Frank led the way down to the mall’s basement where the offices and security were situated.  He glanced over his shoulder at Burton. “I doubt the manager is here this late but the security guys should know something.”

“I’m not so sure, Frank. If that were the case, it would have been called in.”

“Unless it was a quick move that didn’t register as alarming,” Frank countered.

Burton nodded slowly. “Correct. So…what are you doing after school and college?”

Frank felt his shoulders tense. “Working for my father.”

Burton was quiet as they walked the empty corridor. “No aspirations higher than that?”

“I’ve had my fill of government secrets,” Frank said as they came to the room where the security guards stayed when not patrolling. One guard was at the back of the room where video monitors lined the wall.

A lanky man with a shock of sandy hair was sprawled along an old faded sofa. He looked up from his magazine as Frank walked in. “Hey, dude, little late for a visit, eh?”

“It’s kind of official, Jeff.”

Burton flashed his badge. “National Security Agency. I’m going to need to see tonight’s exterior security footage from approximately seventeen hundred thirty hours.”

The guy at the video monitors turned around, his dark hair brushing the collar of his uniform shirt. “Now wait a minute. You can’t just waltz in here, waving some tinplated badge —”

“He’s for real, Chuck,” Frank said with a sigh.

Charles “Chuck” McClenahan studied Frank for a moment and turned to Burton. “All right.” He turned to the controls and searched for the time Burton had suggested. “All right, which cameras?”

“On row nine,” Frank said.

Chuck got busy on the control board and after a few moments, he called up the video from the camera on row nine in the parking lot. The picture was grainy, more shades of gray than black and white. At the bottom of the screen, small white numbers ticked down the time.

Frank leaned forward as the numbers crept closer to six p.m. But it was closer to six-twenty when he saw a familiar figure come into the camera’s range. “There she is.”

A black van pulled up behind the Maserati just as she’d opened the driver’s side door and set her purse inside. Frank felt a chill sweep down his spine as he realized what had happened. She’d thought the van belonged to him and Joe and approached it with no worries.

He watched her start for the black van until someone in a dark hoodie got out and came toward her. In less than a minute, he had her inside the van and they were driving away. Frank noted that the driver was determined that the camera wouldn’t capture the license plate.

Frank grunted and stalked away from the control board. Chuck swiveled his chair around. “What’s going on?”

“There’s been a kidnapping,” Burton stated.

Jeff walked over to them. “That wasn’t a kidnapping, man.” He gestured to Frank. “This is a joke, right, dude?”

Burton looked at Frank. “What?”

Frank took a deep breath. “We have a black van. Vanessa would have thought it was us.”

Chuck shared a puzzled look with Jeff. “We thought — you mean it wasn’t?” Chuck asked, startled.

Frank slowly shook his head and noticed Burton go pale. “What?”

“That means Sokol knows more than we thought.” Burton spun on his heel and headed out of the room.

Jeff nodded to Frank. “You’re just pulling his leg, right?”

“Honestly, right this minute, I wish I could say that, Jeff. But someone’s grabbed Vanessa and she’s in real danger.”

Chuck turned back to the control board. “I’ll check the other exterior cameras to see if I can get the license plate, Frank.”

“Thanks, Chuck. I have to go.”

“Good luck,” Jeff called as Frank left for the nearest elevator.

Frank hurried into an empty elevator and rode it up to the ground level, dreading having to tell Joe the news. He knew that his brother wouldn’t take this development well.

                                                          **

The parking lot had filled up in the few minutes since Frank and Burton had gone inside, Joe noted. Several police officers with high-powered flashlights were walking the perimeter of both the parking lot and the mall itself, looking for anything.

There were times Joe thought he could still smell the explosion residue or see a shadow of the scorching on the asphalt, although it had been repainted and replaced long ago.

Sometimes he felt…haunted when he came to the mall, memories crowding in on him, jumbled all up with everything since that fateful day. Like now, memories of thinking he’d lost Vanessa the same way. The yacht exploding that horrible Halloween…the Assassins grabbing Vanessa…the van exploding, making him think she was inside…

Anger swept through him and he wanted to break something, or someone — like the people who’d grabbed Vanessa this time. His eyes focused on the gleaming red Maserati and felt his heart ache. I can’t lose her, he thought, I can’t. It can’t end this way. I won’t let it.

Joe tore his gaze from Vanessa’s car to see Burton hurry out of the mall and talk to his father. He was too far away to hear the words but from the worried expression on the man’s face, Joe knew it wouldn’t be good news.

He took off running toward his father and Burton, managing to overhear the words ‘black van’ when he came within earshot. Before he could ask, Frank rushed over to them.

Frank pulled Joe’s arm, tugging him aside. “The kidnappers were in a black van like ours.”

Joe stared at Frank, feeling the blood turn to ice in his veins. “Frank, Vanessa would have —”

“She did,” Frank said heavily. “She thought it was us until it was too late.”

Joe clenched his hands, his blue eyes going wild. Frank reached for his brother but Joe’s fists came up. Frank stepped back. “Whoa. I’m not the one you want to punch.”

Joe took a deep breath. “We have to find her,” he said tightly, the blood thrumming in his head. “We have to find her.”

“I know. Chuck’s trying to get a good shot of the license plate.”

Desperation swept through Joe. “You know it’s going to be stolen or fake. Whoever they are, they’re good.”

“Or it could be a rental. Joe, we’ll find her. We’ll get her back.”

“I can’t lose her, Frank.”

Frank felt his anger well up. Joe was vibrating like piano wire, the least little thing would set him off. Joe had lost enough in the last few years and Frank didn’t want to see him lose anything else. “I know, Joe. I know.”

“I want to punch something so bad right now,” Joe said, his hands still clenched.

“Not many options since I’m not volunteering.”

Joe growled low in his throat and Frank stepped in front of him. “You really don’t want to dent Vanessa’s car or break your knuckles on the lamp post. Save it all for the guys who grabbed her. I won’t stop you until you’ve punched them all out.”

Joe finally focused on Frank. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nodded toward his father and Burton who were now talking to Ezra Collig, Bayport’s Police Chief, and Con Riley. “Then let’s get busy.”

The brothers got closer to the four older men as they were conversing about all-points' bulletins and road blocks. Collig’s beefy face was grim. “That’s the problem. If she was grabbed around six-thirty this evening, that gives the kidnappers a good three and a half hours to take off.”

Burton shook his head. “I disagree. From what we know of Sokol, he’d hire local mercs. And he’d want it close by so family could be adversely affected.”

Con Riley frowned. “All this for something that happened over a decade ago?”

Burton took a deep breath. “The man has a unique perspective. When he was nearly shut down as a dummy corporation for the Hadad Pharmaceutical company, he retaliated, killing several high-ranking persons in Hadad Pharmaceuticals. Rumor has it he might had something to do with the death of Khalil Hadad, the former owner of the company.”

Burton looked at the men around him. “I’m not here in an official capacity, unfortunately. The FBI is going to have to be called in. Kidnapping is a federal case.”

“I’ve already contacted the FBI, standard alert,” Collig said. “The field office in New York told me that I’m in luck. There are two agents in the field as we speak. They should be here within the hour.”

At that moment, they all heard the low growl of a motorcycle engine. The closer the sound came, the brothers realized they were hearing two motorcycles. Joe  raised an eyebrow at his brother. “A pair of motorcycles?”

Two black Harley-Davidsons roared into the mall parking lot, the riders in black leather and matte black helmets. They came to a smooth halt in front of the group and the first rider pulled off the helmet, tossing long dark hair free of the helmet. She swung off the bike and flashed a badge with her free hand. “Agent Tate Westbrook…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Hardys. Honestly I can’t say I’m that surprised.”

Joe grunted. “Nice to see you too.”

Burton nodded to the woman. “Agent Westbrook, I’m Lance Burton, NSA.”

Westbrook snorted and set her helmet down the saddle of the motorcycle as her companion got off the other motorcycle. Her companion took off the helmet to reveal short sandy blond hair and hazel eyes.

Joe blinked. “Agent Kimball?”

Lance looked from Joe to the second FBI agent. “You know both of them?”

Tatiana Westbrook looked decidedly exasperated. “I didn’t expect to run into you three again.”

Joe turned to Burton. “We met Agents Westbrook and Kimball in San Francisco last year.”

Burton glanced past Joe to look curiously at Frank, then turned to the two FBI agents. “Let’s get inside and we’ll catch you up to date.”

“Are you here in an official capacity, Burton?” Westbrook asked bluntly.

Kimball didn’t quite roll his eyes. “Tate, don’t start.”

“Not officially, Agent Westbrook. But I do have crucial information you’ll want to hear.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

Joe hung back just long enough to let everyone else go ahead of him and his brother. He glanced at Frank. “Well, this will be interesting.”

“I think you’re right.”

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