“TELL ME you had nothing to do with this!” Rose pleaded into her phone. Prav instantly turned away from the group he was now with. “Nothing to do with what?” he replied, quietly.
Rose was at her U.N. office and had just completed a harrowing phone call with Simon. The news visibly unnerved her. She offered to leave immediately in order to be at Simon’s side through the crisis, but he insisted she remain in New York; further developments would be forthcoming.
Now desperate, she was praying that her brother had not crossed another depraved threshold. Her voice shuddered, grasping for reassurance. “Haven’t you heard? It’s all over the news.”
Prav was presently in New York, touring the manufacturing floor of his new acquisition, Gen Tech Laboratories. He quietly asked his assistant to minimize her tablet’s accompanying technical briefing, stating: “The latest news-feed, please.”
His sister’s breathless concern punctuated a short pause before the news story was brought to life. “To recap our latest breaking news,” the news anchor stated. “We have just learned only moments ago that the daughter of Simon Taylor has been kidnapped. Simon Taylor is, of course, the founder and creative genius behind the corporate giant,
PurIntel. For more on this story, we go to our Toronto CTV affiliate. Mark, what’s the latest on this story?”
Rose was watching the same American news network at her office. A reporter appeared to be standing somewhere up the road from Simon’s residence. Two RCMP officers stood outside its closed front gate, allowing only authorized vehicles to enter.
“She was taken sometime late this morning,” Rose said.
Prav motioned with his index finger to the Gen Tech delegation as if he needed a moment alone. Numbering close to a dozen, they turned their attention back to a prototype prosthetic device. It was an arm similar to Lionel’s, only this one included a few next generation features. Their guide continued elaborating on its skin-like composite made of a special spider silk protein, which made it impervious to any puncture or laceration type injury.
Prav slowly walked away. He lowered his voice. “This is not a good time for me, Sister.”
“Look, please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this!”
“What, with the kidnapping? Of course I didn’t, Roshnie.”
Rose knew she needed to get beyond the layers of deception. “I swear … if I ever find out you’re lying to me ...”
“Roshnie, please,” Prav interjected. His tone was quietly condescending. “I am telling you the truth.”
Rose was pacing the area close to her desk. She moved closer to the window, which looked toward Simon’s residential tower. A thought came to her. “Prove it!” she stated.
“Prove what?” Prav asked.
“You can prove to me that you are telling the truth by calling him.”
Prav was taken aback by his sister’s suggestion. “Call Simon Taylor?”
“Yes, call him,” Rose firmly stated. “I want you to make everything at your disposal available to him … to find Jennifer.”
Rose only heard a pause on the other end of the line.
Prav’s manipulative nature rose to the surface. He could feel the vulnerability in Rose’s voice. He let the opportunity linger before seizing the moment. “So please explain to me again, Sister, why I would ever want to help you … or him, for that matter?”
Rose was startled by the phrase, even more by her brother’s ability to use her own words against her. She struggled for something to say. The line remained silent.