Hostage Zero

As Jonathan stepped inside, the door closed behind him, and the guard locked it. As if reading his mind-as she often did-Venice spoke in his ear: “Don’t worry about them recording you. I have their soundtrack control on my screen. Even if they leave everything on, I’ll be able to zero out all sound once Henry arrives.”

Knowing that she could see him, he acknowledged her with a subtle nod. Jonathan helped himself to the one bolted-down metal chair that was not equipped with a ring to secure prisoners’ shackles.

Battles made Jonathan cool his heels for ten minutes or more. Jonathan noted the video camera high in the corner, and despite his makeup did his best to avoid looking at it.

The lock turned, and Battles escorted Jimmy Henry into the room. The nineteen-year-old prisoner stood around six feet and appeared beneath the orange jumpsuit to possess the build of someone who worked hard during the day. His dark brown hair was a sleep-twisted mess, and his eyes seemed sunken into his skull. Clearly pissed at being rousted from his bed, he knew better than to voice his objection.

“Sit down,” Battles said, pointing to the available chair.

Jimmy gave a sullen nod and shuffled his slippered, shackled feet over to the chair and sat. With arms pinioned to the waist belt of his shackle rig, he settled himself carefully. When you can’t catch yourself in a fall, you become supremely aware of how fragile your nose and teeth are. Once the kid was settled in, Battles attached the chain to the chair.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jonathan said.

Battles glared, but continued with what he was doing. When all was secure, he said, “Pound on the door when you’re ready to send him back.” He locked the door behind him as he left.

Jonathan leaned back and crossed his arms and legs. “So, you’re Jimmy Henry,” he said.

“I already said I ain’t talkin’ to nobody,” Jimmy said. “This ain’t legal, bringing me out at this hour. It’s sleep deprivation.”

“The sound is down,” Venice said in his ear. “They did it on their own.”

“So, you know your rights, do you?” Jonathan asked, amused.

“Damn straight I do.”

“Uh-huh. What do you know about why you’re here?”

Jimmy glared. Silence meant silence.

“Good for you,” Jonathan said. “So you’ve really been quiet the whole time? You haven’t admitted to anything?” As he spoke, his voice showed an edge of approval.

Something changed behind Jimmy’s eyes as he cocked his head. His belligerence had dimmed.

“I’ll come clean with you,” Jonathan said. He unfolded himself and leaned forward until his forearms rested on the cold table. “But first I want you to understand that the quickest way to die is to piss me off. And the quickest way to piss me off is to repeat a word of what I’m going to tell you. Do you understand?”

Now Jimmy seemed amused. Jonathan was easily three inches shorter than the man he’d just threatened, and frankly didn’t look all that intimidating. But what he didn’t possess in physicality, he projected through the intensity of his glare. As Jimmy absorbed it, the smile went away. “Yeah, okay, I got you.”

“Be sure, Jimmy. There’s no room for error.”

“What the hell kind of FBI agent are you?”

Jonathan reassumed his comfortable posture. “Well, that’s the thing,” he said. “I’m not an FBI agent. I’m the friend you never knew you had. My job is to bust you out of here.”

Jimmy shot a paranoid glance over his shoulder toward the door. “What do you mean?” He’d dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I work for people who don’t want the details of what you did this morning to leak out. That leaves two choices: They can hire someone to kill you, or they can hire me to get you out. If I were you, I’d pick me.”

“But why?”

“Because you were the only one stupid enough to get caught. You get credit for youthful stupidity, which is why you’re still alive, but the offer to get you out expires in about three seconds. So, are you willing to cooperate or not?”

Another quick look over his shoulder. “How are you going to do it?”

“My concern, not yours. Just be ready to go at two a.m. And keep your mouth shut. I get paid for trying, not succeeding. If you betray me-”

Suddenly animated, Jimmy shook his head. “No. God no, I wouldn’t do that.”

Jonathan took his time. He wanted to instill even more fear. “Okay, then. I’ll be coming back to visit around two. I need you to be in bed and as asleep as you can pretend to be. When you get up, dress just as you are now. Don’t try anything on your own. When the time comes, all you’ll have to do is what I tell you.” He stood. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

As Jonathan strolled to the door, Jimmy shifted quickly in his chair. “Wait. How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know I’ll be safe coming with you?”

“You don’t,” Jonathan deadpanned. “But consider the alternative. You’re a kidnapper, kid. If that guy you shot dies, that means a needle in your arm.”

“I didn’t shoot anybody. That was the crazy dude.”