Chapter 11: The Swap

The call came at nine that night.

It came on the gray phone, from a number I did not know.

Ellen was already on the line in my other ear, and Jo sat beside me with her hand on my knee.

"Mr. Benton," a man said.

His voice was smooth and mild, with an accent I could not place.

"I have your friend Mr. Collier. He is a charming man. He cannot tell me how his own signal works."

Behind the voice I heard a chair scrape and a muffled curse.

"Let me talk to him."

"Of course."

"Benton?" Brant said.

He sounded different.

The polish was gone from his voice, and in its place was a rough, shaking breath.

"Benton, listen. These people think I'm the guy. I told them I'm not. They don't believe me."

"Are you hurt?"

"They hit me twice." He swallowed. "Look, I know you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"You should."

"I'll think about it."

"Benton." His voice cracked. "Don't come."

The mild voice came back.

"He is brave in the way of men who have never been tested," the man said.

"Come to the warehouse on Pratt Street at eleven. Come alone. We exchange."

"Exchange what?"

"Your key for his life."

The line went dead.

Jo turned to me.

"No," she said.

"Jo."

"No. Absolutely not."

"They'll kill him."

"He humiliated you in front of everyone you know."

"He did."

"Then why?"

I took her hand off my knee and held it in both of mine.

"Because Morris wrote me a letter," I said. "He said don't hate him yet."

"That's not a reason."

"It's the only one I have."

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again she was furious, frightened and proud, all at once.

"I'm coming," she said.

"You're staying with Ellen's team."

"Caleb."

"Please. If I walk in there, I need to know you're somewhere safe."

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