<div class="floatleft">(http://distractionsink.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/reno1-227x350.jpg)</div>Marc dialed the number on the satellite phone. It was a bulky device, looking like a cordless phone from the early nineties. It worked well enough, and was all but impossible to trace.<br/><br/>"When he answers, you're going to greet him. Make sure he knows it's you." When a man answered, he put the phone to her ear for her line.<br/><br/>Then he took the phone back. "Mr. Eran. Hopefully your daughter's voice has made its point. Shut up and listen." The man was blathering about his name. Perhaps he mispronounced it, as if Marc cared. What a dick, to think about pronunciation at a time like this. "I have your daughter, Katie." Both the bitch and her father were both yammering at him now about names. What the fuck was wrong with this family, did they have a death wish.<br/><br/>"Look here you piece of shit: if you want to see her again you'll do exactly what I say. Eran industries alone, not counting your subsidiaries, is worth 450 million. One-nintieth of that will pay for your daughter's release. A mistake!? A MISTAKE? Bitch, tell your dad what happens to you is his fault!"<br/><br/>He didn't give her much of a chance. He hung up the phone by tossing it across the room. It was essentially a brick so it did more damage to the paint than the wall did to the phone. The replaceable battery popped out, ending the call.<br/><br/>He bore down on Jasmine with a fiery expression. "You're gonna make yourself worthwhile until your daddy comes to his senses."