Pounding the floor, God only knew how hard, he was pissed – it was empty. Fucking empty, except… expect for one thing…. Yes, there was something - a foreign object – a memory stick. He held the memory stick and thought where the fuck is Sydney and what is this shit? Where is my money? - My stuff? – What is going on? "She promised me she'd be here." Didn’t she trust me? Miles stood up from the safe… thinking about it more….


Standing in his living room he answered his question – Did she trust me? Yes, I saved her life. She had placed her very life in my hands. When most would have just left when he was sentenced to prison she hadn’t….  


Abruptly the room darken just a bit, enough that Miles had notice. Miles froze, this time not from not being able to move but out of will. Quickly he turned his head back towards the door – standing in the doorway was a silhouette that stood about 5’8. Stepping out of the doorframe the silhouette reveals the identity of the stranger now in Miles’ home. It was a striking mid-forty something, Auburn-brunette highlighted haired woman. It was someone of Miles’ past. It was indeed Olivia Hayden. Olivia Hayden, Special Agent in-charge of Double-Blind Black Ops of the NSA. The heels of her twelve hundred dollar cold black Louis Vuitton shoes clicked on the marble floor as she drew closer to Miles. As she approached Miles, with a subdued soft whispery voice she spoke, “Hello Miles.” It was more than loud enough in the empty home - her voice registered somewhere in Miles’ mind. Miles facing and focusing on Olivia he shouted, “Where is she?” “Play the memory stick, Miles.” Shouting even louder than the first time Miles asked again, “Where the fuck is she?” Standing dead silent Hayden gave no reply to Miles question. Instantaneously Miles charged toward Olivia, closing the approximately ten-yard gap between them within nano-seconds. Reaching his right arm outward he took a hold of Hayden’s throat and with his left hand grabbed her right shoulder blade – not letting go with either hand he lifted her 130-pound body off her feet, driving her out of the doorway, and rammed her right up into the corridor’s wall. Pinning her off her feet against the wall, Miles asked again direct and slowly, “Where is Sydney?” Hayden in immeasurably pain only said, “Play the memory stick Miles.” Being in pain she would never show it – it was in her training but more in her nature – twenty plus years of training she would never show a sign of weakness, not even in a situation with her own life on the line, so why now? “Olivia don’t make me kill you…, where is she?” Again just like a captured prisoner of war Olivia repeated her earlier remakes, “Play the memory stick, Miles.” Miles knew he wasn’t going to get anything from Hayden. Letting go of Hayden, she returned to her footing on the floor, Miles stepped back and threw a lightning fast right hook that knocked Hayden out. Hayden dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Reaching down, grabbing the leg of her pants, Miles dragged her back into the loft. Leaving her in the foyer he closing and locking the door. Miles then went to the utility room where he founded the duct tape – returning to the foyer he begun bounding the adhesive around her ankles and hands. Miles really didn’t care how tight it was – it could cut off all circulation as far as he was concern. He would leave her mouth loose for now but thought he might have to duct that too. Miles went to the study and return with his Apple Notebook – powering the Mac up he inserted the memory stick and selected the F: Drive. Opening the only file listed. It wasn’t named - just listed as an MP4. Miles knew from looking at the file it was some type of video or audio file. It wasn’t an extremely large file, Miles reckoned it would not take long to watch or listen to. He double clicking the file, it began playing in iTunes. What Miles saw next angered him to a level he’d never reached in his life. Miles saw Sydney bounded in a chair; a man appeared and began speaking to Miles. “Mr. Jacob if you ever want to see your girlfriend again we want our information back. Meet us at The Rock in 72 hours with the information or else Sydney dies.” He held up a newspaper with today’s date on it – Friday, September 17, 2021. “And Mr. Jacob do I need to stress the importance of coming alone?” They had Sydney. Miles felt like crying but that wouldn’t do any good. What he needed to do was get his ass into action. Seventy-two hours was not a long time. Miles knew The Rock from his previous experiences with the agency.