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given a moment’s rest and then I'm racing to midtown while John and Frank are landing back in D.C. to interface with the local FBI divisions on the snatches there. My work cell is firing like a receptionist’s and our division is split across the city and between cities. Then, the next thing you know it's the NSA on the line and-

    C BD : Ms. Cohen, please! One thing at a time. We need things to be clear.
    MS. COHEN: You want clarity? You have us isolated and jailed under military law, asking all sorts of questions about our protocol during those days! Protocol! You want clarity? Try following protocol when VIPs are disappearing and blowing up in real time around you, when you get informed that a cyberworm is chewing through the modern monetary system!

    C BD : We understand that this was a difficult time, Ms. Cohen, but-
    MS. COHEN: You don't understand anything!
    CBD: Please. I'm his counsel, I'm on your side, here.
    MS. COHEN: Are you?

    C BD : All right, let's calm this down and try again. After your return from D.C., what happened?
    MS. COHEN: What happened? Everything happened.

OCTOBER 19

7
    Snatched
    C itigroup CEO Mitchell O'Kelly glared across his desk at his chief of security. He couldn’t believe they were wasting his time on this, but the directors had insisted and there was one thing even the CEO couldn’t ignore, and that was the Board.
    He had known Jack Craig personally, of course. They’d been sparring frenemies for their entire careers across a slew of different corporate locations. O'Kelly had always found Craig an uptight puritan who couldn’t help but judge everyone else around him. But he had respected Jack. The man was a fucking genius with the nose of a shark, and you were a fool to bet against him unless you were holding one hell of a hand.
    What had happened last week was indeed disturbing. Certainly O'Kelly was worried for his own safety, but the odds that this was something corporate CEOs in general were going to have to be concerned about were very low. He still didn’t have a working model for who could have committed such an act—nor had law enforcement as far as he could tell—but it was most likely related to specifics of Craig’s business dealings, his personal life, or a random nut job like John Hinckley or Mark Chapman. Sure, beef up the security, scramble the schedules, and then get on with business.
    If only.
    “Mr. O'Kelly, we have contacted a private security firm that was active in Iraq for VIPs.”
    “Active in Iraq ?” This was getting ridiculous!
    “Yes, sir. They have a lot of experience dealing with threats of violence against vulnerable and important targets. They are mostly former military, highly trained, experienced with this sort of thing.”
    “This is Manhattan , gentlemen, not Kabul or Baghdad. We’re not going to be driving around in bombproof Humvees. Let’s get a grip.”
    “Sir, we’ve been personally contacted by the Chairman. He supports our recommendations. With threats of this nature—bombings, IEDs, whatever—we need people who have clocked hours with this sort of thing. The landscape changes.”
    Holy shit. “What does this mean? Armored vehicles? SWAT escorts? Can I go to my son’s soccer games without a parent shakedown?”
    The two security men glanced at each other anxiously. The older man spoke. “We don’t know yet what they will recommend, but we have scheduled a meeting with them tomorrow, first thing in the morning. They’re eager to find work in the States, sir.”
    “I’m sure they are.”
    “We’ll get recommendations and then brief you and schedule a second meeting all together to iron out a course of action.”
    Ah, to hell with it. “Fine. Do what you need to do. Now, out. This nonsense has taken enough of my time today.”
    The two men excused themselves with apologies and quickly exited the CEO’s office. O'Kelly swiveled his chair away from the closing door and glared up at the dim ceiling of the executive