharmaceutical companies and from university labs. Dr. Sedgwick is fully aware of what's going on."

The rumors of this were all over the newspapers, with pending lawsuits on the horizon. Nevertheless, hearing the accusations seemed to make it real.

"Acacia paid off Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick to insure the buyout."

"How much?" someone asked.

"Four billion each."

This provoked a gasp throughout the audience.

Jay hopped on the stage to the white board. He wrote the number for more dramatic effect. 8,000,000,000. He turned, seeing a mixture of emotions. Some of the employees had tears in their eyes. Some were angry. Others were confused or in a state of shock.

An employee bellowed from the back row, "How do you know all this?"

Jay was prepared for that question. "One night, Carl Bradburn came down to the basement and did not realize I was in my office. I watched as he opened a safe room that had been concealed in the shelves." He paused, letting that information sink in. "On the day we were all sent home early, I stayed behind and hid, so no one could see me. The two owners of Acacia had a meeting with Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick in the basement. Obviously, they discussed the illegal parts of the business. In that conversation, I found out everything."

A flurry of comments and shouts proceeded.

"Let's go to the police!" someone yelled.

"Screw that! I want to burn the fucking building down!"

"No, we should go to the media."

"We don't have proof! Everything is based on Jay's word."

"Let's confront Mr. Bradburn and see how he reacts."

"I can't believe this is happening."

Jay put his hand up, "Everyone shut up!" It was rude, but effective. The employees became silent. "None of you are going to do anything." Jay turned to the white board and wrote a different number. 93,562,500. "This is the amount of money each of you will receive."

The entire group leaned forward in their seats with anxious expressions.

"Over ninety million dollars. More money than you could spend in a lifetime." Jay tossed the dry erase marker on the floor and stepped off the stage. "At the same time, you can destroy Bradburn Industries and even stop the buyout."

A woman stood up and said with a squeaky voice, "You know where the money is, don't you."

"Yes," Jay replied. "And I know how to get it."

The woman sat down, while someone else shouted, "What is your plan?"

"We are going to fake a hostage situation at Bradburn Industries." Jay paused, gazing at the group. "All I ask is you follow directions. When it is over, you will have the ninety-three million dollars."

"Will anyone be hurt?" someone asked.

"Yes, but not any of you."

"What if we get caught?"

Jay was also prepared for that question. He waved for Pamela to come forward. "As all of you know, Pamela works in Human Resources. She gained access to all of your files. I have since given the information to an outside source. Every person in this room will have to go along with the plan, or their will be consequences."

"Did you just threaten us?" a woman asked.

Jay rolled his eyes in her direction. "Yes. I just threatened you. But my threat will not be needed, because I believe all of you will choose to be rich, rather than expose my preparations for this heist. Either way, all of you will be out of a job soon. You can leave with ninety-three million, or leave pissed off. It's up to you."

The debate went on for another hour. Jay knew the ultimate outcome. No one in this room, not even the most devout Christians, would dare risk their family's lives or refuse that kind of money. They agreed on one rule.

Keep your mouth shut.

When the time was right, Jay will pass along a secret message: "Cotton to silk." Cotton represented the working class and silk was a symbol of luxury. When the employees heard that message, a transformation was about to happen.

Simply put, they would go from rags to riches.

### 46

Robert Smalls waved goodbye to his wife and son, then climbed into the minivan. They owned two identical black Chrysler Town & Country's. One was used for work, the other for his family.

As he drove away from the house, a gun was positioned on the back of his skull, alarming Smalls to the point that he almost swerved off the road.

"Drive and keep your mouth shut," Keb instructed. He was dressed in all black with mask and gloves. While holding his SIG pistol, he reached around and retrieved Smalls gun, a standard issued Glock used by police and security. "Turn right at the next light, keep both hands on the steering wheel."

"Where are we going?" Smalls asked.

Keb twisted the barrel, crunching both hair and skin. "I gave you simple instructions. Drive and keep your mouth shut." Keb moved with careful, slow motion, and looked past Smalls out the front window. "At the third light, make a left."

Keb secured the Glock in his belt and once again reached around Smalls, this time taking his cell phone.

After turning left at the light, Keb continued to give instructions, eventually arriving at Jay's house. The garage door opened upon their arrival. "Pull inside." Smalls did so, easing the minivan into the garage. The door closed. "Turn off the engine. Hold the keys with one hand and make a fist with the other. Lift them above your head and ease them back toward me."

Smalls complied.

Keb retrieved the keys and fastened Smalls wrists together with two bag ties. "Excellent." Keb opened the side door, then opened the drivers door, aiming the gun at Smalls head. "Come on."

Smalls looked up and did what he was told. Keb led him into the house and down to the basement. "I want you to call the seven other dwarves and tell them to meet you here." Keb repeated Jay's address. "If you can do that, everything will go well for you."

Smalls hesitated, gawking at Keb. "Can I ask something?"

"Yes."

"Do you plan to shoot us? If so, then I'm not going to lead my men to slaughter."

"I am not going to kill you," Keb assured him. He pointed to the phone. "Start making the calls."

It took about an hour for all seven to arrive. One-by-one, Keb tied them up in the basement. For each security guard, he read a list with the name of their wife and children.

"Right now, all of you have been kidnapped. But if you listen to what I say, you can become millionaires. If you do not listen, I'll have my men start cutting up your wife and kids."

Keb did not have anyone else watching their families, but this threat seemed to work in the past. Most people believed that Keb was working with others. Just the thought of keeping an eye on their families was bad enough. It scared even the most powerful men into submission.

Jay and Keb spent the next three hours driving the bodyguard's vehicles to the airport. When they were finished, Keb went down to the basement and explained his plan. They were going to take all the employees at Bradburn Industry hostage.

The next part, Keb lied about. "Carl Bradburn has a safe room in the basement of the building, which he hides spare cash and other items. An escape tunnel leads to the Nike building. Since the safe room and tunnel was created after the construction of the Bradburn building was completed, it will not show up on any schematics, which means, the police will not know about it." Keb paused, making eye contact with each bodyguard. "We will also steal Bradburn Industries most prized formulas."

"Do you have a buyer for the formulas?" Smalls asked.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Each of you will receive ten million. Not one person will know it was you that took the employees hostage and stole the formulas. You can stash the money and go back to your life, or take off and live in the Bahamas. I don't give a shit. It is a simple plan, with a prosperous outcome."

"Why kidnap us then?" Smalls asked.

"I needed to get your attention. As of right now, you will be working for this man," Keb pointed to the stairwell.

Jay walked down and approached the group. "Ten million each," he said. "We have knowledge that can assure our escape with the formulas and a buyer who will be waiting for the money." Jay paused, examining their timid expressions. "Are we in an agreement?" None of them replied. Jay looked at Keb. "While these idiots are trying to make up their minds, we need a forty-eight-year old woman, along with two girls that are seventeen and fourteen."

"For what?" Keb asked.

Jay grinned. "To play the part of the Bradburn family."

### 47

Of the eight bodyguards, only Robert Smalls would not corroborate. "Kill my family," he shouted. "I'm not going to rob Mr. Bradburn or the company."

The seven others had a much different opinion on the matter. They were given a chance to quit work and become rich. A simplistic yet reasonable plan. In fact, threatening the bodyguards wasn't necessary. Even so, losing their family was enough motivation to go through with this, despite Smalls complaints.

Some additional incentive was given, just incase they changed their mind. Keb explained his employer was Liam Raines. Everyone knew the King of Pittsburgh. Just the indication that Raines was connected to this plan, gave Smalls a moment of pause, although, he still would not back down from his belief that this was wrong.

That evening, Keb took the redeye to Tulsa, Oklahoma, sleeping the entire flight. He flagged down a cab and gave the address for Trudy Webster's house. The drive was forty minutes. "Wait here, I'll be right back," he said to the driver.

Keb carried the package with $500,000 in cash and a note that appeared to be from her brother, Marcus Cane. Keb rang the doorbell three times and knocked, but no one answered. He looked back to see the cab driver reading the sports page. Keb used his tools to unlock the door and entered. He left the package in the living room, relocked the front door, and jogged back to the cab.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked.

"Back to the airport," Keb replied.

It was 9:00 in the morning when he arrived in Oregon. Keb went to the bank and had a cashier's check for $500,000 issued to H&P Mortgage. He mailed the check and statement, using Marcus Cane's return address.

Keb drove by Marcus's house at 10:30 a.m. and saw that he was still home. So Keb continued to his next destination on Jay's list; a homeless shelter in Portland. It was sponsored by St. Mary's Church and housed over five hundred people, including children. Keb could not understand how so many could be homeless. He did not blame the people, but rather the government for letting this happen.

"May I help you?" the woman asked at the front desk. She was about sixty, with white hair and a large silver cross around her neck, contrasting with her flowered blouse.

"I'm looking for my sister and her children," Keb lied. "If I gave you their names, could you see if they are here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she responded with a kind voice. "We do not keep track of names. But you are more than welcome to look around."

"Thank you." Keb passed by the desk and was buzzed through a steal door. The horrid smell and feeling of dread wrenched his stomach. This would be much harder than he thought. There were rows of adults and children. It seemed they were preparing to leave, because all of them packed their remaining possessions like a guarded treasure. Keb figured they had to go and come back tonight at 7:00, stand in line, and hope they were permitted inside.

Right then, Keb decided that the first thing he was going to do with his money was to start some sort of business that could help the homeless families in Pittsburgh. A tender sensation flamed his heart. He had to fight tears that seemed ready to gush from his eyes.

An announcement came over the loud speaker. " _In ten minutes, we will line up and go next door to the church for service. Remember that anyone not participating will be band from the shelter for one month. After the service, we will serve lunch in the church hall and have a final prayer. God bless all of you._ "

To Keb, it sounded like they were death row inmates. The families were given a final meal, prayed for, and sent to the streets where they would surly die.

He shook off his emotions and continued walking up and down the rows. He found a group of teenagers huddled together in the corner. Three of them were girls, dressed in crumpled and stained shirts, jeans, and shoes taped to their feet. One of them was shaking, with sweat pouring down her face. Keb ignored her and approached the other two.

"Can I speak with you please?" Both looked up, their eyes tired, without a glimmer of hope. He guided them toward the hallway where the restrooms were located. "What are your names?"

"Allison," the older one replied.

"Brianna," said the younger.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Allison replied.

Brianna hesitated for moment and lowered her eyes, as if the answer would shame her for life. "I'm fifteen."

Keb needed a seventeen-year-old teenager and one that was fourteen. Both these girls would be close enough. "I want to hire you for a job."

Both stared at each other. Tears rimmed under Brianna's eyes. Allison pointed to the men's room. "We can go in here."

Keb felt ashamed. "No, not that kind of job. I'm looking for a couple girls who can be actors. Nothing that will involve you to do anything obscene or immoral." Keb always thought that _immoral_ covered so many areas it was a meaningless word.

Brianna wiped the tears from her eyes. "Really?"

Allison wasn't convinced. "Yeah right. We go with you and then you lock us in your basement for the rest of our lives."

The P.A. system was like someone shouting from the other room. " _Five minutes. Please be prepared to leave. Five minutes._ "

Keb became impatient. "I don't have time for this. Do you want to get out of here or not?"

Brianna looked at Allison. "God is with us. Please, let's trust in His path for our lives."

Allison glared at Keb. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you. Understand?"

"I understand. Meet me by the exit. I still have to find one more person."

### 48

Everyone in the large room had stood up and gathered their few possessions. Keb hurried along the rows, but could not find a woman that still had her sanity in tacked. A mother, who looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, was kneeling next to her five-year-old daughter, wiping her nose. The mother's face seemed clean, as if recently washed, and her hair had even been brushed.

The P.A. announcement rang loud. " _Please exit out the front door in an orderly fashion. Sister Marie will lead you to chapel._ "

"Are you looking for someone?" the mother asked.

Keb realized that he was staring at her. "I'm looking to hire someone for a job. Do you have a place where your daughter could stay for twenty-four hours?"

The mother slung an old diaper bag over her shoulder. "If that was possible, wouldn't you think I'd have her stay there instead of this pit?"

The room of homeless began to file out the front door. Allison and Brianna waited anxiously, bouncing on the tips of their toes. Keb focused back on the woman. He had to make this work somehow, despite her kid. "What is your name?"

"Nenet. What's yours?"

"Keb Driftwood." He wanted to say his first and last name, hoping to gain her trust in the next few seconds. "I need someone for an acting job. It will pay enough for you to-"

"I'm not interested in your porn movies." Nenet grabbed her daughter's hand. "God be with you."

"It's not like that. I swear."

Nenet turned. "Is it a legit job offer? Because I'm sure you can probably understand my skepticism."

"To be honest, it's not totally legit." Keb looked at the doorway. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Wait!" Nenet inched toward him. "How much does it pay?"

Keb searched the room to make sure no one else was close enough to hear them. He whispered, "A lot. More than enough money."

Nenet glanced down at her daughter. "Is it dangerous?"

"No." He pointed to Allison and Brianna. "Although, you will be working with them."

"I know who they are. Good kids, put in a bad situation. They go to church on their own and even volunteer to help in the shelter."

A man dressed in a janitor's uniform came in with a mop and bucket. "I'm sorry folks. You'll have to leave."

Nenet picked up her daughter. "I'll come with you," she said. "Just know that I'll do anything to protect my daughter."

Keb led the group outside. A single cloud sprayed rain over the city, even though the sun was beaming. "Is anybody hungry?" he asked. No one answered. He stopped and looked at each one. "I'm not going to harm you in any way. In fact, I feel blessed that I am able to help you."

Nenet held her daughter close. "Where are we going?"

"Hillsboro," Keb replied. "Now come on. We are on a tight schedule."

A McDonalds was the closest place to eat. To his surprise, they ate with a slow pace, and Brianna did not even finish her meal. Afterwards, he bought them each a set of clothes, including Nenet's daughter. Then he rented a room in a hotel, so they could shower and change. To make them feel comfortable, Keb stayed outside until they were finished.

On his prepaid cell, he called Jay. "Okay, I got the new Bradburn family, with one extra. Do you know anyone who could take care of a fiver-year-old for a day or two?"

"No," Jay said. "But I'll start looking for a babysitter."

"What's next?"

"Get them here. Then, I need you take a couple packages to Marcus Cane's house."

"Will do. How are the bodyguards?"

"Smalls is still complaining like an old lady. The other seven are fine."

"Are they tied up in the basement?"

"Just Smalls. The others I let upstairs."

That made Keb a little uneasy, but it was a good move by Jay. The bodyguards would have to be trusted on their own. "Have they made any contact with their families?"

"No. I told them they couldn't talk to anyone until this was over."

"When does the curtain go down on this job?"

"Tomorrow."

Keb remembered the blocked dates on Smalls planner. "Anything else going on?"

"Carl Bradburn has been trying to get a hold of Smalls and the others. I checked their voicemail and confirmed that Bradburn is taking a trip to Hawaii with the family."

"It's hard to believe that Bradburn is going to leave without the bodyguards. With all his money, you would think he'd make sure the family was protected, especially on a vacation."

"I know. Good for us, bad for him."

Keb suddenly had a pleasing thought. Not only was Allison, Brianna, and Nenet going to earn a million dollars each...they were going on vacation to Hawaii.

### 49

Liam Raines had been pacing all morning. His top henchman, JC, took notice. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Only JC, a Jewish-Italian could speak to Raines that way.

"It's Driftwood. The whole thing stinks to me. I shouldn't have loaned him that fucking money."

"Drift is a good people. I'm sure your money is safe."

Raines sat down, fidgeting in his chair. "That's what bothers me. Driftwood is a reliable employee. He never borrowed a nickel from me before. Why now?"

"Then why did you give him the money in the first place?"

"I trust him."

JC leaned forward. "Continue trusting him. Give Drift the fourteen days and see what happens."

"What if he was flipped by the Fed's, took the money from me, and set me up. He would get away."

"You are talking crazy."

"The fuck I am!" Raines pushed himself up, grabbed the stapler off his desk and chucked it across the room. It cracked into the wall as hundreds of tiny staples showered the floor. "I don't know where he is or what he's doing. He left me in the fucking dark."

JC remained seated, brush his black hair back with both hands, and kept his voice calm. "You want me and Leo to find him? See what's going on?"

Raines sat on the edge of the desk. The wood squeaked under his massive frame. "Just you. I need at least one of my guys here."

"How should I find him?"

"He's not in town." Raines calmed himself. "He must have flown somewhere."

JC stood. "Listen, Drift isn't going to screw you over. He worships the ground you walk on. It was probably hard for him to come in here and ask for the money."

Raines's glared at JC. "What the hell is your point?"

"Give him fourteen days. If the Fed's were coming, it would have happened by now. Drift is doing a job that is going to double your money. Let's give him a chance."

Raines considered the suggestion. "I wonder how much _he_ is making."

"Probably about the same."

Raines grabbed JC by the arm. "Find him. You got that?"

This time, JC kept his mouth shut. He tugged his arm away; left the office, jogged up the stairs, then used his phone to call his buddy at the Pittsburgh police station. "Doug, it's JC. I need a flight number and destination that Keb Driftwood took."

"Keb's missing?"

"No questions. I'm on my way to your house. I'll leave a grand at your back door."

"Okay. I'll call you back in a few."

JC flipped his phone shut, marched out of the building, and headed toward his Cadillac. Leo, a three hundred and sixty pound beast was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar. "Where you going?"

"Raines wants me to find Drift."

"He's on a job," Leo said, blowing a hefty puff of smoke.

JC did not respond. He slid into the Caddy and sped off. His cell phone chirped. "This is JC."

"It's Doug. I know where Keb went. Portland, Oregon."

"Thanks." JC flipped his cell shut and tossed it on the seat. Keb was best friends with Jay Nicken, who used to live in Pittsburgh. Now, Jay lives in Hillsboro, Oregon.

That's where JC would start looking.

### 50

Keb had waited for hours at Marcus's house. Finally, around dinnertime, Marcus left in his unmarked police cruiser. Keb skillfully entered the house with the two duffle bags, each filled with $500,000 in cash. In the darkness, he worked his way upstairs and went to the master bedroom. Keb hid the duffle bags in the one place he figured that Marcus had not gone in awhile.

The closet with his deceased wife's possessions.

When he arrived back at the car, there was a missed call from JC. Earlier, Raines had called twice, but Keb did not want to answer, fearing that Raines would have second thoughts about lending the money. Most of Raines investments were risky; it must have been especially difficult loaning money to one of his own guys.

As he drove back to Jay's house, Keb decided he'd better at least call JC.

"Where the fuck have you been?" JC shouted.

"I'm on a job and can't answer my phone every five seconds."

"You know that Raines wants me to hunt you down."

Keb's heart missed a beat. "I'll call him back."

"What are you doing in Oregon?"

This was worse than Keb imagined. Raines had sent JC to find him. "Raines doesn't trust me now?"

"You could have told him where you are going. Now, he's busting my balls."

It was pointless to lie. JC must have tracked the flight. Keb had done this himself many other times to locate clients that borrowed money and skipped town. They had a friend named Doug in the Pittsburgh Police Department that did just about anything for a thousand bucks. Also, JC knew that Jay lived in Hillsboro. Getting his address would be simple.

With eight bodyguards at Jay's house, along with the girls that Keb took from the homeless shelter, it could be a huge problem if JC suddenly showed up.

"Are you in Oregon?" Keb asked.

"No, I'm at the fucking airport in Pittsburgh, waiting for my flight to leave, so I can take a long trip to find your ass."

"You know where I am, so go tell Raines. If you come here, it could jeopardize the job I'm working on."

"Call Raines. My plane starts boarding in two minutes."

Keb hung up and pressed the automatic dial for Raines.

"Finally," Raines said. "Where are you?"

"Oregon."

"And what exactly are you doing?"

"Working on a corporate scam with Jay."

"How much is the total job worth?"

Keb had no idea. "Ten million," he lied.

"And I'm only getting four?"

"It's double your money. Call JC back. He's going to fuck everything up."

"How secure is my loan?"

"I wouldn't have taken money from you if I wasn't one hundred percent sure this would work."

"But that is precisely my point. Nothing is one hundred percent."

Keb gripped the phone. "Will you please call JC and tell him to cancel the trip. I'll be back in a couple weeks and we can settle things then."

The breathing from Raines through the phone was heavy. "I'll hold off JC for now."

"Thank you." Keb hung up, feeling both relief and concern. If Jay's idea failed, there wasn't a place in the world they could hide from Liam Raines.

### 51

JC answered his cell just before he was going to board the plan. "Hey boss."

"Go to Oregon," Raines said. "Find Driftwood and his buddy Jay. Get some answers and report back to me."

"I'll be touch." JC flipped the phone shut and walked on the plane.

### 52

"Raines knows where I am," Keb explained to Jay. They were on the back porch, each sipping a beer. Smalls was chained in the basement. The seven other bodyguards were playing cards in the living room. The bodyguards had concerns, because a missing persons report had been put out by their wives. Nevertheless, they were sticking to the plan. The bodyguards were about to earn ten million dollars each. Their wives will later understand why this had to be kept a secret.

Nenet and her daughter Jenica were upstairs sleeping in Jay's room, along with Addison and Brianna. Their worn bodies and tepid souls had been given an ounce of hope. Now, they could rest.

"Why did you get Raines involved?" Jay asked.

Keb felt slighted, because it wasn't Jay taking all the risks with Raines. "I borrowed money and left him in the dark. It was only a matter of time before he would want to know what the hell I am doing."

"You told him everything?"

"No. I kept to the story that we are on a job and his investment will be doubled. Raines was going to send JC here, but I talked him out of it."

Jay leaned against the rail. "The last thing we need is JC breathing down our necks. This will be difficult enough."

"I agree." Keb chugged down the rest of his beer. "How are we going to get the bodyguards inside the Bradburn building?"

"There is only one security guard to contend with. His name is Darnell Browning. I can inform Darnell that I ordered supplies from a company and their people should be permitted in the basement."

"Makes sense. But who is going to drive them to the building? Their vehicles are at the airport and I'll be with the Bradburn family."

Jay turned around. "Damn it. I didn't think about that."

This made Keb extremely uncomfortable. "Also, how are you going to get Smalls inside, when he is clearly against this plan?"

Jay shook his head. "I was hoping to sneak him past Darnell with the other bodyguards."

"That is a huge gamble," Keb replied. Now, he was downright frustrated. If this minor detail was overlooked, what else had Jay forgotten? "Are you sure that all the employees at Bradburn Industries are onboard?"

"Yes, with a few exceptions, but they don't know anything."

"So when this goes down tomorrow, none of the employees will have second thoughts?"

Jay leveled his eyes on Keb. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"To be honest, yes. But there isn't much I can do about it, except make sure nothing gets screwed up."

"All of us have something vested in this. The employees and bodyguards know that we have their families' information. The homeless girls upstairs are desperate. Because of Raines, you and I are risking our lives. Even that cop Marcus Cane has something at stake, but he doesn't realize it yet. Most of all, there is millions of dollars on the line." Actually, there was six billion dollars on the line, but Jay kept that to himself.

"I just hope money hasn't clouded your judgment." Keb walked off the porch and tossed his empty beer bottle in a garbage can. When he turned, Jay was right behind him.

"I'm sick of your crap," Jay said with a harsh whisper. "Decide if you are all the way in or all the way out. You can't idle in the middle."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a second rate crook. This is your first rodeo. I've been doing things like this all my life. And I want to continue with my life. Meaning, I am going to ask you fucking questions from time-to-time."

Jay was about to respond, when they heard a car door slam. Moments later, the doorbell rang.

One of the bodyguards poked his head out. "Someone is here!"

"Is it a cop?" Jay asked.

"I don't think so. He has a suitcase."

Keb couldn't move. "What does he look like?"

"Tall, with long black hair."

Jay pointed to the bodyguard. "You and the others get down to the basement."

The doorbell rang again.

"You better answer," Keb suggested. "JC will not be leaving anytime soon."

### 53

The three of them spoke in the living room.

"Tell me everything," JC said.

Jay had not even told Keb the entire plan. Now, he had to remember exactly what was said and what he kept a secret. "We are going to take the employees of Bradburn Industries hostage, but they are in on the plan."

"How many people are we talking about?"

"Seventy-two, minus eight that we will really kidnap."

JC laughed. "Well, that has failure written all over it. But please, continue."

Beads of sweat drizzle down Jay's back. "Also working with us are Carl Bradburn's personal security guards. There are eight total, but one of them is giving us a hard time. The police will be under the impression that the bodyguards are the main hostage-takers."

"Anyone else know about this silly plan?"

Jay glanced at Keb, seeing the utter fear in his eyes. "A woman and two young girls, who will play the part of Bradburn's family while Keb holds the real family captive."

JC laughed, waving his hand in a mocking gesture. "Why didn't you just post an ad in the newspaper?"

"It's going to work," Jay pleaded. "Everyone has something at stake."

JC glared at Keb, then brought his attention back on Jay. "You two have the most at stake."

"I realize that."

"Seventy-eight people know what you are doing. I make seventy-nine. Doesn't that sound like a colossal hazard?"

Jay was going to explain his National Anthem theory, which proved that thousands of people would participate in the same thing if they believe in what they are doing. He decided that JC would not care about the analogy. Jay cleared his throat, attempting to keep his voice stable. "The take is large for everyone."

"How much will each person receive?"

Jay was afraid of that question. Keb was not aware of the billions in cash, only the formulas they were going to steal. Also, Jay lied about selling the formulas and having a buyer ready to go. "Raines is going to be paid four million. Nothing else should matter."

JC grinned. "You really want to get in a pissing contest with me?"

"No. But Raines made a deal and I've never heard of him reneging."

Keb spoke for the first time. "Raines is a man of his word. We don't need to be reminded of that."

JC looked at Keb. "Right now, you aren't an employee of Raines, you are a client. And it doesn't sound like you made the right decision," he pointed at Jay. "trusting this idiot."

Jay stood up. "Why did Raines send you? To baby sit us?"

"I would watch that fucking mouth of yours."

Jay eased back to his seat. "I don't mean to be disrespectful. I just want to know what you are doing here."

"Raines sent me to make sure Keb was really on a job. Also, if the job fails, we know where you are so I can kill you both." His eyes did not move. "And Jay, don't forget we know where your father and brothers live. If this does not work, I'm sure Raines will send Leo to pay them a visit." JC gawked at Keb. "You more than anyone should know that Raines will protect his investment."

Jay now understood what the employees and bodyguards felt like after he had threatened him. He was getting a taste of his own medicine. The images of his family being executed were both horrifying and sickening. "We aren't going to fail," Jay said with a weak voice. "I understand what happens if we do."

"Well then," JC stood up. "Call me a cab. I'll stay at a nearby hotel and wait this little charade to be concluded."

"Actually," Keb said. "We need your to help. I'll give you a cut from my earnings."

Jay became dizzy with rage. "What?"

"We need JC to transport the bodyguards to the building. Afterwards, he can leave."

Jay shook his head. "I suppose it will be the only way."

"Also, we'll have to get a cargo van and put it under a false name. And speaking of cargo, we'll need an exit strategy. I have an idea how we can fly out of Oregon unnoticed." He looked at JC. "We need this done first thing in the morning. Did you bring your false ID?"

"I traveled under a different name," JC said with a grin. "Just like you should have."

### 54

The entry code to the Bradburn's front gate was 55085#. This information had been given by one of the bodyguards. To gain access in the house, it was best to use the service entrance, walk through the spare kitchen, and into the home.

It was still early, so the Bradburn family would just be getting up. Keb immediately located the security alarm and punched in the code to shut it off: 818837. Next, he unlocked the front door.

In the foyer, were eleven suitcases of various sizes and three different colors: plaid, pink, and lime green. Keb used his pre-paid phone to call Jay. "I'm inside."

"On my way," Jay responded.

Keb hurried up the stairs, gun in hand. The hallway had six doors, all of them closed. Above, was a skylight that ran the length of the hallway to let in natural light. Keb put his ear up to each door. He heard music blaring from one room and Mrs. Bradburn talking in the other. He could not hear what she was saying.

A door behind him opened. Out came the fourteen-year-old daughter, Theresa. With sleepy eyes, she trudged down the stairs without looking back. Keb would have to leave her for the moment.

He opened the door to the master bedroom, alarming Alicia Bradburn. Wearing matching black underwear and bra, she was sitting in front of a mirror, putting on makeup. She stumbled to her feet and screamed.

Carl had been in the shower. He hurried from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, with shampoo in his hair. "What the hell is going on?"

Keb pointed the SIG at Alicia. In his experience, this would slow down a husband more than if the gun was aimed at him. "Do everything I say, when I say, and you can live."

Carl wiped a glob of shampoo that fell into his face. "What the hell do you want?"

"Finish your shower and get dressed." Keb cocked his head. "Right now."

Carl glanced at his wife, then retreated to the bathroom.

Alicia was shivering, her arms folded in attempt to hide her attractive body. "Please, we have children in the house."

"I know." Keb poked his head into the hallway. He could still hear the earsplitting music from the other bedroom. Inside must have been Gibby, the seventeen-year-old. He brought his attention back on Alicia. "Finish getting dressed."

Without hesitation, Alicia grabbed the outfit she had laid out on the bed; gray slacks and purple blouse. She quickly dressed.

Keb's phone rang. "Hello."

"It's Jay. I'm at the front door. Should I come in?"

"Not yet. There is a child downstairs and I'm still rounding up the others."

Alicia sobbed. "Oh God, please don't hurt them."

"I'll call you back in a of couple minutes."

Keb shoved the phone back in his pocket, keeping the SIG aimed at Alicia. She slid on a thick pair of black socks and shoes. Carl rushed from the bathroom, having showered and dressed in record fashion. Keb pointed to the hallway. "Okay, let's go."

Holding hands, Carl and Alicia did what they were told. Keb knocked on the door to Gibby's room. She yelled back, "I'm almost ready. I'll be there in a minute."

"Get some clothes for Theresa," he said to Alicia. "You have ten seconds."

Alicia hurried off.

"I have cash in the house," Carl said. "$100,000. That is a significant amount of-"

"Shut up," Keb ordered. "I promised that your family will live if you do everything I say. You are still going to keep most of your money and not get hurt."

"Did Xavier send you?" Bradburn asked.

"Who's Xavier?"

"Owner of Acacia."

"I have no idea who you are taking about."

Gibby opened the door, screaming when she saw Keb with the gun. At the same time, Theresa had run back upstairs. Alicia returned from the bedroom, holding an outfit.

Tears sprayed from Theresa's eyes. "Dad, what is going on?"

"Just listen to what he tells you. Everything will be all right."

Keb pointed to Theresa's bedroom. "Mom. Take your youngest inside and have her change. I am aware that children have cell phones these days. My advice is not into push me to a corner where I have no choice but to kill all of you."

Theresa's face was pale, Alicia and Gibby's eyes were drenched with tears, and Carl had the look of defeat.

When Alicia and Theresa returned, Keb demanded that all of them go downstairs and sit in the living room. He called Jay. "Bring them in."

"Will do," Jay said with a shaky voice. "Wish me luck today."

"You'll be just fine," Keb assured him.

The front door opened. Walking in was Nenet, Addison, and Brianna.

"Who are they?" Carl asked.

Keb smiled. "They are your new family."

### 55

To protect Nenet, Addison, and Brianna, they were to inform Carl Bradburn that they had been kidnapped as well. Also, they dropped Nenet's daughter off at a daycare and arranged for a babysitter to watch Jenica for twenty-four hours.

The Bradburn's had seen Keb's face, but that would not have any significance on the outcome. When this was over, Carl would have enough looming threats to keep him in line. His bodyguards would all be dead, his company in ruins, and he would always wonder if his car would blow up someday when he turned on the engine.

Bradburn would never have another peaceful moment in his life.

Nenet, Addison, and Brianna went upstairs to change into clothes located in the closets of the Bradburn women. Meanwhile, Keb sat down in the living room with Carl. "I need all your account numbers."

"I knew it," Carl said. "You want money."

"We are going to temporarily take funds and replace them later." Keb aimed the gun at Theresa while keeping his eyes on Carl. "Are you going to give me the account numbers or not?"

"I need access to my laptop or Blackberry."

"Sure. Get what you need. I'll wait here with the family."

Carl hurried out of the room and came back in less than a minute with his Blackberry. While walking, he punched up his accounts. "Okay, here you go."

"Hold on." Keb held the gun with one hand and his cell phone in the other. He called Jay. "I'm ready to give you the account numbers."

"Fire away." Jay sounded a little more confident.

Keb handed the phone to Carl. "Talk to my associate."

Carl looked at his Blackberry and spoke on the shoddy prepaid phone. "We have an account for our vacation, 2331112200." He looked at Keb. "We were going to withdrawal money from there on the way to the airport."

The voice on the phone spoke. "Withdrawal all the money except for a dollar, so the account stays open. Tell me the other account numbers."

Carl cleared his throat, sat down on his chair, and read off all the account numbers he owned. When he was finished, he handed the cell back to Keb.

"How are things?" Jay asked.

"Good. I'll speak with you later." Keb hung up. "Who is your lawyer?" he asked Carl.

"Personal or business?"

"Personal."

"Joshua Adler."

"Later, you will call him and give Joshua power of attorney." Nenet and the girls came downstairs, dressed in Bradburn outfits. "Well ladies, you look rich and beautiful. Now it's time for you to go on vacation."

Carl stood up. "What?"

Keb remained sitting, the gun now aimed at Gibby. "Just like you planned, go on vacation. How are you flying there?"

"Private."

"Does the pilot personally know you?"

"It depends if we have our regular pilot; so most likely, he'll know something is wrong."  
"Call the airline, cancel your original flight and rent another jet for the trip."

Carl glanced back at his family, then called the airline. Ten minutes later, he was able to reschedule the trip for later this morning. "Now what?"

Keb stood. "Carl, I would like you to meet your new wife." He waved Nenet over. She hesitated. "Come on honey."

Nenet approached Carl and shook his hand. "I'm very sorry about this," she said.

"It's like a wife swap," Keb joked, but no one laughed. "Now, meet your new daughters." Addison and Brianna came closer, but did not say a word. "The four of you are going to Hawaii. I will give you step-by-step instructions on what to do." He paused, making eye contact with the group. "Not one of you needs to be hurt. Listen to me and do as I say."

No one spoke.

It was just as well, because the conversation was over.

### 56

"Cotton to silk," Jay said to Pamela.

She looked at him, seeming to dread the words. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Pass it along."

Jay went back downstairs to the lobby. Darnell was at the front desk holding a pencil and doing a word search. "Darnell, I need a favor."

He did not look up, eyes concentrating on the page. "What can I do for you, Jay Bird?"

"I have some guys coming here with supplies. Let them down to my hole."

"What kind of supplies?"

"Office supplies."

"Staples deliver the supplies via UPS." Darnell rolled his eyes up. "So I ask again, what supplies?"

Jay's heart thundered against his chest. "When they get here, call me up and I'll show you."

Darnell flipped a page and started a new word search. "Whatever."

Jay rushed downstairs and called Keb. "We have a problem."

"What?"

"Darnell did not believe me. How do I get the bodyguards inside?"

"That's pretty simple."

"How so?"

"Is there a front door?"

"Yes."

"Is it unlocked?"

"Yes."

"Then it should be pretty damn uncomplicated."

Jay felt his face heat up with embarrassment. "How's the Bradburn family?"

"Just concentrate on what you are doing." Keb hung up.

Line one on Jay's office phone rang. He answered, "Inventory, Jay Nicken speaking."

"We are all set," Pamela said.

Jay's hand shook as he plopped the phone down to its cradle.

Rules of Being a Hostage

Pay attention to surroundings.

Form a connection with the hostage-taker.

Limit eye contact with the hostage-taker.

Obey the hostage-taker.

### 57

JC pulled a cargo van to the front door as seven bodyguards exited, wearing black outfits and gloves. They carried large plastic bins inside the building.

Darnell stood up. "What the...?"

A bodyguard dropped the plastic bin, reached behind his back, retrieved a Glock and pointed it in Darnell's face. "Walk around the desk to me." After Darnell made it around the desk, two bodyguards secured his arms from behind with bag ties and slid a black hood over his face. They took his security access card and keys.

JC saw that the guard had been subdued. He opened the cargo van and yanked Smalls out. Like Darnell, he had his hands bound from behind and wore a hood. A bodyguard led Smalls inside.

JC sped off in the van.

The bodyguards took Darnell and Smalls to the basement. Jay had all the doors propped open so they could move in quick fashion. The bodyguards opened the plastic bins, retrieving masks. Jay dressed the same way.

Two bodyguards stayed in the basement, while Jay and the rest of them went upstairs. Floor-by-floor, room-by-room, they ordered everyone to go down to the basement. Bodyguards pointed their guns, hurrying the employees along.

Jay saw Pamela, along with the others who worked in Human Resources. "You are doing just fine," he said. Pamela did not respond. She ran with the others down the hallway.

Jay entered the area of Vice President, Donny Malone. His secretary had been waiting for Jay. She handed him the vice president's security access card, which she had stolen just a few minutes ago. A bodyguard entered Malone's office and dragged him by his five hundred dollar suit.

Jay continued searching each room to make sure no one changed their mind, or was being harmed by one of the bodyguards. Jay then poked his head in the stairwell. Employees shuffled down in silence.

Bradburn's personal assistant, Megan Smoy, screeched as the bodyguard dragged her down the hallway. Her skirt rose up to expose her red silk underwear. She kicked her legs with an insane fury. Both of her six-inch high heels flew in the air. Jay punched her square in the face, knocking her to the floor. "I always wanted to do that."

The bodyguard laughed while scooping her back up.

Jay ran to the lab on the fifth floor and used his card to gain entry. All the lab employees had left. Dr. Sedgwick was at his desk, his gray hair tied back in a ponytail, unaware that anything was going on. His assistant, Yongsoo Chung, stood next to him. Both were dressed in white lab coats.

"What the hell?" Dr. Sedgwick said.

Jay aimed the gun at him and shouted, "Open the safe!"

Chung dropped to his knees, placed his hands over his head and screamed like a woman.

Sedgwick stood from his chair and moved around the desk. "You'll never get away with this. There are people who will hunt you down and-"

Jay pistol-whipped Sedgwick on the skull. "Open the fucking safe...please."

Blood spilled from Sedgwick's wrinkled forehead. With frightful eyes, he knelt down and opened the safe. Jay slid used two bag ties to secure both the bleeding doctor and the screaming assistant, then shoved them in the hallway. Moments later, a bodyguard showed up, put hoods over their heads, and dragged them away.

Jay returned to the office and looked inside the safe. It was filled with cash. Pleased at the sight, Jay broke open the filing cabinets using his shoe. He left most of the manila folders, but cleared out all the papers. With just a quick examination of the documents, Jay knew these were the formulas and vaccines.

A bodyguard rushed into the office. "Everyone is downstairs."

Jay called 911 from a hard line phone. "I have taken the employees of Brandburn Industries hostage. No one should enter the premises." He hung up and approached the bodyguard. "You and a few others should start closing all the blinds. Keep the doors open around the basement for now."

"Will do," the bodyguard said. He turned and jogged down the hallway.

4:36 p.m.

Jay noticed outside in the parking lot that two police cars had already arrived, lights flashing and sirens blaring. A lawn care worker must have been cutting bushes along the building. As police called for him, the guy tripped and almost killed himself with the shears he had been carrying.

More police, unmarked cars, and large trucks came barreling through the parking lot.

Soon, Marcus Cane would be arriving.

### 58

Jay and five other bodyguards went to each office that overlooked the parking lot and closed the blinds. When this was finished, they went to Sedgwick's office, each carrying an empty plastic bin labeled, "Christmas Decorations," and filled each bin with the cash and papers.

"How much money is here?" a bodyguard asked.

"Don't worry about it," Jay responded. "Inform that others that I have several employees in on this heist. They should treat everyone with care."

"Will do," he replied without question.

They carried everything down to the basement. Still in his mask, Jay spoke to the employees. "We need to clear the middle and start opening cots that are stored along the wall. We will need food from the cafeteria, along with bottles of water. Also, we'll pass around an empty plastic bin for you to put your cell phones." He looked at the eight _real_ hostages, lying on the floor. Each was bound and wearing a hood.

The power went off.

A few seconds later, the emergency lights buzzed on. The security system was connected to a secondary grid, so they would know if the police were making an assault. Additionally, there weren't any cameras in the building. Jay knew that Bradburn and Sedgwick were doing plenty of illegal activities and did not want anyone to know. Also, Bradburn was screwing his assistant. Certainly, he did not want Darnell or any other building security to have their own private porn video.

Mila Thornes, the cafeteria manager, led a group to retrieve the food, water, and some other snacks.

5:28 p.m.

Jay grabbed a chair and went up to the lobby. He positioned the chair next to a small table with a phone, while keeping his eyes on the glass doors. Outside, the police seemed motionless with their guns pointed at the building.

Jay pressed the _Line_ button, then _One-Five-Three_ , followed by _Speaker_. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

A bodyguard from the basement answered yes. Now, everyone downstairs will be able to hear what Jay says. When he talks to Marcus, the employees, bodyguards, and hostages, will be able listen to the entire conversation.

Jay left the phone on speaker and jogged back down to the basement. The bodyguards were covering the vents with cardboard and duct tape, which would be the only other possible access besides the door. Jay assumed that the police fixed the phone lines so that any calls go straight to Marcus. From his office, he sat down and dialed a random number.

After a couple of rings, someone answered. "This is Lieutenant Marcus Cane of the Hillsboro Police Department. To whom am I speaking with?"

Jay had a sense of relief that Marcus actually answered. "Smalls. May I call you Cane?"

"Yes, you may call me Cane. Are any of the hostages injured?"

"Some bumps and bruises."

"Do you need medical supplies?"

"The first aid kits will do just fine."

"What about the people working with you. Are any of them injured?"

Jay contained his laugh. If Marcus only knew the irony of what he just said. "People that are working with me? Don't you mean the other kidnappers?"

"Are any of them injured?" Marcus repeated.

"We're okay. And thanks a bunch for asking."

"No problem, Smalls. Why are we here today?"

"Why am I doing this, or what are my demands?"

"You tell me."

"I have several demands and will give them to you one at a time. Once all of my demands have been met, we'll end this peacefully."

"What is your first demand?"

"Locate Carl Bradburn." Jay pictured Bradburn in Honolulu with his fictitious family.

"Once we locate him, what next?"

Jay looked at the wall clock. "You have until 6:03, which is thirty minutes away. That should be plenty of time." He hung up the phone.

The police will panic, because they will not locate Carl Bradburn by the deadline.

### 59

Jay hurried to the wall of eight hostages, reached down and grabbed Jason Zimmer, who was the Research Manager. Jason was a big man, over six feet tall, with a hefty frame.

Jay gawked at the other hostages. The two bodyguards stood over them. Their guns were shoved in their belt. "Take this guy," Jay said, pointing to Yongsoo Chung. "And these three." The bodyguards picked up Donny Malone, Dr. Sedgwick, and head of building security, Darnell Browning. "Bring them up one minute after I leave."

Jay led Jason to the lobby. "Get down on your knees."

5:59 p.m.

Jason complied. "Please don't kill me," he whimpered. "I have wife and three children."

"Shut up." Jay watched as the four other hostages were shoved to the lobby. The bodyguards then returned to the basement. "All of you kneel down!" He lined the hostages next to Jason.

A ringing echoed through the speaker. The police must have been calling the phone in the basement office. He sat down, aiming the Glock at the hostages. A few seconds later, the phone next to him rang. He answered. "Hello, Cane. This is Smalls."

"Why are there five innocent men kneeling in front of you?"

Jay looked at the clock. "It is 6:04 and my first demand hasn't been met. How hard could it be to locate someone?" Jay envisioned the police scrambling to locate Bradburn. It was fools errand.

"Mr. Bradburn is in Hawaii on a private vacation with his family. Maybe someone inside knows where he is. Perhaps an executive could have his location."

Jay was surprised that they already discovered Bradburn was in Hawaii. It was impressive, but not a concern. He tried to keep his voice unyielding, as adrenaline pumped through his veins. "Um...did you try calling him?"

"Of course. Mr. Bradburn is not answering his phone."

"So what you are telling me is that you failed to do what I asked. Should I just start shooting these hostages in front of me, or what?"

"If you kill them, our discussion will end. We'll be forced to enter and take you out."

Jay's heart knocked against his chest. He hoped that Marcus was just bluffing. "Really? And that would result in seventy-two people dying today. That should make for some great headlines."

"We need to locate Mr. Bradburn as well. It's in our best interest to speak with him because you are in his building and those are his employees. It's not like we aren't trying."

"I understand."

Jay covered the phone and spoke into the speaker. "Come get four of the hostages from the lobby and bring them back to the basement." He then spoke to Marcus. "I understand."

One at a time, a bodyguard grabbed a hostage and shoved him toward the hallway. In quick fashion, all four were taken back to the basement.

"So will you give us more time?" Marcus asked.

"How much?"

"Twenty minutes."

This was the moment Jay had been dreading. Could he actually kill someone?

Jay aimed his gun at Jason Zimmer's head and squeezed the trigger. The bullet exploded into Jason's skull, sending him to the floor. Blood spilled from the large crack in Jason's head, snaking through his hair, staining the marble.

Jay spoke, hoping the words would have unmistakable confidence. "I'll give you thirty minutes."

### 60

Executing a human was nothing like hunting deer with Jay's father and brothers. He was in a dream state, floating through the hallways, through the open doors, downstairs to the basement.

"What the hell was that?" Amy Deacon shouted. "Did you just kill someone?"

Jay knew Amy quite well, because she worked in the Purchasing Department. "I just executed Jason Zimmer," he announced. "Jason was one of the employees protected by Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick."

A clatter of mumbles resonated through the basement. The eight remaining hostages, which included Smalls, squirmed on the floor. The bodyguards remained quiet, dressed in black, wearing masks, with their weapon in their belt.

Jay sensed that the employees were about to start complaining. To avoid having this conversation in front of the bodyguards, he sent them upstairs to double-check the building and make sure the cops were not trying to get inside.

"I can't go through with this!" Amy screamed after the bodyguards closed the door. "No amount of money can change my mind!"

Pamela gave Jay a thin smile, letting him know that she would solve this problem. Pamela reached down in a bin and sifted through the folders, locating Amy Deacon's personnel file. "Amy Deacon. You have a husband and two children. You live at 112 Oak Drive. Your husband's social security number is-"

"Okay! I got it!" Amy snapped. Without further complaint, she plopped down on a cot.

Jay saw the fear in each employee, which was more comforting to him than a rebellious manner. "None of you pulled that trigger," he said. "I did. You are hostages, so long as you continue playing that role. If you tell the cops what is really going on, then you are my co-conspirators." He paused, narrowing his eyes through the mask. "And if you are my co-conspirators, then you might as well have pulled the trigger with me and murdered Jason Zimmer."

The room was silent. Satisfied that the situation as under control, Jay used the intercom to bring the bodyguards back down to the basement. He thought if the police were going to breach, they would have done it already. Police tactics were complicated to someone like Jay. The good news was that Jay only had to be aware of one person...the negotiator, Marcus Cane.

### 61

Before going to the airport, Carl withdrew $34,999 from his vacation account, leaving a dollar so the account would stay open. On the private jet to Honolulu, he did not converse with his pretend wife and two children. They spoke amongst themselves and avoided Carl as much as possible.

He had a limo pre-arranged to pick them up at the airport and drive them to the Halekulani Hotel, which cost him $5,000 a night; a mere pitons to what he could really afford. They had their own butler, cook, and private access to the beach. It was supposed to be a nice getaway with his wife and two daughters.

Instead, it was camouflage for the kidnappers.

Once the suitcases were brought to the room, Carl and the pretend family went back to the limo. He turned on the small flat screen to Fox News and watched the hostage situation taking place at his building. Seventy-two employees were held captive around 4:30 p.m. The parking lot seemed unfamiliar with police, S.W.A.T., and trailers, mixed in with the employees vehicles.

They arrived at Wolfgang's Steakhouse. Carl had the lamb chops with German potatoes and steamed asparagus. It was a meal he'd always order when vacationing in Honolulu. Tonight, he did more staring at the food than eating.

His pretend family seemed in awe of the place, which told Carl they were poor. He watched as they decided together on what to order. He fought back the dreadful tears, envisioning his abducted family while he was in a warm climate, eating at a five star restaurant.

The woman ordered a filet mignon, cottage fries, and sautéed broccoli. The girls had sirloin cheeseburgers, steak fries, and chocolate fudge ice cream. They ate as if their taste buds had become supernatural.

Carl broke his silence. "How did they get you?"

The two girls did not look up. They continued scooping the remains of their chocolate fudge ice cream, heads down and eyes hidden from the conversation.

"We aren't supposed to talk about it," the woman said. "I have a daughter who is only five. I'd like to see her again."

Carl pushed his plate to the side. His stomach was twisted so tight, he felt nauseous. He gave the waiter two hundred dollars and led his fabricated wife and daughters back to the limo.

The pre-paid cell phone rang, given to him by the kidnapper. "I'm here," Bradburn said, while watching the hostage news coverage.

"The police will probably be waiting for you at the hotel," Keb explained. "When you speak with the hostage negotiator, remember to act surprised."

"I want to talk to my wife."

"Sure thing."

"Carl?" It was Alicia. "Are you okay?"

"I'm hanging in there. How about you?"

"We're..." Alicia's voice trailed. "Oh God, why is this happening?"

"Are you still at the house?"

"No. We were blindfolded and taken somewhere else. We're in a basement."

Carl gripped the phone, fighting back his own tears. "I don't think they will harm us. We'll just listen to their instructions and get through this together."

Keb was back on the phone. "That is the perfect attitude."

"Tell me something, man-to-man. If I do everything you say, will you let us all go, unharmed, including the woman and two girls you sent with me?"

"You have my word. There is no need to kill any of you if I get what I want."

"But we've seen your face."

"Do you know Liam Raines?"

The name sounded familiar. "It rings a bell."

"I'll give you a hint...Pittsburgh."

Carl squeezed his fingers into a fist. "He's the mobster, right?"

"Well, he does not like to be labeled a mobster."

Sweat dripped from Carl's forehead. "Is he your employer?"

"That is correct. Just remember, if he gets what he wants, no one dies. Killing is bad business practices. It draws too much attention."

### 62

"What else should I say to the negotiator?" Carl asked.

"You should demand to come back home, instead of waiting at the Honolulu Police Department."

"Have any of the hostages been injured?"

"Well, kind of. One of your employees has already been executed." Carl opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. "The employee did not listen, so he was killed. Do not make the same mistake." Keb hung up.

As the limo came to a stop, Carl noticed a score of police officers waiting at the hotel.

"Are we in trouble?" the youngest girl asked.

"Stay calm," the woman said. "Let Mr. Bradburn do all the talking."

Carl looked at them, then gazed out the tinted window. His wife and children, the lives of these people in front of him, and the lives of his employees, were all dependant on how he handled this situation.

The chauffer opened the door. Immediately, he was greeted by an officer that had the look of authority. His skin was brown, eyes slanted and black hair trimmed short.

"Carl Brandburn?" he asked.

"That is me."

"I am Captain Chen, of the Honolulu Police Department. Your employees in Hillsboro, Oregon have been taken hostage. The hostage-takers have requested to locate you. Time is of the essence."

The woman and two girls reluctantly climbed out of the limo. Before Chen spoke, Carl introduced them. "This is my wife, Alicia, and my two daughters, Gibby and Theresa." It broke his heart saying their names aloud.

Chen ignored the introductions and made a call on his cell phone. "Captain Fletcher?" Chen impassively gazed at Carl. "This is Captain Chen, from the Honolulu Police Department. We have located Mr. Bradburn and his family." He handed Carl the phone. "He wants to speak with you."

Carl's fingers were noticeably quivering. Fortunately, Chen had diverted his attention to the family and asked if they were okay. "This is Carl Bradburn."

"Hello, Mr. Bradburn. We have a situation-"

"Yes, I have been told."

"I'm going to hand you over to the hostage negotiator, Marcus Cane."

Pressing the phone against his ear, Carl followed Chen and the family to a police van.

A new voice appeared. "Marcus Cane here."

From this point on, Carl decided to treat this as a business deal. The hostage-takers needed something, as well as the police and all the hostages. It was required of him to work this deal, so everyone left the table satisfied. "This is Carl Bradburn. I'm aware of the situation and know time is of an essence. Has anyone been hurt?"

"One employee has been killed so far."

Carl had already known this, but that did not lessen the sting. "Why?" he shouted, feigning surprise. "What possible reason would they-"

"The hostage-taker wanted us to locate you, but we did not in time." Marcus paused, probably because Carl had been breathing heavy enough that the negotiator could hear. The van sped down the road with police cars in front and behind, flashers on, sirens blaring. "Mr. Bradburn, do you have any idea who would take your employees hostage?"

_Yes, I know them well,_ he thought to himself. "No idea, but I'll start thinking."

"Your personal security guards have been reported missing. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"Jesus...no."

"You didn't bring anyone with you on the trip besides your family?"

"No." Carl felt trapped. Surely his private bodyguards had been kidnapped or even killed by now, but he could not tell the negotiator that. "We take one vacation a year. No phones. No work. No security."

"I understand. I'm going to contact the hostage-taker and let him know that I found you. Please be near the phone."

They arrived at the police station. Carl climbed out, still clutching the cell. "Should I fly back?"

"Not yet. I want to see what they want."

"That's not good enough!" Carl spat. "I want to be there. One of my employees is already dead. I don't care about my safety."

"Please just stay with the police there in Honolulu. If the hostage-takers here in Oregon want your location, there's a possibility they will come after you next. In fact, they're probably looking for you in the building and discovered you were gone." _You got that right,_ Carl thought. "Did you announce to the company you'd be taking a vacation?"

"No. Only my VP knew I left. It's better if everyone thinks I'm still in town." That was about the only honest testimony in Carl's conversation with the negotiator.

"I'll be touch. Stay put." Marcus hung up.

Carl had been instructed by the man who kidnapped his family to go back Oregon. That is exactly what he planned on doing.

### 63

Jay had been sitting in the lobby with the corpse in front of him. He had a decent view of the parking lot. Six ambulances had arrived. Perhaps the police were not optimistic of a peaceful conclusion.

6:12 p.m.

He answered the phone on the first ring. "This is Smalls."

"You killed someone," Marcus said with a harsh voice. "That limits what I can do for you."

"I should've killed all five, let your team storm the building and have my men assassinate the rest of the sixty-seven people in the basement."

"Don't threaten me."

"Why not? I have the hostages, you got nothing."

Marcus did not respond right away. "I accomplished something that we both want...the location of Mr. Bradburn."

Droplets of sweat formed under Jay's mask. He visualized Bradburn in Hawaii with Nenet, Addison, and Brianna. "You have communication with him?"

"Yes."

"Great. Let's start phase one of the operation." Jay used the term, _phase_ , because that is what hostage negotiators used. It was more of an inside joke and had little impact for the outcome of this situation.

"What do you mean _phase_ one? How many phases are there?"

Jay contained his satisfied grin. He slid a cheat sheet from his pocket. "Have Bradburn transfer money from his account: 2331112200, to my account: BH58423926221. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I got that."

"Six minutes." Jay slammed the phone down. He then spoke into the speaker, "Is everything okay down there?"

A bodyguard responded. "Yes. We're taking bathroom breaks."

"We are on schedule and the plan is working," Jay assured the group. "By tomorrow, we will be rich."

### 64

Bradburn answered his cell, putting it on speaker so everyone could hear. Marcus Cane spoke with great urgency. "The hostage-taker wants you to transfer money from account 231112200 into account BH58423926221."

Carl covered the phone and spoke to Captain Chen. "I need a computer with Internet access."

Chen grabbed a laptop from the next desk that had already been powered up and signed into a web site called _Trace_ , which was controlled by the FBI. "Use this. It will follow your accounts and the Tactical Intelligence Specialist at the hostage scene can track everything you are doing."

"It's our vacation account," Carl explained to Marcus. "There is just one problem."

"What?"

"We cleared that account out this morning, leaving only a dollar so it would stay open."

6:18 p.m.

"How much money was in the account?"

"$35,000."

Carl heard someone whispering to Marcus. It was difficult to pick up everything that had been said. "We can't transfer...dollar...think we cleared...purposely...to piss him off...God knows...he'll do next."

"I'll call you right back," Marcus said.

### 65

"Having a problem?" Jay asked. He knew that the police were panicked because Bradburn withdrew the funds this morning before leaving.

"There's no money in that account. Bradburn cleared it out when he left for vacation."

Jay shook his head. He had written a screenplay and the actors were speaking the words to perfection. "Not true, Mr. Cane." Jay tried to think of something clever to say to Marcus, but the only thing that came to mind was, "Tick, tick, tick..."

### 66

Carl had the phone on speaker when Marcus called back. "Transfer the money."

Carl rubbed the corner of his eyes. "It's just a dollar. I'm sure they are not going through all this for a buck."

"Make the transfer," he repeated.

Carl was still signed into the bank's website. The FBI _tracer_ followed his every move. Chen had written down the hostage-takers account. Carl entered it and transferred the single dollar. "Okay. It's done."

Just before hanging up, Carl heard someone yelling through the phone at Marcus. " _What the hell are you doing?_ "

### 67

Jay's prepaid cell phone rang once. That was Keb's signal that the transfer was complete. He had been tracking the offshore account from Jay's house. The police were watching for cell phone activity, but it would be impossible to locate a prepaid phone that had not been answered.

Jay called Marcus. "This is Cane."

"If you are going to have trouble with a dollar, what happens when I ask for two billion?"

"Two billion?"

Jay knew that the bodyguards heard this, but they would continue to assume that he was distracting the police from their so-called real mission of stealing the formulas. Jay responded, "Yes, but not at the moment."

"I'll need some hostages," Marcus demanded.

"Was that _hostages_...plural? Are you joking?"

"I've located Mr. Bradburn and allowed a money transfer."

"Yeah, but you took forever to find Bradburn and the money was just a dollar. I wouldn't say you are doing a stellar job out there." Toying with the police like this was nothing less than comical. He covered the phone and said into the speaker, "Send up the first ten people." The bodyguards would send the employees who were old farts and could never survive the night without medication, along with three pregnant women.

Marcus, still on the phone, spoke with a calm voice. "With seventy-one more people, there has to be a few with medical problems. Some may have diabetes, asthma, or a heart condition. Neither of us wants an accidental death."

The seven employees with wrinkled skin and white hair stalked through the lobby. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," Jay said to Marcus. Three pregnant women wobbled past and through the glass doors. When they made it outside, Jay said to Marcus, "I'll call you back with phase two."

### 68

"Jay," a bodyguard said into the speaker.

"Go ahead."

"Everyone is arguing on who should go next."

"Listen you morons." He knew that the entire basement could hear him. "Do what you are told, _when_ you are told to do it. These simple instructions are easy enough for a six-year-old to follow." Now frustrated, Jay called Marcus. The phone rang about ten times before he answered.

6:41 p.m.

"This is Cane."

"Did you take a smoke break or something?"

"Nah. Just clearing my head. Like you, I want to remain calm and make sure no one else gets killed."

"Don't play mind games with me, Cane. We have nothing in common."

"Are you in need of food?"

"No, we have plenty. Bradburn is an asshole, but the guy sure knows how to keep the company cafeteria stocked with top of the line provisions."

"Are any hostages in need of medical attention?"

"No."

"It's going to get cold tonight. Do you need blankets?"

"As long as the heat is on, we'll be fine."

"But we turned the electricity off and shut down all backup generators. The heat will only work for so long and the food will eventually spoil. It would be best if you limit how many people you have down there in the basement. Let's cut that number in half and release all the women."

Jay decided to play along with Marcus's psychosomatic games. "If I send anyone out, it will be the men. The ones who pose the biggest threat."

"Very well, release the men."

"Um...no."

"How about ten-"

"No! We are moving on to phase two."

"Which is?"

"Send money to me from a different Bradburn account."

"I cannot authorize Bradburn to keep giving you money."

"He only gave us a dollar so far. And he will give us what we want. There are two accounts I need from him. 665984627. 665984628. It is 6:47. I want that transfer done by 7:00."

"I'll need-"

Jay slammed down the phone. Outside, the sun made its descent, disappearing behind the trees. He had been sweating under the mask, but the cool air had fought its way into the lobby, chilling his skin.

Jay said into the speaker, "Bring up Dr. Sedgwick, Yongsoo, Malone, and Darnell."

The sun faded, giving the illusion that the lobby disappeared, shadowed by darkness.

### 69

Bodyguards pushed the four hostages to their knees in front of Jay, then rushed back to the hallway. Police positioned spotlights in the parking lot. Jay aimed the Glock at Dr. Sedgwick.

The phone rang.

6:57 p.m.

"Hello Candy Cane," Jay said. "You ready to transfer the money?"

"We need until 7:30. The decision is not just Mr. Bradburn's. I have to be assured that the hostages won't be harmed."

"Two minutes and counting."

"If I give you electricity, will you give me the thirty extra minutes?"

Marcus's phone rattled, followed by a deep voice, " _No way are we giving him electricity._ "

It was obvious that Marcus was having problems with his chain of command. Jay wondered if this was a good thing? He had a terrible feeling that the police were about to come blasting through the door. Jay covered the phone and talked in the speaker. "Bring me another hostage."

Marcus was back on the phone. "It must be pitch-black in that basement. We'll give you light, you give us thirty minutes."

The basement had a of couple emergency lights that were connected to the secondary security grid. Marcus was grasping at straws, which pleased Jay very much.

A bodyguard shoved another hostage to the floor and went back to the hallway.

Jay gripped the handgun. "One minute," he said to Marcus.

A faint buzz startled Jay. Then he realized that the electricity had just been turned on, chasing off the darkness in the lobby. This was not beneficial to Jay. He dropped the phone down and squeezed the trigger.

7:00 p.m.

Dr. Sedgwick's body slumped next to Jason Zimmer.

There was a good chance the police would risk the other hostage's lives and come crashing through the glass doors. Jay said into the speaker, "Release fifteen more employees." He picked up the phone and spoke with Marcus. "You have until 7:30."

"I want ten hostages!" Marcus shouted. "Right now or we are coming in!"

Jay smashed the phone in its cradle, as six men and nine female employees ran past him, exiting through the glass doors. Some of them screamed when they saw the two bloody corpses.

Bodyguards escorted the other kneeling hostages from the lobby, back down to the basement.

### 70

Carl excused himself and went to the restroom. He used the prepaid phone to call the kidnapper. "How long do I have to stay in this police station?"

"My partner is working on getting the money from your daughter's savings account. This was supposed to happen by 7:00, but I think the police are stalling, which is pushing everything back."

Carl looked in the mirror. He had lost his allure and executive magnetism. Right now, he was just a husband and a father, worried about his family. "I want to speak with my wife-"

The restroom door opened. Carl tossed the prepaid phone in the garbage and turned on the water. A police officer barely acknowledged him and stood in front of a urinal. Carl reached into the garbage can, retrieved the phone, and walked out of the restroom. "Are you still there?"

"Yes. When the police call, tell them you want to give your lawyer, Joshua Adler, power of attorney. Then, take your family to the airport and come back to Oregon. Call me when you land and I'll give you further instructions."

Carl squeezed the phone. "Let me speak with-"

The line was dead.

"Mr. Bradburn!" Captain Chen yelled. "You are getting a call from the negotiator."

Carl slid the prepaid cell into his pocket and followed Chen to the room where they had everything set up. The phone was on speaker. "Go ahead."

"Mr. Bradburn. They are asking the transfer of two more accounts."

"Give me the numbers."

Captain Chen reached around Carl and punched in a code to make sure the bank website was connected to the FBI _tracer_. Marcus spoke with a frantic tone. "665984627 and 665984628."

"Those are my daughter's accounts for when they turn eighteen." Carl feared that he spoke a little quick and should have feigned surprise.

"How much money?"

"Over a hundred thousand in each."

"I can't tell you what to do, Mr. Bradburn. This won't be the end of it. The hostage-takers are moving towards a much larger amount."

Carl remembered that the kidnapper promised all the money in each account would be returned. "What do you mean?"

"Two billion was mentioned."

"They know," he replied with a hopeless voice. Every vein in Carl's body pumped with terror. "My God, they know." He envisioned the payout given to him and Dr. Sedgwick from Acacia. Somehow, it had been leaked. Of course, these hostage-takers would not care about a few million that Carl had in several bank accounts. They were after billions in hidden cash. On the other hand, why did the hostage-taker only mention two of the eight billion that he and Dr. Sedgwick had been paid?

"Does this have to do with the Cal lawsuit or the Acacia buyout?" Marcus asked.

The police were way off base. "No. It has nothing to do with my business. It's personal."

"Explain."

Carl had to get a grip. His wife and children's lives were depending on how he handled himself. "I'm going to call my lawyer and send him to you. He'll make all the decisions from this point on and have power of attorney over my personal accounts."

"Mr. Bradburn, we don't have time for this. They already killed another hostage."

That did not matter to Carl. "It's out of my hands. I'm sorry." He unhooked his cell phone from the police monitors.

"Mr. Bradburn!" Chen shouted. "There are lives at stake."

Carl pointed to his replica family. "We are leaving. Let's go."

"You must stay here!" Chen pleaded.

His phony wife asked. "Is it over?"

Carl used his Blackberry to contact Joshua Adler. While it rang, Carl said to the woman, "This isn't even close being over."

7:09 p.m.

### 71

While in the limo, the two children sat on either side of the woman. She embraced them both, whispering, "You are doing good. Just stay strong for a little while longer."

"What is your name?" Carl asked the woman.

She hesitated. "Nenet."

"Are those your real children?"

"No. I just have a daughter back in Oregon."

"Where is your husband?"

Nenet's eyes went into a lost gaze. "He left me and our child with nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"Does anyone know you are here besides the kidnappers?"

"No," she replied.

He looked at the older girl. "What is your name?"

"Addison."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Carl thought she looked almost twenty. "Where is your family?"

"I ran away two years ago. They are not rich like you. We lived in a double-wide trailer, surrounded by the scum of the earth."

"Why were you kidnapped? It obviously wasn't for ransom money."

Nenet squeezed Addison close. "Don't answer that question."

Carl noticed the younger girl's knees bouncing up and down. "What is your name?"

She looked at Nenet for approval, then said, "Brianna."

"Were you taken from your home?"

"I don't have a home," she mumbled. Her lips quivered and tears welled up in her eyes. "I used to dream of going to Hawaii like other rich kids."

"Is that why you are here?"

Nenet put her hand over Brianna's mouth. "Do not talk about why you are here."

Carl now assumed that they were employed by the kidnapper.

7:22 p.m.

He opened the ice bucket, scooped up a couple ice cubes, and tossed them into a glass. Before he could pour the drink, his Blackberry rang.

It was Marcus.

Carl let it ring a few more times, then answered. "Look, I said I'm done. My lawyer should be there in the next hour."

"We don't have an hour," Marcus complained. "We have eight minutes before another hostage is killed."

"That is disturbing to say the least, but there is nothing I can do."

"We believe that Robert Smalls and his crew are the hostage-takers."

"Impossible!"

"Why is that impossible?"

"Robert doesn't just work for me, he is a good friend." Carl had tried reaching Robert and the rest of his personal security, but he hadn't been able to get a hold of them. Certainly, they have been taken or possibly murdered. This made sense, because the kidnapper just strolled into the house and abducted Carl and his family.

"Did you have any arguments with him recently?"

What a laughable and ridiculous question. "None. In fact, he sent me a long email on how much he appreciated my business."

"When was the last time you saw Robert Smalls or his crew?"

Carl had to tread carefully. He wasn't sure what information had been given to the police by the hostage-takers. "It was about a week."

"What was the last thing you said to him?"

"I told Robert to enjoy his time off." That was a lie.

7:26 p.m.

"Does Robert know the details of your business, or personal accounts?"

"He does not." Carl never mentioned to Robert the transaction with Acacia. In hindsight, he should have.

"Your company earned two billion last year off the drug Protropin. Is it possible that Robert wants that money for some reason? Could anyone have convinced him to-"

"No," Carl snapped. "I'll say this for the last time. This has nothing to do with my business." The limo parked next to his private jet. Carl opened the door, not waiting for his substitute family.

"Where are you?" Marcus asked.

"Getting on plane."

"And going where?"

"None of _your_ business. My lawyer will be the only one to have contact with me. This is the last time you and I will speak."

"That is unacceptable," Marcus spat. "There are forty-five more employees in your building."

"It's not my building," Carl replied. "I sold the company to Acacia last week before going on vacation. It hasn't been made public yet. No one knows except for Dr. Sedgwick and my corporate attorney. However, I do believe that whoever is holding those poor people hostage does not care about the sale of my company, the lawsuit, or anything else. They want money from me, not the business."

"Do you have two billion dollars?" Marcus asked.

"Speak with my lawyer." Carl shut the Blackberry's power off and raced up the metal stairs, entering the jet. The family trailed close behind.

The pilot asked, "Where to, Mr. Bradburn?"

Carl walked past him and said, "Oregon."

### 72

Five hostages were brought up, per Jay's request. They could not see with the hoods over their heads, but the stench of death was overwhelming.

This time, Jay asked for the two women, Megan Smoy (Personal Assistant to Carl Bradburn) and Deshi Lung. (Vice President of Foreign Operations.) Joining them were Yongsoo Chung, Donny Malone, and Darnell Browning.

Marcus appeared at the front door, glaring through the glass. He had on a bulletproof vest and carried a large portable phone. Jay peered through his mask, giving Marcus a slight grin. With three deliberate motions, Jay tapped on his watch.

7:30 p.m.

Toying with Marcus even more, Jay aimed the gun at the hostages and swayed his arm back and forth. He was going to kill one of them now, but it wasn't because the police did not make the deadline.

All these hostages were going to die tonight.

There was a moment when it seemed that time had stopped. Jay felt like he was next to Marcus; their eyes secluded in a final showdown. Jay squeezed the trigger.

Megan and Deshi screamed, but were still alive. So was Yongsoo and Donny Malone.

The head of building security, Darnell Browning, was now dead. Three corpses lined up; a symbol of Jay's resourcefulness.

Two bodyguards grabbed the four-still living-hostages and dragged them away. Jay picked up the phone and teetered it back and forth, while holding the Glock with his other hand. He called Marcus, who hadn't moved from the glass doors.

The negotiators voice was grim, his eyes full of hate. "I'm going to start initiating an assault."

Those words had a significant reaction. A river of sweat formed on Jay's skin, his heart thundered and muscles tightened. "If that were true, you would not tell me."

"You had to know at some point we need to stop the killing."

Jay's throat felt as if it sealed shut. "Twenty-five people have been saved. Forty-four remain in the basement, hoping that you will follow through with my simple instructions."

"The lives you took are just important as the lives that remain." Marcus's eyes had not moved, fixed on Jay, staring right into his soul.

"You keep stalling. It's not about whether you will follow through with my demands. You simply are not doing what I ask. That cost lives. There are forty-four people downstairs wondering why the police failed in locating Carl Bradburn. The police failed in transferring one dollar. The police failed in my last request of transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars, when Bradburn is worth a couple billion."

"We're no longer in contact with Carl Bradburn," Marcus urged. This was not a surprise to Jay. As planned, Carl would cease all contact with the police. Marcus continued speaking with a despaired, yet stern tone. "Mr. Bradburn sent his lawyer who should be here momentarily."

Satisfied that the police were not coming in, Jay gained his confidence back. He cocked his head and spoke with heavy sarcasm. "Wow. You really are a fuck up."

"No more killing," Marcus ordered.

Jay chuckled. "That will be up to you." He looked at his watch. "8:00 is approaching."

### 73

7:54 p.m.

The electricity was shut down again, along with the police spotlights, swallowing the lobby in darkness.

"The emergency lights went off!" a bodyguard yelled through the speaker.

_This was it_ , Jay thought. They are coming in. He leaped out of the chair and shouted, "Bring me five hostages!" Jay ran to the hallway and looked at the first open door. There had been a red light near the card swipe, but it was gone. The police must have found the secondary grid and cut the line. They were definitely coming.

Bodyguards dragged five hostages. "I'll take them to the lobby," Jay commanded. "You go back downstairs and get ready. Also, I need a fully loaded gun." One of the bodyguards switched his weapon with Jay.

He pushed the hostages into the lobby and forced them down on their knees. Jay aimed and fired the gun, killing the first of five. The phone rang behind him. He sidestepped, executing the second hostage.

Without mercy, in the darkness, feeling the coldness from the marble floor, Jay squeezed the trigger. The shots reverberated, while the phone behind him continued to ring. He kept waiting for the glass doors to shatter, with a full assault from the police.

Instead, Marcus appeared, banging on the door. "We are pulling out! Stop shooting!"

Jay felt invincible. They feared him and respected his authority. He walked up to the fifth hostage, eyes right on Marcus.

Jay pulled the trigger.

All of the employees that he wanted to kill were lying in front of him, with hot blood spilling from their skulls.

"Come on in!" Jay shouted. "Just come through the front door!"

"Pick up the phone!" Marcus pleaded.

Jay waved the gun in the air, still shouting. Every second that the police did not come barely towards him, he had renewed confidence. "I would have given you ten more hostages. Instead, you are stalling me! You cannot complete the simplest of tasks! You lack the ability to help these people!"

Marcus said something on his radio. Once again, Jay feared the worst. Marcus secured the radio and pointed to his phone. "Talk to me."

Jay's chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. After a few seconds of deliberation, he stepped over the dead bodies, plopped down on the chair, and picked up the ringing phone. "Why shouldn't I have the rest of the hostages killed? Give me a good reason."

"Because, you're right," Marcus said with a steady voice. "We've been stalling. It cost lives. We found a secondary security line that could be disrupted just long enough for our team to enter the building. You must have been ready for that and now hostages have been executed. I've screwed up, dancing all around the negotiators manual and eight people are dead because of what I've done. So now I'm ready to listen and save the rest of those people in the basement. What do you want?"

Jay did not answer right away. He looked at his watch. "It's 8:13. We're past another deadline. I want the money transferred from those two accounts by 8:30."

"I'll speak with Mr. Bradburn's attorney and work on that right now." Marcus eyed the dead bodies. "Can we have access to remove-"

"No!" Jay let the phone slip from his fingers. It bounced on the table and dangled over the edge.

He wanted the dead bodies to be a visual, reminding the police what will happen if they come inside. The only hostage remaining that could be executed was Robert Smalls. Although, the police thought there were thirty-nine employees still left to be saved.

If the police tried a full breach again, Jay would have limited options. He may have been a bit too hasty when finishing off the planed executions. More people were going to die tonight.

But not until later.

### 74

Keb instructed Carl Bradburn to fly back to Oregon, with directions to Jay's house, so that Carl could briefly join his family. Also, Carl was to call his attorney at the hostage-scene. "Tell him you are going home and only want your private security for protection."

"I will do this," Carl said, "if my family is safe and I'll be with them soon."

"They are doing just fine," Keb assured him. "And you are doing everything we ask, which is why your family is still alive. Now shut up and listen." Keb waited to see if Carl would respond. He did not. "We need to temporarily relieve you from the obligation of the employees being held hostage. A way that the police will not be tempted to add pressure on you."

"I'm guessing you want the police to stay away from me, because that would mean they are also staying away from you."

"Very smart," Keb replied. "Your attorney should make all money transfer decisions from this point on."

"What if he does not make the right decisions?"

"That will be our problem, not yours."

"What about the limo driver? He'll know the address where we are dropped off. What if he goes to the police?"

"He won't," Keb assured him. The limo driver was JC. "Goodbye Carl."

Keb walked to the kitchen. Alicia Bradburn, along with her two daughters, was at the table sharing a large bowl of popcorn. This was a nice distraction for them, but for Keb, the night seemed to drag on.

He kept his laptop open, signed into his offshore account with an untraceable search engine. When the money entered, it will be shuffled to three other accounts in mere seconds. Keb had done this plenty of times to transfer money for Raines.

When 8:00 came and gone, Keb wondered if Jay was having trouble with his plan. Keb had been tempted to turn on the news, but he did not want the Bradburn family listening in. Right now, they were calm. Moreover, he did not want to be distracted.

At 8:29, the offshore account showed an entry of over $200,000. The money was then transferred to their laundered accounts.

Keb dialed Jay's prepaid phone and let it ring once. Relief overwhelmed him for the moment.

"So far, so good," he whispered.

### 75

Jay released ten employees in two groups. Each of them glanced at the dead bodies, then made brief eye contact with him. _Keep your mouths shut,_ he thought. The police would interview them and use the information to their advantage. This was especially important if another breach was needed. Jay did not trust most of these employees, because they gossiped as if it was normal conversation.

But maybe...just maybe...they would not spill their guts. Over ninety-three million dollars would be their reward.

When the released employees were outside, Jay called his buddy Marcus.

"This is Cane."

"Well done," Jay said. "Ready for phase three?"

"I am."

"What about your team? Are they ready?"

"You're wondering if I'm still in control."

"I am."

"The answer is yes," Marcus said with a harsh tone. "You know how this works. The tough guys want to go in and kill the hostage-takers. I try to stop them and save everyone instead."

Jay wanted to fish for more information. "I'm surprised."

"How so?"

"Eight are dead. What's the magic number before you commence with a full assault?"

"No magic number. In fact, it isn't worth discussing. You aren't killing any more people and we aren't planning an assault."

"I'm thinking that once we get down to about five hostages, you may let the big boys come in and take us out."

"Not true. Whether you have fifty hostages or five, I want everyone to live. In fact, I don't want anyone injured."

Jay sighed, not getting the information he wanted. Marcus was extremely composed and good at his job. Maybe too good. "Okay, I suppose there is hope for us to get this done."

"I agree. It's getting cold outside. Maybe you need some blankets."

"We have plenty of food, water, medical supplies, blankets, and even some nice cots for the hostages to sleep in. Everyone is going to the bathroom. We have the hardcopy personnel files of the remaining hostages. None of them has any serious condition that will prevent us from finishing this without a hitch. Everything comes down to your response of what I ask."

"There is something that concerns me."

"How am I planning to escape? I haven't asked for a bus, plane, or anything else. I've murdered eight people and will certainly spend the rest of my life in prison. I must have some sort of exit strategy in mind."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Will we end this peacefully?"

"Just so I get what I want. Twenty-nine hostages remaining. Let's get them out."

"I agree," Marcus replied. "What's next?"

"Account number: 551093982. I need this done by 9:00." Jay dropped the phone in its cradle.

8:47 p.m.

### 76

"Joshua, it's me," Carl said to his attorney as the limo pulled away from the airport. "How are things going?"

"I made a transfer from Gibby and Theresa's accounts. They requested Alicia's personal account be transferred by 9:00."

Carl glared at the Nenet in front of him. "I'm heading home with the family," Carl lied. "Also, I don't want police protection. That is the job of my private security."

"I'll mention that," Joshua said with a professional tone. "What if the hostage-takers ask for more money? How far should I go?"

"That will be your decision."

"You are putting me in a tough spot. The employee's lives are at stake."

"This hostage crisis is a police matter. I want my involvement at a minimum."

"Maybe I should leave?"

If Joshua left the scene, all the attention would be brought back on Carl. His kidnapper would not be pleased. "No. Continue working with the negotiator for now. I trust you with the money transfers. Do what you feel is best."

"As I said before, that is putting me in a tough spot. You really should be here."

"Can you handle this or not?" Carl snapped.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. I will make sure you are paid generously for your loyalty. Meanwhile, I do not want to be disturbed. Keep the police away from me."

### 77

9:00 p.m.

Jay's prepaid phone rang once. Alicia Bradburn's account had just been transferred to Keb's offshore account. It appeared that Bradburn's attorney was a man with a moral dilemma, favoring the hostage's lives over the Bradburn's riches.

That was a good sign that Jay may actually live through the night.

He released ten more hostages.

### 78

Pamela felt like an actual hostage when released from the building. She was examined by a paramedic and led to a trailer with a two-man police escort. Inside was Captain Fletcher and the Senior Tactical Operations Commander, Kevin Harlan, along with the Tactical Advisor, Lindi Amerson."

It felt more like an interrogation than an interview. Pamela just hoped that the rest of the employees remained strong and gave the same lies. When it was over, she would be taken to the hospital for once last checkup. Any family or close friends can be notified at that time.

_I did it,_ Pamela thought when the interview was over. She survived Jay's insane plan with the taste of freedom moments away, as she walked back outside to the cool air.

An officer informed her that someone else needed to ask her a few questions. Her emotions had fizzled like dumping water on a campfire. Reluctantly, she was led back to the interview trailer. She passed by Captain Fletcher smoking a cigarette. Standing next to him was Kevin Harlan and Lindi Amerson.

Captain Fletcher gave her a concerned, helpless look, then made a nodding gesture toward the interview trailer. "Take her inside," he said to the officer.

"Yes, sir."

Pamela's heart propelled at a rapid speed. Who was waiting for her that was more important than the police captain?

The officer led Pamela inside and left, closing the door behind him. She saw a man pouring two cups of coffee with the word _Negotiator_ written on his windbreaker. They both sat down. He inched his seat closer to the table and placed the coffees in front of them.

This was much harder than she ever imagined, which meant, some of the employees might have already cracked under the pressure. Pamela feared that she was about to be arrested.

A notebook and pen was positioned on the negotiators left; on his right, an open manila folder. "My name is Marcus Cane." He scanned over a page from the folder.

"Why me?" she asked, sipping the coffee. "Why was I chosen to come here and be questioned for a second time?"

"You were one of the latest to be freed, so you have the latest information on what is going on inside. Other than that, the officer chose you at random."

"Just my luck," she said under her breath. Pamela was fortunate not to be under arrest. Even so, she wanted to be away from this trailer and the negotiator.

"I assume they have already given you a list of the employees we believed to be in there. So far, we confirmed seventy-two. We also have been told there are eight hostage-takers and the leader goes by the names, Smalls. Is that your understanding?"

_That was the plan,_ Pamela thought. She answered the longwinded question with a simple, "Yes."

"Did you hear the hostage-takers use any other names?"

"No."

Marcus looked up from his notes with an irritated expression. "What were the hostage-takers wearing?"

"All black. Masks, gloves, even their boots."

"What weapons were they using?"

"I'm not sure."

"Handguns? Rifles? Knifes?"

"Handguns."

"How were you treated?"

"It was terrifying." Her fingers noticeably trembled as she took another sip of coffee. "Under the circumstances, they treated us pretty good."

"How do you mean?"

"We were permitted to use the bathroom. Some of the people who fell down the stairs during the initial attack were given first aid. They brought down food from the cafeteria. They even gave us cots and blankets when the basement turned cold."

9:34 p.m.

He jotted a few notes, then continued with the questions. "You could hear the lead hostage-taker talking to me on the phone?"

Pamela wasn't sure how to answer that question. Did Jay want her to lie about that or not? What did the other employees say? She decided to tell the truth, with a hard glare to show her frustrations. "We could hear everything. Including the assassinations of our fellow employees."

Marcus was not intimidated. "Do you think I am doing a good job?"

Her gaze softened. "Excuse me?"

"Do you think that I could have done things better up until now?"

"Are you trying to justify the deaths of eight people?"

"Actually, yes I am. It sounds to me as if the hostage-takers were doing everything possible to make sure the employees were comfortable despite the situation. Meanwhile, you are listening to a hostage negotiator stall, which cost lives."

"I am assuming your number one rule is not to negotiate with kidnappers."

"Actually, that is not the number one rule."

"What is?"

"Prolong the situation."

Pamela shook her head. "And what about the hostages?"

"That's rule number two; keeping the hostages safe the best I can."

"Well then, if you were doing your job, then I suppose you'll have a clear conscience when this is all over." Unfortunately, Pamela questioned her own sense of right and wrong. She pushed her cup to the side. "You did not hold us at gunpoint. You did not kill those eight people. It was the bastards inside."

"Should I have given into them sooner?"

Pamela smacked her hand on the table. "What the hell do you want me to say? You are wonderful? You are the finest negotiator ever? Despite the deaths of eight people, along with the fact this isn't over yet, you are the right person for the job?"

"The reason I'm asking, is because I need to know how the others are feeling inside." Marcus spoke with a level and continuous pitch. "If they are under the impression that the police have control of the situation and they will eventually be released without harm that is one thing. But if the remaining employees feel that the police have lost control of the situation, they may attempt something drastic. I need to know the emotions of both the hostage-takers and the hostages."

Pamela took a moment to rub her eyes. None of this mattered, because Jay was doing everything according to a plan. This negotiator could not modify the inevitable. "I can't speak for everyone, but I suppose things could have been handled a little differently. From what I heard over the speaker, you could not locate Mr. Bradburn, which caused problems. You hesitated in transferring a dollar, which caused problems. You entered the building, which caused problems. I know that you were following the _Negotiators_ _Police Manual_ , but in this case, it did not work."

"I agree with you," Marcus said. "It did not work."

"Not all of it was your fault." Pamela eased her coffee cup back over and took a healthy sip. "The eight people who were killed had caused problems."

"What do you mean?"

9:43 p.m.

Pamela wished she could take that back. She fumbled for an answer. "They argued with the kidnapper. They wouldn't keep their big mouths shut. In some ways, they practically committed suicide with their actions."

"During your initial interview, did you give the names of the eight who were murdered?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me real quick?"

Pamela held the Styrofoam cup in the palms of her hands. Her mind was distant as she thought about the people who came to work today and ended up dead. "Dr. Sedgwick," she said, her voice soft.

"The co-founder of Bradburn Industries?"

"Yes. Also there was Yongsoo Chung who worked directly under Dr. Sedgwick."

Marcus wrote down their names and titles. "Go on."

"Megan Smoy, the slut-bitch that was Mr. Bradburn's personal assistant." Marcus looked up from his notes. Before he could say anything, Pamela continued. "Mr. Malone, Vice President of the company. Jason Zimmer, Research Manager. Darnell Browning, head of building security. Mike Harten, Chief Financial Officer. And Deshi Lung, Vice President of Foreign Operations."

"Is Deshi a man or woman?"

"Woman." She waited as Marcus scanned over his notes. An abrupt ringing startled her. She noticed a phone that was hooked to Marcus's belt. With each ring, it made several red flashes. "What is that?"

"The hostage-taker is calling me." They both stood up. Marcus shook her hand. "Thank you for your time. Be well."

Pamela made her way to the door, then stopped and turned around. Marcus seemed like a nice enough person. It was a shame that he was concerned about his job, but the reality of the situation was that Jay was making him look like a fool.

Pamela decided to give him some advice before leaving. "I'm sure when a really tough decision has to be made, you will do the right thing."

### 79

The stench of bodies played havoc with Jay's nauseous stomach. He had been stalling while Carl Bradburn made his way back from Hawaii. Keb finally called, let Jay's cell phone ring once and hung up. This meant that Bradburn had arrived and everything was okay.

Jay slid the cell in his pocket and picked up the hard-line phone.

"This is Cane."

"I want to see you inside. No radio, no wires, no hidden camera. Just you."

"Can I bring my gun?"

"Funny," Jay replied. "You have three minutes."

Moments later, Jay watched as a helicopter hovered in the parking lot with its spotlight on Marcus.

"I need three bodyguards," Jay said in the phone's speaker. "We are going to get rid of the bodies. Close the doors on the way up." When the bodyguards arrived, Jay whispered. "Make sure only the negotiator comes in."

Marcus approached the glass doors. Two bodyguards opened and aimed their guns at Marcus's chest. The third patted Marcus down and searched his pockets.

Jay gawked at Marcus. "I want to get rid of those dead bodies in the lobby. Have one of your officers back an ambulance to the front door."

Marcus kept his hands raised in a non-threatening pose. With a slow, guarded motion, he turned and spoke to the closest S.W.A.T. member. "What is your name?" Someone responded, but Jay could only hear Marcus. "I need you to back up one of the ambulances to the front door. Do this now."

When the ambulance was in position, Jay said, "Open the doors."

Marcus did as he was told. The S.W.A.T. officer that was driving opened the bulkhead door. Marcus responded with anger, "Shut that and stay in your seat!"

Jay and one other bodyguard loaded the dead bodies into the back of the ambulance. Meanwhile, the other two bodyguards kept their guns aimed at Marcus.

When the last of the eight bodies had been loaded, Marcus shut the door and banged on it twice. The ambulance pulled away.

"Now come inside," Jay ordered. "Put your hands down."

9:58 p.m.

Marcus walked in the lobby, lit only by the emergency lights. He had glanced down at the bloody marble floor. "I want to see the hostages," Marcus requested. "Just to make sure there are no other injuries."

"This way," Jay said. The three bodyguards remained in the lobby. Jay kept his Glock in one hand, an access card belonging to Donny Malone in the other.

They moved at a steady pace through the dark hallways. Jay slid the security card in each door, demonstrating how hard it would be to make an assault on the basement before all the so-called hostages would be executed. Between the secured doors and the maze of hallways, Marcus should be intimated enough to continue the negotiations, without the need for more drastic maneuvers.

They reached the final door, with the thin set of stairs that led downward. Jay had traveled up and down these stairs hundreds of times, but Marcus held onto the railing, careful not to lose his balance on the steep decline.

Jay glanced at Marcus. He was examining the basement, looking for weaknesses. The outside of the room had been filled with filing cabinets and stacks of plastic bins. Six emergency lights were enough to show the entire area. About fifty cots were in the center. Mixed in were empty water bottles and wrappers from various food items. Nineteen employees remained. Only one had been tied up, both wrists and ankles were bound. There was a black hood over his head.

He was also gagged, because it was Robert Smalls.

10:09 p.m.

Who is that?" Marcus asked.

"The next dead hostage if things don't go right," Jay replied. "Also, he's been a pain in our ass so I hope we get the chance to kill him." Robert Smalls was going to die tonight.

"Let me take the pain-in-the-ass hostage out of here," Marcus suggested.

"I need to speak with you privately," Jay said, ignoring the request. "There's an office over here."

After both of them were inside, Jay shut the door and sat on the edge of the desk. He pointed to the floor. "Sit down."

Marcus hesitated, but slid along the wall and eased to the floor. "What now?"

"We talk about how this will all end."

10:15 p.m.

"That sounds like a great-"

The door swung open. It was one of the idiot bodyguards. "A Commander Fletcher is on the phone. He wants to know if Marcus is safe."

Jay let out a huff. "We're in the middle of something."

Marcus looked up. "Tell Commander Fletcher these exact words: Everything is _good_ with Marcus Cane."

The bodyguard looked at Jay for verification. "Do it," he ordered. The bodyguard left and shut the door. "Was that some sort of code?" Jay asked Marcus.

"Yes. _Good_ means give me thirty more minutes and check back. If I said _fine_ , then it meant I'm in trouble." Marcus seemed uncomfortable on the floor. He stretched his legs forward and said, "So how can we end this?"

"It's about to get a little personal," Jay said, aiming the gun at Marcus. "Just stay calm and listen to what I have to say."

### 80

"What I'm about to tell you, stays between us," Jay said in a low voice. He rested the gun on his lap, finger on the trigger guard. He remained on the edge of the desk, looking down at Marcus on the floor. "Everything I say in this room, must be kept a secret the rest of your life."

"Okay, what do you want to tell me?"

"In phase four, I will ask for the transfer of the Bradburn checking account. There's not as much money in there as you would think; just under $500,000."

"How do you know?"

"Because I looked," Jay replied with a self-assured smirk.

10:21 p.m.

"And you are suggesting that you don't want me to tell anyone that you'll demand the transfer of that account _before_ you request it from me?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"I'll explain later." Jay slid up farther on the desk, his feet dangling a few inches from the floor. "After the $500k is transferred, I'll release four hostages. In phase five, I'll demand the transfer of the Bradburn savings account by midnight. The lawyer, who is now making the decisions, will most likely hesitate. What's his name?"

"Adler," Marcus replied. "Why would he hesitate?"

"Because, there's over $1.6 million in that account. He may agree to a smaller amount. Either way, let this play out past the midnight deadline. I'll have the pain-in-the-ass hostage brought to the lobby and I'll shoot him."

"What if Adler agrees to send all the money right away?"

"I'll kill the hostage anyway. Sorry, he has to go." Jay rubbed his finger along the barrel. "When the full amount is transferred and I've killed that hostage, I will release six more people."

Marcus was silent for a moment, probably considering his options. "How do I get the rest of you out safely?"

"This next part will be tough. Sometime after midnight, a mystery guest will arrive on the scene. I'll request that you let him enter the building. In exchange, I'll give you another hostage. Your superiors will object, but you need to devise a way to let him in."

"And if I can't?"

Jay pushed himself off the desk and gripped the gun. "I don't want to hear the word, _can't_. You find a way to get that done. If you don't, then you might as well send the tough guys in and try to take me out, because I'll kill everyone that is left, along with as many officers as possible before they get to me. Is that understood?"

Marcus raised his hand. "Stay calm. I understand."

"Good. May I continue?"

"Yes."

10:25 p.m.

Jay sat back down on the edge of the desk, waiting for his heart rate to slow. "I just need ten minutes with our mystery guest and then I'll release him, unharmed. Fifteen minutes after his release, the remaining hostages will overtake us. All eight hostage-takers will be killed." Jay cocked his head. "Just like that, it will all be over."

Marcus opened and closed his mouth several times before he spoke. "Did you just say that the hostages will overtake you, killing you and your team?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. And remember, no one can be aware that this is going to happen. You have to play along as if you didn't know. I just need you to orchestrate things on the outside to make sure this goes smoothly."

"I suppose the most important question I have right now is-"

"Why would you agree to such a request?" Jay asked. "Because, you're personally involved."

"Meaning?"

Jay was a bit nervous, but he spoke quickly to mask his tension. "You have a sister named Trudy that lives in Tulsa with your nephew, Aiden."

Marcus stood up. "What do they-"

"Relax," Jay said, tapping the trigger of the Glock. "Trudy's jackass husband left her. He didn't divorce your sister, just up and left. He makes $75,000 a year and is screwing some other woman, but hasn't sent any money for his wife and child. Meanwhile, the house is about to go in foreclosure, bills are piling up, and your sister is praying for a miracle.

"Today, her prayers had been answered. $500,000 in cash had been placed in her living room along with a note that said, 'Do not tell anyone where you got this money. Use it to save yourself. Keep it in a safety deposit box and take whenever you need it. I love you so much...Marcus.'"

"You sent my sister money?"

"Yes," Jay replied. "Not only that, but I've helped you with your mother in Tallahassee. She's living in the house that you and your sister grew up. The home your father died in. The house your mother cherishes, but cannot afford. You've been sending in the payments, struggling in your efforts so your mother would not have to move. Yesterday, a cashier's check along with the payment stub had been sent to the mortgage company which paid the house off in full. The payment was sent from your address with your name on it."

### 81

Marcus's skin looked as if were melting. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm not done," Jay said. "Are you married?" He already knew the answer, but this conversation was about forming a relationship with the cop that could initiate a full breach.

"None of your business," Marcus replied, wiping the sweat from his face.

Jay thought about Keb's examination of the house. "They're photographs in your closet of a beautiful woman. My favorite is the picture you have in the golden frame. Also in the closet, are what appeared to be the woman's possessions."

"She died," Marcus snapped. "Six years ago of cancer."

"That's unfortunate. What was her name?"

Marcus hesitated. "Olivia."

"That's nice. Did you call her Olive for short?"

"No, I called her Olivia."

Jay let out a chortle. "Maybe someday you will take that picture of your deceased wife and put it on your nightstand where it belongs, instead of burying her like that closet is a grave."

"What is your point?"

"I left two duffle bags with Olivia's possessions, each filled with $500,000 in cash."

"I can't accept your money. You know that."

Jay folded his arms. "Being a negotiator is like arranging a business deal. The transaction you're putting together is _hope_. The police hope to resolve the circumstances peacefully. The hostages hope to be released. The hostage-takers hope to receive their demands." Jay paused, gawking at Marcus through his mask. "Instead of being the one who organizes all this, you can assure your own hope. Trudy, your mother, even you, has been given a chance to not only survive, but to live with that same hope you generate in your job."

"We cannot take your money," Marcus said again. "You have to understand that."

"Imagine Trudy's face when she opened a duffle bag full of cash. And now, you want to just take that away from her?"

"It's wrong."

"What isn't wrong in this world?" Jay asked, his voice rising. "I'll be dead in a few hours, along with the other hostage-takers. You'll have a chance to be a hero, both here, and with your family. If that's wrong, then what's right?"

10:31 p.m.

Marcus eyed the door. "I have to go," he said. "They will be wondering what we spoke about for so long."

"Just tell them you are close to negotiating an end to this hostage situation."

"I'll need a hostage to go with me."

Jay chuckled. "You're always thinking, aren't you? Okay, fine, you choose someone, just not the asshole with the hood."

Marcus stood and opened the door.

"Over there," Marcus said, pointing to a young lady sitting on a cot. "Let me take her."

Jay recognized the woman, but could not place her name. "Get her." Jay grabbed Marcus by the arm, pressing the barrel of the gun on his temple. He then whispered in Marcus's ear. "Just remember to keep your mouth shut about what we discussed. I'll fucking shoot everyone right now. And do not call your sister or mother. The police monitor all cell phone activity in the area. You'll have a tough time explaining why you called your sister, just after you've spoken to the hostage-taker."

"I won't say a word," Marcus said. "Let me go."

"Go." He released him and watched as one of the bodyguards escorted Marcus and the employee up the stairs.

Jay called the remaining employees over and spoke to them so the other bodyguards could not hear. "This is what's going to happen," he whispered. It was a meeting of sorts, as he explained what they are going to do over the next few hours.

### 82

10:54 p.m.

Jay had returned to his chair and dialed Marcus. "This is Cane."

"You ready to move forward," Jay asked.

"I'm ready."

"Account number: 993965714. Your deadline is 11:00."

"That is six minutes away. Can I have-"

Jay slammed the phone down. It did not take long for the one-ring signal on his cell phone to notify Jay that Marcus had complied with the transfer and made the deadline. $495,567 had just been transferred from Bradburn's checking account to Keb's offshore account, then moved through the system so as not to be traced.

Jay allowed four more hostages to go free. He called Marcus.

11:08 p.m.

"This is Cane."

"Phase five, Candy Cane. We're almost done."

"What is your demand?"

"Account number: 320334798. The deadline is midnight."

"I'll pass along your request."

Jay squeezed the phone. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've given you too much already and my superior commander is going to put a stop to it. We need to end this right now."

After everything that had transpired, it figures that Marcus suddenly decided to play hardball. Jay could not believe his ears. "That sounded like an ultimatum. You saved fifty hostages. Aren't you concerned about the other fourteen?"

"Of course I am. And believe it or not, I want you and the other hostage-takers out safely as well."

"But you're done giving into my demands?"

"I clearly said I'll pass on your request to my superior-"

"I'm going to kill someone in the next thirty seconds unless you give me a reason not to splatter his brains." He covered the phone and said into the speaker. "Bring me Smalls."

"Look," Marcus pleaded, "I'm not denying you anything, it's just-"

"Twenty seconds."

"Calm down."

"Fifteen...fourteen...thirteen..."

Smalls was shoved into the lobby and forced to kneel. Jay held the phone and aimed the gun.

Marcus caved. "I'll comply with your request."

Jay covered the phone and once again used the speaker. "Take Smalls back downstairs." He then talked to Marcus. "Very good," Jay said. The bodyguard returned and dragged Smalls from of the lobby. "Get this done by midnight and I'll release six more hostages." They disconnected at the same time.

11:16 p.m.

### 83

Mila Thornes, the manager in the cafeteria, was practically overjoyed when the negotiator chose her to be released and escorted to an ambulance. A paramedic did a quick examination, then informed her that she would be taken to the hospital for a thorough evaluation. "But for right now," the paramedic said, "Someone wants to have a few words with you. Remain lying down."

The request seemed harmless, until a woman entered the back of the ambulance with a windbreaker that adorned a Hillsboro Police logo. "My name is Lindi Amerson." She took a seat next to Mila. "I'm the Tactical Advisor."

Mila felt droplets of sweat forming on her skin. "Am I in trouble?"

Lindi raised an eyebrow. "Why would you ask that?"

"No reason. I'm just a bit shook up."

"Understandable," Lindi said with a comforting smile. "What is your position at Bradburn Industries?"

"Cafeteria manager."

"What was going through you mind when you were first taken to the basement."

Mila could hardly breathe. The only thing going through her mind was enough money to take care of her family, without ever having another financial concern.

11:39 p.m.

Before she could answer, the negotiator leaped into the ambulance with a radio and large phone clipped to his belt, while holding a notebook and pen. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Mila Thornes."

Lindi interceded. "I'm in the middle of interviewing her. What is happening?"

Marcus sat down, opposite of Lindi. "I need to ask her a few questions."

"I'm handling it," Lindi replied with a determined edge in her voice. "She's been through a lot and you don't seem under control at the moment."

Mila's eyes swept back and forth during their conversation, wishing she were back in building and someone else was in the interrogation gurney.

The negotiator leveled his gaze on her. "What is your position at Bradburn Industries?"

Lindi answered for her. "She is the cafeteria manager. What is your prob-"

"Would you shut the fuck up!" Marcus said to Lindi. He waited until she stormed out of the ambulance. Marcus returned his focus on Mila. "What is your position at Bradburn Industries?" he asked again.

"Cafeteria manager, just like Ms. Amerson said."

Marcus seemed to be analyzing each of her answers. "Do you know which hostages were killed?"

"Yes," she responded. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I thought maybe I was next, being there so long." It wasn't hard for Mila to pretend being upset. The negotiator scared her more than anything she had gone through tonight.

"Was Dr. Sedgwick being disruptive? Is that why he was killed?"

Mila reached to the back of her head and pushed her hair up while considering that dangerous question. "Yes. Dr. Sedgwick was killed because he would not be quiet."

Marcus glanced at his notebook. "Do you know Pamela Nystrom?"

Mila's heart thundered against her chest. She had a terrifying impulse that her coworkers caved and told the truth. This cop had just caught her in a lie. The handcuffs will be squeezed around her wrists in the next few seconds.

Mila debated on changing her answer, but her choice was simple. An ominous fear remained that either Pamela or Jay would harm her son. As for the negotiators question on whether she knew Pamela Nystrom, "Of course," Mila finally said. "She works in Human Resources."

Marcus leaned in closer. "She told me the same story, but then later confessed that Dr. Sedgwick was not doing anything wrong. Pamela then told me the truth on why she lied."

Mila's eyes froze in time. Her mouth went open slightly, her mocha skin turning pale. "I don't know what you want from me?"

"Did Smalls want you to lie?"

"The guy in charge?"

"Yes," Marcus said with urgency.

"I never talked to him."

"Which hostage-taker did you speak with?"

Mila's tears once again spilled from her eyes. "The one who was closest to me in the basement."

"What did you say to him?"

"I asked if I could go to the bathroom. I also explained where the pre-made sandwiches were in the kitchen." There was partial truth to that answer, but Mila felt exposed.

11:43 p.m.

Someone appeared at the opening of the ambulance and shouted, "What the fuck is with you?"

Mila raised her head. Lindi had returned, along with a man that reeked of smoke.

Marcus turned. "Did she tell on me like some school girl? I wanted to interview this hostage. Is that a problem?"

Mila rested her head back down on the pillow, praying for a miracle.

"We have fifteen minutes," the cigarette smelling man said. "Is this interview that you are conducting important, or should Lindi be handling it?"

Marcus glanced at her, then crawled out of the ambulance. "You are really pissing me off," he said to Lindi.

Mila's back was completely soaked with sweat, her eyes dripping with tears. "I want to see my son," she sobbed.

Lindi touched her gently on the arm. "I'm just going to ask you a few more questions and then you can leave."

$93,562,500 was the only reason Mila kept her emotions composed.

### 84

11:50 p.m.

Jay returned to the lobby to find a bodyguard on the phone. Robert Smalls was kneeling on the bloody marble, hands bound behind his back, hood covering his head. Jay had previously instructed the bodyguard, "If the negotiator calls, pick up the phone, but do not speak to him."

Of course, soon as Jay left, Marcus decided to call. To make matters worse, the bodyguard did not follow the uncomplicated directive.

Jay snatched the phone away. "Candy Cane, what's going on?"

"Where were you?"

"Taking a leak. I am human."

"I need a little more time."

"Negative."

"I've done everything you asked...agreed?"

"Agreed."

"I'll want seven hostages," Marcus urged. "Including the man you have kneeling in the lobby."

"I'll give you six hostages, but keep this man."

"I want him."

"No."

11:52 p.m.

"How much extra time can I have?" Marcus asked.

"I did not agree to more time."

"I'll need until 12:30."

"Sure thing. I'll just shoot this hostage and give you the extra thirty minutes."

"I'll call you back." Marcus hung up.

Jay glared at the bodyguard. "This time, just guard the hostage and do not answer the phone. Think you can handle that?"

The bodyguard responded by shaking his head.

Jay marched through the hallways and down to the basement. He opened a plastic storage bin that had an identical black outfit that he and the other bodyguards had been wearing. "I'll be sending Smalls back down here," Jay said to the nearest bodyguard. "Get him changed. Also, we are going to make an escape. I need all guns in this storage bin." The bodyguards did not question his orders. Each placed their weapons in the container. Jay opened another bin that he stored regular _street_ clothes and two sets of gloves. "In about an hour, all of you need to strip off your black outer clothes so you can pretend to be hostages."

The bodyguards will be dead before that would happen.

Jay grabbed a random cell phone from the pile collected by the employees. He used it to call Keb. "Put Bradburn in a cab and send him to the building. Then, have Bradburn call his attorney and approve the money transfer."

The police may track the cell phone in the building, which would not be a big deal. They may think that a hostage snuck a call to a family member. As for Keb's prepaid phone, the police would not have an exact location, just the area.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Keb asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." He turned the power off on the cell phone, not wanting to stay on too long.

11:56 p.m.

"I need to get back upstairs," Jay said. He made eye contact with two employees, Matt Minkus and Gino Sergio. They will retrieve the guns from the storage bin and kill the bodyguards. It was difficult finding two employees willing to do this. Matt Minkus, a large man with forearms the size of a softball, worked in logistics. He always looked a little silly in his suit, because it never seemed to fit right over his muscles. Jay convinced Matt that the police would believe it was self-defense. They could explain that the hostage-takers were going to kill them, which left the remaining employees with no choice. They had to defend themselves.

The other volunteer for this dangerous and gruesome job was Gino Sergio, a disgruntle employee who worked in the lab under Dr. Sedgwick. Gino hated the company and probably dreamed of showing up to work with an automatic rifle and killing the management.

Satisfied that everything was under control, Jay hurried back to the lobby.

Midnight

"Get downstairs with the others," Jay said to the bodyguard. "They will tell you what to do." The bodyguard jogged to the hallway. Jay took his seat and called Marcus.

"This is Cane."

"It is 12:01. Where is my money?"

"I'm still trying to get that done."

"What's the problem?"

"I'm sitting with Mr. Bradburn's personal attorney. He is not authorized to transfer the entire $1.6 million."

"Let me guess. He told you he could only transfer $500,000."

"Yes."

"That amount is insured. It's all bullshit."

"To be honest, the lawyer does not have anything personally invested in this situation. Why would he give you money?"

"That's an interesting line of reasoning. Is he a good friend of Carl Bradburn, or just some employee?"

"I believe they are friends as well."

"Well then, inform that fucking scumbag that I will execute Carl Bradburn in one minute if the money is not transferred."

"How's that possible? You don't have Mr. Bradburn?"

"Really? When was the last time you spoke to him?"

Marcus paused. "Can I call you back?"

"I'll give you thirty-one seconds." Jay hung up.

### 85

12:05 p.m.

Jay was in the hallway with an employee's cell phone, speaking to Bradburn. "The attorney is being hesitant, just like I thought. Have you made the call yet?"

"I just got into the cab." He paused. "I'll do it, only if you guarantee my family will not be harmed."

"I've kept my word and will continue so long as you do everything I say. When you get here, ask to speak with Marcus Cane. If they question you about the payoff you received, tell them that Dr. Sedgwick was hesitant to sell the company to Acacia. You were paid two billion to make sure the deal went through. Admit to the police that the money is hidden inside your safe room, located in the basement." Jay rubbed the corners of his burning eyes with his gloved hand. "Are you getting this?"

Bradburned sighed. "Yes."

"I will call the negotiator after you arrive. You are to be persistent on coming inside this building and give me what I want." Jay clicked the phone shut.

### 86

Jay answered the ringing hard-line phone. Marcus spoke right away. "The transfer is going through momentarily."

"Of course it is," Jay replied sarcastically. "When you can't get shit done, I have to do it myself."

"Do not shoot that hostage, or I'll stop this transaction right now." Jay heard whispering in the background. Marcus spoke, but as if something was wrong. "Promise me you won't kill that man."

Jay's prepaid phone rang once. He laughed at Marcus. "You really need to get on the same page with that lawyer. I was just told that transfer is complete."

"Do not shoot, or we will come in."

"I'm about to release six hostages, so can you wait until they are safely outside?"

"Don't bullshit me!" Marcus shouted. "You pull that trigger, and I'm ordering a full assault."

Jay looked at Smalls kneeling on the floor. "Calm down Candy Cane. I'll let this bastard live for now. But things are about to get even tougher for you out there, so I don't give this hostage much of a chance." Jay hung up and said into the speaker, "Release six employees."

As the final moments of this heist approached, Jay's heart pumped as if he was injected with steroids. Sweat moistened his skin. He felt every twinge in his muscles and his eyes stung with exhaustion.

Billions of dollars were in the basement. Carl Bradburn was on the way. This was it. Time for the negotiator to let the mystery guest inside.

### 87

The cab driver maneuvered through the media trailers and hundreds of onlookers. Carl gave the driver a hundred dollar bill, exited the vehicle, and fought through the crowd to the yellow tape. "I'm Carl Bradburn," he said to an officer. "I need to speak with Marcus Cane."

The officer clicked his shoulder radio. "A Carl Bradburn is requesting to speak with Marcus Cane. Should I let him in?"

Someone responded. " _Yes. Bring him to the Command Trailer._ "

"Right away." The officer lifted the yellow tape. "Follow me, sir."

The large mob of onlookers and media were chaotic compared to the calmness near the building. Even though there were hundreds of officers, six ambulances, S.W.A.T., police trailers, and a helicopter hovering above, the area seemed monitored with restraint.

Carl's phone chirped with the theme to the Godfather. That meant he had a text. While walking, he clicked on the message from Xavier, already knowing what it said.

Acacia was pulling out of the deal.

The officer directed Carl to the Command Trailer and opened the door for him. Carl went inside, seeing an assortment of computer equipment, radios, and a table that seated four. Also inside was a man who smelled like smoke, another dressed in black S.W.A.T. gear, a woman pecking on her laptop, and a man wearing a windbreaker that had the word, _Negotiator_ on the back.

The man that smelled like smoke said to the officer, "You can go now."

Carl noticed the negotiator glance at a large yellow phone with red and green lights. The man smelling like smoke introduced himself with a handshake, "I am the Situation Commander, Daniel Fletcher."

The guy dressed in black approached Carl. "Nice to meet you Mr. Bradburn. I am Kevin Harlan, Tactical Commander."

The woman greeted him as well. "Lindi Amerson, Advisor."

Carl lost all strength. His lips shuddered with anxiety and a tear threatened to escape from his eye. The negotiator shook hands with him. "Mr. Bradburn, I'm Marcus Cane, Hostage Negotiator. Would you like some coffee?"

The mere thought of coffee agitated his stomach. Carl did not want anything to drink or eat until his wife and daughters were safe. Right or wrong, he had to tell the truth. "My family and I had been kidnapped." Bradburn's voice was unsteady and crazed with misery. "I have to do everything they say, or my wife and two daughters will be killed."

12:16 a.m.

"When did this happen?" Marcus asked.

"This morning, just before we were going to leave for Hawaii. They..." Bradburn slid into a chair, rubbing his weary face. "They took my wife and kids, then replaced them with some other woman and two girls about the same age. My orders were to go ahead and fly to Hawaii."

Fletcher: "But what about the police in Hawaii? Didn't they know something was wrong?"

"No." Bradburn gave Fletcher a cold glare. "They had no idea what my family looks like."

Marcus remained standing. "Has anyone from Acacia contacted you?"

"Xavier Damina, the CEO of Acacia, sent me a text. They pulled out of the deal."

"What's this about the two billion? You said it was personal, not business."

Carl leaned forward; his body slumped over the chair, as he recollected everything he was supposed to say. He folded his hands, clenching so hard the knuckles turned white. "Dr. Sedgwick and I originally denied Acacia's offer. I was paid in cash, two billion, to convince Sedgwick to sell." That was far from a truthful response. Carl continued, his mind drifting with fatigue. "Xavier Damina and I completed the transaction in the building. I hid the money in my safe room downstairs in the basement."

Harlan looked at a map. "Where?"

Carl released the grip on his hands. He glanced at the map, then looked at Harlan. "You won't find it. I had an outside security team build the safe room last year. They are the only ones that know it exists."

Marcus pulled up a chair and sat down. "Did Robert Smalls or anyone else on the security team know you were paid off? Were any of them there during the transaction?"  
"No." Carl shook his head. "Do you still think it's my private security doing this?"

"It makes sense," Marcus replied.

12:21 a.m.

_These cops are clueless_ , Carl thought.

The large phone rang twice, with the red light flashing.

Fletcher put on his headphones. "Okay, let's play it out and see if we can save the remaining hostages."

Marcus stayed in the chair, focusing on Carl. "What about Xavier? Did he witness you putting the money in the safe room?"

"No." Carl stood up, as the ringing continued. "They want me inside."

"Impossible," Fletcher said. "We are not giving them another hostage."

Carl moved his tired eyes on Marcus. "You have two hostage situations. One in the building and one with my family. If I don't go in there and give them the two billion, my wife and daughters are dead."

Marcus stood up and forced himself to take a deep breath. He picked up the secured phone. "Cane here."

### 88

"Well, I'm glad you could finally answer the phone." Jay was annoyed that it rang about twenty times before Marcus picked up.

"I can't let him inside," Marcus said, obviously referring to Bradburn.

"That's a shame. Especially since I now have eleven hostages, not eight. In five minutes, a 911 call will be made. It'll be a girl, about fourteen, screaming as she's being tortured."

"We cannot give you another hostage."

"You aren't. Mr. Bradburn will be inside for ten minutes. I will then release him, the remaining eight hostages, and the Bradburn family. Think about it, Cane. You give in to this last demand, everyone remaining will live. Isn't that what you want?" Jay needed this. He was sure that after he had spoken to Marcus, everything would come together. If Bradburn did not come inside, they would not get the rest of the money.

"I'll send in Bradburn, if you give me two hostages in return. I need something."

"Agreed," Jay replied. His answer was a little quick. For the first time, Marcus may have sensed desperation. Jay was wearing down.

### 89

While Jay had a few moments, he went downstairs to make sure everything was ready. One of the bodyguards asked, "Should we change into the other clothes yet?"

"Be patient," Jay said. "I'll let you know." He looked at Smalls. "Although, we need him changed in a hostage-taker outfit now. Untie his hands and remove the hood." Jay walked up to Smalls. "You will take the blame for all this, but eventually, be able to prove your innocence. Remember, I have someone watching your family."

"Fuck you," Smalls replied. "I am going to hunt you down when this is all over."

"Fair enough," Jay said. He made eye contact with Gino and Matt, giving them a slight nod. The expectancy of an elaborate plan coming to fruition was maddening. Jay was an average employee, without a shred of experience in crime.

Incentive and stimulus had been the key ingredient for transgression.

Jay escorted the last two remaining female employees upstairs. He saw through the glass doors that Marcus was approaching, holding onto Bradburn's arm. Jay opened the door and released the two women.

"Ten minutes," Marcus said. "That is it. One second later and I will authorize a full breach."

Jay responded to the negotiator with sarcastic conviction. "Your job is on the line, isn't it? Don't worry, he'll be released safely."

"And then I'll get the rest of the hostages?"

"Yes."

"How do you plan on leaving?"

Jay felt the heat under his mask increase. "Do you really want to have this conversation right now?"

"Ten minutes," Marcus said. "Not a second more." He let go of Bradburn's arm.

Jay closed the glass door. He led Bradburn to the chair and phone, so they were close to the speaker. Jay asked, "What is the safe room code?"

Bradburn said the numbers without delay. "175094."

Jay's entire body gripped with anticipation. He repeated the code into the speaker. "175094." Jay took Bradburn into the hallway.

12:30 a.m.

"What about my family?" Bradburn asked.

Jay slid the prepaid phone from his pocket and called Keb. "Release the family. Make sure they keep their mouths shut or we'll come back for them."

"Will do," Keb replied. "Are we good?"

"Yes," Jay hit _END_. He slid the Glock from his belt and rushed through the hallways while securing the doors. Just before entering the basement, Jay said to Bradburn, "Wait here." Jay opened the basement door and practically galloped down the steps. "Now!" he yelled.

The bodyguards were confused. On the other hand, the remaining employees knew exactly what Jay meant. Led by Matt and Gino, they reached into the storage bin, retrieved the guns, and began shooting at the bodyguards.

12:36 a.m.

Jay took off his gloves, aimed and squeezed the trigger, killing the nearest bodyguard.

Three of the bodyguards, including Robert Smalls, were able to rush towards the stairs. In a panic, Jay fired at the charging herd until the Glock was empty. He hit one of them in the shoulder and grazed the other two. They slammed into him like three bulls released into wild, un-phased by the gunshots, racing up the stairs. Both Gino and Matt fired, bullets sinking into the wall near Jay, pinging off the stairs.

One of the bodyguards swiped a security card through the door and the three of them escaped.

"Fuck!" Jay shouted. There was nothing he could do about it now. The remaining employees had entered the safe room and loaded the cash into ten different large plastic bins labeled, _Christmas Decorations_. This included the money that Jay took from Dr. Sedwick's office. In two metal suitcases, they rearranged the reaming two billion, so it appeared the hostage-takers were close to stealing the cash.

Jay tore off his mask and changed into the clothes that were waiting for him. "Tie my hands and put the hood over my head. Get the bins from the safe room and hide them on the outer part of the basement with the other storage bins."

Shots echoed from the hallway.

Gino asked, "Why are we leaving two billion behind?"

Matt had bound Jay's hands behind his back. As he put the hood over his head, Jay shouted, "Leave the two billion!"

Jay was now on his knees, grinding his wrists into the bag ties. He heard heavy footsteps made by the police upstairs. They were blowing through the doors in the hallways. The fleeing bodyguards must have shut each door behind them, fearing that they were being chased. It would be another minute or so before the police arrived in the basement.

Two gunshots startled Jay, followed by another.

With the hood covering his eyes, Jay could not see what happened. Did Gino or Matt decide to kill the remaining employees and keep the money for themselves? "What was that?" Jay asked.

He heard the sound of Matt's voice. "I put the guns in the bodyguards hand and fired, so gun residue would show up on their gloves."

That was smart, Jay thought. Now it would appear that the hostage-takers were trying to execute the employees. In a brave effort, Gino and Matt, along with Jay, were able to overtake the hostage-takers and kill them in a more believable way. Jay ripped his hands from the bag ties, shredding the skin on his wrists. Adrenaline nullified the sting.

Jay stood and yanked off the mask.

With a thunderous explosion, the basement door blew right off its hinges; the sound of metal screeched from the stairs. Jay picked up the empty Glock so he could make it look like he had just escaped and defended himself against the hostage-takers.

The police aimed their rifles and shouted, "Drop your weapons!" The metal stairs loosened under the weight of approaching officers.

Jay, Matt, and Gino placed their guns on the floor and raised their hands. For a brief moment, Jay thought the police knew what really happened. He was about to be arrested for murder, kidnapping, and whatever else they could think of. Pamela's warning became a terrifying recollection. 'Oregon reinstated the death penalty.'

"Are you okay?" an officer asked him.

With disbelief, Jay lowered his hands. "What?"

"Are you okay?" the officer repeated. "Are you injured?"

Jay contained his smile and sense of relief. "Just get me the hell out of here."

### 90

Carl cried like never before when his wife and two girls entered the interview trailer. They embraced for several minutes, tears wetting their faces.

Carl noticed Lindi at the table with an open folder and a digital camera. "Let's get this over with," he mumbled. The family sat down across from Lindi, waiting for her to speak.

She slid the digital camera over to Carl. "Some of these are a little gruesome. Do you recognize any of these men?"

Carl wiped the tears from his weary eyes. With utter disbelief, he saw bloody pictures of men dressed in black, their masks lying beside the bodies. He flicked through each digital photo and said, "This is my private security team."

Lindi retrieved the camera. "As for the men that kidnapped your family. How many were there?"

"Just one." Carl gave his wife and two daughters a look, hoping they would not speak.

"Did you see his face?"

"No," Carl lied. All he could think about was that the kidnapper had been connected to Liam Raines in Pittsburgh. Whether that was true or not, didn't matter. The kidnapper was a professional. How else could he have pulled off such an elaborate heist?

Lindi's eyes moved to Alison. "What about you. Did you get a look at the kidnapper or see anything that could help us?"

"No."

Lindi questioned the two daughters. They had the same response. She then focused back on Alison. "Where did the kidnapper take you?"

"Some kind of house," Alison replied. "I don't know where, because he covered our eyes while he drove."

"Were you in a van or car?"

"Not sure."

Carl noticed that Lindi bit down on her lip, clearly becoming frustrated. Maybe she would take the hint that it was a miracle his family was alive. If they discuss anything with the police, this may start all over again. "Are we almost done?" he asked with sharp bitterness.

Lindi's eyes swept across them with a harsh glare. "Do any of you want to catch the kidnaper?"

Carl wasn't going to let her bully them into telling the truth. "I just want to go home with my family." He thought about the two billion that had been taken away from him, along with the other four billion that the hostage-takers most certainly took from Dr. Sedgwick. And if they stole Dr. Sedgwick's money, it was feasible that the hostage-takers also took printed copies of the formulas and vaccines.

Carl had even a bigger problem. Acacia pulled out of the deal. They would want their eight billion sent back to Spain. If the money were not returned in a few days, Xavier would send someone to collect.

When they discover the money had been stolen...he and his family would be killed.

### 91

After Jay spent forty minutes in the ambulance with a paramedic bandaging his wrists, he was escorted to the interview trailer. Inside were two plain-clothes officers; a man and woman. He knew them both from the web site, especially Marcus. Jay continued playing his role as they introduced themselves.

"I'm Lindi Amerson, Tactical Advisor."

"I am Marcus Cane, Hostage Negotiator."

Jay shook both their hands and took his seat. The nerves in his body felt like ants trying to escape through the skin. He wanted this to be over.

Lindi asked a few basic questions. Did he see any faces of the hostage-takers? Hear anything important? What was the mood of the other employees? Why was he bound? What did he say to the hostage-takers?

Jay answered each question, attempting to change his voice to a more irritable and loud tone. Marcus's eyes were fixated. He seemed to be examining every movement Jay made and scrutinizing every answer.

"What is your position at Bradburn Industries?" Marcus asked.

That question confirmed Jay's suspicions. Marcus had discovered that Smalls was not the lead hostage-taker on the phone. "I've been through enough shit!" Jay yelled, struggling to mask his voice. "While you pigs were out here with your thumbs up your ass, we were fighting for our lives in there. We could hear every fuck up you assholes made. I can't believe you call yourselves police officers." He pointed an angry finger at Marcus. "And you are the worst of them all!"

Lindi responded first. "Mr. Nicken. Please lower your voice. You've been screaming at us since you came out of there."

"What should I do?" he shouted. "I'm the only reason we are still alive. Did you really think they were just going to let us go and hope for the best? I cannot believe you agreed to that?" He glared at Marcus. "You hesitated on giving them a dollar, but did not put up fight when millions of dollars where on the line. And you sent in Mr. Bradburn to risk his life!"

"It's a simple question," Marcus said, keeping his voice calm. His eyes lowered, looking down at the bandages around Jay's wrists, along with deep red marks on both thumbs. He then rolled his eyes back up and leveled them with Jay. "What position do you hold at Bradburn Industries?"

Jay could not mention that he worked in the basement. "I am the Inventory Supervisor. Are you happy?" That was Jay's official title. Hopefully Marcus would not dig any further.

"Do you have direct access to the executives or Mr. Bradburn?"

"No," Jay snapped. "And the word _supervisor_ can be used lightly. It's not like I had any employees under me. I was all alone." Jay's heart struck against his chest like a hammer. He felt himself caving and wondered if the other employees had been questioned in the same interrogation type manner. Obviously, Marcus was suspicious.

Lindi gave Marcus a look as if to say, 'Can we please let this guy leave?'

Marcus stood up. "I'm very sorry for what you went through. And I'm sure Mr. Bradburn will reward you for your bravery."

Jay sprung from his chair. "What the hell is your problem?"

Marcus had already walked away and slammed the door as he left.

Lindi shook his hand and said with caution, "I just need you to sign a couple of things and then you can go."

"Whatever," Jay said, feeling like the air had become breathable again. He signed a witness statement, along with a document that stated he would be available if the police had more questions. He scribbled his name; pressing down so hard the ink went through the page.

Jay opened the door and stomped down the metal stairs. He gave Marcus a fierce look, but said nothing.

Once he arrived at the yellow police tape, Jay thought, _I need to pay Marcus Cane a visit_.

### 92

"Return the money," Jay said, talking on his prepaid cell phone to Keb.

"Did everything go as planned?"

"Yes."

"Did you get the formulas?"

"They are still in the building."

"What? Are you joking?"

Jay was exhausted and did not feel like explaining every little detail to Keb. "I hid the formulas in a place where only I will be able to find them."

"What if Bradburn Industries shuts down, which is very possible? You won't be able to get back inside the building."

"Bradburn Industries is not Liam's Raines Loan business. Chill. I'll get back in."

Keb gave a hefty sigh. "Be prepared for JC. I guess Raines has been calling every hour, expecting an update."

"I'll deal with JC. For now, return all the money into the Bradburn's accounts."

"Why don't we hold onto it for-"

"Return the money!" Jay snapped. "I need to check into the hospital for a few hours to be examined. Afterwards, I have an errand to run. Then I'll be home."

"And errand? It's the middle of the night."

Jay turned the power off on his cell.

### 93

Jay decided to skip the hospital, drive home and calm down Keb. Thankfully, JC had fallen asleep on the couch. "Come with me," Jay whispered to Keb. In the Saturn, he explained what was going on with the negotiator. "I need to either kill him or warn him."

"You should just warn him," Keb suggested. He handed Jay photos of Marcus's sister, nephew, and mother. "Leave these behind. I'm sure you won't hear from him again." Keb handed him the SIG pistol. "Take this, just in case."

Jay tucked the photos in his pocket and held onto the gun. They waited outside in the car for about an hour before Marcus showed up. Jay watched as Marcus wandered at a snails pace in the darkness, up the stairs, and put the key in the door. He paused, head low, body motionless as if he was transformed into a statue.

Finally, he went inside, but did not turn on the lights.

"Don't go yet," Keb suggested. "Watch for the lights upstairs. The side window is the bathroom. If he stays in there for a couple of minutes, then he should be in the shower."

Despite the fear of threatening a police officer and the possibility of killing him, Jay could barely keep his eyes open. His body felt stiff and unresponsive. It didn't take long for him to become impatient. "Marcus could have just gone straight to bed."

"Nah," Keb replied. "He's sitting down somewhere, contemplating his actions tonight. And most certainly, considering his next move; which is why coming here is a good idea."

It had been a half-hour when the bathroom light turned on. Jay straightened up with renewed energy. "Now?" he asked.

Keb opened the door. "Yes." They jogged across the street and went up the stairs. Keb used a couple small gadgets to unlock the door. "Okay," he whispered. "Good luck."

Jay went inside, swallowed by darkness. He inched forward, allowing his eyes to adjust. The echo of running water was evident in the pipes. Jay hurried to the stairs and took each step with caution. Even so, the wood creaked under his weight.

The bathroom door was open. A thin air of steam moistened the mirror and crept to the hallway. Jay laid the three photographs on the counter, then aimed the SIG at the shower curtain.

"Don't move."

"Who's there?" Marcus asked.

"It's Smalls. Do not even think about looking at me, or it will be the last moment in your life."

"What do you want?"

"I want to make sure we still have a deal."

Jay heard the water hitting the floor of the tub. Marcus must have shifted to the rear of the shower. "I did not make a deal with you."

"Sure you did. You negotiated the promise of hope. And _I_ hope you keep your mouth shut and do not investigate this further."

The steam in the bathroom became thick. A squeak rung from the shower. At first, Jay thought that Marcus had shut the water off, but he only changed the temperature.

"The Hillsboro Police or even the FBI may pursue this matter further. There isn't much I can do about that."

"Why would they pursue it further? Everyone got what they wanted. You are a hero and the world can move forward."

"I'm not hero."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"How did you do it?"

"You see...that is a question that someone investigating would ask. Should I just shoot you right now and get it over with?"

"Don't bust my balls. I did everything just like you wanted."

"That's right. And if you keep quiet, our business will be done." Jay slipped back into the hallway and rushed toward the stairs. He heard Marcus shout from the bathroom.

"Get out of my house! Do you hear me? Get the fuck out!"

Without caution, Jay stomped down the stairs, through the living room and out the front door. Keb already had the engine running. Jay crawled in the passenger's seat. "Go!"

Keb hit the gas and sped through the development. "When do you meet the buyer?"

At first, Jay did not understand what Keb was talking about. Jay then realized Keb was referring to the fictitious buyer who will purchase the formulas. "You and Raines will receive the money before the two week deadline."

"That's good," Keb replied. "Because if that does not happen, you can just take the word _line_ out of _deadline_ and I'll just be _dead_."

Jay laughed at Keb's failed joke. "You're an idiot." He closed his eyes and rested his head back. The adrenalin from his veins had run its course. All he could think about now was going home and sleeping. Jay spoke with a soft, tired voice. "I can't believe we actually pulled this off."

The seventy-two men came back in great joy. "Lord," they said, "even the demons obeyed us..." _Luke 10:17_

### 94

The Hillsboro Police Department had six floors. With a Starbucks coffee in hand, Marcus walked past the desk clerk and took the stairs, rather than the elevator to the top floor.

It was the morning after the hostage situation. Marcus slept only a couple of hours, fearing that the visitor in the bathroom may return.

Each step seemed to be its own journey, as Marcus trudged upward. Fletcher had been walking toward him, with an unlit cigarette and lighter tucked between the fingers of his right hand. "Good luck," he said to Marcus.

Before Marcus could respond, Fletcher had already walked past and made his way down the stairs.

A bad feeling stirred Marcus's stomach. He tossed the coffee in the garbage and entered the first office on the right.

Captain John Flower was a clean cut black man, younger than Marcus by four years. John worked his way up the ladder and had been promoted to captain three months ago. This caused some tension between John and Fletcher, since Fletcher was passed up for the job. As for Marcus, he had no ambition to be captain. All he ever wanted was to be a negotiator.

"Marcus," John said behind his tidy desk. "Sit down."

He pulled a chair close and sat. "Okay, let's get this over with." Marcus placed his badge on the desk. Then, he snapped the magazine from the Glock, clicked it open to make sure a bullet wasn't left in the chamber, and set it next to his badge.

Already, he felt naked.

John seemed relaxed in his tall leather chair. "I'm not upset with you. This came down from the very top. Even the president made a phone call."

Marcus figured the large amount of hostages that were taken, certainly gained national attention. It was common for the president to monitor these kinds of situations.

"All bullshit aside, grade my performance." Marcus shifted in the chair, feeling awkward. John did not condone swearing, especially in his office. John's father was a Methodist Pastor. Over the last three months, this building felt more like a church, rather than a police station.

John seemed to ignore the _bullshit_ comment. "Off the record, I give you an A-. On the record, you get a D+."

"At least I passed."

John smiled. "I talked to the mayor this morning. He said for the most part, the media is backing your decisions. However, the president called the governor, who relayed a message to the mayor, who then chewed my ass at 5:00 this morning. All of these political geniuses agreed on one thing: we do not give into hostage-takers. What if someone decided to take over the Nike building? If you were on the scene, the HT would have more than a better chance of getting what they want."

"Every situation is different." Marcus felt as if he was defending himself to his father. "And did I hear you right? The mayor is making decisions based on what the media thinks?"

John waved his hand. "You know how politics work. Don't take it personally."

"Yes, I'm aware of politics, which is why I'm not sitting on the other end of this desk." Marcus had crossed the line. John's eyes burned with anger.

"One week, no pay. When you come back, I'll be watching you close until you're out of my doghouse."

"What about Fletcher?"

"Early retirement."

Marcus pushed himself up. "Why?"

"Worry about yourself," John responded. "Go home."

Marcus wanted to say something, but could not find the right mixture of words. Instead, he turned and marched out of the office.

Lindi had been waiting for him. Together, they walked to the stairs in silence and did not speak until they were outside.

"I heard about Fletcher," Lindi said. "Harlan and I are going to have drinks with him later. Do you want to join us?"

"Sure." Marcus's skin prickled with fury. Right now, he hated this job and wished that John had sent him packing as well.

They sat down on a bench near the entrance of the police station. "Despite our arguments, we work well together," Lindi said. "Me, you, Fletcher, and Harlan, always think of the hostages first and our jobs second."

Marcus felt his heart slowing to a normal pace. Looking back, what could he have done differently?

Nothing.

"You have my job for a week," Marcus said. "It may be longer."

"Negotiators who lose hostages, always say that. In a week, you will be yourself again."

Lindi was right about negotiators, but wrong about him. The money sitting in his closet and the deal done with the devil was eating his insides. "You'll do a fine job," he assured her. "Just remember the basics."

"Prolong the situation and wear down the HT," Lindi said.

"Ensure the safety of the hostages."

She smiled. "Keep things calm."

Marcus laughed. "Good luck with that rule."

"And develop a relationship with the HT."

Marcus's mood once again soured. He went too far with the hostage-taker. It was more than an on scene rapport. He made an arrangement that could send him to prison for the next ten years.

A shadow of a man blocked the morning sun. "What are you two doing?" It was Detective Crestwood, now _Commander_ Crestwood, holding a brown paper bag with a heart drawn on it.

Lindi pointed to the bag. "From your wife?"

Crestwood looked at it. "Nah. My daughter. She likes making me lunch and drawing big hearts. Today, I have PB&J with a bite size Snickers."

"Congratulations on becoming Situation Commander," Marcus said, trying not to sound bitter. "Well deserved."

Crestwood looked around, probably searching for something to say. "I sent my case notes to the FBI. They retrieved fingerprints from the plane, hotel, and have video from the Honolulu Police Station. It was easy from there to discover the identity of the pretend wife and children that went with Carl Bradburn to Hawaii. The Fed's believe they had been kidnapped, then threatened, and crossed state lines. It's their case now."

Curiosity got the better of Marcus. "Who were they?"

"The mother is Nenet Washington. She has a five-year-old daughter and a husband that left her with nothing. The older girl is Addison Rigler. She ran away from her parent's doublewide trailer in Utah at age fifteen. And the younger girl is Brianna Overton. Fed's believe that her parent's house had been foreclosed. They took off and left Brianna to fend for herself. She was fourteen at the time."

Lindi eased up from the bench. "So all of them were homeless?"

"Yep. They were last seen at a shelter in Portland. Fed's are looking for them, but aren't hopeful. There is a good chance all of them are dead by now."

Marcus always wondered how some detectives could be so open minded, yet so cold at the same time. "Well, good luck with everything." He stood and shook Crestwood's hand. "Just keep your emotions in check and everything will be just fine."

As Marcus walked away, he heard Lindi say to Crestwood, "Welcome to the team."

### 95

Four days after the hostage situation, Carl Bradburn held a memorial service at the building. Over a thousand people showed up, including the mayor and governor. With such a large turnout, the national media covered the entire event.

Several employees approached Jay and whispered in his ear, "When do I get the money."

Jay repeated the same response, "Soon."

The memorial service continued under a bright sun, with a breeze that seemed to cool with each passing minute. Employees that were close to the victims spoke at the podium with tears and grief-stricken speeches. It was tough for Jay to know if they were staging their feelings or if some of the tears were authentic.

Carl Bradburn took the podium with his wife and two daughters at his side. He looked weak; atypical of the powerful CEO. With a trembling voice, he announced that Bradburn Industries would not be selling the company and the Acacia rumors were false.

Jay scooted forward in his chair as Bradburn fought through his final speech.

"Effective immediately...Bradburn Industries will close its doors."

All the wind had been propelled from Jay's body. He knew this was going to happen, but not for a couple of weeks, or even months. How was he going to get the money, formulas, and evidence out of the basement?

Bradburn continued, "I will personally make sure that benefits will be paid to the families that lost a loved one. All employees, including the employees in our California offices, will be paid a two-year's salary. I know it has only been four days, but I hope and pray that you can put behind these horrific events. I pray that you can move forward and continue doing work that will help cure diseases, as we persist to find ways to save others. Please, let us bow our heads together, one last time, and have a moment of silence for the victims."

Several employees glared at Jay. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, drumming in his ears. A perfect heist...an ideal plan...all for nothing.

As the employees dispersed and whispered their complaints to Jay, he could only make a promise. "I'll think of something."

Jay did not want to go home and inform Keb that the plan failed. JC would want details, which meant that Liam Raines would be informed of the setback. Jay's life expectancy was about five hours, if not less.

"Jay Nicken," a deep voice said from behind.

He turned, shocked to see Carl Bradburn. "Yes, sir."

Bradburn put his arm around Jay and spoke with a low, concerning tone. "I know all of this difficult, but we still have some things to do."

He was shocked that Carl Bradburn actually knew him by name. Jay cleared his throat. "What do you need?"

"I hate to ask, but since you are the Inventory Supervisor, I need your help with organizing things to be transported." Carl stopped to shake a few hands of people that were leaving. He then turned his attention back on Jay. "You know what is in the basement better than anyone. I'll be sending over a couple of trucks tomorrow. All items that pertain directly to the business that need to be kept, I am transporting to a warehouse in San Francisco. Anything like office supplies, seasonal decorations, or out-of-date material, will be trucked to our office in Oceanside to be inventoried. I need someone to get it organized." He looked at Jay with tired eyes. "Can you do that for me? I'll pay you extra for the time."

"I'll get that done for you tomorrow," Jay said with relief.

"Terrific. Bring in as much help as you may need. I'll pay the employees double-time as well."

Jay suddenly felt guilty. He was stealing billions of dollars, along with Bradburn Industries most prized secrets. Without realizing it, Carl was assisting Jay to finish the job. Also, Jay ruined Carl's business, killed his closest allies in the company, and Acacia would certainly come after him for the missing money.

"Glad I can help," Jay said, shaking Carl's hand.

Tomorrow, instead of two trucks, there will be three.

### 96

"All boxes that say Christmas decorations go in the fifteen-foot truck," Jay explained to the ten employees brought in to help. "Everything else will be divided in the two semi trucks. I'll let you know which box goes where."

Of course, the employees asked about their money. "Keep your mouths shut," Jay urged. "We need to approach this with caution."

After the basement was cleared, the two semi trucks rolled out of the Bradburn Industries parking lot, heading toward their destination. Six billion dollars in cash, along with paperwork on formulas and vaccines, were loaded in the smaller truck. Also included was any evidence left behind that would implicate Jay.

He instructed the employees to go home. He would call them shortly with a place to meet. Before doing anything else, Jay burned the clothes he had worn during the hostage situation. Next, he contacted sixty-three of his co-workers and arranged to give them their cut of the money.

$93,562,500. Jay felt like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

Of course, all of them were going to receive an additional two years pay from Bradburn Industries. Nevertheless, if Jay's plan came to fruition, all of the employees will have left Oregon and be gone forever.

Perhaps someday, the heist will be leaked. Maybe an employee will brag about their earnings and how it was obtained. Then again, the threat of being killed should be enough motivation to keep them quiet and satisfied with a rich life.

Jay put his money and the formulas in a bank safety deposit box, with the exception of the money he would use to payoff the others that helped him. He arrived at his house, grinning with pride. Nenet and her daughter, along with Addison and Brianna, were paid one million each. "I suggest you go somewhere and live the rest of your days in happiness."

The three ladies were grateful and did not stick around to celebrate. Addison and Brianna decided they would stay with Nenet for a little while. Jay did not want to know where they were going and asked that they never try to contact him.

After they left, Jay handed JC a duffle bag. "Inside is one million."

JC unzipped the bag and looked at Keb. "I want the same amount he is getting."

"Or," Jay said, "I can call Raines and explain your involvement in our heist and that you took money without him knowing." Jay knew better than to threaten a man like JC, but it could not be helped. Jay was on a self-assured high.

"Don't fuck with me," JC said with a hard gaze. He zipped the bag up and marched to the door. "Keb, I'll see you back in Pittsburgh."

As soon as JC walked out the door, it felt like the air was cleaner in the house. Jay handed Keb two duffle bags. "Five million for you, four million for Raines."

"How much did you make?" Keb asked.

"You sound like, JC. Don't worry about what I made. Enjoy your own money."

Keb shook hands with Jay and then pulled him close with a hug. "I'm glad you didn't fuck all this up."

"Me too," Jay whispered.

### 97

Nenet was driving the mini-van, a brand new Honda Odyssey that she paid for in cash. Her daughter Jenica was in a car seat in the middle row, with Brianna sitting next to her. In the passengers seat was Addison.

"So," Nenet said, "Where should we go?"

"Hawaii!" Brianna replied. "I loved it there."

"Sorry, we can't go there. Any other suggestions."

"Somewhere warm," Addison said. She was gazing at the gray sky. "I don't want to be cold ever again."

Nenet reached over and clutched Addison's hand. "How about Key West?"

Addison turned and looked at Nenet. "We can get a speed boat. Learn how to scuba dive. Sit on the beach and do nothing."

Nenet swallowed down her overwhelming emotions. She could not believe how their lives had changed in a blink of an eye. "It sounds perfect." She looked in the review mirror. "What do you think, Brianna? Does Key West sound good?"

"I guess." Brianna scrunched her eyes, looking confused. "How far is it from Oregon?"

"Far enough," Nenet said. "It's in Florida."

"The opposite of where we are now?" Brianna asked.

"Exactly."

### 98

On the way to the bank, Jay was surprised by the phone call from his father. "Long-time-no-talk," Jay said. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure if the news made it to Oregon, but here in Pittsburgh, everyone is talking about it."

"What news?"

"Liam Raines had a heart attack. He died before the paramedics arrived."

Jay wasn't sure if this was good or bad. "I guess a lot of people are going to get out of the loans that Raines did for them."

"No, they won't. You haven't been here in awhile and don't know what goes on. JC will take over the business."

Okay, this was definitely bad news. "Dad, JC is here in Oregon."

"Please tell me that you are joking."

"Him and Keb-"

"Keb is there also!"

Jay pulled into the bank parking lot and cut the engine. "Dad, I'm going to send you some money. I want you to leave Pittsburgh. Tell Christopher and Logan to do the same."

"I can't just up and leave. And your brothers have families, jobs, and responsibilities. We've lived in Pittsburgh all our lives."

A sentiment of blame clutched Jay's heart. "Dad, I did something..." He couldn't find the words.

"Was it illegal?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't want to know about it."

"Raines, JC, and Keb were all involved. If JC is taking over Raines's business, he may try to find me. He knows I stole-"

"I don't want to know!" his father repeated.

"I'm going to send you plenty of money that you can split with Christopher and Logan. Take it and leave town."

"Did you put us in harms way?"

"Not on purpose." It was a sorry excuse.

"I'll talk to JC."

"No, dad. Just leave."

"I'm not going to tuck my tail between my legs and leave Pittsburgh. And I'm not going to ask your brothers to leave either. This is your mess Jay, fix it."

"I will, dad." His father had already hung up.

He had two choices. First, he could leave Oregon as planned and start a life somewhere else. There was a chance that JC, who is known for his greed, would come looking for him and attempt to get the rest of the money earned from the heist. To speed things along, JC would send his right hand man, Leo, to put the fear of God into Jay's family, starting with his father and brothers. JC may not rest until he received a bigger cut of the money.

The other option was to face JC, pay him off, and hope that would be the end of it. Then again, since JC was now the boss, he could decide to kill Jay for threatening him.

Jay thought of a third option. He called Keb. "Where are you?"

"In a plane, halfway between Oregon and Pennsylvania."

"Did you hear about Raines?"

"No. What happened?"

"He's dead. Heart attack."

"Oh shit," Keb whispered. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yes. JC will take over."

"He'll come after you and take every nickel. There's no one to hold him back now."

"Not unless we get to JC first."

Keb held off on his response. "You are pushing your luck. JC kills for a living."

"I've done some killing recently," Jay said. "I'll meet up with you in Pittsburgh. Don't let JC know you are back until I get there."

"Fuck that. When my plane lands, I am getting on another and flying somewhere else. I suggest you do the same thing."

"I can't."

Keb was breathing heavy. "Tell your father and brothers to leave. Send them money."

"I already tried that. My dad is stubborn. So are my brothers."

"Well then, do what you gotta do. Just know, I won't be there."

"Damn it, Keb! You made five million because of me."

"Yes, and I also have another four million of Raines money. That is plenty for me to start a new life somewhere else."

"If JC gets pissed off, he'll murder my family!"

"It's not my problem. Good luck, Jay." Keb disconnected.

Jay tried calling back, but it went to voicemail. Considering his options, he decided to take a risk. Jay called the one person that could sort this mess.

JC answered on the third ring. "Yes?"

"It's Jay. Did you hear about Raines?"

"Of course."

Jay swallowed his fear. "Listen, I need a favor."

"You still owe Raines four million. And now, you owe me."

"That is not accurate. Keb owes you four million. Unfortunately, he is going to skip town."

"Where is he?"

"On a plane, heading to Pittsburgh. As soon as it lands, he is boarding another plane and leaving forever."

"Does he have my money?"

"Yes. Also, he has another five million that I paid him for the job."

JC was silent for a long moment. "I appreciate the information. You do realize I have to kill your friend."

"I understand," Jay said. "Keb dug his own grave."

"What favor do you need?"

Jay paused, thinking about this decision one last time. "You'll have to send Leo here to set something up for me. In return, keep the extra five million that Keb has."

"I was going to keep that anyway."

"True, but you would not know about Keb unless I-"

"Fine," JC said. "Just tell me exactly what you want."

Jay explained his idea.

### 99

Carl looked at his ringing cell phone. This was the moment he had been dreading. "Xavier," Carl said. "I was going to give you a call later today."

"My friend, how is your family?"

"Still traumatized over what happened. It will be awhile."

"That is understandable. My apologizes for backing out of the deal. This was such an unforeseen disaster. Perhaps, we will cross paths on a future date."

Carl was afraid of that. "I'll pay you back."

"How much was stolen?"

"Six billion."

"Who has the other two billion?"

"I do."

"I saw on the news that your private security was involved. Is this true?"

"To an extent. I believe they were threatened, or promised something in return, and then killed."

"Three of your security personnel were shot by the police. The other five were shot in the basement. Do I have my facts correct."

"You do."

"How were professional armed bodyguards, killed by employees?"

Carl thought that was an excellent question. "Somehow the employees overtook..." He realized what Xavier was driving at. "You think some of my employees were involved."

"It makes sense, especially since I noticed someone spying on us during the meeting."

A moist glaze of sweat instantly formed on Carl's face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure what to think at the time. Be that as it may, you already should know who was involved with this extravagant heist."

"Do you think I planned this and used some of my employees?"

Xavier let out a soft chortle. "No, I do not. You were paid handsomely to make our deal go through. Furthermore, you would have earned over twenty billion, pending the sale of the company. You had nothing to gain from this hostage situation."

"There are over three hundred employees in total at Bradburn Industries. This includes our California offices. How can I find out who did this?"

"Narrow down the options. Who would have access to the basement?"

Carl pulled the phone away from his ear and wiped away a glob of sweat. Not many employees had access to the basement, which included the executives. "Jay Nicken is our Inventory Supervisor."

"And which employees overtook your bodyguards, then killed them?"

A flash of heat prickled Carl's skin. "Jay Nicken and two other employees."

"Also, did you notice which employees had been executed?"

Carl took offense to that question. "Of course. I read their names at the memorial service to their grieving families."

"Say the names aloud."

Carl did not understand the purpose of this, but he wanted to keep Xavier as an ally, not an enemy who was pissed about losing six billion dollars. "Dr. Sedgwick, Yongsoo Chung, Donny Malone, Jason Zimmer, Darnell Browning, Mike Harten, Deshi Lung..." Carl had trouble saying the final name, because he was having a love affair with her. In fact, he considered leaving his wife for..."Megan Smoy."

"What is significant about those names?" Xavier asked.

"They all worked for me....I don't know."

"If the Acacia/Bradburn deal was completed, who would have been protected?"

The realization of Xavier's words seized every muscle in Carl's body. "All of them would have been moved to the new company."

"Correct. And what is Darnell Browning's position?"

"He works for a company that we subcontract. Darnell is head of building security."

"Which makes sense why he was killed as well."

"How many..." Carl had trouble speaking. "How many employees were in on this plan?"

"Perhaps, all but the ones who were executed."

"That is impossible. Someone would have gossiped, or told the police."

"Unless the reward was so great, they kept quiet and went along. What is six billion divided by sixty-four employees?"

"A lot," Carl replied.

"There is still an unanswered question. How did they get the money out of the building? Did the employee's tape the cash under their clothes?"

"Probably not. Each employee was examined by a paramedic when released."

"What about Jay Nicken. Could he have hidden the money and gone back for it later."

Carl suddenly felt like a fool. "Jay must have hidden the cash inside storage bins that we keep down in the basement."

"And how did Mr. Nicken remove those storage bins from the building?"

Carl really did not want to answer that question. "I had Jay organize the inventory and load everything from the basement into trucks." Carl thought how he even paid Jay double-time for working on that project. "I actually helped Jay get the money," Carl admitted. He took in a few quick breaths to regain control of his mind and body. "What do you want me to do?"

"Keep the two billion. Use it to get my six billion. I don't care how it is done. As your neighbor in Nike declares... _Just Do It."_

"And if I can't?" No response. Carl looked at his phone. Xavier had already disconnected.

The first thing Carl needed to do was heighten the security for his family. This included added features in their home. Obviously, someone can just walk inside whenever they feel like it. Carl would have to hire bodyguards that had no connection to his former company or business partners. He wanted his wife and daughters to have panic buttons. Each room in the house should have panic buttons as well.

It was probable that Jay Nicken, along with the other employees, left Oregon. Not only would he need protection from the Acacia goons, but an unmerciful bounty hunter to locate the bastards that stole from him and murdered his most trusted friends.

If the bounty hunter ended up killing any of the employees by mistake, that would be a nice bonus.

Great souls by instinct,

To each other turn,

Demand alliance,

And in friendship burn.

Joseph Addison

### 100

The thing about layers, it covers a surface. There is an exterior, followed by an unknown number of interior secrets, privileged only to those who created the layers.

Pamela Nystrom was a person that befriended others at Bradburn Industries. She, like everyone else, had a personnel file. That was just another layer, but it did not expose any of the layers hidden by what the personnel file _did_ _not_ show.

Inside her file, someone could gain knowledge about her medical records, social security number, current address and phone number. Looking through the file, it also listed her beneficiary incase she died. Pamela was not married, so the death benefits would be paid to her younger brother and sister.

Her personnel file certainly could be harmful if the wrong person had looked through it. For example, if someone wanted her social security number and used it to set up twenty credit cards, that would be detrimental to Pamela.

In this case, the information that was _not_ mentioned would result in damaging Jay Nicken. Fate and bad luck had been twisted down a path that forged the destiny of all involved with Jay's heist.

Ironically, Jay gained the services of Pamela, because she worked in the Human Resources Department at Bradburn Industries. Pamela's co-workers formed a trusted relationship with her.

Jay wanted Pamela to retrieve copies of all the employee's files to use as collateral against them. If any of the employees went to the police or spoke about Jay's plan, then the personnel file would be used to harm the employee and their family.

In this case however, Jay did not take into consideration what will _not_ be entered in a companies personnel file. Pamela's boyfriend for instance, would not be mentioned. That ended up being a significant factor in Jay's plan, because little did he know, Pamela's boyfriend is Daniel Fletcher. Again, ironically at the time of Jay's brilliant plan, Fletcher was the Situation Commander at the Hillsboro Police Department.

Unfortunately for Jay, it was a layer he never considered.

### 101

Circumstances that lead up to the hostage situation.

"Did you see that," Xavier asked as they left the meeting with Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick. They had just walked from the basement, through the lobby, and exited through the glass doors to the parking lot.

His business partner and closest friend, Dante, stopped and asked, "See what?"

"Someone was hiding in a cabinet during our meeting."

"You think Bradburn placed him there?"

"No," Xavier said, glancing back at the building. "Whoever was in there, decided to spy on _all_ of us without our knowledge."

"Who do you think it was?"

"Let's wait for now. I'm sure whoever it was, will show their ugly face when an opportunity presents itself."

### 102

Pamela had arrived home, still replaying in her mind the meeting with Jay Nicken. She was relieved to see Daniel in the living room. He was relaxing on the couch, smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper. "Hey babe," Daniel said, without looking away from the paper.

"We need to talk." Pamela sat down on the coffee table next to his ashtray full of cigarette stubs. "Daniel!"

He tossed the paper on the floor and sat up. "Let me guess. Someone said something about someone at work, so that someone got mad and told you."

"This is serious."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Everyday it's a serious crisis at work."

"I just came from Jay Nicken's house."

This caught Daniel's attention. "You went to some guys house after work?"

"Yes. He wanted to tell me something important. Supposedly, he spied on Mr. Bradburn, Dr. Sedgwick, and two owners from Acacia. He discovered that the rumors are true. Acacia is going to buyout Bradburn Industries."

"Well, at least someone has balls at your work."

"Hold off on your praise until you hear everything." Pamela scooted from the coffee table to the couch. "Mr. Bradburn had his private security steal formulas from several different pharmaceutical companies and college laboratories."

"Does this Jay guy have proof, other than what he heard?"

"No. But there is more. Mr. Bradburn and Mr. Malone are using security companies to manipulate the access cards in the building. They can enter any room, without being questioned."

"So the CEO and vice president of the company want access to everything in the building." Daniel gave her a sarcastic grin. "I don't see the problem."

"The only reason they would do something like that, is if they were digging into company files, changing accounts, and sneaking formulas into the lab. Also, Bradburn needs a place to secretly meet with others and hide money."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Like what money?"

"Payoffs from Acacia, so that the purchase of the company would go through without a hitch."

Daniel understood the reason behind under-the-table payouts. Even in privately owned companies, the CEO would have to consider options from others interested in purchasing the business. Acacia wanted to make sure they were the only players so they could avoid a bidding war. "How much money are we talking about?"

"Mr. Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick were paid four billion each."

"Hidden in the building?"

"Yes. And Jay knows where it is. He spied on Mr. Bradburn and saw him hide the cash."

"Interesting."

"Oh, it gets better. When Acacia takes control, they are going to shut down the other businesses in California and fire everyone here, with the exception of a few lucky people, along with Mr. Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick. Everyone, including me, will be screwed over. No severance pay or even the ability to apply for unemployment benefits."

None of that mattered to Daniel. He was still thinking about the billions of dollars inside Bradburn Industries. "What else did Jay tell you?"

Pamela discussed Jay's plan to include all the employees in some extravagant heist. They would stage a hostage situation, steal the formulas, and steal the payoff money. "Meanwhile, he is going to murder the employees that are not part of the plan, sabotage the buyout from Acacia, and bring down Bradburn Industries."

"While making everyone rich," Daniel added. "Just out of curiosity, how much is Jay planning to give you."

"$93,562,500. He also plans on using Mr. Bradburn's private security, but then killing them later."

"How will he convince the employees to go along?"

"Besides the ninety-three million incentive, Jay is going to threaten them. That's where I come in."

"Because you work in Human Recourses and can gain access to their personnel files. Which also means Jay will have outside partners working with him."

Daniel rubbed his chin. "How does Jay plan on sneaking the money and formulas out of the building?"

"He didn't say."

Daniel thought about it logically. Jay worked in the basement and knows where the cash is hidden. "What is his job title?"

"Inventory Supervisor."

"And where does the Inventory Supervisor work?"

"In the basement."

Daniel was quiet for a long moment. "When will all this happen?"

Pamela shrugged her shoulders. "Soon I guess. Before Acacia completes the buyout."

"That's true."

Pamela stood. "Do your cop thing. Go arrest Jay and put him jail."

Daniel waved his finger. "Actually, I have a better idea." He looked up at Pamela. "Maybe we should help Jay get what he wants."

### 103

Fletcher watched as his girlfriend of nine years contacted every employee that Jay wanted to be involved with his plan. Pamela made sixty-two phone calls and repeated the same thing to each co-worker. "I have information on the Acacia buyout rumors. It is important that we meet. I'll be at the Best Western in the conference room."

Fletcher set Pamela up with a recording device. "Do everything Jay asks," Fletcher said. "Keep your nerves steady. We have a great chance to steal the entire six billion."

"What if Jay realizes that I'm screwing him over?"

"He needs you, more than you need him." Fletcher embraced her in a long hug and kissed her neck. "When this is over, we can go anywhere in the world. Spend the rest of our lives drinking out of a glass with fruit and an umbrella. Make love on a white beach. Take naps in the middle of the day. Buy an expensive yacht and just keep going."

"Sounds like a pipe dream," Pamela urged. "I don't want you to lose your job. Or even worse, both of us could serve time in prison. No amount of money is worth that kind of risk."

"We both hate our jobs," he pleaded. "How can we let this opportunity slip by?"

"Why don't we just go along with Jay's plan? We'll earn over ninety-three million, which is more than enough."

Fletcher leveled his eyes with Pamela. "I don't want to depend on anyone else. And I don't want a cut of the money...I want it all."

Pamela conceded. "Okay." She hugged him one more time and brushed her lips across his cheek. "I'm all in."

### 104

Later that night, Pamela arrived home and soaked in a hot bubble bath. Fletcher downloaded the recording to his laptop and hit play.

"There are eight people missing from this meeting." Fletcher listened as Jay spoke to the employees in the Best Western conference room. "Those same eight people are protected by Bradburn Industries and will be receiving a substantial raise."

"I knew it!" someone shouted. "Acacia is taking over and we are about to get canned."

"We don't have a lot of time to discuss this, so I'll get right to the point. All of you are going to be fired. Not laid off, but fired. Carl Bradburn has been using his private security to steal formulas from other pharmaceutical companies and from university labs. Dr. Sedgwick is fully aware of what's going on."

"How much?" someone asked.

"Four billion each."

This provoked a gasp throughout the audience. Fletcher grinned and turned up the volume.

Someone yelled, but his voice was barely audible. He must have been in the back row, away from Pamela. "How...know...this?" Was all Fletcher could make out.

"One night, Carl Bradburn came down to the basement and did not realize I was in my office. I watched as he opened a safe room that had been concealed in the shelves. On the day we were all sent home early, I stayed behind and hid, so no one could see me. The two owners of Acacia had a meeting with Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick in the basement. Obviously, they discussed the illegal parts of the business. In that conversation, I found out everything."

What a sneaky son of a bitch, Fletcher thought.

A flurry of comments and shouts proceeded.

"Let's go to the police!" someone yelled.

"Screw that! I want to burn the fucking building down!"

"No, we should go to the newspaper. Make the news public."

"We don't have proof! Everything is based on Jay's word."

"Let's confront Mr. Bradburn and see how he reacts."

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Everyone shut up!" Jay shouted. "None of you are going to do anything." Fletcher heard a squeaking. He assumed that Jay must have been writing on a white board. "This is the amount of money each of you will receive."

Fletcher envisioned the number. $93,562,500. But why accept that when six billion could be stolen.

Jay continued. "Over ninety million dollars. More money than you could spend in a lifetime." He dropped something. Possibly the erasable marker that was in his hand. "At the same time, you can destroy Bradburn Industries and even stop the buyout."

A woman said with a high-pitched voice, "You know where the money is, don't you."

"Yes," Jay replied. "And I know how to get it."

Someone else shouted, "What is your plan?"

"We are going to fake a hostage situation at Bradburn Industries." Jay paused. He probably was letting that statement set in, while studying the expressions of his co-workers. "All I ask is you follow directions. When it is over, you will have the ninety-three million."

"Will anyone be hurt?" someone asked.

"Yes, but not any of you."

"What if we get caught?"

"As all of you know, Pamela works in Human Resources." Fletcher leaned forward, fixated on the voice recorder. "She gained access to all of your files and I have given the information to an outside source. Every person in this room will have to go along with the plan, or their will be consequences."

"Did you just threaten us?" a woman asked.

"Yes. I just threatened you. But my threat will not be needed, because I believe all of you will choose to be rich, rather than expose my plan. Either way, all of you will be out of a job soon. You can leave with ninety-three million, or leave with a clear conscious. It's up to you."

The debate went on for another hour. Fletcher listened for signs of anyone refusing to go along. It seemed that Jay had controlled the situation and was able to transform average people into criminals.

Money and a credible threat can turn anyone's soul into something evil.

Finally, the group of employees agreed on one rule. Keep your mouth shut. When the time was right, Jay will pass along a secret message: "Cotton to silk."

Fletcher understood the significance of that phrase. It was a common dream of all who lived paycheck-to-paycheck. A dream of hitting the lottery or money magically appearing in your bank account. Ninety percent of the country was surviving, rather than living.

"Rags to riches," Fletcher said to himself. He shared that same dream.

### 105

Fletcher was at the police station when Pamela called. "It's about to happen," she said with an anxious, yet terrifying whisper. "Are you positive we are doing the right thing?"

"You just keep your head on straight and know that I'll be outside, controlling the situation. In a few days, we'll be one of the most prosperous couples in the world."

"I love you so much," Pamela sobbed. "I have to go."

### 106

The Command Trailer had been up and running. Fletcher was giving orders, waiting for Marcus to arrive.

This is really happening, he thought. Fletcher watched as Lindi worked on her laptop and Harlan barked instructions on the walkie-talkie, making sure everyone was in position.

Marcus entered the trailer and signed into the logbook. Fletcher said on the radio, "Negotiator Marcus Cane has arrived...he has the ball."

At the table, Fletcher, Harlan, Lindi, and Marcus sat down.

Staring at the information in her laptop, Lindi said, "Okay Marcus, fire away."

Marcus picked up the pen and focused on his yellow notepad. "What has occurred?" he asked.

"Seventy-two employees at Bradburn Industries have been taken captive. There are about ten hostage-takers, but that is not confirmed."

"Who initiated the call?"

"An unidentified male called 911 from the building and claimed that he had taken all the employees at Bradburn Industries hostage and that no one should enter the premises."

"What time?"

"4:36 p.m."

"Have any police officers been injured?" Fletcher thought that was a clever question by Marcus. No officer had been reported as injured, but Marcus wanted to let everyone know that the team's safety was a priority. It also gave Harlan a hint that a full breach was the last resort.

While Marcus continued with his preparations, Fletcher could barely concentrate. He had the image of Pamela inside the building, surrounded by pretend hostage-takers.

Fletcher never brought Pamela to any police functions or parties. A couple of times over the years, she met him at the police station for lunch, but not enough instances where anyone would remember.

It was the same for office gatherings at Bradburn Industries. Fletcher and Pamela kept their lives private and away from gossip hounds. Little did they know, this kind of lifestyle would benefit them six billion dollars.

Harlan gave a frustrated grunt that snapped Fletcher back to reality. "Do we have time for this?" Harlan said. "Maybe we should work on getting those people out."

Fletcher knew that Harlan was exceptionally proficient at his job, but also incredibly impatient.

"You know the drill," Marcus replied. "I need to fully understand the circumstances before any decisions are made." Harlan never seemed satisfied with this answer. He had worked with Marcus in about half the hostage situations. Even so, Harlan never seemed to grasp the idea of what the hostage negotiator needs to accomplish. Marcus glanced at Lindi and repeated the question. "Any hostages injured?"

"We don't know," she replied.

"Any suspect injuries?"

"We don't know."

Once again, Fletcher appeared to be listening, but was not. This would be the easiest hostage situation ever, since everything had been pre-planned.

He looked at Marcus as he continued with a flurry of standard questions. Lindi responded to each in a quick manner, excelling at her job. Both of them, including Harlan, were being played like fools.

The secured phone rang for the first time.

"Here we go," Marcus said. "Let's see what they want."

Fletcher was anxious to see how Jay would handle the pressure. After all, he was just some damn employee who stumbled upon a secret.

### 107

Fletcher put on his headset.

"This Lieutenant Marcus Cane of the Hillsboro Police Department. To whom am I speaking with?"

"Smalls...May I call you Cane?" Fletcher recognized Jay's voice.

"Yes, you may call me Cane. Are any of the hostages injured?"

"Some bumps and bruises." Fletcher's skin prickled with anger. No one should have been hurt. Not one single bump or bruise.

"Do you need medical supplies?"

"The first aid kits will do just fine."

"What about the people working with you. Are any of them injured?"

"People that are working with me? Don't you mean the other kidnappers?"

"Are any of them injured?" Marcus repeated.

"We're okay. And thanks a bunch for asking." Fletcher was impressed at how Jay was handling himself.

"No problem, Smalls," Marcus said. "Why are we here today?"

"Why am I doing this, or what are my demands?"

"You tell me." Marcus glanced at him, giving Fletcher a moment of panic. Then Marcus's eyes went to Lindi and Harlan.

"I have several demands and will give them to you one at a time. Once all of my demands have been met, we'll end this peacefully."

"What is your first demand?"

"Locate Carl Bradburn."

"Once we locate him, what next?"

"You have until 6:03, which is thirty minutes away. That should be plenty of time." The line went dead.

Lindi took off her headphones and returned to the laptop. "We have already been trying to reach Mr. Bradburn, but apparently he went away on vacation. He left with his wife and two daughters and did not tell anyone where they are going. Possibly one of the executives knows his location, but that won't do us any good, since they are being held hostage at the moment."

Fletcher wondered if Bradburn's sudden disappearance had anything to do with Jay. Also, how many others were involved?

Marcus had returned to his notepad. "Do we have eyes or ears in the building?"

"Front lobby we have both," Harlan responded. "The hostage-takers secured all windows everywhere else. We have some ears on the outer parts of the building."

Lindi asked, "If they moved everyone to the basement, why would they secure the entire building?"

Fletcher answered that question. "They want to be able to move around unnoticed." He tuned out the group, then thought about what was going on. This was much more complicated than he first imagined. Pamela was inside with armed men. What if Jay had an alternative plan? Even though Jay was a supervisor and not an experienced criminal, it seemed he had some natural ability.

5:38 p.m.

Fletcher's cell phone rang. He moved away from the group and spoke in a low voice. "This is Commander Fletcher."

"Hey commander, it's Lance. We have eight missing persons reports filed at the same time by wives of Carl Bradburn's private bodyguards. I figured you'd want to know about that."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. We received a call from a pilot who took the Bradburn family to Honolulu. Unfortunately, the pilot does not know where in Honolulu they went."

"Was any of Mr. Bradburn's private security with him?"

"The pilot claims it was just the family."

"Okay. Alert the Honolulu police. Tell them we are under a timeline."

"Yes, sir."

Fletcher hung up and addressed the group. "All eight of Carl Bradburn's personal security has been reported missing."

### 108

5:43 p.m.

"The private security didn't go with Mr. Bradburn on his vacation?" Marcus asked.

Fletcher shrugged his shoulders. "The missing persons report was made by the spouses of the bodyguards."

"All of them are married?"

"Apparently," Fletcher said. "Also, we got a call from Mr. Bradburn's pilot. He flew the family to Honolulu. No security was with him on the flight. They went alone. Unfortunately, the pilot does not know where the Bradburn family went. The police in Honolulu are trying to locate him." Fletcher had gut wrenching sensation as if he was unprepared for a test. Jay must have more going on than he reveled to Pamela. "It's 5:47," Fletcher said. "We need to keep moving."

Marcus jotted down a few quick notes, then looked at the floor plans on the table. "Are these updated?"

"Yes," Harlan responded. "I want to get some of my team on the roof. Also, there are few entry ways-"

"Your team should be ready," Marcus said with a stern tone. "But not go near the building until I make the call."

Fletcher needed to calm everyone down. He put his hand on Harlan's shoulder. "Just chill out for a second. Marcus knows what he is doing, but if we need to breach," he glared at Marcus, "it will be _my_ call." Fletcher pointed to his watch. "We need to finish this up just in case Mr. Bradburn is not located by 6:03."

Marcus, Harlan, and Lindi went over the type of phone the HT was using, building's observation points, security alarms, the type of weapons their team witnessed on some of the HT's, chemicals used by Bradburn Industries, tone and mannerisms of perp one.

Harlan held his finger up to the earpiece. "We have movement in the building. Camera one."

Fletcher looked up at the monitor with anxious eyes. An HT shoved an employee into the lobby; bound with a hood over his head.

Harlan stood up and pointed to the camera. "If Smalls shoot's this guy, then can we go in?"

5:59 p.m.

Fletcher had to think quickly. Any breach would ruin Jay's plans to obtain the six billion. "We cannot give into the demands of hostage-takers in the first hour. Not for one person."

Just as he said that, four more hostages were shoved into the lobby. All were men, hoods over their heads and hands bound behind their back. They were forced to kneel and face the entrance to the building.

Harlan smacked his hand on the table. "Okay, if they kill five hostages, then maybe that will be enough."

Marcus stood up and grabbed the secured phone. He hit the red button and listened as it rang without anyone picking up. On the screen, they watched the HT sit down behind the hostages and aim a gun at them. Marcus stepped forward, squinting. "Is that a phone next to him?"

Lindi tapped on her keys. "It may not be ringing. We are patched into the phone line that Smalls used on the previous two calls."

"Get that number and patch me through," Marcus said, hanging up.

Most certainly, that was Jay in the lobby with a gun. Fletcher had to continue doing his job, without anyone noticing his hidden agenda. He clicked on his radio. "Tactical Team, be ready on my command." He turned to Harlan. "Get out there. If this guy kills those five hostages, we are going in." Fletcher could not imagine Jay executing any of the hostages, because that could force a breach.

On the other hand, Fletcher had no idea what Jay was capable of doing.

"It's ringing," Lindi said.

As Marcus picked up the phone, Fletcher slipped on the headset.

"Hello, Cane. This is Smalls." Fletcher studied the monitor, sensing without a doubt that it was Jay in lobby.

"Why are there five innocent, helpless men kneeling in front of you?" Marcus asked.

"It is 6:04 and my first demand has not been met. How hard could it be to locate someone?"

"Mr. Bradburn is in Hawaii on a private vacation with his family. Maybe someone inside knows where he is. Perhaps an executive could have his location."

"Um...did you try calling him?"

"Of course. Mr. Bradburn is not answering his phone."

"So what you are telling me is that you failed to do what I asked. Should I just start shooting these hostages in front of me, or what?"

Fletcher contained his laugh. Jay was a natural.

"If you kill them," Marcus said, "our discussion will end. We'll be forced to enter and take you out."

"Really? And that would result in seventy-two people dying today. That should make for some great headlines."

"We need to locate Mr. Bradburn as well. It is in our best interest to speak with him, because you are in his building and those are his employees. It's not like we aren't trying."

"I understand."

Four of the five men were escorted from the lobby by other HT's. "So will you give us more time?" Marcus asked.

"How much?"

"Twenty minutes."

The shot echoed through the phone. Fletcher watched as the hostage dumped to the floor. "I'll give you thirty minutes." Jay hung up.

### 109

Fletcher had left the trailer to make sure his officers were under control. A hostage had been executed, which will make Harlan's team a little trigger-happy.

Satisfied that no one was going to fire bullets through the glass doors, he decided to take a quick smoke break. It was short lived when his cell rang.

"Commander Fletcher speaking."

"Hello, commander, this is Captain Chen of the Honolulu Police Department." Chen's sentences dragged, announcing each word with careful accuracy. "I was given this direct number by a Detective Lance Crestwood of the Hillsboro Police Department."

Fletcher rolled his eyes. "Yes, Captain Chen. Have you located Carl Bradburn?"

"We are at the hotel where the Bradburn family checked in, but they had driven off in a limo and we do not know where. I'll have my people continue to search."

"Thank you for your assistance, Captain Chen. Call me when you find them." Fletcher inhaled the rest of his cigarette and returned to the Command Trailer. "Honolulu has a location on where the Bradburn family is staying, but are still trying to make contact."

Marcus turned in his seat. "What's the problem?"

"The Bradburn family probably went out for dinner. The Honolulu Police will have to wait at the hotel for their return."

Marcus heaved a sigh and returned to his notes. "Did you know that Bradburn Industries are being sued by the University of California?"

Fletcher detested the condescending tone from Marcus. As to his question, Fletcher did not want to feel like an idiot, so he lied. "Yes," he said, taking a seat. "We are checking it out." _Note to self,_ Fletcher thought, _call Detective Lance Crestwood and have him research all Bradburn lawsuits._

Lindi discussed how Bradburn Industries recently found a cure for arthritis and are close to curing Alzheimer's; or at least having a vaccine to slow the process. A pharmaceutical company in Spain named, Acacia, has recently put in a bid to purchase Bradburn Industries for $50.6 billion.

6:12 p.m.

Fletcher had been way behind on the information coming in. He should have cut his smoke break a little shorter. To save face, he once again lied. "We are checking into the details of that as well." His cell rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered. "This is Commander Fletcher."

"This is Captain Chen, from the Honolulu Police Department. We have located Mr. Bradburn and his family."

"Let me speak with him."

"This is Carl Bradburn."

"Hello, Mr. Bradburn. We have a situation..."

"Yes, I have been told."

"I'm going to hand you over to the hostage negotiator, Marcus Cane." Fletcher handed Marcus the phone.

Marcus had a heated exchange with Bradburn. When Marcus finished, he flipped the phone shut and handed it back to Fletcher. "We need the Bradburn family protected," Marcus said. "With billions of dollars at stake for the sale of his company, along with the lawsuit from Cal, anything is possible right now."

Fletcher thought that Marcus was indeed correct...anything is possible right now.

### 110

6:15 p.m.

With the headset on, Fletcher listened to Marcus and Jay's conversation.

"You killed someone," Marcus said with a harsh voice. "That limits what I can do for you."

"I should have killed all five, let your team storm the building, and have my men assassinate the rest of the sixty-seven people in the basement."

"Don't threaten me."

"Why not? I have the hostages, you got nothing."

Fletcher knew that at least seven more hostages would be executed. How in the world was he going stop a full breach?

Marcus looked at Fletcher, catching his attention. That was twice now that Marcus appeared to be suspicious. Or perhaps, Fletcher was overreacting.

Jay said, "Have Bradburn transfer money from his account: 2331112200, to my account: BH58423926221. Do you understand?"

Marcus looked at Lindi. She gave him the thumbs up. Fletcher wondered what Jay was up to? If the six billion was inside, then why be greedy and take more from Bradburn's personal account and risk being caught? Did Jay realize that the FBI could trace banking activity? If Jay was not aware of that, then this was going to be a short night.

While Marcus and Jay discussed the details, Fletcher stepped to the side of the room and called Detective Crestwood. "I need you to check some things." Fletcher was speaking in the lowest voice possible. He glanced back, seeing Marcus on the phone with Jay, Lindi pecking on her laptop, Harlan barking instructions on the radio.

"What do you need?" Crestwood asked.

"A company called Acacia is rumored to buyout Bradburn Industries. Research those reports and anything else related."

"Got it. What else."

"The University of California, along with some other pharmaceutical companies has pending lawsuits against Bradburn Industries. We need info on that as well."

"You realize that most of this will have to wait until morning. No one is available at this hour."

"Then research everything on Google." Fletcher closed his cell, returned to the group, and put his headphones back on. Marcus was speaking with Mr. Bradburn.

"It's our vacation account," Bradburn said. "There is just one problem."

"What?"

"We cleared that account out this morning, leaving only a dollar so it would stay open."

6:18 p.m.

_Not good_ , Fletcher thought.

"How much money was in the account?"

"$35,000."

Fletcher whispered to Marcus, "We can't transfer a dollar to Smalls. He'll think we cleared it out purposely just to piss him off. God knows what he'll do next." Fletcher did not have a clue on why Jay was wasting his time with this wild goose chase. The only valid reason was to distract the police and media from what was really happening inside, which seemed to be working to some extent.

Marcus spent the next couple of minutes on the phone, switching between Jay and Bradburn. After careful deliberation, Marcus decided to go ahead and allow the dollar transfer.

Fletcher pretended to be surprised. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Smalls claimed this was phase one," Marcus explained. "When I said the money was cleared out, he said not true. Which means, Smalls knows exactly how much money is in that account. This is some sort of test phase."

Jay was playing this beautifully, with his hand inside Marcus's brain, controlling the circumstances to perfection.

The red line blinked.

Marcus pressed the button. Fletcher still had his headphones on.

"This is Cane."

"If you are going to have trouble with a dollar," Jay said, "what happens when I ask for two billion?"

Fletcher's chest felt like a thousand needles had been inserted. Jay had actually mentioned his real goal, although he only claimed two billion, not six.

Suddenly, it made sense. There was eight billion in cash hidden inside the building. Jay was going to convince the police there was only two billion and escape with the rest.

"Two billion?" Marcus asked.

"Yes, but not at the moment."

"I'll need some hostages," Marcus said.

"Was that _hostages_...plural? Are you joking?"

"I've located Mr. Bradburn and allowed a money transfer."

"Yeah, but you took forever to find Bradburn and the money was just a dollar. I wouldn't say you are doing a stellar job out there."

_Good point_ , Fletcher thought.

Marcus said, "With seventy-one more people, there has to be a few with medical problems. Some may have diabetes, asthma, or heart condition. Neither of us wants an accidental death."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Jay said.

Harlan clicked his mike, staring at the monitor. "We have hostages leaving the building. Hold your fire. Remain calm."

Fletcher watched the monitor, as the hostages ran past Jay through the lobby.

"I'm counting seven," Lindi said. "Wait, three more coming. They are women...pregnant."

Jay said, "I'll call you back with phase two."

Marcus placed the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief.

Fletcher patted him on the shoulder. "You just saved ten lives. Good work."

If Jay continued to release ten hostages per each employee he killed, then Fletcher would have a fighting chance to hold off on a breach.

And protect his money.

### 111

The four of them had a quick meeting. The following points were discussed.

Significance of the two billion. (Fletcher understood the importance of the two billion. It was a bribe from Acacia to Carl Bradburn and Dr. Sedgick.)

Implication of the Acacia buyout and the Cal lawsuit.

Information provided by the newly released hostages.

Eight hostage-takers inside, possibly all of them were bodyguards for Carl Bradburn. Smalls seemed to be the only leader.

Why was Smalls using his real name? ( _Because,_ Fletcher thought, _the leader inside was not Robert Smalls. It was Jay Nicken._ )

How were the HT's planning to escape?

Possible connection between Bradburn's bodyguards and the Cal research lab. (Jay had discovered that connection. The bodyguards had stolen formulas from Cal, giving Bradburn Industries a leg up on the competition. Fletcher would resume his research on Cal, but only to keep Marcus satisfied.)

The HT's were receiving outside help. Who and where are they? (Fletcher would like to know himself. Whom else did Jay bring in on this heist?)

It was revealed that Jay had been using a speakerphone in the lobby to communicate with those in the basement.

Marcus was pissed off at Lindi. He had been yelling at her when the red line lit up and rang.

Fletcher rushed over to Marcus. "Take a few seconds. Breathe. We are ahead of this motherfucker. Remember that."

6:41 p.m.

As Marcus picked up the phone, they listened in.

"Did you take a smoke break or something?" Jay asked.

"Nah. Just clearing my head. Like you, I want to remain calm and make sure no one else gets killed."

"Don't play mind games with me, Cane. We have nothing in common."

"Are you in need of food?"

"No, we have plenty. Bradburn is an asshole, but the guy sure knows how to keep the company cafeteria stocked with top of the line provisions."

They squabbled back and forth, as Marcus attempted to free more hostages. Of course, Jay would not back down. Each employee would be released at a certain moment. Eight of those employees would be murdered in the lobby.

"Send money to me from a different Bradburn account," Jay said.

"I cannot authorize Bradburn to keep giving you money."

"He only gave us a dollar so far. And he will give us what we want. There are two accounts I need from him. 665984627. 665984628. It is 6:47. I want that transfer done by 7:00."

"I'll need until 7:30."

The line was dead. Fletcher prepared himself like a referee before a super bowl. He must keep control of the game, without anyone noticing he is there.

### 112

Harlan shouted, "We have movement in the building!" Fletcher looked at the monitor, but it was too dark in the lobby to see anything. Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "I want spotlights moved to the front parking lot."

6:57 p.m.

With three minutes remaining for the latest deadline, Marcus called Jay. Fletcher listened using the headphones.

"Hello Candy Cane," Jay said. "You ready to transfer the money?"

"We need until 7:30. The decision is not just Mr. Bradburn's. I have to be assured that the people you have captive will not be harmed."

"Two minutes and counting."

"If I give you electricity, will you give me the thirty extra minutes?"

Allowing Jay to have electricity would probably not matter, so Fletcher played the role of commander and grabbed Marcus by the arm, tugging him close. "No way are we giving him electricity," Fletcher said through his teeth.

Marcus covered the phone receiver and replied with a harsh whisper, "Let me do my job or I'll walk." He returned to the phone. "It must be pitch-black in that basement. We'll give you light, you give us thirty minutes."

Fletcher thought that Marcus was cracking under the pressure. In all the hostage situations that they worked together, never did Marcus snap back with ultimatums.

Harlan said, "There are hostages kneeling in the lobby. Smalls is in the chair."

"One minute," Jay whispered.

Marcus said to Harlan, "Turn the power back on."

Harlan looked at Fletcher for confirmation. Fletcher conceded. "Go ahead."

"Turn the power back on!" Harlan shouted in his mike.

Fletcher stared at the monitor, as the lobby came to life. The same four men who had been kneeling before had returned. With them was another hostage, male, hands bound and wearing a black hood. Like before, Jay was behind them with the Glock. He had hung up the phone.

7:00 p.m.

Jay executed one of the employees. The body slumped next to the other dead corpse. Fletcher feigned surprise. If this were any other hostage situation, he would have relieved Marcus of his duties and ordered a full breach. After this was over, Fletcher wondered if he would still have a job.

Regardless, he planned to be rich, so the crappy salary and pension was not a concern. Fletcher had to remain in control, without anyone knowing he was pulling the strings.

Jay called Marcus and said, "You have until 7:30."

"I want ten hostages!" Marcus shouted. "Right now or we are coming in!"

_We are not going in_ , Fletcher thought.

Jay hung up. Running through the lobby was a group of hostages. Some of them screamed at they passed the two dead bodies.

Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "Be advised, hostages exiting the building."

Fletcher counted as each one sprinted into the parking lot. Six men, nine women. Jay was willing to execute employees, yet, willing to release others in large quantities. It was smart.

Marcus pressed the green button as Fletcher listened. "Mr. Bradburn. They are asking for the transfer of two more accounts."

"Give me the numbers," Bradburn replied.

"665984627 and 665984628."

"Those are my daughter's accounts for when they turn eighteen."

"How much money?"

"Over a hundred thousand in each."

"I can't tell you what to do, Mr. Bradburn. This won't be the end of it. The hostage-takers are moving towards a much larger amount."

"What do you mean?"

"Two billion was mentioned."

"They know," Bradburn said with a disheartening voice. "My God, they know."

"Does this have to do with the Cal lawsuit or the Acacia buyout?"

"No. It has nothing to do with my business. It's personal."

"Explain."

"I'm going to call my lawyer and send him to you. He'll make all the decisions from this point on and have power of attorney over my personal accounts."

Fletcher wondered if all this was part of Jay's plan. If not, something had to be done with Carl. As for right now, Fletcher had to wait to see Jay's response when he realizes Carl has handed all his decisions over to a lawyer.

"Mr. Bradburn, we don't have time for this. They already killed another hostage."

"It's out of my hands. I'm sorry."

"Mr. Brad-"

He hung up.

Lindi slid off her headphones. "What does he mean it has nothing to do with the business?"

"I don't know," Marcus replied.

### 113

7:09 p.m.

Everyone glanced at the monitor. Jay had not moved from the lobby.

Marcus said, "I need more background information on Robert Smalls."

"I'm on it," Lindi said.

Fletcher rapped his fingers on the table. He did not want Marcus and Lindi doing research on Smalls, then discovering somehow that Jay was the one really in control. Perhaps he could change Marcus's focus. "What about the 7:30 deadline?"

The question went unanswered. Lindi had continued with her report on Robert Smalls. "He was a Communications Specialist in the Air Force. Afterwards, Smalls was hired at Executive Security. Their web site has a list of past clients. Bradurn is the only one he protects right now, probably because the money is right."

Fletcher's muscles squeezed together. Marcus and Lindi were simply doing their job. Nevertheless, their job was getting in the way of his money. They discussed Smalls background, leading up to his job at Executive Security. Smalls had a clean record and did not fit the profile of someone who would take seventy-two people hostage.

The deadline approached, but Marcus was more concerned about why Smalls was doing this, rather than completing the money transfer.

Marcus hit the green button and called Bradburn. It took several rings before Carl Bradburn answered. "Look, I said I'm done. My lawyer should be there in the next hour."

7:22 p.m.

"We don't have an hour," Marcus complained. "We have eight minutes before another hostage is killed."

"That is disturbing to say the least, but there is nothing I can do."

"We believe that Robert Smalls and his crew are the hostage-takers."

"Impossible!"

"Why is that impossible?"

"Robert doesn't just work for me, he is a good friend."

Fletcher's back was moistened with sweat. Marcus refused to stop digging for answers.

"Did you have any arguments with him recently?" Marcus asked.

"None. In fact, he sent me a long email on how much he appreciated my business."

"When was the last time you saw Robert Smalls or his crew?"

"It's been about a week."

"What was the last thing you said to him?"

"I told Robert to enjoy his time off."

7:26 p.m.

"Does Robert know the details of your business, or personal accounts?"

"He does not."

"Your company earned two billion last year off the drug Protropin. Is it possible that Robert wants that money for some reason? Could anyone have convinced him to-"

"No," Bradburn snapped. "I'll say this for the last time. This has nothing to do with my business."

"Where are you?"

"Getting on plane."

"And going where?"

"None of _your_ business. My lawyer will be the only one to have contact with me. This is the last time you and I will speak."

"That is unacceptable," Marcus spat. "There are forty-five more employees in your building."

"It's not my building," Bradburn replied. "I sold the company to Acacia last week before going on vacation. It hasn't been made public yet. No one knows except for Dr. Sedgwick and my corporate attorney. However, I do believe that whoever is holding those poor people hostage does not care about the sale of my company, the lawsuit, or anything else. They want money from me, not the business."

"Do you have two billion dollars?" Marcus asked.

"Speak with my lawyer." Bradburn hung up.

The red line flashed, followed by a double ring.

7:30 p.m.

### 114

Fletcher watched as Marcus slipped on a bulletproof vest and hurried out of the trailer. A rush of cold air blew against Fletcher's face as the door opened and closed. He looked at the monitor. Five more hostages were escorted to the lobby. This time, two of them were women. All had hoods.

Hands bound behind their back. Bodies shaking.

With three deliberate motions, Jay tapped on his watch while holding the phone. He then swayed his Glock back and forth with the other hand, teasing it in the direction of the hostages. Marcus was at the glass doors. This was a showdown between the negotiator and the hostage-taker. Would Jay really execute a hostage right in front of the negotiator? If so, what impact would that have on how Marcus made his decisions?

All questions were answered when Jay squeezed the trigger and executed the nearest hostage. Staying consistent, it was a man. The hostage fell forward next to the other two dead bodies. Three corpses lined up in the lobby, a symbol of how the police failed tonight.

Harlan said to Fletcher, "Are we seriously going to sit on our ass's and watch hostages being executed?"

Fletcher ignored Harlan, even though he had a valid point. Appearing in the monitor were two perps, dressed in all black with black masks, escorting the remaining four hostages from the lobby. Jay continued holding the Glock with one hand, teetering the phone back and forth with the other hand.

The secured line flashed red and rang twice. Fletcher gripped the headphones, thinking it would be impossible to keep up this charade.

Marcus was still at the glass doors and answered with his portable phone. "I'm going to start initiating an assault."

"If that were true, you would not tell me."

"You had to know at some point we need to stop the killing."

Harlan spoke under his breath, "At least _Marcus_ is doing his job."

That was a direct insult at Fletcher. Between anger and stress, Fletcher had trouble holding back his emotions, but he remained quiet for now and listened to Jay speak to Marcus.

"Twenty-five people have been saved." Jay's voice was amazingly composed. "Forty-four remain in the basement, hoping that you will follow through with my simple instructions."

"The lives you took are just important as the lives that remain."

Harlan let out a chortle, "Another good point."

"You keep stalling," Jay said. "It's not about whether you will follow through with my demands. You simply are not doing what I ask. That cost lives. There are forty-four people downstairs, wondering why the police failed in locating Carl Bradburn. The police failed in transferring one dollar. The police failed in my last request of transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars, when Bradburn is worth a couple billion."

Fletcher envisioned the employees listening in the basement to these conversations. He wondered if they were amused at the ease in which Jay was toying with Marcus and the police. Fletcher also wondered how Pamela was doing.

"We are no longer in contact with Carl Bradburn," Marcus said, continuing to look through the glass doors. "Mr. Bradburn sent his lawyer who should be here momentarily."

Fletcher watched the monitor, as Jay cocked his head. "Wow. You really are a fuck up."

"No more killing."

Jay chuckled. "That will be up to you." He looked at his watch. "8:00 is approaching."

7:41 p.m.

The radio chirped. " _We have a Joshua Adler here,_ " one of the officers said.

Fletcher clicked his walkie. "Bring him to the interview trailer." He then said to Lindi, "You talk to him. Get all the information you can." Lindi sprung from her chair and left. Once again, Fletcher clicked his radio. "After the released hostages receive medical attention, take them to the hotel. No one goes home until I say."

In a monitor that covered the entire area, Fletcher saw Marcus heading back to the Command Trailer. Harlan stormed out the door. Fletcher chased after him, feeling like a child running after his angry father.

The three of them met halfway between the building and trailer. Cold air snapped Fletcher's and Marcus's windbreakers. They were hidden in the shadows of the spotlights, their breath seeping into the night.

Marcus asked, "What's going on?"

Harlan was about to say something, but Fletcher was able to speak first. "We have Joshua Adler in the interview trailer. Lindi is questioning him right now."

"Where are the other hostages?" Marcus did not break stride. His eyes seemed distant, probably thinking of the released employees, along with the ones that had been executed. He marched past them. Fletcher and Harlan were forced to do an about face and catch up.

Fletcher said, "After receiving medical attention, they have been taken to the hotel. None of them have been released as of yet."

They walked past the Command Trailer and headed toward the interview trailer. Marcus continued asking questions about the hostages. Fletcher wanted to keep Marcus focused on the employees, not the hostage-takers.

Just before entering the interview trailer, Harlan spoke. "We found a separate grid for the buildings security system. It works, even when the power is off. We can disrupt that grid without setting off the alarms for about thirty seconds. That's more than enough time to get some of my team inside."

Marcus skipped up the three metals stairs, hand on the door. "What about the HT's? They are security specialists. Maybe they thought about that?"

"They are private security for Carl Bradburn, not for the building," Harlan urged. "Look, Smalls proved that he will kill. We need to be ready."

"I agree," Marcus said. He glanced at Fletcher. "And we should cut the electricity again. What do you think?"

Fletcher was sure that Jay knew all about the second grid and would be ready. On the other hand, it would give Jay a nice excuse to kill more of the hostages. "If we get a team on the upper floors, undetected, that will put us in a better position. I think it's the right thing to do." He turned to Harlan. "Get it done."

Marcus entered the trailer while Harlan marched through darkness, barking orders on his radio.

Fletcher lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Harlan's team was about to enter the building. Jay would notice the grid had been disrupted and he would shoot more of the employees that were going to die anyway. Marcus will panic and tell Harlan to pull his men back. They can add this to the mistakes already made tonight.

Jay would be inside, thinking how perfect everything was going. Little did he realize, assistance was given by the Situation Commander outside, making sure that this plan will come to fruition. Jay will eventually escape with the money and be in the mindset that he got away with this elaborate heist.

Fletcher took another drag of his cigarette, smiling in the chilly night air. The employees of Bradburn Industries won't know what hit them.

### 115

7:54 p.m.

Fletcher's heart knocked with eagerness. Next to him was Marcus. Their eyes on the monitor as Harlan spoke on the walkie. " _We are cutting the secondary power to the security in three...two...one. Team one, enter building. You have twenty-five more seconds._ "

Fletcher and Marcus watched as Jay leaped from his chair and raced to the hallway.

"Something is wrong," Marcus said on his radio. "Perp one just ran from the lobby. He may know what is-"

Jay returned with five employees and forced them to their knees. He walked behind the first one and pulled the trigger, killing the hostage.

"Shot's fired!" Fletcher shouted. He waited to see how Marcus would react.

"They know you are in the building!" Marcus shouted on the radio. At the same time, he pressed the red button to call Jay. "Pull your men back!"

Jay did not answer the ringing phone. Instead, he shot another hostage.

It was time for Fletcher to intercede, before the tactical team entered the lobby and killed Jay. "Harlan! Get your men out!"

Another hostage fell forward, shot by Jay.

Marcus grabbed the portable and rushed out of the trailer. Fletcher watched the monitor. Marcus ran in a full sprint toward the building. Fletcher clicked his radio. "Negotiator approaching. Hold your fire." Marcus appeared at the glass doors as the portable lights flicked on. Meanwhile, Jay killed another hostage.

Fletcher watched Marcus bang on the glass doors, yelling at Jay. Marcus's plea went unnoticed. Jay executed another hostage. Now, all eight were dead. Jay would not kill anyone else.

Lindi turned up one of the speakers that had a listening device. She spun around in her chair and looked at Fletcher. "This is way out of control. You need to relieve Marcus of his duty and send him home."

Fletcher knew that was an understatement, but he wasn't going to do anything about it.

The speaker vibrated when Jay shouted at Marcus. "Come on in! Don't sneak, just come through the front door you fucking assholes!"

"Pick up the phone!" Marcus pleaded.

Jay waved his gun. His shouts could barely be heard through the thick glass doors. "I would have given you ten more hostages. Instead, you are stalling me! You cannot complete the simplest of tasks! You lack the ability to help these people!"

Fletcher wasn't sure what Marcus was thinking. Once again, it was time to play the role of Situation Commander. He clicked the walkie. "It's your call, Marcus. Eight hostages have been killed."

Marcus responded exactly how Fletcher thought he would. "Stand down."

Thirty-nine hostages were still alive, including Fletcher's girlfriend. All of them would leave the building unharmed. From this point on, it should be a lot easier.

Jay walked over the dead bodies and picked up the phone. Fletcher slid on his headset and listened.

"Why shouldn't I have the rest of the hostages killed?" Jay asked. "Give me a good reason."

"Because, you are right," Marcus replied. "We have been stalling. It cost lives. We found a secondary security line that could be disrupted just long enough for our team to enter the building. You must have been ready for that and now hostages have been executed. I have screwed up, following the negotiators manual, and eight people are dead because of what I have done. So now, I'm ready to listen and save the rest of those people in the basement. What do you want?"

Fletcher could not be more pleased. Marcus had broken down and complied with all of Jay's requests.

"It's 8:13," Jay said. "We are past another deadline. I want the money transferred from those two accounts by 8:30. Can you do that please?"

"I will speak with Mr. Bradburn's attorney and work on that right now. Can we have access to remove-"

"No!" Jay snapped.

Fletcher knew that Marcus was about to request that the dead bodies be removed from the building. It was so the remaining hostages would not see the bloody corpses. Also, Marcus did not want the dead bodies displayed like trophies, giving the HT even more control.

Marcus spoke on the radio. " _No one goes near this building without my command. No one shoots, or even breathes without hearing from me first. We have thirty-nine more hostages to save. We will do nothing to jeopardize their safety._ " Moments later, Marcus entered the Command Trailer. "I want to interview one of the freed hostages myself. I don't care which one, just somebody who is not so freaked out." He looked at Lindi. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. What kind of phone Smalls is using, wasn't worth me acting like that."

"No problem," Lindi said, shying her eyes away.

"Okay. Thirty-nine more hostages. Let's get back to work."

Fletcher repeated in his mind what Marcus just said. _Let's get back to work._

### 116

8:28 p.m.

Fletcher looked over Lindi's shoulder and saw that Adler had approved the money transfer. Moments later, Marcus entered the Command Trailer. At the same time, the secured line rang.

Marcus ignored the ringing and spoke to Lindi instead. "Set up the green line to Mr. Adler's phone. He has a Blackberry next to his laptop."

"Will do," Lindi replied.

Marcus finally answered the secured line. He and Jay spoke for several minutes. The chess match continued.

Jay wanted Alicia Bradburn's personal spending account transferred by 9:00. Fletcher envisioned how much money would be in there. No matter what, it would not be more than Pamela would have in her personal account.

Marcus had been arguing with the lawyer on the phone. Adler was only willing to transfer half of the money, which was $500,000. Fletcher assumed that was how much money had been insured. Nothing over that would be protected.

As Fletcher continued to listen, Marcus said something interesting. "When we can no longer negotiate with the hostage-takers and no longer save the lives of the remaining hostages, we will enter the building with a full assault and do the best we can."

This kind of thinking would make everything go much easier. And since Jay was not going to execute any more employees, it should be smooth sailing from this point on.

Adler was still hesitant. He wanted more assurances that Marcus had a plan that did not include throwing money at the hostage-takers. However, Fletcher knew they had only two choices. Go in with guns blazing and probably lose the last remaining hostages, or give into the hostage-takers demands.

Not only was Fletcher concerned about the money, but he wanted Pamela to safely leave the building. There was no way he would let Harlan's team go in and shoot everyone, risking Pamela's life.

8:59 p.m.

Fletcher tapped his watch. Marcus had to finish the negotiations with the lawyer, or call Jay and beg for more time.

Adler conceded and transferred the funds. Following that, ten more hostages were freed.

Jay's prompt response in knowing the money was transferred, confirmed Fletcher's suspicions that Jay had someone working on the outside. The offshore account was being monitored by Lindi. If Jay had a computer in the building, she would know about it. Someone is controlling the offshore accounts from a different location.

Fletcher gazed at the monitor, as the ten employees ran from the building. He was overcome with relief when he saw Pamela.

### 117

At the interview trailer, Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi had been questioning the released hostages. They had already spoken with Pamela at the Command Trailer, right after she had been released and examined by a paramedic. Considering the pressure she had been under, Pamela held herself together. Harlan and Lindi asked only the questions that were necessary to gain valuable information, rather than grilling the employees with an unsympathetic, interrogation type interview.

Outside the interview trailer, Fletcher took a smoke break. Harlan and Lindi were a couple feet away, discussing a few answers that were given by the employees. Marcus approached and said to Fletcher, "I need some time alone with her."

Fletcher did not understand what Marcus was talking about, until he saw Pamela being escorted by an officer. With regret, Fletcher said, "Take her inside."

"Yes sir," the officer responded.

Like an intense spark, Fletcher's veins pumped with timid heat. He noticed a bead of sweat escape from Pamela's forehead. She wiped it away before anyone could notice. Her eyes glanced at him. It was an unspoken plea for help, but Fletcher could not do anything. A common strategy was for the negotiator to speak with the released hostages one-on-one. Fletcher had no basis or even a good excuse for keeping Marcus away.

Pamela would of course answer most of Marcus's questions with a lie. Unfortunately, Marcus could detect bullshit from a mile away. Furthermore, he was a professional at retracting information from even the most hostile criminals.

Fletcher puffed on his cigarette, staring as the officer closed the trailer door and walked away. Fletcher imagined Pamela fighting to stay calm, alone with the most skilled negotiator on the west coast.

And there was one other big problem. A few times over the years, Pamela had been at the police station to pick him up from lunch. Up until now, no one had recognized her. Not even Lindi, who had seen Pamela a half dozen times in passing. The more time Pamela spent with Marcus, the better chance he may recognize her.

Fletcher gazed at the trailer door, counting the seconds, waiting for her to be released from Marcus's grasp.

### 118

Pamela watched the negotiator scoot his chair in and position his notepad on the left, manila folder on the right. "My name is Marcus Cane."

"Why me?" Pamela asked, sipping her coffee. "Why was I chosen to come here and be questioned for a second time?"

"You were one of the latest to be freed, so you have the latest information on what is going on inside. Other than that, the officer chose you at random."

"Just my luck," she said under her breath. Marcus did not seem to notice her comment.

Pamela rattled off her answers, as Marcus questioned her.

"All black. Masks, gloves, even their boots."

"Handguns."

"Under the circumstances, they treated us pretty good."

"Some of the people who fell down the stairs during the initial attack were given first aid."

"They brought down food from the cafeteria. They even gave us cots and blankets when the basement turned cold."

9:34 p.m.

"We could hear everything. Including the assassinations of our fellow employees."

"Are you trying to justify the deaths of eight people?"

"I am assuming your number one rule is not to negotiate with kidnappers."

"Well then, if you were doing your job, then I suppose you'll have a clear conscience when this is all over."

"You did not hold us at gunpoint. You did not kill those eight people. It was the bastards inside."

"What the hell do you want me to say? You are wonderful? You are the finest negotiator ever? Despite the deaths of eight people, along with the fact this isn't over yet, you are doing your best?"

"I can't speak for everyone, but I suppose things could have been handled a little differently. From what I heard over the speaker, you could not locate Mr. Bradburn, which caused problems. You hesitated in transferring a dollar, which caused problems. You entered the building, which caused problems. I know that you were following the _Negotiators_ _Police Manual_ , but in this case, it did not work."

"Not all of it was your fault. The eight people that had been killed were troublemakers."

9:43 p.m.

"They argued with the kidnapper. They wouldn't keep their big mouths shut. In some ways, they practically committed suicide with their actions."

"Dr. Sedgwick. Also there was Yongsoo Chung, who worked directly under Dr. Sedgwick. Megan Smoy, the slut-bitch that was Mr. Bradburn's personal assistant. Mr. Malone, Vice President of the company. Jason Zimmer, Research Manager. Darnell Browning, head of building security. Mike Harten, Chief Financial Officer. And Deshi Lung, Vice President of Foreign Operations."

An abrupt ringing startled her. She noticed a phone that was clipped to Marcus's belt. With each ring, it made several red flashes. "What is that?"

"The hostage-taker is calling me," Marcus replied. They both stood up. Marcus shook her hand. "Thank you for your time. Be well."

Pamela made her way to the door, then stopped and turned around. "I'm sure when a really tough decision has to be made, you will do the right thing." She opened the door and went outside.

Daniel, along with Harlan and Lindi, had been waiting in the cold night air. Daniel gave her a quick glance, but said nothing.

A uniformed officer approached. "Hello ma'am. Your co-workers have already been escorted to a hotel. I'll drive you to the hospital so you can be examined, just to make sure you are okay. Then, I'll take you to the hotel."

"I can't go home?" she asked.

"That will be up to Commander Fletcher."

Pamela looked at Daniel, sensing a contained grin. As she walked along side the officer away from the building, Pamela inhaled the frigid air with a sensation of freedom.

### 119

In the Command Trailer, Marcus placed his Glock on the table and slid his windbreaker over the bulletproof vest. Fletcher spoke on the radio, explaining to the officers what was about to happen.

Marcus was going inside.

Meanwhile, Fletcher would assume command until Marcus returned safely.

"Harlan," Marcus said with a stern tone. "I'll be in there with my pants around my ankles, unable to protect myself."

"I understand," Harlan responded with cold bitterness. "And I do follow orders. Whatever Fletcher tells me to do, that is the law."

Marcus shook his head, agreeing. He handed Fletcher the secured phone. "Give me fifteen minutes. If I'm not back, call."

"Will do," Fletcher said. "You don't have to go in there." He did not want Marcus to eat Jay alive with questions. This was a big mistake. It was rare that an HT would invite the negotiator inside. It gives the negotiator firsthand intelligence and weakens the hostage-takers position.

Marcus exited the Command Trailer without saying a word. Fletcher, Lindi, and Harlan watched the monitors. The helicopter hovered from above, with its spotlight on Marcus.

Fletcher's eyes were steady on the screen. Marcus made it to the glass doors and was greeted by four hostage-takers. All of them had their guns pointed at Marcus's chest.

"Lindi," Fletcher said. "Let me know if you can hear them."

She put on the headset, then reached to the control board and switched on the listening device that was placed near the glass doors. "Smalls wants to get rid of the dead bodies," she said. "He is requesting an officer to back an ambulance to the front door."

Harlan grunted. "Bad idea. It's one thing to put the negotiator's life at risk, but not an officer."

"Put it on speaker," Fletcher said to Lindi. She yanked out the headset cord and flipped the master switch.

Marcus said to an officer, " _What is your name?_ "

" _Officer Timothy Johnston._ "

" _I need you to back up one of the ambulances to the front door. Do this now._ "

Harlan closed his fist and struck the wall, causing the trailer to rock back and forth. "Damn it, Fletcher! Don't let Marcus put one of my guys in harms way."

Fletcher had enough of Harlan's bullshit. "Address me as _Commander_ Fletcher." He stepped closer to Harlan, glaring at him with intense eyes. "Marcus is standing in front of four guns, trying to get the rest of the hostages out safely. He is on the same team as _our_ precious officers."

Harlan lowered his shoulders and diverted his eyes. Without further comment, they watched the monitors, and listened to the speakers, which crackled from a hard gust of wind.

Officer Johnston was on the radio. " _Commander Fletcher. The hostage negotiator requests that I back an ambulance to the front door._ "

Fletcher responded without hesitation. "Do it."

" _Yes, sir._ " Johnston handed his weapon to the nearest officer and proceeded to back the ambulance, moving at a snails pace.

Jay spoke, but his voice was masked by the wind and the running engine of the ambulance. Marcus opened the back doors of the ambulance and said something, but once again, it was distorted by other noise. Two hostage-takers began loading the dead bodies, while the other two kept their guns on Marcus.

When the last of the eight bodies had been loaded, Marcus shut the door and banged on it twice. Johnston pulled away.

This time, they heard a voice speak to Marcus. " _Now come inside,_ " Jay ordered. " _Put your hands down._ "

Fletcher watched the clock.

9:58 p.m.

10:01 p.m.

10:05 p.m.

10:09 p.m.

10:13 p.m.

Fletcher picked up the secured phone and called the lobby. An HT answered, but not Jay. "Hello?"

"This is Commander Fletcher of the Hillsboro Police Department. I need to know if Marcus Cane is safe."

"Hold on." The HT hurried to the hallway.

Lindi asked, "What do you think is going on in there?"

"I suppose Marcus is trying to wear Smalls down," Fletcher said. "Also, Marcus will spend as much time as possible inside, so he can evaluate the situation."

The HT returned to the phone and said, "Everything is _good_ with Marcus Cane."

Fletcher hung up, recognizing the code. "Marcus is safe and requesting another thirty minutes."

At least Marcus did not respond with the word _fine_ , because then, Fletcher's options would have been left to one.

Order Harlan to take his team inside the building.

### 120

10:39 p.m.

A female hostage had been released. At the same time, Marcus hurried back to the Command Trailer. When he came in, Fletcher noticed how pale Marcus looked. He put a consoling hand on Marcus's shoulder and said, "You look a little freaked. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Marcus replied. "Well, we freed another hostage. Only eighteen remaining."

"What took so long in there?" Fletcher asked. "All that time for one hostage?" He was certain that Jay had either threatened Marcus, or made some sort of deal. Maybe both.

"Yes, all that time for one hostage. I would have stayed in there longer to get that woman out."

Fletcher raised his hands in defense. "No need to fire back at me like that. I just want to know what happened. How is the mood of Smalls? Do you feel like this is heading toward a peaceful ending?"

Lindi poured each of them a cup of coffee. It was symbolic act of kindness to keep things calm.

Everyone was staring at Marcus, waiting for him to speak. He blinked several times and said, "I believe we can save most of the hostages before dawn."

Harlan: " _Most_? Why can't we save all of them?"

Marcus: "Because, they have a hostage who has pissed them off. He'll be next if we do not give in to their demands."

Fletcher: "What are their most recent demands?"

Marcus shied his eyes away. "I don't know yet. He'll call soon."

Lindi: "Then how do you know that you can successfully negotiate this situation toward a peaceful ending?"

Marcus: "I just know. A feeling we negotiators get. You wouldn't understand."

Lindi sprouted from her chair. "Fuck you, Marcus! I'm not just some female bimbo assistant. I am the onsite Tactical Advisor. My advice on the emotions of the situation, along with my tactical opinions, provides you with the _intelligence_ to make the correct decisions."

Fletcher pointed to the seat. "Sit down," he said to Lindi. Fletcher glared at Marcus. "You are holding back on us. What the fuck is going on?"

10:45 p.m.

Fletcher could be wrong, but it appeared that Marcus was searching for an answer. Marcus's voice had lost that edge of confidence. "Just before coming here, I got a call from my sister. She's having problems and I didn't have time to find out if she was all right."

Lindi: "Jesus, Marcus. Is your head right?"

Marcus did not make eye contact. "Actually, it's not."

Harlan: "That's just terrific."

Fletcher moved toward Marcus. "Do you want to take a minute and call your sister?"

"Yes," Marcus replied. "That would help."

"Then do that now." Fletcher turned to Lindi. "Make sure you log in Marcus's cell and the time, since we are monitoring all calls." Fletcher was now positive that Jay threatened Marcus and it had something to do with his sister. Fletcher couldn't remember her name, but he did know that she lived in Tulsa and had been screwed over by her husband. Marcus had considered applying for the _hardship funds_ to help his sister, but never turned in the paperwork.

Lindi did not move. "We need to keep working." She then glared at Marcus. "And we need a negotiator that is focused on the job."

"Just log in the fucking call," Fletcher snapped. "And Marcus. Get outside, call your sister, then come back in here." The team was cracking under the pressure. Fletcher needed to reel them back in.

Meanwhile, Marcus grabbed his cell phone and went outside.

10:53 p.m.

The secured phone rang. Lindi headed for the door. "I'll get Marcus." She poked her head out and said, "He's calling."

Fletcher, Lindi, and Harlan had the headphones on when Marcus rushed back inside and answered the phone. "This is Cane."

"You ready to move forward," Jay asked.  
"I'm ready."

"Account number: 993965714. Your deadline is 11:00."

Marcus looked at his watch. "That is six minutes away. Can I have-"

Jay hung up.

Marcus hit the green button. Adler barely said hello when Marcus revealed the account number, "993965714. We have six minutes."

A moment later, Adler said, "That is the Bradburn's personal checking account."

"How much money?"

"$495,567."

"Are you willing to make that transfer?"

"Yes. The full amount is insured."

"Then do it."

It took about thirty seconds. "Okay, done."

"Thank you," Marcus said. He looked up at the monitor. Four hostages were being released.

### 121

Fifty hostages released, eight killed, fourteen remaining.

They took this opportunity to have a quick meeting and discuss what Marcus saw inside the building. No one was more curious than Fletcher, but he let the others begin the conversation.

Lindi: "What was the emotion of Smalls as you were speaking to him?"

Marcus: "For the most part, calm. The only time he began to lose his temper, is when I did not fully agree on what he said."

Lindi: "Give me an example."

Fletcher noticed Marcus's face strain with that question. Something was wrong.

Marcus: "Instead of the woman hostage, I wanted to take the man who was bound and had a hood over his head. The odds of that hostage being killed over the woman was greater."

11:09 p.m.

Harlan: "What about tactical? How slim is our chance?"

Now, it was Fletcher's turn to be anxious. If Marcus found a way to breach and not risk the lives of the remaining hostages, Harlan would have justification to proceed.

Marcus: "Very slim." He used his finger on the building map as a visual. "Each of these doors is secured. There are two options to gain access to the hallways. You retrieve a security card, or we blow each door. If everything went right, it would take at least four or five minutes to reach the basement.

"The basement steps are much narrower than these schematics are showing. The Tactical Team would have to go down one at a time. Also, the steps are practically vertical. There is a good chance someone would fall."

Harlan: "Okay, that is option one. We need other ideas, no matter how extreme."

Fletcher was now confident that a breach would be impossible. So he decided to add a suggestion, knowing it would not work. "I agree. What about the vents?"

Marcus: "It was hard to tell, but once again, you are sending one officer at a time. They can be picked off during entry." Marcus stared at the map. "The only other option is through the upstairs room. You would have to blow that window, enter, then quickly blow a hole in the floor, big enough for several officers to enter at the same time."

Harlan: "No matter what we do, the seven hostage-takers in the basement will be alerted. Even if we gained entry in less than four minutes, that is plenty of time to kill everyone and wait for the assault."

Lindi: "Actually, there is another option." Everyone looked at her. "It's a risk, but doable."

Fletcher squeezed his hands together. "Spill it," he said to Lindi, fearing that her idea would be a good one.

Lindi: "You make the assault through the front lobby doors and take out Smalls."

Harlan: "And?"

Lindi: "Well, that's it."

Fletcher: "Are you on crack?"

Marcus: "Actually, I understand. You cut the head off the snake, creating chaos with the body."

Fletcher: "Are you saying that the remaining hostage-takers won't retaliate?" In all fairness to Lindi, it was a worthy proposal. Fletcher had to come up with something to counteract the suggestion.

Lindi: "Think about it. Smalls is the only one that has done the killing. There may be a reason for that. Once he is dead, the other seven hostages-takers may give up."

Harlan: "As much as I hate that idea, it is our best so far."

Fletcher was in panic mode. He had to say something that would deter them from going ahead with Lindi's plan. It was in Fletcher's best interest that Jay remains alive. "I suppose it's no more of a risk than any of our other assault plans." He made eye contact with each of them. "Let's just hope Marcus can talk them out and we won't need to take the risk."

The secured phone beeped twice.

Marcus stood up and answered, the others listened. "This is Cane."

"Phase five, Candy Cane. We're almost done."

"What is your demand?"

"Account number: 320334798. The deadline is midnight."

"I'll pass along your request."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've given you too much already and my superior commander is going to put a stop to it. We need to end this right now."

Fletcher never made any such order. Marcus was using this tactic to stall the hostage-taker and wear him down.

"That sounded like an ultimatum," Jay said. "You've saved fifty hostages. Aren't you concerned about the other fourteen?"

"Of course I am. And believe it or not, I want you and the other hostage-takers out safely as well."

"But you are done giving into my demands?"

"I clearly said I'll pass on your request to my superior-"

"I'm going to kill someone in the next thirty seconds unless you give me a reason not to splatter his brains."

Fletcher knew that Jay was not going to execute another employee. This was a game of poker to see who would show their cards first.

"Look, I'm not denying you anything, it's just-"

"Twenty seconds."

"Calm down."

"Fifteen...fourteen...thirteen..."

On the monitor, a hostage was shoved into the lobby and positioned in front of Jay's chair. Jay aimed the Glock at the hostage and held the phone with the other hand.

Marcus caved. "I'll comply with your request."

"Very good," Jay said. A moment later, the hooded man was dragged away. "Get this done by midnight and I'll release six more hostages."

11:16 p.m.

Marcus hung up and pressed the green button.

_Well played_ , Fletcher thought. Jay's bluff worked to perfection. It was astonishing that this lowly employee at Bradburn Industries had manipulated so many people, including a professional negotiator. "Why did you push him?" Fletcher asked.

"Because, I wanted to know how far he _can_ be pushed." Adler answered the phone. "320334798."

Adler sighed. "That is quite impossible."

"Why?"

"There is over $1.6 million in that account. My job here is done. I am leaving."

Still listening with the headphones, Fletcher knew that Adler had just thrown a monkey wrench into this heist. Jay had obviously needed the lawyer to stay put. It could not have been for the money. Jay had to be using these transfers as a diversion.

As the hostages dwindled and time slipped away, Fletcher would soon appreciate the complexity of Jay's strategy. At the conclusion, all would be revealed. He could not stop thinking how Jay intended to escape from the building unharmed, without being arrested and stealing billions of dollars.

Even so, Fletcher had no doubt in Jay's ability.

### 122

Everyone was busy.

Marcus had been speaking with Adler at the interview trailer. Lindi was questioning a newly released hostage. Harlan was shifting his team around so that some could get a break.

Fletcher had been left alone with his thoughts. He tried to piece together what Jay was about to do. That way, Fletcher could assist. At the same time, he needed Marcus's negotiations to be a success.

To leave the building, Jay could pretend to be a hostage, which would possibly work, unless Marcus recognized Jay's voice. The main problem was that there are eight hostage-takers. Jay would have to dress someone up in a black outfit and have him killed, along with the other seven.

Robert Smalls.

That must have been the hostage that Jay told Marcus would die tonight, no matter what.

The seven other hostage-takers were fooled into thinking they would receive a cut from the stolen money. All of them would be killed as well, but how?

Fletcher needed a cigarette, but he could not leave the Command Trailer. Marcus, Harlan, and Lindi were unavailable and Fletcher needed to watch the monitors.

He stood up, stretching his arms and legs. How was Jay going to kill Robert Smalls and the other bodyguards? How would Jay escape with the money?

Fletcher leaned up against the trailer wall. His eyes swept across the trailer. He looked at the monitors, the table with a map of the building, the command log, and back to the monitors. How would a hostage escape, without police assistance?

Fletcher stood tall, his heart knocking with the realization of how this would all transpire.

Jay would pretend to be a hostage. He and a few other remaining employees would begin shooting the bodyguards. This would give Marcus no choice. A full assault would be ordered. The bodyguards would try to escape and be killed by Harlan's team. All the supposed hostage-takers would be dead. Jay would be depicted as a hero.

Fletcher turned and leaned his head against the trailer wall, eyes closed, envisioning what would happen next. How would Jay exit the building with six billion dollars in cash?

"He was going to leave it," Fletcher whispered to himself. Jay would hide the money in the basement, amongst the other supplies and bins. A few days later, he would come back for it when no one was watching. Jay would then proceed to divide the stolen money up with the employees.

Carl Bradburn would have to deal with the Acacia people.

Jay had mentioned two billion, but only as another diversion. That is what he was going to leave behind. The police would assume that no money was stolen.

Dr. Sedgwick was already dead. So only Carl Bradburn would know the truth. Jay would use whoever was helping on the outside to threaten Bradburn to keep his mouth shut. At the same time, Bradburn would have no idea it was the employees that stole from him.

Fletcher needed to reveal the identity of Jay's partner. It had to be an experienced criminal of some sort. Despite Jay's impressive performance tonight, someone else was advising him. Once Fletcher located this co-conspirator, everything would fall into place.

Marcus opened the door. "Where is that woman who was just released?"

"In the ambulance talking to Lindi," Fletcher said. "What's going on?"

Marcus did not answer. He grabbed the portable secured phone, his radio, and his notebook, then left the trailer.

Fletcher's smoke break will have to wait a little longer.

### 123

Harlan had returned and gave Fletcher a status update. Lindi was next to come storming in the trailer. "I've had it with Marcus!"

"What now?" Fletcher asked.

Lindi's skin was bright pink. "I was questioning the released hostage and he told me to 'shut the fuck up,' right in front of her!"

Harlan chuckled. "It's good to see us all getting along."

"Let's go," Fletcher said. They rushed out of the Command Trailer into the night air. The temperature had dropped significantly and the wind chilled right to his bones. On the way, Fletcher lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He smoked most of it before arriving at the open door of the ambulance. Marcus was next to the woman, who was lying down with tears in her eyes. "What the fuck is with you?" Fletcher asked Marcus.

11:43 p.m.

Marcus turned, glared at Lindi, then at Fletcher. "Did she tell on me like some school girl? I wanted to interview this hostage. Is that a problem?"

"We have less than fifteen minutes," Fletcher said. "Is this interview that you are conducting important, or should Lindi be handling it?"

Marcus glanced at Mila, then crawled out of the ambulance. "You are really pissing me off," he said to Lindi.

Fletcher marched back to the Command Trailer with Marcus. "You're losing it. Never once have I seen you treat Lindi this way."

"I'm sorry about her precious feelings."

"That has nothing to do with it."

Just as they arrived at the stairs, Marcus stopped. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"This is the biggest hostage-situation Oregon has ever had. It is the biggest you've ever been involved with."

Marcus headed up the stairs and opened the door. "I can handle it."

Fletcher took this opportunity to have another cigarette. He studied the building, while the smoke propelled from his mouth into the chilly night air. As midnight approached, a new day of abounding opportunity awaits.

### 124

Fletcher had barely stepped into the Command Trailer when Harlan said, "Smalls is not in the lobby." He pointed to the monitor. "That is a different HT in the chair."

Also in the lobby was a man with a hood, on his knees, hands bound from behind. Fletcher figured that was the true Robert Smalls.

Marcus picked up the secured phone. Fletcher and Harlan slid on the headsets.

"I need more time," Marcus said.

The HT seemed reluctant to respond. "Smalls will be back shortly."

"Where is he?"

Jay appeared in the screen and took the phone. "Candy Cane, what's going on?"

"Where were you?"

"Taking a leak. I am human."

"I need a little more time."

"Negative."

"I've done everything you asked...agreed?"

"Agreed."

"I'll want seven hostages, including the man you have kneeling in the lobby."

"I'll give you six hostages, but keep this man."

"I want him."

"No."

11:52 p.m.

"How much extra time can I have?" Marcus asked. Fletcher could see the strain in Marcus's face. Little did he know, the hostage in the lobby would not be executed. At least, not at the moment.

"I did not agree to more time," Jay said with an air of assurance. The climatic ending had just about arrived. Fletcher had a sense of satisfaction. In past hostage situations, he would be concerned at this point that everything would go haywire.

"I'll need until 12:30," Marcus begged.

"Sure thing. I'll just shoot this hostage and give you the extra thirty minutes."

"I'll call you back." Marcus hung up, grabbed the portable phone, and hurried out of the Command Trailer.

Harlan slammed his headphones down. "Where the hell is he going?"

Fletcher gazed at the closed door. "I suppose he's going to speak with the lawyer."

"Does it bother you that we are doing everything possible to give these hostage-takers whatever they want?"

"Of course it bothers me," Fletcher lied. "But every situation is different."

"Sure it is," Harlan snapped. "Most hostages ask for a bus, money, and a plane. We never agree to those demands. Instead, we find other ways to negotiate."

Fletcher raised an eyebrow, now staring at Harlan. "What is your point?"

"We have access to everything that Smalls wants. It's easy for us to just give in." Harlan stepped closer. "What if Smalls asks for a private plane? We know that Carl Bradburn has one. Are we just going to hand it over?"

Harlan made a good argument, but nothing he said would be significant in the decision-making process. Fletcher was considering his more lucrative options. "Yes, we are gratifying the needs of these hostage-takers. On the other hand, we've never had this many hostages before. Our first priority is their safety."

"That's not true," Harlan disputed. "Assuring the safety of the hostages is just about impossible, which is why it's rule number two." Harlan gawked at Fletcher. "Rule number one is to _prolong_ the situation, instead of giving them every demand. We should be wearing them down. Why aren't we doing that?"

Fletcher did not have an answer.

### 125

12:01 a.m.

The secured phone rang. Marcus had not returned to the Command Trailer, but he had the portable phone with him. Fletcher and Harlan put on the headsets.

"This is Cane."

"It is 12:01," Jay said. "Where is my money?"

"I'm still trying to get that done," Marcus replied.

"What's the problem?"

"I'm sitting with Mr. Bradburn's personal attorney. He is not authorized to transfer the entire $1.6 million."

"Let me guess. He told you he could only transfer $500,000."

"Yes."

"That amount is insured. It's all bullshit."

"To be honest, the lawyer does not have anything personally invested in this situation. Why would he give you money?"

"That's an interesting line of reasoning. Is he a good friend of Carl Bradburn, or just some employee?"

"I believe they are friends as well."

"Well then, inform that fucking scumbag that I will execute Carl Bradburn in one minute if the money is not transferred."

Fletcher controlled his emotions, knowing that Harlan was staring at him. Jay's exit strategy had begun.

"How is that possible?" Marcus asked. "You don't have Mr. Bradburn?"

"Really? When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Can I call you back?"

"I'll give you thirty-one seconds." The line went dead.

Harlan lowered the headphones to his neck. "What should we do?"

"Let Marcus handle it," Fletcher replied. "He has this under control."

"Bullshit. Carl Bradburn has been kidnapped. Maybe his family as well. We need to do something."

Fletcher restrained from looking at Harlan. Instead, he kept his eyes on the monitor. "The only thing that has changed is that the perimeter of the hostage-situation has expanded. Marcus is still the negotiator."

Lindi returned to the Command Trailer. "Where is he?" she asked, referring to Marcus.

"With the lawyer," Fletcher replied. "Anything helpful come from that hostage interview?"

"Nothing we don't already know." Lindi sat down and looked at her screen. "Adler is talking on his cell phone."

"Trace the call," Fletcher said, looking over her shoulder.

"He hung up already. I'll work on all cell phone activity since midnight, but the chances of me getting the exact location are slim."

Fletcher knocked a chair over. "Shit!" Tracing the call may have revealed the position of Jay's other partner.

Lindi looked back. "Is something else going on?"

"Keep working."

Lindi returned to her screen. "The money is being transferred."

Fletcher heard Marcus's voice in the headphones. "The transfer is going through momentarily."

"Of course it is," Jay said. "When you can't get shit done, I have to do it myself."

"Do not shoot that hostage, or I'll stop this transaction right now."

Lindi let out a nervous chuckle. "That threat won't work."

"Why?" Fletcher asked.

"The money transfer is complete."

Marcus said, "Promise me you won't kill that man."

Jay laughed. "You really need to get on the same page with that lawyer. I was just told that the transfer is complete."

"Do not shoot, or we will come in."

"I'm about to release six hostages, so can you wait until they are safely outside?"

"Don't bullshit me!" Marcus shouted. "You pull that trigger, and I'm ordering a full assault."

Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "Prepare for full assault."

Fletcher pointed an angry finger. "Delay that order!"

"You heard Marcus." Harlan's eyes bounced to Lindi, then back to Fletcher. "What the fuck is going on?"

Fletcher spoke through his teeth. "Delay...that...order."

Harlan clicked the shoulder radio. "Delay my last."

"Calm down Candy Cane," Jay said. "I'll let this bastard live for now. But things are about to get even tougher for you. I don't give this hostage much of a chance." He hung up.

Marcus sprung open the door and came inside. "I need a trace on the phone call just made to Adler."

Lindi was concentrating on her laptop. "We started the search, soon as Adler answered his cell phone. There were two calls. One made at 12:05 from the building to another cell within a twenty-mile radius. At 12:07, a call was made to Adler from the same radius."

"There may be more going on than we thought." Marcus rubbed his eyes. "Smalls claimed that he has Bradburn."

Harlan clicked his shoulder radio. "We have six hostages exiting the building. Repeat, six hostages leaving the building."

They watched the monitor as the hostages ran into the arms of awaiting police officers. Marcus seemed to be standing tall with pride. "Eight more to go."

"Well done," Fletcher said, patting Marcus on the shoulder. Another disaster had been avoided.

"Oh shit!" Lindi yelled while clicking the keys on her laptop. "I have a location on Carl Bradburn's cell phone."

"Where?" Marcus asked.

Lindi stood up, eyes sweeping to Fletcher, then back to Marcus. "He's here."

### 126

Their radios came to life. " _A Carl Bradburn is requesting to speak with Marcus Cane,_ " the officer said. " _Should I let him in?_ "

Fletcher reached for his radio. "Yes. Bring him to the Command Trailer."

" _Right away,_ " the officer replied.

Lindi asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Fletcher studied Marcus. His reaction was not of shock, or even mild surprise. Marcus's involvement was much deeper than anyone else realized.

The trailer door opened and Mr. Bradburn was escorted in. Fletcher said to the officer, "You can go now." This was about to get interesting.

Fletcher examined the CEO and co-founder of Bradburn Industries. He looked nothing like an owner of a multi-billion corporation. He was tall with a hefty frame and a full head of snarled gray hair. His face was lined with tension and bristled from not shaving.

Bradburn took off his long tan coat and threw it in the corner. Underneath he wore a crumpled thousand-dollar suit with a loose tie.

Fletcher shook hands with Bradburn and introduced himself. Harlan and Lindi did the same. Bradburn's expression crumbled when he looked at Marcus.

"Mr. Bradburn, I'm Marcus Cane, Hostage Negotiator." They shook hands. "Would you like some coffee?"

"My family and I had been kidnapped." Bradburn's voice was soft and filled with regret. "I have to do everything they say, or my wife and two daughters will be killed."

12:16 a.m.

"When did this happen?" Marcus asked.

"This morning, just before we were going to leave for Hawaii. They..." Bradburn slid into a chair, rubbing his weary face. "They took my wife and kids, then replaced them with some other woman and two girls about the same age. My orders were to go ahead and fly to Hawaii."

That did not make any sense to Fletcher. "But what about the police in Hawaii? Didn't they know something was wrong?"

"No." Bradburn gave him a cold glare. "They had no idea what my family looks like."

Marcus asked, "Has anyone from Acacia contacted you?"

"Xavier Damina, the CEO of Acacia, sent me a text. They pulled out of the deal."

Fletcher thought that Jay, Pamela, and the other employees would be pleased. If you bring together enough motivated people, just about anything could be accomplished. "What's this about the two billion? You said it was personal, not business."

Bradburn leaned forward, his body slumped over the chair. He folded his hands, clenching so hard the knuckles turned white. "Dr. Sedgwick and I originally denied Acacia's offer. I was paid in cash, two billion, to convince Sedgwick to sell." Fletcher knew this to be a lie. Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick were actually paid eight billion. "Xavier Damina and I completed the transaction in the building. I hid the money in my safe room downstairs in the basement."

Harlan looked at the map. "Where?"

Fletcher wondered if Jay knew that Bradburn was giving away such detailed information.

Bradburn released the grip on his hands. He glanced at the map, then looked at Harlan. "You won't find it. I had an outside security team build the safe room last year. They are the only ones that know it exists."

Marcus pulled up a chair and sat down. "Did Robert Smalls or anyone else on the security team know you were paid off? Were any of them there during the transaction?"  
"No." Bradburn shook his head. "Do you still think it's my private security doing this?"

"It makes sense," Marcus replied.

_You are way off_ , Fletcher thought to himself.

12:21 a.m.

The secured phone rang.

Fletcher put on his headset. "Okay, let's play it out and see if we can save the remaining hostages."

Marcus stayed in the chair, focusing on Bradburn. "What about Xavier? Did he witness you putting the money in the safe room?"

"No." Bradburn stood up. "They want me inside."

"Impossible," Fletcher said, reacting like a Situation Commander, rather than a guy who was about to steal six billion. "We are not giving them another hostage." This was the moment of truth. If Marcus allowed Bradburn to enter the building, then without a doubt Marcus was under Jay's spell.

The phone continued ringing.

Bradburn's red eyes held on Marcus. "You have two hostage situations. One in the building and one with my family. If I don't go in there and give them the two billion, my wife and daughters are dead."

Marcus stood up, drew in a deep breath, and let the frustrated air seep from his mouth. He hit the red button on the secured line. "Cane here."

"Well, I'm glad you could finally answer the phone," Jay said.

"I can't let him inside."

"That is a shame. Especially since I now have eleven hostages, not eight. In five minutes, a 911 call will be made. It will be a girl, about fourteen, screaming as she is being tortured."

"We cannot give you another hostage."

"You aren't. Mr. Bradburn will be inside for ten minutes. I will then release him, the remaining eight hostages, and the Bradburn family. Think about it, Cane. You give in to this last demand, everyone remaining will live. Isn't that what you want?"

Fletcher thought he could still give Marcus a hard time and resist sending in Bradburn, but in reality, this was going to happen. They were going to break the most sacred rule and give them another hostage. This will make national news. Fletcher and Marcus will probably be fired. People will be talking about this for many years later.

In fact, police may use this in their training seminars as _what not to do in a hostage situation._

"I'll send in Bradburn," Marcus said to Jay, "if you give me two hostages in return. I need something."

"Agreed."

It was obvious that Marcus knew his job was in jeopardy. Asking for an extra hostage would be his only defense in front of the review board. If the remaining hostages were released, which included Bradburn's family, Marcus may only receive a suspension.

No matter what, Fletcher would retire with Pamela in some tropical climate, get drunk and have sex on the beach. He could almost smell the coconut oil, as he rubbed the warm liquid over Pamela's tan, naked body.

Marcus hung up the phone and looked at Fletcher. "We don't have a choice. It's a reasonable risk."

Harlan spoke to Bradburn. "Is there a rear exit to the safe room? A secret passage to get outside?"

"No," Bradburn said. "It's just a room."

Lindi: "What else is inside?"

"Things that are important to me. Mostly memorabilia. Trust me, they only want the two billion."

Fletcher: "But if they give up all the hostages, including your family, how do they plan on escaping?"

Marcus answered that question. "I don't think they care about escaping. This may be personal, like Mr. Bradburn is suggesting. But these hostage-takers are working for someone else. Billions of dollars are being held up because of this deal. I think it's corporate sabotage."

Either Marcus was naive or a good actor. Either way, Fletcher played along. "There is no way I can allow Mr. Bradburn in the building."

Marcus looked at his watch. "We only have another minute."

"I'm not letting you do this!" Fletcher wondered if this were a movie, who would win best actor? Him, Jay, or Marcus.

"It's a calculated risk," Marcus said. "We need to try." He looked at Bradburn. "You will have ten minutes." Marcus's eyes shifted to Harlan. "If he is not out in ten, then I'll order a full assault. Get your team ready."

Fletcher stepped right into Marcus's face. "I am the acting commander. You will not give them another hostage."

"Fire me," Marcus replied. "But not until I free eleven more hostages."

_Go right ahead_ , Fletcher thought. _I won't stop you_.

### 127

Lindi turned up the speaker. They would be able to hear voices at the glass doors and in close proximity to the vents of the basement, but that is it.

Harlan was outside, standing ready with his team. Fletcher prepared himself for the inevitable...this will go tactical. He had to make sure that Jay, along with the other employees, remained unharmed. More importantly, Jay's involvement had to appear as a hostage, not a hostage-taker.

Fletcher had to accomplish all this from the Command Trailer. It was a helpless feeling. Jay's success or failure would be revealed in the next few minutes.

On the monitor, Fletcher and Lindi watched the glass doors open. Lindi reached up to make sure the speaker was on its highest volume.

Marcus held on to Bradburn's arm and spoke directly to Jay. " _Ten minutes, that is it. One second later and I will authorize a full breach._ "

" _Your job is on the line, isn't it?_ " The smile in Jay's mask was unmistakable, even on the monitor. " _Don't worry, he'll be released safely._ "

" _And then I'll get the rest of the hostages?_ "

" _Yes._ "

" _How do you plan on leaving?_ "

" _Do you really want to have this conversation right now?_ " Jay asked with an angry tone.

Lindi turned to Fletcher. "What does Smalls mean?"

"I'm not sure," Fletcher lied.

" _Ten minutes,_ " Marcus said. " _Not a second more._ " He let go of Bradburn's arm.

Jay guided Bradburn through the dimly lit lobby. They paused by the chair and phone. He then grabbed Bradburn by the arm and went through the door to the hallway.

12:30 a.m.

The radio chirped. " _Marcus, this is Harlan. My team is in place._ "

" _Very well_ ," Marcus replied. " _I'll give the order at 12:41 if needed. Watch for developments_."

" _I know the drill._ "

Marcus remained at the glass doors and stared inside. " _Harlan. What kind of range do we have for sound in the basement?_ "

" _My team has snakes inside the four vents that lead to the basement. It is the best we can do. Lindi is listening in closely._ "

Fletcher looked at Lindi. Her attention was indeed on the snakes, while Fletcher listened to the chatter on the radio.

" _Fletcher."_ Marcus said. _"I do not see how Smalls will be able to escort Bradburn into the basement, open the safe room, and arrive back in time. Are we going to give them an extra few minutes?_ "

"That is your call, Marcus," Fletcher responded. "You are the one making the decisions. I am just the pain in the ass second guessing everything you do."

" _I say we give them until-_ "

Lindi fumbled with her radio. "Marcus! I'm hearing gunshots!"

" _Full breach!_ " Marcus ordered. " _Full breach!_ "

Fletcher repeated the order. "This is Commander Fletcher. We are full breach."

In seconds, Harlan's Tactical Team had exploded through the glass doors, entered the lobby, and made there way to the hallway.

More gunshots rang through the radio.

A few seconds later, Harlan said, " _We have Carl Bradburn. He is safe. Three HT's are down in the hallway._ "

Fletcher held the radio close to his mouth. "Continue to the basement."

Marcus rushed inside the trailer, holding the radio. Fletcher gave him a status update. "We have Bradburn. He is safe. Three hostage-takers were killed in a hallway."

"What about everyone else?"

"The first Tactical Team is just entering the basement now."

They listened to the radio, as Tactical Officers relayed information. From what Fletcher could understand, Harlan and the other team members had gained entry to the basement. No shots had been fired at them.

Moments later, Harlan gave an update. " _All six hostages are safe. Repeat, all six hostages are safe._ "

Fletcher saw that both Marcus and Lindi had a mist of tears in their eyes. The long night had finally ended. Fletcher clicked his radio. "What about the remaining five HT's?"

Harlan did not answer right away. " _We believe that the hostages overtook the HT's. All five in the basement have been killed._ "

Fletcher formed a thin smile of satisfaction.

Marcus clicked his radio. "Do not release the hostages. I want to question them."

" _They are being escorted up,_ " Harlan replied.

The radio chirped with another voice. " _Commander Fletcher._ "

Fletcher clicked his radio. "Go for Fletcher."

" _Sir, we have three members of the Bradburn family. They claim to have been kidnapped._ "

"Are they injured?"

" _No sir. Just shook up._ "

"Escort them to the interview trailer."

" _Yes, sir._ "

Fletcher looked at Marcus. "This was a dream ending."

### 128

Much to Fletcher's satisfaction, the remaining hostages told the same story.

Right when the safe room door had been opened, Jay Nicken, the man who was bound with a hood over his head, freed himself. He attacked the closest hostage-taker. After a struggle, the gun went off and the hostage-taker was killed.

They saw Mr. Bradburn run up the stairs, chased by three of the hostage-takers.

The remaining hostage-takers began to open fire on everyone. Jay emptied his gun, killing two of them. An employee named Matt Minkus, a large man who worked in logistics, grabbed a gun from one of the dead hostage-takers and began shooting. Gino Sergio, a lab employee, did the same. The other two hostage takers in the basement were killed.

About three or four minutes later, the police arrived.

Fletcher went through the process to verify that Jay Nicken, along with the other employees, were indeed hostages. This was not difficult, because every employee was in on the fraud. Meanwhile, Jay had been giving the officers a hard time since exiting the building. It was all an act, but a role that Jay played with an Oscar performance.

Marcus walked out of the interview trailer. Behind him, Jay shouted something while Marcus slammed the door shut.

Fletcher took a long drag of his cigarette and threw it on the ground with the other pile of cigs he had been working on. "That guy is a prick," Fletcher said, referring to Jay. "Don't listen to him. You negotiated the release of sixty-four hostages out of seventy-two, not counting the Bradburn family that was saved. In the process, the two billion was saved and all the hostages were killed." He sighed, then said, "You did good."

This rah-rah speech did not seem to comfort Marcus. "I thought you would fire me for sending Mr. Bradburn into the building."

"Oh trust me. The review board will have a field day with that one. I'll go to bat for you and we'll see what happens. Meanwhile, enjoy the moment."

"We still lost eight hostages."

Fletcher lit another cigarette. "You saved a total of sixty-eight people. Things could have been much worse."

"I'm going to take a look inside the building."

The door to the trailer flew open. Jay stomped down the metal stairs, glaring at Marcus as he marched past him. Lindi came out and joined them. "Wow. I can't believe that jerk. He survived a hostage situation, lived through an assault, was shot at, and had been on the brink of being executed all night, and the guy is still angry. I would be thanking God."

_Jay will be thanking God_ , Fletcher thought. _For the billions of dollars he just stole and hid in the basement._

Marcus and Lindi exchanged pleasantries, apologizing for loosing their cool and shouting at each other. As if on a caffeine high, Marcus mentioned again about going inside the building. Fletcher finished his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke. "Your night is over. Why don't you just go home?"

"I have to see something," Marcus said. "I'll just be a few minutes."

Fletcher squeezed his fist together, watching as Marcus hurried toward the building. A few minutes later, Bradburn's lawyer approached, carrying a large briefcase that held his laptop.

"You going to sue us?" he asked Adler.

"Not quite. All the money that I transferred has been returned."

"Really?" Fletcher was surprised that Jay did not keep that extra money. Then again, it was chump change compared to the billions in cash.

Adler shook hands with Fletcher. "Mr. Bradburn and his family had been saved. The money returned. What exactly did these crooks hope to gain?"

It would difficult to investigate nothing. Nevertheless, Fletcher pretended to be confused. "I'm not sure."

Adler cocked his head. "The negotiator and I have a theory."

Fletcher's heart knocked against his chest. "I'd love to hear it."

"This was all about sabotaging Bradburn Industries."

Fletcher was relieved. "I'm sure you and Marcus are right."

### 129

Fletcher parked near Jay's house and turned off the headlights, but kept the engine running. He watched Jay walked to his white Saturn with some other guy. They climbed in and drove off.

Fletcher kept his distance and followed. About ten minutes later, they entered the Jamboree development. Fletcher knew this area well, because he had been here several times to console Marcus after his wife died.

Being cautious as possible, Fletcher kept his distance and turned the headlights off again, so Jay would not know he was being followed. "What the hell are you doing?" Fletcher asked, referring to Jay and the mystery man. Going to Marcus's house would be an enormous risk.

Unless Marcus was involved with the plan all along.

It had been another hour before Marcus showed up. He walked at a snails pace in the darkness, up the stairs, and put the key in the door. Marcus paused, not entering right away.

Many cops did this, especially coming off a night when someone was killed. You start to think about your own life and the value of walking through the door, unharmed, yet alone in the world.

When Marcus walked inside, he did not turn on the lights. Fletcher had done this as well. It was good to take a few moments in the dark and consider every decision you made. Most of the time, a cop was his own critique, knowing that he could always do a better job.

Fletcher kept his eyes on Jay's white Saturn. The two of them stayed put until a light turned on upstairs. Jay and the mystery man exited the car and hurried up the porch.

Were they going to kill Marcus? If so, Fletcher could not do anything about it. The money was still at Bradburn Industries. If Fletcher arrested Jay, the money would sit.

Also, how would Fletcher explain being at Marcus's house in the middle of the night?

The mystery man had been working on the front door. It took only a few seconds to pick the lock. Jay went inside, while the mystery man returned to the Saturn, but this time, he sat in the driver's seat.

Fifteen minutes later, Jay sprung from the door, hopped down the stairs, and sprinted through the darkness to the car. When Jay opened the passenger's door and crawled inside, the mystery man hit the gas and sped down the street.

Fletcher followed, headlights turned off.

As if a loud warning siren had just blared in the car, Fletcher's cell rang. He figured it was Pamela. To his disappointed, it was Lindi.

"Hey Lindi, what's up?"

"I know it's late, but I need a quick second. Captain Flower is on a rampage. He is making phone calls right now to everyone."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure. Whatever happens, I'll defend you and Marcus."

"I appreciate that. Get some rest."

"You to."

Just as Lindi hung up, Captain Flower called. "Hello Daniel." John's voice sounded crisp for the middle of the night. "Were you asleep?"

"No, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I won't beat around the bush. You are going to be suspended. Perhaps even fired. Same with Marcus."

"That's great news," Fletcher said with heavy sarcasm. "Thanks for letting me know before I tried to get some rest after a brutal and long hostage situation."

"Does it sound like I'm getting any sleep? The president called the governor, who called the mayor, who called the chief, who called me."

"All this happened in the middle of the night?"

"Your mess had to be cleaned up before the media released the story. You permitted Marcus to give the hostage-takers everything they wanted. And to make things worse, you allowed Carl Bradburn, an influential businessman with powerful contacts, to become a hostage himself. He was almost killed in the crossfire."

Fletcher could care less about this conversation. "Who will replace us?"

"I am going to approve Lindi for temporary negotiator status."

"And my job?"

"Lance Crestwood will be promoted."

Fletcher moved the phone away from his mouth and chuckled. All he could think about was sandy beaches with an endless supply of money. As for Captain Flower, it was time for him to be set straight. "I have an idea for you," Fletcher said. "You might want to consider attending a hostage negotiation and witness what actually happens up close. That way, you may understand how hard-"

"I really do not need a lecture from you. Be in my office first thing in the morning." John hung up.

Fletcher called Marcus to make sure he was still alive. Surprisingly, he answered the phone.

"This Marcus Cane."

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Please don't tell me there is another hostage-situation."

"No, nothing like that."

"What's going on?"

"You are suspended," Fletcher blurted out. "The president called the governor, who called the mayor, who called the chief, and so on."

"I gave into a hostage-taker. Allowing Carl Bradburn in the building sealed my fate."

"Don't feel bad. I'm suspended as well."

"Who is going to replace me?"

"Lindi will take your spot for now."

"Really?"

"Don't be quick to judge. She spoke to me a few minutes ago and said that she will defend both our decisions."

"If Lindi defends us, she'll never be promoted to negotiator."

It did not matter, Fletcher thought. Lindi was being moved up temporarily, Marcus would eventually get his job back, and all would be right in the world.

He decided to change the subject. "You were not wrong," Fletcher urged. "Sixty-four lives were saved."

"What about you? Is Harlan going to cover your job?"

"Nah. Kevin is too valuable at his current position. Detective Lance Crestwood will fill in for me."

"You're joking?"

"Wish I was."

"Well, let's hope there isn't a hostage situation before we get back."

"Amen brother." Fletcher cleared his throat. "I want to tell you something important. There's no one better talking on the phone to an HT than you." Fletcher really meant that. Despite everything, Marcus was good at his job.

"Thanks, Daniel. I'll see you later this morning."

"Get some sleep and be well."

By the time Fletcher was done talking to Marcus, he had parked a few houses down from Jay. Fletcher watched Jay and the mystery man climb out of the Saturn and trudge inside the home.

Apparently, no money would be obtained this evening.

### 130

CEO's of fortune 500 companies, have connections with people that could take care of unique, yet illegal assignments. The CEO usually called a guy, who called a guy, who knew a guy to handle things discreetly. In most situations, Carl Bradburn would depend on Robert Smalls to take care of unwanted troubles. Since Robert was in the morgue, Carl needed someone else to handle this delicate problem.

In this case, Carl knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a _woman_ that could handle this situation. The employees stole six billion. If Carl did not get that money back, Xavier would inform Dante, to call a guy, who would send a guy to torture and murder Carl and his family.

It was how _genuine_ corporations operated.

Jay Nicken would be a problem that needed attention. Somehow, he formulated this heist and knew where the money was hidden. In order for that to happen, Jay must have known a guy, who knew a guy, who could help fund and assist in the heist.

The employees that were killed in the hostage-situation, was just the beginning. More lives would be lost in the near future.

There had to be consequences for stealing billions of dollars and murdering the people that were close to Carl Bradburn.

### 131

Fletcher signed his name eight times on numerous documents. He was given a choice of early retirement or suspension, pending the outcome of the board's investigation. Fletcher decided that turning in his badge and gun, while saying goodbye to the Hillsboro Police Department with dignity, was a good move. Now, he could concentrate on getting his well-deserved money from Jay and those other employees.

John stood and shook hands with Fletcher. "I wish you all the best," John said with a smile.

Fletcher hated John's clean cut appearance. He hated that John was promoted much quicker because he was black. He hated that John did not permit cursing in his office. He hated that the police station was more like a church, rather than a law enforcement agency.

Most of all, he hated that John was younger. Fletcher wanted to say something important to John for a long time. This seemed like a good moment to express his true feelings. "Fuck you." Fletcher then marched out of the office.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and lighter, holding them in the fingers of his right hand. He hurried down the stairs, seeing that Marcus was on his way up. Fletcher barely acknowledged him. "Good luck," he said to Marcus.

He then continued down the stairs and headed out the door to a new and improved life.

### 132

Four days later.

Carl Bradburn held a memorial service for the murdered employees outside of Bradburn Industries. Fletcher mixed in with the thousands of people that showed, including the governor and mayor. Surrounding the crowd was a score of media outlets.

Fletcher watched as several employees approached Jay. They had concerned expressions, each whispering something to him.

_They do not have the money yet_ , Fletcher thought. He had been watching Jay as much as possible. In the last four days, Fletcher only slept a couple of hours. He waited for Jay to make his move, but it never happened.

The memorial service continued under a bright sun, with a breeze that seemed to cool with each passing minute. Employees that were close to the victims spoke at the podium with pitiful tears.

Carl Bradburn took the podium with his wife and two daughters at his side. His skin looked washed, with all the CEO supremacy drained from his body. With a trembling voice, he announced that Bradburn Industries would not be selling the company and the Acacia rumors were false. This was not surprising, considering what had occurred.

"Effective immediately," Carl said, "Bradburn Industries will close its doors."

Fletcher noticed that Jay went pale. This was a hitch in Jay's plan, because he needed to get inside the basement one last time.

Bradburn had continued speaking to the silent crowd, but Fletcher ignored the sappy speech and examined Jay's demeanor. There was panic in his eyes.

As the service ended, he saw Bradburn heading toward Jay. Fletcher was not close enough to hear what was said. Bradburn put his arm around Jay like a proud father and spoke to him. Jay seemed to be pleased with whatever Bradburn discussed.

Even though Fletcher was utterly exhausted, he would have to be patient. Hopefully in a few days, he could plop down on a white sandy beach and sleep for as long as he wanted.

### 133

The next morning, Fletcher tailed Jay back to the Bradburn building, accompanied by two semi-trucks and a fifteen-foot truck. With him, were a handful of employees. They spent the next five hours loading the three trucks.

Fletcher had renewed energy. He was positive that the six billion had been placed inside the fifteen-foot truck.

### 134

Dante observed from a distance, as a group of employees from Bradburn Industries loaded two semi-trucks and a fifteen-foot truck. Dante had been sent by Xavier to protect Acacia interests.

In short, Dante was to retrieve the money and kill all who were involved, which included Carl Bradburn.

He noticed someone sitting in a car, also watching the employees. Dante used his binoculars. Right away, he recognized the man who had been on the news. He was Commander Daniel Fletcher, of the Hillsboro Police Department.

"What are you doing here," Dante asked himself. If this were a bust, Fletcher would not be here alone. The area would be swarmed with police officers and S.W.A.T. He could only assume that Fletcher was after the same thing as everyone.

Six billion in cash.

It was Dante's job to not only reclaim the money, but locate each person that was working with Jay Nicken. All of them would be taught a simple lesson.

Thou shalt not steal.

### 135

Fletcher followed Jay to the bank. Jay walked in with two duffle bags. He returned an hour later and climbed back into the truck. Fletcher considered driving up to Jay and forcing him to pull over, but they were in the middle of downtown Hillsboro. It would not be a wise move. He had been tolerant. Now wasn't the time to rush things. He would have to wait to see where Jay went next.

The truck fired up and began moving.

Fletcher was just about to put the gear into drive when the passenger door opened. A gun was pointed at his face by a man with bronze skin. Fletcher raised his hands. "Who the fuck are you?"

The man positioned the gun so it was resting on Fletcher's cheek. "Why are you following Jay Nicken?"

The cold barrel felt like an icicle on his skin. The gun was pushed so close, Fletcher could only see the man's knuckles protruding through his black gloves. "I am a police officer you idiot!"

"You _were_ a police officer," the man said.

An excruciating sensation ran through his face, heating his brain, followed by several flashes of gray light. Fletcher's body went numb. The pain disappeared.

The world became dark.

### 136

Dante moved the bloody corpse to the passenger's seat. He climbed over the dead body, jammed the gearshift into drive and sped out of the bank parking lot.

The windshield was sprayed with thousands of red dots, making it impossible to see the road. Dante accelerated down an alley, then slammed on the breaks and parked the car. He opened the door and strolled away from the car.

"One down," he said with a trifling smile. "Many more to go."

### 137

Where was he?

Pamela decided to re-clean all the dishes in her cabinet to keep her mind busy. Fletcher had been watching Jay for five days.

When the phone rang, Pamela dropped a glass. It bounced off the edge of the sink and shattered on the floor. In a rush, she turned to grab her cell phone from the table. A piece of glass lodged into the middle of her foot. Hot pain, seared the nerves. A glob of blood spilt to the floor.

She reached for the phone, putting her weight on the other foot. "Hello!"

"You okay?"

At first, she thought it was Fletcher. "I cut myself."

"I am sorry to hear that."

She lowered her head with defeat. It was Jay. Pamela lifted her throbbing foot and asked, "Did you get the money?"

"Yes. I am meeting everyone at the Holiday Inn Express, conference room D, in one hour."

"I'll be there." She hung up the phone and eased into the kitchen chair. Crimson blood slithered out of the wound. Pamela reached down, held her breath, and tugged the glass from her foot. The kitchen looked like a murder scene.

Pamela was the victim.

As she stood, both the house phone and cell phone rang at the same time. She grabbed the cell, with dark blood running through the web of her fingers. "Hello?"

"Hey Pamela, it's Kate."

"Listen, Kate. I am kind of in the middle-"

"I am so sorry to hear about Daniel."

The pulsation in her foot increased. She sat back down, gripping the cell phone. "What are you talking about?"

"My God, you didn't hear?"

"No." Pamela wondered if Daniel had been arrested. Perhaps he tried to steal the money from Jay and something went wrong. Maybe the police were about to bust down the door.

The house phone rang again. At the same time, someone else had been calling her cell.

"Turn on the news." Kate sobbed through the phone. "I can't believe someone didn't call you."

Pamela eyed the living room. She would have to track blood across the house, while limping with one good foot. "Just tell me what happened," she pleaded.

Kate did not respond right away. "Daniel was murdered in his car. They found his body in some alley."

This is how it starts, Pamela thought.

She dropped the phone, cleaned her wound, bandaged it, and re-dressed. No matter what, Pamela was going to meet Jay and the others at the Holiday Inn and collect her money.

Too many people knew what was going on. Greed, along with the promise of riches, was an illusion. No one could steal six billion dollars and get away. Either the police would arrest her and the other employees, or all of them would end up dead.

Pamela did not love Daniel. He was like an electric blanket. Useful only when it was turned on.

Still, she would have gone away with him. His knowledge as a police officer would come in handy for their escape. Eventually, she would have left him.

Now, Pamela was on her own. She parked at the Holiday Inn, her eyes examining the area. She recognized other cars that belonged to employees at Bradburn Industries. If the police were waiting, they hid themselves well.

She cut off the engine and climbed out. More employees showed up. It reminded her of the Christmas party she attended last year. Everyone was anxious to get inside, but did not know what to expect. The crowd of employees thickened at the doorway of conference room D.

Inside, Jay had a silver briefcase by his feet. He seemed content with himself, shaking hands and making small talk.

It was hard to believe that six billion dollars was about to be split up.

### 138

Hidden behind the stage, Dante watched through the wood partitions, using the small hole he created. In his hand, was a Ruger Mark II, stainless steel, with an undercut scope to prevent glare, rear click adjustable for wind and elevation, and ten-shot magazine. The same gun he used to murder Daniel Fletcher. It would also be the same gun that kills Fletcher's girlfriend.

In his belt were two more Ruger 9mm's.

Jay Nicken had made several stops with his fifteen-foot truck, including a Cash Advance store. That confused Dante, because why in the world would Jay need cash when he had six billion? The other problem was that Jay switched vehicles to a Ford Escort and left the truck behind at the Cash Advance.

Dante had to make a decision. Jay would not let the six billion out if his sight. Somehow, he must have switched the money from the truck to the Escort.

Dante followed.

When they arrived at the Holiday Inn, Dante watched as Jay spoke to someone at the front desk, then went inside conference room D.

It took Dante another ten minutes to figure a way to position himself behind the stage. There was an _employee only_ exit down the hallway. Alternatively, he could leave through the front door.

Either way, Dante was going to take the six billion, kill everyone, and escape. His next stop would be Carl Bradburn. Dante had orders to acquire the two billion back from him, then put a bullet in his skull. If Carl's wife or daughters were in the house, they were to be murdered as well.

The crowd in conference room D increased. It seemed impossible to think that all these people were involved with stealing the money. How bad was it at Bradburn Industries that the employees would take such a risk? All of them were going to receive two years salary. They could sit on their asses and do nothing.

Jay raised his hand. "Okay, let's get started."

"Yes," Dante said to himself. "Let's get started." He flung open the partition and pointed the Ruger. "Nobody move!"

### 139

When several female employees screamed, Jay thought the police had surged into the conference room.

But it wasn't the police. It was much worse.

Jay recognized the man from Acacia. The one that Jay spied on in the basement, who gave Bradburn and Dr. Sedgwick the suitcases full of cash.

"Nobody move!" Dante shouted. Jay watched as he approached with a silver gun, adored with a scope. It looked like something from the future. With a smirk on his face, Dante aimed the gun at Jay's chest. "I'll only need a moment of your time. Where is the money?"

The room was silent.

Jay pointed to the silver briefcase. "It's all in there."

Dante's bronze skin transformed to a bright scarlet. "Do you really think I am that stupid? How could six billion in cash be in there?" He stepped back and grabbed the closest woman. Dante held their bodies together, pressing the gun on her cheek. "What's your name?"

Tears sprayed from her eyes. "Pamela."

"Well, Pamela. You and your co-workers made a brave, yet unintelligent decision. You stole from one of the most powerful companies in the world." He twisted the barrel, digging it into her skin. "I am here to collect. Now tell me where the money is."

Pamela pointed a shaky finger at Jay. "He was going to split it up."

Dante kept the gun firm on her cheek. His eyes were now on Jay. "I am going to put a bullet into her mouth. The bullet will rip through her tongue and shatter her teeth. Tell me where the money is."

Jay kicked the silver briefcase to the side, leaned down, and opened it. He reached in and grabbed a stack of checks with a rubber band holding them together. "Each of these cashier checks are made out to the individual employee for $93,562,500."

Dante shoved Pamela from his grasp and marched toward Jay. "In order for you to do that, you must have deposited the money into an account. Who converted the cash into checks for you?"  
"Do you know Liam Raines?"

Dante's expression went soft. "The King of Pittsburgh. I heard he died of a heart attack."

Jay felt a brief moment of authority. "That is true. But his second in command took over...JC."

"Never heard of him," Dante replied. "Why would this JC idiot convert the money for you?"

Jay held back his satisfying grin. "JC helped all of us with the heist. So if you fuck with me, you are fucking with him."

Dante turned, aimed the gun at Pamela, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet exploded in her chest, splattering blood. Her body fell heavy to the floor, eyes wide with a dead stare.

The other employees crouched down. No one screamed or made the slightest move, fearing that would draw the killer's attention on them.

Dante aimed the Ruger back at Jay. "You were saying?"

A sound of thunder shuddered from above. The rumble seemed to hover low on the building, shaking the ceiling and walls.

It was a helicopter.

Jay dropped the cashier checks back into the briefcase. "The cops are here," he said to Dante. "That puts us all in a tough spot."

Dante stared at the ceiling with disbelief. He then looked at Jay. "You are right. This puts us in a tough spot. However, there is one thing I can guarantee. You will not be receiving a paycheck today." His eyes wandered to the other employees. "You pathetic little worms are going to die!"

### 140

Lindi was actually in a training session when the call came through. She jogged to her unmarked car, flipped on the siren, and sped out of the parking lot. The Holiday Inn was eight minutes away.

She called Marcus, praying that he would answer.

"This is Marcus Cane."

"It's Lindi."

"I'm watching it on the news. First Daniel is murdered and now a hostage-situation at the Holiday Inn. Where do we live? East L.A.?"

Lindi situated the phone in her lap and turned on the speaker. She sped through traffic, keeping her eyes on the road. "What are the chances of a hostage-situation while I was covering for you? I can't believe this is happening." Her voice seemed anxious, yet traumatized with nervousness. She now realized what Marcus felt like. It was much tougher than she have ever imagined.

"You are qualified to handle this," Marcus assured her.

"Thanks, but you have the experience."

"After today that experience will be carried on to you. And remember that you have worked plenty of hostage-situations. You know what you are doing."

"I _advised_ you in hostage-situations and you never listen to me."

Marcus chuckled. "And look where that has gotten me. Sitting home on the sidelines."

"Why don't you come? I can approve you as an advisor."

"Not a chance. This is your show. Just remember your training."

"Prolong the situation," Lindi said. "Ensure the safety of the hostages, keep things calm, and form a relationship with the hostage-taker."

"You'll do just fine," Marcus said. "And remember something else. When you put on that negotiator's jacket, all eyes will be on you. It is your job to manage everyone. Get those hostages out safely."

"I'm pulling up to the Holiday Inn. Wish me luck."

"It's not about luck," Marcus said. "It's about using everything in your soul to turn the situation back in your favor."

### 141

Lindi opened the trunk and grabbed the windbreaker that had the word, _Negotiator_ printed on the back with bright new yellow lettering. She slid it on, sensing the eyes of her co-workers, media, and a crowd of onlookers.

An officer lifted the crime scene tape and let her through. She walked with a determined purpose, building confidence as she approached the Command Trailer.

Newly appointed Situation Commander, Lance Crestwood, gave Lindi a nod as she entered. "Negotiator Lindi Amerson has arrived. She has the ball."

Lindi scribbled her name on the command log and faced her team.

Crestwood had on a brown leather jacket and jeans. He must have been off duty when the call came in. Kevin Harlan was in his black uniform, dressed like a soldier from the future.

Taking her job as Tactical Intelligence Advisor was Drew Mavis, a young kid who grew up right here in Hillsboro, Oregon. Drew's grandmother had been Governor of Oregon many years ago. His father was running for a seat as a congressional representative. As of today, he led in the poles.

Drew had attempted to be a police officer, but failed the weapon's training. It was rumored that he did this on purpose, just to spite his father who was a former sharpshooter in the army.

Next, Drew went to Oregon State and graduated in three years with a degree in criminology. He had been training with Lindi for the last six years. His two main duties was research and running to Starbucks to get her coffee.

As Lindi and the others took a seat around a table, Drew slid a pen and notepad in front of her.

Crestwood leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Can you handle this?" he asked her.

Lindi's eyes shot in his direction. "I could ask the same question about you." She held her gaze for a moment, then brought her attention on Drew. "Okay, kid. What do we have?"

Drew gazed at his laptop. His words were quick, eyes wide with anticipation. "The manager of the Holiday Inn called 911 at 11:06 a.m. He claimed that a single gunshot was heard from conference room D. No employees of the Holiday Inn went to investigate. Instead they ran from the building-"

Lindi put her hand on Drew's arm to stop him. "Slow down. Answer my question, then wait for me to ask another."

Drew pulled in a deep breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"Was someone injured from the gunshot?"

"Yes ma'am. One female hostage was fatally shot in the chest."

"How do we know that?"

Harlan answered the question. "We have eyes and ears in just about every window of the conference room and in the hallway."

Lindi looked at the six monitors. The hostages were on their stomachs, face down on the floor. A man was sitting in the middle of them with his legs crossed. "How many are there?" she asked.

"Sixty-four," Drew replied. "And one hostage-taker as far as we know."

Lindi returned to her notes. "Have any officers been injured?"

"No."

"Any contact with the HT?"

"No."

"How do we plan to make contact?"

This time, Crestwood spoke up. "You will have to bring the HT close enough to the door and convince him to take our phone."

Lindi shook her head. "Not a good idea."

Crestwood's skin flushed. "Don't you need to speak with the hostage-taker?"

"Yes, but not that way. We need to get a cell number that belongs to one of the hostages. Let the hostage hand over their phone to the HT. That will create a bond and perhaps no one else will be shot." She looked at Harlan. "Can we get close enough to ID any of the hostages?"

"Sure," Harlan replied. "We'll use the cameras."

"Very well." Lindi brought her attention back on Drew. "Are any other civilians in the hotel?"

"No. It has been cleared."

"Room-to-room searches?"

Drew looked at Harlan for assistance. Harlan shook his head. "Yes, we searched each room."

"What firearm is the HT using?"

Harlan spoke. "He has three that we know of. His main weapon is a Ruger Mark II. Tucked in his belt are two more Ruger 9mm's."

Lindi concentrated on her notes, attempting to ask the right questions. She had to slow her thinking and process the answers. "Do we have a profile of the HT?"

This was Drew's expertise. "He has killed one hostage already, which means he is aggressive. The executed hostage was a woman, which means he is not gender bias. He is armed with multiple weapons. I believe he planned this in advance. He is slumped over, sitting on the floor. His emotional state is unstable."

"Do we have a tactical move?"

Harlan stood up. "Yes. Blow the door and let one of our sharpshooter's take him out. We also have a shot from the high window. It would be more of chance, but a good one. If we could somehow draw him to the lobby area, we would have the best chance to take down the HT while keeping the hostages out of harms way."

Lindi glanced down at her notes. She knew from past experiences that Harlan always suggested an aggressive tactical move, rather than negotiating with the HT. "We may need to go tactical, since the HT is unstable. Also, he won't like talking to a woman negotiator." She gazed at the monitor. "Drew. Did you say sixty-four hostages are in that room?"

"Yes ma'am."

She stood up and approached the screens. Without looking down, she grabbed the knob of the camera site adjuster and pushed it forward. "Holy shit," she whispered.

Crestwood and Harlan bolted from their seats and approached. Crestwood asked, "What's wrong?"

Lindi turned and said, "These are the same hostages that were in the Bradburn building."

### 142

Carl Bradburn had been watching the news from his home with great interest. First was the murder of a recently retired police officer, Daniel Fletcher. Soon after, a hostage situation had developed at the downtown Holiday Inn Express. Names of the hostages had not been released. Carl already knew who was inside. He recognized several vehicles in the parking lot.

The employees had secretly met. Jay had retrieved the six billion and was splitting it up. Carl had no idea who was holding the employees hostage, but he had a pretty good guess. Xavier Damina, owner of Acacia, probably sent his right hand man, Dante Zorano to retrieve the money and execute anyone involved.

It was strange, because Carl had the same plan.

Now, retrieving the money would be difficult. If Dante was inside, he could murder the employees, but he would not escape with the six billion in cash. If Dante failed and the money was lost forever, Xavier would make sure Carl was in a grave by morning.

He watched as the camera panned out, showing the entire building. It looked similar to the previous hostage situation. Carl flipped open his cell and called his _special friend_.

"Yes, Mr. Bradburn."

"How are things?"

"It has been taken care of."

"Are you watching the news?"

"Yes, but it will not be a problem."

"Bullshit. This is a big fucking problem!"

"No sir, it is not."

Carl held back from chucking his phone at the flat screen. "When can I expect this to be resolved?"

"Very soon. I have our female companion working on it as we speak."

He closed the phone, breathing heavy. Gazing at the scene, all hope had faded away. Most of those spineless employees will cave and tell the police everything. The money would be confiscated. There had to be another way.

An idea popped into his head. It was perfect.

### 143

Drew covered the phone with his hand and said to Lindi, "A Carl Bradburn contacted the switchboard and wants to speak with whoever is in charge of the hostage situation."

She glanced at Crestwood then took the phone. "This is Lindi Amerson."

"Hello, Ms. Amerson. This is Carl Bradburn. I don't know if you remember me, but-"

"Of course I remember you, sir. What can I do for you? As you can imagine, I am pretty busy."

"Yes, I understand. I'll get right to the point. Those are my employees inside the hotel. The same employees that were held hostage at our building."

"We are aware of that. What can I do for you?"

"Dr. Sedgwick and I were given eight billion dollars by the owner of Acacia to push our deal through, not two billion."

Lindi eased down into a chair and began taking notes. "Go on."

"I decided to split the payoff with my employees. I believe that my bodyguards knew and tried to steal the money. Now that the deal had fallen through, I think that one of Acacia's goons have kidnapped the employees, in an attempt to get the money back."

Lindi was trying to write verbatim what Carl was saying. "So both you and Dr. Sedgwick were paid off under the table by Acacia. You originally told us it was two billion, but now you are claiming it was four billion each?" Crestwood and Harlan overheard what Lindi was saying and sat down. "After the first hostage situation, Acacia pulled out of the deal, but the money had already been paid to you. Is that correct?"

"Correct."

"But the deal fell through. Why didn't you return the money?"

"Secretly, I promised the employees that I would split the payoff from Acacia. I instructed Jay Nicken to handle this for me."

"At the memorial service, you announced that each employee would be receiving two years salary. Why offer both?"

"Because. One offer was under the table, tax-free. The other was legit."

"So you broke the law. I'm sure you know about tax evasion. You also lied to police officers, which carries a prison sentence of one year per incident."

"Yes, I am aware of what I have done."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because this information may help you save my employees. Also, this may become an international problem, because the money needs to be returned to Acacia."

Lindi scribbled some notes. "I think it is possible that the hostage-taker will claim that Acacia had nothing to do what's happening. In fact, our government would love if he said that."

"Have you made contact with the hostage-taker yet?"

"No. And we believe that all the employee cell phones have been shut off."

"Should I come down there?"

"No. But stay by your phone incase I need you."

"What will happen to me and the employees? Will we be arrested?"

"Mr. Bradburn. One employee has already been killed. We need to concentrate on getting them out unharmed. Then we can discuss the other problem."

"I understand. Call me if you need something."

Lindi hung up the phone and went over her notes. She explained everything to Crestwood, Harlan, and Drew.

Crestwood slid off his leather jacket and wrapped it around the back of a chair. "What if Carl Bradburn is lying?"

Lindi: "Why would he volunteer information that will implicate him in a crime?"

Harlan: "I agree. Rich people like Carl Bradburn would sell their own mother to make a buck."

Crestwood: "Which brings me back to my point. Bradburn may have another agenda. He may not give a damn about the employees. He wants to protect his interests, which in this case, is the money. And to make matters worse, this also means that more was going on at the Bradburn hostage situation than we knew about."

Lindi looked at the monitor. The hostage-taker was still on the floor, legs crossed, fingers gripping the Ruger. His eyes were closed, lips moving with a slight quiver. "What the hell is he doing?"

Crestwood answered his ringing cell phone. "Yes?" He stood up. "Are you sure?" A pause why he listened. "Okay, thanks." He slid the phone back in his pocket. "The bullet that killed Daniel Fletcher came from a Ruger Mark II."

Harlan: "The same gun our buddy in there has."

Crestwood: "He killed _two_ people already today."

Lindi stood up and leaned toward the monitor. Her nose was almost touching the screen. Next to the hostage-taker was the dead body. "Drew. See if you can get closer."

"Yes, ma'am." Drew zoomed the camera.

"To the right. I want to see the dead woman." Drew shifted the zoom knob to the right. "She looks familiar."

Crestwood: "Of course she does. She was a hostage at the Bradburn building. You probably questioned her."

"I know, but it's something else. I've seen her before."

Harlan stood behind Lindi and looked over her shoulder. "You're right. I've seen her somewhere else. Maybe at the station."

Lindi turned. "Is that Daniel's girlfriend?"

Harlan: "I don't think I've ever met his girlfriend. Besides, it couldn't be. Fletcher would have said something. Heck, he even interviewed her after the Bradburn hostage situation."

From a distance, Lindi had seen Daniel kissing his girlfriend during a lunch break, but only a couple of times in the last few years. When Lindi interviewed Pamela Nystrom after she was released from the building, Pamela had a familiar look, but Lindi's mind was clogged with fatigue. "Let's say for arguments sake that Pamela was indeed Daniel's girlfriend. What are the chances that both of them were murdered within a couple hours of each other, in two different locations?"

Harlan: "It would mean they were assassinated."

"Exactly."

Crestwood: "What are you saying? Fletcher was a dirty cop?"

Lindi kept her eyes on the screen. "It would take a lot more than circumstances for me to make such an accusation. Maybe Daniel and Pamela were in to something that got them killed." She leaned forward. "Drew, move the camera to the left and focus on the HT."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lindi's eyes became like silver dollars. "He's praying." Lindi bolted for the door. "I have to get in there!"

### 144

Lindi had not bothered with a bulletproof vest. She ran into the hotel, down the hall, and knocked on the conference room door. "This is Lindi Amerson of the Hillsboro Police Department! May I speak with you?"

" _Lindi!_ " Crestwood yelled on the radio. " _I am ordering you to come back._ "

She lifted the radio and said, "Harlan. Are the snakes picking up my voice in the hallway?"

" _Yes,_ " Harlan responded.

"Be ready on my order."

Crestwood: " _He is coming toward you._ "

"Do we have a shot?"

Harlan: " _We did. Not anymore._ "

The door began to open, slow, like a coffin from a cheap horror film. Lindi turned off her radio and held her hands to the side.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked. His voice had a fervent Spanish accent. His skin bronze and eyes seemed lost in a distant era.

"I am Lindi-"

"Yes, yes. Lindi Amerson of the Hillsboro Police Department." He lifted the gun and aimed it just below her neck. "I repeat my question. What are you doing here?"

Lindi's heart knocked violently against her chest. "What is your name?"

"Dante Zorano. I am an associate of Acacia, located in Spain. However, my actions today are not related to my employer." His words sounded like a planned speech.

"Dante, may I ask you to lower your weapon."

He reached for her windbreaker, moving it open. "That is a nice gun. Is it a standard issued Glock?"

"Yes." She looked down at his hand. He moved it back, placing his fingers on the Ruger. "Dante, I want to have a conversation with you. But first, I must ask that you lower your weapon."

"How about a compromise?"

"I will not give up my weapon, if that is what you are thinking."

"No. I was thinking of something else." He raised the gun to his own skull. "There, now we can speak."

"You may have misunderstood me. I do not want the gun pointed at any-"

"Have you ever been splattered with blood?"

"No."

"Ever get brain fragments on that delightful skin of yours?"

"No."

"The thing about brain fragments is that skin and hair are mixed in. The bullet shatters the skull like broken glass."

"There is no need for that to happen."

"It has already happened," Dante whispered. "I have killed a man and a woman."

"Why?"

"Because they stole from me."

"Are you talking about the eight billion dollar payoff?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who told you about that?"

Lindi considered her answer carefully. Lying to an HT was common practice. But she assumed that Dante was well informed. "Carl Bradburn told me."

"That does not make sense."

"Why?"

"By taking the money, he committed a crime. Why would Carl Bradburn tell you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Only I was involved with the payoff. Not my boss or anyone else at Acacia."

"I understand."

"Xavier Damina had nothing to do with the payoff." Dante's voice rose to a nervous and desperate pitch. "I am acting alone."

"I believe you."

He lowered the gun. "I have two more weapons tucked behind me; secured in my belt."

"Yes, I know."

"I offer this information, so that you can defend yourself."

"Why would I have to defend myself? Nothing is going to happen." She could actually see the vision of death formulating in his eyes. "Stay calm, Dante. We are just talking."

"You understand that I cannot leave this place. I will stay until my end." He pointed to the room. "These evil creatures will die with me. It is the only way."

"There are options."

"Such as?"

"You can leave with me and die in a prison cell." The words were harsh, but Lindi was running out of time. This psycho was going to lose control at any moment. "And those are not evil creatures. They are human beings. Real people with families."

"I am evil...agreed?"

Lindi met his gaze. "I do not understand what-"

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes."

"God has ten simple laws."

"The Ten Commandments."

"Thou shalt not steal." A tear spilt from his right eye. "The employees abandoned that law, without considering the punishment."

"We are investigating what the employees did. You can press charges instead of-"

"Thou shalt not lie," Dante whispered. His eyes were glossed, voice quivering. "Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness." He raised the gun, aiming at her skull. "Thou shalt not have no other gods!"

Lindi stepped back. "Dante, please stay calm." He was making his peace with God, which meant, he was about to end his time here on earth. Whoever got in his way would spend the afterlife with him. "Dante. Talk to me."

He stepped forward. "What is your prayer?"

"Excuse me?"

"Our Father, who is in heaven. Howl at his name."

Lindi took another step back. She hoped that Harlan could hear every word that they were saying. "Dante. Lower your weapon."

He continued with his own version of the Lord's Prayer. "Thy Kingdom will come. Thy will be done. As on earth and in heaven." He stepped forward, using both hands to hold the Ruger steady.

Lindi saw his tearful right eye through the scope. She had about ten more seconds before the bullet exploded from the Ruger into her face. In a desperate move, Lindi took a considerable step backwards and said, "Give us _one_ daily bread." That was a signal for Harlan to get a sniper ready. She continued walking backwards, taking each step with careful precision; down the hallway, toward the front lobby.

Dante's movements were slow, with the barrel of the Ruger aimed perfectly for a kill shot. "Forgive my sins." His voice quivered. "As I forgive the sins of others."

"Lead not _two_ people into temptation," Lindi said. They arrived in the lobby. Her eyes darted around the room. Four large windows were near the entrance by a sliding glass door. Six smaller windows were located high near the ceiling. Was Harlan in position? Did he have a sniper ready?

"Deliver me from sin." Dante stopped moving. "For you are the kingdom, the power, and the glory...for ever and ever..."

Lindi yelled, "Three!" She dove to the left as Dante fired at point blank range. Glass shattered behind her. She rolled on the floor and retrieved her gun, blindly aiming it at Dante.

Disoriented, Lindi took one more second to regain her focus. It did not matter. Dante was on the floor, with blood draining from his temple. The sniper killed Dante on the three-count, with just one shot.

A rush of S.W.A.T. and Emergency Response Team filled the lobby. Lindi lowered her weapon and lied face up on the floor, attempting to slow her breathing.

She saw several officers run past her line of sight. Harlan stepped over her, looked down, and smiled. "Well, imagine that...you are still alive."

Lindi had only one thought... _Amen_.

### 145

Commander Lance Crestwood had Pamela Nystrom's body removed. He then questioned the employees. "Carl Bradburn claims that all of you accepted an illegal payoff from Acacia, totaling eight billion. You lied about it to the police during your last hostage situation. Is this true?"

Jay became the spokesperson. "None of these people received a payoff. I have the checks right here in my briefcase." He opened the silver case and handed the stack of cashier's checks to Crestwood. "Since none of these people actually received the money, they cannot be held responsible. And even if they did receive the money, they still would have time to claim it on their taxes. So nothing illegal has transpired."

Crestwood flipped through the checks. "You are a smooth talker." His eyes spread over the room. "What really happened at Bradburn Industries?"

Jay answered. "We were kidnapped by greedy Carl Bradburn bodyguards. They wanted the money. Plain and simple."

Crestwood intensified his gaze. "No, it is not so plain and simple. Eight people were killed during that hostage takeover. A woman was murdered today, not to mention a police officer who just retired."

Jay stepped forward. "And we are victims. But I suppose this will be handled in typical Hillsboro Police fashion. Give into the hostage-takers and make the hostages suffer."

Crestwood turned and addressed the group. "I will hold onto these checks as evidence and will be in touch with each of you personally. I suggest all of you obtain lawyers."

They were escorted outside by officers. Jay Nicken did not seem too worried.

### 146

Events that led up to the "Holiday Inn Hostage Situation."

Leo Rosario, an employee for Liam Raines, now working for JC, flew to Hillsboro, Oregon. Jay had requested JC's assistance. In return, Jay would pay ten million.

When Jay arrived at the Cash Advance store, he walked inside, leaving the bulk of the six billion in the fifteen-foot truck. Leo had been waiting for him.

"You were right to ask for our help," Leo said. He was well over three hundred pounds, leather skin, and thick hair. Leo may have moved slow, but he was useful to Raines. Now, he would be useful for JC.

A young employee was behind the counter, his back to them. He was busy working on a printing job.

Jay approached Leo. "Has someone been following me?"

"Not just one person...two."

Jay's eyes became distant. "Damn." His voice was low. "Who?"

"Some cop." Leo handed Jay a glossy photo. "Do you recognize him?"

"Yeah. He is the Situation Commander for the police. I actually talked to the guy." Jay handed the photo back. "Is he investigating me?"

"No. That wouldn't be his job."

Jay leaned against the counter. "He's knows about the money."

"It would appear so."

"How?"

"This will answer your question." Leo handed him another glossy. It was a picture of Pamela and Fletcher eating lunch at a sandwich shop.

Jay's heart skipped a beat. "Pamela and Fletcher are married?"

"No, just fucking."

Jay's veins pumped with anger. "She must have told Fletcher everything, but that mother-fucker was going to steal the money instead of arresting me."

Leo let out a chortle, followed by a light whistle that blustered from his nostrils. "Most cops are dirty. You should know that."

"It's a good thing Fletcher _is_ dirty." Jay tossed the photo on the counter. "Or else I would be in jail right now." He paused, thinking about how smooth things went with the Bradburn hostage situation. Jay had gone through great lengths to corrupt Marcus Cane. But that was all for nothing. The real cop that orchestrated everything was Daniel Fletcher. "Who else is following me?"

Leo handed him another glossy photo. "He's been watching both you and that cop."

Jay studied the picture. "This guy works for Acacia."

"Probably sent here to get the money back. He and that cop were both at the building earlier today and watched you load up the truck."

Jay crumpled the photo. "And he plans on killing all who were involved."

"That could be good for you," Leo suggested.

"How so?"

"He murdered the cop already today."

Jay shook his head. "Fletcher is dead? You're kidding?"

"Nope. And the girlfriend will probably be next." Leo pointed a meaty finger at Jay. "And then he'll get you."

Jay wasn't too concerned. "I'm okay, just as long as I have the money. He won't go back to Spain empty handed."

"Expect him soon."

"I am supposed to meet Pamela and the other employees at the downtown Holiday Inn. I'm sure he will show up."

The young man behind the counter turned around and handed Leo a stack of cashier's checks. "Here you go, Mr. Rosario."

Leo flipped through them, reached in his pocket, and dropped a roll of hundreds on the counter. "There is ten grand. Buy yourself a girlfriend."

The young man's face lit up. "Thank you, Mr. Rosario."

Leo handed Jay the cashier's checks. "There you go. All of them are made out to the employees."

Jay held up the stack. "And their fake?"

"Yep." He gave Jay a set of keys. "There is a Ford Focus outside. You can take that."

They shook hands. It was nerve-racking handing over the billions to Leo, but there wasn't much choice. Jay turned and headed for the door. "Tell JC that the employees and I will see him in Pittsburgh."

### 147

"My name is Jay Nicken," he said to the bubbly woman at the front desk inside the Holiday Inn. "I have a reservation for conference room D."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a sunny grin. "You are all set."

"We've had some protestors bothering us," he lied. "Can you keep an eye out?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you." Jay walked down the hallway to the conference room.

As the employees arrived, he whispered to each of them the same orders. "We are going to Pittsburgh."

This would do two things. First, the employees could leave town. Second, the money would be exchanged under JC's protection. None of this was a surprise to Jay. When billions of dollars were at stake, shit will happen.

Pamela stood right next to him. "I don't like changes," she whispered.

Jay stared into her lying eyes. "I couldn't agree more."

"Why Pittsburgh?"

"It's safer." He raised his hand and addressed the group. "Okay, let's get started."

The partition flew open. "Nobody move!"

A first, Jay thought the police had barreled through the door. Then he realized who it was. "Right on schedule," Jay said to himself.

Several of the female employees screamed. No one was expecting someone to attack them in the middle of their meeting.

Except for Jay of course.

### 148

When Keb arrived at Pittsburgh International Airport, he purchased the next flight to anywhere, which was Dallas. From there, he would obtain a passport and head to Europe. His flight departed in fourteen minutes. That could not come soon enough.

"Hello, Drift," a voice said from behind.

Keb turned and saw JC.

The airport was busy with thousands of a people racing to catch a plane; not to mention all the security. Keb felt safe at the moment and was thankful he didn't use the restroom, or he'd already be dead. "Hey. I was just coming to see you."

JC produced a trivial grin. "Do you have the four million?"

Keb padded his suitcase. "In here."

"Let's go."

He had no choice but to follow JC to the parking garage. The knife crossing Keb's neck was merciful. JC proficiently slid the blade along the skin, opened the wound, and threw Keb to the ground.

### 149

Marcus had been watching the entire hostage situation on television. While sipping a beer, he felt like a baseball player that was sent down to the minor leagues. Meanwhile, the team he used to play for went to the World Series.

To Marcus's surprise, the reporter claimed that the people in the hotel are the same as the employees from the Bradburn hostage situation.

Lindi ran into the building. It was announced about ten minutes later that the hostage-taker had been killed.

"Well done," Marcus said.

He watched as the hostages were safely escorted away from the Holiday Inn. Marcus leaned forward, studying Jay Nicken's expression. He appeared angry, or possibly irritated, yet it almost seemed as if he contained a self-assured smirk. Maybe he had been busted? The entire plan could have blown up in Jay's face.

Marcus's cell rang. "Marcus Cane."

"It's Lindi."

"Way to make me look bad," he said sarcastically. "In all seriousness, you did a terrific job."

"Crestwood isn't satisfied."

"Why?"  
"These employees of Bradburn Industries are hiding something. Don't you get that feeling as well?"

Marcus cringed. "Maybe."

"Well, Crestwood is doing a full blown investigation. I think everyone involved will be arrested by the end of the week."

"Sounds great." Marcus figured he would be arrested by tomorrow.

"I can't believe Daniel is gone." Her voice tapered off. "It's just so..."

"Wrong," Marcus said, finishing her sentence. "I saw on the news that the hostage-taker was the one who murdered Fletcher."

"All evidence is pointing in that direction." Lindi paused. "Did you know that Daniel was dating an employee at Bradburn Industries?"

Marcus stood up, clenching the phone. "No." He pulled in a quick breath. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Her name was Pamela Nystrom. The same woman who was killed today."

"I remember her."

"Why wouldn't Daniel say something during the Bradburn hostage situation? Why wouldn't he tell us that his girlfriend was inside the building?"

Marcus suddenly realized the answer. Fletcher was part of the plan. Jay must have gotten to him as well. Looking back, it made perfect sense. Fletcher broke every rule in the book. Now, he's dead.

And Marcus would be next.

"You there?" Lindi asked.

Marcus pressed _END_ on his cell.

### 150

Carl Bradburn slid into the limousine.

"Where to, sir?" the female driver asked.

"The office in San Francisco." Despite everything Carl was going through, he needed to finish closing down Bradburn Industries. It was a job that could take months.

The limo pulled away from his driveway. "Sir, can I ask you a question?"

He wasn't in the mood. "What is your name?"

"Montana."

"Montana? Like the state?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I do not like chit-chat. No offense."

"None takin." She glanced in the mirror. "So can I ask you a question?"

Carl shifted in the leather seat. "No, you may not."

"Don't you hate it when people say, 'Can I ask you a question.' I think it's frustrating."

"Actually, I think it is frustrating when one of my employees cannot follow simple instructions. I do not want to talk. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who hired you anyway?"

She pulled the limo to the curb, cut off the engine, and turned around. "You did, sir." She lifted the long handgun, aiming it at his head. "I really do only have one quick question and then you won't hear from me again."

Carl raised his hands in a defensive position. "You are the person that I hired to hunt down those employees?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because, Xavier doubled my price. When Dante failed, I suppose Xavier figured a woman was better for the job."

"How do you even know Xavier? I thought you worked for me?"

"No. I work for a guy you know, who knows another guy, who hired me." She cocked her head. "Are you really that self-absorbed? You aren't the only CEO who has people like me on the payroll."

"What do you want?"

"I've already told you. I need a question answered."

Carl remained frozen, with his hands at shoulder length. He swallowed, sweat drizzling down his face. "What is your question?"

"Are you under the impression that losing eight billion would not cost your life?"

"I have two billion at the house. I can give that to you right now."

"No need. I'll get it."

"My family is home."

Montana gripped the gun with both hands. "Yes. I know."

She squeezed the trigger.

### 151

"Please!" Alicia Bradburn screamed. "Shoot me. Not my children!"

Montana had already killed the four security guards at the house. She tied the wife and two daughters up. "You have to understand the price of fame and fortune. Sometimes, things don't go as planned."

Alicia's eyes were saturated with tears. "We have money. I can pay you."

Montana raised the gun. "Where is the two billion your husband stole?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm telling the truth!"

Gibby, the oldest daughter, spoke up. "It could be in our safe room."

Montana pressed the barrel of the gun on the tip of Gibby's nose. "I don't want you to guess. I want you to be sure."

Her lips began to quiver. "I am sure. My father doesn't know I go in there, but I've seen the money."

Alicia shouted, "You little brat!"

Montana moved the gun back in front of Alicia. "Should I kill mom?"

"No," Gibby replied. "Just get the money and leave."

Montana gave them a smirk. "If I am not back in five minutes, you are free to untie yourselves and call the police."

Theresa, the fourteen-year-old asked, "What if you _are_ back in five minutes?"

Montana rubbed the handle of her gun. "Well, that means I have not found what I'm looking for, so I would need to kill you."

### 152

Marcus was startled by simultaneous ringing. First the doorbell, followed by his cell phone. He jogged to the front door while looking at the number on his cell. It was the office. "This is Marcus Cane." He opened the door.

"Marcus. This is Captain Flower."

Standing on his porch was a young girl about fifteen, with dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Her outfit was new. Even her shoes looked as if she had just worn them from the store. "Yes captain. What can I do for you?" He covered the phone. "May I help you?" he asked the girl.

Captain Flower: "You will not be going in front of review board after all, which means you can come back to work."

Girl: "I need to speak with you. It's important."

Marcus put his finger up. "That's great news, captain. I'll stop by later."

Captain Flower: "I'll be here."

Marcus flipped his phone shut. "I'm sorry about that. How can I help you?"

"May I come in?" she asked.

He looked past her to the street and in both directions. No one else was around. "Sure. Step inside." Marcus waited for her to come in, then he closed the door. "Are you okay?"

"My name is Brianna Overton. I was involved with the Carl Bradburn thing."

Marcus sat on the edge of the couch. "The Carl Bradburn _thing_?"

"Yes. I pretended to be one of his kids. We flew to Hawaii and everything."

He was beyond shocked. "Are you the homeless girl?"

She shook her head yes. "Not anymore. Someone paid me a million dollars to pretend..." Her eyes welled up with tears. "I just feel so guilty."

"Do you realize the FBI is looking for you?"

"Yes." She lunged forward and hugged Marcus. "I'm so afraid!"

He rubbed her back. "Calm down, honey. Why are you afraid?"

"Because." She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I saw on the news that Mr. Bradburn is dead. So is the guy that came to the homeless shelter." She started crying again. "I think someone is going to kill me next!"

It started to make sense why he was being called back to work. Everyone involved with the Bradburn hostage situation was being eliminated.

He held her shoulders and leaned down, leveling their eyes. "Was the guy that paid you the same one that took you from that homeless shelter?"

"No. It was someone else."

"Did you get a good look at his face?"

She sniffled. "Yes."

Marcus let go of her shoulders and stood tall. Brianna was not being paranoid. Her life really was in danger. "Where is the woman who pretended to be Mrs. Bradburn and the older girl who pretended to be the other daughter?"

"They went to a place in Florida. It's called...Key something."

"Key West?"

"That's it."

Marcus rubbed his chin. "Were there any other people involved?"

"Lot's," she said. "Can I have a glass of Coke or something?"

"Sure." He led her to the kitchen. "Take a seat."

Brianna sniffled. "I hitchhiked all the way here."

"From where?" Marcus grabbed a glass and opened the fridge. He only had beer and bottle water. "Sorry, no Coke." He snagged one of the bottle waters and handed it to her.

"I was supposed to drive with Addison and Ms. Nenet to Florida, but I chickened out. We were in Utah when I changed my mind and came back."

"Wait here a second." He rushed from the kitchen, raced upstairs and grabbed his laptop in the spare bedroom. His own million dollars remained untouched in the closet. On the way back down, he booted the laptop up.

In the kitchen, he sat down next to Brianna and scooted his chair close to her, with the laptop in front of them. "I am going to show you a picture of someone." On the AOL homepage, Marcus saw the story about Carl Bradburn's murder. He had been killed in a limo, just a few minutes from his home. Marcus typed in the Bradburn Industries website. There was an announcement of the company closing. Next, he pulled up the employee list with their pictures and clicked on Jay Nicken. "Do you know this man?"

"Yes. He was the one that paid me the million dollars."

Marcus looked at her. "Where is the money?"

She forced a smile. "It's in a duffle bag on your porch."

He stood up and jogged to the front door, opened it, and found the bag to his left near the porch rail. Not a great place to have a million dollars in cash. He snatched the bag up and returned to the kitchen, placed it on the table and looked inside.

Sure enough, there were several stacks of cash. "This is a lot of money for a girl your age."

She snickered. "It's a lot of money, no matter how old you are."

He gave her a comforting grin. "Touché." He sat down, returned to his laptop and went to Google. "You said the guy that picked you up from the shelter had been murdered as well."

"Yes. I saw it on the news when we stopped at a hotel."

"Was he in Oregon?"

"No. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania."

Marcus did a search and found a story about Keb Driftwood who was murdered in the parking lot at Pittsburgh International Airport. A mug shot of him was attached to the article. "Is this the guy?"

"Yes."

He scanned over the story, discovering that Keb had connections to Liam Raines. Marcus knew the King of Pittsburgh. He also knew that Liam had died of a heart attack. "You said there were others with Jay and Keb?"

"Yes." She pointed to a picture at the bottom of the screen. "That guy was there."

Marcus read the paragraph. There was name under the photo of Jermane Colombrao, also known as JC. He had been questioned by Pittsburgh police for the murder of Keb Driftwood, but not arrested.

Marcus's cell phone rang. He answered while reading the article. "Marcus Cane."

"Hey, it's Captain Flower again. I need you here now."

"What's going on?"

"Well, a lot. The FBI is in my office. They want to ask you a few questions."

### 153

"I need to go," Marcus said to Brianna. "But I don't want to leave you here alone." His mind raced with possibilities on why the FBI wanted to speak with him. How long could he survive with a guilty conscience? How long before he was arrested? How long before a bullet was put in his skull?

"I could go with you?" Brianna suggested.

"Excuse me?"

"To the police station. I could go with you."

"The FBI is there."

"So?"

Marcus bent forward and looked right into her eyes. "The...Fed's...are...looking...for...you."

"I'm not stupid, you know."

Marcus stood tall. Maybe bringing her was not such a bad idea. At least she would be safe.

On the other hand, if someone recognized her, Marcus would no longer be an employee of the Hillsboro Police Department. He would be a guest.

### 154

At the police station, Marcus led Brianna upstairs. "You can wait in my office." He pointed to the door. "Stay there. If anyone asks who you are, just say..." He was stumped. What could she say?

"I am your niece?" Brianna suggested. She adjusted the duffle bag full of cash on her shoulder.

"That won't work. Everyone knows I only have a young nephew."

"I am your long lost daughter?"

He smiled. "Don't be a smartass."

"How about this. I am looking for my parents and will only speak with you about it."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Where are your parents?"

Brianna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. And I don't care." She walked to his office and went inside.

"Marcus!" Captain Flower said.

He approached his boss, shook hands, and stepped in the office.

A young man in a blue suit, white shirt, and red tie had been sitting in front of the desk. He stood up and greeted Marcus. "Hey there. I'm FBI Agent, Andrew Shay."

Marcus thought that Andrew looked as old as Brianna. "Nice to meet you." They sat down.

Flower took his seat behind the desk. "Andrew just has a few questions for you."

"Fire away," Marcus said. His heartbeat began to accelerate. A bead of sweat threatened to slide from his forehead. If Andrew were experienced at all, he would notice that Marcus was guilt-ridden about something.

"Well, first I want to say how impressed I was with how you handled the Bradburn hostage situation."

"Really?" Marcus glanced at Flower. "Not everyone would agree with you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Andrew said, crossing his legs. "You broke just about every rule of hostage negotiation."

"Thank you," Marcus said with heavy sarcasm. "So what is on your mind?"

"The sixty-three remaining employees at Bradburn Industries have disappeared, along with their families. It was like some alien came down and snatched them away."

"That is upsetting." It was a stupid thing to say, but Marcus could not think of anything else.

"We are doing several investigations, including tax evasion, murder, kidnapping, theft, and so on."

"I see."

"You spoke with the hostages. Did you get a sense that something else was going on?"

"Besides being held hostage?"

"Yes."

Marcus had been trained to tell when someone was lying. The more he attempted to avoid the signs of remorse, the more he felt guilty. "This was my first hostage situation with over seven people. Everything seemed strange."

Andrew slid a notebook from his back pocket. "I spoke with a..." he looked down at his notes. "Detective Lance Crestwood." Andrew's eyes rolled up. "He told me that you did some extra investigating in the building."

"Yes."

"Is that something you do all the time?"

"No. But like I said, this was a strange hostage situation."

"You said the word _strange_ two times now. What exactly was so bizarre?"

Marcus shifted in his seat. "How everything transpired. The HT's ended up dead. All the money was returned to Carl Bradburn's accounts. And the two billion inside was saved."

Andrew made a quick note. "There had to be someone else working with the hostage-takers. More likely, there were several others. Do you agree?"

"It seems plausible." Marcus thought about Keb Driftwood who had been murdered in Pittsburgh. Then there was JC, also in Pittsburgh. Suddenly, Marcus realized where Jay was meeting all the employees.

Flower cleared his throat. "Is something wrong, Marcus?"

His thoughts remained distant. "Huh?"

Andrew flipped his notebook shut. "He asked if something was wrong."

"Oh...I..." Marcus reached up and flicked away the bead of sweat that finally slid down the side of his face. "This hostage situation doesn't seem like it ended. It is incredible that those employees were held hostage a second time. What are the odds of that?"

"Improbable," Andrew replied. "So you believe the employees were up to something else?"

Marcus had to decide right now if he was going to tell the truth or forever be part of the unknown. He thought about his sister and nephew in Tulsa, along with his mother in Florida. If Jay was working with a crime family in Pittsburgh, then all those who were involved were in danger. Daniel Fletcher, Pamela Nystrom, and Carl Bradburn were perfect examples. "We can chase our tails all day long trying to understand what the heck is going on. A better question is this, 'What was gained after the Bradburn hostage situation?'" If the FBI could really answer that question, Marcus would end up in prison.

"Was anything _gained_?" Andrew questioned. "I don't believe that over sixty people can keep a secret."

Captain Flower had his own theory. "There are two reasons a large amount of people will keep a secret, even if it meant breaking the law. Someone could have threatened their lives. Second, they could have been given a large amount of money."

"Maybe it's both." Marcus wanted to contribute to the discussion. Actually, he just wanted to get the hell out of this office.

Andrew: "The employees were meeting at the Holiday Inn to collect. Each were about to receive a cashiers check for exactly $93,562,500. However, all the checks were phony." Andrew stood up. Marcus and Flower did the same. "It would be helpful if we knew what these employees got mixed up in. Until that happens, we will have more questions than answers." He shook hands with Flower, then Marcus. "Thanks for your help."

Marcus waited for him to leave. "This is one time I am glad the FBI is handling the case. It's way over our heads."

"What the heck is going on?" Flower rushed around his desk. "You weren't telling Andrew the truth. He may be some rookie, but I've been around. Now fill me in on what you kept from that Feddy boy."

### 155

Marcus felt like a snake. "I'm really not hiding anything." He thought about how he was hiding plenty, including a teenager in his office with a million dollars in cash.

Flower did not seem satisfied with that answer. He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"If you were forced into an illegal situation beyond your control, would you tell me?"

Marcus lowered his head, diverting his eyes. "Actually, no, I would not tell you." He strained to look at Flower. "Something went wrong at the Bradburn hostage situation and I was caught in the middle. What I was forced to do, was both illegal and immoral."

Flower pulled in a deep breath. "Did you save more hostages because of what you did?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Is this going to blow up in your face?"

"If it does, we never had this conversation."

Flower was quiet, gazing at Marcus. "What about Fletcher? Was he sucked into the same trap?"

"I have no idea." Marcus shook his head. "It's possible."

Flower stood tall and walked back to his chair. He plopped down, rubbing his chin. "I've made it this far with a clear conscious. What do you expect from me?"

"Nothing," Marcus said. "This is my problem."

Flower opened his desk drawer and retrieved Marcus's badge and gun. He slid them across the desk. "How much time do you need to fix this problem?"

"Twenty-four hours," Marcus said. "If I can't solve it by then, I'll tell you everything and accept whatever punishment is handed down."

Flower held his gaze on Marcus. "It seems to me, that you are punishing yourself."

### 156

Marcus's office was empty. Brianna was nowhere to be found.

He asked a female officer to check the restroom. No luck. He checked each floor and made his way to the surveillance room. An overweight officer, who was fifty-three with thin round glasses that looked silly on his large face, was sitting at the desk, eating a Big Mac. In front of him were ten monitors that shifted through every part of the police station, including the outer perimeter.

"Bobby," Marcus said. "Put down your lunch."

"This is just a snack," he said with a cheesy smile. "Lunch is in an hour."

"Pull up the sixth floor."

Bobby wiped his hands with a napkin, then clicked one of the hundreds of buttons. He pointed to the nearest monitor. "Here you go."

"Rewind."

Two more clicks and the surveillance video went backwards. "What are you looking for?"

"A young girl. She was a witness." Marcus leaned forward, eyes studying the monitor. He saw Brianna at the edge of the stairs, her body going in reverse to his office. "That's her. See where she goes."

Bobby switched to the camera on the stairs. Brianna scurried down to the first floor, the duffle bag dangling from her shoulder. Bobby switched cameras and followed her outside. A mini van pulled up to the curb. She climbed in and the van sped off. "She must have changed her mind," Bobby said, picking up his Big Mac. He sunk his teeth deep inside the burger.

"Go back to the van and zoom in."

With special sauce on the tip of his fingers, Bobby did as he was told. "Looks like a woman driving, young girl in the passenger seat, and...What the hell is in the back?"

"A child in a car seat." Marcus walked away. "Thanks, Bobby."

As Marcus exited the building, he already decided his next move. He would fly to Pittsburgh and catch up with Jay and the other employees. If he missed them, they would be gone forever.

### 157

A woman with short brown hair, thin build, wearing a bombers jacket and jeans, stopped Marcus as he headed toward the parking lot. "Are you Lieutenant Marcus Cane? I would like to speak with you for a moment?"

"I am in a hurry." He saw the disappointment in her eyes. "Walk with me."

"Thank you. My name is Montana."

"Like the state?"

She smiled. "Gee. Never heard that one before."

They continued walking. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to ask a few questions."

They arrived at his unmarked police cruiser. "You don't seem like a reporter," Marcus said.

"No, I'm not."

"Are you FBI?"

She raised one of her thin eyebrows. "Why would think that?"

"You have a weapon under your jacket and a backup under your pant leg."

"Very observant."

"It comes with the job. So, are you a Fed?"

"No. I am not a Federal agent, or a cop." Her gaze became hard. "I am a hired assassin."

Marcus reached for his gun, but did not draw. "You have three seconds to explain why you would say something like that to a police officer."

"Let's make something clear. You draw your gun and I'll have no choice but to kill you."

Marcus squeezed the handle of his weapon, but did not pull it from the holster. "And now, you have _threatened_ a police officer."

"You have a million dollars in cash hidden in a closet. Also in the closet are leftovers of what used be your wife." She reached out and firmly removed Marcus's hand from the Glock. "Tell me something. Why would a cop have a million dollars inside two duffle bags?"

He wanted to reach down and retrieve his weapon, but his nerves seemed to shatter. "What do you want?"

"I also know you have a sister and nephew in Oklahoma, along with a mother in Florida."

"Tell me what you want," he said through his teeth.

"It's simple. I was hired by Carl Bradburn to retrieve the six billion that was stolen from him and Dr. Sedgwick. Then, assassinate all who were involved."

"But you killed Carl Bradburn instead."

"Yes. That was for two reasons. First, Xavier Damina, owner of Acacia, doubled by fee. Second, it was unlikely I would murder sixty-four people. That would bring an endless amount of heat on me."

"I repeat, what do you want?"

"Information on the whereabouts of the Bradburn employees. Also, I need to know everything _you_ know."

Marcus curled in his lips and considered how deep he wanted to continue digging the hole he was in. "If I tell you, then the best I can hope for is to be implicated with the Bradburn heist. At worst, you will attempt to put a bullet in my head after you obtained the information you wanted. Or, I can keep quiet, then you will probably have no use for me and still put a bullet in my head. The other problem is that I do not know if you have a partner that will come after my family." He gave a deep sigh. "So make me believe why I have any choice right now."

Montana gave him a thin smirk. "It's not good business to murder a cop, especially a lieutenant in the police station parking lot. If you tell me what I know, then we can end this discussion."

"You can ask five questions. Fair enough?"

"That's fair," she responded without hesitation.

"Then start asking."

"Do you believe the employees have the money right now?"

"No. But they will soon enough."

"Do you know where the employees are?"

"Pittsburgh."

"Pittsburgh is a big city. Do you mind being more specific?"

"I believe they will meet at the Raines Building."

"Liam Raines? The King of Pittsburgh who recently died of a heart attack?"

"If I answer, that would be five questions. Do you want to rephrase?"

Montana diverted her eyes for a moment. "I know that Jay Nicken was the ringleader."

"Ask your question or walk away," Marcus snapped.

"Did Nicken ask Raines for assistance?"

"I would bet on it."

"But you do not know for sure?"

"That would be your last question."

She raised her hand. "Don't answer that." She thought for a moment. "What does that young girl who was with you, who got into the mini van with a woman, teenager, and kid, have to do with the hostage situation?"

Marcus did not want to answer that, fearing it would endanger Brianna and the others who pretended to be Carl Bradburn's family. "They were tricked by Keb Driftwood into being involved."

"Tricked?"

"You are out of questions." Marcus opened his car door. "The next time I see you, be ready to defend your life." He slid into the car.

Montana grabbed the door and prevented him from shutting it. "If you see me again, it will be the last few seconds of _your_ life." She let go of the door. "Goodbye Mr. Cane."

Marcus slammed the door shut, fired up the engine, and sped off. He was ashamed of the man he had become. He broke the law by not revealing the payoff that Jay had given him, along with his sister and mother. He lied to his boss and the Feds. And he gave an admitted assassin information so she could go after the Bradburn employees.

He had to make things right. Maybe not so much for himself, but for Olivia who watched over him from heaven.

Marcus returned home and called the airport to purchase a roundtrip ticket to Pittsburgh. He packed an overnight bag, along with his laptop.

In Pittsburgh, he was going to save his soul. If that meant spending the next ten years in prison, then so be it. Captain John Flower was promoted quickly up the chain of command, because he had the one true value that every police officer should honor.

A clear conscience.

### 158

Before boarding the plane, Marcus had to show his credentials and allow the airline to lock his weapon in a case. If he wanted to carry the gun on the plane, Marcus would need a written letter from his police chief.

Obviously, that was not going to happen.

In flight, Marcus researched the Raines building. It was originally called the Henry W. Oliver building. There are twenty-five floors and 470,000 square feet. Liam Raines purchased the one hundred year old building for thirty-four million, after the previous owner, LG Realty, defaulted on their loan.

This was Liam Raines first big investment in the realty business. During the market crash, Raines thrived on giving loans to those who did not have credit, which was pretty much every person and business.

The construction of the building was based on a design by Daniel Burnham, who also designed the city of Chicago. Erected as a memorial to Henry Oliver, the building features were classic in style, with a base of Doric columns, a facade of cream-colored terra cotta and an elaborate cornice below its roofline, 347 feet above ground that represented the business confidence of the age.

Marcus had no idea what that meant, but it sounded nice.

He was surprised that Liam Raines setup his office in the basement, rather than on the top floor. Instead, the upper ten floors were leased by Kimmel & Silverman, a law firm that specialized in the Lemon Law for new car defects. Most likely, Kimmel & Silverman had people on the payroll that worked in car plants all over the country. Inspectors and employees were paid to turn a blind eye on purposely-installed defects. Toyota had been the latest victim. Kimmel & Silverman made a bundle off the people who crashed their car because the gas pedals stuck.

The bottom fifteen floors were occupied by Cutting Edge Orthopedics. Marcus could not tell if they were involved with illegal activity, but he would bet they were.

"We are beginning our decent to Pittsburgh International Airport," the pilot said over the speaker. "It is a crisp twenty-nine degrees, with sunny skies. However, there are flurries in the forecast."

Marcus closed his laptop and shoved it in his duffle bag. He wondered if the employees had already been paid and were now gone, never to be found. Marcus also wondered if Jay Nicken was still in Pittsburgh. If so, what would Marcus say to him?

More importantly, what would Marcus do?

### 159

In a private jet flying to Pennsylvania, Xavier had said very little to Montana. Every minute that went by, his money could be gone forever.

"If it were six million, I would just let it go," Xavier explained. He had been like this the entire trip. Fidgeting and making broad, sometimes incoherent sentences. "Once those employees scatter like roaches, it will be impossible to get my money back. The only thing keeping my sanity in-tacked is that snake, Carl Bradburn, is fucking dead."

Montana had barely been paying attention. She was on her laptop, trying to comprehend how the employees traveled from Oregon to P.A., without being noticed. Their cars and minivans had been left behind. No plane tickets had been purchased. With all the resources available to the Fed's, they could not locate the employees. Even more astonishing, is that the employees were traveling with their family. It's hard to pick up and leave with kids, disappearing in just a blink of an eye.

A beautiful Spaniard flight attendant dressed in a tight blue skirt and white blouse, poured Xavier another brandy. Early on the flight, Xavier had taken the attendant to the private quarters. Ten minutes later, he returned to his seat frustrated. Montana guessed that he was too distracted to get it up. That's what happens when you become a billionaire. Money is more satisfying than sex.

"I got it!" Montana said.

Xavier showed no emotion. "What?"

"They boarded a cargo plane. Only there wasn't any cargo, it was the employees."

Xavier drank down his full glass of brandy and slammed it on the table. "How do you know?"

Montana had already clicked on the Raines building to do more research. While doing that, she explained to Xavier what had happened. "Cutting Edge Orthopedics has a freight forwarder. Probably so they can transport illegal prescriptions all over the country."

Xavier was not impressed. "Freight forwarder?"

"A big cargo plane."

"And what does that have to do with-"

"They have a small hub at Pittsburgh International Airport, mixed in with FedEx, UPS, Allstate Insurance, and SEKO. Cutting Edge sent their cargo plane to Salem, picked up the employees and their families, and flew them back."

"How did the families drive from Hillsboro to Salem without their vehicles?"

Montana shook her head and became irritated with Xavier. His mind was clogged with brandy and the obsession to get his money back. "They took a cab or bus; how the fuck should I know. The point is, that's how they were able to leave Oregon without being detected."

"I don't understand why Cutting Edge Orthopedics would get involved."

Montana kept her voice steady. "My guess is that they were paid well to assist with the employees escaping from Oregon to Pittsburgh. Most likely, the employees are giving up a portion of their money to Cutting Edge."

"My money," Xavier corrected.

Montana blew out a sigh. "Yes...your money." She turned her laptop so Xavier could view the screen. "Cutting Edge leases the bottom fifteen floors at the Raines building, which means, they were involved with Liam Raines. Now that he is dead, they are working with Jermane Colombrao, or better known as JC."

The pilot was on the speaker. "Mr. Damina, we will be landing in just a few minutes."

Xavier leaned forward. His dark eyes narrowed, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Get my money back. I don't care how you do it."

"No problem," Montana assured him. "Let's just hope no one gets in my way."

160

Marcus placed his duffle bag in an airport locker. He rented a car with a GPS and headed to the Raines building. Pittsburgh was actually colder than Oregon, with clear skies turning gray, along with the threat of snow. Marcus blasted the heater. He was dressed simple, with a brown sweater and his Glock tucked underneath.

It was probable that the employees had already received their money and have left the state, never to see each other or anyone else for a long time...if ever. The promise of riches certainly could sway the most loyal of people. Over ninety million was an amount reserved only for the wealthiest citizens in the world. He could understand why they stuck together throughout all this. The carrot at the end of the stick was made of gold.

Marcus had less of a problem with those employees, than he did of himself. He spent his life obeying the law. How could he change in a split second? That's all it took.

The worse part was that if the money were just for him, he would have told Fletcher, Harlan, and Lindi right away. His sister and mother being saved, was a much different story. He could not take away a dream come true.

Jay must have known this. He played Marcus perfectly. All these employees became experts in lying, deceiving, and stealing. Maybe the corporate life prepared them for immorality.

The Raines building was up ahead. Marcu drove to the back and found a parking lot with a sign that said, "$5.00 per hour or $25.00 per day." Marcus gave the attendant ten bucks and backed into a spot.

Now what?

He cut off the engine and looked around. That Montana woman may be here as well. She had the confidence of someone who was talented and experienced. That was a dangerous combination for a person with evil intentions. Confidence + Talent \+ Experience = Success. And if she was paid well by Xavier, it meant that she had unlimited resources.

Marcus decided that he had traveled all this way, he might as well get out of the car. The parking lot was like a wind tunnel. There was a moment when he expected a bullet in the head or chest. Montana could have been waiting, noticed that Marcus was alone, and splatter his brains with a single shot.

But that did not happen.

He jogged to the rear door and went inside the building, welcomed by a blast of heat. The hallways looked all of a hundred years old, painted olive with brown trim. Ahead, he could see the main entrance. If the building had security, they weren't around.

In quick fashion, he bypassed the elevators and went through a door that led to the stairwell. It was dimly lit, painted the same olive color. He continued to anticipate someone to appear. He shrugged it off as paranoia.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a door with a sign. "Raines Realty." Marcus retrieved his weapon and went inside.

A large man was sitting on a couch, reading the sports page. His fat doubled in size has he shifted, looking at Marcus. "Can I help you?"

"I am Lieutenant Marcus Cane, of the Hillsboro Police Department."

He threw the paper down, but did not get up. "Why are you holding a gun? We aren't the mob, you know."

Marcus was tempted to put it back in the holster, but his instincts told him to hold off. "Is Jermane Colombrao here?"

"JC is in the next room." He picked up the sports page and never gave Marcus a second glance.

After a moment of consideration, Marcus shoved the Glock in his holster, located under the sweater. He went through the next door.

A man with long black hair sat behind a desk, working on a computer. The makeshift office was cold, filled with dusty filing cabinets, all labeled. In the middle was an aged brown leather couch and matching chair. A lingering shadow projected from a small window that viewed the street.

He stopped typing and looked at Marcus. "What can I do for you?"

"I am Marcus Cane, of the Hillsboro Police Department."

He stood up. "I am JC. What can I do for you?" he repeated.

Marcus figured that both JC and the man in the lobby recognized him, because neither asked to see his badge or identification. "I am looking for Jay Nicken."

JC walked around the desk. "I'm sorry. Who?"

Marcus glanced back to make sure the other guy did not ambush him from behind. "Jay Nicken."

JC shrugged his shoulders. "No idea who you are talking about."

"Where are the Bradburn employees?"

"No clue."

He was lying. Marcus could see it in the way JC gripped his pant leg when answering the question. His eyes also rolled upward. Marcus took a brave step forward. "Are you going to tell me, or should I call the Pittsburgh Police and have them come here to give me a hand?"

JC shook his finger at Marcus. "Okay, now I remember you. Aren't you the negotiator?"

"Yes."

"And I was told that you were paid a million dollars." JC eased forward, so now they were standing face-to-face. "Your sister was given $500,000 and your mother's house was paid off."

"Where is Jay?" Marcus asked again. His heart banged against his chest. The room seemed to be getting smaller.

"Get the fuck out of here," JC said. "Go back to Oregon and see a priest or psychologist. Bringing your guilty conscience here is just plain stupid."

"Where is Jay Nicken. Tell me right now."

The door behind him opened. Marcus stepped away from JC and retrieved his weapon. The large man held his hands up and said something in Italian.

Marcus wasn't getting anywhere. JC was right. This was stupid. "I am going to walk out of here...agreed?"

JC pointed to the large man. "Let him by."

Marcus did not wait for the guy to move. He blew right past him, through the smaller room, to the doorway, and up the stairwell. As he rushed into the hallway, Marcus took in a deep breath. "What the hell am I doing?" he whispered.

The elevator dinged. Marcus shoved the Glock back in the holster, making sure it was hidden under his sweater.

A pregnant woman walked out, wobbling at a slow pace. Accompanying her was a man carrying two suitcases. A little girl about seven was right next to him. Marcus stared at the woman as they came closer.

She stopped. "Oh shit."

"Mommy!" the little girl shouted. "You said a bad word!"

The man looked at Marcus, then back to the woman. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes became wide with fear, gazing at Marcus. "It's..." Tears began to stream down her face. She let go of the stroller and leaned against the wall. "Oh God! I am going to jail!"

Marcus put his hand up. "Calm down." He greeted the man. "I am Lieutenant Marcus Cane from the Hillsboro Police Department."

The look of defeat washed over the man's face. "I am Jason Eastbrook. Are you here to arrest my wife?"

Marcus glanced in both directions to make sure no one else was around. His eyes went from the little girl, to Jason, to the pregnant woman. "You are Beth Eastbrook, an employee of Bradburn Industries. I remember when you were inside that building. I was under the impression that I had been negotiating your safe release." The statement was a little harsh, but well intended.

"I will give you back the money," Beth pleaded. "You have to understand that I was threatened. Jay had my personnel file and used it against me."

"And now, you are here collecting your money." Marcus's gaze became hard. "Was it worth the risk?"

Jason lifted one of the suitcases. "Here. Take the money. It's over ninety million."

"No thanks," Marcus said. He never looked away from Beth. "Just tell me where the other employees are."

"Upstairs, on the twelfth floor."

Marcus hit the elevator button. "I'll pretend that I never saw you. Just go."

"Thank you." Beth pulled him close for a quick embrace.

Just as the elevator door opened, Marcus felt a gust of cold air. Someone had come through the back entrance. He turned.

Montana was aiming a gun with a silencer.

Marcus lifted his sweater and drew his weapon. "Get in the elevator!"

Montana was able to fire a shot. The bullet exploded next to him in the wall. Plaster sprayed in small chunks on his face, as he shoved the family inside the elevator. Another shot had been fired, but hit the closing door. Marcus aimed the Glock, ready in case the elevator door went back open.

They were going up.

He noticed the little girl had pressed the button for the twelfth floor. "How many others are here?" Marcus asked.

"All of them," Beth cried. "We were the first to be paid."

Jason asked. "Who was that?"

"Someone hired by Acacia to get their money back." When the elevator door opened, Marcus exited.

Hundreds of people looked at him. The room was filled with employees of Bradburn, along with their families. Each had a suitcase open, waiting for their money.

Beth, Jason, and their daughter stepped out of the elevator and stood next to the others.

He studied the faces in the room. All had a mixture of guilt and terror.

"Who is this?" a man asked, sharply dressed in a gray suit.

"I am a police officer from Oregon." Marcus turned around and steadied his gun. "I want all the children at the far end of the room and hide behind a desk. In a few seconds, a woman will be here. She was hired by Acacia to retrieve the money." He heard a collective grown from behind. "If you give her the money, she may let you live. It's time to decide. Millions of dollars or your lives."

The stairwell door flew open.

161

JC burst into the room. His expression was pale and overcome with anger. He glared at Marcus. "I blame the next few seconds on you! In fact, I curse your fucking existence!"

Marcus aimed the gun at him. "Where is the woman?"

JC's head went forward, as if in slow motion. A mist of blood splattered the walls. Some of the employees screamed, others cried for help as the body fell to the floor.

A female voice yelled from the stairwell. "Marcus Cane! Put down your weapon!"

"Not a chance!" he shouted back.

"You do not have to die today."

"Neither do you."

There was a pause. "I am coming in. Don't shoot me."

Marcus narrowed his eyes and kept the gun aimed at the open door where JC's dead body was crumpled on the floor. When Montana appeared, Marcus yelled, "Put down your gun!"

She held the weapon to the side. "I don't want to kill anyone else. Just give me the fucking money!"

"Put...down...your gun."

Montana rolled her eyes to him. "You silly man."

The elevator door rang and opened.

Xavier walked in, along with Marcus's sister and nephew. Marcus's fingers went numb with shock. He could barely hold his gun.

"I had my people go get them," Xavier said. "Your mother didn't quite make the trip." Xavier positioned the gun on Aiden's head. Trudy had maroon rings around her eyes as if she had been crying for days. "Put down your weapon," Xavier ordered.

Marcus leaned down, placed the Glock on the floor, and kicked it toward the elevator.

Xavier let Trudy and Aiden go. They ran to Marcus, burying their faces in his chest. Xavier stepped forward. "You are quite a brave group," he said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Just remember something. This was not your money. You are thieves." His Spanish accent became intense. "Despite my eagerness to hand down a fierce punishment, you are fortunate that I have an ounce of mercy." He grinned. "Now. Bring me the money."

Montana had been aiming her gun at Marcus the whole time. "You are the fortunate one," she said to him. "I am begging you to play hero so I can demonstrate what a great shot I am from this distance."

Marcus hugged his sister and nephew. "Collect the money and go."

The man in the suit had the bulk of the cash. Marcus assumed that he was an employee at Cutting Edge Orthopedics, assigned to get this job done. He began placing stacks of cash in several suitcases. "It's not all there," he said with a shaky voice. "I would say there is about five billion."

"Where is the rest?" Xavier asked.

"Some went to JC. Some to my boss. And Jay has the rest."

Xavier examined the room. "Where is Mr. Nicken."

"I don't know. Gone-"

A shot rang from the stairwell, followed by two more shots. Montana dropped to the floor, hit all three times. Marcus ran toward the elevator where is gun was sitting. He picked it up and aimed toward the doorway.

The fat man from the basement walked into the room, holding a Magnum. Xavier raised his gun, but was too late. A bullet from the Magnum hit between Xavier's eyes, sending a large chunk to the floor, followed by Xavier's body.

The room was in chaos, with children screaming behind desks and the employees on the floor, praying for another chance.

Seeming not phased by killing two people, the large man said, "I am Leo Rosario. Since JC is dead, I am the new boss of Raines Realty." He stepped over JC's bloody corpse and moved like a tired elephant.

Leo walked up to the man in the suit. "Finish giving everyone their money." He faced the group of employees. "Afterwards, I want all of you to go and never contact me again."

Beth held her round stomach and asked Leo, "You are letting us keep the money?"

Leo's round eyes examined the room. "Of course I am."

Marcus figured that Leo was no different than JC or Liam Raines. It was bad business to screw people out of what they earned. Plus, his boss died to help the Bradburn employees. It was Leo's duty to kill Montana and Xavier.

"I have to stay," Marcus said. "I can't walk away from this crime scene."

A whistle blew from Leo's nose, as he tried to catch his breath from the long climb up the stairs. "Mr. Cane. If there was ever a time for you not to play cop, it's right now." Leo squeezed the trigger and shot Xavier again in the chest. The lifeless body never moved.

Marcus was left with only one choice. He waited for the employees to collect their money and escorted them from the building.

### 162

The employees scattered outside, either to their rented cars or to the street where they waved down a cab. It was as if Pittsburgh was about to be destroyed by a storm and everyone needed to get out of town.

"Beth!" Marcus shouted, attempting to catch her attention. Her husband was trying to beckon a cab, with no success. "Beth," Marcus yelled again, catching up to the pregnant woman.

She had a firm grasp on her daughter's hand. "What?"

"Where is Jay Nicken?"

"He left about an hour ago." A cab finally pulled up to the curb. Beth embraced Marcus with her free hand, tugging him close. "Thank you for everything." She lifted her daughter and maneuvered inside the cab.

Marcus turned and jogged back to the parking lot. Trudy and Aiden were standing by his car. "Let's get going," he said.

Trudy grabbed Marcus by his brown sweater. "We witnessed three murders! My son...your nephew...watched as two people were shot and killed. We were taken from our home and brought here to meet some foreigner who claimed _you_ stole from him." She let go of his sweater. "Why aren't you calling the Pittsburgh police? What are you guilty of?"

Aiden tugged on Marcus's pant leg. "We flew in a really cool private jet, Uncle Marcus."

"That's great," Marcus said. He brought his attention on Trudy. "The money you received was not from me."

The tears on Trudy's face seemed to stop moving, frozen in a misplaced moment of time. "Who was the money from? Why did you lie?"

"I was in the middle of a hostage situation and..." Marcus could not tell her everything. "Look. Keep the money. No one else is going to come after you." He slid out his cell phone and called their mother.

Amazingly, she answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Mom! It's Marcus. Are you okay?"

"Yes. But I'm heading to bingo."

"Has anyone approached you?"

"What the heck are you talking about?"

Marcus was relieved. "I'll speak with you later."

"Tomorrow would be better," his mother said. "Love you and goodbye."

Trudy stepped forward. "Is she okay?"

"Same old mom," he replied. "I want you to go with me to the airport. I'll buy the tickets to get you can Aiden home. When this blows over, I'll call you." He opened the back door. "Come on."

Trudy and Aiden climbed in the backseat. Marcus slid into the car, fired up the engine, and sped out of the parking lot.

Trudy asked, "Did you accept money for a bribe?"

His heart crumbled. "It's not like you think. I did not take a bribe. The money was delivered without my knowledge. Same thing with your money and mom's-"

"Mom?" Trudy shouted. "You got _her_ involved? Where is your soul?"

Marcus could not answer that question. He knew his soul had been turned, the second he kept quiet about what Jay was doing.

### 163

At Cal University, Jay tracked down a student named Maddie Koet. She majored in Medical Science and worked in the research lab.

When she approached, Jay shook her hand. Maddie had on jeans, white T-shirt, and had her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. "I'm Maddie Koet," she said with a curious smile. "You wanted to speak with someone from science research?"

"Yes." Jay reached down and picked up an open box full of manila folders.

She looked inside. "What is this?"

"Formulas," Jay replied. "It's the highlights of everything that Bradburn Industries had been working on."

Maddie shifted the box in her arms. "Is someone videoing this? Who sent you?"

"Don't be so paranoid. In your hands is the cure for arthritis and Alzheimer. There is a formula for cloning, which Dr. Sedgwick was close to perfecting. Additionally, there is proof that Bradburn Industries stole the Protropin formula, along with other vaccines. There are healing and therapeutic drug formulas for patients with all types of disorders, injuries, and diseases."

"Why are you giving me this?" Maddie asked.

Jay picked up his duffle bag full of cash, turned, and walked away.

### 164

Outside of the medical science building, Marcus sat on the hood of his car. Jay did not see him at first; not until he was walking by.

"Hello, Jay," Marcus said.

He stopped and looked at Marcus. Jay's impression when from shock, to fear, to disappointment. "How did you find me?"

Marcus slid off the car. "This was my last shot at looking for you."

Jay's head spun around. "Are you alone?"

"Listen, I know what you did was not about the money. You were a disgruntle employee, trying to get back at the corporate world. It was a perfect way for you to crush Bradburn Industries and possibly take Acacia down as well."

Jay's eyes shifted back and forth. "So where does that leave us?"

Marcus reached in his jacket, grabbed a pair of handcuffs, tugged Jay's arms back, and forced him to drop the duffle bag. Marcus then squeezed on the cuffs. "You are under arrest for the murders of Dr. Sedgwick, Yongsoo Chung, Megan Smoy-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jay squirmed, trying to look back at Marcus. "I'll make sure your sister and nephew are fucking killed. Then, I'll get your mother-"

"Not going to happen." Marcus opened the back door and shoved Jay inside. "Keb Driftwood and JC are dead. That only leaves Leo Rosario, but I don't think he'll be anxious to help you." Marcus slammed the door shut. He picked up the duffle bag, opened the driver's door, and tossed the duffle on the passenger's seat. With a feeling a satisfaction, Marcus took his time before climbing inside the car. "As I was saying, you are under arrest for the murders of Donny Malone, Jason Zimmer, Darnell Browning, Mike Harten, and Deshi Lung." Marcus fired up the engine. "There are other murder charges, but that should get you started."

"I'll rat you out," Jay said. "You took a payoff. So did your sister and mother."

Marcus put the gear in drive. He stared in the review mirror and made sure Jay was looking. "No one will believe you," Marcus said. "And if they do, so be it. I'll take whatever punishment is handed down."

"I'll split my ninety million with you." Jay had become desperate. "Even _you_ can't say no to that offer."

"No," Marcus said. He eased his foot down on the gas pedal. "As for the million you gave me, I think it would be best if it's donated to a homeless shelter in Portland." He looked in the mirror again. "You know the one I am talking about."

Before Jay could answer, Marcus felt a jolt on the driver's side door, which knocked the wind out him. He slumped over, unable to catch his breath.

The passenger's door opened. It was Brianna. "Sorry, Mr. Cane." She grabbed the duffle bag.

Marcus blinked his eyes back into focus and moved his head to the left. He saw a woman in a minivan. Next to her was a teenage girl. They backed away and sped off.

"Jesus," he moaned. The pinch in his ribs was horrific. He turned seeing that Jay was unconscious, but still breathing. Marcus gripped the steering wheel, fighting the pain in his left side.

Brianna was a setup, he thought. Nenet Washington, the woman who pretended to be Carl Bradburn's wife, must have convinced Brianna and the other girl, Addison Rigler, that it was possible to steal Jay's ninety million. When Brianna showed up to his house, she was searching for information.

A crowd of college students formed around the car. Someone approached and tapped on the window. "Ambulance is on the way."

For some reason, Marcus felt like his soul had been returned.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The Serenity Prayer

### 165

Roddy Brickel went into a grocery store and decided to run off with two bottles of wine. An employee tried to stop him on the way out the door. Roddy swung one of the bottles of wine and smashed it on the grocery clerks head, instantly knocking him unconscious. Roddy then dropped the second bottle of wine, splattering it on the floor. He turned around and pulled a gun from his pocket, demanding cash. The customer service employee opened her register and gave Roddy all the singles, fives, and tens. It was less than a hundred dollars.

After shoving the cash in his pocket, Roddy hurried out of the grocery store while firing a shot in the air.

Sirens in the distance. The police were coming.

In a full sprint, Roddy made his way through the parking lot and into a field. He kept running, with the sound of a helicopter above, and more sirens approaching.

A building was up ahead with a sign, "Swallowtail School. Educating a Childs Head, Heart, and Hands."  
He stopped and read the sign again. It did not make sense.

The helicopter circled from above. Roddy hurried into the school, just as an announcement came over the speaker. " _We are in a code red lockdown. All teachers and students are to make their way to the church building._ "

Roddy turned and went back outside, then ran to the building next door. He rushed inside and hid behind the altar. About a hundred students, ranging from pre-school to eighth grade, filed in. They were accompanied by nine teachers. One of them locked the door.

Roddy stood.

As if an evil presence was made aware to them, all eyes were on him. He fired a shot into the altar. The children screamed and began crying. "I want all the kids outside!" he roared. "All teachers, stay in the building!"

A teacher opened the door. "Go children!" The students ran from the building. When only the adults were left, the teacher shut the door and relocked it.

"I am not going to prison," Roddy assured them. He aimed the gun at the group. "You better start praying."

### 1

The Swallowtail School was located on the outskirts of downtown Hillsboro. With the siren blaring, Marcus weaved through traffic, imagining the violence that took place just a short time ago.

"Prolong the situation," he whispered to himself. "The longer I can prolong the hostage situation, the better chance I have to end this peacefully. Force the HT to give details. Do not ask questions that can be answered with a simple yes or no.

"Next, insure the safety of the hostages. Simplify the situation as much as possible. Keep things calm." As cars moved out of the way, Marcus sped past, zooming through red lights.

"HT's are volatile and will be aggressive to the hostages. HT's have their adrenaline pumping. Whomever I speak with, I must seem credible. I will pretend to understand the reasons why this had to happen. My voice will come across with authority. I'll appreciate the HT's position, but I must be stern and not eager to please.

"At some point, I need to make sure the HT forms a relationship with the hostages. I'll send food in bulk, so the HT is forced to distribute it. Same with medical supplies, blankets, and water. Everything will be in bulk."

Marcus arrived at the school. He slid out of the car while grabbing his windbreaker that had _Negotiator_ , embroidered in yellow. He put on the jacket with pride, then made his way through the chaos of media and officers. Several helicopters thundered from above.

Marcus gazed at the school and church building. Inside were nine people, praying that he would do a good job today. Every decision that Marcus made, will be the difference between them living or dying.

He entered the Command Trailer. Inside was the Situation Commander, Lance Crestwood. Also present was Kevin Harlan, Senior Tactical Operations Commander. Lindi Amerson had transferred to the Los Angeles Police Department and was their acting negotiator. Replacing her in Hillsboro as the Tactical Intelligence Advisor was a young man named Drew Mavis.

As Marcus signed into the command log, he heard Crestwood say over the radio, "Negotiator Marcus Cane has arrived...he has the ball."

The team joined Marcus at the table. A pen and notepad was positioned in front of him.

Marcus scooted his chair in, grabbed the pen and said, "Okay. Let's get started."

### Written by

### Ron Knight
