Monday Morning - 9:00 AM - DIA Headquarters

  Amanda Foster was on her third coffee of the morning when the alert pinged.

  She'd been monitoring Perseus for two weeks now, and she'd developed a sixth sense for when something was off. The system flagged anomalies—unusual surveillance, repeated sightings of the same individuals, pattern deviations.

  This morning, it was flagging surveillance.

  She pulled up the details. A white van had been spotted near Perseus's apartment three times in the past week. Same van, same location, different times of day. Yesterday, it had followed him—badly—from the coffee shop to the library.

  Amateur hour.

  Amanda pulled up the footage from this morning. The van was parked on Perseus's walking route to the library. Two occupants visible in the front seats.

  She zoomed in. Both men looked nervous. One kept checking his watch.

  "Oh no," Amanda muttered. "Please don't be planning what I think you're planning."

  She pulled up Perseus's tracker. He'd left his apartment on schedule, heading for his morning walk.

  The van was positioned right in his path.

  Amanda grabbed her phone and called DNI Cartwright.

  He answered on the first ring. "Agent Foster. What's wrong?"

  "Sir, I have a situation developing. Someone's surveilling Perseus Jackson. Amateurs, by the look of it. White van, three occupants based on earlier footage, and they're positioned on his walking route."

  "Positioned how?"

  "Like they're waiting for him, sir."

  There was a pause. Then: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

  "That someone's about to try to kidnap Perseus Jackson? Yes, sir."

  "Should we intervene?"

  Amanda watched the feeds. Perseus was two blocks away from the van. The occupants were getting more agitated. One man—driver—kept looking at his watch. The other had zip ties visible on the dashboard.

  "Sir, they're amateurs. Very amateur. Perseus is going to handle this easily."

  "You sound certain."

  "I've been watching him for two weeks. These guys spent five days surveilling him and learned nothing important. They have no idea what they're getting into."

  Cartwright was quiet for a moment. "Agent Foster, are you suggesting we let this play out?"

  "I'm suggesting, sir, that Perseus is in no actual danger from three nervous amateurs with zip ties. And..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "And I think he might find this entertaining."

  "Entertaining."

  "He let himself be arrested by the FBI, sir. This is arguably less stressful than that."

  Cartwright actually laughed. "Fair point. Alright, here's what we do: Monitor closely, but don't intervene unless there's actual danger. I'm going to notify the other directors. This might be... educational."

  "Educational, sir?"

  "For the kidnappers. And possibly for us. Call me the moment he's taken. I'll coordinate the response."

  "Yes, sir."

  Amanda hung up and watched her screens. Perseus was one block away now. The van's side door was opening slightly.

  "This is really happening," she said to her empty office. "Someone is really about to kidnap Perseus Jackson."

  She pulled up her incident log and started typing:

  INCIDENT REPORT - ONGOING

  TIME: 09:22 AM

  SUBJECT: Perseus Jackson

  SITUATION: Imminent kidnapping attempt by amateur actors

  THREAT LEVEL: Low (to subject) / High (to kidnappers when they realize their mistake)

  RECOMMENDATION: Monitor and observe

  At 9:24 AM, Perseus Jackson walked past the van.

  The door opened.

  A man jumped out—tall, Hispanic, looked terrified—and grabbed Perseus's arm.

  Perseus looked at him with what Amanda could only describe as mild curiosity.

  Then he let them pull him into the van.

  Just... let them.

  No fight. No resistance. He actually looked slightly amused.

  The van door slammed. The vehicle took off, driving erratically.

  Amanda immediately called Cartwright back.

  "It happened. They took him. He didn't resist."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "He didn't resist at all?"

  "No, sir. He looked at them like he was curious what they'd do next, then just... got in the van."

  "Of course he did." Cartwright sighed. "Alright, activate his tracker. Where are they going?"

  Amanda pulled up the GPS. "Queens. Heading toward... looks like the industrial district. Warehouse area."

  "Perfect. Isolated location, minimal civilian exposure. Agent Foster, how long do you think it'll take him to escape?"

  "Based on my observations, sir? He could escape in about thirty seconds if he wanted to."

  "But he won't."

  "No, sir. I think he's going to see how this plays out."

  "Wonderful. I'm calling an emergency director's meeting. Keep that tracker live and stream the location to me. This is going to be interesting."

  9:35 AM - Secure Video Conference, Five Eyes Directors

  DNI James Cartwright looked at the faces on his screen. CIA Director Sarah Webb. MI6 Director Nigel Pierce. DGSE Director Claude Beaumont. FSB Director Dmitri Volkov. And CSIS Director Rachel Thompson from Canada.

  "Gentlemen, ladies, thank you for joining on short notice. We have a situation."

  "Another arrest?" Beaumont asked wearily.

  "Worse. Someone just kidnapped Perseus Jackson."

  Silence.

  Then Nigel Pierce started laughing. Actually laughing, head thrown back, tears in his eyes.

  "I'm sorry," he managed between laughs. "Someone kidnapped him? Kidnapped Perseus Jackson?"

  "Three amateur criminals in Queens," Cartwright confirmed. "Medical debt, from what our preliminary research shows. They grabbed him about ten minutes ago."

  "And Perseus?" Volkov asked.

  "Went willingly. Didn't fight at all."

  "Of course not," Volkov said, grinning. "This is going to be hilarious."

  "Has he activated Echelon Protocol?" Webb asked.

  "Not yet. He seems to be... letting this play out."

  Beaumont leaned forward. "James, are you telling me that Perseus Jackson has been kidnapped by amateurs, and instead of escaping immediately, he's decided to see what happens?"

  "That appears to be the situation, yes."

  "This is the best thing I've heard all month," Nigel said, still grinning. "Where are they holding him?"

  "Warehouse in Queens. We have his tracker live. Agent Foster is monitoring."

  "Should we deploy response teams?" Webb asked.

  "Not yet. Perseus hasn't activated the protocol, and he's in no actual danger. I think he's..." Cartwright paused. "I think he's curious what they'll do."

  "He's bored," Volkov said flatly. "He's ~ 500 years old and he's bored. This is entertainment for him."

  "Probably," Cartwright admitted.

  Rachel Thompson spoke up, her Canadian accent warm with amusement. "So what are we doing? Just watching?"

  "I'm proposing we monitor the situation closely. If Perseus needs help, we intervene immediately. But if he's handling it—which I suspect he will—we observe."

  "You want to watch," Nigel said, understanding dawning. "You want to watch Perseus Jackson handle amateur kidnappers."

  "I think it will be educational."

  "Educational," Volkov repeated. "James, you Americans have such wonderful euphemisms. What you mean is: This will be funny and we should watch with alcohol."

  Cartwright smiled slightly. "I didn't say that."

  "But you thought it," Beaumont said. "And honestly? I agree. This is going to be magnificent. When do you think they'll start interrogating him?"

  "Soon, probably. They'll want to establish control, make demands."

  "And Perseus will...?" Webb prompted.

  "If past behavior is any indication? He'll probably give them advice on how to be better kidnappers."

  The room erupted in laughter.

  "I'm getting wine," Beaumont announced. "This is too good to miss."

  "It's 9:30 in the morning, Claude," Rachel pointed out.

  "It's 3:30 PM in Paris. And this is worth celebrating."

  "I have vodka," Volkov said, already pouring.

  Nigel raised his coffee mug. "I'm switching to whiskey. This is a special occasion."

  "Should we really be drinking while monitoring a kidnapping?" Webb asked, though she was smiling.

  "Sarah," Cartwright said seriously, "when was the last time any of us got to watch Perseus Jackson interact with people who have absolutely no idea who he is?"

  "Never."

  "Exactly. This is a unique opportunity."

  "To watch him mess with kidnappers," Nigel said.

  "To observe his behavior in a controlled crisis situation," Cartwright corrected.

  "While drinking," Volkov added.

  "While monitoring appropriately."

  "With alcohol," Beaumont insisted.

  Cartwright gave up. "Fine. Yes. We're going to watch Perseus Jackson handle kidnappers while drinking. But we're also going to be ready to deploy if necessary."

  "Agreed," everyone said in unison.

  "Agent Foster," Cartwright called, off-screen. "Can you patch the tracker location to all directors?"

  Amanda's voice came through. "Already done, sir. You should all have access to the live feed now."

  "Excellent work. Keep monitoring. Let us know the moment anything changes."

  "Yes, sir. And sir?"

  "Yes?"

  "If this goes the way I think it will... you might want to take notes."

  "Why?"

  "Because Perseus Jackson teaching amateur kidnappers how to improve their technique is going to be the most surreal thing you've ever witnessed."

  Webb laughed. "Is he already giving them advice?"

  "He told them the warehouse was drafty and they should have picked somewhere with heating."

  Volkov nearly spit out his vodka. "He's critiquing their choice of location!"

  "This is beautiful," Beaumont said. "This is art. James, I take back every mean thing I've said about American intelligence. This is the best international cooperation we've had in years."

  "We're literally just watching a kidnapping unfold," Rachel said.

  "The best kidnapping," Nigel corrected. "Possibly the only kidnapping in history where the victim is more competent than the criminals."

  "Should we place bets?" Volkov asked.

  "Bets on what?" Webb asked.

  "On how long before he escapes. I say two hours. He's going to toy with them first."

  "Four hours," Beaumont said. "He'll want to see how they handle the ransom call."

  "I think he'll wait until they fall asleep," Nigel said. "Then he'll just walk out. My money's on tonight around 2:00 AM."

  "What are we betting?" Rachel asked.

  "Bragging rights," Cartwright said quickly, before anyone could suggest money. "And the winner gets to mock everyone else for a month."

  "Deal," everyone agreed.

  Webb leaned toward her camera. "I'm going to regret asking this, but... should we have a drinking game?"

  "A drinking game?" Cartwright repeated.

  "Every time Perseus gives them advice, we drink."

  The room went quiet.

  Then Volkov started laughing. "Yes. Yes! This is perfect. Every time he helps the people who kidnapped him, we drink."

  "I'm in," Beaumont said.

  "Absolutely in," Nigel agreed.

  Rachel shrugged. "Why not? It's not like we can intervene anyway."

  Cartwright looked at Webb. "You just suggested an international intelligence community drinking game based on watching Perseus Jackson give career advice to his kidnappers."

  "Yes. Yes I did. And I stand by it."

  "Alright then." Cartwright raised his coffee mug. "Gentlemen, lady, to Perseus Jackson. May he continue to be the most fascinating person in our databases."

  "To Perseus!" they chorused.

  Amanda's voice came through the speaker. "Sirs, ma'am—they've arrived at the warehouse. They're taking him inside now."

  Everyone leaned toward their screens.

  "Here we go," Volkov said, pouring more vodka.

  "Agent Foster," Cartwright asked, "can we get audio?"

  "Working on it, sir. Perseus's tracker has a microphone, but I need to boost the signal... There. You should have audio now."

  A crackle of static, then voices:

  "—out of the van. Come on, move."

  "Nice place. Bit drafty though. You might want to consider—"

  "Shut up!"

  "Just trying to be helpful."

  Every director on the call was grinning.

  "Oh, this is going to be good," Nigel said.

  Beaumont raised his wine glass. "To the most entertaining kidnapping in history."

  They drank.

  And watched.

  And waited to see exactly how three amateur criminals would react to the reality of having kidnapped a man who they think have been alive for ~ 500 years and really, really didn't care.