"He's injured and won't get far," Hannah said, leaning over to kiss Jack on the cheek in an effort to console him. Inside, she was quietly amused—seeing Jack lose his usual cool and composed demeanor over a slip-up was a rare sight indeed.
"Tsk tsk, you two make me jealous." Danny Reagan appeared at the other end of the alley, flashing a mischievous grin. Holstering his sidearm, he pointed at Jack's mouth. "Hey, lover boy, you've got lipstick on you."
Hannah's fiery red lipstick was still very much intact—she hadn't had the chance to take it off after their undercover stint.
Jack rolled his eyes at Danny and snatched the wet wipes Hannah was offering. After wiping her smeared lipstick, he flipped the tissue and gave his own face a quick swipe. He couldn't believe Danny had the nerve to tease him—Danny, of all people. Whenever they were at a family gathering, Danny and his wife Linda were practically glued to each other, exchanging kisses at the drop of a hat. Anyone who didn't know better would think they were newlyweds, not a couple married for over a decade.
"Sam Givens was shot in the right shoulder blade," Jack said, getting back to the task at hand. "NYPD needs to notify all city hospitals and emergency centers immediately."
Jack paused, considering for a moment. "Also, put the word out to warn underground clinics, vet hospitals, and even funeral directors. Guys like him always find a way to access medical resources while avoiding the authorities."
Danny's grin faded as he shifted into a more serious demeanor. "No problem. Also, we'll have more officers arriving shortly. Since this guy was spotted here, there's a chance the kidnapped kids might be nearby. NYPD is going to go door-to-door searching this building and the surrounding area."
Leaving Danny and his team to handle the cleanup, Jack and Hannah returned to their car and began heading back to the Federal Building. There was less than an hour left until the ransom deadline, and they needed to be back at headquarters to regroup and assess any new developments.
However, after driving just a couple of kilometers, the traffic ahead started to back up again. Jack gave Hannah a resigned look, turning on the hidden emergency lights.
Just then, Jack's phone buzzed. He answered, and Jubal's voice came through loud and clear. "The unregistered phone you two found earlier—it's been turned on. We've located Givens."
Jack immediately perked up, exchanging a high-five with Hannah. "Where is he? We'll intercept."
"Five blocks south and three blocks west of your current location. He's moving north. You should be able to cut him off," Jubal said, monitoring both their positions on the command center's large map display.
"Buckle up, Hannah," Jack said with a grin, gunning the engine. The Dodge Hellcat roared as Jack executed a sharp handbrake turn, the tires squealing as they spun the car 180 degrees before tearing off toward the west.
"Can we confirm his vehicle via traffic cameras?" Jack asked while navigating the narrow city streets.
"Not yet. We haven't been able to locate that gray Chevy he was driving. Keep an eye out; he might have switched cars," Jubal warned.
Ten minutes later, the Hellcat screeched around a corner, cutting across a tight intersection. Over the phone, Jubal's voice became more urgent. "He should be right ahead of you now. You're on a collision course. Do you see anything?"
"Huh?" Jack muttered, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he spotted a large garbage truck rumbling toward them. He glanced at Hannah, who returned the look, equally perplexed.
With a quick flick of the steering wheel, Jack brought the Hellcat to a stop, parking it sideways to block the garbage truck's path. Both he and Hannah jumped out, pistols drawn. Using the bulletproof car doors as cover, they aimed at the truck's cab, where two city workers were sitting.
"FBI! Step out of the vehicle with your hands where we can see them!" Hannah shouted.
The two workers, wearing uniforms with reflective yellow-green stripes, looked absolutely dumbfounded. Still, they obediently climbed out of the truck and placed their hands on the front bumper.
Though they didn't seem like disguised criminals, Jack cautiously patted them down to check for weapons. Once satisfied, he pulled out his phone and showed them a picture of Sam Givens.
"Have you seen this man?" he asked.
"Never seen him before," one of the workers replied.
"Is there anyone else in the truck?" Jack pressed.
"Just us," the other worker answered. Both men seemed so frightened and cooperative that it almost made Jack feel bad for them.
Still, he wasn't ready to let his guard down. The kidnappers had previously pretended to be repo agents to seize someone else's car; impersonating municipal workers wasn't out of the question.
Hannah finished circling the garbage truck and shook her head at Jack. "There's no one in the cab, and nothing under the truck either. Could he have thrown the phone away, and it somehow ended up in the garbage?"
Jack frowned, dismissing the idea. If the phone had been discarded, it wouldn't still be transmitting a signal. Whoever turned it on likely hadn't anticipated it could be traced.
The only remaining place to check was the trash compactor in the back. "Keep an eye on these two," Jack told Hannah before climbing onto the truck's rear platform.
Lifting the compactor's lid, Jack began sifting through the garbage bags. Beneath several bundles of trash, he discovered a blood-soaked body—it was Sam Givens.
The operations center was as hectic as ever, with phones ringing off the hook and agents rushing between desks. Dana Mosier stood in the hallway, her expression grim.
When Jack and Hannah returned, Jubal walked up to Jack, gave his shoulder a consoling pat, and shook his head. He didn't say anything, instead heading over to confer quietly with Agent LaCroix.
"What happened? How did Givens end up dead in a garbage truck?" Dana asked, her tone more exasperated than accusatory.
Jack sighed, rubbing his temple. "We're not entirely sure yet. NYPD traced the truck's route and found a blood-stained dumpster along the way. That's probably where his body was dumped before being loaded into the truck. But I can't figure out why he'd hide in a dumpster after abandoning his car."
Dana frowned, puzzled. "What about his car? It should be near the dumpster, right?"
Hannah shook her head. "No sign of it. NYPD searched two nearby blocks but came up empty. Danny Reagan is organizing a citywide search for the vehicle."
"So we're back to square one," Dana muttered. "No sign of the bus. No sign of the kids. And all we have is a ransom video."
Taking a deep breath, she turned to the command center staff. "Play that video again."
A tech analyst brought it up on the screen, typing as she spoke. "The video file was heavily edited; much of the metadata has been scrubbed. We can't determine if it was filmed with a camera or a phone.
Whoever uploaded it is a skilled hacker. The IP address traces back to a proxy server in Cyprus, and it's bouncing through dozens of 'zombie' computers worldwide. Honestly, I don't think we'll be able to trace it."
The video began playing again. Onscreen, a man wearing a black hood shoved a terrified ten-year-old boy—Owen Jamison—into view.
The video was brief. The hooded man issued a threatening ultimatum, then roughly yanked the boy by his collar before addressing the camera: the governor's office was to prepare $1 million in cash and await further instructions in 90 minutes.
The footage froze, and an analyst used a laser pointer to highlight certain details.
"We've tried identifying the filming location, but there's no natural light and no visible flooring. It could be a bedroom or a basement. The background is just a white bedsheet hung as a makeshift curtain. There are no distinguishing marks or clues."
The analyst's tone was apologetic, but Dana placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. Keep looking."
Turning to LaCroix, she gestured for him to take over. "Your turn, old friend. Time to do what you're best at."
With a rueful grin, Jubal nudged LaCroix forward. The seasoned agent reluctantly approached, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jack.
"The man in the hood is clearly the leader," LaCroix began. "He's accustomed to being in control. You can tell by his tone, his choice of words, and his measured cadence. What do you think, Jack? Oh, can I call you Jack?"
"Of course, Agent LaCroix," Jack replied, smiling. Despite the circumstances, he appreciated the older agent's friendly demeanor.
"Thank you, Jack." LaCroix nodded before continuing. "This means the man in the hood isn't Sam Givens. Givens lacked the education and confidence to carry himself like that. The hooded man is our real mastermind."
Jubal scratched his head in frustration. "As much as you drive me crazy, I've never doubted your instincts, LaCroix."
Turning back to the analysts, Jubal clapped his hands for attention. "Alright, people, you heard him. The hooded man is the leader. Givens was just a pawn. That means we're dealing with a new mastermind, with new motives
and a different behavioral pattern. Damn it, as if today's mess wasn't confusing enough already."
"Wait a second," Jack interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the frozen video frame. "That kid—Owen Jamison. Something's off about him."
Hannah turned to Jack, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Jack pointed to the boy's face on the screen. "He looks scared, sure. But it's not just fear of the kidnappers. He seems… afraid of being discovered. Like he's hiding something."
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