Stirred

“I brought my prototype, if you’d like to see it.”

“Absolutely.”

Siders knelt down by his duffle and unzipped the bag.

He lifted out a fire ax.

“Is this a joke?” Roe asked as Siders set it on the sheet of glass that protected his desk.

“Not at all.”

“Your glass-cutting technology is an ax?”

“It’s very effective. Perhaps it would clarify things if I gave you a demonstration.”

“By all means.”

Siders stood and lifted the tool.

He went around to the plate of glass behind Roe’s desk.

Strike two.

“Excuse me, Mr. Siders.” He swiveled around in the chair. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m demonstrating.”

“On my goddamn window?”

“Well, yeah. You got any other glass around here?”

Strike three.

Roe stood, rage overtaking him. His time had been wasted. The hour he’d spent dealing with this meeting, instructing his associate on the research, reviewing his memo. He’d been on law review, been voted one of Chicago’s top patent lawyers four years ru

“Mr. Siders, I don’t think that I’m going to be able to help you.”

“Why is that?”

“I’d like for you to leave now.”

“But I have to show you how this works. Once you see it—”

“I’m asking you for the last time to leave.”

“But you’ve got to see this. It’ll blow your mind.”

Siders had the ax cocked back over his shoulder, Roe fast coming to the realization that the man was massively unhinged. Mentally unstable. With genius often came debilitating emotional baggage, but this wasn’t genius. This was psychosis.

Roe lifted the phone, punched in Kelly’s extension, and brought the receiver to his ear.

“Kelly, I need you to get security up to my office right…”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the severed cord with a mix of shock and growing terror.

Holy shit.

Siders, probably when Peter had gone to close the door to his office, had cut the cord.

He needed to get out of here. Right now.

He turned and started quickly around his desk, but Siders blocked his path, smiling now.

The elbow came fast, and he didn’t so much feel the impact to his jaw as register that he was suddenly sitting on the floor.

Siders said, “Relax, and this will go quickly and without much pain.”

“You…you can’t…you…”

Peter was trying to stand up when he saw the steel tip of a black cowboy boot on an intersecting trajectory with his jaw.

April 1, 1:40 P.M.

As I sca

“If my condition was truly life-threatening I’d be dead by now,” I told Phin.

“I’ll check with the nurses’ station again.”

He got up and walked off. I sighed. No doubt I was going to be given the labor induction talk again, but today was April 1, and there was no way I was having my baby on April Fool’s Day.

My iPhone rang.

The screen said Blocked Call, but I hit the accept button anyway.

“Jacqueline Daniels? We regret to inform you that Herb Benedict is dead. He ate so many double cheeseburgers that he exploded—an explosion so powerful it also killed sixteen other people.”

McGlade often blocked his number when he called me, because when I knew it was him I usually didn’t pick up. “Are you here yet, Harry?”

“Pulling into the parking lot. Remind me again what I’m supposed to get out of watching your back all the time. Money? Fame? Are you setting me up with some close friends of yours who are twin strippers?”

“You get the satisfaction of knowing I’ve lived for another day.”

“I’d rather have the twin strippers.”

“I gotta go. My water just broke.”

“Seriously?”

“No. Two can play that stupid April Fool’s game.”

I hung up. Phin wasn’t back yet. I was thinking about texting him something dirty when my iPhone rang again. Another Blocked Call, and this one asked if I wanted to use FaceTime—an app that allowed the people talking to also see each other’s faces. Just like the Jetsons. Phin had insisted upon it, in case of emergencies, and to use it I carried around a rechargeable WiFi hotspot, which cost slightly more per month than my a

I tapped the button, allowing FaceTime, a

But it wasn’t McGlade staring up at me.

It was a pale man with black hair.

Someone I hadn’t seen in quite some time.

Someone I’d hoped to never see again.

The repulsion was so intense that part of me—a very large part—was tempted to hang up and throw the phone away. But that’s not what cops do.

Luther smiled into the camera.

“You’re looking very pregnant, Jack.”

“You’re looking ugly as ever. Wouldn’t this be better in person? I’ve got some friends who are itching to say hello to you.”

“All in good time. I’ve got a little game for you. If you win, you save a man’s life. Interested?”

“I’m not playing any game with you, Luther.”

Luther pressed the second camera button, and the video on my iPhone switched from Luther’s face to an image of another man in a nice suit, unconscious, a strip of duct tape over his mouth, and his wrists and ankles zip-tied.

I’d played a sick game like this before with a serial killer who sent me pictures of people she was about to kill. But those were just still shots. This was live video.

“Can you still hear me, Jack?”

I didn’t answer. I felt like vomiting and then ru

“Answer me, Jack, or I’ll cut out this man’s eyes.”

“Yes. I can hear you, Luther.” I was going to add, “Let him go,” but I knew that would be pointless. Luther had something in mind, and my only option was to wait and see what happened next. “Where did you come up with this idea?”

“I learned it from a mutual friend of ours. You remember Alex Kork. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Alex was a monster,” I said. “Like you.”

“Birds of a feather. Here’s how the game works, Jack. It’s very simple. I ask you one question. If you don’t have an answer for me, I’m going to murder him. Ready? Do I have your full attention?”

“I can’t play your game right now, Luther. I’m in an emergency room.”

Now I hit my camera button, showing him the waiting room. Then I looked frantically around for Phin. If I could let him know what was happening, he could find Herb and maybe we could figure out where Luther was.

Luther said, “Blessed Crucifixion? Is it the preeclampsia again?”

If his knowledge of my condition was meant to u

“How about we do this another time? Let that guy go. You can always find someone else to kill later on.”

“That won’t do. It has to be this man, at this time. But he has one chance. You. If you hang up, he dies. If you don’t want to play, he dies. If you get the wrong answer, he dies. Are you ready? Tell me you’re ready, Jack.”