“Yes,” Michael said. “I promise.”
Alex took a deep breath, as if making up his mind.
“They wanted me to slip a package into some guy’s car. I was supposed to do it last night, but…” He stopped.
“But what?”
“I couldn’t. I got scared. Then I saw you at the restaurant and figured maybe that was my chance.”
He fell silent again.
“Chance for what?” Stanton asked.
“To help my mom,” Alex said quietly. “I recognized you from pictures online. Mom never showed me photos of you, but I found them myself. And when Samir said some important businessman would be at the restaurant, and I saw it was you, I figured if I warned you, maybe you’d help us afterward.”
Stanton was stunned. The boy had risked himself to warn a man he had never met, hoping gratitude might buy his mother’s freedom.
“But how did you know about the federal agents?”
“I didn’t,” Alex admitted. “I made that part up so you’d come with me. Then I heard security talking about some operation and realized I’d gotten lucky.”
Stanton shook his head, amazed by the boy’s nerve and quick thinking.
“What was in the package?”
Alex shrugged, then winced from the pain.
“Don’t know exactly. Samir said it was illegal. They wanted me to plant it in some businessman’s car, then call the police anonymously. He’d get arrested, and they’d let my mom go.”
Stanton suddenly understood. The package had been meant for his car. A backup plan. If the federal operation at the restaurant failed, they would set him up using the boy he would instinctively trust.
“And when you didn’t do it…” Stanton began.
“They beat me up,” Alex finished. “Said if I didn’t do it tomorrow, something bad would happen to my mom.”
Cold anger rose in Stanton. These men had used his son and threatened Nina.
“Do you know where they’re holding her?”
Alex shook his head.
“No. Samir mentioned some warehouse outside town, but I don’t know where.”
At that moment Dr. Hayes stepped into the room.
“Time’s up,” he said gently. “The boy needs rest.”
Stanton nodded and turned to Alex.
“I’ll find your mother. I promise. You stay here and get better. I’m putting security outside your room. Nobody is going to hurt you again.”
Alex’s eyes widened.
“You can really do that?”
“I can,” Stanton said. Then, after a pause, he added, “And when this is over, you and I are going to have a real conversation. About everything.”
Alex didn’t answer, but something in his expression had changed. The distrust was still there, but now there was a little hope mixed in with it. Stanton left the room and closed the door behind him.
“Well?” Dr. Hayes asked.
“It’s worse than I thought,” Stanton said. “Doctor, can I get your number?”
Morning found Stanton in his office downtown. He hadn’t slept at all. He had spent the night coordinating the search for Nina and putting together a plan to neutralize the threat from Gazi’s crew. After leaving the hospital, he had spoken with Boris, issued a string of instructions, checked on the guards outside Alex’s room, and gone straight to the office.
Three folders sat on the desk in front of him: the file on Samir Gazi, the material on Nina and Alex, and the report on the federal operation at the Imperial. The last one was especially interesting. Federal investigators had apparently been building a case for months around a money-laundering scheme involving Capital Trust Bank. Arthur Vance and several others had already started talking. Stanton’s name appeared in the file, but only as a potential witness. He had gotten lucky. If he had signed the acquisition documents, he might well be sitting in a holding cell now.
But Nina mattered more.
Boris had used every contact he had to identify warehouses linked to Gazi. By morning they had three possible locations outside the city where Nina might be held.
The office door opened and Boris came in. He looked tired but focused.
“Michael, we’ve got movement. First address was a bust, but the second one looks active. Warehouse on the grounds of an old textile mill about thirty miles out. Our people saw two men from Gazi’s crew there.”
Stanton stood up.
“Good. Get the team ready. I’m going with you.”
“Michael,” Boris said carefully, “maybe you should stay here. This could turn dangerous.”
“No,” Stanton said. “I need to be there. This is my…” He stopped. “My responsibility.”
Boris studied him. In all the years he had worked for Stanton, he had seen him under pressure plenty of times. But never like this.
“All right,” he said. “We leave in thirty minutes.”
After Boris left, Stanton walked to the window and looked out over the city. Morning traffic was already building. People heading to work. Cars streaming through intersections. The city moving as if nothing had changed. But for him, everything had changed in less than twenty-four hours. He had always thought of himself as a practical man, someone who knew what he wanted and took the shortest route to it. Fifteen years earlier he had chosen career over Nina and the unborn child. He had never doubted the logic of that decision.
Now, looking down at the city, he felt the emptiness of his life more clearly than ever. Yes, he had built an empire. Millions in the bank. Influence. Power. But did he have anything real? Anyone who loved him for something other than his money or status? His marriage had long since become a shell. His wife spent more time abroad than at home. His daughter, spoiled and distant, rarely called, and when they did see each other, it felt more like a formal lunch than family.
And now there was Alex. A boy who had inherited not just his face, but his nerve, his intelligence, his willingness to take risks for people he loved. And Nina—the woman he had once loved—was in danger because of a mess tied, indirectly or not, to him.
The phone on his desk rang, breaking the thought.
“Yes?” Stanton answered.
“We’re ready,” Boris said. “Car’s downstairs.”
“Coming,” Stanton said, and after one last look at the city, headed out.
The operation was planned carefully. Two SUVs carrying Boris’s men went ahead. Stanton’s car rode in the middle. Another SUV followed behind. Twelve men total, most of them former tactical officers with experience in situations like this.
The warehouse sat on the grounds of an abandoned textile mill about thirty miles outside the city. A one-story concrete structure with broken windows, surrounded by rusting machinery and weeds, it looked exactly like the kind of place no one would notice.
They stopped about half a mile away. Boris spread a map across the hood of a vehicle.
“Two entrances: main and side. Surveillance picked up three men—two inside, one outside, probably lookout. Two vehicles on site, likely Gazi’s.”
“Is Gazi there?” Stanton asked.
“Doesn’t look like it, but one of his top guys is. What’s the call?”
“Two teams. One blocks the front. One goes in through the side. We neutralize the guards and get the hostage out if she’s there. Fast and clean.”
Stanton nodded.
“And if she’s not?”
“Then we question whoever we find. They’ll know where she is.”
“Fine.” Stanton fastened the body armor they had given him. “I’m with the second team.”
“Michael…” Boris began, but Stanton cut him off.
“Not up for debate. I’m going.”
Boris sighed, but let it go.
They approached in one vehicle, leaving the others at a distance. Near the warehouse they split into two teams. Stanton, Boris, and three men moved toward the side entrance, circling the building. The lookout at the front was smoking, leaning against the wall. He never had a chance. Stanton’s men were on him in seconds. Brief struggle, then he was on the ground, bound and gagged.
Boris signaled the front team, and both groups entered at once. Inside, the warehouse was a large open space with concrete walls and a high ceiling. Several tables stood in the middle, covered with papers and boxes. In the far corner was a small enclosed room with a door.
The two men inside barely had time to reach for their weapons before they were taken down.
“Clear,” the front team leader called.
“Check the room,” Boris ordered.
One of the men approached the door carefully and tested the handle. Locked. He nodded. Two men took positions on either side while a third prepared to breach.
“On three,” Boris said. “One, two—”
The door flew open before he finished. Samir Gazi stood there, using a woman as a shield. He held a pistol to her head.
“Nobody move!” he shouted. “One more step and I kill her!”
Stanton froze. The woman in Samir’s grip was Nina. He recognized her instantly despite the drawn face and tangled hair. Fifteen years had not erased her from memory.
“Lower your weapons!” Samir barked. “All of you!”
Boris looked at Stanton. Stanton gave the smallest nod, and the men lowered their guns.
“Samir,” Stanton said calmly, taking one step forward. “Let’s talk.”
“Stay where you are!” Samir shouted. “One more step and she’s dead!”
Stanton stopped, eyes fixed on Nina. She stared back at him, wide-eyed with fear. But there was something else there too—shock, disbelief, a question she couldn’t yet ask.
“What do you want?”
