Scarlet Rendezvous

"Do you know where you are? Can you see anything right now?"

The call dropped.

Almost immediately, my phone started ringing. The number was unlisted.

"Hello?" I said.

"We have her," the caller said. The voice was distorted and mechanical, like the one on my voicemail.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"We want our money. We're tired of waiting and playing your fucking games. You have 72 hours to wire $3 million to us. Don't go to the police. If you do, she's dead. Just like Rick Faustino."

I had a flashback of Rick in the video, and started to feel dizzy.

"I won't go to the police," I said.

"No tough guy bullshit, or she's dead."

"Don't hurt her. She has nothing to do with this."

"No cops. No bullshit. Wait for my call with further instructions."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," I said. "I need more time."

The line was dead. They'd hung up.

I stood staring at my cellphone, the room spinning. A feeling of unreality came over me, a feeling of disassociation that made me wonder if I was going insane.

I collapsed on the couch, and buried my head in my hands.

***

Somehow I pulled myself out of the haze. My SEAL training kicked in, and I was able to focus better. I went out into my car and brought in my Glock17. I knew this was going to happen. Deep down inside, I knew my past in the desert would catch up with me. Rick and I had stolen some of the Russian's money, sure. But it was gun money. Blood money. We'd busted-up two of their biggest gun rings, and confiscated a pallet of fucking cash, stashing some on the side. Some of the government guys knew it. Some were in on it. Some helped us move and hide it. Now the Russians were coming for it. I knew deep down it was only a matter of time.

Someone was working on the inside, someone who knew me and my past. They were Russian, no doubt. They knew about the desert, about Rick and the money we stole.

Sasha.

Yes, Sasha. I'd known in my gut all along. That mother fucker. He must have been connected to the arms dealers in some way. All those scumbags ran together, the drug dealers, and gun runners, and sex-traffickers. They were all a part of the same network of thugs and animals.

Mandy was pulling into the driveway in her Uber. It was 2:34 p.m. She came in the front door, carrying sandwiches and large Styrofoam cups of iced tea.

"The shoot wrapped up early," she said. "For once in the past three years, we got shit done on schedule. I brought us a late lunch. Leftovers from the shoot. I hope you didn't eat already." She paused, seeing me for the first time. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I was sitting on a single wooden kitchen chair which I'd pulled into the middle of her living room. The television was off, and the shades were drawn. I was just sitting there, staring at her.

"Who's Sasha?" I asked her.

"What?"

"Sasha," I repeated calmly. I stood up from the chair. I pulled out my Glock from behind my back, aimed it at her.

She screamed and dropped the sandwiches and cups of iced tea on the rug.

"Shhhh," I said. "Stop screaming." I kept the gun on her. "Come here. Sit down in this chair."

She settled down some. "What's going on, Chad? Why are you aiming a gun at me?"

"Sit down in the chair," I repeated.

"Are you having PTSD? Are you fucked up from the war?"

"Sit down. Now."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"No. I just need to ask you some questions."

"Okay."

She sat down in the chair.

I put my Glock back in the holster behind my back. "Who's Sasha?" I asked again. "I don't want any more run around bullshit. This is very important. Who is he?"

"Why?"

"Because Karina got fucking kidnapped this afternoon, that's why."

"Karina got kidnapped? Karina Sarsgaard?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's my daughter," I said. "And she called me hysterically crying on the phone. Yes, I came down here from New York to find her, not to invest in your company. There's some bad people after her, and apparently, they found her first. Or maybe there's more to it. Now who's Sasha? Please, Mandy. You have to come clean about this."

"Okay. Fine. I'm Sasha."

"What?" I pulled my gun back out, clicked off the safety. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't hurt me, please."

"I'm not going to hurt you. But I need you to stop fucking around with me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you. There is no Sasha, I made him up. He doesn't exist. Sasha is my middle name. I'm the primary owner of Scarlet Rendezvous, the mysterious six-figure investor. I thought it would be better if a man owned the company, and not some ex-porn actress woman. So I created the Sasha persona. Only me and Carol know the truth. Everybody else thinks some eccentric Russian runs the show from behind the scenes. That's the truth, Chad. I swear on my brother's ashes."

"Why are you protecting him!" I shouted.

"I'm not."

"It's my daughter, don't you understand! They're going to kill her! They want their money back, for fuck sake! First they got Rick, and now they're coming for Karina! I can't let this happen again! I just can't!"

I started shaking violently. The room was spinning, the walls closing in. Things went in slow motion. I felt disconnected from reality, and couldn't breathe.

Then I collapsed on the floor and blacked out.

***

When I came to, Mandy was standing over me holding the Glock, pointing it at my head. The safety was still off. I was genuinely worried she might fire by mistake. She was nervous and slightly trembling.

"Is Karina really your daughter?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Did she really get kidnapped?"

"Yes. Can you not point that at me? You can still have the gun, but back up some. Put on the safety, at least."

"Fuck off," she said. "Tell me what's going on, Chad. Quickly. Before I call 911."

"Fine. My name's not Chad. It's Kyle. Kyle Sarsgaard. I'm sorry I lied to you. I came down here looking for Karina. She ran away six weeks ago. We used to be so close. We were best friends."

Mandy didn't say anything. She just watched me, gun in her trembling hands.

"But I fucked everything up," I told her. "I went back to Afghanistan when she went to college. I was running a security contracting company, me and a buddy of mine, and we scored this big government deal. We had to crack down on Russian arms dealing. We did. Shit got ugly. My buddy Rick got kidnapped and killed. I couldn't save him."

"Are you really in the Navy?"

"Yes. I'm a Navy SEAL. Ex-SEAL. I did four tours in the Middle East. I got deployed right after 9-11. I was in Afghanistan and Iraq."

"Do you have PTSD?" Mandy asked.

"Yes. I used to go to counseling. I need to go back."

"My older brother had PTSD. He was going to counseling, too. Then he stopped. He hung himself in his old bedroom at our parents' house."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you going to do? About Karina? Did you go to the police?"

"No. I'm not going to. They'll kill her, Mandy. They don't fuck around. I've been through this already. I have a guy. Ex-SEAL. Big intel dude. He can trace phones, intercept calls, hack computers, all kinds of shit. I've already called him, and he's on his way down here with his van and all his equipment. He lives in West Virginia. Should be here by early tomorrow morning -- somewhere around 4:00 a.m."

Mandy was trying to decide whether she could trust me or not.

"I'm supposed to wait for these assholes to call back with ransom instructions. I don't want to fuck this up this time. I need to be ready. When my intel guy gets down here -- his name is Briggs -- we'll hopefully get a location on the caller. We can also hack into their phones and computers remotely. He's got real sophisticated stuff -- totally illegal for domestic purposes. We're talking real Big Brother government shit -- CIA caliber and beyond."

"You can't stay here," she said. "You have to leave."

"Are you going to call the police?"

"I don't know."

"I'm going to request that you don't. Again, these people don't fuck around. But I guess you're going to do what you have to do. I don't blame you. You don't know me from Adam, and after trusting me and letting me stay in your house, I go bonkers on you. You should talk to my ex-wife. She could tell you stories, believe me. So could Karina. I apologize sincerely. I'll get out of your hair."

"Good. Get your shit and go."

"I'll need my gun back, though. I'm not leaving without it."

Mandy just looked at me.

"Seriously," I said. "You're going to have to trust me on this one. Hand it over, please."

She handed it over. I grabbed the gun and put it in the holster on my back. I stood up and turned to leave.

"Wait," Mandy said. "You can't leave without saying goodbye."

She hugged me tight, and gave me a deep kiss.

"Bring her back safe," she said.

I nodded and left.

***

Briggs got to the parking lot of the Tampa Bay Hyatt at 3:45 a.m. He'd come with three other former SEALs, one of them a sniper named Rustin. The five of us set up shop in the back of his van. The kidnappers still hadn't called. I explained to the guys everything that I knew about the situation, including all of the background information on Rick and our time in the desert. Briggs knew most of it already. He was in Afghanistan in 2020, and we worked with many of the same people.

After much discussion, we decided the best course of action might be to call in the FBI. More specifically, we would find the location of the Russians and set up a point of infiltration, but then hand things off to the feds. We weren't in some desert in the Middle East, and we didn't have any authority to kill anyone -- even if we could prove it was in self-defense. We didn't have clearance or any court order to be using Briggs' intel equipment, and we sure as hell didn't have permission to be toting around the assault rifles he had in the back of his van.

Still, there was something comforting about the guys I was working with. We'd all been through similar situations before, involving both kidnapping and hostage negotiation. These guys were seasoned and level-headed. They were trained professionals, specialists like me. If it came down to a raid, if it came down to busting into a warehouse with guns blazing, I was ready. I didn't give a shit about the law, or criminal consequences. I'd take my chances in court. Shoot first, explain later. It was Karina we were talking about. I wasn't going to let anything happen to her, no fucking way. I'd save her, even if it killed me.

The other guys didn't feel the same way. They were there for consultation, and for tactical support only. Rustin wasn't going to climb onto a roof with his sniper rifle and tripod, and start blowing people's heads off. Not in Tampa Bay, or wherever the kidnappers might be. He'd go to jail for that. Now, he could climb onto a roof with his binoculars and give me info on the positions of the assholes who had Karina, and he was willing to do that. Just like Briggs was willing to trace their calls and hack into their phones and computers. That kind of shit was easier to cover up and deny later.

It was a long Sunday morning. After the intel gadgetry was up and running, after my cellphone was connected to all the latest James Bond technology, time seemed to stand still. We drank coffee and played cards, and took naps in shifts. Every so often, one of us would leave the van to take a piss in the restrooms in the Hyatt lobby.

Then my phone rang. It was Natalia. She was hysterical.

"They're going to kill Karina!" she was saying.

"Who?" I said. "Did they call you again?"

"Yes! They just called me! They put Karina on the phone! She sounded so scared! You have to do what they say, please!"

"Okay," I said. "I'm trying. We're pooling our resources right now. We're actually waiting for the kidnappers to call back with instructions. We're going to get Katrina back safely, I swear to god. I won't let anything happen to her."

"I'm so scared, Kyle. You have no idea."

"Me too. I haven't slept in 24 hours."

"They're going to kill her. We have to do what they say."

"I know. I'm trying."

"Please don't do anything stupid, Kyle. I know you might feel like you have something to prove, but promise me you won't take matters into your own hands. Just give them what they want."

Briggs motioned to me with his hand. He wrote something down on the white board next to him. It said, ASK HER WHERE SHE IS

"Where are you?" I said.

"I'm at the club. I was working when they called."

"At the Four Aces?"

"Yes."

"You went to work today?"

"Yes. I wanted to keep busy. To keep my mind off things."

Briggs wrote on the white board: SHE'S IN FLORIDA, NOT NEW YORK

The call dropped. I looked at Briggs. The other guys had huddled around me in the van.

My phone started vibrating. Someone was calling. It was an unlisted number.

I picked up. "Hello?"

"Did you get the money?" the voice said. It was distorted like before. Briggs wrote on the white board: KEEP THEM ON THE PHONE

"Hello?" I said. "Hello? I can't hear you."

"I want my fucking money, or she dies. No bullshit. $3 million!"

"Where? Where do I transfer the funds?"

"You'll get that information tomorrow. When the banks open. For now, take down this address: 17707 NW Miami Ct, Miami, FL 33169."

Briggs wrote on the white board: MIAMI TRUCK STOP OFF I95

"What am I supposed to do at that address? Hello? Hello?"

The call dropped.

Briggs was at his laptop, headphones at his ear.

"Did you get it?" I asked him.

"No."

"Fuck!"

My cellphone rang again. "Hello?"

"Dad?" the voice said. It was Karina.

"Karina? Is this you baby?"

"Yes. I'm scared, dad. They're hurting me. You have to do what they say."

"I'm trying. Where are you?"

"Please do what they say. Give them what they want."

"Where should I send the money? I need an account number."

"The banks are closed. They'll call you back tomorrow."

"Okay. Can you ask them what that address was before? The one in Miami? Is that where they're going to bring you?"

"I need to get off the phone. They're telling me to hang up."

"Karina?"

"Sorry, dad. I Have to hang up. I'm sorry!"

The call ended.

Briggs was staring at me, shaking his head. "Holy shit," he said. "I don't fucking believe it."

***

The guys were in place, and we were ready to move in. Karina's call had pinged off the cell tower right behind the Tampa General Hospital, but she wasn't there now. She was inside room 135 of the Motel 6 on Island Drive in downtown Tampa. We'd tracked her there, and were running surveillance as we secured the parameter of the building -- placing two of our guys in the back alley and two at the front entrance.

I was at the front door of the motel, Glock in hand. I knocked, ducking out of view of the peephole.

No one answered.

I banged harder. No answer.

"Ready?" I said to Briggs.

"Ready."

We kicked in the front door. It slammed against the wall, plaster falling on the carpet.

"Karina!" I shouted, and stepped inside.

She was sitting on the bed, earbuds in her ears, listening to music. Tears were running down her face.

"I'm sorry dad," she said, rolled over and buried her head in her pillow.

There were no kidnappers.

***

It was Natalia's cellphone that had actually led us to Karina's room at the motel. Natalia wasn't there now. Briggs' equipment showed she was currently driving north on I-95, somewhere near Daytona Beach.

Karina was crying inconsolably. I sat on the bed next to her, letting her get it all out of her system. I asked the other guys to wait outside, to watch the front door and back alley, just in case. They patted me on the back and took their posts.

Karina finally started to settle.

"Want an Ativan?" I asked her.

"Do you have one?"

"Yes. For my PTSD. I don't take them."

"Okay."

I handed her the tiny white pill. She took it with the bottle of water she had next to her bed.

"You're not in any trouble," I told her. "We didn't go to the police. I'm not mad at you, either. I'm just glad you're safe. I love you so much, Karina, you have no idea."

"I know you love me dad," she said.

"Good. I'm glad that's clear. I've made a lot of mistakes as your father, but I've never stopped caring about you. Ever. I've missed you. Seriously. You broke my heart when you ditched me at graduation, but I deserved that one. I made a bad decision, messing around with Tiffany. That must have been incredibly embarrassing for you. What kind of father does that? I'm sorry. You had every right to leave me behind. Your mother says you hate me. I don't blame you."

"I don't hate you, dad."

"It's okay if you do. I'll still love you anyway."

"I don't hate you," Karina repeated. "I thought I did before, but I don't. Mom hates you. I guess she has her reasons. Sometimes mom puts ideas in my head about you, and maybe they're not all true. She kept telling me that you were losing your mind, that you weren't safe, and that you were dangerous to be around."

"I definitely had my moments over the years," I admitted.

"You totally did. But you were sick, and in a lot of pain. Mom didn't care. She was just so tired of it all. She got me that job stripping at the Four Aces, and you flipped out. I can understand why, but you were still out of line. I was 20 and old enough to make my own decisions. It was frustrating living with you. Just when I thought you were going to get help, you left again for another year, and came back even worse."

I nodded. "It was a tough time for all of us. But I finally got counseling."

"You did. And we started to become friends again."

"We did."

"And then you fucked Tiffany," Karina said. "That was it for me. I made a choice to move down here and get involved in something that you could never understand, but it was my choice, and I wanted to see it through. And I did. And I don't regret it. I'm proud of myself, dad. This is a real business and --"

"Karina, I'm not --"

"Let me finish!"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"This is a real business, and I'm an investor, and we're building a real platform. I've only ever acted in one film, just for the record. I'm sure mom told you. I didn't like it, and I'm not planning on doing it again. I also direct, and film, and help with web design and social media. Mandy Fagin is awesome, dad. She totally believes in me. Like you used to."

"I still believe in you."

"I don't know about that," Karina said. "If I told you I wanted to do all of this down here, you would have went nuts. Like you did at the strip club. Admit it. You know you would have."

"I would have went nuts," I said.

"See. That's why I left. And cut off all ties. You were definitely unstable, dad. I didn't want you finding me. Mom said if you ever came down here looking for me, to call her immediately. So I did. I got your message yesterday morning, and called her right away. She told me you were threatening to kill people down here, that you'd found out about me making videos, and went ballistic. She said I wasn't safe. She said I needed to relocate again. I didn't want to. I liked it here. I was doing so well. I had friends. I was feeling good about myself."

"I never said I was going to kill anyone," I told Karina. "Well, I said that, but I didn't mean it. I was just upset. Your mother was being overdramatic."

"I don't know, dad. You can be pretty scary sometimes. But still, mom was really getting me worried. She said she had a plan to get enough money to relocate for good. To move anywhere we wanted -- Hawaii, Bermuda, Spain, wherever. She said she was booking a flight down here to Tampa, to get me out of here before you found me and did something we'd all regret. I didn't know what to say. I was scared."

"I would never hurt you, Karina. You have to know that."