Together, we hover over the screen.
Your greed has left thousands dead and mourning. You have five days to wire five billion dollars in Bitcoin to the following account. Five days, Dr. Marquis, or else she dies. After the payment is received, we’ll let her go. Here’s a little motivation in case you need it.
Attached to the message is an MP4 file.
“Open it,” Damon growls, his posture stiff, fists balled up at his sides. “Open it!”
With a shaky finger, I open the file. Damon and I watch the video with our breaths held, our nerves on the edge of snapping.
The screen is black, no sound, no movement. The suspense is too much. Too crippling. Too crushing. Too fucking real. Then, a faint click, and the screen flickers to life, revealing Emery, her face battered and bruised, and I die a little inside.
Emery's swollen eyes stare into the camera, but her voice, though fragile, still carries a flicker of defiance.
"Quin," she says, her voice trembling, "I’m… I'm okay."
Relief floods through me. She's alive. She's speaking to me. Us. But the truth hits me like a cold front. She may be alive…but for how long?
Emery swallows, taking on a subtly cryptic tone. "In five days, they will kill me," she says slowly. “I know it’s a lot of money, Quin, I know… But even if you need to fly toJapanto get it, I know you can solve this problem…thispuzzle.”
Damon and I exchange curious glances at her choice of words. But Emery continues, "Solve it, Quin. You can?—”
The video ends abruptly, plunging us back into the grim silence of my suite.
“Fuck!” Damon roars, ferociously raking his fingers through his hair. He paces for several seconds before snapping his headtoward me, eyes narrowed and cold. “Send it, Quinton. Send it right fucking now.”
“I… I don’t have that much liquid cash, Cavanaugh,” I mumble, my grip on the phone tightening as I replay her message in my head. “Why… Why would she mention Japan? Why a puzzle…?”
My mind wanders.
“Who cares?!” Damon shouts. “She’s going to die, Quinton. They’re going to kill her if we don’t do exactly what they say.” He sinks down on the edge of the bed. “How much do you have, Q?” His voice falters. “How much?—”
Japan. Puzzle. Japan. Puzzle.
It’s not random. Her choice of words was not random. She’s sending a message. A clue. But…
My eyes widen.
“No…”
Damon’s weary gaze flicks up at me. “What?”
I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “No…”
“What?!” Damon spits.
I look back at him and swallow. “I think… I think they’ll kill her either way.”
Damon’s jaw clenches. “What are you talking about?”
“Himitsu-Bako,” I mutter, staggering backward and joining Damon on the edge of the bed. “It’s… They’re going to kill her.”
“If you don’t start talking in full, coherent sentences, I will rip your fucking tongue out,” Damon seethes. My shoulders slump over, and he slams his fist against my tricep. “Quinton! Talk!”
My eyelids fight to stay open as I set the phone aside, burying my face in my hands. “A few months ago, I gave Emery a Himitsu-Bako.” Damon stirs beside me. I elaborate. “It’s a Japanese puzzle box. You… You need to solve it, crack the code before you can access its contents. But…” Damn it. “But the one Igave her… It was unsolvable. There was no correct solution. She had to… She had to smash it open. She had to break it.”
“And?” Damon’s irritation is palpable. “How is that relevant? So you gave her a stupid puzzle box. She’s fucking hurt, Quinton. She’s bleeding and you’re over there reminiscing over a gift? Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Damon…” I swallow, forcing myself to look at him. “She mentioned Japan and puzzle on purpose. She’s trying to tell us that this problem doesn’t have a solution. She’s trying to tell us that even if we pay the ransom, they will kill her anyway.”
