by Dwayne Gill
“Hart left the house, with no answers, again,” said Amos. “I thought it was time to take charge. The women had their guards down, so I made a move. And it paid off.”
Vinson glared at him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve already talked to Cane,” said Amos. “This girl assures he won’t meddle with our plans for Daniel.”
Vinson laughed. “Cane, Daniel. Then there’s the other guy. You and the others have bought into them, haven’t you? They’re not important—they’re just three men. We’ve had all of our lives to prepare for our moment. They’re twenty-five years behind.”
Amos knew Vinson was probably right, but he reserved more caution. Vinson was confident, arrogant even, in his approach to their plans, and he thought no one could stop him, especially not three men alone. Amos agreed with him, but he also knew these men could, at the least, be nuisances. And he’d rather not take unnecessary risks and assume they wouldn’t be a problem down the road.
“I’m sorry,” said Vinson. “I will admit that what you’ve done is a good solution. We want to dispose of Daniel as quietly as possible, and with Cane out of the picture it should be a smooth job.”
Amos smiled. “I’ll bet Foster is pissed.”
Vinson laughed. “Who cares? I’ll handle him. We’ll have a small team of guys take care of this tomorrow morning. I don’t want any Russians on this. I want our guys. A small force of our best, not a bunch of amateurs. I want this done right this time. Few witnesses, no one left behind, and no traditional guns. We’ve been taking too much heat lately.”
Amos agreed to it. Vinson was right; they’d been more exposed in the past few days than ever before, even when Daniel went on his little rampage over a year ago.
“Now for some better news,” said Vinson. “Follow me.” He walked out of the room and down a hallway with Amos following. He could hear muffled grunting as they approached a door at the end of the hall. Vinson gestured for him to enter. “You can thank Mick for this.”
Amos walked into the room and saw a man tied to a chair. He was terrified; his eyes were wide, and he tried to mumble through the gag in his mouth, to no avail. He was dressed in business attire, but he didn’t look like the typical executive. Mick was standing behind the man, smiling.
“You wanted the CIA agent that set us up,” said Mick. “Here he is: Brandon Webb.”
A rush of satisfaction washed over Amos. Mick had found the man that delivered the intel on Natalie in Boston, the intel that was too good to be true.
Amos looked at the man, then at Mick. “You came through. Very nice job.”
He turned his attention to the CIA man. He approached and bent down to look him in the eye. “You set us up at that hotel in Boston, didn’t you?” asked Amos.
The man’s eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head back and forth, trying to speak.
“You’ll get your chance to talk, Brandon,” said Amos. “In fact, you’ll tell me all your darkest secrets by the time I’m done with you.”
Reunion
Tuesday, 9/12/2028, 7:00 a.m.
Macon State Prison, Georgia
“I’m Special Agent Lance Hart, FBI.” Hart flashed his credentials at the prison guard in the office.
The guard was overweight and looked bored. He also didn’t seem impressed. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.
“I’m here to speak to a prisoner,” said Hart.
“Do you have an appointment?” asked the guard.
Hart expected this; prisons like these didn’t like pop-in visits, even from the FBI. This guard would be even less eager once he found out who Hart was here to see. “No appointment,” he said. “This is an emergency. Possibly a matter of national security.”
The guard raised an eyebrow, but it was clear he wasn’t giving in easily. “I’m sorry, but you must clear it through the warden, sir.”
“Let’s get him down here then… Sergeant,” said Hart, looking at the man’s stripes.
The sergeant didn’t look eager to bother the warden but apparently sensed Hart wasn’t going anywhere. “One second.” He picked up the phone and dialed. Hart waited.
“Sir, this is Sergeant Reed,” said the guard. “There’s an FBI agent here that wants to interview a prisoner. Yes. No, he said it’s an emergency. Uhh… I don’t know, sir.” He glanced up at Hart. “Who’s the prisoner?”
“Daniel Verriday,” said Hart. Sergeant Reed’s eyes got big, and he looked reluctant to relay the information to the warden.
“It’s Daniel Verriday, sir,” said Reed. There was a pause. “I know. Believe me, I know. Okay, sir. Can you give me a second to tell him? Okay, thanks, sir.”
He looked at Hart. “The warden said especially because it’s this prisoner, it’s too short notice. He’d need to arrange security and an interview room. Daniel is not your average prisoner.”
“Sergeant Reed, if I have to get the FBI director himself to call, I will,” said Hart, though he was bluffing. “I can’t leave here without seeing him. Tell the warden I don’t need an interview room. I can talk to him through his cell. I won’t be long; I’ll be in and out, and you won’t have to deal with me again.”
Judging by the look on his face, Sergeant Reed seemed distraught, but he relayed the message to the warden, and the warden finally agreed. “He said you have five minutes,” said Reed.
Hart was relieved. “That’s all I need.”
A guard escorted Hart through the corridors of the jail until they ended on a long hallway lined with mostly empty cells on each side. “We keep Daniel isolated. He seems to bring out the worst in people,” said the escort.
“I’ll find my way from here,” said Hart. “I need to speak to him in private. I assume he’s at the end of this hallway?”
The guard shrugged. “You can’t miss him. Just come to the gate and knock when you’re done.”
Hart noticed he didn’t receive the five-minute ultimatum from the guard, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need long. He waited a few beats and walked the rest of the way down, passing only one more inmate along the way; it was an elderly black man who looked near death. How lonely it must be to know you’ll die isolated, thought Hart.
He’d seen pictures and heard stories about Daniel’s size, but they didn’t do him justice. The man looked like something out of a comic book. Despite his girth, he didn’t seem to carry it awkwardly, and he was definitely not tall and lanky. He was as thick as Hart had ever seen a man, but it was all muscle, and he looked comfortable with it.
Daniel looked over his shoulder as Hart approached, and Hart found himself overcome by real fear. Not that he suspected he was in actual danger at the moment, but the thought of what this man could do to him was sobering. Hart tried to look casual as he approached, but he had a feeling this would start off bumpy no matter what.
“They only sent one of you?” asked Daniel, who was reading a book. Hart didn’t know what he was talking about, but it seemed like Daniel was expecting someone. Hart stopped a few feet short of his prison bars.
“They should’ve sent more than one,” said Daniel. “I thought the big day was tomorrow?”
Even though having a man this powerful suspicious of him wasn’t ideal, Hart was encouraged by what Daniel was inferring. In fact, it was the reason he’d rolled the dice and came here. “Daniel, I’m Lance Hart. I don’t have a lot of time. Do you know you’re being moved tomorrow?”
Daniel put his book down and glanced over. “Of course I do. You’re a fed, aren’t you?” When Hart acknowledged that, Daniel said, “Well then, it’s you that’s having me moved.”
Hart was sure now that Daniel was receiving information from somewhere, but he first had to win his trust.
“That’s why I’m here,” said Hart. “I’ve been with Calvin and some others you don’t know yet, trying to figure out a way to get you out of here.”
“Calvin?” asked Daniel. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s
true,” said Hart. “Tomorrow they will kill you. We’ve been working on a countermeasure, but we don’t have enough information. We’re running out of time.”
Daniel shrugged. Hart assumed he was still skeptical. “What do you want from me?” asked Daniel.
“You’ve been getting information from someone in here,” said Hart. “It wouldn’t be from a woman, by chance, would it?”
Daniel’s eyebrow shot up. His reaction was not what Hart was hoping for. Hart figured that since everyone else around them seemed to receive messages from Marcene, it would make sense she communicated with Daniel too. This was apparently not the case, though.
“Okay, so if not a woman, someone else,” said Hart. “Is it someone we can trust?” asked Hart.
Daniel looked at him skeptically. “You keep throwing out this word, ‘we.’ I don’t know you. Why should I talk to you?”
“Because I’m your best chance of getting out of here,” said Hart. He paused and took a deep breath. “And Taryn wants to see you.”
Hart watched Daniel’s expression change. His sarcastic, skeptical smile disappeared, replaced by a look of intense emotion. Not sadness or anger, but something in between. He had definitely hit a soft spot. Calvin had suggested that he use Taryn’s name at some point, only if it was necessary.
Daniel rose from where he was seated and Hart had to steady himself at the sight. He looked too big for his cell, which he was; he slumped over, the ceiling far too low to accommodate his height.
He walked closer to the prison bars and stared at Hart. “Bob. He’s a guard here. He’s the one who told me I was being moved. And yes, he can be trusted.”
Hart was relieved until Daniel’s face pressed up against the bars. He whispered, but it was still loud and authoritative. “If you hurt Bob, or anyone else…” He paused, shaking his head like the thought of what he’d do to Hart caused him pain. “If you’re lying, I will rip you apart.”
Hart didn’t have to wonder if Daniel meant it literally; he knew enough about this giant to know he was dead serious. Hart nodded, and Daniel backed his face away.
“Is Bob on shift now, or is he due in at eight?” Hart asked. He had arrived an hour before shift change to get an idea of what the place would look like a few hours before they moved Daniel.
“Yep. He’s usually here early, though,” said Daniel.
“I’ve gotta catch him before he clocks in,” said Hart. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daniel.”
“Hart.”
He turned around, frozen by Daniel’s deep voice. “Bob will walk with a limp,” said Daniel. “He’s got a bum leg.” Hart caught Daniel giving him a slight nod before he sat on his bunk again. Hart knocked on the gate, and the guard showed him out.
◆◆◆
Out in the officers’ parking lot, Hart spotted Bob easily due to his limp. He waited until Bob walked adjacent to his vehicle before getting his attention. When Hart called out, Bob looked in his direction, confused. Hart waved him over and Bob took a few steps, then stopped. Hart stepped out of the car and met him the rest of the way.
“I’m Lance Hart with the FBI. Can I talk to you for just a minute?”
Bob’s confused look was now a fearful one. “What’s this about?” he asked.
Hart smiled and patted his shoulder. “Oh, it’s not what you think, I promise you. Could you get in my car for a minute so we could speak privately?”
“I’ve gotta get to work,” said Bob.
“It won’t take long,” said Hart. “Please, Bob. It’s important.”
Bob walked around the car and climbed in the passenger seat and Hart followed suit. Once they were both inside, Hart started the vehicle and closed his window. Bob shifted in his seat. “What can I do for you, Agent?” he asked.
“I need to know where you stand with Daniel. Are you helping him?” Hart wanted to make sure Bob was who he suspected before telling him anything.
Bob’s face flushed; it was clear he didn’t know how to respond. “Bob, you will not get in trouble, but you have to tell me,” said Hart. “I need to know if I can trust you.”
Bob was standing his ground; Hart understood the fragile position the man was in because they were in the same one. Neither wanted to disclose his involvement to someone they didn’t trust. Hart would have to go out on a limb because Bob wasn’t risking anything.
“I’m working with a group of guys that will help Daniel tomorrow,” said Hart. “These men have been receiving helpful messages from a lady on a cassette tape. Any of this sound familiar?”
It apparently did, because Bob’s face brightened for a moment. “Yeah, it sounds familiar,” he said.
“I need to know we can trust you,” said Hart. “Are you all in with this?”
Bob nodded. “I’ll do anything for Daniel. You have my word.”
“Okay, great,” said Hart. “Do you know who’ll be escorting Daniel tomorrow?”
“I’ll be going,” said Bob. “The moment I found out he was being moved, I insisted on it.”
“That’s perfect,” said Hart. “Here’s what I need you to do…”
◆◆◆
9/12/2028, 1:00 p.m.
Perkins, Florida
Lynks sat on the back patio, desperate to find solitude. The house had been buzzing all morning with more people entering as the day progressed. Bowman had arrived a few hours ago with three men that Lynks had never seen before. Hart had left, met with Daniel, and returned already, with some positive news. They’d all spent most of the morning coordinating a plan for tomorrow. Lynks was exhausted and still grieving, and after taking part in the bulk of the planning, he wanted peace and quiet.
He was worried about Cane, from whom he still hadn’t heard. Neither of them had ever faced a tragedy like this one, so he didn’t know how Cane was handling it. If he had to guess, Cane was chasing down leads, trying to get closer to finding Kristy. He would feel much better if Cane called and let him know he was okay, though his ultimate wish would be to help. While he wasn’t as close to Kristy and Helen as Cane was, he cared a great deal for them.
Lynks was still recovering from the beating he took from the Russian, and the lack of sleep hadn’t helped. He would have to rest before tomorrow so he’d have his wits about him, though he realized his concussion would hinder him no matter what.
He could hear Calvin inside talking, telling Bowman a story about Daniel. Lynks thought about the girls in Chicago and wondered what Natalie was doing. Before he could reconsider, he was calling her on the phone they’d left with her in case of an emergency. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” It was Natalie’s voice, and she sounded alarmed.
“Natalie, it’s Lynks.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, no, not like that,” Lynks said, though in reality, he was lying. Something was wrong, just not in the way she thought. He suddenly missed her, though he barely knew her, and he couldn’t stop himself from opening up. “Something happened.” He wanted to tell her about Kristy and Helen but realized it would mean nothing to Natalie without her knowing the whole story.
“I don’t have anywhere to be. Tell me,” she said.
Natalie sounded different on the phone. She seemed stronger and more confident, but maybe it was because she’d had extra time to recover from her own trauma. Lynks told her the long tale of how he and Cane came to know Kristy and Helen, and she listened without interrupting. It was nice talking about it; Lynks felt lighter and unburdened by the end. He’d never spoken to a stranger about it before in that depth.
Then he informed her of Helen’s murder and Kristy’s abduction. “I’m so sorry,” said Natalie. “That’s terrible. How is Cane taking it?”
“I haven’t seen him or heard from him. I’m worried,” said Lynks.
“What about Daniel?” asked Natalie. “Is Cane still going to help?”
Lynks wished he would, or could. He was still very doubtful about the success of tomorrow’s ext
raction without Cane. “I don’t think I’ll see him again until he finds Kristy.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment, but when Natalie spoke, she sounded more emotional. “The things I said the other day about Cane. I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t have to apologize,” said Lynks.
“Yes, I do,” said Natalie. “I rushed to judgment. Listening to his past and how he helped Kristy, I never knew. And it may sound weird to say, but him choosing to find her over helping Daniel, it makes me respect him. I pegged him wrong.”
Lynks didn’t know what to say to all that; he would always defend his lifelong friend, but he couldn’t blame Natalie for how she perceived him. She wasn’t obligated to explain anything but had chosen to anyway, and it meant a lot to him.
“Thank you,” said Lynks. “I wish I could help him. He shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
“He needs your help,” said Natalie. “I’ve seen what you can do.”
Was this bothering Lynks too? Maybe the fact that Cane was doing this without his best friend’s help was getting to him. He wanted to feel needed, even if Cane could manage without him.
“This is all so much,” said Lynks. “I feel like there are too many things happening at one time.”
“You have help,” said Natalie. “Calvin and the others. You can’t take care of everything, so just focus on what you can control. And if you need someone to talk to, pick up the phone and call me. I’ll be here for you.”
Lynks couldn’t remember the last time he received practical advice like that, stated in such a caring way. “Thank you,” he said. “You don’t know how much that means.”
After disconnecting, Lynks sat back and relaxed a few minutes before heading back inside. He felt burdened still, but rejuvenated. Just as he was about to step inside, Barkley exited.