MAIN CHARACTERS: JD, Ezra
profanity, mild slash content
SUMMARY: Ezra and JD are kidnapped and used as pawns
in a dangerous game.
DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven dont belong
to me, otherwise Id be doing some unspeakable things with the boys
:). They belong to . . . uh . . . whoever they belong to; to tell the truth
I dont always pay attention to that part of a TV show. See the other
disclaimers; Im sure theyll tell you who M7 belong to. Also,
the ATF universe was created by Mog. I dont know her and have never
spoken to her, but she has my undying gratitude for making such a fun universe
for the boys.
COMMENTS: any character you dont recognise
is probably mine. If you want to archive this, please ask or at least notify
me, so I know where my work is going. Also, I am Australian, so my grammar
and spelling will reflect that. For example, Chris will be blonde instead
of blond, and there will be fewer zs.
SIZE: Approx 210K
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Chris Larabee stood at the observation window, gazing blindly through the
glass. Unconsciously flexing his fists, feeling the deep need to go and pound
something until his knuckles bled. He was angry, angry enough to do serious
damage to the first person who crossed him. But beneath the anger was another
emotion, far less destructive but far more unpleasant.
Buck Wilmington and Nathan Jackson lay motionless in the hospital beds, separated
from him by the glass. Monitors beeped, nurses entered the room every two
minutes to draw blood, check vital signs, all the motions that he could recite
by rote. One of the nurses glanced at him sympathetically on her way out,
but didnt approach him. He didnt blame her; he was sure he looked
angry enough to lash out at anyone who so much as spoke to him.
Bandages swathed Nathans shoulder and chest, and ugly stitches crossed
his left calf, hidden by the blanket but still there. Bucks right arm
was in a cast, and bruises discoloured every centimetre of exposed skin.
Neither man had woken, and Chris knew that the longer they were unconscious,
the worse their chances of recovery were.
Chris was far from uninjured himself, though hed be damned if hed
admit it. The doctors had pestered him to get his knee checked out, but he
refused to allow them to do more than bandage it before he came to the ICU
to watch over his partners. The fact that he could barely take a step without
his vision swimming was the only thing that kept him here in the hospital
instead of out on the streets, where he should be.
He was unable to take action, and infuriated by that fact. He was helpless
to aid his two friends who both lay unconscious in the ICU. And he was unable
to help Josiah and Vin in their search for the two remaining ATF agents.
The sons-of-bitches whod put Nathan and Buck in hospital had taken
JD and Ezra.
+ + + + + + +
It had seemed like a routine job. A snitch had given them the time and location
of a transaction between a big-time weapons dealer theyd been after
for a long time and her supplier. Theyd checked out the place, marked
in their minds all the areas that ambushes could come from, and had lain
in wait themselves. Strategically placed; Chris, Josiah and Buck concealed
inside, in perfect sight of the target area but virtually invisible. Vin
outside on surveillance; they needed his keen eyes watching in case something
went wrong. Nathan with Vin, in case the younger man needed backup in the
event of a fight. JD and Ezra in different parts of the warehouse complex,
also in sight of the target area but well-hidden, JD with the video camera
that would tape the transaction, in case some jumped-up lawyer decided that
seven ATF agents werent telling the truth. All the exits watched.
In the middle of the transaction, one of the hulking men who had accompanied
the dealer began to whistle. Incongruously, the tune of Ode to Joy
floated through the dead warehouse air. The dealer and supplier ignored him;
the other bodyguard shifted and slipped his hand inside his jacket.
Shit! Chris hissed. Theyre onto us. JD, Ezra, get
out of here, he snapped into his radio. Vin, Nathan, we got a
problem. They know were here.
The whistlin? Vins voice came back through
the radio, obscenely loud.
Its a signal. Get out of here!
Gunfire, everywhere. The dealer and her men didnt know where they were,
but they seemed to be trying their damnedest to hit something
anything in the dim warehouse. There was no salvaging this
operation; the best they could hope for would be for them all to get out
alive and relatively unhurt.
Ricochets were the most danger right now, especially to Vin and Nathan. Vin
had chosen his vantage point well for the purpose of surveillance; the roof
of the warehouse was cluttered with protrusions, giving him the perfect hiding
place. Chris wasnt sure whether the rotting wood and rusted corrugated
iron would stop a bullet.
There were only five opponents that they had to face; the dealer and her
two bodyguards, and the supplier and his single guard. The trouble was, each
bodyguard was at least the size of Josiah, and Chris couldnt be sure
of backup. Hed ordered Ezra and JD out, and while their help would
be welcome he hoped that for once theyd had the sense to obey his whispered
order. Nathan and Vin would have a difficult time getting from the roof with
any haste. He, Josiah and Buck were alone, at least for now.
Nothing for it, Chris muttered, unholstering his pistols.
Weve got one thing going for us; they dont know exactly
where we are. Lets use that advantage while we can.
They leaped out of hiding, guns blazing. Took the dealers men by surprise,
coming from behind, and dropped one on the spot. Chris could hear a commotion
outside and hoped it was just Vin having a disagreement with the harbour-master
over whether he could, in fact, enter the old warehouse, but knew that it
was more than that. And then his attention was wrenched back to the fight
The suppliers goon, it seemed, preferred fisticuffs to guns, and was
determined to have at least one opponent fight him in his preferred way.
Moving with more agility than his size gave him credit for, hed kicked
Bucks weapon from his hands and engaged the agent in a fierce battle,
more akin to a barroom brawl than a fight to the death in a dim warehouse.
The dealers bodyguards were keeping Josiah pinned down with incessant
bullets fired into the wall he was sheltered behind. He managed to squeeze
off a few shots, but couldnt come to Chris and Bucks aid without
being shot. The supplier had vanished, which left the dealer for Chris.
The woman had more talent with a gun than Chris had assumed. Chris was
continually force to duck behind bits of rubble, barely keeping ahead of
the dealer. Already he sported two grazes from near misses, nearer than he
liked. The dealer stalked behind him, firing shots at Chris whenever she
so much as glimpsed him.
The commotion outside was still going on, Chris realised vaguely. It had
gone on far too long for it to be a simple disagreement between Vin and the
harbour-master. He hoped Vin and Nathan were all right, and that was all
the thought he could afford to give his friends. It worried him that he still
hadnt heard from JD or Ezra, but he had to trust that they could take
care of themselves and concentrate on getting himself out of this mess.
Here, pup, the dealer crooned. Whyre you running?
Surely youre not scared of a two-bit dealer like me?
Chris ignored her and fired a shot, narrowly missing the womans shoulder.
The dealer chuckled and continued forward.
Silly move, pup. When youre trying to hide, you dont go
and make a noise. Just told me where you are, you did.
Her words sent a shiver down Chriss spine. Was the woman trying to
sound insane, or was that really how her mind worked? Did she see humans
Chris taken out Nathan hit
Vins voice echoed through Chriss radio, distorted and broken
by static. Chris could hear gunfire and Josiah swearing, could hear the meaty
sound of flesh on flesh. Buck screamed in agony. He could hear the dealers
lazy drawl, getting closer.
He fired off another shot, missing the woman in the darkness, sunlight barely
making it through the grime-encrusted windows. And then he heard the
click that told him he was out of bullets.
The dealer appeared, much closer than her voice had seemed. She smiled.
Hey there, pup. Teeth been pulled, I see.
Holding her own gun trained on Chris, the dealer approached. She was a
medium-sized woman, no match for Josiah or Buck unless her physical strength
was as surprising as her prowess with her gun. Well-dressed Ezra would
approve, Chris thought wryly. Ezra might see some sense of twisted justice,
being cut down by an opponent with fashion sense, at least. Chris felt nothing
but anger at an empty death, and regret that he wouldnt be able to
help his team.
The dealer was within arms reach now. Chris prepared for the bullet that
would end his life.
It didnt come. Fast as lightning, the dealer lashed out with a sharp
kick to Chriss right knee. The snap and sickening crunch preceded a
wave of shocking pain that forced the blonde agent to the floor, gasping
in pain. He looked up at the woman with vision swimming from pain.
The dealer smiled again and lifted her gun in a kind of salute. You
lead a good hunt, she said. She raised her voice. Boys, I reckon
Samuels is waiting for us. You want to finish up there?
She knelt next to Chris and caressed his face with the still-hot muzzle of
her gun, drawing a hiss as the overheated metal burned his skin. Let
me tell you something, pup. If it was up to me, Id kill you here and
now. She dug her fingers into Chriss damaged knee, eliciting
a strangled cry of pain. Knee like that, its not worth keeping
a hound alive. The dog just suffers needlessly. But Samuels, he wants to
play a game. And he pays well enough that Ill play by his rules, for
now at least.
What game? Chris forced the words through gritted teeth, trying
to ignore the fire in his knee. The dealer grinned.
You ever seen foxhounds at work? They follow a scent admirably. Always
wanted a foxhound, myself. A dog like that can find whatever its set
on, as long as it knows what its prey smells like.
She stroked Chriss face with the gun again, her free hand keeping enough
pressure on Chriss knee that the ATF agent was in no position to fight
Samuels fancies a game. Well give you the scent, once you get
your men taken care of. And you, like the good little foxhound, follow the
scent if you can.
She stood and began to walk away. Chris mastered the pain long enough to
ask, What are you talking about?
The woman turned slightly, enough for Chris to see the sadistic smile on
Think about it. Youll know what I mean soon enough. Its
strange you havent already, though; a hound always knows, when he
doesnt hear the howling of his packmates, that theyre missing.
She moved off into the dimness, calling for the bodyguards. Chris dragged
himself to his feet and tried to put weight on his damaged knee. His leg
buckled and he collapsed with a crash, sending dust flying like a miniature
Comin, Chris. You injured?
Chris almost wept with relief at hearing Josiahs voice. Yeah,
I am, kinda. You? And Buck?
Josiahs answer was terse and concerned. Im okay; a couple
grazes, thats it. Im worried about Buck; hes unconscious.
Beat as all hell, and I think his arms broken. That goon knew what
he was doing. Cant say for sure, though; Nathan knows more about this
than I do.
Josiahs voice had gradually come closer as he spoke, and at his last
words he appeared to Chriss right. He took one look at Chriss
damaged knee and swore.
Damn, Chris! Thats gotta hurt like hell.
Its slightly uncomfortable, yes. Get outside and see if Nathan
and Vin are okay, then call an ambulance for Buck. Check on Ezra and JD,
too . . . Chris trailed off as the dealers words registered.
A hound always knows, when he doesnt hear the howling of
his packmates, that theyre missing.
Shit! Josiah, theyve got JD and Ezra!
How do you figure that? Josiahs voice was alarmed, and
he stopped in his tracks, looking back at Chris.
The dealer she said something about a game. Said she was gonna
give us the scent, and wed have to follow it . . . damn it, Josiah,
theyre gonna make us play some twisted game using JD and Ezra as bait!
I should have known it was all a set-up!
How were you supposed to know that? Josiah asked, keeping his
voice level and calm. We were all suckered by this, Chris, and its
no use blaming yourself. You cant walk on that knee, so Im going
to do what you said, check on Vin and Nathan, and call an ambulance for you
He held up a hand, stilling Chriss protests. And yes, you are
going to the hospital. I may not have Nathans expertise, but even I
can tell that knee is dislocated, possibly broken. Ill personally track
down the bastards who took JD and Ezra if they did take JD
and Ezra and tear them new breathing holes.
His voice was still perfectly calm, and the threat seemed out of place. Chris
blinked, and by the time hed gathered his senses Josiah was gone.
He hoped he was wrong, that the dealer had just been screwing with his mind.
But if they didnt have something else planned, why let him and Josiah
live? Why just mangle Chriss knee when the dealer could have shot him
dead where he stood?
No, as optimistic as Josiah had tried to be, Chris knew that his fears were
true. The dealer and probably the supplier as well, he realised with
a sinking heart had two of his agents at their mercy.
+ + + + + + +
Vin and Josiah returned to the hospital late in the afternoon, having lost
the trail deep in the city. Chris was still standing outside the ICU, gazing
at Buck and Nathan. Bucks obvious damage was less extensive than
Nathans; other than bruises, all he really had to show for his fight
was a broken arm, whereas doctors had had to dig bullets out of Nathans
shoulder, chest and calf. Buck had internal injuries, however, that could
still result in complications. The doctors were still worried about both
men and had them under constant surveillance, instructing each changing shift
to inform them as soon as Nathan and Buck awoke.
Nathan and Vin had been set upon by six armed men outside the warehouse,
yet Vin was sure the men hadnt been trying to kill them. If their attempts
had been serious, both he and Nathan would be dead. And he had escaped with
nothing more than a wrenched shoulder that was already feeling better thanks
to some heavy-duty painkillers that the doctor who had examined him had
prescribed. That didnt help the pain he felt elsewhere, pain that had
nothing to do with injuries. He was scared for JD and Ezra, sure, but there
was a deeper fear involved: the fear that he was going to lose the man he
loved without confessing that love.
Damn it! Why did I have to wait so damned long? Why did I have
to be such a coward with my own feelings?
Chris turned and looked at Josiah and Vin. Nothing?
Vin shook his head. Theres no trace of them. It looks as though
were gonna have to wait until theyre ready to contact us.
Damn it. How the hell were JD and Ezra taken so damn fast?
Vin held up a small dart. Tranqs. I found this where Ezra was supposed
to be, an there were signs of a struggle in JDs area. He
hesitated, unsure as to whether he wanted to tell Chris the worst news.
Chris noticed his hesitation. Spit it out, Vin. What else did you
Blood, Vin said reluctantly. Not a lot of it. But it was
Chris closed his eyes for a moment, then asked, JD or Ezra?
We dont know for sure it was either of them. It could be their
Dont bullshit me, Vin. You know its theirs. Now, tell me: JD
Vin sighed. Neither option was good, and he hated having to be the one to
JD. If it was one of them, it was JDs blood.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra felt . . . dreadful. His mouth tasted as though something had crawled
inside and died, and his head throbbed like that terrible music JD liked
to listen to. Not to mention there was a spot on his chest that ached terribly.
He wasnt sure how hed come to be in this deplorable state, but
somebody was going to pay. He suspected that somebody might be Buck and his
Now, what were his options this morning? He could get up, but that didnt
sound particularly appealing right now. He could stay in bed ah, the
perfect choice. Sleep would cure the headache and that foul taste in his
Although now that he thought about it, his bed wasnt usually this hard.
Or cold. And there most definitely shouldnt be the sweet, coppery scent
of blood in his bedroom.
This meant something bad had happened.
Ezra lay still and thought back. He remembered the stakeout Chris
telling him and JD to leave why? Oh, yes their cover had been
blown. Somehow the dealer and supplier had known they were there.
How odd. He was perfectly calm as he thought about what had probably caused
his friends deaths. Perhaps that was the cause for all the incongruities
perhaps one or more of the Seven had been killed, and he had gotten
completely plastered and passed out in his living room, hitting his head
as he fell. That would explain the hardness and chill, his headache and the
scent of blood.
No, the taste in his mouth wasnt the taste that accompanied a hangover.
It was decidedly medicinal. And the ache in his shoulder was still unaccounted
Was that it? Had he been injured during the bungled stakeout?
No, that was also wrong. Hospital beds might not be entirely comfortable,
but they were infinitely more comfortable than this.
He turned his thoughts to what he could hear, feel and smell, not really
wanting to open his eyes at the moment. Very well what could he smell?
Dust. The musty smell that came from water on concrete. Sweat. Blood.
So, he was not at his home. There was no way he would let his place get so
dusty. Next, what could he feel?
Not a lot, it turned out. His feet were as far removed from his body as the
moon for all he could tell, and his hands were very nearly the same, save
for a slight ache in his left hand. He could feel the cool concrete against
his cheek as he lay there on his back, his head tilted to one side. A line
of roughness on his neck, though he couldnt for the life of him decide
what it was. If he werent the type to wear silk ties instead of cheaper
ones, hed think that perhaps his tie was too tight, but silk didnt
feel that rough.
That left what he could hear.
His own breathing, and heartbeat. That was a relief, he thought sardonically.
Next a far-off drip of water. That would explain the musty smell of
water on concrete. There was something else breathing. Not his own.
He strained his ears, and made out two separate breathing patterns. Two people,
An amused chuckle met his ears.
Have you quite finished, Mr. Standish?
Ezra opened his eyes and sat up at the sound of his name. Attempted to sit
up, at any rate. A sharp tug at his neck stopped him. He was suddenly aware
that his hands were bound in front of him.
I wouldnt advise moving too quickly, Mr. Standish, unless you
have contrived a way to breathe without the benefit of a windpipe.
Ezras sight was slightly blurred, but he could make out a dark shape
seated not too far away. He blinked rapidly, and his vision began to clear.
Enough for him to recognise the man as Jake Samuels, the supplier. A man
who manufactured more weapons than any man should ever see in his life.
Samuels, a small-boned, almost delicate man with pale hair and cool grey
eyes, was seated on a roughly-hewn wooden stool, dressed in casual dark grey
slacks and a black shirt. He was leaning forward slightly, looking at Ezra
with attentive eyes. There was something else reflected in those eyes
a shape not far from Ezra . . . the shape of another supine man.
Ezra turned his head slightly to peer beside him. A dark-haired form lay
not a metre from him, hands bound together in front of him with duct tape,
a rope snug around his neck and tied to a large metal ring set in the concrete
Ezras heart sank. JD.
He turned back to Samuels, taking care not to move his head enough to jerk
the noose around his own neck. The grey-eyed man was watching him impassively.
I assume there is a purpose to this? Ezra asked, forcing his
voice to stay calm. Samuels smiled.
Of course, Mr. Standish. My colleague and I are playing a game with
your associates. You and Mr. Dunne are the bait.
You cant possibly think that my associates will be taken in by
such a flimsy ruse, or allow you to dictate their actions, even under
On the contrary, Mr. Standish, I know that they will play this game,
because if they dont they are going to be receiving pieces of yourself
and Mr. Dunne in the post for several weeks. Accompanying these packages
will be videotapes, so that your associates will know that the two of you
are being kept alive and can feel every bit of agony as I remove another
body part to send to them. After a few such packages, I am sure they will
reconsider their stand.
Ezra swallowed, forcing the gory images from his mind. Samuels seemed amused
by his reaction.
However, Im sure it wont have to come to that. Ashley is
providing the first clue as we speak, and I will soon find out whether your
friends are willing to play. Until Im sure, you and Mr. Dunne will
have to remain here. I apologise for the lack of comfort, but . . .
he spread his hands in a gesture of mock sympathy and helplessness. Then
he stood, brushing off his hands. If youll excuse me, Mr. Standish,
I have plans to execute. Ill return when its time for me to contact
Ezra watched him stride out, unnerved by the mans use of the word
execute. The heavy click as the door closed told the Southerner that
it was locked not that he was in the position to escape anyhow. He
turned his head again to look at JD, and noticed for the first time a white
bandage around the young mans upper arm. He called JDs name,
but received no response save JDs regular, even breathing. That was
something, at least; he seemed to have merely been knocked out, not unconscious
from blood loss or drugs.
With a sigh, Ezra turned his attention to the tape binding his hands.
+ + + + + + +
It had been four hours since Ezra and JD had been taken. Vin had bullied
Chris into letting the doctors give his knee a proper examination, and their
leader was now sitting on the edge of a bed with a bulky bandage around his
knee, glowering at Vin. The sharpshooter met his gaze calmly.
You know I was right to make you see a doctor, Chris. You cant
help Ezra an JD with a dislocated knee. Now stop glarin at me
A nurse, entering the room, interrupted him. Mr. Larabee, someone called
the front desk asking for you. Do you want me to transfer the call here?
Chris looked startled but nodded. The nurse smiled and returned to the front
desk, pressing a button on the telephone. Chris picked up the phone in the
room and snapped, Larabee.
Hello, Mr. Larabee. I hope your knee is feeling better,
a male voice said. Im afraid Ashley was rather . . . impulsive,
this morning. I understand Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Jackson have yet to wake
up. My condolences. I know what it is to be at risk of losing a
Enough small talk, Chris snapped. Where are JD and Ezra?
My, you are focused. A videotape will be arriving in approximately
ten minutes. Watch it. It will give you your instructions.
Wait! Damn it . . .
A dial tone filled Chriss ears. He slammed the phone down and looked
at Vin and Josiah.
That was the bastard who has JD and Ezra. Hes sent us a videotape
with our instructions on it. Says itll be here in ten
Josiah immediately left in search of a TV and VCR. Vin asked urgently, Did
he say anythin about JD an Ezra?
Josiah returned a few minutes later with a TV on wheels, having cajoled the
nurse into letting him borrow it. He spent the next several minutes hooking
up the various cords and fiddling at the back, refusing to make eye contact
with either Chris or Vin. They could hear him praying quietly.
Chris got off the bed and began to pace, limping due to the stiffness and
pain in his knee. His progress was halted by Vins hand on his chest.
He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
You want something, Vin?
Yeah, Vin said firmly, Sit. Now.
Chris did so, complaining, Im supposed to be the one doing that,
Vin. God knows Ive done it to you and . . . JD . . . often enough.
You dont like being on the receivin end, maybe you
shouldnt be so quick to try an keep us in bed, Vin shot
back, ignoring Chriss hesitation at speaking JDs name. He was
as worried about JD and Ezra as Chris was, but he recognised that until the
man who held them captive sent instructions, there was little they could
do to help their friends. Keeping Chris from flying off the handle and injuring
himself further was important, since hed be no help at all if he was
stuck in a hospital room.
A few minutes passed before a youth dressed in a couriers uniform knocked
on the open door. Scuse me. Nurse says theres a Mr. Larabee
Chris nodded and the boy moved forward with his clipboard, a brown paper
package tucked under his arm. Sign here, please.
Vin studied the boy, wondering if he was a part of the whole mess. He looked
young seventeen or eighteen, perhaps; a few years younger than JD
and innocent; but then wasnt that what JD was always complaining
about? That he looked so young that nobody would take him seriously as an
ATF agent? This boy was different, though, Vin decided; he moved naturally,
showing no sign that he knew what he was delivering. He no doubt had no
connections to the man holding Ezra and JD, and was just doing what he was
Chris scribbled his signature on the clipboard and took the package from
the courier. The boy smiled and chirped, Have a nice day! before
leaving the hospital room, nodding politely to the nurses on duty.
God, he reminded Vin of JD. Which just made the sharpshooter want to track
down his missing friends all the sooner.
Chris tore open the paper, shoved the unlabeled video into the VCR and pressed
play. Josiah had the foresight to close the door to their room,
so that they could view the tape uninterrupted. They had no idea what they
would see, and had no desire to upset the nurses or doctors. Chris sat on
the edge of the bed, looking as though he was about to explode into action.
Josiah took one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, while Vin paced behind
them both, his eyes fixed on the screen.
The screen was blank for an unbearably long moment before flickering to life.
Jake Samuels, the supplier, sat on a wooden stool, a strange smile on his
face. They could see the man operating the camera reflected in his eyes,
but no details were clear. When he spoke, Chris said tightly, Hes
the one who called.
Good . . . he checked his watch, morning, gentlemen.
Although its evening while youre watching this, isnt it?
By now Im sure Mr. Larabee has informed you as to the situation involving
Mr. Dunne and Mr. Standish. Naturally youre concerned about their
wellbeing, so allow me to put your fears to rest.
The camera panned across a featureless room concrete floor, whitewashed
walls, a faint dripping noise. Vin stopped pacing and canted his upper body
slightly forward, as though imprinting every detail in his mind. As the camera
stopped, Josiah let out a low moan and Chris thanked God that Buck wasnt
here to see this.
Ezra and JD were both lying on their backs on the concrete floor, their hands
duct-taped in front of them. JDs upper arm was bandaged and a bruise
discoloured his right temple. A lopsided circle of blood stained Ezras
shirt near the shoulder. Both men had rope nooses around their necks, attached
to a large metal ring embedded in the floor, and both were clearly unconscious.
Ezras jacket had been removed, and neither agent wore shoes or socks.
Samuels continued, As you can see, Mr. Dunne and Mr. Standish are
relatively unharmed, aside from injuries received while we were accosting
them. That can and will change if you decide to ignore what
I tell you and attempt to locate your associates on your own. If you disobey
my instructions, you will be receiving parts of Mr. Standish and Mr. Dunne
for the next several weeks. And I will keep them alive until the time I send
you their heads.
Chris swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to imagine the
sounds of Ezra and JD screaming as Samuels hacked off parts of them. The
man on the video chuckled, as though he could see Chriss reaction.
Im sure that has convinced you to cooperate with me. Now,
these are your first instructions. There is a certain man living in this
city that I wish to get in contact with. His name is Jason Cummerford. You
have until midnight tonight which, I believe, is six hours away
to locate him. A telephone number, an address, an email, I dont care
what. You will find a way for me to contact Jason Cummerford. At precisely
midnight, you will be at Mr. Tanners apartment. I will contact you
there, to take the information and to give you further instructions.
The camera panned back to the still-unconscious forms of Ezra and JD as Samuels
added, And gentlemen, dont even think of trying to find us.
You may notify the proper authorities, if it makes you happy, but they will
be unable to find me either. The only way you will know that your friends
will continue to be in one piece is if you obey my orders perfectly. And
do take care of Mr. Jackson and Mr. Wilmington. If you violate my instructions,
you will need them to prevent your team being named the Three