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He spotted it: the initials “T.M.” were barely visible, but they were there.
Langston paused the recording, wondering what it could mean. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face in frustration. His mind raced with theories about who “T.M.” was.
Could it be the name of the group? More importantly, how could he find out fast enough to get his loved ones back alive?
Langston couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something obvious. He dug into Homeland Security’s database, searching for any traces of the initials. But his hours-long research presented no results.
“What the fuck!”
Frustrated, he leaped to his feet and paced the room, pausing, his head falling back. “Jesus, what am I missing?”
His mind wandered. Tristan had been right. Everyone was on the case, from Homeland to the FBI to the CIA—thanks to Malik calling in favors from friends in the Central Intelligence unit. While they all worked diligently and carried fear in their hearts, no one’s fear ran deeper than Langston’s.
The door to his office opened, and Malik and Tristan strolled in. Hopeful, Langston turned to them. “Any updates?”
“We might have a lead. We have a partial plate from one of the SUVs used at Northshire Bend Mall.
Langston gritted his teeth.
“We’re going over to see if it yields any results. We came to see if you wanted to assist us.”
Langston grabbed his jacket, and the three strolled toward the exit, determination in their face when a notification came through his digital watch.
He paused. “I’ve gotten another message.” The desk phone rang, and he turned and rushed to it. “Speak.”
“You’re running out of time, Mr. Clark.”
“Oh, yeah? And what happens when I run out of time?” His voice was a stern snarl.
“I think you know.”
“Let me ask you something, did you ever pause to think that you will never get the access you want? Did you consider the high probability that your death would be imminent during your planning?”
The man inhaled audibly.“Mr. Clark, I understand you’re upset, so I will let the threat slide. Bring us your access or regret it for life.”
“Why would I give you anything when you’ve taken people I love? You could do anything to them, and I don’t give a fuck about your mission or what you want.”
Silence filled the line.
“You didn’t think this through, did you? The way to properly get what you want is to threaten a person’s familybeforethey’ve been taken. Repeat their daily routines and what they wear. That’s enough to scare a man into action. What you’ve done is piss me off. But I have no proof of life, no proof of health, only demands. Go to hell.”
Silence filled the line again, then the man responded.“As a show of good faith, I’ll have something for you at Dunes Cafe in, say...twenty minutes.”
The line died, and Langston snapped his fingers. “How long will it take us to get to Dunes Cafe?”
Tristan glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes, easily.”
“Let’s go!”
They left in a rush, jumping in a company vehicle and rushing from across town.
“Did anyone call Spencer?”
“Shit! Shit!”
Langston dialed Spencer, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He shot him a text.
s.o.s. Dunes Cafe 20 ETA T.M.
