"Now," a very self-satisfied tone, "if I do you the favor of removing the hood and the duct tape, are you going to stay quiet and remember that I'm in control?"

Cas nodded.

When the hood came off he was blinded momentarily by the light, a floor lamp a few feet in front of him. But his eyes recovered as the tape was peeled, then ripped, off of his face.

He grunted, then looked up. The man backed up, looking at Cas, smiling. He was wearing black casual slacks and a dark gray shirt open at the throat; it was the only time Cas had ever seen him without a tie.

"Richard?" Even though he'd known, he still couldn't believe it. "What are you doing?"

The smile hardened to anger. "Don't give me that innocent look. You can't ruin a man's life and then pretend you didn't do it. Well – " something amused him – "I will. But you can't. You don't have the strength."

"Are you – " His mind was racing, and he really didn't want to bring anyone else's name to the attention of this maniac – "Are you talking about – "

There was a moment's silence.

"Say the names," Richard said acidly. "Alan. And David. You turned them against me. They were your tools. You may as well say their names."

Cas swallowed. At least it sounded like Richard wasn't personally angry at them. With luck, they wouldn't be going through this.

"If anyone should be confused, it's me," Richard continued. "What did I do to you? I gave you a job. And I'd have been more than willing to be your mentor. With your interest in spiritual matters, and guidance from me, you could have reached the top in religious publication. At first I thought you were coy, and then I thought you were stupid. It wasn't until later – "

A memory hit Cas hard. He'd been talking to the Human Resources director at Gaillard Publishing, Melinda something, who was giving Cas suggestions about other places he might try when a hard voice with precise diction had come from the open door behind him. "Well, Melinda, let's not be so quick to dismiss someone with a functioning brain who doesn't want to devote his life to website design."

By that time, Cas had turned, and the newcomer had extended his hand. "I'm Richard Chase."

He wasn't particularly tall, and his hairline was receding, but he was slender and energetic, with a compelling smile and eyes that suggested he knew the secrets of the universe and found them pretty damn funny. Cas knew enough about charisma to know that the people who had it in spades usually had some sorrow or strain in their background, but then so do a lot of people.

"You're the founder of Gaillard, aren't you?" Cas had stood, shaking hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Chase had tilted his head slightly to one side with a smile, as if to say, Of course it is. "What brings you to our doorstep?"

"I have a master's degree in religious studies from KU, and of course the next step is a doctorate. But I've been thinking that my whole life so far has been devoted to academics, and before – before I – "

"Immerse yourself for life," Chase said, and Cas nodded – "I've been thinking that I should work full-time in the real world."

Chase nodded. Cas continued, "The problem is that I may only do this for six months, and then apply for admission to doctoral programs. I completely understand that there aren't six-month jobs just sitting around waiting to be taken, but I thought I'd come in and just ask about it."

With wry humor in his eyes, Chase had looked over at the HR director. "Well, Melinda, he has brains, a master's degree, he's well spoken, he has initiative. Surely we can find something for him to do for a few months." He'd looked back at Cas. "It would be a paid internship – which, I should tell you, doesn't pay much. But in six months we can re-visit your status. By that time you may have decided to stay with us." He looked back at Melinda, who – Cas now realized – had been looking at the top of her desk and hadn't said a word since Chase had walked in. "You get him started on the paperwork and then send him up to my office. We'll discuss the specifics."

" – destroy me!" Chase was ranting. "And finally I realized that it was your envy. You wanted to be what I am, and you couldn't. Admit it."

Cas came back to the present. Some kind of response was required, and he had to think fast. What he wanted to do was stall for time, drag things out.

"I, I may have been envious," he said softly. "I didn't really think."

"Well, what did you think? When you were having your trysts with Alan in the cafeteria, talking about me, degrading me, why did you think you were doing it?"

He remembered, a couple of the many times he'd had lunch with Alan – listening, trying not to appear judgmental or instructive – looking across the cafeteria to see Chase, tie over his shoulder, eating a salad or a chicken dish delivered from the toniest restaurant in Kansas City that would do delivery. He'd been talking with other executives or sitting by himself, reading something on his laptop. Cas had kept a quiet eye on him as Alan whispered his humiliation, his crushed disappointment, his fear of reprisal, the encouraging words or the threat Chase had given him that day. As far as Cas could tell, Chase had never looked across the room at them, never been aware of them. But obviously he had been.

A slap jerked his head and stung his face. "So why did you want to destroy me? If it wasn't envy?"

"I didn't – I – " Cas was thinking as fast as he could. "I didn't think I was destroying you. I thought I was helping Alan. He was – " Cas met Chase's gaze. "In a way, you broke his heart. He loved you. I think he still does."

And with any luck, that would keep Alan safe. It seemed to calm Chase a bit. He bent to look Cas in the eye. "But you understand that this is the kind of thing that should be worked out by the parties involved. A third party shouldn't force his way in, talking behind my back, telling people to file lawsuits against me."

"Alan didn't file a lawsuit against – "

"David did! You think I don't know he was pouring out his pathetic heart to you too?"

"I never told anyone to file a lawsuit against you."

And that was true. The strongest directive he'd ever given, to either Alan or David, had been, "So, do you think this is the sort of thing that ought to be reported over Melinda's head?" And of course they knew it was, since Melinda was enabling, as fearful of losing her job as they were. But they had to work their way through to that.

A little jingle sounded from the long table. It was Cas' phone.

His breathing sped up as Chase looked over, then went to the table. He looked at Cas, picked up the phone. "You have a text message. From Dean."

He looked at the message. It wrung Cas' heart to have the phone so close, the help so close, and not be able to reach for it.

"'Give us an ETA on pizza.'" Chase smiled. "It's tempting to respond. But since the terrorists kidnapped you," he glanced at the phone, "twenty-two minutes ago, obviously it would be bad for the timeline if you said something rude to Dean." He put the phone down. "And besides, I owe Dean something, so rudeness would be inappropriate."

"Terrorists – um – What do you owe Dean?"

"Well." He folded his arms, leaning against the table, and looked at Cas with rage over his smile. "Since you've made it possible for me to have so much free time recently, I've been making something of a study of you. About two weeks ago, suddenly, you were gone. It's true, I didn't have all the arrangements in place yet, but it was disconcerting. And then a few days ago, there was your Facebook post from Chicago, and someone named Dean responded, 'So on your last day, you get to have some fun?'" Chase couldn't have looked more smug. "So I knew you were coming back the next day. I figured the mechanic would either pick you up at the airport or meet you somewhere to celebrate your return. I just waited outside your apartment building in that – " he looked dour – "elegant rental car until the mechanic came out and drove away. I've been following you ever since."

That was unnerving. But clearly he wanted acknowledgment, so Cas gave it to him. "Smart. But how did you know where I live?"

Chase looked infuriated. "It's my company. I may not have a title, but I have the majority of the stock and people who are still loyal to me."

His secretary. Cas remembered Alan and David both telling him about incidents witnessed by Chase's secretary, things she'd denied later. Once the pressure was on, the two had spiraled into folie a deux, she clutching on to Chase's hand as he sank into the vortex. As far as Cas knew, she was still working there.

And again Cas was brought sharply back to the present as Chase picked up the Taser. He made a production of removing the cartridge. "Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you again." He held the heavy flashlight-looking object in one hand as he walked over to Cas. "But it has other uses. It's an excellent club."

He smiled at Cas' flinch before he slammed the Taser into Cas' face.

It was a stunning blow, snapping his head to one side. A corner on the notched metal ring cut his face. Just as he was feeling the pain from that, Chase back-handed him with the Taser, smashing it into his mouth. His head jerked helplessly the other way, and he tasted blood before he felt pain. The Taser struck next to his eye. White lights flashed in his vision as he gasped in pain. Then another cutting blow to his other cheek. He dropped his chin to his chest, desperately trying to evade, and yelled without realizing, "Stop it! Stop!"

And Chase did, stepping back to observe Cas, breathing heavily as he shifted the Taser to his left hand and stretched out the fingers of his right. "Well. That was every bit as satisfactory as I thought it would be."

He put the Taser down, pried Cas' head up from his chest, and turned Cas' head roughly left and right before dropping it. "Perfect."

Cas didn't want to open his eyes, but he heard Chase pouring himself a drink and a change in his voice's location that meant he'd sat down. "Now we wait for, I think, half an hour."

He didn't want to respond, but he really should keep Chase talking. "For what?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"For your injuries to swell. For blood to run all over your face. For you to look as bad as possible. Then you're going to make a video."

Cas just wanted to pass out, somehow escape the heavy mass of pain that was his head, but he dredged up the energy to say, "Video?"

"Yes. You're going to read something. I have it all written out for you. And – Now I'll repeat these instructions later, but it's good to make them clear several times. Especially since you don't seem to be well focused at the moment. I will show you a series of cards. You will read exactly what is on the cards. You will read every word, eliminating nothing, adding nothing. Trying anything clever won't help you. I'll simply stop recording and hit you some more, and we will continue that cycle until you read the cards correctly. Only then will I send the video."

"To whom?"

A pause. "Well, why don't I just show them to you."

He picked up and turned the pieces of poster board leaning against the table leg. Cas blinked hard; one eye's vision was obscured by swelling.

He read the cards silently, Chase laying them aside at a speed he chose. At the fourth card, Cas' lips parted and his good eye opened wide.

He looked up at Chase. "You're sending this to – "

"Mommy and Daddy, obviously. As soon as I saw your mother's name on a Facebook post, I began doing research. They're very well off."

Cas shook his head, staring at the cards. "Not that well off."

"They'd better be."

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, thinking.

Then he opened them and blinked several times.

"Keep reading," Chase ordered, and Cas did.

When Chase laid aside the last card, he said, "Is that all clear?"

Cas blinked several times, looking up at him. "No one will believe it."

"It's your job to make them believe it. If they don't believe it, you'll die. Let that be some motivation."

Cas gave a deep sigh, blinking his eyes.

"Why do you keep blinking like that?" Chase sounded annoyed.

"My eye is irritated."

"That's too bad." A pause, then "Would it help if I turned the lamp so that it wasn't so directly in your eyes?"

Cas blinked three times. "It might."

Chase moved over to the long table and turned on the table lamp, shifting it to shine directly into Cas' face. Cas closed his eyes and dropped his head.

Cas' ring tone sounded. Chase touched the face of the phone, then chuckled. "Dean really wants his pizza."

Cas sighed heavily.

.

"Something's wrong," Dean said.

Jess, carrying a freshly cleaned decorative mirror, paused on the bottom step. "Are we sure he doesn't just have his phone turned off?"

Dean nodded. "The message goes through. He's just not picking up."

"Well – maybe his phone's just messed up. He was going to the store and to Guillermo's, it's only been an hour – "

"Hour twenty," Dean said, and they both heard the back door open and close in the kitchen. Dean's face fell when Sam walked into the front hall from the kitchen, but Sam didn't seem to take it personally. "I didn't want to freak anyone out, so I went out back. I called Lawrence Memorial and the KU Student Health Center. He's not in either of them. So that's good."

Dean shook his head. "Something's wrong. I know it."

"Well," Sam said. "Let's go to Guillermo's see if we can find his car."

"Good idea," Jess said. "When we find him we'll tell him his phone's a piece of junk, then we'll all sit down at Guillermo's and just have lunch there."

Dean headed for the back door without a word. Sam and Jess exchanged a glance as they followed him.

.

Chase put down Cas' phone carefully – he needed it – picked up the Taser and slammed it down on the edge of the collapsible table, which jumped and rattled. "'Message Not Received.' Again." He walked over to stand in front of Cas. "I know 'Mom' and 'Dad' both have phones. They're in your contacts list. I've sent this video – tried to send it several times. It doesn't go through to either of them. Where are they, you little bastard?"

He'd played for time as long as he could. Any further delay would enrage Chase further, bringing the Taser down on his head again. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the hand holding it. "They're at a spiritual retreat."

A momentary look of confusion. "Even if they have their phones turned off –"

"In Nepal."

.

Dean hurried across the parking lot, his grim face telling Sam and Jess the news before he reached Cas' car, by which they were standing. "Not in Guillermo's or any of those stores."

"Not in the grocery store," Jess said. "We split up and checked everywhere."

"All right," Sam said. "We know his car is here. He's not in any of the stores and he's not in the car."

Dean gave a little grunt, reached into the unlocked car, and popped the trunk. Before he could straighten up, Sam was at the back of the car. "OK. Nothing in here."

"Is it too soon to call the police?" Jess asked. "They'll probably say he just decided to walk somewhere – "

"And not answer his phone," Dean said tightly, watching as Sam dropped to the ground.

"Something behind the tire," Sam said. "I think it might be Cas' keys."

His long arm began to reach under the car.

"Sam, stop," Dean said suddenly. "Crime scene."

Sam pulled his hand back and sat on his haunches. He looked up at Dean and then back down to the ground, where Dean was pointing.

The ground in front of Cas' car was littered with tiny colorful ovals of paper. Even standing, you could see that something was printed in minuscule type on each of them.

"What are those?" Jess asked.

.

Chase turned back toward the table, ignoring the sounds Cas was making. He was gasping and spluttering, trying to recuperate from vomiting after Chase had driven the Taser's end into his gut.

"I am not going to wait two days for my money," Chase snarled. He threw down the Taser and snatched up Cas' phone, reading over recent messages. "Dean seems very concerned about you. What do you think? Is he concerned enough to do whatever it takes to reach your parents?"

"Please," Cas whispered. "Dean gets so scared."

"Then he's perfect," Chase said, his fingers moving on Cas' phone.

Cas dropped his head to hide the smile tugging at the uninjured corner of his mouth.

.

"They're AFIDs," Dean said. "They blow out of a Taser when it's shot. It helps the cops to track the cartridge."

"Not good," Sam said. "But this could be from something that happened a couple days ago."

"No," Jess said. She was pointing at the windshield, and both men moved closer.

Two tiny paper ovals clung to the windshield of Cas' car, hidden behind the windshield wiper. "I noticed those before. I just didn't know what they were."

"OK," Sam said. "Now we call the cops."

Looking numb, his gaze fixed on the windshield, Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket.

The ringtone went off in his hand.

Dean sucked in a breath, looking baffled. "Cas. It's a video."

Sam and Jess moved over as Dean opened the video message. Then Dean grunted as though from a gut punch.

Obviously bound, Cas sat in a chair. One of his eyes was swollen half-shut. Blood running from his nose and one corner of his mouth had dried on his face, which was marked with reddish-purple bruises. And he was sitting in front of a banner, the black ground and white symbols of the ISIS flag.

Cas blinked three times, sighed deeply, cleared his throat, and spoke. He was obviously reading from an off-camera script.

"My name Cas Novak. This message is sent by the justice of Allah to my father, and to all apostates who have worshiped the idols of money and property.

"Those without obedience to Allah do not deserve wealth. Those without obedience to Allah care less for their children than for their wealth." He gave a long broken sigh. "You may have a chance to prove your obedience by exchanging your wealth for your child."

"You will gather – " He closed his eyes for a moment, turning his head away from the lights and sighing, then looked forward again determinedly – "two million dollars in unmarked twenty-dollar bills, placing it in banker's boxes. There will be no dye packs or other traps. You will have no communication with the crusader forces of local or national police. If you shirk any of these duties," he blinked rapidly and then spoke the threat rapidly, "my blood will be on your hands.

"I will call you again in four hours with further instructions. You will provide, through Allah's bounty and justice, ghanimah to support the blessed events unfolding across the world, or – " He choked a little, blinked, sighed – "I will be slaughtered, as have so many apostates and crusaders." He blinked five times, and this time it didn't look so much as if his eyes were irritated as that he was trying to keep from crying. "The choice is yours. Allahu Akbar."

He gave a long sigh, dropping his head, and the screen went black.

"Oh my God," Jess whispered.

"Why did he send it – " Sam broke off in the middle of his own question. "Nepal. His parents are in the freaking Himalayas incommunicado. At some point Cas told them that, and they – they got him to tell them who'd be the next best person."

"ISIS?" Jess said. "That's crazy."

"OK." Sam gave his head a little shake. "We've gotta snap out of it. Dean?"

Dean was looking straight ahead.

"I'm going to call the cops, OK?"

Dean nodded, and Sam moved a few steps away.

Dean began stabbing buttons on his phone. "Dean?" Jess said.

"Replying."

"Should you?"

Dean looked up at her. "Yeah. Might trigger something. You're right. Let the police decide."

Jess touched his arm. "It'll be OK. We'll get him back."

Dean looked at her as though he didn't see her.

"We'll get him back," she repeated firmly.

A couple of minutes later, Sam walked back over to them. "OK, I'm still not sure they don't think it's a prank, but Lawrence PD is sending a car."

Dean nodded. Then he started walking toward the Impala.

"Wait." Sam moved in front of him. "What can you do that the cops can't?"

Dean stopped. "I don't know. But I'm not – I can't stand here waiting, and then sit in a police station explaining that Cas wouldn't fake his own kidnapping to get money out of his parents, and explaining that the two of us aren't having any problems and he's just trying to get my attention, and for sure that I didn't set it up, and – " He shook his head. "No. I'm going to do something."

"What?"

"Well, for one thing I'm going to study the hell out of that video, see if I can pick up any clues about where he is."

"Estimate how far away he could be," Sam said, looking at the time on his phone. "He left the house a few minutes after noon, it's 1:43 now. Deduct time for driving here, estimated time for recording the video and, and other stuff – "

"Beating the hell out of him," Dean said quietly.

Sam nodded. "Deduct that from the total time, get estimated travel time. Get a map and draw a circle."

"Like that," Dean said, and started walking toward the Impala again.

"Wait, stop," Jess said. "The kidnappers are going to call again in four hours. The police will need your phone."

"I need to study – " Dean nodded. "You're right. I'm going to send the video to Sam, and then we'll exchange phones."

"Send it to both of us," Jess said.

As he did so, Jess looked at Sam intently, and he looked back at her with a slight pucker between his eyebrows.

There was a little jingle from both of their phones indicating that the video had arrived.

"OK," Jess said. "Both of you, give me your phones. I'll give you mine. So the police will have Dean's phone, I'll have Sam's, and you'll have mine. Sam, you go with Dean."

A flash of a smile crossed Sam's face and was quashed. "Jess, are you sure?"

She nodded. "Hopefully it'll be a while before they get ticked off enough at you guys to track Sam's phone, and a while after that before they realize I've got it. That'll buy you some time."

"They're gonna be asking you all kinds of questions," Dean said, "why did we go, what's Cas' background, what – "

"After you saw the video," Jess replied, "you freaked out and jumped in the car. Sam went with you to keep you from doing anything crazy. I know a lot about Cas, and I have Rachel's number. She'll be able to tell them anything about her brother, and she'll be able to reach the other brothers and Anna." She smiled quickly. "They'll have more background on Cas than they'll ever need. Mr. and Mrs. Novak – the cops will be able to contact whatever agency or embassy or whatever a lot faster than any of us would anyway."

"All the same, we're dumping a lot on you," Sam said.

"It's OK. You guys – Look, I believe in the police as the first line of defense, I do. But you guys are such a great team. I mean, if you could have the first string and the second string on the field at the same time, why wouldn't you?"

Sam kissed her. Dean gave her a quick nod. "Thanks, Jess. I owe you one. I mean that."

She held out her hand. "Phones."

They gave her their phones; she handed hers to Sam. "Go with God."

The Impala was pulling out of one entrance to the parking lot as a Lawrence police car pulled into the other.