The Silent Treason Beneath My Hudson Valley Estate and the Lost Child
He looked down at his bound hands, then back at the door.
The phone in my hand stopped ringing, then immediately started again.
I pressed the receive button and held the cold metal to my ear.
“Adrian,” a voice said, low and distorted by a scrambler.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You have five minutes to leave the cellar,” the voice said.
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“The foundations of your house will become your grave,” the voice said.
The line went dead.
I looked down at the screen, then at the thick stone walls around us.
“What did they do, Caleb?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
Caleb shrank back, his shoulders tense.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“They have a device,” I said. “Where is it?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple moving convulsively.
“I didn’t help them with that,” he said. “I only gave them access.”
“Where is it?” I repeated, grabbing his collar.
Another blow struck the door, harder this time.
The iron bolt warped slightly, bending under the pressure.
Daniel turned his head toward the sound, his gun drawn.