“I suppose you’re right, but it sure seems like more risk than he needed to take. I mean, if you want to be certain you aren’t seen losing a body, there are surefire ways to do it.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed. “We should know.”

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Montez spoke softly and with only a slight accent. “Do you have your line straight?”

Nichole Dalton nodded.

“Good, try to relax. I know you’re in pain. Make the call and put it on speaker, please. Soon this will be over.”

Montez handed her the phone and stepped back. He’d freed her hands, but her body remained bound to the table. She wasn’t going anywhere.

The chirping ring tone indicated a successful connection.

“Increase the volume, please.”

She obeyed.

He smiled at the voice on the other end. Glorious.

“Nichole. Where are you? Where are the girls? The State Department said you’ve been kidnapped. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”

“Duane, we’re in trouble.”

“What can you see? What kind of sounds can you hear in the background?”

Montez stepped forward and took the phone from her. “Did you know Nichole works out for an hour everyday? She does it to keep her body in shape for her new boyfriend. I can personally attest to this fact.”

“Who the hell is this?”

“I’m asking the questions, not you, Mr. Dalton.”

No reply.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid your lapdog, Mr. Kramer, is no longer with us. Fortunately for me, we had a little chat before he… departed. Your ex-wife seems quite eager to cooperate. She graciously supplied your telephone number.”

“What do you want?”

He reached out and bent Nichole’s little toe the wrong direction. It strained and broke. She screamed.

“Okay. Please don’t hurt her again. My daughters.…”

“Was that a question?”

“No!” he yelled.

“Their future depends entirely on you, Mr. Dalton. Do have access to the Internet?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to go to the following Web site.” He provided a numbered Internet address. “Did you get that?”

“Yes.”

“You have sixty seconds. Let me know when you’re online.” He turned toward Nichole. “Mr. Dalton sounds concerned for your safety. Perhaps this will be over as soon as we hoped.” He knew Dalton heard the comment. “You have forty-five seconds.”

“I’m logging on right now.”

“Thank you for being prompt.”

Montez ignored her pleading expression, secured her arms to the table, and stepped back. He turned on the overhead spot and admired his handiwork. Perfect.

“Thirty seconds.”

“I’m typing the address.”

“Very good, Mr. Dalton. You’re doing well.”

Montez knew what Duane Dalton would see once he viewed the streaming image coming from the camcorder. The mother of his children, naked, bloody, and strapped to a torture table. He hadn’t made her incisions especially deep, but they looked adequately shocking.

He waited, tapping a finger on the handset.