After delivering the bomb, Steve drove back to the warehouse unit. Inside the main room Max was waiting for him. He extended a hand, which Steve shook. On the drive back Steve had shelved his real thoughts about the bomb task in the back of his mind to worry about at a later time, and had got himself into character. He grinned at Max and said, "What a buzz!"

"Yeah man," Max said. "You did that well. Hopefully we'll get payback from that soon, and you'll be in for a big cut of it."

There was an echoing clang as a door opened. Steve looked up and saw two people appearing though the door at the top of the stairs and walking down the metal staircase towards them. One was Greg, but the other man was unfamiliar. Steve felt a surge of expectation. If this new guy was the main man in charge, once Steve had seen that he was involved then his job was done. He could call in the backup and be back home in no time.

Max followed his gaze. "Greg Wilson you know, of course," he said. "This here is Vincent Harley."

Steve shook hands with Harley, who met his gaze with a nod of his head.

"Harley and Wilson are our skilled kidnappers – excellent at getting the job done with minimum of fuss, hey boys?" Max said with a smile.

"Absolutely," said Greg. Steve sensed a subtle change in Greg's attitude towards him and presumed that by showing his willingness to get his hands dirty with something very risky he had earned a significant amount of respect from these guys.

"So are you the boss?" he asked Harley.

Harley laughed. "Ha, I wish. Nah, he doesn't show his face here that much. He just gives us the main instructions. We do a lot ourselves – he's made sure we're good at what we have to do and he can trust us."

Steve hid his disappointment. His job wasn't over yet. He had to identify the person in charge of the whole operation or it would just carry on, with different people or in a different state, but the blackmailing would continue. And he was determined that this wouldn't happen.

"So," Max said, and Steve noticed that the three of them were looking at him expectantly. "I bet you've been dying to meet our hostage. He's quite a character, keeps insisting he's not who we think he is. But you know how well we research our targets. We don't make mistakes."

"Where is he?" asked Steve.

"Upstairs," Greg said. The four walked together over to the stairs and through the doorway at the top of them. Upstairs a corridor ran what appeared to be the length of the building. Four doors led off it. Outside the second one along Carter stood, as if on guard. Steve's sharp eyes noticed that he had a pistol tucked into his waistband. The door standing behind him was locked with a padlock and a couple of large bolts.

"Hey Steve," Carter said, greeting him warmly. He pulled the bolts back and produced a key from his pocket for the padlock. "We've not had a hostage before, it's pretty cool. I keep wanting to take a peek at him, just to remind myself that we dared to do it. We can ask more money for something like this. Keeps us on our toes too," he said, swinging the padlock free. "We should forget threatening to reveal affairs, this is the way to go," Carter finished, looking at the others.

Greed, thought Steve. These people hadn't started off violent. Just some simple, if unethical, blackmail. But desire for more money, larger amounts, and the adrenaline rush from taking dares made them gradually more violent and ruthless. All of them were delighted at having a captive, someone completely under their control.

Carter swung the door open, and Greg and Harley stepped through, followed by Steve. The room beyond was lit by a single bare strip light. There was no natural light, and Steve saw that the window had been boarded up. There was no furniture, but a jug of water and some dirty plates were standing by the door. The floor was covered with cheap office carpet.

Steve looked about. At first Greg's frame was covering his view, but then he spotted a figure huddled against the far wall. He was curled into a ball, with face hidden from view. His hands were bound tightly with blue cord in front of him and his clothes were dishevelled.

As the men stepped forward into the room, and the door clanged shut behind them, the sad figure on the floor lifted his head and looked up.

As Steve looked at the face looking up at them the world seemed to slow. He felt like he was walking through water, and even the sounds he heard sounded muffled. It was Jesse. How could this happen? He felt his hands curl into fists as fury coursed through his body.

Jesse hadn't noticed him at first but when his eyes landed upon Steve his eyes lit up with recognition and a grin threatened to break out on his face. Luckily the other men hadn't noticed Jesse's expression as their attentions were focused on Steve.

Steve quickly put a sneer on his face and growled, "So this is the rich kid? He doesn't look rich to me, he looks weedy." He shot a look of contempt at Jesse and aimed a kick at his shoe.

The expressions that flicked across the exhausted face of his friend felt like bullets through Steve's heart. Confusion, hurt, then realisation that Steve was not here to save him, at least not yet, and his ordeal wasn't over. Steve could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he struggled to control his emotions.

Oblivious to the hidden anguish being experienced by their new colleague, Greg and Vincent Harley exchanged pleased grins with each other. "You don't need muscles to have money. The opposite, money makes you lazy," Greg said.

"He's been here how long now, twenty-four hours?" Steve asked.

"Near enough. Daddy's got until tomorrow morning to deliver the cash. Nathan's got another night with us yet."

"And that is your name, sunshine," Harley said, crouching down close to Jesse. "You stopped trying to convince us otherwise now? We're not falling for it."

Jesse said nothing, but he looked up at Steve with a look of desperation. Steve looked away; he couldn't bear to meet his friend's gaze. He hated to think of what Jesse must have been going through.

Feeling that more of a reaction was probably expected of him, Steve indicated the plates and jug of water. "You've been feeding him then?" he said. "That's pretty kind of you, isn't it?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw a look of panic cross Jesse's face. He could imagine what he was thinking: What are you doing? Don't give them ideas! But he couldn't risk his cover and newly gained trust by not joining in with the gang.

Harley looked affronted. "Hey, we're not cruel. Keeps him quiet anyways. We only want the money, we don't care about anything else. Gotta keep up a fair reputation."

But you keep him tied up in a room with no furniture. You captured him against his will. And you're not cruel? Steve wished he could say these things aloud, but instead he shrugged. "Yeah, best to keep a clear conscience."

Greg and Harley laughed and nodded agreement. Steve didn't see the humor. He wanted to get out of the room, away from Jesse's reproachful gaze. Better yet, away from the warehouse so he could call Cheryl and fill her in. He wished he could talk to Jesse alone, to explain himself and reassure his friend, but there was no chance of that at the moment. Hoping Jesse understood, he sighed loudly. "Well he's kinda boring really," he said. "I'm hungry, I'm gonna go back to my place and fix some food."

"Sure man," Greg said. "But you've got a slot of guard duty tonight. As our new recruit you draw the short straw of 3am."

"Hell, not much sleep for me tonight," said Steve, pulling a face, but secretly delighted. He might get a chance to speak to Jesse. "Is it just me?"

"Fraid so, though you'll have this wretch for company. Don't worry, we'll give you the gun. We're a small outfit, not enough of us for companionship on jobs. You've probably realised we each work separately on most things. Makes it harder for the cops to trace us."

"Good thinking," said Steve. "It's just you and me then kid," he pointed at Jesse, and watched a glimmer of hope pass over his face. It was quickly gone and Steve was pleased and proud of his friend as he saw him put up a terrified face instead.

"Now, play nice," Harley laughed, but Steve sensed from his tone that he didn't really mean it.