The phone rang in the dead of night. One ring, then a second. He sat up in bed and
turned on the light. It rang a third time as he rubbed his eyes and focused on the clock.
It was 2.43 a.m.
Someone was going to pay.
No one was to bother him at this hour. Not his high-priced attorney, his top
lieutenants, or anyone else in his organization. In his mind, they simply didn’t deserve
that kind of access. The only people he truly cared about slept under his roof. Everyone
else could fend for themselves – especially after midnight.
He was the boss. Those were his rules. No one would dare to break them.
The last person who did was no longer alive.
On the fourth ring, he picked up his BlackBerry, only to discover it wasn’t ringing. He
stared at the device, trying to make sense of things, wondering if it had been a dream.
His question was answered when he heard the fifth ring. That’s when he located the source
of the sound. It was coming from his private mobile phone on the dresser.
How could that be? Only three people had the number: his wife, his daughter and his
son.
He glanced back at his wife, whose naked form was partially concealed in a tangle of
sheets. God, she was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, huge breasts. The perfect trophy
wife. Three hours earlier, they had worn each other out. Now she was dead to the world.
Except for the rise and fall of her chest, she hadn’t moved in minutes. He knew she was
capable of some amazing things in bed, but placing a call without a phone wasn’t one of
them.
That left two possibilities: his daughter or his son. Suddenly anxious, he climbed out
of bed and hustled to his phone. Thanks to technology, he knew it couldn’t be a wrong
number. He subscribed to a service that required callers to punch in an access code before
the call was routed to his phone. The service cost a lot, but it was worth every peso. No
solicitors. No crank calls. No one got through except the people he loved.
At least they hadn’t until tonight. It was now 2.44 a.m.
His nightmare was just starting.
He glanced at his phone. The screen said, ‘Daniela Garcia’. The call had been placed
from his daughter’s mobile.
He answered the phone. ‘Daniela?’
The caller replied in English. His voice, digitally altered to conceal his identity,
sounded like something from a horror movie. ‘Is this Hector Garcia?’
‘Yes. Who is this? Where is my daughter?’
The voice laughed. ‘I have the bitch. I have your son, too.’
‘No, you don’t! You can’t!’ he said defiantly.
‘Is that so? You want me to call you from your son’s phone next?’
Hector nearly panicked. He ran his hand through his rumpled hair, imagining the worst.
In his business, he had made a lot of enemies – the kind who would do anything to
get even. Now someone had his children, the most important things in his life.
Or did they?
Hector hit the mute button on his phone and screamed at his wife, ‘Sofia!’
She rolled over and whined in Spanish, ‘I’m tired. What do you want?’
He snatched a book off his dresser and hurled it at her from across the room. It missed
her face by a few inches. ‘Wake the fuck up!’
Used to his temper, she took the insult in her stride. ‘What is it?’
‘The kids! Check their rooms! Tell me if they’re there.’
‘What?’ she said, confused.
‘Someone took my kids! Check their fucking rooms!’
She blinked a few times before it sank in, then sprang into action. She snatched her
bathrobe off the floor and sprinted towards the door while trying to get dressed. The
entire time she was cursing the devil in rapid Spanish.
Hector waited for her to reach the hallway before he hit mute again. In situations like
this, he couldn’t show weak-ness. Not to one of his enemies. If he did, the problem would
only get worse. ‘Do you know who I am? Do you know what I’m capable of?’
‘Of course I do. That’s why this is so much fun. After all these years, you’re on the
wrong end of a ransom call.
I bet you’re dying inside, not knowing if your children will make it through the night.
Knowing you’re not in control of who lives or dies.’
Hector growled at him. ‘I swear to God, if you hurt my kids – if you so much as lay a
finger on either of them – I will devote my life to finding you.’
The voice laughed at his bravado. ‘Your life? Shouldn’t you be more concerned
about their lives? Or don’t you care if they survive?’
He started to pace. ‘Of course I care! That’s all I care about.’
‘Really? Then why haven’t you asked the question?’
‘What question?’
‘Come on, Hector. You know the question. You hear it all the time.’
‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded.
‘Don’t play dumb with me! I know all about your organ-ization. I know how you make your
money. Over the years, how many times have you placed this call? How many times have you
heard the terror that you’re feeling now? One hundred? Five hundred? A thousand? During
those calls, I guarantee you’ve heard the same question over and over. Whether the
families were rich or poor, I guarantee they asked you the same fucking question. And yet
for some reason, you’re refusing to ask it. Is it ego? Is it denial? Is it hubris?’
Hector burned with fury. He knew precisely what the caller was talking about, but the
moment he asked the question, he knew he had lost control of the situation. With that in
mind, he refused to ask it until he knew for sure that his children were missing.