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Act II
It seems forever before Steven feels the inevitable rumble of the engine starting and the sensation of moving forward. He takes a deep breath and fights to concentrate over the blaring heavy metal and the fear. He has to remember where they go, to feel the turns and try to figure out where they are. And where they're going. He needs to escape.
But time passes slowly. Each moment is an eternity, and the songs seem to go on for days. For a moment he is thankful for the blindfold, thankful that the kidnappers can't see the fear and frustration in his eyes as he comes to the sudden realization that he is hopelessly lost in a maze of invisible streets. There have been too many twists and turns; the van has covered too much distance. There is no way he could find his way back now.
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The kidnappers follow the Lady's instructions to the letter, driving aimlessly for hours with the radio cranked up loud. They detour down crowded streets so they can gawk at the girls in their weekend club clothes, through dark back alleys where only the rats notice their passing, and over deserted dirt roads with the silver moon shining bright overhead. They hit the interstate just so they can push the old van up to 90 and scream out the open front windows before taking the twisting mousetrap exit to get off. They find deserted parking lots to wind their way through and residential neighborhoods so quiet they have to turn the music off completely to avoid notice. It didn't matter where they went, just so long as they kept moving.
They took turns checking on the mark, occasionally turning the tape in the Walkman over or adjusting the headphones on his ears. The green lights on the van's radio clearly read 1 AM. Only another hour or so to kill before they were to deliver him to the Lady.
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The van begins to slow and there is the distant vibration of the van door sliding open and the kidnappers getting out. Steven tenses. He isn't sure whether he is more glad that the ride might be over or terrified of what could happen to him next. He feels his arms being lowered from over his head and winces at the stinging pins and needles sensation as his circulation returns to normal. A moment later, strong hands have hold of his shoulders, dragging him to his feet, forcing him out of the van. Finally, the headphones are roughly jerked from his ears, and Steven finds the silence to be far more deafening and ominous than the music had been at it's worst.
There is the soft sound of gravel crunching under his feet as he is forced forward. The kidnappers do not speak, and this silence also serves to make Steven's pulse race. Suddenly, they are stopping and there is the sound of a heavy metal door being opened. Then he is forced forward again. There is a faint echo of their feet on the floor. Tile, maybe? Or concrete? What sort of hell had they brought him to?
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The kidnappers stood silently in the hall, waiting for the Lady's men to arrive. They glanced sidelong at their mark, almost shivering in his bonds, and marveled that he had retained so much self control. Most that they had brought here had long since broken down, sobbing behind the blindfold, begging to be released before the gag was securely in place, offering money or power or anything else they would ask if only they could be set free again. But this one was different. He had chosen not to cower or flee but to fight back. It was almost a shame to turn him over to the Lady.
Almost.
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Steven stands in the cold silence, his heart thundering in his ears, and wonders why his kidnappers are just waiting here like this. Shouldn't they be taking him somewhere? Or doing something to him? What the hell was going on here? Then, faintly, he can hear the sound of distant footfalls coming closer. He hears the kidnappers shifting their feet around him.
It seems as if an eternity before the newcomers arrive, but to Steven even that is far too soon. There is the soft rustle of paper being handed over and then new hands firmly take hold of Steven's coat and shoulders. A voice hisses in his ear "Don't even think of fighting us, boy, cuz you're gonna lose." Then he is forced forward again. Behind him he can hear the kidnappers walking away, and a moment later, the door slamming shut behind them. It echoes and in the hall like a warning of imminent doom.
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As Steven walks with his new captors he becomes aware of the floor gently sloping downward and of the air becoming slightly cool and damp smelling. His mind races as he tries to determine where he may have been taken, but to no avail. This place doesn't fit any of the places he conjures up in memory, and the hours spent in the van had done their job well. It could be two blocks or two hundred miles from his office.
After a time the floor begins to level out and Steven is forced around a sharp corner. There is the sound of a door being closed behind them and a soft breeze of warm air from an overhead vent. There is only a moment to ponder his new surroundings before Steven's new captors go to work. His hands are held out in front of him and there is the sound of tape being sliced through with a knife. Then his coat is roughly removed and his arms pulled out away from his sides. With the soft click of a metal padlock his wrists are secured in what feels like heavy shackles and held there. Next, his ankles are pushed apart and something is locked between them, preventing him from closing his legs. A moment later all activity has ceased. There is the sound of the door again, and then silence.
As Steven waits in the darkness and is finally able to ponder what has become of him, he has a disturbing thought that chills him to the bone, causing him to shiver even in the warm room. These people - the kidnappers and these new captors - seem to know exactly what they're doing. How to grab him off the street, silence and bind him in the van, drive him about until he is completely lost, and then transfer him to another location and set of captors. They have obviously done this before. And since he had never seen anything about a kidnapping ring or disappearing persons on the news, they were obviously very good at what they did.
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