Chapter III

illiam awoke with a start as the sound of the door rattled.  He watched as the trap door through which his food was being delivered slide up, the little tin tray slid in.

Then a glass of water was set beside it with a dirty hand gnarled with age, which trembled so badly, some of the precious liquid was spilled.

"Can you tell me who you are?  Why am I here?  What do you want with me?  How long you intend to keep me?" William shouted out in quick succession.  But the abject old person was quiet, rendering not so much as a grunt as they let the trap door slide closed, slid the bolt home, and trudged off down the hall.

William knew he was in some kind of underground facility.  Was he still at the house he had approached two . . . no, three . . . no . . . William shook his head as he tried to get a fix on the time he'd already been here.  He had been stripped of everything in his possession while obviously drugged via the water he had been given.

He remembered being herded into the house through a side door which was invisible until one was right beside it.  It had swung inward very heavily, screaking all the way until it banged heavily into the wall.  His instructions were to sit at the huge, heavy wooden table, then shackle his hand with the cuffs chained closely to it.

He would not drink the contents of a tin cup which was offered as water, until he was extremely dry.  He knew instantly something was in it, which tasted heavily of herbs and mud.  Within seconds the room began to swirl, and he leaned over the table to stop the movement.  The next thing he remembered, was waking up in the dungeon.  He could have been moved to another place in another state or simply into this dark dungeon which was now his home.

With no idea as to the movement of the sun, he had no idea as to the time of day, or how many times the sun had set or arisen.  All he knew was his clothes were quite dirty and his beard was of more than two days growth.

They had thoroughly searched his suit as the lining where his emergency beacon had been opened and the thin strip which acted as the antennae had been removed.  How they had known about that, he hadn't a clue.  But every hem, every stitch of the coat had been taken out, leaving him with little more than rags to wear.  He wondered how Sharon was taking his absence, and what those of his team were doing to locate him.

He wondered if they'd found the car.  One thing for certain he knew, was they could retrieve the GPS log and retrace the movements of the car as well as the antennae in his suit.  With that little bit of reinforcement, he felt better, but still wished he had some kind of knowledge of his location, who had him, what they wanted with him and a thousand other questions he would certainly ask if he got the chance.

One thing in his favor few, if any, other FBI agent turned prisoners ever enjoyed:  And that was he had Someone to Whom he could pray and receive strength and encouragement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The evening of the first day that Will disappeared, Sharon looked at her watch and wondered where William could be.  It certainly is not like him to be anything but prompt, especially when it came to dinner!  Together, they were to meet Len and Melinda at the dinner celebrating their final training and test, and to plan on the trip to the graduation ceremony in which they were to be presented their diplomas and certificates.

True, they had been bonafide FBI agents for the better part of a year, but they were finishing the rigorous training and physicals.  All the while, they were working on cases as if they'd been in the agency for years.  But, there was one case in which they were being tried vehemently in.  Their patience was tried daily, their time consumed for every little detail.

While they were sticklers for attention to every detail, each and every detail in this case was hard fought for and hard to come by.  But somehow, there seemed to be some kind of connection or vague resemblance to another era of their lives.  Sharon wondered now if Will's absence was another connection to this case.  He was already two hours late, Len and Melinda had already waited, ordered, eaten and had gone to another appointment.

While she considered whether to leave and head for home, her phone rang, and a voice out of the past rasped into her ear.  "We have your husband, Agent William Travis, and if you want to see him alive again, get into your car and follow the directions you'll find taped to your steering wheel.  Leave your phone on the table . . .  Remember, I'm watching your every move."

Sharon knew this was not going to be easy.  She touched the off button, then the one button dialing of the emergency number which would alert Len and Melinda as to her situation.  From their location, no matter where it was, the transponder on her car would provide instant location of it, and, they could follow closely.  She then laid the phone on the table, left the money for a tip and the dinner they did not get to enjoy, and walked out.

When she opened her car, she found a piece of paper taped to her steering wheel and the simple instructions to drive west.  She started the car, pulled out onto the street and turned west and within seconds, a phone rang.  She looked under her purse and retrieved the little cheap throw-a-way and unfamiliar phone.  Again, the icy fingers of a chill ran up her spine as she heard the voice, "turn into the parking lot coming up on the right.  Get out and into the red Mustang, and continue west."

This was going to be tough for them to follow her.  She dialed the emergency number of the agency, her team number then hit the #*# to alert the team to this phone.  As she completed the number, the phone rang again, and the icy voice said "Leave the phone in the seat . . . along with your Springfield, backup pistol, knife, your purse and jacket."

"So much for being able to tail me," she thought.  After stripping the gear off and securing them under the seat, she laid the phone on her car seat, got out, locked the door and got under the wheel of the Mustang.  Again, there was a phone which was already ringing.  "You're going to have to step up the pace here doll if you're wanting to see William alive again," the voice was tense and meant business.  "Now drive west again.  And hurry it up, but not fast enough to be pulled over."  The phone went dead.  It would not dial out this time . . .

Oh Lord, she prayed.  You're going to have to give me strength and the wisdom to follow You if we're going to get out of this alive.  After about a half hour of driving, the phone came on and gave instructions to where Williams car was located.  "Park behind Wills car shut the engine off and wait." the voice instructed.

Although it was not where he had parked it, she had no way of knowing this.  Neither did she know his proximity from her location.  She wondered how he'd ever found his way out here in the middle of no where.

As she shut the car engine off the quietness invaded her ears.  Suddenly, she felt very lightheaded, leaned back into the seat, and promptly went to sleep.  She never heard when the little valve was actuated that poured a sudden dose of the sleeping gas Flurothane into the car.  It was a magnificent way in which to kidnap someone.  Now, she was in complete and total control of her captors . . . and she knew it not.

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