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Him. Corning. Daddy’s rival for the presidency is behind this? I’ve met Nolan Corning a few times over the years, always at large public appearances for Congress. He’s a big man with a bald head and sharp predator’s eyes, jowls hanging and saggy skin making him look older than he is. Side by side, he and my dad look like Mutt and Jeff, tall and short, even though they’re only five or six years apart.
Nolan Corning obstructed a bunch of bills Daddy tried to get through on transportation and energy, even though they’re in the same party. He also is one of those old men who insists on kissing you on the mouth when you’re a kid, even if you don’t want to.
But that’s literally all I know about him.
Why would he want me to be raped and tortured – and now killed? What did I ever do to Nolan Corning?
Drew
Cramming myself into the hidden compartment of a surveillance van after having the shit kicked out of me by law enforcement is about as much fun as you’d expect.
I think I lost half a testicle and all vestiges of self respect as Silas drives me into Tiffany’s open garage. He kills the engine, the doors close, and I unpretzel myself, ignoring the pain, trying to will my half-broken right shoulder to cooperate. Adrenaline shoots through me like fireworks in the sky on the fourth of July.
It has to be enough. I have to be enough.
I have to get next door and save her.
What they’re doing is obvious. Set me up as a crazy ex-boyfriend stalker, then kill her in my apartment. Stage the murder. Make me the scapegoat. Leave Harry and Monica in the impossible position of having hired the very man who “killed” their daughter.
It’s a brilliant set-up.
And I’d admire it more if I weren’t the setee.
“Get out of here,” I tell Silas as he grabs my gear. “If they start sniffing around, I’ll need you on the outside.”
“You can’t be in here alone.”
“I have to. You need to be ready with a team if it gets bad enough. Right now, we can’t storm my apartment. They’ll just kill her.” Adrenaline floods me, making this conversation feel slow and cumbersome.
“Then we need to communicate on a secured line.”
“Agreed.”
“Is any line secured with these guys?” Silas asks. “You’re the cybersecurity expert.”
“I’m not an expert. I’m just smarter than anyone else on our team. We need to up our game and find someone better than me.”
“We aren’t rolling in time here, Drew.”
I take a few precious seconds and ponder. Closing my eyes, I clear my mind.
Time to decide.
Time to act on the decision.
“Use a secured line. This is all about to go down within thirty minutes. By the time they realize I’m there they’ll be dead.”
His look makes it clear he’s not sure who will be dead in thirty minutes, but he believes that someone will.
“I’ll continue tracking down Paulson.” Silas’s eyes meet mine. “I want to believe he’s not involved, but the longer he goes without being reached...”
“One of three scenarios is possible with Mark: he’s on the other side, he’s detained, or he’s been harmed. Only one of those actually matters operationally.”
Silas doesn’t even flinch.
More proof I’ve trained him well.
“Let’s hope it’s the middle one,” he mumbles.
