The Ransom by Chris Taylor

not that I don’t see it that way,” her father blustered. “You’re putting words into my mouth.”
    “All right, well tell me what you make of the fact the kidnapper left no instructions on how to deliver the ransom money? He or she has given you until midnight tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Which is less than thirty-three hours away and yet they’ve not even left a phone number where they can be contacted.”
    He pinned her father with his gaze, his eyes now flint. Zara’s breath halted.
    “In fact, in every one of the ransom notes I’ve been privy to, I’ve never once seen a note that didn’t offer a means of making contact. It’s almost as if the person who wrote this knew that you’d know where to find him.”
    He pushed away from his desk and threw his arms up into the air. “That’s preposterous!” he shouted, his face now mottled with purple. “Do you know who you’re talking to? You’d better watch what you’re saying, boy, or you’ll find yourself out on the street, sweeping pavements.”
    Zara gasped at the implied threat, shocked at her father’s outburst. Her heart thumped. Could Lane be right? Her throat was so dry she could barely swallow. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had a terrible feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that her father knew more than he’d let on. Her gaze flew to Lane’s. His face was granite and his voice was just as hard.
    “I apologize, Attorney General. I didn’t mean to offend you. My only motivation is to find a little girl who must be terrified out of her mind and take her back home to her parents. As a father, I would have thought you’d understand.”
    To Zara’s relief, the tension in her father’s shoulders dissipated and he walked back to his chair and sat down.
    “I’m sorry, too, Detective,” he offered. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and now, with this…” He shook his head. “It’s hard to think rationally when my little girl’s involved.”
    “I understand, Attorney General,” Lane replied, the steel in his voice easing infinitesimally. “And I hope you can spare a thought for the Munros.”
    “Yes, yes, of course. That poor family. I can’t imagine what they must be going through.”
    Lane drew in a deep breath. Zara watched in fascination as his chest expanded and then slowly contracted beneath his tailored business shirt.
    “Do you have any idea why the kidnapper didn’t provide you with a means of contacting him or a point he’d make contact again?”
    Her father met the detective’s gaze head-on. “No, I don’t.”
    Lane stared at him for long moments. Her father was the first to drop his gaze. Lane flipped to a new page in his notebook.
    “All right, we’ll have to assume whoever it is will be in contact again with that information. Now, let’s get back to your earlier theory that Brittany may have been the target.”
    Lane looked up at her father. “When I spoke to you this morning, you thought that the kidnapping might have been politically motivated. We’ve done some checking of the tattoo Brittany described and it appears it’s a symbol used by members of the Redbacks, an outlaw motorcycle gang operating out of Western Sydney.”
    He paused, his gaze firmly on her father’s. “Let’s assume you’re right about the fact Brittany was the target. Given the fact the ransom note was delivered here, I think it’s a fair assumption to make. Your recent stance, proposing harsher laws to deal with outlaw motorcycle gangs, has been well publicized. You told us you took a call last night from someone demanding you back away. Correct?” Her father nodded and Lane continued.
    “It’s plausible that a member of the Redbacks decided to kidnap your daughter in order to bring pressure on you to drop the reforms. The only thing I don’t get is why none of these demands are mentioned in the ransom note? In fact, if you hadn’t told me about the threatening phone call,