As they continued going down, Lewis realized one of the kids was looking at him strangely. He glanced down and saw his hands were shaking. Abruptly, he clasped them together behind his back and looked up at the ceiling.
They reached the 8th floor when suddenly the elevator slowed to a halt. Christ, not again, he thought. But when the doors opened there was no one there. At first, he thought the two attackers had somehow gained access to the maintenance system, but then he saw the family’s little girl was pressing a bunch of the buttons.
“Oh, sorry,” the mother said. “She does that sometimes. Judith, stop it.”
This can’t be happening, Lewis thought. The entire situation felt surreal.
His reverie came to a halt as Gonzalez grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of the elevator doors before they could close. “Come on,” she said, leading him to the stairs.
Eight flights. Damn.
The pair took the steps two by two, Lewis remaining as close to the railing as possible for fear of wiping out. Gonzalez had clearly had more training in this regard and sailed down flight after flight effortlessly, getting almost a whole floor ahead of him.
“Hey, wait up!” he panted. Shit, he really needed to do more cardio.
“Come on!” she called back up to him, then kept running, ducking down out of sight.
By the time Lewis reached the bottom he was exhausted. He burst out of the staircase door and took several deep breaths as his eyes swept the surrounding space. He was in an area behind the casino, near the elevators to the upper floors.
Gonzalez was nowhere in sight.
“Ah, shit,” he panted, taking off toward the lobby. That’s where the reception was, she must’ve gone there to ask for the location of the security office.
After winding his way through the casino tables, Lewis came out into the atrium and walked along the path that cut through its planted jungle. As he did so, a man dressed in a dark trench-coat and black suit suddenly stepped right in front of him. He sported a fedora and wore dark sunglasses.
“Don’t move.” His voice was quiet but filled with menace.
Lewis glanced down and saw the man was aiming something at him, holding his coat out with the other hand to prevent anyone else from seeing it.
A silenced pistol.
23
Lewis froze. The man swiftly slid around behind him and pressed the gun against his back. “You say a word to anyone, you try to alert anyone, you try and run, I will fucking pump you full of lead, you got that?”
The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He looked almost as if Lewis had seen him somewhere before, too. Carefully, he nodded.
“Good. Now walk forward.” Lewis began moving, the man in black close in step right behind him. “Keep it steady. Where’s your FBI friend?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Better tell me now, before I have access to interrogation tools.”
“I don’t know, I swear,” Lewis reiterated. “She beat me down the stairs and when I got out onto the first floor, I couldn’t find her. I don’t know where she went.”
They were out from under the atrium now. Lewis saw he was being steered toward the front entrance. Crowds of people passed all around them, none of them realizing they were witnessing a kidnapping. A businessman nearly walked right into them, texting on his phone.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, sliding out of the way.
Lewis began mouthing the words “Help me,” but the businessman didn’t see it. His eyes swept left and right, hoping to see Gonzalez anywhere, someone to help him. But the man in black nudged him forward, out the sliding doors, and into the cool evening air. Taxis and guests were arriving and leaving, a buzz of energy all around.
Beyond the roof of the porte-cochère the sky had become a red-orange canvas diffusing into the darkening blue. He couldn’t believe it was evening already, the day having gone by so fast. Then again, it was winter and the sun set pretty early this time of year. His kidnapper pushed him forward through throngs of people as he led Lewis across the lanes to the area reserved for valet parking and dropping off guests.
A black 2015 Chevy Malibu sedan with tinted windows waited with its engine purring on the other side of the tropical flora-laced divider. The man opened the rear right door and forced him inside, then climbed in after. He grabbed Lewis by the shoulder and turned him around, sticking the silenced barrel of the pistol in his face.
“The doors are locked. Don’t try anything stupid and I won’t put a bullet in your head.”
Lewis nodded, his body incredibly tense. He tried to keep a clear head as he looked around the car. A woman with cappuccino-colored skin sat behind the wheel, wearing a black suit and sunglasses just like her partner.
“Where’s Jackson?” the man asked.
“He’s coming. He went after the girl but lost her on the Strip.”
“We’ve got him for bait now, I’m just worried about how we’re going to contact her.”
“She didn’t leave her phone in the room. I did a thorough sweep.”
Silence followed. Lewis looked between the two of them, but they kept their faces staring straight ahead. It was unsettling.
“So,” he said. “When you two do Men in Black roleplay, which one of you is Will Smith?”
His kidnapper turned and hit him across the head with the butt of his pistol. Lewis fell back against the door. “Shut up,” the man said, looking out the window.
Clutching where he’d been hit, Lewis slowly rotated his head upward. He saw the door’s lock, just within reach. A plan began to formulate in his mind. If he could wait for just the right moment, he could pull the lock up with one hand and open the door with the other. He’d have to be swift. If he got out of the car, he’d have a chance. They wouldn’t shoot him in front of all these people, no way. They’d have to pursue him on foot, and if he could just get to a police officer, he’d be safe.
Lewis slowly craned his neck around to look at the others, still clutching his head. His two captors glanced elsewhere, although at what exactly it was hard to discern with their sunglasses.
Very carefully, without taking his gaze off of either of them, he began to slide his left arm up toward the lock. Several agonizing moments of anticipation finally yielded the touch of plastic against his fingers.
Neither the man nor the woman had noticed.
Lewis slowly began moving his right hand from the side of his head to the door handle.
Abruptly, another person threw open the passenger door and climbed in. This must’ve been Jackson. Lewis’s hands retreated to where they’d been. The new arrival, a tall African-American man with a goatee and an attire similar to the other two, shut the door and stared at the woman. Lewis saw blood dripping from a nasty gash on the side of his head. It was easy to guess which of these three had been the one struck with the lamp.
“No luck.”
“She got away?”
“For now.” He glanced back toward Lewis, staring at him through his polarized lenses. “I see Blackwell grabbed her S.O.”
“He’ll make a good bargaining chip.”
Jackson scoffed. “Assuming she actually cares about him.” He turned his attention forward. Lewis realized he also looked vaguely familiar, and so did the woman.
She shifted the transmission and began driving, sliding past the valets and guests’ cars out into the fading daylight. The white man, Blackwell, turned toward Lewis and leveled his gun at him again.
“Remember,” he said. “Don’t try anything stupid.”