The Origin (16 page)

“How much?”

“Five million dollars.”

“Why? Why do you think my father owes you this money?”

The man snickered softly. “If I tell you, he will know my identity and the plot will go to waste. Just know that this money is due to me.”

“If you justly deserve this money like you think, why not go the legal route? Why don’t you just sue him?”

“Because your father employs the most rabid pack of lawyers this side of the equator. They would have me for dinner then snack on my bones at midnight. That is, if it even goes to court. He would have me disposed of first via his Assassin.”

“My father would never,” Olivia said adamantly. Her father? He may not be the gold standard for good fathers, but he was a decent dad and no decent dad would ever have an assassin on the payroll.

“Olivia,” the man said with a sigh. “Your father is unscrupulous. He lies, cheats and bullies until he gets exactly what he wants. He will trample anyone who gets in his way to the top, even if they were people helping him to begin with. In summation, Miss King, your father is not a good man.”

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way about him. He happens to be a good father,” she said, her chin lifted in what she hoped appeared as defiance.

“And that’s what I’m counting on, Miss King. Like I said, I just want my money. So just sit back and relax. Now, are you ready to make a phone call?”

* * * * *

Richard King sat across the metal desk from Detective Lingle, remaining relatively calm, but as it were, he was tired of waiting and filling out forms. He needed action. Now.

“Do you have any idea who would want to kidnap your daughter?” the detective said, tapping a pen on the desk, a tic that was driving King insane.

“No,” he said simply. It could be anybody. He didn’t become America’s most successful entrepreneur by making friends, after all. “But when I find out who’s responsible, they will die.”

Detective Lingle cleared his throat. “Not really something you say in front of a police officer inside a police station during a police report,” he said wryly.

King’s nose flared. “If it were your daughter, you would do the same. Trust me.”

Lingle leaned back in his seat with a metallic squeak. “You’d better believe I’d hurt the son of a bitch. But right now, we have to figure out who it is and what they’re after. Did your daughter have any enemies, anyone who would wish her harm?”

King furrowed his eyebrows, thinking and quickly realizing that he knew very little about his daughter’s life. Beyond her job and her new boyfriend, he knew little else about her. “No. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her,” he said. “But we both know this isn’t about her at all. They’ve kidnapped her for ransom. Of that I am sure.”

All of a sudden, his cell phone began to ring, displaying “withheld” instead of a number. He stilled his nerves before saying, “Hello?”

“Richard King,” said an electronically distorted voice. “I have the pleasure of the company of your daughter.”

King gripped his phone. “Who the hell is this?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. I think the more pressing question is what do I want in exchange for your daughter.”

“If you even…”

“Yeah, I know, I know. If I even hurt a hair on her head and all that,” the voice said, making King grind a fist into the table. “I will require five million dollars deposited into my account by eight o’clock.”

Richard glanced down at his diamond-encrusted watch. “That’s in an hour. That’s not nearly enough time.”

“You mean not enough time to figure out a way to find us? Precisely.”

King took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from boiling over. More than anything, he wanted to reach into the phone and squeeze the guy’s esophagus until he took his last wretched breath. “I want to talk to my daughter.”

“Unfortunately, that is all the time we have. Goodbye, Dick.”

King stared at his phone for a good minute afterward, his brain unable to see past the red rage.

“Mr. King?”

King looked up, startled. He’d almost forgotten where he was.

Detective Lingle picked up his telephone and punched in a set of numbers. “I’m calling Judge
Rhinehart
for a warrant to trace that phone call.”

“Excuse me a moment,” King said and stepped out of the small office. He thumbed through the directory on his phone for a number he had never called before until tonight. “Yes, this is King. I need you to deliver the device to my office. Get it to me in half an hour.”

He walked back into the tiny office to find the detective replacing the phone on the cradle. “Alright, we have the warrant. Now we just need to call the different phone companies to see if they can get a triangulation to locate the cell phone’s signal. Then we will know the name attached to the phone, assuming that they are not using a landline or prepaid phone, that is.”

“How effective is this approach?” King said.

“Assuming they’re not on the move, it can be accurate to the city, street, or even the block they are on.” Lingle rubbed his mustache, then his eyes.

“We are assuming a lot of things here, Detective,” King said, his eyes narrowing. “And when it comes to my daughter’s wellbeing, mere supposition will not do.” He reached for the door handle.

“We will do what we can,” the officer said wearily. “I have men looking at the surveillance video of the parking garage and talking to anyone who may have a motive.”

King gave a curt nod. “I’ll be at my office should you need to contact me,” he said as he exited, his mind already leaving the building and heading towards his office, to the handheld device he’d long ago commissioned but hoped never have a reason to use.

Olivia leaned back in the computer chair, desperately staving off the claustrophobia that came with the imposed darkness. After the phone call to her father, John had left the room, leaving her slowly going mad with anxiety from the seemingly endless stretch of silence.

The long period of time alone, which could have been as short as five minutes but nonetheless felt like an hour, was spent thinking of ways to escape. She wrung and twisted her wrists but the tape, infamous for its indestructibility, held steady.

Olivia froze when she heard heavy footsteps approaching on the carpet, and a moment later, a deep voice said, “Your father has thirty minutes left to wire my money.”

Deciding that her only course of action was to take advantage of the kidnapper’s kindness, she feigned curiosity. “What will you do with the money?” she said in a genial way.

A few silent moments went by before he finally decided it safe to speak. “My plan is to get the money and start a business of my own.” He cleared his throat. “And I was also going to use it towards an engagement ring and wedding.”

Olivia remembered the tall, striking woman at his arm. “The one you were with at the ballet?”

The man gasped. “Did you see her face?”

“No. Only yours.”

He exhaled. “My face is… doomed. But she, she has nothing to do with this.” The protectiveness in his voice was subtle but did not go unnoticed. She was relieved to hear that this man, this criminal, had a vulnerability that she could exploit.

“So tell me about her.”

The answer came so quickly as to surprise Olivia. “Well, she’s gorgeous and always smiling. She volunteers every chance she gets and she’s just so kind. Basically, she’s the best person I know. She fills up every missing piece of me that’s been taken away.”

Olivia let out an inadvertent sigh and a thought flitted through her mind without warning:
Does Daniel think of me that way?

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost three years,” he said, a creak announcing that he’d sat down again. “She’s been hinting at getting engaged since she came back from her sister’s wedding. But what she doesn’t know is that I’d already planned on proposing a long time ago. Your father not giving me the money… well, that was just a setback. I have always known that she’d be my wife.”

“Does she know about this kidnapping?”

 
“No!” he said forcefully. “She’s not involved in this at all. You have to believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“I purposely left her in the dark,” he said in a softer voice. “She doesn’t need to see the monster that I have to be. And neither do you.”

Olivia held her breath, and found herself nodding along. “Do you think she’ll forgive you then? After…” She swallowed. “After all is said and done?”

He remained silent for so long that Olivia thought he had stolen out of the room. Finally, he said, “God, I hope so. Because I’m doing this for us. If she left me, I’d… She’s the only thing keeping me sane.

* * * * *

As soon as the Bluetooth in his phone paired with the car’s system, Alex began to dial the first number on the long list of people he intended on calling that night. Basically, he planned on calling everyone and anyone who knew Olivia.

“Andy,” he said as he drove through lower Manhattan. “Have you heard from Olivia tonight? No, she’s not at the ballet. She was kidnapped. Can you do me a favor and call around? Thanks, man.”

He tried the next number on his list, then the next, but nobody, it seemed, knew of anyone who would have any grievance with Olivia.

“Maybe her understudy did it?” was one flippant comment, which gave Alex reason to pause. Of everyone he could imagine, Olivia’s understudy would have the most to gain from her disappearance, but he found it hard to imagine the world of ballet being so dark and desperate.

Still, he needed to follow any and all leads, so he flipped on his blinkers and turned his car around towards the Lincoln Center for the second time that night. Once he’d parked, he hurried towards the dressing rooms, asking anyone he encountered if they could point him to Olivia’s understudy.

He found her in the same hallway he’d met with Olivia the night before, a reminder that, somehow, helped to buoy his spirit. He held onto the belief that it was nothing but a good omen.

“Alex!” said a cute blonde woman, already in her white costume and makeup, looking like someone from the past. “I didn’t know you were back from Sweden!”

He swallowed, unable to remember the woman’s name. He knew she was Olivia’s friend and that he had slept with her at least once, but her identity completely eluded him at that moment. In any event, he had to focus on the task at hand. “Have you seen Olivia?”

She blinked a few times. “No. Nobody’s heard from her.”

“Do you know anything about her disappearance?”

“No!” she cried, one delicate hand flying to her chest, touching the spot above her heart. “Why would you even–”

“Don’t even pretend you don’t know where she is,” he said, wearing the gruff cop exterior he’d seen many times in movies. “I’m on to you.”

The woman’s thin eyebrows furrowed and her chin trembled. “You think I had something to do with her kidnapping?”

“I know you wanted the lead,” Alex said, jabbing the air with his finger. “I know you wanted it bad.” He crossed his arms across his chest and tried to look menacing, though inside he had already begun to lose hope.

A tear slid down her cheek, a dark lightning path through her white makeup. “I did, but I would never, never hurt Olivia. She’s one of my best friends,” she said with a trembling voice.

Alex’s arms dropped to his sides as he exhaled. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the wall, feeling his entire body slump forward. “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I just want to find her.”

The woman, who had no cause to be empathetic after his performance, touched his arm. “I do, too. I would willingly go back to understudy if it means she’s safe.”

He looked up and met her sincere blue eyes, wishing he could at least acknowledge their acquaintance. “I’ll find her,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “She’ll be alright.”

* * * * *

“It’s about goddamn time, Smith!” Richard King bellowed as soon as his massive office door creaked open and his most trusted, and deadly, employee sidled in.

“I came as soon as I could,” Smith said through pursed lips. “Considering I was naked and drunk in a hot tub, I think I got here pretty freaking fast, don’t you think?”

King breathed heavily as he laid his palms on the desk, staring at a small device on the table between them. “Yes. I appreciate your promptness,” he said tightly, his eyes fixed on the small blinking light on the screen. “And it is this promptness that I urgently need at this moment.”

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

“My daughter has been kidnapped for ransom. I need you to take this and retrieve her.”

Smith moved closer to the carved wooden desk and peered at the blinking, beeping white gadget that King was holding out. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is?”