Counterterrorism in America

That afternoon, at a motel on Maryland Avenue, Bryan Mills spoke on the phone with his daughter Kim, his tone stern.

"Kim, what did we agree on? You were supposed to call me when you arrived."

"Um… sorry, Dad. I just forgot…"

"Are you settled now?"

"Yes, we're staying at Cynthia's house."

"How was the trip?"

"Great! The travel was fine, but the taxis here are crazy expensive…"

"That's France for you. Now, Kim, are Cynthia's parents around? Let me speak to them."

"Uh…" Kim hesitated.

"Something's going on. Tell me what it is."

"Dad… I'm sorry. Cynthia's parents went to Spain. I swear Amanda and I didn't know about it beforehand. Cynthia wanted to surprise us," Kim stammered nervously.

"You're telling me the three of you are alone in Paris without supervision? Kim, that's not what we agreed on! Kim? Kim!"

Suddenly, the line went quiet. Bryan glanced at his phone—it still showed a strong signal. On the other end, Kim's voice became frantic.

"Wait… Dad, someone just broke in. Who are these people? Oh my god, they've grabbed Amanda!"

Kim gasped in panic.

"What?! Kim, who broke in?!" Bryan demanded urgently.

"Dad… it's terrifying… oh no, they're taking Cynthia too! Oh my god, they're hurting her... they're dragging her away!"

Kim's voice cracked with fear. Bryan's expression darkened. His daughter was in grave danger, and he was powerless to help from afar. He knew he had to act quickly.

"Kim, listen to me. Try to stay calm. Remember what I taught you—deep breaths. Good… now, I'm going to ask you a few questions."

As Bryan spoke calmly, he reached into his suitcase and connected his phone to a recording device, switching on the speaker.

"Okay, Dad… I'm ready," Kim said, still trembling but trying to compose herself.

"Did you notice anyone suspicious on your flight?"

"No."

"What about at the airport?"

"No… wait, yes. There was a guy. Peter."

"Peter? Who's Peter?"

"I… I don't know," Kim said, her voice breaking again.

"Is he American?"

"No."

"Does he know where you're staying?"

"Yes… he shared a taxi with us. Dad, they're coming… they're coming for me now! Dad, I'm scared! Please help me!"

"Kim, don't panic. Focus. How many people are there?"

"Four… maybe five, I'm not sure…"

"Where are you right now?"

"In the bathroom."

"Good. Find the nearest bedroom. Hide under the bed. Once you're hidden, tell me."

"Okay, Dad."

Kim quickly darted to a bedroom and crawled under the bed. Bryan was the only person she could rely on now. She knew her father was some kind of agent, though she didn't fully understand his job. She trusted that he knew what to do.

"I'm under the bed," she whispered.

"Alright, Kim. Don't be afraid. Listen carefully… you're going to be captured."

"W-what…?" Kim whimpered. Her hope was shattered by her father's words, and she almost broke down entirely.

"Kim, listen to me! Focus! You'll have five, maybe ten seconds to do what I say. Put the phone on the floor and describe everything you see—skin color, height, scars, tattoos—anything. Say it loudly and clearly. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kim answered in a trembling voice.

Bryan heard muffled footsteps approaching through the phone's speaker. Kim had placed the phone on the floor, just as instructed.

The sound of voices followed. The intruders were speaking in a language Bryan didn't understand. They searched the room, then seemed to step away.

"Dad… I think they're gone… wait—AHHHHH!"

Kim screamed in terror. Bryan could hear her struggling and shouting, "Bearded man… six feet tall… moon and star tattoo on his right hand… male…"

Kim frantically called out every detail she could see before her voice was abruptly cut off by a crashing sound—something smashed against glass. Heavy footsteps and dragging noises followed as she was hauled away.

Bryan remained calm, listening intently to the faint static that followed. He heard someone pick up the phone on the other end. His eyes hardened—he knew the person who had taken his daughter was now on the line.

"I don't know who you are…

I don't know what you want…

If it's ransom you're after, I can tell you I don't have any money.

But what I do have are a very particular set of skills…

Skills I have acquired over a long career…

Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.

If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it.

I won't pursue you… I won't hunt you down.

But if you don't…

I will find you…

And I will kill you."

Bryan's voice was measured and devoid of emotion. Despite his apparent composure, the conviction in his words was chilling.

The response on the other end was brief and mocking: "Good luck."

The call ended. Bryan lowered the phone slowly. His face remained calm, but fury burned in his eyes.

On Luke Street, Owen exited a convenience store holding a steaming cup of coffee. He unlocked his car and was just about to sit inside when his phone rang. Balancing the coffee on the dashboard, he checked the caller ID.

"Mills? That's unexpected…" he muttered before answering, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Mr. Mills, I didn't expect to hear from you. What's the matter?"

Bryan's voice was sharp and urgent, a far cry from their last meeting.

"Owen, do you or your family have any enemies?" he asked bluntly.

Owen froze. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answer the question," Bryan demanded.

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