Chapter 2 - The Fifteen-Minute Window
The warm, trembling weight of Jasper’s small body pressed against my chest. His hot breath brushed against the collar of my suit as his tiny lips moved in a terrified, hurried whisper right against my ear canal.
"She talked on her phone when she locked me in the back room this morning," Jasper breathed, his voice barely a flutter. "The lady with the red coat... Director Wallace. She said if you didn't sign the transfer papers by nine o'clock, they were putting Leo on the boat at Pier 4. She said nobody searches the cargo ships."
Every drop of blood in my body turned to pure, liquid frost.
Pier 4. The industrial docks on the south side of the river. It was an unmonitored container terminal controlled by an international shipping syndicate I had been fighting to push out of Chicago for eighteen months.
I checked the subtle reflection in the dark glass of the interrogation room window. The wall clock read 8:48 AM.
Twelve minutes.
Director Wallace hadn't sent Detective Clark and Karen Phillips here to build a case against me. She had used the Department of Child Justice as a stalling tactic. They knew I wouldn't leave Jasper behind. They knew I would sit in this sterile box, fighting administrative accusations, while a heavy steel shipping container was sealed shut and loaded onto a freighter bound for international waters.
They thought they had trapped a rich, arrogant businessman in a maze of red tape.
They had no idea who was sitting in front of them.
Slowly, gently, I rubbed Jasper’s back, smoothing down his unkempt hair. "You did so good, little man," I murmured back into his hair, keeping my voice soft enough that the microphones in the ceiling couldn't pick up the frequency. "I’m going to get him. I promise you on my life."
I pulled back from the hug, setting Jasper back into his chair. I held his small hand in mine, squeezing it once to let him know the fear was over.
Across the table, Karen Phillips adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses, a smug, bureaucratic victory dancing in her eyes. "Comforting the child won't change the legal reality, Mr. Vance. You have ten minutes left to sign the voluntary surrender of custody. If you refuse, Detective Clark will formally process you for felony interference."
Detective Clark leaned against the doorframe, crossing his thick arms. "Save yourself the mugshot, Vance. You're out of your depth."
I looked up at Clark. Then at Phillips.
I didn't speak. I simply reached into my inner jacket pocket.
Clark’s hand instantly dropped to his sidearm. "Hands where I can see them!"
I pulled out a sleek, black encrypted satellite phone and laid it flat on the metal table.
"You aren't supposed to have personal electronics in an interrogation room!" Phillips snapped, her voice rising in pitch. "Clark, confiscate that!"
"Touch that phone, Clark, and your pension isn't the only thing you lose by nine o'clock," I said.
My voice didn't rise. It didn't tremble. It was a flat, volcanic register that caused Clark’s boots to root to the linoleum floor. The room fell into an oppressive, suffocating silence.
The phone on the table chimed once. A green light flashed.
I pressed the speaker button.
"Boss," Marcus’s deep, gravelly voice vibrated through the speaker. "The precinct chief just received a call from the State Attorney’s office. All charges against you are dismissed. Detective Clark’s personal bank records from the Cayman accounts were delivered to the FBI five minutes ago. Federal agents are stepping into the lobby right now."
Detective Clark’s face went completely drained of color. He took a step back, his eyes darting wildly toward the door. "What... what did you say?"
"I told you fifteen minutes was your timeline, Clark," I said, leaning forward resting my forearms on the table. "You thought it was mine. Marcus, where is the tactical convoy?"
"Idle outside the precinct, Boss," Marcus answered over the speaker. "Four armored SUVs. Twelve men. Ready for breach."
"Redirect all units to Pier 4," I commanded, my eyes fixed on the trembling form of Karen Phillips. "Director Wallace has a six-year-old boy named Leo inside a container heading for a cargo ship. If that boat moves an inch off the dock before I arrive, sink it."
"Understood, Boss. Moving now."
The line clicked off.
Phillips sat frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You... you can't do this! This is a state facility! You're a criminal!"
I stood up. I didn't glance at her. I picked up Jasper in one arm, pulling him securely against my hip. He wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, burying his face in my shoulder.
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I walked directly toward Detective Clark. The six-foot-two officer, who ten minutes ago had looked at me like prey, backed out of the doorway, his hands trembling so violently he couldn't even reach for his handcuffs.
"Director Wallace thought she was playing a game of leverage," I whispered as I passed him in the corridor. "Tell her Julian Vance is coming to collect."
