\u201cJournalism will kill you, but it will keep you alive while you\u2019re at it.\u201d- Horace Greeley<\/p>\n

CHAPTER 1<\/p>\n

NOAH LARSON WATCHED RAINDROPS cascading down the window over the kitchen sink, racing to a predictable end. Most drops would find their way to the bottom of the sill before joining others to form a small stream that spilled into a dormant flowerbed. A few lucky ones would take control of their fate, resisting the urge to be like all the others by clinging ever so tenuously to an open spot on the glass. But even they were susceptible to being washed away by a collision with just another raindrop or a blast of air. It was a depressing thought, but momentary when the reality of Noah\u2019s life collided with it. Who had time to ponder the depths of existentialism when there was a Super Bowl to win?<\/p>\n

In three hours, Noah was scheduled to join his teammates on a charter flight to Houston where the Seattle Seahawks would attempt to bring home the city\u2019s first Lombardi Trophy. And it was going to happen\u2014he just knew it. Nothing could stop destiny. Ever since he began playing peewee football, Noah\u2019s talents were apparent to everyone, including himself. He had boxes of personal trophies, plaques and accolades stored in unmarked containers on a shelf in his garage to prove it. The only trophy Noah wanted to show off was the smooth silver one, hoisted above his head while confetti rained down from the rafters of Gillette Stadium. That destiny was only six days away.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, did you pack my lunch?\u201d came the question from across the kitchen. Noah snapped back to the present.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, Jake. Got it right here.\u201d The pro quarterback handed his six-year-old son a Spiderman lunch box. \u201cI even remembered to put your favorite Capri Sun in there, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApple?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you liked grape.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDaaaaad! You always mix up my favorite flavors. I like grape jelly but apple juice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we can fix that right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noah shuffled to the pantry and ripped open a six-pack of apple-flavored Capri Suns, grabbing one for Jake.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere you go, son. I\u2019ll get it right next time\u2014don\u2019t you worry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s OK, dad.\u201d The first grader stuffed the bottle into the lunch box. \u201cYou know, I\u2019m really gonna miss you this week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna miss you too, sport. But I\u2019ll see you on Friday. You and mom are flying down and we\u2019ll do something fun when I\u2019m not busy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t wait! Can we go see the Dynamo\u2019s stadium while we\u2019re down there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Dynamo? Son, I\u2019m playing in the Super Bowl on Sunday and you want to go see an empty soccer stadium?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAww, dad. Soccer is cool, too. Maybe if you win, the Seahawks can have a parade just like the Sounders did when they won the MLS Cup.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noah tried not to let his son\u2019s remark bother him. Jake loved soccer and preferred using his dad\u2019s celebrity status to rub shoulders with the city\u2019s star soccer players rather than visit the NFL locker room. What gnawed at Noah the most was the fact that Seattle threw a parade befitting of royalty when the city\u2019s pro soccer team won the championship the previous fall. The cash-strapped city never dreamed another title might come so soon. But if the Seahawks won, forget budget restraints. Seattle would have a Super Bowl champion and it would celebrate.<\/p>\n

Noah knew the city would go into debt in six days to throw a matching parade. He cared less about competing with the city\u2019s other pro sports teams but more about the overall sense of despair hovering over Seahawk fans\u2019 mentality. Doom and gloom held season tickets for the Seahawks\u2014all 67,000 of them. Noah would change all that, maybe even turn his son into a die-hard football fan in the process.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, son. You can ride with me in the parade next week after we come back home with a trophy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGo, Seahawks! Beat the Dolphins!\u201d Jake pumped his fist in the air and without reservation, sprinted across the kitchen to give his dad a high-five. They both laughed. Noah picked his son up and spun him around once. They shared a hug that ended with a tight squeeze.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t forget your rain coat, buddy. It looks like you\u2019re going to need it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter hurry before you miss your bus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad, you\u2019re beginning to sound like mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

On cue, Ellen Larson wobbled down the stairs, trying to stay upright in her four-inch stiletto heels. Her naturally blonde hair clung smoothly to her head as her usually flowing locks were twisted into a tight bun and held in place with a diamond-studded hair stick. She wore the shimmering red dress well, which outlined the contours of her curvaceous figure. The silk shawl draped over her shoulders toned down the image of a woman that would put most men\u2019s head on a swivel.<\/p>\n

Noah drew out a long whistle and shook his head in delight as he watched his wife of eight years come down the staircase. Who cared if she wasn\u2019t the most graceful woman at the moment? Noah certainly didn\u2019t. And neither did Jake.<\/p>\n

\u201cJake, don\u2019t think you\u2019re going to school without giving mommy a kiss.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake didn\u2019t wait for his mother to make it to the front door. He liked being the first kid to arrive at the bus stop and wasn\u2019t going to let the obligatory kiss from his mom prevent him from achieving his daily goal.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you, Mommy,\u201d Jake planted a wet kiss on her cheek<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll pick you up from school today and then we\u2019ll go shopping. We need to get some warm clothes for our trip.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, Mom. See you then.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ellen went to plant a kiss on Jake\u2019s cheek, but he dodged and resisted. If there was one thing that was sure to get a first-grade boy laughed at, it was having bright red lipstick on your cheek. Instead of getting her way, Ellen withdrew and blew a kiss. Jake\u2019s face lit up with a toothy grin as he put on his raincoat, grabbed his book bag, and ran toward the door.<\/p>\n

The large number of students living in the Larsons\u2019 neighborhood who attended Westminster Prep necessitated a school bus. Jake\u2019s walk to the bus stop for the city\u2019s most prestigious prep school was less than a block. Noah and Ellen had no reservations about letting their son walk alone to the corner of this quiet, tree-lined street. Even on a day that registered as extra blustery and rainy by Seattle\u2019s sopping wet standards.<\/p>\n

Noah watched Jake pull the door shut and hustle down the steps. Once Jake reached the sidewalk, Noah could see Jake tossing his Sounders soccer ball in the air as he skipped toward the bus stop. Noah craned his neck to watch Jake until he disappeared from his field of view. Noah smiled and shook his head, proud of his little guy.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you look nice,\u201d Noah spun around and turned his gaze toward Ellen.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, honey. I am going to miss you. I can\u2019t wait for Sunday to get here and this season to be over with. It\u2019s so much better when you lose and don\u2019t make the playoffs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noah moved closer to Ellen. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how to respond to that. Wouldn\u2019t you rather be married to a Super Bowl champion quarterback to impress all your socialite friends?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care about that\u2014I just want you to be done with football so we can enjoy life together again. This football stuff just gets in the way all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ellen suddenly grabbed Noah\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously? Are you going to retire from football?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ve been playing football for a long time, living up to a lot of people\u2019s expectations and doing what everyone else thinks I should do. I\u2019m kind of tired of it. Besides, what better way to go out than on top and be the king of this city?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ellen began shaking Noah, giddy with excitement. She was careful not to jump up and down in her unstable shoes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t believe this!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was hoping you would react like this. Honestly, I\u2019d like for this to be the last game I play and go out with a Super Bowl win. It\u2019s time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ellen smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not just going to win,\u201d she said, poking Noah in the chest, \u201cyou\u2019re going to destroy the Dolphins!\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned and headed back upstairs to finish primping for her shopping outing. Noah watched her put her fist in the air and mumble something about \u201cno more football.\u201d He knew retiring would make her happy\u2014and it was time to make it official.<\/p>\n

Noah glanced at his packed bags by the door. He then walked back to the kitchen and resumed raindrop watching. Noah stared out the window, grappling with the fact that he had uttered aloud the thought that had been tormenting him for the past six months: Did he have the nerve to walk away from the game that had consumed his entire life? But there was no going back now. Ellen had likely already committed to memory their entre conversation, word for word. And Noah knew she would make sure he kept his word. It was one of the things he liked best about being married to Ellen. It was also one of the worst.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Carlos Rivera nursed the cup of coffee in his right hand. It wasn\u2019t cold yet but it was getting there quickly. Another minute or two and it would be undrinkable. Not that he minded. He thought the claim that Seattle was home to the best coffee in the United States was a chiste. It had been a week since he arrived in Seattle, and this was the fifth different brand of coffee he had tried. He remained unimpressed. However, he knew next month Seattle would be invaded by Buenisimo!, the best coffee south of the border. It would make his return trip more palatable.<\/p>\n

Yet a chance to sample Seattle\u2019s famous coffee was hardly the reason Rivera found himself far away from his family. Not that he had a choice. When Mr. Hernandez said, \u201cGo to Seattle,\u201d he went. No questions, no protests. Yet this job made Rivera sick. He told himself he was a professional and he could do this. It\u2019s what he told himself every time that Mr. Hernandez required him to do something distasteful. Rivera hated dipping a rival gang member\u2019s hand in acid. Neither did he care for shooting a man\u2019s beloved dog just to make a point. But this assignment? This one was exceptionally cruel. It was so monstrous in its nature that Rivera wondered if Mr. Hernandez even had a conscience anymore\u2014or a heart. Of course, Rivera could refuse. But he loved his family too much. He preferred ever so slightly this sordid existence over death, even if it was a half-step above. Choosing one over the other was about a 50-50 proposition. Rivera chose to live.<\/p>\n

Rivera shook his partner, Juan Morales, who had just dozed off in the passenger\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s time. Wake up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Morales rubbed his face and looked through the rain-speckled windshield at their target meandering down the sidewalk. The pulsing wipers swept away a handful of raindrops, gliding across the glass creating a clean space for more raindrops to gather.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s him,\u201d Rivera said.<\/p>\n

He eased the car forward and stopped about 10 feet past the target.<\/p>\n

With great precision and efficiency, Morales jumped out of the car and grabbed the confused boy. Jake resisted his abductor yet was only able to make one muted call for help. Rivera secured the boy\u2019s arms and mouth; Morales snatched his legs. The boy squirmed and tried to kick free, but in less than two seconds, he was in the backseat of the Town Car wedged between the seat and Morales\u2019 left knee. It was a fight the boy had no chance of winning. His muffled cries went unheard.<\/p>\n

Morales grinned and patted Rivera on the back as they pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe got him!\u201d Morales said.<\/p>\n

Rivera said nothing. He adjusted the mirror so he could only see Morales. Seeing the terror in the boy\u2019s eyes as Morales was wrangling him in the street was too intensely personal for Rivera. With a six-year-old son of his own, Rivera could hardly stomach this task. But he couldn\u2019t let this get personal. This was business, a business he had to conduct professionally and efficiently or his own family might end up victims of Mr. Hernandez.<\/p>\n

Morales couldn\u2019t stop grinning as he basked in his moment of triumph, albeit a sick one\u2014a 28-year-old man overpowering a six-year-old boy 180 pounds his junior. He looked down at his catch, brooding over him with a gruff voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cHola, Jakie boy.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n