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Shaw, in the war room going over the siege plan with Don and Doug, fished out his SAT phone that was going off.

He blinked at the caller ID.

Shahu, it said.

Shahu?

Shaw quickly took off down the corridor.

Because it wasn’t Shahu.

It was the targets who were inside the factory building who had taken Shahu’s phone.

“Who is this?” he said.

He walked outside and headed down the loading dock.

“I need to talk to who’s in charge,” said a woman.

He jogged out to the street to stare at the old brick factory.

“I’m in charge,” Shaw said. “My name is Special Agent Thompson of the FBI. Who am I speaking with?”

“Special agent, my ass,” the woman said. “Who are you trying to kid? I watched my friend Big Joe get gunned down in cold blood then taken away like a bag of garbage. Cops or FBI agents don’t do that.”

“Who am I speaking with?”

“Me? You can call me J Lo. What do you want, anyway? Why did you come here?” she said.

“You seem pretty sharp, J Lo. You tell me what we want.”

“You’re looking for a woman, right? The college president’s wife?”

This broad really was sharp.

“Maybe,” Shaw said.

“I knew it,” J Lo said. “I’ve been to games at the school, seen ol Jodi, the Martha Stewart clone, with a stick up her ass and her nose in the air waving down from the VIP section like Lady Godiva. She comes in with some broad from New York all upset and they leave and come back and the lights go out. Figured it wasn’t a coincidence the way those things added up.”

“Keep talking,” Shaw said.

“I can also subtract and multiply, too, believe it or not.”

“I’m sure you can, J Lo. I’m listening,” Shaw said.

“Thought so. You looking for her or do I hang up?”

“We’re looking for her. We get her, you get your life back. That’s why we’re having this conversation, right, J Lo? To get your life back? You don’t want to end up like Big Joe, right?”

“I get my life back and...” she said.

Shaw squinted, confused.

“And what?” he said.

“And what does my retirement package look like?” she said.

Shaw almost laughed out loud. This J Lo was playing for all the marbles.

“Whoever is willing to go to these lengths has got the kind of pockets that don’t quit. That college’s got billions. I want three million dollars in bitcoin delivered where I say and then and only then do you get Jodi on a silver platter.”

Three million? Shaw thought wide-eyed. This lady did not lack chutzpah.

“That’s a tall order. Where you getting your numbers, lady?”

“Two for me and one for Big Joe’s widow is where, you filthy disgusting murderer.”

“I’ll see what I can do but you have to give me something first. How many people are with you?”

“Go figure your end out, and I call back in five so you can send the coin.”

“We can come in in four and take care of things ourselves you know,” Shaw said.

“Yeah? We’re armed to the teeth in here with all the shit your dead guys left the last time you failed so I doubt that,” she said and hung up.