Page 53 of Malicious Claim

Monroe's heart pounded. "Wait! Please! How do I know–"

"She's alive. At least for the moment," the voice interrupted. "But that's your decision. If you make even a single adjustment to the plan, she dies."

Monroe squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the phone in his hand so tightly it ached. "What do you want?"

"Listen carefully, Mr. Ambassador. You're to send the prisoner with only one man escort. Just one car. No police. No tracking devices, whatsoever. You will deliver the prisoner to us, unarmed with the escort."

"That's impossible. The authorities—"

"—will return your daughter in pieces if you don't obey."

The words sliced through Ambassador Monroe like a knife.

Silence filled the air. Then the voice once more, deep and threatening.

"You have three hours, Mr. Ambassador Monroe. Then the next time you'll hear from us will be Vanessa's voice trembling, pleading, begging us to be merciful. And with each passing second, you'll hear her screams rising higher, each one more piercingly shrill than the last. Because once we start, we won't stop until there's nothing left for you to save."

The line went dead.

Monroe slowly drew the phone away from his ear, panting. His daughter's voice still echoed through his head, trembling with fear.

He turned, his gaze finding the only man in the room as distressed as he was, Makros.

Makros sat cross-legged, a face contorted with feigned worry. He had sat through it all, hearing the discussion unfold, appearing regretful for the Ambassador.

Ambassador Monroe pushed a hand through his gray locks. "They're asking for something unreasonable. One escort? No assistance? No surveillance?"

Makros rapped on the edge of his chair with a cigarette but didn't light it. "They don't need war. They only need insurance."

Monroe's eyes blazed at him. "And if I go along, what is to stop them from killing her anyway?"

Makros leaned forward a little, his voice slow. "Ambassador, trust is a two-way street. If you're a good player, they'll be one, too."

Monroe snorted in a scornful laugh. "You say that like you know them."

Makros smiled, slow and knowing. "I know men like them."

Monroe drew a sharp breath. "The police will never let one man take a high-value prisoner."

"Then hire someone... outside the police." Makros's eyes flashed to the quiet figure in the corner.

Monroe followed his gaze, his brows furrowing. "Sam?"

The man, Nicolai, cocked his head. He was such a quiet presence Ambassador Monroe had hardly noticed he was there.

Monroe stuttered. "You... you think Sam can make this happen?"

Makros shrugged. "He's a professional bodyguard, right? And more importantly," he paused for effect, "he works for you, not the government."

Monroe's jaw hardened.

The rationale was good. For a moment he wondered where Dan was. The idiot son of a bastard had lost his daughter.

Finally, he breathed out. "Alright. Sam will take the prisoner."

Makros's smile was in his voice. "Well, Ambassador, call him."

The warden was phoned briefly, tautly.

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