"You're all nothing but a bunch of damned idiots and buffoons. There were three of you. Three! Somehow you all managed to screw up and lose track of the one man who can put me away for the rest of my life." The man known to his associates as Anton MacDougall paced back and forth in his well-appointed office. Short, overweight, with an unnatural almost orange spay-on tan, and a toupee that was never quite straight, he bore little resemblance to either of his cousins.

He stopped his pacing and pinned the three other men in the office with his watery blue gaze. "Remind me again which of you idiots forgot to give him the last dose and which one forgot to tie him up?"

"We're sorry, Mr. MacDougall," one of the men stammered. "We thought the drugs...the beatings..."

"You assumed his will was broken," MacDougall shouted. "I told you not to trust him. He was a slippery little bastard at eight and nothing's changed." He turned away from the three men and rubbed his hand over the toupee knocking it more askew. "I should have killed the brat when I had a chance," he muttered. He whirled back to his three henchmen. "What's being done to locate him?"

The three men traded looks before one was brave enough to speak. "They've been keeping him at a ranch outside the city limits. We were able to trace that it's owned by Chris Larabee - another ATF agent. From what we've been able to find out, he heads up Regional Mobile Enforcement Team Seven of the ATF."

"Team Seven?" MacDougall queried. They're not just any AFT agents, my cousin and this other one are with Team Seven?"

"Yes, sir," the man who'd been talking agreed. It was well known that the regional mobile enforcement teams of the ATF were special task forces operating within the ATF staffed by the best and brightest. Team Seven had the highest arrest record of the task forces and its reputation preceded it among those they went after. "There are always at least two other agents from Team Seven with him and there's law enforcement patrols all around the property. We haven't been able to get to him."

MacDougall sat in the chair behind the desk. He made an obvious attempt to calm down as he pulled in several deep breaths. "How long can we expect the drug to affect him, Connors?" He directed the question at the man who'd been standing silently in the corner. "Since the ATF hasn't come streaming out here yet, can I assume they still don't have what they need."

Connors stepped out of the shadowy corner. Tall and razor thin, he was the complete opposite of MacDougall. "The effects may already be waning. As I said. It's an untested cocktail of psychoactive drugs. All of the effects it will have and the duration it will last are unknowns. We're not even sure if it can cause dependence."

"And when it does wear off," MacDougall demanded. "What'll happen then?"

"He'll most likely start to remember the events of the last month in the form of flashbacks. He may think he's reliving those moments again."

"And me? He'll remember that I was present?"

"He could. Given the state he'll be in when he does start to remember, anything he says will sound like the rantings of a madman and most likely be discounted. If there are any kind of dependence issues, that could manifest either physically or mentally."

MacDougall slammed a fist on the desk. "That's not good enough. I can't take the chance that anyone will believe him. I want him found. I want the information he has found. After that, I want him dead. Is that understood, Myers?"

"Yes sir," Myers, the spokesman for the three henchman said. "Larry called in about an hour ago. There's been a lot of comings and goings today. It may make it easier for us to get someone on the property."

"What kind of comings and goings? Who's been with my dear cousin?"

"Mainly, it's been the other members of the ATF team but there was a strange woman there today. Larry texted over this." The man opened a photo on his phone and turned it to MacDougall who snatched the phone from him.

"Well, well," he said when he saw the picture. "If it isn't dear cousin Maude." He handed the phone back. "Looks like I'll be able to kill two birds with one stone." MacDougall sat in thought for a moment. "If we can't get to him at this ranch, perhaps we can use dear Cousin Maude to lure him to us."

"How do you plan to do that?" Myers ventured.

"The same way I found out Standish was with the ATF. I'll place a call to my dear, sweet sister Amy and have her call Maude with some pretext to get her out here. Then, once I have her, we'll give Standish an option. Either he meets me with the evidence I know he has, or his mother dies." MacDougall laughed, "Of course, he doesn't have to know she'll die anyways...along with him."

"And your sister will do this?" Myers shuffled uncomfortable as he asked the question, afraid it would set off his volatile boss. "No disrespect, sir."

MacDougall pinned Myers with a look but held his temper in check. "My sister is too stupid and too naïve to think I'd be up to no good. Back when Standish and his mother accused me of abusing him, she was the only who thought they had to be mistaken. She'll do it and she won't suspect a thing." As he reached for the phone, he glared at Myers. "What are you standing around for? Make sure the special room is prepared for my cousin and her off-spring." He looked over to Connors. "And you, before I make dear Cousin Maude watch me kill her brat, I want to have fun with them, and I don't want any mistakes this time."

As men scurried off to do as commanded, MacDougall picked up the phone and dialed. "Amy. It's Clay," he began with not a trace of the previous evil in his voice. "I need a favor and only my favorite sister can do it for me."