Midas Touch

Steven nodded again. "Right."

Taking the briefcase from Olivia's hand, Steven checked for traffic before stepping onto the road. They had to pause at the midway point. Upon reaching the opposite side, he turned back to their captor and nodded once.

Olivia and Steven entered the bank and made for one of the counters. Steven frowned as he watched Olivia attempt to complete a withdrawal slip. Her writing was barely recognisable as her own. Without saying a word, he took the slip from her and screwed it up, tossing it into the small trash can provided. He reached for another and proceeded to fill it out. He passed the pen to Olivia, so she could sign. He could see her hand was shaking. One glance at her face told him she was hanging on by a thread.

"Take a few deep breaths," he whispered close to her ear. "We can't screw this up. Think of Hailey and Hannah. They're depending on us."

Olivia nodded, biting her lip. She took the pen and signed. Tears welled in her eyes. "He's going to take everything. Everything we've worked so hard for."

Steven shrugged. What could he say?

"Why, Steven? Why us? Why now? Is your firm working on any government or, I don't know, sensitive contracts?"

Steven considered the question. It was a fair one. He worked in security and surveillance software. Finally, he shook his head. "Nothing that would warrant this. What about you? Have you been involved in any deals that have gone sour? Or pissed anyone off? Any CEO or CFO, ah, downsized? Any middle manager sent packing? Anyone at the bank pissed because you got promoted over them?"

Olivia looked distressed. A few tears escaped, and she tried to discreetly brush them away with her fingers. "I don't know. Takeovers and mergers inevitably lead to staff and management being let go and a few of the guys in my department resent me for being promoted over them. Merchant banking is still very much a man's world. But this? To do this? To take our girls?" Olivia dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders shuddered in an effort to keep her emotions bottled up. "I don't know. I really don't know."

Steven assessed his wife. She wouldn't pass master with the bank teller he was sure. "Go back to the car. I'll handle this. One look at you and the bank will know something's wrong. We can't afford any problems."

Steven expected Olivia to argue. She didn't. With one final, grateful glance, she lowered her head and walked to the door. She didn't look back once outside. Taking a deep breath, Steven joined one of the queues.

******

"HERE, WE'VE DONE what you wanted," said Steven, handing the man the briefcase. "Now let us and our girls go."

The man looked to his left and then his right before settling his gaze on Steven. "Funny, I don't see anyone in a position to be dictating terms to me." The man's expression turned feral. "We're done when I say we're done. Comprendez, Daddy?"

Steven compressed his lips and nodded.

The man turned to Olivia, looking her up and down patronisingly. "You're looking a little rough around the edges, sweetie. What happened to the hotshot negotiator? The closer? The money-making machine? The woman with balls of steel? Gotta say, I'm disappointed." The man laughed derisively. "Not that good in a crisis after all, hey?"

Olivia hung her head, her shoulders slumping. Steven had never seen her looking so defeated, not even after Melbourne.

"How's it feel to lose everything you've worked for, missus?"

Olivia's head shot up. She looked devastated. Steven wrapped a protective arm around her.

"We haven't lost everything," Steven replied quietly. "Money's not everything. We still have the girls and each other."

"Wow, quite the philosopher, aren't we?" sneered the man. "You keep doing what I tell you and you will keep your daughters alive and well."

"But we already did what you asked-" Steven began.

"But, wait, there's more," the man interrupted, imitating the voice and intonation of a well-known character from a television advertisement.

Steven cringed, preparing himself for another onerous task.

"What else can we do for you? You've taken all our money. What else can we give you?"

"Oh, this is an easy one, little lady. I want you to make a delivery for me."

Steven and Olivia looked at each other confused. Why would the man kidnap them and their daughters for a delivery? The money was understandable, but a delivery?

"We're off to Market Street, Daddy."

Steven turned the key and the Range Rover purred into life. He pulled into the traffic, pushing his way into the right lane, preparing to turn into Pitt Street. Traffic was still heavy. Peak hour seemed to last all day in the city centre. They crawled along; Steven was convinced they could have walked to their destination faster. At the Bathurst Street intersection, he turned right and shortly afterward, left onto Elizabeth. The road ran beside Hyde Park, but today, both Steven and Olivia were blind to its beauty. Not so, their captor.

"Maybe you should spend more time in your lunch hours, missus, in the park. Maybe, by the Pool of Reflection. You know, do a little reflecting on your life choices."

"What do you mean by that?" snapped Olivia, half turning in her seat. Steven saw she was looking daggers at the man.

"Now, now, now, little lady. Don't go getting all high and mighty with me. It didn't take a lot of investigating to know why you guys moved from Melbourne to Sydney. Someone was a naughty girl, methinks."

Steven winced, and Olivia gasped in shock. She looked at Steven who steadfastly kept his gaze on the road ahead.

"That was a long time ago and Steven forgave me. We worked our way through that. You have no right dragging up our past and rubbing our faces in it."

"Oh, but I do, missus. This here gun gives me a lot of rights and you'd do well to remember it. I'm not one of your office minions. By the way, your office minions; they don't like you much. Neither do your colleagues. I wonder why? Could it be you've stabbed too many of them in the back? Run roughshod over them in your climb to the top? Or is it your demanding attitude?"

Olivia ignored the insults; there was no point in defending herself. Merchant banking was a cutthroat world. It was dog eat dog. As a woman she'd had to be twice as ruthless as the men she worked with in order to be taken seriously. After Melbourne, she'd made sure she kept the aggressive, competitive side of her nature at work.

She looked at her husband's profile. Knowing him as well as she did, she recognised the pain he was in. The man's jibes about Melbourne had hit their target. The tightness around Steven's eyes, the lines of compression at the corners of his mouth, the way his hands gripped the wheel. Everything about him spoke of anguish and the effort it took to keep his emotions under control. Witnessing his silent suffering, she even forgot about her daughters for a moment. Steven's pain was her pain and she hated that it was her and her actions that were the root cause. Hated that she had given their captor the weapon with which to hurt her husband. It saddened her to know that the events from their time in Melbourne still had the power to wound Steven.

"Don't listen to him, Steven. He's trying to drive a wedge between us. Melbourne was so long ago. We love each other. We're happy. We have two beautiful daughters-"

The man clapped his hands. Slowly at first, the tempo increasing. And then he laughed. "Bravo. Bravo."

Olivia rounded on him in fury. She hated being mocked. "Why are you doing this? How do you know these things? Why? Why go to so much trouble to investigate us? Neither of us is famous, nor are we super rich."

"Well side-stepped, missus. My reasons are my own and you'd do well to rein in your attitude. Wouldn't want to piss me off now. Not when one phone call could, well, let's just say, change your entire world."

"Shut up, Olivia. Just do what the man says," said Steven quietly. To the man he asked, "Whereabouts on Market Street? What number?"

"One hundred," the man replied. "Do you know who has the offices on the fifth floor of number one hundred Market Street?"

"No." Steven tensed, knowing the address would be something else significant to either him or Olivia. He gave Olivia a sideways glance. She'd paled, and her hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. Steven looked at the man via the rear-view mirror. The man caught him looking and smiled at him smugly.

"How about you, missus? You know who's on the fifth floor?"

Olivia turned her head to look out the window, ignoring the question. Surprisingly, the man didn't insist she answer. Instead, he chuckled. The sound jarred.

Steven turned left and immediately started looking for a place to park. It wasn't going to be easy; parking places in the inner city were always as rare as hen's teeth. The gods must have been looking after him, though—or was it the man?—because he scored a spot approximately one hundred yards from their destination.

Once again, they all piled out of the car. Olivia looked tense and wary; Steven edgy, every muscle in his body taut, like that of the bow just before the arrow was released.

Their captor passed Steven a document sized envelope, thick with whatever its contents were. Olivia staggered backward, her stare riveted on the envelope. Steven looked at her questioningly. She avoided returning his gaze.

Much to their surprise he passed Steven a phone. The man watched them both with amusement. "I may have further instructions for you. Don't get any funny ideas or try to play the hero. Remember who has your daughters. Fifth floor, number one hundred," he repeated.

Both Olivia and Steven nodded, turning as one in the direction of the office building that was their latest target.

"Oh, no, missus. You're sitting this one out. Hubby gets to make this delivery all by himself."

Again, Steven shot Olivia a questioning look. Again, she avoided answering him with her eyes.

As soon as Steven was out of earshot the man began. "Can you guess what's in the envelope, Olivia?"

She nodded miserably.

"So, who's been a naughty girl? Get a little too ambitious, did we? Or did you just begin to believe your own bullshit?"

"You probably already know," she replied dejectedly. "The deal hinged on knowing."

The man shook his head, clearly enjoying her misery. "Tut, tut, tut. Insider trading. You could get into big trouble. Maybe even do some jail time if hubby delivers that envelope to the Aussie Securities and Investments Commission. ASIC frowns on people who cheat and break laws."

Olivia hung her head, all fight gone from her. If what was in that envelope was what she suspected, her career was over. Life as she knew it was over. Steven would be so shocked and disappointed in her. What would she say to the girls? Would Steven stand by her in court? Wait for her if she had to go to prison? She shuddered as a bleak future opened up before her.

"I tell you what, missus. I'll give you one phone call to convince hubby not to deliver that envelope. Can't be fairer than that, can I?"

Olivia looked up, uncertain whether the man was toying with her or not. Hope flooded her veins when he held out a phone to her. She grabbed it with unseemly haste, fearful he'd pull it out of her reach.

A quick glance told her she had her own phone; the burner one. She suppressed her initial reaction of guilt. She glanced at the man and knew by the knowing look on his face her being given the burner phone was intentional.

"One rule: you can't tell him I've given you this chance."

Olivia took a deep breath to still the trembling in her hands and punched in Steven's number.

"Hello?" Steven answered uncertainly.

"Baby, it's me. Don't deliver the letter."

"Olivia, I have to. He'll hurt the girls if I don't."

"Trust me, please. Don't deliver it."

"Why are you risking the safety of the girls? You know I can't ignore his instruction."

"Baby, trust me. Please, just trust me. Don't deliver it. Throw it in a trash can. He'll never know."

Olivia looked at the man as she said the last sentence and recoiled at the smirk on his face.

"What's in it that has you so rattled that you'd risk Hailey and Hannah?"

"Steven, I can't tell you. You'll just have to trust me. Please don't deliver that envelope. Please. Do it for me. It's important. Important to me, to us. Please, just toss the envelope away."

The man made a scissoring action across his throat, signalling her time was up. Olivia made one last plea.

"Steven, baby, please. Please trust me. Please don't deliver the envelope."

She ended the call, her entire body quaking as she handed the phone back to the man. Her heart raced. Surely Steven would do as she asked? Surely, he'd trust that she wouldn't put their girls at risk?

"Are you and honesty even on speaking terms?" the man asked mockingly. "You've got to ask yourself who's the real crim here, you or me?"

Olivia turned her face away, her cheeks burning at the man's taunt. It struck a little too close to home.

After a long moment, Olivia risked a peek at their captor, watching as he grabbed another phone out of one of the pockets of the bulging vest. Her phone. She recognised the scuff mark on the bottom corner. He pressed a few buttons. She realised it was her pin to unlock the phone. How could he know these things?

"Olivia!"

Steven's exclamation was so loud, Olivia heard it clearly, despite the distance between her and her captor.

"Sorry, sport. It's not the missus. It's your worst nightmare. When you get up to the fifth floor, I want you to get the receptionist or some other office jock to take a photo of you handing over the envelope. I don't care how you do it. Just get it done."

"Okay," Steven replied hesitantly.

Olivia wanted to scream at Steven. Who would he listen to? Her or their captor? Olivia silently willed Steven to trust her and toss the envelope. He had to know she'd never risk the girls. She prayed as she'd never prayed before. More even than she had after Melbourne.

Every minute seemed to drag, stretching Olivia's nerves to their limit. What was taking Steven so long?

At last, she saw him walking toward them. The envelope was gone. Had he thrown it away or delivered it?

He seemed in no hurry and his head was down. He was avoiding looking at her but also at the man. Who had he disappointed?

Without a word being said, the man held his hand out for the phone. Steven passed it to him. The man opened it and went to the photos folder. Olivia was strung so tight she feared she'd snap. She held her breath, sending up one last desperate prayer.

The man held the phone out to her. There, on the screen, stood Steven. Beside him was a plumpish brunette, smiling as she accepted a thick ochre-coloured envelope.

Olivia collapsed, distraught. The bottom had just fallen out of her world. It was as if her bones had turned to rubber. Her knees hit the pavement, but she felt no pain. Her face rested in the palms of her hand; her shoulders heaved as huge gasping sobs were torn from her.

"Why? Why did you deliver it? Why didn't you do as I asked? Why didn't you trust me?" she wailed, looking up at Steven, her shoulders still shaking with the strength of her tears.

Steven stepped toward his wife, but the man waved him back. "Oh, dear. Are we feeling a little betrayed? A little let down? Not nice is it, Livvie? Not nice to have hubby choose me over you."

"Leave her alone," growled Steven, and ignoring the man, leaned down to help Olivia back to her feet. He held her in his arms, stroking her back.

"Ah, ever the good guy. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that's why she doesn't respect you? Not enough killer instinct."

"I'll show you killer instinct," snarled Steven, releasing Olivia and lunging for the man.

They scuffled, each landing a few punches. It was a sad indictment on their fellow pedestrians that not one stepped forward to try and break up the fight. In fact, most gave them a wide berth.

"Remember your daughters, Steven," the man whisper-yelled, sidestepping to avoid another right cross.

And suddenly it was over. Steven deflated like a punctured tyre. Olivia felt his frustration like a cold gust of wind.

"Back in the car, the pair of you," the man barked. "You've drawn enough attention to us."

At the click of the last seatbelt being fastened, Olivia turned her head. "We've done everything you've asked of us. You've taken all our money and ruined my career. Please, I'm begging you, please let us and our daughters go. We won't go to the police. We just want to go home and have our daughters back."

"Nope. No can do. We have another delivery to do."

Olivia faced forward, shoulders slumped. She couldn't think what else this man could do to destroy her.

"Where to?" asked Steven sullenly.

"Chatswood."

Steven groaned.

Olivia turned to him. "Has he got something on you too? Did you do something illegal?" Her voice showed her anxiety. Suddenly she was fearful their girls would be without either of their parents. What would happen to them if both she and Steven went to jail?

Steven looked shocked and offended at Olivia's assumption. "Of course, I didn't do anything illegal. If he has what I think he has, it was something I did that was stupid, but most definitely not against the law."

"What?" Olivia asked, bracing herself for the worst.

"Nothing more than indiscreet in-house emails about a new client who is so dumb, Tom and I can't figure out how he's made his millions. That's the only thing I can think of."

"Is that all?" Olivia's relief was obvious in every line of her body.

"Enough to get me fired."

"Oh."

"Very good, Steven," the man said. "Great deductive powers. I can see why they pay you the big bucks. Pity they might have to let you go."

Steven jerked the car into the traffic, earning him a loud honk of protest from the Toyota he cut off. Steven flicked the driver the bird. Their captor merely laughed.

Steven zipped in and out of lanes and accelerated in order to cross an intersection before the lights changed from amber to red.

"My, my, my, we are in a hurry."

"Might as well get it over and done with."

Everyone fell silent. The atmosphere in the car was tense with Steven and Olivia deep in thought, and the man observing. Assessing.

Olivia stared out the side window. The man was systematically destroying them. Why? She couldn't figure it out. Did he work for the client Steven had disparaged to a colleague? If so, the revenge was rather extreme. In the end, did the why even matter? By the end of the day they would have no cash, Steven's job would be on the line, and there was a strong possibility she would be arrested. And then there was their daughters. What had the man done to them and Mrs. Foster? Olivia prayed for her girls. She couldn't bear the idea of them coming to any harm. Everything else that had happened was survivable, the loss of Hailey and Hannah was not.

Steven was hanging on by a thread. He just wanted it all to be over. He just wanted to be home with his girls. Whatever other fallout came from the day could be coped with.

Crossing the harbour bridge was, as usual, a nightmare. Once they were on the North Shore, Steven drove as one familiar with the area. He parked around the corner from the office building owned by the client and turned to face their captor.

"Who's doing the delivering?"

"You might as well," drawled the man, enjoying their discomfort. "You know the drill. A photo handing over the document. No funny games. Blah, blah, blah."

As he spoke, he held out a phone and envelope. This one not as thick as the one that had been delivered to ASIC.