The Ransom

Bart checked his microphone one last time. His ear piece crackled and he heard John’s voice. They were all set. The note said to wait by the fountain for further instruction. Of course, it also said that if he ever wanted to see his daughter again, he shouldn’t bring the cops with him. Bart didn’t think he had a choice.

He checked his watch as a mother hurried by, her three children in tow. Tears welled in his eyes. He tightened his grip on the briefcase. Where the hell is this bastard? Bart wished he were Steven Segall. He’d just kick this guy’s ass and take his daughter back.

“I trust you have the money,” a husky voice from behind him sent chills up his spine. “Don’t turn around.”

“How do I know she’s okay?” Bart clenched his teeth as he heard his voice waiver.

“You’ll just have to trust me. Drop the case. The map is in that newspaper stand. You’ll find your daughter.”

Bart dropped the case. Men were walking briskly toward him from each side. He wanted to run, but his feet were cement. He saw the shiny flash of a gun barrel and heard the weapon’s deadly bark.

He felt an arm around his neck. “You’re a dead man.”

He heard another shot. Am I dead? The arm fell behind him. He heard voices through his ear piece, but his mind couldn’t comprehend the words. He fell to the ground.

“We’ve got her, John!” Bart thought he might pass out, but knew he wasn’t shot. “He had her tied up in the old theatre!” His daughter was safe. He felt something hot. He picked his hand up from the sticky pavement as blood ran from the kidnapper’s neck.

“We got him, Senator.”

Word Count: 296