Every Second

As soon as his mouth was free, Dan rushed to speak. “Please—I want to see my wife and son.”

Vic held up another phone, showing a grainy video of Lori and Billy, bound and afraid. Given the quality, Dan couldn’t determine where they were, if it was real time or recorded.

“When was this taken? How do I know they’re still alive?”

“That’s all you get!”

Vic pulled the phone away before they forced Dan into the bathroom, leaving the door open. As they stood guard with their guns, they watched him relieve himself and then climb into the shower. His body was stiff and numb from being tied up all night, and he welcomed the needles of hot water, bringing back some of his adrenaline from earlier. He kept his thoughts on Lori and Billy, praying they were still safe.

Stepping from the shower, he glanced at Percy, who passed him a towel. After drying himself, Dan wiped steam from the mirror and lathered his face. His hand shook as he shaved, nicking his chin with the razor. He stemmed the blood with a dot of toilet paper then put a bandage on his temple where he’d been struck with the gun.

After shoving Dan’s robe at him, the men took him to the kitchen where they watched him gulp two cups of black coffee and forced him to eat a bagel. It would be a long day, and they didn’t need him hungry and light-headed. “We don’t want your stomach growling at the bank.”

In the early morning quiet, Dan heard no sign of Lori and Billy, or the two other invaders from the night before. He wondered if they were still in the house—maybe the basement? Or the garage? As he ate, he found it difficult to absorb the bizarreness of his situation: his family’s lives suddenly at stake; the armed invaders with their freakish masks; the way they watched him and then checked on neighbors at the windows with blinds drawn. As they monitored their phones for messages, Dan noticed Vic checking a duffel bag and the way he kept an eye on the clock over the fridge. If, as they said, they knew everything about his family, then they were aware of their routine. Dan went to work first, and concerns at Lori’s office or Billy’s school about their absences would not surface for a few hours yet.

When Dan finished, Vic and Percy took him back to the bedroom to brush his teeth and dress, bringing the bag with them.

On the bed, Dan laid out his navy gabardine trousers, his navy wool blazer, a silk tie and his powder-blue dress shirt. He’d got as far as pulling on his pants before they stopped him again.

Dan’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Percy reach into the bag for a vest just like the ones they’d strapped to Lori and Billy. They placed it on his chest, the Velcro fasteners crackling as they adjusted it. Dan saw the thin bricks and the wires connecting them to the power source. He could smell the nylon mingling with the scent of vanilla and plastic. They activated the power source and the timing light blinked red. Then they helped Dan tug on his shirt—a snug fit with the vest, but it worked.

Sweat beaded on Dan’s brow and his fingers trembled as he knotted his tie in front of Lori’s full-length mirror.

“Relax, Dan, and pay attention.”

Vic held up Dan’s glasses, black with rectangle frames.

“We did a little work on these, see?”

Looking closely, Dan noticed a small metal button no bigger than the head of a pin fixed to the bridge. On the inside of the arms, they’d attached two more small metal buttons.

“The one in the front is a camera lens. The ones on the sides are microphone-earphone receiver transmitters. They let us see remotely on our laptop what you see, hear what you hear. And they let us talk to each other. Put them on.”

Vic showed Dan the image he was seeing on their laptop.

“So don’t think about being a hero today. We’re watching every move. If you deviate from our instructions, we’ll detonate the vests, all three at once. Do you understand?”

He understood.

They helped him pull on his blazer, adjust his hair, slip on his glasses.

Vic checked the time, then handed Dan his briefcase containing an empty, folded duffel bag.

“Okay, Dan, let’s go to work.”

5 (#ulink_af2b7d21-a8d3-5616-9528-d10c7871ff3e)

Roseoak Park, New York

The house is too quiet.

As they walked Dan through the back and into the garage, his fear mounted.

“Are Billy and Lori in the basement?”

“Shut up!” Vic said. “Focus on what you need to do.”

Dan’s eyes went around the garage, taking quick inventory. Suddenly the everyday items took on a new and desperate significance, a reflection of their lives before the attack. Billy’s bicycle, his goal net, his bats and hockey sticks, and up in one corner, his old tricycle.

Stacked on the bench were cardboard boxes of clothes Lori was preparing to donate to the church. Nearby were her clay planters, her gardening tools and her flower-printed gardening gloves. Looped neatly on a hook was the hose and, near it, Dan’s John Deere mower. He did his best thinking and problem-solving when he mowed the lawn.

I’ve got to do something.

Vic nudged him. Dan opened the door to his Ford Taurus and got in alone. As he sat behind the wheel, he glanced at Lori’s Dodge Dart, parked next to him.

“Step it up!” Vic said.

Dan inserted the key and started his car. Vic tapped the window with his gun. Dan lowered it and Vic leaned into the driver’s door, resting his gun on the frame. For an instant Dan contemplated grabbing it, but he was distracted when he saw that Percy had vanished.

They must’ve parked their vehicle nearby.

“Remember,” Vic said, “all you have to do is follow our instructions. You’re doing good so far. It’ll be over before you know it, so don’t mess this up. We’re watching you every step of the way. Now get going.”

As Vic stepped away from the car, Dan backed out of the driveway and wheeled down the street. The vest was hot and cumbersome. His skin tingled with each bump and pothole for fear the thing might go off.

On the console he saw the receipts from the recent weekend he and Lori had spent in Boston. His chief worries then had been finding good parking and the price of gas. Dan adjusted his grip on the wheel.

What the hell’s happening?

He rolled through their corner of Roseoak, a middle-class community of tree-lined streets with Tudor, ranch and Colonial houses. Flanked by Douglaston, Little Neck and Oakland Gardens and bordered by the Long Island Expressway and Grand Central Parkway, Roseoak Park was a desirable enclave of Queens. With good schools and no crime, it was considered a safe place to live.

A clear radio voice sounded in his ear.

“Looking good, Dan.”

He checked his mirrors in an effort to spot their vehicle. But there was nothing to see. It was futile.

“Stick to the plan and no one gets hurt, Dan.”

Dan prayed that Lori and Billy were still safe—or as safe as they could be wrapped with a bomb—and racked his brain for a way out.

Glancing in vain in his rearview mirror, he wondered again who they were—and why they’d chosen him. He crawled through traffic, knowing he had little time to act.

I could drive to the police—go right to the 111th Precinct in Bayside. Tell them everything!

He thought of Lori and Bill, and how Vic had vowed to kill them.

If I go to the police I could save them.