Broker looks up and catches on where Zeb is going with this. ‘Do fish fuck in the ocean?’ He narrows his eyes. ‘What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be creating an action plan with Connor? And why are we doing this shit, anyway? The NYPD or the FBI can hunt Holt down and rescue them. This has gone way beyond WITSEC now. The FBI can’t stand by their witness protection story anymore.

‘Oh, all right,’ he growls when Zeb continues to stare at him, and gets back to his laptop. ‘I’m into the systems of the different cell phone networks and am using a better system than the FBI or the NYPD use to triangulate. If a call originated from those houses, we’ll know which house it came from.’

He looks up when a sedan approaches them and parks in front just a few feet away from the nose of their Jeep. Isakson gets out and strides inside without noticing them, followed by a couple of agents.

‘The cavalry to the rescue. Now the world will be saved,’ Broker sneers. ‘I bet he asks us to disappear.’

‘They’ll come to us.’ Zeb reclines in his seat and closes his eyes.

‘Did a little angel whisper that in your ear? You know that how?’

‘Figure it out for yourself.’

An hour later they’re back in the apartment after one of Isakson’s agents summoned them.

‘Like we’re his flunkies,’ grumbles Broker.

‘How can we help you, sir?’ he asks Isakson politely.

‘Our profilers have been working on Holt, and they think he’ll want to talk to you or meet you.’

‘No shit. That must have been a very hard deduction given that Zeb has been hounding him for ages and Mr. Balthazar went ahead and mentioned Zeb to Holt.’

Isakson’s face darkens, but he controls himself. ‘Will you take his call if he asks for you?’

‘Yes,’ replies Zeb for the first time. ‘How did all this happen?’

Isakson looks away. ‘We don’t know. He came in every day to our offices and was giving us good intel. A couple of days ago, he stopped coming. We tried calling him but got no response. We suspect he found out about Mr. Balthazar here and his story through the Senator and cut loose. The Senator has been called in for questioning.’

‘Your story’s got him.’ Broker nods in Connor’s direction.

Connor laughs mirthlessly. ‘The script didn’t read like this.’

‘Why didn’t you surround Holt’s freaking place, tear it down, and bust his ass?’ Broker growls at Isakson.

‘We didn’t have his address,’ Isakson admits, clearly embarrassed, but also angry.

He sees Broker’s disbelief and continues, ‘We tried tracking him down, but he always ended up giving us the slip. We tried slipping monitoring devices on him, but he detected those and threw them away. As you know, one of the conditions of his intel was that he’d get witness protection, but we never reached that stage. We thought he was holding back on some vital intel, and hence, we were going slowly on WITSEC.’

A long silence fills the room.

‘Bastards. Surely you lowlifes were not too dumb to see that this was a car crash waiting to happen. That Holt would do anything to either get away from Zeb or go after him?’ Broker throws up his hands.

A muscle in Isakson’s face begins to tic. ‘This is not the time for recriminations. We should focus on negotiating with Holt and securing the safe release of Lauren and Rory. I’m expecting our profiling and negotiating team shortly to help us on this. All I’m asking is for you to take the call if he asks for you. Save the superstar act for another day.’

Zeb doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, his presence filling the room, and turns and walks out silently.

‘That’s his way of saying he’ll take the call.’ Broker looks at Isakson, the ‘asshole’ at the end left unsaid but understood by all.

Zeb returns once the profilers and negotiators arrive.

‘How will you do this? Who will talk to him when he calls?’ Cassandra asks.

‘Mr. Balthazar will speak to him first. The negotiators are here to help him. If he asks for Major Carter, then he is here to take that call. There are no rules for this. Each hostage situation is driven by the circumstances, and we adapt and take control as we go along.’

Broker has set up his hardware and is going through all his feeds. One of the agents whistles when he sees Broker’s equipment.

‘Private enterprise and no red tape,’ Broker says, with a wink.

When the call comes, Zeb recognizes the emotionless voice immediately from agency tapes.

‘Mr. Balthazar, I have your wife and son here with me. You know what I want: all your photographs, your notes, your emails, and anything you’ve written on this subject so far. The original ones, please. In return you get your wife and son back…intact.’

One of the negotiating team gestures to Connor, and he asks, ‘How do I know they’re even alive?’

‘Mr. Balthazar, what good would they be to me dead? Wouldn’t I lose my negotiating strength? I’m guessing that you’re surrounded by the FBI, who are guiding you, and you have profilers looking over your shoulder reading into every voice inflection of mine.

‘Is my friend Isakson there? Hello, Isak? I know you’re there, and I know you were stringing me along. But guess what, asshole? I was stringing you along, too. Most of the shit I gave you was so old and useless that it had even stopped stinking. But I guess you guys are so desperate to find the Ts under any and every rock that you’ll bend over and spread ’em for anyone who sings about them.’

Isakson’s face becomes thunderous, and his agents shift uneasily, but he keeps quiet.

Broker is studying his laptop, trying to locate where the signal is coming from.

Holt’s voice hardens. ‘Oh, and, Mr. Balthazar, who does the exchange is important. If you want to see your wife and son again, then Carter is the one I want to bring all your shit to me. I’m betting he’s there right now. Why don’t you put him on?’

Connor looks up helplessly at Zeb, who steps forward and takes the phone.

‘Holt?’

‘Ah, Major. We meet again, if this can be called a meeting.’

‘The first time was also not a meeting. You turned tail while I was dispatching your friends.’

Holt pauses. ‘The past. Let’s plan the exchange. Tomorrow afternoon at Grand Central. You alone, with my criminal record in a manila envelope.’ He chuckles. ‘And you can take the lovely Mrs. Balthazar and the brat back.’

‘Penn Station. The exchange will be at Penn,’ Zeb counters.

Holt laughs incredulously. ‘Back up, Major. Read the script. I’m the one with the hostages. You do as I say.’

Zeb hangs up. He looks at Broker, who mouths silently, ‘Some more time.’

Isakson strides to Zeb and shoves him away from the phone.

A blur of motion too fast for Connor to register and Isakson is lying on his back with Zeb’s foot on his throat.

Bear and Broker have cornered Isakson’s agents.

After a tense second, Zeb takes his foot off Isakson and pulls him up. He turns his back on the FBI agent, allowing him to gather himself, his dignity, and lower the tension in the room.

When Zeb turns back to them, he behaves as if he hadn’t dumped Isakson on his ass, and they all take that cue.

Broker goes back to his laptop, and Bear leaves the room.

Connor swallows his shock and asks Zeb, ‘Why did you hang up? Aren’t you risking my family by this? Wouldn’t it have been better to continue talking so that the FBI could trace his call?’

‘He’ll call back.’

‘Like fuck he will,’ replies Isakson angrily.

‘Boss, he did the right thing, not giving Holt control,’ pipes up a diffident voice, one of the profilers.

Isakson whirls on him just as Broker murmurs, ‘And these guys are supposed to protect us?’

‘I heard that,’ Isakson shouts, ‘and anyway, what are you doing in that corner?’

The phone rings. ‘Don’t fucking hang up on me, you bastard! Who the fuck do you think you are?’ Holt shouts.