Best Defense

Kidnapped

...Sean Danial Warner POV's....

Last night, Franda sent me a short message laced with so much enthusiasm and joy that I could feel it gushing from my phone.

..."Tonight the girls and I will have fun....

...Quickly get your business done, and we'll have some more fun."...

I was so happy when I received the message from her that I read it over and over again. Franda, that woman is truly magical. I don't know in any other way I have to explain to the world how much his presence has affected my life. All night I imagined it, recalled our unique travel story, and drove me to the time I asked Mr. Clevert two years ago.

Queensland, two years ago.

At six in the morning, he invited me to meet at the Secret Treasure Shocked Market to look for some antiques that might give him some sort of jackpot.

For most people, going to the market is a surprise that most of the stalls in the form of car luggage it becomes a fun weekend activity. For Mr. Clevert, an elaborate set of unwritten rules, was entirely designed to take him to the Holy Grail, a discovery that would one day yield him wealth.

Watching him act like learning strategy. While visitors will usually only see a man in his fifties having an exciting conversation with the owner of the booth, it is clear to the trained eye that Mr. Clevert is an accomplished negotiator, skillfully driving the conversation toward the right price.

"It's all about shrewdness and patience, kid." he explained, after I saw him bid for a small, ornate tank ornament, lowering the price from 35 dollars to 15 dollars. "This beautiful one was made by one of Melbourne's famous war equipment factories as an example for sellers during the Second World War. He wanted 35 bucks for this and I could've happily paid 40 bucks. Those who claim to know the most about things are the ones who know nothing, understand? If they don't say anything but the price won't go, chances are they really understand."

We walked up to Frost Dine, a seedy-looking food-seller van in the middle of the field, then ordered two glasses of hot tea.

"So, what do you think, Brad?" I asked Mr. Clevert after telling me about the girl I admire.

"Love, defeat impossibility, kid." Couples are reunited after thirty, forty, sometimes even fifty years, and those amazing coincidences reunite old love again. Don't you understand what this means?"

I have to admit, I don't understand. Although the story of the couple in question ended beautifully, what does that mean for my beloved girl and me? I don't have twenty years to wait for the reunion. "Sorry, Brad."

"That means it's possible, kid! There are so many people who follow their inner voice and believe in dreams that are considered stupid by others, and those dreams come true. Well, I'm not saying you have to wait until thirty years to get your girl. What I mean is, you have to take every opportunity."

"Bradley Clevert, you promised me a donut!" exclaim Mrs. Clevert while crossing the muddy field in annoyance towards us. He only dared to get down from the car after the sky was a bit bright. He carried Presley, looking cool in a blue-polluted coat, and looking more than grateful to be able to set foot on the dense plains.

"And the doughnuts you'll get, my love. Want some tea too?"

Mrs. Clevert glanced at the food vendor's van then shuddered. "Looks not. I don't mind buying a lot of stuff from this place, but not with listeria bacteria." he said, making Mr. Clevert and I laughed.

***

From there my determination to pursue Franda became stronger. Mr. Clevert was truly the best motivator for me. I'll bet he's already helped hundreds of people in the search for a mate. Ah, another source of my motivation to get Franda, the words of wisdom I copied from my calendar table of twelve years: Each journey begins with one step.

The vibration of the phone in my grasp pulled my mind back. A new notification appeared on his screen, a row of anonymous numbers. There was no reason for me to ignore this call, but I had a feeling he would try to contact me as long as I kept avoiding him. Perhaps this time he would mention something useful with regards to his location.

"You're reporting me to the police?" the moment I picked up the phone. His voice sounded angry and urgent. "I told you, if they catch me, I'll die before I get to jail."

"What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath. "Please, just help me find Frank. After that I'll turn myself in, then we can all get back to our respective affairs."

"I told you, you have absolutely no right to negotiate. Stop whining and just give yourself up, Dave."

"Look, you should know that I'm taking a huge risk by calling you like this. One of them may have been tracking my phone call,"

"That's great." I said cut it quickly.

Dave hung up his phone right before I could ask any further questions. I stared at the phone in my hand with a frown as if the answer would just appear.

"Hey."

I raised my head and looked at a well-built young man, who, out of nowhere, was approaching from across the street towards me. He was wearing a dark-colored jumpsuit, his black hair looking sticking out from the edge of his snapback hat. His face was childish, his nose was crooked like the beak of an eagle, and the look in his eyes seemed to smile as he looked at me.

"You're Sean Danial Warner, aren't you?"

I narrowed my eyes at him but flintered with his question.

"Must say, I'm one of your fans, anyway." And now he has come before me. "Look at you directly, this is. I don't know." she said lightly.

"Who are you?"

He shrugged his shoulders while bending his lips indifferently. "A friend." he said, and his tone sounded like a question.

"Hey, Rud! We didn't come for a chat, get it over with quickly."

I searched for the origin of the sound and saw a middle-aged man in the driver's seat in a black van with his window open which was parked near the sidewalk.

"Basic, you old bastard! Always told me to do this." the young man in front of me grumbled. "I hate to end this conversation, but..." He muttered as he pulled something similar to a fabric fold from his pants pocket, grasped it with both hands and looked back at me. "You have to come with us."

As she grew, a dense darkness suddenly enveloped me and as something sharp smelled touched my nose, I began to lose my consciousness.

I tried to open my eyes, light everywhere. It comes from above, or from the side, or both. It felt like I was in painful spots, especially in my head. It was as if there was a cloud hanging low above it, like a thin mist from a tunnel in the morning. Blocking my mind when trying to remember something.

I shook my head and tried to drive away the fog, but it wouldn't go.

Now there were sounds, echoing like from inside a tunnel. I frowned, it was very difficult to concentrate my mind on hearing it clearly. I closed my eyes again, hoping it would dampen the buzz in my ears and remove the fog.

"How much profol do you actually use? Fucking idiots! If anything happens to her..." The voice of a man. Heavy and deep, with a thick batak dialect. Then the sound rhymed like the sole of a shoe that collides with the floor, back and forth.

"Only four milligrams, after all, you're the one who told me to hurry, boss." This time his voice was younger, sounding nervous. Then there are other sounds like things being moved.

"I said tell him to get in the car, not sedate him. For God's sake!"

Drugging? Now my eyes opened without stopping, faint shadows at first, like tall, towering pillars of dark color. I blinked my eyes, groaning at the sudden pain pressing on my head. Now my vision is clearer, as bright as in the sun.

I was on a black leather sofa, in a strange room. With soundproof walls, as commonly seen in recording studios. Some equipment with large monitors I didn't recognize filled the side of the room. Then I saw four men, they were all surrounding a metal table in the middle of the room, and there were many weapons strewn across it. Damnit damnit!

"Hey, he's conscious." One of them who looked all black said when he saw me inching to sit. Now the other three people set their sights on me.

Alert alarm went off in my head. I thought of a bad scenario in my mind right now, very, very badly. Shit, I should have asked Ameer to drive me to dinner last night. At the very least, I probably don't need to be in this kind of situation. I held on to the back of the sofa to help me stand up, preventing myself from staggering.

"Hey, man. How's your condition?" the young man I remembered came to me on the road earlier, walking closer towards me with quick steps.

Goddamn bum!

"Hey, Rud, wait! I don't think it's a good idea to..."

He was already in front of me, and when he was about to extend his hand to touch my shoulder, I took my fist with all my might to his face.