Chapter Twelve

Taken

16:07

Mozhaysk, Russia

20 Hours Remaining

Robert Winters Jr. felt strangely comfortable, rocked by an unknown force, almost lulling him right back to sleep again. He had just woken from a pleasant dream involving that instructor, the lovely Anastasiya, but the details slipped away from him. He tried to grasp at them but they disappeared into the recesses of his unconscious mind. Submitting himself to defeat, Rob allowed himself to begrudgingly open his eyes.

For a moment, Rob couldn't quite understand just what he was looking at. It was dark but there was light enough to make out the faint white panels on either side of him. Behind him there was a set of double doors and in front of him was a mesh grating that shadowed the other side beyond detail. It was clear he was in a vehicle – a van, if he had to guess – that was going quite fast going by the shifts that were knocking his shoulders against one of the panels.

His mind felt foggy but Rob forced himself to his feet, feeling a weight tug at his ankle. He frowned and looked down and barely registered what he was looking at. There was a chain wrapped around his ankle, with a padlock tightly pulling the links together. The chain itself was hooped around a metal hoop, locked with another padlock. It wasn't even a combination padlock but one that required a key.

A shiver of panic ran through Rob's spine and he grabbed at the chain, pulling it wildly without a care of the noise he was making. The bangs and rattles echoed around the van for a frantic five minutes before Rob finally realised that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the chains or the locks. He hadn't any strength in his thin frame at the best of the time and his body still felt sluggish and sleepy.

"Zdravstvuyte?!" He called out with fear in his eyes. The shivers in the boys spine were getting worse. "Zdravstvuyte?!"

There was no answer but it seemed like the van was slowing… or was that his imagination? Rob fell back to the floor of the van, fear overtaking him. He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to remember as best as he can what had happened. He had just finished the lesson with Anastasiya, he could remember being embarrassed that he hadn't done a very good job. After the lesson had finished, he had gone to shower off the pool water and… and…

"…Chto proiskhodit…?" Rob muttered to himself, rocking back and forth in rhythm with the van's movements. He ran his hands through his hair, moving them back over his neck. Then he felt something strange under his left thumb. Some kind of small lump that he knew hadn't been there in the morning when he had woken up. It was almost like a… a hole!

The memory came back to Rob unbidden. He had been showering when he heard movement behind him. Before he could do anything a black glove had latched itself around his mouth and he had felt a sharp jab in his neck. He had fallen to the floor and saw a black-clad figure before falling into unconsciousness. A different shiver ran up Rob; the fact that he was not naked now, but dressed in his own clothes, meant that someone had dressed him. The knowledge that someone had put their hands on him shook him to his very core.

Just who was it, though? Who would dare to kidnap Robert Winters son? Rob was at least slightly comforted by the fact that he knew his father would spare every resource in order to find him. He was intent on Rob being the heir to the whole kingdom, so to speak, so he would do everything in his massive power to find him. The question was… did his father know? Rob didn't know how long it had been since he was taken but his father wouldn't come back to the manor until night-time, since he was at the company head-office. Surely the servants or teachers would know, though, and get in contact with Robert Winters… Rob had to only hope that people were searching for him.

The van suddenly jerked to a halt and Rob fell roughly forward but he quickly scampered up to his feet to spin around, facing the van's doors. He heard a door at the front open and then shut, heard heavy footsteps, and then heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. The double doors were thrown open and Rob's captor stood looking inside the van.

Rob was surprised to recognise Marshall Mathers, the professional PMC hired by his father as a personal bodyguard for Rob. The man was always lurking around during his lessons… in fact, Rob could remember Marshall being there for his swimming lesson, though he had left midway through it for some reason.

"Alright, kid," Marshall spoke in an almost bored voice, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was wearing civilian gear with shades and gloves over his hands. He looked nothing like the professional looking bodyguard that he had been back at the manor but rather like a perfect image of what a van driver in Russia would look like. The glasses at the thick jacket hid the fact that Marshall wasn't Russian at a glance. "Here's how this is going to work. You do what I say and I don't hurt you. You keep quiet and I don't hurt you. Do you understand?"

Something about Marshall's body posture send fear stabbing through Rob's chest. He could only nod, sweat gathering on his forehead.

"I want verbal confirmation, kid. Do you understand?"

"D-Da…" Robert's voice came out in barely a squeak.

"We're far away from your home and your father's men are looking in the complete opposite direction. So do not hold any hope for anyone saving you."

Rob felt like he was plunged into cold water. He looked up to Marshall with wide eyes. "Z-Zachem?" There was a sudden blur and a sharp pain on Rob's cheek as Marshall took one step into the back of the van and slapped Rob's cheek with the back of his hand. Rob drew backwards in pain, clutching his burning cheek.

"What did I say?" Marshall said in the same strangely bored tone. "You speak when I tell you to. Now, I'd rather not keep you locked up back here like an animal. If I were to be pulled over for any particular reason I want you to be in front so you can corroborate my story, understood? If I unlock you and put you beside me in the passenger's seat, can I trust you to act your part?"

Rob wasn't sure whether to speak or not so kept his lips sealed, trying to understand the situation he was in.

"If you don't act the part… things will not go particularly well for you…" Marshall pushed aside his coat and Rob got a horrifying glimpse at a small firearm tucked in a holster at Marshall's hip. "So, do we have a deal?"

Rob's head jerked up and down. "D-Da—"

"And speak English!" Marshall suddenly snapped, his voice sounding irritated but his face remaining stoic. "I've had enough of your harsh language. Understood, kid?"

"D… Y…Yes…" Robert muttered, the word feeling strained on his tongue. He hadn't been doing particularly well in his English lessons. He understood it well enough but his mouth found it hard to formulate the words.

"Wonderful," Marshall pulled a key from his pocket and leaned forward, unlocking the padlock that was on the chain around Rob's ankle. With a click the padlock came free and Rob immediately took action. Even though fear was driving stakes into his heart, his dived forward wildly and pushed past and evidently surprised Marshall. Rob tumbled out of the back of the van onto grass and stood, looking around wildly for a moment. The van had stopped in the middle of a small grassy clearing surrounding on all sides by dark trees.

Robert Winters had personally taught his son about the possibility of something like this happening. Robert Winters was very well aware that his position in Moscow and his connections would make him and his family potential targets. While Rob had never had a heart-to-heart conversation with his father, he had the lessons to at least remember. At Robert had always told Rob that if ever he was in a situation like this to run – and don't stop. Don't try to play the hero, don't try to be brave, don't try to fight – just run.

So Rob Winters dug his feet into the grass and took off into the forest…

…He only made it one step before something latched onto the back of his collar and his was flung off his feet. Rob was thrown like a doll and slammed hard against the open door of the van. He bounced off and hit the floor, his elbows and knees scraping through the mud. Then he felt an unimaginable pain in his ribs as a heavy boot met it. Rob fell onto his back, gasping for air like a fish out of water. He stared up at the cloudy sky as Marshall Mathers leaned over him.

"…Kid…" Marshall sighed, letting out a puff on his cigarette. "Why do you gotta be so foolish? All that happens now is you get hurt." Marshall reached down, grabbed Rob's collar, and picked him up off the floor as if he weighed nothing at all. Then all of a sudden Marshall slammed his fist deep into Rob's stomach. Rob felt all the air leave him and Marshall dropped him to the mud. Rob fell with a thud, gasping, clutching at his stomach.

After a moment Marshall squatted down in front of Rob and took the cigarette out from his mouth. "Kid, listen. I don't want to hurt you if I can help it. But if you don't follow my go-to rules then I will hurt you. For every infraction I will hurt you more and more. I won't kill you, kid, oh no. But next time you disobey or otherwise go against me, I will break a rib. The time after that I will break a finger. If you do it again, I will cut that finger off and deliver it to your father in a pretty box with a ribbon. Maybe I'll add some teeth in with it." Marshall looked down at Rob and pushed up his sunglasses. "So do I have to drug you again or will you sit in the front like a good little kid and act the part?"

"D-D-Da…" Rob stuttered, tears stinging his eyes.

"English!" Marshall growled and Rob flinched, cowering in a heap on the ground. "Christ, kid, with all the lessons you've had over the last year you can be pretty damn stupid. So get in the van and don't make me hurt you. We've got a long drive and I want it to be as uneventful as it possibly can be."