Gabriel Prospect was a fastidious sort. When Dino tugged to pull his Big Mac wrapper with his tightly bound hands, a few sesame seeds flew loose from the bun and splattered on the table. Prospect huffed, took a napkin and carefully gathered the tiny seeds, slid them to the end of the table then tossed the napkin and seeds into the trash.

Huh, Dino thought. Wonder how else I can distract this fucker. I need him turned around and occupied for at least five seconds. The ‘on’ switch for the radio was less than a foot from Dino’s fingers.

“Open this ketchup for me, buddy,” he grunted, shaking his fries from the cardboard container and making sure it made a mess. He tossed the little ketchup packets onto Prospect’s perfectly smoothed paper wrapper and enjoyed the scowl he got for it. This was fun, now if only it would work.

Prospect turned and brought up a black bag, about twenty inches long, rolled black canvas. He carefully opened the bundle, displaying an impressive array of what was obviously chef’s knives; all perfectly polished, sharp as hell and flashing in the overhead light. He drew a pair of poultry scissors and neatly snipped the edges of three ketchup packets, squeezed them all into a neat mound on the paper near Dino’s fries then gave a wicked grin.

“Thanks,” Dino didn’t ask, but Prospect was far too stoked to let it go.

The man chewed on his burger then delicately dabbed the corner of his mouth. “Did you know I was once a butcher?” He focused on re-rolling the knife bag then actually stood, turned his back and walked to the other room with it.

Dino held his breath, reached over and switched on the radio. Please oh please be fucking listening, you guys! His mind spun with quick, abbreviated prayers that promised he’d quit smoking if God made sure Terry and/or Grant were near the radio to hear whatever would be said next, that they’d have the smarts to keep quiet and the instinct to follow the clues. 

Prospect finally returned and sat again at his place, a wet sharpening stone in one hand and a twelve-inch knife in the other. He proceeded to slide aside his meal, pushing it toward the radio but the idiot never looked at the knob. He gave a maniacal grin and proceeded to sensuously pull the blade again and again across the stone then simply continued talking.

That’s the way, you motherfucker. Let’s really get you in deep, Dino thought and munched away on a burger that was tasting better and better with each bite.

“Yes, Mr. O’Leary. I began working for my father when I was nine-years-old. He took great pride in his craft and taught me everything he knew about butchering. In fact,” his eyes rose from the sharpening activity, “I can take apart an entire goat in less than an hour … a man … probably an hour and a half.”

“Well, bravo for you, Gabe,” Dino slurped from his soda straw and leaned back casually. “Just how the hell do you plan to get away with all this?”

“Simple. Your negotiator is most concerned about me. He wants you back, to be sure, but he really wants to keep his track record clean. Wouldn’t be good for business to loose a few clients, now would it? I am most disappointed that Mr. Thorne did not see fit to come to China. He would have been the icing on the cake,” he chuckled, the rattling shush, shush, rhythm of the sharpening blade never stuttering. “Ah well, it will still work out.”

“So,” Dino’s brow curled and pretended confusion. “Lemme see if I got all this … since I’m assuming I’m gonna die anyway, it’ll be entertaining to figure this all out, you know?”

“Go on, Mr. O’Leary,” Prospect focused on the knife.

“Okay. You came to China, a mess of K&R insurance under your belt and a plan. Then … you got yourself this maintenance man job, right?” Dino nudged his chin toward the grey overalls with the name Peter embroidered over the breast pocket.

Prospect nodded. “Continue.”

“You grew that beard and started working here. How’d you pull off the kidnapping?”

The man chuckled. “Oh, I had to hire a few blokes to do that, staged the whole thing myself to make sure the tapes would be rather … unhelpful.”

“Yeah,” Dino grunted, “nice job with that.”

“Ah … but then I had to kill those men. I couldn’t have them … around.”

Dino stifled the tremble that shivered down his spine. “Makes sense. But tell me something, how the hell are you thinking you can actually take this thing to the bank? You’re negotiating for two hostages. Only one shows up, your payout will be half what you’re shooting for.”

Another maniacal, smug grin. “The drop will happen before the trade actually occurs. Remember when I took you out of here last week for a bit of a stroll?”

Dino nodded.

“I paraded you and me right under a surveillance camera. I have that tape. In Rabbit’s eyes, it’ll appear to be live activity and the final proof of life before he drops the ransom into a lock box I myself installed this afternoon just a hundred feet from this very spot. Brilliant, don’t you agree?”

“Brilliant. But …”

Prospect set aside the knife and took a bite of his burger. Swallowed, did his high bred Brit napkin dab again and grinned. “Let me explain. When Rabbit arrives at the meet point, I’ll be the only one there … me … and this MacDonald’s bag holding your still warm heart. Sad, isn’t it?”

“Actually, it’s kinda entertaining in a morbid, Hannibal Lecter way. My heart always was in this business, now wasn’t it?” Dino grinned, his gut rolling and still beating heart racing. “But, and Gabe, don’t get pissed off here, I’m just playing the Devil’s advocate … but … how can you be so fucking sure Rabbit won’t figure out this whole scam? Figure out that you’re the kidnapper, that you faked this whole thing; that you’re holding me in this basement apartment … right in the underground garage … right beneath the same fucking hotel he’s sitting in right now, probably waiting for your next contact? How can you be so fucking sure?”

Prospect gathered up the mess from their meal, put away his knife then shrugged as he reached for the rope and duct tape. Dino did what he was supposed to, he returned to the floor and let the man tie his hands at his back, bind his ankles then tape his mouth shut.

“I can be sure about it all because,” he stood and glared down at his captive, “you and Mr. Thorne are the best of the beast. You didn’t figure it out and neither will he. Whoever Rabbit is, he can’t hold a candle to the best of the best. I will have beat the true professionals.”

He walked to the door and turned a glance over his shoulder before leaving. “Oh, and Mr. O’Leary, I do hope you enjoyed your meal … it was your last supper, my friend. When my shift is over, so goes your life.” He switched off the light and left, locking the door behind him.

Dino sat still as death in the darkness. His eyes struggled to focus on the radio, to see that the dial was still switched on. He listened hard to every sound beyond his pounding heart. Minutes passed and sweat dripped from his temples. Chances are, Grant heard nothing, didn’t have his radio on or even tuned to the right band. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He leaned his head back. Dino needed to get a plan B in action. No fucking way he was letting Prospect dismantle him and deliver only a heart to Grant. First off that would really fucking suck … second, it might make Grant feel like he’d failed, not a good thing for a new K&R crisis trainee … and third … there was no way on God’s green earth he was letting Prospect get away with this. No fucking way.

His shoulders slumped and he drew in a deep breath through his nose. Then, he took one more run at it all. He thumped his head back hard against the loose wooden panel behind him. Dino pounded a steady S.O.S., again and again and again.

And like the answer to a prayer, he heard it. The radio crackled then the voice he wanted to hear wafted quietly over it.

“Mate, we got it all. Sit tight; we’re coming to get ya.”

“Thank fucking God!” Dino growled a muffle under the tight duct tape.

***

As the voices spoke over the radio, Grant was already on the phone. He ran down to the manager and alerted them to the situation, found out everything he could and where the maintenance man resided. Dino was correct on all counts; held captive just fifteen floors below them for fuck’s sake! By the time he got back to the room, Terry was grinning ear to ear. He nodded then picked up the mike.

“We’re comin’ to get ya,” he said and turned. Nothing needed to be said, both men prepared in the blink of an eye. They charged to the elevator, armed to the teeth and the manager on the talkie stating that the underground garage was sealed off and the Beijing police were already there.

“Where’s Prospect?” Terry hissed.

“Security cameras show him heading back to his apartment, Mr. Thorne. About a hundred feet away and around the corner from the elevators.”

Zack and Terry exchanged a glance just as the doors slid opened. Zack moved quickly,
checking left then right and heading toward the apartment in the darkened distance.

Terry moved to follow then stilled and gasped …

Suddenly, he wasn’t in an elevator. Bloody hell! Terry Thorne was standing on the hill in Tacala! He was watching the back bumper of Alice’s car disappear around the curve beneath him. Gone. His brow curled. How could this be? Fuck all; there was no time for losing my bloody mind right now! He glanced over his shoulder. Dino needed him! No time to be reliving this bullshit, going back there. He had enough of that in his present life to fill his heart with misery. He sure as hell didn’t need memories of Alice adding to it all.

He cleared his throat, glanced over the lush green hill one more time and the warm breeze lifted his hair. I gotta get back to Dino! His head swung left and right then he looked down at his right hand. He opened the palm, feeling strangely split between reality and fiction, one world and another. Once, twice, three times his flexed his right hand into a fist then heaved the heavy equipment on his shoulder. What the fuck was he gonna do now? Was Dino really somewhere else? In another reality? Needing him? NOW?

“Thorne? Thorne!” Grant’s hissing voice caught Terry’s full attention just as the doors began to close. He reached out a hand to stop them and slipped out. Gone were all images of Tacala.