“You hang tough, Jake.”
Nodding, Jake reached for the screen on his side. “You’ve been a good friend, Dean. Thanks for everything.”
Dean nodded. “Anything for family.”
Jake smiled, then the connection cut out.
Dean stared at the blank screen. “Good luck, Jake.”
47
Two Bridges Complex
New York City
Cormac Ryker held his assault rifle under his trench coat and smiled at the kid in front of him. The kid didn’t smile back. The sandy-haired little snot stuck his thumb in his mouth and retreated behind his mother. The elevator jolted to a stop on the tenth floor and pinged. The doors slid open.
“This is us, baby,” the kid’s mother said, looking down to grab hold of her child. In her other hand she clutched a brown bag of groceries, a stalk of celery poking out of the top. She glanced at Ryker and forced a smile, then edged out of the elevator and hurried down the corridor.
Cormac held the door to the elevator open and watched her disappear into her apartment, glancing back at the other end of the corridor at apartment 1012. Jake’s apartment. He punched the ‘service’ button on the elevator’s control pad. “Elevator two secure,” he said aloud.
“Building secure,” came the response in his earpiece.
Cormac’s team had control of all entry and exit points. Jake and his friends hadn’t gone in or out in an hour, and Cormac’s spotter on the roof next door had Jake in constant visual contact in the apartment the whole time.
Pulling his assault rifle out from under his coat, Cormac strode down the hallway. “Are we a go?” he asked, speaking through the throat-mike to his team.
“We’re a go,” came the chorus of replies.
Cormac smiled, nodding to his second-in-command who held open the doorway to the stairs. They crossed the last ten feet to apartment 1012 and without missing a step, his guy lifted one jack-booted foot and kicked the door hard. It splintered inward, the cheap doorframe and locks giving way. Cormac strode in, rifle up and out, a smile on his face.
And there was Jake.
Alone.
He sat in far corner of the room, staring back at Cormac—but not looking the least bit surprised.
“Come in, Mr. Ryker.” Jake raised his hands calmly.
Jake’s reaction, by itself, was enough to make Cormac hesitate. Something wasn’t right. Shrugging off the feeling, Cormac was halfway through squeezing the trigger on his rifle when he realized Jake used his real name.
It didn’t matter, did it? But if he knew, what else might he know?
Did he know Cormac sent his own team, one he’d recruited himself, up to the Kahnawake reservation to get the Bluebridge core? Cormac let go of the trigger.
Behind him, his second-in-command checked the bedroom and bathroom. “Nobody else here.”
Cormac cursed. Where the hell were those kids, Jin and Liu Wu? That was half the bounty on this job. “Go check the other apartments,” Cormac growled.
His second-in-command nodded and left through the door they trashed.
Cormac looked at Jake. Who cared if Jake knew who he was? It didn’t matter. Soon he’d be free of this whole mess. “You had a good run, Jake.” Cormac held his rifle up, centering its sight on Jake’s chest.
“Hold it right there, son.”
Now what? Cormac glanced over his shoulder. An overweight police officer stood in the splintered doorway, his revolver pointed at Cormac’s head. Cormac frowned, and then smiled.
“You’re that sheriff, aren’t you?” Cormac snorted, keeping his eyes on Jake, his rifle still trained on him. “That one who Jake disarmed outside his house, the one who got tied to a tree?”
“Put it down, or I’ll put a bullet in you,” Sheriff Ralston said evenly.
“Give me a break, old man. What are you doing here? Trying to regain some dignity? You’re way out of your depth.” Cormac laughed on the outside, but fumed inside. Where the hell were his men?
“We got all your men,” Sheriff Ralston said, reading Cormac’s expression. “No way out. Put down the gun.”
“You think you have the guts, old man? I’m wearing full body armor. You want to test my HK versus your tiny pistol? I’m getting out of here. The question you gotta ask yourself is”—he smiled a menacing grin—“are you?”
Jake got out of his seat and advanced toward them. Cormac held his rifle steady on his chest. The problem was that if Cormac pulled the trigger, the sheriff would probably do the same. Even a country bumpkin like Ralston couldn’t miss from five feet.
Cormac had to stall, had to figure a way to get the jump on the old man. “Looks like we have ourselves a little Mexican stand-off, don’t it?” he laughed.
The three men glanced back and forth at each other.
In the silence a phone rang. It was Cormac’s, in his pants pocket. Only one person had that number.
A second later, the phone in Jake’s hand rang, and then a buzzing in the sheriff’s pocket. The computer screens lining the walls of the apartment lit up with remote messages.
Cormac looked back and forth. What was going on? Only the old man had his private number. Cormac gritted his teeth, his knuckles white around the rifle grips. Drop to the ground, shoot the old man, and then kill Jake. It would only take a second.
But.
The only person who had his private number was the old man. Montrose. The owner of Bluebridge. He knew who the old man was. He even knew that the old man might not even exist. Might be a machine. The idea didn’t faze Cormac. The thing that did faze him was that the old man—whoever or whatever—was the one paying the bills.
Was the old man calling him right now?
Or was this some kind of trick?
▲▼▲
Holding up his arms, palms out, Jake asked Cormac, “Should I answer?” He didn’t wait for a response. He pressed the button and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
All the other ringing phones went silent the instant Jake picked up.
“Don’t do this,” said a voice on the other end.
Jake closed his eyes. That voice. “Sean?”
“It’s me, Jake. I’m still here.”
Just hearing Sean’s voice brought tears to Jake’s eyes. He opened them. “I’m not stopping. If you know me, you know I’ll never stop. Give me what I want.”
“I can’t do that, Jake. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Jake looked at Cormac, watched his finger on the trigger of the rifle. “Kill me, and everything goes away, you lose everything,” he said into the phone. “I will never give up.”
Ten minutes before, Jake had left a message on the main Bluebridge answering service, offering terms. He wanted money. Wanted to be in control of Bluebridge. He said that they had evidence to peg the whole financial crash, even the presidential spoofing on Bluebridge—but that Jake and his team would keep quiet if it gave them control. Added that he didn’t care about his daughter. It’s what a psychopath would have done. Nerveless. Cold. Hard-as-nails.
Jake knew it wasn’t Sean on the other end. He knew it was the machine. “Give me what I want,” Jake growled into the phone.
“Jake, don’t do—”
Jake lifted the receiver away from his ear. He handed the phone to Cormac. “Your boss wants to speak with you.” His chest was a foot from the muzzle of Cormac’s rifle. The phone dangled in the air between them, Jake offering it to Cormac.
Cormac gritted his teeth. He hesitated, but reached out with his left hand and took it. “Hello?”
He took his eyes off Jake for a split second.
Jake pounced.
His weight already balanced forward on the balls of his feet, Jake ducked under the muzzle of the rifle and sprang the instant Cormac looked away. He launched himself forward with every ounce of rage and frustration built up inside.
Roaring, Jake drove his shoulder into Cormac’s midsection, wrapping his arms around him. He surprised Cormac, lifte
d him off the ground and drove him back three paces to crash hard into the kitchen cupboards. Sheriff Ralston rushed forward and wrestled the HK rifle from Cormac as both of them tried to pin the assassin to the wall.
It only took Cormac a second to regain his balance.
He might have a limp, but his upper body was incredibly strong. Grabbing Ralston, he head-butted him, blood spraying up as Sheriff Ralston staggered back toward the entranceway, still holding Cormac’s rifle in one hand. Jake pulled loose and swung a fist to catch Cormac in the chin.
Cormac ducked and laughed. He grabbed Jake’s shirt and threw him into Ralston. The two of them collided and fell backward into the hallway, the rifle clattering across the floor.
“This ends here,” Cormac snarled. Pulling a knife from his belt, Cormac stepped through the entrance toward Ralston and Jake.
Jake pushed himself and Ralston back across the floor.
“I can’t see,” Ralston groaned from beneath Jake. His nose was smashed, blood poured out of it.
“Keep backing up,” Jake grunted. “Get into the stairwell.”
Cormac lunged and Jake rolled off to one side. The HK assault rifle was on the ground down the hallway, ten paces away. Jake sprang to his feet. Two steps and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Cormac chasing him.
But Cormac advanced toward Ralston. Heading into the stairwell. Shots rang out. It was Ralston firing his gun.
Jake glanced back at the rifle.
Not enough time.
Skidding to a stop, Jake turned and sprinted back, swinging through the open stairwell door. Cormac knelt with one knee against Ralston’s throat, the other pinning Ralston’s hand with the pistol in it. Cormac raised his knife, about to strike, but turned and sprang to his feet when Jake appeared.
Jake charged forward, catching Cormac off balance.
“Jake!” Ralston screamed, reaching up. But it was too late.
Cormac and Jake both spun over the railing, disappearing and falling into open space.
▲▼▲
Five-year-old Jake just wanted to sleep. His father had taken his brother Eamon inside the Kmart to go shopping, told him to stay in the car. Jake was scared, but his father often left him behind to disappear somewhere. Jake was used to it.
He wasn’t good at telling time, but it had been a long time. A very long time. Long enough for it to get dark outside.
The Kmart was closed now. Snow completely covered the car, and no other cars were left in the parking lot. The snow had piled up so high that it was almost pitch black inside his father’s old Pinto. He was so cold he wasn’t even shivering anymore.
But his father told him to stay.
So Jake stayed, curled up in a tiny ball in the backseat. He’d been freezing cold, but now he was tired—so tired. His eyes drooped.
“Ring a ring of rosies…”
Jake tried to sing his favorite lullaby, his small voice hardly a whisper. His little hands poked out of his jacket sleeves, and in the dim light they looked as blue as his frayed snowsuit.
It would be so nice to sleep. His dad would get him in the morning.
Scratch. Scratch, scratch.
Jake’s eyes fluttered open.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Snow fell from the side window, casting light into the car from the overhead mall lights. A face appeared. Mumbling. Then silence.
Jake drifted off again.
Thud. Thud.
Crash.
Glass showered down onto Jake and he opened his eyes. Was it his father?
He tried to get up, but he couldn’t.
“It’s okay, I got you,” Deputy Ralston said, reaching for the small boy.
The kid didn’t move, and Ralston was afraid he’d already frozen to death until Jake’s eyes cracked open and looked at him. Ralston dropped the crowbar he used to smash the window and reached in with both arms, scooping the boy up and against his chest.
Cursing, Ralston started high-stepping through the snow, trying to run toward his cruiser, which was parked on the street out front, the part that had been plowed. “You’re going to be okay,” he said to the kid. “Your name is Jake, right?”
The boy in his arms shivered, his body convulsing, but he opened his eyes. “Yes.”
“You’re one lucky kid, you know that?” Ralston had tears in his eyes.
He cradled Jake in his arms.
Ralston had only been on the force for two months, but that was long enough for him to have learned a thing or two about the O’Connells. He’d already arrested the kid’s father once, for a loan scam the guy was running on local businesses.
Some little kid, Sean Womack, had called the police station in a panic. Said he’d seen Jake’s father, drunk, in a mall bar a few hours before. Jake’s older brother had been with him, but not Jake.
The dispatcher told the kid to calm down, but the kid kept calling, saying he’d checked the O’Connell house and Jake wasn’t there. Wanted them to look around the mall. Said it was a snowstorm, might be a life and death situation.
On a whim, Ralston had decided to go and check it out. He was glad he did.
Arriving at his cruiser, he opened the passenger door and set Jake down, then fetched some blankets from the trunk, wrapping Jake in them. Getting into the car, he turned on the ignition, pushed the heating controls to maximum and switched on his sirens. He pulled out into the snowy street, executing a U-turn to head for the hospital.
Where were they going to take the kid? Probably to a foster home. Poor little guy. He knew the O’Connell kids had only just gotten out of foster care to get back with their mother. After Ralston reported this, it would be a long time before they went home again.
Ralston glanced over his shoulder at Jake in the back. Some color was already returning to his face, his little eyes open and watching Ralston.
“You know what, Jake? I’m going to take you home with me after we get you checked out at the hospital. For a little while. Would you like that?”
Ralston had started dating a nice girl, Anna Ingmar. She’d be kinder to Jake than any foster care worker.
Ralston was sure of it.
48
Stamford
Connecticut
Elle’s heart pounded in her chest. “Is this it?” She looked at Eamon.
“1200 Elmcroft,” Eamon replied, glancing at his phone. They were sitting side by side in his Dodge Charger. “This is the address Jin gave us.”
Getting out of the car, they both stared silently past a row of pines at Bluebridge headquarters. The glass pyramid glittered in cold light under the midday sun. They’d searched over a hundred buildings this past week, but this was the one place they hadn’t dared to consider looking for Anna. Whoever had abducted her would never risk something so obvious.
But Anna hadn’t been abducted by a human. Bluebridge didn’t play by the same rules. Didn’t care about the consequences.
The place looked deserted. No other cars on the street or in the courtyard. No people. Birds chirped in the silence, a brisk wind swaying the pines.
Then a whining noise started, grew louder. Elle looked to her right. Jin turned the corner on her dirt bike. Gunning her throttle, she sped toward them and then jammed on her brakes, skidding to a stop in a blue haze. She jumped off her bike, letting it roll over the curb and fall to its side on the grass.
“Did you go in yet?” Jin asked breathlessly, pulling her helmet off and jogging the last few feet separating them.
“We just got here,” Eamon replied.
“Is Jake okay?” Elle asked. “What happened? What’s going on?” It was the first time she’d met Jin in person, though they’d spoken in video chats.
“I don’t know. Jake got us to leave the apartment in the morning, said to wait in the coffee shop down the street and stay hidden. Then at noon—bam!—I got this email with the GPS coordinates of where to find Anna. That’s when all hell broke loose—cop cars, fire engines, ambulances, everything converged on the apartm
ent building where we were holed up. I took off, leaving Sheldon and Wutang to figure it out, and came up here to these coordinates.”
Eamon glanced at Bluebridge headquarters, rising like an ancient pyramid above the trees around it. “Who was the message from, the one saying where Anna was?”
Jin shook her head. “Anonymous sender.” She looked at Bluebridge. “It could be a trap, but Jake said if I got an email, to trust it. I’ve tried Jake’s phone, Wutang’s, Sheldon’s. Nobody is answering.”
Trust. Elle stared at the Bluebridge building looming in front of them. If there was anyone in her life she trusted, it was Jake. She knew he wrestled with the fear that he was a monster like his father. But he wasn’t. He was the most faithful, devoted person she’d ever known.
She regretted not believing in him. It had been a knee-jerk reaction. She was mad at him, angry that he’d dragged his family into some mess. But it wasn’t his fault. Elle knew he loved her and Anna more than anything.
“If Jake said to trust the email, then let’s go,” Elle said.
Eamon held her arm. “Let me go first.” He pulled a gun out from under his jacket, showed it to her, then put it back.
Elle and Jin followed him down the grassy embankment, past the pines, and up to the building’s entrance. Eamon looked back at them and nodded. They walked forward and the main doors to Bluebridge headquarters swung open by themselves as they crossed the last few feet.
Cool air swept over them.
Inside it was even quieter than outside. Dead silent. The reception desk was empty. No sign of anyone. The sintered-quartz chandeliers hung over their heads like angels of death.
Eamon gawked up at the chandeliers and across the immense lobby. “Which way?”
Jin checked the GPS coordinates on her phone’s screen, zoomed in. “Seems to be the back left corner of the building. We’re going to have to check floor by floor. Should we split up?”
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