He was so great all through Zach’s recovery.” A flash of pain crossed Monica’s face. She waved it away. “Anyway, a guy like that you gotta lock down, know what I mean?”
“Sure. How is Zach?” While they were working together Monica’s son had sustained serious injuries, almost becoming the final victim in the case. Kelly suddenly felt badly about falling out of touch. The last time she’d contacted Monica was over a year ago, by email. Of course, at least for the last seven months she had a decent excuse.
“Better. Not a hundred percent yet, but he’s taking classes at the community college. His short-term memory is still a little ragged, but…” Monica shrugged. “He’s alive. That’s all that matters.”
“Right.” Kelly cleared her throat, thinking that was an easy sentiment to express when you hadn’t faced the alternative. “Anyway, I should—”
“Oh my gosh, I must be keeping you from something. But listen, I’d love to grab coffee sometime. I leave tomorrow, and Howie and I have dinner plans tonight, but maybe the next time I’m in town? I come down every few weeks.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds great,” Kelly responded mechanically. She dutifully entered Monica’s mobile number in her phone, knowing full well that she’d never call it, and that any messages Monica left would go unanswered.
“All righty, then. Great seeing you, Kelly. Can’t wait to sit down and have a real chat!”
Kelly watched Monica vanish back into the throng. It was nearly dusk and rush hour was about to start in earnest. She’d have to hurry if she didn’t want to end up standing in the subway car the entire ride home.
Before tucking her cell phone back in her purse, she reflexively checked the call log. Nothing today. Jake was out of town on business, but he usually called by now. She considered dialing, but a hard shove from behind almost sent her flying. Kelly gritted her teeth and put the phone away. All she wanted was a hot bath, a glass of wine and a Vicodin. Everything else could wait.
Jake Riley kept his eyes closed, listening to the bustle outside the door. If he concentrated he could distinguish voices, individual conversations. Someone at the water cooler was complaining about stalled negotiations in Colombia. Another voice was speaking Russian, a one-sided conversation over the phone. From down the hall, the distinctive sound of coffee brewing, accompanied by loud laughter. Above all that he registered stiletto heels clicking toward him. That gait he’d recognize anywhere.
He opened his eyes just as the door to his office was thrown open.
“Where are we on the Stanislav case?” Syd asked.
“Hello, Syd. Nice to see you, too.”
Syd Clement shut the door behind her, crossed the room and plopped down in the chair facing him. She eased her feet out of her heels and propped them up on the desk, inches from his own. At this distance, he could almost feel the heat coming off her stocking feet. He caught himself examining her perfect toes.
“The Stanislav case?” she prodded.
“Dubkova is handling it. He thinks one more week, max.”
“Yeah? Dubkova’s an idiot.” Syd’s toes tapped the air impatiently.
“Syd, he’s been a rock star for us so far. Three successful negotiations, no casualties.”
“Those were in Russia. The Ukraine is a whole other beast. I know the Ukraine.”
Jake repressed a sigh. This pattern had become all too familiar. A month or so stateside and Syd got antsy. He’d already had to stop her from intervening in two other active cases that, in her opinion, were taking too long to resolve. What she failed to grasp was that in the private sector, patience and diplomacy usually produced better outcomes than strong-arm tactics. Syd was always a fan of the more forceful approach. Jake weighed his words before speaking. “I think Dubkova deserves another week. The kidnappers are starting to cave. He’s already talked them down another million. One more and we’re in the range that Centaur is willing to pay.”
“Fine. But if they don’t come down in a week, we send in a team.”
“Sure,” Jake agreed, knowing full well that by the end of the day Dubkova intended to have the ransom terms decided, which rendered the entire debate moot. And the prospect of an operation was guaranteed to preoccupy Syd until then.
The company they had co-founded a little more than a year earlier, The Longhorn Group, had taken off in leaps and bounds. They specialized in Kidnap and Ransom cases. Insurance companies that issued K&R insurance kept them on retainer.
Last July they had been the only two in the office. Now there were more than thirty full-time employees on payroll. When one of their clients was kidnapped they mobilized a team to respond, including specialists who coached the families on the negotiation process, and bodyguards to provide protection in case the kidnappers tried to snatch more victims. And if the negotiations fell apart, or the kidnappers became too volatile, The Longhorn Group sent in a recovery team comprised former Special Forces operatives. Their success rate thus far had been impressive: more than forty cases handled in less than a year. Most of the hostages were ransomed out at a price the insurance company was willing to pay. In ten cases they’d been forced to send in units to recover the hostage. Only one case had gone south, thanks to a trigger-happy kidnapper. That one still haunted Jake, but in the grand scheme of things, The Longhorn Group’s record couldn’t be better.
Of course, part of the boom could be attributed to the explosion in kidnappings worldwide. From the waters off the coast of Somalia to beach resorts in the Philippines to the sleepy streets of Silicon Valley, nowhere was completely safe anymore. In the past year they’d handled cases in Colombia, Guatemala, Italy, Spain, the United States and, increasingly, Russia, where kidnappings were becoming as ubiquitous as those nesting dolls hawked as souvenirs. There were rumors that in the recent elections, one party’s entire campaign was financed by ransom money.
Most people were unaware of what a successful ransom negotiation required, especially when an insurance company was involved. The kidnappers invariably made exorbitant demands, either financial or otherwise, in the first stages of negotiation. A frantic family, desperate to see their loved one released, would try to meet those demands. The problem was that paying the full ransom almost guaranteed that the same victim or another family member would be targeted in the future. In the mid-90s, a Hong Kong billionaire was snatched. His family paid the $10 million dollar ransom without any negotiation. A few years later, he was taken again, and this time the kidnappers wanted double the amount. Even though that ransom was also paid, the businessman was killed.
A seasoned hostage negotiator described it to Jake as roughly equivalent to buying a rug in a Moroccan bazaar. The kidnappers initially wanted something outrageous. A negotiator’s job was to bargain them down, convincing them that the family didn’t have that kind of money available, the insurance company refused to pay that much or that what they were asking for was simply impossible if it involved something like the release of political prisoners. A great negotiator wore the kidnappers down, until both parties agreed on an acceptable ransom. And with luck, the time and trouble involved meant that the hostage would be safe from future targeting.
Of course, the fact that human lives were at stake made the game more challenging. Walking away was simply not an option, although going in for a snatch and grab was. Which was why The Longhorn Group employed both highly trained negotiators and commandos. Always good to cover your bases.
“So.
