--That morning, Friday, Lenore’s Story, 14 hours before the accident--

His train was earlier than scheduled, which suited Lenore Vasquez perfectly fine. Taking an overnight voyage was surprisingly difficult, since even the beds in first class were lacking. And beyond that, he had difficulty sleeping without his wife by his side. For some reason, she helped calm him down and her lullabies cleared his mind. Spending a lot of time away from home was difficult, and it happened often because of his job. Coming back home was always his favorite part. Knowing he would be home soon also kept him awake.

His daughter was going to be married in the future. It was painful to let her go, but it was for the ultimate good. She needed to leave the next, and Lenore was a good friend of her fiance’s father, Reginald, and they were a good family.

Even if she said she didn’t want to, Lenore knew it would be the best for her. Hopefully Jeanne convinced her of that during their trip to the theatre.

After leaving the train, a car was already waiting to take Lenore home. It was a short drive, held up only a little by protestors on the street. Just wait a little longer, Lenore thought. I’m trying to help.

***

The Vasquez Family mansion is a magnificent building.

Four stories tall, it has an elongated estate ground surrounding it with a pond and two fields. There’s even a horse stable, though it was currently unoccupied. The building was made from red bricks and colored constantly, and the staff were constantly cleaning away the dirt that accumulated on the gargoyle outcroppings that hung from nearly every wall.

His servant dropped him off at the front, promising to secure the rest of the luggage. Lenore thanked the man and went inside.

Breakfast was always prepared for everyone in the family, including Maxine and Maxwell, though usually either of his children ate in their rooms. They were at a point in their lives where rebelling against your parents was normal. Even though Lenore did the same thing at that age, his own kids doing it felt strange. Raising children was more difficult than any of the diplomacy his job normally entailed.

Already sitting at the table, waiting for him, was Jeanne. She was reading a novel, and as he approached for a hug, she gave him a squinty look.

“I thought you were supposed to be back last night. What happened to dinner?”

“What?”

“You told me we were returning early,” Jeanne said, sounding annoyed. “I was up all night preparing but you never showed up. Did something happen?”

Strange. Perhaps she got the times mixed up? He did return early, and he made sure to call the head butler to let him know...but that was this morning. There should be no reason for her to think otherwise unless she misunderstood something. Well, in times like this, it’s always better to just apologize. Getting your wife mad was never a good idea, even if she was wrong.

“Sorry about that,” Lenore said. He bowed his head slightly. “I thought I might, but the meeting ended up being longer than I expected it to be.” Of course, this was a lie. The meetings were all finished and all he did was take an overnight train. “Let me make up for it. We can go out tonight, together. Actually, perhaps we should go as a family? Did last night go well with Maxine at the play?”

“It did! She was really happy to see it. Honestly, I was surprised she took it so poorly in the first place, but after talking it out, she came around. And going out tonight as a family would be lovely! I feel like I haven’t seen Maxwell in years...how sad…”

“Fantastic,” Lenore said. He turned to the man who was assisting with breakfast. “Then. Mr. Brown. Would you be so kind as to let my children know about this? So that they may prepare? I believe we should do it perhaps at seven?”

“Seven sounds perfect dear.”

“Then it’s settled. Mr. Brown, see to it that things are ready. If you have any recommendations, please let me know.”

Mr. Benjamin Brown was one of the longest serving workers for the Vasquez estate. His loyalty knew no bounds, and his dedication brought him to the spot of head butler. Of course, since he had been working so long, the toll was obvious on his body. Weak limbs, and white hair with many wrinkles. When he got his orders, he simply nodded slowly, walking away as his two masters casually ate their breakfast.

But things were not so simple.

Last night, two of their staff members had been mugged and had their clothes stolen. They were left in the dumps.

Those were the two who were tasked with making sure Mrs. Vasquez and her daughter returned safely. The servants had no knowledge or recollection of what happened, and their car was stolen, though it made its way back to the mansion somehow. At the same time, Mr. Brown was acutely aware that Maxine Vasquez had not returned the night prior, even though almost everyone thought she had. And Maxine’s personal servant, Luise, was missing as well.

Naturally, there could be any number of reasons for this to happen.

The final fact only he knew was what caused problems.

Early that morning, before the sun had even risen, there was a package sitting in the Vasquez mailbox. Mr. Brown had the authority given to him by the master to open and discern mail, so he did so without thinking. Inside of it was something so horrific the head butler almost fainted on spot.

A bloody ear, wrapped up in hair. Below it was a bloodstained letter and two photographs.

This was a ransom note.

It specifically mentioned that letting the police know would mean the death of both children. The sum wasn’t entirely unreasonable, knowing the Vasquez fortune, but Mr. Brown wasn’t able to act. He couldn’t make these types of decisions. For those reasons, he snuck into Lenore’s study and hid the package, waiting to show it when his master returned. Brown didn’t want to make anyone else afraid, and he suspected Lenore was capable of taking this well, so it was his only option.

He waited by the door for an hour before Lenore decided to go check on his study. Mr. Brown nodded to greet his boss.

“Mr. Vasquez, before you do anything, there’s something I need to tell you…”

***

gOoD mOrNiNg~

Good Morning, Vasquez family. As you may suspect from the two photographs attached, both of your children have been abducted. Do not worry yourselves. Other than the two pieces of them sent as proof, your children are unharmed.

That may change according to your actions.

If you know even a single thing about kidnappings, then you already understand how this will go. Do not contact the police or your children’s heads will float down the Seine and their bodies will hang from the rafters of a whorehouse. If you wish to have your children returned to you, then what you will need to do is quite simple. Firstly, collect 250,000 francs per child you want returned. After that, hold onto them. Do not call the police, and send all of your servants on a short vacation. We will be sending mail with further instructions at dusk and dawn.

Sincerely,

KiDnApPeRs~

***

The ransom note was created by cutting apart newspapers and stitching the words and letters together, then covered in glue and blood. Some parts were written, and a picture of the Vasquez house from the local newspaper was plastered on the back.

This was horrific. How could it be happening?

Lenore read the letter dozens of times, as if something different would happen. But nothing changed. Much time went before anyone said anything, the only sound coming from an old grandfather clock ticking down time.

Finally, after slowing his brain into a capable state, Lenore spoke.

“When did this arrive?”

“This morning,” Mr. Brown replied. “In the regular mail. As I said before, yourself and I are the only ones who know of this.”

“How the hell could this happen? When did they grab my babies?”

Before Mr. Brown could answer, Lenore reasoned it out.

“Jeanne said someone told her we were going to have dinner,” Lenore said, covering his face with both hands. “Of course, she just believed it was a servant. With her poor eyesight, I doubt she could actually tell who it was. By any chance, did you hear anything about this?”

“The two servants who went with the ladies last night were attacked. I didn’t learn about their absence until late last night, but word had already arrived that Mrs. Vasquez had returned home.”

“And Maxine?”

Mr. Brown let out a regretful sigh.

“At the time, I simply believed she had returned as well, but when I checked this morning, she was gone. A fatal error in communication. I will resign immediately, if you so choose. However, if there is anything I can do to remedy my failure, I wish to do it. After your children have been returned safe and sound, I will relinquish my salary and leave Paris forever.”

“No,” Lenore said. “No, don’t. There isn’t a need for that. This isn’t your fault. If anything, blame lies on myself for not assigning bodyguards.”

Silence.

Lenore was looking at the photos of his two children, dark bags under his eyes. Even though he hardly slept at all on the train ride back, there was no way he could sleep now. There’d be nothing but nightmares.

“There’s something strange here,” Lenore said, looking between photos. It bothered him, but he couldn’t tell what was wrong. “Look, Ben, did you look at these? Does something look off? Or can you tell anything special?”

It was difficult for Mr. Brown to look at the two photographs, as it weighed on his heart.

But he saw it.

The reason he saw it was because his despair was that of a servant and not a parent. It was something you could only notice from looking at someone from below, rather than looking at them from above. A single article that made absolutely no sense being in this picture. An impossibility. It was from Maxine’s photo. Not in Maxwell’s. Was it a mistake on the kidnapper’s end? Incomprehensible…

“You’re right,” Mr. Brown said. He set the photograph down and pointed to Maxine’s feet. “Her shoes. Are these really the shoes your daughter would wear to a play?”

In this epoch, men and women’s fashion were quite distinct, especially in District 5. Women, especially ones with high social standing, held very strictly to the trends. While Lenore Vasquez was too slow in sociability to understand this, but Mr. Brown, who was often brought along with either mistress to assist with shopping, had clear knowledge of it. In the photo, Maxine was wearing close-toed shoes, typically the type you would wear for athletic or work related activity. They were durable and comfy, but obviously plain. Brown and dull. They were a pair of shoes that would get you laughed at. They were shoes that Maxine would never in a million years wear to a social event.

“But, what does that mean? The kidnappers wouldn’t just have extra shoes on hand…”

While Lenore could only ponder, Mr. Brown had one other piece of information. A critical fact that could explain the shoes.

“Mr. Vasquez...I think there is a possibility that this isn’t your daughter,” Mr. Brown said slowly. “Last night, your daughter’s personal servant, Luise Tower, didn’t come in to work. At first, I merely assumed it was because she was told not to come in by Maxine. Then, when she didn’t come in this morning, my mind started to think she was integral in pulling off this crime, and a member of the kidnappers. But now, as I gaze more and more upon this picture, I think I’ve come to realize that the kidnappers have made a fatal mistake! For some reason, instead of Maxine, they have abducted her servant, and believe she is the hostage that you would pay large sums of money for.”

While Mr. Brown talked, Lenore realized it as well. How could he have been so blind? He didn’t want to look at the pictures of his crumpled children, and without meaning to, he hadn’t even paid attention to who they were. But Mr. Brown was completely right. This wasn’t his daughter. That was what threw him off before. Was it his son?

No, life couldn’t be so fortunate. That was without a doubt Maxwell Vasquez. Those angry defiant eyes were ones Lenore knew by heart. But the girl wasn’t Maxine.

“How could the kidnappers make such a mistake?”

“I have no idea,” Lenore said. This knowledge only made him less worried for a split second. “But this could make things worse. If the kidnappers don’t have my daughter, then where is she?”

The butler had no answer. He could only frown.

The two were at a roadblock. Was the only option to wait?

***

No, it wasn’t.

There was a person Mr. Brown knew through an old drinking buddy that dealt with this type of stuff. A private detective who didn’t work for the police, but was more reliable than anyone else. Or so they say. While Mr. Vasquez sat alone in his study to think, Mr. Brown was searching through his book of business cards. It had to be there somewhere. He wasn’t a religious man, but in this moment, the secular butler prayed. This was his family, even if he wasn’t technically a part of it. He would die for them in a moment, and if he could have this one thing, he’d do anything.

Lance Gordon. The Herculean Odysseus.

The yellow card bore a ridiculous symbol on it: a twelve-legged octopus with a diamond in the center. Institute backed. This was the man.

There was no guarantee they could figure out what was happening, but this was the best shot Brown thought they had.

***

--An hour later--

Lenore was sitting at his desk with Mr. Brown standing by his side. Across from them was a very strange man. His accent was strange, but Lenore knew it from travelling. It was an american accent. Those had pretty much gone extinct, so it was almost a relic in itself.

That wasn’t the only peculiar thing about the man named Lance Gordon.

He was handsome, the two men were forced to admit. Ridiculously good looking. His face was almost perfectly sculpted, and he knew how to style himself. He was also over two meters tall and covered in muscles without seeming like a hulking monster. His body was like a greek sculpture, which was possibly where he got his bizarre name from. Herculean Odysseus. When Lenore first saw the title, he thought it sounded like what a little kid who only learned about greek mythology would think of.

Then, when the legendary man presented himself, they only became more confused.

“Howdy y’all,” Lance said, tipping his wide brimmed hat. “I hear y’all got some work for me? Before you say what it is, just know that I reserve the right to refuse any job at any point if I believe it is morally irredeemable, even if I’ve already collected some of the money. But if what I’m being asked to do is for the great good of mankind, then I’m all ear.”

Lenore took in a deep breath, then pushed over a box containing everything they got from the kidnappers.

“My house received this earlier today,” he started. “From some unknown group. According to what we’ve already looked into, last night, when my wife and daughter were out at the local theatre, this gang of criminals approached and attacked the servants who were accompanying my family. The criminals disguised themselves as my staff and brought my wife and daughter away in seperate cars, dropping my wife off at home and telling her that I was going to be taking her out to a dinner and that she should prepare for it. Of course, I was not. At the time, I was in Brussels for business. Unfortunately, my wife is somewhat ditzy, so she didn’t realize that the men who brought her back were not staff members. Her eyes are bad. At the same time, my son went missing, as he usually spends his evenings out on the town.

“As you can see, the letter forbids contact with the police, but nothing against meeting with a detective. I will be able to get all the money they request for both of my children to be returned, but that’s where the biggest issue arises. After careful inspection from myself and my most trusted servant, Benjamin, we realized that the person in the photo for my daughter is not actually my daughter. Instead, it appears like it is her servant. As you may realize, that brings many more problems.

“For one: if that isn’t my daughter, then where is she? The girl in the picture, Luise, is wearing what my daughter was last night before she went to the theatre, so I can at least surmise that they traded clothes sometime either before the kidnapping. Does that mean she wasn’t kidnapped and the kidnappers have no idea who they have captive? Or could it be that they have her somewhere but are only showing me the servant so they can try to extort me more...along the lines of: ‘Oh, you paid for this girl Luise, rather than your actual daughter. For her, you can send another 250,000 franc’.

“I...think with pretty much absolute certainty that we will be paying the ransom for both. Even if Luise is not my daughter, she shouldn’t be held and killed for such a sum. I won’t let that weigh on my conscience. What I’m asking for from you is what to do after that. How do I make sure this ransom deal goes through without consequence, and how do I get all of my family and servant back home without anyone getting hurt? That should explain most of it...is this something you could help me with?”

Lance casually glanced through the evidence. From what he could tell, it was pretty amateur work. He’d dealt with far more sophisticated criminals. Of course, that just meant these guys were more dangerous. The best crimes don’t give you a good reason to chase after them. With this, that subtle touch was missing. These kidnappers cut off a young man’s ear.

“Sure. I’ll help y’all,” Lance said, tossing the box back onto Lenore’s desk. The detective was smiling from ear to ear, showing a line of pearly white teeth. “To tell you the truth, hearing your story, I was gonna charge you the kidnapping fee for my services if you didn’t say you’d pay for the servant girl as well. But if you’re gonna do that? Hell. I’ll do this for free. Being good friends with such an influential senator means my business should get quite a boon, which is needed with the current economy, ya digg?”

Lance held up a finger.

“Though I’m gonna tell you something that might deflate you a bit. Just so you’re 100% clear on the situation. When you brought up possibilities for your daughter, there was one option you missed: these criminals accidentally killed her, and now need to stage her servant like your daughter. Just a possibility.

“And, there is also a chance that there are people within your employ who are in on the entire thing. I mean, you said your wife has bad eyes, no? I can’t imagine that info is easy to come by on the streets. At least not with the confidence to send two men directly to her face and pretend to be servants. Also, they were able to get it into your mailbox early in the morning; that means before any mail was delivered. Someone dropped it off while the sun was still down, and they’d need to walk around your estate to do so. Yet they weren’t caught? Suspicious. But that’s only something to consider. For the time being, the only thing we need to do is wait for the second letter. Don’t let anyone know I’m here. We can figure out a plan later.”

***

VASQUEZ FAMILY

I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER. IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY WITH MY DEMANDS, SHE WILL DIE. IF YOU NEED MORE PROOF OR CONTACT THE POLICE, SHE WILL DIE. TONIGHT, AT 11:00 PM EXACTLY, DROP A BAG WITH 200,000 FRANCS INTO THE DUMPSTER BY XXX AND XXX STREET. IT WILL HAVE A YELLOW STICKER ON IT.

SIR NIGHT

***

--A little after midday--

A second package arrived, not according to the kidnappers schedule. What’s more, while this package was obviously related, it was completely different. Instead of a chopped up newspaper, this was done by a typewriter. But it came with the similar articles of proof. A bundle of dark hair and a photograph, though this picture was of Maxine lying on a dirty couch asleep with a rifle pointed at her head.

“Well,” Lance said. “I suppose we don’t exactly need to worry about what happened with your daughter.” He paused, rethinking what he said. “Assuming this is your daughter.”

“It is...but I don’t understand. This isn’t from the same people, right?”

Even though he was the expert in this situation, Lance had absolutely no idea. This was totally unprecedented and illogical. But that wouldn’t do his clients any good, so he simply laughed and shook his head in confidence.

“Hah, don’t make such an assumption like that without knowing all the facts. That’s what I’ve always done,” Lance said. “While it certainly does seem like someone else is doing it, this could be a clever ploy. Think about it: if you pay the first kidnappers, then pay the second one, you’ll be paying a lot of money. Of course, there’s no way we could know for sure, but coming to an early conclusion would be a bad idea. We’ll wait to see if another letter comes at dusk.”

“How did it come in, Ben?”

The head butler shook his head.

“Nobody noticed it. Like in the morning, this one just showed up in the mailbox. Unlike in the morning, however, it should have been under surveillance, so I’m not exactly sure how it happened. The servant who grabbed it said one second there was nothing, then when she looked back, the package was inside and marked confidential.”

“And you’re sure she ain’t untrustworthy?” Lance said, chewing on ice. His use of a double negative bothered Mr. Brown.

“I’m quite sure. Miss Cary has been working with us for years.”

Lance shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

***

As the three men waited together, the day crawled forward without any news. Fatigue finally overcame Lenore and he passed out on the table. Mr. Brown pulled out a blanket and laid it over his master. Otherwise, without much to speak about, the butler and the detective eventually decided to play cards. Basic poker.

It didn’t last long before Mr. Brown realized he was outclassed and decided to give up.

Lenore made wire requests to the bank for the massive amount of funds to be delivered to his house, and they arrived late afternoon. He was still sleeping at the time, so Mr. Brown woke him up so he could give his signature and seal to the delivery men. It came in three briefcases, but the money wasn’t split exactly as he ordered, so they spent the rest of their time sorting the money into the correct cases. They numbered each one and marked them so when the moment came, they could deliver them without worry of making any mistakes.

Finally, as the sun started to disappear on the horizon line, Mr. Brown made one of his regular trips to the mailbox and came back with a package.

***

gOoD eVeNiNg~

Good Evening, Vasquez family. It has come to our attention that while you have obeyed our orders and kept the police out of the equation, that did not prevent you from asking for help anyway. Regardless, that does not matter to us. Your two assistants will be of help.

Tonight, at 10:00 PM, you will bring the cash to the central square at XXX and XXX plaza. To make sure we are fully aware of your location, all three of you must be at the central square. When the clock strikes 10, Lenore Vasquez must remain at his location while the two helpers each go East and West down the streets until they are approached by men in masks. At that point, hand over the money when they ask for it. If there are any disturbances, or if anything happens, both children will die.

Sincerely,

KiDnApPeRs~

***

--10 PM--

Was this the right thing to do? It was so absurdly risky.

Lenore couldn’t help but sweat. Because it was a cold night out, his chills were only worse, and he felt like a fever was overtaking him. His vision was becoming blurry, and even though there were people walking through the streets chatting, he could hardly hear them. Mr. Brown drove the three of them to a parking lot near the center square earlier, and now that the drop off time was getting closer, the three men were completely silent. The normal cockiness Lance had demonstrated all night was gone, and Mr. Brown was shaking in anticipation. After this was over, Lenore wouldn’t be able to let the man leave. He was an integral part of the Vasquez family, and had more than proven his worth. A reward was fitting.

It had come up in their talks. The possibility that this was all just some complicated attempt at a public assassination. That whoever these kidnappers were would end Lenore’s life, along with the children. His wife was at home, protected only by servants, so she was a sitting duck as well. But there was at least some security against that.

Time seemed impossibly slow as the clouds moved, finally obscuring the moon entirely. It dropped the light by a measurable amount, and then the clock tolled 10.

“Please,” Lenore whispered to his companions. “Please let this work. God help us.”

Then they each started in a separate direction, holding briefcases full of cash.

The bell hadn’t even stopped ringing when a car revved it’s engine and smashed through a nearby restaurant, spinning in a rabid motion before crashing into a wall across the street.