Chapter 11 - Ryan's Desperate Gambit and the Kidnapping Threat
Two days later, while being transported from the Metropolitan Correctional Center to the federal courthouse for an emergency bail hearing, the unimaginable happened.
A private medical transport vehicle deliberately collided with the federal transport van on the FDR Drive. In the chaotic aftermath of the staged accident, two armed men in tactical gear overwhelmed the injured marshals, cut Ryan Vance’s transport chains with a hydraulic cutter, and pulled him into a waiting black Dodge Charger.
Ryan Vance had escaped.
When the emergency alert reached Bennett Tower, Richard immediately locked down the entire facility.
“He used the last of his emergency black-market cash reserves,” Marcus Vance reported, his face grim as he reviewed tactical maps. “Ryan paid an Eastern European mercenary crew $500,000 to break him out of transport. He knows he’s facing twenty-five years without parole. He has nothing left to lose.”
My heart stopped. “Noah.”
“Noah is safe at the Bedford estate,” Richard said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We have thirty armed private security contractors, perimeter laser sensors, and aerial drone surveillance covering every square inch of the estate. A fly couldn't get within two hundred yards of that house without being neutralized.”
Suddenly, my private phone buzzed with an unknown, encrypted number.
I looked at Richard, hit the speakerphone button, and signaled David Chen to initiate an immediate trace.
“Hello, Claire,” Ryan’s voice rasped through the speaker. He was breathing heavily, his tone manic, ragged, and completely unhinged.
“Ryan,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as ice. “You just added twenty years of federal escape charges to your sentence. Turn yourself in.”
Ryan let out a terrifying, cracked laugh. “Turn myself in? For what? To rot in a concrete box while you and your billionaire father live like royalty with my son? No, Claire. It doesn't end like that.”
“Noah is not your son,” I said fiercely. “You never loved him. You used him as a pawn to steal money.”
“I’m coming for him, Claire,” Ryan hissed, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “I have a private jet waiting on an unregistered airstrip in New Jersey. In four hours, Noah and I will be in a non-extradition country in South America. You will never, ever see your baby again unless you wire $20 million to my private account within sixty minutes.”
“Trace locked,” David Chen whispered, showing me the screen. LOCATION: TETERBORO PRIVATE AIRPORT, HANGAR 7.
“Ryan,” I said, keeping him on the line. “The money is frozen. You know that. I can authorize Richard to release $20 million from Bennett Global’s private liquidity right now. Just tell me where to send it.”
“Hangar 7 at Teterboro,” Ryan spat. “Bring the bearer bonds yourself. Come alone, Claire. If I see a single cop, a single security guard, or your father’s men, I will ensure Noah never comes home.”
The line went dead.
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I looked up at Richard and Marcus. “He’s at Teterboro Airport. He thinks Noah is being transported to him by his mercenaries, but his mercenaries never made it to Bedford—they were intercepted at the highway toll.”
Richard’s eyes turned cold and lethal. “Marcus, mobilize the Bennett tactical strike team and notify the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. We are ending this today.”
