Ricco and Smash exchanged a worried glance. Mr. Black was a well-known individual with several connections. It seemed like a desperate attempt to go after him, a risk that might have disastrous results.

"Are you certain, Sir? Mr. Black isn't someone you want to mess with," Ricco ventured cautiously.


Bobby let out a humorless chuckle. "Though desperate times demand desperate methods, I may not want to mess with him.

In addition, wouldn't it be interesting to watch the elderly man's reaction upon learning that his granddaughter had recently entered his life with an escaped criminal in tow?"

A cruel smile played on Bobby's lips. This wasn't just about leverage anymore; it was about sending a message. A note to Sarah, Mr. Black, and anybody else who would have dared to oppose him.


Brick by painful brick, he would destroy their world until they crawled back to him and begged for forgiveness.

The sleek and intimidating black sedan pulled up to Mr. Black's estate's massive iron gates. Ricco and Smash exchanged nervous glances in the front seat. They'd never been directly involved in anything this audacious, and the weight of Bobby's simmering rage hung heavy in the air.


Ricco cleared his throat. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

Bobby, his face set in a granite mask, didn't turn away from the window. "Do it," he commanded curtly.

Pressing a button on the intercom, Ricco announced their arrival with a strained voice. There was a lengthy, uncomfortable silence after that, broken only by the car's engine's steady hum. At last, a rough-voiced voice sounded from the speaker.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Black," Ricco started, "This is Ricco from-"

The intercom clicked off, cutting him short. Ricco shared a worried look with Smash. This was not encouraging.

A short while later, the gate cracked open to expose a narrow path surrounded by tall hedges. Bobby wrenched the car into drive, and they raced into the tunnel, the thick undergrowth engulfing them in a black tunnel.

The car pulled into a vast courtyard with a lengthy shadow produced by Mr. Black's magnificent Georgian mansion exterior in the moonlight. At the entryway stood two hefty guards, their faces inscrutable in the shadows.

Bobby emerged from the vehicle, his massive frame exuding a sense of menacing presence. Ricco and Smash followed suit, their movements stiff and cautious.

"Announce our arrival," Bobby barked at Ricco.

Ricco approached one of the guards, his voice barely a whisper. "Mr. Henderson, Mr. Duke, we're here to see Mr. Black on urgent business."

With a dubious look in his eye, the man in charge, a sturdy bearded man, examined them closely. "Urgent business at this hour? Mr. Black doesn't take kindly to uninvited guests."

"Tell him it concerns Sarah and Olivia," Bobby interjected, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

The guard's expression flickered for a moment, a flicker of recognition. He hesitated, torn between duty and the urgency in Bobby's voice.

"Wait here," he finally said, turning and disappearing into the mansion.

The air crackled with tension as they waited. Ricco and Smash fidgeted, their gazes darting nervously around the courtyard. Bobby stood tall, a statue of cold fury, his eyes fixed on the grand entrance.

Eternity drew out into minutes. The sound of crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the cool night air was all that disturbed the silence. The massive oak door creaked open, just as doubt began to creep in.

A dark figure, tall and commanding, stood in the doorway. He exuded a commanding and powerful aura despite the darkness.

The figure growled, "Mr. Duke," his voice gravelly and deep. "What brings you here at this ungodly hour?"

"Mr. Black," Bobby stepped forward, his voice devoid of warmth. "We need to talk."

A slow chuckle, rich and booming, filled the courtyard. With his full moonlight appearance, Mr. Black showed off a weathered face and a set of sparkling blue eyes that belied their startling level of humor.

"Mr. Duke," he said in a mocking tone, "to what nice surprise do we owe this visit? Is it a social call, perhaps? A midnight game of charades?"

Bobby bristled at the informality. "Mr. Black," he began, his voice tight with contained anger, "This is a serious matter–"

Mr. Black raised a hand, effectively silencing him. "Serious matters? At this hour? My dear Duke, the only serious matter I can think of is finding a decent cup of tea at this ungodly time. Perhaps you gentlemen would care to join me? We can discuss the woes of the world over a steaming mug and a plate of stale biscuits."

Ricco shot Bobby a pleading look. This wasn't going how their boss had envisioned it.

Mr. Black chuckled, a sound that boomed through the courtyard like distant thunder. "Bobby Duke," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "What a pleasant surprise. Here I was, settling in for a good night's sleep, and who should appear but the prodigal… well, not-so-prodigal son."

Bobby bristled at the veiled jab, but Mr. Black's imposing presence kept him rooted to the spot. "This isn't a social call," Bobby growled. "It's about Sarah and Olivia."

Mr. Black raised a single eyebrow, his weathered face etched with mock seriousness. "Ah yes, Sarah and Olivia. Lovely girls. Reminds me of a fairy tale, actually, of a wolf that attempted to snarl his way into a house occupied by baby pigs. Didn't end well for the wolf, if I recall."

Ricco and Smash stifled giggles at the back. Even Bobby couldn't help but crack a slight smile, the tension momentarily broken by Mr. Black's unexpected humor.

Another hearty laugh erupted from Mr. Black, echoing through the courtyard. "Ah, Sarah! Now wouldn't that be a lively conversation? Tell me, Duke, has she finally decided to take up falconry? Or perhaps she's discovered a hidden talent for tap dancing?"

Ricco's lips twitched with a suppressed smile. Mr. Black's playful taunts were doing wonders for diffusing the tension.

Bobby's face flushed crimson. "This isn't a joke, Mr. Black! We know you're harboring her and Olivia."

Mr. Black pretended to gasp dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. "Harbor them? My dear Duke, you wound me! Would I, a man of impeccable character, harbor fugitives? The very idea! Now, about this tea…."

Smash, unable to hold back any longer, let out a snort of laughter. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, but the damage was done. Even Bobby, in his simmering rage, cracked a fleeting, exasperated smile.

Mr. Black, his eyes twinkling with amusement, addressed Smash. "Ah, a man of discerning humor! Finally, someone who appreciates the finer points of conversation!"

Bobby, regaining his composure, scowled. "Look, Mr. Black, cut the act. We know they're here. We just want to talk to Sarah."

"Look, Mr. Black," Bobby continued, regaining his composure, "We have reason to believe someone at your facility helped them escape."

Mr. Black's smile widened, revealing a set of surprisingly sharp teeth. "Escape, you say? Now that's a funny word. Sounds more like they found a way to liberate themselves from an unpleasant situation."

Bobby clenched his jaw. Mr. Black was clearly toying with him, enjoying his discomfort. "I don't appreciate the games, Mr. Black. We're serious here."

Mr. Black gave a loud chuckle that echoed around the courtyard as he flung back his head. "Well, Bobby, I'm taking this very seriously. I take this so seriously that I'm giving you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to save yourself more humiliation."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Embarrassment?"

Mr. Black responded, "Indeed," his voice dwindling to a whisper of conspiracy. "Imagine the headlines: 'Local Businessman Makes Unannounced Night Visit, Gets Schooled by Grumpy Old Man in Bathrobe.'"

Ricco and Smash burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. Bobby glared at them, his face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled the taillights of his car.

Mr. Black chuckled again. "See? It writes itself! I apologize, but I have to go have a nightcap, and my bathrobe is crying for some company. Perhaps another time, Bobby. And do try to work on your timing. After midnight visits reek of desperation, wouldn't you agree?"

Mr. Black's smile vanished, replaced by a steely glint in his eyes. "And I," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "want you three gentlemen to leave my property, preferably before the moon sets."

He gestured towards the open gate with a flourish. "The door is right there. Use it."

Bobby's bravado faltered. Mr. Black exuded an air of quiet authority that was difficult to ignore. He wasn't afraid of a confrontation, that much was clear.

With a playful wink, Mr. Black slammed the door shut, leaving Bobby fuming on the doorstep. Ricco and Smash, wiping tears from their eyes, hurried towards the car.

"Get us out of here," Bobby snarled, his voice laced with defeat.

As they sped away, the sound of Mr. Black's laughter still hung in the air, a constant reminder of his failed attempt at intimidation.

Bobby, humiliated and frustrated, silently vowed to get even. But one thing was clear – underestimating Mr. Black, especially when armed with a good bathrobe and a sharp wit, was a mistake he wouldn't make twice.