Risk

Captured

“Courier.”

“Just be a minute, they’re packaging it now.”

While he waited, George ran through ideas for the business. He would need a new laptop, one capable of running AutoCAD or similar programs. That would be the main expense, apart from advertising, and initial printing runs for invoices, letterhead, and, of course, business cards. So that he could finally put those letters he had earned after his name when they would actually mean something. He’d be the most overqualified landscape designer in the city, but who cares.

Pete had a smart head for business; he would have to learn to rely on him for most of that. He was great at keeping expenses low, keeping track of the logistics, etc. He had made a successful business out of a lawn mower and a rake at the age of 18, and that achievement shouldn’t be underestimated.

“Here you go, George. Take it easy.”

“Thanks.” On with the Ray-Bans. And out the door.

The elevator let him out at the ground floor, and he pushed his way through the revolving doors and out onto the sidewalk towards his bike. He barely had time to notice the large brown van parked next to it when he felt a hand grab him by the arm. He struggled against the powerful grip, but his satchel was almost immediately taken off his shoulder and he saw Chet hop on his bike and speed away with it. Turning his head around to see who his captor was, he found himself face to face with Big Eddy.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Georgey.”

“No, I’ve just been busy. I was going to come see you tonight.”

“You’ve been a real fleet-footed Hermes to catch up with, too. But now we’re going to go and have a little talk.”

The van door suddenly swung open, and he was pulled in by waiting arms extending from inside. The sunglasses were ripped off his face and a sack was thrown over his head. Something hard hit him across the back and he fell to the floor of the van, where his hands were bound with some kind of rough twine. Two doors slammed shut and they were moving.

His heart was beating wildly, but he forced himself to control his breathing. If he kept on hyperventilating in the sack he would quickly pass out. Once he had calmed his breathing, he tried to listen for clues as to where they were going, but apart from traffic sounds, he could hear nothing.

“C’mon Eddy, can’t we just—” he began, but was cut off by a sudden blow to his kidney. Nobody spoke again for the entire journey.

George’s mind worked over what he would say, tried to think of what they might do to him. How far would they take this? How much money was involved? Would they just threaten him, or actually try to get rid of him? He didn’t think the situation could be all that bad. He didn’t really know anything, and this was a small time operation, wasn’t it? He would agree to whatever they said, not provoke them. Hope like hell he could talk his way out of it.

The ride seemed to last forever. His concept of time was skewed in his current condition, but he suspected it was between 45 minutes and an hour before they pulled to a stop, someone got out of the van and slammed the door closed and then he heard a roll-up door opening. The van drove forward and then the sound of the door rolling closed again. Another door opened in the van, and then the sliding door was pulled open. Hands from inside the van were pulling him up and passing him to hands waiting outside the van.

Someone was holding his arm and pushing him forward. He heard a door being opened in front of them, and then closing behind them once they had passed through. He was suddenly turned around and pushed down from the shoulders. A chair impeded his downward progress, and the sack was removed. His hands and legs were secured to the chair.