Chapter Eight:

Patience

Michael had always hated waiting. Whether it was waiting for an informant to call or waiting for his daughter's kidnapper to deliver the demands, either way it was worse than water torture. When the call finally came, Madeline had fallen into a fitful asleep on the couch while Michael, Sam, Fiona, and Jesse sat around the dining table trying to think of possible scenarios they might have to deal with, Michael's phone sitting silent at the center of the table. The phone buzzed and danced on the hard wooden surface, startling everyone. Michael lunged for the phone and opened it, putting it on speakerphone.

"Hello?"

"Hello Michael." Larry's voice was deceptively warm and friendly.

"Larry. Where is my daughter?"

"Now Michael, I'm not sure I like your tone of voice." Taunted Larry. "She's right here safe and sound, don't you worry."

"I want to speak to talk to her."

"It's funny how quickly the paternal instinct kicks in, isn't it Michael? You're barely known her more than a month and already it's 'my daughter' and that deep protective tone in your voice."

"Larry-"

"Say hi to Daddy Cassidy." Larry's tone was clearly mocking. There was a rustle for a moment before Cassidy's voice came over the line.

"Dad?"

Relief washed over Michael. "Cassidy. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Dad. I got knocked around a little on the ride, but-"

"There- are you happy now Michael?"

"What do you want, Larry?"

Larry chuckled. "I don't think I'll tell you right now, Michael. I think the suspense will be good for you. Meet me at The Carlito tomorrow at 10 am and we'll discuss it then, okay?"

"I want proof of life, Larry. One phone call is not enough."

"So untrusting! You're not really in a position to make demands, Michael."

"Larry-"

"I'll bring proof of life, Michael, so just relax. I'll see you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and Michael stared at the phone for a long moment before Fiona reached over and closed it. Sam and Fiona exchanged glances across the table at Michael's lost and vacant expression.

"Mike?" Sam said at last.

"I'm fine, Sam. I'm just thinking."

"Like hell you're fine, Michael!" Snapped Fiona. "You adore that girl!"

"You're right, Fi. I'm not fine. That sick, sadistic murderer with no respect for human life has my DAUGHTER!" Michael shot up out of the chair and kicked it over. "I can't do anything but sit on my ass until tomorrow morning, and then what?"

"Then we find out what he wants and figure out a way to get Cassidy back." Jesse said quietly. "Look, Mike, I know how pissed you are- someone you care about is in danger. But when Marv was killed you pulled me back and made me think straight, so now we're going to do the same for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Snapped Michael sharply.

"Larry is counting on you losing your head, and he's making you mad so you can't think." Sam pointed out.

"The man may by sick, but he's also very smart, and he worked with you long enough to know exactly how to push your buttons." Fiona added. Michael picked up the chair and sat down, hating that they were right.

"Like it or not, man, right now all we can do is wait." Jesse said calmly, adding after a thought, "But you need to remember: Cassie is a smart kid, and a hell of a fighter. No way is she making this easy for him."

Michael smiled crookedly. "Thanks, Jesse."

"We should get some sleep." Said Fiona. "I have a feeling we're going to have one hell of a day tomorrow."

Michael slept very little that night; he stayed up late cleaning his guns and checking his ammunition. What few hours he slept were spent at an odd angle on the couch in Cassidy's room, where he fell asleep staring at pictures of her taken before he knew she existed.

Daylight broke the horizon, waking him with a stiff neck and an unfamiliar sense of anxiety. The hours ticked by slowly for Michael. Sam and Fiona came to Madeline's house and insisted that he allow them to come, but he was hesitant to accept. Finally he allowed them to sit in a car across the street keeping watch in case things went south. The Charger's angry roar as it started seemed to echo the call in Michael's own heart as he left his mother's home to meet Larry, Sam and Fiona following in Sam's car.

The Carlito was quiet in the morning, a few people eating breakfast or sipping coffee or juice. Michael got out of the Charger and took a seat at a table, ordering nothing. He watched Sam and Fi keep driving, knowing that they would park after driving around a few minutes to keep from being noticed.

"Morning, kid." Larry slipped into the seat across from Michael, a folded up newspaper under his arm.

Michael looked at Larry and saw the fresh scratches and fat lip he sported. "What happened to your face? Get in a fight with a cat?"

Larry's face soured momentarily. "Your daughter happened, Michael. She's a scrappy little thing- a lot like you when you were younger. You should really teach her not to piss off people with guns."

"Where's the proof of life?" asked Michael, forcing himself to remain calm.

Larry reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a Polaroid of Cassidy holding the same newspaper that Larry carried. Michael was glad to see that she seemed unharmed. "Not the most flattering picture, but the kid just wouldn't smile."

Michael put the picture on the table. "So what do you want, Larry?"

"Well Michael, it's very simple: I want what you took from me."

"How much are we talking here?"

"No Michael, you misunderstand. I want the information itself."

"The flash drive?"

"Yes. It's much more valuable as individual numbers than as a whole. I intend to sell it off bit by bit."

"Larry, you know how hot that information was- it's been over two weeks! Why would you think I possibly still had it?"

"Oh I know you and your noble do-gooder buddies handed the flash drive in by now, but I know you. You like to have a little ammunition in your pocket- a little insurance. You must have made a copy for yourself just in case. I want it."

Michael sat back, thinking. The flash drive had been encrypted and rendered incapable of being copied, but obviously Larry wasn't aware of that fact. Michael looked down at the picture again and felt a bolt of lightning hit his brain: Cassidy was wearing the watch that he had given her with the GPS tracker in it. He suppressed a smile and gave Larry the gravest look he could muster. "It's a big file- it'll take some time to load onto a disc. Meet me tomorrow with Cassidy alive, and you'll have it."

Larry smiled. "I knew you'd see reason, Michael. I'll see you tomorrow. Keep the newspaper."

Michael watched Larry go. After he pulled away, Sam and Fiona got out of the car across the street and joined him.

"So? What did he want?" Fiona asked.

"The flash drive."

Sam rubbed his face. "That's bad, Mike. We don't have it anymore."

"He thinks I made a copy as insurance. He wants it."

"He doesn't know that it couldn't be copied… so we give him a fake?" Fiona asked.

"No. Knowing Larry, he'll bring a laptop and check it then and there to make sure that he isn't getting screwed."

"And if we give him a fake, he'll kill Cassie." Finished Fiona. "So what do we do?"

Michael smiled and picked up the picture, handing it to Fiona. "What do you see?"

"It's a proof of life photo."

"Look on her arm. What do you see?"

"Her cast. Michael, what is your point?"

"Look at her other arm. She's wearing her watch."

"And?"

"I gave her that watch after I put a GPS locator chip in it. I didn't think she was wearing it until I saw it in the picture."

"So we could find her." Sam said, looking anxious. "Well hell, let's go Mike!"

"We can't, Sam. I know Larry. He'll have picked a spot that's nearly impossible to sneak up on with only one route of access. The minute he sees anyone coming down that road, he'll put a bullet in Cassie's head and run."

"So we're back to being screwed." Sam glowered. "Great."

"Not exactly. I have an idea that will get Cassidy back and keep Larry out of our lives once and for all. Let's head to Fi's; I have some calls to make."