Eva

"Click!" snapped the camera.
"Thank you, Ronald," replied the old man as he let the little girl stand up from his lap.
"Eva," he turned to her, "now go and sit down there - do you see the chair over there?"
Eva nodded.
"Very good. Sit down there and have your lollies."
The girl went as the old man Franklin ordered. Ronald handed the camera to him as a black-and-white photography slipped out of it. Franklin examined it and replied, "Ronald, send this to the address on the table, please."
"Yes, sir."

After Ronald had left, Franklin sat down next to the girl and questioned her, knowing she would not try to scream or even remember a thing after she had been kidnapped.
"How are the candy?"
Eva raised her head and smiled, "Good lollies!"
He smiled back to her cunningly, "Do you miss your mommy?"
"Yes. Where is she?"
"She will come and pick you up tonight. r maybe she is still looking for you at the park. ave you ever seen mommy cry?"
"No."
"Would you like to see her cry? Tonight you will. And you will hear her scream and yelling at you, because you went lost in the park and she will be angry with you. She won't like you anymore, Eva. Mommy doesn't love you anymore."
Eva stared at the old man silently. As she blinked each time her mouth dropped wider.
"I'm bad girl? Mommy think I'm bad?"
"Yes, she does, from today."
The girl let out a moan, and it soon turned into a rapid cry. The plateful of lollies in her hand dropped to the floor as she kept on sobbing. Franklin looked at her face emotionlessly for a few minutes, as her crying got louder and inaudible. He left the room and came back within a minute. He had a cassette player and a big paper bag in his hands. He pushed the record button as Eva cried and cried. When Franklin gave the big paper bag to her, stopped immediately and tried to open the bag.
"No, no, no, don't open the bag yet, Eva," the old man took a box of Kleenex and put it on her hand, "Dry your tears first."
She did as he spoke slowly.
"Don't open it until I say, okay?"
She nodded and started looking around.

The laptop on the table showed the transaction of $60,000,000 from the account of Jackson to F. Carvin. The old man smiled satisfyingly and packed up his black office bag and took the keys and the laptop, leaving a clock on the table.
"Eva, when the clock rings, open the bag and have your surprise."
She laughed happily and waved good-bye to the old man as he left the room.

Five minutes later, the room exploded as flaring flames and fires burnt the windows fierily. A black truck escaped towards the end of the street, with the plate number F.C.988.