“This is Jack,” Pasco said.
“Hi, Jack,” Ben said.
The agent who was taking call notes on a whiteboard wrotefirst name usage=distress.
I gripped Mai’s hand.
Bond stepped close to the screen, then borrowed the dry-erase pen from the note taker and wrotepossible concussion.
“Jack, I’m here with my friend, Devlin,” Ben said.
It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still a shock.
“I told him Savannah received his note about needing help, so she called together some like-minded friends who want to help Howard.”
“We have a problem.” Ben pulled the phone away from himself, and Devlin came into view, looking grizzled, confused, and downright terrifying. Then Ben shifted the phone, and Devlin’s gun jumped onto the screen.
The whiteboard agent wrotearmed kidnapper, Colt AR 15.
Off to the side, Kat was hovering over the agents tasked with tracking the phone’s signal.
“I’m going to show you the problem now,” Ben said.
I saw Lang mouthfuck me, and knew it was going to be very bad, worse than an unhinged man with a large gun.
“Taylor Stewart was here with Howard Anson,” Ben was saying as he rotated the phone, “and they left this.” A metal device with wires and a timer came into view. A bomb. “And the wires run to the door and window, as well.”
Everyone in the room tensed.
“Why would he want us to help Anson, the man who left them with a bomb?” I whispered to Mai. “Does that make any sense?”
“Only to the madman holding the gun,” she whispered back. “Devlin looks like he’s dissociating, losing touch. Ben will do whatever it takes to appease him.”
“Where’s Savannah?” Devlin asked. “Why can’t I see her? Why aren’t they on the screen?”
“They’re in a safe place,” Ben responded immediately. “They can’t get a good signal. But that’s how they’re keeping Savannah safe.”
“I want to hear her voice,” Devlin demanded.
Cold fingers gripped my churning gut. I swallowed hard to push down the bile.
Ben, whose back was to Devlin, widened his eyes and ever so slightly shook his head no. But he didn’t get to make thatcall because Kat waved me forward, closer to the phone. Instinctively, I grabbed the pages of his confessions and went and stood beside Pasco’s chair.
“Devlin, it’s Savannah.”
He smiled, his toothy grin too wide for his now-narrow face. “Vannah,” he said, using a nickname I never liked, “there you are. I’m glad your friend wasn’t lying.”
Lang motioned to me, and I bent toward him. “We need a 3-D view of the bomb so we can walk Ben through disarming it.”
I stood up and took a steadying breath. I pasted a smile on my face like you’re supposed to do when talking on the phone to sound friendlier. “Dev, we have so much to talk about, but first we have to make sure you’re safe.”
“Are you safe, Vannah?”
“I’m safe. But Dev, there’s a bomb there with you. My friends, Jack and Charlie—you remember Charlie from last night, don’t you?”
Devlin nodded. “Of course, I do. You know I’m great with names. Charlie works with Dan Mellner. Dan is sponsoring him to join WCI.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Jack and Charlie are going to help you disarm the bomb, so we need Ben to walk around it with the phone. Is that okay?”
