Lawrence
“Shouldwe tell Reed he isn’t waking up?”
Lawrence came to in darkness. A blindfold was wrapped tight over his eyes, and dull pressure throbbed behind his skull. The air smelled dirty and stale, and for a second, he thought he heard water somewhere in the distance. Then Lawrence noticed what felt like plastic ties, digging into his wrists and ankles, and he wiggled uncomfortably against a hard chair.
“I think he just moved.”
“About time.”
“Should I get him now?”
“What, you want to keep staring at this kid like he’s your prom date? Get the fucking boss already.”
The voices sounded like young men with New York accents, but Lawrence couldn’t place them beyond that. He struggled a little more against the chair, anxiety settling on him like a swarm of bees. The last thing he remembered was being out dancing, but now…
He tried to kick his legs out. “What’s happening?” he said, forcing himself to make his voice loud and clear. “Who’s there?”
The voice laughed. “Who’s there?” he repeated mockingly. “Shut the hell up.”
Lawrence started panicking. “Where am I?” he repeated, louder. “Hey! Hey!” He felt tears in his eyes, burning against the blindfold. “You don’t know who I am. There are people looking for me.” His breath caught, and he threw out his most desperate card. “You don’t know who my father is!”
He heard a door open and then close. “Why do you have him still tied like that?” a third, older voice asked. “What, are you two scared of this scrawny little shit?”
“You said to make sure—”
“Don’t tell me what I said.” Lawrence heard heavy footsteps. Then a hand grabbed the blindfold, yanking it off. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light, and as he did, something snipped off one of the wrist cuffs.
“A little comfort makes it easier to talk,” the man standing in front of him sneered. He rose to full height and cast a long shadow across the room. His shoulders were hunched, and bags hung under his eyes. He was a big man, probably in his fifties, and he stared down at Lawrence with disdain.
“Who the hell are you?” Lawrence asked. He looked to the other men, guys in their twenties with heavy beards, plain black sweatshirts, and guns at their hips. The room they were in was pretty much empty, with just a few chairs, white walls, and no window. “What’s going on?”
The older man grabbed one of the chairs, and it scraped loudly across the floor as he pulled it close, then sat directly across from Lawrence. “As far as you’re concerned,” he said, then extended his hand, “I’m the goddamn king of the world. Got it?”
Lawrence felt sick. He stared at the meaty hand, but when the goddamn king of the world growled under his breath, he reluctantly took the clammy grip with his free hand and let the man shake it.
“Very good, Lawrence. And don’t you worry. We won’t need you for long. Just a few quick photographs and video calls, and we’ll be all finished.”
“What are you talking about?” Lawrence asked again. “My father—”
“Yes,” the man replied, cutting him off. He was wearing a tacky green suit, and he folded his hands over his belly as they talked. “You mentioned your father earlier. Would you like to say hello to him?”
Lawrence chilled. “My father is here?”
Barking his laugh, the man shook his head. “Of course not. But we do want to make sure he knows you’re here.” He rose his hand, signaling to the men behind him. One of them pulled out a phone, then pointed it right at Lawrence. As Lawrence sat there, still bound to the chair, the older man stood, then stepped to the side and out of the view of the phone.
“The thing is, Lawrence, your father hasn’t been very well behaved lately, and he’s pissed off a very powerful person. My friend has tried to reason with him, but I’m sure you know your father is a stubborn man, and he only thinks of his own interests.”
“Wait,” Lawrence said quickly. “You’re trying to stop my father? That’s what this is about? I can help you. He has some big meeting coming up in Panama, and the corporation is planning something major.” He felt frantic, almost delirious, and the fear that had gripped him exploded into desperation. “I don’t know the details, but I can help you stop it. I swear I can!”
The man laughed again, hard and loud this time. “You almost sound smart, you know that?”
A clicking noise brought Lawrence’s attention to the phone, and he realized the guard was taking his photograph. “Why are you doing that?”
“To show him that you’re alive,” the older man answered. “For now.” He shook his head and stuck his lip out in a frown. “It’s a shame, really. If your father would have just stepped aside when we asked him to, none of this mess would have been necessary.” He stuck his hand out, grabbed Lawrence by the chin, and then roughly jerked his face toward the camera. “Look at the damn camera,” he snarled, then stepped back again.
Lawrence sat there, staring at the phone while his heart pounded and tears leaked down his cheeks.
“It’s a good deal,” the man continued. He took the phone from the guard, glanced at it, and then handed it back with a nod. “Run it up the ladder,” he said, then returned his eyes to Lawrence. “We’re giving him a simple choice. He just has to take an early retirement from Horizon and hand off his projects. We even found him a nice, soft landing at a hedge fund.” His bored frown turned sharply into a sneer. “Otherwise, his drunk slut of a son ends up dead in a dumpster, his family name is dragged all over town, and the rest of his life is hell. His choice.”
