“Understood.” John nodded slowly, finally seeing why Mr.
Peters had contacted the Bison team instead of relying entirely on law enforcement.
This wasn’t merely a hostage-rescue contract; Elena had to be brought home alive, while the people responsible for taking her were expected to die.
John leaned back in his chair and asked, “What exactly are we dealing with here?
A normal kidnapping, organized crime, or something involving one of Peters’s business rivals?” John had been doing this kind of work long enough to know that the distinction mattered.
If Elena had simply been taken for ransom, the Bison team could handle the situation without much hesitation, but getting involved in a private war between billion-dollar corporations was another matter entirely.
No matter how capable a five-man team was, challenging people with enormous wealth, political connections, lawyers, private security, and influence over government agencies was an excellent way to disappear.
“Kidnapping,” Lucello answered without hesitation.
“Nothing involving corporate competition.
Early this morning, a massacre occurred at an illegal underground nightclub outside Monroe, and more than a hundred people were killed.
Miss Elena Peters was taken from the scene.” He accepted a leather folder from the bodyguard standing behind him and emptied a stack of crime-scene photographs across the table.
The images were gruesome even by Orion’s standards: bodies sliced apart by mechanical blades, victims crushed beyond recognition, severed limbs scattered across the club, and floors covered with so much blood that the original color was barely visible.
The carnage closely matched the elaborate mass killing associated with the masked serial killer already known to authorities as The Collector.
“Over a hundred people died around Monroe this morning?” Sander frowned as he picked up one of the photographs.
“How the hell did none of us hear anything about it?” “Because the scene was bad enough to trigger immediate federal involvement,” Lucello replied.
“The FBI took control of the investigation, and everyone with direct knowledge has been ordered not to speak publicly while authorities determine what happened.
They’re trying to prevent panic until they have some idea whether this was a single offender, an organized attack, or something larger.” John snorted and dropped the photographs back onto the table.
“So in a couple days the evening news will probably tell everyone there was an industrial accident or some mysterious fire.” Talia ignored the comment and studied the photographs one by one with far more attention than anyone else.
“Most of these victims weren’t shot,” she said after several minutes.
“Blades, crushing mechanisms, traps, improvised machinery—whoever did this deliberately built the entire place to kill large numbers of people without relying on firearms.” She set down another photograph, her expression hardening.
“Either we’re dealing with an incredibly organized psychopath or someone whose definition of entertainment is mass murder.” Orion silently took the photographs from her.
One image showed little more than a woman’s head beside a mangled mass of flesh, but he recognized the face immediately.
It was Jenny, the same cheerful blonde who had spent most of their road trip flirting with him and complaining about mosquitoes only two days earlier.
For a few seconds, Orion simply looked at the photograph.
He had seen too many people die during twelve years of combat to feel rage every time death crossed his path, but there was still a faint sense of regret at seeing someone so young reduced to this.
He placed the picture back on the table and looked toward Lucello.
“There’s something I don’t understand.
How do you know Elena was kidnapped rather than killed with everyone else?” Lucello met his gaze calmly.
Orion continued before he could answer, “And if you’re sitting here asking us to rescue her, then you already believe you know who committed the massacre.
How did you reach that conclusion this quickly?” “This wasn’t the first incident,” Lucello explained.
“Over roughly the last year, there have been several smaller cases across the region involving houses or buildings turned into elaborate death traps.
The same offender repeatedly leaves nearly everyone dead but takes one victim away afterward.” He paused before adding, “The press and investigators call him The Collector because he doesn’t simply murder people.
He keeps selected victims.” That aligned closely with the known pattern surrounding the killer: elaborate traps, mass casualties, and abducting chosen survivors rather than killing everyone outright.
John frowned at the explanation, tapping his pipe lightly against the edge of the table.
“Even so, that’s circumstantial.
How are you certain Elena was the one he took?” “Because we found the only man known to have escaped him.” Lucello gestured toward the hooded patient sitting beside the bodyguard.
The guard immediately pulled away the hood, revealing a pale, exhausted man whose face and body carried the evidence of recent injuries.
Lucello then nodded, and the bodyguard held a strong-smelling stimulant beneath the patient’s nose until his eyes slowly opened.
“Cough… cough…” The injured man blinked several times and looked around the unfamiliar room.
His gaze moved across John, Orion, Kisch, Sander, Talia, Lucello, and the armed bodyguard, immediately recognizing that almost everyone present looked capable of violence.
Whatever questions were running through his head, he wisely decided to remain quiet.
“His name is Arkin O’Brien,” Lucello said.
“He’s a thief with an extensive criminal history, but he also happens to be the only person we know of who has escaped The Collector.
Arkin was inside the nightclub last night, saw Elena being taken, and survived the massacre.” In the original events surrounding The Collection, Arkin escapes the nightclub while Elena is abducted by The Collector, making him the crucial guide to the killer’s hideout.
Arkin’s expression changed the instant he understood what Lucello was planning.
“No.
Hell no.” He pushed himself upright despite his injuries, panic replacing his previous caution.
“I’m not going back there.
You people have no idea what that bastard is!” The bodyguard immediately shoved him back into the chair.
Arkin struggled for several seconds before pain forced him to stop, but the terror in his eyes only became stronger.
“He’s not some guy you kick down a door and shoot.
That place is a fucking nightmare.
Every hallway, every room, every goddamn thing you touch can kill you.” Lucello stood calmly, drew his handgun, and pressed the muzzle against Arkin’s forehead.
The room became silent at once.
“Listen carefully, Arkin.
You understand The Collector better than anyone here, which means you should also understand that escaping him doesn’t necessarily mean he’s finished with you.” Arkin stared at him.
“Think about your wife,” Lucello continued quietly.
“Think about your family.
Do you really believe a man like that is going to forget the only victim who escaped his collection?” The threat worked far better than the gun, and Arkin’s resistance slowly disappeared as fear for someone other than himself took over.
Lucello holstered the pistol and returned to his chair.
“There’s only one realistic way out of this.
Help us locate his hideout, let professionals eliminate him, and make sure he can never come after you again.
You aren’t being asked to fight him alone; all you have to do is get us there.” Arkin remained silent for a long moment before looking around the room again.
His eyes lingered on the weapons, the experienced faces, and finally Orion’s enormous frame.
“Just you guys?” John’s expression hardened slightly, but Lucello answered first.
“These men are professional combat veterans with extensive operational experience.
Once you lead them to The Collector, they’ll handle everything else.” Lucello clearly believed that no matter how skilled or insane the killer was, he remained flesh and blood, and a prepared team armed with modern weapons should be more than enough to put him down.
Orion said nothing.
After meeting mutant cannibals who survived bullets through the head and chest, he was no longer willing to assume anything unusual in this world was simply human.
Lucello reached into his suit and placed a check in the middle of the table.
“Your standard terms.
Five hundred thousand dollars upfront and another five hundred thousand after Elena Peters is safely recovered.” A million-dollar rescue contract was generous even for a dangerous mission.
Split evenly among five operators, it meant roughly two hundred thousand dollars per person before expenses, enough to explain why a billionaire like Mr.
Peters had little interest in negotiating over price.
John glanced at the check but didn’t touch it yet.
Arkin suddenly spoke again.
“I’ll take you there on one condition.” Everyone looked toward him.
He stared directly at Lucello.
“Transfer two hundred thousand dollars to my wife.
Not afterward.
Not if we survive.
Do it now.” Lucello studied him for several seconds before giving a single nod.
“Deal.” (End of Chapter)