All of a sudden, the back doors squeaked open and for a few nerve-racking moments, there was silence. She flinched when hands grasped her ankles and managed to muffle a scream when they began to drag her out.
* * * * *
Alex was tense as the black town car pulled up to the curb and Richard King emerged from within, looking like a terrifying archangel. The man was as tall as he, with tanned skin and a head of white hair. Though already in his early fifties, the King of King Industries was very well preserved, looking no more than forty. Alex supposed his wealth, and the fact that he was acquainted with the most potent drugs in the world, might have something to do with his youthful glow.
Alex gathered his wits and walked up to the man. “Mr. King,” he said. “My name is Alex Dahlgren. Mei… Olivia was with me when she was abducted.”
King’s violet eyes narrowed as he silently regarded him. Alex had held company with many business executives in the past – hell, his dad had been one – but knowing that King was the father of the woman he was trying to date made him nervous on the best of days. Today was, well, not one of those days.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” King said in a commanding voice, taking in the activity around him as policemen surveyed the scene.
“Well, sir, I picked Olivia up at her apartment…”
“Did you stop anywhere?”
“No, sir. Like I told the cops, we came straight here. When I pulled in to park, she got out and then she was grabbed.”
King crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Did you not open the door for her?”
“No, sir, I didn’t have the chance. She did it herself as soon as I parked.” Alex hoped his exterior was not betraying the fact that he was crumbling inside. The woman he cared for had been abducted and, to make matters worse, he was also under suspicion of lacking in chivalry. And near the top of the list of things that Alex prided himself on was that his father had raised him to be a gentleman. He might have slept with more than his fair share of women, but he could honestly say that he had treated each woman with due courtesy.
“When you picked her up, was there anyone present?”
Alex told King about finding Daniel at the apartment, how Olivia had seemed surprised to see him there. “But when the van drove off, Daniel ran up to me from down the street and then he just disappeared.”
King raised an eyebrow cynically. “He disappeared?”
“Yes, sir. I assumed he took off after the van, but I just never saw him leave.” The older man dialed a number on his phone and began to talk in short, concise directives. Alex turned away to give him privacy, but heard Daniel’s name in the conversation.
I hope I didn’t just implicate an innocent guy, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure that Daniel wasn’t involved. It would have been a brilliant move to show up to “save” her right after she was abducted to clear him of suspicion. But then again, you couldn’t easily fake that kind of concern and worry that was written all over Daniel’s face. Alex was sure he was wearing the same expression on his own.
All of a sudden, the guy in question came running back to him and Alex noted how odd it was that he wasn’t even out of breath.
“Anything?” he asked. Daniel shook his head gravely.
His heart sank. Daniel had been gone for almost an hour. Somehow Alex had held onto the weird, irrational hope that Daniel would be able to catch up to the van. Now his last hope was dashed and his crumbling insides just completely went to pieces.
Alex swore as he sat down on the curb, finding that his legs no longer offered support.
“Alexander,” came Richard’s voice from somewhere above. “Do you know how to find this Daniel Johnson?”
Daniel’s head snapped around as the older gentleman with stark white hair spoke his name.
“I’m Daniel Johnson.” He stepped closer to the man in the black suit and long wool coat. His refined face was not one Daniel recognized, until he caught a glimpse of his familiar eyes.
The man scrutinized Daniel coolly, a gaze that rooted him to the spot. Daniel could see how King had been so successful in business. “Do you know where my daughter is?” he said, his voice smooth and deadly. “Did you have a hand in this?”
Daniel shook his head but held his ground. He wasn’t about to let this old man intimidate him into feeling guilty; he was doing that himself just fine. He had just spent the last forty-five minutes searching through every nook and cranny of every abandoned building by the river, until his head was spinning from worry. Still he’d found nothing because he had chosen to go in the wrong direction.
“No. I saw Alex running out of the garage and he told me what happened, so I ran after the van.”
“And?” Richard’s eyes felt like they were piercing right into his brain.
“I lost them.” Daniel looked away in shame. All the speed in the world meant nothing if you didn’t possess the intelligence to wield it. He began to edge away, the apology stuck in his throat.
“Young man.” Richard King caught Daniel by the shoulder, his grip a firm warning. “I think you need to stay. The police will need your statement.”
King released Daniel when his phone began to ring and Daniel moved away in relief. He didn’t know how much longer he could have stood under the glare of those angry eyes.
All of a sudden, he heard the businessman raise his voice. “Smith, why haven’t you answered your phone?” King said, the cell phone pressed tightly against his ear. Daniel could see his big hands twitching, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the phone. “I don’t care where you are or who you’re with, I need you to get to New York right now. No, driving will take too long. Get to the nearest airport and I’ll have a jet waiting for you.”
Daniel exchanged a surprised glance with Alex, who rose to his feet.
“Mr. King,” said a police officer with dark hair and an equally dark mustache. “We need you to come with us to the station to fill out some forms.”
Richard nodded then cast a frosty glance over at the two younger men before climbing back into the town car.
“What do we do now?” Alex said, his cool façade completely shattered, and Daniel realized that the guy was genuinely worried about Olivia. Not for the first time, Daniel wondered if Alex was harboring romantic feelings for her.
“Go home and wait for word, I guess,” Daniel said, though he had every intention of doing just the opposite. He just wanted Alex out of the way before he upended New York.
Alex looked at him with incredulity then pulled out his phone. “You go home, then,” he said, turning his back to Daniel. “I’m going to stay and help find Mei. I, at least, care enough about her to do that.”
The flush traveled up Daniel’s neck as he stepped closer to Alex, his hands clenching at his side. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, tell me what you meant.”
Alex straightened to his full height and met Daniel’s angry glare. “It means that you obviously don’t care enough about her to keep looking.”
As much as Daniel wanted to pound Alex into the pavement, he forced himself to remain civil. Not only would he have a hideously unfair physical advantage, but Olivia would also never forgive him if he hurt her friend. Even if the guy was a complete tool. “Enough,” he said, put his hands on Alex’s chest, and shoved.
Alex went flying in the air, landing on his back several feet away, his phone crashing beside him. “What the hell?” he said as he scrambled to his feet, his face red with shock and fury.
One cop heard the commotion and came running over. “Hey! What’s going on here?”
Alex dusted off his pants and glowered at Daniel. After a long, loaded silence, he said, “Nothing.”
The cop turned to Daniel, who just shrugged. “You heard him,” Daniel said and left.
14 | GRACE UNDER PRESSURE
John Mathers was nervous as hell as he waited for Olivia King to be broug
ht up to the recently vacant office floor. He had received the call that she’d been successfully nabbed and that the crew were inbound. He hoped they had followed his instructions to the letter; if she but had a scratch on her, he would be extremely upset.
The glass elevators dinged softly and announced their arrival. As the doors slid open, John suddenly realized that he was holding his breath.
What the hell is my problem? he thought. Though, he supposed, pulling off one’s first kidnapping-slash-extortion job would make anyone act a little off-kilter.
His associates brought the woman forward and his blood pressure immediately rose when he saw what they had done. “What the hell!” he said, rushing forward and examining the two strips of grey tape across her face. “I said use a blindfold and gag! Not this!”
Felton, a short, stocky man, shrugged. “What? So she gets a lip and eyebrow wax while she’s here,” he said and sniggered at his own joke.
John shot him a withering look, wondering once more if teaming up with the building’s two janitors was the best move, because apart from having access to the building after hours, they didn’t seem to be good at much else. But he guessed it was too late now.
He put his hand on Olivia’s back, surprised to find that, despite her composed silence, she was trembling. Gently, he urged her forward. “Please come this way, Miss King.”
The woman straightened, her shoulders held back, as he led her into a room full of cubicle walls and empty desks. Carefully, he sat her down on a computer chair.
He bent over to whisper in her ear. “I realize that you must be terrified,” he said, feeling the need to put her at ease. “I regret that this had to happen at all. But as Richard King’s remaining family, you are my last resort.”
“Tell me again why we’re being so gentle with her?” Felton said with his lazy southern accent as he sat on the edge of a desk. “What fun is kidnapping someone if you can’t even rough her up a little?”
“Well, she’s a ballerina, and as such deserves a little consideration,” John said through gritted teeth.
“I think the term’s ballet dancer,” Dane, the second associate, a man who was completely unremarkable in appearance, piped in.
John rolled his eyes. “We’re all just full of knowledge tonight, aren’t we? Can you both leave us for a while?” he said, which was received with a disgusted sneer from the Texan.
After the two associates left the room, John turned back to the woman sitting before him. He pulled up another rolling chair and parked in front of Olivia, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together. “I’m sorry about those guys. Are you all right?” He looked at the tape across her mouth and eyes and wondered if the old adage about pulling off Band-Aids with one, quick pull would apply in this situation.
He was reaching for the edge of the tape over her lips when Olivia shot out of her seat, catching him completely by surprise as their heads collided. He fell backwards out of the chair and they tumbled to the floor. Clutching his forehead, he got to his feet before Olivia had a chance to roll over onto her back. He grasped her arm and pulled her up.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he said, wincing as shards of pain shot into his temple. There would be a knot there tomorrow morning, for sure. He pushed her back onto the chair, held her head still and ripped the tape off her mouth with involuntary ferocity. Then he readied himself for the screams.
However, only the sound of Olivia gasping could be heard. She sat very still, waiting for retribution with an aching head and stinging lips. So this was all about her father and not at all about Daniel’s drug lord. She should have been somewhat relieved, but the revelation did not do much to ease her anxiety.
“You might as well scream and shout,” said the man with that familiar deep, silky voice like the horn preceding a freighter. She didn’t need visual confirmation to know that he was the immense Polynesian man with the dreadlocks from the ballet. “Nobody will hear you. And I’d rather you get your frustrations out that way than head-butting me again.”
“Fuck you,” she said coolly. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you to remain still and calm. No harm is coming to you.” She heard him righting his computer chair and sitting back down, but he’d apparently learned his lesson for he did not sit close again. “And please, that’s very unladylike language.”
“I stopped acting like a lady the moment you stopped treating me like one.”
He sighed. “I apologize for that. I am truly sorry.”
Instead of being frightened, she found herself more annoyed at her captor, hating the kind and gentle persona he was affecting. In her opinion, if you were going to kidnap someone, then you’d better commit to being the villain all the way. None of this sympathetic garbage he was trying.
“You’re not sorry though, are you? Because if you were, you’d have released me by now.”
He exhaled loudly. “You’re right,” he said, and she held her breath, waiting for him to say that she was free to go. “I guess I’m not that sorry. At least, not sorry enough to forgo the money.”
“How much?”
“Five million dollars.”
“Why? Why do you think my father owes you this money?”
The man snickered softly. “If I tell you, he will know my identity and the plot will go to waste. Just know that this money is due to me.”
“If you justly deserve this money like you think, why not go the legal route? Why don’t you just sue him?”
“Because your father employs the most rabid pack of lawyers this side of the equator. They would have me for dinner then snack on my bones at midnight. That is, if it even goes to court. He would have me disposed of first via his Assassin.”
“My father would never,” Olivia said adamantly. Her father? He may not be the gold standard for good fathers, but he was a decent dad and no decent dad would ever have an assassin on the payroll.
“Olivia,” the man said with a sigh. “Your father is unscrupulous. He lies, cheats and bullies until he gets exactly what he wants. He will trample anyone who gets in his way to the top, even if they were people helping him to begin with. In summation, Miss King, your father is not a good man.”
“Well I’m sorry you feel that way about him. He happens to be a good father,” she said, her chin lifted in what she hoped appeared as defiance.
“And that’s what I’m counting on, Miss King. Like I said, I just want my money. So just sit back and relax. Now, are you ready to make a phone call?”
* * * * *
Richard King sat across the metal desk from Detective Lingle, remaining relatively calm, but as it were, he was tired of waiting and filling out forms. He needed action. Now.
“Do you have any idea who would want to kidnap your daughter?” the detective said, tapping a pen on the desk, a tic that was driving King insane.
“No,” he said simply. It could be anybody. He didn’t become America’s most successful entrepreneur by making friends, after all. “But when I find out who’s responsible, they will die.”
Detective Lingle cleared his throat. “Not really something you say in front of a police officer inside a police station during a police report,” he said wryly.
King’s nose flared. “If it were your daughter, you would do the same. Trust me.”
Lingle leaned back in his seat with a metallic squeak. “You’d better believe I’d hurt the son of a bitch. But right now, we have to figure out who it is and what they’re after. Did your daughter have any enemies, anyone who would wish her harm?”
King furrowed his eyebrows, thinking and quickly realizing that he knew very little about his daughter’s life. Beyond her job and her new boyfriend, he knew little else about her. “No. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her,” he said. “But we both know this isn’t about her at all. They’ve kidnapped her for ransom. Of that I am sure.”
All of a sudden, his cell phone began to ring, displaying “withheld” instead of
a number. He stilled his nerves before saying, “Hello?”
“Richard King,” said an electronically distorted voice. “I have the pleasure of the company of your daughter.”
King gripped his phone. “Who the hell is this?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I think the more pressing question is what do I want in exchange for your daughter.”
“If you even…”
“Yeah, I know, I know. If I even hurt a hair on her head and all that,” the voice said, making King grind a fist into the table. “I will require five million dollars deposited into my account by eight o’clock.”
Richard glanced down at his diamond-encrusted watch. “That’s in an hour. That’s not nearly enough time.”
“You mean not enough time to figure out a way to find us? Precisely.”
King took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from boiling over. More than anything, he wanted to reach into the phone and squeeze the guy’s esophagus until he took his last wretched breath. “I want to talk to my daughter.”
“Unfortunately, that is all the time we have. Goodbye, Dick.”
King stared at his phone for a good minute afterward, his brain unable to see past the red rage.
“Mr. King?”
King looked up, startled. He’d almost forgotten where he was.
Detective Lingle picked up his telephone and punched in a set of numbers. “I’m calling Judge Rhinehart for a warrant to trace that phone call.”
“Excuse me a moment,” King said and stepped out of the small office. He thumbed through the directory on his phone for a number he had never called before until tonight. “Yes, this is King. I need you to deliver the device to my office. Get it to me in half an hour.”
He walked back into the tiny office to find the detective replacing the phone on the cradle. “Alright, we have the warrant. Now we just need to call the different phone companies to see if they can get a triangulation to locate the cell phone’s signal. Then we will know the name attached to the phone, assuming that they are not using a landline or prepaid phone, that is.”
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