The Doll Read Online Free Page A

pay. It took a certain mentality to sign on for something that meant more time living rough in shithole situations than with hot water and clean sheets. The job was difficult on relationships, if you were lucky enough to have them, and it seemed at times that a good portion of running the business involved weeding out the lunatics.
    Dozens of others worked under Capstone’s umbrella, foot soldiers who came and went, but like partners in a law firm, these nine—ten if you counted Munroe—were vested: they were Bradford’s people, tried and proven, a breed apart from polite, or even impolite, society. Their motives for staying with the company varied, but one thing was consistent: They were each very good at what they did because the incompetent didn’t live long.
    V IABLE FOOTAGE WAS sparse, but not for the reasons Bradford had expected. Though the intruders had grabbed the original disk, they’d still taken precautions against being recognized. Theywere a pack of three, with a leader who had let himself in with a key, followed by two accomplices with baseball bats, their faces shielded from the camera by caps and lowered heads. The fight, which had taken place in the kitchen, was off camera but had lasted a painful four minutes.
    Three against one. For four minutes.
    When they’d hauled Logan out, his right leg appeared to be broken. He was cut and bleeding, but so were two of his assailants, and he still fought, still took a beating, all the way out the front door.
    The final scene was cued at 10:13 A.M. , minutes after Munroe had arrived at Capstone, and for a long while the war room was cocooned in stunned silence. Almost simultaneously, Bradford let out a stream of expletives and Walker went off in Brazilian Portuguese. Jahan remained quiet, his fingers tap-tapping against the desk. Finally he said, “Did they take out Michael to get to Logan, or take out Logan to get to Michael?”
    The question was more or less the same line of inquisition Walker had raised in the car and Bradford didn’t want to run through it all over again. “Put out a run for information,” he said. “See if Logan owes anyone money or if there are any jealous lovers in recent history. My bet is he’s clean. He’s got too much to lose, is too focused on living life and reconnecting with his daughter.”
    Jahan said, “But—”
    Bradford cut him off. Said, “Michael is the target, Logan is the collateral.”
    “Collateral for what?”
    Bradford closed his eyes. Pressed the base of his palm to his forehead. Another go through the same information. “Collateral to save their own lives. Protection. They just grabbed Michael,” he said. “Michael.” He paused for emphasis. “Assuming she’s tranquilized now, what happens when she wakes up? Logan is the cage, the shock collar, the shackles …” He stopped. This was pointless. A waste of time.
    In his peripheral vision, he saw Walker shush Jahan. She’d tell him later. They would hash out reservations and alternate theories on their own. At the moment the motive didn’t matter half as much as moving quickly with what little they knew.
    Bradford paused, waiting for argument, for contradiction, andgot nothing. Said, “Besides those of us here in this room, those on our team, how many people know the role Logan plays in her life?”
    Walker shook her head. Jahan turned palms-up.
    “There can’t be many,” Bradford said, “and that does us some pretty big favors in narrowing the playing field.”
    Jahan stood and strode to the whiteboard. Added notations to Bradford’s scrawl. He turned to the others. “Where do we go with this?”
    Bradford said, “Find Michael, find Logan,” and turned back to the screen, where the image of the intruders stood frozen in time, two heads down, the leader’s tilted up just enough that the side of his face showed to the camera. There was a look of youth in his posture, an arrogance that hadn’t yet dimmed through time and experience. “That