Chapter 2 - THE RED LIGHT BENEATH THE CHAIR
The blinking red light reflected in the polished mahogany of the dining table.
It was attached to a small, square metal casing strapped directly beneath Dr. Richard Hale’s chair.
"Nobody move," Owen said. His voice was raspy, damaged by years of disuse, but it carried absolute authority. "It's a pressure trigger. If he stands up, it detonates. If his heart rate drops, it detonates."
Arthur Vance stared at the physician who had treated his heart for two decades. "Richard? You?"
Dr. Hale didn't look panicked. He adjusted his silk tie, resting his hands flat on the tablecloth. He looked entirely calm.
"I tried to make it painless, Arthur," Dr. Hale said softly. "The monkshood in the wine would have stopped your heart in three minutes. A tragedy, yes, but peaceful. Now, thanks to this overly observant waitress, things are going to be messy."
I kept my gun leveled at Hale’s chest. My hands were trembling, but my grip was tight.
"You kidnapped his son," I said, the reality crashing over me. "You faked the helicopter crash."
"Owen was collateral," Hale replied smoothly. "He was getting too close to the truth about the Mexican subsidiaries. Weren't you, Owen?"
Preston, Arthur's son-in-law, suddenly took a step toward the exit. "I'm not dying in here. Richard, you promised me immunity if I handled the security team!"
Caroline whipped her head around to look at her husband. "Preston? You helped him?"
"I secured our future, Caroline!" Preston shouted, his handsome face twisting with panic. "Your father was going to leave the entire company to a charity trust! We would have gotten nothing!"
He lunged for the service doors.
A gunshot rang out.
It didn't come from my gun. It came from the security chief standing by the entrance. Preston cried out, clutching his thigh, and collapsed onto the marble floor.
"Nobody leaves," the security chief said, aiming his weapon at Caroline. "Not until the doctor gives the order."
Caroline dropped to her knees beside her bleeding husband, her hands hovering over his wound. "Daddy," she sobbed, looking at Arthur. "I didn't know about the bomb. I swear I didn't."
Arthur looked older than his sixty-eight years. The betrayal was suffocating him. He turned his eyes back to the son he had mourned for five years.
"Owen," Arthur whispered, taking a step toward him. "Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you escape?"
"Because he couldn't, Mr. Vance," I said, piecing it together. "Dr. Hale is your cardiologist. He regulates your pacemaker."
Owen nodded, his eyes locked on his father. He reached into his torn jacket and pulled out a heavy, silver pocket watch.
Arthur gasped. "My father's watch. I buried that with you."
"You buried an empty casket, Dad," Owen said quietly. He popped the silver watch open. Inside, instead of a clock face, was a digital frequency transmitter.
"Dr. Hale kept me in a basement three miles from this restaurant," Owen explained. "This transmitter is linked to your pacemaker. If I ever stepped outside a one-mile radius of my cell, Hale programmed your pacemaker to stop. He held your life in my hands for five years."
The room spun. Hale hadn't just kidnapped a son; he had weaponized a son's love for his father.
But as Arthur reached out to touch the silver watch, a sharp, electronic beep echoed from beneath the table.
May you like
The red light on the bomb shifted to solid green.
"The perimeter is locked," Dr. Hale smiled, pulling a small remote from his pocket. "And now, Arthur, I'm afraid the peaceful option is officially off the table."
