by G. K. Parks
“I’ll get her back,” Mercer promised, “but you need to prepare yourself.” He pushed out a chair for Logan. “Sit.” Once Porter was seated, Mercer glanced around the empty dining room. He’d booked a private room inside a restaurant for the meeting just to make sure no one could spy on them. “Alpha wants the computer protocols. My team is prepared to make it happen.” Mercer held up his hand to silence Porter’s question. “You should be aware that the ring was still attached to Sarina’s finger when it was delivered.”
For a second, Porter couldn’t comprehend what he’d been told. Then his face grew ashen, and he made a brief choking sound. He didn’t ask any other questions or speak, which was a relief to Julian. Instead, he stared at his own ring finger, pondering how it happened.
“Since Alpha is escalating to pressure us to comply, it’s imperative that we play along. Emotions will hinder our communications, so if you must speak to him, remain calm.” Mercer hoped they’d both be able to follow that advice.
“Why would I have to speak to that piece of filth?”
“It’s just precautionary. I will do what I can to handle the situation, but occasionally, kidnappers want verification from the family. It’s not customary, but it could happen.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me this at home?”
“He has access to your home security network.” Even though Bastian hadn’t verified this as true, Mercer’s gut knew it was. “The call didn’t come until you had left, seconds before I planned my own exit. He was watching on surveillance, waiting to catch us unprepared.”
“So you don’t know anything?” Porter bellowed. “You didn’t trap and trace or whatever the fuck it’s called.”
“We’ll find him. For now, he needs to believe that he’s in charge and we are following his orders. Is that understood?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Porter sounded uncertain. Mercer knew his client was irate. It was the primary emotion with which Mercer identified. He just hoped that the anger would not be to their detriment. “Shouldn’t we be waiting for his call? He’ll know if we’re late getting back.”
“No, he won’t.” Mercer opened the door to the dining room and glanced outside. The suited men from the other night were at a corner booth. “I disabled your system.”
“You what?” Porter’s angry voice drew the attention of many customers.
“It’s done. Let’s go.” Mercer led the way toward the door, keeping the men in his periphery. Their identities hadn’t been determined, but chances were they worked for Trila.
Outside the restaurant, Mercer led Logan to a rental car. Unlocking the doors, he opened the passenger’s side. “Get in, Mr. Porter.”
“I have a car.”
“Get in.” The men hadn’t emerged from the restaurant yet, and Mercer wanted a head start to avoid the tail. When Porter moved too slowly, Mercer gave him a shove and slammed the door. Sliding behind the wheel, he put the car into drive and peeled away from the restaurant. “It’s your show.”
“What?” Porter asked, bewildered, angry, and possibly frightened.
“Delay, detain, just take care of it.” Mercer sighed. He glanced at the man next to him and tapped his ear to indicate he was speaking to someone else.
A few moments later, Hans’s voice responded, “Affirmative, tracking now. Planning to intervene in five. Stipulations?”
“None,” Mercer replied, clicking off the earpiece. He trusted Hans to take care of this matter.
“Who the hell are you?” Porter asked.
“A man doing his job.”
The rest of the ride was in silence. No one followed the car, and Mercer relaxed slightly, removing his death grip from the steering wheel. He had no way of knowing what waited for him at the house or what new scare tactics Alpha planned to initiate. Until they had solid footing beneath them, Mercer would be compliant. It was the best way of ensuring Sarina’s return.
Arriving at Porter’s estate, Mercer parked on the path, ignoring the glare. He scanned the area, checking for signs that someone had been there. In the growing darkness, it was difficult to tell, but Julian felt certain that no one was there now. Walking into a trap would be an amateur mistake. Carefully, Mercer went to the back door, opening it and entering the house. No one waited inside, and he did a thorough sweep before opening the front door and gesturing for Logan to join him.
“Do you have to leave the car there?” Logan asked, annoyance dripping from every syllable.
“Yes.” There was no reason to waste words. “Now we wait.”
Porter’s jaw dropped when he saw the smashed electronic pieces in the hallway and the corners of the room. “You’re going to pay for those. Who do you think you are to come into my house and destroy it? How do I know you aren’t one of them?”
“Should I go?” Mercer asked.
“Dammit.” A long string of expletives followed, and then Porter slumped into a chair. “They shattered my world. My perfect world. And now you’re here with a baseball bat smashing cameras and getting oil on the driveway. I want my life back. Sarina and I should be at dinner now, not waiting for a phone call from some psycho who maimed my beautiful bride.”
The outburst wasn’t surprising, but Porter’s depiction of perfect was. Deciding not to ask questions, Mercer let the man continue to rant while he prepared himself mentally for his next battle of wits with Alpha. The priority would be to delay Alpha’s timetable for delivery as long as possible. The only flaw with that plan was that it meant Sarina would remain a pawn, subject to his will until the exchange. Mercer had seen a lot, serving in wars and performing black ops missions. He knew cruelty and evil, and leaving someone defenseless in this situation was never good.
“If you cannot remain quiet, you will not be here when he makes contact,” Mercer warned. “Do you understand?”
“I thought I had to talk to this fucker?”
“Perhaps. Hopefully not.”
“Fine.” Logan removed a bottle of tequila from the cabinet. “Can I at least have a drink?” Mercer didn’t answer, and Logan poured a shot and downed it. “Maybe it’ll take the edge off.”
He had another while Mercer hooked a splitter to the new phone he was installing in order to record the communication. It would also send the data to Bastian’s computer. With any luck, a remote trace would be possible.
Once everything was set, Mercer took a seat. It was an exercise in patience, best to conserve energy in preparation for the unknown. Pacing or anxiously waiting would only speed up the fatigue, and he couldn’t afford to be functioning below his best. The lack of sleep took enough of a toll without exacerbating it with pointless worry and impatience. The communication would come when it did. However, that didn’t keep his mind from wondering what would happen if no further communication occurred.
Logan aimlessly rummaged through the fridge. He reorganized the already pristine cabinets and swept up the electronic shards. Finally, he went upstairs to change out of his work attire. He was gone less than a minute when the phone rang. Running down the steps, he stared at Julian who hadn’t moved from the couch.
“Answer it,” he screamed.
“Silence,” Mercer commanded. He waited for the next ring and picked up the receiver.
“Time’s up,” Alpha said.
Seventeen
“Do you have the computer protocols?” Alpha asked.
“Not yet, but I will,” Mercer replied.
“Honesty. That’s very good. You catch on quickly, Mr. Mercer. I’m pleased,” the mechanical voice said. “Did you enjoy the gift I sent this morning? Am I correct to assume that you’ve verified the owner as Sarina Porter?”
“Yes, but I’d suggest you refrain from inflicting further damage. Sarina is valuable as long as she remains unharmed. You’ve already done damage. Please consider this before acting again.”
At those words, Logan lunged for the phone, and Mercer shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to lose balance and hit the ground. It was an effectiv
e way to keep the man quiet and from botching the communication.
“You do not dictate my actions,” Alpha said. The emotionless voice made it difficult to determine if Mercer’s words had angered the kidnapper. “I dictate yours.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want. The only way Sarina will be returned is when I have the computer protocols in my possession. Is that clear, or should I snap off a few more digits to make my point?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Mercer glanced down at Logan who was rubbing his wrist. “I need to reassure my client of her well-being.”
“Go ahead.”
“May I speak to her?” Mercer asked. Logan pulled himself to his feet and cautiously stepped closer.
“No,” Alpha paused, “but I’ll see if she’ll give you a nice loud scream.” Something shuffled around in the background, despite Mercer’s protests and back-peddling. A bloodcurdling shriek cut through the phone, and Mercer flinched. A door slammed, and then Alpha said, “Did that make you happy?”
“No.” Mercer wouldn’t grovel or beg, which appeared to be Alpha’s goal. “Don’t hurt her.”
“You can’t stop me. I am in control. I determine what happens to her. If you want to persuade me to stop, then give me what I want.”
The line went dead, and Mercer cursed. Forcing his hand to gently place the phone back in its cradle, he clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would break. Logan was speaking to him, frantic and animated, but Julian didn’t hear him. It was accusatory nonsense, and he had other things on which to concentrate. When the phone rang a few minutes later, one look immediately silenced Logan, and Mercer waited two rings before answering.
“You have thirty-six hours,” Alpha said. “If the item is not delivered by then, Sarina Porter is dead. It will not be quick. And it most definitely will not be painless. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.” Not waiting for Alpha to respond with additional threats and demands, Mercer added, “But I don’t know if we’ll have it by then. Can we negotiate a postponement?”
“You expect me to fall for that trick? It’s a stall tactic.”
“No, let’s work something out. It’ll be a show of good faith.”
“Interesting. I will consider your proposal. In the meantime, you better work on procuring payment and stop wasting precious time. Sarina doesn’t have long to live.”
Mercer remained impassive. “It’s in the works as we speak.”
“Very good. Stay by the phone. I’ll get back to you.”
Alpha disconnected, and Mercer took a deep breath. Dialing Bastian, he wanted to know if the kidnapper’s call had resulted in determining a location. Find Alpha, and they’d find Sarina, it was kidnapping 101. Unfortunately, the first call ended before an exact location could be identified. Alpha had hung up by design. It was planned and removed any lingering doubt that Alpha had done this many times before.
“Now what?” Logan asked. He was smart enough to realize that his hopes for being reunited with Sarina lay with the man before him. “What can I do? What does he want? Money? We have it. The insurance will pay. Just give me an amount.”
“He wants the protocols.”
“I can’t get them. I’ll give him anything else. Tell him that.”
“He knows.” Mercer sighed. “Until he rings again, my hands are tied.”
“Okay. Okay.” Logan kept repeating this while he began pacing the living room. Suddenly, he stopped. “What should I do?”
“Wait.”
“Not like I have a choice.” His eyes darted around the room. “How did this happen? How did he find us? Why us? Why her? How did he get access to my home? To my security system? How dare he do this. How dare he take her away.”
“Mr. Porter,” Mercer swallowed his pride and abrasive demeanor, “I need you to trust me. I need you to help us get her back. Tell me about Trila. What do they do? When did you start working there? How long have you lived here? Who has access to your home? I need to know everything.”
“I already gave you the dossier on my background.”
“You gave my associate a file of rubbish. That was shit. What’s the truth?”
“That is the truth. We’ve been through this.” Porter pressed his lips together, thinking. “No more deceit. I do believe you’re Sarina’s only hope.” He looked away, focusing on a framed photo of the two of them. “The other night, everything I said was true. I’m sorry.” He choked, swallowing uncomfortably. “I should have told you everything the first time we met. If I had given you the USB and told you about the men following me, then maybe she wouldn’t have been hurt.” He removed the ring from his pocket, placing it on the table next to the photo.
“Start at the beginning,” Mercer said softly.
“I was recruited out of MIT to work at a software company. It was a dead end job, and within a few weeks, I knew I was out of my depth. However, I managed to bluff my way into a different position that wasn’t quite as tech-centric. It was focused on business expansion, more dollar signs, less ones and zeroes. Needless to say, the company went bust.”
“You bankrupted the company?”
“It wasn’t me. Our tech couldn’t keep up. We were drowning.” He licked his lips. “Trila bought it out. Almost everyone was canned, but for some reason, they kept me on. They offered a promotion, gave me a moving bonus, and sent me to this godforsaken place. They didn’t bother to mention the risks involved.”
“When was this?” Bastian had done the research, but Mercer liked to hear things firsthand.
“Almost five years ago, I guess.”
“Did Trila ever realize you were a fraud?”
“I’m not a fraud. I can do the job, but I’m not a developer. I can check the systems and review the reports that our guys file. We have professional hackers that find weaknesses. My job is to determine the degree of risk each weakness presents and whether it’s within a reasonable limit.”
“Meaning you perform cost-benefit analyses,” Mercer surmised.
“Sort of, I guess.”
“What did you determine concerning the latest security protocols?”
“They’re practically impenetrable. It’s the most secure system Trila’s designed since I’ve been there. The risk of a breach is negligible, even our hackers couldn’t crack it without access to the administrator function and backdoor. That must be what makes this so valuable.” Porter’s eyes grew dark. “Valuable enough to kidnap my wife and cut off her finger to prove a point.”
Mercer’s mind twisted around the facts, contemplating precisely what the value of unhindered computer access might be. “What does the program or system do?”
“What?”
“It’s a system, so it runs something. What does it operate?”
Porter opened his mouth to answer, but a puzzled look erupted on his face. “I have no idea. We design; we don’t implement.”
“Who bought the operating system?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dammit,” Mercer cursed. “Alpha desperately wants it. We have to figure out why.”
“Why does that matter?”
“We might be able to leverage it to get Sarina back.” He narrowed his eyes. “Can you find out?”
“I can try. The information has to be at Trila. Either a paper trail or someone must know. I’ll ask.”
“Does Sarina know what you do for a living?” Mercer asked.
“Of course, she’s my wife.”
“I mean the exact project you were assigned. Do you tell her things like that?”
“Sometimes, but she didn’t know about this. Plus, why would anyone think that she’d be able to give them access? You don’t think she was taken because they thought she could get the protocols, do you?”
“No, but if she shared this information with her acquaintances, it might have attracted the kidnappers to her.”
“Now you’re blaming Sarina for this?” Logan screeched. “Un-fucking-believable
.”
“I’m not,” Mercer huffed. “I’m trying to figure out why the kidnappers decided to target you.”
Before Porter could ask any other questions, the phone rang. It was time for round three.
Eighteen
“What can I do for you?” Mercer asked, unable to hide the sneer from his voice. Maybe you’d like my balls on a silver platter, he thought bitterly.
“Thirty-five hours and forty-seven minutes remain. Tick tock,” Alpha replied.
“I’m not sure that’s enough time.”
“Then I’d suggest you find a way. If not,” Alpha didn’t say a word, letting Mercer’s imagination fill in the blanks with his own horrific scenario.
“Fine. Where will we make the exchange?” It was best to move on. Plus, the more information plied from Sarina’s captor would aid in formulating an adequate recourse.
“You must think me a fool. Contact will be made two hours prior to the delivery time.”
“Wait,” Mercer said, hoping to keep him on the line as long as possible, “how will the next communication be made? I don’t want to miss it.”
“Do you really want to play games with me?”
“This isn’t a game. A woman’s life hangs in the balance. I do not want to jeopardize her safety because I missed your instructions.”
“I’ll have a courier deliver the instructions to Logan Porter’s office at Trila International.” The voice paused for a second. “But I know this is part of your playbook, Julian, and you should be warned I can play too.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” The fact that Alpha had just used Mercer’s first name was not lost on the K & R specialist.
“Julian Mercer, a young lad from England. Privileged upbringing, attended Eton, then Cambridge, devoted to Her Majesty’s service, but forced into early retirement for mental instability following a gruesome killing.” Despite the computer-generated voice, it was obvious Alpha was taking pleasure in this. “Did you tell your client that you murdered your own wife? He might want to hire a different negotiator in light of that fact.”
That was it. Mercer hung up the phone. He’d given Alpha too much power, and now he had to right that mistake. This psycho thought he had control over the situation and had just attempted to prove his dominance by making this personal. Negotiations should never be personal. It meant mistakes would be made because emotions clouded judgment and rationale. Alpha knew this, and he’d just thrown Julian off his game.
