Before You

Yay! Back on line! Putting up several chapters this evening, but without my beta's help.





CHAPTER FIVE



Roth had just climbed into his car when his private cell rang and he saw Jason’s, his future brother-in-law, name on the screen. Flipping the phone open, he answered with a question. “You okay?”



Jason’s voice held near total panic. “Something happened to Ridge. He disappeared during his run.”



His mind raced. “Did you call the cops?”



“Not yet.”



“Good.” Roth considered what the family security advisor would need to know. “We have a man who specializes in this kind of thing and I have a friend on the Bureau. He’s been on standby for me since this shit started, and can probably get there within an hour.”



“There’s blood.”



That went straight to his gut. As a family, they’d lived under the threat of someone wanting part of the Garrett wealth. Lately, due to a business feud involving a very large salvage deal, it had become more probable. “My brother wouldn’t go along if he had means to resist. Try to put it from your mind.”



“We have to call the police.”



“Actually,” he began, longing to coddle Jason and reassure him, “I can tell you that until they deem this a homicide, local FBI will handle it as a kidnapping.” Roth thought holding his younger brother’s mate might comfort him, too. However, none of them had that luxury now. Ridge needed them strong and ready. “If who we think is behind this is guilty, we don’t want Feds coming between us and them.”



“They’ve hurt him and maybe killed him, Roth.”



Roth’s hand holding the phone shook. His voice did not. “Stop it, Jason. We need you. My brother needs you.”



“You’re right. What do I do?”



“First, remember Ridge is too valuable to kill.” Not too valuable to maim, he thought before he could catch himself.



“They tried to kill Braxton and you.”



“That was in hopes of distracting Dad so badly he’d drop the bid before starting the job.” He forced himself into a cool, rational mode of operation. “Now, the company is already on the project, he needs Dad to willingly sub-contract it to him. Right now, Ridge’s worth eighty million. See if he took his phone.”



“No. It’s still here.”



“Shit.” They might have used it to track his location. Then again, anyone able to take down Ridge wouldn’t overlook that possibility and would likely have dialed a random number to open the line and tossed the mobile into a snow bank somewhere. “Okay, we deal. They’d have tossed it anyway. Have to call my parents and get this moving. Is the scene of his abduction nearby?”



“Yes.”



“Can or will anyone disturb it?”



“No.” Jason sounded more composed.



“I want you to wait there.” Roth glanced at his watch, then hit the garage door opener. “Keith will come via chopper. When he arrives, you take him to the site.”



“Are you sure about this?”



“I’m betting my brother’s life, Jason.”



“Okay.”



Shifting into reverse, he backed out onto the street. The sun shone brightly despite the slightly cooler weather. “It’s not like a TV show where everything gets neatly wrapped in an hour. We’ve faced this potential scenario for years. Plans are in place. Call me when Keith arrives.”



“Okay.”





Roth drove to his parents’ house. The gathered in the sort of ‘command center’ in the big living room area. Nelson Spade, the man they kept on retainer just for these reasons, answered the phone when it rang. He wore a headset for speaking and had three computers set up as he worked. “Jason?”



“Yes, and me, Roth’s friend,” Keith answered. “Has he joined you?”



“I have,” Roth replied.



“Good,” Keith returned “My scene-based conclusion is that Ridge is definitely wounded, but alive.”



Nelson typed on one keyboard, only glancing up every minute or so, he responded, “I’ve broken down the factors concerning transportation. Considering the sparse population in that area, they would have less chance of being noticed and a larger travel distance to reach a secured destination. However, they also have to consider Jason is new to the family. They have to allow he might panic and call police first, and put them at risk for a traffic stop.”



“I agree.” Keith’s concurrence did not soothe the fear in Roth’s heart as he listened. “I believe they monitor the police channels,” Keith continued. “In this kind of situation, the general operating rule is to listen, then terminate the package and abort if required.”



Nelson spoke very somberly as he checked an incoming email. “I understand how nerve-wracking it is to wait. However, I strongly advise we make the confirmation of willingness to negotiate as outlined in the initial contact, and demand proof of life. That will means having to wait for a picture of him with tomorrow’s addition of some daily paper.”



Roth closed his eyes briefly as his mother gasped.



“I agree,” Keith again seconded.



“Their directions made it very clear we limit travel to daily norms,” Nelson shared. “I doubt they knew anything about you, Special Agent Dyer.”



“Just ‘Keith’,” he corrected. “I’m on personal business, not Bureau business.”



“Very well. I don’t think they knew about Keith in advance. We should assume they do now. This is too risky and potentially lucrative not to cover bases. I have overnighted two cell phones for your use and we have several new ones for us just in case. This will be the last communication via the landlines. We’ll call you upon receipt of POL.”



“I intend to sweep the house and yard for anything unusual,” Keith added. “Then, I’ll make Jason’s safety my priority.”



“We’ll talk in the morning, then.”



“All right. Goodbye.”





Roth called the hospital to tell them he would not report pending further notice, and FedExed his ID badge and security card in the event they wished to fire him. He stayed at his parents’ home, laying in his old bed for a while that night, then went downstairs where Nelson monitored his multiple machines.



In silence, they waited for the next day. POL came in the form of an heartbreaking video clip. Keith made contact.



As a family, they assembled. Roth hated his helplessness.



After an agonizing wait, Keith called. “Good morning, Nelson. I’m putting us on speaker. Do you have POL?”



“Yes. I’m sending the video to the other phone.” Nelson possessed the wherewithal to consider tact. “Jason, perhaps you shouldn’t see.”



Much to his credit, Jason responded, “If he has to endure it, the least I can do is watch.”



“Very well. Sending the video file to Jason’s phone now.”



Roth watched it at the same time. A somewhat grainy image of Ridge barechested, two large blood-soaked bandages on his upper body, filled the screen. The camera panned back to show a paper next to his battered face. December 13th, 2008. Jason noted the date and name of a publication distributed around forty miles from Blair’s Tavern.



A digitally modified voice addressed their father. “Your son has incurred additional debt. We attempted to remove a ring from his finger to send as a show of good faith.” That horribly mechanized voice continued, “He has deprived me of seven valuable men.”



The focus retreated to show him on one knee, wrists in thick manacles and chained to a stone wall behind him at an awkward angle. Bruises appeared over his ribs and belly. Blood stained his torn jeans. Ridge seemed to sag, consciousness slipping. He gripped the chains, hands shifting almost restlessly.



Given the size of the bandages, the exact placement of the wounds remained unknown. Blood loss would quickly become a factor, especially in the cold.



“We have provided proof of life. Stop dives on the salvage site and upon confirmation, we will contact with the next set of instructions.”



“I want them dead,” Jason whispered as the file ended. “I want them bloodied and dead.”



Keith spoke to Nelson. “What’s next?”



“We analyze the footage, separate background noises from the main audio. Start putting the voice through software to attempt getting something close to the natural source.”



Keith proposed a theory concerning the mob’s involvement and drugs. Quickly Roth returned, “There’re plenty of underwater transports already used on archeological projects, and to propel divers. The military has underwater sleds for spec ops to move materials. Who knows what’s available to the shadier elements.”



After a moment, Jason asked, “Does Ridge know sign language?”



Seth spoke up. “Lili had terrible ear infections when she was young and sometimes a great deal of trouble hearing. Ridge taught himself and then her to sign,” his voice broke, “to keep her from feeling alone.”



Nelson cut in, “Good catch, Jason. You decide to go into my line of work, you’re hired. I have two colleagues who excel at this kind of thing. We’ll break it down and get back to you with the find.”



“How long?” Jason asked, suffering clear in his tone.



“It takes time,” Nelson answered. “And, we’ll still need another proof of life tomorrow.”





At around five that evening, Nelson called back. “I have the translations for the signing. I hope like hell this makes sense to you, Jason. Because, we can’t make heads or tails of it.”



Jason demanded, “Tell me what he said.”



“Actually, it was a question. We guess. How about those Yankees.”



For a long moment, silence, then, “Are there any old schools for the deaf in the transport radius you defined?”