Swallowing hard, Frank closed his eyes as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, painfully aware of two naked pairs of eyes on him. His mind raced as he desperately planned his next moves and he could feel a plan forming already at the back of his mind. He could only hope that it would work.

A shudder ran down his spine when he felt an ice-cold hand touch the bare skin of his arm and as it ran up his shoulder and rested at the base of his neck, Frank felt another kind of cold pressed against his throat.

"Move." Frank swallowed again and winced as the steely blade bit into his skin. Craig pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and walked over to the armchair at one corner of the room. Then he sat on the armrest and promptly patted a hand on it, urging Frank to sit, a leering smile on his handsome face. Frank’s eyes narrowed but he obeyed. Out of the corner of his eyes he glanced at the draperies next to him. The heavy curtains hung from a railing about 8 feet from the floor, obscuring the view. I’m sure it’s just fantastic what you can see from this room, he thought, his eyes narrowing again.

"Tie him up," Annelie instructed from the bed, her voice hard and cold. Clever, Frank thought furiously. Annelie made sure that Frank could see the knife she laid on Joe’s bare chest. She knew as long as she had Joe under her mercy Frank would not dare to do anything but obey. Helplessly, Frank let Craig bind his feet behind him and his feet to the chair.

"Why are you doing this?" Frank asked calmly as he fought to keep his emotions under control.

Craig shrugged. "Who knows why we even did it? We just wanted to."

"You did it. You killed her. You killed Tessa," Frank said.

Craig’s eyebrows shot up. "Who, me?"

Frank turned to Annelie who was sitting at the edge of the bed, her long feet dangling in front of her, her hand stroking Joe’s bruised forehead. Frank fearfully stared at his brother’s probe body and when he saw Joe’s chest rise and fall steadily then only he let his muscles relax and focus on his plan.

"And you. You killed Craig, didn’t you?"

Craig barked a laugh. "Excuse me, are you blind?"

Frank ignored him. The words kept coming, rushing out of him like water. "When he failed to get me, when he couldn’t get you what you wanted, when he failed, TWICE, you killed him."

"Well, it seems to me that your lover-boy here is just as mental as we are," Craig jeered. "If Craig’s dead, then who am I?"

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" Frank knew he should choose his words carefully, knowing that both he and Joe were in grave danger but he was not in the mood for polite conversations. He was through with courteousness and politeness. The only way to deal with these maniacs was to play their game, to play them the way they had played him. "I’m not as stupid as you think. At least not as stupid as you. You should have disposed of her body when you killed her."

Craig’s eyebrows shot up.

"And another thing, the Mission Impossible trick doesn’t work anymore. Substituting someone else’s face with Vanessa’s was clever. But to pull it twice?" Frank shook his head. "Why don’t you take off that mask, Baastian. Show me your true face."

Craig’s lips pulled into a tight smile. He slowly reached a hand to his face and true enough, a few seconds later he ripped off the rubber mask, revealing the face Frank had expected to see when the police burst into the room, the same face shown on the screen at the station, the face of a killer. Baastian Lindholm ran a hand through his dishevelled dark hair and grinned.

"The picture on the dresser. You told Mrs Reid that it was the picture of you and your boyfriend at his parent’s wedding anniversary. But he’s not your boyfriend, is he?" Frank gestured toward Baastian. He’s your brother. And the couple standing behind you, they were your parents, right?"

"You sure have a big mouth, don’t you? You think you’re one smart guy, huh?" Baastian prodded Frank’s head with a finger. Frank snarled and drew his head back, glaring at his captor. He took advantage of the distraction to work his hands furiously behind him. He had get free. He had to get Joe out of there.

"No, let him talk. He’s going to die anyway." She waved a hand. "I want to hear how he’s got everything figured out. He may be our prize-winner after all. All the previous ones were as dumb as hell. Go on."

Frank was sure he had their attention now. Good. He glanced once more at the curtains which was just out of his reach.

"Your father. Professor Stefan Lindholm. He was killed by his colleagues. Because he wanted Proxcel to be patented to his name, instead of the corporation."

Annelie smirked. "Tsk, tsk. Only the first one and you’ve got it wrong. It’s the other way around, stupid. He was a kind old soul, our father. He didn’t want to commercialise the drug because of the side effects so they killed him. But of course they had to pay. See, Frank? Good versus evil. In the end, evil wins."

"How did Craig come in all this?"

"I persuaded him to take Proxcel and he got addicted to it. It was sure fun to watch him when he was working," she giggled at the memory. "He was so creative, my Craig. But of course, I couldn’t let him live after he screwed up. He had proven himself to be a liability and Baastian and I couldn’t afford to have that."

"So you kidnapped people and you killed them. Why?" Frank managed to get one of his fingers free and quickly he manoeuvred it into the loop in the effort to disentangle it.

"Our father died at the hands of smart people like the ones we got rid of. How many more innocent lives will be lost just to let intelligence revel in the real world? It’s better to get rid of them in the first place, don’t you think?" she said innocently.

"You’re crazy." That was all Frank could say.

"I’ve had enough of this," Baastian said abruptly. "Annie, would you start already?"

Annelie shrugged. "Sure. We can always talk later."

"What are you going to do?" Frank asked, feeling a hopeless panic rise in his chest.

"I’m going to perform an operation on our little Joey here. As you can see he needs medical help urgently. Poor soul." Each and every word struck fear and terror in Frank’s heart.

"NO!!!!! Don’t touch him! Don’t you DARE touch him!" Frank shouted in frenzy. He still couldn’t get his hands free. His eyes went wide as he watched Baastian push a trolley in from the bathroom. On it were sharp, deadly surgical knives. Sweat poured down his face as he dragged his weight with the chair, trying to get close to the bed. Joe’s face was deathly pale and his eyes were closed, and Frank knew his unconscious brother was oblivious to what was going on around him and to what was about to be done to him.

She ignored him. Frank kept shouting and screaming, pleading for her to stop but calmly she picked up the knives, one after another and prepared to cut Joe with it. Loud bangings could be heard from the door but the heavy dresser secured the door in place.

"Shut your gob!" Baastian sneered and marched over to Frank, determined to shut him up for good. Frank dragged and pulled the heavy chair with him, trying to get closer to the bed to stop her.

Baastian picked up a syringe from the trolley. "A dose of Proxcel would do just fine. Then you wouldn’t be protesting so much." Frank shook his head wildly. Annelie had started cutting the bands of Joe’s pants.

Baastian came in closer.

Frank’s fingers grazed the curtains behind him and groped around for the lever, at last enclosing around a long strand of string hanging by the heavy drapes.

He pulled it at the same moment Baastian pricked the needle into his arm. With a loud ripping sound, the curtains drew back, revealing a full-length glass window. A sudden rush of exhilaration coursed through Frank when he saw that the room was directly facing the opposite building, which was another hotel.

"Got you," Frank hissed into his face just as he heard the sound of breaking glass right by his ear and though some of the flying pieces of glass pricked his face, the pain was nothing compared to the joy he felt when Baastian’s body suddenly jerked and the look of surprise on his face quickly turned into a mask of agony as he dropped

the syringe and grabbed his chest, blood spurting from the small exit wound. The bullet had penetrated his back and gone right through his torso. And as Baastian

dropped dead at his feet Frank could vaguely hear someone screaming.

"Go Dad," Frank whispered, feeling deeply blessed.