Sonny Corinthos grew more and more frustrated with each unsuccessful attempt to discover the origin of the frantic call he'd received from his stepson Michael. He knew that it was irrational, but his helplessness continued to masquerade as anger. And his helpless guards bore the brunt.

What the hell good are you? ” Sonny railed at the technology wizard he'd had brought to the penthouse.

The teenage boy shrugged off Sonny's anger. He was young enough – and arrogant enough – to believe himself untouchable. Beside, he knew that once he was able to crack the mystery of the call's origin, Mr. Corinthos would be once again be his usual grateful self.

“His guy is good,” the teenager noted. “I don't recognize his work.” His fingertips flew across the laptop's keys. Flashes of light bounced off the colorful fingernail polish he wore. For several minutes the only sound in the room was the clicking of keys.

“Whoa.” The teenager sat back in disbelief and admiration. His efforts to trace the call had uncovered a level of work that he did not believe existed yet. “Just… whoa, dude.”

“What does that mean?” Sonny demanded. He watched as the teenager took a moment to double-check his findings.

“There are,” the green-haired youth explained, “only two guys on the planet that I know about who are better than me at this stuff.” He made the claim without any trace of arrogance. “Whoever did this was waaaay ahead of us all.” He shut the laptop. “And it will take a while to figure out how he did it. I'm going to have to contact the other guys if you want answers.”

Sonny bit back his frustration. “How long are you talking?”

“Longer than you have,” the kid replied apologetically. He took the mob boss' silence as permission to leave the penthouse.

Sonny gestured the remainder of the guards from the penthouse and softly closed the door behind them. Hours had passed since Michael's call and three important things had not happened. Jason had not arrived at the penthouse, nor had he called. Michael had not managed to call Sonny again. And Anthony Sorrell had not tried to contact him about the terms of Carly's release.

The edges of Sonny's confidence were beginning to fray. He had no choice now but to make a move. He prayed that the next move he made did not result in disaster.

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