Later, after Ted had finished his beer and left, Michael Jakes and Jonathan Brady sat alone in the booth. "You really think this guy Pearson will shell out six hundred thousand?" Jakes asked.

Brady nodded. "He would, but he won't have to. We will ask for two hundred and fifty thousand, and you can keep it all.

Jakes raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about the chauffer? Didn't sound like he was gonna be working for free to me."

"Oh, he is," Brady replied. "He just doesn't know it yet." He counted on his fingers as he explained the plan more fully. "We meet Ted and take the kid from him. Then we take Ted out in the woods and dispose of him. We get the money from Pearson. That's when your part in all this is done."

Jakes looked at him suspiciously. "And why should I believe that you won't off me at that point, just like you're gonna off the chauffer?"

Brady looked him directly in the eyes. "I guess you don't really have anything besides my word that I won't. But the fact that you even asked that question shows that you're smart. You're not a dumb lackey like Clarke. I trust you, and I'm asking you to trust me." Brady reached back for his wallet and discreetly pulled out some bills. "Maybe this will help convince you."

Jakes silently counted the bills. "Five thousand, huh? Not bad. It's a start, at least." He grinned as he pocketed the money. "So, what happens after my part is done?"

Brady just looked at him and shook his head. He would handle that part himself. He didn't explain that was the most important part of the whole plan, and the reason for the kidnapping itself. It was what had been building inside his mind slowly, in bits and pieces over the last 15 years.

It would be his revenge. His triumph.

Jakes lit up another cigarette. "OK…probably best that I don't know." He took a thoughtful drag. "I still don't get it, though. Why would you want to go to all this trouble to kidnap someone and not get any money out of it? I mean, what exactly is it you got against this Pearson guy? It must go pretty deep if you're doing all this for free."

Brady regarded Michael Jakes carefully. He had chosen him mainly for his sheer size and brute strength. He needed someone to do the dirty work, helping keep the kid in line while he took care of everything else. Jakes was a thug; a large muscular man who used his size to intimidate others. But he also seemed to have at least some insight, and street smarts. Brady hoped he was not wrong in choosing him as his partner in his latest…business venture.

"No," Jonathan agreed. "It's not about money. I have my own, as you can see. It's personal." His eyes took on a far-away look. "Pearson and I go way, way back."

Friday, September 22nd

Vaughn Pearson walked into his dorm room and flipped on the light. After the noise and excitement of the football game, the school seemed dull and quiet. It was the first game of the season, and they had won it easily. Vaughn's three touchdown passes were instrumental to the victory. After the game, half the school was patting him on the back and congratulating him. Two cheerleaders had even kissed him on the cheek.

"Too bad my dad couldn't see it," he thought to himself. He had been scanning the crowd every chance he got, but never did find his father.

"I wonder what he had to do that was more important."

As if in answer, the phone in his room rang.

"Hello? Hi, Dad. Yeah, yeah we won the game. I threw three touchdowns.... It's OK, Dad, I understand. Your meetings are important.... Next week? We don't have a game next week. Just practice...Yeah, I'd like that. Thursday night? Sounds good. I'll come home after practice....I can walk....OK then, tell him practice is over at 5:00. I'll see you then...Goodnight.

"Hot date Thursday night?" a voice behind him asked. It was Josie Trent, standing in the open doorway.

"Only if dinner with my dad counts as a hot date," Vaughn answered, placing the receiver back in its cradle.

"I take it he didn't make it to the game tonight."

Vaughn shrugged. "His meeting ran late."

"Well, he missed a good game."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You were there? You hate school sports."

Josie shrugged. "I had nothing better to do." She looked at him and smiled. "You were really good."

The warning bell sounded, startling them. "I'd, um, better get back to my room," Josie said quickly.

"Yeah...thanks for going to the game tonight."

"No problem," Josie replied. "See you tomorrow." She smiled innocently at a frowning Principal Durst who watched her from the stair landing.

Vaughn quickly changed into shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered again what his father's meetings were about, and why they seemed to be more important to his father than he was.

Wednesday, September 27th

"Thank you, Ted," Victor said as his driver pulled up in front of the Pearson mansion. "That will be all for today."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Vaughn is coming over for dinner tomorrow night. Pick him up at the school at five, after his football practice ends."

Ted felt his pulse quicken. He was picking up Victor's son tomorrow. Alone. He swallowed hard.

"Yes, sir," Ted repeated, wondering if his boss heard the slight tremor in his voice.

As soon as he got home, Ted called the cell phone number Jonathan Brady had given him. "I'm supposed to pick the kid up from school tomorrow evening at five," he explained breathlessly.

Brady felt his breath catch in his throat. Finally, after all these years, it was really happening. "That's perfect, Theodore. I knew I could count on you. In a few days, you'll have a six-figure income."

Thursday, September 28th

Vaughn pulled a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out on over his sweat pants. He towel-dried his still-wet hair, then took a look in the locker room mirror. "Not exactly dressed for dinner." His dad would not approve. But he didn't have any other clothes with him.

"I'll change when I get home," he decided. He stuffed his football pads into his locker, slammed it, and twirled the combination lock.

His father's black Buick Park Avenue was parked in front of the school. Vaughn felt a little embarrassed, as he always did when he was picked up from school. None of the other kids had their own chauffer, or their own private room. He shrugged it off and climbed into the backseat.

"Hi, Ted," he said to the chauffer.

Ted looked up at Vaughn's reflection in the review mirror. "Good afternoon, Vaughn." He moved one sweaty palm from the steering wheel to the gearshift. The car pulled forward, down the school's driveway.

Ted wondered if Vaughn could hear his heart beating. He glanced again at the review mirror. Vaughn was quiet, staring out the window. Ted suddenly felt very, very guilty. What had this kid ever done to him? And now he was going to use him just so he could get some money?

The turn-off was fast approaching. He could turn there and meet Brady like they had planned…or he could keep going straight and deliver the kid safely home. His right foot pressed the accelerator a little harder.

"But what will they do to me if I don't show up?" He suddenly realized how little he knew about these men. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"It's too late now." His foot moved from the accelerator to the brake. He eased the car into a gentle right turn, down the narrow lane. He could see a white van parked on the left side of the road, waiting for them.

Vaughn suddenly realized he was looking at unfamiliar scenery. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Ted didn't answer. He continued down the lane until they were almost to the white van, then pulled the Buick up in front of it.

"Ted?" Vaughn felt the first very slight twinge of uncertainty, like a prickling on the back of his neck.

Ted knew if he turned around to look at the kid, he would lose his nerve. Instead, he opened his door and stepped out of the car to meet the two men exiting the van.

Vaughn's heart started beating faster. Although not entirely sure why, he suddenly felt as if he should run, far away, as fast as he could. '"Get out of here," his brain screamed at him. He was reaching for the door handle when it was jerked away from him. The door flew open, and a sharp face with dark eyes appeared, screaming at him to get out of the car.

Vaughn scrambled back, his only thought being to get away from that face and the muscular tattooed arm that was now reaching inside the car. It grabbed his arm and yanked with tremendous force, jerking him across the backseat. His forehead hit the doorframe and he groaned at the sharp pain that followed. The arm jerked him again and he was out of the car, face down on the ground. He struggled, trying to push himself up, until a knee pressed into his back, pinning him to the ground. A large hand grabbed both of his wrists while the other wrapped a rope tightly around them. A piece of cloth was tied around his eyes.

It was all happening so fast. The arm was jerking him to his feet now. "Walk," a gruff voice commanded. Vaughn stumbled forward, still dazed from the sharp blow to his head. The man led him to the van, keeping a firm grip on his arm the whole time. "Step up."

Vaughn stepped up, and the man shoved him to the floor of the van, then sat down on the seat behind him. Vaughn could feel the edge of the man's boot against his side. He took a shaky breath, his brain still spinning, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He was being kidnapped. Like something out of a movie. Kidnapped. He heard the front doors of the van slam shut, and then they were moving.