Kidnapping
Part 3 : de flying fohn
I hit it in to fourth gear, as soon as we get away from those bete FBI agents. I am glad they believed me, I was almost caught there.I know there is a posted speed limit on this road, but I don't care.That is the least they can get me for, and I will be out of that faster than they can sing "La Marseille." I turn the curves sharply, it amusing me to watch Eberts bang into the door. No the left curves though, I don't want the idiot coming any closer to me then he is. Its a good thing I buckled him in. I may have been seriously damaged if he had hit me. He may be a mouse, but he is a heavy mouse.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Albie?" I say laughingly.
He stares out the window, not answering me. I laugh, I know he can barely see out of those sunglasses, that's why I bought them. He may think he knows where we are going but he has no idea. I pull sharply right, and he bangs extremely hard against the door, this time he cries out in pain I relish this, it sounds just like him, a squeaking of a mouse. I am circling now, and I drive the opposite way as before. I love driving it makes me feel free, I make a sharp left, keeping my hand on his shoulder so he doesn't slide into me. This Cïtroen seat , as most Cïtroen I've seen, is very small. It is to easy for him to slide. He flinches at my touch, as he resents me touching him. If I knew better I'd say he was acting like a femme when they are danger. I laugh at this. That amuses me, I can easily see him acting like a woman.
This is one of my favourite roads, it goes right by the agency, and it turns south after going north for what seems like forever. By the time, we get to my HQ, I think that's what they call it on those cheap spy movies, he'll not know which way we have traveled. I wonder if I should have gagged him, it not necessary for right now, since he's being a good, quiet ,little souris. I may not need the gag in the glovebox at all. I smile, especially after I hook him up to my little torture machines, I hope he has a powerful scream, I want to hear it echo through the hallway. This situation reminds me of a book I read, "The Partner." by the american John Grisham, too bad it was fiction, I'd love to meet some of those people, but I will be able to live the real thing. I think I will get the torture on cassette, like the ones in the book, I'd love to see Borden's expression when he recieves that.
I turn on the Cd player, I need some music to help aid in the feeling of flying I get whenever I drive in fourth gear. I have a Bizet Cd in. Eberts turns towards the music, he reconizes it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn't.
"Do you like the music, Albie?"
"Yes, Bizet is a good composer." He comments. His answer is quiet and frightened.
"Tu est un amoureur de tout la musique, non?"
"Oui, plus de musique." He answers. His french sounds very authentic. I am not suprised though.
"Ahh, maybe if you are good,little mouse, I will let you listen to some Cds before you die." I will not really kill him, but it is interesting watching animals in fear. And Eberts is a mouse nevertheless. In another life, we may have been friends perhaps, he shares many of the things I have in common. I get an idea. Maybe after I torture him, I can get him to work with me, he does possess some knowledge that could be valuble. I will make no decision on that matter yet. He may not have much left to offer when the torturing is over. I have heard stories of torture victims, going insane, -or- a catanoic, a vegatable as the Americans say.
"That ..would...be..nice...Thank you." He is hesitant because of his fear I think. I wish I knew what was running through his head.
I smile as I see we are coming near the agency. I resort to my tour guide mood, which is something that disturbes me slightly, I have no idea why I am able to pull off that so well. (Tour guides are some of the few people whom scare me.) "Coming up on our right is your beloved agency.)
Eberts frowns. He is probably squinting trying to see. "Is there ...something you... need at ...the ...agency?"
"Not now my little one, but shortly, don't worry I won't be looking like you when I go, and I will not make you do anything. Tu sera mort."
He pales, I do not think he wants to accept he will die soon. He is petrified of it. I can sense it. I sense people's fear easily. I have a feeling he is also afraid of clowns, who wouldn't be, I may take him to the cirque to go see some before the torture, to get him in a fearful frame of mind.
He continues to stare out the window. I heard he whimpers, I wonder what I have to do to make him do that. I smile, and we drive on.
End of part 3
Part 3 : de flying fohn
I hit it in to fourth gear, as soon as we get away from those bete FBI agents. I am glad they believed me, I was almost caught there.I know there is a posted speed limit on this road, but I don't care.That is the least they can get me for, and I will be out of that faster than they can sing "La Marseille." I turn the curves sharply, it amusing me to watch Eberts bang into the door. No the left curves though, I don't want the idiot coming any closer to me then he is. Its a good thing I buckled him in. I may have been seriously damaged if he had hit me. He may be a mouse, but he is a heavy mouse.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Albie?" I say laughingly.
He stares out the window, not answering me. I laugh, I know he can barely see out of those sunglasses, that's why I bought them. He may think he knows where we are going but he has no idea. I pull sharply right, and he bangs extremely hard against the door, this time he cries out in pain I relish this, it sounds just like him, a squeaking of a mouse. I am circling now, and I drive the opposite way as before. I love driving it makes me feel free, I make a sharp left, keeping my hand on his shoulder so he doesn't slide into me. This Cïtroen seat , as most Cïtroen I've seen, is very small. It is to easy for him to slide. He flinches at my touch, as he resents me touching him. If I knew better I'd say he was acting like a femme when they are danger. I laugh at this. That amuses me, I can easily see him acting like a woman.
This is one of my favourite roads, it goes right by the agency, and it turns south after going north for what seems like forever. By the time, we get to my HQ, I think that's what they call it on those cheap spy movies, he'll not know which way we have traveled. I wonder if I should have gagged him, it not necessary for right now, since he's being a good, quiet ,little souris. I may not need the gag in the glovebox at all. I smile, especially after I hook him up to my little torture machines, I hope he has a powerful scream, I want to hear it echo through the hallway. This situation reminds me of a book I read, "The Partner." by the american John Grisham, too bad it was fiction, I'd love to meet some of those people, but I will be able to live the real thing. I think I will get the torture on cassette, like the ones in the book, I'd love to see Borden's expression when he recieves that.
I turn on the Cd player, I need some music to help aid in the feeling of flying I get whenever I drive in fourth gear. I have a Bizet Cd in. Eberts turns towards the music, he reconizes it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn't.
"Do you like the music, Albie?"
"Yes, Bizet is a good composer." He comments. His answer is quiet and frightened.
"Tu est un amoureur de tout la musique, non?"
"Oui, plus de musique." He answers. His french sounds very authentic. I am not suprised though.
"Ahh, maybe if you are good,little mouse, I will let you listen to some Cds before you die." I will not really kill him, but it is interesting watching animals in fear. And Eberts is a mouse nevertheless. In another life, we may have been friends perhaps, he shares many of the things I have in common. I get an idea. Maybe after I torture him, I can get him to work with me, he does possess some knowledge that could be valuble. I will make no decision on that matter yet. He may not have much left to offer when the torturing is over. I have heard stories of torture victims, going insane, -or- a catanoic, a vegatable as the Americans say.
"That ..would...be..nice...Thank you." He is hesitant because of his fear I think. I wish I knew what was running through his head.
I smile as I see we are coming near the agency. I resort to my tour guide mood, which is something that disturbes me slightly, I have no idea why I am able to pull off that so well. (Tour guides are some of the few people whom scare me.) "Coming up on our right is your beloved agency.)
Eberts frowns. He is probably squinting trying to see. "Is there ...something you... need at ...the ...agency?"
"Not now my little one, but shortly, don't worry I won't be looking like you when I go, and I will not make you do anything. Tu sera mort."
He pales, I do not think he wants to accept he will die soon. He is petrified of it. I can sense it. I sense people's fear easily. I have a feeling he is also afraid of clowns, who wouldn't be, I may take him to the cirque to go see some before the torture, to get him in a fearful frame of mind.
He continues to stare out the window. I heard he whimpers, I wonder what I have to do to make him do that. I smile, and we drive on.
End of part 3